God of Night

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘Not nothing,’ Toil said. She pointed to the hole where one flagstone had been levered up. ‘Look, in here it’s not quite solid rock.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘There’s metal fragments mixed in, probably other things too. That means a team of mages set this rock here, working in unison. You just get a stone mage to attack it, they’ll find it hard going with all of that in the mix – things they can’t manipulate so easily.’

  ‘So this proves this is the vault?’

  ‘Aye, we just can’t find the entrance.’ Toil held up a hand to stave off an outburst from the general. ‘And if we can’t find the entrance, it’s because it’s not here to find. They need to be able to access the vault once in a while at least. This isn’t some hidden Duegar tomb to be secured for centuries to come. The entrance is somewhere else – I’d just assumed they weren’t so stupid.’

  The general paused, then turned slightly towards the door. ‘The Abbott-Protector’s house?’

  ‘Most likely, aye. Good for going in and out without being observed, just not my choice because you’ll get bloody servants in there day and night. I’m surprised the Torquen hasn’t found out about it already.’

  ‘Or perhaps you’re wrong,’ Eperois pointed out. All the same he turned and selected an officer at random. ‘You. Have the men empty the lower floor of the Abbott’s residence. Remove everything not nailed down, tear out everything that is nailed down.’

  ‘Better to let me check it first,’ Toil warned, but she received only a sharp look in reply.

  The soldiers set about their task with admirable enthusiasm – carelessly piling the dead Abbott-Protector’s possessions in the square. After those came furniture and hangings, then Lynx heard the sound of wood splintering. He exchanged a look with Toil who made a non-committal face. When there was a sharp crack and screams began to come through the nearest window, if anything she looked relieved. As though she’d been half-expecting the entire house to blow up and bury the entrance.

  ‘Ready to let me do it?’ Toil asked. ‘There could be more traps – likely there is. The house burning down might slow you up a bit.’

  Eperois growled in irritation but waved her in. Toil moved quickly as lightning-scorched soldiers were carried out, three in all, from the far corner room of the tall building. Inside what had probably once been a study, Lynx and Toil discovered a section of panelling had been ripped away. The rugs had been removed already and the ground showed a clear path for a doorway on the inner wall, where there was no obvious door.

  Toil picked her way around the wreckage of the panel being removed. Lynx saw a groove in the wall behind and shards of glass on the floor. When the panel had been levered away, he surmised, it had crushed the equivalent of two sparkers and scoured the room of life. Once she checked the whole thing, Toil lifted the panel safely out of the way and turned her attention to what was underneath. A narrow panel of steel with a keyhole – large enough to plausibly be a doorway, small enough to masquerade as a strongbox.

  ‘A key,’ she said in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Someone go search the Abbot’s body, eh?’

  While she waited, Toil fetched a lamp and set about inspecting the strongbox. Set into a block of mage-cast stone, it was recessed so the thick hinges weren’t easily reached in case one had a mind to cut through them.

  ‘No doubt there’s mage-cartridges embedded in the steel,’ she mused, ‘just in case there were any mages hereabouts.’

  ‘Insar’s heart,’ Anatin breathed, ‘she’s enjoying herself. That’s never a good sign.’

  ‘You might be right!’ Toil said with a grin. ‘Corporal Lithen,’ she added, looking at Lynx. ‘Take the door off its hinges. It looks good and sturdy.’

  ‘A shield?’ General Eperois asked.

  ‘Correct. The Knights-Artificer would be certain to have some clever little trap, the Brethen I dunno. Ain’t risking it though.’

  ‘You can pick the lock?’

  ‘No doubt – but the key’s far safer.’

  Lynx lifted the door off its hinge and Toil set it at an angle in front of the strongbox, getting the soldiers to bring the desk back in support it. By then the soldier sent to search the Abbott-Protector’s body had returned, key in hand. Toil inspected it a while then nodded and eased it into the keyhole. The Charnelers stood back while Lynx braced the door, one eye on Toil in case he needed to drag her away.

  ‘Let’s try this first,’ Toil muttered. She stood at Lynx’s shoulder, peeking round the edge of the thick door with a pair of gloves on in case there was a lightning trap on the metal key itself.

  ‘Making me worried here,’ Lynx hissed, unable to see what she was doing.

  ‘It ah … yeah, it moves a bit in the other direction,’ Toil said. ‘More’n you’d expect.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So a modest bit of security mebbe.’ There came a click from the lock and Lynx winced, but nothing exploded. ‘Sounds like that did something. Here goes nothing.’

  She gave the key a quick twist and flinched away behind the door. The strongbox failed to explode. After a moment, Toil gave him a manic grin.

  ‘That’s good then?’ Lynx asked.

  ‘I ain’t dead yet so it’s encouraging.’

  ‘We ain’t dead yet,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Sure, also important I guess. Now …’

  Toil reached out again and opened the steel door a little. There wasn’t much space with Lynx holding the wooden one at an angle, but she only gave it a small tug. Nothing happened.

  ‘Maybe I got it right,’ Toil announced. ‘Right then – shift this lot and we’ll see what we’ve got.’

  A pair of soldiers dragged the desk away again and Lynx set the door against it, trying to ignore the fact that the Charnelers all moved behind the obstacle. Toil checked all around the steel door, Lynx holding the lamp high, before gently opening it all the way. Inside were three shelves containing a sizeable amount of money, papers and a distinct lack of God Fragments.

  ‘All this for nothing?’ the general said, sounding mildly stunned.

  Toil didn’t reply, just handed the money to Lynx and the papers to the soldiers. Once the strongbox was clear she gave the shelves an experimental yank backwards. Nothing happened.

  ‘Look,’ Lynx said, pointing. The sides of the strongbox had a faint arc on either side of the lower shelf where something had repeatedly scraped the metal.

  ‘Aha!’ Toil looked triumphant as she lifted the shelf and was again rewarded by a faint sound. The shelf didn’t pull away, however – instead the whole strongbox shifted backwards and turned on a hinge to reveal a steep set of narrow steps into the darkness below.

  ‘Want to do the honours, General?’ Toil asked, offering Eperois the lamp.

  He laughed and waved her forward. ‘I wouldn’t presume to claim the glory after your hard work. What sort of a gentleman would that make me?’

  ‘Entirely typical?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Without her usual relic hunting gear, Toil was forced to use an unloaded mage-gun as a walking stick. She tested the ground out before entering the tunnel, looking for tripwires or pitfalls but finding none. Obviously, this wouldn’t be as unstable as a Duegar city-ruin, but still she moved slowly with Lynx holding the lamp high behind her. The tunnel was mage-cast but closer inspection revealed each step to have the sharper edge of individually cut stones. Her caution was warranted when Lynx saw a slight give on the second to last step as it was prodded.

  Rather than try to deal with whatever danger lay there, she simply called back a warning and stepped over it. Lynx made sure the Charneler officer following him knew which to avoid, then followed Toil down to the tunnel floor. There she made quick progress down the featureless tunnel into a large room that, by the size, had clearly been built directly under the walls of the temple.

  In the tunnel, Lynx had felt a slight pressure inside his head, like the promise of a thunderstorm. As soon as he entered the room it worsened and
became a heaviness behind his eyes that made him wince until he adjusted. On the edge of hearing was a rustle of something, voices or the wind: he could not tell. The taste of magic was thick in the air. He could feel the thrum and pulse of it through his tattoos, a strange beat that the whispers seemed to rise and fall to.

  So strong was that sensation, Lynx had to check his tattoos as surreptitiously as he could and saw Toil do the same. They were dark, but he was glad Sitain and Atieno weren’t down here. That much power rushing into them might light them all up like a winter festival, which would be more than unfortunate amid an army of Knights-Charnel.

  ‘There you go,’ Toil breathed as she reached the centre of the room and General Eperois followed two of his officers inside. ‘The great vault of the Brethren of the Shards.’

  ‘Is this …’ Eperois tailed off.

  Lynx could hear the awe in the man’s voice, but at the same time the view was hardly magnificent. There were four shrines in the room – a massive one glorifying Veraimin directly ahead, three for the other gods, Insar, Catrac and Ulfer. Above each one were mage-carved stone alcoves containing God Fragments. Those all glowed faintly, the room tinted by Veraimin’s yellow light, the pink of Catrac and green of Ulfer. Lastly, there was a wide stone shelf where the shifting grey-blue glimmer from Banesh’s fragments could be seen emerging from a many-compartmented box.

  ‘A bit dull?’ Toil said. ‘You should’ve seen the Knights-Artificer one. Just a bloody cupboard really.’

  Eperois said nothing. Shaking his head he knelt at the altar of Insar. His officers did so on either side of him and the general led them in a short prayer of thanks.

  ‘Lieutenant, you have fulfilled your side of the bargain,’ he said gravely. ‘There must be more than a hundred fragments here.’ Lynx felt his mouth go dry. Part of him expected the Charnelers to shoot them dead there and then, but instead Eperois bowed to Toil. ‘You do my Order and the gods a great service.’

  ‘It’s an honour to serve,’ Toil said. ‘But, ah, not so great an honour we’d forgo payment.’

  Eperois gave a wan smile. Clearly he didn’t want to be talking about money in the presence of his god, but the reverence had not purged all pragmatism from him. ‘The payment agreed with your agent shall be paid in full.’

  ‘And we’re to accompany you to Knights-Charnel territory? We’re not going to find much employment on any other side o’ this war.’

  ‘You have proved yourselves trustworthy and capable allies,’ Eperois confirmed. ‘I think we have outstayed our welcome in these parts. Supplies are low and the next Brethren response will not be so hasty, so we must not tarry. However, all Red Scarves who can join us shall find employment under my banner.’

  ‘Let’s go tell Captain Adrin the good news then. He does so love getting paid!’

  Chapter 20

  In the darkness, Sotorian Bade could see a figure. He no longer knew if it was imagined or not. It was there all the same – watching and waiting. A presence of darkness within darkness and one that others could feel too. Once it had been affectation, naming the palpable silence and blackness of underground that called to him as Mistress Dark or the black queen. Now? Now he was not so sure if something wasn’t really there, watching and waiting. This close to the charnel vaults where fragments of the gods resided, maybe even he was becoming a believer.

  Bade looked around. Evening was close. The valley was already draped in shadow and only the rocky tips of the cliffs were yet touched by sunlight.

  Not that day gives us much respite.

  Bade blinked as a cup of beer appeared in front of his face, as if from nowhere.

  ‘Day-dreaming again?’ asked a familiar voice. ‘No time for that, my friend.’

  He looked up. Exalted Olebeis frowned back at him. She waved the cup a while longer before settling it into his hand.

  ‘You look as shit as I feel.’

  ‘Huh?’

  Olebeis laughed and settled on the bench beside him. ‘It’s his ready wit I value most,’ she commented to the night’s creatures. ‘Really sets him above the average soldier.’

  ‘I …’ Bade shook his head and took a long drink of what had once been a private stock of the finest beer in the north. ‘Sorry, I was thinking.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  She raised her chin at him with a knowing look. ‘Nothing, eh? As you say.’

  ‘Why’re you bothering me?’ Bade asked, not angry despite his brusque manner. He was too tired to be angry and they had grown close in the crucible of the deepest black. ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping?’

  ‘I could say the same of you,’ she chided. ‘However, we are graced with our lord’s presence – or will be soon – and there is much to do.’

  ‘The Lord-Exalted?’ He stood abruptly. ‘Here?’

  ‘He comes,’ Olebeis confirmed. ‘Ahead of an army. Either we are saved or damned, I do not yet know which.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be a nice change of pace either way.’ Bade yawned.

  Olebeis watched him in the strange, intense way many used around him now. Especially at dusk when the shadows rose, women and men all hesitated before him. Even stranger – he was getting used to people acting that way. He felt different in some indefinable way, the hand of the deepest black resting gently on his shoulder. If he’d been a religious man he’d have described himself as blessed. Right now, he didn’t have a word for it.

  ‘Do you think he’ll arrest me?’ Bade added after a pause.

  ‘What he intends means little,’ Olebeis replied. ‘His heart will change when he sees you. When he sees all of this.’

  She gestured around them and Bade almost laughed. They were on a rocky outcrop under a steeply sloping roof, refuse scattered messily around the camp. It had a sheer drop on one of its open sides and only an awkward path down the other. Several hundred dragoons slept, ate or talked quietly around them – bedrolls lined up one by one behind canvas lean-tos. At the back was a wall of crates, ammunition of all kinds that had been ferried up here. It could hardly be called an army camp, let alone one that conformed to the expectations of a senior Knight-Charnel.

  ‘Mebbe he’s here to take over. I could do with a night off.’

  Bade stretched and fumbled around for the white leather mask he used to cover the burn-scars on his face. He slipped that on and adjusted it until it was comfortable.

  ‘A few quiet nights in some cell while he watches patrols get chewed apart.’

  Olebeis grinned. ‘Perhaps I should offer to take some of the blame as well.’

  She clapped a hand on his shoulder, awkwardly at first as though having to remind herself that this was a man she’d become friends with, even at dusk.

  ‘Come on.’

  They went to the top of the steps, the guards there saluting Bade as they went. Down on the valley floor Bade could see Lord-Exalted Utrik at the head of a column of troops. They were mostly Torquen, a good thousand in number. Bade whistled, realising what that must mean.

  ‘Reinforcements,’ Olebeis said. ‘At last.’

  ‘Difficult to believe your reports, I’d guess,’ Bade replied. ‘Even prettied up it sounded like the ravings o’ a madman – some gods-touched doomsayer preaching on street corners.’

  ‘When the truth sounds like madness, what does that make us who live through it?’

  Bade laughed. ‘Proper fucked.’

  He worked his way slowly down the uneven narrow steps to the ground. His balance was still a little uncertain, though the pain of his burns troubled him less these days. They waited on the trampled stretch of grass below where a dozen dragoons tried to make themselves look presentable.

  ‘Is it as bad as you make out?’ the Lord-Exalted called as soon as he was within speaking distance. He nudged his horse into a trot for the last few dozen yards, eager to be about his business.

  ‘Worse,’ Bade replied while Olebeis and the rest of the troops saluted in haphazard fashion.

>   The Lord-Exalted looked around them all, assessing what he was truly seeing there. Only Olebeis looked much like a soldier. The weary and battle-scarred troops seemed to have forgotten their parade ground training. Now they were just another relic hunter crew, and a crew only had one boss.

  ‘I have come to see for myself,’ Utrik continued after a while.

  He was a sharp man. Arrogant and proud, yes, but so sharp he ended up cutting most of those around him, so the jokes went. He could sense the change in the air here. Combined with the letter he’d received from Olebeis, that was enough to make sure he’d not just storm in, waving his authority around to impress all the girls.

  ‘Your report said that drastic action was necessary.’ He gestured at the column of soldiers behind. ‘This is almost all of the remaining garrison defending Seit-e-Veirolle, here to bolster your numbers for a renewed offensive. We cannot leave the holy valley open to attack for long and it will be weeks before a field army can be recalled. I am here to assess the situation myself to see if that is really necessary.’

  ‘Right now any fucker who wants to come in and steal your God Fragments is welcome to try. Coldest black, I’d wave ’em on through. We could all do with a laugh.’ Bade waved at a group of watching soldiers, calling them forward. ‘Fetch ’em guns and ammo. The Lord-Exalted wants to go down below.’

  ‘My guards are already armed,’ Utrik said, glancing back at the ten pristine bodyguards who rode behind him.

  ‘Of a fashion, but you need to be on the hard stuff down there, my Lord. The rules have changed since you were here last.’

  ‘So I see.’ Utrik pointed back down the road to the smaller of the two settlements within sight, Highkeep Sanctuary. ‘The palisade is gone.’

  ‘It went, yeah.’

  ‘And the mages wander free?’

  ‘My Lord,’ Olebeis broke in. ‘I have patrols on the roads in case anyone attempts to leave, but the mages have proved crucial to our survival. Those wandering free are seeing to their defences and the palisade actually proved a hindrance.’