The Boy Who Wept Blood

by Den Patrick

  The Orfano sneered as if he’d just been slapped, locking his eyes on the dark place within the cowl.

  ‘I have no birthday, as you well know.’

  ‘My apologies.’ The Domo inclined his head, a faint smile appearing on his parchment-like lips. ‘Your foundling day is what I meant.’

  ‘Hardly a cause for celebration,’ said Dino, folding his arms.

  ‘Another year older, another year of wisdom accrued, another year survived,’ droned the Domo. ‘There is much to celebrate.’

  ‘Celebrating my foundling day feels obscene. Should I throw a party to acknowledge my missing parents each year?’

  ‘Being an Orfano is hard, I grant you. I too know the pain you speak of. It is why I have sought you out with this small token.’

  The Domo took a step forward and extended his arm, fingers uncurling around a heart of amber the match of the one that topped his staff. Dino’s reluctance was all too tangible, from the scuffing of his boots as he stepped forward to the hesitation as he plucked the prize from the Domo’s palm. Dark beads glittered in the amber. Not beads.

  ‘There are ants in here,’ he said reverently, the amber held in the steeple of his fingers.

  ‘I have always admired ants,’ said the Domo. ‘So industrious. Rarely giving a thought for themselves, only working toward serving their nest. Able to shoulder the heaviest burdens.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like much of life,’ complained Dino. ‘It sounds like slavery.’

  The Domo closed his hand into a fist and withdrew it, thin lips curling with distaste.

  ‘How is one so young so dedicated to the path of selfishness?’

  ‘The only path I’m on is one of survival.’

  ‘Ah, you speak of the duke.’

  The Domo and Orfano were joined in silence as they regarded the flowers.

  ‘Is it true he was assassinated?’ said Dino, unable to drag his eyes away from the wilting blooms.

  ‘Demesne does not harbour assassins.’ The Domo tightened his grip on his staff.

  ‘Anyone could have slipped away from the party. It would have taken only minutes to trail the duke to the top of the stairs.’

  ‘You speak as if you have experience of such things,’ grated the Domo, taking a step closer. ‘Perhaps the perpetrator stands before me?’

  Dino, newly twelve, shrank.

  ‘I’m no assassin. I’ll not kill anyone unless they meet me with steel in their hands.’

  ‘Good. We need more like you, Master Dino. Young, opinionated, with strong values.’

  Dino couldn’t decide if he was being mocked or not. There was an ambiguous quality to the droning chords of the Domo’s voice that concealed as much as it imparted.

  ‘Need me for what, exactly?’

  ‘Perhaps you should find a staff. You could mount it with the amber I have just given you, make a staff the twin of my own.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ asked Dino, dreading the answer to the question even as he was compelled to ask it.

  ‘Ageless as I am, I will not exist for ever. I am ever watchful for someone to continue the great tradition I have been sworn to.’

  ‘You should ask Lucien. He’s older than I am.’ It wasn’t the most subtle of evasions, but Dino had not expected to be ambushed so thoroughly.

  ‘Lucien’s destiny follows another path; yours appears infinitely more—’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to serve a king I’ve never met.’

  The Domo shifted his weight, the interruption a rankle.

  ‘He might be a figment for all we know.’ This bald declaration brought forth more of the Domo’s hateful laughter.

  ‘The king is quite real, I assure you. Perhaps you’ll see him one day.’

  ‘But only if I become your apprentice?’

  The Domo nodded, the great dome of his head moving slowly beneath the dusty cowl, his eyes remaining unseen as ever.

  ‘I’ll think on it,’ replied Dino, recalling the times he’d seen Duchess Prospero playing for time, dismissive and petulant.

  ‘Do not think on it too long.’ The Domo stooped, pushing the blunt wedge of his face toward Dino’s own until the Orfano feared he might be consumed beneath the hood. ‘It is not an offer I make lightly, or often.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Anea?’ whispered Dino.

  ‘Women have no place in the ruling of Demesne.’

  ‘But hives are ruled by queens.’

  The Domo straightened. ‘I have changed my mind. I have no need of an apprentice after all.’

  Darkness swallowed the Domo as he withdrew, staff beating out the tempo of his stride like the seconds of an ancient clock. Dino listened to the sound recede. Only when it was beyond the limit of his hearing did he let himself breathe.

  56

  Bloodline

  – 30 Agosto 325

  ‘Dino, please, get me away from here.’ Stephania’s hand clutched at his with painful intensity. ‘It can’t be him. It can’t be,’ she repeated. Achilles hissed.

  Bodies from the grey wall of limbs began to peel off, becoming distinct, separate creatures. They ran the gamut of deformity: atrophied limbs, empty eye sockets, mouth parts no more than withered mandibles; swollen and corpulent, emaciated and sinewy. These were the unwanted children of the king’s designs, the failures of experiments that had brought blight not fruition. Dino wondered how many were down here. He couldn’t possibly fight them all, broken as they were.

  ‘Lucien was supposed to rule.’ Erebus’ voice was deep and penetrating, resonating around the chamber. ‘Golia was a monster we used to frighten the people into obedience, a blunt instrument; Lucien was the intelligent one, but Anea put her filthy ideas of a republic into him. Anea and that whore chambermaid.’

  More bodies were shed from the wall of undulating flesh. Wretches in various stages of pregnancy were disgorged, waddling forward, ripe to deliver yet more twisted progeny into the world. Stephania stared at them appalled.

  ‘None of us wanted to serve the king,’ moaned Erebus, his voice a maudlin dirge. ‘How we hated him, how we feared him, how we longed for a new way of life.’

  Dino turned. The lanterns behind them were being extinguished one by one; soon the only source of light would be the lantern Stephania clutched. Her breathing was ragged and quick by his ear.

  ‘Your father’s sword,’ said Dino, ‘I think you’re going to need it.’

  Stephania switched the lantern to her left hand and drew, the tip of her blade hovering above the surface of the rank water.

  ‘How sharp is that thing?’ grunted Dino.

  ‘More than your wits, less than my sarcasm.’

  ‘Good to know,’ replied the Orfano.

  ‘Hundreds of years he reigned,’ complained Erebus; ‘decades I served, catering to his insane schemes, providing for his obsessions.’

  Stephania pressed herself back to back with Dino, prompting another hiss from Achilles. She turned her head as the reptile abandoned Dino’s shoulder for her own.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ she whispered.

  ‘Seems like he’s laying odds on which one of us will get out of here alive,’ replied Dino.

  ‘How do we get out of here?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe we can persuade him to tell us?’

  ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘I can’t fight all of them.’

  Stephania stiffened, the lantern she held remaining steady, a reprieve from the darkness of the oubliette. ‘We are not going to die down here, Dino.’

  He wished he could murmur an assurance, but the chances of escape had dwindled with the light. Bodies loomed at the edge of the lantern’s nimbus, daring themselves to press in further. Blind eyes and twisted limbs sought them out but remained unwilling to risk injury. Dino and Stephania held out their swords, promising death to any venturing too close.

  ‘Let us go. There’s nothing to be gained by keeping us here. You’ve taken Demesne.’ Dino hated every word as he said it,
hated having to bargain, to beg.

  ‘Let you go?’ Erebus wheezed and rattled, clearly amused. ‘But you’re so valuable, Dino. Your bloodline could provide the most interesting results. Come, my boy. Join me.’

  ‘I’m not your boy, and I’m not your fucking experiment. There’ll be no bloodline.’

  ‘Pity. You and your Prospero bitch could sit on the throne and manage the people – with my guidance, of course.’

  ‘Call her that again and I’ll cut your throat.’ Dino meant it, anger hot in his veins. The grotesques had become still. Silence descended about them. Dino peered into the darkness for some way that might lead them out of this Stygian place. There was none.

  ‘Golia failed me, unable to play his part.’

  ‘Do you ever stop whining?’ shouted Stephania.

  Erebus ignored her. ‘Lucien failed me, unwilling to rule.’

  ‘Lucien never failed.’ Dino surprised himself with the passion of his rebuttal. ‘He’s the best of us.’

  ‘And where is your brightest and best now?’ Erebus stretched the words, twisting them with his scorn. ‘Not here beside you. He fails you with his cowardice.’

  Dino regarded Erebus, his grey eyes glittering with hate. Here was the architect of so much suffering, just an arm’s reach away. All the deaths of the last few months could be traced to his design, including Massimo’s.

  ‘And now you have failed me, Dino. Failure and disappointment, is this all you bring to my court?’

  The Orfano pulled Duke Fontein’s stiletto from Stephania’s belt. ‘I’m sure I’ve got something you can have,’ he said, dropping to a squat then launching himself up.

  Dino angled his sword around behind Erebus’ helm, anchoring him in place; his legs scissored around the monster’s torso, clinging on fiercely. His left hand jabbed at the join between armoured chest and human head. A sick tremor passed through Erebus as the stiletto sank into his neck. Insect legs trembled, and Orfano and aberration collapsed into the fetid water. Stephania leaped clear of the tangle, barely keeping the lantern above the surface of the water. A lone creature staggered toward her, only to collapse as she ran it through the chest.

  ‘Get away from me,’ she gasped.

  The grotesques shambled back, confused and awed by the fall of Erebus. Dino struggled to escape from beneath the writhing mass as Erebus’ legs thrashed in the muck, throwing up water and the sediment of centuries of misery. The water was up around Dino’s neck, one of his legs remaining trapped beneath the bulk of the unholy creation. Erebus dipped his head forward, the blades of the helmet descending. Dino jerked back and to one side to avoid a slashed throat, the water up to the corners of his eyes, lapping over his mouth. The Orfano turned, looking in vain for Stephania, trying to find the source of the light, desperate to see she was not being consumed by the horde, swallowed alive as Duchess Fontein had been.

  Erebus coughed and flailed, lurching up. The light swung around the chamber at lunatic angles as Dino pushed himself to his feet. It was then he realised why Erebus had risen so quickly, abandoning his chance to drown the Orfano.

  Stephania had mounted the back of the monstrosity; riding it like a wild horse. With no reins, she grasped the stiletto embedded in the aberration’s neck. She pressed it deeper, thrust harder, the wound weeping pale fluid turning blue. She clung on, her other hand still fastened to the lantern. Achilles remained clamped to her shoulder, onyx eyes squinting in the melee, tail wrapped about Stephania. It was then Dino saw it. Erebus had positioned himself under a hole in the ceiling, making himself a living door to the underworld of the oubliette.

  ‘Stephania! Above you! Jump.’

  She looked up, nearly losing her precarious position on the lurching six-legged horror. Grotesques closed in on every side. Dino lashed out in a wide sweep that split the face of two attackers and buried the blade in the chest of another. There were hisses and wails, the stink of excrement as a shock wave of pain rippled through the disfigured. Another lurched forward, only to be greeted by the sharp tines of Dino’s forearm sinking into the pallid muscles of its chest. It fell back, clutching half a dozen poisoned wounds.

  ‘Stephania. Jump!’

  She stared back stricken with indecision.

  Dino took his blade in both hands and removed the head from an attacker bearing a rusted blade. Its skull splashed into the water and bobbed, looking back with a single baleful eye. Others squabbled in the muck for the blade.

  ‘Go. Now!’

  She jumped, throwing the lantern through the hole before her, abandoning her perch on the back of the monster. She caught the lip of the hole, long seconds slipping away as she hauled herself higher. Achilles leaped from his perch and scurried away. Her shoulders pushed through, then her hips. The riding boots scrabbled for purchase and then she was gone. Dino checked himself, staring down those who looked ready to attack. Erebus was spent and wheezing, the hilt of the stiletto protruding from his neck.

  ‘Not good enough,’ grated Dino, wishing the thrust had found the jugular. Erebus lurched to his insect feet and lumbered away into the darkness, the grotesques closing up behind him. Dino lunged forward in pursuit but was shoved back by a wall of limbs. A tawny crescent of light flickered from the hole above, but of Stephania there was no sign. Dino roared in fury, resigned to death, frustrated he wouldn’t destroy the source of Demesne’s corruption.

  The grotesques withdrew, dragging the whimpering wounded in their wake. Dino stood with an eye on the pale yellow light above, waiting for salvation from above, knowing they’d be hunted down by the Myrmidons on the surface. He clutched his sword, arm aching, waiting for more danger to emerge from the twilight. His breathing became calm, the waters stilled and silence crept closer. Dino called out to Stephania, eyes fixed on the hole in the ceiling and the faint smudge of light that lingered there. No reply, no response. Perhaps she had fallen and knocked herself unconscious? Were there Myrmidons up there?

  How long he waited he couldn’t say, time meaningless in the oubliette. Relief infused him like sunshine when the light finally came. Somehow she’d circled around and was approaching from the direction of the well chamber. The lantern light bobbed closer, bringing with it a glint of steel.

  ‘Stephania? I hope you’ve looked after Achilles.’

  The bearer of the lantern remained silent.

  57

  In Chains

  – 30 Agosto 325

  Stephania!’ He smiled. ‘Seems like you’re quite a bodyguard. That’s twice in one day you’ve saved me.’

  Still no reply.

  ‘Stephania, can you remember the way back?’

  The first glimmer of doubt, of curiosity, of anxiety.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  The lantern came closer, shedding light over the figure who carried it. Dino felt a twinge from the dagger cut in his side. It was not Stephania but Marchetti who approached, stripped to the waist, face concealed behind his veil. Dino suspected he knew why, and why the assassin never spoke. One hand brought light, the other death; Marchetti had clung to his sword as keenly as Dino had to his. In this at least they were alike. Dino suspected the Myrmidon had followed the sounds of violence.

  At least Stephania had escaped. He hoped.

  The Domina’s assassin hung the lantern from a rusted bracket by the archway, drew in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Dino pushed aside the pain of his wound, trying to draw on the anger he felt for Anea, finding only the enervation of betrayal.

  Marchetti approached, circling, assessing, blade held out low, eyes keen. Dino shrugged off caution and opened with a flurry of thrusts and slashes, hampered only by the water, which dragged at his feet and legs. Marchetti turned the strikes aside, ducking beneath the last of them, turning the motion into a deadly riposte. Dino threw himself beyond the range of the blade lest his throat be opened and fell back beneath the water, struggling to regain his feet. Marchetti waited. Clearly he possessed some modicum of honour.

  ‘Pity you
didn’t extend Fiorenza the same courtesy.’

  Thoughts of the slain maid quickened Dino’s blood. He unleashed another series of attacks, feinted and mashed a fist into the veil, eliciting a grunt of pain. The Myrmidon responded by driving the pommel of his sword into Dino’s wound. The Orfano staggered, sickened by the pain. Now it fell to him to parry, Marchetti like a autumn gale, his advance irresistible. The Myrmidon’s sword whipped about like silver leaves, every motion a blur that promised oblivion. Swords tolled like bells, rang like anvils. Dino imagined he could hear the rattling of chains, as if the damned themselves were close at hand, desperate to be free.

  Something under the surface of the water troubled Dino’s foot, causing him to pause and shift his weight. The distraction was enough for Marchetti. The Myrmidon’s blade swung upright, clutched in both hands. Dino stared, waiting for the strike that would cleave him to his breastbone. He raised his sword arm, knowing it was too late.

  Achilles slammed into Marchetti’s veiled face, the drake’s claws clamping each side of his head, tail constricting the neck of the Myrmidon. Marchetti stumbled back, off balance, dropping his sword, which sank beneath the rank tide.

  ‘Dino, quickly!’ Stephania’s face looked down from the hole above. A length of heavy chain fell from the gap in the ceiling. The metal links, each as thick as his wrist, splashed into the water.

  Marchetti gave a stifled grunt and clawed the reptile from his face, opening bloody gouges at the corners of his eyes. Dino stooped to rescue his pet, then landed a kick on the Myrmidon’s hip, sending him sprawling back into the water.

  ‘Dino, quickly. I think Myrmidons are coming.’

  The Orfano sheathed his sword and started climbing the the heavy chain – not easy with boots full of water, even more difficult with a bedraggled cataphract drake clinging to one shoulder. His wound slowed him, the pain in his side agonising. Marchetti bobbed to the surface and lurched upright, coughing and racking. He was unarmed. Dino knew he could finish him.

  ‘Dino!’ Stephania reached down with a hand. She was smiling with tears in her eyes, desperation and hope competing on her face.