by Duncan Pile
“Hold on mate,” Taurnil said, grabbing a backpack and two more cloaks, and shoving them behind Gaspi’s back. “That’s better.”
“Thanks,” Gaspi said, leaning back against the pack. Loreill immediately zipped around his neck, assuming his favourite position like a glowing scarf.
“So when did Loreill get here?” he asked again.
“A few hours ago,” Taurnil said. “He’s been by your side ever since.”
“And where are the others?”
“Ranging, collecting firewood, that sort of thing.”
“What about Fortunate?” Gaspi asked. Taurnil looked at him, nonplussed. “The boy – that’s his name! And what about the hermit?”
“The boy ran off right after you fell unconscious,” Taurnil responded. “The hermit escaped too.”
“Damn,” Gaspi said. It made sense that the hermit had escaped. The spell Gaspi had used to hold him would have dissipated the moment he fell unconscious. “We need to find out everything we can about that stone from the hermit, but finding Fortunate’s much more important. I want to help him.”
“We’re looking for them,” Taurnil responded. “Look at you – always so concerned about everybody else. How do you feel?”
“Shattered. Like I did after enchanting your staff.”
“Can Loreill help with that?” Taurnil asked.
“That might work. Loreill?” Gaspi asked. The spirit’s withdrew his head from within the coils of light around Gaspi’s neck and regarded him seriously while he considered the question. After a moment the answer was clear, and Loreill ducked his head back within the coils of light.
“No Taurn, he can’t help. It’s not like an injury – I just totally drained myself. Emmy would be able to help though. She shared some of her energy with me once, and it made a big difference. I’ll ask Bret when I see him.”
“Fair enough,” Taurnil said. “Gasp, what the heck happened in that hut? One minute I was falling asleep in the clearing, and the next I woke up in the hut and that stone exploded.”
Gaspi opened his mouth to answer, but then envisaged having to tell the horrible tale to each person individually. “Why don’t you go and get the others? I don’t want to explain more than once.”
“Good idea,” Taurnil said, vaulting to his feet. “Be right back.”
…
The others quickly gathered, taking seats around the clearing on rocks and the stumps of trees. They were clearly relieved that Gaspi was okay, and started plying him with questions about what had happened, but he wouldn’t say anything until the last of the group arrived. Talmo was the last to join them – he’d been out hunting and walked into the clearing with a cluster of pheasants dangling from his belt. The tribesman sat cross-legged on the ground, and the whole group fell silent.
“Come on lad,” Baard said. “Spill the beans!”
“Okay,” Gaspi started, feeling a bit self-conscious with all their eyes on him. He hadn’t even had a chance to work through what had happened for himself, but they were all waiting, so he’d just have to sort his thoughts out as he went. “I was having a horrible dream,” he started, shuddering as he remembered the knife-wielding man with the blurry face. “It was really nasty, and I was trying to wake up from it.” He could tell from the reactions of the group that they too had been caught in dark dreams. “It was really hard to shake it off but I finally managed it, and then when I woke up I couldn’t move a muscle. I was completely frozen in place. Then the hermit came out and started dragging you all into the hut.”
“Why didn’t we wake up?” Zaric asked.
“It was a compulsion. Neuromancy, used to keep you unconscious.”
“The hermit is a magician?” Taurnil asked incredulously.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll get to that,” Gaspi said. “I was still frozen. It was like I was awake but not in control of my body. I fought hard and managed to break the compulsion completely, but the hermit was standing right over me with the boy, so I pretended to be unconscious and let them carry me into the hut. That’s when I realised Fortunate was a captive too.”
“Fortunate? Is that the boy’s name?” Voltan asked.
“Yeah. Taurnil says he ran off – we need to find him.”
“We will, but we need to hear the rest of this first,” Voltan said.
Gaspi nodded. “Okay. Where was I?”
“You realised Fortunate was a captive,” Voltan supplied.
“Right. That was because after they carried me into the hut, they dropped me to the floor and I grunted. Couldn’t help it! I thought the hermit was onto me for sure, but Fortunate covered for me and said it was him. When the hermit’s back was turned, he asked me to help him. That’s how I know.”
“Don’t worry Gaspi, we’ll find him,” Zlekic said.
“Thanks,” Gaspi responded. “After that, the hermit drew a knife and was going to use it on Taurnil, but when he saw the chain mail, he chose you instead Voltan. He cut your shirt open.”
“I wondered how that happened,” Voltan said, running an exploratory hand over his chest.
“I shouted at him to stop, but the compulsion tried to drag me back under and I almost lost control. It wasn’t coming from the hermit - it came from the stone! I think it was controlling him too. It wanted him to cut your chests open and remove your hearts. It wanted him to put it in the open wounds so it could soak up your death energies.”
The group broke into angry muttering “Foul necromancy,” Voltan spat. “How do you know this Gaspi?”
Gaspi paused for long moments before speaking. “Because it tried to make me do it too,” he said quietly. “I managed to break the sleep compulsion for a second time and smashed the hermit out through the wall of his hut. I pinned him down with magic and went back into the hut to deal with the stone. It tried to overwhelm me again, but not to make me fall asleep. This time it wanted me to wield the knife! It wanted me to take the hermit’s place and kill you all.” Gaspi shuddered at the memory of the hate that had filled him in that moment. “That’s how I know what it wanted, and that’s why I think it was controlling the hermit too. I fought it with everything I had, and only just managed to beat it. It exploded, but you know that – that’s when you all woke up.”
Everyone in the clearing was staring at him in stunned silence. Gaspi suddenly felt uneasy – were they thinking about how close they’d came to a grisly death at his hand?
Gaspi’s discomfort increased by the moment as the silence extended, but then Sabu stood up, walked across clearing and dropped to one knee in front of him. “Thank you for my life, Gaspi,” he said. “I will spend the rest of my days seeking to repay this debt.” Gaspi was staggered. He hadn’t know how his friends would react, but he certainly hadn’t expected this!
“Please, get up Sabu,” he said. “We’ve all saved each other from time to time, and we’re all going to do it again.”
“Not like this,” Sabu insisted, staying exactly where he was. “You have saved me from more than death this day. Whether you like it or not, I pledge myself to you.” The blademaster rose for a moment and drew one of his swords. He knelt down again and extended it to Gaspi on upturned palms. “It would do me a great honour if you would accept my sword.”
Gaspi looked around at the group for help, but they were all watching with unexpected gravity. He looked to Taurnil, but his best friend just nodded, as if he thought he ought to accept Sabu’s pledge. Gaspi looked back at Sabu, who continued to kneel before him. A muscle twitched in the blademaster’s cheek, and Gaspi realised how tense Sabu was becoming. This was obviously a matter of the greatest importance to him, a matter of honour. He sent a silent question to Loreill, and received a rush of approval, radiating through the bond. Gaspi made up his mind - he couldn’t leave Sabu waiting in the dirt any longer.
“I accept,” he said, taking the blademaster’s sword from his outstretched arms. Sabu sighed in relief and bowed his head. When he looked up, he was smiling.
; “Thank you,” he said, then held out his hands. “You’re meant to give me my sword back.” Flushing, Gaspi gave it back to him and Sabu stood up. Gaspi leaned back, relieved it was over.
“We’re not done yet laddie,” Baard said, pushing himself to his feet and lumbering across the clearing. He dropped to his knees in the dirt just as Sabu had and presented Bonebreaker.
“You’re kidding!” Gaspi said.
“No laddie,” Baard said. “I reckon Sabu’s has it righ’. You saved us from soul death, and tha’ puts me in yer debt. Now you’ve accepted ’im, you’ll ’ave to accept me an’ all. Like it or not, I’m yours now mi’boy.”
Gaspi’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and then his eyes widened as Talmo stood up, withdrawing his bow and holding it in readiness to make his own pledge. One by one his companions joined him, rising to their feet and drawing their weapons. His eyes strayed from face to face and came to rest on Voltan and Taurnil. Tears swam in his eyes. He was completely overwhelmed.
“Don’t leave me down here Laddie!” Baard growled. Gaspi looked back to Baard and wiped the tears from his eyes. If they were going to do this he was going to receive their offering as respectfully as possible. He reached out his hands and placed them on Bonebreaker.
“I can’t lift it Baard,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter laddie,” Baard said with uncharacteristic softness. “Jus’ say you accept an’ we’ll consider it done.”
“I accept,” Gaspi said, his voice cracking with emotion.
One by one they knelt and offered their service, and one by one he accepted their pledges. He kept his resolve until it was Voltan’s turn. There was something so unnatural about seeing the warrior mage kneeling in front of anyone, let alone him.
“I can’t,” Gaspi said.
“You must!” Voltan responded, his eyes like flint. “More rests on your shoulders than on any of ours Gaspi, and when the time comes, you will need our service.” Gaspi stared at him, still unsure. He hadn’t asked for any of this!
“Consider what happened here, Nature Mage,” Voltan continue, his voice hard and flat. “No-one else could have broken that compulsion. It was a thing of dark and powerful magic, and beyond every one of us except you. You did a great thing by ridding the world of that foul artefact, and you will do greater things still. Now accept my service – it is only right, and you must learn what it means to lead.”
Voltan’s words settled around Gaspi’s shoulders like a lead weight. “I accept your service,” he said quietly.
Voltan rose to his feet without a word and moved out of the way so the last person could offer themselves. Tears flowed unimpeded down Gaspi’s face as he looked up into Taurnil’s face. He didn’t see the hardened fighter his best friend had become over the past few years. He saw the boy he’d known in Aemon’s Reach; trusting, devoted, guileless – his best friend. Taurnil fell to his knees and held out his staff.
“It’s always been this way Gasp,” he said, his own voice cracking with emotion. “Even before all of this, before the magic, I was your protector. It’s destiny Gasp. I’d give my life for you.”
“And I for you,” Gaspi croaked.
“It can’t happen that way,” Taurnil said, shaking his head, and Gaspi felt a chill run right up his spine. “You have to stay alive or all is lost. It is my job to make sure that happens. Gaspi, accept my service.”
Gaspi hesitated one last moment and then reached out and took Taurnil’s staff, warm where his friend’s hands had gripped it. “I accept,” he said hoarsely, and almost dropped the staff back into Taurnil’s hands. He collapsed back against the bundle of cloaks at his back, breathing heavily, his face wet with fresh tears. Taurnil sat down next to him in silence, and the others melted away. As he lay there, exhausted by emotion, Gaspi knew something had changed forever between him and the others, even between him and Taurnil. It even felt like something had shifted within him, changing his perspective on a fundamental level he couldn’t yet identify. Whatever it all meant, Gaspi knew in his bones that things would never be the same again.
Ten
Jonn placed the last cask on the quayside and leant against a piling, breathing heavily from the exertion. It was one of the first truly hot days in the year, and he was dripping sweat from every pore. For what must be the hundredth time that week he thought about Adela, and for the hundredth time he pushed the thought away. He couldn’t afford to dwell on her for even a moment, or at least not until he could do something about it.
“Tarek!” someone called from across the dock. Jonn didn’t respond, too distracted to recognise his pseudonym. “Tarek!” came the cry again, but this time it was much nearer. Snapping out of his brooding thoughts, Jonn turned around to see Jack the overseer approaching. He kicked himself for letting himself get too relaxed. What was the point of a magical disguise if he couldn’t even keep up the pretence of a false name!
“Yes Sir,” Jonn responded.
“Lost in our own world are we?” Jack asked, frowning in annoyance. “I’ve half a mind to ask someone else,” He squinted around in the bright sunshine as if looking for candidates.
“Ask about what Sir?” Jonn said, making sure his tone was suitably deferential.
Jack peered at him intently, taking far longer than necessary to respond. “I guess you’ll do,” he said eventually. “There’s a gathering at headquarters tonight and the Wrench needs extra guards on the doors. Be there at third watch, and take a sword.”
“Yes Sir,” Jonn responded, trying to hide his excitement. This was exactly what he was waiting for - a chance to get near headquarters. There was only one problem. “I’ve never been to headquarters Sir. Could you tell me where to go?” he asked, trying to sound as if it was just a minor impracticality.
The overseer’s gaze sharpened suspiciously. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
“About a month now Sir,” Jonn responded, waiting in taut silence while the overseer considered him. Jonn could feel his heart rate ratchet up a notch. He willed the overseer to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was a real danger the jumped up idiot might actually do his job for a change and protect Belash’s interests.
A sudden change of expression showed Jonn the overseer had made up his mind. “No funny business okay, or it’ll rip your head off and piss down the hole.”
Jonn repressed a sigh of relief. “Of course Sir,” he said, dipping his head.
“Headquarters is round the back of the Lotus Flower,” the overseer said. “You know it?”
“Yes Sir,” Jonn responded. “Just before third watch – I’ll come armed.”
“Be on time,” the overseer said.
“Thank you Sir,” Jonn said, dipping his head once more. A loud crash sounded from the other side of the dock. One of the dockworkers had dropped a barrel on the quayside, spilling its contents across the ground. From where Jonn was standing, he thought it looked like beer, which was just as well. If a docker wasted a barrel of beer, he’d probably get a beating, but if he spilled any of the opiates, he wouldn’t live to make the same mistake again.
“Idiot!” the overseer bellowed, storming away from Jonn to deal with the problem.
…
Jonn walked through the back streets of Helioport, trying to hide his nerves. The disguise helped with that, but nervousness showed itself in a hundred little bodily ticks that magic did nothing to conceal. He was anxious because he was finally going to see The Rats’ headquarters, which meant that he would be within a few hundred yards of Adela. He’d heard rumours from the other dockers that Belash kept many pleasure slaves at headquarters. Adela had to be there!
The Lotus Flower was a tavern, buried deep in the back streets of Helioport’s underworld. Jonn had passed by it numerous times, but he’d never stopped to consider that it might be Belash’s headquarters. He didn’t see how it could be. It was too small for one thing; a dingy opium den filled with vacant-eyed dreamers. He’d never seen anyone exit the buildi
ng who wasn’t at least halfway high! And as for going ‘round the back’, the Lotus Flower backed directly onto a warehouse. It didn’t make any sense!
He rounded the last few corners and approached the opium den from around the side of the warehouse; a two-story brick structure that had been built at a time when that part of the city had been prosperous. Glancing down to avoid a steaming pile of horse manure, Jonn noticed a row of small windows at street level, shuttered up from within. Idly, he noted the warehouse must have a basement.
Jonn stopped in his tracks. Why was a building as large as the warehouse still standing? Any other buildings of that size in this district had been torn down ages ago, their bricks carted away by a thousand opportunistic thieves. For the warehouse to remain intact, it must belong to someone powerful. It was grimy, its windows smeared with obscuring dirt, and from the outside it looked derelict, but that simply couldn’t be the case. Suddenly it was as clear as day to Jonn that he was looking at Belash’s headquarters. The Lotus Flower was just a front, masking an entrance to the warehouse.
Adela was probably in there right now! He glanced up and down the street, but there was nobody watching him. He reached out a hand, spreading his fingertips and resting them against the bricks, rough to the touch and still warm from the heat of the fading sun.
Newly focussed, Jonn withdrew his hand and carried on down the street. He rounded the corner of the warehouse and approached the Lotus Flower with even steps, his gaze searching right and left, high and low, looking for an entrance to the warehouse. And then he saw it. There was an alley to the left of the tavern, narrow and clogged with filth, but it was the only possibility. He glanced into the interior of the Lotus Flower, just in case anyone was looking out for him, but the only people he could see were opium addicts, draped over every last piece of furniture and even stretched out on the ground in front of the den. A man lay in the entrance to the alley, hands outstretched towards the sky, muttering incoherently with eyes as wide as saucers. Jonn stepped cautiously over him, only to feel the man’s hand latch onto his ankle. Jonn looked down to find two perfectly clear eyes looking back at him.