by Lloyd Baron
The Skaven dashes forwards, but the shots wrap around its boots and it tumbles over, landing head first at Tarfleam’s feet. Blood oozes from the gash on its cheek and Tarfleam has an idea. He hesitates, not really wanting to do what he is about to but he cannot see another way. He is out of daggers. He stabs his fingers into the open wound and pours life energy into the monster. The ground around him creaks as the life is drained from it and pumped into the Skaven. What happens is sickening. It tries to push him off, but the strange connection he has prevents the link from breaking. The thick brown fur on the rat face grows longer and becomes grey in seconds. The things body becomes slightly larger and stronger for an instant before it starts to shrivel and age. A boney hand reaches up to grab him but he keeps pouring in more life. The hand drops and shatters into dried out dust. Tarfleam’s hand crunches through the thing’s head and he pulls it back with a startled curse.
Molly stares at him with fear in her eyes. He gets to his feet and takes a step closer to her but she backs away from him.
“I know I am a monster,” he says, his voice void of feeling. “But I am your monster. Now come!” He turns his back on her and strides to the clump of vines. He waits a moment, and is pleased when Molly follows, dragging the Angel child with her. He reaches out and grabs the vine, forcing it to grow wider and stronger. Now to get to the bottom of this light forsaken tree.
“What do we do?” Canace wails. “We are just standing here. We should be doing something.” She stares at the ruin that had been the walkway down and inwardly screams. Thick black smoke billows from hundreds of fires beneath them, but the strong winds carry it out over the sea. She can still smell it, even if it is not quite choking her. She paces across the short platform and plants her fists on her hips in a pose she has seen the women back home do if they want their men to fall into line. This is the third time she has said that they need to do something and she can hear her tone becoming more distraught with each repetition.
At first she had stood at the top of the ramp, watching as the others ran to meet the onslaught of Skaven. Her breath had truly caught in her throat when Danlynn had blasted almost half of their front lines into the churning waters so far below; before charging into the remaining horde. It had been horrific just to stand as a spectator as her friends battled to save their lives and those of the Angels. She had seen it coming as they just stood within the mass of blooded bodies, seemingly speaking, but she had been unable to make any sound of warning. The gloom had been attracted to them; they were hidden within the canopy, so it could not have seen them—she is sure of it, but it had swept up from below, belching fire and using its powerful wings to destroy the levels below them.
Her world had seemed to collapse along with the platform, and she dropped to her knees; a numbness dulling her senses, her very thoughts, they were dead – gone like that – dead. Derry’n’s deep voice had rolled over her, his words lost. However, something about him caused her to stir from the bleakness. His words were falling over themselves, he was stammering and spluttering. She had never seen him like that before: he was always so careful with his words, always taking time to think things through. She had forced herself to listen, forced her world to begin again. His eyes were yellow, yet after everything that had happened since they left Gressges it did not seem that strange, no more than anything else, anyway. He was talking in a rush, not to her – she realized quickly – but to something unseen. His eyes darted about but they were not looking at her either.
“That is Tarfleam and Molly. How far down are they? And the others? Are you sure they fell that far? They must be dead. No. No. There is no need, I believe you. Show me where Riochald is.” Derry’n bristles visibly, and Kloek scrambles from his pocket, wobbling over to where she had sat. The cat looked sick. She scooped him up in her arms and began scratching behind his ears. He purrs softly showing his contentment. That cat could curl up and sleep anywhere. Whatever had come over Derry’n ended abruptly, and he shook himself, rubbing at his eyes with a confused frown. “They are all alive. Scattered and beaten, but alive,” He removes his hands from his face; his eyes stare dangerously at Kloek, and the cat leaps into her pouch. Something else had shaken him, something to do with his power to speak to animals; something that had confused him but also made him angry. Before she can ask more, Tak’arshi had hauled her to her feet and told her to be ready.
That had seemed like an age ago. The sky was getting dark; partly from the setting sun; partly from the black ash filled smoke and partly from whatever Tak’arshi was doing. She watches Tak’arshi as he studies the sky and her patience snaps. “What do we do?” She screams again. “Tak’arshi, we cannot just stand here while the others fight! They could need us down there!” He does not shift his gaze from the churning clouds. “Tak’arshi!” She roars, rage spilling from her so violently that she balls her fists. To her surprise the man spins and drops so that his eyes are level with hers, a dark fury burning in them.
“I am trying to concentrate, woman!” He bellows, spittle spraying from his mouth. “I asked you to stand there and be quiet, but you have to pace up and down, up and bloody down, shooting your mouth off. If you say one more word I will bloody shut it for you.” He pants heavily and his face fills with confusion, he blinks at her. “I do not know what happened. I am sorry. I feel all twisted inside now. It is most unpleasant.”
She shudders and tries to slow her breathing and heart which is somewhere in her throat. She had not realized that she had taken a few steps back during his tirade and regains them quickly. “That was your temper and you are probably feeling guilty for raising your voice at me. For scaring me.” She manages a smile, though her nerves make her lips quiver. “You will need to work on that temper.” He cocks his head to the side in that curious way the Dark Clan have and smiles back at her.
“You will have to teach me. Once we are safe and I am not sick with worry for everyone else and terrified for myself. I always wanted emotions in a way, but they do make things complicated.” He glances over his shoulder and he slumps within himself. “The gloom cannot be harmed. It is invulnerable now that Razzork is dead. We can only wait it out. But we will need protection.”
Canace looks at Derry’n, but the man shrugs his wide shoulders. The Dark Clan is making no sense that she can work out. The gloom cannot be hurt? That thought grips her heart like a vice, but there is more. Wait what out? Protection from what? She is about to voice these questions when Derry’n steps in front of her.
“Tak’arshi. You are not speaking plainly, man! We do not understand what it is we need to do.” He grips Tak’arshi at the top of his arms and pulls him slightly closer to him. “You knew this before you even asked us to stay behind, didn’t you?” The Dark Clan nods. “Then what do we do?”
Tak’arshi studies the man before him and then, surprising them both, reaches out and gives him a hug. Both of them break the embrace with mutters that they need to be getting on and that they can talk about that later. Canace sighs to herself and pats Derry’n on the back. “I think he was about to tell us something,” she says in a light voice. “Maybe you two can find an inn together in Common.” She chuckles to herself but her thoughts return to Darwin’t and her mirth cuts off. “Tell us how we protect Gossa-Mesa and get out of here alive.”
The gloom smashes the walkway, and Derry’n friends plummet from sight, in flames and smoke. He freezes, his mind falling quiet. Slowly thoughts begin to form and he blinks his eyes at the destruction before him. There must be something he can do, some way of helping if any of them had survived.
My boy, Kloek yawns into his black mind. There is something out there. Something I cannot place but it feels like… You.
Derry’n casts his mind out, sweeping down the many layers of the city until he finds a quivering bundle of voices, chattering over each other. He recognizes them instantly as birds and pushes his will into them.
“I need your help. My name is Derry’n Pyrena and I am a Beast Master. I hav
e friends who…”
Save your breath, hunter, one of the birds answers coldly. We shelter here to be away from your kind. We will never help you. We need to remain hidden from that black death. Be gone! The link severs and his mind is flung out like a snapped fishing line. He tries to reel it back in but it touches something and he staggers back in wonderment. Somewhere, far away within the mountains to the north is a human casting out in the same way he is. Another Beast Master! He pulls his thoughts back and touches the warm bundle in his pocket.
“There was another,” he says aloud. “I thought I was the only one.”
Now I do not remember ever saying that. I may have told you they are rare, but not that you are the only one. Derry’n cannot really remember either way, though it makes him feel less of a freak knowing that he is not the only one with the gift. Maybe you should try those birds again, the cat muses. Another may be willing to help. Derry’n primes his mind; but before he can cast out he is cast into. Pain claws at the inside of his skull for a moment and he grabs his face as if he could pull the pain out through his skin. What is happening to him? He flails to regain control of his own mind, but another being forces its way in. He wonders absently if this is what it felt like for Riochald.
I can see them. A skinny sneaky-looking man, a young Angel and a female child; he is clambering down some vines. Derry’n is shocked to hear the voice clearly within his mind, but it is the fact that he can see the lower levels of the city that really stuns him. He is viewing them through the eyes of an eagle; but it is not the bird’s voice he can hear—it is a man’s.
“That is Tarfleam and Molly! How far down are they?”
The vision glides across a black drop and then rises quickly, spiraling in a sickening fashion as the bird searches. They are closing in on the bottom. There are lots of Skaven down there.
“And the others?”
They fell very far. That is them there, see? Well, two of them. But if you look closely in the leaves you can see the woman with her twin swords.
“Are you sure they fell that far?” It seems unlikely that they could have done. He could believe that they had fallen a few tiers at most, but not – what would it be? – close to one hundred. “They must be dead.”
Do you doubt me?
“No,” he says firmly.
Do you think I would tell you things for the sake of it? the deep male voice says with a bitter snarl.
“No,” Derry’n almost pleads.
You want me to get this creature to risk itself getting you a better look?
“There is no need. I believe you.” He waits for a sign that the bird will continue but none comes. Finally it sweeps higher and crosses an entire level that burns uncontrollably. “Show me where Riochald is.”
She is safe within the arms of the mountain man. I have shown you what you needed to see. Now you must stop this thing. The lady says only you can. The voice trails off; though just as he thinks it is about to pull free of his mind he gets the feeling that it is smiling. I miss you, Kloek. And it severs.
Anger bubbles up inside him and he opens his eyes to stare at the kitten as it curls up on Canace’s lap. He opens his thoughts for the cat to hear. You never told me that you had found another Beast Master!
Only one other, and he was not who I was looking for, so I left him. I cannot believe that that was him. Do not look at me that way, boy. I may be a cat but I am still your elder.
He sees Canace looking up at him with hope in her eyes and he berates himself for being petty. “They are all alive. Scattered and beaten, but alive,” he says and her face brightens. For Kloek he adds, “And I can stop feeding you for a few days.” At that Kloek leaps into Canace’s belt pouch and the content feelings of warmth wash over the link. He snaps it and clears the anger from his thoughts.
Tak’arshi strides over and offers his hand to Canace, helping her back to her feet. He says something to her and returns to his study of the sky. Her face darkens again, and she paces across the platform muttering about standing and doing nothing. However, Derry’n is not listening. There are more like him out there! Others who could teach him how to control his gift, and perhaps help him obtain respect from the creatures he is dealing with. He lets that last thought drift outwards, and he feels Kloek chuckle – not the reaction he had desired. He stares out over the beautiful sea and into the mountains of the north. He is over there somewhere and he knows that they are in danger, or else he would not have had to send the eagle. How had he known? Could he somehow feel what he was thinking in the same ways they could with beasts? He shakes himself free of that thought: ; intruding through the kitten was enough without starting to think he could just do it with his mind.
Canace shrieks loudly and Derry’n spins, his hands grabbing for his axe but they stop short. Canace stands in front of Tak’arshi, her hands planted firmly on her hips; she yells up at the tall man. He goes to comfort her, when Tak’arshi rounds on her, leaning close so that their eyes almost touch. Fury cascades from him. Derry’n takes a step forwards, and Canace, a few back. Suddenly the man stops shouting and seems to crumple in on himself. Canace whispers a few words to him; however they do not seem to give the man comfort, until he gives an abrupt but fleeting smile.
“The gloom cannot be harmed,” Tak’arshi says in a defeated tone. “It is invulnerable now that Razzork is dead. We can only wait it out. But we will need protection.”
Canace looks at Derry’n, but he has no idea what the man is talking about and he shrugs. Derry’n never used to shrug, he had always thought it was rude; he was spending too much time with Danlynn. He brushes between Canace and the Dark Clan and takes him by the arms to focus his mind.
“Tak’arshi. You are not speaking plainly, man! We do not understand what it is we need to do.” He firms the grip on Tak’arshi’s shoulders and pulls him slightly closer to him. “You knew this before you even asked us to stay behind, didn’t you?” The Dark Clan nods, and Derry’n feels his heart clench. If he knew this then he must have also been aware that they were unlikely to get down from here alive. Why else had he retreated into himself? He takes a deep breath which he hopes Canace does not see. “Then what do we do?”
By way of an answer Tak’arshi embraces him, hugging him firmly; though as his mouth reaches Derry’n’s ear he whispers softly,
“You must get her out. I will need to stay here to keep the spell going. You must get her out.” At that he pushes himself away and begins to mutter to himself, apologizing to Derry’n for his emotions. Yet all the while his eyes remain sharp. Derry’n responds that it was fine and not at all disconcerting as he nods his head to show Tak’arshi that he would do as he had asked. Canace almost laughs at them and makes a quip about them getting a room at an inn, which he does not find particularly amusing. Then she regains her composure for the matter at hand.
“Tell us how we protect Gossa-Mesa and get out of here alive.” The sky flashes orange and the bellow of the beast vibrates through the platform. “We are running out of time.”
Tak’arshi swallows, and with a final look at Derry’n he strides to the edge and looks down. “The gloom is made of flesh and magic, hatched within the body of someone dead but alive. They grow bigger until they reach this size and then they tether themselves to the one who made them – in this case Razzork. His death broke that tether, and the magic is starting to unravel. When it does…” He looks up at them, and both he and Canace gasp at the despair etched on his face, “…everything will be destroyed. All we can do is protect, and I believe I know how to do that now.” He motions for them to join him at the edge and takes their hands. “Using the power that you two hold within you, I can raise the sea so that it engulfs the city and stops the fires of Gelast tearing us apart.”
Derry’n stares down at the crashing waves thousands of feet below and swallows hard. It is going to take a lot of power to pull this off. He tightens the grip on Tak’arshi’s hand and turns to look at the man. “We better get this started.”
The Dark Clan does not answer, he just rolls his eyes up into his head and begins to summon.
O’us grabs Zyren from a branch and she hangs onto his neck as he sweeps her up towards the top of the Tree. For what feels like hours he has flown around inside the tree, gathering as many of the surviving Angels he could find and telling them to head for the caves or to sweep low over the waves to avoid the notice of the dragon. Many had begun by refusing to leave the Tree, but he squashed any thoughts of staying and dying for the sake of their home. The Angels need to continue in the world.
The Goblin Woman has her eyes clenched as he breaks the canopy and looks around. Tak’arshi and two of the humans stand close to the edge of the high platform, holding hands of all things. He had seen a few of the other humans making their way down the branches and vines of the city, but these three had remained here. After returning to fetch the Goblin Princess, he had thought he could offer to take at least the small female; but whatever they have planned it has yet to start. He whispers a prayer and flaps his wings once before diving back into the dense smoky air of his once beautiful home.
Power floods through Tak’arshi from Canace and Derry’n—almost too much power for him to hold, yet he must keep the weaves steady. Negative thoughts try to push their way into his mind, but he pushes them back firmly and concentrates on what is at hand. The construct forms nicely and does not even wobble as he builds it, layer upon layer. Holy, spirit Mana from Canace, forms a ridged box, hundreds of boxes in truth, and the air from Derry’n churns within each. Tak’arshi had almost lost control when water Mana began to trickle in through the lines. He follows it and is surprised to find it leaches from Derry’n, deep within his soul, surrounded by a vast gale of wind. It will be very useful for what he is about to attempt.
