The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

  Keir frowned. ‘You think so? Then how could she get inside my head at all?’

  ‘She said you were using standard, Holdings vision powers, which she’ll be a master of, no doubt. My guess is, that if you don’t use them, she won’t be able to see you.’

  ‘But I’ll have to use them; I’ll need to see what’s going on.’

  The sergeant shrugged.

  ‘Short bursts,’ said Keir. ‘I’ll have to chance it.’

  ‘Let me know whenever you do,’ she said, ‘so I can get out of the way.’

  He smirked. ‘I’ll wait until you’re standing right in front of me.’

  ‘Then you might have the pleasure of seeing my brains run out of my nose.’

  ‘Shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘Agatha’s powers might not work on you for another reason,’ she said. ‘Thorn’s already turned your brains to mush.’

  ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I could read your mind at any time, and find out your innermost thoughts and desires.’

  She snorted. ‘Like you haven’t done that already.’

  ‘I haven’t. I’ve never read you. Why would I?’

  ‘Not interesting enough for you, eh?’

  ‘I’m not like my big sister; I don’t read everyone I come across. Karalyn does it as a reflex, she can’t help herself. As least, that’s what she used to be like. I haven’t seen her for ages.’

  ‘And she’s the reason you can’t read Thorn or Belinda?’

  ‘Yeah. Cow. I sometimes wonder what I’d have been like, if she hadn’t scoured my mind as a baby. My childhood was… rough.’

  ‘You poor little aristocrat.’

  A streak of anger passed through Keir, but he said nothing. How could the sergeant understand what it had been like? Although he suppressed them, Keir retained faint memories of being much younger; a blur of rage and violence; biting and kicking; screaming because he couldn’t speak. Kelsey had often reminded him that she had said her first words before him, despite being one-and-a-half years his junior. She had looked out for him, even though he had been selfish and cruel towards her.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the sergeant.

  ‘It’s alright.’

  ‘I was trying to raise your spirits,’ she said, ‘and I brought you down instead.’

  ‘You weren’t to know how fucked up my family is,’ he said, glancing out of the window. ‘We’re here.’

  The carriage came to a halt, and the side door was opened. Keir jumped down to the cobbles of a narrow street, the sergeant landing beside him. The driver pulled on the reins, and the carriage took off again, heading back to the Old Town. Keir looked around. They were in the eastern quarter of the Outer City, in an area protected by lines of Ravi-built defensive walls that crossed the streets and led into dead-ends. One of the wooden viewing platforms had been constructed close by.

  ‘Let’s take a look,’ said Keir, striding towards the ladder fixed to the base of the high platform. The sergeant followed, leaving their escort of a dozen marines to move into position. Keir pulled himself up the ladders, the wind increasing the higher he got. He came out onto the platform at the top, and leaned against the railing, gazing south.

  The sergeant nudged him and passed over a lit cigarette.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking a draw.

  ‘There they are, then,’ said the sergeant.

  ‘There they are.’

  Ahead of them in the distance, beyond the line marking the defensive walls of the Outer City, a massive force was approaching, filling the bottom of the valley from one side to the other, and going on forever, its rear lost in the morning haze.

  ‘So that’s what a quarter of a million soldiers looks like,’ said the sergeant. ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘They’re within my range,’ said Keir. ‘Get the kindling ready.’

  ‘Are you sure? I though the plan was to entice them in? If you use up your energy now, you’ll have nothing left for when they get here.’

  Keir gripped the railing, a feeling of helplessness surging through him; close to despair. The sergeant was right; even though he could strike them from that distance, there would be a cost. He needed to weigh up when best to use his powers.

  ‘Fine,’ he muttered.

  The sergeant smiled, and turned back to face the south, gazing at the huge cloud of dust cast up by the approaching army. Smaller clouds were visible up the flanks of the valley, reaching to the hilltops that overlooked the town of Rainsby. Due to the lack of soldiers, Keir and Thorn had withdrawn the garrisons from the towers that protected the city from the heights.

  ‘They’re setting up their artillery,’ said the sergeant. ‘They’ll be able to hit the Outer City from there.’

  ‘As long as they can’t reach the harbour it doesn’t matter. And if they start some fires, then that helps me too.’

  ‘Even if Rainsby burns?’

  He glanced at the sergeant. ‘If we can’t win here today, then we’ll leave them nothing but ashes.’

  The sergeant nodded, her eyes dark.

  Keir switched his glance over to the west, and caught a glimpse of the high walls protecting the cavalry grounds, and dividing it from the ruined suburbs of the Outer City. Somewhere there, he thought, Thorn was waiting, like him, for the attack to begin. He longed to use his vision to look upon her, but resisted.

  He heard a noise from the sergeant and turned.

  ‘You brought food?’ he said, watching her open a bag.

  ‘Of course I did. We could be up here for hours.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose you want some?’

  ‘Depends; what have you got?’

  A sound whistled through the air, then the ground trembled as a massive boulder smashed into a half-ruined tenement a few yards to the right of the platform. The wooden structure swayed, and Keir and the sergeant were knocked off their feet as the tenement next to them crumbled in a loud groaning of stone. Fragments of debris ricocheted off the platform as Keir staggered to his feet, a hand on the railing.

  ‘That was aimed at us,’ he muttered, his eyes scanning the hilltop where a battery of catapults had been arrayed. There was a whoosh, and something blurred before his eyes. The wooden planks beneath his feet fell away as a boulder crashed into the base of the platform, splitting the upright beams that supported the slender structure. The top half of the platform plummeted to the ground, and Keir was thrown from it by the force of the collapse. He spun through the air, seemed to hover for a moment, then struck the cobbles; skidding across them until stopped by a low wall.

  He tried to raise his head, then his eyes closed.

  Keir awoke to pain and the smell of smoke and blood. His entire left side felt broken and twisted, and he couldn’t feel his legs. He opened one eye, the other too swollen. He was lying in an alleyway, with wounded marines on either side.

  ‘Don’t try to move, sir,’ said a voice, ‘the hedgewitch is on her way.’

  Thorn? He tried to get up, his arm pushing uselessly against the sticky cobbles, but the pain stopped him and he slipped back down, his sight blurry and swirling. It was still daytime, but the walls of the alley were glowing in the reflected light of fires.

  ‘Demi?’ he groaned.

  ‘The sergeant’s dead, sir.’

  Keir choked and sobbed, and his body convulsed. He felt a hand reach out and hold his shoulder down.

  ‘Sir,’ cried the voice. ‘Stay awake, sir; stay awake.’

  Another hand touched his forehead, and a pulse of energy whipped through him.

  The pain ceased, and he felt his legs again. His left arm, which had been in ragged strips of hanging flesh, reformed whole, and both of his eyes opened.

  Gazing down at him was Acorn, sweat running down her face, and a crooked smile on her lips.

  ‘Feel better?’ she said.

  He rolled over and vomited a stream of blood onto the cobbles.

  Several marines crowded round them in the alley.

  ‘Is he alright?’ said one.


  ‘He’s fine,’ Acorn said, her eyes glancing down the row of injured soldiers, ‘but I gave him everything I had left. I’m sorry, I won’t be able to help the others.’

  Keir struggled into a sitting position, too weak to speak.

  ‘It’s alright, ma’am,’ said one of the marines. ‘We’ve seen what you’ve done for us, a hundred times over.’

  Acorn sat back against the alley wall next to Keir. She lit a cigarette and passed it to him.

  ‘We need to evacuate, sir,’ said a marine.

  ‘Where…’ he gasped. ‘Where are the Rahain?’

  ‘They’ve breached the walls of the Outer City, sir, and are moving through the ruins, street by street. They’ll be on our position in a few minutes. The gates to the Old Town are only two hundred yards ahead of us. We’ll cover your retreat to the harbour.’

  ‘Retreat?’ he said. He took a deep breath, his mind still dizzy. Acorn had healed his injuries, but he felt drained and used up, as if he were suffering from a colossal hangover. He glanced over at the hedgewitch; she looked exhausted.

  ‘Sir?’ said the marine, as the others watched; the glow of the fires getting brighter.

  ‘Escort Acorn to the harbour,’ he said, hauling himself to his feet, his eyes avoiding the line of wounded marines still lying in rows down the alleyway. He had heard what Acorn had said. All those marines were going to die because of him; because he was deemed more important; of more value. Tears sprang from his eyes and he lifted a hand to his face. The other marines stood in silence gazing at him as he wept.

  Keir wiped his face. ‘Did you hear me?’ he said to the marines. ‘Escort the hedgewitch to safety.’

  ‘And you, sir?’

  ‘I’m going to fight.’

  ‘There’s too many, sir. The Rahain are moving their entire army into the city.’

  ‘Do you know where Thorn is?’

  ‘No, sir, but she has her own guards protecting her, just as our job is to protect you. To do that, we must retreat to the Old Town at once.’

  Keir turned, and gazed up. Pillars of smoke were rising above the ruins of the Outer City, weaving their patterns against the blue sky. A great roar of noise was coming from the south; the sound of the Rahain advance. To the west, out of sight, lay the entrance to the cavalry grounds, where Thorn had based herself. Was she still there?

  ‘How long was I unconscious?’

  ‘About two hours, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘I need water, some cigarettes, and a sword.’

  The marines stared at him.

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ said the marine in charge, ‘but wherever you’re going, we’re coming too.’ He gestured to a couple of marines. ‘You two, take the hedgewitch to the harbour, and make sure she gets on a boat. The rest of you, get ready to move out; we’re covering the Stormwitch.’

  The marines checked their equipment and pulled on their helmets. Someone handed Keir a sword to replace the one he had lost when the platform had collapsed, and he drank from a canteen, using the water to wash the blood and tears from his face. Two marines lifted Acorn up by the shoulders.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Keir.

  She nodded. ‘Go find my sister.’

  He watched as the marines helped her away, stepping over the dying and wounded in the alleyway. He turned to the others. ‘Anyone got any keenweed?’

  A marine opened a pouch and gave him a weedstick, then lit another; and they stood around for a moment in the shadows of the alley, while the roar of the approaching army grew louder and the heat of the nearby flames began to warm their skin. Keir took a couple of draws from the keenweed and passed it on, feeling the weakness and lethargy falling away, his thoughts crystallising.

  ‘You ready, sir?’ said a marine.

  Keir nodded, and they set off, racing down the alleyway in the opposite direction from that taken by Acorn, keeping to the wall to avoid the lines of injured. Keir took one last glance at them. They were being left behind to die, with no one able to carry them to safety or to heal them, and he felt a burden of debt, and a responsibility to make their sacrifice count. If he was going to fall, then his bill would be high. They reached the end of the alleyway and burst out across an open plaza. To their left flames were ripping their way through a ruined line of tenements, and on the street leading to the plaza were swarms of Rahain, clambering over and around the Ravi-built blockades.

  Keir skidded to a halt and raised his hand, then swept it down again. A wall of flame fell from the burning tenements, crashing down like a flood onto the Rahain in the street below, enveloping the road in an inferno of white heat and noise. Keir took off again, his marine escort flanking him as they raced across the plaza. They followed a wide street, passing a burning battery of imperial catapults, their beams snapping in the intense flames. A hundred yards to their right, Keir caught sight of the walls of the Old Town.

  ‘Take cover,’ he cried, running towards one of Ravi’s walls. They huddled behind it, out of sight of the street.

  ‘I need to chance a sighting,’ he said to the marines.

  ‘We’ll be ready, sir,’ said one.

  Keir turned to face the Old Town walls. He sent his line-vision hurtling up to the battlements, then shifted round to face the attacking army. His heart froze. Thousands upon thousands of Rahain had over-run the Outer City, four-fifths of which was now occupied. More were still streaming into the town, swarming over the undefended walls and ramparts of the outer circuit, and pouring down the streets towards the Old Town and the harbour beyond. He turned to the right, where the line of Old Town walls intersected with the defences of the cavalry grounds. Entire legions of Rahain were flooding the streets; a wave of armoured flesh charging towards the gatehouse defending the weaker cavalry wall. Around its base were piled masses of corpses; lifeless Rahain scattered in heaps; while more continued to advance. At the top of the gatehouse stood Thorn, standing at the battlements with her arms out-stretched, Belinda by her side.

  A surge of power from the south seemed to collide with his vision, and he pulled it back to his body, feeling an echo of the pain that Agatha had inflicted on him before.

  ‘I think they sensed me,’ he said to the marines, ‘we have to get out of here.’

  They clambered to their feet and sprinted away, taking a street leading towards the cavalry grounds. A roar came from behind them, and Keir turned back to see a great coil of flame lash down from the sky; striking the low wall where they had been crouching in an explosion that sent debris flying around them. One of the marines was struck in the back of the head, and she fell, her helmet split open.

  Another marine grabbed Keir’s arm and began to haul him away, but Keir stopped him.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, gazing down at the fallen marine; ‘let’s give them something back.’

  He raised both of his arms, moving his hands in lazy circles, and a great mass of fire rose up from the burning catapults. Keir flung his hands high, spreading his fingers and the mass of fire flew up, dividing into dozens of tight balls of flame as they soared over the Outer City towards the concentrated masses of Rahain. There was a deafening roar as they rained down, crashing into roads and tightly packed companies of Rahain.

  Keir staggered, and nodded to the marines. They set off, Keir feeling his legs ache beneath him. The keenweed was already wearing off, and he had so much still to do. They edged in the direction of the Old Town wall, aiming for the approaches to the gatehouse defending the cavalry grounds. They stopped at a street corner, and Keir peered round the edge. The gatehouse was as he had seen it in his vision. Masses of Rahain were attacking the walls, carrying ladders, and with shields over their heads. Hundreds were already dead, piled high by the base of the wall and in front of the gates; some with wounds from crossbow bolts, and many with no sign of visible injury, but dead all the same.

  The sound of boots running came from behind them.

  ‘Inside the building,’ said Keir. ‘We need to get to a higher posit
ion.’

  He led the marines into the ruined tenement block. The stairs were damaged but passable to the second storey; beyond that they had collapsed. They went into an old apartment, its walls blackened with smoke, and its windows wrecked and open to the elements.

  ‘This’ll do,’ said Keir, gazing out through a shattered hole in the wall. Over to their left, a fire was raging through an abandoned stable-block. It was far, but within his reach if he used some vision power to get there. He glanced at the handful of marines that had accompanied him. He didn’t know them; and hadn’t learned any of their names, and yet they were ready to stand with him to the end.

  ‘Get ready to run,’ he said to them. ‘I’ll get this done as fast as I can, but there’s a good chance I’ll be seen again.’

  He turned back to the window. In the streets below, and in the wide space in front of the gatehouse to his right, thousands of Rahain were packed, surging in an unstoppable wave towards the walls of the cavalry grounds. There wasn’t enough fire to kill them all, he thought, not unless he was sparing with it. He only needed his vision powers to reach the fire and pull it back over the crowded masses of enemy soldiers, from then he would be using his fire powers alone, if Agatha gave him enough time to do it.

  Keir glanced over at the battlements on top of the gatehouse. He could see Thorn; a tiny figure high on the walls, her arms still-outstretched. He longed to contact her, to tell her he loved her, but knew he had time for only one short burst.

  He raised his arms, sending his powers out over the streets towards the burning stable-block. He reached it in a instant and ripped the flames up into the sky, taking everything until all that was left were scorched earth and ashes. He gathered the mass of flames, drawing it back over the rooftops of the town until it hovered, poised above the vast ranks of soldiers. Keir moved his fingers, flattening the flames into a thinner, more widespread layer as if smoothing dough with a rolling pin.

  His concentration was rocked by an explosion that blew off half of the upper storeys from the tenement where they were standing. Great fragments of stone splintered outwards, mixed with dust and shattered roof tiles, but Keir remained steadfast, his hands still as they controlled the enormous sheet of fire. Hundreds of faces in the crowd were staring upwards in confusion, and panic was flaring up among sections of the advancing army. At last, when the flames had been stretched to breaking point, Keir flung down his hands, sending the fire dropping onto the Rahain army like a fiery shroud, cloaking them with flames.