Moontide 03 - Unholy War

by David Hair

  Beside him Severine screamed and fell forward, face-down.

  No—! Sevvie! He tried to rally, to fight back but he had no idea how to fight Necromancy. Seconds ticked by and all he could do was try to keep on his feet as his life poured out of him.

  Then Zsdryk’s head came off in a sweep of steel and Vidran was towering over him, the big Schlessen’s genial face uncharacteristically savage as he shouted in defiance. The hairless skull flew, struck the parapet in a wet thud and lay there, open-mouthed and stunned. The torso collapsed in a flap of robes and a spurting gush of blood, to quiver and jerk to stillness.

  Behind Vidran, Ramon dimly saw Harmon cutting down Salim’s bodyguard in a flurry of steel. The man was shielding – obviously an extra mage the Keshi had slipped into the group – but Harmon’s skill with the blade left the other man no chance to attack gnostically, and the few telekinetic pushes and mage-bolts the man fired were evaded with almost preternatural grace, before a stunning coup-de-grâce that saw a dagger appear in Harmon’s left hand and go lancing under the Keshi’s guard and into his groin. The Keshi hunched forward, then fell on his face.

  Beside them, Kadimarah and Jelaska were fighting – or rather, hauling spectral beings into the light and sending them at each other. The torrent of half-seen spirits was contained within a globe of warped air that engulfed the two women, the ghostly shapes ripping and biting and raking and slashing at each other. As Ramon climbed unsteadily to his feet, Jelaska flung another creature into the maelstrom of spectral flesh, a bat-winged fish with giant jaws that swallowed all in its path. Kadimarah saw it coming and howled before throwing more half-seen creatures at it, but the fish-demon swelled in size and engulfed them all. The Lakh witch wailed in despair, backing away and blazing at the spiratus-creature with a torrent of energy. It turned blue and then violet and finally went bright scarlet before exploding, but by then Kadimarah was on her knees, utterly spent, her shields frayed. She cast about for a moment, then began to crawl towards Sevvie, who was lying on her side, unconscious, her arms cradling her belly.

  Ramon gave a panicked cry and tried to intercept her, but he was too weak and could barely move. Kadimarah reached Sevvie and her hand grew a spur of horn. She raised it over Sevvie’s heart.

  If she feeds, she’ll be strong again …

  His mage-bolt took the Lakh woman in the side of her head. She rolled sideways, and Vidran’s axe swept through her neck. Another severed head rolled on the bloodied stones.

  For a few seconds, everything was still. Then Harmon spun his sword and turned. The tip rested against Salim’s neck. ‘Stay right there, Exalted One.’

  ‘Two in one day,’ Vidran commented. ‘These Dokken are easy, yar.’ He reached down and offered Ramon a hand, his expression becoming concerned. ‘You all right, boss?’

  Ramon ignored the hand and crawled to the pregnant girl. He rolled her over. Her face was withered, her skin blotched with age-spots, and her hair was turning grey. ‘Sevvie?’ he cried urgently, ‘Sevvie—!’

  Jelaska strode to his side, blazed gnosis-fire at a big bug crawling onto the parapet beside Zsdryk’s fallen head, then looked down at Severine. Her face changed from grim satisfaction to alarm and she shouted, aloud and with her mind, ‘Get Lanna Jureigh out here! Now!’

  Ramon tried to stand, staggered again and would have fallen if Vidran hadn’t grabbed him. The big man felt like a tree, an immense oak that could hold up the sky. ‘Help her,’ Ramon tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper as the sky spun above him and the marrow ran from his bones.

  ‘Boss, you don’t look so good yourself.’

  It was the last thing he heard.

  *

  Seth Korion shifted uncomfortably in his chair, panting softly as he trickled more gnosis into the patient, unsure if he had more to give. It was like trying to piss when your bladder was almost empty. Though what he was doing here was nobler than that, because he was saving a life. Two, in fact.

  Severine Tiseme moaned softly. She still held her hands tightly over her stomach, as if the baby’s life were more important than her own. He couldn’t imagine ever being that selfless.

  Maybe if I fell in love, that person’s life would matter so much that I would give mine for theirs?

  Sevvie’s colour was recovering, and so was Sensini’s, in the next bed. Lanna Jureigh was asleep in the corner, snoring softly. She was a fine healer, much better trained than he was, but he had the raw talent and the strength of a pure-blood. Healing had always been what he was best at in college, despite his friend’s derision about ‘women’s magic’. His father had been contemptuous too: just another way in which he was unworthy of the Korion name.

  How dare they mock me for having this skill?

  He now realised that it really was a gift, and a vital one, especially in time of war. He could sense what a body needed, what distressed it and how to repair it. He could visualise the interconnectedness of all the different parts: how the heart pumped the blood and the lungs and stomach enriched it, empowering the sinew and flesh and bones, and how the nerves connected to the spine and up to the brain. It was beautiful. Every human body was a little masterpiece.

  The hostage drama had felt like an epic encounter, but in truth, it had been over in seconds. Following the fight they had made a frantic retreat back to the gatehouse, dragging the furious Salim – or his imposter – with them, leaving the bodies of the three dead enemy magi on the causeway. He’d been furious with Sensini and his cronies for pulling the stunt, but it was done, and the men on the walls were still crowing about it.

  Damned sneak!

  The Keshi had launched a furious assault minutes later, but Seth left the defence in the hands of Bondeau and Jelaska while he concentrated on saving Severine Tiseme and her unborn child. Apparently the Keshi attack had been brief, uncoordinated and easily repelled.

  They attacked, even though we hold their ruler. Apparently Salim’s banner still flew over his army and scrying the Keshi commanders revealed someone who looked just like Salim. So do we have an imposter, or the real thing?

  He started at a touch on his hand, and realised that Lanna Jureigh had awakened and was sitting beside him, holding his hand. In the middle of his thoughts, he’d fallen asleep. ‘Rest now,’ Lanna said tenderly, her business-like expression softened for once. ‘She’s going to be fine. Baby too.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Well done.’

  He was suddenly aware that if he kissed her back, some kind of connection would be made. And that she hoped he would. But he felt curiously distant, his mind and brain foggy, and nothing responded. He smiled weakly and pulled himself upright. ‘Thank you, Lanna.’ He teetered away to seek a proper bed, somewhere he could be alone.

  *

  Ramon woke first and immediately looked across to the other bed. Lanna Jureigh was there, bending over Severine. Sevvie’s nightdress had been hiked up, exposing her stomach, and the healer had her ear pressed to the bulge and was listening intently.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Getting there. The child’s heartbeat is weak, but it’s regular.’ Lanna scowled. ‘What were you thinking?’

  Ramon felt his face colour. ‘Sevvie was the only one of us who could disguise herself as Hecatta. I had no other option …’ He thought back on those terrible seconds on the causeway when it looked like Zsdryk was going to kill them both, and shuddered. ‘But you’re right, it wasn’t a good idea.’

  Lanna stood over him, examining his colour, taking his pulse and checking the colouring of his eyes with cool dispassion. ‘And likely for nothing too. It won’t be the real sultan.’

  He grinned. ‘We’ll find out.’

  ‘Where are the real Arkanus and Hecatta?’ Lanna asked.

  ‘Alive.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Never waste an asset.’

  ‘I wish you would kill them. They’re evil beings.’

  ‘I suppose so, by most definitions.’

  ‘No, I mean it. I examined them … there’s something ab
out those two in particular. I’ve seen a Souldrinker before, you see – we caught one in Dhassa, during the last Crusade. His aura was tainted and he was feral. He was like an animal, but he wasn’t evil, any more than a wolf is evil. But those two …’ She shuddered.

  ‘What happened to this Souldrinker you caught?’

  ‘The legate hanged him. It was more merciful than handing him over to the Church. We felt sorry for him.’

  ‘No one feels sorry for that pair below.’ He looked down at himself, tried to gauge his own strength. ‘How long do I have to stay in bed?’

  ‘A few more days. That necromancer took more than you probably think.’

  ‘And has Baby Korion got over our little trick?’

  ‘You shouldn’t call him that,’ she said stiffly. ‘He saved Sevvie and your baby, not me.’

  Ramon looked away, ashamed of his flippancy. ‘I should thank him.’

  ‘At the very least.’ Lanna passed him a cup of water. ‘Drink. You need to keep your fluids up.’ She pulled a disapproving face. ‘General Korion wants his chief advisor on his feet as soon as possible, even if he does have the honour of a sewer rat.’ She turned and stalked out.

  *

  Seth gestured to the guardsman, who unlocked the guest suite. They had bricked the windows up so that there were no views in or out, to disrupt scrying. It was that or keep the Sultan of Kesh – imposter or not – in a dungeon cell, and he didn’t think that would be proper. The rooms were in the Calipha’s central palace; that ambitious young woman had moved to her larger palace on the southern island, which was a great relief to Seth – and to Sensini as well, it appeared. She had quickly found a new protector, though: Renn Bondeau was spending his nights with her.

  Seth found the man who might or might not be Salim of Kesh sitting in an armchair, reading from a book. He looked up and his face became a mask of disdain.

  ‘My Lord Sultan, I trust you are comfortable?’ Seth asked, looking about at the sumptuous rooms. They were far better than his own, with tapestry-lined walls and deep rugs on the stone floors. The bed was larger than a stores-wagon, and there was a brass bath with elaborate clawed feet against the wall.

  How did our prisoner get the best rooms?

  ‘You broke the rules of the parley,’ Salim said coldly. ‘You have no honour. No man will ever take you at your word again.’

  I know – thanks to Kore-bedamned Ramon Sensini! But he knew better than to reveal the internal disputes of his army to an enemy. ‘War is war,’ he said simply. ‘Arkanus and Hecatta gave a false parley before you arrived, so what confidence could we have that they would not try the same again? If we both truly believed in honour, you would have sent Bondeau and Lysart over the causeway unescorted and I would have done the same with Arkanus and Hecatta.’ He tapped his sword-hilt impatiently. ‘And your bodyguard had the gnosis.’

  The sultan looked away. ‘I never knew that, I swear.’

  ‘So you say.’ Seth lowered himself into the opposite armchair. ‘Interesting, don’t you think? You were being protected by a hidden mage. That says to me that you are valued. So perhaps you are the real Salim.’

  ‘I am just an impersonator,’ the man who might not be Salim replied. ‘You now know we have magi, and that Rashid Mubarak has defected to us from the Ordo Costruo with many followers. The man was probably a secret protector deployed by Rashid.’

  ‘Does this Rashid have many spies in your court?’

  ‘No doubt, just as we have many in his. This is normal.’

  ‘You’re well-informed for an impersonator.’

  ‘What use is a look-alike who knows nothing? We live with Salim; we know all he knows.’

  Seth sat back, tried to imagine that. ‘It sounds bizarre.’

  ‘Salim’ shrugged. ‘It is the life Ahm gave me.’

  ‘What is your real name?’ Though I doubt I can believe your answer.

  ‘Latif. I was a jeweller’s son, spotted for my resemblance to our sultan. I have been taught to dress, to speak, to behave as he does – I am one of several, each close enough in appearance and aptitude to be used publically.’

  ‘What a strange life!’ He looked at ‘Latif’. ‘I could get Jelaska to look inside your head and see if any of this is true, you understand.’

  ‘We have been trained by Rashid’s people to protect our minds. We both know a forced reading would damage me – and for what purpose? I am telling the truth.’

  ‘The presence of that secret mage argues otherwise. And since that initial assault, no doubt an instant reaction by a junior officer, your army has not attacked. That suggests to me that you really are Salim.’

  ‘I am of value, even if I am not Salim. It has taken years to train me, and much expense. Salim would pay for my release, possibly more readily than for those two Souldrinkers.’

  Seth thought about that while continuing to study the other man. Even if he was only an imposter, he was still remarkable: clearly intelligent and cultured, and courageous too, to have such composure when in the hands of the enemy. He wondered how he himself would behave if in the same situation.

  And the imposter had wonderfully piercing eyes of deep emerald, and they were studying him just as intently.

  ‘So, Latif, let’s talk about the Souldrinkers,’ Seth said eventually, aware that the mood between them was less frosty now. ‘The Kore hunts them down without mercy. I understood that your church does so too?’

  ‘The Amteh is a Faith, not a Church,’ Latif responded.

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘One is an edifice, the other’ – he touched his left breast – ‘is in the heart.’

  ‘So your heart allows you to align with renegade magi and Souldrinkers?’

  Latif frowned. ‘I too have misgivings, but this was not my decision; it was the sultan’s. Rashid of Halli’kut proposed the alliance, and it was agreed that victory was not possible without such allies.’

  ‘The Kore would never make such an alliance,’ Seth announced.

  ‘It is very easy to make noble declarations about what one would or would not do when one has thousands of battle-magi. When you are watching your cities fall and your people’s enslavement, perhaps you will discover the limits of your scruples. Then talk to me of this again.’

  ‘These are God’s Rejects! They’re a perversion of Kore’s gift to humankind!’

  ‘So you say. Their version of the tale is somewhat different.’

  ‘They feed on the living soul, man! To defend them does you no honour.’

  ‘You call your gnosis a gift, but is a “gift” that has enabled the conquest of millions truly the gift of a righteous god? You have the power to rule, but does it also give you the right? The Kalistham states that the gnosis comes from Shaitan and was made to bring about the end of time. It is no gift, but a curse.’

  Seth stood up, affronted. ‘I am a pure-blood of the Blessed. How dare you call my gift into question?’ he shouted, his temper flaring into tongues of blue gnosis-fire on his fingertips.

  Latif did not move but continued staring up at Seth with those unreadable, soul-penetrating eyes.

  Seth snapped his mouth shut, feeling like a fool to be goaded into losing his temper by an imposter.

  He spun and stormed out.

  *

  Ramon and Kip rubbed their chins thoughtfully. ‘What do you think?’ Ramon asked the young Schlessen.

  ‘I think we kill them,’ Kip replied, shrugging his massive shoulders. ‘Chop, chop, done, yar?’

  They were in the dungeon the caliph had maintained beneath the gatehouse. It was far enough underground that seepage from the river had rendered it dank, mossy and noxious, and it had all the torture equipment a practical and ruthless ruler like the caliph might need. Right now, it housed the two Dokken leaders. Seth Korion wasn’t sure what to do with them. The Kore demanded execution for such creatures, and there weren’t any more hostages to exchange.

  ‘That Brician chaplain Gerdhart wants to
administer something called the Sacrament of Exorcism,’ Ramon commented. ‘When I asked him what that was, he described some kind of slow dismemberment.’

  Kip flexed his arms absently. ‘In Schlessen, we encase them in a wicker cage and burn them alive. We believe that if they are buried intact they rise again, twice as strong.’

  ‘In Silacia they are also burned, in firepits, except if they are Fire-magi, in which case we drop them in acid and dissolve their bodies. We fear that if the dogs eat them, they will take over the body of that dog and return for vengeance.’

  ‘Yar? I guess you can’t be too careful.’

  They turned to study their captives, not really expecting that such tales would have any effect on their demeanour, but you never knew. This pair have done worse, I expect, but giving and receiving are quite different things.

  Yorj Arkanus and Hecatta looked up at them with unfocused eyes. Their auras were masked by the Chain-runes, which concealed even their nature, but both exuded hatred for the world. They had been imprisoned for almost a week, their gnosis bound and their wrists tied above their heads, forced to pee and shit down their own legs. The stench in the room was vile, the conditions inhumane – but it was nowhere near as bad as what the Kore chaplain from the Argundian legion would do if given custody.

  Ramon though torture was vile … but so were the prisoners.

  He had always felt that any enemy of the Rondians was probably in the right. As a Sollan he’d been raised to regard the Kore as nothing more than a giant lie, fermented to combat the Sollan gods and their hold over the people. But the notion that an enemy of Pallas was a friend of Silacia had never extended to the Dokken – not because they were supposedly rejected by Kore, but because of what they did: devouring souls to gain access to the gnosis. The gnosis wasn’t enough to justify taking even one life, in his view, let alone the hundreds this pair boasted of having slain.