The Twilight herald tr-2

by Tom Lloyd

  'That's only natural, isn't it? As a white-eye?'

  'It is in his blood to do so, but it is not always the answer. He may need others to show him that.'

  Mihn hesitated, disturbed by the direction of her thoughts. 'Let's get you out of here so you can tell him yourself.' He guided her to¬wards the window, opened the shutter a little and peered out. The area around looked empty of armed men. 'Can you climb?'

  'I'll manage.'

  'Are you sure?' Mihn looked at her sceptically until Xeliath took his hand with her good one. Her fingers, shaking a little as he had helped her out of bed, now clamped around his wrist and began to crush it. After a few moments, Mihn gave a gasp of pain and she released him.

  'I get the point,' he said dryly. 'You're still a white-eye.'

  'Good boy.'

  'But without meaning to offend you, my Lady, you are going to find it hard to climb with only one arm. Your left is completely useless, isn't it?'

  She grimaced as her shoulder spasmed, as though responding to Mihn's question of its own volition. With her teeth gritted against the pain, Xeliath brought her left arm up to chest height, visibly shaking. With what looked like great difficulty, she turned her wrist so Mihn could see what she held.

  'I think we should bring it with us nonetheless,' she whispered.

  Mihn hadn't been able to identify it as he'd struggled to fit Xeliath's ruined arm into the shirt sleeve, though it felt smooth, and as warm as her own skin, for all its solidity. Now, in the dull moonlight, he saw a glassy surface and his heart went cold. The last time he had seen something like that, it had been fused to Eolis, Lord Isak's sword…

  The Crystal Skull given to Xeliath had done the same thing, only this one had fused itself to the hand with which she'd first gripped it. It had probably attached itself to the bones within as well. To take the Skull of Dreams from Xeliath would require more than theft: it would need mutilation.

  Mihn suddenly realised Lord Isak had been right to send him here. Sooner or later someone would try to take the Skull from her, and Xeliath would most likely die in the process.

  'May I be allowed to tie a rope around you, in case you slip? I prom-ised my Lord I would bring you safely to him.'

  The young woman shook her head. 'I have been imprisoned here for the best part of a year; I will escape it by my own strength or die trying. The wishes of the man whose fault this is do not concern me.' With no small amount of difficulty, she fought her way down the wall, clinging fast to the creeper as she searched for secure footholds. Her gritted determination paid off and she half-fell into Morghien's waiting arms.

  They set off by fits and starts as rainclouds began to gather above. With Seliasei's ghostly assistance, they got to the edge of the forest as the first fat drops began to clatter through the leaves. Morghien led the way, a throwing axe ready in his hand, while Xeliath allowed Mihn to walk at her side, a secure arm around her waist in case her underused leg muscles failed her.

  'Thieves, are they?' said a woman's voice behind them.

  Mihn stumbled in shock, almost knocking Xeliath to the floor, while Morghien whirled around with his axe raised. Mihn could do little to help his companion beyond turning Xeliath so she could see who had spoken, but Morghien did nothing once he'd raised his weapon.

  Standing a few yards behind them were three young women in long dresses. They had hair curling to their waists. The middle one had skin the same shade as Xeliath's. The girl on the left was a rich ebony, and the one on the right had a silvery sheen to her patterned coffee skin that caught the moonlight.

  'Thieves they must be, sisters,' answered the right, smiling like a cat at Morghien as he put himself between Xeliath and the strange women. 'Thieves stealing the jewel of our household, I think.'

  'And on our father's day as well,' continued the ebony-skinned woman. Her flesh was so dark Mihn could see little of her face beyond sharp little teeth and eyes that flashed green. 'Shall we permit it?'

  'How could we permit it?' purred the middle sister. 'Stolen from our domain, when we are bound to protect her family? No, they must be punished.'

  'We've stolen nothing,' Morghien said, prompting all three women to turn their hungry attentions solely on him.

  'Strangers come and creep in through windows, hurrying away before the alarm is sounded, with a noble child under their cloaks. Thieves, we think,' she spat, with undisguised venom. 'Avoiding the guards is easy, but us? Not so; we can sense all that goes on in these parts, and how could we not notice a foreign spirit walking our fields?'

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mihn saw a brief white flicker around Morghien's head. Seliasei, he thought. If she's worried, perhaps we should be too.

  'They steal nothing, wolf-cubs,' Xeliath replied firmly. 'Leave and let us pass.'

  The middle sister spared her a pitying look, all the time flexing her long fingers impatiently. 'You do not order us, we grant that boon only to your father.'

  'Wolf-cubs,' Mihn blurted out. 'You must be the Daughters of Meqao, the Aspects of Amavoq bound to this place.'

  'We are,' said the sister with ash-bark skin, 'and we do not care who you are, so be careful of how you speak to us.'

  'He'll speak to you however he wishes,' Xeliath snapped, 'and you will run back to your trees and hide there until we are far away. In the morning, when you eventually appear before my father, you will say I have run off to be married to a soldier I met when he presented me at court, and he should not follow. He will hear from me soon enough.'

  The sisters took a step forwards, hungry expressions showing long teeth and hanging tongues. 'And why should we do that, little one?'

  'Because otherwise you are my enemies.'

  As Xeliath spoke, Mihn felt a sudden warmth in the arm held close to him. He could feel a fire building inside her, one that sent a surge of prickling energy rushing through his body as well. He could see the sisters felt it too, and suddenly they were nervous.

  'What do you have in your hand, little one?' the middle sister asked, rather more uncertain now. A burst of white light came from Xeliath's side, shining from the Skull through the ruined hand. The sisters howled and staggered back, shielding their eyes from the light. The lightest-skinned of the three dropped to her knees with a wail that stopped only when Xeliath halted the surge of magic. Thinking quickly, Mihn was ready to take her weight when the effects of the coursing energy hit Xeliath and she sagged onto his shoulder.

  'I am blessed by your mistress, Lady Amavoq herself. Be content you are doing her will in helping me.'

  The three sisters stared at her fearfully, then turned and ran as one. They had gone just a few paces when their bodies became insubstan¬tial and vanished to nothing.

  Xeliath panted furiously and forced herself fully upright again.

  Morghien gave her a curious look and laughed. 'Lady Amavoq, that great romantic,' he said and laughed again.

  Xeliath gave him an angry glare and he kept his mouth shut as he sauntered past her and back into the forest. An obscure little smile played across his face for the first time in weeks.

  Mihn sighed inwardly and hoped Morghien wouldn't infuriate Lady Xeliath as much as he did Lord Isak. Even the beautiful half of her face was presently twisted into a scowl.

  'Are you going to follow him, or stand there looking like an idiot?' she muttered. 'Come on, move.'

  Mihn sighed again. It was going be a long journey home.

  'Now isn't that strange?' Isak said under his breath. Keeping a safe distance from the squads of Fysthrall soldiers that ringed the sunken theatre and the surrounding streets, Isak and two of his guards were crouched behind a parapet that edged the flat roof of a nearby build¬ing. It gave an excellent view of the crowd outside the theatre's gate, and Isak recognised several people. A rough wooden frame covered in

  sailcloth above them kept them in shadow. The owners of the build¬ing cowered stayed safely indoors, content to leave Scree's madmen outside.

  'Bloody mad, I'd call it,' Ti
niq said beside him.

  That was the longest sentence Isak had heard from General Lahk's brother all evening. For a ranger who was at least twenty years older than he looked, Tiniq was as jumpy as a raw recruit, and had been ever since they arrived in Scree, constantly looking over his shoulder and twitching fearfully, as though he could hear the mournful bell of Death's gates somewhere nearby.

  'That they're putting on a play I can understand, if what Legana said about a spell is true, but for folk to walk these streets to see it is nothing more than madness.'

  'It must be part of the spell,' Leshi replied from Isak's other side. The two unnatural men were Isak's only guards that evening, to help them go unnoticed, though the ranger, Jeil, was keeping watch in the street. Mayel, who was their guide, was huddled in the far corner of the rooftop, keen to see, but desperate not to be seen. After nightfall, his city was given over to flame and fury, and he had no wish to be drawn further into the madness.

  'Look at the rioting, the meaningless violence; at least this place is protected. Coming here probably looks like the sensible option to them, even though they have to brave the streets to get here.'

  'Forsaken!' howled a voice behind them. Tiniq was a blur as he jumped up, sword drawn and raised, ready to protect Isak. In the street behind them where Jeil lurked, an old man staggered down the street, dressed in rags, a bloody wound on his balding head leaking blood down his face. He appeared oblivious of the men watching him. His voice fell to a mutter, jumbled syllables that made no sense, then rose again to a roar as he proclaimed: 'Failing city bound to a failing heart! She brings ashes; words and ashes from the darkness underground.'

  'Jeil,' Isak hissed, 'shut the old bastard up before he attracts atten-tion.'

  Hearing a voice, the old man stopped and peered up at Isak. He brandished a rusty dagger in the white-eye's general direction. 'What Gods abandon, so fire shall purge!' he screamed. 'They have cursed us; their servants cast spells upon us and must be sacrificed to the flame!'

  Jeil stepped out of a nearby doorway, a short crescent-headed axe in one hand. Tiniq scampered across the roof towards his comrade,

  sensing trouble as Jeil said, 'Bugger off, old man, or I'll kill you and you can see what Lord Death thinks of your words.'

  The old man stared at Jeil for a moment, incomprehension fad¬ing to fury in a heartbeat. 'Servant of the Gods!' the man yelled. He raised his battered dagger and lunged forward at Jeil, shrieking. The ranger fell back to give himself room, only to hit the wall behind him. He swung the axe up and caught the old man in the armpit, pulling his own knife from his belt to catch the old man's blade.

  The wound didn't look like it had any effect on the man as he slashed down, his blade glancing off Jeil's dagger and into the ranger's arm. Jeil kicked out in desperation, and succeeded in driving the old man within reach of Tiniq's broadsword.

  They watched his head tumble off and roll a little way down the street.

  Isak and Leshi were close behind, their weapons at the ready, but the street beyond was empty.

  'Well, wasn't he nice?' Isak commented grimly as Tiniq wiped his blade clean on the old man's rags and set about binding Jeil's arm.

  The Shambles was strangely silent around them. Mayel said most people had barricaded themselves in their homes, those who weren't out trying to find food, to buy or steal. A crowd had built up at the Greengate, where all the city's supplies came in. A mob had already demolished and set alight a market to the west.

  Mayel came to the top of the stair. 'How are we going to get out of this?' he whispered, his panic barely kept in check. 'Almost the whole city's like this – so we either burn with the madmen or get slaughtered by the armies outside the walls.'

  Isak realised the boy was so terrified he was close to breaking down; he needed a little hope if he were to survive the next few hours. Isak unwrapped the leather covering that kept curious eyes from the spar¬kling hilt. He drew Eolis and held it up in front of Mayel's face to catch what light there was.

  'You probably didn't notice when you saw it the first time,' he said, 'but this is no ordinary sword, and I am no ordinary mercenary.' Mayel stared at Eolis, wonder showing on his face, but still no understand¬ing. Isak continued, 'One of those armies out there is mine.'

  'Oh Gods, you're-'

  'Walking blindly in shadows,' interrupted a female voice in Isak's head, drowning out Mayel's words. He whirled to see a cowled figure

  step into the open from an alley on the right. Isak's guards cursed and drew their weapons, but he raised his hand to stop them.

  'And you are?' Isak said.

  'As ever; a light in the darkness.'

  Isak thought for a moment, her words forcing a memory to stir. 'Witch?'

  She laughed, prompting his guards to exchange curious looks. 'I've been greeted in more friendly ways, but yes, you are correct.'1

  'I don't know how else to address you.'

  Ah, my Lord,' Tiniq began in an uncertain voice. Isak cut him off with a chopping motion. The ranger looked completely confused at the one-sided conversation – as Isak's guards had the first time he met the Witch of Llehden – but he didn't have time to explain.

  And it is how you will continue. You already know that a witch should never reveal her name to anyone.'1

  'Can you not give me some other name to use?' Isak said in his mind.

  She advanced towards him, her face catching the moonlight. She looked more tired and worn than she had been in his dreams, as if the journey to Scree had aged her. Perhaps it was the effort of leaving Llehden?

  'Call me Ehla, then; it is the Elvish rune for "light".'

  'Well, Ehla, now you're here do you think you'll be able to stop the spell?'

  'Unfortunately not; it will soon be completed. Events are out of our control, I saw armies marching on the city as I crossed the wall.'

  'You crossed the wall tonight?'

  'I would, be a poor witch if I could not fool a few city guards,' Ehla scoffed before gesturing towards the theatre. 'You were watching the audience?'

  'It seems safer than watching the play itself.'

  'Shall we, then?' She pointed up the stairs where Mayel was watch¬ing them. He misinterpreted her intent and shrank back, but Isak ignored him as he led the way back up to their vantage point, the witch close behind.

  'Who can you see?' she asked as she sat on the low wall the men had been crouching behind, her back resting against the wooden roof support.

  Isak pointed towards a group of women surrounded by city militia and said, 'Over there is Mistress Ostia, with her various agents and

  mercenaries.' He said the words aloud, realising that his men would be more confused by no conversation than half of one, but he wasn't sure he wanted Mayel to know about the vampire, so in the privacy of his mind, he added, 'Ostia's the name Zhia Vukotic has taken within the White Circle.' He continued, 'One of them is also my agent. By the theatre's gate, Mistress Siala is doing the same as us, except I'm told she's more interested in the members of the White Circle, reasserting her control over them.'

  'Who is it you're watching for?'

  'The powerful. I think Siala is deluded, thinking that the White Circle remains a power in the Land. Scree is tearing itself apart, and the people here believe there are six armies outside the walls, all wait¬ing to pick their bones. I'm looking to see who Mistress Ostia has with her, who King Emin has brought with him, and what Raylin are walking the streets of Scree.'

  'And what good will that do you?'

  'You said yourself events are out of our control,' Isak said, strug¬gling to keep his temper in check when the very air he was breathing felt hot and agitated. He could feel the stifling waves of magic being exuded from somewhere around the theatre, like a scent of rotting flesh, and he could almost feel the pervading miasma of effluent stink, the result of the unnatural heat and the riots, that crawled like a pes¬tilence on his skin. The combination of the two had him constantly on the verge of gagging.


  'I just want to know who's going to cause me a problem if I have to fight my way out of here. Why did you come over the wall if you don't believe you can do anything?'

  'That we may not win here is no reason to simply submit. Scree is an unimportant city; none of the great powers control it, so there must be another reason why this is happening. There must be more to this spell than what we can see.'

  Isak paused. 'Legana said the Menin were searching for a Crystal Skull. Could this be a way to find it?'

  'You with your two Skulls have been lured here; why go to so much effort to find only one?' The witch hesitated, a flash of doubt in her eyes. 'I could only see that being worthwhile if it were the Skull of Ruling, the most powerful of them all, so the legend goes.'

  Isak nodded, that made sense. Ruling, the last of the Skulls to be forged by Aryn Bwr, had been given to his eldest son and heir, Velere

  Nostil, to help him rule after the Great War – Velere's mother, Valije, had foreseen Aryn Bwr's death at the Last Battle. He knew that re¬building after the destruction of the Great War would require genius, and his heir would need help. Neither Valije nor Aryn Bwr had foreseen their son's assassination by Aracnan two years into the war, and no one knew what had happened to the Skull until it reappeared during the Age of Darkness, in the hands of a Litse warlord.

  'Mistress Ostia has one also,' Isak added, 'and Legana tells me her brother has arrived in the city, so he will no doubt be carrying his own.'

  'There are at least five Crystal Skulls in the city?' The witch sounded aghast. 'That does not bode well. Power attracts power. What do you plan to do?'

  'Now? Watch the faces, and once the crowds have left the theatre, burn it down.' Isak broke off and peered at the people waiting outside the theatre. 'What's happening now?' He pointed towards Mistress Ostia's group. Some soldiers had joined her and they could hear urgent voices arguing, some calling over to Mistress Siala's troops. As they watched, a nearby company of Fysthrall soldiers hefted their weapons and started at a trot down a side street. After a little more discussion, Ostia's group followed them, weapons drawn.

  'It looks like one of those armies outside has lost patience and attacked the city.'