by Tom Lloyd
Shanatin grabbed Fynner and pulled the chaplain slowly to the ground, frantically gesturing for the man to be silent, but though Fynner didn’t seem to notice he was too aghast to make a sound. Shanatin tried to control the panic surging through his own heart. At least thirty men had been killed in less than a minute. He felt his hands start to shake at the idea that the loyalist troops might start to check the surrounding buildings, but he knew he couldn’t risk the slightest noise, not yet.
He took a slow breath and the musty smell of the floorboards calmed him: it contained a faint old strain of decay that put him in mind of Rojak, first of Azaer’s disciples. Luerce had said he was dead, but at that moment Shanatin knew the malevolent minstrel’s spirit was with him there, and if anyone could hide him in the shadows, it was Rojak. He tightened his grip on Chaplain Fynner, clutching the man as close as a lover as he listened to the soldiers in the street below and waited for his chance to escape.
Knight-Cardinal Certinse opened the door to his study and stopped dead. Despite the guards posted all round the house the study wasn’t empty. He sighed and closed the door behind him. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking how you got in here?’
Ilumene smiled. ‘Not a whole lot,’ he agreed, ‘but we’ve got rather more pressing concerns today.’
Certinse grunted in agreement. He was wearing battle armour, a rare occurrence when most of the last few decades had been spent in a formal uniform. He wore a broadsword and thick-hilted dagger on his belt, with gauntlets stuffed untidily in behind the dagger. ‘You heard the news then?’
‘About your aide? Aye, strange that.’ The big soldier, looking quite comfortable in Certinse’s favourite armchair, was also dressed for a fight, in a white brigandine and breeches, with his big bastard sword nestled in the crook of his arm. The man Certinse knew as Hener Kayel couldn’t have stood out more on the streets of Akell. White was now the colour of Ruhen’s Children, so if any cleric had seen him they would have arrested him on sight – or tried to, at least. That he was ready for a fight was good news to Certinse though; a small ray of light amidst the deluge.
‘Strange?’ Certinse sat at his desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. ‘Not the word I’d use.’
He knew his guest didn’t stand on ceremony and he had orders to write after the crimes of the previous night. He gave Ilumene a hard look before picking up his pen and starting the first letter.
‘Strange, because I’d heard Perforren was going to be arrested – as an unregistered mage,’ Ilumene explained. ‘If you’ve got that planned, why go and murder him instead?’
Certinse abandoned his letter. ‘You heard what? A mage? That’s bloody ridiculous!’ He hesitated. ‘Even Garash must have realised how stupid and contrived that would look. Must be he changed his mind, but still wanted Perforren out of the way. I’d thought the murders of the last few days had been building up to an assassination attempt on me, not this. But Perforren’s the man I trusted most to carry my orders, so by killing him they limit the speed I can react to whatever they’re up to.’
‘Aye, today’s the day,’ Ilumene agreed. ‘I heard there was a fire at a barracks too?’
Certinse nodded briefly. ‘Fifteen dead, all good and loyal men. From the report it looks like it was a botched job – the bastard was trying to fire the officers’ quarters next door, but the thatch in the barracks caught first. It’s worked against them now; the men are ready to storm the armoury and march on the temple district.’
‘Well, you can’t trust a fanatic to think before he acts.’ Ilumene declared as he stood and straightened his weapons. ‘Which is why I’m here.’
‘Your vague promises to me shall finally bear fruit? And speaking of such – Harlequins? Gods, man, remarkable followers of Ruhen, I think you described them as!’
‘Weren’t lying now, was I?’ Ilumene said with a grin.
‘Far from it – indeed, I hadn’t expected the term to be so accurate. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how you persuaded the Harlequin clans to join you?’
‘Nope.’
Certinse watched Ilumene as the man scratched the ragged edge of his left ear. A small part of the lobe was missing, no doubt bitten off in some squalid bar fight. They had yet to set the terms of their agreement, if agreement was in fact the term for the flirtation of suggestion and vague assertion each had made. Now the crucial time had come, and there was bargaining to be done.
‘I can’t help but wonder if I need your help now. My greatest problem was the piety and obedience of my men, and High Priest Garash seems to have solved that for me.’
‘Far from your only problem though,’ the other commented with a yawn, ‘and no one likes a tease. In case you’ve forgotten, the Menin dragooned most of your troops. Garash might still be outnumbered, but not by armed soldiers, and he still controls the armoury.’
‘So you offer me the armoury today?’
Ilumene gestured expansively. ‘If that’s your heart’s desire, certainly. I’ll even throw in a little confusion within the enemy’s ranks too. If we come to an agreement you’ll have full military control of Akell by the end of the day, with the clerics of the Knights of the Temples more than aware you’re no longer their bitch.’
The Knight-Cardinal sat back, puzzled at Ilumene’s bluntness. He’d expected more dancing around than that, whether or not time was of the essence.
‘And the price?’ he enquired, noting his guest’s complete lack of reaction at the question. It boded well; Ilumene might be more than the simple thug he appeared, but he was still a bully and a brawler. Once he had the advantage of a man he’d want to lord it over them.
‘Friendship.’
‘Perhaps you should define that a little more clearly for me.’
Ilumene shrugged. ‘He asks for stricter terms. Some people, eh?’
As he spoke, Certinse felt the faintest breath of wind and saw Ilumene’s eyes flick briefly to the dark corner of the room beside his desk, but which happened first he couldn’t be certain of. For a moment though, he had the sense that Ilumene wasn’t just being theatrical.
‘I want clearer terms, not more severe,’ Certinse said carefully, trying to shake off the impression he was negotiating with two people rather than just one.
Ilumene didn’t help that impression by cocking his head to one side as he thought, almost as though listening to a whispered voice, but Certinse could hear nothing during the short pause that followed his words.
‘Clarity then,’ Ilumene said with a flourish of the hands, ‘a throwing back of the shadows we shall have. Ruhen wants the right to take his message to all corners of the Land, but he’s not looking to build an army. We’ll leave any recruiting up to you, but I’m sure if you do so in Byora there’ll be no complaints from our corner. If the Knights of the Temples would be so generous as to provide escorts for Ruhen’s preachers where necessary, the problem of security would be solved.’
‘Easily granted, so long as you recognise the Order is in no fit state to invade any city-state.’
Ilumene inclined his head to accept the point. ‘Both of us also need greater ties between Ruhen’s Children and the Order – I’m not suggesting you cut the holy orders out of your structure, but some recognition of Ruhen’s message would serve us both.’
‘Certainly,’ Certinse said thoughtfully, ‘a message of peace is a complicated one to sell to a martial order, but until the fanaticism in the Land runs its course, Ruhen remains a better guiding light.’
The big soldier leaned abruptly forward. ‘Tell me, Knight-Cardinal: do you believe in the Order’s central tenet these days?’
‘The Army of the Devoted?’ Certinse asked, unable to conceal his surprise at the question. ‘I – we were founded to protect the majesty of the Gods. Certainly I believe in this charge.’
‘And providing an army for the saviour, when he comes?’ There was a slight smile on Ilumene’s face.
Certinse couldn’t tell whether the man found the en
tire subject ridiculous or was setting himself up for some sort of rehearsed argument or joke.
‘I fail to see how the two would be exclusive of each other,’ he said carefully, ‘but I am told by the Serian that many mages, scholars and other heretics consider the point moot. They say that destiny has been twisted awry and the question of whether the Order will have a saviour to follow is now moot.’
‘So that’s a no,’ Ilumene said, looking satisfied. ‘You’re a politician and a man of power after all. You can’t spend your time dreaming about such things – most likely you reckon if it does turn out that way the best thing you could’ve done was build the Order’s strength anyway.’
When Certinse didn’t comment Ilumene smiled and reached into his pocket. ‘There is one other thing,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘Many of Ruhen’s followers have taken to wearing a symbol of their devotion. We ask you wear this – not openly if you prefer – in acknowledgement of our alliance.’
He held up a thin chain on which hung a small silver coin. Certinse took the coin from Ilumene’s open palm and inspected it. He guessed it had once been a silver level from Byora, but someone had done a good job of erasing what had been stamped into the metal. Now it bore only a circle on one face and a cross on the other, and each groove had then been painted in.
‘A charm?’
Ilumene shook his head. ‘A symbol only – feel free to have a mage investigate.’ He watched Certinse examine the coin, not speaking, but when the man continued to look sceptical Ilumene reached into his collar and pulled out a second coin, identical to the one he’d given Certinse. ‘You can have mine if you prefer? For a man in your position wariness is never a wasted effort, but this one’s certainly done me no harm.’
Certinse agreed and they swapped. Ilumene wasted no time in hanging the first chain around his neck and tucking it back under his tunic. Feeling foolish, Certinse did the same, gingerly slipping the chain over his head and letting it rest on his armour for a few heartbeats. Nothing at all happened, and when he slipped it underneath the only result was a slight cold touch as the metal came into contact with his skin.
For his visitor, that seemed to be enough. Ilumene rose and slipped his sword onto his back. ‘Consider your wishes come true then.’
‘What, now? Already?’
‘Come with me and you’ll see. Your men will get no resistance at the armoury; you can mop up the Penitents and the rest easily enough – they’re all waiting for orders that aren’t likely to come unless the remaining clerics are less argumentative than either of us believes.’
‘And you’ll be alongside me why exactly?’
‘Solidarity,’ Ilumene said brightly, ‘and in case there’s a fanatic within your own men you don’t know about. Don’t worry, the victory’ll be yours; I’m just there to be seen on your side. You can even give me some orders publicly if you like.’
‘So this was already in play? But what if I’d refused your terms, struck my own bargain?’
The big man in white shrugged and opened the door, holding it for Certinse to go first. ‘Some priests I don’t care about would have been dead. Maybe your guilty conscience would have kept you up at nights, but you strike me as a man who prefers his nights restful.’
He gave the Knight-Cardinal a gentle pat on the shoulder as he urged him out the door. ‘Jumping at every shadow or strange noise grows tiring, so I’m told.’
CHAPTER 7
‘What are you doing, necromancer?’
Nai paused in his gestures and glanced over at Amber. The Menin soldier sat in a slouched heap beside their small fire, looking as exhausted as he sounded. Small sparks smouldered on his boot, orange pinpricks against the black leather. When Nai pointed to them Amber frowned at the fading glows for a long while before eventually dropping a heavy hand on them to extinguish them. The only other movement he could bring himself to make was to scratch the scabs of a graze on his cheek, where Nai had scraped a temporary rune into his skin.
‘I’m going to summon a spirit,’ Nai replied at last, ‘something that can scout the path for us. There’s likely to be all sorts roaming in the wake of an army, but none friendly to us.’
‘Spirit or daemon?’
Nai ignored the question and returned to his preparations. He’d drawn a circle in the bare earth beneath a yew tree and scattered a handful of bones within it around a small, blackened bowl into which he’d put a pinch of herbs soaked in blood.
He spoke a long mantra over it before igniting the herbs. ‘Dedessen, I summon you,’ he intoned, bowing towards the bowl, ‘Dedessen, receive my praise; Dedessen, accept my sacrifice.’
Behind him was a young rabbit, feet bound together and magically subdued but still alive. Nai bowed again to the bowl and drew a knife across the rabbit’s throat. Blood spurted out over the circle as the rabbit convulsed twice, then died. The air around him seemed to thicken, becoming hot and close as a bitter stink filled the fitful evening breeze.
Nai bowed his head again and was about to repeat the mantra when a whispery voice cut through the night.
‘Ever faithful to the old covenants,’ the daemon said from somewhere nearby, ‘your sacrifice is welcomed, Nai.’
The necromancer bowed again before sitting up straight and looking all around, trying to work out where the voice had come from. It had emanated from several directions at once, but he knew it would incarnate soon.
‘I am glad it pleases you, mighty one.’
‘What do you seek of me? Wisdom or wrath; concealment or craft?’
In front of Nai the deep blue evening sky shimmered, folded back on itself and tore to reveal a slender-limbed figure draped in black cloth. The cloth hung down over its body in long strips a hand-span wide, each weighted at the bottom by a writhing iron charm. The daemon itself had parchment-pale skin and thin eyes that glowed red as they moved between Nai and Amber. Despite its long hooked claws and a pair of massive fangs, its speech was refined, its gestures neat and elegant.
‘You have found a protector, at least? But no, it does not reach for its swords – it cannot be much of a guard dog.’
‘More of a commodity,’ Nai said with a smile and a twitch of the finger that caused the scabbed rune on Amber’s cheek to glow briefly. The big soldier flinched and looked away. He knew the fate Nai had in mind for him, but he believed Nai when he said the rune’s spell would make doing anything about it a dangerous prospect.
‘I beg for assistance, some creature of yours to scout the way for me and provide a safe path towards Narkang.’
‘You seek Narkang, or its king?’
‘Its king – why – is he dead? I raised shades both within the Herald’s Hall and on Ghain itself, and no word of King Emin was mentioned there.’
‘Perhaps he lives, perhaps he has fallen.’ The daemon edged closer, as though wary of being overheard. ‘The borders are weakened between this and the other lands and many of my kind can cross freely. King Emin chooses dangerous company.’
‘“Cross freely”? The Gods weakened themselves that much?’
Dedessen hissed like a snake, but Nai knew the threatening sound was more an expression of pleasure than anything else.
‘They have broken their errant Chosen, but so high, so high the price. Now they reach into the mind of every mortal, every immortal, and tear out what they cannot stand, then retire across the seas. Now has come another Age of Darkness, now daemons hunt freely, and some they hunt with a rage never before seen.’
‘Do any hunt here?’
‘Certainly,’ the daemon said as it gestured to the east, ‘they gather even now. Byora has cast out the Gods from their hearts. There is space only for fear there now, and my kind will be drawn to feed.’
‘But not you.’ It wasn’t a question; not all daemons were the same and those bloodthirsty monsters descending upon Byora were of a lower breed. Age brought wisdom of a sort to daemons, a diminished hunger for violence and savagery when better sources of power were available
. Dedessen would be naturally wary of Byora, given recent events there. The Devil’s Stairs – direct paths between the Land and Ghenna – made it an enticing hunting ground, but either Stair’s creation suggested great power was present there, and Dedessen lacked the strength of a daemon-prince.
‘The entire Land is a hunting ground now. I will eat the dead souls of man and daemon alike once the slaughter is done, but I do not go to war on mortals – there will be plenty enough eager for that.’
‘And King Emin is their first target?’
The hissing came again, but this time Dedessen flexed and clenched its clawed hands too.
Pleasure and anger together, or have I misread it all these years? Nai wondered.
‘The princes of Jaishen cry for vengeance, this much I hear in Coroshen. Some great offence was done and only blood will quench the flames of their wrath.’
‘Should I not seek him out then? I would not offend any prince of Ghenna.’
‘Now is a time for feeding and growing strong on the blood of others. Those who seek vengeance will overlook new rivals and become prey themselves. Go to King Emin and earn your coin for this one’s soul – but once you have your reward, you must sacrifice a child to me in return.’
Nai bowed again. ‘As you command.’
The daemon approached the circle Nai had drawn and reached into it, digging its long fingers into the dirt while a haze of bloody light reflected off the scattered white bones. Nai sensed magic fill the air and run down into the ground, but the daemon’s workings were a language separate from the spells Nai understood.
Dedessen withdrew its hand and stepped back as the earth wriggled and heaved. ‘Your guide.’
Nai watched in fascination as a small shape pushed its way to the surface, claws tearing away at the earth until it had cut itself free like a corpse rising from the dead. It was small with a squat, furred body and leathery wings furled tight to its body. The creature turned its eyeless, whiskered snout up towards Nai and he realised it had once been a mole, now twisted by the daemon’s magic to suit his purpose.