by Den Patrick
‘Why is she singing that song?’ said the dark-haired horseman. Mistress Kamalov kept keening, kept rocking back and forth, one hand pawing gently at her face over and over. Kjellrunn swallowed in a dry throat, felt the bravery drain out of her. The song was in Solska and she had no way of knowing the meaning.
‘It’s the song …’ Both riders looked at her and she took a step back on instinct. The song had never been part of Mistress Kamalov’s plans; now it might doom both of them. And Kristofine too.
‘It’s the song that the soldiers sang when they killed my uncle.’ Kjellrunn blinked, unsure where the lie had sprung from.
‘Your uncle must have been a very bad man,’ said the dark-haired horseman, the smirk back in place.
‘He was run down by a cart while carrying potatoes,’ replied Kjellrunn.
‘He should have paid more attention,’ said the blond man, but a glimmer of shame crossed his face.
‘He was deaf,’ added Kjellrunn, suddenly angry for the fictional uncle.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the blond man, but the dark-haired horseman kept his mocking smile and glanced about the chalet.
‘Is anyone in the back room?’
‘My sister is sleeping.’
‘A sister? Perhaps we should wake her?’ The horseman grinned at his comrade. ‘Perhaps she too has a song for us?’
‘You don’t want to go in there,’ said Kjellrunn. Fear squeezed the air from her lungs and she took another step back, one hand going to her throat. She wasn’t sure how many more lies she had in her.
‘But I do want to go in there,’ said the dark-haired horseman.
‘She’s been with fever for the last four days. It’s very catching.’
The horseman stopped. ‘Fever?’
‘I wouldn’t risk it unless you’ve coin to spare for medicine,’ added Kjellrunn. ‘And the blisters, they weep for days and scar if you scratch them.’
The horseman blinked at her, then turned to his friend. A few words were shunted back and forth, all harsh, all Solska. The blond man shrugged and the dark-haired horseman stepped away from the bedroom, his smirk faded to a grimace of disgust.
‘I need to sweep the kitchen and get firewood, so if you’ve nothing else to ask …’ Kjellrunn fell silent under the dark-haired horseman’s withering gaze.
The second rider stepped forward and laid a coin on the table. ‘For your sister’s medicine,’ was all he said, then turned and pulled open the door, leaving without a second glance.
The dark-haired horseman turned just as Kjellrunn released a quiet breath of relief. The man paused but Mistress Kamalov kept singing, kept rocking gently.
‘You have tea from Yamal?’
Kjellrunn’s eyes widened before she composed herself, then made a disgusted sound. ‘As if we could afford such things. Besides, I’d never drink that filth. This is good Nordvlast tea.’
The horseman blinked, then sniffed the air, eyeing the steaming cups. ‘My mistake,’ he said, unimpressed, then slunk out of the door.
‘How did you find us here?’ called Kjellrunn as the two men mounted their black horses.
‘The butcher in the town said an old crone with a nasty mouth lived in the woods.’ The horseman shrugged. ‘Seems he was wrong. Though you seem to be shaping up nicely.’
Kjellrunn slammed the door and pressed her back against it, trying to stop her hands shaking as the sound of hooves receded into the distance. The singing stopped and Mistress Kamalov pulled the bandage from her eyes. She fixed Kjellrunn with a hard stare, then snorted her amusement, a smile spreading across her face. ‘You lie like a Shanisrond sea captain.’
‘You saved us,’ whispered Kristofine from the bedroom doorway. She approached Kjellrunn and squeezed her hand. ‘You saved us.’
‘Yes. She did.’ Mistress Kamalov traced her lip with one finger. ‘And if you are half as good with the arcane as you are at lying I will have a formidable student. Tomorrow we go to the cliffs.’
‘Why?’ Kjellrunn frowned. ‘It snows every day and the cold …’
The expression on Mistress Kamalov’s face silenced further objection.
‘Because to defeat men like this,’ she gestured to the departed horsemen, ‘sometimes you need more than just quick words. Sometimes you need powers, sometimes you need the arcane.’
Kjellrunn’s mind drifted to Steiner, trying to imagine what the island must be like and what had happened to him.
‘Know this,’ said Mistress Kamalov, holding up a finger. ‘The Vigilants on the island must know that Steiner does not have witchsign by now. And the deaths of those two Vigilants in Helwick will only keep them busy for so long before—’
‘They come back here.’
Mistress Kamalov nodded and drank her tea while Kjellrunn struggled to comprehend just how much her life had changed in the short time Steiner had been gone.
‘But I’ve barely started learning, how can I …’ She gestured at the door, indicating the departed horsemen.
‘Not how,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘Only that you must.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Steiner
Not every child with witchsign has the raw ability to become a Vigilant. While most failures die there are some who persist in living. These failures have lived on Vladibogdan and know the secrets of the Synod and the Solmindre Empire. Rather than destroy these failures, the Emperor, in his wisdom, gave them a purpose. They are the Imperial Envoys.
– From the field notes of Hierarch Khigir, Vigilant of the Imperial Synod.
The furnace cavern had never been a place of joy, yet the misery of Maxim’s announcement weighed on all of them like manacles. Romola was gone and, worse yet, an Imperial ship had been sighted.
‘I really thought I was going to escape the island,’ said Steiner as he took a moment to catch his breath.
‘I know,’ said Kimi. She set down her tools and stepped down off the dais. ‘The letter was cruel, but Romola’s leaving seems crueller still.’
Steiner chewed his lip. ‘It feels selfish to even consider escape, leaving the rest of you behind.’
‘It’s not selfish,’ replied Kimi. ‘Just natural.’ She looked about the vast cavern. The cinderwraiths appeared from cracks in the rock like smoke while others went about their work, a procession of the lost, orange eyes shedding gentle light.
‘Damn foolish to think Romola would help you,’ said Tief from behind them. ‘Or any of us. She’s never bothered before. Always too busy looking out for herself.’
‘I didn’t have the chance to ask.’ Steiner sighed and Kimi wrapped an arm about his shoulders.
‘It was damn foolish to hope for such a thing,’ continued Tief.
‘And how many times have you tried to escape, Tief?’ Steiner turned on the man and frowned. ‘Once? Twice? My money is on never. You’ve never tried to escape because you don’t have the stones for it.’
‘Don’t have the stones?’ Tief shook his head. ‘You expect me to leave my sisters, my people, in this forsaken place?’
‘But you’ve never tried, not for yourself and not for anyone else. Even after all this time. All you’ve ever done is kept your head below ground and hope Felgenhauer forgets about you.’
‘Better to stay out of her way than catch her attention.’ Tief addressed a handful of Spriggani who had formed a circle around them. A few muttered unkind words and shared sullen looks.
‘This argument serves no purpose,’ said Sundra, appearing out of the darkness like a phantom. ‘Steiner did that which we could not.’ She placed herself before her brother and fixed him with a stern gaze.
‘And what was that, dear sister?’
‘He dared to hope,’ said Sundra. ‘And he dared to do something about it.’ The Spriggani fell silent at the words of the priestess. ‘And what is a life spent without hope?’
‘Hope? Pah. Fine talk from a priestess of Frejna. So much for the bones whispering his name! Just another witless Northman, as if Vinterkveld d
oesn’t have enough of those already.’
‘Be quiet,’ said Kimi. All eyes turned to the Yamal princess as she squared up to Tief. ‘Enough.’
Tief’s anger subsided into a guilty glare, then that too faded and he turned away. The Spriggani trailed after him, a few shooting dark glances over their shoulders as they left.
‘I can’t believe Romola has gone,’ said Steiner. ‘After everything that’s happened.’
‘You can’t blame her for taking her leave the first moment she was able,’ replied Kimi.
Steiner’s curiosity prickled along with the heat as the many smoking furnaces rumbled, whispering plumes of smoke into the darkness.
‘I should be up there,’ he grumbled, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
Kimi nodded. ‘Shirinov might be surprised to see you, on account of you being dead and all.’
‘I forgot I was dead.’
‘It’s easily done,’ replied Kimi with a smile.
‘Being dead should have certain advantages,’ replied Steiner as they headed for the centre of the cavern and Kimi’s workstation.
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know.’ Steiner shrugged. ‘I’ve not been dead that long. I’m still getting used to it.’
‘Come on.’ Kimi jutted her head towards the cave where she slept. ‘I’m in no mood to work.’ She strode off across the cavern and Steiner struggled to keep up.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Steiner.
‘To feed the dragons. I don’t like leaving them too long.’
They descended the sloping corridor to the chamber of dragons, still shackled to the stone columns, still as wretched as Steiner remembered. Kimi hefted a large bucket of raw beef. The meat was half rancid and no better than gristle on closer inspection.
‘That is beef, isn’t it?’ said Steiner, sick and anxious.
‘Cow. Straight from the kitchen,’ Kimi growled. ‘Small wonder they fade so quickly when given such slops.’
‘You promise it’s not a soldier, or a novice?’
Another chuckle from Kimi. ‘I promise.’
They went from dragon to dragon, Kimi reaching high to push scraps between the ragged creatures’ yellowed teeth. Finally they came to the silver dragon at the centre. Steiner suspected Kimi had kept the better portions of the meat back for this one. The eye nearest Steiner opened and twitched from woman to man.
‘Probably hungry enough to eat both of us without blinking,’ said Kimi, taking care not to lose a finger to the silvery dragon’s bites.
‘Why aren’t you angry with me?’ said Steiner when the beef was all gone. ‘Tief’s anger seems be born from me daring to hope, and looking like I might have had a chance, but you …’
Kimi shrugged. ‘I’m never getting off this island, Steiner. I can’t even daydream about it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I leave this island there is no telling what Solmindre will do to the Yamal. And it won’t stop there. Some Yamal live in the Empire among humans; they are merchants and labourers and soldiers. They would be rounded up in the night, falsely accused of anything and everything.’
‘But …’
‘I have to stay on Vladibogdan so others are safe. That’s why I respect you so much. We have much in common. I’m here to safeguard my people, and you’re here for your sister.’ She smiled again.
‘I came here so Kjell would be safe,’ said Steiner as he ran a hand over the silvery scales. The dragon’s tail swished as much as it could given the binding. ‘But none of that will matter if Shirinov returns to the mainland. He’ll raze Cinderfell and Helwick, and then he’ll hunt down Kjellrunn. You understand why I wanted to get back so badly?’
‘Of course.’ Kimi nodded. ‘Family always comes first. It’s what I like best about you.’
‘I just need a way to get up to Academy Square.’ Steiner sighed. ‘So I can see if Shirinov slips free of Felgenhauer on that Imperial ship.’
Kimi pressed a thumb to her lips, deep in thought. ‘So.’ She gave a half shrug. ‘The soldier that stabbed me with his spear—’
‘Ehh. You fed him to the dragons, didn’t you?’ Steiner eyed the bucket once more and shuddered.
Kimi gave another shrug of her shoulders. ‘It’s a shame to let good meat go to waste. And there was an unexpected benefit.’ She glanced across the chamber and Steiner’s eyes widened as he followed her gaze.
‘Kimi!’ Piled up at the far side of the chamber was a collection of armour. The quilted long coat had been doubled up, the mail slung in a heap on top. Two helmets and a few pauldrons were scuffed but not damaged.
‘So, you need a way back to Academy Square, but have to remain unrecognizable.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘This we can do.’
Steiner lifted a helm from the pile and placed it atop his head.
‘Kimi, this is excellent.’ His voice sounded strange inside the helm.
‘Let’s get you strapped in. Time is slipping away and you’ll need to get back up there quickly.’
‘Right.’
‘And you’ll need to be careful.’
‘I’m always careful.’
Kimi snorted a laugh. ‘Of course you are, Hammersmith. Of course you are.’
Steiner had never worn armour before. His breath sounded overly loud in the confines of the helmet and his heart raced with the heavy load on his shoulders.
‘How is anyone supposed to fight in armour this heavy?’ he muttered, each step a chore under such a burden. ‘No wonder the soldiers are so bad-tempered.’
Sneaking out of the cavern had been easy. The Spriggani had all retired, too despondent to work after the failed escape. Kimi escorted him to the battered rungs, intending to shield him from prying eyes, but only cinderwraiths remained, staring at the soldier and the princess with unblinking gazes.
‘Maxim said the ship didn’t look like the usual supply ship they send,’ said Kimi. ‘So keep your wits about you.’
She’d helped him up the first few rungs, then waited to pick him up should the mail and plate prove too heavy. Steiner’s grip did not fail him. He arrived on the ledge above, breathless but excited. It was strange to look down on Kimi. She smiled up and he waved back.
‘Go. Quick. Find out what is happening with the Imperial ship.’
Steiner nodded and regretted it immediately. Nodding was not a pleasant motion to undertake in the heavy helmet. A mace hung from his belt and slapped his leg with each lurching step. In the end he carried it, rubbing the back of his knee. The cloak, obviously a necessity for the island’s frigid climes, only added to his encumbrance.
‘I’m going to be a lot shorter when this is over,’ he complained, pushing on through the darkness by guttering torchlight.
Steiner emerged from the alley and blinked in surprise. On the far side of Academy Square, beyond the vast draconic statue, were two rows of ten soldiers. Each wore a thick black cord across their breastplate that looped back on itself, ending in a tassel. Their cloaks, along with their boots and the star at their brow, were also black instead of the customary red.
The regular soldiers stood to attention in front of the gatehouse, dotted around the square in threes. Novices stared from academy windows, eyes set on the black-clad soldiers. The air was taut with anticipation and Steiner wondered who would arrive next. A cry went up from the gatehouse, an announcement perhaps, or a warning.
Steiner edged into the square, the visibility poor through the narrow eye slot. Felgenhauer and Marozvolk waited on the steps before Academy Voda. Felgenhauer had strapped on a sword – it did not look ceremonial. Her loyalists stood behind, clutching their axes. A few soldiers at the back stood at ease and were looking over towards Academy Zemlya, where Shirinov and Khigir stood, along with two score of Vigilants.
A hand pressed down on Steiner’s shoulder and an icy chill ran down his spine. How could he have been caught so soon, and before he’d seen anything of note?
You are supposed to be dead, are you not?
Silverdust’s sightless gaze looked out over Academy Square, but he did not take his gloved hand from Steiner’s shoulder. Steiner couldn’t help but think of what he’d seen that night on the roof of Academy Voda.
‘I just wanted to see what was going on,’ whispered Steiner. ‘I need to see if Felgenhauer prevents Shirinov from leaving the island.’ The heat from Silverdust’s arcane aura was making the armour hot.
It is best I do not remain here. Silverdust’s ghostly words were still unsettling, perhaps more so now that Steiner knew the Vigilant’s secret. You would be better off heading back to the forges, but I can tell you have set your mind on this.
‘Who comes?’ said Steiner, gripping the mace tightly.
An Envoy. One of the Vigilants must have sent word to the mainland, most likely at the behest of Shirinov.
‘What will happen to Felgenhauer?’
That remains to be seen, and while I have great respect for the Matriarch-Commissar, I am not ready to die for her just yet.
Steiner opened his mouth to speak, but Silverdust was already drifting away, drifting towards the long tunnel that led to the forges.
‘The forges and all the other cinderwraiths,’ said Steiner under his breath as he watched the Vigilant leave. For a second Steiner considered following Silverdust back into the darkness, but a loud voice called out in Solska. He’d been seen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Steiner
Envoys are often charismatic bordering on arrogant. They have the deep conviction of being able to speak with the Emperor’s authority. Such privilege does not easily foster humility, fairness or moderation. It is said the Emperor rarely gathers the Envoys together, as they are given to displays of hubris like competitive siblings. In this way they are the spoilt children of the Empire.
– From the field notes of Hierarch Khigir, Vigilant of the Imperial Synod.
A harsh voice startled Steiner as a soldier approached from the side. The man uttered words in Solska and pointed at Felgenhauer. Steiner made to bow then remembered himself and saluted, struggling to raise his arm under the heavy pauldrons.
