God of Night

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘You will not stand in the line. That is the duty of the defenders of the Torquen temple.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Recent events have, ah, changed matters somewhat. The unveiling at Jarrazir has brought more magic back into the Riven Kingdom – and in the process stirred all manner of unnatural creatures. It is not now quite so simple as the tradition of the hundred sentinels.’

  Bade whistled. ‘I bet it bloody ain’t.’

  He was about to say something more when a gust of wind swept down from the heights, gusting through the open space like a sudden heavy breath. The sensation made him pause and look again at the Dawn Stair. Impressive as it was, it was likely only a lesser entrance to whatever settlement had once existed below the ground here. Before the gods had fought and died here – shattered into a thousand pieces by the cunning and power of their newest sibling.

  In that moment, Bade felt it. A presence on the fringes of awareness, a shifting in the shadows with eyes of deepest black.

  ‘Particular experience, eh?’ he mused with a sigh. ‘So I’m here to explore a city-ruin?’

  ‘Explore?’ Olebeis shook her head. ‘You are here to defend it.’

  Chapter 6

  The Cards travelled hard through the short night and on into the following day. By the evening both horses and mercenaries were flagging badly. They had covered many miles and had to trust their pursuers wouldn’t catch them as they rested.

  Anatin allowed only one fire, above which several pots of thin stew cooked as the Cards saw to their exhausted horses. A few hip flasks appeared as the gloom encroached but even Varain was too tired to put any great effort in. Soon everyone apart from the sentries flopped to their bedrolls, still chewing on hardtack.

  Dawn on the following morning was clear and bright, but the mood remained subdued. The company’s knights roused their groggy troops with only perfunctory complaints. They all knew what hard travelling was like and had seen a lot worse. The horses were less impressed when one had to be quietly dispatched, but soon they were riding on through a long cool summer’s day.

  At mid-morning, Kas doubled back with Brel, one of the recent Jarraziran recruits. Lynx watched her go and felt a nudge on his elbow as he did.

  ‘What’s that about?’ Sitain asked, grey rings around her eyes. She’d got less sleep than most, having taken half of the night’s watch, or what passed for night in the northern summer.

  ‘Ambush,’ Lynx said. ‘That dip we passed a while back.’

  ‘Just the two of them?’

  He nodded. ‘Both experienced trackers. Our friends will send scouts on ahead, their best, to keep on our trail. Kas kills them and it slows the pursuit.’

  ‘But they’ll have worked out which way we’re going.’

  ‘Don’t know who we work for, what our plan is. The roads could take us several ways and I expect Kas’ll set a false trail to buy us some time. Three days of travel and we’re safe.’

  ‘Hah, if you call that safe,’ Sitain said darkly. ‘Funny word for where we’re going, straight to the nearest Brethren of the Shards stronghold.’

  ‘Follow orders, stay alive, kill the other buggers,’ Lynx pronounced. ‘Keep your mind on that for the time being. You start second-guessing those in command and we all get in trouble, understand?’

  ‘Yeah, but I won’t be the only one.’

  Lynx sighed. ‘Aye, I know.’

  Night was closing in when Kas rode into camp, alone and looking exhausted but uninjured.

  ‘Problem?’ Hanva called before anyone else could. He was also one of the Jarraziran veterans Suth had brought in and they were a tight group.

  Kas shook her head and slipped from her horse. ‘Brel cut away to set another trail – take advantage of firm ground hiding our tracks.’

  ‘The scouts?’

  ‘Dead,’ she confirmed. ‘Three of them, the last one a shot Suth’d have been proud of.’

  Kas joined Anatin at the fire, squatting to warm her hands while he spoke.

  ‘How’s our lead?’

  ‘Half a day at least. I didn’t stay to count numbers, but from what I spotted in the distance they must have every horse they can muster.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Anatin said, nodding. ‘Too busy outnumbering us, they haven’t thought about catching us first.’

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll double our lead or they’ll leave half their troop behind. No way they can keep city troops moving fast.’

  ‘Here’s hoping. It’s not a fight we need.’

  Kas stood abruptly. ‘Yeah – and that’s something you could tell certain members of this company. Some fights aren’t worth having, but we seem to be stamping our way into the teeth o’ something more than just war.’

  She hadn’t raised her voice, but Kas’s tone was firm enough that most of the Cards nearby stopped what they were doing and turned to listen. She glanced at the faces turned her way but then kept her attention firmly on Anatin.

  ‘Tellin’ me my job, Kas?’ the ageing commander asked. He didn’t snap as he might if Lynx had raised an objection, Kas was too well respected for that, but there was a resigned look on his face that told he’d been expecting this conversation.

  ‘Nope. You’re the commander and I’m well aware o’ that.’

  ‘But you think now’s the time for a debate about our mission?’

  She paused and looked around again. This time her gaze lingered on Toil for a moment, but several Cards drifted forward to the conversation.

  ‘Mebbe it is time,’ Kas said at last. ‘Just us girls out here, after all. I know you’d prefer to discuss business over beer and a hand o’ tashot, but in most places there are strangers around. Here there’s no one to be shocked.’

  ‘Is it going to get shocking?’ Toil called as she dropped a horse blanket and started over.

  ‘Depends how precious you’re feeling.’

  Anatin scowled. ‘So you want a say in your orders now?’

  ‘Don’t give me that shit,’ Kas snapped. ‘Save it for the regular jobs.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Shattered gods, you telling me you’re easy with this? That you didn’t even pause for one bastard minute to wonder if this is the best course?’

  ‘I get paid to consider the dangers, that’s why I’m commander.’

  ‘And we all get paid to follow you.’ She took a long breath. ‘Most jobs, we don’t get briefed on the whole plan. That’s fine, that’s the job. This time round though, it’s far from normal, unless I’m way off the mark. I don’t want to see anyone just follow orders until we’re so far in the shit there’s no way out. We’re fixing to play armies off against each other, destroy holy relics and see if we can skew the balance of power for the next few hundred years. Might be that’s too much to expect of everyone.’

  Anatin and Toil exchanged a look. The red-headed woman shrugged at him eventually.

  ‘She’s got a point,’ Toil conceded.

  ‘Eh? It’s your fucking plan!’

  ‘Exactly – and I dunno how to break it to you, but it’s been suggested in the past that I’m a bit crazy.’

  ‘Saving the world as we know it, that’s what you said.’

  ‘I’m betting my life on it,’ Toil confirmed, ‘but this ain’t the usual mercenary wager.’

  ‘What’s getting Deern’s name tattooed on your arse got to do with it?’

  ‘I meant the wager you all make when you sign up for a job. Pay for the risk of getting killed.’

  ‘Oh. That one.’

  Toil nodded and looked around at the faces now watching her intently. ‘Company discipline’s not my business, I think we’re all glad about that. But I’ll say right here and now, I don’t expect you all to follow me on the path I’m taking. It’ll be hard and damn nasty, that much I can promise. I’d prefer a long and leisurely trip through Shadows Deep to this shit.

  ‘All the same – that’s the path I’m taking and the cause is a good one. If you don’t want to come,
that’s fine. I’ll even get you a job in Su Dregir if you want. Any sniff of someone getting in the way or ratting us out, though – I’ll open you from throat to groin, cut out all the useless shit inside and wear you like a skyriver festival costume. Understand?’

  There was silence from all around. Finally someone – Safir – coughed.

  ‘Good speech.’

  ‘Yeah, really inspiring,’ Llaith added.

  ‘Painted a picture, you have to admit,’ Safir said.

  ‘Aye, she’s got a poet’s soul, I’ve always said. Conviction too. It was delivered with real feeling.’

  Anatin laughed. ‘It’s her insight into the mind of yer average merc that I admire most. Nothing gets us going like the prospect of being too dead to enjoy your pay.’

  ‘I don’t do inspiring,’ Toil countered. ‘I do have a bottle that’s supposed to contain a soul though, on my desk back home. Might be it was a poet’s.’

  ‘Oh no, the speech was lovely. Even Safir’s prayers have rarely been so uplifting and cheery.’

  ‘You’d all prefer me to lie and say it’ll be fine – then just make sure you’re all too drunk to notice?’

  Varain perked up. ‘Is that an option?’ he asked.

  ‘The argument carries weight,’ Anatin admitted as several other proponents spoke up.

  Only Kas wasn’t impressed, but she could see the mood had broken. She’d get no more sense from tired men and women who mostly wanted to sleep what few hours of night they had.

  Toil nodded to Kas. ‘We’ll have the conversation,’ she said. ‘Mebbe not tonight, but before it’s too late. I promise.’

  ‘Good,’ Kas said. ‘I ain’t just trying to cause trouble—’

  Toil raised her hand. ‘I know, you’re about the only grown-up here. We might not see eye to eye, but you’re not Deern.’

  ‘Hey!’ yelled Deern. ‘Fuck you, I’m standing right here, ya slack—’

  Fortunately for everyone, Reft caught hold of his partner and shook the words loose from his head before Deern could finish the sentence.

  Dawn limped across the sky as the Cards stirred. They stretched and muttered threats at their commander, who was kicking people awake. In the half-light of the copse they had taken shelter in, Anatin seemed to flit around their encampment like a malevolent dryad. Shrouded by the smoke of his morning’s cigar he took grim delight in spreading the misery.

  Lynx was already awake, though he’d been trying to pretend otherwise. The carpet of old leaves had given little comfort on root-knotted ground and he had long been a light sleeper. The footsteps of a sentry were enough to wake him sometimes. Even if the warm presence of Toil burrowed into his side had slowly become a comfort rather than hindrance.

  He heaved himself up and shook down his blanket before rolling it tight and tying it to his pack. Pulling his coat on, Lynx checked his weapons then took a swig of water and dug out a crumbling biscuit.

  ‘Not much to look at, eh?’ Llaith commented, nodding at the biscuit. ‘I’m starting to miss that lodging house in Caldaire now.’

  ‘Then you remember the wildlife,’ Lynx said. ‘And the locals. And all the shit we did to make ourselves unpopular there.’

  Llaith grinned. ‘Sure, that stuff too, but those old biddies could cook.’

  Lynx found himself glaring at the biscuit. It really wasn’t much to look at and his stomach growled in response. ‘I wish you hadn’t put that thought in my head now.’

  ‘A problem shared is a problem halved, my friend.’

  ‘Wasn’t my problem to start with,’ Lynx protested, ‘so fuck you for handing me half your problems.’

  ‘Made me feel better at least.’

  Lynx put the biscuit in his mouth and chewed twice. He swallowed and gave Llaith an unconvincing smile. ‘All the more delicious for seeing you feel better.’

  The veteran chortled. ‘Glad to have helped. Now what delights have I got stashed away?’

  ‘If you’ve got bread I’ll gladly prise it from your cold dead hands.’

  Llaith’s smile faltered and he shuffled away. As it turned out, that bit did make Lynx feel a little better. He went to find his horse; hobbled, still saddled and looking fairly miserable. It eyed him dubiously as he approached, a look that made Lynx pat his own stomach self-consciously. But a handful of feed was enough to mollify the beast and soon he was in the saddle – one of the first as usual.

  For once, Anatin was right up there with him, eyes rimmed red with fatigue but possessing a certain manic energy to his movements. With his one remaining hand the company commander worried at a fraying stitch on his saddle before barking orders again at his command.

  ‘Deepest black, Varain, will you shift your sagging backside? Look, bloody Sitain’s almost ready to leave – Sitain! She’s barely slept and is a worse soldier than you’ve been these last thirty years!’

  After ten minutes the entire company was ready to go. Anatin led the way out onto a low meadow that stretched towards a stretch of kingsroad. That would take them most of the way to a large town called Otsdan. It was two days’ travel if they really pushed, something Anatin clearly intended. The road was maintained and patrolled by Knights-Artificer troops still, but the Cards had to be ahead of the news so there was no reason to stop them. And once at Otsdan the game changed entirely.

  It took a few hours to reach the road but, when they did, Lynx felt a surge of relief. Cutting across country to reach this kingsroad made good sense. The main roads south of Siquil ran in the other direction. Not even a fast messenger with a change of horses was going to overtake them. The slow pace had made him anxious, though, so when they discovered the kingsroad empty it cheered the whole company.

  The afternoon turned damp, but the miles passed swiftly on a good road and that night Anatin allowed them to stop at an inn. There weren’t bunks for most of the company of course, but the prospect of hot food and beer nullified any such concerns. The following dawn saw a refreshed company fairly leap up from their blankets, ready to tackle the challenges life presented. Anatin’s announcement the previous evening that he’d shoot the last Card in the saddle probably helped, but for once the Cards were keen to be away and out of danger.

  A smirking Anatin said ‘bang’ at the last man, Himbel, and set off. With thin furrows of cloud in the west and the skyriver gleaming silver and gold, they made good time on a fine day and by midday the craggy hills around Otsdan came into view.

  After offering a polite greeting to the soldiers on duty at the last Knights-Artificer station, the Cards trotted on. A few hours later they reached the first way-station of the larger militant Order whose heartland adjoined these parts, the Brethren of the Shards. Lynx saw the difference immediately and had to remind himself that each Order was distinct. It was all too easy to only think of them as arsehole fanatics wearing different colours, but out this way that wasn’t enough.

  The Knights-Artificer were a disparate bunch, spread across the Riven Kingdom with the region around Siquil more of an enclave. By contrast, the Brethren were one of the most economically powerful Orders and wielded that power to control everything larger than a hamlet across the great Lae Valley region. Like the Knights-Charnel their ancestors were pale-skinned northerners, big-boned and fair. In the Brethren’s case their tendency towards ridiculous moustaches and fleshy faces belied their warrior past, these days preferring trade, serene monasteries and renowned artistry instead.

  All a bit civilised really, Lynx reflected sadly. Change brings out the worst in people and it’s always the bastards who thrive, so I don’t like their chances much.

  When they came within sight of the way-station Anatin slowed his pace. There was a collection of small houses nearby that could barely be called a hamlet and certainly didn’t cover as much ground as the way-station. That was comprised of a stone-walled compound with a squat tower on one side which was rather too military-looking to describe as a caravanserai but clearly served the same function.

  A detachm
ent of four soldiers emerged on horseback to meet them, all in the grey and yellow livery of their Order. It was a usual precaution to ensure unknown mercenaries kept outside of earther range until their intentions were known. Anatin had already called a respectful halt seventy yards out.

  ‘Veraimin’s light shine upon you,’ the young officer at the front called out, the diamond stitching on his tunic showing he was a lieutenant. He was lean and tall this one, likely capable given the Brethren weren’t as interested in bloodlines as some.

  ‘It does,’ Anatin acknowledged. ‘Almost every day. I think he likes me.’

  The lieutenant pursed his lips at that, but only hesitated a moment before continuing. ‘The Brethren of the Shards greet you. What company are you?’

  Anatin tugged his scarf free from his coat so the man could see it. ‘The Red Scarves, part of it at least. I’m Commander Adrin of the fifth battalion.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Parthain.’

  The lieutenant nodded. Parthain was a fair distance, but not so far that they wouldn’t occasionally see mercenaries from those parts.

  ‘And your business?’

  Anatin laughed. ‘Ah well now, there’s a funny story there.’

  The officer didn’t laugh. ‘You are here on commission?’

  ‘Not so much, but we’ve got an offer your superiors are going to love.’

  ‘We have no work for you here. No Order is foolish enough to strike our holdings.’

  ‘Sure about that?’

  At this the officer put his hand on his mage-pistol, sensing a threat. ‘Your meaning?’

  ‘Easy there, fella. You’ll get no trouble from us!’ Anatin assured him. ‘The buggers who’re following us somewhere behind … they might be a different story.’

  Before the Brethren officer could respond there came a soft zip through the air. Toil jerked forward and gave a cough of surprise, slumping low over her saddle. Lynx flinched as he saw the distinctive puff of chill vapour hang in the air then grabbed Toil as she started to topple. To his intense relief she howled in pain under his gentle touch.

  Distantly Lynx heard a faint sound, a whipcrack far behind them, then another. The Brethren and Cards all had their mage-guns raised in the same moment – half at each other, half looking wildly around.