Sanctuary

by Nally, Fergal F

  "What's happened in the west my friend?" Elias's voice was silky smooth.

  The rider hesitated, glancing at the emerald. "The slave insurgency goes badly. An angel's gone rogue, vanished and plague dogs have infected the coast. It's spreading and the dead rally against us. They rise from the plague pits… it's madness. We need reinforcements and a cure from the second servants. This is the message I carry. I must make haste. Luck to you friend."

  The rider tore his eyes from the emerald, kicked his horse and took off. Elias was not sure the messenger would make his destination; his horse looked exhausted. The news he brought flashed through his mind. A rogue angel and plague? The dead leaving their graves. What had the Magisters done?

  Plague would spread like wildfire. He should keep away from the city and lie low for a while, let the dust settle on this. He would survive, he always did.

  Then her face came to him.

  Luana was headed to the coast. She would be there by now. She did not know about the plague. She would be in danger.

  He cursed and stood in the rain for a long time. Elias felt something turn inside him. A feeling he had not expected to find in this life again. He could not ignore it. He cared what happened to Luana. He cared for her well-being. He wanted her safe.

  Elias struck camp, mounted his horse and set off down the road. To the coast, to the west.

  Into the heart of the storm.

  ~

  Luana stopped at the farm door and listened. The wind rattled a window. Otherwise, the building was quiet. She stepped across the threshold and held her breath. Her heart thumped. To be captured now would be disaster, but something told her this was important. She took a few steps forwards and found herself in the kitchen. The table was disorganised, as if left in haste. A half eaten meal lay forgotten.

  Luana found an oil lamp and lit it. The room sprang to life. She turned and smiled at Moose who hovered uneasily in the doorway. He obviously wanted to be away from this place. She had promised to be quick so she turned and went to explore the rest of the building, her heart in her mouth.

  The next two rooms were empty, showing signs of a disorganised departure. Some of the furniture had been overturned; items lay strewn on the floor. Then she came across the stairs to the upper floor. She glanced back at Moose, his eyes concerned. She grabbed the stair rail and headed up.

  Upstairs was like the ground floor, signs of hasty packing and panic. Drawers half opened, clothes on the beds. A child's room lay untouched. A cot lay empty in the corner. The house was cold and kept its story secret.

  Luana heard a noise from the last room. She froze, her muscles tense. Her instincts told her to run but she held her ground and stared at the door. Moments passed, nothing happened. Moose waited at the foot of the stairs, covering the rear. She decided to approach and listen at the door.

  She pressed her ear to the wood. She heard her own breathing. With a sudden movement, she grasped the handle and lifted the latch. The noise it made shattered the silence. She pushed the door open and stared into the gloom. She lifted her lantern and its light lit the small room.

  She saw a bed, a person on it wrapped in blankets. The form lay unmoving. Luana approached and saw it was a young woman; her face horribly disfigured. Open sores glistened on her skin, drool dripped from her mouth. Her hair had fallen out and lay in clumps around the pillow. Her unfocused eyes stared at the ceiling. She was barely alive; her breaths came in ragged gasps.

  Luana was shocked. She knelt at the bedside and took the woman's hand. No one should be left to die alone like this. Where was her family? Why had they abandoned her like this?

  She kneeled forwards and spoke into the woman's ear.

  "What happened? Where's your family?"

  The woman's eyes blinked, she gripped Luana's hand.

  "Marcus? Marcus is that you? How is the baby? Marcus…"

  Luana did not know what to say. Then she understood what had to be done. This woman needed comfort; she was on the verge of death.

  Luana lowered her voice slightly and whispered. "Yes, it's Marcus, my love. The baby's well and is sleeping now. Everything's as it should be."

  The woman's body relaxed on the bed, something approaching peace passed across her features. "That's good, that's good. All's well then my love, see she's fed. Kiss her for me. I'm glad the plague didn't reach the house, I knew we'd be safe…"

  The woman coughed, her chest made a bubbling sound. A trickle of blood came from her nose and dripped onto the bed linen. The small details struck Luana and seemed to slow time as the woman's spirit left her body. Luana saw a glimmering light above the woman's remains. This time there was no voice in her head, no message from the spirit world.

  The woman's breathing stopped, her hand went limp. The moment passed, Luana felt empty. Another death. Her path was littered with death. She let go of the woman's hand and stood up. She covered the mother's face with the sheet and left the room. One word followed her from the room and screamed long and loud in her skull.

  Plague.

  Luana went down the stairs and faced Moose. "We need to get out of here now, take anything useful. Food, clothes, weapons if any. Let's get going."

  "What's up there?" Moose asked.

  "Later, Moose. I'll tell you later. We must go now."

  They searched downstairs and found some more food and two heavy cloaks for the road. They took a hunting bow and arrows from the cellar. Moose kept a selection of kitchen knives, a skillet and a small pot for boiling water. When they were finished, they left the farm and returned along the road to their makeshift camp.

  Moose started a small fire and prepared the chicken. Luana was withdrawn. He decided to leave her alone and immersed himself in his task. She would open up in time. She had seen something bad back at the farmhouse, he reasoned.

  Later, with the bird roasting over the fire and the rosehip tea ready, Luana broke the silence. Her words were blunt and uncompromising.

  "Moose, you and me…we're ghosts. We're dead. We died in that avalanche. Our spirits are stuck here for some reason; we've to complete a task. I found a woman upstairs in the farm. She died in front of me. She had the plague. Her family fled and left her alone there in that room…" Luana trembled as if her body had been relieved of a great burden. Tears streamed down her face.

  Moose stared at her for a long while and did not speak. After a while, Luana looked up at her friend. He held her gaze.

  "I know."

  "You know?"

  "Back on the mountain, footprints. I didn't leave any footprints in the snow. You don't have a shadow. We're phantoms, we've passed into the shade realm."

  "Then what's all this?" Luana angrily indicated the food and drink Moose had prepared. "If we're dead why do we need to eat? To sleep? It's all wrong!"

  Moose grunted. "I know Luana. I'm glad of one thing though…"

  Luana raised her eyes. "What is there possibly to be glad about?"

  "I'm not alone."

  Luana broke down and cried. Moose put his arm around her until she had vented her pain.

  They stayed like that for some time. Then Moose felt a change in her body. Her breathing steadied, her muscles relaxed.

  Luana sighed. "Well, it is what it is Moose. We're here and better get on with it. Let's eat and get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow holds for us. If it's anything like today you've my permission to finish me off."

  Moose spat into the fire and shrugged.

  "Likewise."

  ~

  Travin caught Frai's eye. Their training kicked in. Using opposing fields of vision, they positioned themselves allowing maximum line of sight up and down the street adjoining the courtyard. Travin moved out first. The smoke in this area was worse than the rooftops. Keeping close, no more than a blade swipe between them, they entered the street and headed to the corner of the sigil house.

  An open window stared down at them. Travin nodded at Frai. He put his sword down and gave his sergeant a boost. Frai climbed
through the window and disappeared into the interior. Travin picked up his weapon and went around to the front of the building. As he thought, the main door was locked.

  He waited for Frai to unlock the door and scanned the square for movement. He noted escape routes and defensive positions. At last, he heard a scrabbling behind, then a heavy bolt sliding. He turned; the door opened revealing a shaken looking Frai.

  "Report, sergeant." Travin ordered.

  "There's much blood within captain, many bodies. Slaves… something's been done to them. They're… broken, like dolls. Some are torn apart…and put back together with other parts. I've never seen anything like it, not even in the purges." Frai's voice cracked.

  Travin stepped into the building. "There was a scream, we need intelligence. We need to find someone alive to tell us where the angel is. Come on, follow me."

  Travin took the lead and together they searched the sigil house. The rooms were large and dark. Heavy drapes covered the windows. The air was thick with the scent of spice smoke. The sigil makers were known to use the drug in their craft. They came across the hacked remains of a plague dog, recognisable by its ninth army tattoo.

  The sigil basement was a sordid affair. Bodies lay piled against the walls. No respect had been shown to the dead. What ever had done this was gone. They needed to move out and find the other scouts. They retraced their steps and entered the square. Silence brooded.

  "We need to go further on. Follow me, keep your eyes open."

  "Aye, captain." Frai responded.

  The two men headed deeper into the blind quarter. All the while Travin had the feeling they were one step behind their quarry. He remembered hearing the angels had been subdued by thrall magic. He knew nothing of thrall magic. If there was indeed a rouge angel, it implied the thrall hold over it had failed. If so, why? He brushed the question aside, his job was to find out what had happened and report to Severin.

  The two men pressed on and came to a smaller square. A temple to the White Lady lay at its corner. Her statuette had been decapitated. Here, as before, the walls were smeared with gore. The smell was worse than ever.

  They approached the open shrine. It housed a small fountain that trickled serenely. Travin felt a breeze; smoke swirled at his feet. His arm hairs stood on end. He trusted his instinct. Death was near. Frai felt it too, the muscles bunched across his shoulders, he held his blades at the ready.

  It occurred to Travin that the smoke was following them. It was always there, obscuring their view. He steadied his breathing and forced himself to remain calm. It would be disastrous to lose his nerve now. Something told him to look up.

  He saw it.

  The angel was no longer silver. It was black with dried blood. Its eyes were still golden. It was attached to a wall about thirty feet up. Its wings were ragged, torn in places. He saw exposed bone amongst the feathers. The angel was breathing quickly; its flanks shaking.

  Its bloody claws had raked the masonry. Something was wrong. The angel had been in a serious fight. It looked hunted. What could possibly do this…to an angel?

  Frai had not glanced up, had not noticed the angel. He stepped out onto the street. Travin grabbed his arm pulling him back to the wall, too late. The angel's eyes snapped unblinking to their position. Travin's heart leapt. He felt death draw close, opening its arms. He was not afraid. Death came to every soldier. So long as it was quick and honourable, he was not concerned. If he was severely wounded, Frai would do for him and he would do the same for his sergeant. A mercy kill was an honourable death.

  Something unexpected happened.

  Figures appeared from the side streets and roofs. Some moved slowly, others fast. They gathered in the square beneath the blackened angel. Those on the roofs carried fishing nets, the ones on the ground bore ropes and grappling hooks. They were focused on the angel and did not pay attention to the two soldiers. It was as if Travin and Frai were invisible to them.

  Travin could not believe his eyes. His stomach heaved, he vomited. Frai too retched beside him. The figures standing before them were similar to the corpses they had seen in the sigil house. A macabre army made up of odd body parts held together by some animating force.

  The angel's eyes showed fear. It could no longer fly. Its wings were broken. It held its head back and let out a low growl. It lifted an arm as if to block the view below. Travin knew what this meant and pulled Frai down to the ground.

  "Down soldier, cover your head, don't look…"

  The angel reached into the wings behind its neck and brought out a flaming circle of light. The air burned around the halo's luminescence. The wounded beast screamed the same high-pitched scream they had heard earlier and threw the halo at the infected mob in the square. The halo tore through the air shredding everything in its path. Those standing in the square were vaporised in an instant. Those on the roof threw their nets onto the angel and jumped on its back, oblivious to danger.

  The angel was brought crashing down by sheer weight of numbers. More infected pressed forwards from the side streets and converged on the fallen angel like flies on a wound. Soon the angel was a swarming mass of feeding infected. A long scream rent the air. Travin looked up and reacted without thinking. He dropped his weapon, grabbed Frai and ran towards the seething mob.

  Frai thought his captain had lost all reason. He prepared to die. Hundreds more infected issued forth into the square from the side streets. Then Travin fell to the ground over a grating.

  "Frai, help me. The sewers, they're our only chance."

  Frai understood. He helped Travin lift the grate. They climbed down into the sewer. Frai managed to pull the heavy grate back into place just in time. They looked up and saw a seething mass of infected through the gaps in the metal. The angel's screaming had stopped; its blood dripped through the grate from above splattering Travin's forehead and eyes. A strange sensation ran down his spine. He wiped the blood from his eyes with his hand.

  Travin pulled Frai's arm. "Let's get out of here, I'm not ready for death just yet."

  The two men scrambled through the sewer tunnel and kept going until they could hear nothing but their own breathing.

  CHAPTER 6

  Plague

  Raisin wine clouded his head. Elias knew he could not drink the water in a plague-infested area. He had filled his water skins with the wine at his last stop. The inn was deserted. People had fled on hearing the news no doubt. The road had been full of refugees heading away from the coast to the interior. Numibar would be overwhelmed unless it closed its gates.

  He had noticed that animals were unaffected by the plague and could drink the water with impunity. Elias could not understand why this was, he just accepted it. Then he came across soldiers from the ninth army. He recognised their raiment and the crest on their shield skins. These were the vanguard. Most were wounded in some way. Their eyes disturbed him most. They stared vacantly ahead as if witnessing a different world.

  Elias came across a quartermaster who had not been at the front. He approached the man and offered him some tobacco. The two men lit their pipes and watched the stream of humanity heading east, back to Numibar.

  "What’s it like in Nictiam?" Elias asked, nodding his head towards the coast.

  "Dark times friend. The boys tell of slaves refusing to die. They hack 'em to pieces and somehow the body parts come together and make new bodies. It's sorcery I tell you, something to do with that damn thrall magic no doubt. Something dark's at work. Still, our lot released plague dogs into the blind quarter.

  "Probably not the best move. We're waiting on a cure from Numibar. Better not take long. The men are just about holding the barricades I hear. Soon they'll be calling up the reserve, the cooks and my lot to stand in." The man laughed and spat on the ground.

  "Have you seen a girl and a bearded man pass this way in the last day or two? They would've been on foot." Elias asked.

  The quartermaster shook his head. "No friend, the only traffic is out of the city, not in. If your
friends had any sense, they would've gone east or north, away from here. South are the deepings…swamplands."

  Elias grunted. "Thanks my friend, luck to you." He left the quartermaster in a haze of spice smoke and turned back the way he had come. North it was then. At least away from the city he could drink the water. He took another mouthful of the piss poor raisin wine. At least it was weak.

  The sky behind Elias was stained with smoke from the burning city. His eyes focused on the way ahead, to the north. He knew Luana could never return to Numibar as a fugitive slave. Her hope had been to reach Echo Island by the coast. Now the slave uprising had thwarted that avenue, north was the only real option. The north held its own dangers.

  How far was Luana prepared to go? Far north was inconceivable as that was giant territory. Perhaps she was going to lie low for a while and allow the dust to settle. If she could somehow get rid of the slave tattoo on her neck, she would stand a better chance, he mused. He continued on horseback, the great north road stretching ahead.

  She could be anywhere he reasoned. He told himself to think as she and Moose would. They were on foot, likely keeping to the hedgerows and ditches, travelling by night. His eyes scanned the roadside for hours as he travelled.

  Then he saw it.

  Off to one side behind a large ash tree he saw a burnt patch of ground. He dismounted and went to investigate. Sure enough, there at the foot of the tree was an old fire and footprints. Large and small. This could be them. His spirits rose and he walked the next section of the road leading his horse.

  Elias had always spoken to Nightshade when she had been alive and they were on the road together. He found himself speaking to his new mount. The mare seemed to relax as he did this. Elias came to a crossroads and he stopped. He pondered his options. Before he made his decision, he turned to his horse and whispered into her ear.