by David Hair
But Alis Nytrasia was getting away.
Without further thought, Ramon kicked the khurne into motion and gave chase.
29
Delta
Men and Beasts
The mythology of Lantris is filled with men and women who are part-animal. These hybrid beings – lamiae, satyrs, centaurs and the like – speak to the fascination that the animal kingdom has for us, who feel at once part of it and at the same time above it: kings of all we survey. It is our ambivalent relationship with beasts – predator, companion and prey – that lies behind such famous tales as ‘Hektus Lionhead’ and ‘Derra and the Cygnus King’.
PALLAS ARCANUM, 703
Kesh, on the continent of Antiopia
Awwal (Martrois) 930
21st month of the Moontide
Ramon kept his khurne moving. It was tireless, and in some ways magnificent, but it was also appalling, knowing a human soul was trapped inside this beast. Right now though, he needed every advantage and was prepared to use any tool that came to hand. As they rode he linked his mind to it, gaining sharper control, and learned a little of what it could do.
Nytrasia’s khurne would have left him well behind normally, but the Inquisitor was hampered by the weight of the wounded Perle and it soon became clear she wouldn’t risk wounding him further by travelling too fast. Ramon was catching up.
The battleground was miles behind him now, and he was moving cautiously again, not wanting to blunder into an ambush – Nytrasia was dangerous enough without ceding the advantage of surprise. He didn’t need to be in sight to follow her anyway – he’d slid a mental probe past her wards during the chase: she was heavily distracted and it hadn’t been hard. Now he scryed her gently, just enough to pick out distance and direction. As long as he kept his touch light, she’d remain unaware of his pursuit. She’d stabilised Perle’s bleeding, but he was still doubled over in front of her in the saddle. It would be dark soon, but she was barely a mile ahead, hidden by the undulating ground.
Where’s she going? Ramon wondered as he put on an extra spurt. The khurne seemed inexhaustible, but he was struggling himself. Desperation drove him on: Nytrasia’s aura had the same deathly reek as Jelaska’s and he was pretty sure she was a Necromancer. If that was the case, the hours of darkness would be her sanctuary and strength.
He’d tried scrying for Sevvie or Julietta but found nothing. They were warded, or perhaps stashed somewhere beneath the earth. He could only hope that he’d be able to deal with whatever he found when he caught up.
Pater Sol, protect my daughter.
*
Severine Tiseme rolled herself into a bundle on the sweat-reeking cot, dabbing at her eyes and trying not to let her daughter see that she was scared to the edge of reason. The little hut had no windows, just a low door that even she needed to hunch over to go through – not that she could, for it was locked and bolted. Her gnosis was Chained, completely out of reach, and she couldn’t stop shaking. There was a Dokken with the Inquisitors, and his very presence terrified her.
He’s going to murder me and drink my soul. They’d told her so, over and over, taking hideous delight in making her cry. So many questions, and always the threat of what they’d do to her if she didn’t answer; not even hours of confessions satisfied them.
‘All the magi deserters must die . . . but we’ll pardon you, Severine, if you tell us what we want to know,’ they’d said, so she’d told them everything they wanted to hear – she had to, for Julietta’s sake.
They all scared her: especially Ullyn Siburnius and his ugly threats; and vicious Alis Nytrasia and her repugnant shadow Perle . . . but worst of all was the Souldrinker, Delta. Just the sight of his shaven skull and hooded eyes was enough to set her limbs quivering. When she was a little girl, her mother always terrified her with stories of them, but seeing one up close was even more horrifying. He was outside now, prowling like a hungry lion.
Julietta whimpered in her sleep and Severine stroked her fine hair, murmuring, ‘Papa will come,’ to soothe her. ‘Papa will save us.’
She didn’t really believe that, of course. Ramon had never been good enough for her – and now, doubtless, he hated her. She would never be able tell him that looking back, every moment she’d ever spent with him felt golden.
As the light around the ill-fitting door faded, Julietta began to stir in her sleep, her little mouth quivering in anticipation of milk. Then Sevvie heard the thud of hooves and all her fears came flooding back.
But there was only one set of hoof-beats outside. She slowly sat up, mouth dry, heart thumping, holding Julietta to her breast. They won’t kill me if I hold her. They’ll take pity. No one kills a mother.
Someone spoke outside: a woman. The words were muted by the door, but Severine recognised the voice. Just hearing Alis Nytrasia made her bowels churn as her imagination dredged up all those horrible threats again.
‘I said, get up,’ Nytrasia rasped, just outside the door – not to her, though. She was using the tone she reserved for Delta. She heard the Dokken make a choking sound, and there was scrabbling in the sand. The lock rattled, a bolt was shot back and the door swung open, flooding the tiny cell with light and fresher air.
‘Come out, Severine. Bring the brat with you.’
‘Please,’ Severine whispered. If I stay in here she won’t hurt me. If I hold Julietta, she’ll remember that I’m a mother. ‘I can’t.’
Something unseen seized her, like a hand around her throat, and pulled her towards the door. She clutched her child tight, trying to protect her as she was dragged bodily from the hut. Her foot caught the piss-pot, tipping it over, and the thin blanket she’d wrapped around them both snagged on the doorframe and tore, but Nytrasia, hand stretched towards her, was pitiless.
‘Don’t hurt me,’ she begged.
‘Are you a healer-mage?’ Nytrasia demanded.
Severine looked at her blankly, then her eyes went past Nytrasia to her khurne. Lying on the ground beside it was a figure wrapped in bloody cloth. The face was covered, but the arms were bare and smoking in the last rays of sunset.
What in Hel?
‘Can you heal him?’ Nytrasia barked, and with a jolt Severine realised that the Inquisitor woman was frightened too, such that she might tip over into sudden violence at any moment. She clutched Julietta to her and shook her head fearfully.
‘Then what use are you?’ Nytrasia shouted, gnosis-fire kindling in her right hand.
‘No!’ Severine wrapped herself around Julietta, who woke and began to cry. She clung to the tiny newborn in desperation, her mantra running through her head: She won’t kill me if I’m holding her. I’m a mother – she can’t! No one could kill a mother and baby . . .
Then a voice rang out over the dell, crying, ‘NYTRASIA!’
Ramon’s voice.
Severine heard a squeal escape her lips. He’s come for me!
*
Ramon tethered his khurne outside the camp then ghosted in behind the rocks, sixty yards above and behind the Inquisitor, but he’d barely arrived when she raised her hand against Severine – he could see Nytrasia wasn’t bluffing, and she was shielded, so the only way he could stop her harming Sevvie and Julietta was to distract her.
‘NYTRASIA!’ he shouted, and moved into view, showing his hands. ‘WAIT!’
The Inquisitor whirled, the shock on her face telling him she’d not known he was there. Then the shaven-haired Dokken, Delta, stepped from behind the small hut; for a moment Ramon wondered why he’d revealed himself, then he glimpsed a sliver of light running from Nytrasia to the man’s throat, where a periapt pulsed.
Dokken don’t use periapts – he’s a slave! But that didn’t explain why he’d stepped into view, unless her control was imperfect. Something to think about later; right now he had to stop her.
‘You don’t need to hurt them!’ he shouted.
Nytrasia’s face became calculating. ‘I might want to,’ she snarled.
‘Well, let me
put it like this, Nytrasia. If you touch Sevvie or Julietta, I’ll kill Perle.’
‘No!’ Her panicked reaction told him he’d hit a very raw nerve indeed. Then the slyness crept back into her voice. ‘Who are you to dictate to me, Silacian? Or should I say half-Silacian? Who’s your father, Sensini?’
‘Cut the pretence: you’ve spoken with the Treasury-men – you know exactly who I am.’
‘You’re right: I do. But what’s interesting is that your own lover doesn’t. Severine spilled everything else – every single thing – but you never told her that, did you? Sad to keep secrets from one you’re so intimate with.’ She peered about warily. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Don’t you know?’ Clearly Nytrasia wasn’t a seer. Well and good if she thought he had support: he just wished he did.
Nytrasia edged closer to Perle, who looked barely alive, lying there in the sand. Her voice changed tone, becoming more reasonable. ‘All right, Sensini. You win: you can have them both. I’m going to levitate Perle to the skiff and fly away with him and Delta. I’ll leave you the woman and the child. No tricks, just a back-down on both sides. My pride can just about take that. Can yours?’
That sounds suspiciously sensible.
Perle moaned faintly and Nytrasia’s face went ashen. The wounded Inquisitor had started writhing and muttering his partner’s name softly, then he made a more chilling sound: a low snarl. Ramon remembered the impact of the two crossbow bolts, and him collapsing over his mount’s back and rolling off with blood everywhere.
How is he still alive . . . ? Then he opened up his senses just a little and saw violet hues and smoking wounds and amended that question to: Is he still alive at all?
Then he realised Nytrasia was waiting, scarcely daring to move. When he squinted, he could see that same violet light playing around her fingertips, barely visible in the glare of the setting sun.
Silence fell. Even Julietta’s weeping stilled, as if she too felt the sudden tension, the palpable sense of impeding doom.
Muted red-orange light was streaming sideways across the clearing, lighting them all for a final few moments before the sun sank below the horizon and the desert night took over. Delta’s pale face looked like a Lantric mask dipped in gold. Nytrasia was squinting into the light, her shadow long, her sword a ribbon of purple fire.
The sun’s going down . . . and she’s a Necromancer . . .
There wasn’t time to think it through properly; he just burst into motion, yelling, ‘Sevvie, run—!’
*
Severine was huddled into herself, clinging to her daughter for courage, when Ramon shouted, ‘SEVVIE, RUN!’ The cry cut through her.
Ramon came roaring out of the shadows, his cloak rippling like bat wings. Perle was tearing at his dressing, revealing livid-white corpse-skin that immediately began to char as the necromantic-gnosis in his aura was corrupted by the sunlight.
He’s dead – he’s been reanimated! And when the sun goes down, he’s going to be free to rip us apart—
Belatedly her brain interpreted what Ramon had shouted: RUN! To the left was the hut, behind it the skiff – but her gnosis was Chained, and the Dokken was there. So she went the other way, stumbling as the rocks gouged painfully through her thin sandals, as Nytrasia screamed, ‘Delta! Get the baby! Kill the woman!’
She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the Dokken turn his mask-face her way. His boots crunched on the sands as he followed her, getting closer and closer . . .
*
Ramon went for Perle, his blade raised, as the last few seconds of sunlight started vanishing and the night prepared to roll in like a giant boulder.
She’s kept him alive through Necromancy, and that takes blood . . . But before he could think it through, Nytrasia stepped into his path and their swords hammered jarringly together and locked. Gnostic shields scraping against each other and setting off sparks, they both shoved and he was sent rolling head-over-heels. He jumped back up, circled right and came in again, slashing at her legs, but she parried, riposted and nearly skewered his thigh. He spun away, gasping, tried again, and came back bloodied across the left shoulder.
He backed up, blocking and shielding hard.
‘You’re still only a half-blood, “Dubrayle”,’ she jeered. ‘I’m a pure-blood. You can’t beat me.’
Behind her Perle whimpered, ‘Mother!’ Then he cried out, ‘I’m burning!’
‘Hold on!’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Just a few moments!’
‘Mother?’ Ah . . .
Ramon backed up a pace and glimpsed Delta pursuing Sevvie; he darted out of Nytrasia’s reach and hurled a mage-bolt at the unshielded Dokken, blasting him off his feet. But Nytrasia used his inattention to strike back and he barely fended her first bolt and had to physically throw himself to one side to avoid the next. He came up even further from Perle, still writhing on the ground.
The sun slipped a little further; now it was half obscured by the horizon.
*
Severine heard Delta a heartbeat behind her, felt him reaching out . . . then Delta shrieked in agony and fell on his face – just as she, distracted, found herself running off the edge of a drop.
For a moment her legs flailed for purchase in the air and then she fell into darkness. She sheltered Julietta against her chest and shielded her as they tumbled over broken stones and slid, grazing skin and tearing flesh. Then her head struck a larger rock, right by her ear and she almost blacked out, and Julietta slipped from her grasp. She whimpered fearfully and groped around in the shadows, her voice echoing oddly. Above her was a line of pale sky, a narrow ribbon of light. She’d fallen into some kind of shallow cleft, only a dozen or so yards wide. Julietta was only a few yards below her, screaming and wriggling, half-free of her swaddling.
Then a head and shoulders appeared, silhouetted against the sky above. His features were lost in the shadow, but she could tell it was Delta. He began to slither face-first down the slope towards them.
She scooped up her child, then tried to scrabble up the far side of the cleft as the Dokken reached to the bottom. He straightened up, his smooth skull gleaming wetly from a fresh wound. His eyes were blank as he lunged towards her.
*
I shouldn’t have come alone. Ramon circled to the right, trying to get a line of sight on the half-dead Perle, but Alis Nytrasia kept extending her shields to protect her son. The young man’s body kept twitching into life. The most delicate necromantic-gnosis couldn’t be completed while the sun was still up . . . but darkness was only a few more seconds away.
He backed away, moving towards where he’d seen Severine running, and called with his mind to the khurne he’d ridden here. The creature responded with a whinny, but it was at least a hundred yards away. Nytrasia let him retreat unmolested, focused on protecting her son.
He guessed she’d used a Revenant spell to bind soul to flesh to buy the young Inquisitor time until a healer could be found. The Arcanum tutors had called the spell a ‘last resort’, because each minute Perle spent in that state would be killing him in different ways. In a few hours he’d be so far gone that not even the Inquisition would take him back. Though Ramon wasn’t sure Alis Nytrasia cared any more; she just wanted her son alive.
And I’m here for my daughter. At least she’s not a ravenous corpse . . .
His khurne burst into view and he ran towards it, widening his shields to protect them both, easily deflecting the mage-bolt Nytrasia fired at his back. Behind her, Perle gave an eerie moan and slowly pulled himself upright. Bloodied blankets fell away from him, revealing a horribly damaged body: his midriff was swathed in filthy bandages that looked to be holding him together; what bare skin Ramon could make out was either corpse-pale, or seared black. His eyes now glowed with violet light, the same colour that pervaded his aura and crawled down his blade. He looked at Nytrasia questioningly, then his eyes went to Ramon and he howled with pure hunger.
Rukka!
He spun, calling to his khurn
e.
Then another mage-bolt slammed through the edges of his shields, far too powerful for him to stop, and blasted the khurne’s forelegs to stumps. The construct screamed in anguish, and so did he as they both catapulted head over heels. Instinctive kinetic-gnosis was enough to break his fall, but he shredded his skin painfully as he skidded across the barren ground. The khurne’s neck snapped horribly and it crashed into a heap a few yards away.
Then the night flowed over him as the sun’s light dissipated and the purple glow of Perle’s eyes closed in.
*
Severine fell on her back as the Dokken clambered towards her, all thoughts of resistance crumbling in the lurid glow of his face, lit from below by the giant crystal he wore. His shields faded as he pulled the thrashing child from her grasp. She wailed, her hands reaching for Julietta, her own terror momentarily eclipsed as she tried to wrench the baby from him. For a fraction of a second, the Dokken, with only one free hand and his shields lowered, was unable to ward her blows.
Her hand gripped the pulsing crystal—
— and light exploded all around, a noiseless convulsion that blew through her. For a moment she was alone in the starry night, adrift in a sea of stars, ghostly faces spinning towards her – then those faces were all Delta’s face, crying out in agony as he fell away from her.
Stars . . . I’m floating . . . alone.
Ramon? Julietta?
Something like wind blew it all away.
*
An arrow hit the Revenant in the middle of the back, and Perle, half-dead and taken unawares, threw his arms in the air, his spine arching, as a web of light crackled about him. His cry was echoed by Alis Nytrasia as the pain transferred itself along the link sustained by her spell.