‘You again,’ the man said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Who are you?’ Slave asked, hoping to distract the man while he regained his balance to prepare for another strike. As he spoke, the black fury subsided, leaving his mind clear.
‘I have already destroyed your kind.’ The voice was powerful, deep and profoundly inhuman: no human throat could have produced such a sound.
‘Then go back to where you belong.’
‘I cannot, not while you live.’
‘Then try to kill me.’ Slave raised his Claw, holding it in front of his face, blood dripping from the blades.
A sound like a wyvern’s screech issued from the man’s tortured throat and his arms swung down. The flames erupted, and Slave was engulfed in writhing, shrieking fire, enveloping him in a wash of red agony. He could feel his skin blistering, peeling and breaking. His hair caught fire, his clothes burned. He raised his Claw in defiance and slashed at the flames. To his shock, they parted at his blows. Again and again, he slashed, sending the flames recoiling at every contact. Another cry burst from his lips and he sprang upwards, through the fire, to land on the man.
His opponent staggered under the impact, losing control of the flames. They dropped from Slave’s body like water, to fall hungrily on the grass, but Slave only dimly noticed their departure — his whole focus was on the man beneath him. Unarmed, the man pounded at him with fists that landed like hammer blows. He bit and kicked, each blow leaving Slave wounded and bloodied. Slave slammed his Claw down again and again, smashing with every trace of strength. Technique was forgotten as he pounded, slashed and stabbed in fury at the man who simply would not go down. Sparks flew whenever the Claw met flesh, leaving tiny dark spots, but the blades could not penetrate. For the first time, Slave felt a moment of hope, hope that the black rage would come over him again and give him the strength, the mindless frenzy that would carry him through, but it would not come. He felt his strength start to wane, trickling away with his blood. The Claw glowed, his inhuman eye flared into silver brilliance and he kept pounding as the blows of the man beneath him kept pace.
Another blade flashed past Slave’s vision. It sliced cleanly through the man’s shoulder, opening it to the bone. A scream ripped through the air and the man staggered back. Slave followed, his Claw a blur as he landed blow after blow, all aimed at the savage wound. Blood spewed out.
Keshik swung again, this time aiming at the man’s torso. Again, the blade sliced through flesh. Again a scream rang out.
Suddenly, the man fell.
Every blow Slave had landed on the body sprang open, leaving it shredded. Three points of light shot up from the dead body and vanished into the sky. The flames that had been spreading through the grass flickered and died. Slave dropped to the ground, wanting to do the same. His last conscious thought before sweet oblivion stole in was that he had never known such pain.
40
Maida awoke after the horrible dream to the smell of Tatya’s rank breath. She groaned and rolled away from the spurre’s gaping maw, trying to escape the stench of rotting meat.
‘Where am I?’ she muttered.
‘Safe, for now,’ a female voice answered.
‘What …?’ Maida tried to sit up, but the woman’s hand pressed her back down.
She was in a richly furnished room, lying on a large bed strewn with cushions. The weight of the chain was gone from around her waist and she was wearing new, comfortable clothes. Beside her, Tatya snored contentedly, as if she had just eaten her fill. She certainly smelt like she had eaten her fill.
‘Relax,’ the woman spoke again. ‘I will have some food sent in. You must be hungry.’
Maida looked up at the woman who stood over her. She was impossibly beautiful, with unblemished skin the colour of a golden sunrise, hair like liquid silk and a figure better suited to a painting than reality. She wore a long, simple, blue dress that hung to the ground and a laced, red leather bodice that accentuated the rich curves of her breasts. No matter her beauty, however, the black leather mask that completely shrouded her eyes was what would always draw attention.
‘Are you …?’
‘Yes, I am Quetzalxoitl, the Blindfolded Queen.’
‘I thought …’
‘You thought it was just a silly title? Yes, most people do. But as you can see, it is real.’
‘But —’
The Queen raised her head suddenly as if she heard something. ‘I am sorry,’ she interrupted. ‘I must leave.’ Without another word, she swept from the room. Maida watched as she moved with the confidence of the sighted, reaching out for the door handle without hesitation.
‘Not much of a blindfold,’ she muttered.
Alone with Tatya, who was still snoring loudly on the bed, Maida walked across the polished stone floor to the large window and stared out. Stretched below her, far below her, was a simple, elegant city of stone and water. She had never liked cities with their noise and bustle and so many people, but this one looked different. The city was regular, with straight streets and organised garden areas where trees and flowers grew. Streams flowed along straight paths cut especially and small boats were being rowed along them. People walked, rowed or drove horse-drawn carts. From her high vantage point, Maida could hear only muted sounds.
Dominating the city were two large pyramids and three towers. No, she corrected herself, four towers — including the one she was in. The towers seemed to mark the edges of the city, each one apparently standing at a point of the compass. Maida looked at the sun and guessed she was in the southern tower.
The two pyramids dwarfed everything, rising like small hills amid the houses and other buildings. They stood in the middle of the city, maybe three hundred paces apart. Their tops were flat, unadorned platforms, maybe three paces square. They had massive, wide staircases leading up each face to the platforms. The city’s overriding colour was very pale blue. It was everywhere, the dominant hue of the stone from which everything was built.
‘How has this place been hidden?’ she whispered.
‘Magic,’ rumbled Tatya from behind her.
‘Powerful magic.’
‘You have no idea,’ Myrrhini added.
Maida spun around. Myrrhini stood in the open doorway, clad in a long blue dress. Her hair was loose, cascading over one shoulder in a tumble of gentle curls. Maida could not stop herself looking down at her own creased, borrowed night clothes bunched in disarray around her scarred and battered body.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘I was going to ask you the same question.’
Maida sat on the edge of her bed and pulled a sheet around her. ‘I don’t remember anything after Tatya and I stopped to rest somewhere out in the plains.’
‘Nothing? What about Tatya? What does she remember?’
Maida looked to where Tatya was sitting by the window, apparently ignoring them both.
‘Tatya?’ she asked. ‘What happened?’
The spurre rumbled — a low, menacing sound. ‘I remember everything,’ she said.
‘So, what happened?’ Maida pressed.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘I do.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Just tell me.’
‘Kielevinenrohkimainen, the ancient Revenant summoned by the Mertians to destroy the Scarens, was inside you somehow. When you brought him to this land and showed him how to enter, he left you and devoured most of the Agents who were bringing her.’ She turned her head briefly and gestured towards Myrrhini.
‘How do you know all this?’ Myrrhini asked, but Tatya had turned away from her to stare once more out the window.
Maida had gone pale and stared with horror at Tatya.
‘What?’ she said in a whisper.
‘You heard me,’ Tatya said shortly. ‘I don’t want to say it again.’
She turned pleading eyes on Myrrhini. ‘You were there, weren’t you? Can you tell me what happened?’
&n
bsp; Myrrhini sat beside Maida on the bed and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I can tell you what I remember, but I don’t know how you came to be here.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
So Myrrhini told her what she remembered of the events at the wall, ending with Itxtli dragging her through the magical barrier. When she had finished, Maida sat motionless, her eyes unblinking, focused somewhere out the window.
‘What happened to Huitzilin?’ she asked without taking her eyes away from the clear sky outside.
‘I don’t know. He stood on the other side of the wall, screaming abuse for a while before running away.’
‘Oh.’
‘Tatya?’ Myrrhini asked. ‘Do you know what happened to Huitzilin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you tell us?’
‘He ran away.’ Tatya’s voice was an odd mixture, making it hard to read any expression, but Myrrhini felt the spurre was sullen, almost sulky, like a child. It made her wonder about the shapeshifter’s intelligence. She had been assuming the creature was highly intelligent, but now wondered how much was instinct. Having almost died at her claws, she was unwilling to test her thoughts.
‘How could that … thing, be inside me?’ Maida whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ said Myrrhini, ‘but it explains the Seeing I had on the ship.’
Maida shivered despite the warmth of the morning and pulled the sheet tighter around her shoulders. Myrrhini saw the movement and put her hand on Maida’s arm to comfort her, but the red-headed woman pulled away sharply.
‘What do you know about all this?’ Maida snapped.
‘About what?’
‘The Revenants; the Blindfolded Queen; why we are here; all of it.’
‘I think I understand a little of it now. The Revenant’s ability to hide within you and leave the way it did explains the last piece of the puzzle.’
‘Why haven’t you told me before?’
Myrrhini stood and walked away to look out the window, down at the city below. Absently, she stroked Tatya’s head. To Maida’s shock, the big spurre allowed the contact. She allowed a woman she had threatened to kill on numerous occasions to pat her like she was some tame pet!
‘I didn’t know until just now. What you need to understand is that I have been taking daven all my life. I think there is always some of the drug in my body and mind, so I See things others don’t, and don’t see some things others do. And what I see, I don’t always know I See, or understand when I do.’
‘I don’t understand that.’
‘Let me give you an example.’ Myrrhini turned away from the window to face Maida. ‘This shapeshifter here. Have you noticed she is not moving any more?’
Maida’s eyes widened and she rose quickly.
‘No, no,’ Myrrhini reassured Maida, ‘she is not hurt, I am just not allowing her to move. If I stopped willing her to stay, I imagine she would tear me limb from limb, ice knows she’s tried to.’
‘How are you doing that?’
‘It is this place — magic is everywhere.’
‘But she told me you did it to her in Sullito.’
‘No, she allowed me to do that by showing me her mind.’
‘And the way you got out of Sullito? How did you do that?’ Maida was happy to talk about other things, even magic; anything to get her mind away from what had happened to her and what it might mean that the Revenant had been inside her. How had that happened? When had it happened?
‘I don’t know how I did that, I just wanted it, and it happened,’ Myrrhini went on, answering Maida’s question. ‘But I had a Seeing about you, remember I told you?’
Maida nodded, unwilling to speak.
‘I said it was probably nothing but I lied. I Saw you dying, killed by the Scarred Man, but you were rescued before your life left you, held in some sort of nether place where the Revenant kept you until some bargain had been struck. I dismissed it at the time, but you were killed by Slave, weren’t you?’
Maida nodded again.
‘You brought the Revenant here, with you.’
‘I feared as much.’ The voice was hard, disapproving and old. Myrrhini turned quickly to see the man standing in the doorway. Dressed in fine robes, holding a staff half again as tall as himself, he was wizened, white-haired and bent with age, but his eyes glittered with lively intelligence and malice. ‘Which of you is the Eye?’ he snarled.
‘I am,’ Myrrhini said, raising her chin slightly.
The old man gave a stiff, arthritic bow, leaning heavily on his staff. ‘I should say I am pleased to see you, but I am not.’ He looked at Maida. ‘And you must be the dead one who brought this horror upon us all.’
Myrrhini heard a voiceless snarl, a cry of anguish and she released her hold on the shapeshifter. The soundless cry took voice as Tatya sprang into killing fury. She crossed the space between her and the old man in a single bound, driving fangs and claws deep into his defenceless flesh.
Or so it seemed. Her fangs clashed on air, her claws ripped through space to slash down onto the ground. Unbalanced, she crashed heavily and skidded into the wall, but the man remained where he was, unharmed. He cackled and struck her with his staff. It was not insubstantial and the blow sent her reeling again.
‘Don’t try that again, servant of chaos,’ he sneered. ‘I am protected against your sort.’
Myrrhini felt anger surge through her, an undefined, raging anger that was as irrational and sudden as it was fierce. She had no love for the shapeshifter, and to see her struck should not have bothered her, but it did. Maida had deserted her in the wilderness of Midacea, yet she was burning with anger to hear her abused by this rude, distasteful old man. With neither thought for herself nor consideration of subtlety, she threw herself at him, fingers hooked like talons, to slash at his face, to claw out his eyes, to rip the sneer off his face.
‘I am no servant of chaos,’ she shrieked. She crashed heavily into him, sending them both tumbling to the stone floor. Her hands found his flesh, ripping and tearing like a wild julle. At some stage she dimly realised she was biting him in her uncontrolled fury, his blood hot and metallic in her mouth.
Maida grabbed her and pulled her off the old man. He pushed himself to his feet and staggered away, blood dripping onto the floor.
‘What are you?’ he screamed. ‘Some kind of monster?’
Myrrhini felt drained, exhausted, as she allowed Maida to shove her against the wall.
‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I had no control over myself.’
‘Then learn some, slag!’ the man cried. He held his hands to his face, trying to staunch the blood that flowed freely from the numerous wounds. ‘Ice and wind, what was that about?’
‘I don’t know,’ Myrrhini said.
The man spat blood onto the stone floor before limping out, muttering as he went. His retreat was sounded by his staff as it tapped a loud, uneven beat on the stone floor. Maida crouched beside Tatya, apparently ignoring Myrrhini.
‘What is happening to me?’ Myrrhini said softly.
‘I don’t care,’ Maida said. ‘At least you seem to be growing a backbone.’ She rose, Tatya with her. ‘I don’t know about you, but I am leaving. I am not going to find Keshik sitting around here.’
‘He is here, somewhere,’ Myrrhini said.
‘Here? In this building, in this country? Where?’
‘Here, with the Blindfolded Queen. In this land, or very close. Wait here and he will find you. He has been searching for you ever since the Scarred Man released him.’ Myrrhini looked up at the ceiling. ‘How did I know that?’ she whispered.
Maida stalked towards the still-open door. At the doorway, she paused and turned back.
‘Coming?’ she asked Tatya who had stopped beside Myrrhini and stood, looking up at her.
The shapeshifter snarled. ‘I still want to eat this one.’
‘No,’ said Maida. ‘I am not sure she would let you.’
Tatya gave a hiss of anger and padded after Maida.
Myrrhini stood watching, undecided. Should she go with them? She knew what lay beyond the door and could guide them. But where to? She did not know where Keshik and Slave were, beyond knowing that they were close.
By the time Maida and Tatya had disappeared from sight, she had decided to let them go. Quetzalxoitl, the Blindfolded Queen, had been hospitable in the brief time they had been here and Myrrhini did not think Maida would be in any danger. Quite the opposite, if Tatya took it into her head to attack again. Not all those who lived here could be so magically protected.
Myrrhini sighed and walked back to stare out of the window. What was happening to her? A violent attack on an old man? Being able to still a shapeshifter by magic? Travelling who knows how far to find Maida in the middle of the wilderness? And even more, the Ce Atli had seduced her and she had happily gone along with it; why had she done that? Had he been the beautiful man she had Seen so long ago? Was that why she had slept with him, to fulfil that vision? Did the vision itself have the power to force actions? To bring about events? She doubted it, but the thought was troubling. What if her Seeings somehow caused the events to unfold? She shuddered at the idea and to force it from her mind she focused on what lay beyond the window.
The city of the Blindfolded Queen lay beneath her in geometrical perfection, following a pattern that Myrrhini was not sure even the inhabitants recognised. From here, she identified the pictogram she had first seen painted on the wall of the ancient hut in the centre of the Place of the Acolytes — the symbol that meant refuge. But refuge from what? And who were these people living here under powerful magical protection in a city designed as an ancient Mertian symbol?
None of these questions would be answered here, alone. She needed to talk to someone, to find some answers.
Ironically, she realised, the old man she had just attacked was probably just the person who might be able to help.
Scarred Man Page 33