Wait… I said, do you mean that one where—
Exactly! my familiar finished smugly. That one that made us all mad. He would cast it on anyone who wasn’t nobility or on the Stellar Council.
We could cast it on ourselves! Petalbell chimed in brightly. Since it works for long periods of time, the Howlers won’t be able to track our scent!
That wound up being the best idea any of us had, so we went with it. The Air mages among us divided everyone up and cast the spell as quickly as they could.
Ugh, Teeth groaned to me, this feels weird.
Really? I asked, as Breena floated next to me. I can barely notice.
That’s because I handle most of our sense of smell, my inner dragon replied. Right now, it feels like a good chunk of everyone around us has disappeared.
That does sound weird, I noted as the last few spells finished. I heard my group puzzle out what to do after we had ascended the walls, and then decide that we would stick to the alley streets, heading for Karim’s old neighborhoods.
I thought about asking him which in our group smelled the worst, but then I decided the Testifiers were going to share their own opinions about it at some point, and I didn’t want to ruin our verbal exchanges with the truth.
We stretched our limbs and prepared to scale the walls.
CHAPTER 18: QUICKLY AND QUIETLY
With our scents covered up, and our stealth magic reactivated, we decided that the best way to scale the walls would be slow levitation magic, since climbing the walls directly would take too long, and flying quickly would displace more air than we could conceal.
So, with Breena and Petal keeping watch, we slowly rose up over the walls two at a time, crept quickly across the wide ramparts, and then dropped back down into the city streets, using our magic again to cushion our fall.
It was tense work, despite how confident I was in our stealth craft. Tajam’s walls seem to grow taller as we floated up them, and the up-close sight of the city itself nearly took my breath away. The towers, spires, and other structures seemed to loom over us as soon our feet touched the rampart walkway.
But we couldn’t afford to let it distract us, because there was a patrol of Howlers less than a hundred feet away from us. That was the maximum distance our fairy scouts had been able to give us, the walls had been so packed with patrols. Given how rare Howlers were compared to other Horde, that was a bad indicator for how fortified this city was.
I took one moment to take in their appearance before vaulting over the ramparts’ opposite edge. The werewolf-like creatures were seven feet tall, with black plate armor over their legs and arms. Their torsos wore black chainmail and boiled leather, while their heads were completely uncovered. My enhanced eyes spotted the same metal the last Howlers had worn over their teeth and claws, but beyond that, I could see quivers strapped to their backs containing either javelins or long arrows.
I grimaced as I floated back down the ramparts. Missile weapons were a rare sight among the Horde, which was a weakness we commonly exploited. Should that fact change, there could be some uncomfortable consequences, both for my group and for any of the local defenders of Avalon’s worlds.
But it didn’t change our long goals, so as I landed softly I fell into position behind Weylin and the others. We had decided I would go last, since I was the most likely to be detected by any Howler guards. Now that I had landed safely, we took off immediately.
Breena and Petal had run through the streets less than an hour ago, so Weylin and Karim had taken what they had seen to work out a path to what we currently thought would be a safe neighborhood. Val kept the shadows around us, and I maintained my grip on Carnwennan’s shroud.
And every ten minutes, Salima and I would cycle using the Breath.
It was not nearly as informative as it once was.
For whatever reason, the sensations returning were dim, much like they had been just before we left Mejem.
Everything wanted to stay still. Everything wanted to stay quiet.
They might catch me, over a thousand different voices washed back to me.
Those words were like a floodgate opening me up to an unchecked river of fears.
They have taken the others.
No one knows why.
We followed their rules.
Smothered our hunger; gave our tithes.
Kept ourselves humble and low.
But now they scorn their own rules,
And my father is in their Pit.
Will I be next?
Will my daughter be next?
How can we not be next?
I do not know what to do.
Help me…
The voice drifted away, as more took its place.
He is coming, a bestial voice growled.
But he has taken too long.
And now we must hide ourselves.
Something awakens in the south,
Something unknown, and older than ourselves.
How can anything be older than ourselves?
I must have him, rend him, kill him,
But I must hide as well,
Because he has challenged something dreadful,
Something grown mighty with age
And now it is coming.
Great, I thought, another wrinkle in our plans.
But I kept listening, sifting through the sea of voices for more information.
The Malus Men themselves were strangely quiet, I found, though their Horde continued to holler and wail through my mind. Sifting through them all was a frustrating experience, and I reminded myself to get more guidance from the Wealthwalkers.
But then, somehow, I caught one last voice.
Too late.
The fool has come too late.
Stay hidden, stay silent.
Too many hunters.
Too many beasts.
Too many fell men.
Too many old terrors awakening from the sand.
And too much of the one who whispers for me from the void.
I came here for him, and will still do what I can, but I can go no farther.
It is too late.
Why did the fool come so very late?
Anahita. Stell’s Satellite had come here.
And she was in trouble.
We turned another corner on another silent street. No people or Horde were in sight.
But when I looked up, I could see a hunched, beaked figure hulking over a corner rooftop, looking like a misplaced gargoyle.
One that briefly tilted its head in our direction, then disinterestedly looked away.
I gritted my teeth. Stealth games were my least favorite in real life, and now I was finding that the real thing was over a hundred times worse.
But Carnwennan’s shroud continued to muffle us, and Val’s shadows continued to assist my dagger in concealing us. We turned another corner, and continued to pass through the dark, empty streets unnoticed.
I reached through the Breath again, specifically looking for Stell’s local Satellite, hoping I could trace her thoughts and exhalations back to her location.
But this time, there was only a quick, apprehensive gasp, and then her voice vanished completely.
Breena, I sent after taking a moment to swear, I think Anahita’s here. Can you reach her?
Really? she asked, quickly looking about as we caught our breath for a few moments in an alley. I can’t sense her at all. Hold on…
She flew next to me, still shrunken to the size of my hand. I saw her pink brows furrow in concentration.
Drat, she said, I can’t sense her at all. And unlike Merada and Via, she’s been around long enough for me to be able to. I’ll try and send a whisper spell later. If she’s around at all, it should work. I’ll do it as soon as we find somewhere safe enough for us to hunker down.
I wanted to argue that Anahita may not have time, but Breena had a point. I didn’t doubt that she wanted to find her fellow Satellite at least as badly as I did. But using any extra magic
right now would risk detection, which was why only our stealth spells were active right now. I had even deactivated my body augmentation spells.
And if someone I cared about was trying to hide from nearby danger, it would be a real stupid move on my part to shout their name and announce that I was looking for them.
A loud, bestial cry echoed from a nearby street, as if to accentuate my point. Our group slowed and ducked into a nearby alley.
Another cry answered, along with some harsh, snarling words. I thought it came from a Mongrel’s voice. This was the first normal Hordebeast we had encountered since entering Tajam.
The Mongrels were the strongest of the normal Hordebeasts, but it was still odd to hear only one or two of them, especially with so many elite Horde along the walls.
But the two Mongrels snarled and shouted again. Now that they were closer, I could tell that they were arguing about being on patrol. A few moments later, I could hear more high-pitched snarls, the sounds of Wretches and Miscreants, and it became clear what they were arguing about.
The Miscreants and Wretches did not want to be out on patrol when there was prey in all the homes nearby, and the Mongrels did not want to be in charge of keeping them out of said homes.
We continued to wait in the alley shadows as the patrol emerged into view. By now, I could hear one of the Wretches argue that it was unfair they were one of the only groups out at night, when all of the other groups got to sleep or guard the remaining prey.
The two Mongrels snarled at the Wretch to be silent, and then the whole group came into view.
There were no more than a dozen, meaning they barely outnumbered my own retinue, but they were all well-equipped. The horned Wretches wore tailor-made helmets and boiled leather cuirasses, while the Miscreants and Mongrels all wore heavy coats of mail layered beneath with what looked to be padded brigandine. Their shields, spears, and swords all gleamed with polish, made of the black metal the Horde somehow managed to make from their Pits.
We could crush them in moments, I knew. But then all of the Horde in Tajam would be upon us.
As would whatever was hunting Anahita.
We hunkered down in the shadows, as Val and I carefully tuned our magics to provide us the maximum amount of careful concealment. The patrol passed us by, with barely a glance in our direction. Only two of the quieter, feline-eared Miscreants even bothered glancing toward our ally, apparently not seeing us, and then they scowled and turned their attention to the rest of their arguing pack. Eventually, one of the gargoyles overhead screeched angrily at them, and the group finally stopped barking at each other and resumed their patrol in a sulky silence.
That was fine. They could live for now.
There would be a bloodbath in this city, but on my terms. Not theirs.
We waited for a few more moments, and then we began to move again.
We heard a few more screeches, but we didn’t run into any more patrols. Our silent, tense journey ended a few dozen minutes later. We passed into a wealthier district with houses that were larger, more opulent, and, somehow, even more quiet and menacing.
We’re here, Karim sent through the mindlink, slow down. Let me take the lead.
We did so, with Weylin surrendering his point position to his fellow scholar. The robed scribe narrowed his eyes as he walked forward, peering into the dark streets void of any light but starlight. I felt his frustration over the mindlink, no doubt caused by all the things different from his memory of the place.
This is not right, he whispered into our minds. So many of these homes are vacant.
How can you tell? I asked, as we crept slowly through the shadows, keeping as close to the alleys and building walls as we could. Every building here is dark and silent. They all seem vacant.
In response, he sent what he was focusing on through the mindlink, drawing my gaze to a tapestry hanging out of the bottom of a nearby shuttered window.
The houses in this neighborhood have all belonged to families of Script mages for centuries, he explained. They all boast a rich, storied history, one that they have taken great pains to record on tapestries that they proudly display outside their homes. In the past, those tapestries have only been taken down when the family gives up possession of the home—something they almost never do.
Could they have just taken them down to try and lay low? I heard Val ask. What with the occupation, and all the political infighting going on at the Testifier campuses?
That is only vaguely possible, Karim confided, with Weylin projecting his agreement. The families bearing these tapestries had flown them during times of strife, war, and even Tumults. They have flown them in the face of scandals and assassination attempts—and even after someone in the home was assassinated. In fact…
He took another step forward, and I felt the Script mage’s focus lock onto a certain tapestry. Then I felt him grow more frustrated.
Blast. It’s too dark, he complained, and we can’t risk casting more magic. I need to get closer to one of these tapestries.
Lead the way then, I commanded, we’ll cover you.
It felt risky, given the ominous silence these buildings projected all around us, but we crept our way towards one of the buildings. I heard no voices from the nearby buildings. No sounds of laughter, no arguing, no crashes from anyone stumbling through the dark as they got out of bed for an annoying nighttime need. And every tapestry-less building we walked past was as silent as an open grave.
Still, though, nothing jumped out at us. No Horde patrol wandered near us. No trap activated, like it had in the last Horde Pit. Another gargoyle monster screeched from the distant rooftops, but the cry was muted, as if it had happened leagues away instead of a half-dozen city blocks.
It was as if we had walked into a dark, thick bubble of calm, one that threatened to pop at any moment.
Karim held up his hand to halt us when he felt we were close enough. I saw him step around to see the tapestry better, leaving the shadows for a long, all-too-risky moment. But he seemed to find what he was looking for, because he gave a satisfied nod.
At least I know what happened now, he sent through the mindlink. The tapestries are updated every time there is a new death, birth, or other significant event in the family.
Wouldn’t that make them all super-super long then? Val asked curiously. Since your families are all centuries old?
It would, Karim sent with a small, grim smile, if we could not simply shrink our magical font. But they are made long anyway.
Oh, my little sister said in an embarrassed tone, my bad. Carry on.
It was not a bad question, and I will happily explain more later, he sent gently, but more importantly, they have been carefully updated with news regarding the current events. This tapestry notes that several families have ‘disappeared.’ Entirely.
Disappeared as in ‘murdered?’ I asked cautiously, fearing the worst.
Unlikely, Karim answered me, eyes still roaming across the long cloth. I briefly wondered how his eyes could read anything in this dim starlight, but perhaps he was just reading the magical signature on the words. Normal deaths are still tracked—those from accidents, sickness, or old age. And we have special symbols and phrases unique to our families, that we use to reference things like murder or political executions. It is more likely that this message alludes to entire families being thrown in the Horde Pit. Which, according to our legends and before the Lord Challenger came along, was a fate just as final as death, only much worse.
The false Earthborn almost never needed to carry out executions, Eadric said darkly. The threat of the Pits was far more effective, and every victim gave their Horde pets power.
Indeed, Petal sent, her voice sounding quiet and small in our minds. But things are different now, she said in a much stronger voice. Every first person thought lost forever is now that much closer to freedom. You can save them, Lord Challenger. We can save them.
Knives in the Night Page 28
