Angel Blessed (Angel Caste Book 5)

by K S Nikakis

  Viv’s blood ran cold as she recalled how they’d spruiked their drugged and bound entertainment. The hard-edged voices she’d heard with Baraghan at Stelin Ridge had been traders, and that meant they held Poss there! She forced herself to steady. Surely the timing was wrong? They’d snatched Poss while she and Caibel were on their way back but they’d have sorted a place to hold Poss first, and Stelin Ridge would be an excellent choice.

  It wasn’t far from Esh-accom and once they’d reached the trees, they’d be unlikely to be intercepted. But its main advantage was its tangled tunnels and sinkholes. Break-neck Ridge, Baraghan had called it. The fractured stone made sneaking up hazardous, not just because you risked plunging down holes, but because the stone carried sound.

  The more she considered it, the more convinced she grew Poss was at Stelin Ridge. There was no other reason for traders to be there. If they’d been late to the festivities, they’d have camped on the flatter ground near the Eshacade or pushed on through the night to start earning their precious coin.

  One group had organised the camp while the other had snatched Poss. It would have been easy, too. The arsehole was pretty obvious wherever he went, including the dances and leaving early with his daughter. They’d have seen the lamp in Poss’s room as the arsehole put her to bed, and listened under the colonnades to make sure it was her room and not his. But why hadn’t the arsehole’s horse warned him? Maybe there had to be physical contact or didn’t work if one of them slept.

  There were still men in the yard and she bashed on the shutters and shouted, and when the bang of the compound gate told her they’d gone, beat on her door instead. Her knuckles bled and she picked up the chair again and smashed it against the shutters. The shutters remained undamaged but bits of the chair went flying. So much for the arsehole’s carving!

  She stormed around the room. Shit! Shit! Shit! Ithreya, Tormis, and Mereya should be here, and maybe even Sehereden, given his arm was still in a sling, but they hadn’t come. Maybe they’d gone dancing again! Viv ground her teeth. There was nothing remotely useful in the room for lock-picking, and no man-hole in the ceiling, which left the chimney.

  It would be a bloody hard climb even with two sound arms, presuming she fitted. The broken chairback was about the same width as her shoulders and she pushed it up into the sooty space and got a face full of grit for her troubles. It fitted, but escaping via the chimney wasn’t high on her list of fun things to do.

  She’d read enough about Oliver Twist to know chimney-sweeps got stuck in chimneys and died there, and she doubted Wheel Fold had Emergency Services. There had to be another way. Tormis might be old but she didn’t fancy her chances of over-powering him, or Mereya, or Ithreya, for that matter, and the idea of fighting any of them was abhorrent. Viv chewed her lip. People had stabbed themselves in jail, or swallowed things to get to the infirmary, or better still, hospital, because they were easier to break out of than a cell.

  Tormis was probably in charge so she’d have to con him to relocate her, although she might end up somewhere even more secure than Poss’s room. Well, twiddling her thumbs wasn’t an option, not with Poss’s life at stake. It must be close to midday and, at some point, someone would show up with food, and she needed to be ready.

  She didn’t have to wait long and when she heard footsteps, clawed her way into the chimney. Tormis or Mereya or whoever it was, had to set her food down to unlock the door, which was lucky, given it was a struggle even to clear the grate. The chimney was thick with soot, but at least the bricks provided finger- and toe-holds.

  ‘Elddra?’

  Good, it was Tormis. She heaved herself higher, scrabbling noisily, and Tormis’s hand fastened on her ankle.

  ‘That’s dangerous, elddra,’ he said, tugged her down and transferred his grip to her arm. He held her sound one but Viv winced and held her broken one close to give the impression she was in no shape to escape.

  ‘Fariye’s my lein, Tormis. I can’t sit around while she’s in danger!’

  ‘The Syld orders you remain here.’

  ‘The Syld doesn’t know I was at Stelin Ridge with Baraghan yesterday and heard voices I’m sure were traders. There’s no reason for traders to be there unless they have Fariye. I need to get there before they hurt her.’

  ‘The Syld’s orders you remain here.’

  ‘I’m not abandoning my lein!’

  His brows bristled as he considered his options. ‘I’m sorry, elddra, but I must take you somewhere less comfortable.’

  Viv didn’t struggle as he marched her down the passageway, but she wasn’t willing either. She liked Tormis, although the just obeying orders excuse hadn’t washed in war-crime trials. They came out into the sunshine and he led her across the yard to the stables, empty of horses, and into a room off one of the stalls. The only light was a dusty shaft from a broken-shuttered window, high above her head.

  Tormis went out and the bolts slide into place behind her. ‘I’ll bring your food, a blanket, and a lamp, elddra,’ he said, from the far side of the door.

  Viv ignored him, her gaze on the window. ‘Bingo,’ she whispered, and grinned.

  Chapter 2

  Tormis was as good as his word and soon she had urrut-sa, gorash, a blanket, and a lamp. The lamp suggested she’d be there until nightfall, and she would be, given she didn’t want witnesses to her climb out the window. But she did want Tormis to guess where she’d gone, and why, and tell the arsehole. Viv was certain Poss was at Stelin Ridge, but extricating her was a different ball game. She’d fly Poss out if she had to, but the traders would try to kill her and Poss, and she’d need the arsehole’s knife-skills and his men’s, to escape unscathed.

  She wondered where the arsehole was, and his band. The arsehole didn’t want Esh-accom’s Sylds involved, given he’d only called in the men closest to him. Rim had preferred to act alone too, or with the few he trusted, and ignored everyone else, like the arsehole. Anything she said was automatically lies, which was fine with her, except when Poss’s life was at stake.

  She seemed to end up in the company of the same men, although company was a nice way of describing her status. Jimmy Wright, Rim, and now the arsehole. Her throbbing face confirmed whatever the arsehole smoked, snorted, or sipped, honed his reflexes not dulled them, and that Sehereden would always choose him over her, as Thris had chosen Ky, although in Thris’s case, the Great Beyond trumped everything.

  Thris had changed things between her and Sehereden, she conceded. The arsehole had obviously described what he’d seen at the entertainments, and in Wheel Fold’s terms Thris was Angellus. although no one seemed bothered about Angellus except the elddra, and elddric like Baraghan, who wanted out, and the arsehole of course, who hated everything Angellus and wanted her out.

  Sehereden hadn’t asked her where she was from yet, he’d been distracted by Fariye’s abduction, but it would be stupid to deny the bleedingly obvious, even if she were she capable of lying. But telling him she came from a world of cars, and planes, and bombs, and music you down-loaded from the air, wasn’t going to help him trust her.

  She’d coped with life in The Wheel because it held lots of things familiar from books and history programs, but her old life would be like a wall between them, or he’d consider her so strange he’d want her gone too.

  ‘Viv?’ Viv jumped. It was Ithreya’s voice, tentative but concerned. ‘Viv? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. My lein’s going to be murdered and her father has locked me up.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Viv. Sehereden said it’s for the best.’

  ‘Sehereden’s wrong.’

  ‘Is there anything you need?’

  ‘I need to get out of here, but failing that, I need to know when the arsehole’s coming back. I need to talk to him.’

  ‘I don’t know their plans. If anyone asks, I’m to say I’m unaware of the Syld’s whereabouts, or of his men’s. I’m sorry, Viv.’ The misery in Ithreya’s voice was clear.

  ‘None o
f it’s your fault, Ithreya. Not Sehereden, or your feelings about me, or me being locked up. And nothing of what’s to come. Remember that.’

  ‘He wants you.’

  Viv bit her lip. Ithreya loved Sehereden and deserved a better deal. ‘He wants what he thinks I am, but there’s a gap between that and what I really am. There’s no gap with you and he’ll see that in the end.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Have you lied to him?’

  ‘I can’t lie.’

  ‘Because of your Angellus blood?’

  ‘Because of my blood, but . . . there’s things I can’t tell him that would change his feelings about me. I’m not a good person, Ithreya.’ Viv wondered whether her burst of candor stemmed from a prescience she wouldn’t be returning from tonight’s foray and wanted to clear the air before she went off into Thris’s much vaunted Great Beyond.

  ‘I think you are a good person, Viv.’

  Viv’s eyes burned. Hell! She was going to cry in a minute. ‘I have everything I need in here, thank you, Ithreya,’ she managed to say. ‘Please don’t concern yourself.’

  Night took a long time to come. She seemed to spend her life waiting for darkness, or waiting for it to end. She was also anxious the arsehole would return and scupper her plans, but the stables remained quiet. The yard gate hadn’t opened either, which meant Tormis, Ithreya, and most likely Mereya, were still in the compound.

  They’d be enjoying Mereya’s urrut-sa and probably her tocki too. They’d be enjoying the fire and each other’s company. Poor Vivi’s been left out of the party again, eh? Yes, Rim, I have, but I haven’t been left out of their kindness. She’d known she’d miss Poss and Sehereden when she left, but she could add Ithreya, Tormis, and Mereya to the list now, and Tahsin of course.

  She missed no one from Moonsun, except her mother, and no one from Ezam, except Thris. Wheel Fold was like home except her usual bad luck meant she’d arrived during a war, looking like an Angellus, and befriended the child of a man who hated them with a passion.

  When the sky had darkened, she donned her shirt halter neck style and packed away the amè casque in her jacket pocket with the bracelet, tribute-charm, and chain. She’d leave the jacket here to avoid it snagging on something or the jewellery jangling. She’d never believed in the power of talismans anyway, whether crosses, ankhs, or amès, and prayers had never helped her.

  Her stomach tightened as she considered what lay ahead. She’d relied on fast reactions to keep safe in her thieving days, and this time she couldn’t afford mistakes. Thris had been held by two traders, and while she didn’t know how many traders owned the Lefer she’d freed, she didn’t think a large group guarded Poss.

  They’d be more likely to be noticed, for one thing. They’d need fires to warm themselves and cook, and supplies that would have to be traded in Esh-accom and carted back. It risked attracting attention, especially if tracks headed off towards the Ristavals.

  A child needed only a single guard, especially if that child were bound, blind-folded, and gagged. Viv’s hands clenched. Given what she’d seen with Baraghan, it would be best to approach from the air and search for smoke and voices. It would be a hell of a lot safer too.

  If luck were on her side, she’d find a shaft to fly down, snatch Poss, and be gone before they knew what had happened. But luck had never fancied being anywhere near her, let alone on her side. If the traders had set a fire outside, Poss wouldn’t be far away because they wouldn’t want to fumble in the tunnels’ darkness to bring her food, and if they’d set a fire inside a tunnel, they’d have to be near a shaft or be smoked out.

  She tried not to think of the possibility Poss was already dead. The traders must know the arsehole would hunt them down, no matter how long it took, and be ruthless in retrieving his daughter alive. They’d be very careful he never got near her or them which pointed to Poss being deep in a tunnel. The traders would be aware of the shafts and guard the ridge-top too, although not shafts too deep to climb down.

  It was hard to fly vertically, and the shaft might be too narrow to spread her wings. She’d be slowed by Poss as well and it took only an instant to throw knives, especially if the traders saw no escape for themselves.

  Get ya arse into gear, Vivi. If ya gunna die, best get it over with. Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Rim. She unbedded her wings and beat them, and despite what lay ahead, felt a sense of well-being wash over her. Flying celebrated the despised angel-half she was forced to hide but Thris had taught her was beautiful.

  She leapt upwards, slid out of the window, and closed the shutters behind her. She resisted the temptation to keep flying, the risk of being seen was too great, and came to ground, and donned her shirt on normally to avoid attention.

  Lamps glowed from the surrounding compounds but the street was quiet and she kept to the shadows, seeing no one until she neared the gate. The streets were crowded there as people headed towards Axian’s enjoyments. Her bruised face and bloodied lip made her conspicuous, and she kept her head down, and was within sight of the wall before she realised the traders would have set watchers. They’d want to know the arsehole’s movements, and his men’s, but she didn’t know whether they’d be interested in her.

  They’d certainly know she’d liberated the Lefer and probably know about the leinship, so it was likely and Viv swore. She should have flown from the stable roof after all and now she’d have find some dark hole to wait until Fire Zadic passed, and Esh-accom’s citizens were more intent on dancing than staring at the sky.

  She turned down a side-street but hadn’t gone far before she realised she was being followed. Shit! Whoever it was made no attempt to disguise their pursuit and then figures stepped from an alley ahead and blocked the street. Baraghan had cut her off the same way but he was long gone, so these weren’t his people. Her pursuer kept coming and Viv wondered whether Fariye’s abductors wanted to add to their haul, or to even the score.

  Chapter 3

  Ash sat motionless in Haven, in dream or trance, he didn’t know. He saw folds with air as red as blood, folds with creatures toothed and clawed, folds with wraiths akin to the trapped dead of human caste folds. He saw angelic folds too and learned angel caste could be as lethal as human caste, and that transcendence wasn’t unique to the Host.

  The understanding humbled him, as did the folds troubled by war, and he perceived war could range from petty jealousies to the total annihilation of the other. He felt war’s acrid fume as if he were there and recoiled physically and, as he pulled the roaming strands of himself back to the room, recognised the same taint in Ezam.

  It had accumulated over the eons, as mist did in some human caste folds, but unlike human caste folds, Ezam lacked winds to disperse it. And so, it lingered, a sour stagnation, at odds with a hierarchy that outlined a clear path to transcendence, first as Dane, then as Quin-, Quar-, Tri-, Du- Prime-archae and Archae, and finally, to Principae.

  Ash flexed his wings, and wondered whether Senquar-archae had dreamed too, and whether he had transcended, despite the angel bones in the Green Helixai. Ash’s dreams had taught him how ephemeral the seemingly solid was, and what he perceived, mightn’t be perceived by even those closest to him like Thris and Ky. And he wondered again what had become of Senquar-archae’s companions, Paendane and Anasdane.

  Ky searched for answers to Ash’s questions, as did Prime-archaes Serith and Mirek, but the Bokos’s empty heart might be a reminder angelic understanding could never be complete, or had been so perilous, had been destroyed. And if it had, Ash feared it might be due to his blue angel predecessor and his friends, a trinity replicated by him, Ky and Thris.

  Thris, at least, posed no threat to Ezam’s tranquility, for he’d yet to rouse. Ash smoothed back Thris’s curls and kissed his forehead. His unblemished body didn’t mean he’d suffered no injuries and, unlike physical wounds that healed quickly, spiritual wounds might never heal. Thris had suffered both since he’d accepted Guideship and Ash had no idea what he’d endured p
rior to his return.

  Ash had received no summons to aid Thris, but the manner of Thris’s return and that he remained senseless, suggested he’d been in need. Perhaps the Great Beyond had other plans for him now, or perhaps his ability to roam the Rynth in dream came at the price of his friends.

  Baraghan followed the robed Angellus through the trees, if they were trees. He had no idea how things that looked like metal could grow. He was also troubled by the green-robed Angellus being content to have an armed stranger walk behind him. It meant the Angellus was dangerously unaware. The Angellus had said little beyond his first odd words and they hadn’t gone far before a domed building emerged from the trees.

  Baraghan followed him in, wondering whether the Angellus lived in setts rather than larger settlements like Astraal, and stumbled to a stop. Shelves crammed with scrolls stretched away in every direction, far too many for the building’s size.

  Prime-archae Serith had all but disappeared down a gloomy passageway and Baraghan hastened after him, gripping his knives as he heard others. They eventually came to an open space and seated next to a window, pouring over a scroll, was an Angellus like the one in Esh-accom. He didn’t immediately look up which gave Baraghan time to take in his glossy auburn curls, and the superb musculature of his shoulders and flanks.

  ‘Kydane,’ said Prime-archae Serith, in the same dreamy tones. The Angellus glanced up and his purple eyes widened. ‘As you’ve recently spent time in human caste folds, I thought you might be interested in meeting Baraghan en-Esh-accom.’

  ‘That was Thris,’ choked Kydane, backing away.