by Tom Lloyd
‘There’s just a skeleton crew of fifty holding the wall,’ Deern added after slapping the youth a few times as he descended into tears. ‘They’ve got a couple of horses to send word but that’s it. He says the locals wouldn’t dare look for sanctuary here, the whole valley’s forbidden. Without the senior priests, they’ve no right to approach and clearly the Lord-Exalted don’t give a shit.’
Safir looked around at the other Cards there, plainly confused. ‘Anyone know what’s going on? This can’t be a coincidence.’
‘I can guess,’ Atieno said. ‘The greatest cache of God Fragments, and therefore magic, in the Riven Kingdom is known to be kept here. Their security fears do not just come from outside these walls. The monsters they’ve seen are merely the fringes of a bigger problem – one that is drawn to magic.’
Safir’s face darkened. ‘Golantha?’
‘Hah,’ Deern laughed. ‘About fucking time shit like this started happening to people who ain’t us!’
‘All the monsters the deepest black can offer,’ Atieno said gravely. ‘We’ve come to prevent all-out war, but it may be we’re walking into something just as bad.’
Chapter 30
‘They’ve broken through to the second hall!’
Exalted Olebeis heaved herself up from the stone chair, moving more on instinct than will. She stared dumbly at the dragoon who’d burst in, ragged and bloody as they all were. Harsh white light illuminated the man’s face, scrappy beard and reddened eyes. He squinted in the light, swaying slightly, as Olebeis grabbed her gun.
‘Then the end comes,’ she said gravely, light-headed amid all that his words imparted. ‘We are lost.’
With her was one other. Lopein was a heavyset man with a shaved head and red robes. She looked at the mage then clasped his arm.
‘I am sorry,’ Olebeis said in a choked voice. ‘I had hoped this would never come to pass. I never believed … I never thought the threat would continue to grow like this. Not even Bade predicted the sacred fragments would draw so many creatures of the deepest black, like they were responding to some great rally to arms.’
‘I volunteered, remember, girl?’ he said in the same musical lilt her parents possessed. She had known him all her life, a friend of her father’s from boyhood. Taken by the Order at the same time, the two had arrived together and been inseparable ever since. Each had helped the other accept their place in life, the gifts and burdens magic imposed.
‘I meant to keep you safe,’ he continued after a moment, his voice quiet and wavering. ‘A last gift to your parents. I am sorry.’
She shook her head. ‘You have given your all.’
Olebeis slung her cartridge case over her head and checked the contents. Four mage-cartridges were left inside. Only one of those would be of much use and still … it would do nothing.
‘Take my pistol,’ she said, offering the small mage-gun from her belt. ‘For when they come.’
‘I am no good shot,’ Lopein said with a weary smile, but he took it all the same.
‘You don’t need to be …’ She stopped. He was joking with her. He knew it wasn’t to fight.
‘What about you?’
Olebeis found a flicker of determination still within herself and straightened up to look him in the eye. ‘I am an Exalted of the Torquen temples. I have stood the Long Watch and will defend it to my final breath.’
Lopein bowed his head, not trying to hide the pain on his face but unable to bear its weight. He said nothing. There was no more to say. He was a stone mage – he had done heroic work to secure their chambers up until now, but his kind had few skills for combat. Normally, he would be safe from all but the most determined of foes deep underground but, perversely, his skills had sealed his fate. He had been thorough in his work so there was no escape from this place, not now. What kept others out, entombed him.
Olebeis embraced the man. His great warmth enveloped her as it had so often when she was a child, in her parents’ own chambers. Then she stepped away, fighting the tears in her eyes. Her own death meant nothing. An Exalted was stronger than that, but his loss was a wound she couldn’t bear. She saw her parents in his face, the shape of his eyes and nose enough of a reminder of them and yet … And yet not the last look of those she loved most in this life.
She couldn’t speak, could make no sound at all. He smiled all the same once he had let her go and ushered her towards the door.
We all have our own death to face, she had been told once, soon after her elevation. It will come for each of us and on that day we are alone. In that final moment you will find your final test. Do not fear it. Your duty to Insar demands that you embrace it, that you plan for it and ensure it serves our god’s will.
We each face death alone, she told herself as she left the chamber, past empty ammunition boxes and the remaining food. Still she flinched when a gunshot rang out behind her. Olebeis faltered in her step while the dragoon stared back, wild-eyed, then tightened his grip on his gun.
‘What do you have left?’ she asked him.
‘I, ah – little, sir.’
She offered over a sparker, the last one of use in her cartridge case. ‘For all the good it may do us.’
‘Yes sir.’ His voice softened, became resigned. Beaten down by fear, constrained by orders and duty, he could make no decisions himself. He would follow her to death and if at the last moment he did not … well, it would matter little.
The outer chamber was a high hall, circular with a great roundel of glittering stone at its heart. Sweeping twists of granite sparkled with metals, the stone woven in such a way as to resist all magery. There were traps built in too, though she knew not what. She had never seen inside the heart of this place – had spent the full value of her life on a promise alone. There were three dragoons there. Dail on a cot, his leg splinted with blood seeping through the filthy bandage, Alao loading a gun for the injured man, Sergeant Neroteolo facing the door with his gun ready.
‘Sergeant,’ Olebeis called. ‘Will you take a walk with me?’
The big man turned. One eye was a mess, the skin of his cheek roughly stitched back together. It was a miracle the soldier was still standing, but not a surprise to Olebeis. He’d been a true soldier until a foot injury had him sent this way for lighter duties in some nearby town.
Lighter duties, she laughed inwardly. How foolish that sounds now.
He limped forward. ‘We won’t get far.’
‘So be it.’
Olebeis raised her gun and headed for the doorway on the far side. Whatever this place had been, it was an unremarkable resting place for the remains of the god Veraimin – or some of the remains anyway. There were fifty fragments sealed inside the vault behind her, so she had been told. Far fewer than those of Insar – far more than was safe to keep nearer the surface.
‘I want to thank you all,’ she said abruptly. ‘Your service to our gods has been impeccable. When our souls are weighed in judgement, my words shall fall on the scales.’
Neroteolo nodded, a fierce grin on his face. The man knew his scripture, he knew how the testimony of those most exalted were considered golden come a final accounting. The others just stared at her dumbly, struggling to comprehend what was about to happen.
She headed out towards the second hall. This charnel vault, like most of the others, was built in layers, several walls and chambers around above and below to somehow insulate the contents. She presumed it had once worked, before Bade’s demon-woman had upturned the natural order of things. Now it was mere scenery through which the beasts would travel.
The next hall was the largest. There was something there already – spindle-limbed and the size of a wolf-hound, but paying her no attention. It walked with difficulty through the gloom of the hall – a single mage-glass casting light across the fifty-yard space. From a bag Olebeis withdrew three more – flattened half-spheres a hand-span across. Lopein’s last act had been to charge these, to ensure they had light enough for their final moments. She cro
uched and slid one across the smooth polished floor, ancient Duegar engravings worn almost to nothing by a thousand years of foot-traffic.
The light streaked out across the floor, sliding thirty yards before it stopped. Neroteolo took another and managed to get it further, almost to the end. The third she put just shy of halfway, illuminating the whole chamber as best they could. She was satisfied. They would see their doom coming and this was a fitting place to die, if any was. Three storeys high and surrounded by a deep gallery, whatever this place had been it lacked much in decoration. Olebeis wondered if it had once been a library. There were sconces for mage-lights all around the hall and serried alcoves running the full length. Now not even dust remained.
She removed the earther in her gun as the creature crept closer, wary of the light and injured but seeing prey all the same. It was crook-backed and pale, white with long streaks of red. Insectile legs rose above its body and bent back down, around a thin flexible torso. Long stalk eyes emerged from a narrow head.
Olebeis loaded one of her last icers and took aim. With the added light the creature was even slower to advance, unsure of what it saw, so she put the shot right through the centre of its head. As the whipcrack sound echoed around the stone hall the creature collapsed dead. Somehow the sound never faded – it seemed to continue all around them then build in intensity like an approaching tsunami.
Olebeis dropped to one knee as Neroteolo cried out in surprise then fierce delight. The roar filled the air now. It shuddered through the stone until finally at the far end of the hall the wall burst open. Amid the dust and flying shards, Olebeis could see nothing at first, but she held her fire. Then claws came, massive and hooked. Long limbs reached through and the beast emerged into the half-light – roaring its victory as it came.
It was bigger than anything Olebeis had ever seen down here. Glimmers of orange light erupted from pulsing, gill-like fissures down its dark flank. The beast hauled itself forward. Legs the size of tree trunks drove forwards a blockish head that bore a nest of twisting horns. A trio of eyes glowed on either side of a vertical split.
It advanced towards them, bending its face right down to the first mage-light. It was snuffed out in an instant. Wrapped in shadow the beast continued, towards the next. There it did the same, as easily as blowing out a candle. Darkness encroached with its every movement. A frill of red spines on its back almost scraped the ceiling as it came. Each step brought it on another five yards, slow and deliberate as though it savoured these moments. When it reached the last light, Neroteolo roared and fired his gun. The orange light of a burner filled the chamber, but it faded to nothing as it washed over the beast.
It looked up at that, interest renewed, and Olebeis took the opportunity to fire. Her earther struck its head, crashing into the twisted horns on the side of its face. The blow punched it back and it reeled. A moment later it had righted itself and spared her one long, malevolent glare. Its head split and peeled apart as a roar shook her bones. Olebeis saw in the last scraps of light row upon row of teeth before it dipped and drank the magic from the remaining sphere.
She had time for one final desperate grab at her cartridge case before the scrape of its claws covered the rest of the ground. Then she felt nothing as the darkness consumed her.
Chapter 31
With their prisoners secured and the one conscious – albeit terrified to the verge of fainting – Charneler in tow, the Cards made for the central gatehouse. After the young man’s words, memories of the tysarn in Caldaire loomed large in Lynx’s mind. He couldn’t help but cast wary glances to the north, but there was little to see in the cloud-streaked sky. Below was just a faint dark lump of ground he assumed was Insar’s Seat in the distance.
Toil was waiting for them at the gatehouse with Suth and Sitain. They all now wore greatcoats with Knights-Charnel insignias. The rest of the building was silent but Lynx could smell something even before he made it through the door. Burned coffee and smoke.
‘All good?’ he asked.
‘Guards are sleeping like babies,’ she confirmed. ‘We’ve done a sweep, everything seems quiet.’ She paused, seeing their prisoner. ‘Took one alive, did you?’
Lynx shrugged. ‘You said silent. By the way, Sitain, those night-bolts worked a treat. We’ll be wanting more of those.’
‘Happy to serve!’ the young woman replied with a wobbly bow. ‘In this respect anyway. I’m all for not killing people if we don’t have to. Might be me on the other end one day.’
‘Do you need a sit-down? You look drunk or spent.’
Sitain shook her head. ‘Just tired. I’m fine. Just need a minute before I deal with the tower guards.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes! Ulfer’s tits, old man, you fuss worse than my mother.’
Lynx nodded. ‘Back to normal already. Toil, our young friend here said the garrison numbered fifty-odd. We found just a handful in the tower.’
‘Most of the rest are here,’ Toil confirmed. ‘Take their weapons and lock them up. Try not to cut any throats unless it’s really necessary.’
‘Got it,’ Deern said. ‘Tie ’em up, make sure there’s no jewellery or purses they might hurt themselves on. After that we’ll check there’s no booze left, in the interests of preserving their immortal souls.’
‘Thank you, Deern,’ she replied. ‘You just volunteered to head back down and fetch up the rest of the company after we’re secure here.’
Toil turned her back on Deern’s explosion of complaints and headed further into the gatehouse. There was a connecting door on the valley side of the room, the central section being taken up by an ammunition chimney which stood above the gate.
Following Toil, Lynx found stairs leading up and down. As Toil took Sitain and Suth to the east tower in search of the remaining garrison, the rest quickly explored the gatehouse. In a pair of bunkrooms they found a few dozen not-quite-asleep Charnelers. To Deern’s obvious delight, one couple had been screwing when Sitain’s wave of night magic broke over them. Lynx and Aben had to prevent him from rearranging them while the others stripped the rooms of weapons and ammunition.
They put all the Charnelers into the bunkroom with the sturdiest door before carrying down the handful who’d been on duty in an upper guardroom. A pair of Cards checked over the buildings behind the guardhouse, a mess hall, kitchen and stable block. There they discovered a single cook who’d locked himself in a storeroom with a few bottles of wine, and two horses in a stable, all struck down by Sitain.
Once all were contained in the bunkroom, Safir opened the gate. Heeding the young Charneler’s words about monsters roaming the slopes, he sent Kas and Layir with Deern to where the rest of the Cards would be waiting. By the time Toil returned from sweeping the east tower, dragging a few more bodies along the ramparts, Lynx had stoked the kitchen’s stove into something useful.
Estal and Lynx between them managed to swiftly turn potatoes, a side of bacon and strange vegetables that smelled like garlic into a meal. They brought it up to the guardroom and the Cards descended upon it like wolves. By the time half the food had gone a cry went up from Sitain who’d been on the upper level, eating and watching the gloom beyond.
‘Guns!’ she yelled down through the opening where the ammunition buckets rose. ‘There’s gunfire down there!’
Food abandoned, the Cards raced to the windows. They were high tapered apertures in the thick walls through which ballistae could be fired. The machines themselves stood on brass runners, able to slide forward and back to make reloading easier. It took a while before Lynx’s eyes readjusted to the inky folds of outside. The pale path of the road was barely visible even after someone covered the lamps, but stuttering in the dark was the unmistakable flash and crack of gunfire.
‘Anyone see who it is?’
No one spoke, not even Sitain who had the best night-sight of them all.
‘Damn,’ Toil growled. ‘Let’s just hope it’s the Cards. Lynx, Aben, Haphori – stay here and man these th
ings. Estal, Deern, Atieno, down to the ammunition store. Send up bolts for these, the rest of you upstairs. Let’s get a better look, see which side we’re on here before we break out the toys.’
As boots hammered on stone, Lynx pushed himself past the ballista and as far out of the window as he could. The chill wind stung his eyes as it swept past and he had to blink away tears before he could properly look. When he did, even his mage-blessed eyes could only just discern figures on the road. The rest was more of an impression, shifting shadows in the darkness.
‘Can you count them?’ Aben asked from the other window.
‘No. Haphori?’
Haphori’s dark mass of hair flailed wildly in the blackness as he leaned out, not speaking, and when he withdrew his teeth were bared in a wild gleam. ‘Not many, looks about right. More important is what they’re shootin’ at.’
‘Can you see?’
‘I see movement,’ the man reported, turning back. ‘Don’t see returnin’ fire.’
‘Deepest black,’ Lynx breathed. ‘Who doesn’t shoot back?’
‘Who or what, eh? I don’t reckon what’s out there has guns.’
Lynx spent a while staring down at the slope. He realised Haphori was right. There was no gunfire directed towards the group on the road, just sporadic bursts flashing outwards. When he started to make out a little more, Lynx realised the movement was too fast to be human, covering the ground too easily.
The rattle of the pulley brought him back into the room. As Aben plucked a narrow crate of mage-sphere-tipped bolts from the cradle, Lynx began winding the crank.
‘Don’t fire until I give the order!’ Toil yelled down. ‘We need to make sure.’
