by JM Guillen
Three quick pulls, and she went down again, her head now completely destroyed. Before she hit the ground, I started reloading.
As she fell, however, my heart did the same. Behind her, I could see Downhill. The creatures roamed the long, dismal road that Barnabas, Ogrim, and I had followed to the Calyptin Market a thousand years ago.
I heard the captain’s pistol fire but didn’t look. In the distance, one of the shaedr-ghůl turned its head at the sound. Barnabas grunted as he hacked into the corpses that continued to rise, but this also did not grab my eye.
“You need to stay dead!” Captain Argent grunted.
I turned as the brilliant flare of lucia fuegiin devoured first one corpse, then another. The young boy I had slain already stirred, but the fire made short work of him. Behind the captain, Barnabas ignited two more of the corpses, one of which reached for him as he sprinkled the fuegiin upon it.
The creatures were slain truly this time in a brilliant alchemical pyre.
“Ysabel?” Barnabas’ voice was like warm drinking chocolate. “What is it?”
“More of them.” I nodded down the hill. Then, I glanced at him.
Barnabas was bleeding.
“They will come for us.” His deep baritone rumbled with certainty.
I nodded, handing him his pistol.
He saw my gaze on his wounded arm.
“It’s not deep.” He gave me a reassuring wink. “And it’s a bed-tale that the taint spreads from their claws. I’ve been wounded by them before.”
“Barnabas is right, you’re handy with a shooter.” Captain Argent flashed me a rakish grin as he stepped over to us. “I think he’s got a good idea; why don’t you use mine?” He handed me the five-shot, gripwise.
“Truly?” I took it, meeting his eyes.
He nodded. “I’m far better with a blade. Besides, it seems like the unthinkable has happened.” He peered down the hill.
“What’s that?” I glanced from Barnabas to him.
“I think I may have actually been wrong.”
“What, you?” Barnabas chuckled.
“Indeed.” The captain’s mouth pulled to a thin line. “It’s time for us to run.”
“Do you think the bounds are lost?” Barnabas’ tone held more than a trace of worry.
“Doesn’t matter.” Captain Argent wiped his blade with a dark cloth. “If they’ve fallen, we need to leave the city. Therefore, we need the ship, and the airdocks are within the inner walls.” He gestured to us, turning away from Downhill. “If they haven’t, we need to see what we might be able to do...”
“And the bounds are within the inner walls.” The large Kab gave a grim smile.
“My mother.” I looked to the captain, uncertain what to say. “The room cracked, and she said she wasn’t able...”
“It’s fine, Ysabel.” The captain broke into a light jog, so Barnabas and I did the same. “I don’t know much about the bounds and the constructs, but I know someone who does.”
“Who?” I couldn’t help but ask; my tongue never knew when to sit still.
“Ysabel.” The captain gave me a sideways glance. “I think we need to buy you some perfume.”
Then the run began in earnest.
8
Even when the city wasn’t on the edge of collapse, Calyptin Station became a dangerous place once the sun set.
The closer we got to the inners, the taller and more grand the buildings became. Many of them were remnants from those who had built the place, and the crystalline structures caught the reds and golds of the setting sun, casting the light across the streets.
“Is there another way?” Barnabas asked.
He, the captain, and I crouched in an alleyway, observing a thoroughfare near Crickton. In the street beyond, four shaedr-ghůl frantically tried to claw their way into a building.
Even from twelve strides away, we could smell them. One of them had lost most of an arm and bled profusely. Another had been a young girl, all the more terrifying for the golden curls that accompanied her wide, bottomless eyes. Gore dripped from her face, looking for all the world like crimson berries.
I couldn’t help but wonder who they had been before. Inhabitants of the Verges, certainly, they had dwelt there until the Shroud drove them mad.
Our bounds had kept them at bay in the past. Captain Argent was correct; the bounds were falling.
“We can go back,” I mused quietly, thinking. “Take the Glintway around. It’ll get us to the inners, just the same.”
“That sounds reasonable.” The captain watched the creatures with calculating, verdant eyes.
Those creatures were mighty interested in getting inside that building.
“Let’s do that, Captain.” Barnabas nodded. “There’s plenty of fights to find, but if we can heal the bounds, we shouldn’t waste time.”
“I suppose.” He scratched at his beard still entranced.
It took me a nonce to realize what spun his gear, but once I did, my brow furrowed. His gaze stayed intent on the building, obviously wondering what the creatures wanted from inside it.
For a moment, I let my mind drift down that same path. Were there children inside? Was there some old granmere within, silently losing her mind as the creature’s bent nightmares drifted into her thoughts?
“There’s no time, Captain.” Barnabas’ tone grew soft. “If we can save the bounds…”
“Curse your tongue.” Captain Argent sighed. “I know. Let’s go.”
We turned, drifting like specters down the alleyways and spindledowns of the outers. The shaedr-ghůl remained in tight packs, and we almost stumbled into them as we moved. Once, we didn’t know they were near at all.
“Stop.” Argent held up his left hand, his blade gripped tightly in the other. He looked from Barnabas to me. “Do you—?”
I peeked up and down the alleyway, seeing nothing.
Then, like a river of warm sewage and filth, the creature’s miasma washed through our minds again.
This time was it different, all but overwhelming. The wave of roiling madness carried dreams so bitter and dark that they cut as they drifted through me. It was like swarms of hairy spiders scrambling down my throat, gagging me so that I couldn’t scream.
“It’s strong. There must be a lot of them.” Barnabas looked to Captain Argent.
“More than we fought before.” He ran his hand across his cheek, his eyes slightly wild. “We need to get safe—”
“Back here!” I called.
We had just passed an old, wooden door, what was apparently a side entrance to Allie’s Oasis. I frowned when I saw the rough sign featuring a young woman bent almost double to look back at the viewer. It did a fine job of conveying what services they provided. I had no doubt that many sky captains and harriers made fine use of the place when they visited Calyptin Station.
Then I sighed. Any port in a storm.
“Quickly!” Barnabas stepped back toward me, not waiting for a command from his captain. By his wide eyes, tinged with wild horror, I realized Barnabas was holding onto his sanity with little more than his fingertips.
I could understand that. The thoughts and disjointed images that drifted through my mind made absolutely no sense but had a horrifying unity to them. They were images of blood and agony, scraps of hallucinations. They showed what would happen if we were caught or echoes of nightmares that I would never remember.
I tried the door. “Locked.”
Captain Argent launched himself at the door, kicking with one of his heavy boots. It gave a touch but not nearly enough to open.
“Captain.” Barnabas clenched one fist and squinted against the onslaught of fragmented thought. “If you’d let me…”
“Of course.” Captain Argent stepped back, letting one hand rest against the old brick of the building. He leaned wearily. “Quickly, Barnabas I think—”
With one powerful kick, Barnabas shattered the wood where the lock held.
“Inside!” Captain Argent ges
tured to me and Barnabas. “They’re almost here!”
I heard them. Lost gods, it must have been a pack of dozens. They weren’t close yet, not close enough to see us, but in the street beyond, I could hear them, their broken, eldritch whispering as they hunted.
One hand on his blade, Barnabas grabbed my arm and dragged me into the darkened room.
Judging by the opulent and well-maintained interior, Allie’s Oasis must have been quite the exclusive place. I expected pillow houses to be small and dirty, but this had not been the case with Allie’s, not by a long stride. The floor had a beautiful, dizzying pattern of small glass tiles that had been arranged in order of color and size. They formed a mosaic of an eld-world skyship, setting course for the horizon, destination unknown.
Leather and ashewood furniture adorned the room, which had many small nooks and crannies. I assumed that patrons sat in those alcoves while awaiting feminine companionship. Arches and one large crystalline chandelier dominated the ceiling, which looked as old as the bounds themselves.
They must have done a lot of business.
Captain Argent had pushed the door closed behind us and tinkered with the broken lock in hopes it would somehow hold.
“They’ve been here,” Barnabas grumbled.
The large Kab surveyed the broken, stained-glass window at the front of the building and the three corpses on the floor. Those women hadn't just been slaughtered; they’d been used. Like abused playthings, their bodies were shredded, and their blood and viscera coated much of the floor. In fact, on both the floors and the walls, the ghůl had scrawled unholy patterns in their blood.
I peered around, silently terrified that a ghůl might still lurk here or perhaps an entire pack. My wide eyes darted wildly from one shadow to the next at the thought. Had we broken in here in an attempt to escape, only to stumble into the mad-eyed, drooling monstrosities we were fleeing?
“I think they’re gone.” Barnabas sounded anything but certain.
My gaze drifted up a wooden staircase to the second floor.
“Ysabel? Can you get me that chair?” Captain Argent pointed to a line of wooden chairs leaning against the wall, as he shouldered the door flush with its frame.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered as I stepped toward the nearest chair. I heard the pack of ghůl, still far off, but as I reached for the chair, they must have finally stepped close enough for the phantoms of their madness to finally slither their way into my mind.
My eyes glazed with their dreams.
“Oh—” I fell to my knees at the sudden, almost physical sensation of horror and insanity burrowing into me like grey, rot-eating maggots. It came with drips and drifts of maddening imagery and dream-like wisps that made the deepest parts of me quail.
They caught my father. It might have almost been a mercy after the way his heart had broken today. If they had killed him, then he would suffer no more.
But no, the shaedr-ghůl rarely simply killed a person. He had been a game. They had taken turns peeling the flesh from him, creating eldritch, blasphemous sigils on his body as he screamed. They whispered their mad words in their broken tongue and licked the blood from his skin as he wet himself.
A slow death.
He had been caught by a small pack, and they had eaten his genitals first, followed by his tongue. They did so even as their cackling dreams raped and savaged his mind—
“—can stay there, sweetmeats! If I win you, you’ll be living on your knees!” Tarvis stepped closer, and I noticed he had no eyes. He had clawed them out, leaving pus-seeping holes.
My hands were bound; I found myself unable to move. He stepped closer and fit a gag to my mouth, one with a smooth, round piece of metal that held my mouth open.
“Living on your knees.” His voice came in a lust-filled rasp.
I watched in horror as he fiddled with the front of his trousers, opening them, revealing his body so that he could savage my mouth.
That can’t be him. Revulsion gushed through me, a hot, syrupy sensation of stark horror. No man—
“Open wide, sweetling.” Tarvis stepped closer, a knot of white, writhing worms twisted together where his manhood should have been. They smelled like putrefying flesh. The tips of them all undulated toward me, as if seeking my flesh. They brushed my face, eagerly reaching.
I began to scream, but he choked the sound from my throat.
“Ysabel!” Captain Argent pulled me to my feet. “No time to give in!” He grabbed a chair.
“She’s got fire…” I had no idea what the words meant, blinking my eyes as he jerked me up.
“She certainly does.” He pulled me forward, toward the stained-glass window and the corpses on the floor.
As we passed I couldn’t help but stare at the frozen rictus of horror one young woman’s face. She couldn’t have been much older than me. I didn’t know how she died, but the wide-eyed deathmask she wore told a terrifying tale.
“I think they’ve moved on.” For the first time, I realized that Barnabas stood ahead of us, watching out the window. With wet trails on his cheeks, he shuddered. “Down the street.”
I could hear screams in the distance. “How can we fight them?” I still trembled. “If a horde of them carries that… that terror with them, how can we stand against it?”
“If your mother was here, we could.” Captain Argent gave me a tight smile. “It’s one of the strengths of those with wyrding-blood.”
“The silver flame keeps the dreams at bay.” Barnabas leaned further out the window.
If that were true, then I understood why these men had gone to such trouble to find me. If I could somehow drive back those darkling dreams…
“How far from the Seaęr’s Gate do you think we are?” Captain Argent looked to me.
“Only a few streets over. If you look over the curio shop, the one with the red roof?” I pointed. “You can see the Highwall.”
“Yes.” Captain Argent nodded and then drew his blade. “We’re close.”
“You think we can make the run?” Barnabas glanced at me, then to the captain.
“There should be Vigilant guarding the Seaęr’s Gate. If we even get close, we’ll have allies.”
“Right.” I nodded as I spoke. “They also haven’t sounded the eddár-horns, only the clarions.” When I saw the captain’s confusion, I clarified. “The eddár-horns would sound if the outers were lost.”
“So we have time.” The captain peered into the street. “But I imagine not much. We should go.”
“Wait.” I reached into the ammo pouch and held up the brassy key. “Might we spare just a nonce for some business?”
“Of course.” He snatched the key from me and inserted it into the small box on the back of the collar.
I stood very still, but the key seemed to fight him. Then, the collar tightened with a loud snick. I gasped, and Captain Argent swore.
“No, it’s fine, just—” He paused. “I’ll be shagged, I don’t—”
The collar snicked again, tightening one more notch.
I began to gasp for wind in panic. “Stop!” I pulled away from him. “It’s getting tighter! Royce said—”
“Ysabel.” Captain Argent peered at the key. “I don’t know what key this is, but it doesn’t open that collar.”
“What?” My heart sank through my chest.
“It doesn’t remotely fit.” He frowned. “I can have ol’ Gram look at it—he’s the tinkerman aboard my ship.”
I nodded, but cold gripped my heart.
Royce had told me what would happen if I tried to jim the lock.
“We’ll get your life back, Ysabel. I promise.” His gaze returned to the window. “Let’s make certain you live long enough to enjoy it.”
I nodded but said nothing. The captain had promised. Maybe that meant something.
Then again, my father had promised too.
Cautiously, we stepped into the street. We glimpsed in all directions, each of us still feeling the horrifying echoes of the
creature’s rancid minds.
“I think we’re clear.” Yet the captain waited for Barnabas’ assessment.
“Aye.” The large man peered about, then met the captain’s eye. “Clear.”
“Stay together. That alleyway first.” He pointed at a shadowy passage.
We ran.
We sprinted down the first narrow pass, then dodged through another alleyway. We had to leap past two corpses. Less than twenty strides later, one of the ghůl, a woman who looked more like a matron than a monster, lunged from a doorway.
“Captain!” Barnabas shouted, pulling his three-peater.
The captain, however, saw the bent thing and darted sideways, then slashed his scimit cleanly through its neck.
“No time for the pyre. Keep moving.”
The alleyway came to a dead stop, so we took the shortpath through one of the small buildings there, a bakery. The large, glass window at the front of the bakery showed Seaęr’s Square.
The place was a madhouse.
The Highgate, over eight-stories tall, was one of only three ways into the inner neighborhoods of Calyptin Station. The old construct wasn’t made of singing crystal like my mother had bid the captain to find but a solid piece of iron so large that it never could have fit in a forge. To this day, no one had any concept of how the Highwall had been created, but in the moment, that didn’t matter.
We were witnessing why it had been crafted.
Outside the Seaęr’s Gate, there had been a massacre. Dozens lay dead in the street. Many seemed to have been citizens fleeing to the inner city once the bounds began to fall. Even from here, we could see the streets were splattered with human remains, some thrashing weakly.
The battle raged at the gate. There, the Vigilant held back a small horde of the slavering creatures using small ballistae and crossbows from the Highgate Towers. On the ground a small unit of the green-armored men held back the creatures with great, scythe-like sardis-blades.
The captain peered through the glass, breathing hard. He asked Barnabas, “Think they’ll let us through?”
“They have to!” I shivered in horror at the thought of being abandoned out here. “The Vigilant protect the citizenry! The precepts of Keine—”