by Sue Tingey
“They’ll never be free. They’ll remain here for all eternity until they’re barely more than a puff of breeze on the air.”
The spirits moaned, but none approached him. Even in death they feared Amaliel, though I had no idea what else he could possibly do to them. Several drifted toward me, but stayed out of reach. I tried to smile at them to put them at their ease, but I found it very hard.
“You mustn’t give up,” one said. She was tall and slight with horns on her brow and a severe overbite caused by a top jaw of very sharp, pointed teeth. Then she added, “We will never give up.”
And then it hit me. That was what I was doing: I was letting my despair sink into my heart and bones. It was going to be hard, no doubt about it, but if I gave up Amaliel would win.
I closed my eyes and inside my head I whispered, “Talk to me.”
And they did.
As soon as Amaliel realized something was happening over which he had no control he dragged me from the hall. But it was too late. I now knew the way out of the temple and why my men had not yet come to save me: they thought the way in was through an entrance beneath the altar up top. The Sicarii had destroyed that doorway a very long time ago after carving other passageways beneath the plain. Those passageways exited outside the black circle surrounding the monoliths. When they had taken me, they had dragged me into such a passageway directly beneath the rock where we had set up our camp. Even though my guards would have acted immediately, it would have still been too late; I’d already gone.
Communing with the spirits had been a weird sensation. At first it had felt like a soft breeze was caressing my skin, then as though that breeze was passing through my flesh and bones and swirling around inside me. Then came the knowledge. I saw through their eyes and their memories. As well as showing me the way out, they’d shown me where Amaliel rested his head. They’d also told me something very interesting: although the Sicarii had cursed the dying, binding them forever to the temple, they couldn’t see the spirits all the time, only when they performed their rituals to consume power from the captive souls.
The spirits had also told me why the Sicarii harvested that power. At first they had used it to gain the ability to walk unseen among the living. Then they began to believe that one day, when they had absorbed enough energy, they would have power over death and the ability to cross over from this world to the hereafter at will.
“And will they?” I’d asked, but I’d been dragged away before they could answer.
They put me in a new cell, which was slightly more comfortable in that I had a thin mattress to lie on. The toilet was a deep, black hole in the corner that stank to high heaven. It was covered by a grating, but I don’t think even the most desperate of souls would have used it as a route for escape.
The only light came from a torch outside in the passageway, so once the door slammed shut behind me I was in almost total darkness—apart from the small patch of light coming through the grill at the top of the door. There was no mention of food or water and, as I guessed it wasn’t his intention that I starve to death, I reckoned something would be brought to me soon.
I slumped down on the mattress. I was going to have to free myself in order to follow the spirits’ escape route. At least I knew where Kayla and Vaybian were; I had no idea where Amaliel was keeping Angela and neither did the spirits, which made me wonder—was she here at all?
Sitting alone in the dark with nothing to think on but the fates of those I loved and how inadequate I felt was not conducive to bucking my ideas up, and my brief period of gung ho “I’ll show Amaliel bloody Cheriour” was dwindling away fast.
I got to my feet and walked over to the door to peer out of the grill. I had to stand on tiptoes and grip onto the bars, which was difficult when my throbbing left hand screamed for mercy every time I tried to flex it. It was hardly worth the effort. As far as I could tell the passageway outside was empty, though my arc of vision was pretty limited. I dropped down and leaned back against the door. The inactivity was driving me nuts. I needed to be doing something—anything.
They do say be careful what you wish for.
There was a creak of the door along the corridor and a thud of footfall, which had me immediately wishing I’d be left alone.
I shifted to one side of the door, pressed myself flat against the wall and waited. The footsteps stopped, keys clinked, bolts were drawn and the door swung open with a squeal of hinges. A Sicarii stepped inside, lamp held high. I glanced out through the open door. Two minions waited outside, backs to the door. I risked them turning and seeing me as I moved across, reached out and pushed the door shut. The Sicarii turned on me with a hiss.
I leaned back against the door. He lowered the lamp slightly, but not before I saw a glint of something within his cowl; his eyes maybe.
“What do you want?” I said.
“I had to leave before I got my answers.”
“Scared Amaliel might catch you talking to me?” I was goading him, but if I riled him enough he might let something slip, or make a mistake I could use to my advantage.
“I do not fear him.”
“Yeah, right.”
He took a step toward me. “Your life hangs in the balance—to have me as an enemy could tip the scales.”
“Do you really think that killing the Soulseer with all these spirits hanging around would work out well for you? I don’t think so.”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“No, I’m telling it how it is.”
“With you dead there’ll be no one to thwart our plans. There’ll be no one to release them.”
“So why is Amaliel planning on keeping me around?” I asked, forcing a sunny smile onto my face. He lifted the lamp slightly to study my expression. “Well?”
“He said …” he hesitated.
“He said what?”
“He said you were to be sacrificed.”
“Then why did he go to such great lengths to threaten me?” I said, lifting up my left hand wrapped in the bloodstained linen.
“Show me,” he said, taking a step closer.
I hugged my hand to my chest. “No thanks.”
“I said show me,” and a dagger appeared in his hand.
I took a deep breath and extended my hand, but not by far; if he wanted to look at it he could come to me. He took another step, and with the tip of the dagger lifted the edge of the material encasing my hand.
“Unwrap it.”
“No, it’s stuck to the wound and I don’t want to make it start bleeding again.”
He gave a hiss, put the lamp down onto the floor and reached out to grab my arm. As he did I grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the dagger, stepped in close and kneed him as hard as I could through his flowing robe.
He grunted, doubling up as I took a firmer grip of his knife arm with my other hand and brought his forearm down hard across my knee with all the force I could. He yelped and the knife dropped to the floor. I let go of his arm and, putting a hand on each of his shoulders, pushed down, bringing my knee up and straight into his face. There was a crack and I felt something give, but I couldn’t be squeamish. This was my one and only chance and I had to finish it before the boys outside realized something was up. If they’d heard anything at all they’d hopefully assumed it was me being beaten. I brought my knee up again and he collapsed on the floor with barely a groan.
I glanced around looking for the dagger and snatched it up, then pointed it at his prone body. If I was in his position I would play dead, so I wasn’t taking any chances. I gave him a hefty kick and he didn’t make a sound.
Now came the nasty part. If I were to get out of the cell and past the two minions, I’d have to be in disguise, which meant removing his robe and seeing what was underneath it. I took one deep breath, two deep breaths, then bent down and began to search about his robes for a fastening. It was easier said than done: it had no opening down the front and had to be lifted up over his head.
I grippe
d the hem and began pulling at it until I got it to his armpits at the front, then grabbed an arm and rolled him onto his side, pulling it up at the back. To my relief he was wearing an undershirt and knee length breeches underneath. Even so, I saw more of him than I wanted to. Desiccated flesh the color of ashes covered his skinny arms and legs, and scabby patches of what looked like blackened mold clung to his skin. I really so did not want to have to look at his face. When I had the robe off his arms and rolled up to his neck I hesitated. I took two more deep breaths then heaved the robe up over his head. I tried not to look, but at the same time found it hard to keep my eyes from wandering up to his face.
I pushed the knife into my waistband, picked up the robe and, despite not wanting anything that had touched his skin resting against mine, pulled it over my head. He wasn’t much taller than me so the hem skimmed the ground, and I thought by taking small, quick steps I could maybe give the appearance of gliding. Hopefully the minions wouldn’t be watching me too closely. I turned to pick up the lamp and as I straightened I caught a glimpse of the back of his head. The thought of what the hood I was wearing had so recently rested against made me shudder: his scalp was completely hairless, and like his arms and legs a wrinkled gray. A large patch of the moldy substance covered the crown of his head and just above his collar was an open sore, shiny and yellowing. It was almost as though he was rotting. I turned my head away; I didn’t want to see anymore.
I walked to the door and, keeping my head down, pulled it open and closed it behind me, hoping the minions wouldn’t look inside. One immediately stepped forward with the keys while the other threw both the bolts across. I walked away taking quick baby steps and hoped it was giving the appearance I was looking for.
I heard the minions following behind me, and if they noticed anything out of the ordinary they didn’t say. When we reached the cavern containing the altar one of the minions called to me.
“Master, do you need us any longer?” I turned so I was sideways on to them and shook my head.
They both gave small bows and hurried off, leaving me alone. It was then that I began to tremble. I gripped my hands together, remembering my mutilated finger too late. I winced and it began to throb again.
I had no time to dawdle. I glanced around to make sure I was alone and hurried across the chamber to the passageway Kayla and Vaybian were imprisoned within.
I went straight to her cell, almost running through the empty corridors. The outer door wasn’t locked; there was no need for that as she was behind bars within the cell. She looked up as soon as I walked in, but didn’t move from where she was sitting on the bed. I threw back the hood as I hurried toward her.
“Lucky?”
“Where’s the key?” I asked, looking around the room.
“Amaliel has it.”
“Damn and blast.”
“Where did you get the robe?”
“Off a Sicarii who was stupid enough to try and question me on his own.”
“Did you kill him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You should have.”
“He’s unconscious.”
“But probably not for long. You’ve got to get out of here.”
“Not without you.”
“Well, unless you can find a way of getting the key off Amaliel you’re going to have to.”
“I know where he sleeps.”
Kayla laughed. “I don’t think he ever does.”
“I can search his room for the key.”
“Don’t be stupid, you’d get caught, and anyway he keeps it on a chain around his neck.”
“Crap.”
“Lucky, you must go—now, while you have the chance.”
“If I leave you and Vaybian he’ll kill you.”
“I doubt it. He’ll be needing us for if he catches you again.”
“He’ll hurt you.”
“And when you come and get us with your Guardian and Deathbringer you will hurt him.”
“I will kill him.”
She gave me a smile. “No you won’t.”
“I will,” I told her, “I bloody will.”
She reached out through the bars and took my hand. “I want you to be safe,” she said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Kayla,” I said, knowing there wasn’t time for questions but having to ask anyway, “when you came to me, when I was a child, did you know I was the Soulseer?”
A strange expression passed across her face. “No, I had my suspicions, but no, not at first.”
“Why did you come? Was it to protect me or was it to kill me?”
She met me eye to eye. “You were so very little, not big at all really. I towered over you in my full daemonic glory waiting for you to recoil in horror, waiting for you to scream. Do you know what you did?” I shook my head. I couldn’t speak, she had come to kill me. “You reached out with your chubby, little arms and smiled up at me. Really smiled. I picked you up and held you, knowing I should crush the life out of you. And then you put your head against my shoulder and your arms around my neck and snuggled up under my chin. From that moment I was smitten and I knew I had to protect you from the others who would no doubt come for you.”
“Kayla,” I said squeezing her hand.
“Now, you must go.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you must. Don’t you see? This isn’t about me and Vaybian, this is about saving our world. Imagine what it would be like if Amaliel became ruler. My father is barbaric and cruel, but it’s what Amaliel has made him.”
“In more ways than you know,” I said.
“Lucky, please go. Please do this for me.”
I nodded, my heart aching. She was right. “I will go, but I’ll be back and then together we are going to kick Sicarii butt and send Amaliel somewhere he can never hurt anyone again.”
Thirteen
It had been so hard walking out of the chamber and leaving her behind. I’d looked back as I’d opened the door and she’d given me a big smile, and even with hair shorn in messy lumps she was still beautiful.
I’d hurried along the corridors expecting a hand to reach out and grab me by the shoulder at any moment, but I’d reached the main hall without seeing a single demon. This changed before I had even taken two steps into the main cavern: two brown-robed minions were at work by the altar, filling the braziers with charcoal from hessian sacks, but they’d only glanced up briefly before returning to what they were doing. I’d held my head up, pulled my cowl forward and walked across the cavern hoping my quick, little steps were doing the business. I’d waited for the shout of “stop!” and the sound of pounding feet as they’d chased after me, but none had come, and then I’d been surrounded by spirits hurrying along with me, guiding me to the passageway.
“Through here, through here,” they’d called and I was out of the hall and in the narrow passage to freedom.
As soon as I stepped out into the fresh air I realized why there weren’t many Sicarii about: judging by the positions of the two suns it was midmorning. I threw the gray robe over my head and to the ground, hoping I hadn’t picked up some disgusting disease from the putrefying creature I had stolen it from, then glanced around looking for a landmark I recognized. Over to my right the blackened monoliths rose up out of the landscape and beyond them the red stone rocks where we had hidden. I doubted my friends would still be there, but it was a good place to begin.
I started across the plain hoping I would quickly find my friends and they’d all be well. I didn’t dare let myself think otherwise. Then, in my head I saw Jinx sinking to his knees and keeling over to one side, an arrow in his back, the tip protruding through his chest. I raised my right hand. The nick between my fingers from the arrow tip had crusted over and I could still see traces of his blood ingrained into my skin. He had to be all right.
I was out in the open with little shelter and nowhere to hide, expecting the alarm to be raised at any moment and a swarm of brown-robed minions
to appear from beneath the plain. Then a shadow passed above me and one of the two men I now knew I loved dropped down in front of me, his wings spread wide.
“I do so wish you would stop doing that,” he said.
“What?” I said, confused.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and wrapped his wings around me, making me feel safe and protected.
“For the second time in only a few short days I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his hand cupping the back of my head and his lips grazing my hair.
“Jamie,” I said and I had to swallow back tears, “Jinx? Is he—all right?”
Jamie leaned back to look at my face. “If it hadn’t been for the arrow through his chest I would have killed him myself for letting you be taken again.”
“He’s dead?” I said. I didn’t think I was capable of drawing another breath.
Jamie smiled, showing teeth. “Don’t be silly. He’s probably very sore, not that he’d admit it, but he’ll be back to normal in a day or so. Maybe even sooner now we have you back. We’ve all been beside ourselves.”
And suddenly I could breathe again. “You couldn’t find the way in?” I managed to say.
He shook his head. “The old entrance had been completely blocked.”
“We have to get back inside,” I told him, “they have Vaybian and Kayla and I’m scared of what Amaliel might do to them.”
“Come on,” Jamie said, “I’ll take you somewhere safe where we can make plans.” Then he kissed me, a soft chaste kiss on the cheek, wrapped me in his arms and took me up into the sky.
As I had thought, they had moved camp. This time to a higher rock a lot further from the Sicarii temple; there was no way they could creep up on us here, and I doubted they had tunneled this far out. Shenanigans and Kubeck were on guard duty, and upon seeing me both their worried frowns were replaced with relieved smiles.
“Mistress, I am so pleased to see you safely returned to us,” Shenanigans said.
“I’m glad to see you too,” I told him.
Jamie showed me inside what was to be our temporary home, and before I had hardly taken a couple of steps Pyrites, the size of a large dog, wrapped himself around my ankles and puffed steam in excitement, pushing his head up under my hand to be petted.