We’d left the last scrubby bush far below and were now scrambling over rocks and poor soil where even grasses could barely keep a precarious hold.
The city seemed as far away as ever, but it was now clear to us that it was a ruin. It wasn’t as large as we’d first thought, but the buildings were densely packed, heaped one upon another in tiers that seemed to form steps designed for a giant.
Nearly three hours had passed before we reached the first dwellings. They formed a stone terrace – an apparently impenetrable wall. However, we worked our way slowly southwards until we came to a narrow archway, with steep steps leading up into near darkness.
At first they seemed to be heading directly into the buildings, but then I saw the blue sky far above and realized that this was a narrow passageway between the houses which was easy to defend against intruders. There were no longer any guards – just a brooding silence, disturbed only by the buzz of insects and the thud of our boots on the ancient stones.
Gradually the passage began to widen and the ascent became less steep – until we emerged into a vast inner courtyard surrounded on all sides by tier upon tier of grey stone buildings.
Now we could hear the wind, moaning and whistling somewhere above, while, sheltered as we were, the air about us was still and calm. Half the courtyard was already in shadow, and fingers of darkness reached out towards us as the sun sank towards the west.
The ground here was covered in vivid green moss, but there were no other plants to be seen – probably because there was only a thin covering of soil.
Together, although neither of us had spoken, Garrett and I began to walk away from the shadows, heading for the nearest wall. Here Garrett drew a dagger from his belt and gouged a hole in the stone. The grey fell away to reveal red sandstone beneath. It seemed that the surface of each stone was covered with a crusty grey deposit.
‘If we were closer to the sea, I’d say that grey powder was guano,’ Garrett said.
In the far north of Midgard, near the Sea Gate, the rocky coastal regions yielded seabird excrement, which was rich in phosphates and an excellent fertilizer for the arable farms there. Deinon had an uncle who had left his small farm south of Gindeen to seek his fortune in the north; he had prospered by gathering and selling guano.
‘We could be closer to the sea than we think,’ I suggested.
‘Not according to the chart,’ said Garrett. ‘And I’d smell it for sure. I’ve a nose for the ocean.’
‘So where are the birds that deposited this?’ I asked, gesturing upwards.
‘For that matter, where are the windows?’ Garrett asked.
I nodded. ‘I wondered about that too,’ I said. ‘In fact, even doors are in short supply.’
All the doorways we’d seen had been blocked by slabs of stone, cut to fit perfectly.
‘Why would they block them up?’ Garrett wondered.
I shrugged. ‘Perhaps there was a plague and they were converted into tombs. Or maybe it was a reaction to some sort of tariff. Tyron told me that, many years ago, the Protector needed to raise money and put a tax on windows in Gindeen. Many people simply boarded up their windows and made do with less daylight.’
This didn’t raise the ghost of a smile from Garrett. I reflected that it was easy to block the windows of Gindeen’s wooden buildings; here the cost and effort of using stone was very different.
However, about sixty paces to the north we came upon the first open doorway. We stepped inside, and discovered that what from the outside appeared to be individual dwellings were really long communal houses. Within, there was a smell of dust and decay; the room extended into absolute darkness.
‘Can you smell it?’ Garrett asked, sniffing. ‘The dead lie here.’
I nodded. He was right. Only bones and decay lay ahead of us. This city contained only the dead; no one had survived to honour the remains of the others. No doubt they had succumbed to some disease or plague.
I stepped outside, blinking in the brightness and drawing in a deep breath of fresh air. The light changed even as we watched, and there were new shadows on the northern wall of the courtyard. Now, for the first time, I saw steps cut into the stone, leading up the mountainside, and pointed them out to Garrett.
‘Wouldn’t take long,’ he said, eyeing them up. ‘There should be a clear view from the top. We need to see what lies ahead.’
The climb was difficult and not without danger – the steps were narrow and worn – but the view was worth it. We found ourselves on top of the highest tier of buildings, with an unbroken vista to the south, east and north.
To the south and east there was only an ocean of trees, but in the far distance, to the north, we could see a great river meandering across a plain, beyond which were faint purple hills. Long before the river, the forest gave way to grassland. That was the first of the two rivers on the map, both of which flowed from west to east.
‘Another two or three days should bring us to the banks of that river,’ I said. ‘My father has marked a ford on the map.’
‘Then let’s hope the river isn’t too deep,’ Garrett said. ‘Sometimes fords can’t be crossed.’
I pointed to the east and frowned. There was a ridge of dark cloud on the horizon. ‘It looks like a storm heading our way,’ I said.
The big man stared at it for a while and frowned. Garrett had exceptionally good eyesight, but he shook his head. ‘It’s a strange-looking cloud, Leif, and I’m not sure whether it’s moving towards us or heading southwest.’
It wouldn’t be pleasant to be caught out on the mountainside in a storm.
At that moment the sun slipped behind a mountain, and suddenly it felt much colder. Below, in the courtyard, it looked as if night had fallen, even though there were still several hours of daylight remaining.
We began our descent almost immediately. Although I didn’t speak of it to Garrett, I felt a sense of urgency: we needed to get out of this ruined place as soon as possible. There was something in the air that chilled me to the bone; it was as if something terrible was about to happen. The warnings inside my head were shrilling an alarm.
Down in the courtyard, sheltered from the wind, it was much warmer. Once again, the air was still. Everything was silent, as if holding its breath.
It was the silence that saved us because something intruded into it; something so slight that it could barely be heard. It was a warning that sounded like the faint rustling of dried leaves. Then, as it grew louder, I realized what it was.
It was the beating of wings; the frenzied beating of thousands upon thousands of wings. Was this what our dead comrades had heard before death came from the air?
We began to run, keeping close to the wall on our left, making for the nearest open doorway. As Garrett ducked inside, I glanced behind and saw a dark, roiling cloud of winged creatures spiralling down into the courtyard from an open doorway high in the wall. They looked more like bats than birds, but I’d never seen such large bats, and there was something odd about their heads. They reminded me of insects.
Then something very strange happened: the cloud contracted and formed a distinctive shape.
It was a long curved leaf; it looked like the leaf of the silver tree fern.
It only lasted a second before that shape dissolved. Had I imagined it? I wondered.
I followed Garrett into the darkness of the building, then we headed into the utter blackness of the corridor. I was right on his heels, sensing death close behind, holding out my right hand to feel my way along the wall.
Then, suddenly, I saw Garrett’s outline ahead of me. The light was coming from another door that led out into the courtyard. But then we saw a second door, almost directly opposite, half blocked by a large stone.
We stepped inside and found ourselves in a small square chamber, nothing more than a cell with that single entrance. In the dim light we saw that the stone was actually shaped like a disc.
Without the need for words, we put our shoulders to its edge.
/> It resisted, and I had a moment of panic. Frantically I strained to move it. I could hear Garrett groaning with effort. I was sobbing with fear, expecting to be torn into pieces at any moment.
Suddenly the stone yielded and we began to roll it across the doorway to seal ourselves in. Once set in motion, it moved more easily, guided into position by grooves in the floor and ceiling. Within seconds it had sealed off the entrance, and we waited in the utter blackness, hearing only our breaths.
But soon we heard other sounds. There was a rustling and then scratching on the other side of the stone, which rocked as if some tremendous weight was being brought to bear against it. But gradually these movements ceased and all grew quiet. Finally we settled down on the cold stone floor to rest.
It proved to be a long night and we took it in turns to sleep. In the pitch darkness it was difficult to judge the passage of time, so we waited and waited, to ensure that the morning was well advanced when we finally emerged.
Even then, rolling back the stone was fraught with danger. We hoped that those ravenous entities were creatures of the night, but we couldn’t be sure. However, we couldn’t stay in that cell without water or food indefinitely.
Carefully we rolled the stone back, a little at a time, pausing to listen for danger.
At last we were standing in the centre of the courtyard, feeling the sun on our heads and backs, grateful for its warmth. Wasting no time, we left the Grey City and made a rapid descent of the mountain.
Our horses were still tethered to the trees, but both were dead. A few tattered shreds of flesh and skin hung from their skeletons, but little had escaped that feeding frenzy. Even our saddlebags had been torn open and their contents devoured. However, the water bottles remained, along with our weapons.
I was stunned. Unlike the majority of Genthai warriors who, although they treated their mounts with respect, gave them little attention, I’d formed a bond with my mare. The terrible death of Laras hit me hard; strangely, it affected me just as deeply as the deaths of my companions.
‘That cloud we saw in the distance – it must have been that flock of creatures,’ Garrett said. ‘But where are they now?’
‘Maybe they’re roosting somewhere in the city. Maybe they only feed at night?’ I suggested.
We gathered up most of our weapons – most importantly the bows and arrows that would enable us to live off the land. However, I left behind my two longswords: they were heavy to carry, and I was more adept with my short sword and shield. So we continued our journey north, walking by day and resting by night. The nights were the worst, for I feared an attack from the sky and slept with difficulty, even when Garrett was keeping watch.
In the middle of the night I opened my eyes, feeling uneasy. Everything was silent. It was so dark that I could hardly see my hands before my face.
I listened carefully for Garrett’s breathing. Nothing. It was his watch, and he was totally reliable. Surely he wouldn’t have wandered off … I thought to call out to him softly, but even that would be dangerous. The slightest noise might attract the djinn or those flying creatures.
I rolled out from under my blanket and slowly rose onto my knees, still listening for danger. My heart sank when I heard distant sounds from the sky, somewhere above the leaf canopy.
They grew louder, and now there was no doubt: it was the beating of myriad wings.
‘Garrett! Garrett!’ I cried, no longer constrained by the need for silence.
Garrett didn’t reply. Or maybe he did, but his answer was drowned out by the furious beating of wings that crashed through the leaves, twigs and branches to strike my body again and again.
I was paralysed. Too late, I tried to draw my sword but could not move my arm.
Then the sharp pains began: it was as if needles were being thrust deep into my eyes, my belly, my arms and my legs. Sharp beaks pierced my body and tore pieces of my flesh away. I would have done anything to escape that pain. I cried out for death to take me.
Then there was silence, and I felt myself being shaken gently, Garrett’s voice softly calling my name. I opened my eyes and, with a feeling of intense relief, realized that it had just been one of the recurrent nightmares that had been troubling me since we’d crossed the Barrier.
I sat up, sweat pouring from me, and Garrett patted me on the back in sympathy, for I’d told him about the nightmares.
‘Another bad dream, Leif? The same one?’
‘Yes, it’s always the same one.’
I knew that Garrett had nightmares too. So far, he hadn’t told me about his – the one that ended with his death. I knew he would do so when he was ready.
‘If they do come for us in the dark, the best we can hope for is to kill one each. If I prove to be too slow,’ Garrett said with a smile, ‘you’ll have to kill two. Don’t let me down.’
DEATH
In the vision, the girl wears red boots. There is arterial blood splattered at her feet.
It may be her own.
Amabramdata: the Genthai Book of Prophecy
KWIN
I opened my eyes and, with a pang, remembered that Leif was no longer here. He’d already been gone for over a month and I was missing him.
Part of me had wanted to ask him not to go, but I knew that would be a mistake. The expedition beyond the Barrier would go ahead with or without him, and if he’d given up his place, he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. I knew he was proud to have been chosen and believed that he would learn things that might help us to destroy Hob.
Then I remembered that today was my birthday, which made me both happy and sad.
I was happy to be seventeen – a year closer to being an adult, when I hoped my father would stop treating me like a child. I wanted to be given the same respect as he accorded Ada and Teena. Eighteen would be the age of my maturity; then he could no longer deny me that. It was just one year away!
Yet my birthday was always a sad occasion too. My mother had died on my first birthday. I tried to picture her face. My father said that I had her looks. I didn’t remember her, but she lived on in my mind because of the stories he had told me and Teena when we were children.
I dressed quickly and sat facing the mirror, looking first at the number 13 that I’d had tattooed on my forehead. Years ago, long before my father’s time, combatants fighting in Arena 13 had done this as a badge of pride, a sign of what they were to show the world.
The clasp on my father’s belt had the same insignia, but he’d never dream of marking his face. He’d certainly been shocked when he first saw my forehead!
I stared at the girl in the mirror, and then asked the usual question:
‘Girl in the mirror on the wall,
Who is the fastest of them all?’
I watched her mouth move as, together, we spoke the answer:
‘Kwin!’
It was part of the longer ritual I went through before combat to steady my nerves and reinforce my self-belief.
Then I went downstairs to breakfast.
Ada was already there; she came over and gave me a hug. ‘Happy birthday, Kwin,’ she said with a smile as she handed me a parcel. ‘Open it later – if you don’t like it, don’t be afraid to tell me. We can go back to the shop together and exchange it for something else.’
I returned her smile. ‘Thank you, Ada. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.’
I looked at her. She had seemed a lot happier recently. I knew that she still missed her husband, Tal, slain by Hob in the arena. She still looked no older than her early thirties. I had heard tales of other twice-born who had been bought from the Trader, their souls clothed in false flesh. At least one had aged rapidly and died within a year. So far Ada seemed to be in the best of health and still retained her youth.
At that moment my father and sister appeared. They were both carrying presents, but his was very small indeed. I wondered what it contained.
My father was starting to show his age, and that made me sad. I wanted him to
remain strong and in his prime, but one day he would be an old man. The lines on his face were more pronounced, but what made it worse was the sadness in his eyes. After all these years he still missed my mother, and the anniversary of her death was always a melancholy occasion. She’d fallen victim to the autumn flu that had swept through Gindeen, killing hundreds of its citizens.
‘Happy birthday, Kwin,’ my father said, kissing me on both cheeks before giving me a quick hug. Then he handed me that small parcel. ‘It’s something that belonged to your mother …’
I began to open it, but he shook his head and put his hand on mine to stop me. ‘Open it later, in the privacy of your room, and please wear it tonight for your party.’
I thanked him, and then gave Teena a hug and thanked her for her present, which I also kept for later. Then we sat down to breakfast with Teena’s young son, Robbie. He was a fair-haired, pale, unhappy-looking toddler. As usual, I did my best to cheer him up, but was rewarded with only a slight smile.
I wasn’t looking forward to my party – I didn’t like the fuss – but I hadn’t the heart to complain because it made my father happy. Besides, it would only be a few family members and close colleagues.
Before going to work I went up to my room to open my presents. To my delight, I discovered that Ada had bought me a pair of Trigladius blades to use in the arena. The handles were ornate and the blades perfectly balanced. They must have cost her a fortune. I hadn’t yet opened my other presents, but surely this had to be the best of the three – not that I would ever say that to anyone!
I opened Teena’s present next: she had meant well, but it wasn’t something I would have chosen. It was a long maroon dress with white lace on the collar and hem – no doubt she expected me to wear it for the party. I did wear dresses, but I preferred them short and tight to suit my body which, though I say so myself, was honed to perfection. I didn’t work to keep it that way out of vanity. I carried not an ounce of fat, and every muscle was developed to serve me in Arena 13.
The Warrior Page 5