by Eric Asher
“Neil,” Ward said.
He was on his knees beside one of those clouds, golden armor engraved with the stories of a thousand years. His black and white wings, patterned like those of a moth, drooped forward over his shoulders, resting by his short and pointed ears. Blood ran from a wound in his arm. His head sank as he took a slow breath and turned to Ward with narrowed eyes, framed by sharp features. Though they were in shadow, Ward knew Neil’s eyes were a brilliant green.
“You’re glowing,” Neil said, sounding more sober than when he’d first appeared.
Ward glanced down at his arms. The lines and runes tattooed along them glowed with a faint blue hue, much like the ley lines around them.
“Light where there is none,” Ward said as his finger traced one of the runes. He pulled back the collar of his black shirt, grimacing as he remembered the blood on his hand, and saw the tattoos on his chest glowing as well. Ward blew out a breath and wrapped his right hand around his forearm.
“Lily’s gone,” Neil said as he pulled a white cloth from beneath his cuirass.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded as he threw the cloth to Ward.
Ward hadn’t known Lily. He’d met her once. She seemed nice enough, a cunning warrior, but cunning warriors could still die. Ward wiped the blood off his hands and arms, and it felt like a weight had lifted to some small degree. There were no stains on the cloth when Ward tossed it back to Neil.
The fairy wiped down his sword and armor, and still the cloth remained free of stains. Ward stared at his hands. There might not be blood on them now, but he didn’t know if they’d ever feel wholly clean again.
“There will be a war after this,” Neil said as he slammed his sword into its sheath. The metallic ring echoed out around them, fading quickly into the sound of crackling flames and the thunder of another falling tower.
“It’s been coming for a long time.” Ward dusted his hands off and offered to help Neil up. “This is only the spark to light the flames.”
Neil waved Ward off. “It’s more than that. You know it’s more than that. They killed royalty today. Water witches and the king’s own fell with Falias.”
“Falias,” Ward said as he looked around at the destruction again. He heard another building creaking and rumbling as it fell to pieces in the distance. “One of the hidden cities. How did Ezekiel find it? Why didn’t the king—”
Neil stood abruptly, stepping quickly into Ward’s personal space and startling him into silence. “Do not question his will. If the king had been here, this would not have happened. But his retaliation will be war. War with Ezekiel.” His voice fell to a vicious whisper as he grabbed the front of Ward’s shirt. “Do you understand what will happen? The king will leave nothing behind. He will raze your entire world as long as Ezekiel burns with it. And what do we have then? A few cities surrounded by blackened pitch and the dead?
“No one wants that. Not even the necromancers.”
“We have to stop this,” Ward said.
“How?” Neil asked. “How do we do that when we don’t even know what the hell Ezekiel is?”
“He’s only a man who believes himself a god.”
“He cut off the ley lines. We can’t even get into the Warded Ways. There’s no way out of Falias.”
“If we get rid of Ezekiel, we’ll have a way out.”
“How are we going to find him without that giant thing to show us the way?”
Ward focused his Sight and shivered at the split and distorted ley lines all around them. They all converged on one point in the distance, not far from where the latest tower had collapsed and Fae still screamed. “Follow me.”
It took everything Ward had not to stop and help the wounded they passed on the streets. Ward let his Sight fade as they rounded the stone rubble of an ancient wall. Not every Fae vanished when they died. The fairies, yes, but others were not such pure energy.
Falias had been a glorious city, and it pained him to see the marble and gold spires and meticulously carved walkways reduced to rubble. Adannaya had told him of the stonemasons who had helped build the place. Some of the Old Gods had helped rebuild the hidden cities after the Wandering War. The war, between the Nameless King and the rest of Faerie, that had nearly destroyed the world.
Ward ground his teeth as he thought what might happen now that Ezekiel had attacked Faerie.
His anger turned to surprise when Neil grabbed his arm and threw them both into a mostly collapsed alley.
“Did you see it?” Neil asked in a harsh whisper. “Nudd’s balls, did you see it?”
Ward shook his head and kept his voice low. “See what?”
“Look closely. Up the clock tower to the north. Make it quick.”
Ward nodded and slid to the edge of the crumbling wall, leaning out far enough that his left eye could see around the corner.
The clock tower still stood, its impossible spires reaching into the pale red sky. They were less than a quarter-mile from that massive structure, and its bells were deafening as it sounded the hour. Ward’s eyes traced the highest spires, down to the golden clock face and spindly columns that supported it. A reptilian shadow shifted between them.
Ward slammed himself back into the alley and stared at Neil. “It’s a basilisk.”
Neil nodded. “I know.”
Ward could hear the creature lash out, swimming through the fallen stone and ruined city like a sea snake in water, displacing bodies and statues alike as it moved.
Not statues, Ward realized with some horror as he dared another look. Frozen beings, turned to living stone only to suffocate as their lungs no longer drew breath. Those people, trapped in time, were as dead as surely as a water witch stabbed by a stone dagger.
“Look,” Ward whispered. “Along the roof above the pub.”
“What the fuck is that?” Neil said, leaning into Ward and squinting at the winged forms racing across the building.
They looked almost human, except for what Ward had mistaken for a cloak hanging from each of them. As one leapt into the air and took flight, he realized they were winged like bats, and just as erratically agile as those flying rodents.
One of the shadows slid into the light as it glanced back, revealing a face nothing like that of a man, but which gave life to the idea it was indeed half bat.
“Shit,” Neil muttered. “Those are death bats. Children of Camazotz. And where they are, the god of death is not far behind.”
“And whose side are they on?” Ward asked. But the sudden shrieking crash of death bats and the basilisk gave him the answer he needed.
They were quick to avoid the gaze of the ancient beast, swooping and diving, pulling their wings taut enough that they unbelievably cut through some of the ridges on the serpent’s back.
But fast as they were, the basilisk needed only meet their gaze.
One of them froze mid-flight, graying as its body tumbled out of a graceful arc only to bounce and then shatter on the stones below.
An unholy sound rose up from the bats, a screech that fell somewhere between the keening wail of a rabbit and the cries of a dying babe.
And that cry did not go unanswered.
CHAPTER THREE
Ward’s horror turned to awe as the shadow of a beast out of legend slammed into the top of a nearby roof, scattering tiles across the stones below. The basilisk turned toward another of the death bats, but the looming shadow struck first. Surging in front of one of the winged forms, Camazotz slashed at the basilisk with slender curved claws. The basilisk whipped its tail and slithered away from the attack.
“Camazotz,” Ward whispered.
“Maybe there’s a chance we’ll survive this after all,” Heather said, startling Ward as she appeared behind him and Neil.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ward said.
“And miss the fight between a basilisk and Camazotz?” Heather smiled and shook her head.
Ward grimaced. “We’ll talk about it later.”
The basilisk circle
d Camazotz, its eyes swiveling in its angular scaly head. Ward wasn’t entirely sure from what distance the basilisk’s gaze was deadly, but the fact he could now see the bright yellow eyes did nothing to reassure him. When the creature found no easy targets, it turned its attention to Camazotz himself.
Maybe this would be the break they needed. Maybe Camazotz could take the thing down, and then Ward wouldn’t have to worry about the havoc a basilisk could wreak on Falias.
The basilisk coiled and struck. Ward didn’t have time to register the fact the snakelike creature had been preparing a strike. The movement had been too fast for his eyes to follow, and no creature of that size should be gifted with such speed. But Camazotz was no slouch. The gaping jaws of the basilisk, said to be adorned with a thousand fangs, snapped closed where the death god’s neck had been only moments before. It didn’t find flesh, instead closing on nothing, as one of Camazotz’s talons sliced through its left eye.
The basilisk roared, a stuttering shriek that made Ward’s skin crawl.
Ward’s heart pounded as he anticipated Camazotz’s deathblow. The god revealed himself outside of the shadows now, and Ward could see the white flesh of the ancient creature, sagging along his winged body with a paunch of a belly, and the head of a grotesque bat.
But instead of finishing the basilisk, Camazotz turned his attention to his death bats, ushering them away from the rising creature.
“Nudd’s balls,” Neil muttered. “Couldn’t he have just bitten the thing’s head off while he was here?”
Ward had much the same thought as he watched Camazotz and the death bats retreat from the area around the basilisk. He’d never heard of Camazotz being a coward, but he’d heard the god would do anything to protect his children.
Ward studied those shadowy forms as they trailed toward the horizon, until he realized they weren’t retreating from the basilisk. They were chasing something else. Something worse than the serpent that had been unleashed on Falias? There was only one thing Ward thought might fit that bill.
Ezekiel.
He voiced the thought. “Camazotz is after Ezekiel.”
“You can’t know that,” Heather said.
“Look at the path he’s taking,” Ward said, tracing the path of the death bats through the air. “He’s going right back to the source.”
“That doesn’t do us any good,” Neil said. “The basilisk is still here. And still alive.”
“Well then we’ll just have to kill it,” Ward said.
“Oh well then we’ll just have to kill it,” Neil said, mocking Ward. “So wish I’d thought of that.”
“How?” Heather asked.
Ward shook his head. “A trap would be best. We need time to set a circle.”
“Set it inside a circle that’s already there,” Heather said, gesturing to the street.
Ward followed her gaze to the half-destroyed courtyard. Debris covered some of the outer edges, but the intricate geometric mosaic of the Fae would likely be intact underneath it.
“We’ll distract it,” Heather said. “You get the wards laid down.”
“I’m not leaving you to fight that thing alone,” Ward said, standing up a little straighter.
“She’s not alone,” Neil said. “We’ve got this.”
Ward caught a shadow moving in the corner of his eye, and something slid along the rooftops, stalking the basilisk, or them. But as soon as he noticed it, it was gone once more.
“We’re not the only ones here,” Ward said. “Watch your backs.”
“I’m rather more worried about my front getting turned to stone,” Neil muttered.
“Come on,” Heather said, leading the way out of the alley.
* * *
Ward had learned quite a few tricks in his time studying the art of his namesake. There were many practitioners, relatively speaking, who thought it best to use dense chalk for combat wards and traps. But he’d learned long ago that soft substances like chalk and charcoal were susceptible to the weather and environments. A savvy attacker could wipe out your spell with one well-placed incantation, potentially leaving you, or the army you were meant to protect, completely exposed.
So Ward had taken to etching things into metal when he could. But sometimes metal wasn’t an option, and he would carve those delicate symbols and patterns into wood. But stone, like the stone of the courtyard he now stood in, was a different beast altogether. To lay the trap wards, it would have been possible to use chalk, but any one of the Fae fleeing through that area could rub out a rune or a key part of a knot. It wasn’t a risk worth taking.
So instead Ward pulled an old crystal from a pocket on his jeans. Its base was a deep crimson that lightened toward the tip. It had been quartz once, until it had been changed, altered to become an instrument of death.
Ward hadn’t used it to kill in a very long time. He’d fought in enough wars before he swore an oath not to kill again. An oath he’d broken earlier that same day. But there would be time for him to repent for breaking a promise to himself later. For now, he dropped to his hands and knees and drew.
Ward didn’t entirely understand how the crystal worked. But he trusted the witch who had made it. Trust was something that didn’t come easy, but when you saved someone’s family and friends, they were certainly less likely to kill you. She told him once it worked on willpower alone. He knew that wasn’t the entire story. In the hands of a commoner, the crystal was inert as the quartz it was made from. But in Ward’s hands…
A dim red glow came to life in the clear tip of the crystal, and the stone gave way beneath it, birthing sharp lines and tight whorls with every sweep of Ward’s hand. To achieve a similar depth on the carving, he would have needed to spend hours with a chisel. Even then, it wouldn’t have been the same level of perfection. Not to mention, by that time, everyone would be dead.
It was a delicate thing, creating those intricate patterns while mixing runes and sigils. It required focus and concentration, both of which were hard to come by while your apprentice and friend fought a basilisk behind you. Grunts and shouts and the thrashing tail of the beast all followed the symphony of collapsing stone.
Ward hurried as fast as he dared, casting occasional glances over his shoulder and seeing the dark gray bursts of light from the twisted magicks Heather had created. It was a path he’d tried to steer her away from. Perhaps here it would help keep her alive. He could worry about the rest later.
Another minute passed, and it felt like an hour, but Ward closed the inner circle. The last rune, the roots, binding the halves together.
A Fae rushed toward the circle. Ward’s instinct was to cry out, tell the fairy to stop, potentially spare his life. But Ward let him continue on until his foot broke the circle and he sprinted through the courtyard and out the other side.
Ward released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The pattern was good. It hadn’t vaporized the Fae, and it hadn’t vaporized him for standing inside of it as he finished it. That meant one of two things. He’d either gotten it right, or it wasn’t going to do anything when the basilisk crossed that threshold. There was only one way to find out.
“Now!” he shouted.
Ward cursed under his breath as he watched the pair try to bait the basilisk. Still it thrashed, forcing them to charge past it as its remaining eye swiveled to find them. Every time one of the severed ridges on its back touched stone, the basilisk roared. Camazotz and the death bats had done their damage, but it was making the creature far more unpredictable.
Neil shifted suddenly to dodge the creature’s gaze, only to realize too late it had been a ruse from the basilisk. Even as the fairy turned, the serpent’s tail lashed out and caught him across the back, sending him crashing through an empty window across the street.
The serpent focused on its last target, Heather, who had opted to sprint back toward the courtyard. But the serpent did not follow, it only watched. Heather glanced over her shoulder, slowing as she realized the thing wasn’t gi
ving chase.
The basilisk curled around the narrow building and slithered its way back to the rooftops.
“Son of a bitch,” Heather said. “What the hell do we do now?”
Ward exhaled, looking down at the carefully laid trap beneath their feet. “Plan B. We chase it down and kill it.”
“Did you see the arts I was throwing at that thing?” Heather asked. “We go after it up there, we aren’t coming back alive.”
Ward wanted to argue, but he knew Heather was right. It was risky enough facing the thing in the open. Facing it on the rooftops, where it was far more comfortable and could slide from building to building without issue, would only end one way.
“Holy shit!” Neil said as he reappeared at the ruined window. He was looking up, at the rooftops across the street. Ward and Heather followed his gaze, only to freeze and stare.
Another serpent had appeared, only this one was dark gray with pitch-black eyes. It raised leathery wings to the skies before roaring a challenge that shook the heavens.
“That’s a fucking reaper!” Ward shouted.
The reaper turned its gaze toward them and tilted its head from side to side as if studying the ground around them. The beast stepped up to the roof’s edge, digging its claws into the stone, and launched itself into the air. And for the first time in more centuries than Ward could recall, a reaper cut through the skies of Falias.
Ward couldn’t see the top of the building when the reaper dove. But he could feel the impact, feel the stones shift and the earth shake and the cries of two beasts locked in combat. Dust and tiles and debris shot into the air before a burst of blue flame scoured the rooftops, meeting with a high-pitched cry.
The reaper’s wings appeared above the roofs, and it pounced again. This time, something wet and meaty squelched above them, and Ward stared as the reaper took to the air, the thrashing basilisk stuck in its claws. It dove, sweeping into the ruined street, dragging the basilisk with it.
“Get back!” Ward shouted, pulling on Heather’s arm. “Out of the circle!”
The reaper made a straight dive for the ward, dropping the basilisk into it, before vanishing into the sky and following the path Camazotz had taken.
