Symphony of the Wind

by Steven McKinnon

  Tiera snorted. How do you blunt an edge you’ve spent your whole life sharpening?

  ‘Sera?’

  Gallows stared at her name. The major was right—she was here.

  ‘You find something?’ Fallon’s voice floated over him.

  It happened in an instant.

  Gallows flung Basud to the ground and shoved the paper into his face. ‘Why is her name here?’ he rasped. ‘Why is Sera’s name in this list? Answer me!’

  ‘I…’

  The knife found its way to Basud’s throat. ‘Talk!’

  Rend and Sturrock were shouting, Valentine yelled at Fallon. White noise, all of it.

  Basud squirmed beneath Gallows. ‘Answers.’

  ‘Mathieson,’ the doctor spluttered, ‘he, he oversaw the interrogations with Confessor Lenis Cronin! All the people of Idari lineage, they were brought here. Mathieson! He, he kept a diary, anything of note will-’

  ‘Interrogated? Why?’

  ‘For being Idari. That’s all I know!’

  ‘Sera wasn’t Idari—you had no right bringing her here!’

  Putrid sweat rolled from Basud’s skin. ‘Mathieson is the only one who can answer you. I’m sorry, truly I am, but this line of questioning is a waste of time.’

  Sera died during the Amberfire Night. She was never in this place. He’d spoken at her funeral. ‘Is… Is Sera alive?’

  ‘Mister Gallows-’

  ‘Answer the damn question!’

  Basud’s face hardened. ‘No.’

  Gallows’ eyes burned. It was like losing her all over again.

  ‘Forgive me,’ cried Basud, ‘but they don’t bring them here without good reason.’

  That was it. Gallows drove a fist into Basud’s stomach, forcing the air out of him.

  ‘Enough!’ snapped Rend, pulling Gallows to his feet.

  Gallows’ skin bristled. The aches from his wounds faded beneath the tide of grief and anger. ‘You killed Sera.’

  ‘I had no responsibility-’

  ‘Everyone in this place is responsible!’

  ‘Calm yourself.’ Rend pointed his rifle at Gallows. ‘We’ll get to the truth. I promise you. Just don’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘If you’re gonna shoot me then shoot me, Rend. If not, point the gun elsewhere and shut the hell up.’

  Fallon placed a hand on Gallows’ shoulder. ‘We can deal with this later. Give me that list of names. Don’t worry, he ain’t going anywhere. If he played a part in killing your woman, we’ll deal with him ourselves. But right now, we gotta go.’

  Gallows handed Fallon the list. ‘Leave if you want to, and take this piece of shit with you. But I’m not going anywhere—not until I have answers.’

  ‘Gallows, we ain’t got the time to-’

  ‘I’m done taking orders from you, Fallon. The truth about Sera is in this room, and I’m gonna find it.’

  Fallon stood there, sizing Gallows up, probably wondering if it’d be worth punching him. ‘Alright, son,’ he said at last. ‘We dig up as much info as we can find.’

  Gallows closed his eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Sir, I must insist-’

  ‘Shut it, Rend.’

  Diaries, journals, scribbles on paper—anything that looked like it could shed light on Outpost One Three Seven was taken.

  Gallows clung onto his anger, but his lungs tightened in his chest. She didn’t deserve to be taken to this place. He wanted—needed—something that would tell him she was never here. But even if he found answers, Gallows would never forgive himself.

  Sweeping stacks of useless diagrams from a cabinet, he discovered a leather-bound journal. Neat handwriting etched its pages.

  Subject 8249—Tested to see how long sepsis set in following igneus treatment. Inconclusive.

  Subject 4068—Contracted cholera, cured; contracted dysentery, cured; in spite of our immune system suppressants, subject lived much longer than our estimates. More testing required before I can recommend weaponising.

  Subject 1375-A and 1375-B—Identical twins, female; both monitored following impregnation of 1375-A to determine effects on pregnancy following limb amputation and typhoid infection. Same procedures carried out on B. 1375-A survived longer—Dr. Petrokolou posits that this is evidence of the subject’s reinforced ‘will to live’ after being impregnated, though we did not inform her she was carrying child and nor had she displayed any symptoms so early in her term. Interesting.

  Subject 1375-A (#2)—Subject’s foetus perished in Week 4 of pregnancy following igneus treatment—even if it had survived, foetus would likely have been born with severe disabilities and/or mutations. Possible avenue: Add igneus solution at earlier stage, possibly prior to impregnation. More testing required.

  ‘These bastards didn’t even think of their victims as human,’ said Gallows.

  ‘Tyson.’ The features in Fallon’s face drooped, his downturned lips pursed.

  ‘What?’ A weight spread over Gallows’ chest, like the tightening of a straitjacket. He snatched the small leather journal Fallon cradled in his hands.

  22nd Day of Musa: The ignogen weapon has been completed. Some final testing required, but I believe the acting Prime Councillor will be most pleased. Thackeray is a remarkable man—injured during a sortie to the Isles, he has recovered miraculously quickly and taken to office like he was born to it.

  The Lightning Harness is still posing problems, but no matter—I will unlock the secrets of Catryn’s technology eventually. What happened to the RDN Enlighten will not happen here! The Horizon Bridge was a symbolic target, but what if the Idari menace turns its ambitions west? What will we do?

  The Council is pressing ahead with its plan to install a Spire Control Centre at this location—this will mean we can still activate our lightning defences even if the city is overrun. Now, our Spires are a good defence against mass invasions, I agree, but I can’t fathom any nation trying to cross our borders once they have witnessed the power of the ignogen weapon. It will bestow upon us the power of Aerulus himself.

  23rd Day of Musa: More Dalthean citizens of Idari descent were brought in today. They’ve been coming for months of course, but acting Prime Councillor Thackeray has made it legal. To look at them, one wouldn’t think they carried tainted blood—they all look pure Dalthean, Phadrosi, Ryndaran… But that is how their kind works; operating in secret, insidious, spreading among the kingdom like a cancer. We will eradicate it.

  24th day of Musa: A civil servant was among the new batch, a customs official. Seraphine Luvandis. The Confessor will interrogate her as a matter of priority—as a customs official, she would be ideally placed to help the Idari smuggle weapons into Dalthea.

  25th Day of Musa: The ‘Wrath of Aerulus’—I can never resist the lure of the theatrical—has been finalised. All testing is now complete. I believe that this weapon will win the war before it reaches our shores. The customs woman’s interrogation has been delayed—Confessor Cronin was called away. Some new Idari threat had been identified—seems their forces in the Sanctecano Islands are more powerful than we realised. Still, that won’t be enough—just look at Palthonheim.

  27th day of Musa: This woman Seraphine—she’s proving to be tougher than the Confessor had anticipated. Her silence isn’t doing her any favours; merely a clerk in the Customs Authority, her resilience only serves to make her stand out. It is my opinion that she was not even aware of her great-grandfather’s Idari lineage, but Confessor Cronin will get to the truth. He always does.

  30th Day of Musa: Korvan remains the only viable subject—the other one carries too much humanity. A setback to be sure, but not a comprehensive one. The rest still possess modest intelligence, now little more than wraiths, absent any emotion. They will have their uses, I’m sure.

  1st Day of Terros: Things have been busy here. My body is exhausted but my mind possesses a child’s enthusiasm for the work. Great progress. Perhaps now that I have conquered death (albeit partially), sleep can be my next frontier
. How many wasted years have fallen to this pathetic human need?

  Raleigh Trevelyan’s death has been confirmed as a heart attack—Thackeray will officially be our Prime Councillor until the next election. A fortunate turn of events for him.

  Seraphine is perplexing the Confessor. She maintains her innocence, and is likely telling the truth. I think Cronin has taken a shine to her, else he’d have simply handed her to me to use in my research.

  3rd Day of Terros: Belon and Tura have fallen to the Idari, burned to cinders both. To what end, I can only guess; they cannot defeat us. Lenis tells me there has been open fighting in the desert. One Idari scout even got close to this outpost before a sniper sent a bullet through his head. Pity, he would have made a worthy subject.

  General Kurzul tal N’Keres has been transporting test subjects to us—illegally of course—no time for trials or interrogations, even under Thackeray’s new law. The Prime Councillor feels N’Keres will be an asset. However, last night the general murdered a soldier for speaking out against us. Pulled his sidearm and executed him on the spot.

  As a defence, the lightning Spires are effective against airships and large battalions of infantry, but the Idari are cunning. A shame Catryn took to the Fayth and ended up in that pitiful orphanage. Without science to temper it, religion will only hasten rot into her brain. Still, Nivala is convinced she can weaponise her Lightning Harness, news that pleased the Prime Councillor.

  4th Day of Terros: I find myself admiring the Idari. Culaire once said ‘Toast your enemy’s successes’. (No doubt in reference to the uncouth Aurien tal Varaldo.) They have somehow managed to simultaneously destroy the artificial springs in the Steelpeaks, as well as sabotaging the water filtration centres in Irros’ Beckon. Construction of the waterways in the mountains was instrumental in securing Dalthea’s prosperity during the ignicite ‘gold rush’. (A symbolic victory as well as a practical one?) In addition, we know why they burned Belon and Tura to the ground: They killed the inhabitants but kept their bodies. The Idari’s insidious ambition knows no bounds—they have used this abundance of corpses to poison Dalthea’s external wells.

  9th Day of Terros: Lenis Cronin is here—he tells me Idari agents operate within the city. Rioting has broken out and water rationing is in place. The Idari are besieging Dalthea—and they don’t have to fire a shot or loose an arrow. This must have taken years to plan. How did they breach our defences? Are they in league with another nation? In any case, the Prime Councillor—or rather, his underling, a snot-nosed boy by the name of Enfield—has ordered that we enact the ‘Wrath of Aerulus’. It will be transported across Irros’ Bounty the day after tomorrow. I don’t imagine I will sleep between now and then.

  Other matters: Korvan is displaying… Unwelcome tendencies. We initially believed he could not feel pain—now I am not only sure he can feel it, but that he relishes it. The way he looks at me is unsettling. Perhaps it’s just my imagination.

  Oh—before she died (Cronin has not revealed how), Seraphine had let slip that her lover is a soldier. He has been sent overseas to assist with the liberation of the Sanctecano Islands. I understand Prime Councillor Thackeray has dispatched an assassin to silence him in case they are both in cahoots with the enemy. The woman maintained her innocence until the moment she died—normally Lenis has them sign false confessions, but not this one. Will throw her body into the incinerator in the morning.

  Gallows’ skin burned. His throat turned arid. Seeing her name there, knowing she was still alive just days before he returned…

  Hot tears ran into his stubble. ‘Sera was here… She was here and I didn’t know. She was in this place, and she was scared and alone and I couldn’t save her.’

  ‘We’ll nail the people responsible,’ growled Fallon. ‘I promise. But right now, we gotta go. You hear me?’

  ‘I am sorry for your loss Mister Gallows, truly I am.’ Basud’s voice sailed over him. ‘But your commander is right—it’s time to leave.’

  ‘This railway,’ began Fallon. ‘We far?’

  Basud shook his head. ‘A singular platform runs along the track with numerous entry points. Assuming they’re not sealed. The safest way to get there is by going through the utility corridor on sub-level three.’

  ‘Show us.’

  ‘Yes. This way.’

  ‘Gallows,’ said Fallon. ‘We’re on the move.’

  Gallows forced himself to stand. The hairs on his arms prickled, his whole body trembling. ‘This Mathieson.’ Basud stopped mid-step. ‘That was definitely him hanging in that freak show autopsy?’

  Basud glanced at the door before answering. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’

  The doc led them through a labyrinthine passageway full of interconnected conduits, engines and apparatus. Machinery hummed and buzzed, metal tubing groaned, and the constant creak of pipes gave Gallows the sensation they were being followed.

  ‘Y’all weren’t big fans of lamps, huh?’ Valentine mopped her forehead. ‘Hotter’n hell in here too.’

  ‘Boiler room,’ explained Basud. ‘Uncomfortable, but essential to our-’

  ‘Shut up,’ snapped Fallon.

  Jets of steam spouted, draping the passageway in a haze. ‘Can hardly see a damn thing,’ Sturrock added.

  ‘Stay close and keep your eyes open,’ the major called from the front. ‘There’s at least two more Wraiths.’

  ‘Doc,’ whispered Gallows.

  ‘I’ll answer all of your questions when we reach safety.’

  ‘Those commandos—are they already dead?’

  Basud loosened his collar. ‘We can discuss it later.’

  Mathieson’s notes told Gallows that she wasn’t involved in his experiments—but he needed reassurance, needed to know she was at peace. ‘Did Sera… Was she… turned into one of those things?’

  ‘Mister Gallows, please-’

  ‘I have to know.’

  Basud tutted. ‘Confessor Cronin and Doctor Mathieson dealt with those projects, not me. That said, I am fairly certain only males were selected for the Wraith Unit. All other prisoners were cremated after death. Please, no more questions.’

  The tension in his muscles eased. I’ll get justice for you, Sera. I promise. But there were still more questions to ask. ‘What’s “Korvan”?’

  ‘I-’

  Fallon held up his fist. ‘Got somethin’.’ He bent down, examined something on the floor, and grunted.

  ‘Sir?’ said Rend. ‘What is it? Gods above!’

  Gallows shouldered past the lieutenant. There, on the floor, the severed head of a Wraith stared up at him, mask ripped asunder and eyes white and lifeless. Judging by the trailing spinal cord, it was not a surgical cut.

  Gallows motioned to the barred iron door ahead of them. ‘Think he was trying to escape?’

  ‘We’ll find out. Rend, door. Sturrock, Valentine, on me; get ready.’

  Gallows assisted Rend with the door. It scraped along the concrete floor, revealing a vast chamber steeped in darkness—and a railway track. They stepped through, the air much cooler here.

  ‘The carriage should be in this room, or at least nearby,’ whispered Basud. ‘Thank the Gods.’

  ‘Oi.’ Sturrock motioned to a half-constructed thruster. ‘That looks like an Eagle thruster. You got airships here?’

  ‘This facility was to be used as a staging ground should the skyport fall to the enemy,’ Basud explained. ‘The Council were developing a new generation of fighter aircraft to be deployed from warships. I don’t believe they were ever completed. Wait—yes, there!’

  Gallows could make out the hulking outline of a train.

  Sturrock grabbed Valentine and kissed her. ‘To Hell with not kissin’ on the job.’

  Val smiled and pushed him off. ‘Just wait ’til I get you home.’

  And that’s when Gallows found the rest of the Wraith—arms and a leg, skin ripped to ribbons.

  Mum’s blackberry jam. An odd image, but that’s what the gore reminded
him of.

  ‘Y’all sure we wanna go this way?’ Valentine asked.

  ‘Yes!’ urged Basud. ‘The train is right there!’

  Rend bent down, examining the bloodied limbs. ‘Doctor, what could do this? What else is down here?’

  ‘It… Animals. We had kennels, pens, incubation apparatus for… But… Surely not.’

  ‘Terros give me strength,’ muttered Gallows. ‘If there’s a giant goddamn snake here, I’ll pick its teeth with your bones, Doc.’

  ‘Amaraxes,’ Basud said. ‘Amaraxes. Come, the train-’

  With bared teeth, Fallon asked, ‘And what in Aerulus’ arsehole is an amarax?’

  ‘Wolves,’ replied Gallows.

  Basud looked impressed. ‘Indeed. You are well versed in folklore, Mister Gallows.’

  ‘I’ve read a book or two.’

  ‘Inspired by worldwide mythologies,’ Basud began, ‘and tal Culaire’s poem Amyrax, Amyrax—we bred wolves to be used as weapons. Huge beasts they are, possessing the ferocity of Belios himself.’

  ‘And said to drink the blood of their prey,’ Gallows added.

  ‘We believe that to be a falsehood, a touch of flavour for the story. Nonetheless, the amarax is a perfect predator.’ Basud’s mouth crinkled.

  ‘You admire them,’ said Gallows. ‘These creations of yours.’

  Basud shifted on the spot. ‘Doctor Mathieson was a gifted man.’

  ‘Yeah. He mentioned tal Culaire too. In his diary.’

  Basud stiffened. Even in the low light, Gallows witnessed his face pale.

  Silence. Just for a moment, calm silence. ‘Mister Gallows, I-’