Against all odds, our plight had grown worse.
Four
Malgyne hovered at the altar, corvine face twisted in satisfaction. Droshna gestured, and the legion of fallen marched towards the atrium. Another issued forth from the abyss to take their place. So far he'd not even glanced our way, but I had the feeling that would soon change.
As I watched, a number of fallen broke off from the main group and threaded in our direction. I pushed Arianwyn back into Olvas' office, and closed and bolted the door.
"You need to get out of here," I whispered.
"No, we need to get out of here," she corrected.
"That's definitely my preferred outcome, but..."
She glared at me. "Don't. Just don't. Someone recently reminded me of the importance of shared burdens. I'm sure he wouldn't want to be thought a hypocrite."
I considered pointing out that whatever Droshna had planned for her, the inheritor of a hated mantle, would be far worse than whatever Malgyne would do to me. But Arianwyn knew that better than I did. Moreover, she had that intractable look in her eyes again. I was learning not to waste time arguing with her.
"Well, we can't get out through the main door," I said, without directly conceding the point. "Even if it's open, we can't fight through an army of fallen."
"We don't have to get out that way," Arianwyn pointed out. "There's another door in the corner."
She wasn't wrong. It was only small, set into the wall at the foot of a sunken staircase, but the presence of a cloak stand nearby strongly suggested that it led outside.
Shouting broke out beyond the recently bolted door, and a second later it shuddered under the weight of blows. At least the fallen couldn't walk through walls.
"See if you can get it open." I shouted to be heard over the commotion. Arianwyn ran down the half-dozen steps and tugged at the brass handle.
"It's locked!"
I hauled Olvas' desk across the outer doorway. "Just locked?"
Arianwyn blinked, then her expression cleared as she realised what I went. "Yes. It's not Death's spell. He must have lifted it." That could only mean that the main cathedral door was open and the fallen were spilling into the square. I hoped Quintus was prepared. There was nothing I could do to help him right now.
I ran to Arianwyn's side, taking the steps two at a time. By the time I reached the door, I had Quintus' skeleton keys in my hand and quickly put them to work. My concentration was helped neither by the sound of splintering wood from behind me, nor by Arianwyn's unconscious grip on my upper arm, which grew tighter by the moment.
Finally, there was a click. The lock slid back and I hauled the door open. I'd hoped it would lead into the streets, giving us a chance to join up with the others. Instead, the door opened onto a pitch dark, mist-wreathed tunnel.
Arianwyn shrank back. "We can't!"
A splintered fragment of door crashed across the room. "I don't think there's much choice."
"What if it's a dead end? I can't see anything."
I'd forgotten the disparity in our night vision. The darkened passage did lead somewhere, at least for twenty feet or so, and if it went that far, it probably went a great deal further. Of course, it might only take us to Olvas' private wine cellar, but every second of freedom was a prize I was ill-inclined to yield.
I bundled Arianwyn through the door and then slammed it shut behind us. Groping blindly for the keyhole, I locked the door and pressed on.
The only light came from the flames of my sword. Even that was quickly swallowed by the mist-laden gloom, casting as many weird shadows as it did patches of illumination. My eyes were acclimatised quickly, but still I couldn't see much. The vaguest shape of brick-lined walls stretching away into the distance.
Arianwyn tensed. "I can hardly see anything."
"I can," I said. "Not much, but enough to guide us." Behind us, a splintering crash proclaimed the demise of the office door. "Come on."
Neither she nor I spoke as we made our way through the darkness – the only sounds were of our echoing footsteps and muffled shouting behind. I took one of her hands in mine, as reassurance and, on one occasion, as a means of dragging her onward. At least our path was straight and no held no horrors.
What started as a brisk walk grew faster as the sounds from behind us betrayed the fact that our attackers were now battering at the second door, and grew faster still when that obstacle also disintegrated under the assault.
From the sounds of pursuit, the fallen were moving faster than we were. Desperate plans formed. I could hold our pursuers for a time if I had to. The tunnel was scarcely wide enough for Arianwyn and I to walk side by side, and would sap whatever advantage of numbers our opponents had. I'd have been tempted to make a fight of it, had Arianwyn her command of the magic, or at least the sense to keep running whilst I covered her retreat.
Finally, we reached another door – one all but identical to that through which we'd entered. It wasn't locked. In seconds, Arianwyn and I were through into the lantern-lit space beyond. I slammed the door, and scrabbled desperately for its bolts. There weren't any. Only then, swearing profanely under my breath, did I look around.
We had indeed emerged in a wine cellar, or at least that was what the racks of bottles and stacks of barrels implied. Fortunately, the vaulted space wasn't the dead end I'd feared. Stone steps rose to meet an archway. Arianwyn, whose mood had notably improved now she could see her surroundings, was already halfway up the stairs. I ran after her.
The mist was ever-present, as indeed was Otherworld's sickly pallor. This, in turn, meant more than the cathedral had been drawn into Otherworld. Whether the whole city, or even the world, had met the same fate, I had no way of knowing. What it meant here and now was that Arianwyn couldn't use her magic.
The corridor beyond the archway was strangely familiar, though it took me a few moments to work out why.
"We're in the palace," Arianwyn said disbelievingly. "Olvas had a direct passageway to the palace."
"Can you think of a better way to ensure access to his patrons?" I caught Arianwyn's arm as she started off. "Where are you going?"
"Outside. We can get outside from here."
But a different plan was forming in my mind. "No, we need to go deeper. We can't keep running. Sooner or later we'll tire and I've a feeling that they're not going to. We'll try something else."
Arianwyn regarded me with suspicion, but fortunately chose not to argue. "Very well," she said, clearly not happy. "This way."
We hurried through a series of rooms and corridors, never once catching sight of another soul. Nor did we lose our pursuers, if the sound of running feet behind us could be believed. Once or twice, I caught snatches of bellowed orders. It was remarkable how different the palace looked with its chambers wreathed in mist. It was also strangely empty.
"Where are the guards?" Arianwyn asked breathlessly.
"Probably in the square," I replied. "If I needed extra muscle, this is the first place I'd strip of praetorians. That reminds me..." I dug in my pocket, retrieved one of the lion-headed amulets I'd acquired following the fight in the vaults, and threw it to Arianwyn. "...put this on. We don't need the guardians after us as well."
Arianwyn nodded mutely and slipped the chain over her head.
I donned a second amulet. We'd passed several lion statues in our mad dash, but I wasn't sure how long they'd remain motionless.
We burst through a pair of double doors into a lavishly-appointed sitting room. We were only halfway across when the doors opposite slammed open, and six fallen thundered in. Without a word, Arianwyn and I spun wearily back the way we'd come, but another group had followed us in. Now on the wrong end of nearly six-to-one odds, our situation looked hopeless.
This was my first look at the fallen close up and they were even more disconcerting than at a distance. Their shining black eyes had neither pupil nor iris, and their skin was waxy and pale. Worse than that was the aura of malice that sat about them like a cloak.
Whatever finer emotions these souls had once displayed, it seemed only darkness now remained.
The fallen didn't advance at first. They seemed interested only in preventing our escape. I took advantage of their hesitation to lead Arianwyn over to the fireplace. As a defensible position it was laughable, but I didn't care. I was interested only in what stood beside the fireplace.
Arianwyn drew her dagger, a last display of resistance spurred more out of principle than any anticipation of victory. I, on the other hand, had at least part of a plan. With our pursuers all gathered in the same place, it was time to set things in motion. I reached out my hand, then froze in place as the leader of the fallen walked into the room.
"Lord Droshna wants the woman alive." The newcomer's outstretched finger drifted lackadaisically from Arianwyn's direction to mine. His voice was as peremptory as it had ever been in life, his haughty expression accustomed to getting its way. "The other just needs to die, as painfully as you can arrange. Unless you'd like to change sides?" he asked me with a mocking grin. "I'd imagine Malgyne would happily forget your transgressions for service, freely offered. Wouldn't you say, dear brother?"
I should have felt angry, and perhaps I did, but I never noticed it through the pall of sorrow. "I thought you'd moved beyond this, Alfric," I said sadly. "I thought you'd found peace."
"You know nothing," he sneered. "But then, you were always too ready to believe in happy endings. What you see before you is who I truly am."
Was this then the real Alfric? Had he chosen this path, or did some past bargain grant Malgyne a power over him that he couldn't deny? I hoped the latter was true. I still wanted to believe my brother had always possessed the potential to be a good man. It didn't matter. If I wanted to survive the next few minutes, it would seem I'd have to kill my brother again – though how I'd do that whilst sorely outnumbered, I had no idea.
"And if I agree to serve Malgyne..."
"Edric, no!" Arianwyn's voice crackled with emotion.
But the question had to be asked, so I pressed on. "...if I agree to serve Malgyne, does Arianwyn go free?"
Alfric laughed. "Of course not, she goes to Droshna. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could stop him from tearing Sidara's last descendant limb from limb." His lips hooked into a feral smile. "And I don't want to. It promises to be an interesting spectacle." He clicked his fingers. "Take them!"
The fallen surged forward. My sword flashed out, trailing fire. Two attackers crumpled to the floor in a spray of black blood. A third reeled away, grasping at a bloody stump. Then I was borne to the ground and my sword torn from my hand. Arianwyn thrust her dagger between the ribs of one of the fallen. He roared with pain, and snatched the weapon away. It seemed the fallen could be hurt by mortal weapons.
Alfric gathered up my sword and approached. Five of his minions held me pinned flat on my back, one with her foot across my throat. Three more held Arianwyn tight. She was still upright, but I couldn't see how that would help us.
"A truly remarkable sword," said my brother. "It was always treasured, of course, but I don't recall any mention of it being magical in any way. Care to tell me the secret?"
I glared at him. "The power of repentant blood."
I was rewarded with a guffaw of laughter. "Repentant blood? Mine, I assume? Oh really, that is priceless. The things people believe." His voice grew hard. "How repentant do I seem at this moment?" He held up a finger. "No, don't answer. I'll show you."
With mocking slowness, Alfric raised the sword in a two handed grip, its point aimed down at my forehead. The flames licked up at his hands, though if he felt any pain he gave no sign.
It was now or never. "Now, Arianwyn!"
Every eye turned to my companion. By the time they recognised that her confusion mirrored their own, it was too late. I wrenched my left foot free, planted the sole of my boot firmly in the chest of the fallen who had so recently pinioned it, and shoved.
The effect was everything I could have wished. My victim shot directly backwards and slammed into a free-standing plinth. He regained his balance almost at once, but I was no longer interested in him. My attention was on the five-foot, priceless, Ithna'jîm vase atop the plinth. It rocked, righted itself, rocked again, and then shattered into a hundred pieces across.
Alfric sighed theatrically. "What did you think...?"
A familiar booming sound echoed though the room, drowning out his response. As before, the alarm sounded three times before falling silent.
Alfric glanced around, then gestured expansively with my sword. "Well, that was unexpected. Pointless, but unexpected."
Two fallen – a man and a woman – didn't seem quite so nonchalant as he. Their garb betrayed them as Tressians, and both wore expressions suggesting they knew something significant had happened, but couldn't remember exactly why.
"Anyway, where were we?" Alfric asked. "Ah yes." He brought the blade about over my head once again. "Last chance to join the winning side, brother."
"The answer's still no."
He shrugged. "As you wish."
Alfric raised the sword high. Then he paused, as if gathering some distant thought. Was he having doubts? I tried to think of the words that might save my life, but nothing came. The blade flashed down.
Something large shot through the open door. It slammed into Alfric, bowling him clear across the room. A moment later, a second leonine form entered through the opposite door and fell upon the fallen.
It was a most uneven fight. Our foes' swords and axes, whilst formidable against mortal foes, barely scratched the lions' bronze hides. The guardians suffered no such handicap. Each swipe of their claws sent a pale body sprawling, black ichor spraying from ragged wounds.
Alfric scrambled to his feet, the guardians having ignored him in favour of more immediate threats. He'd lost his grip on my sword – possibly the only weapon in the room with any chance of damaging the guardians – and did exactly what I expected. He fled, leaving his fellows to their fate.
Seeing their leader abandon them without a second thought, our surviving captors ran for the doors. Not one escaped. Only one woman made it within five paces of the exit. She gave out an agonised howl as heavy bronze fangs sank into her leg, and dragged into range of a mauling. As the last fallen went still, the lions glanced briefly at Arianwyn and myself, and began prowling.
Arianwyn regarded them uneasily, and toyed absently with her amulet. "You might have told me you had something like that in mind."
I reclaimed and sheathed my sword. "I wasn't sure it'd work."
"Still," she said with a relieved grin. "I'm impressed."
I shrugged off the praise. One moment of adequacy didn't make up for days of misjudgements. "We need to get out of here. The alarm will have been heard, and I'm not confident our allies will come looking for us before our enemies. Alfric's likely found help even as we speak."
Arianwyn laid a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry Edric, I know how much you wanted to believe he'd changed."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But..."
"I said I don't want to talk about it," I snapped. Arianwyn pulled away. Shame coursed through me. "Not yet, anyway."
Leaving the bodies of the fallen where they lay, we went in search of an exit. To my surprise, the guardians padded softly after us or at least as softly as two ambulant lumps of bronze could manage, leastways.
Arianwyn fiddled with her amulet as we walked.
"Be careful you don't break it," I warned. "I think we've had enough excitement for the moment."
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm only trying to make sense of it. I can't access my magic, but these creatures clearly still function. I thought perhaps I could tap into whatever it is that animates them and... oh..." She lurched to a halt and her eyes defocused.
"What?" I asked, not sure how concerned I should be.
"I've worked it out."
Behind her, the two guardians sat down in unison and Arianwyn clapped with delight.
"I think so, it's quite easy really."
On her unspoken command, the guardians got to their feet and followed once more. I watched them with suspicion, but decided I'd take any help I could get.
We made it into the palace gardens without encountering either more guardians, praetorians or fallen. Nor did we see any further sign of Alfric. I was glad of that, as my feelings regarding my brother had once more been reduced to a jumbled mess. With no obvious way to resolve things, I decided to do the only thing that I could, which was to focus on the larger problem.
First of all, we had to get back to Quintus and the others – if they were even still alive. Given the numbers of fallen that had mustered in the cathedral, I didn't hold out much hope.
Five
I'd intended to meet up with Quintus in front of the cathedral. We covered about half the distance when we encountered a praetorian running as fast as she could manage in the other direction. She was reluctant to talk at first, recognising neither myself nor Arianwyn as a person of authority. Only when Arianwyn threatened to set loose her newly acquired guardians – whom she'd named Jaspyr and Fredrik – did the praetorian finally offer up information.
There'd been a battle in the square – a big one – and Quintus had been on the losing side. Hundreds had died, and the survivors were supposedly heading back to the bridge over the Estrina. Our informant had decided to cut her losses at that point and seek safety elsewhere. Not wanting the burden of an unwilling companion, I let her go on her way as we continued on ours.
The Estrina was an artificial river, split off from the Silverway where it entered the city walls. It had once served as a mill race, and now acted as a secondary weir for its parent. It was deep, swift-flowing and could be crossed at only one point. By the time we reached its banks, the mists had faded and the light – what there was of it at that hour – had regained its normal hue.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 35
