The Covenant Rising

by Stan Nicholls

  They turned and clattered up the stairs.

  “Let’s see those fuses,” Serrah asked.

  Reeth dug into his pocket and produced three or four of them, holding them out on his palm for her to see. They were small cylinders of thin metal with a join in the middle.

  “One end has a highly inflammable oil. The other’s filled with vitriol. When you put pressure on both ends it breaks a seal and the acid starts burning through to the oil. When it reaches it, it ignites. Very violently. Ingenious, eh? Phoenix’s people made them.”

  “How long does it take for the acid to burn through?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “Tight.”

  “We’ll be all right as long as we’re in the tunnel by then. Here.” He gave her a handful of the fuses. “You start that side, I’ll start at the other. Just squeeze the ends and scatter them.”

  They parted to sow their fire-makers.

  A couple of minutes later they reunited across from the staircase.

  “Now we move,” Caldason told her.

  They made for the stairs.

  Something came from behind a rack and blocked their path.

  The barbcat was a big, fully mature adult. Longer than Reeth was tall, maybe three times his weight, it had claws the size of daggers and curved white fangs. As well as the rancorous attitude common to its species.

  The cat was tensed, as though ready to spring. It studied them with yellow, famished eyes. White foam flecked its jaws.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Serrah announced airily. “I’ve been here before.”

  “What?” Caldason whispered.

  “It’s a sentinel glamour. You get to recognise them.” She went to move forward.

  “Wait. If it’s a glamour, how come Kutch didn’t spot it?”

  “He’s still learning, he said so himself. Or maybe it was out of range or something. I’ll go and shoo it.”

  “No. This is an empire building. They’d have the best defences, and what better than a genuine barb? That’s real wealth.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted. “People use glamours like this for security all the time.”

  The barbcat’s fur was bristling. Its mouth was open in a toothy snarl. They could hear the rumble of its purr.

  “If that’s a real barb,” she declared, “then I’m a –’

  The cat let out a thunderous roar. It raised itself up and casually side-swiped a stack of bound records. The barb’s claws slashed them like a scythe cutting through a snowdrop. A little shower of fluttering leather and shredded paper spilled across the floor.

  Serrah said, “Shit.”

  Then the barbcat charged.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The barbcat raced towards them with eyes blazing and slavering jaws. It moved with the legendary speed that made its species notorious.

  Serrah threw herself to the right, Reeth hurtled to the left. They’d barely moved when the cat ripped through the space they’d vacated. Roaring with frustration, it skidded on the polished floor and half turned, ready to leap. The sudden absence of its prey baffled the creature. It looked around, stupefied.

  Reeth and Serrah had put distance between themselves and the cat, and their swords were drawn. They stood at opposite ends of the hall, in sight of each other, the barb between them. This finally dawned on the beast. Its great shaggy head went from right to left and back again, trying to work out who it should go after.

  “Don’t move, Reeth!” Serrah yelled.

  Well-meant advice, but delivering it was a mistake. The cat’s head snapped her way. It made up its mind about which morsel to go for. Springing forward, it loped in her direction.

  Serrah dashed into the tangle of storage racks, weaving her way through the tiers. The cat arrived and commenced to stalk her, whiskers prickling. She crept about the maze, trying to put as many turns between them as possible.

  While the animal was preoccupied, Caldason stealthily made his way to Serrah’s end of the hall. He couldn’t see the barb, but he could hear it – snuffling, growling, overturning things that smashed and rattled. He heard Serrah too, running on the balls of her feet to keep the sound down. A forlorn hope. If he could hear her, the barb’s sensitive ears would have an even better chance.

  Reeth got to within three or four rows of where he thought the beast was. Serrah’s location he was uncertain about. He tested the stability of the rack he was hiding behind by gently shaking it. Then he saw that it was bolted to the floor and seemed solid enough. Carefully, he began climbing the shelves.

  Serrah was a mouse, doing her best to throw the cat off her scent. She trod a devious route, a turn and turnabout to shake the barb. Playing the animal at its own game was hopeless, of course, and she knew it.

  She tiptoed to the corner of a line of shelving and poked her head round, just as the cat did the same at the other end of the row. They saw each other. No more than a second passed, though it felt like a century. Then the barb dashed at her. She hastily withdrew and sprinted the length of another tier, turning sharply and running down the next row. The pursuing cat roared its fury.

  Reeth was on the top of his rack. He could see Serrah now. She was crouching just a couple of tiers away. The barb was two rows further along, sniffing the floor.

  He took a chance. “Pssst!”

  He had to do it again before she heard and started looking around for the source of the sound. It didn’t occur to her to look up. So he gambled again. “Up here!” he hissed.

  She saw him.

  So did the cat. Again, it was transfixed, with two meals in sight. Serrah made a break for it, heading Reeth’s way, and that meant abandoning cover. The cat came after her. She made it to Caldason’s rack and scrambled up it, the creature snapping at her heels. Reeth caught her hand and hauled her the last few feet. The barb looked up at them, its eyes flashing emerald.

  Serrah panted from the exertion. Between breaths, she said, “This is… stupid. We can’t… stay up here… forever.”

  “Or very long at all. Not only are the fuses set but… cats can climb, can’t they?”

  “Damn!”

  The barb was on its hind legs, its front paws mauling the shelves, trying to get a climbing hold. Serrah leaned over and slashed at it with her sword, but she couldn’t reach far enough. Undeterred, the slobbering animal was starting to scale the rack.

  Caldason grabbed a stack of bound files and threw them down at the beast. They showered onto its head, making it leap back to the floor. The cat was growing ever more enraged. It began circling the rack, jumping up every so often with gnashing teeth, or trying to climb the shelves to get at them. They carried on pelting it, just about holding the brute at bay.

  “It’s going to get up here sooner or later,” Reeth said.

  “And we’re going to run out of these.” She hefted a file and tossed it at the barb. It bounced off its snout, adding to its impotent fury.

  “Don’t worry, the place’s going to go up soon. That should take care of it.”

  “This isn’t the time for jokes! What are we going to do about it?”

  “Barbs aren’t the smartest of animals, and we’ve seen this one can be confused.”

  The rack shuddered under the impact of the heavy animal trying to climb up again. Files cascaded from the shelves.

  “What are you saying? That we can baffle it to death?” She was hanging on now as the rack continued to shake.

  He aimed another book at the cat, drawing a satisfying whimper. “We need to distract it so we can make a break.”

  “Easier said than done, Reeth. That thing’s fast. Gods, I’ve just thought.”

  “What?”

  “Suppose it got Kutch and the others after they left us?”

  It had occurred to him, too. “I think we would have heard it. And if it did get any of them I reckon it’d be sated now and not so interested in us.”

  “There’s a nice thought. So what are we going to do?”


  “If it’s got two targets to go for maybe we can confound it long enough to get away.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. What’s the plan?”

  “Plan? We get off this thing and run like hell in different directions.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Can you think of anything better?”

  “No, damn you, I can’t.”

  “There’s no point in getting uppity with me, Serrah. After all, you were the one who thought –’

  “I know, I know. Don’t rub it in. If… when we get clear, we head up there, right?” She pointed to the balcony at the top of the staircase.

  “Yes, the way we came in. If we can get those doors shut behind us we stand a chance.”

  “Stairs aren’t going to be any hindrance to this thing.”

  “You’re right. Getting there first’s our only hope.”

  “It isn’t just going to stand by and watch us go.”

  “Perhaps we can slow it a bit. How many of those throwing knives have you got left?”

  “Six or seven. But I’m not sure one of them would be enough to kill a barbcat.”

  “I’m certain it wouldn’t. It could give it something to think about though.”

  The rack shook again, heavily. They knew it wouldn’t take much more to bring it down.

  Serrah dropped another pile of files on the maddened cat’s head. “Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it soon, shall we?”

  “Right. You distract it with a knife throw and we’ll get running.”

  “We won’t be able to head straight for the stairs, will we? It’d outrun us easily.”

  “I know. We’ll have to take roundabout routes. Ready?”

  “There’s no time like the present.” She drew a snubbed throwing knife from her sleeve.

  The cat was pacing below, wary of being bombarded again but determined to reach its tormentors. Its constant movement made it a difficult target, but she took a bead on its head and lobbed the knife.

  While it was still in flight the barb leapt at the blade and caught it in its teeth. It shook it, as a cat might shake a dead bird, and the knife flew out of its mouth, clattering across the floor. The barb ignored it and resumed its pacing. It was even more irate.

  “Under normal circumstances that would be quite a neat trick,” Serrah observed.

  “Try again, but after I’ve given it another diversion. Avoid its head this time.”

  Serrah took out a second blade.

  Caldason grabbed a file from the ever-decreasing piles. “Be ready,” he warned.

  Serrah nodded.

  He didn’t try throwing the book at the animal this time. He aimed over its head and beyond it. The file soared through the air. The cat, head up, watched it go. Before it landed the barb was after it like a dog with a stick. Serrah flung her knife.

  It struck the beast on the side of its front left leg, sinking deep. The cat bellowed pain and fury.

  “Now!’ Caldason yelled.

  They dropped to the floor and instantly streaked off in different directions. The barb hesitated for a second, head swivelling. Then it decided on Caldason and took after him. The knife was still lodged in its leg, and the barb had a slight limp, which perhaps slowed it a fraction. Whether that would be enough they were about to find out.

  Caldason ran like fury towards the far end of the hall. He didn’t know what had become of Serrah. But as there hadn’t been any screams he assumed she was all right for the moment.

  Then he picked up the sound of the animal chasing him – the weighty thumps as it ran, its claws on the wooden floor, its hard, wheezy breathing.

  He looked over his shoulder. The barb was closing.

  He wanted to avoid climbing another rack and being back in the same position he’d just got out of. As the thought occurred, he passed one that was free-standing. Dashing behind it, he applied all his strength. The rack swayed. Files rained down. Then it collapsed with a loud crash in the barb’s path. A cloud of dust went up.

  But it only slowed the cat for a heartbeat. It jumped the obstruction with ease, despite the knife in its leg, leaving a sprinkling of blood over the upset files and general debris.

  By this time Reeth was on the move again, trying to navigate a circuit that would take him back to the staircase. Or failing that, any of the other stairs leading up to the walkway. He ran a zigzag course, hoping to gain some small advantage. But still the barb was nearly on him.

  “Reeth!”

  He glanced the way of Serrah’s shout. She’d got herself to the walkway and was running along, following the chase. When the cat came near she hurled a knife at it. But it fell short and buried itself in the wooden floor. She threw files into the cat’s path, along with small pieces of furniture and anything else she could lift.

  The snarling barb was learning to keep its distance. It was still after Caldason, but its pursuit had been slowed a little.

  For his part, Reeth ran as if all the demons of hell were after him. He was awarded a small bonus. The cat slid in a pool of the flammable oil they’d splashed around. Slippery paws brought a short respite.

  “Here!” Serrah cried. “Here!”

  She was indicating a staircase he hadn’t noticed in his flight. He headed for it.

  “The floor!” she cried. “Remember the floor!”

  He realised that these stairs were the ones that led to the glamour trap with the pit beneath. He put on a renewed burst of speed. As he hit the steps the cat was only a few paces behind. Reeth dashed up, running as fast as he could, then leapt for all he was worth.

  He didn’t know if he’d make it. He wasn’t sure where the false floor ended and the real one began. He readied himself for a dizzying fall.

  His feet landed with a slam on solid iron, and he practically fell into Serrah’s arms. They looked around and saw the barbcat’s fuzzy head appearing at the top of the stairs. Then the whole animal was in view. The knife was still sticking out of its leg, though it looked as if it had worked itself out a bit.

  The cat stopped.

  “Come on,” Serrah urged under her breath. “Come on… Just take another little step, you bastard.”

  The cat studied them slyly. It stared at the floor and for a moment seemed undecided. Then it turned and disappeared down the stairs again.

  “Would you credit it?” she said. “It’s given up!”

  No sooner were the words out than the cat reappeared, coming up the stairs very fast. It leapt, its great muscles releasing energy that made the jump appear easy. The barb sailed over the deception and landed with a clamorous thunk on their side.

  “Move!” Caldason bellowed.

  They spun and ran along the balcony, the cat at their backs.

  The set of doors they’d come through was in sight. They put on a spurt to reach them, and made it by a literal whisker. Tumbling through, they seized the doors and began closing them. The barbcat hit the other side with a crash. The impact was so strong it nearly knocked them off their feet. They struggled for a moment trying to shut the doors on it, but its strength was overpowering.

  “We can’t hold this,” Caldason said, strain in his voice.

  “Run?”

  “Run.”

  They turned and sprinted for their lives. The barbcat burst in behind them, the doors smashing back against the walls.

  A realisation hit both of them at the same time. “The trip wire!” they yelled simultaneously.

  They jumped it. But Serrah landed awkwardly, stumbled and fell. Reeth stopped and dragged her to her feet. The cat was catching up. They weren’t going to get clear. Reeth fumbled for his sword. Serrah cried out.

  The animal blundered into the trip wire. It stretched tautly across its front legs. There were a few seconds of bewilderment as the barb surveyed this new irritation.

  A mechanical rumbling started up somewhere. On either wall and across the ceiling a narrow slit appeared. Suddenly, a huge pendulum swung out of th
e right-hand wall, suspended by a rod from the ceiling slit.

  The razor-keen blade sliced straight through the barbcat.

  It happened so quickly the animal didn’t even have the time to make a sound. The gory pendulum carried on and disappeared into the corresponding slot in the opposite wall. It left a scene of blood and ghastliness, and one very dead barbcat.

  “Now we know what it does,” Serrah said.

  He pulled her to her feet. “Come on!”

  They stumbled along the rest of the corridor and through the next set of doors. Negotiating the pillars, they thundered pell-mell down the staircase.

  There was no sign of anyone in the ground floor hallway.

  “Let’s hope the others got out all right,” Serrah panted.

  She looked at the hole they’d cut. Her expression needed no elaboration.

  “We haven’t a choice,” Reeth reminded her. “Unless you want to try walking out the front door.”

  They began their descent.

  In the paladins’ headquarters, not far from the records office, Freedom Day was like any other. There were no celebrations here, beyond those required as a diplomatic sop to the clans’ Gath Tampoorian paymasters. It was business as usual.

  This applied just as much in the depths of the fortress, where the dungeons and other unpleasant facilities were located. These included several state-of-the-art torture chambers. In one, Devlor Bastorran had enjoyed observing the morning’s work.

  A ruined body lay on a bloodstained slab. Nearby stood one of the clans’ most experienced inquisitors, wiping his hands with a cloth, his butcher’s apron stained crimson.

  Devlor was pacing impatiently. “Where is he? I’ll have that messenger’s head!”

  The door swung open and Ivak Bastorran strode in.

  “At last!” Devlor exclaimed. “This is of the utmost urgency, Uncle.”

  The Clan High Chief glanced at the mutilated corpse. He was untouched by the sight. “What’s going on?”

  Devlor jabbed a thumb at the slab. “This man was detained while trying to board a ship out of Bhealfa. His travel documents proved to be false, and he was found to be carrying a large amount of money.”