God of Night

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘The restoration,’ Bade whispered almost reverentially. ‘The return of magic to its full glory.’

  ‘Truly?’

  He looked at her. Olebeis had always been a cynic of sorts, had always questioned with dispassion all she saw and heard, but her tone of voice was more hopeful than sceptical. An Exalted should be unshakeable in faith and ruthlessly pragmatic in deed, he knew. They were the spine of the Knights-Charnel and this alloy ruled their every hour, action and thought.

  ‘Truly. Something has changed. The last piece in the puzzle has fallen into place.’

  ‘Then what comes next?’

  Bade shook his head. ‘That I don’t know. We will see. We will wait and welcome what comes. Soon this long vigil will be over.’

  ‘You mean the Long Watch?’

  Bade turned to look down at the Dawn Stair, entrance to the deepest black.

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Does it mean every nasty bug on the continent is going to stop trying to eat us?’

  He smiled. ‘I doubt it.’

  Olebeis cursed under her breath. ‘Winter’s not far off,’ she pointed out. ‘Our supplies won’t last through it. Even if we strip the city clean, there’s not enough. Even assuming the guards at the high pass are still at their station, they’ve not sent any caravans through in weeks. Looks like folk are afraid to come near here.’

  ‘Can you blame them?’ Bade asked. He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, it’ll be soon.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then everything will change.’

  ‘Go.’

  ‘What?’ Vigilance frowned at his sister. ‘Without you? Don’t be so stupid.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Toil insisted.

  The commander of the Red Scarves sat at a smouldering fire while his troops packed up. Toil went to sit close at his side, pressed up against his shoulder in a sisterly way that was most unlike her. She felt him tense – not at her, but in realisation that something was different.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Vigilance asked.

  ‘The Sons,’ she admitted. ‘They’ve got their own agenda.’

  ‘This surprises you?’

  ‘In a way. Vigilance, you need to go. I’m asking you to go. Please.’

  ‘And I’m your big brother,’ he replied stiffly. ‘I don’t run away like that.’ He forced a smile. ‘And since when have I been in the habit of doing what you tell me?’

  Toil scowled down at the glowing embers, the fatigue getting the best of her for a moment until she rallied.

  ‘Just this once, I need you to. I’m risking too much already.’

  ‘All the more reason for me to stay. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I could be of help. I’ve got a few friends willing to get stuck in if necessary.’

  ‘And I need you to go home. We’ve not always seen eye to eye, probably I’ve not been the easiest sister to have—’

  At this, he laughed, loudly and abruptly, but Toil didn’t have the energy to hit him. Instead, she just let him quieten and, when Vigilance put his arm around her, Toil let herself be drawn in.

  ‘Easy? No. It isn’t easy to share a house with a bright burning light, but that does not make it all the more wonderful to behold. You were always Father’s favourite – no, I mean no blame with that. He is who he is and that kept him alive over the years. More recently too, so I hear …’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He heard there might be trouble at a certain inn called the Hand of Cards. Being who he is, that sounded great fun to a retired old bear.’

  Toil looked up, startled, but saw only laughter in her brother’s face. ‘Night’s whispers, what happened?’

  ‘Some Torquen went to cause trouble, stir something up as they searched for your Cards. The Silver Scarves were there to greet them.’

  ‘Sanbel and the rest? All those old bastards? Any of them get killed?’

  Vigilance shook his head. ‘A few wounds, nothing major. As last hurrahs go, it was modest, but they all enjoyed themselves immensely. No doubt by the time I hear the story it will involve four hundred soldiers laying siege and seven old men heroically fighting them off.’

  Toil was quiet for a while. ‘This is what I mean, you know,’ she said at last. ‘This is why you should go.’

  ‘For Mother and Father? Their son is a mercenary, their daughter happiest chasing monsters through underground ruins. They accept the dangers of life.’

  ‘And there’s no need this time round,’ Toil said, shaking her head. ‘Not both of us. You’ve got a family, Vig. Go home to them. It’d break their hearts to see us both dead and the risk’s too high.’

  ‘It’d break their hearts to see you dead. That’s the life we lead,’ he said gently. ‘I meant it when I said you were Father’s favourite. I doubt he even knows it – certainly he’d never admit it – but that savage side of you that put out some damn fool’s eye when you were fifteen years old … that’s all him. That fire’s in him still and he glories in seeing how bright you burn.’

  Toil bowed her head. ‘I can’t stop, not yet.’

  ‘I know. They know that too. From what you’ve told me, this is important – coldest hells, the word doesn’t even do this justice, but there you go. Nothing that important comes without risk, but all the more reason for me to be there too.’

  ‘But you can’t. You know that, right? It’s not just the danger, it’s your troops too.’

  He snorted. ‘I may not have Father’s heavy hand when it comes to discipline, but these bastards know how to obey orders all the same.’

  ‘Not these orders. Half will desert before we get there. It’ll be a long, hard road and when we arrive … the Cards are in this to the end, we’ve no real choice on that front. The Scarves are just doing their jobs. Don’t give them a hard choice like that, it’ll be no good for anyone.’

  Vigilance let out a long breath but just as he seemed about to speak, he didn’t. Instead, he kept his arm around his sister and they both stared into the fire. The familiar smell of him prompted memories of her childhood when they would all curl up in a bed while their father was away. Children and mother all together in the great bed she shared with her husband, all hoping he would return from whichever war he was fighting.

  He always came back. When he was around it was impossible to imagine him dying, the sheer power of his presence denied it. The man had been huge and impossibly loud, brimming with energy and fury. He filled the room and seemed immortal when he was there, but in the dark of night when they had heard nothing for weeks on end … then it was all too easy to imagine an ambush gone wrong, a battle lost or plague ravaging a town they were defending.

  Silver Scarves indeed … those silly old bastards, giving themselves names and going off to fight Torquen agents.

  Still Toil smiled. She could readily imagine them, Father and his drinking cronies with their missing limbs, scars and hard eyes, looming behind some Torquen troublemaker who was trying to intimidate the patrons of Anatin’s own pub. None of the Silver Scarves had died, Vigilance said. She doubted that was the case for whoever they were fighting. Those old men were silver-haired grandfathers to be sure, but killers to their last breath all the same.

  All around them shouts rose up as the Sons of the Wind set off. Toil looked over to where the Cards had camped. They were almost ready and she saw Lynx standing there, waiting with her pack.

  ‘Time to go,’ she said, looking up at Vigilance. ‘I’ll see you soon, big brother.’

  ‘Come back alive,’ he replied, kissing Toil on the forehead. ‘Otherwise the Silver Scarves might ride out once more.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Look after Lynx,’ Vigilance added. ‘He seems the sensitive sort.’

  She laughed. ‘He is, but there’s a nasty side to him too.’

  ‘Always Daddy’s girl, eh?’

  ‘Fortunately, there’s a lot of difference between them.’ She rose and brushed herself down before squeezing
his shoulder. ‘Send them my love.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Goodbye, Vigilance.’

  ‘Good luck, Toil. Burn bright.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘Kinda creepy, isn’t it?’

  Lynx’s comment drew a withering look from the other mercenaries. Eight of them stood in the main square of some unknown little town at the junction of a Duegar canal and a slow-flowing river. Blockish stone buildings surrounded them, two taverns and some sort of town hall interspersed among the three-storey houses.

  ‘Really?’ Safir asked. ‘This is where you draw the line? Not the ancient underground cities?’

  It was a prosperous region. Well inside Knights-Charnel heartlands even the little towns displayed their wealth. Glass in every window, well-built houses on the outskirts. This one even had an amphitheatre for those dreary plays northerners so admired. If every single town they’d encountered hadn’t been abandoned, Lynx might have liked it.

  Lynx shook his head and sat on the stone lip of a raised pond that surrounded a statue of Insar. ‘Somehow this feels more lifeless. Duegar ruins are different – there were people here last week but …’

  He gestured around them. There had perhaps been a market going on in the square when the population fled. Wooden barrows and market stalls still stood, stripped of goods. Several bundles lay in the mud, abandoned once they’d spilled. He’d seen it before, likely they all had, but there were no bodies this time round. It wasn’t pretty when civilians were driven out, but a sad reality that people died. Here there was nothing living, not even a dog.

  ‘You won’t get any complaints from me,’ Layir said. He raised a pint mug and grinned. Both Olostirans wore the traditional kilts of their homeland, but in concession to the northern climate they had woollen leggings underneath. ‘They didn’t stop to take the beer with them. It tastes pretty damn good.’

  ‘Assuming they didn’t poison it,’ Lynx said. ‘Simple enough to do in a town like this. We passed an apothecary and they had warning of our coming. Instead …’

  The chaos of the population’s flight was evident. There had been no attempt to take all the food, spoil the wells or even take down the bridges they’d crossed. Day after day was the same, plentiful supplies left in the villages and towns, wine and beer for all. Even if that was a tactic, to slow up the invaders with booze, they’d never met the Cards.

  Toil shook her head. ‘That’s what I don’t get – clearly they didn’t. That’s Layir’s second pint.’

  ‘Also, I’m not a total fucking idiot,’ Layir interjected. ‘Varaim might not be able to taste anything at this point, but my palate’s slightly more refined. This is quality stuff. It’s hard to mask the taste of poison when this hits every precise flavour.’

  ‘Sure, right little dainty princess you are,’ she said with a scowl. ‘Still – someone would’ve died by now if that was the plan, so you’re probably safe playing canary.’

  ‘Is that your way of asking me to fetch you a beer?’

  ‘No. I’m just trying to fathom the rest. They ran – dropped everything and went. Look at this place. It’s wealthy and orderly with a garrison like every other town but, when it came to evacuating, everything fell apart. Must be we’re missing something.’

  Lynx watched Toil pace around the square, kicking debris aside as she went. Their wait for Kas was clearly nagging at her frayed patience, though the scout was not overdue. As they neared the holy valley, Toil’s restlessness had increased day by day. The goal was close now, the mission’s end in sight. Lynx knew she was trying to account for every eventuality, to plan it all in her head, but there were too many unknown elements and it was driving her to distraction.

  The cold wind picked up and they all pulled their long coats closer about their bodies. Lynx had to hold on to the brim of his hat to stop the gusts from tearing it off. The wind had been a constant of the last few weeks, a dispiriting steady drizzle accompanying it most days. Their horses shifted at their tethers at the tavern where, inside, Layir clattered mugs and sang something cruder than his refined palate suggested.

  The large stallion Lynx had been given snorted and barged the smaller horses beside it. Colet went to calm them with a practised hand. Her husband might have been the head groom at the company’s official home, the Hand of Cards, but Lynx could see she had as deft a hand as any.

  Just as she’d got them settled a large shape swooped over the rooftops, prompting another jolt of alarm from the horses. The Cards all yanked their mage-guns free and took aim amid a flurry of curses. With fat half-moon-shaped wings and a spiked crest on its head, it was clearly no normal bird, even if it did have feathers. Before anyone could get a bead on the beast, it was gone, wheeling away to the east and vanishing behind the buildings.

  ‘What in the deepest black was that?’ Colet yelled.

  ‘Something that shouldn’t be anywhere near civilisation,’ Toil said, looking grim. ‘Get used to the sight – it won’t be the last we get.’

  ‘Dangerous?’

  ‘Not a damn clue. I’ve only seen them at a distance, never had reason to find out.’

  ‘But probably, right?’ Colet said.

  ‘Knowing our luck, yeah. Just be glad there was only one of ’em.’

  ‘For now.’

  Safir stood with his mage-gun ready while Colet returned to the horses and Layir swaggered back out of the pub, liberally spilling beer from six tankards. The Cards sipped in silence, one eye on the sky until Kas arrived, riding a piebald hill pony with four more mercenaries following.

  ‘We’ve got a problem,’ she called. ‘Scouts.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On the east road, mebbe four miles out.’

  ‘Did they see you?’

  ‘Nah, I was wearing my magic fucking cloak. Course they saw me – they’d be pretty shit at their job otherwise.’

  ‘How long?’

  Kas bit her lip as she thought. ‘Depends. Looked like twenty or more. Might be an advance group rather than outriders for an army. If not though, they’ll be here before the Sons can make up the ground.’

  Toil nodded. ‘Layir, fetch the rest of the Cards.’

  The young man nodded and jumped on his horse, heading south. The rest of the Cards weren’t far behind, the company acting as an advance party themselves. The main group of Sons of the Wind were a day behind. Their orders were to hold this town and wait to be caught up, whereupon a different company would push on ahead. Lynx could see a plan forming in Toil’s mind.

  ‘How far from the valley are we?’ she asked. ‘Eight miles? Close enough to reach before nightfall?’

  ‘That’s what the Sons tell us,’ Kas replied cautiously. ‘I’ve not covered the ground myself so I’ll make no promises.’

  ‘You want to push straight on?’ Safir said. ‘Try your luck before the Sons catch up?’

  ‘Every town’s been emptied,’ she declared, waving at the buildings around them. ‘If they wanted to stage a fighting retreat or ambushes, they’d have done it already. They just all fucking ran, every single one. Panic drove this, blind terror. There’s an argument to flee, put up no resistance and save your strength for the fight to come, but no thought went into all this. They were spooked already, I reckon.’

  ‘And we just saw something weird flying overhead,’ Lynx pointed out.

  ‘Yeah – might be there’s more to it than that.’

  ‘Is this meant to reassure us?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not at all, but it’s the unexpected that’ll kill us.’

  ‘Or the massive defences at the valley mouth, don’t forget that bit.’

  ‘I haven’t.’ She paused. ‘I want to push on,’ Toil reasserted a moment later. ‘I want to see these valley defences for myself – get there ahead of the Sons.’

  Safir cocked his head at her. ‘Have you been at the poisoned beer?’

  His attempt at a joke didn’t elicit anything. ‘I’m just saying we scout it out. Might be there’s a
window to exploit. They must know the Sons aren’t close enough to start the assault so they won’t be expecting any attack. But they don’t know us, they don’t know what we can do.’

  ‘You mean attack not even with all the Cards?’ Lynx asked. ‘Just us Marked Cards assaulting a fortress none of us have ever seen?’

  ‘Better pray for a cloudless night then, Safir,’ Toil said, nodding. ‘If the gods hate you as much as you seem to think, we might actually end up with what we need.’

  When Anatin and the rest of the Cards arrived, Toil laid out her plan. It went against General Erazil’s instructions, but that only helped to sway people. Lynx saw that Toil wasn’t the only one disinclined to trot along exactly as told. The distrust between the two groups hadn’t boiled over into anything but, even at the risk of his life, Anatin seemed happy to engage in a small fuck-you. Toil’s goal was to scout the land, but if an opportunity presented itself they wouldn’t pass that up.

  They pushed on through the afternoon. Passing another ghost town before evening started to encroach gave them perhaps an answer to the mystery of the missing population. Several fields outside of the town contained bodies – not human, but cattle. It didn’t require close inspection to see that there had been some rough butchery involved, the dismembered bodies left to rot. While there were large predators in the north capable of doing that, an entire field of dead cattle suggested something unusual. Something that normally lived in the deepest black, perhaps. There was no trace of what the local garrisons had done about it, as though they’d turned a blind eye to the whole thing.

  It was a region of large stone formations overlooking shallow valleys and narrow lakes. The forests were no great hindrance – this being a long-inhabited region there were good roads. They saw no one at all as they went, as it had been for days. No doubt the reputation of the Sons of the Wind had assisted things, but this was a region that hadn’t seen war in a generation. More than one village had been half burned out by the time the Cards arrived. The urge to flee had been too great to put out the fires and forges: the people had just run.