Azhul cursed the interruption and tucked his cards into his tunic. He declared the game frozen until he returned and followed the guard out to where three torucks were gathered around a large box. The gatekeeper was standing among them looking bemused and unnerved. In the midst of the giants he looked like a sapling between hulking oaks.
The only torucks Azhul knew were Kring and Garic, both of whom were assigned to a protectorship role and visited the prison from time to time with the exorcists they served. As seemed to be their custom these three were bare-chested and heavily tattooed and although he had never seen any of them before he knew the one who stood in the middle from his reputation. This toruck was almost a full head taller than the other two and there was black bird of prey tattooed on his chest. He extended a hand of greeting and shook with him. ‘Karkus.’
‘Gaolmaster.’
The toruck’s grip was bearable, but strong enough for him to be suddenly aware of the delicate bones in his hand. There was a vast reservoir of unused strength in Karkus’s handshake and he was glad when he released him. Being linked to someone who could quite literally tear his arm from its socket was disconcerting. ‘How may I be of service? You got me a box full of dead brigands to lock up?’ he asked, trying to make light.
Karkus laughed and his men laughed with him. It was a deep earthy harmony, but for some reason Azhul felt no warmth in it. He gestured at the box with one big callused hand. ‘This Gaolmaster, is a gift from the King.’
Azhul looked, seeing now that the box was in fact a coffin.
‘Not the best container I’ll grant you,’ said Karkus as if reading his thoughts, but it was the only thing at hand to fit them all in.’
Them. Azhul’s interest was piqued. ‘A gift you say?’
Karkus shrugged. ‘Everyone’s getting some. Orders from the King. He admits he’s not been himself for some time and now he wants to show those in his service how much he appreciates them.’
‘I see. And he’s got you lot lugging it all about.’
Karkus ran his eyes over the prison walls. ‘Don’t look too enthusiastic Gaolmaster. I can always take yours down the West Gate. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a second load.’
‘No. Of course we’re happy to receive such a gift. Whatever it is. It’s just so unusual that’s all. We don’t get gifts down here you know…What’s in it?’
‘You’ll see. But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. The gate guards seemed pleased with theirs. It’s quite heavy, but we’ll take it in for you. Call your men down from the walls.’
Azhul frowned. ‘What for?’
‘The King’s orders were to ensure that all got their share. You weren’t thinking of keeping them all for yourself were you?’
‘No,’ he replied, still wondering what them referred to. ‘But the walls must be manned at all times. It’s protocol.’
‘I understand,’ said Karkus with a disarming smile. ‘But this won’t take long. Argol will watch the gate for you and naught will get by him.’ He glanced left and one of the other torucks gave a confirmatory bow.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t -’
‘- How many break outs do you expect in the time it takes to pop a box open. And like I said Argol will be out here. A few minutes is all it’ll take.’
Azhul rubbed his neck as he considered the request. It was not often he had to hold a conversation with such a backwards tip of his head and he felt like a small child talking to an elder.
‘Come on Gaolmaster you’re holding us up. There’s a lot more of these to go out and I’d like a few hours in the tavern before we go back over the Wall.’
Azhul felt squeezed. He was far from comfortable with the request. He always had men on the walls. Always. But at the same time he didn’t want to miss out, and he certainly didn’t want to offend.
‘Alright, but the gatekeeper stays,’ he said firmly, trying to salvage some authority in his concession.
Karkus shrugged indifferently. ‘As you wish.’
Azhul waved his men down from the four corners of the prison walls and when they were all together they started across to the prison, leaving Argol with the gatekeeper. Karkus and the other toruck carried the coffin between them, each using two arms to encircle it. When they reached the prison doors Azhul looked back over his shoulder. He saw the gatekeeper disappear into the gatehouse and Argol ducking under its doorframe after him.
‘I hear I missed Kring earlier,’ Karkus said, hooking his attention back around. His tone was light and conversational, but his eyes roamed the front face of the prison.
‘You did. He made a drop off about three hours since.’
‘Shame. Would have liked to catch up with him. It’s been a while.’
They passed through the main entrance and manoeuvred the box into the restroom where the other guards where still waiting to resume their card game. The torucks placed the coffin on the floor and waited for the wall guards to filter in and take up position around it.
‘So where did you put them?’ asked Karkus.
‘Put who?’ Azhul replied, his eyes fixed on the box and swimming with anticipation.
‘The drop offs.’
‘Oh them. East wing. Last two cells in the whole gaol.’
When Karkus spoke again his voice was hard and flat. ‘Whereabouts in East Wing?’
The question blew through Azhul like a cold wind, stripping him of all interest in the coffin. He stiffened with alarm and whipped his head around to find Karkus looking down at him with a face wiped free of pretence.
Azhul puffed up, affecting a confidence he did not possess. The eyes of his guards flicked between him and the big toruck, trying to fathom the tension that was suddenly in the room. ‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘But you will Gaolmaster. You can be sure of that.’ Karkus grinned and it was like a bend in a river of ice.
‘I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to speak to Marshall Beredrim if you want that sort of information. Take your coffin and leave - I don’t care what’s in it.’
Karkus drew one of his swords and with one swift twist of his wrist, the tip was resting against a guard’s belly. The man flinched back, and Karkus followed him with the blade, pinning him against the wall. He gasped and raised his arms in submission, looking pleadingly at Azhul. The rest of the guards made no move. They were frozen to the spot, as if they too had a steel point against their bellies.
‘Look into my eyes Gaolmaster and tell me. Do you see anything in them to suggest I’ll be leaving without an answer?’
Azhul looked and all he saw was a reptilian callousness that made his insides run like sand in an hourglass. He gulped over a dry lump in his throat. ‘I’m sure this is all some misunderstanding,’ he said, hearing the pitch of his voice wobble under Karkus’s glare. ‘I could send one of my men for the Marshal. I’m sure he could sort this out.’
Karkus shifted his weight, introducing an inch of blade to the guard’s belly. The man let out a sharp cry. His trembling hands came down, flattening against each side of the blade. It was a futile grip and had no hope of preventing its further penetration.
‘Eighteen and nineteen,’ Azhul blurted out, not wanting any further harm done to his man.
‘In which of them did you place the girl?’
‘Nineteen.’
Karkus leant into his sword until the tip passed right through the guard and grated on the wall behind. This time his screams lanced around the restroom; as sharp and bright as sunlight off mirror glass. His knees buckled as some important connection with his body was severed, but before he could collapse Karkus dropped his shoulder and lifted him off the ground. The guard slid down the blade with his limp legs hanging and deep bloody channels opening in his hands as he grabbed desperately against the sharp steel. Karkus waited for him to stop struggling and let him slide off his sword.
The Gaol Master’s hands and legs began to shake as he saw his own demise forecasted in the toruck’s glittering e
yes. His one hope was that the screaming had alerted the gatekeeper. But then he remembered seeing Argol ducking into the gatehouse and knew there was no help coming.
The end came quick for them all. Karkus dispensed his slaughter with several easy twists of his wrist and when it was done the coffin was ringed with twitching butchery and vacant eyes. The barrel around which they had played cards was on its side and the coins were scattered on the floor. One of the silver moons was still rolling when the last guard fell and Karkus watched it click against the wall and settle on its side. He resheathed his sword and was about to leave when curiosity got the better of him. A severed arm lay on the coffin with a set of blood spotted cards in its open fingers. He bent and fanned them, raising his eyebrows in appreciation. There was a witch, a pyre, twin ghosts and The Reader. It was a good hand and would have had Azhul beat.
Caught in the Act
Della shifted on the dirty mattress. The cell was damp, with only a high grilled window to give light, but the cool dimness was a welcome relief after the sweltering heat of the wagon ride. She looked at the pink streaks of sunburn on her arms, then felt tentatively at the tight skin of her forehead. She had spent the trip to Irongate in a trancelike state, rocking with the bumps and staring into the middle distance. Now her uncle was gone the sounds of barter and laughter was sacrilege to her ears. Her world had collapsed into two grey dimensions and she couldn’t understand how people were still living in it. She curled up and started to cry. Grief she would soon discover; wasn’t something she could timetable. It was a master of ambush, lying in wait in every treasured memory and materialising from thin air whenever she least expected it.
When her tears dried up, she wiped her eyes and looked down at her body; wondering where the shadow was hiding. If Kye hadn’t tricked her into running from the holdings, she would have died in the fire and taken it with her. She believed this, not because witch burnings worked. They didn’t. Witch burning were not only barbaric, but their basic premise was false. As soon as a host began to roast in the flames, a possessing spirit would simply slip their body and sweep into another one. And because of their proximity to the atrocity its new victim was often one of those who put the so called witch to the flame. But the shadow was different and she didn’t think it could leave her like that. If it could, there would have been no need for the monster to come after her. This wasn’t a straight forward possession and she was bound to the shadow in a way that made them inseparable.
She thought the shadow knew this as well. After her uncle’s murder it made her run from the villagers and when the exorcist scoured her it had hidden from him. It feared the former’s fire and the latter’s draw. It hadn’t tried to save her from the fire, but she guessed with Ormis in close proximity it had retreated so deep into its hiding place it couldn’t sense the danger.
It was only when the wagon brought them in sight of The Reader that she was aware of it rising from its hiding place and surging up behind her eyes like water from a storm drain. Its mind had blended with hers and for just a few seconds she was able to see what was in its imagination. It was standing beneath The Reader during a ceremony. People were packed onto the enclosure walls and they were cheering a name over and over again.
She had been trying to remember the name ever since, but it just wouldn’t come. She was well accustomed to the frustration caused by memories dancing on the edge of recall; the mists of her mind had seen to that. But trying to remember this name wasn’t like that. This name was right there in the centre of her head, but the shadow kept smudging it. In the same way it had implanted ideas in her mind, it was now trying to erase them. In sharing its vision of the Reader Ceremony, she realised it had given away something important about itself – something it didn’t wanted her to know. And if it didn’t want her to know, she would try her best to remember. She laid back and shut her eyes, recreating the vision and concentrating on what the people were cheering. But it had been a long day and with her head resting on a soft mattress she was asleep in seconds.
She woke up several feet above the bed, looking down at her sleeping body. In all her years she had never transitioned to Absence from sleep and besides those rare emotional slips, she had only been able to do it through her rituals of relaxation. She looked fearfully at the door, expecting Ormis to burst through and draw her down. Yesterday she resolved to keep her secret from him. But now, only a day later, Absence was betraying itself. The last time she left her body was nearly two days ago. It was the longest time she had gone without Absence - an interval that would have killed her if she was still affected by the poison. She thought maybe its daily practice had set up a threshold of abstinence, above which she couldn’t contain herself. Stay awake so long and you couldn’t help yourself nodding off to sleep. Perhaps this was the same, but just the other way around. She considered re-joining her body, but decided against it. The door hadn’t burst open as she had expected it to and the corridor outside was quiet. And if her lapse into Absence really was down to a lack of it, she knew it would be a mistake not to satisfy her need while she had the chance. Ormis wouldn’t be back until morning and the guards wouldn’t suspect anything.
She decided to look in on Kye. The Gaolmaster had put him in the next cell and if she heard anyone in the corridor she could be back in her body in a flash. She drifted though the wall and found him on his tiptoes at the window; gripping the bars and looking out across the city. He had wanted to talk to her all day, but she hadn’t been able to face it. She resented him for getting involved - for saving her from the fire and for burdening her with more guilt. His association with her had sealed his fate in the village and now he would never be able to return.
Last night by the fire, she spoke harshly to him when his conversation turned dangerous. But she couldn’t let him run his tongue like that with the exorcist in earshot. He had heard her screams on the Membrane and she had left him in no doubt that she could hear everything his sister said. He suspected her of being different in some way, but she didn’t think he knew about Absence. And that was strange given that Emilie had been spying on her.
Her uncle had discovered Emilie’s haunt whilst assessing the suitability of Agelrish for their next move and after making it their home they were careful not to cross the lake. But over the last month they felt Emilie stretching her boundaries. Ormis would have said she was festering; her uncle that she was getting restless. They discussed the change and reset the safe distance. But despite their caution she started to feel Emilie’s presence every day and began to suspect she was spying on her. That being the case there was a good chance she knew about Absence. Her whole life she had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep her secret hidden, but she had never considered the possibility of a ghost revealing it to a family member or friend. Emilie might not have had the chance to tell him about Absence yet, but in telling him they were alike it had aroused his suspicion.
She watched him grow tired of the view and it came as a complete surprise when he turned from the window and gasped. In Absence she was used to people looking right through her, but Kye was looking at her as if she was standing there in the flesh.
‘Della?’
‘You can see me?’
Confronted with a ghost, most people would have banged on the door and shouted for the gaoler. But Kye took a step closer instead, his initial shock morphing into concern. ‘What have they done to you?’
‘Nothing.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
She looked into his face and didn’t know what to say. In Absence she travelled the Membrane like a breath over a window pane and only those with strong sensitivity were ever able to sense her. And even then she was nothing more than a cold draught or a vague and transient apparition. After hearing Kye talking with Emilie she knew he had some degree of Membrane sensitivity, but she never imagined it was this strong. He was seeing her so clearly he recognised her and there was nothing she could do about it. She had been caught in the act and hi
s trust was now essential to her future prospects.
‘I’m still alive Kye. This is just something I can do. My soul isn’t fixed to my body and I can come and go from it at will.’ She delivered her secret into the room, naked and raw. It was the birth of a new thing between them – something he would embrace or desert. But she needn’t have worried. He simply stared in wonder, looking like a six-year-old who had just been told the location of buried treasure.
‘So that’s what Emilie meant when she said you two were alike… How’s that even possible?’
‘It’s hard to explain and I wouldn’t know where to start right now. But I can tell you it’s called Absence and I learnt it from my father a long time ago.’
His eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. ‘Did you bring that thing to the village?’
‘No!’
‘Then why was it following you?’
She held his gaze, seeing that she was about to lose his trust. ‘I first saw it as I appear to you now,’ she began, deciding on a path of honesty. ‘It was running across Rinker’s Point and those whispers were talking to it. It looked like a man made of grass back then and like a fool I tried to get a closer look. But it grabbed me and tried to draw me in - just like Ormis did with Emilie. I got away, but only after it copied my face.’
‘That scream I heard at the lake. That was you wasn’t it? Trying to get away?’
‘Yes. You believe me don’t you?’ He made no reply, but she went on regardless. ‘Afterward it went looking for me in the village.’
Absence_Whispers and Shadow Page 22