The right side of his body cloaked in hot blood, Caeles took off around the corner toward the crossroads. There, two Luxmen bearing torches were swiping at a small group of unarmed fighters, who surrounded a small figure Caeles couldn’t see. The riders reared their animals, threatening to crush the men, and waved the burning torches. Around them, the buildings groaned.
‘Leave us!’ screamed one of the men.
‘Please don’t harm the child!’ cried another, and his voice was drowned by the terrified shrieks of the youngster they protected.
The horsemen paid no attention. They eyed the group through the black slits in their hoods as they continued to make their horses pound the pavement. In the glow of the fire, the hoods and cloaks made the Luxmen diabolic. Armoured torsos and fists blinked fierce red.
Caeles dashed forward and ducked, mechanical muscles bunching into ropes of cable as he brought his sword to the knees of the nearest horse. Blood sprayed onto the road and pooled as the beast staggered. Its surprised rider rolled backward onto the cobbles. Caeles glimpsed bare neck and drove at it with the blade.
The other rider yelled, attempting to bring his own animal about but failing miserably. The creature had seen its fallen brother and only whinnied in terror, fighting the reins its master tugged upon.
Caeles stamped out the torch that rolled by his feet, the nerves beneath his skin deactivated by electrical impulses, and then ran at the second rider. With the horse up on its back legs, spinning and auguring death by hoof, Caeles could get no closer.
The Luxman cursed and pulled a crossbow from his cloak, already primed with an arrow. The sights levelled on Caeles, but before the arrow could strike Caeles had the silver wakizashi up by his chest and the arrow was deflected. In the same movement the sword came up and around, slashing the straps binding saddle to beast and toppling the rider, who crashed on his back behind the horse. The fallen Luxman looked up just in time to see a bloodstained blade whistling toward his throat, and then saw no more.
‘Are you all right?’ Caeles yelled at the group of men. He amplified his voice electronically in order to be heard above the roar of the fire. One of the men stooped and picked up the crying toddler.
‘Yes! Thank you,’ he replied.
Caeles turned and saw the horse he had amputated, kicking as it lay on its side, breathing hard but making no other noise. He decapitated it in two heavy hacks of the blade, then turned and mounted the second horse. He felt warm blood on the soles of his bare feet as he kicked away the ruined saddle.
‘Get that kid out of here,’ he yelled, and jabbed his heels into the sides of his steed, then tore down the street.
The crossroads were littered with bodies. At that moment, Caeles cursed the Mayor who had refused to leave the town for a safer place. As he carefully steered the horse around the bloody bodies, Gabel and the magus appeared from a side road.
‘Caeles!’ the hunter yelled. ‘Whose horse is that?’
‘I borrowed it,’ he replied. He noticed Gabel had his five-chambered revolver in his hand. ‘Been hunting Luxers?’
‘I see you’ve taken a couple yourself,’ Gabel said, eyeing the blood that coated Caeles’ bare chest and arms. ‘What spurred you into action all of a sudden?’
‘Dried up rivers aren’t my business. This is another matter.’
‘We should separate. A few are still here.’
‘Right.’
Caeles galloped away, managing well without the saddle, as Gabel and the magus continued toward the centre of the town. They came to the remains of a few buildings that had been set alight in the previous attack. They were now smouldering with new flames, though little more damage could possibly be done. One or two shili were curled up by the fire, immobilised with fear.
‘This way,’ the hunter ordered, starting down the road leading toward the town hall. ‘The hall is where the people are staying. We should go and help protect them.’
Just as he spoke, a white-clad rider on horseback advanced into the street. Someone else’s blood stained the bottom of his robe and boots. The black eye-slits stopped dead on the magus.
‘Nigger shit,’ the voice behind the mask rasped. The horse turned and charged.
Gabel had his pistol raised, but before he fired something happened: the horse stopped dead in mid-gallop, as if frozen, and the rider slumped forward in his saddle from the force of it.
He kicked the horse with his spurs. ‘You voodoo fucking coon, what the hell have you done to my—’
Before he could finish the magus strode forward, his hands outstretched, fingers curled to talons. His errant eyes glowed with a fierce green light. The stars on his cheeks gleamed in the flame-dampened darkness.
The rider spasmed in his saddle as the magus advanced, and then, suddenly, the robes began to change colour. The white fabric darkened from the hems upward, turning a dull black. The silver chain mail turned grey and crumbled into powder. Colour bled into the fabric, moving upward toward the mask, and the rider howled in terror, struggling to get out of the saddle but unable to. The mask was enveloped in darkness.
Finally the magus stopped walking forward. He lowered his head, green fire dripping from his eyes. The hands relaxed, and then clapped once. The Luxman erupted into flames atop his horse, and both animals cried in pain before dropping to the ground, nothing more than ash.
The magus said nothing to Gabel, only strode on forward, scattering the ashes as he went.
~
The town hall was filled with soot-blackened women and children as nearly all the men, bar the crippled and ancient, were out combating the blaze. Amidst all the strangers, Rowan felt quite alone.
She recognised a few of the girls from Turenn’s place. They were huddled together in a corner, some weeping, and most crying out his name. Rowan knew how they felt. She feared greatly for Turenn, who had left the relative safety of the bordello to battle the robed villains and the flames that chased them. She didn’t envy the girls, all of whom had faces much darker than her own. They would be more prominent to the attackers who might pass Rowan by because of the lightness of her skin.
The Mayor was also out. Every time the Luxers attacked, Lady Firrok would go and protect her town. A fierce warrior, the woman knew her two sons could look after themselves and, since the death of her concubine at the hands of the hooded devils, she had stopped fearing for her own life. The earliest of the refugees in the hall had seen her leave, dressed in nothing more than her normal attire and wielding the deadly bo-staff. Several of the stronger women had gone with her, each with a shaven head to denote their apprenticeship. Many had elected instead to stay and protect their children.
Rowan felt uncomfortable without the presence of men. She realised she had become too reliant on Joseph and Caeles to protect her. Only the proximity of the guards, who stood outside the door to the hall in case of attack, gave her enough peace of mind to sit and try to calm down.
She felt weak. Woken after only a few hours of sleep, she struggled to stay awake despite the commotion. She closed her eyes, leaning against the front of Firrok’s throne.
When she heard the door open and slam closed, and then the sound of Turenn’s voice, she thought she was dreaming. She heard the tearful cries of the girls in the corner, and then Turenn’s deep voice saying, ‘It’s okay, girls, it’s all right, I’m all right! Don’t you worry now, everything will be fine. The fires are almost out, it’s not as bad as last time. No, no, Cherrie, they’re all gone now, they won’t be coming for us today, you’re fine, we’re all fine…’
Rowan listened to the monologue for a full minute before realising she was awake. She opened her eyes and saw the shimmering silk clothes of Turenn, standing with his back to her, comforting the girls who cooed around him, gripping his arm, kissing his face.
Rowan watched from her sleeping position, propped up against the throne. She was aware of a tear rolling down her cheek, but felt too weak to wipe it away.
Then she heard Turenn s
ay: ‘Where is Rowan? Where’s my Rowan?’
It took a second to sink in, and then she sat up sharply, back of her hand immediately wiping away the tear and then rubbing her eyes. She had only managed to half stand when Turenn was beside her, supporting her and sitting her back down.
‘There, there, don’t put yourself out … You’re tired, my Rowan, you should sleep.’
‘I don’t want to sleep now.’
‘It’s okay. The Luxers have left us. For now, they’ve left us, we’re safe…’
‘It isn’t the danger I want to stay awake for…’
But her eyes were already closed, and as she drifted into a heavy slumber she was partially aware of Turenn’s lips softly touching her cheek.
‘Turenn,’ she said instantly, and sat up, but he was gone from her, standing across the room. How did that happen? Her head felt heavy.
Turenn turned.
‘Rowan,’ he said.
‘Was I asleep?’
‘Yes, for nearly an hour. Are you feeling any better?’
She looked around. The room was a little emptier, only a few small families left. Some men had arrived now, comforting their wives or lovers or children, but they were gradually leaving. Rowan saw one of Firrok’s lady warriors greet her husband and kiss him fiercely; she was as tall and strong as he was.
‘Is everything okay now?’ she asked.
‘The fires are almost all out. They didn’t use fuel this time, so it was much easier to suffocate the flames.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. How are you feeling?’
‘I was afraid for you,’ she said quietly, and instinctively grasped his hand. He took her other and clasped them both.
‘Don’t worry about me, Rowan. I handled myself all right tonight.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
Turenn smiled. ‘Here,’ he said, turning to face the throne. ‘This is where my mother sits. You’ve seen her in it? Sitting so tall and proud. As well she should. She’s a good woman. But, she won’t be around forever. And Saykaan has refused to accept his responsibilities as heir. I would gladly yield to Saykaan if he asked it, but as it is, I am next in line for Mayorship.’
‘I know,’ Rowan replied quietly.
‘Have you looked closely at this throne? My father designed it. See this side, how it is decorated with angels? See these ophanim. Aren’t they beautiful? Now look at this side…’
‘They’re all demons!’ she said. How had she missed these hideous-looking things, with all the time she had spent leaning against them? She felt sickened.
‘Devils all down this side, see? You know how the Lady wears that gauntlet on one hand? It’s her right hand, on this side. And the rings for the staff? This side as well. She sees battle as the work of Erebis. That,’ Turenn sighed, ‘is why the people don’t trust her to save them.’
‘I don’t understand. Lady Firrok says she’d fight to the last rather than run.’
‘That’s why the people don’t have conviction in her. They think she does Erebis’ work because she wants to, that she enjoys the conflict and the death. It’s her self conflict that weakens her.’
‘Surely you don’t believe that.’
‘Of course not,’ Turenn said, hanging his head. ‘But I fear that the people may push me to usurp my mother if the attacks continue. Rowan…’
‘Yes?’
‘I will be Mayor,’ he said, ‘one way or another. I ask you to—’
‘To what…?’
He clasped her cheeks and kissed her between her closed, tear-rimmed eyes. ‘I want you to stay with me.’
~
Dripping with blood without a wound, Caeles charged the stolen white steed through the town, searching for more Luxer stragglers that had been left behind after the retreat. He half choked the beast as he wrenched the reins to turn when he wanted. Violently he dug his heels deep into the horse’s sides, bent low over its back, and whipped harder at the reins. He thundered past some survivors of the fire and turned around.
‘You!’ he bellowed. ‘Where’s Firrok?’
‘She is tending the injured, by the inn,’ one of the burned victims said. Caeles and the horse vanished almost immediately.
The Water Wader was overflowing with more refugees. Outside, a few others, trained in rudimentary first-aid, were treating wounded men and women. Sarai and Lady Firrok knealt amongst them, trying to stem an open wound cut into the side of a young man.
‘Don’t struggle!’ Firrok yelled. ‘Keep still, Morak, or suffer further injury…’
Caeles forced his way through the small crowd gathered outside the inn. ‘Firrok!’
‘Caeles! Whose horse is that?’
‘I took it from a Luxman. I need something from you.’
‘That’s a Luxer’s horse?’ Firrok yelled, both she and the Scathac standing. ‘How dare you ride that through—’
‘He ain’t needin’ it any more,’ Caeles said impatiently. ‘Lady Firrok, I ask you to take me to the prisoner.’
‘What prisoner?’
‘One of the others said you captured a Luxman last time they attacked, that he’s being held somewhere. Where is he? I need to see him, now.’
‘Do not make demands of me.’ The Mayor strode toward him, stepping over the wounded. The place was like a battlefield. ‘Not now, or ever, Caeles!’
Caeles seemed to visibly try to calm himself; his eyes closed, his chest heaved, and he let out a deep sigh. ‘I am sorry, gracious Lady Firrok. I implore you: let me speak to the prisoner.’
The Mayor sighed, and hers was much deeper. ‘All right. I wish to have words myself. This way. And get off that beast.’
‘Please – just tell me where he’s being held. Every second counts, lady.’
Just then, Gabel appeared from around the side of a building, bloodied and limping. He came up beside Caeles.
‘Lady Firrok,’ he said, paying no attention to the man beside him. ‘I wish to ask you an important favour…’
‘You want to see the prisoner?’ the Mayor asked.
Gabel frowned. ‘Yes. How did you—’
‘Your friend Caeles here just issued the same request.’ The hunter looked up at Caeles, who towered above him from the back of the horse. Firrok continued. ‘The prisoner is being held in the cell inside the town hall. Ramek should be guarding. Tell him I granted you permission.’
‘Thank you,’ said Caeles, and the horse reared and turned, and was gone down the street. Gabel pursued.
When the hunter came to the town hall, the horse had been left to wander outside. Rushing into the building, he heard raised voices.
‘Did I not warn you all?’ It was the voice of Ramek, echoing down the corridor. ‘Did we all not say this would happen?’
Then came the voice of Caeles. It had considerably less patience than when he had spoken with Firrok. ‘Let me past now, or this sword goes through your side.’
‘Caeles,’ Gabel murmured. The other man turned around, brandishing the bloodstained wakizashi.
‘Gabel. You wanna help me with this fuck, or am I taking him out by myself?’
Ramek was raving. ‘You can’t go in! It’ll tear you to pieces. It’s a monster, a demon…!’
‘I have heard people speaking of the Caballeros like this, but never a Luxman,’ Gabel muttered.
‘So he’s crazy. Let’s just shut him up already.’
Both men advanced on Ramek, who barely noticed in his panic. Two fists connected with his skull, and he slumped down against the wall, silenced. Gabel wrenched him away from the door.
‘Come on, he should be in here.’
They opened the door and entered a small room. In the knelt a hooded figure.
~
The robe and mask had dried bloodstains around the eye-slits, mouth area and ribs. There was a gash where it looked as if he had been stabbed. The room was poorly lit. In such lighting, the figure really did look demonic.
The eyeholes, pooled in
shadow, focused on the two visitors and the robed arms tensed against tightly bound rope, which was fastened to a ring attached to the cell floor.
‘Come to give me another beating?’ The voice was hoarse.
‘We will if you don’t tell us where your buddies are hiding out.’
‘What do you want to know that for? We out-number the people of this town two to one.’ Blood dribbled out from under the mask, more black than red. ‘You’re pathetic, all of you. Staying here when you could have left … This is Shianti territory!’
‘Only because you say it is,’ Gabel said. ‘Which means nothing. Now tell us where the rest of you rally.’
The hooded prisoner huffed derisively and lowered his head.
Caeles strode forward and pulled off the mask. The force of it knocked the Luxman face down, and a mop of filthy blonde hair unravelled.
‘You want to see my face?’ the hoarse voice asked. ‘You think that’ll weaken me somehow?’
‘So show me,’ Caeles demanded. When the Luxman didn’t move, he grabbed the back of the robe and pulled back.
Her face was bruised and bloodied. A cut over her eyebrow had gone septic, and her lower lip was a fat lump, cracked in several places. Her eyes were dull with lack of sleep. She spat on Caeles’ bare feet.
‘Where’s the camp?’ he asked quietly, suppressing his surprise. When he received no answer he looked to Gabel, who shook his head. ‘Where is it?’
Gabel gritted his teeth. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
Caeles spun behind the woman and twisted her robes around his fist. Bracing his knee against her spine, he wrenched on the robe until its hem cut into the flesh of her neck. Her arms, restrained by the rope, jerked to try and release her throat, but could do nothing. Her lips touched and parted like a frog’s.
‘Tell me,’ Caeles demanded.
Gabel watched as something burst in her right eye. The white suddenly swam with red, washing around the iris like the guts of a freshly split fish. Her throat made a sound like a slow puncture. Just as her eyes turned upward, Caeles threw her down and placed his boot on her back, shifting all of his weight onto her body.
Half Discovered Wings Page 25