by Tom Lloyd
She raised an eyebrow at his expression. 'Oh, don't look like that; however majestic your Gods might be, they had spiked both of my heels and I was missing more skin than I care to remember.' She walked up to him and rose slightly on her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. Doranei felt his hands tremble at the touch; his whole body ached at her scent. It took him a moment to regain enough control to slide his hands around her waist to bring her closer, but when he at last did so Zhia gave a contented murmur and linked her own hands around the nape of his neck.
When they broke from the kiss, Zhia kept a tight hold on him as she looked him in the eye, an enigmatic smile on her face. Despite feeling intoxicated by her presence, Doranei was still disconcerted by the sud¬den closeness. The fingers of just one of those hands on his neck could snap it without appreciable effort, and the inner light of those deep blue eyes were like none he'd ever seen. The closest equivalent he knew was the bust of Nartis that stood in the royal baths in Narkang: each eye was a flawless sapphire. It was a blasphemous comparison, he knew, but undeniable. Not even King Emin's cold, glittering eyes shone so brightly.
'Now; as pleasant a diversion as you are, I suspect that was not the only reason for your visit?'
'The king asks for your help.'
'And what do you ask for?' she said unexpectedly. Doranei blinked, distracted by both the question and the sensation of Zhia's finger stroking the line of his spine.
'I- I would like you to help my king.'
'Nothing else?' The stroking stopped as she pushed her sculpted fingernail into his skin, not hard enough to break the skin, but just enough that he could feel the prickle of pain there.
He made a show of thinking for a moment. 'Another kiss would also be nice.'
'Only nice? I must be losing my touch,' Zhia said, brushing his lips with hers before she pushed out of his grip and went to the table. 'Sit, have you eaten?'
He nodded, but still joined her at the table. She plucked a fat olive from one of the bowls and popped it in her mouth. A trail of oil ran down one of her fingers until she caught it with her tongue and meticulously licked it off.
'I thought vampires didn't eat normal food,' he said.
Zhia gave him a derisive look. 'Oh sweetness, and you were doing so well too. Blood gives me something of the person's life essence, that vitality that separates them from rock or water. It is that vitality that I lost all those years ago, but there would be a lot of hollow space inside me if it was merely magic keeping my body together. Far better to just build bones and muscles the same way a normal person does, even if the magic inside then makes them stronger.' She took another olive and sat in one of the white painted chairs there, indicating for Doranei to do the same. 'But I don't think the favour your king is asking for is an essay on the habits and physiology of vampires.'
'It isn't. We know you have had agents watching the theatre-'
'There's not a lot left of it now,' Zhia interrupted, 'and as for the spell carved all around the outer wall, I have only a vague grasp of how it worked. They managed to prevent my agents from discovering too much. Legana tells me it was Lord Isak who burned it down. There is nothing to be learned from the shell that remains.'
'But the players didn't die in the fire,' Doranei said. 'We don't care about the spell cast on this city, only the ones casting it.'
'The minstrel?'
'Amongst others.'
'Are they really so important to you?'
She offered him one of the bowls and instinctively he reached to take what was inside. Once he'd inspected the contents of his hand, Doranei's stomach sank. He couldn't even make a guess as to what it was, but the slimy texture and ridged green skin didn't inspire much confidence. Trying not to think any more about it, Doranei popped the object into his mouth and chewed quickly before swallowing it.
He cleared his palate with a mouthful of wine, then said, 'They are followers of Azaer; it's worth the risk if we can kill even some of them.'
'You fear this happening in Narkang?' Zhia said, offering the same bowl again with the twist of a smile on her face.
'No,' he said as he declined the slimy ridged thing politely, 'but it shows that Azaer is no longer content living in the shadows. How much do you know of it, even now? I doubt you've ever encountered any of its followers in the past. The shadow wouldn't have risked going anywhere near you, considering how powerful you are. Now it appears that has changed, and the shadow's confidence grows. It has made a grand promise of the horror it is capable of bringing; and it has taken great care in the slaughter of priests.' He leaned forward in his seat. 'Azaer wants the Gods themselves to witness what it has done in Scree, he wants them to watch, and to fear for their very existence.'
'You think it so powerful?'
'Powerful?' He shook his head. 'No, not powerful, otherwise it wouldn't have maintained such a low profile. But perhaps that is the danger; if few recognise it, then it can run unchecked for years – like the Malich affair, but on a global scale, and spanning centuries, perhaps even millennia.' Doranei frowned. 'Malich is dead and gone, yet now Lord Isak has learned the man's apprentice is in the city, he will not leave until that necromancer is dead. The echoes of Malich's deeds return to haunt us – and he was just a man from Embere. What if he had been an Immortal, with limitless patience and guile that we cannot even guess at?' He stopped, seeing she was not fully convinced, Have you ever heard of Thistledell?'
His question seemed to catch Zhia off-guard. After a while, she nodded uncertainly. 'In passing – was it something horrible, done the day before Silvernight? I don't believe I have ever heard the full story.'
Doranei shook his head. 'I'm not surprised; you won't find anyone willing to speak of Thistledell these days. This was the coronation festi¬val – always the most popular of our summer festivals because the king is extremely generous. It's almost impossible to believe such a thing could have happened in such a quiet little village, and over the years people have worked hard to forget – there aren't even any signposts pointing to Thistledell now.' Doranei hesitated, disquieted himself. 'I accompanied Ilumene there soon after I joined the Brotherhood, and what I saw scarred my soul. We stood there and watched the men from the neighbouring villages sift the ashes to unearth the bones. I still remember his words: "There are traces of darkness in our every deed. Whatever weakness was inside these people, were they any different to us!
'I low to see the shadow within a shadow?' Zhia said with weary understanding.
I)oranei looked into her eyes and remembered she and her brothers had been touched by a greater horror than he'd ever known.
'Azaer turned them against each other?' she asked.
'We don't know what happened exactly, only that they thought they had been blessed when a talented minstrel arrived for the cel¬ebrations… and then they tore each other apart.'
Zhia nodded slowly. 'And now your minstrel has come to Scree, to spread his traces of darkness here. I will give you one of my agents to guide you; Rojak and his companions have gone to hide in the slums to the south.'
She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, then began to whisper in some flowing arcane tongue Doranei could not recognise. He sat still until Zhia looked at him again, her earlier joviality gone. With a sigh the vampire pushed herself to her feet.
'My agent is waiting for you downstairs; he will follow your com¬mands without question.' She took Doranei's hand and held his fingers up to her cheek a moment. 'Once you have your revenge, leave this place before it consumes you, or the minstrel will have won after all.'
Zhia gave him a delicate kiss, hardly more than a brush on the lips, for all the tenderness in her eyes. 'Be careful; revenge is a wild beast and more often than not it isn't just the intended who are hurt as it rampages. I wouldn't like to see you hurt, not when you're such a sweet diversion. Tell your king he's lost this round, it's time to salvage what is left and prepare for the next.'
Doranei nodded dumbly and yielded to her gentle urging
towards the door, but something stayed his hand as he opened it. Turning, he looked back at Zhia who was standing perfectly still in the centre of the room, her hands clasped together.
'What horrified the king about Thistledell was not that such a thing could happen, but what it meant. It isn't Azaer's way to force others, only to urge them. If we are all capable of such things, if that evil lives within every one of us, how can we hope to fight it?'
With that he turned to go, but before he could shut the door behind him Zhia called out, her voice as vulnerable as a child's, 'It's choice that makes you human; never forget that, just as it is fear that makes you less than human. Fear the darkness inside you and it will consume you – accepting that it is there is the only way to conquer it. Remember, Doranei, that you will always have a choice. However hard it might be, there is always choice.'
Zhia sat and watched the candles burn slowly down. Outside, the city was strangely silent, but it remained as hot as ever. She'd hoped the destruction of the theatre would lessen that at least, but the sun had burned down as fiercely as it had the previous day. She sighed and reached for the wine, filling the goblets on the table. As she set the decanter down, the latch on the door clicked open again. The man who entered wore a studded leather surcoat and had crossed scimitars sheathed on his back. He was bloodied and bruised, but he hadn't bothered to clean the filth and gore from his skin or clothes; only the linen bandage around his neck was fresh.
Oh, honestly, Zhia thought to herself as she indicated the other seat. 'Is that bandage entirely necessary, Major? It will stand out a bit when you return to the Greengate.'
He grunted and walked behind the chair, resting his elbows on the back as he cast an unfriendly look over the food at her. She could see in his eyes that the gesture was intended exactly as she'd seen it. 'Not exactly my problem. You wanted to see me?'
'A little civility wouldn't hurt, Major. I doubt the rations for the garrison are quite so good, and you must be hungry.'
'True,' Amber growled, 'but I don't see you offering it to the rest of them as well. Let me make this clear for you; this is not my cause and it isn't my city, but I bleed in battle alongside the men still out there. I don't particularly enjoy abandoning them to go and have dinner with the woman who holds the purse strings.'
'Your sense of honour is admirable,' Zhia said, careful not to rise to his antagonistic tone, 'but I expect your sense of duty to your lord supercedes it.'
'Of course it does.'
'Then sit.'
When she didn't say any more, Amber's frustration eventually sub¬sided. He slipped off his baldric and hung his scimitars on the back of the chair and slumped down at the table.
'Good boy. Now, your mission in Scree is over. The Skull you were sent here to find is doubtless out of your reach, your companions are dead or lost to you and the necromancer – if he ever was a true ally of yours – isn't going to be healthy company soon. Perhaps I can offer you an alternative to returning home empty-handed.'
'I'm not for sale.' Amber's fingers tightened into a fist.
'I'm not proposing you become a mercenary; merely that I help you get home.'
'I don't understand,' Amber said.
Zhia offered him one of the goblets of wine and he took it, his expression one of puzzlement. 'The White Circle is finished,' she said. 'The remnants of their power are in Scree, and soon Scree will be no more. I shall have to revise my position in the Land to be a little less obvious, perhaps, but I will certainly outlast the Circle and its members.'
'What's this got to do with me?'
'Well, Major, you might have assumed I've made an alliance with the King of Narkang, but I assure you it is nothing more than an understanding. I have enough enemies that I see no reason to make more. Their goals are not mine, but as long as their plans don't conflict with my own, there's no need for trouble – and it's always sensible to be owed a favour when you're the enemy of the Gods.'
'And you want to offer the same to Lord Styrax?'
'In a fashion. I have no plans for empire-building, so I see no reason to get in the way of his. I've spent many years among your people; I've seen them at their weakest and at their strongest. Right now, they are led by a man whose footsteps echo across the entire Land. I think he would be a good man to come to an understanding with before our paths cross.'
'You don't care that he invaded your homeland and killed your brother?' Amber asked incredulously.
'Did you expect a desire for revenge?' Zhia gave him an indulgent smile. 'My brother is immortal; as you've seen, he has recovered en¬tirely from the incident and will bear no grudge. Do you know how many mortals have managed that throughout history?' She leaned across the table and held out her hand. 'Koezh was an exceptional warrior when he was mortal; from the age of sixteen he was bested in single combat only three times, the first time by a celebrated Elven duellist who had offered to train him.' She raised one finger. 'The second time, by Eperal, Hit's most violent Aspect, who took a wound that would have killed a man, in order to disarm Koezh.' The second finger went up, then the third. 'Lastly, of course, Karkarn, the God of War himself. Since then, only one mortal other than your lord has managed the feat and that was largely down to luck. Koezh tells me your lord was not lucky; he was astonishing.'
Amber nodded. 'I've seen Lord Styrax fight; you have good reason to be worried.'
Zhia almost choked on her wine. 'Worried? My dear boy, your lord is a great warrior, but Koezh and I are not children. To take on both of us would show a severe lack of judgment, and I would think consider¬ably less of Kastan Styrax if he tried it.'
Amber drained his cup and stood up again. 'So what is your mes¬sage?'
'That if he speaks, I will listen. I know he has not crossed the Waste solely to conquer the Chetse, so don't even try to deny it.'
'You will listen? That's the entire message?' Amber pulled his scimi¬tars back on and grabbed a handful of flatbread from the table.
'Small steps, Major, small steps. When the Menin armies move north and near wherever I decide to settle, I'm sure the Cheme Legion will be at the fore. When that happens, you might have a visitor in the night.'
'What about Mikiss?'
Zhia raised her eyebrows. 'Don't worry yourself about him; Mikiss is better off at my side. All I ask of you is to be at the Greengate when the city guard needs you; they're not soldiers and they'll need one to lead them. My intention is to destroy the Second Army and use the Greengate to evacuate those we can.'
'Evacuate them? Why do you care about the people of Scree?'
'That is not your concern,' Zhia snapped. 'Just be ready when I give the order. I walked the city last night; the mobs have been working themselves up into a frenzy, and they will boil over very soon, tonight maybe, or tomorrow at the latest. When that happens, even the sol¬diers in this city will be in great danger, and I would save anyone I can. Once we are away, you will be free to leave, understand?'
Amber stared for a while, trying to see in her face why the vampire had been stirred to compassion, but eventually he gave up and just nodded. 'I understand.'
'Good, now return to your post,' she ordered. 'I have murder to assist.'
CHAPTER 26
'General, the scouts have returned,' Second Lieutenant Mehar re¬ported.
General Jebehl Gort looked up from the map into the anxious face of his aide, hovering at a respectful distance. Behind the lieutenant, Gort could see the dark outline of Scree, crowned by torches that burned unhindered by any evening breeze. From all around him came the sounds of an army camp going about its business, but to his experienced ear it was worryingly quiet. Soldiers preparing for battle tended to act in certain ways, and this wasn't normal. His men were subdued and apprehensive; they gathered in small knots, talking quietly in shaky voices that betrayed their fear. They had heard what was happening in Scree, and now they were asking themselves how there could be any victory over a city of madmen.
There was another worrying det
ail: the absence of background noise in fields that should have some life – most creatures fled before an army, but it was disconcerting to hear absolutely nothing, not even the wind. They were an island adrift in unearthly seas.
The shadows of twilight thickened steadily beyond the pickets, reminding Gort of a rhyme he'd heard as a child, spying on his fa¬ther as he sat drinking with old comrades late into the night. Those powerful, proud men were the reason he'd followed in his father's footsteps and joined the Knights of the Temples, but that night there had been no drunken singing or horse-play; that night they'd behaved like they were in mourning. One of them, a bear of a man from Embere, had repeated again and again a sad little rhyme in his own language.
Gort's father had whispered a few lines:
Shadows rise and faithful fall,
The readers.sing and the lady comes
With ashes in her hair and secrets in her hand…
Those words had echoed through Gort's dreams for many years, not just because of the strange atmosphere that night, but also because of the ghastly look on his father's face as he spoke. He had never seen that side of his father again.
He shook the mood from him; this wasn't the time to indulge in childish fears. He needed to look strong for his men, both noble and common-born alike. His aide had the right idea: despite the swelter¬ing conditions, Lieutenant Mehar looked positively resplendent in his formal armour. As an aide to a general of the Knights of the Temples, he had to stand out among the soldiery, so his brass-plated cuirass, vambraces and greaves were all spotless and shining.
Look at him, the general thought, another sign of how the order has lost its way. He must dress that exact same way every day he is on duty, while I go into battle wearing antiquated scale-mail because the Codex of Ordinance dictates it. He shook his head. And my second-in-command could order me flogged if I decided to wear a cuirass. We really have lost our way in this Land; 1 hope Lord Isak can restore us to the true path. He sighed and turned back to the young man.