The Twilight Herald

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘Did Lord Bahl ever mention his dreams?’

  ‘Not that I remember. Why is that important?’

  ‘Because they used his dreams, his memories of his lost love, against him. Lord Styrax has been planning this invasion for years -how else could anyone have brought an army across the Waste intact? The one thing he had not anticipated is you, Lord Isak.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Vesna said, pacing the room himself. ‘How could he, when he was working so many years ahead? We knew some form of necromantic power was involved when Lord Charr usurped Lord Chalat. The Chetse were defeated because of this. Lord Styrax has used our own weakness against us: the Farlan had only one Chosen, and we have a history of insurrection, while the Chetse are prone to over-obedience. Thotel fell because no one challenged Lord Charr’s orders, even though any seasoned soldier could have seen the danger.’

  ‘And Mistress Zhia believes Lord Styrax may have influenced the actions of the White Circle as well,’ Legana added.

  Vesna stopped his pacing and swung around to examine Legana. ‘Thus directing their efforts towards eliminating the other great leader of the West?’ he asked.

  ‘So she believes.’

  ‘I can think of no one more able to unravel deviousness, and at this point there is little I could not believe of Lord Styrax. I suspect he would even put our own dear Chief Steward to shame.’

  ‘Impressed, Vesna?’ Lord Isak asked.

  ‘Enough to respect him as an enemy,’ the count replied. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword as he continued, ‘Rather more importantly, it means we cannot forget the threat to Lord Isak. We will have to watch for assassins and instruct Mariq—’

  ‘No.’ Lord Isak’s soft interruption stopped the count. A prickle went down Vesna’s spine as he saw a hunted look in his master’s eye. As he looked around the room, he saw they too had felt the change, a sudden cloud crossing the sun.

  ‘My Lord?’

  ‘He will not send assassins.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘I know, leave it at that.’

  Vesna checked his urge to question further. Isak had told them about his dreams, the Yeetatchen girl Xeliath, the soul of Aryn Bwr kept prisoner in his head, even what the dead Elf had claimed about Kastan Styrax being born the Saviour, until he chose his own route. Isak had mentioned a connection between the two of them, but not wanted to go into detail -and only a handful of people had been told that much. Obviously he would explain no further in the presence of Jachen or Legana, no matter how loyal they professed themselves.

  Vesna did his duty and changed the subject back. ‘Legana, what did this necromancer do to Lord Bahl’s dreams?’

  ‘He used them to torment Lord Bahl with visions of his lost love, driving him to a certain place on the White Isle, where Lord Styrax could ambush him.’

  ‘Are we to assume that Zhia is aware of your true allegiance?’ Tila asked suddenly, stepping forward from the foot of the stair where she had been observing the conversation.

  Legana nodded.

  ‘So she is aware that you are reporting to Lord Isak?’

  Legana smiled. ‘It is her hope that Lord Isak will kill the necromancer, because he has made some sort of bargain with Mistress Siala and currently resides under her protection.’

  ‘So this could be nothing more than some artifice of Zhia’s, to have us do her bidding?’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ Legana said plainly, turning to look at the younger woman. ‘Mistress Zhia had already come to the conclusion that Mistress Siala was more an obstacle than a help, even before we learned of Lord Isak’s presence in the city.’

  Vesna watched the two of them. It was rare to see a woman more arrestingly beautiful than Tila. Legana managed to command the room almost as much as Isak, who was a white-eye, and stood a foot and a half taller. To Vesna’s experienced eye, Legana was not happy with the attention her beauty brought. White-eyes, he knew, were born to demand attention as entirely natural, and Isak had quickly shaken off the habits of his isolated upbringing, but Legana had obviously never grown too comfortable with the effect she had on a roomful of men.

  ‘You keep saying “Mistress”,’ Tila observed, as though sharing Vesna’s thought and taking it a step further. ‘That’s the form of address demanded by those of the White Circle. Have you grown attached to the Sisterhood?’

  Legana looked startled at the suggestion. ‘It has become a habit out of necessity; it would be too easy to make a mistake if I wasn’t careful to always keep to the forms -and the future of the Circle is hardly one I would want to tie myself to. The White Circle suffered grievous losses in Narkang. They have no expansionist plans at present. Shoring up their defences before they are slaughtered by Narkang and the Farlan is their only goal, and it’s Zhia who is effectively in charge of four of Scree’s five armies. They are finished as a power in the Land.’

  Tila didn’t respond, but her expression was cool and her eyes fixed on Legana. When the agent turned away, Tila gave Isak a small nod and stepped back out of the conversation again.

  ‘So we have an associate of Malich’s in the city, one who was also involved in the death of Lord Bahl and remains an agent of the Menin.’ Isak shrugged. ‘It’s a simple decision then; we kill him first.’

  ‘My Lord, he is under Siala’s protection, and a necromancer is constantly on guard; the attack on his house will have made him doubly watchful.’

  Isak’s eyes flashed. ‘I don’t care. This necromancer is an enemy of the Farlan and a threat to us all.’ He pointed a finger towards Tila. ‘Those of you who lack any defence against magic will be the ones hurt in the crossfire when he comes after me.’

  A furious hammering on the front door broke off the discussion. They could hear angry voices in the street outside, growing louder, then the person beating at the barred door yelled out above the racket, ‘For Vellern’s sake, let me in; they’re going to kill me!’

  ‘It’s Mayel,’ Isak said, surprised, ‘the kid we brought back here the other night. Let him in.’

  The guardsmen raised their glaives and one used the butt of his weapon to knock the bolt open and raise the latch. The former novice barrelled through, barging the doors wide open as he rushed in, and Isak caught sight of the figures following him: half a dozen townsfolk, armed with clubs and sticks and what looked like meat cleavers. Clearly the madness that had gripped the population was worsening.

  One guardsman drove his door shut, but the other had moved outside to see what was happening. Seeing the onrushing mob, he stepped away and raised his weapon; Vesna shouted for Tila to get up the stairs and pulled out his longsword. Isak had already drawn his, and when the first of the invaders hurtled in, the white-eye spun around as gracefully as a dancer and beheaded him neatly. Blood fountained from the attacker’s neck as the body crashed to the marble floor.

  As others followed, still shouting and screeching incoherently, they found themselves set upon from all sides. The guardsmen slammed the door and bolted it against further incursions. By the time they joined the fight, it was almost all over: Lord Kelet’s arrows had taken two down, and a third was gaping down at Legana’s knife buried in his chest. Count Vesna had battered aside a club and impaled the owner, while Shinir, leaping down from the balcony and swinging around a pillar into the fray, had used her flail and khopesh to good account, trapping a fat man who looked like a butcher and hacking through his collarbone. She left the khopesh there as she tossed her chain flail around one of the remaining two people and yanked hard; the chain caught the astonished invader under the chin and slammed her against the pillar with a sickening snap.

  The last man standing, his bloodstained cleaver raised uncertainly, took a step back. He never even saw the guardsmen behind him, swinging their glaives in unison. The room fell silent as they listened for more voices outside. Vesna looked up to Kelet, who had another arrow nocked and ready.

  He made his way around the balcony to a window and peered up and down th
e street outside for a few seconds. Finally the knight from Torl called, ‘Looks clear, my Lord.’

  ‘Shinir, get out to the back and check there,’ Jachen said, his voice husky. He had drawn his sword, but he’d not had to fight - Lord Isak had made it clear that he had some very effective killers in his personal guard now, and that was not his job. He was to watch for what was going on beyond and around any fight, and to guard Tila from any threat.

  ‘Karkarn’s black teeth,’ breathed Mayel, eyes widening as he watched Shinir scamper up a pillar and vault onto the balcony with consummate ease. ‘You’re like no mercenaries I’ve ever met.’

  ‘You were a novice in a monastery; exactly how many mercenaries have you met in your life?’ Jachen snapped, advancing on the youth.

  ‘Being a novice doesn’t make me brainless,’ the boy said. He pointed at Shinir. ‘No normal woman does that. Maybe a Harlequin could manage it, but no damned soldier.’

  ‘Congratulations, you’ve just seen a damned soldier do it,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘I say you’re not normal mercenaries. No lord’s tart—ah, begging your pardon, Miss,’ he added hurriedly as he caught Vesna’s expression, ‘but no lord’s mistress is so valuable she’s protected by a white-eye his size—’ he jabbed a grubby finger in Isak’s direction, ‘and a woman touched by magic, not both. Not when the city’s terrified the entire Farlan Army’s going to appear at the walls at any moment.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Lord Isak interjected. ‘I thought you were going to see if your cousin survived the other night?’ After the chaos of the night at the necromancer’s house, Isak had beaten a hasty retreat rather than get entangled in a fight with the city guard. He’d seen some of the creatures crashing through the fence and decided on the spur of the minute that it would be too cruel to leave the boy to fend for himself, so he’d dragged Mayel along with him. Mayel had spent half of the next day in shock, huddled in a corner of the room, before he regained some semblance of his normal insouciance. He’d shaken himself all over, like a dog, and announcing he had to find his cousin, he grabbed some food and disappeared before anyone could talk him out of leaving the safety of the house.

  ‘I did, but I hadn’t realised the state the city’s in. I’d never have made it back here if I’d not known the streets as well as I do. As it was—’ Mayel gestured towards the corpses in the middle of the room. ‘They came after me because I was alone. No other reason.’

  ‘And your cousin?’

  ‘Dead.’ His shoulders fell. ‘Dead, with most of his men, when the Dark Place spat out its creatures at them.’

  ‘And he’s the only person you know in the city?’ Vesna asked, recalling what Ilumene, the supposed King’s Man, had said to Isak: a priest on the run. He was beginning to think it was no coincidence that Mayel had been a novice at a monastery. The city was spiralling into chaos with breathtaking speed, and Vesna was increasingly fearful that it was not by chance. Doranei had already told them Ilumene was now an enemy of Narkang and Morghien had hinted at a shadowy hand behind much to do with Isak too. What if this is only the next step? Vesna thought.

  ‘Who else could there be?’ Mayel replied hotly. ‘I’ve been in a monastery for the last few years.’

  ‘Perhaps someone from that monastery, then?’ Vesna pressed. He hadn’t sheathed his sword. Now he began to advance on the youth. There was something not right about this boy.

  Mayel took a pace back.

  ‘Perhaps someone who needed to hide in the city, someone who needed a native to help them?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Mayel blustered -but his eyes had already betrayed him.

  ‘Balls you don’t; you know exactly what I’m on about,’ Vesna said angrily. Very deliberately, he tore a strip of clothing from one of the dead men and used it to wipe his blade clean before sheathing it. Then, before Mayel realised what was happening, he’d stepped forward and grabbed the boy by the throat.

  ‘You’ve been lying to us,’ he said, ‘so how about you spill what you know or I’ll beat seven shades of shit out of you?’

  Mayel struggled against Vesna’s grip. ‘I’ve not—’

  He stopped abruptly as the count punched a fist into his gut, driving the wind from him.

  ‘Not what?’ he roared, shaking the youth like a terrier holding a rat. ‘You’re not going to tell me the truth?’

  ‘I don’t—!’

  Mayel’s gasping protests were cut off as Vesna slammed him into the wall. Terrified, he cowered, hands held out like a pleading supplicant.

  Everyone else in the room kept silent and watched. They had all seen far worse; so far Vesna had been remarkably restrained. Mayel was obviously no trained liar; it wouldn’t take much longer to get the truth they so desperately needed to hear.

  ‘Trust me, boy; I can keep this up all day,’ Vesna threatened, his voice silky. ‘You’ll want to give it up long before I do.’ He snarled, and punched Mayel sharply.

  The boy howled and flopped to the floor, and Vesna picked him up again and pinned him against the wall.

  ‘Ready to tell me yet?’

  ‘All right!’ he gasped. ‘Please, stop it, and I’ll tell you.’

  Vesna held him there for a few heartbeats, then let Mayel sink to his knees. He left the boy there as Isak beckoned and led him to a corner of the room where they could speak without being overheard.

  Taking that as his cue, Jachen began removing the bodies as noisily as he could.

  ‘Feeling better?’ Isak asked softly. ‘You’ve been boiling inside for days, my friend, something I recognise only too well. Now you’ve hurt someone, does that help?’

  Vesna sighed. ‘The boy’s no good at lying. It looked worse than it really was; I pulled most of my blows. He’s not really hurt much. I apologise if I went too far.’

  ‘You were serving me as you should,’ Isak said, laying a hand on the count’s shoulder. ‘It’s just novel that I’m the composed one. Is there anything I should know? Not as your lord, but as your friend. What really happened in Tor Milist? Something there shook you up.’

  ‘It’s—’ Vesna shook his head. ‘Now is not the time, but I would like to speak of it. Let us deal with the boy first.’

  Isak led the way back to Mayel, who was sitting with his back to the way, grimacing.

  He lifted the youth to his feet and inspected the damage. ‘You’ll have a fine bruise or two, but I don’t think he’s done much more than rattle your teeth. I’ll be glad if I get no more than that before I get out of this city.’

  Mayel touched a finger to his rapidly swelling cheek. The man who’d hit him was a strong man, and a fair bit taller. ‘You’ll be telling me he pulled his punches next,’ he muttered, glaring at Vesna around Isak’s massive body.

  ‘And that shows it’s just your pride that’s hurt. A wise man once told me that was easily given up to save your life.’

  ‘I’m sure the old sod would feel smug if he saw this then,’ Mayel spat.

  ‘I’m sure he would, but you don’t get to call him an old sod,’ Isak replied, and slapped him sharply on his bruised cheek.

  The youth yelped and recoiled.

  ‘Enough of the games. I’m losing patience,’ Isak growled, looming over the youth and glowering until he thought Mayel looked frightened enough to tell the truth. ‘You had something to tell me.’

  Mayel started shaking. Rubbing his cheek, he looked up at the huge white-eye towering over him. He had suddenly realised he was in over his head, and these men were not going to take it easy on him because he was just a scrawny ex-novice. ‘Why do you even care about the monastery?’ he whispered.

  ‘Call it professional interest,’ Isak said, watching expressions dance across Mayel’s face. Vesna was right; the boy was no accomplished liar. ‘A priest was murdered last night, on stage, in front of a cheering crowd. From what I hear that’s not the only priest who’s been treated with something less than respect by the good citizens of Scree, and I’m curiou
s as to why.’

  ‘I don’t know much about that,’ Mayel said quickly. ‘I came to Scree with the abbot of my monastery. We were hiding from a rogue monk; the prior of our order.’

  ‘Who’s called?’

  ‘Prior Corci, but everyone called him Jackdaw. We brought some holy relics with us and Jackdaw wants them.’ Mayel shuddered visibly as he said quietly, ‘He killed someone trying to get at them, so the abbot decided to flee.’ By now all the bluster had disappeared and he was just a frightened boy.

  Isak stepped back a pace to give him a bit of space. ‘Do you know what the relics are?’ he asked, his voice less angry now.

  Mayel shook his head. ‘No, the abbot was careful never to let me see them.’

  ‘But you have your suspicions?’ Isak pressed.

  ‘I can’t be sure, but both Abbot Doren and Jackdaw are mages. When I went looking for news of my cousin, I also tried to visit the abbot, but I was driven off as soon as I entered the grounds. I got a splitting headache - no, more than that, it was a pain in my head, but not like anything I’ve ever felt before. It was as if I could feel his presence all around me, but suddenly he was terrifying, not the sickly old man I know. It felt—’ He paused. ‘It felt like he’d gone mad, and I could feel his fear.’ Mayel scowled at the floor and rubbed his cheek. ‘I know that sounds ridiculous but I could taste it on the air before I even reached the house. He was a mage, I suppose.’

  ‘Driven mad by fear?’ Isak looked fascinated and worried at the same time, a look that was echoed around the room.