Orb Sceptre Throne

by Ian Cameron Esslemont

  ‘So we’re both blind as bats?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘This is useless – not to mention damned dangerous. We should stop here.’

  ‘I agree.’

  Antsy slid down one wall. Examining the dark, it appeared that an intersection lay just ahead. Corien was a shadowy shape on his right. He pulled out a scrap of dried meat and chewed for a time. He felt as disheartened as he could ever remember. And for him, a career paranoiac, that was saying something. ‘So … this is it. The Spawn.’ He spoke in a low whisper. The darkness seemed to demand it. He wondered where Malakai had gone off to. He speculated, briefly, that the man had simply abandoned them all as useless baggage. But probably not yet. Not before getting his fifty gold councils’ worth.

  ‘Indeed. The Moon’s Spawn,’ Corien echoed after a time.

  ‘So … why’d you come then? No insult intended, but you look like you got money.’

  ‘No offence taken. Yes, the Lim family’s been prominent in Darujhistan for generations. We practically own a seat on the Council. But money? No. Over the years my uncles have bankrupted us. They’ve pursued all sorts of reckless plans and political alliances. I think they’re taking the family in the wrong direction.’ He sighed in the dark. ‘But … if I’m to have any influence I must have some sort of leverage …’

  ‘So … the Spawn.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘I understand. Well, good luck.’

  ‘Thank you. And you? The same?’

  Antsy shrugged, then realized neither of them could see a thing. His personal reason for coming here to the Spawn was just that, personal. So he fell back on the obvious and cleared his throat. ‘Pretty much. I never expected to get old. Didn’t think I’d live long enough. Hood’s grasp, none of my friends have. Anyway, a man starts to think about his final years. Retiring from soldiering. I need a nest-egg, as they say. Buy some land, or an inn. Find a wife and have kids and be a cranky burden to them. And—’ He stopped himself as he seemed to sense something close, watching them, though he could see nothing in the dense murk of shadows.

  ‘Hear that?’ he whispered. He listened and after a moment’s concentration began to hear the background noises of the Spawn. Groaning seemed to be emerging from the very stone – the conflicting strains and forces of tons of rock held somehow in suspension, as if waiting, poised, ready to drop at any instant. Antsy suddenly felt very small. A roach in a quarry and the rocks are falling.

  Or was it his sense of not being alone: that this darkness was no ordinary lack of light? After all, the Spawn had been an artefact holy to Elemental Night. He’d heard stories that Mother Dark herself lingered on in all such shrines. He cleared his throat, whispered, ‘You don’t think there’re any spooks ’n’ such, do you? Here in the dark?’

  ‘Well, now that you mention it, Red … of all the places I can imagine being overrun by your spooks ’n’ such, this would have to be it.’

  Antsy shot the young man a glance and saw his teeth grinning bright in the gloom. ‘Burn dammit, man! You really had me going there.’

  ‘I agree with our fancy friend,’ said another voice from the dark.

  Corien flinched upright, his long duelling blade coming free in a swift fluid hiss. Antsy’s hand went to his pannier. He squinted into the murk; the voice had been Malakai’s but the hall seemed utterly empty. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t see, it was that the hall felt vacant. ‘Malakai?’

  Then he saw it against one wall: an oval pale smear that was Malakai’s face, seemingly floating over nothing, so dark was his garb. Eyes that were no more than black holes in the oval shifted to glance up the hall.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘We’re all wet and cold,’ Corien offered. ‘I thought that called for a fire.’

  ‘The girl?’

  ‘Presently availing herself of it to dry her clothes.’

  The face grimaced, perhaps at the delay. ‘Fine. I’ll continue to reconnoitre.’

  ‘What have you found so far?’ Antsy asked.

  Malakai answered slowly, as if resenting having to share anything at all. ‘This area has been emptied of everything. All valuables, all possessions. Even every scrap of furniture. Fuel for fires, I imagine.’

  ‘Any lanterns? Lamps?’

  The ghost of a smile touched and went from the pale lips. ‘What need would the Children of the Night have for those?’ Then he was gone in the dark, utterly without a sound.

  Snarling, Antsy fell back against the wall. ‘Hood on a pointy spike! No lamps at all? Nothing? What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘There are other people here. They’ll have lanterns and such.’

  Antsy eyed the youth, who was grinning his encouragement. He shrugged. ‘Yeah. I suppose so.’

  They sat for a time in silence, Antsy’s vision gradually adapting to the dark. He caught Corien waving after Malakai. ‘Your employer seems one to prefer working alone.’

  ‘Yeah. I get that feeling too.’

  ‘Then, may I ask … why did he hire the two of you?’

  Antsy cleared his throat while he considered what to say. ‘Well, me he hired as a guard. An’ Orchid, she’s a trained healer and says she can read the Andii scribbles.’

  After a time Corien said, ‘If she really can read the language then I can see how she would be valuable. And you are this fellow’s guard? In truth, he strikes me as the sort one should guard against.’ And he chuckled at his witticism.

  Not wanting to dig himself in any more, Antsy added nothing. Corien, ever polite, refrained from further questions. They sat in silence. As the time passed, Antsy became aware of more sounds surrounding him. He could hear the waves of the Rivan Sea shuddering up through the rock like a resting giant’s heartbeat. Other noises intruded: the fire crackling and popping, and faintly, once or twice, what sounded like voices from far away, further into the maze of halls and rooms ahead.

  He heard Orchid coming up the hall long before she called, tentatively, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Yes?’ Corien answered.

  She walked up to them with the ease of one completely unhindered by the dark. ‘All done. Or good enough, anyway. Help yourselves. The embers are hot.’

  Antsy let out a thoughtful breath. ‘I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna dry my footgear. You should too, Corien. We could be facing a lot of walking, and believe me, there’s nothin’ worse than blisters and sore feet on a march.’

  ‘Very well. I bow to your superior experience.’

  Antsy wasn’t sure how to respond to that; he didn’t detect any hint of sarcasm. The lad seemed to be one of those rare ones who could actually take advice without resentment or sullenness. Maybe he wouldn’t be such a burden after all.

  They dried what gear they could while the embers lasted. Corien re-oiled his weapons. Watching, Antsy thought him too liberal with his oil: it was damnably expensive stuff, but the lad could probably afford it.

  ‘So where is Malakai?’ Orchid asked.

  ‘Reconnoitring,’ Corien answered.

  The girl made a face in the dimming orange glow. ‘I hope he never comes back.’

  ‘Our chances are better with him,’ Antsy said.

  ‘Very true,’ Corien added. ‘Red and I are blind in the dark.’

  ‘I thought you had some sort of preparation.’

  ‘That is true. However, it is only good for a short time.’

  ‘So you lied to Malakai?’

  ‘Not at all. He didn’t ask how long it would be effective.’

  She let out a frustrated growl. ‘So this is it? You two come all this way just to sit and wait for Malakai to hold your hands?’

  ‘Hey now!’ Antsy protested. ‘Just a minute there, girl.’

  ‘Well? What are you going to do about it?’

  Antsy took a long breath, thinking. ‘You can see fine?’

  ‘Yes. Never better. My vision seems even stronger than before.’

  He nodded, then remembered Corien might not see. ‘Okay. W
e’ll pack up, then.’

  They shared out the waterskins, the panniers of food, and the equipment. Antsy wondered where in the Abyss Malakai had gotten to but there was nothing he could do about the man’s absence. And anyway, there was nothing the man could do about his blindness either.

  Leaning close, Corien murmured, ‘Very strong-willed, our lass.’

  Antsy merely grunted his assent. Tongue like a whip dipped in tar and sand. The girl’s jibe had gotten under his skin. Were they malingering here on the doorstep because they were afraid to venture in? He’d always pulled his weight; he was proud of that. He might not be crazy brave, but neither did he ever shirk. Was he losing his edge?

  They felt their way up the hall. Antsy had Corien leading, sword drawn, himself next, and Orchid bringing up the rear. As they walked, awkward and slow over the tilted floors, he assembled his crossbow. That at least he could do blind.

  At an intersection of four halls he whispered for a halt. ‘All right,’ he said to Orchid. ‘Which way? What do you think?’

  ‘Let’s ask Malakai,’ she said.

  ‘Okay … just where in the Abyss is he?’

  ‘Right over there.’ She must’ve pointed but he couldn’t catch the motion. ‘I see you skulking in that doorway, Malakai. Enjoying yourself?’

  Silence. Not a brush of sleeve or scuff of booted heel. Then Antsy flinched as directly in front of him he heard the man say, ‘Well done, Orchid. I’d thought you the least of the party. But perhaps you and I could manage things on our own. These two don’t seem to be of much use.’

  ‘What of Red’s munitions?’

  ‘There’s much less structural damage than I’d feared. Perhaps they won’t be needed.’

  Antsy had had enough of them talking as if he wasn’t standing right there and he cleared his throat. ‘Listen, if there’s no light then I will turn round and leave. There’s no point in me going on.’

  Silence. Malakai murmured, ‘Leave? It seems plain there’s no going back.’ He sounded as if he was enjoying giving this news far too much.

  ‘What do you mean? I’ll just wait for another boat.’

  ‘I overheard they drop people off at different places each time.’

  Antsy wanted to punch the bastard. He squinted so hard stars burst before his light-starved eyes. ‘But a pick-up? There must be a pick-up!’

  ‘Yes. A place called the Gap of Gold, apparently. Just where that is I have no idea.’ From the man’s tone Antsy could imagine him arching a brow there in the darkness. ‘We’ll just have to poke around …’

  Antsy managed to bite back his yelled opinion of that. He almost exploded, so great was the wash of rage and frustration that coursed through him. No wonder no one had returned in so long! This island was a death trap – and he’d walked right in like a lamb! You damned fool. You should’ve known better than this.

  He realized that the others were talking and that he had no idea what they’d been discussing. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Some way ahead,’ Malakai said. ‘People. I spotted them earlier. They have a few lights burning.’

  That was all Antsy needed to hear. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!’

  ‘I’ll go first,’ Malakai cautioned. ‘Give the crossbow to Orchid.’

  ‘She can’t use it. She’d put one in your back.’

  ‘At least she’d have a better view of her target than you would. What do you say, Orchid? Will you take it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, reluctantly, her voice sour with distaste. ‘I suppose so.’

  Antsy held out the weapon, felt her take it.

  ‘Okay. Red, Corien, you two are in the middle. Orchid will follow, guiding you.’

  Antsy growled.

  They advanced in that order for some time. Orchid would whisper what was ahead, giving directions. Antsy trailed his left hand along a wall, his shortsword out. Malakai led them on through hallway after hallway, round corners, past open portals that gaped as blind emptiness to Antsy’s questing fingers. It seemed to him that the air was steadily getting warmer. And he was completely lost. Then a familiar stink offended his nose. To Antsy it was like a veteran’s homecoming: the pungent miasma of an old encampment. Smoke, the stale stink of long unwashed bodies, vile latrines. He heard snatches of exchanged words, echoes of footsteps, wood being broken and chopped.

  Ahead, his light-deprived eyes beheld what seemed like a golden sunset far overhead. He stopped, squinted his disbelief. The apparition resolved itself into light reflecting off a high domed ceiling. Silver paint or perhaps actual gems dotted stars and wisps across the dome in constellations completely unfamiliar to him. The night sky of true Night? Something for philosophers to get into fistfights over.

  Orchid whispered, ‘Malakai’s at some kind of low wall or balcony ahead. He’s signalling for you … wants you to crawl over.’

  ‘Straight ahead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Grunting, Antsy sheathed his shortsword and got down to crawl along the cool polished stone floor until his hand hit a wall.

  ‘To your right,’ Malakai hissed. Antsy shuffled along until he touched the man.

  ‘Okay. Take a look.’

  He felt up to the lip of the wall and peered over. At first he saw nothing; the glare from what was only feeble lamplight blinded him. Then, slowly, he began to make out details. He was looking down about three or four storeys on to a city, or village, cut from solid rock. Light shone from a small huddle of buildings near its centre. People walked about, in and out of the light’s glare. Muted conversations sounded. A woman’s harsh laugh broke the relative quiet. He’d seen eight people so far.

  ‘What do you think?’ Malakai asked.

  ‘There’s a lot of them.’

  ‘At least twenty.’

  ‘Damn. Too many.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘There might be a watch up here somewhere.’

  ‘On the other side right now.’

  ‘Hunh. Time’s running out then. What do you have in mind?’

  ‘Parley for information.’

  ‘I agree. Who?’

  ‘You and Corien. I’ll shadow. Orchid stays out of sight.’

  Antsy ran a thumbnail over his lips. ‘Okay. Rally to here?’

  ‘Might as well.’

  Antsy waved for Corien and Orchid to come up.

  It was a village sculpted from stone in every detail. Antsy and Corien descended a street of shallow stairs that ran between high walls cut with windows, doors, and even planters. All now was wreckage, tilted and uneven. Litter covered the street; fallen sheets of stone choked some alleys. Jagged cracks ran up the walls. And everywhere lay the remnants of water damage; they breathed in the stink of mouldering and mud. The stairs opened on to the main concourse of the houses the people occupied; they’d obviously just found the place and moved in.

  Antsy felt naked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been without his munitions. He’d hated leaving them behind, but Malakai had been right: no sense in risking these people getting their hands on any. He carried only a dirk; Corien his parrying gauche. They advanced side by side down the middle of the street, careful to step over rubbish, broken possessions and scatterings of excrement. The population seemed to just squat wherever they wanted. Up ahead four men stood within the light of a single flickering lantern. Since Antsy and Corien stood in the dark the men could not see them – so much for having a light with you on guard.

  ‘Hello,’ he called.

  Three of the men yelped, diving for cover. A woman screamed and was roundly cursed. Only one man remained standing in the light. ‘Yes?’ he called, squinting. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Newcomers.’

  ‘Ah! Welcome, welcome. Please, come right up to the light and let’s have a look at you. You gave us quite a start there.’

  ‘We’ll stay back here for now, if you don’t mind.’

  The man held up his empty hands. ‘Fine, fine. Whatever you wish. We, you say? How many ar
e you?’

  ‘My friend and I. We speak for a larger party. We’d like some information.’

  The man motioned towards the houses as though beckoning his companions. ‘Come on, come on! No sense hiding. It’s not hospitable.’ He turned back to Antsy and Corien, bowing and holding out his open empty hands. ‘Sorry, but we’re a harmless lot, I assure you. My name is Panar. We’re just poor stranded folk, like yourself.’

  ‘Stranded?’ Antsy echoed. Something churned sourly in his gut at the word.

  The man nodded eagerly. ‘Oh, yes.’ He raised his arms to gesture all about. ‘This is it. All there is. The Spawn. Utterly emptied. Looted long ago. The Confederation sailors might as well have knocked us all over the heads and pitched us into the drink.’

  Antsy gaped at the man. ‘What?’ And a voice sneered in his mind: Fucking knew it! Too good to be true. He tottered a step backwards.

  Corien steadied him with a hand at his back. ‘I don’t believe it,’ the lad whispered.

  ‘Believe it,’ Panar answered. ‘The Twins have had their last jest with us. All the gold, all the artwork, whatever. All gone. Looted already. Come, come! Relax. There’s nothing here for anyone to fight over.’

  Corien leaned close to Antsy. ‘This smells as bad as a brothel.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Antsy raised his voice: ‘What about the Gap of Gold?’

  Panar’s brows furrowed. He rubbed his chin. ‘The gap of what? What’s that?’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Antsy muttered. He noted that none of the men from the fire had reappeared. Nor any others, for that matter. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Corien began edging backwards. ‘Yes. Let’s.’

  ‘There’s no other way forward!’ Panar shouted. ‘This is it. The end of the road … for you.’

  A screaming horde erupted from the surrounding doorways and engulfed them. Antsy went down like a ship beneath a human wave. He was trampled, bitten, punched and scratched. Broken-nailed fingers clawed at his eyes, his mouth, pulled at his moustache. Hands fought to slide a rope over his head. The stench choked him more than the slick greasy hands at his neck. Somehow he managed to get his dirk free and swung it, clearing away the hands from his eyes and mouth. He pushed his feet beneath him and stood up, slashing viciously, raising pained howls from both men and women. He reached out blindly to find a wall, put his back to it. They screamed and shrieked at him, inhuman, insane. It was as savage a close-quarter knife work as any he’d faced in all the tunnel-clearing he’d done. He slid along the wall searching for an opening, slashing and jabbing, ringed round by glaring eyes and dirty grasping hands.