by Andy Remic
Kiki turned away, and Narnok gave Yoon a slap to silence him, but his words bit home and Kiki rubbed at weary eyes and placed her hand against her chest, where she felt the echo of her second heart.
They marched throughout the day, stopping mid-afternoon for a swift meal of dried beef. The landscape was rolling hills, white under the fresh snow, and there were few houses this far out from the high-walled protection of the city of Zanne.
They found an old crofter’s cabin nestled between two hills, built from rough logs and containing nothing more than two pallet beds with rough blankets, a rough-sawn pine table and crude stools. As was the tradition in the Vagandrak wilds, a fire had already been laid in the grate and Narnok discovered a generous wood store covered by waterproof tarpaulin at the rear of the cabin. It began snowing again, and as darkness fell they soon had the fire roaring and Zastarte cooked them a fine broth using barley, onions and chicken stock. As the others gradually fell asleep after a hard day of marching, Dek and Kiki sat at the table and, by the light of the fire, studied Dek’s old map.
“How far, do you reckon?”
“Another day. We’ll reach Zanne by nightfall, or shortly afterwards. I’m looking forward to a hot bath, a foaming ale and a night away from that snoring bastard.” He gestured towards Narnok.
“What are we going to do about this elf rat, Sameska?”
Dek shrugged. “Not much we can do, Keeks. I still think our bastard monarch is holding out on us – and don’t buy into his guilt trip. We did what we thought was right. And let’s be honest, torturing that creature should never have been an option. We should have left that shit behind in the dark ages. A good clean battle, yes; extracting information using fire and blade? Evil acts by evil men, Kiki.”
“You always did have an honourable soul, Dek.”
“I try to be a good man.” Kiki stared into the dark eyes, studied the tattoos and the huge scarred knuckles, from breaking bones in the fighting pits. “But people keep bringing me their aggravation. All I want is a simple life. A wife. Children.” He sighed, staring into her eyes. “But the horse shit keeps on coming. I suppose that’s just the way it is.”
“When we get to Zanne, we’re going to have to do something with Yoon. We can’t be dragging him around the whole country.”
“I suggest imprisonment. But what then?”
“We need to get control of the army, and reinforce Desekra Fortress. I still think that bitch Orlana will be back. I have this strange feeling in my bones.”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?” The flames from the fire made her face glow, her dark eyes glitter. She smiled at Dek, and reached across, putting her hand on his. “You can ask me anything.”
“That thing you did. Back at Desekra.”
The smile faltered on Kiki’s face, and she took a deep breath. “You’ve all been good to me. I expected a thousand questions after I…” She rubbed wearily at her face.
“Kiki. What was it you actually did?”
“I thought I was dying. I had a growth, according to surgeons, beside my heart. Too close to operate. I was going to die. What the medical professionals didn’t realise was that it wasn’t a growth; it was my second heart; the heart of the Shamathe.”
“Dark magick?”
“Not dark magick. Just magick. The energies of the planet, Dek. The energy, the mana contained within every rock and tree and mountain. A Shamathe doesn’t create or destroy, they channel energy, or change the state of matter using channels and procedures defined by the ancient Equiem. It’s extremely difficult to explain. Like golden filaments that run through the world, Dek. And back there at Desekra during the attack by the mud-orcs, when it became clear we could not destroy Orlana, even under the influence of our curse, then I followed the threads, sought guidance from the Equiem deep down within the earth. I found the warren of mines from when the fortress itself was built. Many were man-made excavations, but many were natural, formed by high-pressure underwater streams and rivers coming down from high up in the Mountains of Skarandos. I created a shift, began to build the energies contained deep down in those caves and mines. Have you ever seen that game of skill storytellers often play in taverns after the storytelling is done? The little wooden blocks, all stacked in complicated patterns, and people have to remove one at a time until the whole thing collapses? Well that’s all I did. I explored, I found the right leverage and I redirected energy. An incredible amount of energy, I grant you. But it brought the whole fucking system down, and sucked the mud-orcs and Orlana down with it.”
“So you are Shamathe. You control the energies of the Equiem?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft and she took both his hands across the table. “But sometimes, it just isn’t there. Most of the time, I control nothing. I can see nothing. Do nothing. If anything, Dek, it controls me. I feel like a puppet doing another’s bidding.” She fell silent for a few moments. “Right here and now, I could not summon the collapse like I did at Desekra. I close my eyes and search and the power simply isn’t within me. So don’t be afraid, Dek. Don’t think I’ll suddenly send fireballs hurtling from the heavens to fry you into a soup.” She smiled, but her eyes were hard. Concerned.
“I am not frightened,” said Dek softly.
“This power inside me. This… thing that is from somewhere else. It doesn’t make me different to any other woman, Dek. I still think and feel and love the same. I’m still here for you.”
“I was lucky to find you.” He lifted her hands and kissed them.
“It’s good to be back with you, Dek. Let’s keep it right this time, yeah?”
Dek nodded, averting his eyes, but then looking back with renewed strength. “Yes, my love,” he said.
After leaving the cabin how they found it, with a freshly laid fire in the grate, they pushed another hard march over steep, undulating hills that fell away from the Mountains of Skarandos like great rolling waves. Sometimes there were narrow stone paths to follow, but most of the time the landscape was rough, tall winter grass, often buried under snow, and harsh drops down to fast flowing streams filled with icy melt water. Narnok complained about his cold ears, his cold fingers and toes, and the burden of dragging a silent and bleak Yoon after him. Dek offered to take the leash, but Narnok gave him a withering look as if to say: boy, you haven’t got the technique, I have; I’m the one in charge of our stinking king, and that’s simply the way it’s going to remain.
Trista walked in permanent, icy silence, her cold eyes constantly scanning for signs of the enemy. But then, she’d be the first to agree with any comments about her being an ice queen; it was an image she reinforced at every opportunity. In contrast, Prince Zastarte was in fine form, quipping about the sway of Trista’s buttocks and their comparison to a particularly fine donkey he had once ridden. Her sword was out faster than the flush to her cheeks, and Zastarte had to dance away from its flashing tip.
They pushed hard, and by nightfall saw the distant, looming black walls of Zanne. Most cities in Vagandrak had some kind of fortification, which spoke of the countries’ often violent, bloody history and various civil wars and uprisings against the monarchy. There were battlements, low crenellations for archer fire, but nothing like the scale of the massive Desekra Fortress, which had been built, essentially, as an impossible barrier for any enemy to overcome.
Zanne was, to all intents and purposes, an unwelcoming city no matter which direction a person approached. And despite the dreary black walls, which could sometimes be seen decorated by the corpses of noose-hung criminals, it also had a powerful and not too complimentary reputation to contend with. Zanne was not only a drug haven for honey-leaf smugglers, peddlers and addicted users who felt they could partake with impunity, despite the honey-leaf being illegal under Vagandrak law and outlawed by the Church; it was also a city almost wholly run by the Red Thumb Gangs, and indeed, an uneasy truce existed within those high black walls between the gang’s members and the City Watch and King’s
Guard. The western quarter, known as the Haven, was an area where the Watch and the Guards did not venture, by mutual consent. The Barrier Road, as it was known, was heavily patrolled – but everything west of that was given over to the Red Thumbs on the understanding they kept the rest of the city relatively free of their presence. In reality, it didn’t work as smoothly as that, for many Red Thumbs operated independently of the core Lodge, but it gave the Guards and Watch reason to be exceptionally brutal when a Red Thumb was caught robbing a merchant or politician in the more civilised east and south quadrants of the city.
The Iron Wolves, with Yoon in tow, closed on the southern Royal Gate as the gloomy grey sky gradually turned to black. To the west, a dying sun stuttered like a burned out candle allowing a few violet rays to wash the curve of the planet. After that, darkness seeped in and night fell like a crossbow-shot dove.
Dek was the first to call a halt, Kiki next to him, and the others followed. The walls were close now, huge and towering. Dek looked up, head tilted to one side, frowning.
“What is it?” said Kiki.
“Last time I visited this armpit of a city, it was a damn sight noisier.”
“Eh, lad?” boomed Narnok, staring at the pit fighter.
“Quiet, Narn. There’s something wrong.”
“Nothing wrong I can see, lad. What are you moaning about? Come on, let’s get inside – Yoon wrapped in a blanket so no bastard spots him – and see if there isn’t a soft bed, hot bath water and good flagon of whiskey to be found.”
“Wait,” said Dek, and turned to them all. “Does that sound like the bustling hum of a city to you?”
The Iron Wolves stood in a line, silent now, heads cocked, listening. The wind breathed a soft low moan. Snow scurried across the road leading to the Royal Gates. An ominous silence seemed to roll towards them, and they realised Dek was right. Zanne was a big place, with tens of thousands of inhabitants. There should have been shouts, chatter, laughter from taverns. The low-level hum of a city closing down for a winter’s night. But instead, it was eerie and desolate.
“The gates are shut,” observed Kiki. “Is that standard procedure come nightfall?”
“I… don’t know,” said Dek. “Last time I was here, they had huge lit braziers outside the gates. Beacons to guide weary travellers home. Look.” He pointed to where two huge iron drums stood, one each side of the closed iron and oak gate. “No fire, though.”
“Maybe the Fire Master is drunk?” grinned Narnok.
“No,” said Dek. “This is something else. Let us approach in silence, and see if we can gain entry.”
They moved forward, drawing weapons, slowly, each footstep a tentative test of the ground as if they feared it might open up and swallow them. Something was deeply wrong. A chord was playing out of tune in their collective Iron Wolf souls.
Darkness tumbled down around them.
Approaching the gate, Kiki reached out, pushed hard. They were locked and barred from the inside. She glanced left and right, then up around the huge iron arch which emanated cold and the stink of old fish oil. There were no levers, no handles or winches, and no inspection hole in the gate. Just oak and iron, black and unbending. Like a big fuck off.
“Look at that,” said Narnok, voice curiously subdued as if the huge silent walls of the city of Zanne had sucked away some of his life-force; some of his natural, huge lung volume. He trotted forward and fingered a small vine that was crawling its way up the edge of the arch. Only this vine wasn’t green, and hadn’t been immediately noticeable. It was black. The black of the abyss. And each leaf was curiously shaped, bent and curled, as if fighting itself. Distorted. Twisted. Deviant.
“There’s nobody home,” said Zastarte, voice soft and light and musical. His narrow blade was steady in his hand, but Kiki saw the fear in his eyes. This whole situation was odd. Just deeply wrong.
Narnok lifted his hands, and cupped them to his mouth. Kiki slapped them away with a fast audible slap that left Narnok standing in shock, eyes wide and falling quickly to a thunderous scowl on his savagely scarred face.
“What you do that for?” he snarled.
“No shouting,” hissed Kiki. “You want to fucking announce us to every man and his cunt? Keep your mouth shut and your hellos to yourself. This ain’t a fucking reunion for old soldiers. This is odd, Narnok.”
“We need to find another way in,” said Trista. “Find out why they’re locked down. Is it something to do with this bastard being kidnapped?” She kicked Yoon, but he did not respond. “Hey? Hey you? Is this what happens when a king of the realm gets kidnapped by the fuckers he tried to hang? Do they lock down the cities and search them from wall to wall, arsehole to scrotum?”
Yoon looked at Trista, then slowly and deliberately, spat on the ground.
“I think we should just bang on the door,” said Narnok.
“Try not to think, sweetie.” Trista patted him on the shoulder. “Leave that to the pretty ones.”
“Hey, fuck you, bitch…” but Kiki was there, a flash of sudden movement, both hands on his shoulders, face on, braced against him, staring into his good eye and shaking her head with a narrow smile.
“No, Narnok. Not here. Not now. Control yourself. We need you. I need you obeying orders, soldier.”
Narnok considered this. Then said, “Yes, Captain.”
“I know a way in.” They turned and looked at Dek, and he seemed suddenly sheepish. “Last time I was here, was for a pit fight. Against a big rabid bastard, Black Horse Jonny they called him. Dirty bastard. Teeth, nails, ripping off of bollocks. He thought it was all fair. Well. I did him good.”
“What did you do to him?”
Dek inspected his dirt-encrusted fingernails, and gave a little cough. “I killed him. Didn’t mean to. Just a fight, after all, right? A fight for money. Would never want to kill a man for that, would I?” He looked up. Everybody was staring at him impassively.
“Go on,” said Kiki.
“Delivered this right hook, broke his fucking neck. He must have had a weak spine or something. I broke his neck and he lay there screaming something rotten. Couldn’t shut him up, we couldn’t. And then the City Watch came flooding in and we had to do a runner, and I was teamed up with Bad Grolf and Lazy Wilf, and they led me down into the sewers. Showed me a way out of the city.” Dek looked up, then back over his shoulder. “There’s an air vent, over that way somewhere. We had to smash a lock, but we got out of Zanne and headed for fucking Drakerath where a pit fighter can lose himself in anonymity and whiskey.”
“Can you find it?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind getting covered in shit.”
“Sometimes,” said Kiki, softly, “it feels like my whole life is covered in shit.”
Dek led them out into the darkness. It began to snow again, and the Iron Wolves were chilled to the bone and beyond. They stood around like useless idiots as Dek searched, occasionally glancing back at the dark, silent walls of the dark, silent city. Trista herself shivered to the centre of her being.
Something bad in there, whispered a voice in her soul.
Something real bad.
After an hour, with the others fanning out to help, they found the narrow aperture of which Dek had spoken. It had a thick metal grille, barely big enough for an adult to squeeze through, which was jealously guarded by a thick padlock that, under Dek’s expert hands, felt substantial indeed.
“Narnok, need your brute force here.”
Narnok puffed out his chest and, dropping to his belly, took a hold on the thick iron. “It’s a big one,” he said.
“I bet that’s what all the boys say,” grinned Zastarte.
Narnok threw him an evil glare, lost in the darkness.
Snow tumbled down, and the world was silent and dark and cool. Narnok took hold of the padlock in both hands and squeezed and pulled and tore; but it would not come apart. He tried again and again, but it was just too strong, even for his mighty muscles. Finally, exasperated, he sto
od up and snapped at Dek, “Give me your jerkin.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“No, fuck off, it’s freezing. Use your own jerkin.”
Mumbling and cursing, a red-faced Narnok struggled out of his thick fur and wrapped it around the gleaming double heads of his axe. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, kissing the blades, “you were meant for more noble tasks than this,” and hoisting the weapon above his head, he brought it down with consummate skill and murderous rage. The padlock held. Again he hammered his axe into the iron, and again, and again. Until, under the tenth blow, there came a massive dull metallic crack and Narnok grinned around like a toddler winning a pissing contest.
“Done it,” he said.
Dek scrambled down, and threw aside the mangled block of iron. Then he strained, and with a squealing of rusted hinges, the grate came up. He looked up, grinning, then saw the serious looks on their faces, and the smile dropped.
“Who’s first?”
“You are fools,” said King Yoon, sombrely. He was kneeling in the snow, staring forlornly at the ground.
“Shut that maggot up,” snapped Kiki.
“You do not know what lies beyond!” wailed King Yoon, suddenly grabbing the rope around his throat and trying desperately to scramble backwards. “You will all die! You will all be doomed!”
“You know what?” snapped Kiki, suddenly. “I’ve had enough of this fucking horse shit.” She advanced on Yoon and he crawled back fast, hands and boots kicking up snow. But he wasn’t fast enough and Kiki loomed over him, a snarl on her lips, hate in her iron dark eyes. Her intentions seemed obvious and even Trista tensed, licking her lips, eyes growing just that little bit wider.
“No,” said Yoon, lifting his hands. “No!”
“Is that what Sameska said when you came at him with razors and fire?” snarled Kiki, all femininity suddenly gone, all slipping away in anger and a rage which highlighted just why she had earned the rank of captain in this, the greatest elite force ever created by the Kings and Queens of Vagandrak.