by Tom Lloyd
‘Gentlemen.’ Yet another woman stepped forward from behind the attackers, dressed as a member of the White Circle. She carried no weapons and wore no armour, but there was a grim promise in her voice as she said, ‘I suggest you drop your weapons immediately; I am in no mood to play games.’
Purn stepped forward. ‘And I suggest you get out of our way or I will summon the daemons walking this place to destroy you.’ Mikiss saw the deep red glow radiating from the necromancer’s eyes again.
‘Oh, spare me,’ the woman growled, pushing her shawl back to reveal lustrous black hair and elegant features. ‘They might be daemons, but they’re not stupid.’
Purn gave a yelp and staggered back, one hand raised as though to ward off a blow. The woman, bristling with barely restrained anger, stepped towards them, apparently completely unafraid of the weapons they still carried.
Purn gave an unintelligible cry and turned to flee, diving for the bag of books Nai had dropped and hunkering low over them as shadows from all sides appeared up to envelop him.
When the shadows faded away, the necromancer Isherin Purn was nowhere to be seen.
The woman with the short swords started to move forward but stopped at a raised finger from the White Circle mage.
‘No, forget him; he’ll not have gone far, and with luck he’ll deal with some of the creatures he released here so I won’t have to bother.’ She bestowed a glittering smile on Major Amber, Mikiss and Nai.
Mikiss felt himself shy away from her look as a sense of horror flooded his mind and the fingers holding his sword went numb.
‘Now, gentlemen; please be good boys and come quietly.’
Not far away, Abbot Dorn sat in his study behind locked and barred doors, fearfully watching the wildly flickering light cast by an oil lamp on the wall beyond. His hands shook as he felt the heavy footfalls of daemons walking the Land and heard their voices echo out on the rushing streams of magic. Despite the unnatural heat, he felt the room grow cold and the shadows deepen. There was no breeze in the cellar, but the lamp suddenly guttered down to almost nothing, leaving only a trembling finger of light. The abbot reached under the table that served as his desk and slipped open the box there. He withdrew the Crystal Skull and cupped it in both hands, as afraid of the power it contained as he was of the shadows drawing closer.
As soon as he touched the Skull, he realised his mistake: every one of the horrors walking Scree’s festering streets noticed the change in the magic-laden atmosphere and turned to find him.
‘We see you.’ The words whispered around the cellar.
Abbot Doren whimpered and turned around wildly, trying to see whoever was speaking, but there was nothing there. The room was locked and secure; he was alone, except for the shadows.
‘We will come for you.’
The abbot crashed into his desk, spilling books and dirty crockery onto the floor. The Skull, its surface slick against his skin, almost slipped from his hands. Pulling it close to his chest, he tentatively drew on its power. The shadows withdrew, but not far. He could feel them lingering at the edges of his mind, and around his dilapidated home.
‘We can wait,’ the voice assured him with a malevolent chuckle. ‘You are all alone now, and you cannot stay strong for ever.’
‘Alone? No, I have Mayel,’ Abbot Doren muttered.
‘Alone,’ the voice continued, cold and assured, ‘in a city of enemies, hunted, and all alone . . . all we need do is wait.’
All through the night the abbot wept silently, hearing that soft laughter in his head. When dawn at last arrived and Mayel had still not returned, he realised the voice had been correct. He was all alone, and the darkness was waiting.
CHAPTER 20
Wakefulness crept uneasily over Mikiss, beginning with an ache behind his eyes and growing into a dull pain that reached through his skull and down his spine. Though his eyes were closed, he still tried to recoil from the light that pierced his eyelids and sparked a strange sense of fear. He tried to move, and discovered that his hands were bound behind his back and his muscles almost cried with fatigue, as though he had been running through the night. His lips were crusted and he moaned with the effort needed to breathe in the dusty sweat-laced air. Exhausted beyond belief, he slumped back down.
He felt something touch his brow. Whatever it was, it felt hot and rasping on his skin, and as he flinched away from it he smelled a man near him, a scent of dirt and grease. Then a waft of perfume, near-imperceptible, reached him from further away. As he tried to recognise it, Mikiss realised how parched his throat was. From somewhere on the other side of the room a chair scraped. He felt it through the stone floor on which he was lying as much as heard it, then sandpaper hands cradled his head and raised him up.
‘Awake at last. You must be thirsty.’ A woman’s voice plucked a string inside him.
Mikiss tried to reply, but nothing came out except a wheeze. He recognised Nai as the person holding him when the necromancer’s servant said crossly, ‘Damn you, woman, after all you’ve done to him, you tease him about it?’
‘Oh, quiet now,’ the strange woman replied tartly. ‘Just because your hands are untied doesn’t mean your tongue can run loose; if it happens again, Legana will cut it out.’
Mikiss heard the swish of her skirts as the woman walked closer. ‘Here, give him some wine to drink. It won’t satisfy him, but I need him to speak a little more coherently.’
A goblet was held to his lips and Mikiss slurped greedily. When he finally managed to force his encrusted eyes open, the room was nothing more than a blur for a moment, then the outlines of people started to take shape. After a few moments he could make out Major Amber, bound as he was, lying in a corner, and two women standing before a covered window. Groggily, he sat up and tried to focus on the speaker, the woman who’d faced down Isherin Purn.
‘What have you done to me?’ Mikiss croaked. ‘Feels like I’ve been drugged. How long did I sleep?’
‘You slept most of the day, the sun is on its way down now.’ Mikiss winced as he looked at the light behind her. ‘Then why is it so bright?’
‘Because what I did to you was rather more permanent than drugging,’ she said, shrugging. ‘You are my prisoners, but I don’t care much for interrogation; it’s messy, noisy and unreliable.’
He looked up at Nai for answers and saw the strange manservant had a thunderous look on his face. Whatever she’d done, it was bad enough that even the prospect of mutilation would not cow the man.
‘I don’t understand,’ he rasped. ‘Why the light? And who are you?’
She sighed. ‘How discourteous of me. My name is Zhia Vukotic, and I hope you enjoyed the dawn yesterday, because it is the last you’ll ever see.’
‘What?’ Mikiss tried to rise, but was betrayed by exhaustion. He fell back against Nai, and as he did so, he felt something around his neck, a bandage of some kind. He stayed silent for a few moments, then almost sobbed, ‘You’ve—’
‘I’ve shared my curse with you, yes,’ Zhia Vukotic told him impatiently. ‘Nai, please check the wound.’
The servant growled, but deftly unwrapped the length of material around Mikiss’ neck. As he peered down, Mikiss saw his eyes widen and he mouthed a curse before releasing Mikiss and letting him fall to the floor.
‘It’s almost healed,’ Nai said as Mikiss groaned.
‘Excellent. Now, Messenger - Mikiss - you can fight this, or you can accept what has happened and get on with it,’ the woman said, almost preening. ‘It doesn’t really matter, because my power over you is now absolute. You will answer my questions, so the only matter for debate is how much discomfort you wish to endure before you do so. Do you understand?’
Mikiss stared at her with a glazed expression. When he turned to Nai, the servant looked both horrified and disgusted, a look echoed on Major Amber’s face.
‘While we’re on the subject of the current state of play, you will all do better if you accept that I own you now. You have committed c
apital offences in Scree - spying and necromancy - so your lives are forfeit. I offer you clemency, in the form of servitude.’ She looked at the woman beside her. ‘As Legana knows, I share my secrets only with those who have secrets of their own, but since I can hardly trust any of you yet, I have taken the precaution of placing a small enchantment on you, to prevent you repeating anything said in my presence. Do you understand?’
Mikiss looked at his companions. Nai, still defiant, said nothing; the major just shrugged his shoulders, as though a change of master meant little.
‘What do you want with us?’ Mikiss asked.
‘You will tell me about your mission in Scree,’ she said. ‘After that, I’m sure I will find a use for you.’
‘And if we don’t tell you?’
‘You no longer have the choice,’ she said apologetically, ‘not now the wound on your neck has healed.’
Mikiss’ hand flew to his neck. The skin was a little tender, but he could feel no injury.
‘My curse has you fully in its grip now,’ she went on, watching his exploration, ‘and it is now a small matter to compel you to speak, or to do exactly as I wish. So let us start. Tell me about your mission in Scree.’
As Zhia spoke those last words, Mikiss felt as though his head had been seized in a vice and wrenched upwards. The blood fizzed and boiled as he fought to keep his mouth closed; black and purple stars burst in front of his eyes until, through no volition of his own, he felt his mouth open and words began to pour out.
It didn’t take long, for Lord Styrax had told Mikiss little more than his immediate task: to find the necromancer Isherin Purn in Scree and either secure an artefact of great power from him, or through him, on Lord Styrax’s behalf, obviously, or report back on how to acquire it. The necromancer had told him little more in the brief time they were together, for he was intent on hearing all about the Menin conquest of Thotel.
When Mikiss had finished his uncontrolled babbling, the vampire looked far from satisfied.
‘So the necromancer said nothing more, other than that he was sure there was a Crystal Skull in the city?’
‘He was not so foolish as to go hunting for the bearer of such a weapon,’ Nai interjected. ‘Either it would be in the hands of a practised user, in which case his strength would not be enough, or not, in which case the wielder would most likely use it with abandon, and be unable to control the energies released.’
‘He could not tell which?’ Zhia pressed.
‘He suspected a novice, since he had detected experiments performed with the Skull.’
‘So when the opportunity came,’ mused Zhia, ‘he asked his former lord for help, no doubt hoping Styrax would send someone foolish enough to do the confrontation for him. The most likely outcome would be the death of all those involved, leaving Isherin Purn to skip through the ashes and claim his prize.’
For reasons Mikiss could not fathom, this cheered the woman immensely. She announced breezily, ‘So, we have someone running around the city with a Crystal Skull. Legana, why am I not surprised?’
The pretty dark-haired woman looked taken aback at being addressed, but she said at once, ‘Because it confirms some things and explains others. If you’ll forgive my presumption, I’m rather more interested in Purn’s original mission in the West.’ She looked at Mikiss. ‘Did you say he was Malich’s apprentice?’
Mikiss didn’t reply until Zhia turned back to him, whereupon the words spilled out unbidden. ‘His apprentice, yes, sent to stir up trouble within the Farlan. I don’t know any more.’
‘Who does?’
‘Nai.’
Legana turned to the necromancer’s apprentice, who remained sullenly silent. Zhia gave a hiss of irritation. ‘Perhaps I turned the wrong one? It can be rectified easily enough if you don’t start to speak now, and I will know if you lie.’
Nai hesitated a moment, then shrugged. ‘Isherin Purn was once an acolyte of Lord Salen’s at the Hidden Tower. He used his position with Malich to torment Lord Bahl with dreams of his dead bride.’
‘To what end?’ Legana broke in, taking a step towards Nai.
‘To gain control over him,’ Nai said bleakly. ‘They made him believe he could resurrect her. It was the only way Lord Styrax could draw Lord Bahl away from his armies and kill him.’
‘Oh Gods, of course!’ the woman breathed. Mikiss looked at her, surprised at the emotional response, and suddenly realised she was most likely Farlan. Yet another spy caught up in Zhia’s games? ‘He used the Chetse Krann to remove Lord Chalat, but when Styrax planned it all, the Farlan had no Krann and he had only Lord Bahl’s own weaknesses to use against him.’
Nai gave a snort, unable to restrain a proud smile. ‘And a remarkable feat of magic it was too, to confound someone so old and powerful,’ he said.
‘You helped him do this?’ Legana demanded.
‘Certainly. I helped my master in a—’
Before Nai could finish, Legana had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. He gasped in pain and grabbed for her arm, but she whipped a dagger from her belt and clubbed him with the pommel.
Nai howled and clouted her around the head with his other hand, but she retaliated by kicking him in the crotch and, when he doubled over in pain, a knee to the face sent him crashing down.
‘Enough!’ Zhia shouted, the word echoing through the room with such force that Mikiss winced and strained against his bonds in an attempt to cover his ears. ‘Children, children,’ the vampire continued, her voice a caress, ‘this is no playground, and you will not fight unless I say so. Is that quite clear? There are rather more—’ She stopped at a crash from elsewhere in the building; a door was being smashed open, and there were angry voices.
‘I fear the subtle hand of our fair ruler,’ Zhia sighed. ‘I’m surprised it has taken Siala so long to decide that I must be to blame for the events of last night. On the subject of Lord Styrax’s conquest, I understood the tunnel under the mountains had been destroyed, and who else but Lord Styrax in those parts has the power to do such a thing? So if he was aware of the tunnel, he was also aware of the Fysthrall; could it be coincidence that Lord Styrax dealt so effectively with the two most powerful lords of the West, while King Emin, the other great ruler in these parts, was attacked by the White Circle over some obscure prophecy? Is he really so adept, I wonder?’ A mixture of admiration and puzzlement crossed Zhia’s face.
The noises resolved themselves into voices arguing outside the room. ‘A discussion for another time, I think. Legana, open the doors so Siala can glide straight in, or the drama of her entrance will be lost while she waits for a servant to do it for her.’
The Farlan woman obeyed, and Mikiss heard another woman barking orders, followed by the clatter of footsteps coming towards them.
‘Mistress Ostia, I hope you are not overly taxed by relaxing at home while my city collapses into a Gods-cursed wasteland!’ Siala cried as she swept into the centre of the room, ignoring Legana, bowing rather inelegantly, and the bound prisoners sprawled across the floor.
‘On the contrary, Mistress Siala, I have spent the entire night restoring order to large parts of the city,’ Zhia said. ‘This wretched necromancer had an inordinate number of daemons and local spirits bound to him, and tracking them all down was not an easy task.’
‘I hope you have an explanation for all this,’ Siala demanded, not in the least mollified.
‘An explanation?’ Zhia said coldly. ‘For what, precisely?’
‘For why a necromancer was able to set up residence in my city without you or your agents finding out about it; how you managed to get there so quickly with a detachment of troops and how you nevertheless allowed the entire situation to spiral out of control, letting daemons run wild through my city.’ Siala’s face was scarlet with fury; any trace of the calm control she’d once possessed was gone. ‘There are still mobs roaming the streets, attacking people at random, accusing normal people of being daemons and setting fire to them!�
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‘None of which is my fault,’ Zhia replied softly, dangerously. ‘I have the entire city guard out trying to regain order. There is very little more I can do without troops, and the only soldiers in the city are not under my command.’
‘Don’t you think soldiers would merely exacerbate the situation? ’ Siala growled, stalking up and down the room, neatly avoiding Zhia’s prisoners.
‘It depends how they are handled,’ Zhia said. ‘Without strong control, there will be massive loss of life, but they are still the best way to keep order on the streets.’
Siala paused for a moment in her pacing, then the ghost of a smile appeared. ‘I am glad we are of the same mind. As of this moment, martial law is declared. There will be a strict curfew after nightfall, and I have ordered the Third Army into the city to enforce it.’
‘The entire Third Army? The Fysthrall soldiers will panic the populace even more,’ Zhia said quietly.
‘I doubt that,’ Siala said. ‘It might shock them into thinking twice before they riot again. I believe the appearance and superior discipline of my Fysthrall troops will quieten the city in a way you have proved unable to manage.’
‘And my city guard?’ Zhia asked, refusing to rise.
‘Shall be posted at the Greengate, where all city supplies will now enter the city. That will be the only open gate to the city. Your aides will be based there, in charge of keeping us all fed. These are your prisoners from last night?’ she said, rounding on Mikiss abruptly.
‘They are. I was in the middle of interrogating them, to discover where the necromancer had escaped to.’
Siala made a dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t worry about him; I have him.’
‘What? How did you catch him?’ Zhia’s usual calm slipped momentarily, much to Siala’s apparent pleasure.
‘He made his way to the Red Palace last night, looking for my protection - specifically, for protection from you. He tells me that your skills as a mage are rather more advanced than you led me to believe -and that you and he have crossed paths before . . . which prompts me to ask what else you have kept from me.’ Siala gave Mikiss a cursory inspection as she waited, then appeared to lose interest. She turned back to Zhia.
