‘Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d actually come, unless it was Tika calling you.’
Simert narrowed his eyes, peering up at the enormous woman. ‘Well obviously I heard you this time, didn’t I?’
Essa fidgeted, then remembered just how unstable this roof might be and froze in place.
‘I wondered if you’d got any ghosts looking for a bit of a change?’ She ignored Onion’s gasp and ploughed on.
‘The ghosts were very useful in Kelshan and I think they’d be the only way we can find out what’s happening in there.’ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the Menedula. ‘Tika used her mind to far seek and there are hundreds of bodies in there, but she couldn’t tell whether their souls were still around.’ Essa risked a smile at the God of Death and he flinched slightly.
‘Hundreds you say?’ he asked.
Essa and Onion nodded in unison.
‘Hmm. Wouldn’t hurt to take a peek I suppose. And I’ll ask around if anyone wants a trip here. But do try to be a bit more careful about calling me. I am extraordinarily busy you know. It isn’t just collecting up souls, oh dear no.’
With a last cautionary frown, Simert vanished, and Essa slumped against the chimney stack. She opened her mouth and Onion slapped his hand across her face.
‘Don’t’ he hissed. ‘Don’t use that name again. Let’s invent some really nice new curses what won’t call no – unexpected visitors down on us.’
Under his hand, Essa nodded, and Onion let go, sagging down beside her.
‘Wonder if it’s just you, or if he’d turn up if any of us others – mentioned him?’
Essa didn’t reply, too much was churning through her mind. The main thing was the fact that the pendant beneath her shirt was far warmer than it should be. Not hot, but definitely too warm.
Brin reported that Essa had somehow known the Dragons were overhead. He sounded puzzled at this as he and Storm had chosen not to perhaps offend Essa by telling her they were following to keep a protective eye on them. He told Kija that Essa and her men had decided to stay where they were, for another day, perhaps two. Tika was not too concerned. She understood that all her guards, particularly Sergeant Essa, knew very well how to take every precaution relating to their safety.
Kija decided to keep the information Brin had sent to her alone, of Simert’s brief appearance in Syet, to herself. Kija felt that Tika would only worry unnecessarily and Brin reported all was well. So she said nothing. Tika realised, as dusk drew on, that Essa must have intended to take a couple of days on her reconnaissance patrol: she’d taken basic supplies with her.
It felt a little strange with nearly half the company missing, but the cabin was cosy when Sket and Shea lit the fire. Shivan and Shea decided to cook the meal, amid insulting remarks about the appalling porridge Dog and Essa had served for breakfast. Dog stoutly defended her cooking skills but Tika suspected the engineer and Essa had probably ruined the porridge deliberately: it would be a long time before they would be asked to undertake any culinary duties again.
Leaving the others bickering round the fire, Tika wandered out of the cabin again. The air smelled chilly but at least it wasn’t raining, and the first stars were prickling in the sky. She saw Rhaki sitting on a boulder beside Dromi and strolled towards them.
‘Have you decided you can tell us more of Hag?’ she asked, smiling to take any sting from her words.
Dromi nodded gravely and clasped his hands on his lap. ‘I suspect that Hag was born of Shadow. I also suspect that from her hatching she was devoted only to Mother Dark.’ He gave a tiny apologetic shrug. ‘I do not know enough historical detail of the Dark Realm you understand, to do more than sketch the vaguest outline of my conjectures.’
Tika peered at Rhaki, who winked in sympathy. She worked back through Dromi’s words and wasn’t really much wiser. Finally she looked up at Dromi again.
‘Are you saying that Hag is from the Splintered Kingdom?’ she asked slowly.
‘No, no. I suspect, only suspect, she is Shadow born, but Shivan has told me Shadow and Light were born of the Dark?’
He tilted his head in query. When Tika nodded he continued.
‘They speak always of Mother Dark.’ Again he waited for Tika’s nod of agreement.
‘I believe the people of the Dark Realm consider themselves to be Children of Mother Dark. But they are not, by their own accounts, the only children. Mother Dark produced Children of Light and of Shadow. Therefore, she is Mother to them all.’
He beamed at Tika as if suggesting that all was now transparently obvious. When it became equally clear that Tika found his remarks anything but, he tutted for a moment.
‘They are all children of the same Mother, who is Dark Herself. Suppose, if you will, that a Child of Light, or a Child of Shadow, should so adore their Mother, they would leave their siblings to serve only that Mother?’
‘You were born in Sapphrea, Tika,’ Rhaki put in softly. ‘Theoretically that makes you a Child of Light. But Shivan says several in the Dark Realm consider that you are of the Dark too.’
Dromi beamed at Rhaki.
‘Oh precisely so, my friend. Precisely so.’
Chapter Twelve
His howl tore through the very fabric of his castle and he swung again towards the wall, crashing his skull against the rippled stone in frustration. As soon as he had some measure of control and his plans crept infinitesimally further along the path he’d chosen, something tugged at them. Tugged, and tugged, until they started to unravel and, painstakingly, he would have to start again.
Liquid flowed sluggishly down his face, chips of the thick bone of his forehead protruded through the grey skin. He slid down to his knees, aware briefly of a flare of pain from the broken joints, but disregarding such a minor detail. He’d felt this tugging more and more frequently but he was quite unable to find its source. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed. He wanted to scream again, vent his fury and win himself a momentary peace.
But he found he hadn’t enough breath, his chest was too badly mended, the bones constricting his lungs too tightly now. He should break them again and try to set them better. He moved, twisting off his painful knees to lean his back against the wall, leaving a smear of blood where his head had rested. He blinked to clear his eyes of stone, blood and bone splinters, and stared across his room.
The only thing still in one piece was his chair; everything else was torn, broken and shredded. The sound that escaped him was close to a whimper. All his beautiful things, ruined – again – by his own uncontrollable temper. Often this was the only time he came close to a state of lucidity, when he had exhausted himself in the overwhelming torment of his rage.
Even as he thought this, he knew it was slipping away again. Resentment and confusion stirred in his mind even as he watched the bolder shadows skitter away from the walls, creeping closer to his outstretched legs. He watched them come and felt a tiny comfort as they spread across his feet. He closed his eyes and began to seek through the tortuous channels of his mind and his memories, to identify what the thing was that tugged every plan awry.
In the Dark Realm, the Palace Master, Corman, was growing increasingly worried. Since the recent incursion of some fragments of the Splintered Kingdom, guard patrols had been increased throughout Karmazen and the Palace, each patrol always accompanied by a Dark One with mage powers. The security around the top floor of the Palace was, Corman sincerely hoped, impregnable. But he was worried by the slowness of the First Daughter’s recovery. He was worried even contemplating what he might have sent the Lady Tika to face, and he was desperately worried that there were still unidentified members of Chindar’s conspiracy within the Palace.
Four others knew of Corman’s fears. Mull, the senior mage healer of the Dark Realm, Sword Master Favrian, Shield Master Garrol and Lord Peshan, the much younger brother of the First Daughter. If Lord Dabray was still aware of this world, he too would know of Corman’s worries. And the Palace
Master suspected the First Daughter also knew, although she rarely seemed conscious and even more rarely attempted to speak.
Tonight, under a moonless but star studded sky, Corman sat on the roof terrace surrounded by the flowers First Daughter Lerran so loved. Despite her seclusion, the Palace was filled as usual in the spring with bowls, pots, tubs and vases of delicately scented blooms. Corman heard the sound of boot heels click across the great chamber and watched Garrol pause in the archway, seeking him out. Garrol joined Corman on the low bench, sighing as he sat down.
‘Weary, old friend?’ Corman’s old gold eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at the Shield Master.
‘I think it may soon be time to hand the Shield to a younger man.’ Garrol admitted.
A silence grew between them, the easy silence of a long, long familiarity, until Corman broke it.
‘I have had no success in tracing Seola.’ His tone was flat, uninflected.
Garrol rubbed his calloused palms on his thighs. ‘And we lost track of Cyrek this afternoon.’
‘What?’ Corman asked in alarm.
Garrol nodded. ‘I sent warnings to Shiral in Sapphrea,’ he said. ‘I am a practical man, Corman. I find the idea of plots and intrigue beyond me.’
‘But you have the same doubts as I do concerning those two?’
‘I do indeed. Favrian is of like mind.’
‘Coby’s wisdom is sorely missed.’
Both men gave brief thought to the woman who had been murdered by Chindar, or one of his fellow conspirators.
‘Has Shivan sent further word?’
Corman stood, resting a hand on Garrol’s shoulder. ‘No, he hasn’t. I disagreed with him being allowed to leave the Realm, but when he returned last time, I saw I had been wrong. He is exactly the one to travel with Lady Tika. I saw a new maturity in him, and even a modicum of caution.’
Garrol’s knees creaked as he got to his feet, earning a chuckle from Corman.
‘Get to your bed, old man, you need some rest at least.’
One of Khosa’s sons, Resh, came trotting to meet them as they re-entered the great chamber. Huge green eyes looked up at Garrol.
‘I will keep you company please.’
Both men laughed at the gentle voice in their minds. Garrol stooped and lifted the little cat to his shoulder.
‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘Are Bakra and Akomi guarding the First Daughter?’
‘Oh they are. As always.’ Resh peered earnestly into Garrol’s face and began a surprisingly deep purr.
‘Sleep well Garrol. We will speak in the morning.’
Kazbeck and Corim had taken a different route to their target – the Menedula building. They had met the others in the burnt out tavern and been told of Essa’s decision to remain another day here. Kazbeck was thoughtful most of that afternoon and as twilight gathered, he approached Essa.
‘We could get across that space come nightfall Sergeant. I’d like to try it.’
Essa pulled her lower lip between a finger and thumb.
‘Just a quick look around?’ she asked. ‘Get back among the buildings well before dawn then. We’ll wait here for you then you can rest up while we go out.’
Darrick looked up from where he squatted on what was left of the tavern floor.
‘Want to take a couple of poppers with you?’ he offered.
Kazbeck blanched. ‘Thanks Darrick. But I think they’re more use in um experienced hands.’
Darrick shrugged.
‘We’ll be off then.’
Essa stood watching the two guards disappearing in the deepening dusk. She knew both were good soldiers, well trained under the Kelshan General Whilk, not given to rashness. But something nagged at her as she lost sight of the two men.
Kazbeck led quickly to the western edge of the black paved square. There was no moon tonight, which was an added advantage. They paused, crouching in the dark. Corim leaned close to murmur in Kazbeck’s ear.
‘You thinking of the back?’
Kazbeck’s teeth glimmered white as he grinned. ‘Seem to remember there were fewer windows on that side.’
Both men held long knives in their left hands and, ignoring the great flight of steps, now ran fast for the side of the Menedula. They’d already noted there were no windows at ground level, and only the large main door at the front. The door Ren had taken them through at the back, had been not much wider than an average door, but they found that was securely bolted against intruders.
Silently they worked their way along the wall until they came to another door, much narrower than normal. Corim felt around the outline of the door and ran his hand across its surface. He nudged Kazbeck and guided his hand to a place, waist high, on the door. The wood seemed indented. There was no latch or handle, just a small thumb sized dip in the surface. They turned to each other in the faint starlight and nodded. Corim pushed his thumb against the dip. Without warning his thumb seemed to go much farther into the wood. The door swung inwards without a hint of sound.
The two guards stood for a moment, not having expected such an easy entrance, then Corim took a cautious step forward. While he tried to work out whether he was in a room or a passage, Kazbeck felt over the inside of the door. He found a short but thick cord hanging down and realised that was how this door was opened from within. Corim touched his arm.
‘Stairs. No other doors here, just stairs up.’
Kazbeck gently let the door close and moved behind Corim. Corim was grateful the stairs were stone, no creaking wood to betray their presence. The stairs zigzagged and by counting each flight, they assumed they’d climbed seven floors. At no point had there been a window or door, just the stairs rising between two smooth walls. Corim stopped and eased to one side. Kazbeck saw a door directly ahead, perhaps two paces from the top of the stairs. Light glowed in a line beneath the door and the two guards crept closer, listening for any sound from the room or passage which might lie beyond.
They heard nothing but Corim suddenly shivered and spun back to the stairs, his long knife raised. His vision, accustomed as it had become to the dark, had been ruined by that bright sliver of light from under the door and he could see absolutely nothing. He braced his feet but something grabbed his upper arms in an agonising grip that made his arms numb in heartbeats. His knife clattered to the stone floor but Corim didn’t hear it. His throat was torn out, his head nearly severed from his body, and he was dead before his knife landed.
Kazbeck had only time to half turn when the door flew open. He squinted against the blaze of light and just made out the figure of the child he’d seen in the Oblaka: Mena. Kazbeck looked back at the small dark landing and saw Corim’s sprawled body, his head at such an angle that Kazbeck knew his friend was dead. He could see no one else. Who could have attacked Corim so swiftly and silently, and then vanished? He drew his sword and again turned to the girl.
Huge violet eyes, surrounded with silver, watched him with an expression of boredom.
‘Oh do put those toys down.’
She moved further back into the room, which Kazbeck thought was the room he’d entered before, with all the company. Keeping sword and knife at the ready, he took one step into the room. He saw no one else, only the girl. Mena sat down in a straight backed chair and gave Kazbeck a glance altogether too knowing and adult for one of her years. She smiled, and it was neither a pleasant nor childish smile.
‘I wondered how long it would take one of you to find that door. It’s a pity you didn’t bring your friends, especially that gross woman with the awful teeth. Never mind. You’ll just have to be the example.’
The creature that appeared behind Kazbeck was misshapen and foul, but it received a genuine smile from Mena. Before Kazbeck could turn, claws raked down his back, shredding his shirt and the flesh beneath. A narrow, rat like head lowered and teeth snapped through Kazbeck’s spine. The last thing Kazbeck heard was the girl’s laughter. His last thought a silent scream of warning to Essa and Lady Tika.
Kija and Storm were already on their way from the cabin as Tika shot upright in her blankets. She focused her mind on Essa and concentrated a line of thought. But her thought collided with Essa’s: clearly Essa too had been roused by Kazbeck’s death cry. Sket poked the fire up to a blaze and turned to look at Tika. He saw Dromi sitting up watching Tika too. Rhaki was propped on an elbow, clutching his head, and Shivan’s bright yellow eyes were wide with horror. Most of the others were waking and looking to Tika for explanation.
Tika swallowed. ‘Kazbeck is dead.’ Her gaze found Kazmat and she sent a mental pulse of sympathy towards the guard. ‘I think Corim is also dead. Somehow Kazbeck sent a call to me, and to Essa I’d guess, but it was the only thing he could do. It was very quick Kazmat.’
Kazmat laid his arms across his drawn up knees and rested his head on them in silence. Konya joined Sket by the fire and swung their kettle over the flames. Tika saw Shea move a little closer to Dog and the engineer slid an arm across the girl’s shoulders. Finally she looked at Dromi.
‘I have not asked or attempted to find out – and I could – if you have mind powers Dromi. But I must ask you now.’
The Old Blood shook his head. ‘Very few of us do, not as you mean anyway,’ he amended. ‘My mind has been rigorously trained in memory and recall; that is all.’
‘I must know how “a few of you” can use power,’ Tika persisted.
Dromi clasped his long fingered hands on top of the blanket and contemplated them briefly. Then he sighed and lifted his head.
‘When we change to our beast form, we are different from the ordinary beasts. We can speak to those of our beast kindred, make them obey us. And we can move much faster than they can.’ He paused. ‘Volk for instance. He changes to a bear, but he is like a king of bears. Other true bears will submit to him. If he called the ordinary bears in this area, they would come. If he commanded those beasts to march on a farm, a village, or even the Menedula, they would do so.’
Perilous Shadows: Book 6 Circles of Light Page 15
