Revenant

by Bevan McGuiness

  But should we even be here any more? We are anachronisms, without place in the world, left over from a savage time long past, best forgotten.

  It is where we belong — forgotten.

  Images of his long journey flashed through Slave’s mind as he crouched by Haron’s dead body. He recalled the time he had lost control in the arena in Vogel, killing more than he knew. He saw Waarde’s butchered body, killed with an iron bar in his attack. The pulpy mess that used to be her perfect face taunted him. Kirri, Ileki, Alyosha and now Haron, all dead because of him and what he had done.

  Slave stood. The images of his dead swirled around him, so real he could almost touch them. The Warrior’s Claw in his hand glinted in the sunlight, drawing his eye down from the screaming carnage that spread out from the gate. The vlekkenvorm were nearly all dead, hacked to pieces by the army of the Mertian Revenant.

  There was no defence left inside the walls of Asnuevium, no one would come charging out to rescue them. The vlekkenvorm were doomed to die here, fighting for Myrrhini, believing they were fighting for him as their Beq. Of all the lies, that was the worst. He was no leader — he would only lead them to their death. No one should follow him, and no one ever would, ever again.

  Slave tucked the Claw under his jerkin and turned his back on the battle, disappearing inside the city of Asnuevium.

  37

  Keshik stood motionless with shock as the flood of hideous monsters poured out through the gate. They smashed into the army of Kielevinenrohkimainen like a tide, driving it back, leaving mangled corpses in their wake. Even in the skies the beasts were waiting. Circling above were hundreds of wyvern. One dropped out of formation, screaming in its defiance as it flew low over the army. Men dived out of its way, the terror of a wyvern’s shriek bringing many to their knees, but a lucky arrow brought it crashing to its death.

  As though its death were the signal, the rest folded their wings and dropped like arrows onto the massed army. They screamed down in perfect fighting formation to pull out of their dive less than a pace above the battling army. Their powerful legs reached grabbing men indiscriminately before throwing them to the ground again. None of the men got up. The shock of their attack sent a moment of panic through Kielevinenrohkimainen’s army. Keshik felt the moment. Now was the time for any defenders to make their thrust. He sighed. If there were any left they could break this siege now.

  The shapeshifters’ attack flagged as their numbers were thinned by the attackers. The charge was glorious: vain, but magnificent. Keshik would remember the bravery, the savagery, of these monsters for the rest of his life, which, he realised wryly, might not be that long. He rested his hand sadly on the ruined ballista. How much damage could the weapon do were it still functioning?

  Maida came to stand beside him, bringing a peculiar peace in the midst of such ferocity below. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘They will break through soon, won’t they?’ she asked.

  Keshik grunted in assent. Words would be futile at this point. With the gate open, no defenders remaining inside and the shapeshifters dying, there was nothing left to stop the army from entering the city. Once that happened — if they were like every other sieging army in history — the city would be in flames by nightfall.

  A cry from one of the Habigga manning another ballista broke across Keshik’s thoughts. Keshik looked and saw the man gesturing out over the wall, towards the edge of where the shapeshifters were grinding through the army. Something dark shot up out of the melee. It went up like a missile from a catapult, heading straight for Keshik.

  Maida gasped. ‘That’s Myrrhini.’

  Keshik scowled, but it rapidly became clear that the projectile was indeed Myrrhini. A wave of arrows shot up after her, but she turned them all into ash that drifted back down onto the battle with a wave of her hand. Myrrhini arrowed towards Keshik, but before she landed, the sound of running feet distracted him. He spun around to see hundreds of Tulugma, led by Zhan Tien, and at least as many agents of the Blindfolded Queen charging out of the city towards the army.

  ‘When did they get here?’ Keshik shouted.

  Maida shook her head. ‘They were still aboard when I left.’

  ‘How did they get through the army? It must have been on the move last night.’

  ‘Eztli-Ichtaca,’ Myrrhini said. ‘The Queen must have moved them all through.’

  Keshik moved to the outer edge of the wall to watch the Tulugma charge-smash into the attackers. Unlike the shapeshifters, they did not crash in like a wave breaking on rocks, they sliced through like a knife in butter. The Tulugma did not seem to pause as they cut through the ranks. At the head of the charge were Zhan Tien and the axemen. They wrought unimaginable carnage, leaving behind cloven limbs, heads and bodies. Within moments they were all soaked in blood, as was the paved road beneath their feet.

  The sounds of battle rose, joined by the cries of men as they sought to fall back from the controlled savagery of the Tulugma, fighting now against the press of their own men. The open area in front of the gate was littered — not littered, covered — with the dead and dying. The agents of the Queen took up station behind the Tulugma, holding the open area, making sure that anyone who slipped past the line did not last long behind the Tulugma. Overhead, the wyverns shrieked and reformed their attack formation, before swooping back down.

  The sound of more running feet, these coming up the stairs behind him, made Keshik spin around and draw his swords, but he relaxed when he saw Tulugma archers running to take position on the wall. Without a word, they spread out and stationed themselves above the battle. They composed themselves, nocked arrows, drew and fired with exquisite discipline. Arrows rained down like metal hail, dropping hundreds of attackers. Like mechanical devices, the archers nocked, drew and fired again. And again. And again. Keshik watched with grim pleasure as each arrow struck a target.

  Nock, draw, fire. Again and again, with silent perfection, the Tulugma archers swept the killing ground beneath the wall clean of living enemies. The noise of battle faded, replaced by the screams and groans of the wounded and dying as the attack shifted to a rout. The agents of the Blindfolded Queen raised their weapons above their heads and cheered as the army turned and fled. Overhead, the wyverns shrieked and swooped down on the retreating men, grabbing people apparently at random to rip them apart before hurling the bloodied portions down on the heads of their living comrades. The Tulugma warriors, both the archers on the wall and those below, simply lowered their weapons and watched. No one made any move to chase the retreat.

  Only when the noise of retreat had faded did Keshik take his eyes off the battlefield to regard Myrrhini.

  ‘Eztli-Ichtaca? She can do that?’ he asked.

  ‘She can.’

  ‘And you? You can do all sorts of things I never knew about.’

  Myrrhini did not smile, although for a moment Keshik felt she was about to.

  ‘I can,’ she finally said. ‘And I don’t know how, or why.’ In the distance, the hunting shrieks of the wyverns were fading as the tattered remnants of the army continued to flee. Myrrhini stared out at the scene, sadness in her eyes. ‘Any more than I understand that,’ she said, waving her arm at the slaughter.

  ‘What is there to understand?’ Keshik asked.

  ‘Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? Where is Kielevinenrohkimainen? Why are they running away?’ She paused, a troubled look crossing her face. ‘And why did Slave run away?’

  ‘He what?’

  ‘He ran away. I don’t know why.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Somewhere down there,’ Myrrhini gestured down at the city.

  ‘He just ran away?’ Keshik was clearly struggling with the concept. Maida moved to stand close to his side, resting her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘When did he leave?’ Maida asked quietly.

  ‘Just as the shapeshifters followed me into battle.’

  Maida looked away at a new soun
d. The Tulugma archers, having finished their bloody work, were leaving the wall. Not marching or trotting in perfect unison as they had arrived, but casually, with the air of satisfaction at a job well done. As they filed past her she felt an inexplicable surge of anger at their smugness. Why hadn’t they been here earlier? How many shapeshifter lives could have been saved? She looked past them, down at the battlefield. Her heart ached at the sight of the corpses of the shapeshifters mangled on the blood-soaked ground. The sudden sadness, almost debilitating in its depth and intensity, struck her hard. Tears sprang to her eyes and her knees went weak. Her stomach heaved.

  ‘What is happening to me?’ she gasped. In her abrupt weakness, she grasped Keshik for support. He wrapped his arm around her to hold her up. Then, as suddenly as it struck her, the wave of sadness lifted. Her strength returned. She eased herself away from Keshik’s support.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  Keshik’s brow furrowed, but he released her without a word.

  ‘What was that you were saying about the army?’ Maida asked, waving her hand at the fleeing men still being harassed by the hunting wyverns.

  ‘We don’t know anything about them, do we?’ Myrrhini said.

  ‘And that attack,’ muttered Keshik. ‘It was a disaster. Almost like whoever ordered it didn’t care what happened.’

  ‘A feint?’ Maida suggested.

  ‘I was wondering that,’ Keshik replied. ‘But for what? What was our attention being taken away from?’

  ‘Whatever it was, I would say it’s happened,’ Maida said.

  Myrrhini shook her head as she turned away. ‘This is all about Kielevinenrohkimainen. It has already wiped out Leserlang and now it is here. There is something here that it wants. We need to find it first.’ She headed down the stairs without another word or backward look.

  ‘She’s right,’ Maida said.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘So we should follow her,’ Maida said.

  Keshik grunted, then walked away, following Myrrhini as he sheathed his swords. Maida gave one last look over her shoulder at the wyverns where they continued their hunt before trailing along behind Keshik. For a moment, she felt a pang of irritation that she was again trailing along behind Keshik, but the feeling passed quickly.

  The Tulugma warriors, including the Habigga, were silently moving into formation as if starting a day of training back in the Kuriltai, rather than wearied and bloodied after a short, savage encounter. By the time Myrrhini reached the bottom of the stairs, they were arranged into strict parade-ground order awaiting inspection. Blood ran unstaunched from wounds and dripped from uncleaned weapons to pool on the stone, while flies started to gather around the motionless Tulugma. Maida was at once repulsed and impressed by the display of discipline. These warriors had just fought a brutal battle, yet they stood here as if the evidence of death and injury were nothing more than dirt to be ignored.

  One man, a spearman, suddenly groaned in uncontrollable agony and dropped to the ground with a clatter where he lay moaning quietly and writhing, just a little. His comrades did not so much as look down at him.

  An eerie silence fell. It seemed that everyone in the city held their breath as the Blindfolded Queen, Zhan Tien and another man strode out into the open area. The man wore the most garish, brilliantly coloured outfit Maida had ever seen, or imagined possible: an open robe of shimmering pink, shot through with yellow and blue thread that glittered in the sunlight; beneath the robe were red trousers, cuffed at his feet with a strip of orange that brushed against perfectly white boots. Around his ample torso, instead of a shirt or jerkin, was a green fabric wrapped in a most intricate pattern. To finish off this bizarre display was a hat, the like of which Maida could scarcely believe. It was pure black, rising almost a whole pace above his head like a chimney. It was decorated with seven long feathers, each a different shade of purple. The feathers had to be almost a pace long themselves and belonged to no creature Maida knew of.

  Had the man not carried himself with dignity and pride, Maida would have burst out laughing at the sight, but he moved like a king wearing a crown of finest gold. Somehow, he managed to convey elegance and a sense of occasion.

  Keshik, however, did not appreciate the man’s aplomb. He snorted and elbowed Maida. ‘I hope he lost a bet, having to wear that in public.’

  His voice carried, disturbingly loud, across the open area, and was heard by the man. He hesitated, flicking Keshik a disapproving glance. Keshik returned the gaze with unconcern.

  ‘Kill him,’ the garishly clad man ordered.

  A dozen arrows were hissing through the air from open windows around the area. Keshik reacted with the trained instincts that made him so lethal. He threw himself sideways, crashing into Maida and carrying her with him as he rolled away. After the arrows shot through the empty space where he had just been standing, he was back on his feet, Maida behind him, his swords out and poised.

  Myrrhini stood, her eyes ablaze with power, her hand raised in defiance. One or two arrows had strayed in her direction, only to be incinerated. She pointed at a window and spat a word. There was a scream and a man staggered forward, falling through the window, enveloped in white-hot flame, to the ground below. The moment he hit the ground the flame went out, leaving only a pile of grey ash.

  ‘How dare you!’ Myrrhini raged.

  ‘I dare because I am Agapios Diamanto Elutherius, the Georgiades of Asnuevium,’ the brightly dressed man declared. His voice rang with the authority and confidence that came from generations of unchallenged rule. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘I am the Eye of Varuun, Seer of the Mertians.’

  ‘Who?’

  Myrrhini stared at the arrogant man in disbelief. Maida held her breath as the Eye of Varuun clenched her fists at her side. Keshik’s grip on his swords tightened. Maida looked around nervously, expecting another volley of arrows to rain down on her at any moment. The tension built until, shockingly, the Blindfolded Queen threw her head back and roared with laughter. She slapped the Georgiades on the back like they were old friends.

  ‘You are impossible,’ she said, almost breathless with laughter. ‘These people have just saved your city, and you chose to insult them. I do like your style.’

  The Georgiades grinned, breaking the illusion of the arrogant ruler, replacing it with that of an impish little boy.

  ‘I’m glad you appreciated it,’ he said.

  ‘I am glad your guards didn’t kill Keshik,’ Zhan Tien added in a growl.

  ‘If that is the infamous monster, Keshik, I doubt my guards could kill him,’ the Georgiades replied.

  Keshik grunted in anger. His face flushed and he almost took a pace forward. The guards watching from the windows must have been alert, for even that slight movement prompted the release of three arrows. Keshik dealt with them with a skill that was as breathtaking as it was contemptuous, slicing them from the air with movements of his swords so swift the eye could barely follow them.

  The Georgiades seemed about to speak again when there was a shatteringly loud explosion from somewhere behind him, deep in the city. Every eye stared in the direction of the noise.

  Every eye, except the Eye of Varuun.

  She was watching Maida.

  While everyone else saw a huge plume of dust rise above the city, Myrrhini saw Maida’s face change from surprise to pleasure so great it bordered on ecstasy. The expression lasted just a moment, but it was enough to make Myrrhini nervous. The blast reached them an instant later with a rush of hot air carrying dust and flying debris. Myrrhini staggered back under the impact.

  ‘What was that?’ she gasped.

  Keshik brushed bits of wood off his head and sniffed. ‘Chemical of some sort,’ he muttered. ‘Myele Powder?’

  ‘Slave would know,’ Maida said.

  ‘Slave could tell you where it was made, when it was made and what the maker was wearing at the time,’ Keshik said grumpily.

  It struck Myrrhini as odd that they shou
ld be standing talking when the city had been rocked by a massive explosion. Already, the sounds of screaming and running feet had started as those close to the blast realised what had happened. The plume of dust, she noted, was rapidly being replaced by a much larger one of smoke. Fire, it seemed, was one result of the explosion.

  The Georgiades rounded on Quetzalxoitl.

  ‘What have you brought into my city?’ he screamed at her.

  ‘Its defence,’ she replied. With haughtiness bordering on arrogance, she shifted her gaze — and her body slightly to emphasise the dismissal — to face Zhan Tien. ‘Are the Tulugma ready to fight alongside the agents of the Blindfolded Queen?’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘Go. Do that.’

  Zhan Tien raised his hand. The assembled Tulugma responded as one, running back into the city in disciplined silence, the agents following. Keshik did not move. After the others were gone, Zhan Tien fixed him with a quizzical look. ‘Too good for us, Kabutat?’ he asked.

  ‘No longer one of them,’ Keshik replied.

  Myrrhini sighed, possibly a little louder than she meant to, as the sound carried easily to the two men, who lifted their heads simultaneously to regard her.

  ‘What?’ she asked. ‘I am just tired of this silly posturing between you two. You —’ she pointed at Zhan Tien ‘— exiled him because he broke the rules, and you —’ she stabbed a finger at Keshik ‘— are cross at him for it. It’s silly; you deserved it, and he did what he had to.’ She paused, suddenly aware she was patronising two of the deadliest men in the world. ‘You,’ she went on, jabbing at Keshik again, ‘got Maida out of it, while you got to keep being in charge. Grow up.’