Moontide 03 - Unholy War

by David Hair

  Hanook grinned boyishly. ‘It is, isn’t it? Especially as Lady Meiros here is now also a mage in her own right, I presume? Due to the pregnancy manifestation?’

  Ramita coloured. ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘The Godspeakers would lynch us all if they knew we were here – but with great risks come great opportunities. This is a chance to introduce the gnosis into the royal family of Lakh; to allow our people to stand as a Great Power alongside Rondelmar and Kesh.’ He fixed Ramita with a steely eye. ‘Lady Meiros, how would you like to become the senior wife of the Mughal of Lakh?’

  21

  Tending the Lion

  Religion: Sollan

  The religion of the Rimoni Empire was centred upon the cycles of the sun and the moon. The Sollan faith is now prevalent only in Rimoni, Silacia and Verelon, and amongst the Rimoni of Javon. It is illegal everywhere the Rondians dominate, as they have imposed worship of Kore upon their dominions.

  ORDO COSTRUO COLLEGIATE, PONTUS

  They try to say that Pater Sol and Mater Luna are false gods … false, when they impose this lie upon us, that Corineus was the Son of God! Johan Corin, son of Tavius the Senator? Him a god? The notion defies belief!

  ANONYMOUS, RYM, 386

  Southern Dhassa and Kesh, on the continent of Antiopia

  Thani (Aprafor) to Rajab (Julsep) 929

  10th to 13th months of the Moontide

  Waking at all was a surprise, Malevorn thought dimly, as a jolting rhythm bumped him from the darkness. He immediately wished it hadn’t. Everything hurt, ached, itched, stung or simply blazed with pain. And his face – no, his whole body – was being buffeted. He forced open his eyes and found his face was pressed against a bony, grey-furred back. The tuft of a tail sprouted from right beside his right eye, and the noxious stench of animal and shit filled his nostrils. His arms and legs were lashed tightly together around a living cylinder of bone and muscle. Below, packed dirt – a path – bobbed past.

  After a few moments he worked out that he was naked and chained to the back of a donkey; his skin was raw and blistering in the fierce sunlight and he had a host of minor wounds, all chafing or bleeding. Whoever had done this to him had positioned him facing backwards for extra humiliation. The creature’s arse stank to high heaven.

  Gagging, he twisted, and managed to make out that the donkey was being led behind a horse. A Keshi girl – the one who had crushed his mind after capture – was riding it as if born to the saddle, which dimly surprised him. But he had more urgent facts to ascertain: whether his bonds were secure, and where the Hel he was.

  There were other creatures alongside; some were beasts and others walked on two legs, though many of those had animal features. For a few minutes all he felt was the sickness of dread: The Souldrinkers have me … It was every mage’s worst nightmare. He closed his eyes and fought for composure. His gnosis was locked away, of course. He could feel the strength of the Chain-rune like a python coiled about his heart. He was helpless, utterly and entirely.

  She said I must serve her … Never! That led him to think of the consequences: They will torture me, for information and pleasure. Then they will kill me and consume my soul. Kore will never welcome me to Paradise, and my family will never be restored to honour.

  His eyes stung with the bitter unfairness of it all.

  I was destined for greatness!

  His waking brought no outcry, but they noted it all the same, those beasts trotting alongside with their jaws curved as if laughing at him. A few of those in human form raked claws down his back as if branding him, the fresh wounds stinging and bleeding, instantly drawing the flies that clustered maddeningly all over his body, the touch of them a horror all in itself.

  They left him on the donkey for three more days, or maybe even longer; he’d lost all sense of the passage of time. He was left to shit and piss down the beast’s flanks. The flies in his wounds drove him insane; the chafing got worse and his humiliation was unbearable. He screamed at them, raged, begged, wept, but they ignored him, just laughing as his pride dissolved. His joints tortured him mercilessly, and every wretched step the donkey took was a fresh torment. Delusions mingled with reality: he saw his father, plunging a knife into his own heart, over and over; the Arcanum masters mocking him; Alaron Mercer and Ramon Sensini, merchant-magi in fine robes, selling him at a slave market; Francis Dorobon and Seth Korion turning away in disgust; Adamus Crozier forcing him to suck his cock; and Raine Caladryn being torn to ribbons by a pack of rats, only her face visible as she screamed for him. Consciousness came and went, and only the darkness soothed him, though it brought little respite.

  Then water splashed down his throat, making him splutter as he choked, and he realised he was on the ground at last, his limbs so feeble he could only writhe in the dust. A jackal barked in his face, leering at him with laughter in its eyes. Then the Keshi girl appeared, swaying towards him like a temptress in diaphanous silk, her dark heart-shaped face splitting into a vivid smile. Thankfully, though the compulsion to do her bidding lingered, he was able to restrain himself from grovelling before her this time: that spell had run its course. But she didn’t need to bespell him to fill him with fear as she approached.

  ‘Well, well,’ she said in accented Rondian. ‘Our guest has awakened.’

  More beasts, jackals, wolves and leopards, padded closer, and human and semi-human forms as well, all snapping and growling at him. He spat blood and phlegm and tried to find something approaching dignity. ‘Call your animals off, witch,’ he said. It was supposed to come out resonant with Imperial might, but instead it sounded like begging.

  ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, Inquisitor.’

  I was the star pupil.

  I am my family’s last hope.

  I’m so sorry, Father.

  ‘Get it over with,’ he said despairingly.

  She tinkled with laughter. ‘Get what over with?’

  ‘Killing me. Just do it.’ He swallowed. ‘Please …’

  She waggled her head from side to side in a weird way. ‘When I’m ready. But we need to talk first.’

  ‘No. Please.’ He closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop, but the damned thing kept pumping.

  ‘My name is Huriya Makani,’ she said amiably. ‘Malevorn, isn’t it? I got that from your mind when I chained your gnosis. Listen, what have you got to lose? Words are just words. If you don’t speak them voluntarily, I will have to pull them out of your head. Think of the damage that will cause.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me anyway. What difference does it make?’

  ‘We both know that if I enter your mind unwillingly, I risk destroying your intellect and most of what I seek to learn will be lost.’ She walked around him, her nose wrinkling. ‘I will do that, if I must. But civilised people find other ways to relate.’

  ‘Civilised?’ He spat derisively. ‘Animal! Do you prefer to lie with your vermin in beast or human form?’

  The pack snarled, almost as one, and behind him, jaws snapped and slathered. Some lunged closer and a vision of Raine being torn apart filled his head. To his shame, he cringed.

  ‘Enough!’ Huriya snapped at them.

  The beasts backed off and began to change: a ghastly display of bodies twisting and warping, skin bulging as bones mutated, features melting and remoulding. The agony and ecstasy on their faces was obscene. He had thought himself immune to any sight after his initiations into the Inquisition, which had included assisting in the torture of heretics, but this was truly a vision of Hel. He averted his eyes and closed them tight before they imprinted on his brain.

  Kore has abandoned me.

  As did Adamus Crozier and Commandant Quintius …

  ‘Do you want to know what happened to your comrades?’ she asked lightly.

  He grimaced and opened his eyes again. Her expression was all mock-sympathy and he hated her for it. But when he thought of how Raine had died, he hated Adamus and Quintius as much, or even more.


  ‘When your friends saw you were hard-pressed, they could have come to your aid. Instead they left, in no great hurry. You were sacrificed like pawns in a tabula game.’

  He looked down, hid his face.

  ‘Did they not esteem you, friend Malevorn?’

  My heroic brethren slaughtered the women and children while Dranid, Dom, Raine and I fought the warriors. Then they ran away.

  Presumably Quintius would only help Adamus if we weren’t involved.

  Huriya’s pack had by now regained what humanity they retained. There were some forty of them, mostly male, just a handful of women remaining, and no children at all. They were bloodied and filthy, and had a uniform look of thirst in their eyes. ‘When do we kill him?’ someone asked.

  A massive man with a tattooed scalp stomped forward, holding a spear. ‘Tonight!’ he roared, and the pack bellowed its exultation at his pronouncement.

  ‘No, Wornu!’ Huriya snapped in reply. ‘He is my prisoner.’

  ‘He is a prisoner of the pack!’ This Wornu was massive beyond anyone Malevorn had seen. He spoke Rondian – they all did, apparently – but the tattoos were Sydian; the curse of the Souldrinkers had apparently spread to many races.

  ‘He has knowledge we will need for the mission we spoke of,’ Huriya responded in a reasonable voice.

  ‘How so?’ Wornu answered cautiously. A woman joined him, a lean creature with dark skin and silver-black hair cropped short, definitely Antiopian. She held a bow and had a quiver over her shoulder. Malevorn recalled the arrows that had slain Dranid.

  ‘Let the one who consumes him gain his knowledge and share it,’ the archer rasped.

  ‘That won’t work: unless the soul passing is willing, memories are lost.’ Huriya spread her hands apologetically. ‘Believe me, I too want nothing more than to kill him, but we need what he knows first.’

  The pack growled as one, their frustration clear.

  ‘Seeress Huriya, I am Eldest, now that Tomacz is dead,’ an older male said. ‘What are you seeking? Why do Inquisitors also seek it? Why have we left our packlands?’

  A chorus of growled agreement greeted this small speech and Malevorn looked about him, interested despite himself. There is dissent here. Not that it’s going to matter to me in the end …

  Huriya stood over him possessively. She had a sultry charisma combined with a steely certainty, as if she were so convinced of her own magnificence that those about her could not help but agree. She spread her arms if she were their mother, drawing them to her bosom. ‘Federi speaks rightly. It is time you all understood. You have suffered so much loss and you deserve to know why.’

  ‘More than half of us died, Seeress: almost all the women, and every child,’ Federi said plaintively. ‘There are only forty of us left. Our pack has almost ceased to exist.’

  ‘What could justify this, Seeress?’ a woman called. ‘There are only eight wombs left among us.’

  ‘You have the right to know,’ Huriya agreed. ‘What we seek is a great treasure, an artefact called the Scytale of Corineus. Wornu and Hessaz know this already, but it is time you all did. Brethren, let it suffice that this artefact is one that could cure our condition and transform us into magi without the need to kill and feed.’

  The pack fell silent, stunned.

  Federi reacted first. ‘Salvation, Lady?’ he whispered. ‘Salvation in the eyes of the Kore?’

  ‘Yes: we would become as them, pure magi, untainted by our curse.’

  The reaction of the pack members ranged from blank disbelief to holy revelation. Some babbled questions while others fell to their knees and raised prayers to everyone from Minaus, the Schlessen god of war, to Ahm, Sol and Luna, and even to Kore.

  ‘But why do you protect this Inquisitor scum?’ Federi asked, and every eye turned back to Malevorn. Their gaze beat down on him, but by now he had regained something of his pride and he looked around him defiantly.

  ‘The Inquisition are hunting this same artefact,’ Huriya told them, ‘which is why they keep crossing our path. And they know far more about it than I do – that is why I kept this one alive, to help us unlock its secrets.’

  ‘Ah.’ Federi bowed his head. ‘I understand now, Seeress. Finally.’ He shook his head. ‘Why could we not have known this before? Would we not still have Zaqri among us? Would we not all have been at the camp when the Inquisitors struck?’

  Huriya’s eyes narrowed. ‘It was Zaqri who refused to share this information with you,’ she claimed. ‘He was under the spell of the Rimoni girl.’

  There was something in her face when she said this that rang false to Malevorn; all Inquisitors were trained to recognise falsehood. She’s playing games with them. She’s of them, but she serves herself first. He then considered what she’d said: this Rimoni girl must be Mercer’s bint … I wonder where she is?

  The pack clearly took Huriya’s words at face-value, though. ‘Zaqri should have killed her,’ Federi agreed, voicing the mood of the gathering. ‘He failed us all in that. But where is this Scytale now?’

  ‘In the hands of the two fugitives we seek. You know their descriptions already – a Rondian mage and a Lakh woman. I now believe they are going to Lakh, and so shall we.’ Huriya paused, and added, ‘If you will join me?’

  The pack roared their agreement, and Huriya used that approval to dismiss them, telling them to set up camp, then she bade Wornu to bring Malevorn and follow her. ‘Let us – you, Hessaz and me – have a chat with him,’ she said, preening.

  Malevorn felt his heart sink. This was it. He’d fought for advancement every day of his life, fed by the burning need to restore his family’s honour, and it was going to end in an anonymous death far from home. His family would never learn what had happened to him: that he’d been betrayed to death by the plots of a Crozier and a fellow Inquisitor, then torn apart and consumed by God’s Rejects, his soul denied the afterlife. The injustice of it left him sickened and despairing.

  The pack dispersed, clothing themselves from the satchels most bore on their backs, then setting up camp. Wornu dragged Malevorn with him to an open bit of ground surrounded by scrub and rock formations and cast him on his back in the dirt. The archer – Hessaz – glared down at him, the beast inside her clear. Huriya sat on a boulder and studied him.

  Malevorn glared up at Wornu, seeking some pride to cling to. ‘Do your worst, scum.’

  The butt of Wornu’s spear hammered into his belly and left him gasping and retching, almost blacking out from the pain. It was a while before he could even think again.

  ‘Pretty thing,’ Hessaz remarked coldly. ‘Like a girl.’

  ‘How white his skin is!’ Huriya commented. ‘Pale as a nightworm.’

  ‘Slugskin,’ Wornu sniffed. ‘Look, you can see his blue veins. Revolting.’

  ‘Better a slugskin than a shitskin,’ Malevorn retorted defiantly.

  Wornu raised his spear-butt over his face. ‘Better whole than a cripple,’ he growled. He spun the spear until its wide leaf-head was poised over Malevorn’s genitals. ‘Or a eunuch.’

  ‘Peace, Wornu,’ Huriya said quickly. ‘First, we talk with him and give him the chance to save his pallid skin. If he refuses, then you may do as you will.’

  Wornu scowled but subsided as Huriya stepped into the middle of the clearing, subtly taking control. Malevorn stared up at her, feeling his fears rise again. She might be tiny, but he found he feared her far more than the bullish, brutal Wornu.

  Holy Kore, please make this swift …

  ‘So, here we are all seeking the same thing,’ Huriya mused in a sing-song voice. ‘The Scytale of Corineus, holiest of holies. Are you going to talk to us, Malevorn?’ When he didn’t react she didn’t look surprised. ‘You know, it seems to me that he needs a change of motivation. Something we should have done to that damned gypsy …’

  ‘No,’ Hessaz protested. ‘No, Seeress, you can’t! He’s a damned Inquisitor!’

  ‘He doesn’t deserve it,’ Wornu spat. ‘The pack wil
l not accept him.’

  What are they babbling about? I’d never join them …

  Huriya stepped closer. ‘I do not ask you to accept him. He will be my responsibility. But we need his loyalty if we are to unlock his mind.’ She nudged him casually with her foot, as if he were a dog. ‘He’s an ideal case. His loyalties are broken, and—’

  ‘My loyalties are not—’ He collapsed, choking, his lips sealed shut by a peremptory gesture from the tiny Keshi girl.

  ‘Don’t interrupt me,’ she snapped, her face momentarily vicious. ‘As I was saying, his loyalties are broken. I have seen a little of what’s inside his head. He’s a vain, bigoted bully with a streak of moral cowardice he’s entirely blind to. He would justify any crime in the name of self-advancement and think it noble. His only loyalties are to himself and any soul as twisted as his own.’

  Malevorn was still gasping for air; her slander barely registered – and anyway, it was easily ignored. Her opinions are beneath me.

  Wornu frowned and looked at Hessaz, who stared at Malevorn with a highly displeased expression on her severe face. ‘He would be strong if unrestrained.’

  ‘I don’t intend to set him free, not until the artefact is in our hands and he has demonstrated his utter loyalty.’ She looked down at him. ‘At any rate, we can’t trust a word he says until after we’ve changed him.’ She gestured to Wornu. ‘If you hold him down I’ll do the rest.’

  The massive Sydian frowned. ‘I’m still against this, Seeress, but so long as his powers remain Chained, let it be so.’ He gestured, and a kinesis-blow threw Malevorn once again onto his back in the dust and grit.

  ‘Piss off, big man. You’re not my type,’ Malevorn snapped dazedly, with a bravado he didn’t feel.

  What are they going to do to me?

  He tried to struggle, but Wornu pinned him like a child. Huriya knelt beside his head and stroked his cheek. ‘Play nicely,’ she said brightly, waggling a finger. ‘Now, do you know the tale of Nasette?’