Moon's Artifice

by Tom Lloyd

  On the road behind her came another two hundred goshe in a disordered column. These ones were all moon-born ; loyal and trained soldiers of the goshe, but still cattle compared to Synter’s Detenii. Most had pulled on their black goshe jackets once they’d deposited the last load of patients at the hospital, the building’s grounds now almost entirely filled with silent, insensate fever-born. Their weapons were stashed in a temporary armoury inside the gate, but more than a few had used their polearms to make stretchers anyway.

  Jehq would be finishing off the last of the fever-born now while the other Elders completed preparations for the ritual. The fever had taken people in a range of ways, but once the artefact had been touched to their heads they were as still as the dead. Indeed, Jehq had told her most would be dead by morning if a critical mass wasn’t reached.

  Synter had watched it happen with a faint chill of dread – in part because this was at her instigation, but mostly at the simple sight of a thousand living corpses whose minds would soon be linked. She was glad she wasn’t the one doing the work there. Jehq had looked drawn as he’d carried the bluish-grey block from one fever-born to the next. The shards of gold-flecked quartz set into the artefact pulsed with inner light as it touched each one – a flush of hungry delight from their enslaved demon, Synter imagined, as it consumed soul after soul and slowly grew in strength.

  The first boat reached the dock and Atash grabbed the rope thrown at him. He tied it off and trotted up the short ramp one of the goshe dropped against the side. Synter watched him hop onto the deck as the ship’s sailors, all still masked against the fever, started moving the first of the enfeebled patients forward. It was a practised routine now and even before the reinforcements made their way through the gate and down the beach, Atash’s men and women had half the first boat unloaded.

  Synter looked up at the remaining ships drawing up to the shore. Even with the second jetty they’d constructed and the deeper-drafted ships winching down their shore boats laden with the sick, much of the daylight had been lost unloading at the island end.

  ‘Least it won’t matter this time around,’ she muttered. ‘That first boat’s got enough for Father Jehq’s needs. The rest can wait.’

  A second ship pulled up to the jetty, buffeting it as it came in a shade too fast. The jetty shuddered and men stumbled, Atash jumping up to bellow remonstrations at the captain even as its lines were secured.

  Synter couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever was called back Atash didn’t seem to like it. Her hand tightened as she watched the Wolf drop onto the jetty and race up the lowered gangplank.

  Seven hells – now’s not the time, you damn fool !

  She glanced towards the steps that ran down to the ground, momentarily undecided whether she should go and sort it out herself, but Atash was a Detenii. She knew perfectly well he’d have won any fight by the time she got there, by which point she’d just look stupid in front of one of her less-respectful soldiers.

  Synter hissed with irritation and reached down to grab her crossbow instead. ‘If that’s not sorted quick,’ she commented to the nearest man on the wall – Frayl, a Redearth from her team whose skin looked rustier than usual in the waning light – ‘someone’s getting shot. I don’t care who.’

  Frayl grinned and nodded, hefting his own bow. From a small table beside him he tapped one of the firepowder quarrels they had on hand. ‘One o’ these’d shake ’em up !’

  ‘Spark a bloody panic more likely,’ Synter said, a trace of regret in her voice. She looked up at the boats and frowned. There was a staccato light shining on board the fisher Atash had boarded. ‘What the fuck’s he doing ?’ she breathed. ‘Showing his Lightning Blessing for the whole damn Empire to see ?’

  ‘Ah, Synter ?’ Frayl said, doubt showing in his voice, ‘I don’t know much about boats but ain’t those coming kinda quick ?’

  She looked around. He was right ; many of the fishing fleet hadn’t furled their sails or checked their speed – they were driving straight for the beach.

  ‘Shit and damn,’ she said – just before a gunshot echoed out across the beach.

  Rhe watched the goshe stagger, driven to a halt by the force of his bullet. The Wolf’s mouth hung open, his expression more one of astonishment than pain. Movement on the deck stopped as the Lawbringers and Imperials stared at the goshe – thin curls of lightning still flicking lazily around his hands. Rhe had shot him almost point blank, just as the goshe darted forward to strike, and a faint cloud of smoke from the pistol was all that stood between them. The goshe tried to say something, but as he did so his heart seemed to give one final beat and blood poured from his chest.

  The goshe wavered and fell to one knee, lightning vanished and hands now clawed in pain, not rage. His yellow eyes were wide and staring at the Lawbringer who’d killed him, then his strength failed and he toppled forward.

  Before the body was still, Prince Kashte was moving past and bringing his rifle up to aim. With brass chasing and intricate scroll-work the Imperial’s weapon was a work of art, but he levelled it with practised movement.

  ‘Lawbringer ?’ he muttered as he took aim.

  The word stirred Rhe into action. He’d barely had a chance to announce his purpose to the Wolf before the goshe had attacked, but one guard’s action wasn’t enough. As Law Master Sheven led a group of Lawbringers off the boat Rhe stood high on the gunwale and raised his voice.

  ‘I am Lawbringer Rhe – drop your weapons ! I am here to search for the fugitive goshe doctor called Jehq.’

  Behind him, the remaining minor princes levelled their guns, covering the Lawbringers as they filled the jetty and ran down the beach. Before any response came, a great creak and scrape filled the air as the first of the boats beached themselves hard on the pebbles and more Lawbringers dropped into the shallow water.

  Rhe looked around at the panic-stricken goshe on the beach. Most stared back at him unmoving or looked to their fellows, waiting in vain for someone to take charge. A handful drew what weapons they had on them and waited for the Lawbringers to come, several of those glancing back up at the defensive wall behind them. The Lawbringer followed their gaze and saw more figures in black up on the wall, barely visible in the dark. One carried a blazing torch, however, and the light it cast showed crossbows in the hands of those beside him.

  ‘My Lord Sun,’ Rhe called to Kashte, ‘the wall.’

  ‘I see them,’ Kashte replied. ‘Do you want me to fire ?’

  ‘Hold until they fire,’ Rhe commanded.

  ‘Doesn’t seem sound advice, Lawbringer.’

  Rhe glanced down. Prince Kashte had a small smile on his face but he continued to line up a shot. ‘You are a man of the Lawbringers for tonight,’ he said coldly, ‘and that is our lot.’

  Just as he turned back a fizzing spark corkscrewed down from the wall. Rhe followed its erratic path to the far end of the jetty where—

  A thunderous detonation broke the night as a man-sized sun erupted there. Rhe reeled away, arms up to cover his eyes from the blinding light. Behind him he heard Kashte and his fellows return fire, a stutter of whip-cracks ringing out around him. Screams filled the night, blurred streaks of light searing through the dark as Rhe tried to recover himself.

  From elsewhere there came more gunshots, a second party of Imperials and high-caste Lawbringers on boats landing either side of the jetty. Rhe dropped to one knee as he heard quarrels thud into the wood of the boat. He tried to blink away the pain in his eyes but the blur remained and he could do nothing but hope not too many were similarly affected.

  ‘Lawbringer ?’ Kashte called from somewhere nearby, ‘are you hurt ?’

  Rhe shook his head. ‘Can’t see properly,’ he said, wincing at the sting in his eyes. He looked towards the sound of Kashte’s voice and at last found things resolving themselves. ‘Go !’

  The Imperials didn’t wait to be told twice. Rhe sensed as much as saw them leap the gunwale, his eyesight only just improving enough to
blearily make out the goshe from the beach charge to meet the Lawbringers. The goshe carried long-knives for the main part and were already outnumbered. Only fervour drove them forward and it wasn’t enough, as they were cut down in moments by the longswords and halberds of the Lawbringers.

  Rhe touched a hand to the sword on his back, reminding himself of its presence. He stood and returned his spent pistol to its sheath, not trusting himself to reload the weapon properly yet. Heading down the gangplank Rhe glanced at the shattered and burning wreckage at the other end, then trotted towards the beach, pulling his sword as he went.

  Ahead of him he saw Kashte, rifle in his hands, dodge back from a wild slash. Likely trained as a duellist just as Rhe had been, the Imperial showed a street-fighter’s instinct as he kicked at his attacker’s knee then swung the butt of his rifle at the man’s head. The goshe staggered under the glancing blow and only then did Kashte draw his gold-hilted sword and calmly hack into the goshe’s neck with it.

  Rhe blinked. The style wasn’t a duellist’s, now he saw it, nor was the man’s weapon a delicate rapier. Its blade was twice the width of a rapier, with a basket hilt – more suited to the battlefields of centuries past than high-born disputes. At the sight, Rhe couldn’t help but wonder who this mutual friend was, and what part he played in the Imperial House that his underlings wielded such weapons.

  By the time he reached the beach, the last of the goshe had been cut down ; even the two doctors in white had picked up weapons and died rather than flee.

  None surrendered, Rhe noticed distantly. Narin was right – they’ve been made fearless fanatics.

  The goshe on the wall had stopped firing momentarily, outnumbered by the guns on the beach, and for a moment Rhe wondered if they had fled. He looked around at the scores of white- and grey-clad Lawbringers and Investigators as they disembarked from a dozen beached boats, forming disordered knots on the open beach. Realisation struck him. They’re just waiting for us !

  ‘Prince Kashte !’ he yelled.‘The wall !’

  Even as he spoke, a burning object arced high up in the air, barely starting its descent again before exploding in another eye-watering burst of light. Two more swiftly followed and tore through the crowd of Lawbringers.

  ‘Clear the wall !’ Kashte responded, dropping to one knee. Several of his fellow Imperials did the same and in seconds the first rifle shots echoed across the twilit beach. Rhe saw a dark shape tumble from the wall, but at the same time more quarrels thumped down and struck the first group of Lawbringers to mount the beach. Then another burning quarrel darted drunkenly down and exploded at the feet of the nearest of them. Rhe caught only a glimpse as he turned away, but the white light illuminated a snapshot of spraying blood and torn limbs.

  Kashte’s troops were quickly joined by the noble Lawbringers and the sound of gunfire came more quickly, forcing the handful on the wall back down again. Those few goshe who did chance further shots discovered how accurate the Imperials were with their beautiful rifles. Rhe left them to it, running along the beach and shouting to impose some sort of order on the invading force. The Lawbringers were not an army, of that he was painfully aware, and even the basic instructions he’d given regarding keeping to designated units proved difficult.

  There were several hundred Lawbringers on the beach, many soaked from the waist down. A few dozen more were wading, completely sodden, out of the water even now, dragging their weapons along behind having swum in from the rearmost boats.

  ‘Get in line !’ Rhe yelled again and again, dragging the halberd-wielding Investigators into rows. ‘There’s more of them !’

  His reminder that they were expecting several hundred goshe to be on the island seemed to drag their thoughts into order. The assigned squad leaders added their voices to his until they had their men together and facing the same direction.

  Rhe returned to the jetty where his gun-wielding troops had spread out, wary of the goshe’s bombs. The cries of wounded men intruded on his attention at long last and Rhe realised several terribly-injured men had been dragged back to the boats. Among those bloodied but still standing was Law Master Sheven, his robe torn and blackened.

  ‘I’ll survive,’ the man said, noticing Rhe’s look. ‘Just you get this done – they’re not going to wait around for us.’

  Rhe nodded and raised his sword. He opened his mouth to shout for them to advance when the main gate opened. Out of it raced a disordered mass of goshe. The high-castes reacted first – their ragged volley cutting down the first dozen defenders – but then Rhe’s order was lost as the Lawbringers roared their defiance and charged for the enemy.

  Rhe found himself frozen for a moment, astonished at the reaction of his colleagues, but instinct drove him forward. In one smooth movement he drew his second gun and shot down the nearest goshe. Then the two makeshift armies crashed together and screams once more filled the air.

  Synter risked a look over the wall just as the moon-born goshe reached the Lawbringers. Chips of stone flew up as a rifle-shot glanced off the wall and she was forced back down again. Below her, goshe were still pouring through the gate so Synter scuttled over to the nearest steps and shouted at one of the men she recognised below.

  ‘Caric !’ she shouted over the noise, having to repeat herself before the Raven turned towards her. ‘Shut that fucking gate ! We need to hold the Lawbringers here, not kill every last one. Let’s not lose more minds than we need to before the Elders are finished.’

  Caric nodded and used his Blessings of strength to shove aside the knot of goshe between him and the gate. The moon-born yielded to him and soon he’d driven the gate shut and dropped the bar to hold it in place. Synter reached the ground and cast around for faces of the Detenii, but it was difficult to spot them with many of the goshe slipping on the black hoods of their order.

  ‘Detenii,’ she called, seeing a few heads rise at that, ‘on the wall – Caric, get twenty crossbowmen up there too. You,’ she pointed at the nearest man who looked old enough to be a Shure master, ‘what Shure are you ?’

  ‘Arbold Crescent-side, Mistress.’

  ‘Take forty men and head into the lazaret. Set ambushes there for anyone trying to push through – Caric, you’re in charge here until I get back. Contain them as best you can, hear me ?’

  ‘Done !’ the man replied and started to pick out those with crossbows to herd them up onto the wall.

  She left Caric to it, the chance that this was a distraction of some sort occupying her mind. The noise of violence was continuing on the other side of the gate, but Synter was well aware she didn’t need a victory here and now. The Lawbringers had brought in extra guns from somewhere and right now all she needed was to keep them from the hospital, a mile away at the far end of the island. She had a good four hundred more goshe in reserve around the island and three further teams of Detenii who’d taken no losses in the skirmishes of recent days.

  We’re too close now, Synter thought angrily as she started back down the road towards the hospital. I won’t let them stop us now.

  As though the Gods had answered her, the sun slipped below the horizon and the sky darkened further. Up above, rain clouds were massing on a stiffening breeze coming in off the Inner Sea. Synter broke into a sprint.

  The smuggler’s boat cut the water with barely a sound. Kesh looked over the lowered mast and saw the sun had disappeared below the horizon. Soon the sleek black boat would be near invisible to the island’s lookouts. She’d lowered the sail and mast almost half an hour before, letting the tide drag them closer to the island. Hirl’s price had been steep, but the man had at least delivered the goods, she was glad to see.

  The small boat was simple to handle and fast, its small sail doing the bulk of the work as they slipped out of the city and began a wide circle around the island. The beach where the Lawbringers were landing was on the western end of Confessor’s Island, a lumpy protrusion little more than a mile long. Most of its coastline was made up of high, jagged cliffs. That b
each was the only safe place to put in on the whole island.

  ‘Time to row,’ Kesh announced, seeing a scowl cross Narin’s face as she did so. ‘Not you, Narin – you’ll need to save your strength. The three of us will be enough.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll pull my weight.’

  Kesh didn’t bother arguing. There was a spark of anger in Narin’s eyes since Enchei had rescued him. It cut through the fatigue and whatever pain he was feeling, Kesh realised now.

  Tomorrow perhaps, we need to do something about that, she thought. Until then, it’s what might just keep him alive. She paused and almost smiled inwardly. Tomorrow it’s my problem ? Strange – I’m thinking of them as brothers yet I hardly know them. Wonder what it’ll be like when this is all over ?

  With the four of them rowing hard and the tide assisting, they quickly reached the island. Once they were close, Kesh withdrew her oar and tapped Narin on the shoulder, indicating he should do so too. The Investigator didn’t argue and just stowed the oars while Kesh took the rudder and guided them in to a sheltered section of cliff to tie up at.

  ‘And now ?’ she asked sceptically, looking up at the almost sheer cliff above.

  Tilted slabs of slate cut sharp lines in the remaining light. It looked an impossible climb, the handholds few and treacherous for sixty feet before the scrappy clumps of earth and grass at the top.

  ‘Now I climb,’ Enchei said, a broad smile on his face. ‘Not done this in a few years, more’s the pity.’

  ‘You can make that ?’

  He looked up to the top. ‘This ? With one hand tied behind my back. Trust me, girl, I’ve scaled worse.’

  ‘And then ?’ Narin joined in.

  ‘Then I’ll lower a rope for you and Irato.’

  ‘What ? What about me ?’ Kesh asked. ‘Don’t tell me you’re getting chivalrous, old man.’