“Lock your room, only open it to me. Now that you’ve taken your first mark, there’ll be others hunting you. Equally skilled, determined, to find and kill you. There are spies in all the great houses… even here. They can be useful too, they can be fed lies.” Aelisa turned away. “I’ll come to you later on, now go. Eat and rest.”
Grace left Aelisa and went to her room. She poured herself a large measure of wine and lay on the sheepskin in front of the hearth. She took a mouthful of wine and rolled over onto her front. She put her hand in her pocket and took out her memento from the first kill, a length of the Duchess’s hair.
“You’re at peace now my Lady, enjoy the long sleep. I envy your peace, we’re left here, surviving, plotting, scheming. You’re free, blessings of the blade to you my Lady.” Grace threw the cutting of hair into the fire and watched it burn, her eyes hard, her heart awash with despair.
Chapter 8
The Journey
Tuath looked at the crescent moon.
He never thought he’d be heading back to Simulacrum territory. He could not forgive them. He would deliver Bright Feather’s words. He’d find a way to take revenge on the bastards, bide his time. Bright Feather’s message would open doors, granting him access to the head of the beast, he’d find a way to decapitate the Simulacrum leadership.
He took in the wilderness. He was already a day’s ride outside the Imperial Capital. Bright Feather had equipped him with horse, armour and weapons. He carried her seal so they would believe he spoke for her; the Watcher of the Realm.
The stars glittered, their brittle light reaching into his skull bringing the shadow and pain into sharp relief. Sleep eluded him as always, nightmares lay in wait, maybe that was why his subconscious kept him from sleep.
He had tried to bury his guilt in drink and women. It had helped at first but the pain always returned so he tried the fighting. It too only offered temporary escape. The guilt and fear knew how to find him. Their faces knew how to find him; Serena, Kala and Conall. His family, his clan.
He closed his eyes starlight washing over him. If he couldn’t sleep he’d at least rest. He wondered if there were kings and empires in the stars - Do they plot and fight like the people down here? He slowed his breathing and listened to the forest sounds. They were familiar. He had grown up in the Simulacrum lands, territory his family had made a living from. His father worked the land, they hunted deer in the forest, until the Simulacrum forbade it. They’d fished the river for salmon… until the Simulacrum forbade it.
Forbidden.
The Simulacrum backed up their laws with the death penalty. His village had suffered the consequences. The Simulacrum came from the northern mountains, from underground. They used others, thriving on blood and chaos, demanding absolute submission. They ruled by fear and brutality.
They used their dark magics.
Tuath tried to think of something different. He remembered his mother’s face, his sister’s smile, the long days and nights, deer hunting with his father. His father could stalk for days, waiting for the right time to let his poisoned arrow fly. They’d follow the wounded deer for hours until the poison finally drained its life. That had been their time, the best time, his childhood. It was the unsaid that remained, endured.
Time that he now would never have with his own wife, daughter and son. Time the Simulacrum had stolen from him when they came that godforsaken day to enforce their rules. On their white horses, mages with flaming hands attacking his kin, allowing them to burn where they fell.
He had returned from hunting the day after the massacre. The pain echoed in his heart as he lay there, remembering. He had found Kala’s and Conall’s bodies strung up on the wishing tree. Their blackened, charred flesh twisting on ropes. He never did find Serena’s body…
It was no use, he couldn’t sleep or even rest. Tuath rose and packed his things. He’d continue his journey, ride through the night guided by stars, he’d reach the Simulacrum sooner. What harm? His horse was strong, he’d push on.
He set off through the grim night. The Simulacrum Lords would be entering hibernation in the coming weeks, he’d need their decision before winter. The alliance would have to succeed, to overcome the new threat. The threat of annihilation.
Night unfolded in a riot of stars, visible overhead through the trees. His horse seemed content to be moving, its breath steaming, its flanks warming Tuath as they passed through the forest. He was nearing the outer reaches of Simulacrum territory. The forest was supposed to be haunted, being on land drenched in history. These borderlands had been fought over for centuries. Tales of conflict reverberated through the songs of old.
It was quicker to pass through the forest’s dark heart than spend five days flanking it. Tuath believed in respect for the dead, he had met shades before; shades of men he could deal with, shades of demons he could not.
He looked to his right, a squat grey building covered in ivy lay tangled amongst the tree roots. Narrow slits in its walls, ancient steel doors hung silently on rusted hinges. He had seen these forgotten buildings before and wondered what stories they might tell. Once he entered such a building and found a tunnel. He explored with a flaming torch finding nothing but empty rooms and strange twisted metal. He’d come up in a totally different area, another building with narrow openings in its walls. Like arrow slits only horizontal, he suspected these lost outposts were defensive positions from some long forgotten war.
Tuath’s horse plodded along the forest floor. He was able to navigate using the stars. The last thing he needed was cloud to obscure the sky, then he’d have to use the sunstone but by day.
He mused. Why do men fight? Why do they kill each other? Why does it always descend into madness? The usual excuses; money, power, greed, religion, land, the list was endless. There had to be a deeper reason that drove the killing. The Erthe and her seas were bountiful, endless resources, more than enough for everyone.
Tuath’s thoughts returned to the present. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, they never lied. He pulled on the reins, his horse stopped, its breath misting the air. Tuath looked ahead and saw nothing but trees, he looked up and saw stars. A branch snapped somewhere to his left, he turned.
Nothing, then movement. Two red marks appeared amongst the branches. His mind took them in, trying to understand. No point of reference, he’d not encountered this before. He waited, heart pounding. His horse quivered shaking its head, nostrils flaring. Tuath leaned forwards and stroked its neck.
He looked back where the two red marks had been, they were gone. He waited, the forest was darker, he looked skywards. His heart sank. A scattering of clouds were starting to obscure the stars. The forest was claiming him. Another noise… scratching, nails on bark. The red marks reappeared, this time closer. They were in the tree on his left.
The red marks blinked. Shock passed through him.
Eyes!
They were eyes. Then, as if a curtain was withdrawn, the trees came alive with dozens of blinking eyes, reds, greens, blues. They blinked as one, the scratching intensified. His horse lowered its head, it did not move.
An impasse. He had stumbled into the dark heart of the forest. Disturbed it. He was surrounded. He waited for something to happen, his steel was useless against such numbers. He focused on the original eyes and concentrated on calming his breathing.
A voice broke the stillness.
“I see you carry a message. You are governed by pain and guilt. You pass through our realm, you need to pay the price of passage. We are takers, you are the giver.”
Tuath saw the truth. These were shades, condemned to walk the Erthe, denied the peace of the otherside. They could steal men’s lives and for a fleeting time be reborn into life’s fold to breathe again, to love again, to die again. It was the dying they wanted. A clean death sometimes held a new chance, a fresh door to reach the otherside, to leave the land of shade. His heart sank, he knew they would try and steal a measure of his life. A month? Six months? A yea
r?
“Six years, is the penalty for your trespass, messenger. Give me six years of your life and you can pass freely.”
Six years! This was no shade of man, these were demon shades. Why hadn’t they just killed him? This one must be desperate, he had to give the six years willingly for them to be able to take it. Tuath thought furiously; stall for time.
“A steep price. What if I refuse?”
The red eyes blinked growing larger, their inner fire flickering with cold emptiness. A few seconds passed, the answer came.
“I will rip your throat out, shred your flesh and feed you to my brothers.”
The scratching intensified. Tuath smelt fresh sap and imagined claws tearing into the wood of the surrounding trees. He felt detached, his childhood armour kicked in, the armour his father had ingrained in him. He retreated to his inner safe place, he was invulnerable. He would let the outside world settle its business.
He heard his voice. “I will give you six years of my life… on one condition.”
“You are in no place to bargain with me.”
“Oh, but I think I am. You see, I want to die, you’d be doing me a favour. I think you know this, I’m governed by loss. My family, my village, taken from me, they were my life. I’m already dead in my heart. Now I’m like a ghost, much like you. My only reason to exist is for revenge, I want to see the Simulacrum bastards suffer as I did. I want to see them destroyed.”
The red eyes listened pondering Tuath’s words.
Finally they spoke. “What do you want in exchange for your six years, messenger?”
Tuath drew himself up on his horse. “An advantage… I want you to shadow me until I’ve completed my task; killing the Simulacrum. I want your power, I want your will, to use as a weapon. Then you can have your six years to spend.”
The eyes stared, unblinking. Tuath breathed, he looked inwards, noting in a detached way, he did not care anymore. He did not care what the eyes decided, he did not care what happened to him or the Simulacrum. He breathed and listened distractedly to the wind in the trees.
The wind never lied, war was coming.
Finally the eyes blinked. “Agreed, human. I can see your words harbour the truth. I will shadow you, join with you for your journey. You can call on me when you need… you will have… an advantage.”
Tuath blinked, the eyes were gone. He looked round, he was alone, the forest stirred restlessly. He felt no different. Had it all been a dream? Had he lost his mind? His horse jerked and took a few steps. Tuath came to his senses, he would find out in good time. Right now he was alive, he needed to press on, stick to the plan.
He rode through the trees, the going was hard, he ignored his hunger and thirst. He kept the pace up and twelve hours later emerged on the far side of the forest now deep in Simulacrum territory.
He would not hide. He wanted to be found, picked up by a Simulacrum patrol. He needed to rest his horse and he needed to eat. He found a stream by some rocks, suitable shelter from the wind, he made his camp. He would rest and set off at first light.
Tuath woke in the early hours. It was cold, the fire had died, a light drizzle was falling. He was dry in the lee of the rocks, dry but stiff with cold. He looked round, his horse was gone. He knew they were there. He stood up and moved towards the remains of his fire.
A veiled figure stepped into the open, a woman, wearing light armour. Her eyes stared from behind her mask, meeting his. Her hands rested on her hips near her twin scimitars.
“Who are you? What are you doing in the Territory?” she said.
It was curious how they referred to this land as “the Territory”. The Simulacrum and their followers were arrogant bastards. They had a right to be, he mused.
“I’m a messenger, from Bright Feather of the Imperial City, Dej. I carry a message for the Simulacrum. A message of great importance.” Tuath tried to sound as if he cared, as if this was important.
“Then you won’t mind me checking your story will you?”
Hands suddenly appeared and grabbed Tuath from behind, he could not move. He did not struggle, his eyes never left the woman.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hollow. He knew it was useless to resist.
“You’ll see.” She approached reaching for a small bag on her waist. Something moved there. Tuath watched in fascination. She put a gloved hand into the bag and took out a small black sphere. She rolled it in her hands warming it, then placed it in her mouth. The hands holding Tuath tightened their grip, he found it difficult to breathe.
The woman took the sphere from her mouth drawing near to Tuath her eyes not leaving his. She pulled his tunic open exposing his abdomen. She placed the sphere near his navel and squeezed it. The sphere burst open releasing an insect which ran in circles on his skin, then it found his navel and burrowed into it. He shuddered as he felt its sharp bite, he looked down in time to see its hind legs disappearing into his body. A thin trail of blood trickled from his navel.
“Nesting instinct,” the woman said.
The arms holding him relaxed slightly. Tuath stared at the woman.
“This is unnecessary, I’m telling the truth…” Tuath stopped mid-sentence, doubling up in pain as he felt the insect burrow deep.
“What… is it doing?” Tuath began sweating.
“It’s a lode beetle, it will travel to your brain and feed on the truth there. It’ll return the way it came. Then I will know your truth.”
Tuath felt a sharp pain behind his left eye, he saw flashing lights then he passed out.
He awoke with a jolt, a bucket of water thrown on his face. He spluttered gasping, his vision blurred, his body trembling.
“What happened?” he managed to croak.
“Your truth has been verified. You will accompany us home where you’ll be given a chance to deliver your message to the scribes.”
Rough hands grabbed his shoulders, he was manhandled, thrown onto the back of a horse, his hands tied behind his back. He retreated into the safe room in his mind. It would take as long as it took, he would bide his time.
He was in.
Chapter 9
Old Nix
“Where’s Kit?” Jax said, concern edging his voice. He went to his hunting gear and gathered up his weapons. “Stay here girl, I won’t be long.”
Raine stood up and immediately felt dizzy. She sat down, her head spinning. “Yes… I probably wouldn’t be much help. Before you go…”
Jax turned, a curious look on his face. “Were you running from something? Were you followed?”
His questions hit Raine, she blinked. How could she describe what had killed the Simulacrum warrior? How could she explain what she had seen? She looked away. “Maybe… I don’t know… yes…”
Jax stared at her for a few seconds and was about to speak when a deep rumbling came from outside the cave. His head snapped up, eyes searching the entrance for movement. Nothing. He glanced at Raine. “If anything happens, there’s a way out, at the back of the cave. The ladder in the corner takes you to a passage that leads to the forest. Take some supplies and your gear. If I’m not back soon get the hell out of here.” He went to the cave entrance and disappeared outside.
Raine watched him leave. Her inner voice came to her.
Seek at Si an Bhru. Find the Twist, wear it to face the enemy.
Raine knew she had to leave, something was wrong. She rose slowly, this time the dizziness did not come. She collected her things and went to the ladder. She knew whatever was outside was after her, she should have warned Jax, he wouldn’t stand a chance. She climbed the ladder and found the cramped passage. She crawled on hands and knees for twenty yards and came to a shaft. A length of rope hung from above, she tested it and started climbing.
She made it to the outside, stars glittered above. She would head north then west, she found the North Star and started moving through the forest. Maybe Jax would be able to shake off that thing. Maybe… maybe she would not see another day.
What did it really matter?
~
Jax left the cave and felt instantly uneasy. Something bad was out there.
A tang of sulphur tainted the air, he saw the first drop of blood after twelve paces. He knew eyes were on him. He had one advantage; these were his woods, his patch. Nothing would take his home, his dog, without a fight.
He pulled left around the clearing, then entered the forest. A twig snapped behind, it was close, he could smell it. He ran, crashing through the trees. Still no sign of Kit, the undergrowth grew thicker; the thorn birch more prevalent. He had found this area of the forest three weeks ago and had prepared it to trap game.
Jax swerved right around a thick patch of thorn birch and jumped over a section of fallen leaves. He heard a heavy crunch and a groan as his pursuer slipped, impaling itself on the poisoned thorns. Jax landed hard and turned in one swift movement bringing his sword up.
He looked back and froze.
A many jointed thing with eyes on stalks was freeing itself from the blade like thorns. The thorns had done gruesome damage, the creature was bleeding from multiple puncture wounds and would soon feel the effect of the night berry poison. Jax spat and watched the thing come towards him. He braced himself, clutching his blade with two hands.
The thing lurched forwards, its front legs found the hidden pit and pulled back. Jax cursed, his trap was unmasked. He could not turn his back on this thing, dense thorn birch surrounded him, he would have to make his stand, he steeled himself.
A familiar flash of black and brown behind the beast caught Jax’s eye. Fierce barking followed. The beast moved towards Jax, driven from behind. Its legs scrabbled at the edge of the pit, it tore at the earth then fell into the hole with a loud crash.
It screamed long and loud, a high pitched gut wrenching sound.
Jax was stunned and looked at where the thing had been moments before. Kit was there barking furiously, bloodied and limping. More screaming came from the pit; the poisoned stakes doing their work. He approached and looked down, the creature was still alive, trying to climb out. Without thinking Jax plunged his blade into its spine and twisted the blade savagely. Its spinal cord severed, the beast fell back into the pit. It jerked once then went limp, its chest heaving a few last ragged breaths.
Grace of the Light Page 5