The Deathless

by Peter Newman

  ‘That’s where the meets take place.’

  ‘It looks high,’ said Varg. ‘How do you get up there?’

  Fiya grunted. ‘You climb. There’s a ladder makes it easier but the first one to arrive has to get up without it.’ She gave them both a crooked smile. ‘That’s why we left late.’

  It appeared very still in the trees to Chandni. ‘Do you think anyone else is there?’

  ‘Devdan will be there by now. He’s always early.’ She tutted. ‘Never learns. Good for us though.’

  ‘How many of you are there in total?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s about twenty, all told, though they won’t all come today.’

  A cold breeze blew against Chandni’s back, making the leaves whisper and hiss, and her and Varg shiver. She held Satyendra close. There was a strangeness to the rustlings, as if words were tangled somewhere within the winds.

  Fiya stopped, her head tilted to one side, and held up a hand.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Varg.

  ‘Sssh!’ she hissed.

  Three times more, the wind gusted in that strange way. When it had calmed again, Fiya nodded to herself slowly. She turned to Varg but Chandni saw her eyes flick briefly towards Satyendra as she did so. ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ she said.

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Varg.

  ‘I’m saying we’ve got to be careful. Should be safe here but that doesn’t mean we are. It’s always a risk when we gather in one place, and that risk is even greater when there are young involved. The Wild likes flesh that’s supple most of all.’

  They approached slowly, alert for signs of trouble. As Fiya had said, a ladder was waiting for them. It was made of hair. The strands were a mix of blonde and white, hundreds of them, twined together into slender corkscrews to make the rungs.

  The old woman pointed a gnarly thumb at her own chest. ‘I’ll go first, check it’s safe.’

  She was just testing her weight on the first rung, when she hissed and froze. ‘There! To the left! A Watcher!’ She saw Varg and Chandni looking blank. ‘There! Where the red berries are growing. Quickly, send your Dogkin to fetch it before the Watcher calls to its hive.’

  Glider’s ears pricked at the sound of her name and she made a quizzical noise.

  ‘Shit,’ said Varg. ‘I can’t see it.’

  Chandni couldn’t see anything either but she didn’t doubt the sharpness of Fiya’s eyes. ‘Go, Glider!’ she urged. ‘Quickly. Get it!’

  With a bark, Glider shot forward, racing in the direction Fiya was pointing.

  Chandni bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what a Watcher was exactly, or what kind of hive Fiya was referring to, but she was sure it would be bad. She took a few steps forward, willing Glider’s success, while Fiya shifted the grip on her staff, turning the walking aid into a weapon.

  As the Dogkin ploughed into the bushes there was a loud snap, and she disappeared.

  ‘Glider?’ asked Varg as he edged forward.

  There was a whine from where Glider was but it sounded lower down, as if it was coming from beneath the ground.

  ‘Glider?’ said Varg and Chandni together.

  The Dogkin’s reply was long and self pitying.

  They continued to approach the bushes until a hole revealed itself. It was twelve foot deep and wide enough for two people, or one Glider-sized creature, to stand in. Hearing their approach, Glider turned to look up at them, her face a mask of misery.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Chandni.

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Varg.

  Satyendra chose this moment to start laughing.

  Chandni stared into the pit, trying to see if another creature were trapped beneath Glider’s paws. However there was nothing there. The Watcher must have run away. She was just trying to work out the best way of freeing Glider when the Dogkin started barking fiercely.

  ‘All right,’ said Varg. ‘Shut up and let us think.’

  ‘Something’s not right, Varg. She sounds like she isn’t happy.’

  ‘Course she isn’t, Chand, she’s stuck in a hole.’

  ‘No, not sad like that. Like … like she’s trying to warn us about something.’

  Glider continued to bark as she looked up at them.

  No, she’s looking past us.

  She spun round just as Fiya’s staff poked Varg between the shoulder blades, sending him face first into the pit. Satyendra gasped at the sight, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  ‘Fiya? What are you doing?’

  The old woman didn’t answer, letting her staff talk for her. Before Chandni could react, it darted forward again, the head knocking against her ankle, sending one foot backwards, out over the edge of the pit.

  As she fought for balance, the staff came up under her arm, knocking Satyendra from her grasp. He tumbled awkwardly to the floor between them. Immediately, he stopped laughing and began to scream.

  She reached for him but again the staff came, a series of short, sharp prods that forced her back a pace, to where there was no ground, only air.

  Her arms windmilled once and, as gravity took her backwards, she saw Fiya was already turning her attention towards Satyendra. Then she fell.

  But she did not fall far.

  Strong hands caught her shoulders and eased her down. ‘You okay?’ said Varg. He was standing on Glider’s back, a murderous expression on his face.

  ‘I need to get back up.’

  He nodded and laced his hands. ‘I’ll get you up, then you get me out, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  He boosted her so hard she flew out of the pit, landing on her hands and knees. Satyendra was no longer where he’d fallen but she could still hear him crying. She looked around wildly and caught a glimpse of him stuck over Fiya’s shoulder, his little arms reaching out towards her as they vanished into the trees.

  ‘Chand?’ called Varg. ‘Where are you?’

  She turned to look down at them both. ‘I’m sorry,’ she replied, ‘there’s no time.’

  ‘What the fuck?’

  Glider barked at her in a similar manner.

  ‘I’ll come back,’ she said, standing up. ‘I promise.’

  Then she ran. Fiya can’t have gone far. She was walking quickly, not running. Why did she betray us? Why now? What is she doing to my Satyendra?

  For a few minutes, she didn’t think, putting all her effort into the chase, trying to look everywhere at once, searching for any signs of the old woman or her baby. She saw nothing. No glimpses of them, no tracks, even the crying seemed further away, the sound shifted by the trees, making it swirl around her, as if a chorus of babies were crying, not just one.

  Her mother’s voice came into her head, even louder than her pounding heart. It is not the Sapphire way to run blindly forward like some screeching Lizardkin on heat. A Sapphire thinks first, considers, then acts decisively.

  She came to a stop, the forest around her seemingly empty. There’s no way she could be faster than me. With a frown, she turned and retraced her steps, forcing herself to go slowly and look for any clues. At first, the only thing she found was another concealed pit that she’d only avoided falling into before by sheer luck. Then, when she’d nearly got back to where Varg and Glider were trapped, she saw it: an old tree with a skirt of brambles growing all over it. Hanging from one of the lower branches was a thread of grey hair. Fiya’s hair.

  Chandni separated out several strands of her own hair, wrapping them round her hand. Without scissors or knife there was little to do but grit her teeth and yank them out, the little spike of pain barely noticed amid the emotions and adrenaline. Taking the ends of the hair in her hands, she held them up to the tree. ‘I make this gift to you. Please, let me pass safely.’

  She tied the hair to the same branch Fiya had used and then, as an afterthought, kissed the knot.

  There was no reaction from the tree, but when she looked again, she saw a gap under the brambles that she was sure wasn’t there before.

 
; ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  On her belly, she crawled underneath, and was rewarded with the sound of crying close by.

  Satyendra was on the ground, his mouth a furious circle, the veins on his neck and temple bulging with effort as he displayed his displeasure. Next to him was Fiya, she’d put down her staff and was busy tying a noose to a sturdy looking branch.

  Chandni crept forward, being careful not to tread on any dry leaves, though Satyendra was making such a din that she could probably have sung a song and not be heard.

  She picked up the staff, testing its weight in her hands, and still Fiya hadn’t noticed, her attention fully on the knot. Chandni pulled back the staff, then swung it as hard as she could at Fiya’s knees.

  There was a snap that reminded Chandni of a dry twig breaking, accompanied by a scream, which did not, and the old woman fell down. Chandni raised the staff again as she walked round into view.

  ‘Why?’ she said.

  ‘Because that baby is a vessel for the one that betrayed us all! It must die.’ Fiya was moving while she talked, drawing a long dagger from her belt. ‘It must die!’ she repeated, dragging herself closer to Satyendra with one hand while raising the dagger with the other to strike.

  Chandni swung again, smashing the hand and sending the dagger spinning away. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I am a true and loyal servant of the Sapphire and I will do anything – anything! – to protect my son and the future of my lord.’

  Fiya had curled up tight with the pain but she still managed to speak. ‘It doesn’t matter what you do to me. We all know the baby is here. Others will come. They are already on their way.’

  ‘I disagree.’ She struck Fiya’s other arm, ending any ideas the old woman might have of fighting back. ‘I think it does matter what I do to you.’ She put down the staff and picked up the dagger. It was a simple looking weapon but the blade was sharp, the bone darkened with long use. Fiya’s eyes followed the movement, widening in a pulse of fear.

  And she is right to be afraid, thought Chandni.

  She took a deep breath and began to speak. ‘Powers of the Wild, hear me! My name is Honoured Mother Chandni, servant of the Sapphire Everlasting. I want to bargain.’ She pricked Fiya’s cheek and raised the dagger high. ‘With blood and bone.’

  The constant background drone of creature calls and Birdkin song fell quiet. Satyendra’s wailing stopped. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ said Fiya, her hands pressed desperately to her cheek. ‘I beg you.’

  Chandni didn’t even look at her. ‘This blood, for the blood of my son. These bones for the bones of my son. Protect my Satyendra. Keep him alive and safe.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ said Fiya. ‘You don’t know the ways. Don’t you see? They’ll take it all from both of us.’

  The dagger slashed lightly across Fiya’s thigh and Chandni flicked the blood upwards. Another slash, and the blood was flicked down at her feet. Five more cuts she made, one for each of the seven directions.

  ‘Damn you,’ said Fiya. ‘I will call down such a curse that your little—’

  Her words cut off in a gurgle as Chandni dropped to one knee, using all of her weight to bury the dagger in Fiya’s throat. No, she thought. There will be no more treachery from you.

  She stood up again, her hands shaking. ‘This kill I make for you,’ she said aloud. ‘This life, for Satyendra’s.’

  The last of the light left Fiya’s eyes and a howl sounded, distant, similar to Glider’s but deeper, larger. It was answered shortly after by several others, some of which sounded awfully close. A Dogkin pack, angry and on the prowl.

  Chandni grabbed Satyendra and fled. The wind returned, chill as ever, and with it, a wail of distress, a baby’s. She knew that cry better than she knew her own voice. That’s my Satyendra! But when she looked at the baby in her arms, she saw that his face was smooth with contentment, his mouth pressed against her chest.

  The Wild is playing tricks on me, she told herself as she made her way back to the pit, and yet no matter how solid Satyendra felt in her arms, nor how often she told herself the crying was fake, she could not banish the feeling of her baby being in trouble and the sense that she was going the wrong way.

  Sa-at was crying. Devdan’s hands were at his throat, pressing but without conviction. Tears ran down both their faces.

  ‘Guh, I can’t,’ he said, breaking away.

  They were high up in the trees, in a great bowl made of furs and rope. A hole in the roof let smoke out and light in, giving glimpses of nervous clouds skittering by. A brazier hung suspended in the middle of the space, the stones inside glowing a ruddy orange. Devdan had lit it not long after his first attempt to strangle Sa-at. Now the man circled the brazier, pulling at his white hair as he muttered to himself.

  ‘It’s not fair. You’re a good baby and I was getting everything right this time. Suns, this was supposed to be a good day. Why did you have to be his? Why couldn’t you just have been a normal sky-baby?

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make it quick … I just can’t do it. Not when your … not when I can see your eyes.’ He stopped and looked over at Sa-at. ‘Please stop crying. It won’t change anything. If it were up to me then I’d never harm even the tiniest part of you. But it’s not up to me. Do you understand? I don’t want to.’

  Sa-at did not understand. His neck hurt. He was scared. He continued to cry.

  ‘I’m going to do this myself, before the others get here.’ He shook his head. ‘Not right for a stranger to do it to you. I just gotta build up some courage and have a think, which is really hard with you bawling. I don’t blame you though, it’s just it’s tricky to do it quick and do it right. Can’t use anything sharp. Can’t use my hands. But I’ve got an idea.’ He turned and stared at the brazier. ‘Won’t be long now. I’ll make sure there’s nothing for the demons to get, after. Least I can do.’

  The wind gusted outside, rippling the furs like sails on a ship and setting the ropes to creaking. Devdan stopped to listen. ‘Something’s not right,’ he muttered, then with an apologetic glance in Sa-at’s direction, added: ‘something else, I mean.’

  He took out a pouch and opened the top, taking out a handful of the grey ash he’d collected from his burnt out tree. ‘Show yourself. I know you’re here.’

  A pair of talons hooked round the edge of the hole in the top of the structure, and then a Birdkin’s head peered in, with a bone white beak and multifaceted eyes.

  Crowflies, thought Sa-at, reaching up to touch it, despite the distance between them being far too great.

  ‘Sa-aat!’ cried the Birdkin, dropping through the hole to dive towards them.

  ‘Get back!’ shouted Devdan, flinging the ash at it.

  Crowflies banked away with a screech, circling above them, before settling again on the edge of the hole in the roof. It held out one of its wings for inspection. Some of the feathers were missing where they had made contact with the ash, others were burning. Crowflies flapped the wing angrily until the flames flickered and died, leaving a thin plume of smoke rising from its wingtip.

  ‘I got plenty more where that came from, demon.’

  The two glared at each other while Sa-at took on a new word.

  Demon.

  It is a demon.

  Crowflies is a demon.

  The wind gusted a second time, bringing with it another Birdkin. This one landed on the outside of the structure, its silhouette darkening a patch of fur not far from where Sa-at lay. Devdan took a step towards it when a third Birdkin arrived on the opposite side, its hooked talons poking through to wink at them. A fourth arrived, then a fifth, sixth, seventh, then too many to count, slapping against the walls as they landed.

  It seemed as if evening had arrived early, the little light that penetrated the stitching around the furs blocked by the numerous feathered bodies.

  Then Crowflies spread its wings, they all spread their wings, and night fell.

>   Only the light of the brazier remained, painting Devdan in a fierce orange glow. He turned on the spot, eyes darting left and right and up and down, his pouch in one hand, some ash in the other.

  There was a tearing sound, and then Birdkin began to pour into the room, a shrieking river of liquid black and sharp white, filling the air with wings and noise as they careened around the edges of the space.

  Meanwhile, something gathered on the edge of the light near Sa-at, a thing of feathers and the shadows of feathers blurred together, of wings binding to make a shape. Something like a cloak. On something like a human frame.

  ‘Ill met, death flinger,’ it said in a voice that seemed to come from the throats of all the Birdkin present.

  ‘But … you can’t be here,’ replied Devdan, though it sounded as much question as statement.

  ‘Oh but …’ it paused in mockery, ‘I can. A deal has been done, of steel words and bloody deed.’ The chorus of Birdkin cawed joyously.

  ‘Begone!’ shouted Devdan, casting his ash. It billowed out causing the Birdkin to make alarmed noises. The figure did not move, however.

  ‘What—’ It said.

  ‘Whaaaat?’ chorused the Birdkin.

  ‘—Is this?’

  Devdan reached into his pouch, throwing more of the ash. ‘Begone!’ he said again.

  ‘No. I am called and I am come. It is you that will be gone, not I. Be pained. Be flayed. Be food.’

  It waved a wing-like arm and a wind knocked Devdan backwards until he fell against the brazier. He called out, dropping the pouch before slumping to his hands and knees.

  Sa-at caught a glimpse of him there, before his cries and body were smothered by wings and beaks, brief flashes of white in the darkness.

  Then the figure had moved between them, bending down to peer at Sa-at. Like Crowflies its eyes were multifaceted but larger, and it seemed that each tiny surface moved, as if a living thing in its own right. ‘I am Murderkind, a prince of this place.’