“It cannot be!” she exclaimed with her bottom lip quivering.
Magdalenian stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of her sunken, shallow face.
“Then let me show you the world through my eyes.” he said.
Suddenly Ingrith tensed up, her eyes rolling back in her head and she groaned with her head sagging back, mouth open and slack.
“What are you doing to her?” yelled Damascus striding forward and grabbing him by the shoulder.
Shrugging him off Magdalenian held her head in his hands and the cripple watched on in amazement as the grey in her hair slowly vanished, becoming darker and denser. He staggered back, his mouth agape as the wrinkles in her face filled out and her hollow cheeks became healthy and firm. Then as quickly as it had begun it ended and Ingrith’s face crumpled and she collapsed into tears, sinking down into the chair and weeping loudly as Magdalenian released her.
“What have you done to her?” gasped Damascus.
Ingrith looked down at her line free hands and raised her trembling fingers close to her face and turned them over in disbelief.
“I have given her the gift of time.” whispered Magdalenian.
Ingrith looked up at him, her eyes red with tears and then fell at his feet bowing before him.
“Where have you been when I needed you most, my Lord? It has been so hard and we have lost so much.”
“Look at me, Ingrith!” he said. “Look at me!”
She gazed up at him and he held out his hand drawing her to her feet gently.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
“All this fawning is making me feel nauseous,” snapped Hephaestus looking around the room. “Do you have wine?”
“Wine sounds good.” replied Damascus in an almost breathless voice.
Ingrith stood stock still, staring at Magdalenian with reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.
“The winds of change are upon us all,” he said softly. “Soon the King will take his army of men and beasts on a military campaign that will see the South fall, as will the West. The battle will rage across the East but the tribes of the Ruined Lands will stand firm. They will be united by one man, a faceless man and it is him we now seek.”
“Leonidis!” whispered Ingrith with her eyes widening in alarm. “King Gomorrah has said that if I don’t hand him over by sunset then I will condemn my own children to death.”
“Unfortunate’s alley is lost, Ingrith. Get your children and leave this place behind. Where is Leonidis now? I fear he is in grave danger.”
“He killed a man and I told him to go, my Lord.”
“Then he cannot have gone far. Tell me, did he take up the mask?”
“I…I don’t know, my Lord.”
“It is important.”
“He did,” said the voice of Damascus from behind them. “The last time I saw him he was wearing that mask from the dead women he avenged.”
“How did he seem?”
“He seemed…different, darker almost.”
“Then he has already started to transform into the leader we need.” answered Magdalenian.
“He is not ready, my Lord.” cried Ingrith. “He is just a boy, a damaged boy!”
Magdalenian narrowed his eyes and stared at her grimly.
“He will have to be ready. As we all will.”
Chapter Thirty One
The capital city of Tarlath
Unfortunate’s alley
Leonidis sensed that he was being followed and forced his stride to remain relaxed as he pushed on through the vast interconnected maze of alleyways and back streets of the citadel. The pursuer was following him at a cautious distance and every twist and turn of the dark, stinking alleys he took the man moved in the same direction. His ragged breathing echoed in his mask as he forced his way through a crowd of pedestrians, drawing sharp comments and angry looks from those he barged past. As he did so Leonidis chanced a quick glance over his shoulder and caught sight of his pursuer. The man was of medium build with brown, short-cropped hair, piercing blue eyes and a curved nose and as their eyes locked he quickened the pace between them. Cursing under his breath Leonidis walked briskly to the end of one passageway and turned right and did not have to look back to know that the man was still following him. The stale pervasive smell of fish hung pungent in the air and Leonidis followed the street out onto Fishmonger’s Square where he could hear the loud sound of market voices still hawking their wares and busily trading. Abruptly he ducked into one of the empty shops whilst the trader argued price out front on his stall and hid between a crate glistening with fish and a barrel full of live crabs. A moment later his pursuer walked past the shop entrance oblivious to where he was hiding and he breathed a sigh of relief. After deciding that he was safe for the time being, Leonidis got up and left the fishmonger’s shop and set off at a run in the opposite direction down another alleyway. Suddenly he was shoved up roughly against the wall, the side of his face slamming hard against the brick and he felt a dagger press painfully against his ribs.
“You're wanted by the King.” hissed a voice close in his ear.
With his heart pounding and his head dizzy with pain Leonidis gritted his teeth and struggled to turn his head to look in the direction of the voice but the tip of the knife pressed firmer against his side making him cry out. Focusing inward, he pushed his panic down then in an instant he snapped his head back viciously connecting with his attacker’s nose making him stagger backward a few steps. His legs felt weak from the blow to the temple and Leonidis dropped to one knee and looked up at the man with his head spinning deliriously. It was then that he realised it wasn’t the same man that had been following him. This man was tall and rangy and wore the uniform of a King’s man. The assailant sniffed, turned his head to the side and spat a wad of blood which splattered loudly against the wall of the alleyway.
“King wants you alive!” he sneered. “But that just cost you your fingers.”
He advanced slowly on Leonidis who struggled awkwardly to get to his feet with his eyes fixed on the blade of the knife. Then without warning a figure appeared behind the man and brought down the hilt of his sword against the attackers skull. There was a sickening crack and his eyes glazed over and he slumped headfirst to the ground releasing the knife which clattered on the ground. Through bleary eyes Leonidis saw that it was the man he had escaped from in Fishmonger’s Square.
“Your lack of awareness could have seen you killed,” snapped the newcomer in annoyance as he sheathed his sword smoothly. “You were being watched and you were too preoccupied with me to notice your real danger.”
“I…didn’t see him.” he gasped with his vision blurring momentarily.
“That’s because he didn’t want to be seen.”
Leonidis reached up and gingerly felt the egg-sized lump against his temple and winched as a fresh wave of pain flowed over him.
“You were following me. Why? Did Ingrith send you?” he asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“I am not the enemy, Leonidis and you judge her wrong.”
“She works for the King.” he spat.
“So she would have you and him believe. My name is Montagu and I am responsible for protecting you.”
“I do not know whom I can trust. How do you know who I am?”
“For now you just need to trust in me, Leonidis. You are in great peril and you must leave. A masked man is an easy target in the citadel and the King will be searching for you the same as us. If you are caught, it will be over before it has even begun.”
“My place is here in Tarlath and I have survived death once before. I plan to kill the King because I have nothing to lose.”
“Wrong, you have everything to lose, we all do!” said Magdalenian in a harsh voice. “You are raw, hot-tempered and impulsive and wouldn’t make it five feet in front of the King before he would have you slain. Revenge can be a strong urge and I will promise you that I will help you to find a way to gain revenge for what has b
een taken from you.”
“What do you want from me?” demanded Leonidis in an exasperated voice.
Magdalenian laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance and looked him deep in the eyes.
“Eventually King Gomorrah will send his whole army of men and beasts towards the South and they will defeat the Piathaleas. He will swell his army with men that pledge fealty to him. Next his army will defeat the Nakaloo in the West and then they will turn their eyes to the East. The drumbeats of war are sounding and we are running out of time. You will unite the clans into a single state and raise an army the likes of which has never been seen by man. I want you to lead that army against Gomorrah and do so and you will gain retribution a thousand-fold and the results of your actions will save countless innocent lives.”
“I am not a leader of men and I know nothing of warfare.” whispered Leonidis.
“You will in time.”
“But why me?” he asked.
“It has to be you,” replied Magdalenian with sadness in his eyes. “It is your destiny. We need a man of courage to unite them. I see that in you.”
“But they are a savage people.”
“None more so than us and they will follow you and die protecting you. I see the doubt in your eyes Leonidis, but know this. If you refuse you will never be safe and you will be forever looking over your shoulder. That creature that you faced, there will be more and they will sweep across the four cardinal directions and their impact will be devastating. But you won’t refuse me. There is a saddled horse and provisions waiting for you at the stable. Ride from here to Pirash and seek out a man called Tomas the Collector. He will keep you safe until we return.”
“What will happen to Unfortunate’s alley?” whispered Leonidis.
“Many will die tonight.” answered Magdalenian grimly.
Chapter Thirty Two
The capital city of Tarlath
Unfortunate’s alley
Hephaestus stared up at the fading sun as it slowly dropped towards the horizon, his face devoid of emotion. He heard soft footfalls behind him and did not turn round.
“Here,” said Ingrith handing him a goblet of wine. “It is the best I have.”
“I can tell.” he replied grimacing at the taste and tossing the contents onto the ground and discarding the cup.
Motionless, they stood in silence for some minutes looking up at the dipping sun and then Hephaestus spoke.
“Why are you still here?” he asked bluntly.
“If they stay, I stay.” she said simply.
“Then you are all fools!” snapped Hephaestus. “You stay, you die. What will you achieve dead?”
“My people will see me stand with them and we will defend what is ours.”
“And you and your people will fall with a sword through the heart.”
“Do you blame them?” Ingrith said icily. “This is their home. This is a place of comfort for them. Where can they go? What hope can they have for the future? Many are too old, too infirm or too stubborn to leave.”
“Stubbornness and stupidity usually walk hand in hand. Those that fight will die and those that do not fight will still die.”
“You can fight?” asked Ingrith looking sceptically at him.
“I don’t intend to do anything of the kind. We will leave the moment Magdalenian returns.”
“You will not stay?” she questioned with a fearful look in her eyes.
“In the overall grand scheme of things, this is but a pimple on the arse of the suffering that awaits you. There is no point me being involved. We already know the outcome. You know, back in Besalu I have a small circular flower garden on the grounds of my villa by the ocean. It’s true. In an ideal world I’d plant a succession of flowers and have bloom all four seasons but that’s just not how it works. You see, where I am flowers cannot tolerate the salt air conditions and large amounts of salt in the soil prevent them from absorbing water. I liken mankind to the flowers in my garden, poor survivalists and short-lived. So I don’t plant in my garden anymore. Life is short and death will come to you all one way or another. Do you understand?”
“What makes your life more valuable than ours?”
“I don’t have a life. I am a God.”
“A God that doesn’t care about the people that worships him? If this is the best a God can do, I am not impressed.”
“It is not out of malice but out of an infinite capacity to accept what will be. You cannot even begin to comprehend what it is like to be me. You are nothing more than a mote of dust in the annals of history and when you are gone no-one will remember you but I will always exist in one form or another.”
“Then tell me,” spat Ingrith angrily. “Tell me, what it is like being a God?”
“Tediously uninteresting,” answered Hephaestus staring at her blankly. “Imagine being an entity that is able to live indefinitely in time, to know absolutely everything about everything. We exist on the periphery of this world. We didn’t create what you see around us or shape the land and we didn’t breathe life into you. We just watched on as the world grew and evolved and occasionally assisted mankind in their darkest hour. I have found the world of Gods as tedious as it is uneventful and the sooner this war is over the sooner I can return home.”
“It seems to me that somewhere over time you slipped into bitterness.” retorted Ingrith.
“I like you. You remind me of me.” said Hephaestus with a smile.
Just then Damascus ambled up and stood by them. He was wearing an ill-fitting dented breastplate and wore a battered, iron helm upon his head and carried a rusty short sword which he held apprehensively.
“You look ridiculous.” remarked Hephaestus.
Ingrith looked at the cripple proudly and laid a hand on his forearm.
“There are two different types of courage – moral courage and physical. You are blessed with both, Damascus.”
He nodded his head nervously and licked his dry lips.
“I…I have never killed a man before, Ingrith.” he stammered.
“Maybe they won’t come.” she answered.
“They’ll come.” said Hephaestus distantly.
“How many are left, Damascus?” asked Ingrith.
“Sixty-three, but I have spoken to Tarnell and convinced him to change his mind. He is leaving now.”
“Good.” she said patting his arm affectionately.
Hephaestus stared, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the alleyway leading onto Unfortunate’s alley then cast a quick look over his shoulder at the alley to the rear of them.
“How many men have you got?”
“Uhm…30.” answered Damascus with a frown.
“Fighting men!” snapped Hephaestus impatiently. “How many fighting men do you have?”
“Maybe…maybe half that number.”
“And weapons? Do you have weapons to fight? Preferably long stabbing weapons like spears for thrusting.”
“I…I’m not sure…”
“Yes we do have some.” said Ingrith. “What are your thoughts, Hephaestus?”
“Soldiers fight with discipline and they will expect to fight in the open. They will likely flank you from both directions but it takes only a small number of men to defend the alleyways at each end. Keep them contained and do not try to engage the enemy in the open. They will struggle to fight two abreast and swinging their swords will be difficult if you keep them crammed together. Cut them down where they stand so that they cannot move forward and their losses will be great. But make no mistake, if they breach the alleyways all is lost for you.”
“We will not let that happen.” she said with her face hardening.
“We are not soldiers!” whispered Damascus.
“I know that!” hissed Hephaestus. “I am just helping you to die with a modicum of fight in you. The King will underestimate you and if you are lucky he will only send a small band of men to Unfortunate’s alley so you do not hesitate. They are here to kill you and your kind and make
no mistake the King will not underestimate you a second time. Remember, if they breach you then you are dead.”
“You think we have a chance?” asked Ingrith.
“No,” admitted Hephaestus. “I have seen enough slaughter in my time to last a thousand of your lives. This place will fall; it is but a matter of time. Now go, assemble your men as the light has nearly gone.”
“It will be as you say.” she said nodding her thanks.
As they walked away Hephaestus caught sight of Magdalenian returning. His stride was long and purposeful, his face set in a grim expression.
“The boy is safe.” he said.
“Good, then we should leave this cursed city now.”
“I cannot.”
Hephaestus raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“This is not the time and most definitely not the place, Magdalenian. You know what is coming!”
“This I know. Do something for me, Hephaestus.”
“Anything.”
“Leave now and travel to the home of Tomas the Collector. Leonidis waits for you there.”
“You will take on the might of Gomorrah’s army yourself?” snapped Hephaestus.
“You are more valuable to me in Pirash. He needs guidance and your wisdom. Be his counsel. Prepare him.”
“These people are beyond saving!” he gasped in exasperation. “You risk much. I can feel Old magic within the air, it is close.”
Four Gods Page 20
