Revenant

by Fergal F. Nally

  A redoubt of sorts?

  The infected did not like crossing water, the island would be safer than the towering citadel, he mused.

  Forcan disappeared round a corner. Jack moved swiftly and approached the spot. A temple guard eyed Jack suspiciously but did nothing. Jack turned the corner and saw Forcan enter a side passage. Jack could see the tension in Forcan’s shoulders. Something was happening, he looked different, smaller. Jack felt uneasy, he ran the last twenty feet abandoning all stealth.

  Jack turned the corner and saw Forcan’s coat hanging suspended in the air, shimmering. He stopped not knowing what to do, the coat dropped to the ground, Forcan was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a blackbird appeared on the spot, it flapped its wings and looked at Jack. It turned and took to the air, up over the temple roofs and out of sight.

  Jack struggled to make sense of what he had seen. Had Forcan just changed into a bird, or had he finally lost the plot? He approached Forcan’s coat and picked it up. It was Forcan’s coat, there was no doubt, he searched the pockets, they were empty. A black feather lay on the ground at his feet, he picked it up, examining it closely.

  His mind returned to the stories his older brother used to tell when they were boys.

  Forcan was a shapeshifter.

  This, then, was how he was going to get his revenge on Durant. Admiration and dread rushed through Jack’s veins in equal measure. What more would this world throw at him?

  He took one last look at the sky and turned back the way he had come.

  Chapter 19: Forcan’s Revenge

  Forcan’s wings took him high above the city.

  He knew Jack was following him, it was to be expected, in truth he would have been disappointed if Jack hadn’t followed him. He was usually a good judge of character and Jack Spence had scar tissue, but underneath he saw Jack was a good man.

  Forcan reflected on his own demons as he flew towards the north gate and his target; Lieutenant Durant of the Spider Watch, one of the northerners recruited to man the cursed gate. Immune to the hundred year curse, lucky for them, unlucky for the poor innocents that flooded through the gates in the early months of the war.

  Unlucky for his beloved Serena.

  He remembered… as if it was yesterday.

  They approached the gate with trepidation, they had heard rumours; a tyrant ran the north gate. The city was vast, the next gate lay thirty miles to the south; it had almost fallen to the undead the year before and was now permanently sealed. Serena was pregnant and due any day, all they wanted was the safety of the city. Serena had an aunt they were going to stay with, it was all arranged. Everything would be fine.

  Unlucky for his beloved Serena.

  The words poisoned his mind, he could not get them out of his skull.

  His beloved Serena.

  He relived their last minutes together. He saw the queue again, the pitiful straggle of refugees, their meagre possessions scrutinised and prodded by the men of the Spider Watch.

  He remembered avoiding the soldiers’ eyes, holding Serena protectively with one arm. They had nothing but the clothes they stood in, their village was overrun a few days before, they had been lucky to escape with their lives.

  Here they were. At last. Safety, within reach.

  “You there! What have you brought for the Spider Watch?” a mean faced soldier bellowed at Serena.

  Serena shrank from the man’s words, her hands held protectively on her stomach. Alarm flooded through Forcan, he trembled.

  “We’ve nothing sir, we were fortunate to get away from the undead with our lives… there were so many of them.”

  The soldier spat and snorted. His heavily armoured companion pointed at Serena and nudged him, encouraging him, in a language Forcan did not understand.

  Forcan remembered violence, blood and Serena’s screams. Durant stood and watched from the walls, a smile on his face, as his soldiers took Serena away screaming in fear.

  “We’ll take her service as payment, you can have her back on the other side of the gate… in a while,” these were the last words Forcan remembered before the blow that knocked him unconscious.

  He came to, hours later in darkness, in the rain, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He lay dazed for minutes trying to piece together what had happened, his memory a shattered mirror. He became aware of a form beside him. He turned and saw Serena her face bruised and bloodied, her life gone. He stared at her and felt a gulf open up within him, a gulf so deep he could not breathe.

  He held her and searched for meaning, for understanding, none came. Serena and their unborn child taken from him. Why? They had come to the city for protection, for sanctuary. Instead they found death and hatred. Better to have taken their chances with the undead. One face haunted Forcan, the one man who could have done something, the man who presided over this killing, encouraged it.

  Durant.

  That day was the day Durant’s life became forfeit. Forcan would harbour and nurture his hatred, distil its energy and harness it, to return and take Durant’s life and the lives of those around him. They did not fear the undead nor the tower’s curse but they would know fear before they died, he would see to that. They faced a new enemy, one they had not seen before, an enemy born from love and forged in hatred, an enemy that would kill every last one of their rotten garrison.

  Forcan flew over the temple district, the sky a pale blue, the clouds a scattering of silky threads. It felt good to be flying again, he had left it too long. He saw the north gate in the distance and headed for it. The sights and sounds of the bustling city below did not distract him, nor even its incredible stench. Revenge drew him on.

  The blackbird landed on the north gate’s south facing window. The bird cocked its head listening carefully, looking into the dark room. Finally, it hopped from the window onto the stone floor within. The air shimmered for a brief moment and Forcan, the man, materialised in the shadows. He felt weak and cold; shifting came at a price.

  Forcan felt the gate’s curse, in its very walls. The enchantment was obvious, powerful. He did not care for his own life, it was taken the day Serena and their unborn child were murdered. He felt the gate’s death curse uncoil within, he felt the life draining from his bones, his spirit under siege. He had, at the most, an hour to complete his goal.

  He removed the scracken paste from his pocket and went to work. The room he stood in was at the top of the gate’s tower, he would work his way down the tower poisoning water and wine. He would contaminate knives and spoons; the smallest amount of the odourless paste would be enough to bring agonising death. He smiled at the thought of what the poison would do to Durant and his men.

  The top room was well appointed, a large bed, silk sheets. Armour and chainmail lay to one side; an officer’s room, perhaps even Durant’s, it mattered not, he would kill them all.

  Kill the killers.

  The next thirty minutes passed quickly. Whenever he heard soldiers approach he shapeshifted; a mouse, a beetle, a butterfly. He waited until they were gone, then changed back to his human form. If a door was locked he found a way, under it or even through its key hole. Time passed in a blur, the curse slowly drained his life, as he in turn sowed a trail of death behind him.

  Then he saw Durant.

  The lieutenant stood with his officers in the map room. They were laughing, drinking cloud wine. Durant wore a fine silk shirt and leather breeks. His hair was tied back, oiled. His back was to the door, to one side stood a table heavy with food and flagons of wine.

  Forcan flew through the door, as a butterfly, landing in the shadows next to the table.

  “They’re coming, one more attack before winter. It’ll be a big push, something feels different, they’ll want to breech the walls this time, impress their eastern masters.”

  “Aye sir, our scouts have reported more incursions into the protected villages. The creeping sickness is also leeching into the soil not five leagues from here.”

  “We’ll make good money f
rom Reglis while we can, bleed him dry, when the time’s right we’ll take the Sworn’s offer and change allegiance. The only things worth living for in this life are gold and women.” Durant’s voice was low and clear.

  “Strength and loyalty, brothers to the end! For the clan!” a chorus of voices filled the air.

  “I’ll drink to that. More wine!” Durant demanded.

  Durant turned and went to the table filling his glass with wine, a consignment he had liberated from a family who had passed through his gate the previous day. A movement caught his eye, a black butterfly hovered at the window then fluttered out into the courtyard. He took a gulp of wine and returned to his men and the maps at the table.

  Once Durant had topped up his glass, his men followed suit, filling their glasses from the same flagon.

  “A toast!” Durant bellowed, his voice slightly slurred. “Gold and women!”

  “Aye, gold and women!” the men shouted.

  Five minutes later Durant felt a tightness at his throat, he went to the window for air. He looked out and saw a figure below leaning against the courtyard wall. The man looked ill, his face familiar. The man looked up and stared at the window. Durant felt a pain in his chest, his breathing became laboured, sweat broke out across his forehead.

  The man smiled up at him, a cruel smile. Durant understood and in that moment felt the other’s hatred.

  Revenge.

  Durant fell to the floor and heard others stumbling around him. His throat tightened, his heart thumped loudly in his ears, his muscles went dead, he could not move. He could reason and think but access to his body was denied him. His mind raced and returned to the man outside. Durant’s unseeing eyes turned inwards, he delved into a new reality, a reality of madness, fear and pain.

  It took Durant four days to die. On the third day he remembered the face of the man outside. He recalled the day the man had passed through his gate, he remembered the man’s pregnant wife. He remembered the look the man had given him.

  Revenge.

  Forcan died before Durant. He died at peace, he had succeeded in killing the nest of vipers that had taken his Serena. He had finally repaid his debt and taken back control of his life from the bastard gods. He closed his eyes and felt the curse steal his life, a life he did not want.

  His mind turned briefly, remembering Sabine and the others. They were on a different path, they would find their way. Forcan turned inwards and saw a distant figure across the fields, he walked towards the figure. A woman, his heart skipped a beat, he recognised the tilt of her shoulders, the smile on her face, her soft brown eyes. The woman laughed and held out her arms.

  Her laughter lifted his soul, his heart flew. He fell into her eyes and felt her arms around him.

  “Welcome home husband. Welcome home my love.”

  Chapter 20: Pass of the Clouds

  “Forcan’s not coming back is he?” Sabine looked at Jack.

  “It’s been two days… rumours are rife. They changed the whole garrison at the north gate,” Jack replied.

  “Lot of good that will do, the new guard will be dead in a day or so with the curse,” Raven added.

  “Which leaves the gate unprotected and the city vulnerable to attack.”

  “People are already leaving, heading south,” Sabine said.

  Jack looked at the two sisters. “We can’t wait any longer for Forcan, he’s gone now, at peace. We need to leave, south sounds good. Perhaps we’ll get some answers at the Rain Pools Forcan mentioned.”

  “The Rain Pools…” Sabine’s voice trailed off.

  “You think Forcan was making it up?”

  Sabine looked at Jack through narrowed eyes. “No, I think he was remembering something, a child’s memory. I don’t know what to think. We might as well head there, at least it’s far from the city.”

  “Once this place falls it’ll only be a matter of time before the rest of the kingdom falls and then what? The necromancers will take over,” Raven shuddered.

  “Well I’m ready, let’s lock up and go.” Sabine stood up shouldering her pack. She held the door open for the others.

  The night was bright with stars as they crept through New Haven. A feeling hung in the air, of lost hope, a city besieged. They were glad to leave, the thought of spending another night in the city was too much for them. Sabine missed Forcan, she understood what he had done, she hoped he had found peace.

  Jack did not recognise the constellations. He allowed Sabine to teach him, she showed him the western star; the anchor of the heavens. They made good progress the first night, continuing to walk through most of the next day. They found a high outcrop on which to camp and spent an uneventful second night.

  The next few days passed in a blur of long hours spent on the southern road with diversions for hunting and sleeping. The road was empty and they did not meet a soul. Their conversation became sparse and dwindled as the days passed.

  Tension was building between them. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “What do we do when we get there?”

  Sabine looked at him and shrugged her shoulders, her face despondent.

  Raven cleared her throat. “We go down into the Forcan’s tunnels and try to find the word of truth written on the walls there. Jack, your world is different to ours, perhaps you’ll understand some of the runes he spoke of?”

  “I don’t see how or why, but I’m willing to have a go,” Jack sighed.

  “So that’s our plan? We’ve thousands of Sworn undead about to pour into New Haven and take over the kingdom and we’re off to read some runes on a wall in a passage beneath the Rain Pools. Folly if you ask me,” Sabine declared.

  Raven’s voice was patient. “Do you have a better idea? The fates have conspired to bring us together, Forcan included. We’re like strands in a rope, pulling in one direction. It’s how the divine power works.”

  “Sister, you try my patience, but I’ll bow to your knowledge of the arcane,” Sabine retorted.

  “We really have to climb over that?” Jack interjected.

  Sabine looked ahead. “Aye, the pass of the clouds. We’ll be in bandit territory up there, just as well we’re not carrying anything valuable.”

  “Bandits?” Jack repeated. “What bandits?”

  Sabine kept walking. “New Haven’s patrols tend to keep the lowlands and roads clear of most outlaws but the high mountain passes are fair game for cutthroats and renegades.” She paused. “Loki himself walks the high passes and plays tricks on the eyes. We may even see Yeti.”

  Jack stopped in his tracks. “The Yeti? You’re kidding, right?”

  Sabine turned and looked at him. “You have Yeti in your world?”

  “Yes, I mean no. I mean, well… it’s folklore, myth, legend. It’s not real.”

  “Ours is real, as real as you and me standing here. Believe me we don’t want to meet Yeti up there.” She pointed at the high pass in the distance.

  Raven coughed and spat on the ground. “Aye, we don’t want to meet those bastards, they’ve a taste for human flesh. There’s safety in numbers, that’s how the bandits survive up there.”

  “Oh great. So how do you propose we get up and over the pass without being attacked?” Jack asked, he was realising how much he missed the concrete and glass of New York.

  “Stealth and cunning are the keys to everything,” Sabine retorted. “Stay close to me, be my shadow as Raven is, and we’ll come through this as if we were invisible. Have faith.”

  “Stealth, I know about stealth, lady. This is your country Sabine, I’ll follow your lead.” Jack felt uneasy, his gut had a bad feeling, it was not usually wrong. Still, behind them was a city soon to be overrun by undead, so there was only one way to go, up and over the pass of the clouds.

  It was late in the day, shadows were long, a chill filled the air. Their breath misted as Sabine led the way, taking a narrow path which led away from the road, through the foothills.

  A small cairn to one side marked their departure from the path up a n
arrow defile which steepened dramatically. Soon they were using their hands and feet to overcome the gradient. The terrain was treacherous, strewn with moss covered boulders. By day it would have been difficult, by night it was almost impossible.

  Jack cursed under his breath for the umpteenth time, his feet kept slipping on the rocks. He was about to shout at Sabine to stop, when the boulders came to an end. He looked back, a break in the clouds allowed moonlight through to the valley below. He was surprised to see how much ground they had covered, they had gained significant height, he took a deep breath and looked at what lay ahead.

  A narrow ribbon of scree threaded upwards snaking through the widening defile. His heart sank and he looked at his feet, the boots Raven had bought for him at the market were taking a pounding, they would not last much longer. He snapped out of his reverie, Sabine and Raven were much further ahead. He noted their position and started climbing again, concentrating on every step.

  After twenty minutes he had caught up with them, he was breathless, panting heavily.

  Sabine turned round to face him, steel in her eyes. “Be quiet, don’t you see what’s ahead?”

  Jack froze. He looked up at the ridge, now only fifty yards away. He saw two shapes outlined against the stars.

  Yeti.

  He could not believe his eyes, after all the stories, the myths at home, here they were in the flesh. Real, huge.

  Giants.

  He shuddered when he remembered what Raven had said; their like of human flesh. His heart thundered in his ears, he was surprised they could not hear him. Luckily, they were down wind of the two beasts. A stiff breeze blew from the ridge.

  “What do we do now?” he whispered in Sabine’s ear.

  “We wait,” she hissed, dropping to the ground not taking her eyes off the Yeti.

  Jack nodded and followed suit, falling in beside Sabine and Raven. He looked up at the stars and breathed the night in. He guessed it was about three in the morning. He started fantasizing about a hot meal with wine, followed by a soft bed and clean sheets. He caught himself; that way lay carelessness and danger. He focused and stared up at the ridge again.