Slave of Sondelle: The Eleven Kingdoms

by Bevan McGuiness

  ‘I want some information,’ Keshik said.

  ‘What?’ the man whined.

  ‘Fraunhof. I need to speak to him. How do I do that?’

  The man’s eyes widened even further, his fear setting him trembling. ‘You cannot, not now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You just killed him.’

  ‘Ice and wind,’ Keshik roared as he drew his sword again and ran the man through.

  When he was sure the last one was dead, Keshik spat on the floor and left.

  46

  Slave decided he did not like horses. They smelled bad, were temperamental and riding them was uncomfortable. He much preferred walking.

  Which was more than could be said for Hinrik.

  The man never seemed to stop complaining. If it wasn’t too cold, the wind was too strong, or the sun was too bright, or his feet hurt, or he was hungry. Myrrhini managed to ignore him, seeming never even to look at him. If, as Manred had suggested, they shared a past, there was little to it. The woman acted like Hinrik did not even exist. But he, on the other hand, rarely took his eyes off her. Whatever relationship they might have had, Slave could not understand it.

  In all likelihood, she had left her home simply to escape the man’s unceasing prattle. All her talk about destiny and the Scarred Man would be nothing more than a story she made up to cover her flight.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Hinrik asked.

  ‘Leserlang,’ Slave answered without looking at Hinrik.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘About Vogel.’

  ‘Not the Revenant?’

  Slave slowly turned to face Hinrik. ‘What do you know about that?’

  ‘Just what she knows.’ He pointed at Myrrhini’s back. He tilted his head to one side, as if contemplating his answer. ‘Or maybe a little more.’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Myrrhini asked.

  ‘I read, I study. I remember.’

  ‘I have read what you read,’ Myrrhini snapped. ‘And I don’t know much about that.’

  ‘I didn’t say I only read the Acolytes’ library.’

  ‘Where else did you study?’

  ‘Leserlang.’

  At that, Myrrhini finally shifted in her saddle to look at Hinrik. ‘You are a Reader?’

  ‘No. Although I will be when I get home.’

  Slave reined in his horse. ‘We’ll stop here. You need to tell us more.’

  The flat C’sobran plain stretched out uninterrupted to the horizon all around them, dotted with hardy, stunted trees. There was nothing anywhere that would indicate one site better for stopping than any other. Slave dismounted, feeling the pain of time in the saddle. Hinrik threw himself down on the light brown dirt while Myrrhini gingerly lowered herself off her horse. The air was chilly without being icy and the wind was little more than a breeze.

  ‘What were you doing in Venste?’ Slave started without preamble.

  ‘You haven’t heard?’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘The Place was destroyed, completely levelled. Just a few days after you ran away, Myrrhini.’

  ‘Destroyed?’ Myrrhini’s eyes were wide. The shock of Hinrik’s bald statement drained what little colour her face held, leaving her ashen.

  ‘All gone,’ Hinrik confirmed. ‘Just about everyone was killed. I only escaped because I was still in the village, where you left me.’

  Slave looked at Myrrhini quizzically, but she ignored him. All of her attention was on Hinrik.

  ‘I stayed there for a while, eating the food I brought you, trying to work out how to get back inside without drawing attention to myself. Your departure threw things into chaos for a few days. Even in the village I knew that, but there wasn’t enough time for things to settle before the attack.’

  ‘What attack?’ Myrrhini asked.

  ‘I don’t know what they were. They looked human, but weren’t. Squat, really strong, pale skins, big eyes. Some of them had two eyes, quite a few had only one. That was a really strange thing — they all had scars across their faces. Just like yours,’ he added, indicating Slave’s face. ‘Come to think of it, a lot of them had either painted their left eyelid silver, or wore a silver eyepatch.’ He paused, as if in thought. ‘In fact, I would say it was like they were all trying to look just like you.’

  Slave went cold. That these creatures were the Duregs he had seen under Vogel, he had no doubt. What had happened to them?

  ‘They attacked like mad things. Absolutely no care for their own casualties. They seemed consumed by a need to destroy everything and kill everyone.’ Hinrik closed his eyes. ‘Especially the women. They targeted the women. The only ones who survived were those who fled.’

  ‘And what did you do?’ Myrrhini asked coldly.

  ‘Fled, of course.’

  ‘How did you end up in Venste?’ Slave asked.

  ‘I ran south after the attack and was captured by slavers. What else is going to happen in C’sobra?’

  ‘Was anyone else with you?’ Myrrhini asked. Her voice was very quiet, as if she did not want to hear an answer.

  Hinrik shook his head. ‘Some others escaped, but I don’t know who, or how many. I guess they will end up in Venste like me.’

  Slave watched Myrrhini, watched her face crumple as tears coursed down her cheeks. She slowly toppled forwards onto the ground, where she lay silently sobbing. Slave had no idea what to do or say. He felt he should say something, but her experience was alien to him. Unless she was feeling something like his pain at Waarde’s death.

  But his pain was different. He had killed Waarde. Myrrhini had not killed these people. They were dead, and she was alive. She had not killed them, was not responsible for their deaths. What was she so upset about?

  The two men sat in silence while Myrrhini wept. The sun slid down towards the western horizon and the air cooled further as the wind picked up. Slave stood up and went in search of fuel for a fire. Hinrik went with him.

  ‘Tell me about the Revenant,’ Slave instructed.

  ‘It is an immensely powerful being that ruled over the Scaren people. The Acolytes defeated it, but could not destroy it. They drove it south and imprisoned it in a labyrinth underground. The labyrinth was magically sealed so that it could not escape unless someone broke in from outside. Then it would be free to leave. After so long underground, it would probably be insane by now. Grada knows what it would do if it got out.’ Hinrik stooped to pick up a small branch. As he straightened, he stared into the distance. ‘But I think we are about to find out,’ he muttered.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What gave you those scars?’ Hinrik asked.

  ‘Something I encountered under Vogel,’ Slave admitted.

  ‘Please tell me you did not dig your way into a maze.’

  ‘I dug into an underground maze.’

  ‘Ice and wind!’ Hinrik choked. ‘Do you know what you have done?’

  ‘No. And that is why I have to get to Leserlang. There is a reader there, called Fraunhof, who might be able to tell me.’

  ‘There were Duregs there as well, weren’t there?’

  ‘There were.’

  ‘So we know what its first army consists of, then.’

  ‘First army?’

  ‘It won’t stop with Duregs. It will spread its malevolent influence over anyone it meets, sending an army bent only on destruction and chaos surging across the world. And if, as I suspect, it is now insane, it might just destroy everything.’ Hinrik lowered his gaze from the distance to stare at Slave’s scarred face. ‘Thanks,’ he spat.

  He began to walk away, but Slave grabbed his arm and wrenched him back so hard Hinrik unbalanced slightly.

  ‘What does Myrrhini have to do with any of this? And why did this Revenant’s army destroy the Acolytes?’

  ‘Myrrhini has visions. It’s what she does. My guess is that the Revenant wanted to kill her, just to make sure she could not s
ee what it is planning to do. If it wants her dead, I think we should keep her alive.’

  Slave released his arm and started to jog back to where Myrrhini lay, probably still sobbing on the ground. He was barely halfway there when he heard the sound of hoofbeats galloping towards them. In the featureless plain, he could easily see six men on horseback charging towards Myrrhini. Even if he sprinted, he could not reach her before they did.

  Despite that, he ran hard.

  The horses barely slowed as they swept past the slight figure of Myrrhini. One rider slowed more. He leaned over, picked her up, tossed her over his saddle and galloped away. Two others slashed with their swords at the horses Slave and Myrrhini had been riding. The horses squealed and reared up in fear before fleeing in different directions.

  In anger, Slave hurled his Claw towards the retreating men. It slammed into one and sent him tumbling off his horse.

  He was dead, and the others were already fading into the distance before Slave reached him. He turned the dead man over and looked down at the uniform and the tattoo of a crown, high on the left cheek.

  If it wants her dead, I think we should keep her alive.

  With a cry of anger, Slave raised his Claw above his head and started running.

  47

  Maida sat on the bed while Keshik washed in the bathroom. She had wept when he left her alone, knowing exactly what he was about to do. His murderous rages were not new to her. Perhaps she should have left him long ago, left him to his brooding and his fury, but she loved him. And he loved her in a way that she had only ever read about.

  When she first realised what the people in the rooms above had done, she was incensed, wanting revenge, specifically bloody death rained down on everyone involved. But when Keshik so calmly, so blankly, left her, the reality of the bloody death about to fall on them made her sick — again. It was always the same.

  Maida knew he had killed them all. He was a cold-blooded monster who killed without remorse or hesitation. He had undergone Crossings upon Crossings of training to become thus, she had known it from the first moment she had met him, had seen it time and time again. Yet she stayed with him, urging him on.

  And was this time any different?

  She frowned as she remembered their mad flight through Leserlang’s darkened streets.

  Were the streets kept clear in order for this perverse hunt to occur? What sort of organisation would be needed to set something like that up? How high would it have to extend?

  Worry gnawed at fear.

  Ice and wind! What had they done? Had Keshik just killed most of the upper echelon of Leserlang?

  No city took the wholesale slaughter of its leading citizens lightly.

  They were in terrible danger.

  Maida leaped to her feet and ran into the bathroom.

  ‘We need to leave,’ she cried. ‘Now!’

  Keshik was already changed and washed. He scowled at her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Who were all those people you just killed?’

  Keshik shrugged. ‘Rich, bored wastrels. Useless.’

  ‘No, think about it.’ She outlined the train of her reasoning, hoping that he would point out the flaw in her thoughts, but he did not. He just listened impassively.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he admitted. ‘We need to leave, quickly.’

  ‘But the gate is closed after dark.’

  ‘Leave here, but not the city.’

  Maida sighed. ‘Back to where we started, then. Nowhere to stay, snow falling, a wind that has come straight down out of the Wastes.’

  Keshik grinned. ‘Nothing wrong with that. And we’ve had a good meal.’

  ‘How can you find this amusing?’ she shouted. ‘Do you ever consider what you do? You might have just slaughtered the whole ruling council, or whatever they call themselves in this perverse place.’

  Keshik’s smile vanished. He walked past her, avoiding contact, out into the other room. Maida spat a curse before following him.

  He was already on his horse when she dashed out into the small courtyard. His blank stare was all the confirmation she needed that he had taken all the offence she feared. There was no point in apologising yet, that would have to wait until morning at least. For now, she had to follow him back out onto the unwelcoming streets where they would seek out somewhere to sleep.

  The falling snow muffled the sound of their hoofbeats while the wind that still blew isolated them from each other, leaving them both locked into their own thoughts. Maida wished it could have been otherwise. Keshik’s thoughts at times like these, after killing, were morbid and dark. He was at his most dangerous right now. He needed her comfort, and all he had was her criticism ringing in his ears.

  So wrapped up in her anguish was she that she almost missed the dark figures that swarmed out onto the road in front of them. They were clearly practised in the manoeuvre as Keshik and Maida were surrounded in a heartbeat. Her horse shied as one of the attackers grabbed her reins, but she brought it back under control quickly. She did not need to hear the steely slither of Keshik’s swords to know he had drawn his weapons.

  ‘Visitors,’ one of the figures called. There was a squeal as someone felt steel. ‘Bring them down!’

  Maida wrenched her reins out of the grasp of the person holding them, preparing to flee, but several powerful blows struck home on her body. She lurched in the saddle, doubling over with the onslaught. More blows rained down on her and darkness overtook the agony.

  Consciousness returned reluctantly. Every part of her body throbbed in pain. Maida felt like she had been kicked repeatedly — kicked and beaten and left to freeze to death. She tried to move but couldn’t. A groan escaped her lips as she made further attempts to shift her protesting body.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Keshik said. ‘We’re bound.’

  She was lying spread-eagled on a hard, flat surface, bound hand and foot. A blanket had been tossed over her.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘Underground somewhere.’

  ‘What did they hit us with?’

  ‘Blunted arrows.’

  She tried to turn her head to see him, but he was out of view. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Sore. You?’

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘Do you know how long we’ve been here?’

  ‘Long enough, but not long enough,’ a voice answered, from somewhere beyond the top of her head.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

  ‘I am Alberrich.’

  ‘What do you want with us?’ Keshik asked.

  Alberrich walked around the room until he could be seen. Maida tried not to gasp but it escaped her lips when she saw their captor. To describe him as hideously disfigured and misshapen would have been a kindness. His face was lumpy and uneven, barely recognisable as human. Physically, he would have been tall had he stood straight, but the hump on his back and withered left leg prevented that. Long, crooked arms hung below his knees, ending in gnarled hands with too many fingers. Even the full robe that hung from his shoulders was insufficient to hide his monstrous appearance.

  ‘Ah, you noticed my unfortunate appearance,’ he said at Maida’s reaction. ‘I was hoping you might not.’ He lowered himself into a chair and leaned back carefully. ‘As to what I want, that is a complicated story.’

  ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ Keshik said.

  ‘No, you are not,’ Alberrich agreed. ‘And my guess is that you don’t want to be above ground at the moment. I think you might be the cause of the panic up there.’

  ‘Panic?’

  Alberrich turned his ghastly face on Maida. ‘Oh, yes. Few cities lose their Ruling Council in one night without panic.’

  Maida felt the blood leave her face.

  ‘I thought so,’ Alberrich said as he watched Maida blanch. ‘I am curious, though, as to why. Was it the hunt?’

  ‘No,’ Keshik said.

  ‘Really? What was it then?’

  ‘They spied on us,’ Keshik said, as
if through gritted teeth.

  ‘Is that all? And they died for that?’ Alberrich coughed into his hand, a rich phlegmy sound. ‘I do not lament their passing, and nor will anyone else, but of all the things they needed to die for, that is not the one I would have wagered on.’

  ‘It was enough,’ grated Keshik.

  Alberrich raised both of his malformed hands in mock defence. ‘Like I said, I do not lament their passing.’

  ‘If that is so, why are we tied?’ Maida asked.

  ‘I do not trust you. You killed a hunting julle pack and then slaughtered twenty of the city’s most powerful and wealthy citizens. You are too dangerous to leave lying around untended.’ Alberrich shifted in his chair as if uncomfortable.

  ‘When we were in Mollnde, we came upon a small arena where I had to fight a man for the pleasure of the watchers before I could earn any information,’ Keshik said. ‘And then here we are herded into an alley where we are watched as we fight for our lives. And finally, we are watched as we bathe and eat. What sort of people are you?’

  ‘How much do you know about C’sobra?’

  ‘Not much,’ Maida admitted.

  ‘We are a corrupt, perverse people whose only claim to greatness is that we live by water. We have nothing to trade, nothing to offer the world but our proximity to the Silvered Sea and our expensive ports. We have a powerful navy whose sole purpose is to harry merchant ships into these harbours so that we can steal exorbitant anchorage fees from them. Our soil is too poor to support agriculture and our land seems devoid of mineral wealth. Apart from our efficient bureaucracy, we have our Readers. And they are not always popular.’

  Maida tried to concentrate, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Alberrich was about to launch into a history lesson on his country. In her present situation, it was something she did not want.

  ‘I don’t know if you have noticed, but the Readers all live within the Rurthi. Originally, the Readers were shunned and fled the other cities to live here, in fortified security. Someone had the idea that knowledge could be a profitable commodity, so the Readers became useful. But they were happy here, and still paranoid, so C’sobra had to come to them. As the number of Readers grew, they needed more people to look after them, so Leserlang sprang up around them. But they still live over there, in their fortified town within a city.’