The tower chosen for the exchange was one of the tallest in Eyrie, a monstrous kinked spire whose jutting vertical ribs changed from smoky gray at the foot, through a gentle amethyst, to a sullen carmine at the top, where eight tapering spikes curved up around the edges of its slanted platform. The open chamber at the bottom had three entrances; most towers had only one. Several lengthy stalagmites and stalactites of mauve-tinted crystal cluttered the interior, while at the center a broad smooth shaft connected the black floor to the apex of the cavelike ceiling fifty feet above; a single narrow opening led to the spiral stair that wound the entire height of the tower.
“Get a load of this,” Boyd said. He’d sensed someone outside with a terrestrial dog on a lead. The dog was sniffing the ground as it was walked slowly around the tower.
“Isn’t that Paral?” Macsen queried. “He’s got an exclusion warrant against him.”
Whoever it was, the man with the dog walked away toward the bridge back to Fiacre. A couple of constables in ordinary clothes sauntered casually after him.
Orange light was beginning to shine out of cracks in the barklike tower walls as the sun slid below the horizon. Another ge-eagle made a swift pass through the tower’s chamber.
Edeard kept his farsight focused on a gondola that had pulled up at a nearby mooring platform. Four men with a strong seclusion haze stepped off it, carrying large iron-bound wooden chests between them. His farsight could just perceive the shadowy shapes of solid metal inside. Another gondola moored, the men on that one carrying smaller boxes. “The ammunition,” he muttered.
The church shut its wide doors as the evening service began; bright orange light shone out of its roof dome and hundreds of windows along the three wings. A choir began to sing softly. Nearly a dozen people wandering around outside began to make their way toward the tall tower.
“Oh, great,” Dinlay moaned. One of the people stepping through the swaths of orange illumination cast by the towers was a very cocky Medath.
Edeard grinned unseen. “He’ll die of fright when we appear.”
The men from the gondolas made their way into the tower, coming together to face Medath’s group.
“I make that fifteen of them,” Macsen said.
Edeard was trying to resolve the shapes inside the chests. They were definitely pistols, but not complex enough to be the repeat-fire types that had been used at Ashwell. Thank the Lady. Then he recognized them. “Okay, I’ve seen these pistols before. They’re the ones Ivarl and his people used against me on the night of the fire. They have very large caliber bullets, but I can definitely ward them off.”
“Then we’d better stop them from opening the chests,” Boyd said.
“Move out,” Edeard said. As he hurried silently out of their hiding place and toward the tower ahead, he called Chae. “Move in now. There’s fifteen here, but they’ll have watchers.”
“Already spotted three,” Chae reassured him. “We’re coming.”
Their deployment plan was simple enough. Dinlay and Boyd would take one tower entrance, Kanseen and Macsen another, and Edeard would go in through the third.
“They’re coming.”
Edeard paused, frowning at the clear longtalk. He couldn’t tell where it had come from; it certainly wasn’t from any of the squad. Up ahead, the minds of the gang members were radiating alarm. Their farsight scoured around.
He strode up to the threshold, listening to the low anxious voices echoing off the mauve stalagmites and curious crannies in the chamber walls. The two groups were huddled together near the central shaft, with sentries positioned near each entrance.
“Ready,” Kanseen’s longtalk announced.
The sentry nearest Edeard swung around, sending his farsight prying at the entrance Kanseen was blocking.
Edeard stepped into the tower and dropped his concealment. His shield hardened around his body.
The sentry gaped in dismay. “Waterwalker,” he yelled with voice and mind.
Edeard’s third hand reached out as he ran forward, yanking the two cases of pistols away from the gang members. They tried to prize them back but lacked the strength.
Medath and his colleagues drew their pistols. Medath already had one of the long-barreled weapons. Edeard snarled in consternation. Two of the gang members started firing. Edeard dropped the cases on the ground outside the tower and concentrated on protecting himself. Men were running for the two open entrances. The first one to reach the opening covered by Kanseen and Macsen yelled in shock as Kanseen appeared abruptly barely a yard in front of him. Her third hand punched directly against his temple, felling him instantly. She vanished. More shots were fired at the air she had occupied a second before. Edeard deflected a whole swarm of bullets; then people were playing chase around the stalagmites.
“Stop this,” Edeard bellowed, his voice reverberating loudly around the chamber. “We know who you are. Several squads of constables are closing in. Our ge-eagles are flying outside; you cannot escape.”
A whole volley of bullets lashed at him. He shook his head in dismay. Dinlay rushed past, half-visible as he pursued two men. Someone went sprawling, his inertia assisted by telekinesis so that his head smacked into a stalagmite. Edeard snatched two gang members and crashed them together. They fell limply onto the floor. Two more found themselves leaving the ground and screamed wildly.
“Get up here.”
It was the same longtalk voice as before, cutting cleanly through the shouts and mental babble inside the chamber. Edeard looked around zealously, trying to see who it was. His farsight caught Medath rushing into the opening at the foot of the central pillar.
Four of the gang were now standing together, their hands held high in surrender, pistols abandoned at their feet. Boyd appeared directly in front of them, his pistol raised and ready. More pistol shots echoed around the chamber. Then there was a pain-racked howl that overrode all the other voices. Macsen flicked into visibility behind a man who was clutching his shoulder; blood poured through his fingers. Macsen pulled his pistol away from the wound. “Next time it will be a head shot,” he announced loudly. “Now stop this≔ you are under arrest.” He vanished again.
Edeard raced over to the central pillar. On the way his third hand picked up three gang members, who immediately stopped struggling. He dropped them beside Dinlay. The sound of footsteps reverberated out of the pillar’s opening. When Edeard looked inside, he saw the spiral stair winding upward.
“Oh, come on,” he yelled up at Medath. “There’s nowhere to go.” But who told him to go up there? Could they really see through our concealment? With a growl of anger, he started running up the steps. Almost immediately, he slipped on a cumbersome curve, banging his knee badly. The burst of pain was enough to stretch a mist of red sparkles across his vision. Medath’s footsteps were becoming fainter as Edeard scrambled upright again. “If that’s how you want to do it,” he muttered, and set off again.
“Edeard?” Kanseen’s voice echoed up the stairs.
“Medath went up here. I’ll get him. You hang on down there.”
The pillar walls were incredibly thick, restricting his farsight more than he liked. He could just make out the constable squads swarming toward the tower. In the chamber below, his squadmates surrounded the defeated gang members. Above him was a moving glimmer that he knew was Medath’s mind.
Around and around the pair of them went. A tiny thread of orange light twinkled out of the narrow vault of the roof above Edeard, just enough to illuminate the horrible curving stairs. He had to stretch his legs at each semijump upward. How Medath kept up such a pace was beyond understanding. Edeard’s heart was hammering loudly, his lungs burning inside his chest. Sweat was pouring down his back and legs. When he was two-thirds of the way up, he simply had to slow down, which only increased his anger. Medath started to pull ahead.
By the time Edeard reached the last spiral, he was practically walking. Each breath had to be hauled down into his lungs with a big heave of his chest
. Sweat glued his hair against his forehead. Concentration was difficult. Nonetheless, he managed to send his farsight out onto the circular platform that topped the tower. The eight spikes that rose from the edge stabbed up into the sky, their slightly crooked tips peaking another forty feet above the platform floor.
Medath was out there, standing ten feet in front of the central cone where the stair exited. He was already aiming the pistol at the opening, waiting for Edeard to emerge.
“Oh, Lady,” Edeard wheezed in dismay. The anger that had carried him so far was now diluted by fatigue. I should have just waited at the bottom; hunger would have brought him down eventually. He started up the last few steps. It would be easy enough to deal with Medath. But then, Medath would know that. And I still don’t know who that longtalker was. Or where they are.
As if to reinforce his concern, a clammy feeling of trepidation began to manifest itself. It was so strong that he had to pause again. Something was badly wrong; he knew that without knowing why. He took a more cautious step upward and began a thorough survey of the platform. He froze. Medath wasn’t alone out there on the platform. The floor was feeling the weight of four more pairs of feet, yet Edeard’s farsight could find nothing.
“Nanitte,” he spit as his anger rose again. Oh, crap; Macsen will never let this one drop.
When he was almost up to the exit, Edeard concealed himself again and asked the city to let him through the wall. He emerged out on the platform five feet to the side of the exit. The first thing that surprised him was the wind. Down on the ground it was perfectly calm; up here the air pushed against him. He leaned into it. His four concealed foes were standing together over by one of the spikes. Edeard could see nothing against the pale wash of nebula light that shimmered across the heavens above Makkathran.
As quietly as he could, he made his way over to them. He passed within a couple of yards of Medath, who was still staring at the stair exit, his long-barreled pistol held steady. Once Edeard was past the comically alert gang man, he realized the platform floor actually slanted down toward the edge. A tinge of what must have been vertigo produced a shiver along his legs. He refused to let it get the better of him and crept forward.
The feet began to shift. At first, the two foes at the front took a step backward; then they all began to move closer to the spike. Edeard grinned savagely and carried on after them.
He was only five yards away when something struck him with colossal force, impacting on his left side, just below the bottom of his rib cage. Edeard cried out as much from surprise as from pain. His concealment faltered as he fought for breath. Medath swung around. Another blow slammed into Edeard, knocking him to the floor.
“Shoot him,” a longtalk whisper ordered.
How did they see me?
Medath fired. The bullet almost got through Edeard’s shield. A powerful telekinetic shove sent him skidding down the slight incline. He had a terrible flashback to the day by Birmingham Pool when Arminel had pushed him over the edge. Lady, help!
“Again.”
The bullet struck him, as did a further telekinetic blow. Edeard was shunted over the edge of the platform. His arms flailed wildly, but straining fingers missed anything solid.
“Can you fly, Waterwalker?”
Edeard plummeted downward, screaming all the way. He instinctively tried to grip the tower with his third hand. He could even feel the force lock into the grainy structure of the wall. It didn’t stop his descent.
His thoughts arrowed down to the city’s slumbering mind as the air roared around him. Can you help? he pleaded to the slow, giant thoughts.
It was useless. He was falling. Falling.
Kristabel!
Somewhere on the edge of perception he heard her scream wildly. He directed one last thought: I love you, content she would know. It made death more bearable. Falling.
Beneath him a vivid wave of alarm gushed from the minds of the constables scurrying around the base of the tower. Falling.
Any second now.
He braced himself for the terrible burst of pain that would strike for an instant before death.
Falling.
“How the Ladyfuck are you doing that?” Chae’s dazed voice asked.
Something slapped Edeard’s ass. It was the ground.
“Huh?” Edeard grunted dumbly. He looked up to see a circle of about ten faces peering down at him, all of them wearing utterly incredulous expressions. His hands patted the ground in disbelief. He was down—intact. “I fell,” he blurted. But of course, it always felt like he was falling when the city lowered him down to its tunnels. It must be the same out here.
There was a nearly hysterical laugh threatening to bubble out of his throat. Tears already were leaking from his eyes as the shock kicked in.
Some of the constables staring down were shoved aside. Kanseen and Boyd lunged into the gaps.
“Edeard!” Kanseen squealed. “Oh, Lady, what happened?”
“Trap,” he said weakly. He pointed up at the dark shape of the tower looming above them, surprised by how much effort it was just to raise his arm.
“Medath?” she asked in surprise.
Edeard nodded. It was hard to breathe; his body was tingling everywhere, and now he was starting to shake. His farsight could just discern a pulse of animal terror from somewhere. It was growing fast. “What’s happening?” he rasped. “What?
“Edeard?” Boyd was sounding very faint. Chae was frowning, glancing around.
Edeard didn’t have the strength to speak. “Can you sense that?” he longtalked.
“What?” Kanseen asked.
Then Chae was broadcasting pure alarm. “Move!” The old sergeant pushed at Kanseen with his third hand. At the same time he tried to jump backward.
Edeard saw it then, directly above him: a black human silhouette against the green-glowing beauty of the Ku nebula. Edeard tried to roll away, what was left of his telekinetic strength roused feebly to ward off the plunging body.
Medath hit the ground two feet away from where Edeard was lying. Chae was only half-clear. The collision produced a vile crunch as a multitude of bones snapped.
Edeard stared vacantly at the tangle of broken flesh beside him. Blood dribbled out of Chae’s slack open mouth. The sergeant’s eyes moved very slowly to meet Edeard’s gaze.
Far away someone was wailing. It sounded like Kanseen.
“Sergeant?” Edeard asked.
“Oh, by the Lady,” Chae longtalked. “For a moment there, that really hurt.”
“No,” Edeard said. “Oh, no.”
Chae let out his final rattling breath. Edeard tried to hang on to the man’s mind, his farsight following the thoughts as they diminished. As they dwindled toward their extinction, they disconnected from the body. Edeard perceived the spectral shape of Chae rising up to stand over his own corpse.
“Sergeant?” Edeard sent in desperation.
“Oh, my Lady,” the specter sent back.
“Sergeant!”
“Edeard?” It was Dinlay kneeling beside him: frightened, shouting.
“Can you see him?” Edeard whispered.
“Edeard, you’re going into shock. Try and focus on me.”
“This isn’t shock.” Edeard gifted them his perception. There was a collective intake of breath as the constables who had gathered around saw their sergeant’s spirit smiling gently.
“I can feel it, Edeard,” Chae explained. He was looking up, searching the heavens. “So beautiful. They’re calling to me. The nebulae are singing. Can you hear them?”
“No.” Edeard wept. “No, I can’t.”
A gaggle of Mothers from the central church were arriving to investigate the furor, their anxious voices stilled as they received the gift of Edeard’s perception. Then the Pythia herself was standing next to Chae’s broken body, an expression of serene joy on her face. One hand reached out tentatively, trying to touch his spirit.
“I want to go,” Chae told his enraptured audience. “I
have to. There’s nothing left for me here.”
“You’ll be lost up there,” Edeard told him. “Stay with us; stay until the Skylords return to guide you.”
“The songs, Edeard, oh, the songs. What a welcome awaits us.”
“Wait. Please.”
Chae smiled down. It was as though he was giving a blessing. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll follow the songs.”
“May the Lady bring you safe to the Heart,” the Pythia said.
“Thank you, dear Mother,” Chae replied. He reached up to the sky as if it were a physical thing he could hold and own. His shape began to waver. As he looked down for the last time, the slightest frown appeared on his phantom features. “Who are you?” Then his outline swirled away with astonishing speed as it rose toward the nebulae he sought.
Edeard fell back with a last sob. Darkness claimed him.
Consciousness returned with a slow flush of warmth. Edeard felt perfectly content lying wherever he was with his eyes closed and his mind at rest. He was breathing normally, not particularly hungry. A light sheet lay across him. What more could anyone ask?
“Kristabel,” he said, knowing she was there. He didn’t use farsight; he just knew.
“You’re awake.” Her fingers stroked his face.
He opened his eyes to see her smiling down at him. It was the most wonderful sight.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she chided.
“I won’t.”
She kissed him. “People have been worried,” she said.
“I’ll bet.” Edeard looked around. He was in some grand room: high ceilings, walls covered in tapestries and oil paintings. Familiar wood-framed glass doors opened onto a hortus; bright sunlight shone through. “Is it midday already?”
“Um, Edeard, you fell two days ago.”
“Oh.”
“Our doctor said you were suffering from a combination of exhaustion and shock. She gave you something to keep you asleep; she said you needed time to recover.”
Edeard pulled a face as he licked his tongue around inside his mouth. Something tasted bad.
Kristabel handed him a tall glass of water.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 105