by Peter Newman
‘I wondered this myself. Nidra told me that it wouldn’t and I believe her. My soul no longer remembers its connection to my limbs. That will still be true even if I return a thousand times.’
‘What if you could be made to remember? I helped Chandni where I could. Slowed the poison, stopped it. Couldn’t cure it though. But she’s just a woman with one life. Not like you. Her only memories are in her head.’
‘Did you give some of your memories to the Corpseman?’ asked Sa-at. ‘Do we need to go and get them back?’
The mention of the demon’s name had an immediate impact on the room. Tal looked nervous, as usual, and Roh’s face folded in a most unhappy way.
Rochant’s remained calm. ‘I did not.’
‘The poison comes from the Wild,’ snapped Roh. ‘Last thing we need is to get involved with them. Where did you grow up, boy? In a bush?’
‘No, in a tree.’
‘A tree!’ She turned back to her master. ‘I can’t make head nor tail of this one.’
‘Not now, Roh,’ said Rochant softly. ‘Tell me what you have in mind.’
For a moment, the unhappiness remained on her face along with a healthy dose of suspicion, but then it fell away to be replaced with a look of cunning. ‘Your armour, my lord. It will remember you as you were. I’ll bet my last teeth on it.’
‘I feared that was your answer. It’s no longer an option. They’ll have remade it to fit the imposter.’
‘So they did, my ever-quick lord. So they did. But I kept your old set in secret. Tucked it away for safekeeping the very night they stole you from us. Everyone was so busy trying to protect your line, they didn’t even think about your armour. And by the time they did, it was too late.
‘I’ll need help to get it, mind. A couple of pairs of strong hands and quiet feet to sneak it back here.’
Sa-at and Tal suddenly found themselves the centre of attention.
‘Go with Roh, both of you,’ said Rochant. ‘Do exactly as she says.’
Tal bowed and moved to the door.
‘But,’ said Sa-at. ‘What about my mother?’
‘I’ll answer your questions about her when you come back,’ replied Rochant.
‘But, what if she’s in danger? Roh said the imposter monster had got her.’
‘No, an imposter isn’t a monster. It’s a way to describe a person when he pretends to be someone they’re not. And she didn’t say he’d got her. She said the imposter sent Chandni away.’
‘But where? We need to go there.’
‘We don’t know where. Sa-at, listen: The best way to help her is to help me. When I’m in power again, it will be a simple matter to send people to find her.’
‘But what if she’s in trouble?’
‘All the more reason to go with Roh now.’
Sa-at’s shoulders slumped. ‘Okay.’
It made sense. Rochant always made sense. He’d made sense when he’d told Sa-at to leave Crowflies behind. He’d made sense when he’d got Sa-at to stay on the Godroad, even though it hurt and burned. Sa-at just wished that things making sense didn’t always have to be so hard. And now that he knew about his mother, he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, nor could he shake the conviction that she was in trouble.
Satyendra paused outside the door. Technically, as the lord of the castle, he did not have to sing for entrance. But the person inside knew he was not really the lord of anything and he didn’t want to annoy them. Before he could make up his mind a servant appeared and ushered him inside.
After announcing him, they left. He listened as their footsteps retreated down the corridor, then turned to his host.
High Lord Vasinidra had been expertly dressed and made up so that the marks of yesterday’s fight could not be seen. However, Satyendra could sense the man’s discomfort, and that sense drew his attention to where the injuries were: A bruised neck, an injured stomach, minor scrapes on the knees and hands.
He bowed. ‘You summoned me, High Lord.’
Vasinidra beckoned him closer. ‘I haven’t had a chance to thank you for yesterday. You showed great courage.’
Despite himself, he smiled. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes, he had been fearless.
‘Few people would dare to face Lady Yadva alone,’ Vasinidra continued. ‘And you …’ he shook his head in wonder. ‘She’s twice your size, for suns’ sake!’
‘I had to act for the good of the house,’ lied Satyendra. In truth he’d been drunk on power and desperate to enjoy its use.
Vasinidra’s eyes softened. ‘I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of my cousin’s anger. How are you? You look … much better than I expected.’
The brief feeling of pride evaporated. With Vasinidra, he didn’t have to pretend to be Rochant, but he still had secrets. I should be dead after what that monster did to me and the High Lord knows it. Fool! I must hide my nature, now more than ever. He gave a tired smile. ‘It is just an illusion, my High Lord.’
‘I would advise you to drop it then. I hunt for the Corpseman today with my family. They will see you for an imposter the moment you take to the air.’
Satyendra nodded, secretly pleased. He’d been looking for an excuse to get out of the hunt and Vasinidra had just provided it. Being unable to fly wasn’t the true problem; the sapphire plates actually burned his skin. To wear a whole suit of crystal armour would surely kill him. ‘I will let my injuries show. Between that and my being recently reborn,’ he noted Vasinidra’s frown at the lie, ‘nobody will think ill of me remaining here to recover.’
‘That will have to serve us for now. When I return, we will discuss a more permanent solution.’
The offhand mention of his fate scared him and made him angry. ‘Have I not proven my worth, High Lord?’
‘You have. But no matter how useful you are, you are no Deathless. You cannot lead a hunt. You cannot protect our people. While you occupy Lord Rochant’s place, we are all weakened.’
‘You said that if I did as you asked, I need not fear.’
‘I’m not going to kill you, Satyendra. But did you honestly think I’d let this mockery continue? The needs of the house,’ a pained look crossed his face, along with a flash of worry, ‘of all the houses, must come before yours.’
Bile rose up in Satyendra’s throat. He’d been used. Betrayed. And now he was going to be cast aside. ‘That’s easy to say now you’re in power.’
‘It’s easy to say because it’s the truth.’
‘I deserve better than this! Without me, you’d be serving under High Lord Yadva!’
Vasinidra sighed. ‘I will find the best life I can for you but it will not be Rochant’s. The sooner you make peace with that, the better. Now, the hunt must be set into motion. Have your people do what is necessary and be sure to keep things in good order here for our return.’
Vasinidra has no need of me. No one does. I am a misfit. Despite everything I’ve done, that hasn’t changed. For a moment loneliness and desperation threatened to overwhelm him and he bowed low, as much to hide the expression on his face as to show respect. ‘At once, my High Lord.’
Vasinidra stood in the Chrysalis Chamber, resplendent in his armour. He took his helmet from the Gardener-smiths, pressed a bloody thumb against the crystal to wake it, and pulled it on. He waited patiently as they threaded his long hair through the back. When they were finished, he straightened, towering over them on his Sky-legs.
As he twisted the other gauntlet into place, he felt the familiar rush of exaltation. He was more than a man now. Stronger. Faster. Superior.
‘My compliments to you,’ he said, ‘it is no easy thing to dress so many Deathless in such a short time.’
The Gardener-smiths bowed low and smiled.
‘Are my family prepared?’
The smiles vanished. ‘All save Lord Rochant. Some of his plates have more growing to do. We did our best but the crystals cannot be rushed.’
She’s afraid I’ll be angry. He spread his h
ands to show he was not. ‘Of course. As he is restored, so will his armour be. All things must happen in their proper time. Now, do you have my spear?’
The Gardener-smith handed it over. The silver shaft sat snugly in his hand and the sapphire tip glinted beautifully in the sunslight. He tested the weight. ‘Perfect.’
‘Hunt well and thorough, High Lord.’
The great glass walls slid aside to allow him onto the balcony. Three other Deathless were waiting there: Umed, Yadva, and Gada. Umed stood tall in his armour. Though his current body was old, it was held upright by the sapphire encasing it. Lord Umed was the oldest remaining member of House Sapphire, known for his quiet dignity, a good temper, and his sprightly dancing. Vasinidra’s eyes automatically went to Umed’s neck. Hidden beneath the gorget was a golden tattoo, marking the premature end of an old lifecycle, and the end of Umed’s confidence in battle.
Yet still he is here to support me. I should honour that.
Even out of armour, Lady Yadva was impressive, with a thick neck and broad frame packed with muscle. In it, she was monstrous. To accommodate the bulk, her crystal wings stretched wide to either side of her before scything up towards the sky. She carried a spear in either hand, one made for throwing and the other heavier and more suited for stabbing, though she could throw that too if the mood took her.
She was without doubt the most powerful warrior in the house, and it had pained her to bend the knee to him. He wondered how long he could count on her loyalty.
By contrast his brother, Gada, appeared long and delicate in his armour, like a stretched-out Flykin. He was stoic, methodical, brittle. A solid hunter but nothing more. They hadn’t flown together in years, mostly because Gada couldn’t stand to be outshone by his younger sibling.
Each had their problems but, for all their flaws, they were Sapphire and he knew each would give their best for the glory of the house.
The courtyard was packed with solemn faces. Four blocks of hunters stood in the centre surrounded by a crowd of staff, family, guests, and traders, all shuffling nervously. Without the noise of the drums and the song of the castle, there was nothing to guide them or focus their anxiety.
Again, Vasinidra was surprised by his own sense of calm. He moved to the edge of the balcony and did not have to wait for the attention of the assembled to rest on him. As always, the words came easily. It was just a matter of saying what was in his heart.
‘Many years ago, the village of Sorn called out to its Deathless for aid. We failed to answer and because of that, the village of Sorn was lost. It became a wound that House Sapphire has carried ever since.’ He let his gaze sweep the crowd. ‘It is time for us to cleanse that wound. As a mark of respect for the dead, we will go not in glory but in silence. We did not carry our people when they needed us, and so this hunt will go into the Wild without your voices behind our wings, alone, as they were.’
They watched Vasinidra make his way down from the balcony, followed by the other Deathless. And they watched as he and the hunters began to march towards the open drawbridge. He felt their eyes on his back as he accelerated into a bounding run. Sky-legs rasped on stone, stark in the silence, propelling them all out of the castle and into the waiting sky.
CHAPTER THREE
So, thought Pari. The demon is here.
‘Good,’ she said to Arkav. ‘From what the Bringers said, we need to pull your soul free and then everything else should resolve itself.’
The demons making the living sphere around them continued to whisper. ‘… Crushing …’
‘Yes. Pari, is it me or are the demons moving?’
She looked around. They were constantly moving. Shifting next to each other uncomfortably, especially the ones nearest to them.
‘… Burning …’
But that wasn’t what Arkav meant. More and more of the demons seemed to be reacting to the light of their armour. One or two of them caught light, causing the others to make hushed moans of pain. Even the ones furthest from them were suffering in a way they weren’t before. It took her a few moments to realize the obvious.
Oh no.
The sphere was shrinking, like a giant living fist closing around them.
‘But,’ she said, ‘this doesn’t make any sense. They’ll all be destroyed. Why do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Arkav. ‘But I think whatever is behind them is here for me.’
He swam closer to Pari to put more space between himself and the demons. The sphere was already half the size it had been, and on fire in more than one place. More demons were flooding in behind.
‘… Cracking …’
‘Did you hear that?’ Pari yelled. ‘They said cracking. These things don’t crack, they burn or boil.’
Arkav nodded. ‘The demons aren’t talking about themselves.’
‘No, they’re warning us. It means to crack our armour. Then there’ll be nothing to stop it taking the rest of your soul.’
‘… Out …’
‘There!’ she said. ‘The demons are agreeing. If they crack our armour, the lights will go out. Or maybe they’re saying we need to get out. I don’t know. They’re agreeing either way!’
‘But to get free of here, we’ll have to destroy them.’
He sounded far too sad about this for Pari’s liking. ‘If we don’t fight now our auras will destroy all of them, and then they’ll destroy us. Is that what you want?’
He paused for a moment.
‘You have to think about that? Honestly!’
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I just don’t feel right about the—’
‘We can talk about it later for as many lifecycles as you like. For now though, dear brother, shut up and follow my lead.’
She flicked out her whip again, lodging it deep in a hapless demon, then held out her free hand to Arkav. He took it, and they clasped wrists. Then, she pulled on the whip.
In normal circumstances, that would yank the barb free, or pull her opponent close. Here, though, they weighed nothing, so they were propelled forward. As they moved closer, she swung Arkav towards the demons and he thrust out his legs in a two footed kick.
There was a bright flare of light as the demons were blown, flaming, away from them. She caught a glimpse of a way out. ‘There! Before they close it again.’
He grabbed the nearest demons with his free hand, the touch of his gauntlet making them hiss in agony, and swung Pari towards the gap. Her head fit through cleanly, her shoulders less so, though this wasn’t a problem for her as her wings sliced easily through everything in her way, and she was rewarded with a view of the space outside.
It was vast and shifting. Not empty like the sky but full of starless nebulae, parting and closing, giving glimpses of golden lights beyond. Lights that were arranged in circular formations, seven for each hoop. Hoops lined up at regular intervals to make tunnels. Tunnels stretching from one unknown to another, crisscrossing the sky like the veins of some unfathomable beast. And within them, not blood but darts of silver, too many to count, moving swiftly and safely.
Souls.
Pari gasped at the size and wonder of it.
There were many demons too, streams of them, swimming with purpose. Not towards the distant tunnels of light and their silver bounty. Towards her. They were looking to reinforce the sphere. And behind them was another demon, bigger, like a great swollen cloud of nightmare.
This one was different from the others she’d seen. This one she knew. It was like some great fat Snakekin covered in bits of bloodless people. Mouths, ears, toes, all moving independently of the thing itself. Her eyes roamed across it until they saw a familiar face, faded and flush against the demon’s skin.
Arkav’s face.
‘Pari!’ it cried.
‘I’m coming!’
She fought and kicked her way free of the sphere, dragging Arkav with her. The sphere smoked and burnt and then broke apart, the creatures that had made it up floating lifelessly away.
‘Pari!�
�� cried the face again.
Now free of the sphere, it was Arkav’s turn to look at the demon.
A great many eyes studded its hide, of different shapes and colours. They all looked back at Arkav.
Arkav began to snarl, which Pari thought was most unlike him.
After that, things got messy.
Arkav started swim-dragging himself towards the big demon, which Pari dubbed Facestealer in her mind.
The smaller demons swam towards them at speed, whispering miserably as they did so.
Facestealer also came towards them but it moved slowly, content to let the others engage first.
If she did nothing, Arkav would be overwhelmed by the lesser demons before he’d even get to Facestealer. But in this place, it was hard to move. There was nothing to push against. Normally, there were essence currents that could be played with, or physical things to launch from, even the voices of their people could sustain flight if they were in sufficient number.
That’s it! At least, I hope it is.
She kicked out a couple of times to put herself directly behind Arkav. By the time she’d got into position, the lesser demons were starting to swarm around them both.
‘… Prisoners …’
‘… Burning …’
‘Listen!’ she said. ‘That thing may control your bodies, but it does not control your voices.’
‘… Crushing …’ They replied, joining tail to head to tail again, forming a hoop that rapidly drew tight around her legs.
‘Join with me.’ She turned her head towards Arkav and called out, half speaking, half singing. ‘You can do this, brother! Go! Take back what is yours!’
‘… Take …’ whispered one of the demons.
‘… Fight …’ added another.
And then a third. ‘… Free …’
Suddenly all the demons were whispering. The words were different, but she saw a shift in Arkav’s momentum. Meanwhile, the demons continued to attack them both, several starting to burn, their whispers reduced to senseless hissing. Pari swung her arms back and forth to stop any getting to her face. ‘It’s working. It’s working! Hear us, Arkav: Take! Fight! Free! Take! Fight! Free!’
