by A J Dalton
Jillan darted through the crowds, his small size meaning he could slip through gaps and change direction quickly where the blacksmith could not. He lowered his bow to his side so that it would not flag his whereabouts and then raised his hood to hide his hair. After a minute or so he slowed to a stroll and disappeared into a side street to catch his breath and regain his self-control.
The taint had been muttering in his head the whole time. Ridiculous that we should have to run from those treacherous thieves. They deserved short shrift and you know it! Word’s bound to get to the Heroes and Saint soon enough. We’d better not hang around here too long.
He pushed off the wall he’d been resting against and began to head back in the direction of the main gates.
Are you mad? You’re not really going back to that inn, are you? I thought we were going to find your parents or at least that youth they mistook for you. The woodsman will be paralytic by now, stretched out asleep under a table, lying in a puddle of piss. He’s unreliable at best, not to be trusted at worst. It’s too dangerous. And the further we stay from that wolf of his when we leave this place, the safer we’ll be.
‘Ash may have discovered where we can find this Thomas Ironshoe. And we’ll need Ash and maybe Thomas to help get my parents,’ Jillan muttered.
The taint harrumphed but finally subsided. Head clearer now, Jillan negotiated his way through the crowds and streets of the town. All around there were rich smells in the air that made his mouth water. He realised he was ravenously hungry. He reached into his pack and pulled out a handful of fragments of the dried biscuits, broken and smashed among the other contents of his pack. He sighed and crammed them into his mouth. They were tasteless and hard to swallow, so he had to sluice them down with a swallow of water. If only he’d had a few coppers with him to buy a pastry or something. He decided to ask Ash if he could borrow some coin.
He reached the inn, pushed the door open and stuck his head round. The main room was even more crowded than before. Hard-eyed men in brown leather armour. The scarred man Skathis handing a purse of coins to Ash. Ash hiccuping and reaching for it, looking up and seeing Jillan.
Told you! crowed the taint. See the guilt in his eye. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time, if we live long enough for a next time. Well, better get running again, Jillan, m’lad!
‘Oh no! Owain! It’s not how it looksh! I …’ Ash slurred plaintively.
‘After him, halfwits!’ Skathis rasped, his voice like a blade leaving a scabbard.
Half a dozen Heroes turned and saw Jillan at the door. Everything froze for the briefest and longest of seconds. Then the room exploded as men scrambled towards him and patrons unintentionally got in their way, particularly the harlot, who wailed like the restless spirit of one of the dead.
‘Alive! We need him alive!’
Well that’s something at least, the taint commented as Jillan sprinted away from the door. They’re not trying to kill us. Having said that, I hate to think what the Saint has in store if he requires us alive. Bound to be unpleasant. It’s not too late to kill yourself, you know – might be the lesser of the two evils.
‘You’re not helping!’ Jillan replied. He headed away from the main thoroughfare this time: he wouldn’t be able to lose himself among the People of Saviours’ Paradise with Heroes shouting after him; if anything, the People would want to help the Heroes and would catch him in seconds.
Well there’s gratitude for you. And after I’d given you a timely warning to ensure you approached the inn cautiously instead of just bursting in there like some thirsty yokel. I think I’ll keep my own counsel from now on. See if I care!
‘If only you would!’
Jillan careered round the corner on which the inn stood, having to push away from the wall to keep from colliding with it. He ran hard, ignoring all turnings to the left, for they would either dead-end against the town walls or lead him to other Heroes on guard duty. He flashed past an alley to the right before he even noticed it but managed to throw himself into the next one just as the first of the Heroes came charging round the corner of the inn. He tore down the alley, his feet splashing in puddles of muck and spattering him with filth. Several times he almost slipped on slime and waste, but the walls to either side just about kept him up.
Just as he was reaching the end of the long passage and about to enter a walled and cobbled courtyard, a voice behind him echoed, ‘Down here!’
He dashed across the square and through an archway. He found himself in a near-identical courtyard to the previous one, but this one had linen pegged on washing lines across the way, and an outhouse in one corner with roses growing around the door.
Oo! A pretty pair of bloomers!
‘I thought you were going to keep your own counsel.’
That wasn’t counsel I just gave you. It was a comment on the lady’s undergarments. Now you’ve done it – it’s a dead end. Quick, put on the bloomers and other female finery and the guards might not recognise you.
Jillan heard the booted feet of the Heroes coming closer. He ducked under the washing lines and ran to the back door of one of the well-appointed houses ahead of him. It was unlocked. He went inside and found himself in a small room full of buckets and scrubbing boards. Then he went through into a large kitchen beyond.
A woman was lounging in a wooden tub of soapy water in front of a wide fireplace. ‘Who are you?’ she asked dreamily, making no effort to hide her modesty. ‘Bit young for this sort of place, aren’t you? Not surprised you use the back door.’
‘I am no one, ma’am,’ he replied, blushing furiously as he hurried across the kitchen.
‘Ah, that’s nice, calling me ma’am.’
What’s the rush, Jillan? She seems friendly. Hmm. She’ll slow down those Heroes for us if we’re lucky.
Jillan barged his way out of the kitchen and into a dim corridor, off which there appeared to be large reception rooms. Glancing into one, he saw expensive padded benches and other items of furniture on which beautifully scented women in bright dresses either perched prettily or lolled seductively. There were murmurs and whispers on the air, an occasional male voice rumbling an enquiry and tinkling female laughter.
‘You! What are you doing loitering in my back passage?’ shouted a large harridan who’d emerged out of one of the rooms near the front door. She had thick face paint on like a street entertainer, but a voice harsh with age and overuse.
‘I …’
Think quickly, m’lad. The guards won’t be far behind. Perhaps you’d like my counsel now, eh? I can get you out of this fix if you like.
‘Shut up!’
‘What did you say?’ the harridan asked slowly, her voice rising a notch and her brows drawing together.
The taint laughed.
‘Sorry, not you, ma’am! I … I … Damn! All right, go on then.’ The taint smoothly took over Jillan’s voice and facial expression. ‘I’ve come to warn you, ma’am. Spiro sent me.’
‘Spiro? I don’t know any Spiro. The Saviours take you, boy, what are you blathering about?’
Oops. She doesn’t know Spiro. Never mind. The taint raised Jillan’s eyebrows as high as they would go, made his eyes widely innocent and tearful and put a frantic quaver in his voice. ‘Heroes, ma’am! They’re coming here right now!’
‘What? But I’ve paid Chief Trader John already this month!’ the harridan protested as she glanced towards the unsecured bolts of the front door.
‘Ma’am! They’re coming through the back way. Do you have any guests who might be embarrassed to be found—’
There was a sudden scream from the kitchen.
‘There are Heroes here to arrest us!’ the harridan roared.
Jillan squeezed past the harridan as she came barrelling down the corridor towards the kitchen. Hopefully, she’ll wedge her bulk in the door and block our pursuers. He made it to the front door just as people in various states of undress came pouring out of the salon rooms. There were screams of alarm and demands to be a
llowed out first. He was nearly trampled as he opened the front door and they all spilled out onto the street.
I’m beginning to enjoy this.
With several others, Jillan jogged away from the house. What with the earlier chase in the marketplace as well, he was close to exhaustion.
Don’t look now.
He looked back.
I told you not to look!
A single Hero had made it out onto the street. He spotted Jillan looking back and started to give chase. Groaning, Jillan tried to run faster but knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long.
Dogged and determined, this one. He’s a trained soldier. You won’t be able to outrun him. There’s only one choice.
‘No.’
Look, if you don’t have the stomach for it, then I’ll do it for you, as I did in the house of pleasure back there. I won’t even expect you to thank me, ingrate that you are.
‘No! I will not let you kill him. He’s done nothing wrong.’
And I will not let you give yourself up to them. I’ve worked too hard just to let you petulantly throw it all away now. Your parents spoiled you, you know. It’s time to stop acting like a child, Jillan, if you want to live long enough to be worthy of a woman like Hella. Now stop whingeing and do what you must. It’s kill or be killed. Let me do it.
‘Skathis said they were to take me alive!’ Jillan said through gritted teeth.
Are you simple? That’s just until the Saint’s got his hands on you. Once he’s used you for his own designs, there’ll be nothing left of you.
‘There’ll be nothing left of you, you mean!’ Jillan shouted angrily. ‘The holy one will purge me and then I’ll finally be rid of you. I’ll be free of this evil curse!’
A man without any hose or trews who was running near Jillan overheard the outburst. He glanced nervously at the disturbed boy and decided to put a good distance between them.
The taint did not respond. In fact, it seemed to have gone completely.
Jillan stepped into a doorway and readied himself. He counted to ten and stepped back out, raising his bow as he did so. The Hero slid to a halt, presenting an unmoving target. The arrow buried itself deep in the top of the soldier’s thigh. The man cried out and just managed to keep his feet.
Jillan nocked another arrow.
‘No! Please!’
‘Get down! On the floor! Don’t move, you hear? Stay there and I won’t have to kill you. And throw me your purse. Quickly!’
Jillan picked up the purse and slowly backed down the street, his weapon trained on the soldier, who had now sensibly turned all his attention to staunching the potentially fatal flow of blood from his leg. Then Jillan turned away and disappeared into the rapidly darkening streets of Saviours’ Paradise.
The Old Fort stood on a high promontory formed by a fork in a river. Behind the fort, on the far side from the fork, was a sprawling, higgledy-piggledy town where the People who serviced the fort and its large force of Heroes lived. The mean buildings in which the People lived were nowhere near as old or durable as the fort itself, for its defensive walls had been built, it was said, by ancient sorcerers even before the time of the Empire. The dark and massive stones of the walls fitted so perfectly together that all agreed magic had to have been used in their construction. It was commonly believed that should a Chaos-inspired force ever besiege the fort and launch rocks from catapults, then the walls would magically repel the missiles before they even landed. Of course, it was blasphemy to suggest that there had been any sort of meaningful life before the arrival of the Saviours, so everyone also agreed that the ancient sorcerers responsible for the fort had fought jealously among themselves and destroyed each other, thus leaving an empty shell for the Saviours to come and fill with new life and wisdom. The only other trace of the ancient sorcerers ever having existed was the strange patterns carved above certain doors and on particular walls, presumably as some form of decoration, but decoration that never seemed to wear away in the wind.
Freda stayed safely beneath the ground as she followed the two wagons on their way between the overground chambers of the town. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to lose track of those she followed, however, as other wagons crossed their path and the vibrations of so many people walking above drowned out almost everything else. With a sigh, she realised she’d need to go above ground, so found a quiet place and climbed up and out.
It was bright – early, as the Captain had called it – but the large orb of sun-metal did not seem to be in evidence. Through the gauze of the bandage she wore over her eyes she could discern the outline of the trundling wagons quite well.
Trying to stick to the shadows, and staying as far from people as she could, she followed along. Even so, she caught mutters like ‘Poor soul!’ ‘Saviours-cursed freak!’ and ‘Pagan monster!’ as a good number of folks noticed her.
The wagons climbed steadily past all the overground chambers and she realised they had to be heading for the dark place at the top. Yes, even above ground and at this distance she could feel the vibration of all the heavy men in that place. She had promised Norfred, though, and it seemed that this was the place to which Jan had probably been brought.
Freda went back beneath the ground for the remaining journey to the dark place, since there was now virtually no cover and she didn’t want the Captain or any of his men seeing and trying to catch her. Once or twice she thought the Captain had glanced back in her direction, but her eyesight wasn’t good enough to be sure.
The rock beneath the dark place wasn’t like any she’d encountered before. It tingled when she passed through it, not unpleasantly but as if she were being touched. It was like when Norfred had used to stroke and talk softly to her in order to calm one of her bouts of frustration or rage. There was some sort of feeling in the rock here, but it wasn’t a bad feeling of evil intent as she might have expected of this dark place; rather, it was a feeling of sadness. She wondered how rock could feel sad. Did the rock not like the heavy men? No, that could not be it, for the heavy men didn’t really have any effect on the rock, did they?
She sensed an unoccupied gap beneath the dark place and stepped into it. There was absolute darkness here, so she could sense her surroundings quite clearly. There was no way in or out of the chamber, for the likes of the heavy men anyway, who could not move through rock. There may once have been a door out at the top of some stairs, but there was now a heavy slab of stone sealing it off. The slab emitted a high-pitched whine almost beyond her hearing and she decided that even she might have trouble passing through it.
The chamber was empty except for four large rocks or crystals in the middle. One she recognised as being of the same stone as the jade dragon she’d seen in her dream, but the others were types of stone she had not encountered before. People like Norfred would have described them by their colours – green, red, yellow and blue – but to her each one had a different resonance or feel. Like the slab over the door, each of the four stones emitted a whine or buzz, their different pitches creating a harmony of sorts.
The drone, or music, of the four stones relaxed her, and her eyes became heavy. Before she knew it, she was entering some sort of trance or sleep. She dreamed, but whether it was her dream or the ancient memories of the stones, she did not know. She saw people in simple clothing visiting this chamber and asking questions of the stones or praying. An old man wearing a jade amulet round his neck, a yellow stone at his forehead and a red and blue stone at each wrist seemed to be leading and guiding the people, like some sort of Overseer. No, the people knew him as a priest of Gar of the Still Stone. This was his temple. The priest helped the People commune with the stones, and through them commune with … the rock god, and through the rock god commune with … commune with … the Geas! The glorious Geas that was the communion of all living things in this world! Through the Geas, one person was connected to everyone else. Through the Geas, a person was truly one of the People and truly at one with the People. Without it, there
was no People, only eternal isolation and selfishness, eternal loneliness and despair, the eternal void and desolation. Without it, there was only the desire for oblivion and nothingness.
Now, through the shared memories, Freda could read some of the patterns and symbols on the walls of the temple. They seemed to be telling her where to find Haven and the Geas! Yet she could not understand all the instructions, for many of the symbols still did not make sense.
‘I don’t understand!’ she cried.
The priest turned to her with a kindly smile, but there was a haunted and ominous look about his eyes. ‘You must find and free the other three temples. Commune with and free Wayfar, Akwar and Sinisar. Their shared knowledge will interpret the symbols for you and help you find Haven, but be quick, child of the rock god!’
There was a rumbling sound and the temple shook. People fell to the floor and cried out for help. There were terrible screams outside the temple as children and adults alike were slaughtered. The priest pitched forward and split his brow on one of the four stones. Blood poured down his face.
‘What is happening?’ Freda wailed.
‘They are coming!’ The priest grimaced as he used his power to begin dragging the horizontal stone slab across the door to the subterranean temple. ‘They seek to possess the Geas for themselves. You must be quick, child of the rock god, for they are hunting you now. You must not let yourself be diverted from the path or taken by them, for time is short. They are almost upon you!’
As the slab closed across the doorway, the light and the dream began to fade.
‘Wait!’ Freda begged. ‘Don’t leave me on my own!’
The priest smiled at her with pity as his eyes became blackened and empty hollows. His skin wasted away as he said with his last breath, ‘Simply know that you are no monster, child of the rock god. You are a part of the Geas. There are others you may find if you are lucky, but those you know as the Overlords have corrupted almost all of them. We are so few, so few. Beware, for the Overlords are always watching and miss nothing. Stay hidden, child of the rock god, or all will be lost.’
