by A J Dalton
‘And we’ve just made an enemy of the Guild?’ Mordius mewled so weakly he was not even sure Kate could hear him over the drumming of the horses’ hooves and panting.
‘Yes, although right now I’m not sure whether to be more scared of them or that maniac chasing us. How much longer before he wears himself out or remembers who he is, by Shakri’s life-giving arse? It’s like he’s possessed!’
Mordius looked back over his shoulder, more to avoid having to answer Kate straight away than because he was concerned about the closeness of the animee. He had considered interrupting the flow of his necromantic magic, to fell the animee, but had decided it was too risky in front of the already suspicious King’s Guardian. Now, she was engaging in speculation that was far too close to the truth to be comfortable.
‘When robbed of opponents, berserkers quickly lose their altered state, their supernatural strength and hyperawareness. We can slow down now.’
‘I have heard of such warriors,’ Kate nodded, pulling back on her reins, ‘but they are usually said to have been worked up into a religious frenzy by a temple or drugged by a local shaman. The plainspeople of the south are thought to have some magic whereby they are possessed by the powerful spirits of their ancestors. Saltar, though, seems to be something altogether different.’
Mordius shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. All I can tell you, Kate, is that for as long as I have known him, he has been that way. His men genuinely believed him to be an instrument of the god of vengeance. They also knew to steer well clear of him in battle. I reckon there’s a more mundane explanation, like he was dropped on his head when young. I don’t see him, do you?’
‘No, but I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing.’
Saltar was, in fact, stood in the middle of a dusty track looking up at the sun and trying to get his bearings. His memory was as hazy as the outline of the town on the distant horizon. He looked down and saw two sets of galloping hoof prints. His magical link to Mordius told him that he should try the same direction as the prints. He started walking, and after a few bends around some bushes and low trees spied his companions waiting for him.
As he approached them, he was surprised to see Kate ready her crossbow. He stopped short of them. ‘There you are!’ he said unnecessarily. After some delay, he managed to co-ordinate his face well enough to create a slight frown.
Kate glared at him and tightened her grip on the crossbow.
Mordius nudged his horse forwards and it bared its teeth at Saltar, unhappy as ever to see him. ‘You’re not going to attack us, then? Do you remember much?’
‘I take it I killed them all, as you asked?’ Saltar put to Kate.
She released a pent up breath with a pained look. ‘Yes, all but one, who made for the city. We need to get moving right away, across those fields in front of us. I don’t know if we’ll have time to stop at any farming community we come across. But I can’t believe I’m on the run! What is it about you two?’
‘If we are being hunted, we should stay away from anyone who might identify us later,’ Saltar said in his normal, deadpan tone.
‘Agreed,’ Kate smiled. ‘It’s safer for all concerned if you’re just kept away from people.’
Saltar didn’t react. There was nothing he could think of to say. He simply stared at them with glassy eyes.
‘Thank you for saving us, Saltar!’ Mordius said with a bow. ‘We are not ungrateful.’
Kate cursed and wheeled her horse around. ‘Come on, then! The fields seem dry and stony. They should make us hard to track.’
Mordius shrugged at Saltar helplessly, wrestled his own horse round and took off after her. Saltar was tempted to sigh, but still the impulse as it belonged to the living. He fell into a loping run that would not allow them to get too far from him if they kept to a trot. He wasn’t too concerned if they did get away from him, not because he would always be able to find Mordius anyway, but because he needed some space. They cluttered his head and made it difficult for him to think straight, particularly Kate, who kept mixing everything up just when he thought he knew where he was going and why he was doing things.
He needed to work out what was happening to him. Previously, he had his place on the phantasmagorical battlefield only while he held a weapon. But the staff had not taken him there until he had adopted the right mindset. And then, in this last episode, he had not been able to return to Dur Memnos simply by letting go of some weapon or other. It seemed there was no longer a physical trigger to it. Could he be taken at any time?
He wondered if Mordius would help him, but decided Mordius was too self-interested to want to do so. After all, the necromancer hadn’t yet done anything to help Saltar find out who he’d really been when alive. And if the problem alarmed Mordius too much, what was to stop him casting Saltar aside and finding another animee?
Not having answers or an obvious means for getting them nibbled at him like a rat checking to see if an animal is dead yet or no longer strong enough to defend itself. What was he to do? He didn’t have much choice but to follow along behind Kate and Mordius and wait for something to present itself, but that somehow didn’t seem proactive enough. There was the possibility of divine intervention, but he doubted if too many gods were interested in the prayers of the dead. What did that leave? Not much. He could either choose to continue running along on this surreal quest or choose to stop running right here and be a scarecrow for this poor and barren field.
There were a curious number of crows around, it had to be said, especially when there were no worms to be had from the grey and dusty soil, and when there wasn’t much growing from it. True, there was stubble evident from previous crops, but he’d heard that even when someone died their hair and beard continued to grow. Saltar ran a hand over his chin as he ruminated and noted it was smooth: he was neither alive nor dead; he was suspended between the two. Maybe that was why there were no options for the likes of him, no opportunities to take his destiny into his own hands. Curious.
Preoccupied as he was, he came up to the halted Mordius and Kate all of a sudden and barely avoided a back kick from Mordius’s evil brute.
‘Ahh! That’s why there are so many crows,’ Saltar observed. ‘Is it… was it human?’
‘What perversion is this?’ Kate bit. ‘Has the world lost all sanity?’
Mordius swung his leg over his horse and slid to the ground. He took a few cautious steps forwards, and then quickly held his nose. For a moment, it looked as if he would vomit, but he held it in. What looked like a thick, black smoke puffed up from the befouled earth and surrounded him. He flapped ineffectually at it as it droned around him. Flies filled his mouth, ears and nose. He tried to spit, but more crept in between his lips. They crawled into his throat and he began to choke. He could feel their hairy legs tickling at his soft gorge as they wriggled and burrowed deeper.
He staggered back a few paces and then rolled frantically in the dirt. He came to his hands and knees as his stomach bucked and heaved. He spewed himself out upon the earth and thought he would not stop until his organs and bones had followed the contents of his stomach. The glistening muck that had come from him wriggled and he shuffled back feebly from it. His stomach tilted again and more was dragged from him, coming out of his nose this time as well. He snorted to clear his airways.
Saltar was next to him at last. ‘Steady, Mordius! They’re gone. Keep your head down and try to get your breathing under control. Focus on my voice. That’s it. Try not to be sick anymore. It’s so violent that it threatens to bring up your gut lining.’
Mordius’s chest laboured and fought to pull in air. His heart thumped so hard that he could hear it in his ears and found it difficult to make out what Saltar was saying. He tasted nothing but acid and couldn’t stop swallowing as his stomach sphincter continued to spasm. His mind understood what was happening to him but could do nothing to help. It was as if it had been cut adrift of its body and no longer had any control or ability to interact with the world. Was th
is limbo what it was like to be dead?
His jaw hung slack and his mouth was still thick, as if an invisible hand had successfully forced its way in and pushed its way down his gullet. His insides roiled and squirmed as the hand reached to grab at his vital parts. He no longer had the strength to fight it and slumped onto his front. He retched again but little came up this time except clear juices.
‘Pull him clear of the contaminated ground!’ Kate screamed, tears of panic running down her face.
Saltar looked around wildly and realised Mordius still lay half on the edge of the wide, oily patch of ground. He grabbed the failing magician’s ankles and tried to haul him backwards. The body slid an inch or so but then stuck fast. It would not release him so easily.
‘He’s sinking!’ Kate warned and finally jumped from her horse to help.
They pulled on a leg each, their muscles straining to their limits. Saltar was sure they would end up tearing their friend apart if they had to pull any harder.
‘Shakri preserve us!’ Kate wheezed between clenched teeth.
And the body gave with a loud, sucking slurp. They were thrown backwards and landed in an ungainly pile. Kate pushed herself up off Saltar’s chest with a smile and an elated whimper. ‘We did it! Thank all that’s holy. I thought we were going to lose him.’
Saltar nodded mutely and tried to mirror her smile. Sitting up, he put a hand to Mordius’s pallid skin. ‘He’s still breathing, but his pulse flutters like a moth.’
‘What is this place, Saltar? Is that a body in the middle over there?’
He nodded. ‘I think I see a rib cage and a skull. It seems to be lying on a stone slab of some sort. A sacrificial table perhaps. This black stuff smells like old blood.’
‘But there’s so much of it.’
‘Yes, there are some feathers mixed in. I imagine some of the crows have ended up in there too. Judging by the state of the fields, I’m guessing the local farmers have been making human sacrifice to increase the fertility of the soil and the yield of their crops. But the question is who or what they’ve been sacrificing to and what they have conjured here.’
‘Normally, it would be my duty to investigate such matters,’ Kate said tiredly. ‘But we’re being hunted and I’m not sure we have the wherewithal to take on mercenaries, unholy forces and murderous locals all at the same time. We should just avoid everyone and everything and be on our way.’
She held her hand out and pulled him to his feet. ‘Tactically sound,’ he said, hoping it wouldn’t make her flare up at him.
She smiled oddly and shook her head.
***
They rode up to the giant gates of Holter’s Cross, which stood open but were guarded by lupine warriors atop the palisade and at ground level. There was a cold bite in the air that threatened snow and apparently did little to improve the mood of the glowering guards. The ditch around the walls was full of rubbish: human waste, rotting vegetable matter, broken pottery, gnawed animal bones and bones that clearly didn’t come from animals. Nostracles wrinkled his nose at the sickly smell of human habitation, and shuddered to think what it would be like in the height of summer. Yet there was always hope; from death and decay came life; large, healthy rats thrived and multiplied amidst the detritus.
‘Right, we’re here,’ the Scourge said tightly. ‘Stay close, the two of you. And you…’
‘I know, I know!’ Young Strap finished for him. ‘Keep my yap shut.’
‘Well, yes, I was going to say something like that,’ the grizzled Guardian said with a bit of guilt. ‘This city is more dangerous than Corinus. We are welcome in certain parts of the capital, but none will treat us with anything but suspicion and aggression here. And we would be considered foolish and deserving of any misfortune that might befall us if we were not to treat everyone here in the same fashion.’
‘It looks more like an armed camp than a city,’ commented Nostracles.
The Scourge nodded. ‘Yup. With so many professional soldiers and marauders coming through here, the Guild needs to be able to defend its wealth against all comers.’
A bulky guard captain approached them, one hand resting on the hilt of an efficient looking sword. ‘Brokering, hiring or looking for work?’ he asked the Scourge.
‘We have business with the Guild,’ the Scourge answered neutrally.
‘All business done in Holter’s Cross is the business of the Guild. The Guildmasters take a commission on all transactions. Brokering or hiring?’
‘Brokering, then.’
‘Good. Make sure you get your documents from the Guildhouse before you try to leave the city. No documents and you have to pay the penalty.’
‘And the documents are proof I’ve paid the Guild a commission, right?’
‘Right! Sounds like a smart fella like you won’t have any trouble here.’ Then the captain’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know you, do I?’
‘I have one of those faces,’ the Scourge said and then scrunched his face comically. ‘Bet I look like your old mother now.’
The captain smiled with a faint air of boredom, well used to the humour of mercenaries. ‘One last question then. What, by all that’s sacred and unholy, would possess you to bring a priest into this place?’
The Scourge blinked slowly and then turned to look at Nostracles as if noticing him for the first time. ‘Oh, him! He’s a renegade. Got the worst temper of anyone this side of Lacrimos’s realm. Whenever one of his flock would confess a sin, his righteous indignation would get the better of him and he’d fly into a rage. Killed a man just for wasting his seed with a doxy. Realising that he had a talent for such holy ministration, but that the local militia wanted him out of town, he decided to join my band so that he could do his work amongst the wider, non-converted masses of Dur Memnos.’
The captain looked at Nostracles sceptically, clearly trying to imagine the gangly youth in a killing frenzy. Apparently succeeding, he grunted, ‘Okay, but no preaching or converting inside the city. On you go!’
They moved past the gates and the walls and into the empty space which served as a killing ground should any enemy win past the first line of defence. The city’s buildings began fifty paces further on and were laid out in a vast grid pattern, so that the avenues and boulevards looked to run all the way to the horizon and gave the city an infinite feel.
‘Lacrimos’s balls, the Guild owns all this!’ Young Strap breathed, careful not to profane Shakri out of respect for Nostracles.
‘The Guild understands how displays of power can intimidate others and ensure respect. It also knows the importance of deceiving an enemy. Architecturally, the city has been designed to suggest order and discipline. However, the truth is that it has the same problems, chaos and corruption as any other city. The Guild simply doesn’t want its weaknesses to be obvious to any foreign party,’ the Scourge informed them.
‘Then there are inns here, just like in Corinus?’
‘No ale!’
‘But…’
‘Not a single one! It makes you too loose of tongue. Remember the mess you got us into last time!’
‘Very well, Old Hound,’ Young Strap said in his most conciliatory manner. ‘I have a question, however.’
‘You do surprise me. Go on.’
‘Why the deception to enter the city? Why not simply inform the guard that we are Guardians?’
‘Actually, that’s a sensible question. When I was your age, I tried that approach and the guards at the gates laughed at me and refused me entrance. They said that if the King truly had business with the Guild, then He would send an official delegation. I ranted at them and got nowhere.’
‘Then the will of the King counts for little here. Interesting,’ Nostracles interpolated, catching them both a bit by surprise.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Young Strap asked curiously, still not fully up to speed on events since he had contracted his strange sleeping sickness on the road.
‘We leave our horses at an inn near the Guildhous
e, get the information we need about the King’s hero and this necromancer Mordius from the Guildmasters and then leave Holter’s Cross before nightfall. Simple, eh?’ The Scourge was careful to avoid mentioning to Young Strap, for suspicion he was the white sorceress’s creature, that he also wanted to see what help Holter’s Cross could offer him with regard to the impossible task Shakri had laid upon his shoulders, the task of stopping the war.
‘That is sensible, Janvil, but it does not require all three of us to go to the Guildhouse. Young Strap and I will seek information from other quarters while you negotiate with the masters of this city.’
‘Who’s Janvil?’
The Scourge glared angrily at the innocent-faced priest. ‘Can you guarantee me you can keep the youth out of trouble, then? It’s a fine trick if you can manage it. I swear he’s an avatar of that holy imp Lokis, the god of mischief himself.’
‘I will watch him closely, for the sleeping sickness may overtake him again.’
‘Would the two of you stop talking about me as if I weren’t here!’ Young Strap demanded. ‘And I’m not some child that needs wet-nursing! I’ve fought cannibals, zombies and necromancers, to name but a few.’
The Scourge smiled to see Young Strap riled. ‘Very well, Nostracles. Much joy may you have with him. He’s not such a bad kid really, but can’t handle ale or strange sorceresses.’
‘You must tell me of this sorceress, Young Strap.’
The youth coloured and blurted, ‘There’s not much to tell really!’
‘Nonsense!’ the Scourge chided. ‘She was a woman of great and bewitching beauty. Do not do her a disservice, Young Strap, especially when you thought well enough of her to pledge yourself to her.’
‘Did you really pledge yourself to her?’ Nostracles asked, all innocence and light. ‘You must be a man of great passions to do so.’
Young Strap was more than a little flustered by the sudden attention. ‘I will tell you when we are comfortably seated in an inn, Nostracles. Then I can do the topic real justice. That is my final word on the matter.’
‘Priest, you work miracles!’ the Scourge crowed. ‘I never thought to hear his final word on a matter. I bow to you and leave him in your good company.’
