“You haven’t had that thing in the city for long,” Thea said. “What-”
Her voice dried up as a wave of magic coursed across the square.
Not the frost of the Ageless or the Citadel mages, or the seductive warmth of Niath’s magic.
No.
This magic burned. It carried the heat of naked flames and the scent of charred wood.
It crawled over Thea’s skin and made her want to turn and run. As far away as she could.
There was no mercy in that magic. No humanity. Nothing apart from the power of burning.
She turned her head to find the source, clamping her jaw shut against whatever sound was lodged in her throat.
There was a woman walking through the market, skirting around the outstretched fingers of the giant.
A woman in a gold dress, the fabric shimmering in the light as she moved, golden hair in perfect waves around her head, cascading down past her shoulders.
The most beautiful woman that Thea had ever seen.
And the most terrifying. Even from a distance.
As she grew closer, Thea could see that the woman didn’t have eyes. Not in any way Thea had ever seen before. Instead, there were flames where her eyes should be. Endlessly burning.
She held more power in her body than any being Thea had ever come across.
And she did not feel real. Her skin, her hair, the dress. All too perfect. She set Thea’s teeth on edge.
“And who are you supposed to be?” Thea asked, the question out before she could think better of it.
“I am Alayla.” If liquid metal had a voice, that would be it. There was scalding heat and the faintest hiss of cooling in that voice. A voice that no human could produce.
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Thea asked, tone sharp.
The woman blinked her fiery eyes, and a tiny crease appeared on her brow. Thea’s mouth dried. She had the urge to apologise, but held her ground.
“This is our goddess,” the leader hissed. “You will respect her.”
“This is your goddess?” Thea repeated, startled. “So she actually exists?”
“As you can see,” the apparent goddess said, spreading her arms. “I am quite real.”
“No,” Thea said. “I don’t think you are.”
“She seems real,” Niath commented.
“You think so?” Thea tilted her head as she looked at the supposed goddess. Alayla. She remembered that name from her conversation with Matthew Shand. One of the old goddesses. Death and destruction. “Like someone had an idea of what a goddess should look like, and made her.”
That felt right. Even if it seemed impossible. This woman standing in front of them might be real and solid, but she was not naturally born. Made. Somehow. Thea wondered if Niath knew of any spells that might create such a thing. Or, more to the point, any mages who might possess the skill to do so. Thea had never heard of a mage being able to create such a complicated creature. There were always rumours of mages turning people into creatures. But no rumours, or stories that Thea could remember, of mages creating things.
But even if she was a made thing, the woman was still dangerous. The power she carried was still coursing across Thea’s skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
“Interesting,” Niath said. Thea did not need to look at him to know that he was standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He was probably staring at the supposed goddess with an expression that said she was a curious puzzle he’d like to solve.
“So you are the one that terrified the stall holders,” Thea said to the woman. It made much more sense than a giant. Most of the stall holders and market goers were human. They might not have been able to sense the magic in this woman, but they would have seen her burning eyes. And Thea suspected the supposed goddess would have been all too pleased to demonstrate her powers. Intimidating ordinary people just trying to make a living. “You can stop that now.”
Alayla’s mouth curved up. It might have been a smile. It sent a chill down Thea’s back.
“You think you can stop me?” the goddess asked, her voice carrying the prickling heat of fire in summer. She flicked her fingers and the nearest stall burst into flames, which ate through the wooden frame in moments.
Thea’s skin crawled. She wanted to run again. Far away. This creature before her, whatever it was, and however it had come to be, had more power in it than any being she had ever come across. There had been no effort in burning the stall. A simple demonstration.
If it had scared her, it would have terrified the stall holders.
For some of them, the stalls represented most of their worldly possessions and, as with Meadowcroft, many of the stalls here had been handed down through generations. A family’s wealth and its livelihood tied up in one thing.
Destroyed by magic. Something very few people had any experience of, no matter what wild tales they might tell over a few beers in the tavern.
She held her ground. This woman and the men around her were bullies. They had terrorised the stall holders across the city’s markets. Citizens who were under the Watch’s protection. And, if Thea’s guess was right, they had also forged coins that had placed the entire city at risk from the Archon’s wrath.
“I will stop you,” Thea said, lifting her chin and holding the woman’s eyes. It would be so easy to give in. So easy to bow her shoulders, turn and walk away.
Except that there would be no safe place for her. Nowhere in the city would be safe from this woman. Or from the Ageless.
Thea had spent most of her life afraid. Hiding from the Ageless. Terrified of someone finding her secret and Conscripting her to the Archon’s service. Of never seeing her mother again, leaving her mother with no children at all.
Frightened of discovery by the Ageless who was her father. And who had described her as competent.
No more.
No more running. No more hiding. The fear burned in her stomach, and she held her ground, her skin prickling with unease, the skin across her shoulder blades developing a maddening itch that she desperately wanted to scratch.
Thea did not move.
“You will fail,” Alayla said. “You and your shadow.”
Thea’s brows lifted. Alayla was the second person to refer to Niath as her shadow. It seemed to have some significance she had missed.
There was no time for that now.
The goddess had turned, the light catching the shimmering gold of her dress. She raised a hand, sending some signal across the marketplace.
Two shadows moved against the far wall. Familiar shadows. Thea had last seen them at the furnace, where they had managed to defeat her and Niath and take the pony away.
“Mage,” Thea said, voice urgent.
“Ah, we have company. Let’s see, how does that spell go again?” Niath sounded far too calm.
A blot of magic flew across the marketplace, heading for them. The tightly coiled spiral that was the magical weapon that had so nearly killed the mage.
Niath was standing beside her. He lifted a hand, and sent out magic of his own, the familiar, seductive warmth of his magic a welcome relief for Thea against the burning heat of the goddess’ magic.
The two bundles of magic collided mid-air. Too close. The force of the collision threw Thea off her feet, the jolt of her arm blacking out her vision for a moment.
She came back to her senses kneeling on the ground, sword in hand, finding Niath standing close beside her. The mage was grinning.
“It worked! Did you see that? It worked. I wasn’t sure it would.”
“You weren’t sure it would work?” Thea glared up at him. It seemed to have no effect. He was almost dancing from foot to foot. She used her sword to push herself back to her feet so she could glare at him more effectively.
“I was fairly sure,” he said, and looked across at her. His grin faded. “Sorry. Are you hurt again?”
“That’s impossible.” An unwelcome voice interrupted them before Thea could speak
. “No one can withstand my fire.”
Fyr na dathan.
Fire of the gods. Or so Niath had believed.
But there had been goddesses as well, in ancient times. And they were just as deadly as the gods. And this one had fire in her eyes. Thea could easily believe she could wield something powerful enough to daunt even the Ageless. Even if she had been created.
Which meant that, somewhere, there was a person with the knowledge of the ancient gods and goddesses who had brought this woman into being. Or perhaps more than one person.
Thea shivered. That was almost more terrifying than the goddess herself. If one goddess had been made, what was to stop the unknown mage making more?
The supposed goddess was still standing among the four members of the gang, her burning eyes fixed on a spot not far away from Thea and Niath. Where the magic had collided, Thea guessed, and followed the woman’s line of sight.
The ground looked like someone had dropped a heavy load of burning coal onto it. There was a round shape with jagged edges seared into the ground. At the centre was a hollowed-out section that was smouldering.
“Impossible?” Thea asked, lifting her sword. “No. Now, are you going to leave and stop bothering the stall holders across Accanter?”
“You can’t win,” Alayla said, lip curling in a sneer. Her teeth were golden, too, a detail which made ice crawl down Thea’s spine again. She remembered her earlier comment that the supposed goddess seemed to have been created. And wondered again just who, or what, might have created such a being.
The goddess half-raised her hand towards the pair of shadows on the other side of the market, then paused, her gaze moving upwards. Towards the Citadel. Her lips curved in a smile and her hand dropped, the command not given.
She had made a choice not to call on her men again, Thea saw.
“Another time, perhaps,” Alayla said, and looked at the leader of the gang. “Jirkar. You have served me well. You will tell this little girl what she wants to know and accept the punishment that she deems worthy.”
“Mistress,” the leader said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.
When Thea looked back for the woman, she had gone. Vanished. As if she had never been there.
Thea whirled to check the other side of the market. The two shadows had gone as well.
She stood, sword in hand, swaying slightly, various points of pain waking up across her body, and wondered why she did not feel relieved.
Jirkar rose to his feet and looked at Thea. The smirk and the bravado were gone. Instead, he was quietly determined.
“Where has she gone?” Thea asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, the trace of his former smirk appearing on his face.
“She left you to take the blame,” Thea realised.
“Thea!” The shout from across the market drew her attention.
The captain, Sutter, and a handful of Watchmen and women were coming into the marketplace.
“Come with me. All of you,” Thea said, gesturing with her sword to indicate the four men.
“Do as she says,” Jirkar ordered his men. They scowled at him, but obeyed. Their apparent goddess had not spoken to them, only to Jirkar.
“Mage, thank you again,” Thea said, handing the sword back to Niath. It was still difficult to part with the beautiful weapon, however necessary it was.
He nodded, returning the sword to its original form, an innocuous fruit knife, and stowing it within his robes. He looked like he wanted to say more, but glanced at the men nearby and shook his head.
Thea led her odd group along the side of the market to meet the captain.
“What happened?” Ware asked, eyes fixed on the dead giant.
“We were attacked,” Thea said, and waved a hand at the four men. “They summoned a giant. Somehow.”
A fierce downdraft drew everyone’s attention overhead.
There were five Ageless in the air above them, brilliant white wings outstretched. They all wore the black uniform of the Archon’s army.
As Thea blinked against the gleam from their wings, they descended, landing lightly on the ground. The leader made his way towards them, wings vanishing as he walked.
Reardon.
Of course. The last person she wanted to see just now, the memory of his presence in her mother’s shop too raw and too fresh.
“What happened?” the Ageless demanded, ignoring Thea. That suited her, but she did not think it would continue.
“I’ve only just arrived,” Ware said, voice flat.
“How did the arrak get here?” Reardon asked, glaring at Thea. She had been right. Ignoring her had not lasted long.
She was tempted to ask why he thought she had anything to do with it, but held her tongue. With difficulty. But now was not the time to argue with one of the Ageless. No matter how closely related they were. Instead, she turned to the gang leader. “Tell them.”
“I don’t answer to you,” he said, lip curling.
“No. But you were ordered to tell me what I wanted to know. And I want to know this,” Thea said, irritation making her voice sharper than she had intended.
“My mistress called the arrak to the city a few days ago,” the leader said, not looking at Thea. “We kept it in one of the warehouses until it was needed.” He glared at Thea. “No idea how they managed to kill it.”
“You killed an arrak?” Reardon asked, brows lifting.
Thea’s lips curved in a sour smile. He had a very low opinion of her. He had made that much clear earlier. And it seemed that low opinion covered Niath, too.
“We did,” Niath confirmed, before Thea could say anything.
“That thing is enormous,” Ware said, eyes travelling the length of the body.
“It stood as high as the buildings,” Thea confirmed, shivering as she remembered. “And had a club the size of a tree.”
“With spikes in it,” Niath added, perhaps trying to be helpful.
“And you managed to kill it?” Reardon asked, as if he had not believed Niath’s assertion.
“We did,” Niath said again. His brows lifted. “We have no reason to lie.”
“First the guardian, and now an arrak,” Reardon said slowly, eyes travelling between Thea and Niath.
Thea clamped her jaw shut against the temptation to remind him that, in fact, their first joint kill had been the escalus. A creature that even the Ageless were wary of.
She did not want any more of his attention. She wanted as little to do with him as possible.
“Was anyone else hurt?” Ware asked, eyes still scanning the marketplace. He had taken the same oath as Thea, to protect the people of the city, and took it every bit as seriously as she did.
“I don’t think so, sir,” Thea said. “The Watch were here and managed to get people out of the market. At least, I think so.”
“We’ll check,” Sutter said, and sent a pair of the Watchwomen nearby off to find the other Watchmen and women.
“Why were you here?” Reardon asked, ignoring the Watch.
The four other Ageless that he had brought with him were standing a few paces away, still in their aspect, wings folded behind them. They could just pick her up and carry her off to the Citadel, Thea realised, and shivered again.
“We were looking for these men,” she said, trying to fold her hands behind her back and wincing as she jarred her injured arm.
“Why?” Reardon folded his arms across his chest, scowling at her. Impatient for answers.
“They have been seen at several markets, and I believe they are connected with the forged coins,” Thea told him.
“And? Are they?” Reardon was still frowning.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask them anything,” she answered, hearing a distinct snap in her voice. “We were busy with the giant. What did you call it? Arrak.”
Reardon’s face tightened even more. Whether from her tone, or the information, she was not sure. Or perhaps he was remembering that she was his daughter. A Wat
ch Officer, not a soldier. And competent.
“Sutter, get these men to the Watch Station for questioning. Separately,” Ware ordered, cutting through Thea’s darkening thoughts.
“I’d like to question them, sir,” Thea said.
“I know. But I want you to see Physician Pallas before you do anything else,” Ware said. “Sutter, have him meet us at the station.”
“Sir,” Sutter acknowledged, and organised the remaining Watchmen around him to take the four gang members in charge. The Watchmen drew the ropes from their belts and loosely tied the men. The ropes were fused with magic. They did not hurt, but no one escaped Watch custody once they were tied.
“I will join you for the questioning,” Reardon said. It was not a request. “My men will take the arrak’s body to the Citadel for disposal.”
Thea’s brows lifted, wondering what possible use the Ageless could have for a giant’s corpse.
A moment’s reflection and she decided that she did not want to know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Some time later, Thea was feeling thick-headed from the pain-killer that Iason had insisted she take before he set her arm. At least two bones were broken, he said. With most of her body numb from the potion he had given her, she had to trust his knowledge and skill on the matter.
Her arm from the base of her thumb to her elbow was now encased in a rigid splint-and-bandage construction, with stern instructions from the physician as to what she was, and was not, allowed to do. Time off work was required, he told her.
Thea had protested. There was still much to be done. It had done no good with the physician. And Iason had repeated his recommendation to Ware when the captain asked how Thea was.
Ware had, however, agreed that Thea could take the lead in questioning Jirkar. It was more than Thea had hoped for, and she stopped protesting at that point.
The leader of the gang had been brought to the same empty room that had been used for Margo Corris not that long ago. Thea could only hope that this questioning ended without another corpse.
She had missed some discussions while Iason tended to her. She had been dimly aware of voices, sometimes raised and angry. Ware and Reardon. Something about a search. Oh. Yes. The search of the Citadel kitchens that Reardon seemed to have organised. She wondered what he had found, what he had been looking for. She was not going to ask Reardon. Ware would tell her, she thought. If he thought it was relevant.
False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 25