by Mike Morris
"I did," replied Nial. "But a group of masked men in red cloaks attempted to stop us from doing so."
"And they were?"
"We don't know. But they were organized. They weren't some rabble."
"Thugs hired by the Husks, no doubt," said the woman. "What happened?"
"We killed them all," replied Nial.
"Good," said the duke, picking up a silver-headed walking stick. "If that's all ..." He started to stand.
"I believe the Nostros are recruiting their own militia," said Nial, stopping him. "I believe they have agents at work in Abios, turning our own people against us."
"Please, you're seeing conspiracy and treachery everywhere now," said the duke. "They were hired by the Husks. You hung the Husks, you killed their men. The matter is closed."
"I don't believe it is," said Nial, glaring at the man.
Willingham held up a hand. "Commander. Your concern is noted. Let us worry first about the situation in Brixteth. After that is resolved, then we can see if this 'redcloak' issue is a matter that needs pursuing."
Nial bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
"Good day." Willingham left the room and the others followed in his wake.
"What a bunch of idiots," said Edward once they were left alone.
"It doesn't matter," said Nial. "We got what we wanted. Let's hope we can solve the matter quickly."
Jack gazed out the window at Brixteth — his home, his city. He scanned the rooftops, wondering which one hid the demon — and how many would die before they killed it.
12
Lin
"The horse isn't going to last much longer," said Simon. The news was no surprise to Lin. It was amazing the beast had lasted as long as it had, carrying both of them across the snow-covered ground.
Lin glanced back over her shoulder. "Whoever is after us isn't stopping."
The dogs on their tail knew they were closing the gap. Their howls and barks grew louder, stronger, more excited with every minute that passed. Every now and then, she'd catch a glimpse of them, dark smudges against the white snow. The dogs had riders with them but they hung back, too far to see.
"Isn't there a town or village nearby where we could get help?" asked Lin.
"Not that I'd trust," replied Simon. "These bastards have been one step ahead of us all day. We could pull up somewhere and find a welcome crew waiting for us. We'd be fucked then. We're better out here, moving. We'll be safe once we get to Arbour."
Lin looked back again. No way were they going to make it if they carried on the way they were. "Let's lose the horse."
Simon looked over his shoulder at her. "What?"
"Let's lose the horse. You said yourself it's not going to last much longer."
"It's still better than walking."
"Better for them, too," she said. "They don't need the dogs. The horse is leaving a trail a blind man can follow."
"You think we can do better on foot?"
"Maybe they'll chase the horse for a while, maybe they won't. But you've got a bow, guns, a sword. I've got the crossbow and my blade. Worst case, we find somewhere to make a stand and kill as many of the bastards as we can."
"No one told me you were this bloodthirsty."
"Just fed up with being chased. The only reason I escaped from Grosnar in the first place was because the Masters wanted some humans to hunt. They set the dogs on me that night, too. All of my friends died that night — for some bloody Nostros' amusement." Lin spat. "I've had enough. If that makes me bloodthirsty then so be it."
The howls of the dogs grew louder, as if to emphasize her point. Simon shook his head. "We're both going to end up dead."
Lin slipped off the horse and Simon followed. He gave his tired horse a slap and the animal set off down the road alone. They headed into the trees, stepping carefully, keeping their footing light to leave as little trace as possible. With any luck, the falling snow would cover their footprints before their pursuers reached them.
The crossbow was a heavy weight across Lin's back, but she was glad she had it. Better than the sharp stone knife she'd had when the Masters had set the dogs on her. She shook her head, not wanting to think of the night Pet'r had died, but the memory was stronger than her will.
She'd not been with him when he'd died. Instead, she'd lain at the bottom of a hill and listened to his anguished cries fall silent. He was a gentle soul, a light of innocence in an evil world, her first love, her best friend. No one deserved that fate. Not then. Not now.
They moved deeper into the woods, slipping between trees, their breath mist on the wind. The cold followed them, nipping at their bones, pinching their skin, but Lin had her anger to keep her warm, her outrage to move her legs on. She wasn't being chased by the Masters now. Men pursued her, and men were easy to kill.
On and on they went, moving with care, leaving minimal tracks soon covered by the falling snow. She worried about getting lost, but Simon seemed to know his way. He never slowed, sticking to a path only he could see.
She kept an ear out for the dogs, but they weren't on their trail. The barks grew fainter as they pursued the horse. She felt a flicker of sadness when she realized what would happen to the animal when the dogs finally caught up with it.
They stopped after an hour to have a sip of water, taking shelter under a tree, its branches heavy with snow.
"How far to Arbour?" Lin asked in a whisper.
"On foot in the snow? At least a day, maybe a bit more," replied Simon. Something caught his eye before he could say more. He grabbed Lin and pushed her down into the snow until they were hidden from sight. He kept his arm around her while they waited and Lin was grateful for the extra warmth that came from being so close to the priest.
Two horses approached, moving quickly despite the weather. Their riders looked urgently around them, concern on their faces. They wore red cloaks that flapped in the wind.
"How could we lose them?" said one, bigger and older-looking than the other. He'd wrapped a scarf around his ears and over his head, trying to keep warm. "The boss'll have our guts for this."
"It's not our fault they gave us the slip," protested the other. He didn't look old enough to shave, but the sword on his hip looked grown-up enough. "They tricked the dogs and we were following them."
The older one shot him a glare. "Yeah? That's our excuse? Fucking good luck telling her that."
Lin's ears pricked up. They were working for a woman? Not the grey-haired man with the dragon cane? She had two people sending assassins after her?
"It's not our fault," said the younger rider again.
"We keep looking," said the other. "They've got to be here somewhere, and I'm not going back empty-handed."
Lin slipped the crossbow off her back. Simon raised an eyebrow and she leaned in, and cupped her hand against his ear so her words couldn't be overheard. "I'm fed up walking. I want their horses."
He nodded and got his bow ready. The riders had moved on, still complaining, their backs to Lin and Simon.
Lin cranked the bowstring back on the crossbow and slipped a bolt in place. When it was ready, she gave Simon a nod. They both rose, snow falling off their shoulders, and made their way to the main path. Lin raised the crossbow, rested its stock against her shoulder and took aim at the older rider on the left. Simon drew back his bowstring until his right hand touched his cheek.
"You looking for us?" he called out just as Lin pressed the trigger. Her bolt struck the older man square in the back as the other rider turned his head toward Simon's voice. His mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of his quarry, but then his attention was drawn by the sight of his friend falling from the saddle.
"What the ..." he uttered in disbelief. His friend lay still on the ground. He swung his horse around to face Lin and Simon and drew his sword. "You bastards!"
Simon released his arrow. It struck the man in his eye. He dropped his sword as his head rolled back and he too fell from his saddle.
"Why did you call
out like that?" demanded Lin as they walked toward the dead. "You nearly put me off my aim."
"I can't believe you shot a man in the back," replied Simon.
"I find it works," she said. "He's dead, isn't he?"
"You're no better than them." He pointed at the corpses at his feet.
"Oh, I'm better than them," said Lin, her lip curling. "They're dead and I'm not." She bent down, pulled the bolt out of the man's back and slipped it back in her quiver. "I think they'd agree with me."
"For God's sake, you can't—"
"Your god doesn't mean anything to me." Lin stormed off toward the horses, not caring if Simon followed. "I wasn't raised to believe in this all-powerful force dictating my life and I know there was no one looking out for me when I was younger. And not now, either." She grabbed the reins of one of the horses and pulled herself up into the saddle. "If there is such a benevolent god, why'd he let the Masters torture us all like that? Feed on us? Kill us? My friends didn't deserve such a horrible life. I certainly didn't."
Simon mounted the other horse. When he looked at her, it was with sadness in his eyes. "I can't begin to imagine the life you've had so far, or what you've been through. There is a battle going on between good and evil, between God and the Devil, and we're caught up in it. I don't know why, but that's the way it is. All I do know is that I have a duty to be better than those who wish me ill. I will stand against any who trespass against God. I will fight them all until my dying breath."
Lin glared over her shoulder at the priest. "Good for you. I'm just going to stick with staying alive. Now, are you going to show me how to get to Arbour or are we going to wait for the others to come after us?"
Simon nodded. "I'll take you to Arbour." He nudged his horse forward and set off, Lin following. Her anger burned away. She'd had enough of these priests and their sanctimonious ways. If not for her, the Masters' fleet would have sailed and destroyed everything they held dear. If not for her, the Masters' cannon would've blasted the last ship out of the water and no one would've returned from the raid alive. Now men sought to kill her, and the fool she was with had the audacity to criticize the way she fought? What would honor have done for her when the Scrounger tried to rape her or the demon prince wanted to rip her throat out? She did what she had to. Staying alive was all that mattered.
She was glad she was going to Arbour. Perhaps she'd meet some people there who actually lived in the real world.
They rode carefully, weaving their way through the woods. Occasionally, they'd hear the dogs barking, but always from far away. There was no conversation. Lin wasn't in the mood for it. She allowed her horse to hang back a good five or six yards from Simon's.
As the sun began to drop behind the horizon, the priest led them onto the main road. He glanced back at her. "We should be safe now, and we'll make better time on a proper road." His voice sounded tired. Disappointed.
"Good. I want this journey over with." She spurred her horse on, past Simon. Let him follow her for a change. She didn't need his directions to follow a straight road.
The snow continued to fall around them, little snowflakes drifting in the wind. She pulled her cloak tighter, eager to keep the chill away. Night fell, but the moon was bright and a sea of stars kept watch over them. Traveling in the dark brought back more memories of her life in Grosnar. How could a god allow his creatures to be kept locked up all day and only released at night? Let them be treated like meat for monsters? Jack had told her the Black Dogs had fought the Masters for seven hundred years, but their god hadn't given them victory once. They'd only survived for so long because of the ocean that separated Abios from the Middle Kingdoms. And now they all knew the Angel Sea would not be enough for much longer. When the Masters came, what would their god do then?
13
Jack
The Black Dogs were out in force in Brixteth. If the council wanted to avoid panic in the streets, they were going to be disappointed. Word went ahead of them, a whisper of what they sought, a fear made real. Watch out, watch out, there's a Nostros about. Suddenly the words had new meaning. No longer was it a song designed to make children behave, a threat of a creature most still didn't believe in. The Black Dogs didn't turn up in such numbers — armed to the teeth, knocking on doors — just for the hell of it.
Jack was with Nial. The boss knew he was a local lad and wanted to make use of his knowledge when they assigned teams to cover different streets. They'd based themselves where they'd found the bodies — Sigil Street. It was as good a place as any. They stood around a map, marked in sections, names scrawled against each one. The named men were with Nial and Jack, faces set in grim determination. Robert was there. Alan, too. Jack didn't know most of the others personally — just their reputations, hard-earned over long years. Brothers Christoph, Alexis, William, Duncan and Guy. Jack felt like an imposter next to them, nothing more than a child playing dress-up. Whatever he may have accomplished in Grosnar was nothing compared to the tales told about those men.
Christoph was tall and lean with sharp eyes that seemed to be watching everything all at once. He'd once led a team to the Nostros capital deep in the heart of Ilsgar. They lived right underneath the Nostros' noses for over a week and then burned one of their palaces to the ground before leaving. Rumor had it he'd stolen some magical amulet on his way home. Of course, magic of any form was outlawed, but somehow Jack didn't imagine anyone had tried taking it off Christoph.
Alexis stood slightly back from the others, arms crossed. He came from the north of Abios, from the Cold Lands, and had the white-blond hair that was common in those parts. His nose curved down like an axe blade and his cheekbones looked capable of cutting glass. He normally liked to work alone, hunting monsters and witches out in the wilds.
Next there was Pretty Boy William, a nickname he got because of his inability to grow a beard and the fuss he made of his appearance. His boots shone brighter than anyone's and his uniform looked as if it had never been worn before. Even his hair looked oiled and groomed. Of course, only a fool would equate that fastidiousness with weakness. Jack knew better. The man had killed a Nostros in single combat during the raid on Grosnar and walked away unmarked.
Duncan was known as the most pious of all the men. When he went into battle, a prayer to God was always on his lips. He once killed a man for taking the Lord's name in vain within his earshot. He'd been with them at Grosnar, fought the werewolves in Pyrford with Nial and Robert and captured a witches' coven in Haslemere.
Finally there was Guy, looking sullen but keeping silent for now. No doubt his moaning would start soon enough.
The men were legends, but they all still looked up to Nial. "Don't leave anything unchecked. Don't trust anyone you meet. Get through as many places as you can before dark," said the boss. "If you think you've found something, call for backup. We're not giving out any medals for heroes. We just need to find the demon and kill him as fast as we can. With any luck, we'll find his new lair while he's sleeping."
"What do you want us to do once the sun goes down?" asked Guy.
"We bring our men out of the buildings and patrol the streets," replied Nial.
Duncan shook his head. "It's a bad business. How did he even make it to Arbour undetected?"
"The Nostros have always had sympathizers — you know that. But we can worry about finding them later. The demon's our only concern now — and any people he might've Turned," said Nial. "Any other questions?"
No one spoke. Jack watched them all, amazed at how calm they looked — as if it were just another job that needed doing. Would he ever feel that way? He had a knot in his stomach that made it hard to breathe and he could barely keep his hands from shaking.
"Let's get to it, lads," said Nial. "Stay sharp, stay alive. Remember — God is on our side."
"Praise be," said Alexis, drawing the circle over his heart. The others did the same. They all needed His protection. Jack watched them gather their teams and head off into the streets to begin their search
es. With God's blessing, they'd find the monster before it was too late.
Nial looked up at the building where the bodies had been found. "Why here?"
"Why here?" repeated Jack.
Nial's steel-blue eyes fixed on Jack. "Yes. Why did the Nostros choose this place to hide? Why Brixteth? Why this building?"
"Easy to hide here," replied Jack. "A lot of people pass by but no one takes any notice. Some people live here for years, others for days. Plenty of squatters, plenty sleeping rough. No one's going to look twice at a new face showing up in Brixteth."
"No one to complain when people start going missing," said Nial. "Still ... the river and docks are ten minutes from here. A small boat comes up the Thyme, hauls up somewhere in the middle of the night ..."
"You'd want to find somewhere quick to hide," continued Jack.
"Have something — someone — ready to eat," said Nial.
Jack looked down the street, toward the river. "Plenty of places closer to the water to hide."
Nial nodded. "So why here?"
"Someone's got the place ready for you. Probably the first victim waiting."
"The rest of the rooms in the building were empty, weren't they?"
"Yes. Maybe the dead we found lived there," said Jack.
"What if it was already empty?" asked Nial. "No neighbors to see anything, hear anything, smell anything. A whole building waiting for the Nostros."
"So who owns it?" said Jack.
"That's a good question," said Nial. "Waste of time going to the public records office. There won't be anything on paper — nothing of any use, anyway. But someone will know."
"Back when I was a kid, there was a man — Mr. Giles his name was. He owned half of Brixteth and controlled most of the crime," said Jack. "He'd know. If he's still around, that is. Hard to make old bones in Brixteth."
"If he's not, there'll be someone else in his place. Go find him and get some answers."
"Will do," replied Jack. He set off down Sigil Street, happy to have a job that wasn't knocking on doors looking for demons. He rubbed his neck. Some days he could still feel the Nostros' fangs as it bit him, feel the blood seep down his neck, feel death's pull. Maybe one day, the memory would fade. He prayed to God it would.