by Mike Morris
She knocked one man, who was too proud or too dumb to get out of her way, with her shoulder, and for a moment she thought he was going to swing a punch. She adjusted her position, getting ready for it, when Simon tugged her sleeve. "Leave it. We've not time for a fight."
"Run off with your boyfriend," sneered the man as Lin allowed herself to be pulled away. The man grabbed at his crotch and thrust his hips at her. "When you want a real man, you know where you can find me."
"I'll do that," said Lin, looking back. "I'll make sure you'll remember me."
"Sometimes I think you could start a brawl in an empty room," said Simon as they turned into the next street.
Lin ignored him. He'd not had her life. He'd not had to fight to stay alive every minute of every night.
They passed Black Dogs searching houses and saw others herding residents to the bridge. Away from the barricades, the people Lin saw weren't quite as brave or hostile to the Black Dogs. They hurried along, eyes down, keen to get off the streets.
Some whores were out, still trying to drum up some business by an alley, forced smiles under tired eyes, surviving under the pressure of worn-out lives. Lin couldn't imagine they'd find much, what with the threat of demons and the cold. Again, she felt a reminder of her past life. The women were Sweats in all but name, made to work no matter the time or the weather. She only hoped it was hunger that drove them to it, not some Master with a whip.
Two men argued over their doorsteps while more Black Dogs waited for them in the street. Neither were happy with what was going on, but their opinions on what to do were enough to get the blood flowing in both their faces. One of the men had a dog at his feet, who growled at Lin. She bared her teeth at it and it slunk behind its owner.
No one sold trinkets in the street in Brixteth or worried about colored scarves like they did over the river. She didn't see any stalls with books or knick-knacks. Instead, doors and windows were being boarded up where they could, while others had the circle of God painted on the front of their houses. Lin didn't see either option providing much defense if a Master wanted entry. But they were both better than the buildings that verged on collapse or had canvas covering holes in walls or missing roofs.
"It's just up here," said Simon, pointing to the end of the street. "Where your friend went missing."
They turned a corner and the road opened up. Four Black Dogs stood around a fire in front of a large building. It was as Nial described it. The last place Jack had been seen.
She recognized one of the priests — a young lad called Erik. He was a friend of Jack's, grew up with him at Whitehaven.
"Hello, Lin," he said, walking over. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for Jack," she replied.
Erik dropped his head. "Jack's d—"
"He's not," she said, cutting him off. "I'd know if he was."
Give the boy credit, he didn't argue with her. There was even a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I hope you're right."
"Brother Nial said this is where you found the tunnel," said Simon.
Erik nodded at the building behind him. "In there. Some of our lads went missing and the trail of blood led to the hole."
"Can we see it?" asked Lin.
"Sure." Erik led them both inside. They walked through an atrium, ignored the stairs going up and passed through an archway into a large room. Erik pointed to the far corner. "The hole's here. Some of ours got taken down there and the boss sent Jack after them."
They stopped at the edge of the hole. Water glistened a few feet down. "It looks like it's part of the city's sewerage system," said Simon.
Erik nodded. "But it was dry when we found it. It'd not been used in a long time. The Nostros must've been using it to move around."
"And then some bastard flooded the tunnel when our men were down it," said Simon.
"Yeah," said Erik. "Happened fast. The whole squad got swept away. We've been hoping the water would subside more so we could go down again and search for the bodies, but it's settled at that level."
"Let's follow it above ground, then," said Lin. "There has to be another way down."
"Let me know if you find them," said Erik.
"I will," promised Lin. They left Erik standing there, gazing down the hole. Hopefully she could bring his friend back to him.
They moved quickly outside, following the flow of the tunnel beneath. They'd traveled down two streets before they found the first grate. They could see the black water below. There was no sign of Jack, though. It was stupid to think there would be, but Lin was disappointed all the same.
Simon saw the look on her face. "We'll find him. I promise."
"I know we will," replied Lin as they moved on.
The grates led them further into Brixteth, away from the river. The path was hard to follow down the twisting streets. Often they'd lose sight of the grates altogether and have to backtrack and head down parallel roads under they found them again. Lin had to admit she was glad Simon was with her. She'd be completely lost without him.
Time passed. The sun moved across the grey sky and the gloom over Brixteth deepened.
"We'll have to head back soon," said Simon. "Otherwise we won't make it back by nightfall."
"I'm not going back without Jack," said Lin.
"You heard what Nial said. It won't be safe to stay out."
"Go back if you're scared. I'm not."
Simon grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to a halt. "This isn't a case of being scared. It's being smart. What good are you going to do your friend if you're dead too?"
"I'm not going to die out here."
"How do you know that? You think the Nostros will just leave you alone if it sees you?"
Lin pulled her sword from its scabbard. Even in the late afternoon gloom, the blade shone with intent. "Let it come after me. Let it try and have my blood."
Simon stepped back. "I think you're half mad."
"And you'd do well to remember that." Lin sheathed her sword and headed off down the street, not waiting for Simon. Jack was close and she didn't have time to waste.
The road led into a large square — Housegate Market, according to a sign. A few empty stalls were scattered around the edges, all but buried under the snow. A perfect white carpet lay across the cobbles, undisturbed by human feet, marred only in the center by a small, dark circle — another grate. Lin stormed over to it, blood raging in her ears. She needed her anger to stop her thinking how hopeless it all was. Jack had been gone over twelve hours, if not more. What chance was there to find him alive? If she believed in a god, she'd be praying now, asking for help in finding him, asking for anything that made her task possible, for anything to keep him alive.
She reached the grate and looked down. There was water but it was much further away. She could see a stone floor directly beneath her, maybe a platform of some sort. She knelt down to get a closer look. There was something on it. A strange black shape. What was it?
She lay down, pressed her face against the cold iron, got her eye as close as she could. She followed the edges, tried to work out what she was looking at. It was so dark, so hard to see. Something caught the light near it. A glint of metal. A knife.
Lin looked at the shape again — no, not a shape — shapes. Bodies. Bodies in black uniform. Shit. She sat up, saw Simon ambling towards her.
"Quick! I've found them!" screamed Lin as she prayed to a god she didn't believe in that they weren't too late.
24
Nial
Nial stood with Edward on the bridge and watched the sun sink lower toward the horizon. A frustrating day was nearly over, and the nightmare of night would soon be upon them all. By God above, he was tired. How many years had he been fighting this war only for it all to fall apart now? How many good men had he lost? How many more would die? And for what? For one Nostros to arrive in Arbour and show how useless the Black Dogs were?
A trail of people stretched from one end of the bridge to the other as they were funneled out of Br
ixteth, shouting abuse at the Black Dogs on the way. An ungrateful bunch if ever he'd seen one. He was trying to save their lives and all they could do was scream and shout in return and make it as difficult as possible for his men to do their jobs. "How many residents have we got out so far?"
Edward glanced over to the far side. "Nowhere near enough. Maybe a quarter of Brixteth. It's hard to be sure. It's been slow going. No one wants to go, and the people we have moved all want to come back."
Nial rubbed his brow as if that would get rid of the pain building behind his eyes. "Tell the men to stop moving people out now. It'll be dark soon and we need to get everyone off the streets, shut in their houses. Pull the men out of any area we've cleared and then station them in the populated areas. The Nostros and the Turned will be drawn to where there's food. We need to be ready for them."
"Will do," said Edward.
Nial looked at his friend. "After last night, we're taking no chances. Anyone on the street after dark will be treated as potentially Turned. The men should be ready to shoot anyone if they have any doubts as to whether they're friendly or not. If innocent people die because they're too stubborn to follow orders, I can't be responsible. I'm not going to lose any more men."
"It's going to get worse tonight, isn't it?"
"You know it is."
"Dear God."
Nial placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "He helps those who help themselves. Now get the men ready. We've trained for this. Tell the men to keep their faith, courage in their hearts and their eyes open. And let's kill as many of the fuckers as we can."
Edward straightened up, got the fire back in his eyes and went off to face the men. Alone, Nial gazed out over the city. He'd never liked Arbour that much. It stank for the most part, was too crowded and the only times he normally visited were to deal with the bloody politicians that sat on the council — never an event to look forward to. But now it was all under threat he'd do whatever he could to keep it safe. He couldn't allow the city — the country — to fall because of one Nostros. He might have to resort to drastic measures to stop the contaminated spreading past the river.
He gazed down the Thyme. Even the river was quiet. The Black Dogs had stopped all the boats that normally shuttled from bank to bank, carrying passengers from one side to the other. He'd set men up at various points along the north side with orders to shoot any boats that attempted to cross after dark. Even the trade ships were being diverted elsewhere.
The warehouses on the southern bank were all silent and dark — something unheard of for Arbour. He looked for names on the sides of the buildings. One of them belonged to the woman Jack had found — the one who owned the house on Sigil Street. What was the name?
Edward returned, carrying a bowl of stew. "I've got you something to eat."
Nial shook his head. "I'm not hungry. You have it."
"I've already eaten mine." Edward held the bowl out. "Go on. You know the rule — eat when you get the chance. Once the sun goes down, who knows when you'll next get the opportunity?"
Nial smiled and took the bowl. His friend was right. "How long before sunset?"
Edward looked at the sky. "Maybe forty minutes. Not much more than that."
"Jack said he found the woman who owned the house on Sigil Street. Runs a warehouse on the south bank."
"She won't be there now. We've emptied them all out."
"I want to take some men down there and have a look anyway."
"Do you think that's wise?"
"God knows, but I want to have a look all the same."
"You've not got much time to get down there and back," said Edward.
"Then be quick and get me a team."
Edward sighed, then nodded. "Eat your food while I sort it out."
"Yes, Mother," replied Nial. He did as he was told and was glad that he did. The stew was hot, with plenty of spices added to perk up the flavor. He immediately felt better. Edward was right — a soldier should always eat when he could.
He'd just scraped the last of the stew from the bowl when Edward returned, bringing Alan, Christoph and Stuart. Nial smiled. The man had brought his best men over, no doubt worried that Nial was going to get himself killed.
"Boss," said Christoph in greeting.
"Good to see you, lads," replied Nial. "Ready for some trouble?"
"That's what we're here for," said Stuart.
Alan said nothing, of course. They'd worked together for over ten years and the man had probably said less than ten words in that time. But when you were as good as he was with a sword and a gun, you could let your weapons do your speaking for you.
Nial briefed them quickly, aware that time and the sun were against them, and then they took off at a run. They kept the pace fast and steady, but not so fast that they'd be no good when they reached the warehouses — not that Nial was really expecting to find anything. He was just happy to be doing something after a day spent standing around, waiting for things to happen. The Nostros had them reacting to everything, constantly at a disadvantage. The Black Dogs needed to regain some control over events. This felt like a good start.
The path along the dock was empty but Nial and the men kept close to the walls as they moved, using what shadows there were. No point making themselves targets if they didn't need to.
As they got closer to the row of warehouses, he signaled for the others to slow down. Better they approach with caution.
"Which one are we looking for?" asked Christoph.
"I don't know," said Nial. "Let's just see if anything looks odd. We'll do a pass of all of them and then head back before it gets dark. Should be easy enough." Not for the first time, he cursed his inability to remember names.
"You know what they say about easy jobs ..." muttered Christoph.
"They're the ones that kill you," said Stuart.
"Make sure that doesn't happen," snapped Nial. He regretted his tone straight away, another sign of his frustration and tiredness. "Just keep your eyes wide and bright. I'm not expecting any trouble, but that doesn't mean we won't find it. Alan, take the lead."
The Black Dog nodded and moved off. Stuart followed, then Nial, with Christoph covering the rear. There was an eeriness to the warehouses now they weren't in use, a silence that didn't sit well. There were no people rushing about, no traffic jostling by, and no cargoes being loaded and unloaded. As the sun dropped lower, dark shadows stretched across the street and the buildings became no more than silhouettes against a blood-red sky.
Suddenly, Alan halted and stuck up a fist to indicate they stop, followed by one to tell them to seek cover. Nial dropped down behind an empty wagon, keeping his eyes on Alan. The man had seen something — something he didn't like. The quiet man turned around so he caught Nial's eye and gave a thumbs down sign. Enemy. Nial nodded. Alan pointed to the next warehouse along. 'The Sarahlas Trading Co.' was marked on the side in gold letters. Nial felt a buzz of excitement. Sarahlas was the name Jack mentioned — he was sure of it. He remembered now.
He looked for what Alan had seen, but all seemed still. Alan didn't make mistakes, though. Something was there. But where?
Then a shadow moved and Nial could make out a man's head and shoulders. A sentry? The man reached over and moved an object. There was a glint of metal — a gun.
Nial signaled Alan to move forward and take the guard, but not kill him. The man might've been hired by the trading company to guard the warehouse against looters. Nial wasn't going to take someone's life just because a man needed to earn some coins.
Alan slipped forward, no more than a shadow himself, silent as death. Nial lost sight of him even though he knew where he was going. It was only when he saw the sentry crumble did he know Alan was at the warehouse. He was about to signal the others to move on when Alan motioned for them to stay where they were. What had he seen now?
He watched the dark building, waiting for Alan to reappear, aware that the sun was all but gone. They had to head back soon if they were to reach the
main group by nightfall. Shit. Where was Alan?
Stuart shuffled forward to Nial's side. "Do you want me to go after him?"
"No. Give him a few more minutes. He'll — wait — there he is."
Alan was back at the sentry's location. He waved the others forward. When they reached him, Nial found two dead men at his feet. He looked questioningly at Alan, then noticed how worried the man looked. That scared Nial — nothing bothered Alan normally. He motioned for Nial and the others to follow him and took them around the river side of the warehouse. They were careful not to make any noise themselves — whatever or whoever was inside didn't need warning the Black Dogs were there.
The large doors that allowed ships to unload goods directly into the building were shut, but Alan showed them to a smaller gate that was open. He signaled that there were enemy inside then moved back to allow Nial to see for himself. Stuart slipped in place beside him.
The warehouse was illuminated by small lanterns scattered around. Nial saw the civilians first, sitting huddled together in the center of the warehouse, hands tied and looking scared. There were a lot of them — at least a hundred — probably snatched in the confusion of the day. Nial could hear their sobs and tears and prayers. He didn't want to think why they were held captive.
Twelve men stood guard, armed with swords and guns. Four of them wore blood-red cloaks, just like in Bridgewater. Another man stood nearby, removing silver masks from a crate. A woman with short, dark hair watched from a balcony, smoking a cigar. She too wore a red cloak. Probably Sarahlas herself. There was a necklace around her neck.
"Fucking traitors," muttered Stuart.
Nial looked back at the men. There was something about them. Something ...
He tapped Stuart on the arm and pointed. "What are they wearing around their necks?"
"Look like necklaces to me," replied the Black Dog.
"Are they all the same?"
Stuart nodded. "Yeah. Looks like it. There's something at the bottom. I can't see what it is."
