Chaos Broken

by Rebekah Turner

  He rested a heavy hand behind my neck and pulled me close. ‘I’m not convinced the High Grigori is going to give up his seat of power so easily.’

  ‘He won’t have a choice,’ I whispered.

  Roman closed his eyes. ‘I believe you, Lora. And I’ll have your back.’

  Casper’s face was tight with worry. ‘Brother, please think about this. It’s too dangerous.’

  Roman dropped his hand from my neck. ‘Those who follow us must see we are willing to try to divert the oncoming bloodshed. And if Lora is going, then so am I.’

  ***

  A light drizzle of rain had set in as I left to meet Caleb’s team near the Harken Bridge. Roman and a small team of nephilim shadowed me from the rooftops. Keeping my eyes fixed ahead, I tried not to look up to catch the occasional flicker of their movement. The streets were deserted and an ominous silence had settled. The Alderman grimoire was secured in a satchel slung over my shoulder, along with my borrowed bag of salt. I’d checked out the summoning spell before heading off and was relieved to see it didn’t require a Calling Circle. It seemed summoning the Guardian of the Weald involved nothing more than salt, spell and being a Craft Alderman. I wasn’t relieved to see the spell written in a mish-mash of bastardised Latin and Coptic text. My understanding of the Coptic language was sketchy at best, but I’d done enough summoning spells to know I could probably fudge a few words.

  The Harken Bridge sat in the distance, partly obscured by a midday fog, the imposing walls of the Order of Guide beyond it on a rise. A low whistle caught my attention and I spied Cloete across the road, wearing a long coat and a bowler hat pulled low over her face. She sauntered across the street, droplets of water shedding off the rim of her hat as she gave me a nod.

  ‘How’s Crowhurst?’ I asked when she was close.

  ‘He’s going to be fine.’ One of Cloete’s hands disappeared inside her coat, then reappeared with my cane. ‘This was returned to Blackgoat yesterday. Thought you might like to have it. Doesn’t really match with your new headgear though.’

  ‘Thanks.’ The grooves of the goat-head felt good in my hands and my confidence soared.

  ‘Your message was a bit sketchy,’ Cloete said. ‘But I got the back-up you need for your death-wish trip to the Order. Grubber is leading some of the Runners across the river in fishing boats. They’ll stay under cover, until you need them and give the signal.’ She hesitated. ‘I told them the signal was you screaming for help.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ I told her.

  ‘What’s the plan? Or don’t I want to know?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Is it like the last big plan you had? Walk up to the enemy, spit in their eye and hope for the best?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  Cloete shook her head. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to know.’

  I grinned. ‘You and Crowhurst make a nice couple.’

  The otherkin flushed, but before she could reply, we heard the sound of approaching hooves and tensed, drawing back. I recognised Caleb first, sitting on a chestnut brown horse and followed by at least fifteen City Watch constables.

  ‘Your escort?’ Cloete asked me.

  ‘I’ve got nephilim tailing me as well.’ I jerked my chin towards the rooftops.

  ‘Humph.’ Cloete didn’t look impressed with that.

  I made my way over to Caleb, boots splashing through puddles.

  ‘Thought you might like a lift.’ Caleb tossed me the reins of a spare horse beside him.

  I caught the leather straps and tried not to scowl. I hated horses and hated riding them even more. ‘Thanks. I think.’

  The horse turned its head to give me a filthy look, like it could read my mind and knew exactly what I thought about his kind. I poked my tongue at it, tucked my cane in a loop on the satchel, then struggled into the saddle. It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so tragically ironic. Me, on a horse, about to face down a psychopath. Why did these events always seem to come down to the worst possible outcome?

  We approached the end of the street and I tried to focus. Tried to just concentrate on this moment. Of getting Laeonder out to face me. I had a good idea of the kind of man he was and of the sin he was guilty of. Pride. He’d condemned me to death and I’d escaped. I kind of figured I could lure the bastard out, just so he could personally kill me.

  We rode in silence, Caleb’s head shifting as he kept an eye on our surroundings. My nerves wound tight as we got closer and I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen them, when there was a shout behind us. Twisting in my saddle, I saw a Mercury boy racing out onto the road behind us, waving his hands and yelling something I couldn’t catch. But his panicked look said enough.

  ‘Ambush!’ Caleb jerked his reins, trying to get off the road.

  Constables leapt from their horses and scrambled for cover, wheellocks cleared and ready. I was only a second behind them, a slap on my horse’s side sending it trotting back the way we’d come. We waited a heart-stopping moment before two Thesma Regulator units stepped into view, blocking the way to the bridge. Four Witch Hunters stood at the front and the air crackled with energy as they drew on the ley-lines. Most of the Thesma Regulators drew swords from their spine sheaths, while others swung up crossbows. A command was shouted and bolts shot towards us, striking down some of the horses that had run the wrong way. Caleb shouted commands and his constables fired back, gunpowder dusting the air. There was a flurry of air overhead, then Roman touched down behind the Thesma units, his old Regulator sword in hand.

  My hands shook as I searched the satchel for the salt pouch, my feet already moving forward to help him. A Witch Hunter blocked my path and a swirling mass of burning gas roared between his hands. He flung it at me, just as my hands caught in the satchel, knocking the salt from my fingers. I had a moment to gasp what I thought was my last breath, before a flash of white smashed into the ball, and the heat evaporated with a hiss.

  Hands pulled me off the street, and then ex-Alderman Aria was there, a group of men and women with black and white twine in their hair pushing past and into the fray. Their fingers spun as they wove attacking spells, casting crackling fire and fury at the Witch Hunters. I cringed as bricks, mortar and blood blasted through the air around me.

  ‘You better be right about this, Lora Blackgoat,’ Aria yelled as she strode past me. Two Regulators charged her, hesitating when one of Roman’s men stepped into their path, sword flashing. Aria wove a classic knock-’em-out spell quickly and smacked the Thesma Regulators off their feet, bodies landing heavy a few feet away.

  I darted around the fighting, stopping when another Witch Hunter blocked my way. His hands glowed blue as he traced a spell in the air. Breath short, I pinched salt from the pouch and spat out the curse I’d used to impress Roosen’s unwanted guest.

  The ley-lines caught the magic, lifting the Witch Hunter off the ground. The unexpected movement broke his concentration and his own spell faded. He sneered at me, even as his toes scraped the ground.

  ‘Is that supposed to scare me?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet.’ I pulled my sword and slammed it into his chest. I released the spell and he fell to the ground, his hands clasped tight around the hilt. A headache started up behind my eyes as I tried to pry it free, but his hands were deadlocked around it. With an exasperated scream, I left it there and ducked and weaved through the fighting, trying to get to the bridge.

  More Thesma Regulators barred my way, before City Watch constables and Roman’s men rushed them, brandishing weapons of steel and wood. A path was cleared and I hurried towards the bridge. An abandoned rickshaw sat nearby, a pair of fluffy dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. I lurched towards it, coming up short when Grubber loomed into view, coming up from the river. I figured they’d heard the disturbance and had come to help. What I didn’t understand was why Grubber was levelling a crossbow at me. The moment slowed to a crawl and my legs felt like they were made of heavy sand. I raised my hands, about
to cry out as Grubber’s lips peeled back.

  ‘Get down,’ he yelled.

  I dropped and the bolt darted over my head. Twisting, I saw the Witch Hunter I’d skewered earlier. He was close behind me, still clutching my sword in his chest with one hand, brandishing a dagger in the other. Now he stared at me with Grubber’s bolt in his neck, like he was surprised he was still standing. I know I was. A second bolt caught him in the eye and he flew back, arms pin-wheeling.

  Grubber helped me to my feet as armed Blackgoat Runners flew past me, shouting and whooping as they went, like they were crashing the best party ever.

  ‘Go.’ Grubber pushed me towards the rickshaw, then stepped in front of me to face down a group of Thesma Regulators racing towards us.

  Swiping rain from my face, I clambered inside the cab and cranked the engine key. There was a sickly mechanical hiccup as I jammed my foot down on the pedals, but the engine squealed and the rickshaw jerked forward. Rattling across the bridge, the dice swaying across my vision, I glanced into the rear-view mirror to see the brawl in the street reach fever pitch. I couldn’t make anyone out; the scene was a jumble of sweeping red cloaks and flashing blades. My stomach twisted as I saw the City Watch, craftusers, nephilim and Blackgoat Runners fight side by side. Their bravery had given me a chance to end this, and I knew I would succeed or die trying. Trying to ignore the frantic worry for those I was leaving behind, I turned back to the road and flattened the accelerator.

  Chapter 39

  The rickshaw motor strained, ticking loudly as I drove towards the imposing walls of the Order’s compound. Four Thesma Regulators stood waiting out front, bristling with steel and ferocious looks. I killed the clockwork engine when I got close enough, and got out.

  The gates behind the Regulators stood open, and as I limped forwards, I noticed a scattering of monks and Grigori priests gathering in the courtyard, watching me. My eyes shifted to the newly erected wooden stakes out the front and realised they were topped with severed heads. My knees gave a small wobble and bile burned my throat.

  ‘Turn back, citizen,’ one of the Regulators called out, obviously not recognising me as being on Laeonder’s shit list. ‘You have no business here.’

  ‘I demand to speak to High Grigori Laeonder in person.’ I stood at what I judged to be a safe distance, hands on my hips. ‘You tell him Lora Blackgoat is here and I’m calling him out.’

  Two of the guards drew their swords in response. I knew I didn’t have long before I was either arrested, or driven through, and my head mounted on a stake as well.

  ‘Come on Laeonder,’ I yelled. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you? You’re not snivelling behind those walls, like the unholy spawn of a syphilitic hobo and bandy-legged sailor that you are?’ Beyond the open doors of the compound, I spied more and more faces appearing in the courtyard. I raised my voice.

  ‘Maybe you’re scared because we both know Fowler was no traitor. He was looking for a pathway to peace. A peace you didn’t want.’

  Faces in the crowd turned, before Laeonder pushed through and strode towards me. He wore the same black leather uniform as his own Regulators, a red cloak sweeping out behind him. Daggers lined his chest and a hilt showed behind his head, a Regulator sword sheathed down his spine. Watching him approach, I should have felt triumph, but my emotions just locked with a freezing fear that I was going to screw up and let everyone down.

  ‘Lady Blackgoat,’ Laeonder said. ‘What a surprise.’

  I took a small step back without meaning to. ‘Just trying to get your attention. Have a little face-to-face time.’

  ‘I hear a lot of bluster, and I am uncertain as to what you hope to achieve. However, it is very convenient that you have surrendered yourself to justice.’ He paused, eyes trailing up. ‘Is that an Alderman crown on your head?’

  ‘More of a fashion statement, really.’ I pulled the book of spells from the satchel.

  ‘And would that be the mighty Alderman grimoire you have there?’

  ‘That’s right.’ I flipped to the page I’d folded down and grabbed a big handful of salt.

  Laeonder folded his arms. ‘I can almost see why Fowler kept you around for as long as he did. You are quite entertaining.’

  I threw the salt high and cast the summoning spell, tripping occasionally over the words. Something shifted under my feet as the ley-lines answered the call, and salt grains hung in the air, momentarily suspended.

  ‘Of course, you realise I could have you killed at any time,’ Laeonder said. ‘But don’t let that put you off whatever you’re doing there.’

  I finished the spell and waited. I expected a great crack of thunder. The sky to be split open by lightning. Dogs to howl. Birds to fall from the sky. Instead, it just began to drizzle harder.

  ‘Was that it?’ Laeonder asked. ‘Perhaps you called me out to bore me to death.’

  ‘You just wait,’ I stalled. ‘Soon, you’re gonna be really sorry you crossed my path, buddy.’

  Laeonder laughed. ‘Are you sure? You see, I have the gift of reading auras, just like yourself. And I read yours and know I have nothing to fear, because you have no real power. You could, but you are too afraid to take it.’ He grinned, eyes darkening with the promise of oncoming violence. ‘In fact, I’d say you are quite the coward, Lora Blackgoat.’

  Cursing, I scanned the text, trying to see where I had gone wrong. Maybe I’d missed a footnote or something. Laeonder reached behind him and drew his sword. Metal screeched as the blade came loose, as if the scabbard was an ill fit. I blinked a few times, almost unsure of what I was seeing.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, recognising Kalin’s cursed sword. Laeonder indicated behind him and my eyes skipped over, settling on one of the more grotesque severed heads. Its sunken eyes were yellow, its sagging features familiar.

  Kalin.

  ‘A vision appeared to me last night.’ Laeonder held the sword up, examining the pristine blade. ‘This vision made me an offer. At first, I thought it was a hellspawn, sent to tempt me. But then he showed me the power of this sword. Made me understand what was possible. How could I refuse after that?’

  ‘That sword is infused with a terrible high-magic,’ I said. ‘You use it and you will die badly.’ I glared at the Regulators flanking him. ‘How can you follow this man? He doesn’t represent justice. He wants to crush your Harken brothers.’

  ‘They will not listen to you.’ Laeonder sounded amused. ‘My men are not as weak as their brothers in Harken.’

  ‘Do they even know why the nephilim here are in turmoil?’ I asked.

  ‘Irrelevant. The Grigori are their masters. That is the way it always was and that is the way it will be.’

  ‘You call yourself holy.’ I heard the desperation in my voice. ‘But you’re proposing to use a sword infused with magic the Unclean Ones used themselves. How can you justify that?’

  Laeonder whirled the sword and the blade sang as it swept through the air. ‘I do not need to justify anything to you. With the power I feel in this blade, I need not justify myself to anyone, ever again, save the One True God. And if that costs me my life to bring him to glory, then so be it. I will be a willing sacrifice.’

  He made a casual gesture towards me and the grimoire in my hands burst alight with a fierce blue flame that seared my hands. I dropped it with a yelp. Laeonder pointed at me and a force slammed into my belly, sending me sprawling back into a deep puddle of sludge and dirty water.

  ‘You are much more trouble than you’re worth,’ Laeonder said. ‘But I intend to remedy that.’

  As Laeonder advanced, I felt the magic he possessed and the power ran through my blood like a tide of oily filth. I palmed the elixir from my corset, popped the top and, pretending I was wiping blood from my mouth, drank it.

  ‘Get up.’ Laeonder sounded impatient. ‘I am going to enjoy this immensely and your death will be a testament to His eternal grace.’

  I scrambled to my feet as the elixir kicked in and ener
gy bolted through my body, cranking my senses high. The ley-lines pulsed beneath me, their power surging through my bloodstream like an electrical charge, and I could see them now, the elixir showing me the lines’ hypnotic sway beneath the earth. I repeated the spell I’d cast earlier to lift the Witch Hunter, but kept it well away from Laeonder, knowing no spell would affect him. Instead, I cast it on myself. My eyes stung and the headache I’d forgotten earlier came roaring back. The ley-lines pulled at my limbs as my feet lifted off the ground and the wind whipped around us, rain splattering away from me. I met Laeonder’s gaze with my own, willing him to believe, willing myself to believe.

  ‘If you choose to wield that sword, then you are my enemy,’ I told him. ‘And you leave me no choice but to embrace my true nature.’

  Laeonder blinked against the water being flung in his direction. ‘I do not believe in your stupid prophecy and I know you will never embrace chaos magic.’

  ‘You give me no choice.’ I kept my voice level, eye contact direct. I believed I was the destined Dreadwitch, about to wield a great power to level anyone against me.

  Laeonder hesitated and I knew for that microsecond, he was unsure. By accepting the sword, perhaps he had kicked off the beginning of the prophecy?

  But the moment did not last and amusement slid back into his eyes. But I’d already gathered the energy I needed. I whispered the words required to sharpen my spell to a killing point, aimed directly at Laeonder’s heart. The power smashed into his chest and he staggered back. I had a single wild moment of hope that I’d succeeded.

  The Regulators behind the High Grigori stepped forward, but Laeonder raised a hand, stopping them. He straightened and his other hand came away clean from his chest. ‘An almost convincing act, Lady Blackgoat. Grigori Fowler was quite taken by that dusty old prophecy. I suppose he had you quite convinced you were this mythical Dreadwitch, able to wield great power, if you so chose.’

  Swallowing hard, I knew now I was out of options. I’d really believed the summoning spell for the Defiler would work. But it hadn’t, and now there was only one course of action left. After all, there was still one sure way to summon the Defiler, because I’d done it before. My spell faltered and I fell heavily to the ground, exhausted.