They walked until dusk, tending uphill at increasingly steep angles, then found a camping spot well back from the Divide in a clearing surrounded by trees. Seth didn't know their names, or if they had existed in the old world, but their trunks were broad and smooth-barked, and their branches formed a dense canopy overhead in which birds and possums nested. The Homunculus's ears detected all their movements with inhuman precision. Sometimes the twins imagined that they could even hear ants crawling in the grass, if they listened closely enough.
Seth felt Hadrian's relief as they gradually reconnected with the physical world, but he wasn't so certain it was a good thing. Could it be possible to become too connected? What might that mean to them and their quest?
Kail lit no fire that night. The tracker dined on dried meat, and scavenged berries from the surrounding trees. The twins sat restlessly against the trunk of a tree, wondering if they would be able to sleep; they could assume nothing with this magical new body. The silence was too deep. Upuaut's howling had put them on edge, but at least they had known the creature wasn't creeping up on them at that moment, tensing to pounce.
When full darkness fell, it was absolute. No stars—strange or otherwise—penetrated the cloud cover. Even the Homunculus's eyes were defeated. They lay awake listening to the sounds of creatures in the undergrowth, lulled into peace by the tracker's steady, somnolent breaths…
They woke with a start at the sound of a commotion nearby. Twigs crackled; branches whipped and snapped; flesh thudded against flesh, and more than one throat grunted in pain. The twins leapt to their feet, Seth the quickest to react, as always, slowed down by his sluggish brother. They braced their four legs firmly in the dirt and spread their arms wide. The sounds were coming some distance from the campsite.
“Kail? Is that you?”
“Over here! I've got him!” The tracker's voice was strained with effort.
“Got who?” They followed the sound through the trees, wishing for even the slightest trace of light. Leaves slapped their face as they ran; roots clutched at their ankles. “Kail, who is it?”
A low growling almost stopped them in their tracks. They had heard that sound before. It didn't come from a human throat.
“Seth, Hadrian—hurry!”
They found Kail and his captive in a taut tangle half in, half out of a bush. The snarling rose in volume as they approached and the air seemed to freeze at the sound of it. Seth forced himself to keep moving. It was Hadrian's fear he felt, not his own. He had never met Upuaut before. What did he have to be afraid of?
The captive wriggled and kicked but was no match for the Homunculus's inhuman strength. Seth and Hadrian soon had him securely pinned in all four of their hands, overlapping left with left and right with right so their individual hands wouldn't slide right through his real flesh, as they had in the Aad.
Kail was able to roll away and catch his breath.
“Thank you,” he grated. Seth heard the scrape of a tinderbox. “Now, let's see who we have here.”
Light flared. The first thing Seth saw was Kail's face, long and bloody from a wound to his temple. His eyes gleamed furiously.
They narrowed. “I know you,” he said to their captive. “You were in the Aad, with Pirelius.”
The man in Seth's arms struggled and spat but said nothing intelligible in reply. Seth twisted him in order to get a good look at his face. The man was indeed one of Pirelius's cronies. The smallest and meanest of them all, he had been chief jailer of the twins, of Skender's mother's party, and briefly of Skender too. Long, thin moustaches dangled on either side of his mouth. Networks of thick, ugly scars stretched down his chest and arms. He wore leather breeches and nothing else. The hair on his body was black and thick.
“His name is Izzi,” Seth told Kail, remembering the feel of the man's spine beneath his fingers and the awful shriek that had torn from his throat. “We thought we'd killed him.”
“Not so easy,” the man growled, snapping with chipped teeth at the Homunculus's throat. “Is it?”
Seth kept him at arm's length. Izzi's flesh was hot, as though burning from fever—even through hair and dirt and blood it looked inflamed. His expression was as agonised as the last time they had seen him.
“What are you doing here?” Kail asked, holding up the flame. “Why are you following us?”
“Watching. Waiting.” The man panted like a dog. His eyes were simultaneously cunning and mad. “A wolf knows how to wait.”
Hadrian physically shook at the words, and Seth felt their grip on the man weaken.
Easy, brother! Don't lose it now.
“Where is Upuaut?” Hadrian asked.
“Where is death? All around you, everywhere. You can't escape it. Nothing you can do will stop it. It'll come for you eventually.”
“We could kill you.” Seth's fingers tightened on the man's skinny arms.
The man laughed at him, open mouthed, fearlessly, without looking away.
“Don't,” said Kail. “Not yet. We need to find out what Upuaut wants. Is it aligned with Yod? Are there more of its kind out there? His host will tell us, even though it tries to hide inside.”
The laughter turned to sneers. “A wolf doesn't hide. It conserves its strength. It waits in the shadows until the time is right. It pounces.”
“How's it going to pounce if we have you trussed up like a turkey?” Kail turned away, and spat contemptuously in the dirt. The spittle was blood red.
A cold wind rushed through the trees, making them shiver as though the Earth itself was quaking. The man in the twins' hands stiffened. His expression became suddenly intense and alert, all mockery forgotten.
“Here?” he breathed.
Dense fog descended on them, swirling down like a miniature hurricane from uphill and threatening to blow out Kail's flame. He cupped it protectively and looked around. Seth felt moisture condense on the Homunculus's ebony skin. That chilled him even more than the thought of Upuaut.
Three tenuous figures, blacker than the night itself, rushed out of the mist and stopped bare metres away, as though surprised. Feetless, they floated like ghosts on legs that terminated in points a handbreadth above the ground. Their hands were the same. The only light in them came from their faces, from long teeth and eyes that reflected cold, icy gleams back at the flickering flame. Malignancy radiated from them in waves, stripping the last of the warmth from the air.
The Swarm.
Again, Seth felt Hadrian's fear. This time, though, it was different. Instead of freezing him, it gave him strength.
“I've faced you before.” His brother's voice came strongly from the mouth of the Homunculus. “Lascowicz couldn't take me, and neither could you. I'm stronger now. How much are you prepared to risk?”
Ghastly mouths widened, but no words emerged. Just more teeth, which Seth could scarcely credit.
“Attack, you fools,” screamed the man in Seth's arms. “Don't listen to them. Attack!”
“There are only three of you,” Hadrian goaded them. “Where are the other six? Dead, or afraid?”
They came forward with a sound like metal tearing.
Kail's bola spun in his free hand. Seth swung their wriggling captive in front of them, using him as a shield. The creatures parted and came around from behind. Hadrian moved the fastest, one arm coming up to point at the closest black figure.
A stream of shining motes poured from his finger, like electric confetti. Seth felt the cost of them tearing at the roots of his being. He knew that feeling, remembered when Hadrian had last drawn from their combined being to fight off these creatures.
Egrigor, he whispered, dredging the word from Hadrian's memories. Cutting off pieces of oneself and giving them independent life, as messengers, observers, or weapons.
The black figure dodged with a boiling hiss, reaching out with one sharp limb to rake across Kail's chest. Seth warded off another with an upraised fist. The flesh of the Homunculus met the blackness of the vampire with a satisfying thu
mp. The third rose up over them, then came down with a shriek, sending Kail, Izzi, and the twins flying. Vitriol of the deepest, darkest kind filled the night as the flame guttered out, plunging the forest into gloom.
Seth and his brother struggled to their feet, arms outstretched, looking for their captive and ready for anything else to lunge at them out of the forest. First Upuaut. Now the Swarm. Seth wouldn't have been surprised if Gabra'il himself had descended from the sky in orange glass armour and spitted them on his cruel glass sword.
The wind swirled around them, raising up dust and dead leaves, then died away as suddenly as it had come.
They've gone, whispered Hadrian.
Are you sure about that? Seth asked, but his brother wasn't listening. He was dragging them to where Kail lay on the ground, drawn by the sound of the tracker's pain. Their questing hands touched blood beneath Kail's torn shirt, and the ragged edge of a long wound.
“Light,” Kail cried. “Light!”
The twins fumbled for the tinderbox and managed to strike a spark. The flame they coaxed into life grew slowly, timorously, and managed to make the darkness around them seem darker, if anything.
Kail's desperate gaze took in the trees around them. His bared teeth were clenched with agony, but he would not rest until certain their attackers were indeed gone.
They were, and so was the man Kail had gone to the trouble of capturing—Pirelius's henchman and Upuaut's latest host. All were on the loose in a night suddenly full of threats.
They took him, said Hadrian, his mental voice full of weariness. They took Upuaut.
Why?
I don't know. I don't want to know.
Seth kept an eye on the shadows, but it didn't look as if they were going to be attacked again. That was something to be grateful for, even as he realised that he would have to carry both of them back to camp. Hadrian was fading fast, drained by the raising of the egrigor. Kail clutched his chest and winced when he tried to stand.
Seth bent over him.
“You knew we were being followed,” he said evenly. “You set a trap for him.”
“Yes,” the tracker said with pained tones.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“What would you have done if I had told you?”
Seth hadn't expected that response. “What difference does that make? We had a right to know. If your trap had failed or you'd been caught, we might've had our throat slit.”
Kail nodded, but looked unrepentant. “I was afraid you'd run. Not telling seemed the lesser of two evils.”
Seth could accept that. “So what's going to happen to you now?” he asked, nodding down at the wound. “Are we going to have to go away so you can use the Change to heal yourself?”
“No. Just get me back to camp and I'll make do with what I have.”
“Always prepared, huh?”
“This isn't the first time I've been cut in the line of duty.”
Duty? thought Seth as he helped Kail to his feet. Duty to whom? Or to what?
Seth didn't feel dutiful. Not in the slightest. He just felt tired. They had so far left to go, and it was all uphill.
He carried their injured guide back to camp one step at a time, the only way he knew how.
“All things exist in transit from one state to another.
What is water but molten ice?
What is a sword but artfully frozen iron?”
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, EXEGESIS 15:3
“You're going after the wraiths too?” Skender was unable to hide the surprise in his voice, even through the Change.
Sal didn't comment on that. His tone was matter-of-fact, as though the decision had been an easy one. “While they're in the forest, we're not safe. It seems logical, so last night we agreed to do it. I don't think Griel entirely trusts us yet, despite everything, but he's prepared to take a chance if we help him first, and the Panic are as bothered by the wraiths as your foresters seem to be. The empyricist here calls these wraiths ‘the Swarm,’ by the way.”
“The Swarm? Seriously?”
“Why? What does that mean?”
“That means they're old—perhaps even as old as the twins. They're mentioned in the Book of Towers.”
“Well, that settles that, I guess. Sounds like Vehofnehu knows what he's talking about.”
Skender put aside his mixed wonder and terror at having faced yet another creature he had thought a legend to ask, “Why have they come back?”
“I'm afraid your guess is as good as mine.”
Skender didn't have a ready response to that. During the brief lull in the conversation, Skender checked to make sure he wasn't disturbing Chu, who lay next to him on the thin mattress, curled in a tight ball.
Her face in repose was very different from the one she wore during waking hours. Gone was the wariness, the keen intelligence always on the lookout for a chink in anyone's armour, the faintly mocking smile. In its place was a look of sadness, as though all the losses she had borne could make themselves known while her defences were down. His heart ached to see it.
“Have you made any specific plans?” Sal asked.
Skender told himself to concentrate.
“Uh, not yet. Lidia Delfine—she's the Guardian's daughter, the one whose brother was killed—she had already decided to go on the hunt before we were attacked yesterday. We'd be involved, naturally, because we're outsiders and expendable, and you never know, we just might be helpful. Killing two rabbits with one hammer, I reckon, because it'll give her a way to get us out of Milang without actually expelling us. She and her bodyguard will also be in the party, along with a mage they have living with them at the moment. More covering of bets.”
“Milang was attacked?” asked Sal, picking up on that point with grim interest. “I had no idea the wraiths would be so bold. I thought they just picked people off in small groups.”
Skender didn't mention that he had been attacked, specifically, not just Milang in general. That memory was still a little too fresh. “There were at least four: two at the top of the city and two further down.”
“Vehofnehu says there are nine of them. So be careful out there.”
“You too.”
“We'll need to keep an eye out for each other, in order to avoid each other's crossfire.”
That was a worst-case scenario Skender didn't want to contemplate. “How's Kemp?”
Sal's reply came with more than a hint of uncertainty. “Not good. Vehofnehu says he's never going to recover.”
The news came like a slow-motion blow to the stomach. “Sal, I'm sorry.”
“You have no reason to apologise. It's just the way things worked out. Life doesn't always go the way we want it to.”
There was no arguing with that. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, the link open between them but empty of words.
“I suppose I should let you go,” Sal eventually said.
Skender glanced at Chu, wondering how it would feel to watch her die, as Kemp might die, with no one able to do anything.
“Just one more thing,” Skender said. “You mentioned something about there being nine of the wraiths. If the thing we pulled out of the forest yesterday is anything to go by, there's now just eight to worry about.”
“Really? That's good news. How did you kill it?”
We didn't, Skender almost said, but things were complicated enough without getting into that. And he was getting a headache from concentrating so long. “Fire knocks them out. Strong, hot fire. Watch out for the bodies, though. They don't stay still for long.”
Sal sounded puzzled but appreciative. “Okay, thanks. That's good to know. You'll call us if you learn anything more?”
“One of us will. Marmion will probably have orders for you when he finds out we've spoken.”
“No doubt.” There was a hint of a smile in his friend's reply. “Take care, Skender.”
“Have no doubt of that. And you, well—” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Just mak
e sure to leave us a couple to deal with, all right? Otherwise we'll feel left out.”
“That's a bit rich, coming from the person with the headstart. Once we make up that lost ground, it's anyone's race.”
Skender grinned at that, but the amusement didn't last long. The connection between him and his friend closed. He lay awake in the predawn light, nervous about what the day would bring, and just as uncertain about what had happened the previous night as he had ever been.
“We found this.”
Heuve had dumped the crisped, brittle corpse on the living floor of the Guardian's roofless citadel. His beard twitched in revulsion. The darkness of the night above perfectly matched that of the hideous shape displayed for them all to see. Its limbs were stick-thin and flaking into ash where it had been touched. Lacking obvious hands and feet, it looked much smaller than Skender had remembered. Only its head matched his recollection: a hideous mass of canines and eye-sockets that seemed no less fearsome dead than it had alive.
It stank of ash and charred flesh, yet the grass under it turned black with frost.
“Are you sure it's one of them?” the Guardian asked.
“It's definitely not human,” the big warrior stated flatly. “Or Panic. We found it three levels down from where Skender and the mage were attacked. It burned through the walkways as easily as a hot blade through cobweb, but set fire to nothing else. We were lucky this was no ordinary flame, otherwise the whole city would be ablaze by now.”
Skender couldn't take his eyes off the thing, even though his hands shook to see it and the stink made his stomach roil.
“It—” He swallowed. “We—”
Then Chu was behind him, putting one hand on his shoulder. She didn't say anything. Just having her there was enough.
He straightened and put his treacherous hands under his robes. “Did they attack anyone up here?” he asked.
The Guardian knelt to examine the corpse, answering him as she did so. “Two circled the summit but my guards drove them away. I came out to call them down. They didn't rise to the challenge.” From beneath her gown she produced a short stiletto, with which she poked the crumbling remains. “I hadn't expected a physical form behind the apparitions. They are, perhaps, less like us than I had hoped.”
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