by Richard Ford
Despite the rumbling from above and the screaming that seemed to echo down every passage, she could still hear them coming after her. Shouting for her to stop, and telling her what a bitch and a little whore she was. Rag had never understood that – how blokes would always demand you stopped by shouting insults. Surely if they wanted her to stop they should try being fucking nice.
They ran out into a massive cavern, crates and caskets piled high along one side with all sorts of other dusty crap. There didn’t look like there was a tunnel leading out.
‘What the fuck do we do now?’ asked Tidge in his bravest shit scared voice.
‘I’m thinking,’ said Rag, glancing round the cavern just as there was a rumble that dislodged a load of dirt from the ceiling.
You need to think harder, girl, or you’re both gonna die down here.
There was the scrape of a boot on the floor behind her. Rag spun to see that Greencoat standing there in the entryway, knife in hand.
‘Enough bloody running. Now you both get cut,’ said the Greencoat, taking a step forward.
Rag shoved Tidge behind her, backing off further into the cavern, but she knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said, having run out of sensible stuff to say. ‘You could just let us go. City’s gone to shit anyway, what does it matter now?’
‘It matters to me,’ said the Greencoat, as a massive clod of earth hit the ground behind him. ‘And it matters to Bastian. You fucked things up for him and now you’re gonna pay for it.’
Rag backed up further, feeling Tidge tighten his grip on her hand. Behind the Greencoat another clump of earth fell down from the ceiling, splattering on the damp floor.
He’d walked out into the lantern light now and Rag could see a big old smile on his face. The blade of that knife glinted and she knew this wouldn’t be quick. Rag had known men like this all her life, men who took pleasure in other people’s pain. She’d known to avoid them at all costs, but it didn’t seem like she had that option now. Maybe if she gave herself up willingly it’d give Tidge enough time to escape …
There was another thud behind the Greencoat, but this time it weren’t no sod of earth that came from the ceiling. It was huge, limbs impossibly thin, head impossibly big. Rag opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
The Greencoat was almost on her, but the thing came on faster, moving across the cavern floor like a gigantic spider. Tidge made a noise, a strangled gasp in his throat, and the Greencoat’s smile widened – thinking it was him that was doing the scaring. By the time he realised his mistake it was too late.
The creature snapped its head forward, jaws closing on the Greencoat’s shoulder. He had time to open his eyes all wide-eyed and shocked before blood spurted out all over his face and jacket.
Rag weren’t about to hang around and see what happened next. She grabbed onto Tidge’s hand and ran like fuck, past where the feeding was going on and back down the tunnel. The Greencoat had the notion to scream as she ran off, but it was doubtful it would do him any good. There was a tearing sound just as Rag dragged Tidge out of that room and the screaming stopped.
Her heart was pounding now, her breath coming short and sharp as her feet clapped down the tunnel. To his credit Tidge didn’t make a fuss nor ask no questions – he ran right alongside her like his life depended on it. And there weren’t much fucking doubt his life did depend on it.
She was running blind now. Any chance she’d had of remembering which tunnel led where was gone. Best they could do was try and avoid the howling, especially since she’d just seen what was on the other end of it.
So desperate was she to escape that she didn’t give a shit what waited for them down the tunnels or in the little caves they came out in. Didn’t slow as she ran out into a bright-lit chamber. Didn’t see Bastian waiting for her or the big old blade in his hand.
Luckily her reactions were still quick enough, so she ducked in time before he could cut her head off.
Rag stumbled, falling to the floor, skinning her knees and her palms. Tidge tried his best to pull her to her feet as Bastian came at them.
‘You’ve fucked it,’ he said, pressing that knife to her throat and entwining his bony fingers in her hair. ‘You fucked it all.’
Tidge struck out, hitting Bastian in the side of his big skeleton’s head, but he didn’t even flinch, just swept Tidge off his feet with the back of his hand.
‘We have to run,’ Rag said desperately. ‘Believe me, we have to run.’
Bastian smiled, teeth like gravestones, breath like a sewer. ‘Oh, I will be running. Just as soon as I’ve—’
A howl long and loud and all too close stopped him before he could finish. Bastian looked over his shoulder, doubt creeping onto his face.
‘We told you,’ said Tidge, standing there rubbing his cheek.
Bastian took a step back and Rag was sure she could see the hand holding his knife shaking. She could understand how he felt; she was shaking so hard she might just as well have been caught naked in winter snows.
A shadow fell across the entrance to the room and it seemed to leach the light from the surrounding lanterns. An arm reached from the shadows, long and pale, tipped with black claws that sank into the earth.
Rag looked at Tidge, signalling for him to come close. He moved towards her and they both backed away. Behind them the cavern rose up into the dark and they began to crawl. Bastian just stood there, watching as that creature clawed its way from the black.
‘What the fuck?’ said Bastian, having the smarts to back up now. He might have been the head of the Guild with the power to have anyone he wanted murdered with a word, but there was no way he was messing with this thing.
Still the creature came on, sliding from the shadows on all fours. Rag could see another of the things behind it, clawing its way into the room, clinging to the wall like a cockroach.
She had made it up the rise now but there was nowhere else to go, just a tiny little inlet to a tunnel beyond, maybe big enough for Tidge to fit through but Rag had no chance. She glanced back down again as she heard Bastian say one word …
‘Dead!’
He was staring straight at her.
As Bastian ran towards her, knife held up, the beasts that were stalking him ran too. He stumbled up the rise to the back of the cavern and Rag desperately shoved Tidge through the gap in the rock wall. He turned when he was through, holding his hand out to her, but Rag knew there was no way she’d fit.
She turned back in time to see Bastian bearing down. He grabbed her by the ankle, dragging her towards him, and that knife came down. Rag tried to hold his arm back but he was too strong, the blade biting into her cheek. She screamed, kicked out, flailed, fighting for her life but it was useless.
‘Fucking dead,’ said Bastian.
Rotten fingers pressed their black talons into his cheek as the cavern rumbled. Bastian’s eyes went wide as the flesh burst, tearing from his face. He gasped, the sharp outtake of breath rising hideously into a scream of agony. Rag watched in horror as the beast dragged Bastian’s face off, blood oozing as the bone and muscle was unveiled beneath.
Bastian was screaming continuously, high and long as the two creatures dragged him back down the ridge. Rag couldn’t pull her eyes away, couldn’t close them as she saw him being torn to bits. One dragged his arm from its socket, the other biting down hard on his lower jaw, ripping it from his torn face.
As Rag watched, a third beast moved into the cavern from the dark, sniffing the other two as they feasted. Then it smelled the air, black eyes gazing around the cavern until they fell on Rag. It hissed, and she scrambled backwards, but there weren’t nowhere else to run to. Tidge reached out from the tunnel, grabbing her shirt to pull her in, but there was no way through for her.
‘You have to go,’ she said as the creature clawed its way towards her, hunger in its black eyes.
‘I ain’t going nowhere,’ he replied.
/> She turned to him, looking at his little dirty tear-streaked face to demand he go, when the entire cavern rumbled again. This time some masonry fell from the roof, smashing down to the ground and shattering. One of the things feasting on Bastian lifted its head, then howled so loud Rag had to clap her hands over her ears.
Like an invisible hand had taken hold of it, the creature slid across the cavern floor towards the entranceway. It howled, clawing at the ground for purchase, but there was nothing to grab. As the cavern rumbled again it disappeared through the tunnel, screaming its defiance.
Rag stared in disbelief as the second beast was also dragged away screaming, as though some divine wind had blown it from the cavern. The third creature stared at her, still moving its way up the ridge. It was almost within reach now, staring and snarling and clawing its way closer. Then it slid back down the rise, its claws leaving ridges in the stone. One last snarl and it was dragged through the air and across the cavern to disappear with a defiant roar.
The rumbling continued, more of the ceiling dropping free as the cave began to collapse. Rag turned to see part of the rock barring her way to Tidge and the tunnel beyond had been dislodged.
‘Let’s get the fuck out of here!’ she cried, crawling inside as Tidge moved through the little tunnel.
It was dark and wet inside, and Rag followed Tidge’s arse as he struggled through the blackness. The rumbling never stopped and at any moment Rag expected the tunnel to collapse, enclosing them in a tomb till the end of time. She breathed out, holding back her tears, when she saw there was light from ahead.
About time a bit of luck went your way, Rag. Best not get used to it though.
Desperately they scrabbled forward through the tunnel until eventually they both fell into the street through a little drainage outlet. It was light now, the rain stopped and everything eerily silent. She recognised the street they were on, but she couldn’t remember when she’d ever seen it so quiet.
Rag looked down at Tidge and his filthy little face. ‘You all right?’
‘Do I fucking look all right?’ he answered.
Rag let out a little laugh. ‘You look like I feel,’ she said, licking her thumb to wipe some of the dirt from his face, then reconsidering. There was far too much shit for one thumb to wipe. Tidge would need a bath after all this, and she knew he’d rather have faced another of those evil bastard creatures than be given that news.
On the walk back to the tavern the streets didn’t get any louder. The Khurtas didn’t come screaming through looking for people to kill and rape. No one stopped them as they walked up the street, bold as brass. For the first time in days the sound of battle didn’t echo over the rooftops.
When she stepped into the tavern she expected it to be empty since she’d ordered them all to hide. What she saw made her stop dead, panic gripping her stomach.
Essen, Shirl and Harkas were sat at a table. Surrounding them were other lads – lads from the Guild, from other crews, from Bastian’s retinue and half a dozen other gangs she’d seen before. They were all arguing, the noise cutting through the silence of the tavern and ruining what might otherwise have been a fairly pleasant morning.
None of them knew what to do, where to go, who to see about what was next. Rag had a notion they weren’t gonna get no joy any time soon, since Bastian was a half-eaten lump of flesh and bone.
It’s now or never, Rag. Cut and run or step the fuck up.
She glanced at Harkas. At Shirl and Essen. At Migs and Chirpy, who ran forward when they saw Tidge alive and well.
Fuck it, you’ll probably only get one crack at this anyway.
Rag climbed up onto the bar and grabbed the old tavern bell. She’d never heard it rung – no one had ever needed to before – but she grabbed the rope anyway and smashed the clapper against the bell.
The tavern fell silent, all eyes on her.
‘Bastian’s dead,’ she announced. Immediately the place went up again, lads bickering, panicking and the like. Rag rang that bell one more time, this time longer and louder, making sure she had everyone’s attention.
Then she smiled.
It was the smile she’d given Friedrik, the smile she’d given Harkas and Bastian. A smile that had kept her alive when she should, by all rights, have been a corpse in the ground. A smile she knew she’d have to start using pretty often from now on.
‘Don’t worry yourselves, lads,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an idea …’
FIFTY-TWO
He’d found a discarded cloak in the wreckage of the battlefield, which now flapped around him in the stiff morning breeze. Regulus could smell blood in his nostrils, the rotting dead, dying embers. Sorrow. In all his dreams of glorious victory, this had been in none of them.
The enemy was gone at least, fled north from where they had come. The fell beasts that had risen to attack them had also gone back to the pit, dragged back to Hel by sorceries beyond Regulus’ understanding. Word had also reached him that the great warlord Amon Tugha was dead, but then so was the city’s valiant queen.
They were not the only ones. The dead lay all around. It was as though the city harboured more corpses than those left to tend them. Here and there a funeral pyre had been built and in the distance, to the north of the city, Regulus could see graves being dug.
As for the city – where before had stood unparalleled magnificence, now stood a shell. Burned and crumbling edifices. Fallen monuments. This place was a giant cairn, silent and brooding in its victory. Regulus knew he had no place here, if he ever had in the first place.
There was only one thing he had to do before he left. A debt he was determined to pay.
He walked down from the battlements to the huge breach in the wall. The dead lay scattered all about here. Regulus wondered if anyone would even remember their names. There were names he would never forget – Kazul, Hagama, Leandran, Akkula. His warriors. Men he had lived beside, grown beside, and who had ultimately died for the glory of the Gor’tana.
Should it have been he who died in their place? Would it not have been more fitting for him to fall in battle alongside them? That shame would shape itself in its own way. Time would tell if the guilt of their deaths, and of his survival, would weigh on him. For now Regulus had to look to the living.
Beneath the rubble the soft earth was churned up all around. The rain the night before had made it all but impossible to discern any tracks in the mud. Still Regulus walked the battleground, his eyes scanning for a sign, his nose keen to the scent he was searching for. Before long he found it lying discarded; dented and useless in the dirt.
Regulus knelt and picked up the black helm, turning it over in his hands. He glanced about, scanning the bodies that lay fallen all around, but of Nobul Jacks’ corpse there was no trace. As he searched he saw there was something else, nearer to the breach in the wall. Regulus dropped the helmet and moved towards it. Half buried in the soft earth was the hammer, lying there like some ancient weapon lost for a hundred years. He grasped the handle and wrenched it from the ground, wiping away the dirt to reveal the intricate carving on shaft and head.
Nobul Jacks was not here. Perhaps he was dead … somewhere … but not on this field.
Regulus looked to the north. The life debt of the Zatani was a holy vow, an ancient pledge that could not be broken. Nobul Jacks may well have perished, but Regulus Gor’s debt to him would not be satisfied until he knew for sure.
Securing the hammer within his cloak, Regulus stepped through the breach, out onto the devastated plain north of Steelhaven, and began his search.
FIFTY-THREE
It was a big old fire, that was for sure. Merrick had never seen its like – the Wyvern Guard had given the old boy the best send-off they could have.
The Lord Marshal lay in full armour, but without his magnificent winged helm. Jared held onto that under one arm as he watched with tears in his eyes. He also held onto the Bludsdottr, the sword Merrick’s father had forced him to take during the last battle.
When he’d heard about Janessa his heart had sunk. Merrick had almost died to save her once, but perhaps it had been destined to end this way from the start. The girl had been doomed, that much was clear now, but Merrick was determined not to cry about it.
Because you’re a changed man, Ryder. Made from mountain rock – all iron and blood and the rest of that shit your father spewed. You’re beginning to believe his lies almost as surely as you’ve grown to believe your own.
The stench from a hundred fires was beginning to turn Merrick’s stomach. Burning pork, though none of it he’d want to eat. Didn’t stop the gurgling inside, though. It reminded him he was hungry, though he had no intention of eating anything until he was bloody miles away from here.
Still, he supposed he’d have to stand and watch as they burned the rest of their dead. Of the three hundred men who’d come down from the Kriega Mountains, now remained only thirty-seven. They stood in silence, no more boisterous talk, all solemn observance as they watched their dead burn. It had been a hard-won victory, but a victory nonetheless, though none of them felt like celebrating, Merrick least of all.
As the day wore on and the fires died, Jared gathered them all in one of the Northgate squares. Earlier in the day it had been piled high with bodies but the burial teams had done their jobs efficiently enough that it was almost empty. The thirty-seven Wyvern Guard stood awaiting the word of the Lord Marshal’s second as he clutched that sword and that mighty helm.