She crossed her arms, skin prickling with sweat. “Are you having a bad day?”
“What?” The man recoiled as if bitten.
“You seem to have a lot of anger.”
“I… you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. We’re abominations.” He stammered, eyes wild.
Nyset saw now that his robes were once white in spots. He was a Purist, part of the group that believed that wizards were only here to enslave humanity. They believed that because of their powers, wizards should be put to death to end their bloodline. Most were orphans looking to be part of something, harmless mostly. They would be fed and clothed, maybe even touched. Perhaps loved for the first time. Some weren’t so harmless. Some had crucified one of Baylan’s friends and left his mutilated body before the Lair in Midgaard.
“We can’t change how we came into this world,” she said softly, meeting his dark eyes.
His teeth clamped down, jaw bulging with tension. She could burn him to ashes in a flash. He had to know that. “I hate… I hate this.” He raked his hands down his cheeks. “I want it gone. Can you make it go away? I want to be normal.”
“As well as I can make the sun stop rising. What’s your name?”
“Claw.” He sniffed and scowled at Vesla.
Nyset snapped her fingers, yanking his eyes back to hers. “Well, Claw. The way I see it you have two options: You can go on hating what you are, maybe try to kill a few wizards before you’re bathed in flames. I guarantee a day will come when you pick the wrong one.” An image of Walter surrounded by Death Spawn, whirling through them with Stormcaller and a sword of fire, flashed in her mind. “Or, you can join me, the Tower, embrace what the god’s gave you, and help us fight the real enemy.”
“What enemy? The Silver Tower tries to fool us.” He turned around, directing his voice to the line of onlookers. “This is all just a wizard trick! They want to enslave us.” He gestured wildly, flailing his arms through the mist.
“Just a trick you say?” She rolled up her sleeves, and thrust her arms out. On her left arm was a scar that wound up from her wrist to her bicep. On her right, the flesh was pocked with holes from a stone that had exploded beside her. “Do you think this was self-inflicted, you filthy cretin?” Nyset said in a rush.
He thought Baylan and Walter’s deaths were rouses, did he. He glanced at her arms, his features softening for a second. Her nostrils flared, flames bursting alight in her palms. No, this was what he wanted. She would not give him that martyrdom. These were men, not demons. They needed diplomacy, not violence.
She lowered her arms, letting the flames sputter out. “Go.” She pointed. “If you don’t believe the Death Spawn are real now, you will when you taste their savage blades.” She projected her voice now. “Mark my words. They will march here, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.”
Claw turned back to her, his indigo eyes challenging. She would not break eye contact first, would not. She held his eyes for what felt like hours. His eyes penetrated her, made her feel naked. It felt like he was examining her from the inside. She had put up a thick wall of iron there for none to see. She widened her eyes, pits for the swirling mists; let him see all of her. If she could win over the craziest of them, the rest would be easy.
He abruptly dropped to a knee, eyes cast down. “I had to test you. You understand?”
Nyset didn’t understand, but was glad to feel the tension slipping out of her muscles. “Of course.” She could see now his eyes were wet, his body trembling. The most severe, hidden wounds were shared by all.
“There are beasts who can change their faces about. I’ve seen ‘em. Had to make sure you were the real Arch Wizard.”
“Rise,” she said with her best air of command. Just what she needed, a Metamorphose to worry about.
He stood, holding his fist over his heart. “I live to serve, Mistress.” Mistress, how she hated that word. Customs had to be followed though.
Could she trust him? He was clearly mad, but she felt she could. Some of the brightest wizards were mad to the outside world. You just had to get to know them to get past their quirks and see their real brilliance. She had to start trusting that people had good intentions. “I could use someone to help us here.”
“My eyes are yours.”
“Great,” she squeaked with more excitement than she had intended. “Why do you wear the white of the Purists?”
He leaned in close, breath stinking like onions from two feet away. “I walk in many circles. I like to keep my eye on them.” Claw said, tapping a dirty fingernail on his eyelid. She was amazed he hadn’t lost his eyes to infection touching them with fingers that soiled.
“You’re a madman then?” Vesla said. Nyset had forgotten she was there and found herself snickering.
He started giggling and nodding. “Yeah, suppose so.” He grinned, flashing his five front teeth.
“Vesla, add him as our first veteran. We just need to add you to the ledger. Your first task will be to help us here, stand guard and try not to scare the children.”
He clapped his hands together. “Right, right. My first task. How exciting!” Claw shuffled over to Vesla, answering her rote questions.
Nyset rubbed her eyes. The day would be long indeed. “Who is next?” Nyset beckoned.
A girl in unadorned charcoal robes strode up, her gait determined. She had a wide jaw and beautiful skin, dark as elixir. She would have been stunning if not for the ugly burn on her cheek, partially healed and oozing with yellow pus. Her hair was short and tussled. “You’re the Arch Wizard?”
“Please don’t tell me this is another test.” Nyset leaned back against the mossy wall, her fingertips brushing its wet and spongy texture.
The girl covered her mouth, and let out a long sigh. A smile started forming on her lips. “No, no. Uh… where to start?” The girl’s thick eyebrows scrunched up, staring down at her simple shoes. “It has been a long journey. I have searched for you for so long,” she laughed shakily.
“How about with your name?”
“My name.” She blinked rapidly, eyes wet with tears. “My name,” she repeated and almost seemed to start laughing.
“Yes?” Nyset blew out her cheeks. The line behind her was only getting longer.
Claw circled around in front of Nyset and stood at her side. The girl looked him over quickly, seeming to swallow all of his madness in a glance. There was a hidden intellect there. There were weapons there too, daggers, maybe swords under her robe.
The words spilled from her mouth like a broken dam. “My name is Senka. I bring dark tidings, wizard, Mistress, ma’am. The Black Furnaces—”
Nyset reached out and put a hand on her bony shoulder. “Relax, you’re safe here. Come, let’s walk.” The Black Furnaces. The last time she heard about them was from Baylan. “Vesla, please carry on without me. I’ll be back shortly.” There was something about Senka that compelled Nyset to investigate further. Maybe it was her look or the urgency in her voice. She had felt like that before and knew the frustration of not being taken seriously.
Senka had an empty water skin around her shoulder and Nyset thought she saw the edge of armor creeping out from her neckline. Her right hand was wrapped in bandages and plaster, stained with pink and browns. She favored her left hand, keeping the plastered one pressed against her side. Claw was trailing her and she waved him off. She hoped he would comply, but doubted it.
“Now, please let’s start again, Senka.” Nyset twisted to avoid a pair of boys hacking at each other with crude wooden swords. “Where are you from?” Nyset put her hand on the girl’s upper back as they started walking.
“The Nether,” she said flatly.
It couldn’t be true. That place was supposed to be uninhabitable. There were stranger things that were true though, Death Spawn for one. Anything was possible in these times.
“The oaths we made to the Tower have been broken. We have failed!” Her wiry hand clung to Nyset’s robe, tugging it around her
neck. She was powerful, much stronger than she looked.
Nyset uncurled Senka’s fingers from her silks, softly smiling at her.
Senka’s dark cheeks pinked. “Sorry, sorry.” She pushed a hand through her hair, making it stand. “You’re certain you’re the Arch Wizard?”
Not again. “Yes, I’m certain.”
“The oaths of the Scorpions, you’re not familiar with them?” Senka stared wide-eyed at a butcher’s shop, slabs of meat salted and scenting the air.
“I’m afraid not.” Nyset sighed. “I’m quite new to the role. I’m assuming you haven’t heard what happened at the Silver Tower?”
Senka shook her head and her eyebrows bobbed up expectantly.
Nyset pointed at the black smoke drifting out to sea. “The Tower burns, or what remains of it. The Death Spawn launched a siege against us. They succeeded.” She swallowed and scratched her chin. “It’s believed that the former Arch Wizard is dead… few apprentices survived and I took her place.”
“Oh,” Senka whispered, her face growing pale. “Are the Death Spawn the shadow ones?”
“They are.” Nyset heard the reference in a book generations old. Scorpions, the name triggered a memory now. They were an ancient sect of assassins. Had she come for her? No, she wouldn’t have said the name if she had.
“The Death Spawn. They found us, the Scorpions,” Senka said so softly Nyset could hardly hear. “We took an oath, according to my father…” She took a long sniff, her eyes wet at mentioning him. It was all Nyset needed to see to avoid probing that wound further. “We swore to protect the Black Furnaces from them, from the demon god, Asebor.”
Nyset’s feet froze and her jaw hung open. She had stuffed his name away, hoping to avoid facing the demon god today. He haunted her dreams, his malevolent chains sawing through Walter’s neck. There was blood there, so much blood. She felt her legs go wobbly, sick wanting to push out from her guts.
“Arch Wizard?” Senka was looking up at her, biting her thin lip.
“Yes. I’m sorry. The gods have not been kind to men lately.” Nyset forced a smile. How long had she been staring at the cart-worn cobbles?
Senka nodded. “The… the Death Spawn.” She licked her lips, tasting the new words. “They came and killed all of us, the whole village. I was the only one to escape. My father… he died with his oaths.” Senka took a long sniff. “Like I should have.”
“Nonsense. You made the right choice.” Nyset put her hands on Senka’s shoulders and pulled her in, embracing her. Her body started uncontrollably shaking, sobbing into Nyset’s chest. Nyset placed her hand behind her head, inserted her fingers in her hair and scratched her scalp.
Nyset heard the scuffling of footsteps behind her and dropped her hand from Senka’s hair. She pivoted around and saw Claw was running and staring at her, black eyes wild and lips curling over his shattered mouth. His arm slipped over his back, drawing a curved sword. He wrenched the blade over his back, winding up for a lethal strike.
Senka shoved her away, rolling and giving a whooping squeal. She fumbled at something under her robes, the metal glinting from the fire lighting Nyset’s eyes. Nyset ducked, wincing as Claw’s blade whooshed by her ear and thudded into something behind her.
Nyset squirmed on the ground, face-to-face with a beast whose mouth had been replaced by a mass of stretched flesh. Its eyes pulsed with a golden glow, slitting with rage. It smashed its head into her face and hot pain spread out across her cheeks, light bursting across her eyes. She rolled away, hands protecting her face, teeth gritted.
The beast whimpered, grasping at Claw’s blade standing straight from its chest. Beside it was a discarded long sword, amber runes lined from hilt to tip. Senka fell on it, ramming daggers in each hand into its eyes. Senka let out a shrill scream, blades against her hips poised to thrust into it again. She rammed her blades under its neck and they came out, splitting flesh apart under the jaw.
“Are you alright, Mistress?” Claw was standing over her and sucking in air. His eyes were wrinkled and an ugly grin was plastered on his face. Madness. Madness she wanted at her side.
Nyset was on her bottom, knees propped up and watching Senka. “Yeah.” She wiped her hand across her nose and pulled away blood. Her heart was beating in her skull, the world ringing.
Senka groaned and sheathed her daggers. Her face twisted in pain and she dropped to her knees. She clutched her bandaged wrist, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes. Her lips trembled and she let out a hoarse scream.
The Skin Flayer lay on its side, the glow dimming in its eyes. One of its hands pawed at the stones, fingers twitching. Breath rasped out from the yawning throat wound while blood bubbled out of its nose and neck. It crept underneath it between the cobbles. It was black in the haze. Bright red where a shaft of light cut through the clouds above.
Claw walked over to the creature. “Strange thing,” he muttered. The street had mostly cleared of people, some cowering behind shop doors. Heads poked out like gophers over the edges of windows from the houses lining the walls. Claw put a hand on its shoulder and extracted his curved blade. How had she missed that before?
“Thank you,” she said, nodding at him.
“Just doing my job, Mistress.” Claw wiped the blade on his robes, smearing blood over the dried dirt.
“Can you heal her?” Nyset directed to Senka. The girl was taking ragged breaths, blood trickling out from her bandages and around her shaking fingers.
“Think I can.” Claw laughed as if it was the most brilliant idea he’d ever heard.
Nyset stood on wobbly knees. It shouldn’t have affected her so much. It was the shock of it more than anything. There was no place she could find peace. Its violet robes had taken on the pattern of the stones and shifted to match the blood oozing into it. Nyset thought the robes could be useful, then remembered what happened to Walt after he put on the Cerumal armor.
He kneeled in front of Senka and beckoned for her hand. The tendon’s tightened in her neck and she looked up at Nyset.
“He’ll heal you, fix your hand. Don’t be scared.”
Senka sniffed and gave a crisp nod, putting her wrist in Claws opened palms. Claw’s hands hummed and pulsed with the cool glow of the Phoenix. Senka moaned and arched her back, grinning. “It feels amazing. All the hurt fades from my arm and my body. How is it done?”
Claw responded, but his voice faded in Nyset’s ears. The street was quiet. Maybe everyone was too scared to speak, seeing a creature like this for the first time. The wind felt cold through Nyset’s wet silks. She flexed her toes in her sweat soaked boots. Eyes were watching her all around. A butcher scratched the back of his wiry neck, knuckles white against the handle of his wide knife. A tall woman clutched a sack of potatoes close to her chest. One fell from a hole in her sack, thudding onto the cobbles. It rolled in front of a mangy dog who snatched it up and ran with its prize, bushy tail excitedly whirling.
There was a creak from a house across the street, stopping the breath in her throat. One creak could’ve sounded like any other, but somehow she knew it was made by someone trying to stay quiet. New beads of sweat bristled from her neck and trickled down the middle of her back. She wanted to scratch it, but embraced the Dragon instead. Its ferocity was calming, knowing she could protect herself well enough.
She strained with every muscle to listen through the house’s windows, wincing at the slight hissing coming through her nose. It was taunting her, forcing her to wait for the threat to emerge. Someone said something near her and it was just noise in her ears. She knew it was there. Her heart was ringing so hard in her head it felt like it might push her eyes out of her skull. She tried to crouch down into the cobbles, blading her body and making herself a smaller target. Her eyes were fixed on an opened window, dark inside.
Another groan came from the wood and Nyset’s fingers flared with fire. Burning discs sprung to life around her head, crackling and smoking in the mist. Her fingers pressed into her palms and the
warmth of the Dragon spread up her arms.
There was another creaking step. She took a long, stinging breath, her chest filling out with it. Time stretched on and on. How much longer would it take for him to reveal himself?
The boards and nails groaned, rubbing together. A crossbow slid into view, the bolt gleaming death. A head followed, black and hooded. Yellow eyes burned like coals in the swimming blackness. The eyes found hers and spread apart like evening moons.
She grinned and her discs had already bridged half the distance. One chopped below the window through the wall where its body should have been. The other cut through its dark face, releasing a squawk. The top half of its head rolled over the windowsill, painting it with a wide streak of blood. The crossbow followed, clattering on the stones. The bolt loosed into the sky with a twang.
Time came rushing back, screams roaring in her ears. She realized it was her own voice. She let out the rest of her air and let the Dragon melt from her chest. Claw and Senka were on the ground.
Senka cowered away from her, shielding her eyes, robes streaked with dust. “Please, Mistress.”
“Pretty.” Claw murmured, still clutching Senka’s wrist and staring at Nyset.
Nyset strode towards the house’s door, parted open. What would have Bezda done? She had to make an example of assassins. She kicked open the door and turned left at the foyer. The small entry room stunk with mold and the walls were coated in dust. Shafts of light cut crosshatches through the gloom between the wall boards.
She found the body of the Skin Flayer there, slumped back at the wall opposite the window. The top half of its head smoked with exposed brain matter. She wrinkled her nose and held her breath, keeping the stench from further infiltrating her nostrils. Air sucked from the hissing slice in its chest. She reached under its arms, dragging it to the door. It was heavy, straining her upper back and burning her legs as she dragged it out into the street. She fought not to gag, dropping it beside its brethren. Its fingers absurdly intertwined in its lap as if in deep conversation.
The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4) Page 6
