The creatures’ fellows, outside the window, seemed driven nearly frantic by this, and their clattering and squealing became almost unbearable, and Stefano quickly drew the curtains against the sight of them. But I could not take my eyes off Will, the skin all along one side of his face, where the monsters had found purchase, now taut as they pulled at it, and, I noticed, sucked at his blood through great proboscises which rippled as they pumped down the liquid into their stomachs, and the sight made me want to retch in disgust.
This would have been terrifying enough, but the beetles attacking him were joined by yet more of their companions, who scooted into the room from whatever entrance they had found, and I instinctively fetched up my brother and leapt on to the larger of the two sofas along the wall. In truth, it did not provide much of a haven, but it felt safer than the floor, which was now a writhing mass of beetles, entirely covering the carpet.
For all our panic, though, Thomas was only momentarily disorientated; he pulled the seax from his belt, and threw it to Stefano, who caught it cleanly and swiftly. I had forgotten about his tattoos, and that he may once have been a fighting man. He had not forgotten, however - and he and Thomas were quickly about killing the animals, knifing them with a speed and accuracy that was astonishing. With each one he killed, Thomas let out a great cry, as men sometimes do in the heat of battle. He grabbed a fistful of lighted candles from the mantelpiece, and hurled them at the floor, and my brother gave a scream. Were we all to burn alive? Was this the only way to defeat these creatures? Their death agonies were indeed hideous to witness, as they curled and screeched under blade and flame; but Thomas and Stefano managed to put out any small fires with their boots before they took hold.
Finally the fire-slaves were driven back, and Thomas had time to look over at Magnus and myself, and nodded when he saw we were safe. I had had to kick some of the disgusting things away when one or two of them had tried to climb up on to the sofa: their wings, such as they were, were heavy and cumbersome, and could not lift them any great distance, which was just as well for us. But Will Bowyer was still standing, just, leaning listlessly against the back wall, the creatures still attached to him, and his lifeblood flowing away into them. His face was a pale grey, and his eyes looked forward, but were clouded and unmoving. When Thomas saw him, I thought he would weep; but instead he said to Magnus and I:
“Turn away!”
I must have looked baffled, for he repeated the words, his voice a harsh command:
“I said, Turn away!”
This time we did so, and I clutched my brother, and covered his eyes as well as I could, and tightly screwed shut my own: though my ears could not help hearing the swift, wet twisting of metal on flesh, and the dying gasp of Will Bowyer, as his friend ran him through; and when I looked again he lay quite still, face down, on the ruined carpet, surrounded by the carcasses of the animals who had destroyed him.
Thomas looked down at the floor, and seemed to be praying; and when he looked up I saw that he was exhausted. He stood for a while, swaying slightly, and the room became very quiet.
Just then, as I was about to clamber down off the sofa, hugging Magnus tightly to my chest, and still trying to shield his eyes from the horrors around us, one of the creatures, whom we had thought all slain, flew up from the floor, and grabbed hold of Stefano’s arm, and the old man cried out in pain. Thomas quickly applied the flame of a candle to the monster’s bleeding carapace, and stamped the last life out of it with his boot; but Stefano had collapsed into a chair, his face a mask of pain.
“Let me see,” said Thomas, and he went over to his friend, and took his arm. Then, looking up briefly, he said to me:
“Take your brother upstairs, Esther; do not come down until I send for you.” And I clutched the small, clammy fingers of my brother’s hand, and did as I was told.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Thomas flung the heavy scarf across his shoulder, and tucked it into his coat. Then, looking briefly around the room, he gathered up the canvas bag from where it lay on the sofa, and looped it over his arm. Then he fastened and refastened his sword-belt, and several times checked that all he needed was within easy reach. Finally, he took the long dagger, the seax, from its place on the mantelpiece, and quickly ran his eyes along the blade, before returning it to its scabbard, beside his sword. Then he turned to face us.
“Ready?” he asked, and his voice was hardly more than a whisper. We nodded. “Good. Then let’s go.”
It was clear that we could not now remain behind while Thomas disappeared for weeks, or even months, on his journey to the north – though his first instinct, he confessed, was that we should do precisely that. But he said he feared for our safety if we did so, and besides, he did not trust me not to follow him (in this, he was correct). Also, Stefano was sick from the fire-slave’s bite, and may or may not recover; either way, the house would be no place for children during the coming days. Thomas had offered to take Stefano to the Guards’ Hospital, in the west of the city, but the old man had refused, saying there was nothing the physicians could do for him, and, if he must die, he would rather do so in his own bed. And so Thomas had agreed, though with reluctance, to this request, making sure there was enough food in the house to last the next week at least, and, with our help, cleaning the rooms of the remains of the gross, blood-fat insects lying there, and ensuring that any gaps or holes where they might again gain entry were plugged or covered up.
Then, having made his decision, he told us we were to leave with him before dawn, and accompany him to the Dragon’s Head, where he had friends waiting; and, having said this, he insisted we get as much sleep as time allowed, while he prepared for our journey.
And so, at just before three o’clock, he had roused us and told us to wash and dress as quickly as possible, and then to meet him downstairs, where he had travelling clothes and supplies ready. We did so, my brother rubbing the sleep wearily from his eyes, and I tired and dazed.
He explained that he had been out, briefly, during the night, to find some things we needed that he could not obtain from Stefano’s stores (though he did not say where he had got them from). There were scarves and thick coats for us, and packs of clean clothes; bundles of cheese and apples; a cake of soap each; and sticks of herbs, to keep our teeth clean. For Magnus there was a great fur hat, too big for him, so that when he was fully dressed he looked rather like a stuffed toy, and Thomas and I laughed at this, which made him sulk. Then Thomas filled four canteens – one for each of us, plus one extra – from the well in the courtyard.
We took our leave of Stefano, and Magnus and I both wept to think we might not see him again. Thomas spent a long time alone with his friend, as we waited in the hall, and when I later remarked on the kindness he had shown to us, he replied:
“Such kindness is always a blessing, because it is so often unlooked for, and unexpected. That there are such people in the world is what makes it bearable.”
When we finally left the house, the dawn was already rising up the east. There was a trap, waiting for us at the side of the street, its lamps burning hazily through the mist of early morning, and a man stood close by it, clutching the reins, wrapped in a heavy coat and shawl. He nodded to Thomas, and the two spoke briefly together, in soft and quiet voices, before the man left us, disappearing into the fog.
Thomas opened the door of the trap for us to get in, and, as he climbed in front, passed us a blanket, which I wrapped around our legs against the chill. The horse stamped and moaned, and at first seemed unsure, but Thomas spoke reassuring words to it, and soon we were trotting through the city’s back streets, the horse’s hooves sounding a dull echo on the cobbles.
We travelled by the back roads as much as possible, and avoided the main thoroughfares, for Thomas was anxious that as few people as possible should see us; and, though this seemed the longer way round to our destination, there was little traffic so early in the morning, and we had a clear run at first.
We rounded bends
, and crested steep hills, and many of the dark and close-packed alleyways looked indistinguishable to me in the grey half-light; but Thomas clearly knew the way, and set his face forward, his eyes never wavering from our road, driving the horse on – not too fast, for this would attract attention, but as fast as he dared in the narrow darkness.
All seemed well for the first quarter of an hour or so, and he seemed certain we would arrive at the Dragon’s Head before the daylight was at full strength. But as we reached the northern districts, approaching the mighty River Fern, the lights of the great Bridge of Socus winking high above, I became aware that something was not quite right: another trap, small and fast like ours, but with its lights dimmed despite the gloom, was following hard behind us.
“Thomas…”
“I see it,” he replied, never once removing his gaze from the road ahead. “Hold on.”
He suddenly steered hard to the right, down a long street that curved downhill a good way, before emerging at a small square, from which several smaller lanes sprouted in all directions. He chose the one furthest from us, at the north-western corner of the square, and headed for it; but as he did so, the other trap emerged from the street behind, and I heard him utter a quiet oath.
For a while the road we were on kept a straight course past houses and small hostelries, and at the window of one I just had time to see a naked man, his face flushed and a broad smile on his face, with a deep mug of ale in one hand, and a doxy in the other. Still the other trap came on, and did not seem to slow, and it was a great relief to us when a trader pulled his cart out into the road behind, blocking it; but when we looked a minute later, despite having swung down another side street and then looped back on ourselves, we saw our pursuers remained close behind, as if they were affixed to our tail.
Magnus almost seemed to be enjoying himself, resting his chin on his arms and gazing at the retreating road behind. But I knew our peril, and I pulled him away, and leaned in to speak to Thomas.
“Who are they?”
He sounded impatient, and weary.
“Guardsmen? Local militia? Or worse. Whoever they are, we do not want to get caught by them. Not now.” And he made it clear he did not wish to speak any more, until we were safely away.
Then for a few minutes it seemed like we had shrugged them off. We were climbing a high-verged street, that twisted upward like a corkscrew, and the horse was panting and snorting, his breath billowing clouds into the bitter air; and at the top we came out on to a broad, open avenue, which was split into two great lanes, with traps and carriages, and guards on horseback, processing steadily up and down. I could tell Thomas had not meant to come this way, and indeed he was soon driving us on across the traffic, which we snaked in-between, and down into another side street.
We were high up in the city now, and once again I could see the Bridge of Socus, though now it did not seem so far away, its lights eclipsed by the rising sun. A steep gully fell away below us, as we crossed a great brick viaduct, and I thought that surely now we must have escaped. But as we reached the other side, and were funnelled into a busy shopping street, with carriages either side of us and no way to move either to left or right, I saw the other trap, which somehow – it seemed impossible – had crossed the gully by a different route, and come up on a road parallel to ours - now visible, now not, as it disappeared behind a house, or a shop, and then reappeared again.
Now it was near full daylight, I could see its occupants more clearly.
The driver was wearing a dark cloak that was swept away from his shoulders, and his face was all but masked by a thick muffler and top hat; only his eyes were visible, and - it seemed absurd – but they actually seemed to glow, a kind of steady, green luminescence that was clear even from several yards’ distance.
His companion was dressed similarly, but seemed smaller, and somewhat neater, and, despite the speed at which they were travelling, had almost a prim air as he sat next to the other man. At least, I presumed they were men. I thought I saw wisps of hair flying free beneath the passenger’s hat, hair that looked not at all like a man’s; and there was something in his stillness – and patience - that suggested he might be a she.
The roads shadowed each other for the best part of a mile, and all the way the other trap kept pace with ours, and we had to weave between the traffic at such speed I thought we would topple over. Once or twice we nearly did, one side of the vehicle lifting clear away from the ground, and I saw Thomas use his weight to force us back down, the jolt springing upwards through our bodies, and bouncing us out of our seats. We could surely not continue like this for much longer. The horse would be wild with exhaustion. I heard Magnus starting to cry, and held him close, though I was hardly less afraid than he.
And then our luck changed. The wide, dusty road in front of us started to roll away beneath the horse’s feet, and suddenly we were going downhill again; and as we raced down into a broad, open park, parakeets swooping noisily above our heads, the other trap, now behind us, steered too suddenly, and in doing so lost its purchase on the road, and careered on to its side, in a circus of dust, and shouts, and screaming. I only turned my head briefly, and saw that the scene behind us, disappearing rapidly from view, was one of confusion and panic; and then I looked no more.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
After another mile or so, Thomas allowed our pace to settle, though we still kept up a good speed as we emerged from the park. The horse was weary and ill-tempered, shaking itself to ward off the flies, as we followed the road down, and down, away from the city’s high hills, towards its northern edge, and the lands that lay beyond it. To our right we could see the Tower of the Kings, formed from great slabs of unyielding granite, and carved with the runes of the Four Great Emperors.
Thomas guided the trap past high conifer trees, black with crows, and low hedges, the hillside too steep to build upon. The breeze whispered in the leaves, and the ground seemed to sing a steady rhythm, beaten out in time by the trotting of the horse’s hooves, and the roll of the wheels. The body of the trap creaked on its springs, and I was almost upon the point of sleep, when I heard Thomas say, his arm pointing loosely over the valley below:
“There is the Dragon’s Head. We are late.”
And I followed the line from his finger, and saw, far beneath, a large structure, like a twisted metal climbing frame, rising up from the buildings around it, the sun winking off its limbs, like a smile, or a warning.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“I had to go the long way round,” explained Thomas to Griffin Drake, a man with thick black hair, and a wide moustache, who took the reins of the horse, and guided it and the trap into a small mews, its stables and houses freshly whitewashed, and the air thick with the smell of straw and dung. “And those people…” – he nodded back the way we had come – “…put us even further out of our way than I had intended.” He handed his gloves to a young man called Evans, who seemed slow both in hand and head, but was eager and solicitous, and kept smiling at Magnus and I, showing a graveyard of rotten teeth.
“And Will…?” asked Griffin, quietly, as if he already knew the answer. Thomas simply shook his head in reply, and the other man stiffened slightly.
“There will be time to grieve, my friend. But for now she does not allow us even that.” And Griffin looked up, and nodded.
We had arrived at the Dragon’s Head at just after seven. I had been puzzled, and a little disappointed, by the sight of it at first, for I had imagined some great statue, or a coaching inn of ill repute, or perhaps a vast, soaring tower. Instead, the Dragon’s Head was simply a frame: impressively large, when viewed up close, but hardly something to inspire awe. And yet I noticed, as we alighted from the trap, and were greeted by Griffin, that people in the square surrounding it seemed to shrink away, or at least try not to walk too near; and some made the sign to ward off evil, before hurrying on. But when I asked Thomas why this was, he said simply, “Later.” And so I had to wait a while longer before I l
earned the true purpose of that strange structure.
“Who were they, do you know? The ones who followed you?” Griffin asked, setting down grain for the horse, as Evans took a brush to its flanks, and patiently calmed the poor animal.
“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “We have been stalked by dark shadows for many days now. I know what I think they were, but I hardly dare speak it here. Not till we have put long miles between us…”
The other man did not ask any more, but turned to address us.
“And who are these youngsters, eh? Not pickpockets or ne’erdowells, I hope, Thomas…?” He looked at Magnus. “Where’s your father, then, young man? He’ll be waiting for you somewhere, I’ll wager.”
“Our father is dead!” spat Magnus angrily, and I felt a sudden jolt at the word. Thomas put a hand on my shoulder.
“These two are my wards, if you like,” he said. “Their parents are… missing. A murder of fire drakes attacked their village, and their people were scattered. In any case, they are under my protection for the time being.”
Griffin nodded.
“Fire drakes…” he said, darkly. “They have been seen as far south as Sophia, I’m told. And Will Bowyer dead. It is a bad business.” And he ushered us through into a small house at one side of the mews, where a fire was busy in the grate, and a woman, round and firm as a door, was working at a stove. She took no interest in us, but simply continued in her work, singing softly to herself, her voice as light and beautiful as she was large. Thomas slumped heavily into a chair, and Griffin pulled out seats for Magnus and I, before taking one himself. He offered Thomas a pipe, but he refused, instead drawing a crumbling cigar from his coat pocket, and, striking a match against his boot, lighting it. He let the flame crawl down the lip of the match until it burned his fingers, then quickly shook it out, and threw the stub into the fire.
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