Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  Sable guided Sanguino back up to the walls, and he soared over the remaining stretch of battlements until the last ballistae had been reduced to burning ruins. At the base of the ramp, hundreds of civilians were staring up at the walls, watching the destruction of the defences. With a roar, they surged forwards, breaking into the gardens and spilling up the slope towards the ramp. More were emerging from the shadows of the ruined streets, armed with farm tools and stolen Banner weapons, and the hundreds turned into thousands, a vast mob of vengeful humanity.

  Sanguino turned away from the battlements. Companies of soldiers were rushing through the streets of Old Alea from the direction of the Governor’s residence, and more ballistae were being prepared from the backs of several wagons.

  ‘Quickly, Badblood,’ Sable said; ‘get them before they can loose at us.’

  Sanguino beat his wings and surged through the air, crossing the narrow terraced streets of Old Alea where the mortals lived. He sent a long stream of flames down the centre of the road, engulfing the wagons and the ballistae operators, and sending the companies of soldiers scattering for cover. The dark red dragon banked as he approached the edge of the huge structure of the Governor’s residence.

  Sable glanced at the building, her gaze lingering on the western tower where she had killed Maisk. A solitary figure was standing on the roof of the tower, his skin seeming to give off its own light, as if a star had descended from the skies.

  ‘The Second Ascendant,’ she gasped. ‘Turn; get us away from the residence.’

  ‘Is this not our chance to kill him, my rider?’

  ‘His death powers will kill you first. I’m immune, but you’re not.’

  Sanguino banked again, and the figure on the roof raised his hand. The dragon let out a cry of agony, and Sable could feel his pain through her connection to him. She urged him on, and he soared away, nearing the estate of Felice, where the mansion was still burning. He began to descend, his strength failing, and they tumbled towards the ground. Sable clung on as he crashed into the gardens of the estate, his limbs buckling under his weight and ploughing furrows across the grass as he skidded to a halt, unconscious.

  Sable released the waist belt and slipped to the ground, her legs shaking. She drew her sword and scanned the gardens. A few people were staring across the parkland at them from the vicinity of the burning mansion, but no soldiers were approaching. She placed her left hand onto Sanguino’s side, and felt the beat of his heart; it was weak, but persisting. She circled the dragon looking for threats, knowing that soldiers would be diverting to their location. A powerful feeling struck her temples and was rebuffed, and she realised that the Second Ascendant was trying to access her mind. Having failed, he would likely guess her identity as a Holdfast, and send everything he had against her and the dragon.

  She leaned against the still form of Sanguino to catch her breath, then heard the sound of boots in the distance. Glancing up, she saw ranks of soldiers entering the gardens from the direction of the residence. They took a few moments to form up into a thick line, creating a deep shieldwall, then began their advance.

  Sable drew on her remaining battle-vision. If she was going to die, then she would do so defending her dragon. With some surprise, she realised that she loved Sanguino more than she loved any human. He understood her, and yet accepted her the way she was; he hadn’t tried to change her, and treated her as his equal. She glanced at the crossbows that bristled from the front of the approaching shieldwall.

  ‘Come on, you bastards!’ she cried.

  She cursed her luck, and cursed the words that Kelsey had whispered to her in the valley close to the Catacombs. She had met her nephew, as Kelsey had foreseen, and with the prophecy fulfilled, there was nothing to prevent her death.

  ‘Sorry, Badblood,’ she whispered. ‘You should be on Dragon Eyre with the others. What have I done?’

  The ranks of soldiers had crossed the first stretch of grass, and were approaching the range where they would be able to cut her down with their crossbows. Another rumble of noise grew nearer, and she turned, expecting to see yet more soldiers close in on her position.

  She was wrong; it was the mob from the city. Hundreds of armed civilians, many with blue sashes or red armbands, were entering the gardens through a different gate. They raced across the parkland, among the neat lines of trees, and slammed into the side of the Banner formation. The outnumbered soldiers kept their lines intact, but were pushed back, their shieldwall contracting under the strain as the mob swarmed round them.

  A few of the mob peeled off from the others and reached where she stood next to the fallen dragon.

  ‘We saw you go down,’ said one with a blue sash over his shoulder. ‘Is your dragon alive?’

  ‘He is,’ she said, watching as the Banner forces retreated back across the gardens, their numbers lessening as they attempted to withdraw.

  ‘We shall protect him,’ said the man; ‘and you. You broke down the gates.’

  ‘You’ll protect him? You swear it?’

  ‘We swear it, miss.’

  Another civilian, with a red band round his arm looked closer at the dragon. ‘It’s Sanguino!’

  The other rebels gasped.

  ‘You can’t trust the Blue Thumbs to protect him, miss,’ cried the Shinstran. ‘They wanted to kill him in the arena.’

  ‘We did,’ said the Torduan, ‘but that seems a long time ago now.’

  Two men pushed their way through the crowd.

  ‘Are you both alright?’ said Corthie, his eyes wide.

  Next to him, Van was staring at the fallen dragon.

  ‘I’m fine, nephew,’ she said, ‘but Sanguino…’

  Corthie rushed forwards, his hand fumbling in a pocket. He took out a small vial, and opened the dragon’s jaws with his free hand, his heels digging into the ground as he strained. He emptied the contents of the vial onto Sanguino’s tongue and stood back.

  The dragon shook, causing the crowd to edge away a few feet, then he opened his eyes. He glanced around at the crowd, then his gaze settled on Sable.

  ‘You’re safe,’ she said. ‘Corthie used his salve on you.’

  The Shinstrans in the crowd cheered, while a few Torduans looked nervous.

  ‘Thank you, Corthie,’ said the dragon. He turned to Sable. ‘We should fly, my rider. My heart aches for vengeance against that damned Ascendant.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘If you go up again, he will strike you down again, and that was the last of the salve.’

  ‘None of us can get close to the Governor’s residence, miss,’ said a Torduan. ‘Anyone who tries has their skin melted off.’

  Sable glanced at Corthie. ‘You’re like me, aren’t you? Immune.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Van,’ she said, ‘stay here with Sanguino; protect each other. Corthie and I will go to the residence.’

  ‘But, my rider,’ said the dragon; ‘I fear for you.’

  ‘This is the only chance we’ve got. On foot, Corthie and I might be able to break into the residence. The death powers of the Ascendants cannot harm us.’

  ‘No,’ said Van, ‘but a crossbow bolt through the throat would.’

  ‘Then do your job,’ she said. ‘The job of everyone here is to keep the soldiers busy.’ She glanced around the crowd. ‘Do you hear me? Keep the soldiers’ attention over here. Loot, burn and destroy the mansions of the gods, but leave the homes of the mortals untouched. Corthie and I will do what needs to be done. Are you with me, nephew?’

  ‘I’ll be right by your side.’

  She smiled, then glanced back at the crowd. ‘If we’re successful, we’ll bring Quadrants back with us, and everyone left alive will be saved.’

  ‘But where will we go?’ said a Shinstran. ‘Corthie told us that Lostwell is being destroyed.’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ said Sable; ‘one thing at a time.’

  She walked over to Sanguino and placed her palm against the dark red scales. ‘Wait here for me
, my beloved. You will draw the soldiers to you. Van and the other humans will fight by your side today.’

  ‘Please, my rider, be careful.’

  She kissed the side of his head. ‘I will.’

  ‘Folk of Alea Tanton,’ cried Corthie; ‘the dawn that approaches will be the last that Lostwell sees. This night, let Torduans, Shinstrans and Fordians fight as one, alongside the red dragon. If we survive this, you can quarrel again tomorrow; but for now, your unity is all that will save you.’

  Van stuck out his hand. ‘Good luck, Corthie.’

  He shook it, then he and Sable raced away, running towards the gates leading to the residence, the thick crowds parting to let them through.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ said Corthie, as they entered the streets outside Felice’s estate.

  ‘Kill everything in our path until we have a Quadrant in our hands.’

  ‘Do you know how to use one?’

  ‘Come on, Corthie; this is Auntie Sable you’re talking to. Of course I know how to use a Quadrant.’

  They turned a corner and saw the huge residence ahead of them. They ducked into the shadows along the side of the street and slowed their pace.

  ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘The world is ending,’ she said, ‘and millions are dead; I’m ready for anything.’

  Chapter 29

  The Key

  A lea Tanton, Tordue, Western Khatanax – 4th Kolinch 5252

  Belinda paused behind the smoking ruins of the barricade by the door, allowing her powers time to heal the wounds inflicted by the three crossbow bolts. Hundreds had been loosed at her in a barrage that had lasted minutes, but her new armour had deflected most. Beyond the barricade, the bodies of the soldiers were piled so deep that they were blocking the landing leading to the stairwell. The attack had been brought to a halt, but her escape route was sealed off.

  She didn’t care. She would go down with Lostwell, and her only hope was to prevent the Second Ascendant from being able to take her or the Sextant back with him when he returned to Implacatus.

  The massed soldiers with their bows had been the second wave that had attempted to breach Leksandr’s old study that night. The first had been a team of demigods, each equipped with battle-vision and death powers, and she had cut them down and thrown their bodies from the window, the Weathervane singing in her hands as she had wielded it.

  She glanced outside, searching in vain for signs of the coming dawn, then sat down next to the Sextant, the Weathervane across her knees. She paused for a moment, then turned back to the window. Lady Felice’s estate was ablaze, and more flames were coming from the vicinity of the gatehouse that guarded the approach to Old Alea.

  She stood to get a better look. As she did so, the air shimmered behind her. Without hesitating, she rolled to the floor, as Arete lunged forward with a sword, a Quadrant clutched in her left hand. Belinda sprang back to her feet, the Weathervane held out.

  ‘Leksandr got me that way,’ she said. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t have learned?’

  Arete said nothing, her eyes tight.

  ‘Are you going to flee, now that your little plan has failed?’ Belinda said. ‘Are you going to run back to Edmond?’

  ‘Bastion was right; you’ve gone completely insane. What are you trying to accomplish? You cannot hope to win.’

  ‘All I need to do is stop you from winning.’

  Arete laughed. ‘You fool. Did you know that, even now, the blessed Second Ascendant thinks you can be saved? He doesn’t realise that it’s much too late for that.’

  ‘You should be careful what you say; he’s probably in your head right now, Arete, watching you fail to kill me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he is. At least he’ll see the extent of your treachery. You’ve already killed four demigods this night, not to mention putting Renko out of his misery.’

  ‘They were sent here to arrest me, to place me in chains, or put me back in the mask.’

  ‘Lord Edmond wishes to offer you a deal.’

  ‘He does? Then why did you strike as soon as you arrived? Did he expect you to fail?’

  ‘Perhaps he did. If you leave this chamber voluntarily, he promises that you can walk free from the residence. Despite his feelings, the Sextant is worth more to him than you. What do you say to that, Belinda? I think it’s the best offer you’re going to get tonight.’

  ‘Do you believe his promises, Arete?’

  Arete smirked. ‘What I believe is immaterial.’

  ‘If you give me the Quadrant, I’ll let you live. Do you believe me?’

  Arete’s eyes wavered for a moment, and Belinda struck. She surged forward, swinging the dark blade in both hands. Arete raised her sword, but the Weathervane sliced through the steel blade as if it wasn’t there. Arete’s fingers brushed over the surface of the Quadrant just as the Weathervane connected with her neck. Her body vanished from the room, but her head remained. It fell to the floor and rolled onto the rug.

  Belinda looked away, then bent down and picked it up by the hair, then hurled it through the open window. She wiped the blade on the rug, smearing it in blood.

  She had just slain an Ascendant, one of the most powerful and ancient beings in existence, but she didn’t feel any different. Arete’s death hadn’t given her any joy or satisfaction, nor had it repelled her. Her only regret was that she had been a fraction of a second too slow. Any quicker, and she would have obtained a Quadrant, and now it was back in Edmond’s possession, along with the headless body of the Seventh Ascendant.

  She sat down, her back to the Sextant. No sound was coming from beyond the half-burnt and smouldering barricade, and she wondered who would be coming next to try to defeat her. Bastion, perhaps? She could scarcely believe that Edmond would put himself at risk; he would prefer to send minion after minion, but what would happen when he tired of that? He had the power to destroy the entire western tower, crushing her under a thousand tons of rubble. She glanced at the Sextant. During a lull between the first and second waves of attackers, she had spent some time probing the device with the sword, looking for places where it could snugly fit. She had found a couple, but the device had remained inactive. Was it supposed to spring into life if she found the right spot? Some of the parts inside the device seemed to be made of the same dark metal as the sword, and she presumed that they were significant in some obscure way. She peered closely at the interior, her mind trying to make sense of the jumble of cogs and pipes. It looked fragile, but she had seen what it had gone through in Fordamere. If Edmond did decide to collapse the tower, the Sextant would probably be the only thing that would survive.

  The chandelier above her tinkled as another earthquake rumbled through Alea Tanton. She longed to send her vision out to investigate, but if Bastion arrived with a sword and a Quadrant while she was gazing out onto the city, her resistance would be brought to a swift end.

  She remembered the flames rising from the gatehouse in the walls; what did they signify? Were the mortals rising up against their overlords and assaulting Old Alea? She hoped so. If they were all doomed to die, then it was better that they met their ends with defiance in their hearts rather than despair. Her people were being exterminated, like vermin, so that Edmond could wash his hands of Lostwell; her Lostwell. Nathaniel may have made it, but she was its Queen.

  * * *

  A long, slow hour passed. The tower was in silence, though she could hear sounds coming from the streets of Old Alea. Fighting was going on, and she guessed she had been correct about there being an uprising, but she had remained in the seat, her eyes continually scanning the room, her right hand gripping the hilt of the Weathervane.

  Where was Edmond? The last place she had seen him was up on the roof of the tower, but she doubted that he would still be there. Perhaps he was dealing with the uprising, knowing that Belinda was contained within Leksandr’s old rooms. Maybe the death of Arete had scared him, and he had already abandoned Lostwell to its fate. No, he would
n’t have left without the Sextant, for it was his only route to securing the supply of salve. She suppressed her frustrations; she needed to stay alert, ready.

  She heard a soft sound come from beyond the barricade. She got to her feet and raised her left hand, preparing her powers. A figure peered over the smoking couch blocking the entrance.

  ‘Corthie?’ she cried.

  Belinda ran forward as the figure clambered into the room. She threw her arms around him, tears coming to her eyes.

  ‘Belinda,’ he said, ‘are you alright?’

  ‘You’re alive,’ she said, stepping back to look up at his face. ‘When Edmond sent the Banner out against you, I thought…’

  ‘You thought what?’ said another voice.

  Belinda turned, and her eyes narrowed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘What do you think?’ said Sable. ‘We’re trying to get off this world before you crazed Ascendants destroy it. Do you have a Quadrant?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What have you been doing in here?’ said Corthie. ‘The stairwell is full of bodies.’

  Sable strode past them and stood before the Sextant. ‘She’s been defending this… thing.’

  ‘Yes. If I can stop Edmond taking it, I will. I’ve been here for hours. They’ve sent soldiers and demigods against me. Even Arete.’

  Sable turned. ‘You fought Arete?’

  ‘I killed her.’

  Corthie’s eyes widened. ‘You killed an Ascendant on your own?’

  ‘I am an Ascendant, Corthie; the Third. You should know that I have death powers now.’

  ‘They won’t work on us,’ said Sable.

  ‘And why would you think I’d want to use them on you?’

  ‘You tried to kill me the last time we met.’

  Belinda’s temper bubbled to the surface. ‘You attacked me, Sable. You didn’t give me a chance to explain what I was doing; you lunged at me with your sword. And didn’t you have a Quadrant? What happened to it?’