Decimus Fate and the Butcher of Guile: (Decimus Fate - Book 2)

by Peter A Flannery

  Meanwhile, in the port city of Dymhaven, Sienna was standing in the stables of Amos Saddler. Reaching up, she stroked the neck of an enormous draft horse called Hector. In the adjacent stall was a horse of similar stature known as Starke. They both had the mottled grey coat of a breed known as Haysian Blue.

  ‘You really think they can pull the bars from the window?’ asked Sienna.

  Amos just smiled patting Starke’s rump as he adjusted the modified harness that he had made for the task.

  ‘We might need to loosen the mortar with a steel spike or two,’ said the stable master. ‘But yes. These handsome fellows are so strong that I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire keep shifted on its foundations.’

  ‘But they’re not fast,’ said Sienna.

  ‘No,’ agreed Amos. ‘That’s why we’ll have Sorrel and Kensie standing by. They’re as fast as you could wish.’

  ‘And what about you?’ asked Sienna. ‘Are you’re sure you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about me,’ said Amos. ‘There’s a disused coach house just across from the keep. Me and the boys will hide in there while you make your escape. You just focus on getting out of the city and then hope that your mysterious friend is willing to help.’

  ‘He’ll help,’ said Sienna.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because he’s also a feral mage.’

  Amos raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure you can trust him?’

  ‘My father trusted him,’ said Sienna. ‘Right up to the moment of his death.’

  19

  The Fungus and the Fiend

  Back in Guile, Motina had treated Daisy’s injuries. She settled the wayfinder girl in one of the guest rooms before heading back to the kitchen where Fate was tending to the Tutor. The demon hunter winced as Fate removed another lamprey head from his body.

  ‘We have to get going,’ said the Tutor. ‘Weasel could be dying while we sit here.’

  ‘You’ll be here even longer if you don’t sit still,’ said Motina as she entered the room.

  ‘How’s Daisy?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘Sleeping,’ said Motina.

  ‘Good,’ said Fate. Sitting in a chair, he leaned down over the Tutor’s leg. ‘Just two more,’ he said as he used a pair of metal tongs to remove another of the blind heads.

  ‘Hideous things!’ said Motina. ‘I didn’t know we had those in the sewers.’

  ‘Not the sewers,’ said Fate. ‘The lampreys live in the natural tunnels that run alongside them.’ Washing his hands in the sink, he glanced at the Tutor. The lampreys had not had time to bore into his flesh so the bites were superficial but Fate was still surprised at how quickly the demon hunter had recovered from his brush with a watery death.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind going back through the sump?’

  ‘Not if you can keep those things off me,’ replied the Tutor and Fate nodded.

  It was when they first returned to the house that a possible solution had occurred to him.

  To make the lamprey heads easier to remove, Fate had used a concoction of alcohol and valerian. He had been bathing each head with the solution when Motina came back into the kitchen for some hot water.

  ‘That’ll work even better if you add some powdered skullcap,’ she said. ‘The fungus will relax the jaw muscles, ’ she added and Fate threw up his hands with a frustrated…

  ‘Dah! Of course.’

  ‘What?’ said Motina.

  ‘It’s the fungus in the cave,’ said Fate. ‘The glowing fungus that was growing on the wall.’

  ‘You think it’s luciferin?’ said Motina. ‘I thought that only grew in the caves of Korolivka.’

  ‘Some of the spores must have washed downstream and established themselves in the caves beneath Guile.’

  ‘Can someone explain how this is going to help keep those things away from me?’ the Tutor had said.

  ‘Luciferin,’ replied Fate. ‘It’s a fungus that grows in caves.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Crushed into a paste it can be used to repel parasites and fish that hunt by scent.’

  ‘And it will keep the lampreys away?’

  ‘Hopefully,’ said Fate. ‘And think about it… the bogeyman got through the sump without being attacked and Daisy said his skin glowed like a ghost.’

  The Tutor nodded his understanding. ‘And your mortician friend said the sheen on the Butcher’s victims glows in the dark. Maybe they were also killed in the caves.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Fate, and with that he had proceeded to remove the last of the lamprey heads while Motina went back to check on the sleeping girl.

  With both tasks completed, the two men now gathered up their things and prepared to head back to the storm drain. Fate was adding items to a leather shoulder bag when Motina handed him a bottle of tonic and several pieces of date and raisin flapjack wrapped in waxed paper.

  ‘Weasel likes it,’ said the housekeeper. ‘And it’ll help if you get too cold.’ Her lips tightened into an anxious line. They were all working on the assumption that Weasel was still alive.

  Along with the food, Fate had packed a length of slender rope, several pieces of charcoal and chalk, and two elongated crystals that glowed with a bright bluish light.

  ‘They get brighter if you shake them,’ he explained, but the Tutor also noticed that he checked the firefly charm on his wrist.

  ‘I thought you no longer used magic.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Fate and, taking hold of the charm he held it against the Tutor’s forehead.

  ‘Think of the moon,’ he said, and slowly the metal firefly began to glow.

  ‘The charm is controlled by thought, not magic,’ said Fate as he cinched up the top of his bag and slung it across his back. ‘Now, let’s go.’

  ‘Find him,’ said Motina as they got up to leave the kitchen.

  ‘We will,’ said the Tutor.

  Walking quickly, they left the house and hurried along the driveway. Their thoughts were focussed on finding Weasel and so they did not notice the black shape of a dog lurking in the darkness beyond the railings of the perimeter fence.

  *

  Hidden in the shadows, Vulpyrac’s Hound seethed with primal fury as it watched Fate and the Tutor move towards the gate in the fence that it had been unable to cross. Three times it had tried to enter the grounds of Blackfell House, and each time it had sensed the magical power that would burn it if it tried to proceed.

  It was difficult to say if such a creature was alive, but it certainly possessed some degree of consciousness and that consciousness had the capacity for cunning. It crouched in the darkness as its prey approached the gate. Opening the gate they emerged from the protection of the fence and Vulpyrac’s hound moved in for the kill.

  *

  ‘Do you think he’s still alive?’ asked the Tutor as they reached the end of the driveway.

  ‘He’d better be,’ said Fate and the Tutor glanced at the sorcerer.

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘I asked him to help,’ said Fate, and now the Tutor understood. The great Decimus Fate felt guilty.

  ‘It’s strange,’ Fate continued as the Tutor opened the gate and they emerged onto the street. ‘I never used to think twice about using people like Weasel.’

  ‘Inconvenient, isn’t it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Growing a conscience.’

  Fate gave him a sidelong look then his eyes widened as the Tutor suddenly charged into him, knocking him to the ground. At the same instant, a dark shape leapt through the space that Fate had just occupied and the sorcerer caught a fleeting glimpse of shining black skin and dark silvery teeth.

  Fate hit the ground hard, but the Tutor was already coming back to his feet. Spinning around, he turned to see what had attacked them. His first thought was that it was some kind of rabid street dog, but this sleek monster had not been born of the street.

  No, this hell hound was a creature of magic.r />
  With shocking speed, the creature leapt for the Tutor’s throat, and once again he was forced to twist out of its path, only this time he was not quite quick enough and the creature’s talons scored three bloody lines on his shoulder. Barely had the hound landed before it was slashing at his stomach and the Tutor lurched back to avoid being disembowelled.

  The hound lunged once more, but this time the Tutor was ready. Drawing his sword, he arced his body away from the scything claws and swung a downward blow, cutting deeply into the hound’s shoulder. The creature let out a searing hiss, but the sharp blade merely sliced through the black body leaving a deep gash that quickly closed up and disappeared.

  The Tutor frowned then stabbed his sword forward as the manitu came at him once more. This time, the point of the sword sank into the manitu’s chest, but the conjuration had no heart to pierce, no lungs to burst. It merely absorbed the blade and pressed forward, its claws slashing at the Tutor’s forearm as he tried to fend the creature off. It was like trying to hold back liquid tar. The blade sank deeper, the hound’s jaws snapped closer, and it seemed that there was nothing the Tutor could do to stop it.

  Then the hound’s forward movement stopped as Fate stabbed it in its hindquarters with his white dragon-handled dagger. The blade of this dagger was imbued with magic that made it more deadly to creatures from the Daemonaria, but the manitu was not from the demon realm and Fate’s dagger slipped free of its body, the flesh sealing up like the surface of a dark pool.

  However, Fate’s attack gave the Tutor the opportunity he needed. Pulling his sword free of the creature’s body, he began to channel something of himself into the frosted stone encased in the pommel.

  ‘That’s it!’ Fate cried, backing away as the manitu now slashed at him. ‘The power of a heart-stone might kill it.’

  The Tutor’s sword was a Hadean blade, a weapon forged to cut through the armoured skin of demons. The heart-stone allowed the wielder to channel their passion into the blade. The Tutor’s greatest inspiration had always been his wife and daughter, but they had been taken from him, so now the only thing he had to draw on was his willpower.

  Fortunately, the demon hunter’s willpower was no trivial thing and the heart-stone began to glow as the Tutor struck at the hound just as it took another swipe at Fate. The manitu gave a howl of fury and whipped around. It leapt into the air, but the demon hunter stepped back, the blade of his sword glowing as he drew a deep cut across the creature’s chest.

  This time, the creature’s howl spoke of real pain, and the cut in its chest did not immediately close up. It flapped open, a trail of silvery liquid running from the wound like blood. The hound attacked once more, but the Tutor sidestepped and struck it a second time as he drove it back towards the fence. The manitu gave another snarl of pain then it positively shrieked as the Tutor kicked it backwards into the fence which suddenly erupted in green and purple flames.

  For a moment the manitu was caught in the magical flames, its black body stuck to the metal railing the way skin might stick to a red-hot iron. For two long seconds it thrashed in the flames before tearing itself free. Still burning, and cut in several places, the hellish hound gave up the attack and sped off into the night.

  Still thrumming with tension, the Tutor watched it turn a corner and disappear.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ he asked as Fate came to stand beside him.

  ‘Some kind of conjuration.’

  ‘From Medici?’

  ‘No,’ said Fate. ‘If I had to guess, I would say it was sent by Inganno.’

  ‘The potion-maker! I thought he was just some love potion crackpot.’

  ‘Love potions are not easy to make, and he must have some significant skills if he’s working for Alonso Medici.’

  Still watching to see if the creature might return, the Tutor raised a hand to the shallow cuts on his shoulder. The injuries would have been much worse were it not for the hardened leather armour that covered his sword arm and shoulder. The two men turned as they heard footsteps on the gravel driveway of Blackfell House.

  ‘What on earth is going on here?’ exclaimed Motina as she opened the gate. ‘I thought you’d be long gone by now, but then the charm on the perimeter fence began to chime.’

  ‘We were attacked,’ said the Tutor.

  ‘Some kind of conjured effigy,’ said Fate.

  The housekeeper appeared suitably shocked, then she noticed the fresh blood on the Tutor’s shoulder.

  ‘You’re bleeding,’ she exclaimed. ‘Again!’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said the Tutor. ‘It can wait till we find Weasel.’

  Motina’s eyes narrowed, but he was right. The first priority just now was finding Weasel. The Tutor turned back to Fate and the two men scanned the streets for any sign of the black hound that had just attacked them.

  ‘Do you think it’s dead?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘No,’ said Fate. ‘Your sword didn’t cut deep enough to kill it. It might take a while to recover, but it will definitely be back.’ He bowed his head in thought before turning to Motina. ‘Do you know how to make a net?’

  ‘Do I look like a fisherman?’ said Motina and Fate raised an eyebrow until the housekeeper rolled her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know how to make a net.’

  ‘Good,’ said Fate. ‘You’ll find several skeins of strong cord in the storerooms. About ten-foot square should do.’

  ‘Anything else?’ asked Motina archly.

  ‘Yes… You’ll need to soak it in a solution of rosemary.’

  ‘To constrain a creature of magic.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Fate.

  ‘Come on,’ said the Tutor. ‘We’ve wasted enough time as it is.’

  And with that the two men hurried off down the street and back to the storm drain where Weasel had disappeared.

  *

  Motina gave a sigh as she turned back to the house.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered to herself as she walked along the driveway. ‘First it was dark sorcerers and poisoned monks, now it’s love potions, lost boys and magical creatures that attack in the night. Whatever happened to living a quiet life in a sleepy river city known as Guile?’

  Walking back to the house, the small hunchbacked woman reached up to touch the bare branches of the trees that lined the driveway. With a rueful smile, she shook her head. Even the trees in Fate’s garden were enchanted sentinels from the hinterlands of Faerie. Their presence gave her comfort. However, as she reached the last of the trees, a shiver ran through them and Motina stopped as she felt the distinctive presence of Faerie right here in the garden. She turned around as a single dandelion seed appeared in the air before her face.

  Her eyes followed the glowing seed as it floated down to the ground where it remained upright like a tiny ballerina. Motina scanned the garden as if she expected to see someone.

  ‘He’s not here,’ she called out, her eyes scanning the driveway. ‘If you were hoping to speak to him, he’s not here.’

  Now she could definitely feel the presence of someone in the grounds, but she could see nothing. Then, from high in the trees, she heard a sound like the faint whisper of silk on sharpened steel.

  ‘You can’t frighten me,’ she said with a defiant smile. ‘I know your daughters would never harm me.’

  She felt, more than heard, another sound like deep laughter and then, down on the ground, the dandelion seed chimed like a tiny bell before dissolving into a cloud of silvery dust that slowly disappeared.

  Motina arched an eyebrow as the presence in the garden faded.

  ‘Bloomin’ faeries,’ she sighed, adopting one of the words that Weasel often used.

  And with that, Fate’s housekeeper hobbled up the shallow steps of the porch and back into the safety of Blackfell House.

  *

  Across the city, Inganno’s stomach was a knot of nervous excitement. Sitting in his basement workshop, he felt a conceited glow of satisfaction at being able to perform such a power
ful conjuration. However, his success was tempered by a distinct sense of anxiety. He had no way of knowing if the manitu had killed its victims or not. But he knew that normal weapons could not harm it, and he knew it would never give up. He would wait a few days and then he would make enquiries about the demon hunter and the Sage of Blackfell House.

  If everything went to plan then both men would soon be reported dead.

  *

  In the dark corner of a wheelwright’s yard, Vulpyrac’s Hound stood close to the lingering warmth of the blacksmith’s forge. The workers had long since left for the night, but the forge retained its heat, and the heat would help to seal up the wounds that had threatened to end its existence.

  Somewhere in its rudimentary mind, the manitu’s murderous rage was growing once more. It would wait until its form was whole and then it would return to the purpose for which it had been summoned… to kill.

  *

  In the cave-like mouth of the storm drain, Fate and the Tutor slipped off their boots and their outer layers of clothing. They pushed them through the hole in the wall along with the Tutor’s sword and the bag that Fate had brought. Then Fate began to scrape the glowing fungus off the wall of the cave. He rubbed it between his hands until it turned into a glowing silvery paste and then he smeared it over the Tutor’s body.

  With this done, the Tutor moved back to the edge of the sump while Fate sent the firefly charm into the adjoining tunnel to light his way.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked and the Tutor gave a determined nod.

  They did not know if the fungus would keep the lampreys away and the Tutor’s mind was still full of the images from his previous attempt… the claustrophobia and the pain of the lamprey bites, all combined with the horrific fear of drowning.

  Slipping into the cold water, the Tutor waited for the touch of a sinuous body or the searing pain of a bite, but there was nothing.

  ‘What if Weasel’s already dead?’ he asked.

  ‘Then we kill whoever took him,’ said Fate.

  They exchanged a final look and then the Tutor ducked beneath the surface and tried to suppress the thought of being eaten alive as he swam towards the light of Fate’s firefly charm.