‘So, who brought you here?’ I asked, buckling on my belt. ‘Not Kobalos warriors?’
‘No. They were women.’
‘How many?’
‘There were five of them.’
I held my hand out for the sabre. So the purrai had brought Susan to Nunc so that he could drink her blood very slowly, savouring every sip. No doubt he had a different type of pleasure in mind when he dealt with Nessa because she was too skinny and her blood would be thin. He would have used her for blade practice, attempting to cut her as many times as possible without killing her. Eventually she would have died of shock and blood loss. By now, I was certain that the child, Bryony, would have already been given to the warriors to prepare for the feast.
I felt better now. I was stronger, but not yet strong enough. More blood would help. I knew that the most sensible course of action would be to take it from Nessa by force, but something within me resisted that alternative. Then I remembered the snake!
I went over to the edge of the bath and knelt down, immersing my hand in the steaming water.
‘Be careful!’ Nessa exclaimed. ‘There’s a snake in there!’
‘That I know to my cost, little Nessa. It was responsible for putting me in the position you luckily found me in. Now it is the snake’s turn to suffer!’
I’d probably been bitten by the small black snake known as a skulka, greatly feared because its bite induces a swift paralysis. It has the advantage for an assassin in that the presence of its venom in the blood is almost impossible to detect afterwards. Its victims become helpless the moment the poison has entered their bloodstream. Then they die in agony. No doubt Nunc had developed his immunity by gradual exposure to the toxin – the creature was probably his familiar.
My tail was standing erect on my back and, more accurately than eye or ear, it told me precisely where the snake was. It was undulating swiftly towards my hand now.
But just as the skulka opened its mouth, fangs ready to strike, I moved quickly and snatched it out of the water. I held it aloft, gripping it below the head so that it could not bite me. Then – to horrified gasps from Nessa – I bit off its head and spat it out into the water, before sucking the blood from the body.
There wasn’t anywhere near enough, so I tore off another piece of snake and began to chew it carefully. The foolish girl struggled to control her disgust. Couldn’t she see that I did what was necessary in order to save her sister? As I swallowed the flesh, Susan cried out from beyond the door once again.
I turned and smiled at Nessa. ‘Be patient, little Nessa. I need strength. If I am weak, all of us will die.’
Only when I’d finished eating the whole snake did I cross the narrow bridge and approach the rusty iron door. As I expected, it was unlocked, so I pulled it open and stepped into a narrow passageway which ended in a single door. This I also opened and, with Nessa close on my heels, stepped boldly into Nunc’s private quarters.
This spacious room functioned as the study, private armoury and bedroom of a Kobalos High Mage and, as such, was a curious mixture of the spartan and the luxurious. Upon the bare flags stood a large ornate oaken desk, its edges embellished with the finest silver of a type I recognized immediately. It was Combe-quality silver seized fifty-three years earlier in a daring guerrilla raid deep into that human territory far to the south. Nunc’s exploits were well known. He had achieved much but was known to be egotistical and had worked to ensure that his fame spread.
On the far wall hung shields, axes, spears and blades of many types, some very exotic, and beneath them stood a large table covered with maps and piles of papers, held in place by large blue agate paperweights.
The rooms in my ghanbala tree also contain artefacts that are pleasing to look upon, but rather than this ostentatious display of maps and weapons, they represent my own interests: jars of herbs, ointments and preserved fauna and flora which add to my knowledge of the natural world and are useful to my magic.
Here the walls were panelled so extensively that not a trace of stone was visible; some were carved with representations of warriors in full combat armour, including the last King of Valkarky, who had been slain by an assassin.
I spotted Nunc, with Susan in his grasp, his teeth embedded in her neck. By now the girl was unconscious and it was Nessa who suddenly screamed behind me, alerting the High Mage to the threat I posed.
He released the child immediately and leaped backwards. As Susan crumpled to the floor, he seized a huge spear from the wall and brandished it aloft, directing it towards me. He had dressed formally in preparation for the feast, and was unfortunately wearing expensive chain-link armour that I judged thick enough to deflect a blade. But he had intended to eat, not fight, and thus his head and throat were bare and vulnerable to sharp steel.
‘Lord Nunc!’ I cried, my voice filled with anger. ‘You have something of mine and now you must return it!’
As I spoke, I lifted my tail so that it stood up at my back and would give me early warning of my enemy’s intentions. It was fortunate that I did so. There had been no visible indication that Nunc would attack – not even a twitch or the tensing of muscles – but by way of answer he hurled his spear directly at my head. As I have said, my tail had already alerted me to this and I was prepared. As the weapon sped towards me, I moved just one part of my body: I raised my arm and, using the broad flat of the sabre’s blade, skilfully deflected the spear so that it struck the wall close to the door and crashed harmlessly to the stone flags.
Susan opened her eyes then and managed to kneel up on the floor, her eyes staring wildly at the scene about her. The moment she began to scream, Nunc ran over to the far wall, seized a sabre and a shield, and turned to face me.
He was evidently strong: the muscles of his torso, although somewhat thickened about the midriff, bore testament to his daily training in martial skills.
I myself had trained daily when younger, before I became a haizda mage. But now my hunting kept me fit and I preferred to rely on my instincts in battle rather than follow the routines of a High Mage.
It might be that Nunc was some way past his prime, but he would still be dangerous and I was aware that my ordeal in the water had taken its toll on my own stamina. Thus I could not endure a long struggle here. To win, I must finish Nunc off quickly.
With my left hand I undid the top three buttons of my coat and reached inside, withdrawing a short blade. Now, brandishing two blades, I moved round the desk and began to advance slowly towards the mage.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nessa running towards Susan. I thought that she was rushing to comfort her sister, but then, to my astonishment, she picked up the spear that lay on the floor and charged straight at Nunc.
As the spear shattered against his shield, he used the latter like a club, swinging it sideways against the girl. It struck her on the shoulder and sent her flying into the panelled wall.
I saw my advantage. Nunc had made the mistake that would kill him. Taking the opportunity presented by Nessa’s wild charge, I had followed close and swift upon her heels, and now, with a sweep of my sabre, I cut Nunc’s throat.
Seeing my approach, he had tried to bring the shield back across to cover his body, but he was too late. Such was the speed and force of my blow that his head was almost severed. As he fell to the stone flags, I put my own sabre and dagger aside and sank onto my knees beside the dying High Mage.
I must feed. His blood represented strength. It promised a chance to escape from the fortress.
As the blood pumped from Nunc’s neck, I fed greedily, drinking down the hot sweet blood in huge gulps, feeling the life-force filling my body with new strength.
WHEN I’D FINISHED, I stood up and belched loudly. Better out than in!
By now Nessa was back on her feet, holding her shoulder and grimacing with pain. I had been impressed by her bravery – her actions had made it easier for me to defeat Nunc. Her face was pale and I could see her trembling, but apart from a little bruising
she would no doubt make a full recovery. Purrai were very resilient. I smiled at her, but she just stared back, an expression of horror and revulsion on her face. So I licked my lips, went back into the bath house and knelt down beside the water. I bent over until I was almost touching its steaming surface, then, with both hands, began to sluice the blood off my face and hair.
As I finished, Nessa and Susan, arm in arm, came into the chamber behind me. I turned to face the two sisters and smiled again. But they looked at me as if I had done them harm rather than saving them from certain death. Of course, I had to make allowances for their condition. In addition to her damaged shoulder, one side of Nessa’s face was badly grazed. She must have hurt it when Nunc dashed her aside with his shield. And Susan was extremely pale; she had been drained almost to the point of death.
‘I’ll get clothes for both of you,’ I said. ‘Sensible purrai clothes to keep you alive in the blizzard. Then we’ll leave this place.’
Susan opened her mouth but no words came out. She was shaking all over after her experience with Nunc. But Nessa looked angry and determined.
‘What about Bryony?’ she demanded.
‘Of course, Nessa, I’ll get clothes for her too. But now we must escape this fortress. If you are to have any hope of life, you will do exactly what I say.’
I saw no point in upsetting her by revealing that Bryony was probably already dead. She would find out soon enough.
I led the way down the stone steps. Before me, I held out the sabre and a short blade; behind me, my tail stood up, quivering as it searched ahead for the slightest threat.
I seized garments for the two girls from a room used to store the clothes of the tower’s slaves: warm hempen trousers, thick woollen upper garments and a waterproof cape and hood such as were worn by purrai when they attended to their duties in the inner courtyard. Carrying these, I continued the descent.
I hadn’t bothered to collect any clothes for little Bryony – there were none small enough anyway – but Nessa accepted the big bundle I thrust into her arms without suspecting anything.
At last we came to the three rooms. The keys were back in the locks, but all the doors were wide open. I paused as, with a cry, Nessa rushed into all three rooms, one after the other, in search of her sister. Finally, her eyes wild with grief, she stormed up to me.
‘Where is she? Where’ve they taken her?’
‘Best to forget her, little Nessa. She’ll be at peace now.’
‘She’s just a child!’ Nessa cried, her face very close to mine. ‘You promised that she’d be safe!’
‘Forget her. We have to leave now. We must leave or we’ll all die. If you still want to live, follow me now. Soon it will be too late.’
‘I won’t go without her.’
She was testing my patience. ‘Then you’ll die here, little Nessa. You’ll change your mind when you feel the blades cut your flesh. They’ll kill you very slowly . . .’
‘I saved your life,’ Nessa said, her voice almost a whisper. Then she reached forward and wrapped her fingers in my hair, pulling me down towards her until our foreheads were actually touching. ‘You owe me a life. I saved you so you could save my sisters.’
I felt very strange. Her words shouldn’t have been disturbing, but they were. They spoke a truth that I couldn’t deny, but they shouldn’t have had even the slightest power over me. It was odd too to have her so close, to feel her fingers twisting in my hair.
In a strange way I liked it. I also liked the way her forehead was touching mine. No human had ever come so close to me before. No human had ever dared. Most would have put as much distance as possible between them and me. Yet here was this girl holding my head against hers and staring deep into my eyes.
With a sudden jerk, Nessa released me and stepped back, burying her face in her hands.
For a moment I could not think clearly. Then I heard myself speaking, and my voice seemed to come from a great distance; it was as though it belonged to another.
‘Go and get our horses from the stables. Saddle them but leave the cart – the snow will be too deep by now. If your sister lives, I’ll bring her to the outer gate. If I don’t appear by the time you’ve finished readying the horses, ride off without me and head south. The weather will change within two days or less and I will catch you up.’
Then I led the sisters to the door that gave access to the large inner courtyard. When I opened it, snow was still whirling downwards. In the distance I saw the stables, the yellow lantern-light from within reflecting on the wet flags. I turned and thrust the short blade into Nessa’s hand.
‘If any purrai try to stop you, threaten them with this. They fear the blade more than anything – they grow up familiar with its bite. It is the chief means by which they are trained.’
Nessa nodded, determined, and went out into the snow with her sister following. She looked back once and I saw her eyes glitter in the darkness like two distant stars. Once again, I was astonished by what I was doing, astonished by my response to this purra.
From my previous visit here I knew the layout of the tower. The large cellar was used for feasts, and I went down the steps until I came to the stout oaken door. It was not locked. Those within did not fear intruders. I only needed to turn the huge iron ring at its centre and push it open.
I gripped the sabre firmly in my right hand and thrust my tail high up my back, searching beyond the door. First, I found the child. To my surprise, she still lived, but in moments that would change. They were preparing to cut her throat.
I began to assess the level of opposition. Some of those within were cooks; others were armourers or general labourers. Yet that still left thirty-nine hardy, well-trained warriors. I would be facing powerful odds.
Although I never doubted for a moment that I would be victorious, my chances of getting the child out in one piece were not good: in the heat of battle, all things are uncertain.
With my left hand, I slowly turned the ring to the right. Then, equally slowly, I gave the door a little push so that it opened gradually, creaking on its ancient hinges as it did so.
A large open fireplace was the focal point of the huge room; it was set within the far wall so that almost all the occupants – Kobalos warriors and servants – were facing towards it with their backs to me. The room hummed with animated conversation. Several long tables stood between door and fireplace; they were heaped with dishes and tankards, but although there was some food on the plates, the main activity so far had clearly involved drinking a good deal of strong ale. Alcohol dulls the senses – a haizda mage would never defile his body in such a way. Their foolishness pleased me, lowering the odds against me.
The main course was yet to be served. Indeed, it had yet to be cooked. The spit did not currently hold meat, but it would not have long to wait, for Bryony had been forced to her knees close to the fire; a wooden bucket had been placed directly under her head to catch the blood. They had blindfolded the sobbing purra so she couldn’t see what was about to happen to her – more out of expediency than mercy: even as I watched, a blade was being sharpened, ready to slit her throat. And then I saw her executioner and noted the three long, black, braided pigtails that marked him as a particularly dangerous adversary. Those three distinctive plaits showed that he was one of the Shaiksa, a brotherhood of elite assassins that answered only to the Triumvirate of High Mages who ruled Valkarky.
This made saving the child a much more difficult task.
The creak of the door was lost amidst the hubbub of many voices, but I quickly amplified it so that it filled the room with thunder, and all without exception turned to gaze at the source of that strange noise.
I stepped boldly forward into the room and called out in a loud challenging voice so that none could fail to hear my words or understand what it was that I said.
‘Give the child to me!’ I demanded. ‘She is my lawful property and has been taken from me against my wishes and against all customs of hospitality and rights of
ownership.’
NESSA
I LED MY sister, shivering with cold and fear, towards the stables. The wind was driving snowflakes into our faces but the flags were wet and steaming.
‘How could you touch him, Nessa?’ Susan asked. ‘How could you bear to be so close to him?’
‘I did what was necessary to save Bryony,’ I replied.
In truth, I couldn’t believe what I had just done – gripping him by the hair like that and dragging him close so that our foreheads were touching . . . He might have slain me on the spot. I had done it on the spur of the moment, driven to such recklessness by my fear for my little sister. Somehow it had worked and I had survived the encounter.
Since Mother had died giving birth to her, Bryony had been like my own child. I had to save her.
There were two doors giving access to the stables, and as we reached the nearer one, Susan started to whimper with fear. I turned angrily and shushed her. I immediately felt guilty at doing so. I had behaved exactly as the beast would have done. But if any of the Kobalos heard us, we would die here. I thought of poor Bryony and hoped against hope that Slither would be in time to save her. Cautiously I moved into the area of yellow light cast by the lanterns and peered into the stables. The air was much warmer here, and smelled of hay and horse dung.
There were thirty or more stalls, all of them occupied. I began to walk slowly forward, peering into each one, looking for our own animals. I wasn’t sure if I’d entered by the door we’d used before. Perhaps they were at the other end of the block? I strode purposefully forward.
Then two things happened that brought me to a halt. I heard harsh, guttural voices from the far end of the stables. There was nobody in sight, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they sounded like Kobalos. Next I became aware of something else: the first five or six horses were already saddled, each draped with two small bags of what looked like provisions. Why not take these and avoid the delay and risk of finding and saddling our own horses? I said to myself.
The Spook 9 - Slither's tale Page 5
