The Queen of Sinister

by Mark Chadbourn

  'Speak for yourself.' Mahalia stood on the rail, one hand clutching the rigging, the other holding the Fomorii sword.

  'She's right,' Caitlin said. 'We're not going to give up easily now. We've got something to fight for - they haven't.'

  'What an absolutely wonderful speech,' Crowther said sourly. 'I'm sure they will be quaking in their boots.'

  'Nobody's going to take me again,' Jack said defiantly, though fear lay clear beneath the surface.

  'Do not forget,' Triathus said, 'though their forms are changed, they are still Golden Ones. They cannot be slain—'

  'We'll see,' Caitlin said. 'Now you go below.'

  Triathus hesitated, then did as she requested.

  'You can go, too,' Caitlin suggested to Crowther.

  'I might as well die here on deck as down below.' His sweating hands moved beneath his coat before he snatched them out suddenly. 'I'll find a weapon ... do my part. Don't worry.'

  'Thank you,' Caitlin said affectionately. Crowther harrumphed, and then went in search of something he could use.

  They gathered along the port rail, tense with weapons at the ready, knowing there was nowhere they could run. Eventually the skiff came out of the low sun, its sail bearing a stylised star insignia. Six people stood on board, shorter even than the low men of the Court of Soul's Ease. There was something primal about their swarthy skin and thick black hair, and the unusual agility they exhibited as they moved across the deck to gain a better view of the approaching boat. They wore body armour made of leather and black steel, and carried short, cruel-looking knives, like roadside bandits. As the skiff drew nearer, everyone could see their eyes glittering coldly.

  One of them wore a scarlet kerchief, which marked him out as the leader. He leaped on to the prow as the skiff drew alongside thirty feet away and eyed them slyly. 'Ho, Fragile Creatures!' he hailed. 'Who speaks for you?'

  Caitlin stepped forward, bow in hand. 'I do.'

  Puzzlement, then uneasiness crossed his face as he scanned her. 'A Sister of Dragons? Here, in the Far Lands?'

  A tremor ran through his comrades, and he silenced them with a sharp cutting motion. 'What business do you have on the Endless River?'

  'We seek a cure to a plague that has devastated our homeland. We hope to find it upriver.'

  'Upriver? You know what lies upriver?' The leader laughed, then looked to his crew, who joined him in the mockery.

  'We're not afraid,' Caitlin said defiantly.

  This made them laugh even more. But as the laughter died away, the group of strange little men grew more menacing. Caitlin noticed the barely perceptible shift of their expressions, the way they clutched their knives tighter, moved close against the rail. Unbidden, the skiff began to drift towards Sunchaser.

  'It was nice to meet you,' Caitlin said to them. She glanced at Matt, who was watching her carefully for any sign. Without drawing attention to himself, he notched an arrow. 'But we have to be on our way now.'

  'Stay a while, Sister of Dragons. Let us talk some more.' The skiff continued to drift towards them. 'We so rarely have the chance to talk with Fragile Creatures. Tell us news of the Fixed Lands. We miss our old home.'

  One of the crew at the back surreptitiously lifted his knife, ready to throw. Instantly, the air whistled as Matt's arrow rammed into the centre of the little man's forehead. The crew member squealed as he was thrown backwards wearing an expression of shock.

  His comrades erupted in fury. 'At them!' the leader roared. A knife embedded itself in the mast just to the side of Caitlin's head. The skiff picked up speed.

  Caitlin loosed an arrow, spiking the leader in the throat. There was no blood. She notched another arrow with a speed that surprised her and fired again. Matt was firing too, while Mahalia yelled a stream of four-letter obscenities and brandished her blade ferociously. Caitlin couldn't comprehend what was happening. Her body appeared to be moving of its own accord, her hands rapidly notching and loosing as if she were an expert archer; a part of her observed what she was doing with a detached amazement.

  The arrows tore into the little men, but still they stood, like pincushions.

  'He's right - we can't kill them!' Matt yelled.

  The leader snapped off the shafts of the arrows penetrating him, his face contorted with rage. The words that streamed from his mouth were now incomprehensible, but clearly filled with venom. The skiff raced towards Sunchaser, and when it came within a few feet, the little men leaped the gap. Caitlin fell back, wishing she had a sword. But Mahalia was there before her, slashing back and forth like a veteran with her Fomorii blade. It raked open the face of one of the little men, knocked another back against the rail.

  Even Crowther stepped forward, brandishing his staff, which was tipped with iron. He rammed it into the stomach of the leader and tried to lever him over the side.

  But it quickly became clear that the little men would overwhelm the travellers in no time. Though their bloodless injuries mounted, nothing hurt them. They were an unstoppable wave of wild activity. Matt's forearm was opened up by one of the knives. Crowther went down with one of the attackers straddling him, arm raised, knife ready to plunge into the professor's throat.

  Caitlin backed against the starboard rail, her mind racing. Her only option was to make Triathus ram Sunchaser into the shore in the hope that it would unseat the little men and give the rest of them - whoever survived - a chance to escape into the forest.

  But before she could move, she smelled charred metal on the breeze and an intense white glow burned on the periphery of her vision. She turned to see Jack pressed against the rail, distraught, tearing at his hair as tears flowed down his cheeks. The burning light was emanating from his stomach. It was as if it had opened up to reveal a furnace, but the illumination moved out from him in waves that had the glassy appearance of a heat haze.

  He howled, in physical or emotional pain, and the molten light erupted from him in a blast. It hit each of the little men full on, sending them flying through the air, over the rail and cascading into the river. The light slowed, twisted into tendrils and hung for a second, before lashing out in a second wave. It smashed into the skiff and tore it into matchwood.

  And just as quickly, the bizarre display sucked back into Jack's stomach and winked out.

  Jack collapsed to his knees in dismay, stifling sobs. Mahalia, confused and troubled by his state, rushed to comfort him, but he forced her away. He looked broken.

  Triathus rushed up from below deck, while the others scrambled to their feet, dazed, trying to comprehend what had happened. The remains of the skiff disappeared beneath the slow-moving water.

  Appearing oddly elated, Crowther staggered to the rail, gasping for breath. 'If they can't be killed, they should be surfacing any minute. We need to get this old tug moving.'

  Triathus took his position at the prow and Sunchaser obeyed his silent command to move ahead quickly.

  The water astern remained placid. 'They're not coming,' Crowther said. He turned back to Jack. 'What has he done to them?'

  Once they were sure the little men would not be surfacing, Caitlin, Matt and Crowther gathered round Jack, who sat with his head pressed against his knees.

  'Leave him alone,' Mahalia snapped. 'Can't you see he's upset?' She was upset herself, though hiding it as well as she could.

  'What happened, Jack?' Caitlin asked softly.

  Jack looked up at her with tearful eyes. 'They did it to me ... in the Court of the Final Word.'

  'What did they do?' Matt asked.

  'They took me apart and put me back together, trying to find out how I work. That's what they do with all humans.' Jack choked back the words. 'Only they didn't leave it there. They turned me into a weapon. They put something inside me. Not... not physically inside me, but bonded to me somehow, on some level.'

  'Do you know what it is?' Crowther asked gravely.

  'A Wish-Hex.' Jack bowed his head again.

  Crowther blanched.

  'What is i
t?' Mahalia said with a desperate voice.

  'The Wish-Hex is the ultimate weapon,' Crowther replied. He dropped a comforting hand on to Jack's shoulder, and that simple act from someone so undemonstrative underlined the gravity of his words. 'As the atomic bomb is to us, so the Wish-Hex is to the gods. It can destroy all reality.'

  'But why did they put it in this ... this lad ?' Matt said.

  'I'm a secret weapon,' Jack said bleakly.

  'Because no one would suspect you, you could get right into the heart of the enemy,' Matt said. 'And then they'd ... detonate you.'

  'All right.' Mahalia looked as if she was about to burst into tears. 'There's no need to go on about it.'

  'Who were they planning to use it on?' Caitlin asked. 'Surely not their own kind?'

  'I don't think so,' Jack said. 'It was for some time in the future, for some big threat, a last resort...'

  'A doomsday bomb,' Crowther explained, 'that would take all of Existence out with them, because they couldn't conceive of anything carrying on if they were ever defeated.'

  Matt glanced back to where the skiff had been. 'That didn't look so bad.'

  'I only used a tiny fraction of the power,' Jack said with dismay. 'Only a tiny, tiny fraction. But it still shouldn't have killed them. I can't understand it. Where are they?'

  They all moved aft to stand at the rail. There was definitely no sign of the little men. The sun had almost disappeared behind the tree line and the bats were now loosing themselves from branches to skim across the water, scooping up the flurrying insects.

  'Something's wrong here,' Crowther said.

  chapter ten A Small Death

  ‘Because I could not stop for Death,

  He kindly stopped for me, The carriage held but just ourselves, And Immortality.'

  Emily Dickinson

  The moon glinted off the water like glass. Sunchaser rocked soothingly on the currents, moored for the night in mid-stream. Ahead lay a steep-sided gorge where the river turned white and turbulent as it gushed through rapids so dangerous Triathus would only navigate them in the light of day.

  For the first watch, Caitlin had taken a position aft on a carved wooden chair. The tranquillity of the night did not move her, for she could not escape the feeling that something was amiss. She watched like a hawk, shifting her gaze from one bank to the other, paying attention to every splash and gurgle, every movement of branch and leaf.

  At the same time, her mind worked overtime trying to understand her mysterious skill at archery. She had trained at it before, but her display during the attack had been that of a master, her reactions instinctive. All she could think was that it had something to do with her heritage as a Sister of Dragons, whatever that really meant. And then she recalled the casket she had come across in the Wildwood. The plaque said it belonged to a Brother of Dragons. Coincidence? Or was it a warning to her about what happened to all the mysterious champions of life?

  Her constant companions didn't help the growing apprehension she felt. Amy, Briony and Brigid had all slipped into a troubled silence as they watched the figure in the shadows preparing to emerge. And what would happen when she did?

  Before Caitlin could consider an answer, an arm clamped around her chest, another around her shoulders. A knife pricked her throat. She tried to throw off the assailant who had come up as silently as a ghost, but the jabbed response of the blade stilled her movement.

  'I hate you, you bitch.' It was Mahalia. Her hissed words carried the weight of desperation and fear and loneliness.

  'I'm not your enemy,' Caitlin said. 'I don't know what—' The stabbing pain grew more intense; blood tricked down to her clavicle.

  'I've seen what you're doing, how you're manipulating everyone, trying to get Carlton on your side. No one does that to me. No one!'

  Caitlin felt the subtle tensing of Mahalia's muscles and knew in that instant that the girl intended to carry out her murderous threat. The revelation came like a douse of cold water. Despite all she had seen, Caitlin had never thought that the teenager would really hurt those who had been her friends.

  As Mahalia prepared to slice, Caitlin smashed the back of her head into Mahalia's face. Mahalia howled and the knife slipped from her fingers.

  Caitlin's action threw her wildly off-balance. Unable to control her momentum, she rolled over the top of the rail and plummeted the short drop into the water. The currents in that part of the river were strong and she was sucked under before she had time to grab a mouthful of air or call for help. Adrenalin and the shock of the cold water gave her a tremendous surge of energy. Battling her way to the surface, she managed to fill her lungs before going down again.

  This time, though, she caught sight of something in the depths that made everything else recede: colour, several splashes of it, visible in the beams of brilliant moonlight that penetrated to the reedy bottom.

  The current whisked her away and once again she was fighting for air. With an effort, she clawed her way to the surface, sucked in more breaths, and then fought her way to the slow, steady movement on the periphery of the flow. In the shallows, fallen trees and branches lay half- submerged where she could anchor herself to recover.

  She couldn't be sure; she had to see again.

  Steeling herself, Caitlin took another gulp of air and plunged beneath the surface. In the ghostly underwater world of shadows broken by moonlight beams, she once again glimpsed the colours: drifting gently above the swaying vegetation like oil paints spilled in the water. She struck out towards it. Not colours, but one colour in various shades. One colour. Purple.

  Her heart began to thump wildly. In the back of her head, Amy came alive, her searching questioning - ' What is it? What is it? - gradually turning into a frightened keening. Desperately, Caitlin fought to keep the little girl contained. She couldn't afford to give herself up to Amy, not there; the girl would panic and they would both drown. Even if she did survive the river, Amy couldn't be allowed to take over with what lay ahead. She'd never escape.

  Still not quite believing her eyes, Caitlin swam on, hoping to prove herself wrong. Gradually, indistinct grey shapes emerged from the surrounding murk like spectres.

  Marching laboriously along the river bed towards the boat were the Lament-Brood, their ranks now swollen by others who had fallen to their corrupt influence. They ranged across a portion of the river bed as wide as a football pitch, and more ranks were emerging from the depths behind them. All of them were twisted and broken, shambling, the purple light leaking from their eyes. At the front were the little men who had attacked Sunchaser - the reason why they had not surfaced now clear - and in the centre Caitlin could just make out the leaders, riding their lizard-horses.

  The silence of the approaching army was eerie, but then Caitlin began to hear their incessant whispering filtering through the water like the susurrations of malignant phantoms, spreading their message of despair and pain and death.

  They saw her, but they didn't increase their pace. They would not be deterred; they would reach their prey sooner or later.

  Amy surged to the front of Caitlin's head and her childlike terror brought a brief convulsion before Caitlin forced her back. Not now, she prayed, before turning in the water and striking out for the shore. Anxiety turned to panic; her lungs burned.

  She broke water in the shallows and instantly yelled out. At first she couldn't make out the boat, but then she saw its silhouette a little further ahead; they had a few minutes before the Lament-Brood would reach them.

  'Wake up!' she screamed. 'For God ... for God's sake! Danger!' Amy scrabbled again at her defences; pressing, pressing.

  There was movement on deck. It looked like Triathus at first, followed by Matt and Crowther.

  'Caitlin?' Matt called.

  'I'm here, on shore! Get the boat moving upriver. Quick! The Whisperers are in the water ... coming up on you fast!'

  'Where are you?'

  'Just move!' With relief, she saw the boat start up. Cloudy purple l
ight began to drift up from the water, like an early morning mist. She would have to head into the trees and do her best to keep pace with the boat, if Amy let her. But just as she clambered out on to the muddy bank, she glanced back to see Sunchaser moving towards her, and picking up speed.

  'No!' she screamed. 'Forget about me! There's no time—'

  'Don't worry,' Matt shouted. 'We'll be with you in a second.'

  The heads of the Lament-Brood began to break through the surface of the water as they moved into the shallows. The violet light was everywhere now, like licking flames of marsh gas, or as if someone had lit scores of candles and set them adrift. The whispering rose up into the still night air and Caitlin felt her heart sink the moment she heard it.

  The boat continued to head towards her. Couldn't they see the danger? Now she could clearly make out everyone on deck, apart from Mahalia. Where was she?

  Caitlin began to splash back out into the river, wondering if she could help them by getting to the boat first, but Whisperers were already coming up between her and Sunchaser. She waded back to the water's edge. She would have to run soon or they would have her.

  A grinding noise tore through the dark and the boat started to list heavily. The Lament-Brood were beneath it, using their bodies to try to capsize it. Others came up, driving spears and swords towards the hull, trying to hole it beneath the water line.

  'Don't do that!' Caitlin/Amy cried.

  There was more grinding and the boat was raised further. Those on deck rolled and hit the rail hard. Another heave and they went over with loud splashes; only Triathus clung on.

  Frantic activity exploded in the water along the tree line. Caitlin couldn't tell what was happening, but it looked as if most of her companions had made it into the trees. Sunchaser began to move backwards, tearing itself free from the attack of the Lament-Brood. It righted itself with a loud splash and moved more quickly back towards midstream with Triathus now back in position at the helm, controlling it by the force of his will.