The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  Aviti woke and tried to scream, but the pressure in her chest was immense. She tried to wrench her face from the ground, but in addition to the bands around her, someone pinned her down.

  Chains, real chains, clattered against the floor as she fought for breath. She could see the fire, but it was much too bright in the tent now for her to focus yet.

  ‘Careful,’ shouted a voice. ‘You will kill her.’

  There was no air for Aviti. Her lungs burned and her throat constricted, suffocating her cries before she could call out. She heard other shouts, deeper rumblings of anger and despair, but the screaming inside her head was all she could understand.

  ‘Let it go,’ a voice growled into her ear.

  She threw all her strength at the person atop her and tried to roll them off, but she collapsed as the pressure both within and outwith her increased. The chains on her ankles, hands and neck were real, but it was the weight on her chest compressing her lungs that was killing her.

  ‘Release it and live, or die, Witch.’

  Release it?

  Release it.

  In an instant, she let go the thread of magic she had subconsciously grasped when the metal touched her skin, but the suffocating weight remained on her.

  ‘Enough,’ said a different voice, then she heard a sharp slap. Her throat tried to collapse as her body hauled air back into her. The hollow rasp that it made barely registered on her consciousness. She tried to spin over, but there was still a knee in her back and a hand on the chains that had been placed behind her. So, she breathed in stour and dirt with each glorious breath, drawing racking coughs from her chest.

  ‘Let her up,’ said Wist, his voice dry as tinder.

  The chain behind her tensed and she was hauled up. There was the man and, in his hand, the golden chalice. ‘Verdasco,’ she mouthed at him. He grimaced once more at his name, but it turned into a smirk as he looked around.

  The tent was crammed full of Hillfolk. All of them wore shabby furs and threadbare cloaks. A few carried spears, but most were empty handed.

  All of her companions wore shackles. The Giants’ ones had been hastily constructed judging by the state of them. She alone wore them behind her back. A man forced his way in between the two guarding the entrance. He muttered something to Verdasco. Aviti only managed to catch the word “ready,” but whatever he said it brought a fresh smile to the Hillfolks’ leader’s face.

  ‘Move,’ he bellowed and his people jumped to obey. Aviti thought about calling out to her companions. It was so cramped that they could overpower the guards. She doubted that the men could withstand an assault by the Giants, even bound as they were, but she could not guarantee that they would not all die.

  The invisible cords that wrapped around her tightened, pinching her lungs, constricting the beating of her heart.

  ‘I warn you Witch, do not force me to break you before you can be of use. You will not take this chance from me. You will not.’ Spittle hit the back of her neck. Then a fist pushed into her back forcing her forward. She stumbled into a man who shoved back against her.

  A moment later, they were outside in the frigid air. A man stood beside each of the Giants now, two women held Sevika and a single man guarded Wist. Aviti saw Wist’s eyes harden as he looked around. Tension mounted in him. His eyes settled on the smallest guard. He took a sudden step towards her, unbalancing the guard holding his chain.

  He snatched a blade from the dumbstruck woman who held Sevika’s chain. The guard who had been behind him was down on his knees.

  Wist flipped the blade and held it poised above the man’s head. Decheal roared.

  ‘No,’ Aviti cried, stalling Decheal’s momentum. Then Wist let the knife slip from his trembling hands. Then he looked at Aviti and gave her a tremulous smile.

  Then he repeated, ‘No,’ just before a boot was thrust into his back landing him on his face.

  ‘You should have let him strike,’ said Decheal.

  ‘Enough,’ shouted the leader and he pushed Aviti forward. She could have let Wist kill the man, but she feared the consequences of unleashing Wist’s anger again.

  They were forced along through the tents. Here and there, Aviti spotted the detritus of life lived on the edge of existence. Beside one tent lay the remains of a cart and the picked clean bones of whatever had pulled it. She heard no children, no laughter, no singing, no joy. Even the people enslaved by the Intoli could cling to the hope of freedom. What hope did these poor souls have? Less than none, she thought, but another spear butt in her back tempered her sympathy for them.

  They shuffled their way along the overhanging mountainside, towards the cave mouth. ‘Are you going to throw us in?’ she asked the leader.

  After a few steps, he grunted and said, ‘You cannot tempt me Witch.’

  ‘That is a pity Verdasco,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to like you.’

  There was no reply from the man, so she started to sway her hips as she walked. Each step was painful. The muscles of her legs complained as she exaggerated her gait. She tried not to think of how ludicrous she must look.

  ‘Verdasco,’ she whispered. Then again after a few more steps. ‘Verdasco.’ She spaced out the syllables, giving each one a little air between them.

  ‘Stop it,’ breathed the man.

  She took a few more steps. Then she said his name as if it were the last part of a spell. ‘Verdasco.’

  The forgotten band around her contracted, causing her to gasp. It was not as tight as the last time he had punished her. ‘Silence, Witch.’

  She laughed at his words because she did not have enough air in her lungs to speak. Maybe, if she could anger him enough, he would give something away or even make a mistake, but she had to give up laughing to allow herself to breathe. She could feel Verdasco’s anger, powering the snare in which she was caught.

  The troop marched them along until they reached the mouth of the cave. They stopped there, and other men and women joined them, picking up a brand from the large watch-fire that burned there.

  The hiss and pop of the freshly lit torches reminded Aviti of the lone Krowen that they had faced on the desert. It had summoned fire-snakes to try to kill them and in the end Wist chose to let it escape rather than kill the reptilian thing. At the time, Aviti had been angry with him, but now she understood his decision.

  The leader barked the order to move to his people and as Aviti began to move forward he hissed into her ear, ‘No, Witch. Your spell has failed. I will not be dragged into that black abyss.’

  Aviti did not reply. If they were not heading into the cave, then where?

  Her question was answered when the leading guard started walking up the side of the cliff. At first it looked like she was floating, but as Aviti moved around, she could see steps reflecting in the torchlight. There was a staircase cut into the side of the mountain. It reached up and over the cave and stretched away until it was lost in darkness.

  As Decheal, was hauled onto the mountain, Aviti heard the first cry. It was a forlorn call. Then others joined it.

  ‘No,’ one shouted.

  ‘Not me,’ called another.

  Yet another just said, ‘Please, please, please,’ over and over again.

  ‘What are they saying,’ Wist shouted out.

  Of course, she thought. The voices used the Hillfolk’s language. One started shouting obscenities. He cursed the leader Verdasco, calling him a string of names. He called down thunder and lightning upon his head, and promised that none of them would live past the night. Then he pronounced the stupidity of what Verdasco was about to do.

  If these were ghosts, they had no interest in Aviti and her companions and were immune to the bone-numbing temperatures in this exposed place.

  Aviti’s skin caught fire as the Ghria Duh rose behind them. Either the sight of the Black Sun rising stole the voices of those on the mountain or they had run out of insults to throw. Now the rock of the mountain shimmered, slick in the dark sunlight, as if doused
in fresh rainfall.

  Another shove in the back got Aviti moving again. She could see the Giants on the stairs. Decheal was at the front and behind her was Haumea, the crippled Giantess’s rasping breath marking their assent.

  Sevika was forced to go in front of Aviti and Wist. The man who had captured them hit the Intoli at every step, whether she faltered or not. Aviti could hear the man calling the Intoli names, laughing at her, saying he would enjoy seeing her blood again.

  Before Aviti could say anything to Wist, the guards forced them onto the steps. They moved Wist in front of Aviti, and Verdasco completed the procession.

  These steps were too long for Aviti to climb with ease, with the shackles biting her ankles. Each step was about two and a half strides long, forcing her to adopt an unnatural gait. The stairs were incongruously smooth. The mountain was all natural angles and points, but each step was rectangular and flat.

  Their path wove over the top of the cave mouth. As Aviti climbed, she saw figures higher up the mountain. Then she spotted more and more of them. The ethereal black light of the Ghria Duh picked them out scattered amongst the boulders and scree.

  ‘No,’ shouted Decheal from ahead. Aviti strained her eyes to see, but the procession blocked her view.

  Decheal shouted again, but the wind carried his words away from Aviti.

  ‘What is it?’ Wist asked over his shoulder.

  Aviti said, ‘I cannot see, but this is wrong, we must escape. We must go. We must go now.’

  But the guards dragged them apart. Wist was pulled over to the left above them and Aviti was moved to the right. She could see Wist being moved to a stone plinth. Two guards held him. She watched as they attached his chains to something low down, forcing him to kneel.

  As her chains were grabbed, she expected something similar to happen, so she tensed her body and prepared to throw her weigh backwards. Had she made a fatal mistake not acting before now?

  The chains went tight and then a blade appeared at her throat.

  ‘You will watch now Witch,’ said Verdasco his fetid breath filling her nostrils.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  High above them on the mountain a beacon flared. It fizzed and popped as it burned off the snow and ice that had tried to bury it. Then it settled down to a pale amber light that struggled against the oppression of the Ghria Duh. Another beacon flared to life, and then another and another went up. Aviti could smell the rendered fat that fuelled these fires. As she blinked at the sudden light, she wondered why these impoverished people wasted a huge amount of their meagre resources.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw where the voices had come from. At each of the lights there was a person chained. Some struggled against their bondage and some stood immobile, and at each one of them stood a Hillfolk with a blade.

  Diagonal lines ran down from each of the points to a central channel, which ran downward towards her.

  As Aviti gasped at what she saw, Verdasco announced, ‘Let it begin. We have no more time. This is what we have been waiting for. Let us free ourselves from this punishment.’

  ‘Only blood can pay the price of our folly.’

  As one, the Hillfolk chanted, ‘Only blood!’

  ‘Only blood!’ screamed Verdasco and Aviti’s legs tried to give way when she saw one of the figures on the hill collapse. Then another slumped in a heap. Another and another went down, and then Aviti saw the blades and the cutting.

  Her eyes flicked to where Verdasco stooped. He passed Aviti’s chains to another guard whilst he kneeled and then he pushed his prized cup into the rock at the base of the channel. As another victim on the hill fell to the slash of a knife, the first drops of blood trickled into the huge goblet.

  18 - Splinters

  The blood flowed slowly at first, shimmering black and slick in the Ghria Duh’s light. At first, Aviti could only see it when she moved her head. She watched as each drop made its way down the slope and into the channel.

  The silence from above was broken when a chant started amongst the Hillfolk. There were no words to it; none that Aviti could make out anyway, but it made her shiver in a way that the wind never had. More and more voices joined the chorus. It swelled as it echoed down the mountain, accompanying the blood on its journey.

  Verdasco muttered something, working himself up – girding his courage. The goblet trembled in his grasp, letting some of the blood spill around the edges and into the frozen mud at his feet. Then his mutter grew into a call. The language he used was foreign even to Aviti. His words sounded guttural and ancient and the edges of them were sharper than the threat of the Ghria Duh.

  His voice rose in volume and pitch. Saliva flew from his mouth as he screamed his hate to the night. On and on went his call, as the golden goblet filled.

  A call, but a call to whom, thought Aviti. Or to what?

  As one, the Hillfolk responded to the intensity of Verdasco’s call. They shouted a harsh response to his call and then he started again; low and threatening. Aviti watched Verdasco as he continued to let the goblet fill.

  Again, his words grew harsher, louder, more desperate. This time, when the response came, he stood bolt upright. Just as shouts from the hill faded away, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a deep draught. As he swallowed, the Hillfolk shouted out as one. Then the lights from the top of the hill blew out, leaving only the fires around Aviti and her companions burning.

  Cold seeped into the marrow of Aviti’s bones as the last of her energy flitted away on the wind, leaving her hollow and alone. Then the darkness rose around them. It was as thick as the blood had been and no less sickening. It flowed up towards the summit of the mountain.

  ‘The Waren,’ shouted Wist, breaking the call’s hold over Aviti. ‘They have summoned the Waren, the bloody fools.’

  ‘Why?’ Aviti began to ask, but she knew it did not matter why.

  It… they were here.

  ‘NO!’ shouted Wist. A guard pushed him down and held a blade to his neck, but Aviti could see he was beyond restraint. If she did not intervene, it would be the end of them all, but when she tried to draw magic into herself, the bands around her tightened. Verdasco span and thrust the massive cup into the sky as if he saluted the Ghria Duh or issued a challenge to it.

  ‘Now Witch,’ Verdasco said, his face coated in fresh blood, ‘Once I consume these souls, I come for yours.’

  Behind him, the darkness trembled and solidified forming an impenetrable barrier. Even the Ghria Duh began to fade. Verdasco lifted the vessel to his mouth and tipped it forward. Wist screamed and thrashed in the grip of his captor. Then the ground trembled and rocks slid down towards them, but Aviti could do nothing. She could not even breathe, so complete was Verdasco’s hold over her. With the Giants also powerless to help, Aviti reached out to the only other person that might help.

  She searched for the broken link to Sevika, the link that she herself had severed. Aviti did not know where the Intoli was, but she stretched out with her heart and mind to find her. Aviti’s heart beat on, but she could pull no more air into her lungs. She tried to keep searching, keep reaching out for Sevika, but she collapsed into herself.

  Verdasco lowered the cup and screamed at the oncoming darkness. Either he recognised his mistake or he thought his time to defeat the darkness had arrived.

  The ground shuddered once more and Wist returned the leader’s cry. This time the convulsions in the earth did not abate as Wist’s control abandoned him. Then fires around them blew out.

  Suddenly, a bright red light flared high in the darkness, piercing the Waren’s net. It shot straight at Wist, as if in answer to his summons. The light dazzled Aviti as she took an unexpected breath. A second later, the crimson light flared once more, and it was accompanied by a roar. It was as loud as an avalanche, but it was as desperate and plaintive a noise as Aviti had ever heard. It was the only noise left in the world.

  Then the light grew brighter, becoming a spotlight, which targeted Wist. His demon had co
me for him, thought Aviti. Was it Tilden, finally done with hiding, waiting for them to die in the wastelands of Prasad? Whatever it was, Verdasco and the Hillfolk were not expecting it. Neither was it expected or welcomed by the Waren.

  Aviti shielded her eyes from the light. It pulsed brighter and brighter, and she could sense the hatred in it, as if it sought to burn anything that opposed it to the ground. Then, the light flickered from Wist to Verdasco. The spotlight scoured Verdasco with its intense hatred, and beneath his madness and desperation, beneath the veneer of control and leadership, he was just another man. Verdasco screamed and thrust the chalice between himself and the light. He could not withstand the light’s assault.

  First, the leader’s arms dropped to his side, and then his legs folded beneath him. Then his fingers relinquished their stubborn grip, and the cup fell from him. It bounced on the edge of its rim and span into the air, unnoticed by the light, which swung back around to focus on Wist. The deepening red beam pinned him there.

  The goblet tumbled round and round before making contact with the hard earth. The blood within it sprayed black and thick upon the ground; all those lives ended just to fill a cup. All that life’s blood wasted upon the barren earth.

  Aviti focused on the cup as it flipped back up into the air. It tumbled, as the red light intensified in the periphery of her vision.

  The cup called to her. If the next tumble took it towards her, she could grab it.

  A flash of red caused her to blink and she lost sight of the cup. Then, something hit her foot. She lifted the toes of her boot and trapped it underneath. Verdasco called out to the guard behind her, but Aviti was too quick. She dropped to her knees then threw her weight forward. The guard, who had pulled her chain taught, was caught off balance and Aviti threw him over her shoulder as she curled up. Before he hit the ground, Aviti rolled in the dirt so she faced upwards. It was so dark her eyes might as well have been closed.

  The cup pressed into her back, between her elbows. Bound as they were, she could not contort her arms enough to grasp the cup, or even lay a finger on it. As she writhed on the ground, trying to move herself up, or the cup down, she heard the guard rising. Then she heard Verdasco screaming, but even that desperate howl was drowned out by the bellow that came from up the hill. The red light blossomed in her vision once more, and then a hand lifted her.