Banished

by Liz de Jager

  ‘What is it with Aelfric’s sons?’ Istvan asks no one in particular. ‘You excel at making threats you cannot possibly keep.’ He stands up and casually lands another kick to Kieran’s unprotected stomach.

  Kieran makes a dry retching sound but watches Istvan narrowly.

  ‘You were our confidant,’ he grinds out. ‘Someone we called a friend.’

  Istvan looks pityingly at Kieran. ‘Unfortunately, that friendship was merely to serve a grander scheme. From when I first entered the household of King Aelfric the Great, the noble, the illegitimate ruler of Alba, I ostensibly became the perfect servant, the perfect adviser.’ He pauses. ‘My family sat on the right hand of the Elder Gods and we did their bidding. Why would your father assume I would be happy to serve him?’ He rubs his face, the strain starting to show. ‘The gods were banished, locked away because of treachery but we kept our long watch. We have worked tirelessly to bring this day about and, without realizing it, Aelfric delivered to us the perfect vessel.’ He points at Thorn. ‘Your baby brother.’

  ‘You are insane, Istvan.’

  Istvan looks surprised. ‘No, not insane, Kieran. Realistic. For years I’ve done your father’s bidding. I’ve seen the way Alba’s lost its heart, working with humans, with the likes of the Blackharts, signing treaties. Even Suola, the feared Queen of Air and Darkness herself, dare not steal human children for revels. Now we hide in the dark and humans think of us as stories told at bedtime. No longer. It’s time to let the Elder Gods walk again. Human and Fae will once more have living gods to fear.’ I glimpse a parody of a smile. ‘And fear they shall.’

  ‘How have we never noticed how twisted you are?’ Thorn asks him, his voice incredulous. ‘All these years . . .’

  ‘Because, little princeling, I only let you see what you wanted to see. As a servant, no one notices us, no one takes us seriously.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Do you know how much your family is disliked? It was easy to find supporters for Eadric’s little rebellion.’ He lays his hand against Thorn’s cheek. ‘And not just in the Citadel but within the Courts too. Our people are tired of having to skulk, Thorn. Once more we want to walk freely between both worlds. Have humans see us and fear us for what we truly are.’

  My mind is reeling. The thought of this happening is horrifying. Hearing this little speech of his, there is no doubt in my mind that Istvan has gone over to the dark side completely.

  I wonder how long it will take him to lose his patience and stop his grandstanding in front of the two brothers. I’ve seen him control Thorn with his powers and I worry that maybe, just maybe, Aelfric’s sons could be swayed if the magic used against them is strong enough.

  ‘Let us go,’ Thorn says, keeping his voice low, friendly. ‘Let us go and my father won’t order you into the cages with the griffins.’

  Istvan doesn’t reply. He strikes Thorn’s face, raking his nails across his cheek. ‘Shut up,’ he says, wiping his hands on his robe. ‘Unless, of course, you are prepared to sing the Elder Gods home.’

  ‘Don’t . . .’ Kieran’s managed to crawl a few feet away and is bracing himself against the table leg. ‘Thorn, don’t do it.’

  I’ve seen enough from a distance. It’s time to act. I rein in my magic and move to the other side of the passage and, keeping to the shadows, I enter the room, my back pressed against the wall. Istvan and his familiar’s attention is focused on the two princes and I take full advantage of that. I creep around the room and notice Thorn’s eyes widen slightly when he sees me, but he concentrates on Istvan.

  ‘There is nothing you can do that will make me be part of this ritual.’

  ‘Not even when I promise I’ll keep some of your friends alive, perhaps?’ Istvan’s voice drips with insincerity and he’s standing close to Thorn now, right up in his face, unaware of anything else in the room. His servant’s watching too, facing away from me. Kieran’s doing his best to try and stand upright but not having much success.

  I draw a breath, ground myself and let fly a wild shout that has all my pent-up anger and frustration in it. As I yell I run at the scorpion as it turns to face me. My blade slices air as it neatly pirouettes out of the way and I land heavily. There’s a scraping noise behind me and I catch Kieran’s eye as he manages to grab hold of something on the table above his head and hurls it at Istvan’s head.

  I duck beneath the scorpion’s pincers and drive a wild cut upwards, catching it beneath one of its arms/legs, whatever. As I withdraw the sword a gush of black blood and goo arcs through the air. I’m too slow and don’t manage to duck the solid blow it lands me on the side of the head with one of its giant hands. I reel a few steps but steady myself against Thorn, who is doing his utmost to free himself from his shackles.

  ‘Hi,’ I say to him, flashing a smile. ‘We should stop meeting like this.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he gasps out, but he has a smile for me. ‘You’re crazy, you know.’

  I launch myself at the scorpion again, perhaps proving he’s right. Its tail is up and it’s got its arms (I’ll call them arms) spread wide, making it look even bigger. Kieran is wrestling with Istvan but, to be honest, it’s more like flailing at him with all the finesse of a wet towel.

  My blade leaps forward and I execute a perfect cut across the scorpion chimera’s abdomen. More goo spills out and I watch in horror as it sizzles when it hits the floor. Oh great, acidic blood. I whirl aside, conscious of the engorged stinger swaying above its head.

  I see Istvan punching Kieran repeatedly in the face until the prince drops to the floor in a crumpled heap. There’s a truly ugly expression on Istvan’s face as he stalks to Thorn. He rains blows on Thorn’s face and unprotected body. Black shadows are everywhere now, all around Istvan, circling Thorn, whispering to them both. I see them climbing Thorn like vines and he writhes in pain.

  ‘I am getting sick of you now,’ Istvan grinds out between blows. ‘You and your entire family. For once in your disgustingly futile lives, will you just do as you are bid?’

  I run from the scorpion and dash at Istvan, my sword raised. Istvan turns to look at me and lifts a negligent hand and a ball of black light hits me full in the chest. I fly through the air, crashing into the wall in a tumble of legs and arms. The scorpion is there within the blink of an eye and I lift myself up, shaking my head to try and clear it, grasping for the handle of my sword.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  My sword is gone. It’s lying between the scorpion and Istvan. Another blow rocks me as the scorpion punches me in the gut. I double over, using it as cover and trigger the mechanism of the rod strapped to my arm. It whips out with a satisfying snick and as I straighten I lash the rod forward in an aimed blow. It catches the scorpion across its face and I hear an eye pop. I follow it up with another swipe, back-handed this time, and am gratified to see a gash opening across its neck as the iron rod connects with its skin. I drive my fist hard into its abdomen and am repaid by being lifted in the air and thrown. As I fly through the air, before I fall, I wonder if the amount of airtime I’m getting during this adventure qualifies me for a pilot’s licence.

  I hit one of the cages with its mouldering contents hard and for a moment I’m tempted to just lie there and quietly bleed but then I’m up and flinging myself at the scorpion again. This time things go badly wrong. It catches me mid-air, as if I’m a ballerina – a bloody and sore one – and the stinger descends in a rapid arc, delivering a pulse of venom into my upper leg.

  I can quite honestly say that I have never in my life felt such pain. I let out a scream that for a moment even stops Istvan in shocked surprise. The poison burns – dear heavens, the pain is surreal. It pounds through my veins, tearing at me as it goes. The scorpion drops me, losing interest, knowing the poison will make short work of me.

  I curl into a tight ball and sob as the fire rages through me. I can dimly hear Thorn screaming something but it’s Istvan’s voice that penetrates the fog clouding my brain.

  ‘Do you swear?’<
br />
  ‘Yes, you worthless pig, just let her go.’

  Istvan’s laughter is ugly. ‘You will promise thrice. A thrice-spoken promise is binding, even for a son of Alba.’

  ‘No . . .’ My voice is raw. ‘Thorn, you idiot. Don’t do it.’

  ‘I will sing the Elder Gods awake for you,’ Thorn said clearly. ‘If you let her and Kieran go. This I promise. I promise, I promise.’

  ‘What will your family say, to know all it took for you to turn on them, is the sight of a pretty . . . oh wait, a dirty, bruised, once-upon-a-time pretty face?’

  ‘Die. Just die,’ Thorn grinds out between bloody teeth. And for full effect he spits at Istvan’s face. For his trouble he gets a slap that rocks his head back.

  ‘Ah, my time is not yet decreed.’ Istvan’s unpleasant smile is smug. ‘Come, now. I need to go and prepare for the ritual.’

  He clicks his fingers at the scorpion and it scuttles forward. ‘Just drag them into a cage for now.’ He walks over and hunkers down next to me, pressing his face unbearably close to mine. ‘You will have a perfect view of your handsome boyfriend calling forth the destruction of humanity. Isn’t it exciting?’

  I give him the thousand-yard stare I’ve been practising in the mirror but he seems unfazed by it. He wraps his fingers in my hair and pulls my head back, making me bend backwards to prevent him from snapping my neck. I refuse to cry out and instead I scrape the bottom of the barrel and come up with a laugh that sounds unhinged, even to my ears.

  ‘There is no place you will be able to hide,’ I promise him through bloody lips. ‘If I don’t get you, my family will. Do you know that if a Blackhart swears blood vengeance the entire family is bound by that oath?’

  ‘After today, girl, your family will be lucky to survive. After today we make this decrepit world brand new.’ He stands up and nods to the scorpion. ‘Lock them up securely. We don’t want any more heroics.’

  I fight as much as I can against the scorpion’s grip as it drags me to the nearest cage. It’s mercifully empty of Istvan’s failed experiments. I’m tossed inside and a moan escapes from me as my thigh crashes into one of the bars. Kieran is thrown in next and I try and catch him. He’s too heavy for me, but at least some of him hits me instead of the hard floor. I hold on to him and check his pulse. It flutters weakly under my fingers and I peel his eyelids back. His pupils react to the light and I almost cry from relief.

  The gate rattles and shuts behind me. I spin around and grab the bars, yelling, ‘How are you going to survive? If the Elder Gods are destroying the world, how will you survive?’

  The scorpion launches a kick at the bars and I whip my hands away. ‘And you?’ I say to it. ‘Do you think that thing will let you live?’

  It makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a fart and leaves the room through the open doorway. I recoil from the stench and sit back against the bars.

  The pain in my leg is so bad now I find myself doing puffy-breathing to try and control it. I feel as if I’m on fire on the inside.

  ‘Kit?’

  ‘Yes?’ I grind out.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Not . . . really.’ I crawl past Kieran so I can get to the other side of the cage. I can just see Thorn. He’s still trying to squirm out of the chains binding him to the rock. I draw in a deep breath and speak again. ‘I don’t know if the poison is fatal.’

  ‘In a high enough dosage, yes. He stung you only once.’ He shakes his head and stares at me through strands of damp hair. ‘I am so angry with you. Why did you come here? By yourself? Why not bring the army with you?’

  I pant out a laugh and spit out some blood. ‘Well, I wanted all the glory for myself,’ I tell him. ‘I thought I’d walk in, beat up the insane sorcerer, throw you over my shoulder and carry you home.’

  That gets a chuckle from him and I grin. ‘You are insane,’ he says. ‘Did you bring anyone else with you?’

  ‘No. They were all more interested in arguing than listening to me, so I left. I’m sure we’ll be saved any second now.’ I raise my voice, hoping that the scorpion hybrid or Istvan or anyone else is listening and will let us go. ‘Any. Second. Now.’

  Kieran lets out a groan and moves feebly at my feet. I push myself away from the bars and kneel next to him. ‘Kieran? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Who . . . ?’ he mutters, trying to get a fix on my face. I move around so he can see me properly.

  ‘I’m Kit,’ I say. ‘I’m a Blackhart.’

  ‘Great,’ he says, his voice raw. ‘I’m not dressed to meet pretty girls.’ When he coughs, he coughs up blood but he waves me away as I try and wipe his chin. ‘Thorn?’

  ‘Is still alive. Tied up like a turkey, though.’

  ‘Help me . . .’

  I help him sit upright and he leans back against me.

  ‘Thorn?’ he calls roughly.

  ‘Kieran?’

  ‘Don’t do this,’ he says. ‘Don’t . . .’

  ‘Kieran!’ Thorn leans forward against his chains, peering at us from across the room. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Give me a moment.’ He closes his eyes as he gathers himself. I lean against the bars, letting my breathing get back to normal and watch. There’s a soft shimmer in the air and a light brush of magic that rolls gently over me.

  He’s healing himself, I realize, leaning closer, intrigued by the way his colour returns to normal. His breathing seems less laboured too and he flexes the arm that hung useless only a few moments ago.

  ‘Kieran,’ Thorn says, pulling against his bindings. ‘You have to take Kit and get away. When the ritual starts, things will go downhill fast.’

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, little brother, but I don’t think young Kit here is planning on running. Neither am I.’ He draws in a steadying breath. ‘I almost feel ready for one of mother’s dreadful parties.’

  Thorn actually growls at him in frustration. ‘It’s not safe here, Kieran.’

  I edge away from Kieran, making sure he can sit by himself. I’m back by the gate to see if I can figure out how to get the lock open. It’s an ugly thing, big and old. It takes a normal, if large, key. I grip it and rattle it against the bars. It seems solid enough.

  I push my magic through my fingers and coax it into the lock. The tumblers are a bit rusty, but they look sturdy enough. What did I have on me to help me? I take a catalogue of everything I’m carrying. Shoes, laces, socks, jeans, belt, T-shirt. There has to be . . . I squirm as much as I can and bite back a yelp of pain as I press against the sting in my leg.

  ‘I think your girlfriend is getting undressed,’ Kieran tells Thorn. ‘Pity you can’t see.’

  I laugh. ‘Sorry to disappoint you. I’m just taking my belt off.’

  ‘Oh?’ he says, sounding intrigued.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Thorn hisses. ‘I can hear more noise from outside.’ He’s right. I can hear the sound of the huge kettledrums. The volume of droning has also increased. I don’t know much about evil magics and spells to bring back ancient gods, but something tells me that whatever is going to happen will be happening soon.

  ‘Ah, that would be the thousands of slaves he’s got building energy in the amphitheatre outside.’ I brandish my belt in relief and examine the pin. It might just do the trick. Breaking and entering has never been my strong suit and I suddenly wish I had Megan’s delicate touch, but if wishes were something . . . horses? What a stupid saying.

  I push my arms through the bars and grip the lock tightly. I close my eyes and focus all my attention on my fingertips and guide the pin into the keyhole, using my magic to see where it’s going.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  All of eternity passes and I hardly breathe. My arms burn with strain and my head is pounding from a headache that feels as if I’ve been to an all-night party and drunk all the alcohol.

  I feel Kieran’s fingers press warningly against my side as the scorpion scuttles into the room. It doesn’t even look at us.

  Inste
ad it’s there for Thorn. It swiftly removes the set of iron manacles keeping Thorn bound to the plinth. I hold my breath, hoping that Thorn will have his chance to get free, but no such luck. It grips Thorn’s arms in one huge hand and clamps the irons back around his wrists. When Thorn tries to pull free, it cuffs him around the head and pushes him past us, and out of the doorway, manhandling him with ease.

  The snick of the padlock opening is the most beautiful sound in the world, right then. I sag with relief and slowly unhook it, carefully placing it on the floor inside the cage. I press against the door and it creaks open.

  ‘If I can get out of here,’ Kieran says softly, ‘into the amphitheatre, I think I’ll be able to help.’

  ‘In what way?’ I ask him as I push the gate open further. ‘There are about thirty guards out there.’

  ‘I can draw on the energy they are generating but I have to be in the same place, with them.’ He draws a breath. ‘There is a spell I can try to cast. It’s not something I’d try under normal circumstances.’

  ‘What does this spell do, exactly?’ I know I sound wary but it’s because I know spells cast by someone who’s not in full health can go very badly wrong. Helena’s diary mentioned that much at least.

  ‘That lot out there are already pretty wound up. The spell I want to try will redirect their own energy back at themselves. They should start to snap out of whatever trance they’re in, see where they are and try to escape. The spell works on their emotions and the stronger the emotions, the wilder the need to get away will be. With luck, it will distract them all enough for you to rescue Thorn.’

  ‘How will I not get these delusions?’

  ‘Illusions,’ he corrects me, straightening with difficulty. ‘If you stay behind me, you should be fine. I will be projecting it towards them, away from us.’

  I’m not sure I’m happy with this but I nod and help him limp further. I grind my teeth as pain flares in my leg and I can actually feel the pain and poison pulse upwards. The pain drives some of my doubt from my mind. I’m not entirely sure whether Kieran’s planning will work. The shape of the amphitheatre doesn’t really lend itself to projecting in only one direction.