Wrath of Storms

by Steven McKinnon

  Guilt burned inside him, but that’d wash away soon enough. All things considered, he could be a lot worse off.

  So he’d stay here, and die as he’d lived—in the muck with a needle in his hands. He promised to never beg for forgiveness—he promised that as a long as he was true to himself, then he was golden. In that, Buzz found pride. In his last hours, he’d hold his head up. If he had to die, then this was a better way to go than a knife or a bullet. It was on his own terms.

  So what if he’d failed? So what if the bastards won? Didn’t they always? What did it matter, in the end? Buzz cared about Fallon, Waltham and Dalthea about as much as they cared about him.

  The tip of the needle glinted, and the substance inside promised that Buzz’s last few hours would be peaceful—and that was more than what most got. In the end—as sure as a train can only follow where its tracks lead—Bertram ‘always on the lookout for his next buzz’ Fitangus would do what he always knew he would.

  He hurled the syringe to the floor and planned his escape.

  ‘Sweet an’ lovely scuzz, gonna jam it up, jam it up, need more always need more…’

  Buzz rolled on the ground, wailing and laughing. ‘Don’t cry, mum, don’t cry as you let the jackals take you, sweet and lovely scuzz… Oi, Tanner! Pol! You’re there, I know you’re there… Gonna jam it up… Oi!’

  The door scraped open and Tanner’s stench wafted into the cellar. ‘I’m impressed—you was supposed to die on that last batch. Pol owes me twenty aerons.’

  ‘Scuzz won’t kill me… It’s my friend.’ Buzz giggled. He let his gaze roam without fixing on anything, let his eyelids flutter. ‘And it wants to visit me again.’

  ‘Ain’t got any left... How many doses you reckon you got left in you?’

  ‘Naughty, naughty… Musa Songstress knows when you’re lying… And Tristan said I’d have as much as I needed, Tristan said, Tristan said the spineless, gutless wanker…’

  ‘Bloody coward.’ Tanner stomped across and kicked Buzz in the stomach. ‘Reckon I can make it look like you overdosed—twenty aerons is much more’n what you’re worth, so I s’pose I shouldn’t push my luck.’

  ‘Like you’re any stranger to drugs—I can smell the laudanol on you—reckoned only the corner whores used that to dull the senses… But then, you’re just a whore with a badge, ain’t you?’

  Tanner kicked Buzz across the floor. The needle flew from his hands, and Buzz scrambled to retrieve it.

  ‘You should try scuzz. You can get your oblivion for much cheaper.’ Buzz collapsed into a fit of giggles, earning another kick for his trouble. ‘Careful… Tristan… wants me alive, remember.’

  ‘Tristan ain’t running things,’ Tanner growled. ‘How much more use can a filthy scuzzer be, anyway?’

  ‘Just… Let me…’ Buzz’s voice trailed off.

  ‘Eh? What’s that?’ Tanner slapped Buzz’s face.

  ‘…just a little…’

  ‘Just a little more? Eh?’ Tanner slapped him again and bowed down closer. ‘A little more scuzz? Pathetic.’

  Buzz’s eyes fixed on Tanner’s. ‘No—just a little closer.’

  ‘What—’

  Buzz thrust the needle through Tanner’s eye and pushed it deeper with his palm.

  The watchman collapsed, thrashing and screaming—high and shrill like a wailing child.

  With a shaking hand, Buzz ripped the Watch blade from Tanner’s scabbard.

  The blade punctured Tanner’s skin once, twice, three times before he stopped wailing.

  Pyron Thackeray’s face betrayed no emotion—he said nothing and regarded his visitors as though they were strangers.

  He’d aged a lot in the month since the Raincatchers’ Rebellion—an unkempt grey beard intruded over his rugged features, and his hair sat in a matted mess—but he stood with squared shoulders and a predatory keenness in his eyes.

  Valentine wanted very much to shoot him.

  Fallon broke the silence. ‘Tell me how you’re running the city from this shit hole, and I’ll only kill you once.’

  ‘“Aggression is the instinct of fools.”’ The words dripped from Thackeray’s mouth like honey. ‘Denri tal Culaire.’

  Fallon took a step closer. ‘Yeah. He was an asshole, too.’

  Thackeray placed his hands behind his back. His eyes roamed the bars of his cell, and up to the ceiling. ‘No-one was to find out about this place. A curious thing, the Gravehold. When King Rochefort—a man almost as paranoid as you—had his men construct his warrens, they came across this pit.’

  ‘Wow, a team of diggers discovering a big hole,’ said Fallon. ‘Imagine that.’

  ‘As usual, General, your lack of imagination stifles you. The men did not manufacture the descending circles of the Gravehold—they uncovered them. Rochefort’s diaries are long gone, but he believed this pit to be a natural gateway to the infinite hells.’

  ‘Yeah, and he chucked himself over the edge when his wife found out he was whorin’ behind her back—so how about we cut the history lessons and you start answering my questions?’

  ‘Rochefort had his tunnellers killed,’ said Thackeray, ‘and demanded additional storeys constructed for his castle, all to keep him further away from the pit beneath the castle. There are accounts of him venturing through the hallways in the dead of night to visit. He’d sit and stare at the concentric circles for hours. I wonder what thoughts ran through his head?’

  Valentine rolled her eyes. ‘Probably something along the lines of “Shit, my wife found out I can’t keep it in my pants, best jump.”’

  ‘Possibly,’ whispered Thackeray. ‘Possibly.’

  Fallon rolled his shoulders. ‘Gotta say, you’re pretty damn relaxed for a man facing the noose.’

  ‘Firing squad.’

  ‘I’d rather save the bullets.’

  Thackeray eased himself onto the floor—there was no furniture in the cell.

  ‘You really gonna make me question you the hard way, Thackeray? Neither of us has time for that.’

  ‘On the contrary, General—I have all the time in the world. Unless you’re planning to hang me here and now?’

  Fallon grabbed Thackeray by the shoulders and shoved him up against the bars. ‘How are you doing it?’

  The curve playing across Thackeray’s mouth almost made Valentine pull the trigger.

  ‘For a man with thirty years on me, General, I admire your constitution.’

  Fallon let go, but he didn’t step back. ‘How are you commanding the Lightbearers?’

  Thackeray glanced at Valentine, then back to Fallon. ‘How many disciples still follow you? How many men and women under your command do you trust?’

  There ain’t time for this. ‘How ’bout I put a round in this traitor’s leg?’

  Fallon shook his head. ‘No need.’ Fallon withdrew a syringe from inside his coat. ‘He’ll talk.’

  The sight of the syringe took some of the confidence out of Thackeray.

  ‘Your mind-control serum,’ whispered Fallon.

  In an instant, Valentine’s throat dried.

  Thackeray glared at her. ‘See how the burden of leadership changes a man?’ he said. ‘I’ve been branded a traitor, and all I sought was to preserve peace. What will the history books say of the man who lost Dustwynd and tortured his predecessor?’

  Fallon shook his head. ‘You whored yourself out to Farro Zoven. You killed the entire Council, King Owain—Raleigh Trevelyan, too, I reckon.’

  ‘I removed obstacles, General—that’s all. Tell me, how is Dustwynd faring?’

  Fallon balled his fist.

  ‘You did the right thing, General. Bloodlung posed a threat, so you contained it before it brought ruin to the rest of the kingdom. Are the things I did truly so different? Our objectives are the same—eradicate our enemies to preserve peace.’

  Fallon growled. ‘You’re a traitor who made others do your killin’.’

  ‘Yes—for unlike you, I’ve made alliances. You isolate y
ourself from those around you, grooming loyal disciples only to discard them as soon as they disappoint you. You call me a whore for working with Farro Zoven—I’ll gladly accept the label, for it was for the good of the kingdom. Your pride and paranoia have proven to be your downfall, General.’

  ‘Paranoia’s saved my life more’n once.’

  ‘At what cost? Tell me, what do you believe the Idari are thinking right now? Or King Arnault? Or even Karina Taliana? We are vulnerable, General. The only way peace prevails is if every nation lives in fear of each other. The Schiehallion is gone—what defences have you put in place for the coming war?’

  ‘Gods damn it,’ Valentine breathed, ‘do you ever shut up?’

  For a moment, no-one spoke—and in the silence, Valentine felt eyes watching her.

  Fallon’s needle glided across Thackeray’s neck. ‘I’ll protect my godsdamn kingdom, traitor. I’ll sift through all the shit and watch you swing. How are you running the Wraiths and the Lightbearers?’

  A shallow crescent formed in Thackeray’s lips. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Bullshit—Jagoda gave me your name.’

  ‘Find out for yourself.’ Thackeray cocked his head to the side, letting the needle press against his vein. ‘Do you believe that I would not have contingencies in place in the event that I was killed or sent here? The Idari inspired such thinking—create a network of independent cells, so no one man holds all the keys. At best, that serum will give you only part of the picture.’

  ‘Having others fight your battles for you—that sounds about right.’

  ‘The war I fight is waged in the shadows—as a former Confessor, you should appreciate that.’

  Valentine’s blood turned cold. The boss was a Confessor?

  ‘Go. Put the needle in me,’ said Thackeray. ‘Let your last disciple see how easily you shed your judgement and adopt the very same tactics you despise. Let her see how easily the veneer strips away—see exactly what the job demands of a man, General.’

  Fallon hesitated.

  ‘Do it, General—then tell me how it feels to see everything you’ve worked for slip through your fingers. Tell me how it feels to know how powerless you are.’

  The needle drew a bead of blood from Thackeray’s neck.

  ‘Boss, he’s bullshitting you,’ said Valentine. ‘If he had more information, he’d have squealed back when Serena interrogated him.’

  ‘Well,’ said Fallon, ‘that all depends on the questions, don’t it?’

  ‘Think about it, boss—with all his traitors and collaborators, he could’ve waltzed outta here at any moment.’

  ‘She’s correct,’ said Thackeray. ‘But, strange as it is, the Gravehold is the safest place in the kingdom for me.’

  ‘Until now,’ Fallon barked.

  ‘Yes, threaten me, General. Is that how you got Ajir’s confession? Did you make him beg?’

  Fallon drove his fist into Thackeray’s face again and again.

  ‘Boss,’ Valentine urged. ‘Boss!’

  Thackeray spat blood over his stubble. ‘He didn’t tell you of his lover, did he, Valentine? Of his secret shame?’

  ‘Shut up,’ barked Fallon.

  ‘Who gives a shit?’ Valentine spat. She knew Fallon had had a family once, but aside from that, she couldn’t think of a single instance where he’d indicated attraction to anyone. So what if he had a past? So what if it was against the Fayth? For every proclamation in the Book of Aerulus, there were a dozen in the Book of Eiro that contradicted it.

  Thackeray shook his head. ‘You misunderstand me, Valentine—his shame is not that he lay with other men—his shame is that he let the only man he ever loved use him to reveal secrets—secrets that led many to their deaths during the war with Ryndara. How much bloodshed could’ve been avoided if Confessor Fallon had kept his cock tucked between his legs?’

  Fallon punched Thackeray again. ‘Shut your damn mouth.’

  Thackeray massaged his jaw. ‘Ever the patriot, you chose the kingdom over your own desire—not every man would’ve. That’s the only reason I kept your secret from Confessor Cronin.’

  ‘Quiet.’

  Thackeray’s face lit up, in spite of the blooming red welt swelling over his face. ‘You were foolish enough to live your life believing that isolation made you strong.’ A peal of laughter burst from Thackeray. ‘I’m surprised Ajir still had the faculties to sign the confession letter after what you did to him.’

  Fallon’s heavy breathing filled the cell. ‘Enough mind games—you answer my questions.’

  ‘Sir…’ Valentine’s throat turned arid. She knew how it felt to have meds forced into you—how it left you less than human. ‘Sir, if you do this, you ain’t any better than he is.’

  ‘Far from the worst thing this man has done in service of the Fayth and the Crown,’ said Thackeray.

  Fallon inserted the needle into the prisoner’s vein and pushed the plunger.

  Her gut swelling with dread, Valentine lowered her Vindicator. The temperature in the Gravehold fell, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something in the shadows watched her.

  Fallon stepped back. ‘Talk. What’s your godsdamn plan, Thackeray?’

  ‘To secure more ignerium...’ The words fell from Thackeray’s lips—steady and monotonous, like the constant drip from a tap.

  ‘The hell’s “ignerium”?’ Valentine asked.

  ‘It’s what powers the Lightning Harness,’ Fallon explained. ‘Jagoda found my notes on it.’

  ‘Not just Jagoda…’ Thackeray’s head lolled to the side.

  ‘What do you mean? Who was working with him?’

  ‘A Hunter…’

  ‘The Hunters’ Guild’s gone—give me a name.’

  ‘Tristan… Leonard Tristan.’

  ‘Bullshit, I vetted Tristan myself. How the hell did you get to him?’

  ‘I’d intended… to place an agent inside every Guild. He was to be my contact with… the Hunters. His doctored files were in place long before you thought to look at them.’

  ‘Son of a bitch.’ Fallon came close to hitting Thackeray again. ‘He must’ve been the one who helped Jagoda get into my quarters—the guards saw him every day with Waltham, no wonder the banker got in so easily.’

  Despite the growing chill, Valentine wiped sweat from her forehead. The Gravehold had that effect. ‘Sir, what the hell’s going on?’

  ‘We gotta get to Catryn—if Tristan saw those notes, he knows she’s got ignerium. Why did you need more, Thackeray?’

  ‘The doctors of One Three Seven…’ Thackeray’s pupils dilated in the wash of light from Fallon’s flare. ‘They knew nothing of the power I handed them. Ignerium gave life to dead things—things immune to the Poison Veil… An army… Immune to the Idari’s mind control…’

  ‘How did you get it?’ Fallon demanded.

  ‘Helena tal Ventris brought it to me.’

  Knots tightened in Valentine’s gut. She had to step back, unable to believe what Thackeray was saying, yet knowing he couldn’t lie.

  ‘I recruited her,’ the prisoner continued. ‘She… is the most ruthless soldier I’ve ever known. Fearless. Relentless. As King Owain used me as his tool to secure more ignicite reserves, so did I use her to seek weapons to defend our kingdom… I turned her from soldier to sky pirate… She gave deniability to Dalthea… And she relished the work I gave her.’

  ‘Ventris was bringin’ down airships long before the Idari hit the Sanctecano Islands.’ Fallon shook his head. ‘State-sponsored terrorism.’

  ‘Yes. She routed our enemies before they could attack… Surgical strikes, precise. Half the stories surrounding her aren’t true… She allowed the world to brand her a pirate, but in truth, she was a patriot.’

  ‘Get to the damn point.’

  ‘After a joint covert mission with… Taliana Konstantin to eliminate hard-line Tarevian nationalists, Ventris uncovered rumours of a new power source in the frozen wastes… A power source that would give us unparallel
ed strength... And Gods above and below, she found it… A frozen temple dedicated to Musa…’ Thackeray’s face screwed up.

  ‘And she found this ignerium shit there?’ Valentine asked.

  ‘Yes… We’ve all heard stories of magic gems buried deep within ignicite deposits… It’s why deep mining can be lucrative… And dangerous. But she found it… It gave us the Lightning Harness, the Wraith army...’

  Valentine shook her head. With each moment, the anxiety worming in her gut worsened. The shadows of the Gravehold bore down on her. ‘None of this is in the records kept in Unit One Three Seven.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Thackeray. ‘But I required more… So I handed Ventris our greatest weapon. The Schiehallion… Ventris took her on her maiden voyage. Decades spent researching technology to lift us above the Steelpeaks… Ignerium would allow us to jump ahead… She tracked down the source of all the rumours… She found out where the greatest hoard of ignerium was located…’

  ‘Where?’ Fallon demanded.

  Thackeray’s brow furrowed. ‘Palthonheim. She found a way in, but… At the cost of her mind. She returned empty-handed. She claimed the Gods communed with her there, spun stories of Musa bringing ruin to the world… “The Herald of Death”, she kept repeating. I had to cut her loose… I sent her away on a final mission… And Prime Councillor Trevelyan sent Rowena Lockwood to capture her at my suggestion...’

  ‘A set-up,’ muttered Fallon. ‘Lockwood has no idea, does she?’

  ‘None. A great victory for the Royal Sky Fleet—we apprehended the Scalpel... Publicly, I let the world believe she was dead… But I kept her here, in case there was truth to the stories she spun… In case I had use of her again.’ The corners of Thackeray’s mouth turned down. ‘And after the Raincatchers’ Rebellion, you fools let her go.’

  ‘What’s this got to do with the Lightbearers?’ Fallon growled.

  ‘Adaryn Kayn gave me another gift… He rallied the people—people willing to fight, willing to die… Tristan gave Kayn the Lightbearers and their name… He’s their true leader…’

  Valentine’s grip tightened. ‘The people he rallied… You turned them into Wraiths. I saw ’em.’