Tuath heard the old man cackle, then the sound of a bolt being withdrawn. The door opened to reveal a short balding man with an impressive beard, a candle in his hand.
“Why the candle? Lamps too expensive?” Tuath asked.
Gorn scratched his beard. “City Guard’s been mighty twitched recently, a string of murdered highborns. Assassins up to their eyes in blood if you ask me. The Watch have enforced a curfew the last few days… too much light and you’ll attract them. Me an’ the boys don’t want that kind of attention, do we? Come in, both of you, there’s a fire and grub… and you might need some new threads too. Take it you came through the sewers?” Gorn sniffed and wrinkled his nose.
“Aye,” Tuath answered. They entered the building, Gorn bolted the door and escorted them into a low ceilinged room at the end of the hall. A fire glowed in the corner, a low table and bench took up most of the room. Tuath and Ramin sat down gratefully and stared at the fire allowing its heat into their stiff limbs.
“I’ll get us some ale and stew, you can eat. We’ll talk, you can tell me your lies, just like old times eh, Tuath?” Gorn said as he left the room.
Ramin and Tuath were alone.
She turned to him. “It begins.”
He held her gaze and felt something inside release. He nodded. “Aye, it does.”
Gorn returned with ale and two steaming bowls of stew from the kitchen.
“Diverted these to your table, two customers out front will have to wait a bit longer.”
Tuath noticed a boy going to watch the back door. “You still working for the night traders Gorn?” he nodded in the direction the boy had taken.
Gorn hesitated a moment. “Aye, tis better to be with ‘em than against ‘em, at least my stock won’t be robbed. Did you see any of the roof walkers when you were out? They’ll likely drop some stuff off tonight.”
“No, heard a few slates rattle, could’ve been cats …or rats,” Tuath said, his mouth full of food.
“It’s winding down out front now, another hour and we’ll lock up for the night. Your room’s in the roof, you’ve used it before. Don’t worry, there’s a window, always keep your eye on the way out, eh?”
“Words worth their weight in gold,” Tuath agreed.
“You can leave payment with me or Martha when you can, you’re always welcome here Tuath. I’ll leave you to it then.”
Gorn turned and left them in peace. For minutes they sat in silence, eating, drinking, taking stock. The fire flickered in the grate, Tuath felt cold and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He finished his meal and stood, his chair scraping the floor.
“See you upstairs, I’ll take the floor. We’ll leave at dusk, so we’ll get at least four hours sleep.”
Ramin nodded staring at the fire. She wondered what she had gotten herself into, there was no backing away now. She felt trapped in buildings, she preferred the sky as her roof. She would endure the next few days, on guard.
Trust no one.
Twenty minutes later she went upstairs and found their room. Tuath was asleep on the floor, blade at his side. She took the bed and lay down staring at the ceiling, sleep would claim her reluctantly, at least she could rest her body and marshal her thoughts. Thoughts were one thing, feelings another, she’d been sceptical about Tuath. She had doubted he’d get them through the Black Middens, but he had and here they were, close to their goal.
She closed her eyes and let her breathing deepen, she might get some sleep after all.
Ramin woke to shouts and screams from downstairs, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. She looked across the room, Tuath was still asleep on the floor, it was still dark outside. She jumped out of the bed and kicked him in the leg.
“Get up! Be quick, your safe house is compromised,” she hissed. She rushed to the door and jammed a chair against the handle.
She turned her attention to the window and soon had it open, cold air rushed in. Heavy footfalls came from the stairs. Tuath was up and behind her in a heartbeat, she clambered out onto the roof and crawled up the slates to the rooftop and swung herself up and over. She moved along the ridge to the chimney breast and held on waiting for Tuath.
He joined her seconds later as shouts and lamplight came from the window. Men’s curses came to them on the damp air, shouted orders and further thumping came from below, a shape climbed out of their window.
“Time to leave, follow me,” Tuath whispered. He took Ramin’s arm pulling her after him around the chimney. Tuath led her for the next thirty minutes across a maze of roofs and chimneys. She was surprised, it was a different world up there amongst the chimneys, nooks and crannies, passageways and wooden walkways. Some looked genuine, placed for roofers and chimney sweeps, other walkways looked improvised, suspiciously convenient to access buildings and warehouses.
They were in the world of the night traders and dusk thieves. Ramin felt elated and vulnerable. She followed Tuath, using his foot holds, his hand holds, she was his shadow. The sounds of pursuit receded, she started to relax.
She bumped into Tuath who had stopped, she placed her hand on his shoulder, he was tense, holding his breath. He had seen something, he reached back and withdrew his blade. It glinted dully in the moonlight.
“Don’t move, either of you. There’s a couple of crossbow bolts for each of you if you pull anything,” a woman’s voice came from behind the chimney stack ahead.
Tuath swore. “Rake is that you? It’s me, Tuath, come to see you, settle my debt. Just ran into the Watch back in Gorn’s place, thrown them off the trail though.”
“Tuath? You bastard, you should know better than to show your face here,” the woman replied, “and to stir the Watch is… unforgivable. This is going to cost you dearly. I doubt you’ve enough gold to right your wrongs. You’ll come with us, we’ll have a reckoning, hurry, dawn is close. Follow Simpkin, he’s four feet in front of you.”
A part of the chimney structure seemed to move, a figure materialised near Tuath holding a crossbow. It was a boy, barefoot, with a soot blackened face. Simpkin grunted at Tuath jerking his head in the direction they were to take, watery daylight started to spill over the horizon.
Tuath cursed under his breath and followed the boy, his demeanour compliant. Tuath obviously had history with these people and judging by the exchange it was unlikely to end well. Ramin kept close to him reading his every move.
Always keep your eye on the way out, she recalled Gorn’s words… wise words. The words of a thief.
As they rounded a corner leading onto sheer slates, Tuath glanced at Ramin and nodded. She caught his meaning. Tuath stumbled, feet skidding on the mossy slates. He fell heavily, the rotten slate nails gave way and a whole section of roof disintegrated beneath him, he vanished over the edge. Ramin felt her feet slipping and allowed herself to be drawn into the slate avalanche. She saw the boy jump in time onto a secure section of roof. He stood looking at them as they fell.
Ramin dropped, arms and legs flailing, a soundless scream in her throat. She had often wondered how she would die, she had never pictured this, to be splattered on the cobbles of a foreign city without a fight, without a blade in her hand. She felt an impact then the shock of icy water as her body hit the river below. The breath was knocked out of her, her lungs froze, her heart slowed. The current sucked her down pressing in on her eyes and chest.
This then was it then, she was ready.
Then she felt strong arms grip her, they pulled her back towards the surface. Voices far above carried on the wind.
“They’ll never survive a fall like that, let’s leave.”
Then nothing. Shivering, cold, fear. Why fear at the end, when there was no need for it?
Idiot fear.
“Ramin, stay with me, stay awake, I need you to be strong. We are through the thieves’ stronghold, it was the only way to get out of the middens before the new day. We had to cross paths with the roof walkers, we’re out of their territory. We’re safe, for the moment.”
Ramin blinked. He had done it on purpose? A shortcut, a gamble… her breath came back, her skin felt a prickle. Then the pain followed.
She was alive.
The next few hours passed in a blur of colours, smells and noise. Tuath led her through the temple district, then the markets. People were up and about, the streets thronging for morning prayer and trade, they immersed themselves in the sea of humanity, swept along by the city’s pulse.
Finally, Tuath turned off the main thoroughfare entering a series of lanes leading to an older part of the city. Ramin was failing, she was tired and hungry, she saw gravestones, a large open space, a dense copse. They passed through the trees emerging on the far side, a stone building with a tower stood before them. They were at the rear of the building. Ramin saw a small door.
Tuath left the trees, walked up to the door and tried the handle, it was locked. He glanced round and then knocked. Almost immediately it opened and Tuath disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Ramin looked round, broke cover and followed Tuath.
Chapter 21
The Twist
Raine’s eyes fluttered open, she was bathed in darkness.
Her head and spine ached, her whole body ached. She felt different, no longer broken but stronger. She moved her feet, then her hands, she felt the dust and debris in the sarcophagus. She breathed its dust, its ash. It inhabited her lungs, her blood.
She was not repulsed, darkness held no fear only reassurance. She reached above, feeling the coverstone. It was be immovable, she needed to exit the way she had entered. She began to turn then an idea came to her, she pushed the coverstone a little, it moved. With a harder push it flew up and crashed to the floor.
Understanding trickled through her consciousness. She had changed.
Raine pulled herself up and out of the sarcophagus, weak daylight filtered from the crack in the chamber’s roof. She stared at her arms and hands, moving them around. Her arms were no longer hers, they were different, armoured… bone like. She reached to her face and neck and felt the same hardness there, she felt her chest and legs, all hard, all armoured.
She dropped to the floor and thought quickly. Her fractured mind had left her, she found she could think logically, calmly. She knew what had happened.
She had found the Twist.
She was the Twist.
She was the weapon that would confront Ashtoreth and Morrigan.
And their shade army.
~
Morrigan stood outside the walls of Imperial City, Kea.
Her army stretched out behind her, a long line against the horizon. She had caught the city’s attention. She would not need her soldiers. They underestimated her, how predictable… people thinking their walls would protect them.
People were always wrong and stupid. There would be no challenge in this, she almost regretted it.
Morrigan sighed and reached down into the pouch at her waist. She grabbed a handful of black seeds and took them from the pouch. She brought her hand to her face and looked at it, she studied her skin and nails. The shade army stood silent, disciplined, awaiting her signal.
Flashes filled the sky coming from the city, their missiles would do no harm… pissing in the wind. Morrigan opened her hand and let her gaze fall on the tiny seedlings there, hundreds perhaps thousands lay in her palm. She let the wind lift the first few, then she wove her word craft around the seeds and allowed it to take the rest with a flourish of her wrist.
Fly, brothers of the grave, fly upon the wind, fly to mine enemy, breech their soil. Take root, grow in their city, in their streets, kill them, steal breath from their lungs, rip hope from their hearts. Deliver this city to me and I will give you my love.
Two thousand seeds flew from Morrigan’s hand and were taken by the wind, up and over the city walls. Scores of seedlings landed on the battlements and streets beyond the walls, scores more were carried further into the city landing on roofs, temples and open spaces. Hundreds more landed on the citadel deep within the city.
Morrigan looked to the sky and closed her eyes, she reached into the clouds, felt the moisture there, she spoke her words and felt the craft well up inside her. The clouds responded, their bellies swelling with water. She blessed them with her love.
Go forth, flush the soil behind these walls with rain, release your bounty on this city, on its streets, that life may grow and flourish. Do this for me and you will know my gratitude and love.
The clouds above Morrigan swelled and darkened, becoming leaden. The air was charged, the clouds rolled across the sky drawing level with them, then passing over the city walls. Soon the city was bathed in shadow. Morrigan looked on and was pleased, she raised her hand, pointing to the sky and whispered in a girlish voice.
Now my children, release your love on these deserving people for me.
The sky crackled with elemental energy.
The clouds burst amidst a fierce electrical discharge. Ear splitting explosions and blinding flashes filled the sky. Lightening reached down rending walls and buildings within the city. Masonry cracked, stone shattered.
On the battlements and deep within the city Morrigan’s seedlings responded to the deluge, their skins split, shoots appeared. Each seedling grew rapidly towards the light and rain, the growth unnatural, magical. Soon thousands of seed pods lay scattered all over the city, they grew, quivering with life. Citizens attacked them seeing the threat. Scores of pods were destroyed, hundreds survived transforming into tearing, rending beasts.
The beasts, each different, burst from their seed pods and took to the streets, slaying as they went, working towards the city gates and Morrigan’s waiting army.
The city garrison put up a brave fight against the rampaging creatures but they were overrun, their throats cut, hearts impaled, spines fractured. Death was a mercy to most of the city guard, within half an hour Morrigan’s seed creatures were at the gates and in control of the city’s main square. The citadel suffered the same fate as the streets.
Morrigan reached into her craft and found the words.
Morigrath an h’griventh.
“Open the gates, my children.”
The massive gates, grated and shuddered. They began to move and in seconds lay wide open. The city was ready to be taken, its walls and gates breeched.
Morrigan glanced at her troops and gave the signal. As one, her army advanced, spears held aloft, swords drawn. There would be no quarter. Death would be a mercy for many. Morrigan was happy to oblige.
For in death lay peace and meaning.
Relief, an end to all pain and yearning.
Morrigan smiled, she knew this for she had endured death. She much preferred life and the opportunity it gave her to unleash death.
Morrigan watched as her army burst into the city, through its gates and broken walls. She looked at the clouds, they had done her proud, tears came to her eyes. She was already planning her next attack on Imperial City, Arta.
Life was beautiful… meaningful.
Life was the ultimate magic.
Morrigan wept with joy.
~
Ashtoreth, paced through the forest, her bare feet felt the Erthe.
These people revered the Erthe, some in their ignorance even worshipped it. She had learned a long time ago, in a different life, the Erthe was indifferent, cold.
Like her.
There was strength in indifference.
She walked through the trees, her hair silvery white. Light shimmered, falling from her as she passed, birds and insects fell silent in her wake. The trees thinned, she emerged into an angry dusk, the sky bruised and red. She blinked, there was beauty in pain, she would see that this land received much pain.
Her new world would be very beautiful indeed.
Her eyes gazed out over the Parly Fields. This was where it would end and begin. This was the birthplace of her new hope. She watched the last rays of the sun kissing the waters of the Swift and Brightwater. The twin rivers took on a bl
oody hue, she smiled nodding her head in approval, an omen indeed.
Her heart quickened. She would strike here, at the heart of the resistance, she would rip life from their chests and suck them dry. Their leaders would gather here, the Simulacrum and Imperial Royalty, to negotiate peace. Morrigan was providing the incentive with her tide of death in the west. Morrigan was a good punisher, a good persuader. A good sister.
Ashtoreth strode into the middle of the field, the last rays of sun catching her white brocade turning it crimson. She stretched her arms and looked up, concentration on her face. Her feet turned inwards, she started to spin, slowly at first, then faster. Her feet became a blur, she put her chin to her chest, her body penetrated the earth. In an instant she was gone, hidden from view, below ground.
Ready, waiting. A seed of deliverance.
Time was on her side. She had all the time in the world.
~
Snap out of it! You are so close, you cannot afford to falter. The Twist is within reach, find the keystone, your hand will unlock the dream, the dream will take you to the song and the song will unlock the Twist. It will embrace your body and soul, making you the vessel of destruction, to kill for the Mother, to kill for the Erthe. Wake up and fight, do not retreat, do not die!
Raine recited the words of her inner voice. Her madness had retreated like the tide, all that remained were its words.
And her connection with the Erthe.
Somehow, she was in touch with her death but she felt alive. The keystone, she was sure, was the sarcophagus’s coverstone. The dream, was her dream of madness. The song however, remained a mystery to her, she had to find the song to unlock the last part of the riddle.
She stood in the hidden chamber surrounded by unknown ghosts and timeless age. Power lay harnessed within her, she possessed a secret so powerful…. she could make a difference.
Raine coughed, clearing the dust from her throat.
Grace of the Light Page 15
