by Luke Scull
Sudden concern for Cole stirred her into action and once more she tried to stand. Once more Derkin pushed her gently back down. ‘It’s safer down here,’ he said. ‘Besides, you need to rest.’
Sasha lowered her head back against the blanket, noticing as she did so that something was amiss. She reached up and, with growing horror, caressed her naked scalp. She felt the puckered flesh on the back of her head, realized with horror that it was a huge scar. ‘What’s happened to me? What did they do?’ she gasped.
Derkin shrugged helplessly. ‘All I know is that your skin was grey like a corpse. We thought for sure you were going to die.’
Another tremor shook the house, and a small black shadow raced across the dusty floor to leap up onto her stomach. Midnight, she realized.
Seeking some form of comfort, she reached out a hand to stroke the cat. As she touched the animal’s fur, sparks danced around her fingers and the cat shot away from her with a loud hiss, fur standing on end.
Sasha stared at her hand. Tiny arcs of lightning danced around her palm before disappearing. ‘What the hell just happened?’
Derkin’s mother tottered over, a mug cradled in her hands. ‘Here, dearie, drink this,’ she said. Sasha took the mug from the old woman, but seconds later the liquid within began to bubble and steam, spilling out over the cup and scalding her fingers.
‘Shit,’ she hissed, dropping the mug. It broke, spilling boiling tea everywhere. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Derkin’s mother, with a gummy smile. ‘You’re still weak, I expect.’
She didn’t feel weak. She felt... different. ‘Is Midnight all right?’ Sasha asked. Derkin was stroking the cat and whispering soothing words.
‘She’s fine. Just a bit shaken up,’ replied the hunchback. ‘Are you okay? Your eyes look strange. Different to how I remember them.’
The irony of the bug-eyed hunchback’s observation wasn’t lost on Sasha, but her eyes did indeed feel strange. They were gritty – as though there were stray eyelashes or dust stuck in them. She blinked a few times, trying to dislodge whatever it was. ‘I feel weird all over,’ she admitted. The hut shook again and she made a decision. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘They need me above.’
‘It’s not safe!’ Derkin protested.
Sasha remembered the sky lighting up when the Fade fleet had opened fire on the White Lady’s magical barrier. The fire storm had blotted out the sun. ‘Nowhere will be safe if the Fade make it inside the city,’ she replied. ‘Besides, Cole is up there somewhere. I have to find him.’ She rolled off the table, surprised at how strong she felt. ‘Could you guide me back up to the city?’
Derkin sighed helplessly, but a moment later he grabbed his coat and went to retrieve a massive cleaver hanging from a hook on the wall. As Sasha watched him, a revelation suddenly hit her.
The endless craving for her next hit – an ever-present need that had defined her life since her early teenage years – was gone.
*
Sasha emerged onto the streets of the City of Towers to behold a scene of utter carnage. The destruction the Fade cannons had already wrought was extensive. Where once stood gleaming towers spiralling up towards the sky, now only vast piles of rubble remained. Almost a third of the buildings immediately east of the docks had been levelled. The harbour itself was a graveyard of ships: Thelassa’s once-mighty fleet, the pride of the Trine, had been utterly annihilated. As Sasha watched, the greatest of the Fade ships – a truly monstrous vessel – lowered a bridge onto the docks. Human thralls of the Fade began to pour down the bridge and onto the streets of Thelassa, armed with all manner of weapons. A unit of Whitecloaks went to engage them and fierce fighting erupted.
The battling figures were too small to pick out details at this distance, but as Sasha strained to see, something strange happened. There was an odd whirring noise in her skull. To her utter shock, her view of the docks suddenly expanded. It was as though her eyes had detached themselves and somehow reappeared at the spot upon which she focused. She strained harder and her vision, eagle-like, was somehow able to pick out the individual beads of sweat on the terrified face of a Whitecloak as a thrall tossed a firebomb at him.
Blinding light exploded. Sasha blinked tears from her eyes as her vision returned to normal. Bodies littered the street where the firebomb had detonated. She reached up and felt her eyes, poking at them in an effort to understand what Fergus had done, but no amount of probing revealed anything unusual.
What am I? she wondered, hurrying down a side street towards the palace, hoping to catch sight of Cole. I’m bloody ugly, she thought wryly, catching a glimpse of her reflection in a fountain. Hairless, grey-skinned, scarred. I looked like a gods-damned monster.
There was movement to her right and a trio of Unborn glided past, moving in the direction of the harbour.
The Tower of Stars loomed just to her left, the tallest building in Thelassa and most probably in the Trine. It was beyond the range of the Fade cannons, and she quickly realized that if anywhere would provide the perfect vantage point to seek out Cole, it was the soaring building upon which they had spent the best part of a week imprisoned.
She tried the door and found it unlocked. The interior of the tower was almost black and the steps seemed to go on forever, stair after stair punishing her legs until she began to fear she would never make it to the top.
Finally she reached the iron grate that opened to the roof. She braced herself and pushed, straining every muscle until the grate began to shift. Somehow she opened it far enough to squeeze through and climbed out, dashing across to the west-facing side of the tower and shielding her eyes against the dying sun.
She concentrated, willing her vision to enlarge her panoramic view of the harbour, just as it had earlier. Once again she heard, or perhaps felt, a whirring behind her eyeballs. Suddenly she was right there among a group of Whitecloaks as they fought desperately against a large group of Fade thralls. The triumvirate of Unborn who had passed Sasha earlier joined the fray, tearing off limbs and snapping necks, massacring the thralls just as Brodar Kayne and Jerek the Wolf had cut through Dorminia’s defenders during the brief siege of the Grey City back in the summer.
One of the Unborn jerked and stared down at the hole that had just appeared in her chest. A moment later a Fade strode into Sasha’s view, a smoking hand-cannon raised before him. It was the first time she had seen an Ancient up close and she gasped. The creature was exceptionally tall and graceful. It was armoured in some kind of silvery material that flowed like cloth. With his free hand, the Fade drew a sword that looked to be made of crystal and turned his obsidian eyes on the three handmaidens. The Unborn pounced at the newcomer but the Ancient moved with astonishing speed, cutting one in half with a single swing of his sword and shooting the other in the face in an explosion of black gore. The third handmaiden managed to pull him to the ground, reaching for his angular face, trying to snap his neck. A second later her head fell apart and another Fade entered Sasha’s view. This one was even taller than his kinsman and wore a cloak of dark blue.
It seemed absurd but this Fade seemed familiar, somehow. Sasha scanned the harbour, realizing with growing concern that if one single Fade could face off against three of the Unborn – creatures that months ago had terrified her with their inhuman speed and strength – there was little hope for Thelassa.
The mechanical sound whirred in her skull and her newly enhanced vision settled on another group of Whitecloaks as they closed on yet more thralls pouring from the colossal flagship docked at the harbour. There was something strange about these Whitecloaks: they walked with a shambling, uneven gait. Closer inspection revealed that they carried terrible wounds on their bodies. Wounds that would surely have killed a living man.
They’re dead! Sasha remembered the rotting corpse on the roof nearby; the body Cole had somehow raised during his confrontation with the Unborn. Horrible understanding dawned. He brought the dead Whitecloaks back. He’s sending t
hem against the Fade and their thralls. Cole is somewhere close.
She scanned the docks again until she saw something that made heart leap in her chest. A dead Fade sprawled on the ground, a half-dozen thralls scattered around him. Each of the corpses bore stab wounds or deep slashes on their bodies.
Locked together in deadly combat at the centre of the pile of corpses was a man wreathed in deep shadows and a blue-cloaked female Ancient with eyes like portals into another world.
They moved even faster than Sasha’s altered eyes could follow, ruby-studded dagger and crystal longsword thrusting, stabbing, parrying. She recognized Magebane and knew the figure at the centre of the bleeding darkness must be Cole – but her friend looked more demon than man, his face twisted with hatred, mouth locked in a snarl. The Fade whom he fought against wore an expression of intense concentration. Cole moved faster than Sasha had ever seen a man move, but still he could not breach her defences.
She turned and fled the tower, taking the steps several at a time, almost tripping and breaking her neck at least twice. She didn’t know what use she could possibly be against an immortal swordswoman of inhuman skill – but she had to try, had to do something to help save her friend who had risked himself for her countless times.
She left the tower behind her and dashed through streets that were deserted save for the occasional Whitecloak or thrall bleeding out on the marble paving. Although the artillery had wreaked havoc, the fighting itself hadn’t spread much beyond the harbour. As she twisted through an alley near to the inn where she and Ambryl had stayed when they first arrived in Thelassa, Sasha noticed something in the skies above. Illuminated by the rising moon were two figures: a man and a woman, the former wreathed in black flame, the latter in silver fire.
The White Lady and Thanates. Unlikely though it seemed, the Magelord of Thelassa and the former wizard-king of Dalashra flew arm in arm... and they were heading for the docks.
Sasha emerged from the alley just as the first streams of black fire roared down from high above. The fire enveloped a score of thralls, melting their flesh away, leaving their blackened skeletons to dance a macabre jig before they collapsed into the smouldering pit that had been blasted in the marble streets.
A Fade soldier took aim at Thanates with her hand-cannon. Tiny metal projectiles zinged through the air, too fast to follow. In response the blind wizard soared even higher, ascending until he was a tiny speck in the clouds above, beyond the range of the weapon. More black fire streamed down, striking the Ancient, who tossed aside the hand-cannon that now glowed red-hot in her hands. A beam of silver fire joined the black and the White Lady appeared in the skies above like an avenging angel. The Fade’s ivory flesh began to slough away under the double bombardment. She screamed, a sound that cut through the din of clashing steel and cannon fire and brought a momentary pause in the fighting nearby. Heads turned to see the source of the terrible sound.
Even though she knew it to be the death cry of an enemy, Sasha felt despair wash over her.
There was a pregnant pause and then a ray of blinding light lanced from the great Fade warship, piercing the heavens just where the White Lady and Thanates were readying another assault. The wizard-king of Dalashra suddenly plummeted from the sky, black coat flapping around him. Sasha watched him fall until movement nearby tore her attention back to the street.
A Fade was heading straight towards her.
It was the blue-cloaked Ancient she had espied from the Tower of Stars earlier. She barely had time to register the hand-cannon raised in his slender hand and hear the bang as it fired. Then she was on the ground, a terrible burning pain in her shoulder, warm blood running down her arm.
She managed to roll onto her back as the immortal strode over, his crystal longsword raised to finish her off. There was no sign of Cole. He couldn’t save her now anyway. Perhaps he was already dead.
The Fade loomed over her, his implacable obsidian eyes narrowing. For some reason he hesitated.
‘Adjudicator Isaac,’ said an approaching voice. Sasha tried to raise her head but lacked the strength to do anything except twitch pathetically. ‘The general has ordered an immediate withdrawal. Finish this one off and let us go.’
‘I know this human,’ said the one called Isaac. ‘I am hesitant to end her existence in this manner.’
Isaac, Sasha thought dreamily, consciousness beginning to slip away. I once knew an Isaac.
‘With all due respect, Adjudicator, the general would not countenance you sparing her life. I shall end her if performing this task troubles you?’
There was a moment of silence and then, ‘On the contrary, Saverian will wish to question her first. Somehow this girl carries our augmentations within her.’
‘As you say, Adjudicator. We will take her back to Dorminia.’
She felt herself being lifted off the ground. Then nothing.
*
‘Sasha.’
Her eyes fluttered open.
‘That is your name. Sasha. We had some adventures together, as I recall.’
The face of a Fade stared down at her. She became aware that she was strapped to a chair and fear seized her – fear that turned into pant-pissing terror when another of the immortals marched into view.
This white-haired Fade was unbelievably tall and wore a cloak of deepest black. His angular face was the harshest Sasha had ever seen, and his ancient gaze was that of a god, or something akin to a god. He stared at Sasha as if she were an insect.
‘I do not know why you remember the names of these humans,’ he said, in a voice like liquid iron. ‘They are transient creatures, no more consequential than the rain.’ He turned and walked away.
Sasha looked around, trying to get her bearings. She was in a circular room surrounded by glass. The grey granite buildings hunched together on the streets far, far below could only belong to Dorminia’s Noble Quarter. In the distance she could make out the harbour. The mighty Fade fleet was arranged in a perfect formation, indicating that a significant amount of time had passed since the battle at Thelassa’s docks.
‘You are on the highest level of the Obelisk,’ said the first Fade. He still seemed oddly familiar to her. What was it he had said?
We had some adventures together, as I recall.
‘Isaac!’ she exclaimed. ‘You were the Halfmage’s manservant.’
The blue-cloaked Fade almost seemed to smile. ‘I’m surprised you remember me. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as I travelled with you, the better to keep my true nature hidden. I fear I almost blew my cover once or twice. Empathetic projection can only achieve so much.’
The ivory-skinned Ancient placed a slender hand on her shoulder. Sasha suddenly remembered that she had been hit by the Fade’s hand-cannon near Thelassa’s docks. The wound surely ought to have killed her, yet there was no sign of any damage save for a bloody tear in her jacket. ‘You were lucky I saw you first,’ Isaac continued. ‘My sister always was the better shot.’
‘You should have killed her, brother,’ said a female Fade behind Isaac, a scowl on her alien features. Like her sibling, she wore a blue cloak. Something about that detail triggered a memory. Sasha remembered Cole, veiled in shadow, locked in mortal combat. If this formidable Fade was standing here, that meant...
‘Cole,’ she whispered. ‘You killed him.’
‘The god-touched? He escaped, more’s the pity. Your kind are a poison that must be cleansed at every opportunity. My brother is too merciful.’
‘Do not let your anger cloud your judgement, Melissan,’ replied Isaac. His voice hardened a little. ‘I was being methodical, not merciful. This human carries various pieces of the surviving wonders from the Time Before within her. Somehow she is utilizing augmentation implants.’ Isaac turned to the formidable white-haired Fade. He had his back to them and was staring at something in the middle of the room. ‘General Saverian. By your leave, sir, I would like to question her.’
‘Be quick, Adjudicator,’ said Saveria
n, without turning. ‘Greater concerns demand my attention. The rift beneath the Demonfire Hills will shortly open. The energy unleashed by the Breaker of Worlds expedited the convergence.’
Isaac placed a finger with one too many joints against Sasha’s chin and tilted her head gently back. ‘Where did you receive eye augmentation?’ he asked.
‘Augmentation?’ Sasha echoed. ‘You mean like Salazar’s Augmentors?’
Isaac shook his head. ‘What you carry within you is not magical in nature. Our ancestors used it to grant themselves abilities that superseded their physical limitations during the Time Before. Someone inserted it into your retinas. You also appear to have other implants, but these cannot be ascertained. Not unless...’
‘Unless what?’ Sasha demanded, her blood turning cold.
‘Unless we open your skull,’ Isaac’s sister, Melissan, snapped. ‘Answer his question.’
‘It was Fergus,’ Sasha babbled. ‘He ambushed me in the ruins and put me to sleep using some kind of poison. I awoke in a room with a glowing tube on the ceiling. He cut me here.’ She pointed a trembling finger at the back of her skull.
‘She refers to New Malaga,’ said Melissan. ‘I thought you said there was nothing of value within the ruins of our former city, brother.’
‘I could not cover every inch of every building. The ruins are vast and riddled with secret rooms that no longer show on our records. I will send word to Prince Obrahim, informing him that sensitive material yet remains in the ruins. We can conduct a thorough inventory once they have been reclaimed.’
‘General Saverian,’ interrupted a Fade on the opposite side of the room. ‘There is a... disturbance near the Demonfire Hills.’
‘The rift?’ grated Saverian. He moved away from whatever he had been staring at in the centre of the room, and for the first time Sasha glimpsed the platform there. Her breath caught in her throat. Above the platform, replicated in perfect detail, were miniature depictions of several locations in and around Dorminia. The images were translucent and insubstantial but were otherwise utterly lifelike in every detail.