Thomas fled, dropping down a staircase of steep grassy crags to the coastal plain below. He arrived at the base of the outcrop ten minutes later breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his forehead, stinging his eyes. He looked around and seeing no danger, cleaned his blade on the grass and resheathed it.
He threw himself into the night, running due south. He would give a wide berth to the main host, not wanting to run into any stragglers again.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 31: First Strike
Halvdan was ready.
His felt his whole life had led to this point, high tide, a second chance; he would be happy to die tonight. The rest of his life would recede from this moment, this night of nights, his wave of glory. He was in control, the battle with the underground elemental had confirmed this.
He met Shiel and the king the next morning. Word was out, the enemy was advancing, the northern host would be at the city walls by early afternoon. The dust cloud from the eastern host was clearly visible on the horizon. It would reach the city the following morning. A fight on two fronts, Halvdan hit his gloved fist into his open hand. He would reach into the wellspring and release his demons, those that had taken over his life and laid waste to his hopes.
He would unleash them on the enemy and reclaim his life.
Or die trying.
“I hear you are the great hope.” Reglis regarded Halvdan sceptically. “We’ll see if you’ll fulfil your promise, mage.”
Halvdan nodded. He had the young king’s measure. He did not fight for this monarch but for himself. He would use history and circumstance as stepping stones to achieve what he needed; freedom to live and forget.
“My king, I live to serve your wish,” Halvdan repeated the minimum courtly reply without elaborating.
Reglis wanted more. “You’re an unknown to me, mage. Why should I trust you? Why should I let you wear the imperial colours, to fight in my name?”
Halvdan did not rise to the bait. He kept his cold exterior, the king did not have to like him to accept him. Halvdan nodded at his servant who approached from the side of the hall dragging a sack behind him. The boy looked uncertainly at Halvdan before tipping the contents of the sack onto the floor at the king’s feet.
The king and his advisers recoiled.
The labyrinth beast’s heart lay before the king. Reglis had heard of Halvdan’s success in defeating the ancient elemental, now to have the proof at his feet was impressive. Reglis wrenched his eyes from the grisly trophy and gazed at Halvdan.
“So be it. Mage Halvdan you will deal damage to the northern host, when the walls fall you will allow them into the city’s northern quarter. The inner walls will funnel them into a killing ground before the keep. We are prepared. If you succeed in this mage, great honour and wealth will be yours.”
Halvdan nodded, his mind elsewhere. “My liege.” He bowed and took his leave from the court.
The king turned to his military staff. “Are the mines set?”
A steely eyed general stepped forwards. “Aye, my lord. The whole northern ward is mined as you ordered. Once the walls are breeched, anything in that area will be blown to hell.”
“So be it.” Reglis stroked his beard and returned to the map of the eastern lands. “This is where the main battle will be fought. What happens here will determine if the city stands or falls.” He turned to a robed figure in the group. “Mage Shiel, tell me again of this slipworld you have found.”
Shiel stood forwards and placed a new map on the table. “My liege, the slipworld you refer to is real, as real as New Haven. It resides in an alternate kingdom. We can open a bridge between the eastern battle here in New Haven and transport our enemy away, we can banish their host to this slipworld.”
The room fell silent at Shiel’s words. Disbelief filled the generals’ faces. No one wanted to speak, the king had handed the defence of New Haven to the mages. The army was respectful of the mages but the idea of giving total control of strategy over to the Mage School was unprecedented. All eyes were on the king.
“What is the name of this alternate kingdom?”
Shiel pointed at the map on the table. “It is called New York.”
~
Halvdan stood on the ramparts.
The city watch had summoned him from his bed. His eyes searched the northern horizon as the morning sun strengthened, he saw the dust cloud. It stretched in a huge swathe from left to right. There would be thousands of them, he looked at the men of the watch on the wall, a mixture of veterans and younger men, some had seen this sight before, on a smaller scale. Their fear was palpable, fear was part of the enemy’s plan, an infectious, effective weapon.
But courage was also a weapon. He had nothing to lose, he had no fear.
He would use fear, he would teach fear to the eastern necromancers. He would deliver it to their hearts, let it rot them from within. He looked at Lumina, the panther met his gaze, she was invisible to the men of the watch. Magic surrounded the big cat making her translucent to Halvdan’s eyes.
Something passed between Halvdan and the panther. He nodded and descended the steps to the north gate. He would not hide behind walls, he would go forth, meet the enemy and bring the fight to them.
“Open the gate,” Halvdan ordered the guard.
“Sir, we have our orders from the king. No gate is to be opened. The enemy approaches.”
Halvdan held the man’s gaze and using his power of illusion he spoke using the king’s voice and eyes. “Soldier, I am your king. Open this gate, you may close it once I have passed through.”
The man nodded and gave the signal to the guards above. The gate opened and Halvdan left the city, walking out beyond the walls, he looked ahead and saw the dust cloud had grown. The walls towered behind him, the gates would hold for a time, then as all gates did, they would fall. The repaired breach further down the north wall would also fail after a time. His job was to inflict maximum damage on this host, draw them in towards the gate, channel them into the archers’ killing ground.
Halvdan strode out to meet the undead, Lumina by his side. Twenty minutes later he could make out figures at the forefront of the dust cloud. He stopped and closed his eyes, reaching within. The wellspring waited for him, it opened to his enquiring touch.
I am here to unmake evil. Open to my request, fill me with power to unravel the dead, to release the necromancer grip on flesh and bone. Hide my form, let me wreck destruction on their ranks.
He opened his eyes and saw the northern host before him. The enemy filled the horizon; armed and armoured undead soldiers. Halvdan saw archers and swordsmen. Undead hounds swept through the massed ranks, their eyes red, shining with unnatural light, their teeth snapping at the heels of the marching soldiers. Some of the soldiers carried ladders and digging equipment, they meant to scale and undermine the city walls.
He looked down at his own hands and saw they were translucent, he too was concealed like Lumina. He smiled and approached the enemy, his arms outstretched. Lumina followed his lead, saliva dripping from her mouth. When he reached their front line he held his breath and released the wellspring’s cleansing fire.
The fire leapt forwards jumping from soldier to soldier consuming their flesh in its white flame. As his fire touched the enemy, connecting with their enslaved spirits, their names came to Halvdan. The flames grew in intensity ravaging the front ranks, a whirlwind of names flew into Halvdan’s consciousness and into the wellspring, disappearing into its depths.
He staggered under the unexpected onslaught of names. He had been expecting cold hard steel, but it was the names that threatened to overwhelm him.
Then came the voices and the undead mages.
Hell hounds reacted to Halvdan’s attack, regrouping the first ranks from the burning chaos, the fallen were replaced by a new wall of soldiers. Halvdan felt pain, deep inside. The ground at his feet swirled, he sank to his knees. Bony hands reached up from the earth and clawed at his flesh, raking hi
s skin, drawing blood.
A skull rose at his feet followed by a bony torso and legs. The undead mage wore a battered crown and a decayed cloak. Scraps of hair clung to shrivelled flesh on its skull, its rotten teeth smiled at him. The stench of the grave rolled over him, a nauseating tide. Halvdan felt cold, lost and alone.
“You think we do not have our own magic, mortal?” the cadaver spat at him. “We rule this battlefield and your pathetic mind, you will bow before us.”
Halvdan stared into the skull’s sockets and felt doubt, his resolve weakened, his white flame faltered. The thing’s bony fingers reached up and touched his cheek, the skull came to within an inch of his face, bony arms wrapped around him, it whispered into his ear like a lover.
“We’ll make you believe, Gunnery Sergeant Summers. Nothing hides from death, least of all the truth. Join us, find solace in the dark world. Escape from all life’s pain. We’ll love you more than this pathetic life you cling to.”
Halvdan felt the thing’s iron grip strengthen around his chest. A vice was crushing his heart. Ash filled his throat. “What is your name, tormentor?”
The thing hesitated, uncertain. “Name?”
“What is your name, damn you?”
“My name… is forgotten, I have no name. I am one who serves.”
“If you cannot give me your name, I must bide my time here in light and not hide in your shadow world.”
A blur of white shot before Halvdan’s eyes, he was thrown back, landing hard on the ground. Lumina leapt up and ripped his tormentor’s neck open. The undead mage’s head popped from its scrawny shoulders, its body fell heavily to the ground.
As if a spell was broken the front ranks started advancing. Halvdan jumped to his feet and stepped back, his strength replenished from the wellspring within. He redoubled his efforts, sending a sheet of white flame deep into the enemy ranks. He watched with wonder as the front rows buckled and caught fire.
A deep rent in the undead host appeared, as if an invisible force had smashed them. He looked across at Lumina, he saw an army of her, mirror images; scores of white panthers extended along the battlefront engaging the enemy with claw and fang, the ground stained red with gore.
Words flooded into Halvdan’s head. Words from the horde, from beyond the horde, from the east, from the grave. Words of threat from the enemy.
We are too strong, we are insurmountable, we will keep coming, our power is supreme, overwhelming, bottomless, like the ocean. We are endless night, your day will fall under our night. There is nothing you can do to hold us back.
Halvdan fought against the rising tide, he could feel his power sing within. He was strong, wilful, but it would not be enough. Undead names surged through the air into him, his wellspring devoured the names; their hopes and memories it took into its depths. Like a whirlpool it gorged on the endless identity of the undead host.
The eastern necromancers had found a way to tap into limitless fodder for their army, Halvdan felt an age of death pressing in on him. Those that had died stretching back through time, to when the Erthe was young, passed before him in a long line to the beginning. If they had defeated time and death to form their army, he could not hold the line against them.
He would fail. The city would fall. There would be a new world order.
Halvdan thought furiously, he would fall back, draw them in, stick to the plan, buy time. Time might give the defenders an edge, maybe Shiel and the other mages could come up with something. He stepped back and left the fray. His army of white panthers covered his retreat, fighting savagely but falling before the advancing darkness.
Halvdan withdrew, fled the battlefield, numb from the despair he had witnessed.
He had failed.
Chapter 32: Tig
“It’s just a boy,” Jack whispered.
Sabine drew her bow and aimed at the boy. The rain, if anything, was heavier now, the light was failing.
“What are you doing? Sabine… it’s just a boy,” alarm edged Jack’s voice.
Sabine released her arrow. It shot high into the air in a long arc. Jack watched, it went wide of the boy hitting a shadow to his left. A high pitched scream pierced the gorge. Something was hit; Sabine’s shot had found its mark.
Sabine spat and cursed. “Harpy. Damnation! Didn’t expect to see one as low down as this. They usually hunt in groups, keep your eyes open for more. Let’s see what the boy does. He’s either with them or he’s not.”
All eyes watched the boy. He stopped in his tracks at the scream, he turned looking round. He saw the dead harpy and immediately crouched looking fearfully at the sky.
“Wait here, cover me, I’m going to get him.” Raven was gone before they could stop her. She picked her way down the boulder slope. In minutes she reached the boy, they saw her speak to him and he nodded. Jack watched as Raven led the boy up to their position.
“By Falinor, I knew it!” Sabine’s bow sang out, she unleashed another arrow into the sheet of rain. A scream rent the air. Without taking her eyes from the sky she shouted to Jack. “Find a way out of here Jack, get moving, we’ll follow you.”
“I’m on it!” Jack climbed up the slope towards a narrow defile. The rocks were mossy and slippery, he took his time making steady progress. He heard Sabine’s bow again but dared not look back. He reached the defile and climbed up its narrow confines. At least those flying things would be unable to pursue them here.
He heard the others behind, closing the gap, their breathing echoing in the defile’s tight space. Then he saw it, an opening in the rock, a cave entrance. He drew on his remaining strength and powered ahead, almost slipping at the last hurdle.
A hand pushed him from behind giving him the momentum to reach and grab a handhold. He threw himself into the cave and lay panting on the floor. His heart felt it would burst, he struggled to breathe. Raven and another smaller shape passed him in a blur.
“Lie still, don’t move anyone!” Sabine’s voice echoed. Jack looked up, she was at the cave entrance, her bow drawn, an arrow at the ready. Tense minutes passed before her shoulders relaxed and she lowered her bow.
“They’ve gone. They won’t be back, it’s too dark for them now. Harpies, I hate them, hate them,” Sabine shuddered.
“Singing devils, singing devils they are. Nearly had me, thank you lady, for saving me, thank you, thank you,” a small voice piped up in thieves’ cant.
They turned to the boy. His eyes were bright with excitement, his smile soon faded under their gaze.
“Who are you and why are you following us?” Raven asked.
Jack looked at Raven’s eyes. He blinked, they were bright green. He opened his mouth to speak but Sabine squeezed his arm and shook her head. He bit his tongue.
Sabine looked at the boy. “Yes and no lies, my sister can see through lies, plain as day.”
The boy looked at Raven as if noticing her for the first time. He too saw her eyes and froze. “You can see lies?” his voice trembled.
Raven looked at him frowning, getting in on the act, not aware of her startling appearance. “Answer the question boy, I will know the truth.”
The boy nodded his head vigorously. He straightened himself and spoke. “The name’s Tig, I work for Fingers in the north quarter, New Haven. They were doing bad things to us, the city guard. They was chasin’ us more than usual, beating us too. They were diggin’ holes under the walls, under the streets, they even found our stash an’ took it. Fingers broke up the gang, told us to get away, said something about mines. What’s mines? ” Tig paused, his question hanging in the air.
“Keep going kid,” Jack said menacingly.
Tig shrugged and continued. “Anyways… I saw what you did at the library, I was there too, ‘cept no one saw me. I saw you come out of that hole in the ground an’ that thing that was after you, them yeller arms. I saw that big cat an’ the mage jump down the hole. I never seen anything like that ‘afore.” He paused again. “So I followed you.”
“You f
ollowed us all this way? Out of the city?” Sabine looked harshly at the boy.
Tig glanced nervously at her, then at Raven’s green eyes. “Yes lady. I wanted to follow you an’ maybe learn some tricks from you. You’ve good skills, the shadows smile on you.”
“You’re alone?” Sabine asked.
Tig nodded.
“He speaks the truth,” Raven announced.
“You’re sure?” Sabine rose an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’m sure,” replied Raven.
Outside, the rain fell and the last of the light died. They all faced each other in the gloom.
“Oh for a fire,” Sabine sighed, her shoulders sagged.
Tig fumbled in his pocket and produced a small object. He brought it to his mouth and blew on it, rubbing it between his hands. The object glowed, becoming brighter with each breath. He put it on the cave floor and continued blowing on it, flames burst from its surface growing in intensity.
The others watched fascinated as Tig collected other small stones from the cave floor placing them around the object. The central flames spread to the surrounding stones and soon a warming fire blazed before them.
Tig looked up proudly, beaming. “I found it in the mages’ library. I’m not much good with books an’ letters but I fancied this stone, it was small enough to pocket, so… finders keepers.”
Sabine crouched close to the fire warming her hands. “Well Tig, I’m glad you’re a finder. Your fire is most welcome.”
They settled around the fire and felt its heat reach into their bones. Their cloaks steamed in the damp air. Jack was exhausted, they were all exhausted. He had so many questions, he did not know where to start.
Sabine spoke. “The harpies have taken over the gorge. We can’t go back that way, they’re waiting to ambush travellers. Their cursed singing will paralyze any mortal man. We must move up onto the plateau tomorrow, maybe we can outflank them. We need to push south, get out of these hills. The Rain Pools are only a couple of days away.”
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