Face Of The Void (Desa Kincaid Book 3)

by R S Penney

  With dawn’s light painting the sky a deep blue, Desa landed on the slanted roof of a small house. She looked back over her shoulder.

  The distortion was more visible in the daylight. Not a cloud or mist, it was just a patch of the city where the colours were wrong. As if everything but red had been stripped away. Hanak Tuvar’s gruesome head poked up over the rim of the building.

  Kalia landed beside her, crouching on the rooftop with a hand on the shingles. She was exhausted. “I was hoping it would flee when the sun came up.”

  “I don’t think we’re that lucky.”

  “So, what now?”

  Wiping sweat off her brow with the back of one hand, Desa exhaled roughly. “Tommy will be leading the citizens away down the south road,” she panted. “We meet up with him and get out of here.”

  Their conversation was cut short when Hanak Tuvar ripped the chimney off its mountings and flung it at them.

  Twisting around, Desa raised her left hand to shield herself and activated the Force-Sink in her bracelet. The chimney came to an abrupt halt, hanging five feet above the lip of the rooftop, allowing Kalia to take position behind it.

  Inwardly, Desa whispered a prayer to Mercy. It had been sheer luck that saved her. Her Sink was almost filled to capacity. She had replenished its hunger for energy twice, but Hanak Tuvar rarely gave them enough time to craft proper Infusions. Everything was a hasty touch-up while they hid from the beast.

  Desa killed her Sink while Kalia released a blast of kinetic force that sent the chimney back toward the demon. Not enough force. The damn thing barely closed half the distance before falling to the ground.

  “Come on!” Desa growled.

  Together, they sprinted to the peak of the roof and then down the other side, triggering their nearly-depleted Gravity-Sinks as they jumped off the edge. They drifted gently down to the sidewalk, killed their Infusions and ran.

  Hanak Tuvar wasn’t following.

  Maybe it was too tired; it seemed to grow weary every time it expanded the red halo. Desa had witnessed it on several occasions. Hanak Tuvar would give up the chase and start searching for something to eat. Devouring humans seemed to restore its energy.

  She and Kalia had landed on a road lined with small houses, all of which seemed to be empty. There was no way to be certain without embracing the Ether, and she was too fatigued for that. She toyed with the idea of knocking on doors but quickly dismissed it. Tommy’s crews would have passed through almost every neighbourhood. She had encountered them half a dozen times throughout the night. Anyone who was willing to evacuate would have already left. She didn’t have time to stand here arguing about it.

  Less than half a block away, a crossing street ran southward to the edge of the city. That was the way to go.

  Ignoring her aches and pains, Desa half ran, half stumbled along the road, Kalia at her side. They rounded a corner onto another street. This one had tall, gray buildings that would have served as offices for the city’s various businesses. All were empty at the moment.

  “We’re not gonna make it, are we?” Kalia muttered.

  “Of course, we are.”

  “It’s five miles to the edge of the city.”

  Desa stiffened, a new wave of determination washing over her. “I don’t care,” she growled. “I’m not letting that thing win!”

  Kalia heaved out a breath and then forced herself to press on. “You’re right,” she whispered. “To the bitter end!”

  And it would be bitter. The thought of what Hanak Tuvar might do when it got its slimy tentacles on them turned Desa’s stomach. But at least she kept fighting. If nothing else, she could face death with the knowledge that she had not given up.

  Just as the despair settled over her, Midnight emerged from a nearby street, stopping in the middle of the road. He snorted as if to say it was about time that Desa and Kalia showed up. He had probably been wandering for hours, searching for them.

  Grinning triumphantly, Desa stumbled up to her horse. “There you are,” she murmured, caressing Midnight’s face. “Good boy.”

  She climbed into the saddle, Kalia snuggling up behind her, and Midnight took off. The buildings flew past, the morning sunlight driving away the night’s chill. She searched for any stragglers – people who might have failed to reach the central plaza in time – but found nobody. If anyone remained in this neighbourhood, they had hunkered down in their houses.

  Hanak Tuvar screamed in the distance.

  Another horse might have spooked, but Midnight remained calm, galloping down the street at full speed. How many times had he saved her life now? She was losing count. “This,” Desa said, “deserves a carrot.”

  Midnight neighed his agreement.

  They encountered no one else on their way out of the city.

  18

  The morning sun, shining bright in a beautiful, blue sky, was almost enough to make Kalia forget about everything that had happened the night before. A procession of thousands followed a dirt road on the southern outskirts of New Beloran, making their way westward.

  Mothers carried young children; boys just shy of manhood walked with their heads down. Some wore fine clothing of silk or cotton. Others wore overalls and work shirts. Some were still in their bedclothes. They were young and old, dark and light, people from all walks of life. And they plodded along like condemned criminals on their way to the headsman.

  Life was starting to creep into the fields on either side of the road, yellow grass turning green with the onset of spring. Birds fluttered about; squirrels carried nuts back to their nests. You would never guess that a demon lurked just a few miles away.

  On her right, the city stood silent under the harsh sunlight. The road was about a mile away from the outermost buildings. Sometimes, she caught a glimpse of redness, a place where Hanak Tuvar had spread its infection. The creature had not made its presence felt since her last encounter with it. Perhaps it was recuperating.

  Desa was rigid in Midnight’s saddle, clutching the reins in a firm grip. She hadn’t said a word since they left the city. That worried Kalia to no end. She knew her partner well. Desa was probably blaming herself for all of this.

  The caravan of lost souls continued its mournful journey.

  After about an hour, they came to a bridge of white bricks that ran over the train tracks. It was wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, but that still slowed things down more than she would have liked. Where were Miri and the others? At the front of this procession, no doubt. Kalia suspected that she and Desa were somewhere near the back. It was hard to be sure. But she needed to speak with them.

  Midnight walked slowly over the bridge, giving her plenty of time to take in the scenery. Four parallel tracks ran southward to the distant horizon, but she saw no trains. That presented a new problem. Sooner or later, a train would pull into New Beloran station, bringing dozens – if not hundreds – of passengers with it. Fresh meat for Hanak Tuvar.

  “It will destroy the world,” Desa mumbled.

  Kalia pursed her lips, considering that, and then leaned in close to whisper in her lover’s ear. “Surely, it can’t be that powerful,” she insisted. “A few well-placed cannons might be able to kill it. Assuming we can make them fire rocks.”

  “Mercy,” Desa said, her hands tightening around the reins. “Her people came from another universe, a realm similar to this one. She told me that in less than two months, Hanak Tuvar had rendered almost a third of her world uninhabitable.”

  Kalia shuddered. “It takes our finest sailing ships the better part of two years to circumnavigate this globe,” she said. “How could that thing make the entire world uninhabitable in just a few months?”

  “That distortion.”

  “What?”

  “The redness,” Desa growled, stiffening in Kalia’s arms. “Didn’t you see the grass in Delarac’s backyard? It crumbled away. Somehow, Hanak Tuvar changed the structure of reality. And I suspect that one consequence is that plants won’t
grow.”

  Changed the structure of reality?

  Yesterday, Kalia would have insisted that such a thing was impossible. The world was what it was. But she couldn’t deny what she had seen with her own eyes. This was all a bit over her head.

  Shutting her eyes, she touched her nose to the side of Desa’s neck. “Whatever it is,” she whispered. “You’ll find a way to stop it.”

  Her partner said nothing.

  She found more green fields on the other side of the bridge, a vast expanse of grassland that stretched all the way to the southern bank of the Vinrella. The river was too far off to be seen, but it was there. Maybe they could catch a ship. No, that wouldn’t do. No captain would take on four thousand passengers.

  It occurred to her that this might be the same road Desa and Tommy had traveled a year ago, a road that would take her back to the desert. Did she want to go back? Her deputies would have plenty of questions. Harl was probably sheriff by now.

  With the danger passed and the terror fading away, Kalia became painfully aware of her hunger. Her stomach rumbled. One glance at the people walking beside Midnight, and she was certain they felt the same way. Tired, hungry, hopeless.

  Kalia squinted against the sunlight, her hair fluttering in the breeze. “What if we could contain it somehow?” she mused. “Trap in a cave or something?”

  “Last time,” Desa replied. “Mercy and Vengeance had to work together to contain it. To trap it within a pocket of the Ether. Now one of them is gone, and the other one is dead.”

  “We don’t know that Mercy is dead.”

  Once again, Desa fell silent.

  Onward, the sombre procession continued, through the endless grasslands, over rolling hills. No one said much of anything; people just shuffled along with their heads down. Kalia wanted to engage her love in conversation, to say something that might ease the sting of loss, but she could tell that Desa needed quiet. So, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Morning blossomed into afternoon, the warm sunlight of a spring day offering a respite from her gloomy thoughts. It was almost pleasant. Almost. Every time she started to enjoy the scenery, cold, hard reality hit her like a splash of water in the face.

  By late afternoon, she was starting to feel the weight of her fatigue. How long would this death march continue? If Hanak Tuvar was going to pounce on them, surely it would have done so by now.

  Those thoughts crystalized in her mind only moments before the people in front of her came to a halt. Desa reined in Midnight; the horse was more than willing to pause for a break. Kalia caught the stallion eying the grass on either side of the path. She wasn’t the only one trying to ignore an empty stomach.

  A man in ratty clothing pushed his way through the crowd, moving toward the back of the procession. “We’re stopping!” he announced. “We’re stopping! Move into the field! We’ll be eating shortly!”

  Head hanging, Kalia shut her eyes tight and pressed the heel of her hand to her brow. “Thank the Almighty,” she whispered.

  “The Almighty had nothing to do with it,” Desa muttered.

  It took the refugees less than ten minutes to get ready. Really, there wasn’t much for them to do: just move off the road and into the field. Tommy looked out on a sea of bodies. Thousands of dejected people staring dumbly at nothing at all.

  He hesitated.

  Refugees?

  When had he started to think of them in such terms? The word was appropriate, he realized. These people had no homes. It was all too likely that they would be unwelcome almost anywhere they went. One thing he had learned, traveling this wide world, was that people were seldom accepting of strangers.

  He leaned against the side of a wagon with his arms folded, a toothpick waggling in his mouth as he grumbled to himself. He was tired. Every muscle in his body ached.

  Dalen came around the front side of the wagon, heaving out a sigh and massaging his forehead. “I did the calculations,” he said. “We should have enough food to last three days. Assuming no spoilage and light rations.”

  Shutting his eyes, Tommy nodded slowly. “Start passing it out.” He paused. That sounded too much like a command. Well, he was in command, but a leader should take part in the hard work. “I’ll help.”

  People lined up at each wagon, forming thirty parallel queues. One by one, they received a small meal and then stalked off to eat it, most of them grumbling about how little he had to offer. Well, there was no getting around that. He couldn’t conjure food out of thin air.

  It took the better part of an hour to get them all served. He kept a smile on his face the whole time. His people needed to see optimism even if he didn’t really feel it.

  When it was over, he sat against the base of a wagon with his legs stretched out and pulled the brim of his hat down over his face. He was happy to have it. Dalen had been kind enough to pack some of his things when they fled Mrs. Carmichael’s boarding house. Come to think of it, where was Mrs. Carmichael? She should be somewhere in this crowd. Tommy put the question out of his mind. It was so bright. He just wanted to rest for a while.

  Dalen sat down on his right, snuggling up with his head on Tommy’s shoulder. “You should eat something,” the other man grumbled.

  Before he could protest, Miri cuddled up on his left, lightly kissing his cheek. “He’s right,” she said. “You need to eat.”

  “In a few minutes,” Tommy promised.

  “You’re worried.”

  Sitting up, Tommy pulled the hat off his face and blinked a few times. “You mean you aren’t?” he muttered. “Aren’t we all?”

  Blushing, Miri brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Of course, I’m worried,” she said. “That was an invitation to talk about it, Lommy, you idiot.”

  “She’s right, Thomas,” Dalen put it. “No one should bear such weight alone.”

  He tossed his head back, rolling his eyes. These two! What was he going to do with them? Despite his exasperation, a slow smile came on. “All right,” he said. “I’m worried about what will happen when we get to Ofalla.”

  “You think they won’t take us in?” Miri asked.

  “I think they’re going to need some convincing.”

  Miri was grinning, staring out on the field where thousands of people had gathered, most kneeling in the grass and sharing meals with their families. “Just put on one of your displays. That’ll convince them.”

  “One of my displays?”

  “You know,” Dalen said. “The big, booming voice. The grand theatrics. ‘Weep oh peoples of the world, your saviour has come.’ That sort of thing.”

  “I do not do that!”

  Miri sat up straight and hit him with one of her disapproving stares. “Lommy,” she said. “Last night, you literally projected a bolt of lightning into the air and told these people you were the one who would keep them alive.”

  Tommy felt a flash of heat in his face. Overwhelmed by chagrin, he stared into his lap. “All right,” he muttered. “You have a point.”

  Leaning back against the wagon with hands folded behind his head, Dalen smiled. “So,” he said. “Just put on a display.”

  Tommy stood up with a grunt, stretching his fists above his head as his mouth fell open in a yawn. He stalked off through the field.

  “Where are you going?” Dalen asked.

  Tommy spun around, walking backwards. “To renew my Infusions,” he said. “I’ll need them if I’m going to put on a display.”

  Worn down and wrung out, Desa sat on a large rock in the middle of the field. Her muscles were stiff, her stomach growling. And whenever she let her guard down, she felt sleep coming on.

  The sound of footsteps made her look up to find Kalia approaching with some food. The other woman looked just as bone-weary as Desa felt. But she managed to keep her chin up. That was something.

  “Dinner,” Kalia said softly,

  It wasn’t much – just a slice of bread, a hunk of cheese and half an apple – but Desa was famished. Weeks s
pent enjoying the delicacies that Mercy conjured with a wave of her hand had spoiled her. Still, good food took the edge off her fatigue. Her head was less foggy, thoughts forming with vivid clarity.

  Mercy…

  The thought of never seeing Mercy again twisted her up in knots. She had come to think of the goddess as…as what? A surrogate mother? No, not quite that. No one could ever take Leean’s place. As a friend.

  Kalia sat down in the grass, curling up her legs as she munched on her slice of bread. “You should get some sleep after,” she said despite the abundance of sunlight. Night was still a few hours off.

  Touching fingertips to her temples, Desa closed her eyes and massaged away a headache. Or tried to, anyway. “Too early,” she said. “I sleep now, and I’ll be up all night. Besides, I don’t think I’ll get much rest lying in a field. I don’t suppose you still have that tent Rojan gave us, the one you took when we parted ways.”

  Kalia sucked the apple juice off her finger. “We sold it for train tickets,” she muttered. “And the bedrolls too.”

  Desa barked a laugh. “Just as well,” she said. “I still have mine.”

  “And we only ever needed one.” Kalia’s smile was entirely genuine, as was the slight flush that reddened her cheeks. She leaned in to kiss Desa on the forehead.

  Nearby, a bald man shot a glance in their direction and muttered under his breath. He was wise enough to look away when he caught Desa glaring at him. Quite wise indeed. She was in no mood to deal with Eradians and their backward attitudes.

  Desa sighed.

  Kneeling in the grass with one hand on the ground, Kalia studied her with inquisitive eyes. “So,” she began. “I suppose you’re telling yourself that this is all your fault. That you’re responsible for what happened.”

  “No.”

  Kalia raised an eyebrow.

  It was all too much. Desa started laughing again, prompting the other woman to give her one of those concerned looks. But what else could she do? Mercy had shown her the truth. At long last, Desa understood. But it was too late.