Moontide 02 - The Scarlet Tides
Page 60
‘You are an outrageous liar,’ she scolded him good-naturedly.
‘No, it’s all true,’ he protested. ‘The lamiae are as real as you or me.’
‘It is true,’ Cymbellea, walking into the kitchen. ‘I can vouch for it all.’
‘Then your lands are even more primitive than I have been told,’ Ramita declared.
The Rondians found this amusing, and Ramita decided all people must think their land the best. ‘Are you ready to eat?’ she asked politely.
Alaron made another attempt to eat her ‘curry’. She’d reduced the spices for his benefit, but it was still far too hot for him – and for Cymbellea too. They had the palates of babies. It was very funny, though, the looks on their faces as they gasped for water, then fled towards the privies. Justina, who had been eating proper eastern food for all her life, was similarly amused.
Once everyone had settled down, they took advantage of the rain clearing away to go to the top level and enjoy the sun. The viewing platforms offered views of the sea, and the other pillars, which fascinated Alaron and Cymbellea.
After a while Cymbellea and Justina went to another platform to talk. They lowered their voices, clearly arguing, while Alaron just stared out across the water, paying them no attention. Perhaps he is thinking of this ‘Anise’, Ramita mused. He’s a little lovesick, I think. She smiled wistfully; it reminded her of all those years of being in love with Kazim, and terrified her parents would arrange for her to marry someone else – and in the end they had, of course, just not someone she could ever have imagined.
But I miss you, my husband. Every night, I wish again that you were here.
‘Look at the size of that gull,’ Alaron said, breaking into her reverie. ‘It’s massive.’
They all peered at the huge seabird. It had a fierce yellow beak, and its wings were as wide as a man is long. It circled the pillar and called aloud, a harsh shrieking noise, then veered away towards the south, climbing as it went. The cloud was low, especially to the west where it was rolling towards them on the wind, tumbling and boiling like an oncoming storm.
‘It was some kind of albatross,’ Justina called from the next balcony, ‘but bigger than any I’ve ever seen.’ Her voice had a worried catch to it. ‘I should have killed it.’
Ramita looked at her, surprised. ‘Why?’
Justina pointed upwards, at a flock of dark shapes. The giant gull was speeding towards them. ‘Because I am beginning to think it might not have been a real bird.’
Ramita clutched her stomach, which quivered with kicking feet. A lump of fear caught in her throat.
‘Let’s go below,’ Justina snapped, pulling back her hood. ‘Now!’
Almost as if they’d heard her, the giant birds peeled off and dived towards them, shrieking a challenge as they came. And even worse, a giant wooden ship emerged from the cloud-banks to the west of them. Six huge flying creatures glided menacingly alongside it, and her heart started thudding as she saw they had armoured riders.
Ramita reached inside her for that semi-tangible well of strength her body now harboured: the gnosis, the devil-magic, her husband’s final gift to her. Her lips fluttered in prayer as she backed towards the stairs.
Darikha-ji, be with me. Our enemies are here.
*
It’s Malevorn’s lot, Alaron realised at once, as the venators shrieked and swooped toward them. His skin prickled with heat and sweat and his whole body trembled. He thanked the impulse that had seen him wear his sword, and he drew it as they all retreated to the central landing area atop the pillar. ‘Lady Meiros, what is the most defensible place here?’ he called to Justina. The air around Cym’s mother was alive with wards, and lightning crackled at her fingertips.
‘Get below and prepare to seal the doors,’ she shouted. Then she thrust a hand towards the windship and the clouds blazed with vivid jagged light. A fork of energy erupted from her and blasted the forecastle of the ship – or would have, except for a web of blue light that absorbed the energy in a burst of sparks. The venators shrieked, rearing up with wings billowing, and then began to surge forwards.
Then the giant gulls were between them.
Alaron blinked as he realised two things: one, that the birds were changing into winged people as they flew, and secondly, that they were attacking the windship.
‘Who are they?’ he shouted. Perhaps they’re here to help us—?
But that vain thought died as one peeled off and shrieked towards Justina, who effortlessly blasted it from the skies.
Cym grabbed at his shoulder. ‘Come on,’ she shouted as her mother sent another bolt of lightning into one of the shapeshifters. A blinding flash revealed its bones, then it disintegrated and fell from sight. Then someone howled a spell and a wooden skiff dropped from the clouds. Fire almost enveloped them, testing Justina’s wards to the limit, but her web of protective light flashed blue to white, imprinting itself on his retinas against the boiling blackness of smoke and fire.
‘Daughter, get below!’ Justina cried, and he caught her involuntary thought:
Kore Above, an Ascendant! Alaron grabbed Cym, and ran for the stairs. Ramita was ahead of him, her eyes bright with fear, but she was composed, not panicking. She immediately shot upwards in his estimation; he himself was terrified.
‘Get inside,’ he told the two women, taking it upon himself to hold the door open for Justina. Or to close it if she didn’t make it. The sky about the pillar was alive with shapes swirling through the smoke and blazing light. There was lightning bursting among the giant gulls, and more of them were falling from the sky, and then he saw a venator plummet straight towards him as a raking blow shredded its right wing. The rider leapt clear and struck the rim of the stone wall; he nearly bounced off it, but somehow managed to cling on.
Alaron blazed at the armoured man with his own mage-fire, but his efforts only struck shielding wards. Then he glimpsed the man’s face: Malevorn!
He heard Justina shouting defiantly as the great windship filled the air above. She threw a blast of fire that burst about its rigging, setting the sails on fire, and three windshipmen dropped from the vessel, their uniforms ablaze as they fell, one striking the stone with a sickening crunch, the others thudding into the decks of the vessel.
Justina backed towards the door as mage-bolts battered her shields.
‘Get inside, my Lady!’ Alaron shouted. ‘Please!’
She was obviously reluctant to obey him. Her eyes and hands were ablaze with fury – but then two more venators landed safely on the rim, and one lunged at her, its maw opening. She blasted it full in the mouth and as it recoiled, instantly dead, its death-throes threw off its rider, a pale young man who looked utterly terrified. The other reptile caught a gull-woman in its mouth and bit down, snapping her spine before tossing her aside. The Inquisitor-rider thrust at Justina with his lance, but the spearhead glanced harmlessly off her shields.
Alaron turned back to Malevorn, just in time to duck a bolt of energy that struck the lintel, leaving a blackened smear marking the place where he’d stood a moment before.
Justina flew past him, then whirled to slam and seal the doors.
‘They followed us,’ Cym howled, her voice full of anguish and self-recrimination. ‘They traced my calling – they must have!’ She looked like she wanted to tear her own eyes out. ‘It’s all my fault!’
‘Silence, daughter!’ Justina snapped. She threw more energy into the wards about the doors, which were throbbing from successive gnostic blows. ‘There is only one other way out of here: the lower gates. Go and ready your skiff.’
‘We can carry four!’ Alaron shouted. ‘No one gets left behind.’ His mind raced: the skiff was de-masted: Why did I do that? Fucking tidiness! And why are the attackers fighting each other?
He thrust these wild thoughts aside and focused on the now. ‘We can all fit!’
‘On that little twig?’ Justina said scornfully.
‘Ho
w did you get here?’ Cym demanded.
‘We flew on a carpet,’ Ramita told her, ‘but it is in the storage area above.’ She clutched at her stomach. ‘My children,’ she said. ‘They cannot have my children.’
Justina looked at Cym. ‘There is an Ascendant out there. Take Ramita below and ready the skiff. Do it.’
Her face hardened as she turned to Alaron. ‘The boy and I will buy you time.’
Alaron swallowed. Kore’s blood, she means for us to die so Cym and Ramita get away.
‘No, Mother!’ Cym shrieked. ‘Please, we can all go!’
A series of gnostic blasts made the doors above shudder. The wards turned molten for a moment, but still they held.
Ramita, the calmest person here, took Cym’s arm and pulled her towards the stairs. ‘Come. We have to ready your vessel.’
‘We can all get out,’ Alaron said aloud, willing it to be so.
Then the skylight shattered, glass cascaded over them and all of Hel burst in.
*
Ramita felt panic blossom inside her for the first time as the transparent ceiling high overhead on the western side of the lounge cracked and huge shards of glass started to plummet down. They struck the rock and shattered further, cascading out in all directions: a devastating wall of jagged chunks that could rip a person apart.
She was standing closest as the glass fell, and without quite realising what she was doing, she screamed, ‘No!’ and her gnosis burst from her like a vast, pulsing wave. She had no idea what she was trying to do – it was just sheer force, pure energy – but it froze the first onslaught of the broken glass in mid-air, holding it there. She realised she could feel it battering against her involuntary ward, like she was being punched, but somehow she weathered it, holding the sheet of lethal shards from them until it lost momentum and, with a deafening crash, rained harmlessly to the floor.
She reeled backwards and fell against Alaron, who clutched her while staring, and the look of helpless dread on Justina’s face had changed to wonder …
Then two shapes dropped through the hole in the roof. The first, a powerfully built white man, died instantly as Justina’s gnosis, a brilliant blend of fire and lightning, blasted him. His blackened body fell with a crunch into the broken glass. Then a white-haired hag floated into view and hurled Justina back with an imperious gesture, as if the daughter of Meiros were nothing but a child.
Is this an ‘Ascendant’, like my husband? Ramita stared at the old woman, who snarled like an animal and hurled a torrent of broken glass. Justina’s shields held, just, though stray shards broke through, ripping at her mantle, drawing blood from her arms and legs. Behind her, the door bulged as their other attackers renewed their assault.
Ramita had no particular plan, but in blocking the glass, she’d been reminded of what Justina had told her of the stuff: it was composed of sand, super-heated by Earth and Fire-gnosis: her prime and secondary elements.
She picked up a big shard of glass with telekinesis and hurled it at the crone. It shattered impotently against her shields, but it made the crone turn towards her.
Her mental voice filled Ramita’s head.
Ramita’s jaw dropped. She knows me?
More people, naked men, some dark like her, some with skin as pale as Alaron’s, dropped through the hole above into the chamber: they were all half-human and half-beast. A dark shape swooped towards her, a man with the wings and face of a bat, and Alaron blazed fire at it. The man-bat-creature thudded sideways, hitting the floor and bouncing once before lying still. But he had no time to relax, for a jackal-headed woman went for him almost immediately, forcing him to defend himself with his sword.
The doors shuddered again, and with her gnosis-sight Ramita could see that Justina was trying to hold it while fighting off the old crone. She also saw that the old woman’s shields were gathered to her front, which gave her a clear angle of attack. She gathered more glass and threw it with all the force she could muster, just as Justina threw a mage-bolt. The accidentally synchronised attack proved deadly effective: shards of glass punched through the old woman’s shields, one large piece lodging deep in her right thigh. Others ripped at her side, stripping her skin to the bone.
The old woman shrieked and collapsed yowling – which clearly shocked the beast-people. By now there were five enemies inside the chamber, but they all hesitated as the old woman fell, except for the jackal-woman, who had seized Alaron and borne him to the ground – she snapped at his face, but he twisted and threw her off. There was blood on his shoulder and running from his nose. Another of the beast-men was trying to rake Cym’s flesh with long, filthy nails, but she threw him from her furiously. Two more of the shapechangers were still frozen in shock.
But Ramita recognised the fifth foe: Huriya Makani, her erstwhile best friend, the girl who had been as close to her as her dead twin.
‘Hello, sister,’ the Keshi girl called as she dropped from the roof. Her voice was filled with barely contained bloodlust. She landed astride the old woman and pulled the glass shard from her thigh. The wound had partially sealed over, but the witch-woman looked glassy-eyed, barely aware.
‘You!’ Justina strode towards Huriya, both hands coming up as mage-fire gathered in her fists. ‘Get behind me, Ramita,’ she snapped. Then she focused on Huriya alone. ‘You opened the door for my father’s killers.’
Ramita’s hand went to her mouth. No!
Huriya just smiled. ‘Oh, that wasn’t me. That was my brother’s lover who let in the Hadishah.’
Justina stopped. ‘What are you saying?’
Huriya’s face twisted nastily. ‘It was Ramita who let them in.’
That split-second was all that it took. An instant when Justina’s face went wild, her shields forgotten, her gnosis lost as her eyes sought confirmation in Ramita’s face.
The nearest of the two unopposed shapechangers, a golden vision with a lion’s head, blurred inside Justina’s guard. With one slash of his claws he tore out her throat. She arched over and fell, her head almost detaching as blood gushed through the air like an after-image.
Beside her, Cym howled in denial and threw herself bodily at Lionhead, but he swatted her aside as if she were nothing. Only Cym’s instinctive shields prevented her from sharing the fate of her mother, but still she was hurled bodily against the wall. She slid down it to the ground, stunned, unable to do anything to stop Lionhead as he leapt onto her and pinned her down.
Alaron was scrambling to his feet. Ramita was staring at the almost headless body of Justina Meiros as her eyes flickered and went dull. Blood pooled about her in a steady flow. In that moment, Ramita was utterly helpless – but no one came at her. All eyes were suddenly on Huriya and the crone.
Huriya gripped the glass shard she’d wrenched from the hag’s thigh, though it sliced open her hand, then in one fluid motion, she plunged it through the old woman’s chest and kissed the woman’s lips, inhaling with a look of ecstasy on her face.
Alaron grabbed Ramita’s shoulder. His eyes went from Huriya to Lionhead, who started to roar, his claws at Cym’s throat. Alaron shouted, ‘No! Please, don’t!’ and Ramita felt the young Rondian’s hand clamp her arm. He wrenched her behind him and, brandishing his sword, cried despairingly, ‘Please, don’t hurt her!’
Lionhead pulled Cym’s throat to his mouth, menacingly, and all the while Huriya continued to kiss the dead woman. Her eyes rolled back in her skull and she moaned with pleasure, as if she were experiencing the most blissful of sexual peaks.
Sweet Parvasi, what has she become?
Jackal-woman and the other two shifters, who were now in human form, stalked towards them, naked and bloody. ‘Yield,’ Jackal-woman rasped.
Ramita and Alaron were about to obey when the door exploded inwards and an armoured Inquisitor burst into the room, followed by a flood of soldiers.
*
Oh Hel. Alaron shoved Ramita, shouting, ‘Go, go!’ He
saw an Inquisitor going for Lionhead while the first rank of the soldiers made straight for the disturbing dark-skinned girl hunched over the dead witch.
Dokken, he thought. Souldrinker. It was the only thing that made sense. He’d heard of them of course, but he’d never been sure if they were real, or just scary myths to frighten young magi. So not legends then, he thought wildly to himself.
The room was filled with fire and screaming, and bodies hitting the floor.
Some stupid remnant of chivalry had stopped him from trying to kill her earlier, but in a sudden burst of protective fury he forgot that; he fed the gnosis into his blade and punched it straight through her shields. A foot of steel burst out through the back of her chest and she slid to the ground with a bewildered, naked look on her face. Blood bubbled from her mouth.
No one else followed.
‘Get below!’ he called to Ramita, who scurried into her room even as he sprinted to his. He snatched up his pack and thrust the Scytale into it, then went back to the hall, calling again for Cym. Ramita was still in her room and he screamed at her to hurry as he peered through the smoke now billowing from above. But still the Rimoni girl didn’t appear.
He counted thirty nerve-racking seconds until Ramita emerged, clutching a bulging carpet-bag. But although he could hear the shapeshifters and Inquisitors ripping each other apart above him, no one came.
Cym is up there. He was desperate to charge back upstairs and find her, but it felt like suicide, and he had to protect Ramita and the Scytale. She began to waddle to the next flight of stairs, the one leading to the lower doors, and before he followed her, he locked and warded the doors behind him. They were halfway down the stairs when he heard and felt that door blasted open.