"What would you do my beauty? Where would you go, I wonder? The horse's eyes blinked, its long lashes fluttered. Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple he had lifted from the quartermaster's supplies. He cut it into segments. Here you go my beauty."
The horse licked its lips and took the apple pieces as Elias watched on. "You've a similar nature to Nightshade. I'll call you Spirit. We'll have many adventures together, you and I." Elias took his knife and made a small knick in his thumb. A bead of blood welled up and he pressed it onto the horse's forehead.
"Take this blood of mine, with it I name you. Spirit you are. We are bound by this name." He sighed and patted Spirit's side. "We've to rely on each other girl. Out here, on the road, it's you and me."
Elias turned back to the crossroads. He walked around the area searching for any sign of Luana or Moose. He grabbed a blade of grass and chewed it, looking further away. He saw a field of wheat and decided to climb one of the trees for a better view.
He reached the second branch and looked around. He saw a farmhouse in the distance. If he took the right fork in the road, it would take him there. He could ask for water and see if they had seen any travellers. They would be out on the land long hours this time of year. They were bound to notice people passing through.
His decision made, he mounted Spirit and rode on. After half an hour, he reached the farm. He tied Spirit up beside a water trough and went to the house. The door was open. He went in and explored the building, room by room. He found a dead woman upstairs and knew plague had taken her. As he went back out into the yard, he noticed a set of fresh footprints in the mud. One large set and a smaller pair. They had been here.
Elias lifted his eyes and looked to the northeast. They were headed to higher ground. Sensible choice, he approved. The water would be clean and there was more chance of game. He would follow and if his luck held, he would catch up.
He untied Spirit and they set off.
~
Calim Dove had the gift of second sight.
Magister searchers had taken him from his village at the age of six. They came in the night. His mother pushed him out the back door telling him to run to the forest behind the house. He remembered trying to be brave for her. Then he remembered crying as he heard his father being beaten by the searchers. It was all his fault…because he saw things.
"Run love, run my precious darling. These bad men want to take you away from us. Hide where I showed you. Wait until we come for you. I love you my precious boy," Calim's mother had tears in her eyes. She kissed him, a mother's kiss full of unconditional love. She pushed him out the door into the night.
He ran to the forest where he would be safe. He slowed down, his legs shaking. Then he heard horses. He turned to see his mother on the lead horse, her clothes torn, bare flesh exposed, blood on her face. He froze. He saw the hooded searchers catch up and drag her off her mount.
He remembered her hand reaching out to him. He recalled the silence as her screams were cut short by a vicious blow to her head. He saw her fall again as he did most nights now. Why the images still came to him, he did not know. He was now in his forty seventh year. He had been the eyes of the Magisters for forty-one of those years; scrying the sands of time, delving into the future. Still the past haunted him, spoke to him.
He never saw his parents or his village again. He was robbed of his childhood. His life was forfeit, taken by the Magisters. He was a slave, albeit a privileged one surrounded by luxury, not wanting for any material thing.
He was kept alive for his second sight. Called upon, sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes a handful of occasions a year. Recently, his work had escalated. Work over the angels, the Raven and now the crisis in the west with the plague and the rogue angel. His talents were much in demand.
He had not slept in three days; he was exhausted. Reality felt like sleepwalking. This only heightened his intuition and deepened his access to the second sight. He could see into the near future and read the short-term outcomes of decisions made by the Magisters.
He had not been able to harness his skill to deep read time. Seeing far into the future was still beyond him but he knew the Magisters had plans in this regard. Every so often, he would allow his mind to drift back to boyhood memories. Something told him it was important to maintain this connection with the past. It was his anchor and stopped him falling apart.
The second sight was both a curse and a pleasure. He saw things he did not always understand. He saw new life, much death and confusion. The Magisters sought ultimate control of the settled lands. They had been working towards domination of the population for decades now. They had achieved much. It had cost much blood; many innocents fell victim to their ruthless expansion.
Their first step had been to usurp and destroy the royal families of the central lowlands. They had assassinated whole Houses. Where this could not be achieved, they set one family against another using paranoia and suspicion. It had taken a long time but eventually their coup was successful. They had stepped into the power vacuum bringing their dark arts and thrall magic.
Calim reflected on the rise and rise of the Magisters. Where they had actually come from no one knew. They insinuated themselves slowly in ones and twos into the mage schools and royal courts throughout the central lands. Once they were in place, employing self-promotion and aggrandisement, they became part of the upper circles of society.
They gained power and influence. Their magic was deemed worthy and powerful to those it served, as it delivered results. Then slowly they turned from those who served to those who took. They accumulated lands, vast wealth and looked after their own. Before long, they had created their guild and their influence spread across the civilized world.
When the Magisters pulled their final coup and finished off the last handful of royal families, society was on the brink of collapse. Civil war broke out across the land. The Magisters let the disturbance grow just long enough for people to look into the abyss of destruction this path offered. Then they made their move; by a process of diplomacy and power, they took over the royal palaces and courts. They declared absolute rule and decreed a new world order. Their voice was law. An enforced peace returned to the Erthe. An uneasy peace.
Calim Dove was a tool, an instrument of peace. That was what the Magisters told him. He was pacified by their magic; his emotions blunted, his feelings shut down. This allowed him to focus and deliver what the Magisters wanted; the knowledge of time. The Magisters did not like surprises or secrets. They wanted certainty.
For the first time in forty-one years, he felt compelled not to share what he had seen. They had no idea what was coming. They had no idea what they faced. Calim tilted his head as the sickening sound of the blow to his mother's head replayed in his memory.
A solitary tear ran down his cheek.
~
Moose slept like the dead.
How? Luana wondered. When all was falling down in the world, he could sleep as if there was no tomorrow. She looked at the glimmering stars. As a girl, she had spoken to them, they had murmured to her, whispering secrets. She had spoken to the moon and a lady's voice had guided her through the day's troubles. The moon had been her special friend. She felt free when her gaze was lost in the skies. She felt trapped when she looked at the world, all its people and their cares.
She looked down and was surprised to see her own slumbering body beside the fire. So, she was in a dream, she reasoned. Well that was fine, she would let it unfold and see where it took her. She noted a floating sensation in her limbs and felt the fluttering in her stomach. She heard Moose snoring below. She smelt the pine trees and blinked at the smoke from the fire. The dream was certainly vivid.
"You must reach Echo Island by the Storm Sea," a voice said from behind.
Luana jumped and tried to turn. She was unable to move. Everything slowed down. She concentrated hard and willed herself to turn away from her sleeping form below. She seemed tethered to it in some way. Slowly h
er will found traction and she started to turn.
The vaguely familiar voice continued. "The answers you seek lie on Echo Island, your instincts have always been right. You must follow them. A great wrong has been perpetrated by the Magisters in the coastal settlements. An angel and the plague have been released against the slave revolt. A line is crossed. That angel is no ordinary angel; he is kindred to the Seven.
"The Seven that crossed the Erthe's divide to her other side. The Erthe that never was, all the parallel planes that could have been but never formed in her history. The Seven crossed into these fey places and brought back the essence of each plane.
"The Magisters have never encountered anything like this before. The only way to abate the Magister threat is to awaken the archangels. Echo Island is a gateway to their world; you must go there and call them to the Erthe to fight the Magisters.
"Only then will you be able to move on. If you miss this chance, you will be trapped here, your freedom denied. You will roam this Erthe, this plane for all eternity. This task has fallen to you."
The voice ceased just as Luana stopped turning. What she saw took her aback but did not frighten her, for the voice had come from a mirror image of herself. A younger Luana looked at her; an eight-year-old across the divide. Luana relaxed, this was a dream after all. Her insight however stirred the vision.
The little girl shook her head angrily. "No, this is not a dream. This is the only way I can come to you. The skin of reality is thin when asleep. It is a door. A way. You must listen to what I have told you. If you do not do this thing then you and countless others will be sentenced to an eternity of pain. People, once they die, will not be able to pass on, as they should. This Erthe we know will become a place of sorrow. The cycle of death, life and rebirth will be stopped. You must succeed Luana, you must recall the Seven archangels."
The vision faded. Luana felt detached and watched it go. She reached out her hand as the image vanished. She was surprised for she did feel a real hand. The girl's fingers gripped hers tightly. A wave of cold washed over Luana, she felt herself sink to the ground back towards Moose, the camp fire and her own body. Luana's awareness disappeared and darkness returned. She passed into oblivion.
The smell of eggs and bacon stirred her. Moose was awake and cooking on the skillet he had taken from the farmhouse. The aroma brought Luana to her senses, her mouth was watering.
"Food of the gods Moose, how long 'till it's ready?"
"Five minutes," Moose replied. He was absorbed in the task, his face flushed in anticipation. "I've not had real bacon for…such a long time," his voice became wistful.
"It's been three years for me. Last time I had bacon was before prison and the mines of course," Luana declared. "I'll be back soon, just going to the stream for a wash." She left Moose to his cooking and set off through the trees to the burn they had crossed the night before.
She cleaned herself as best as she could. Her hair was longer she noted. She would need some more braids and leather cord. She took pride in her appearance but it was difficult on the road. She felt refreshed and started back towards the camp.
As she reached the roadside, she saw movement in the trees on the far side of the road. She crouched down and waited. She heard a horse nicker, then saw a man emerge from the undergrowth in the distance. She watched closely. She was some way from Moose and thankfully could not smell his cooking. The man appeared unaware of their camp.
Something about him was familiar. She could not place it and she had to watch for a few moments more before the stranger turned towards her. Luana's mouth fell open.
It was Elias.
CHAPTER 7
Evasion
Frai turned to Travin. "Which way captain?" They had reached a junction in the sewer complex. The underground world was dark and they had to feel their way in the gloom. Feeble light filtered down from grates above at major intersections.
"The sewers in Nictiam are haphazard. I studied the city plans before we arrived including the sewers. I couldn't make any sense of them. If we follow the flow of the water we should reach the sea."
"It'd be good to be out of here before then."
"Agreed, but do you really want to meet those things again?"
"Not if I can help it. How long have we been down here anyway?"
"Seems like a couple of hours. Do you think that angel was keeping the infected in this quarter? Now it's defeated what's to stop them from breaking out of this sector?"
"Nothing," Travin answered grimly. "I hope our men are ready."
Frai jumped. "Watch out! Behind you…"
Travin turned and saw a shape floating towards him in the water. He braced for impact holding his hands out. He managed to stop the object and saw it was a corpse. It bore the leather armour of the ninth army. He gripped it by the shoulders and flipped it around. Lifeless eyes stared at him; part of the face had been eaten away.
Frai pressed in to look. "I recognise him. That's the plague dog handler. Flint was his name, a good man. I wonder what happened to him and his dogs."
"Guess we'll never know. Come on let's keep moving. I've had enough of this place, we'll get out at the next junction."
The two men continued for another twenty minutes until they reached the next intersection. They looked up and saw a metal grate above. The lower part of the access ladder had eroded away so Travin gave Frai a boost to reach the ladder higher up. Frai scaled the rest of its rungs and reached the grate. He listened carefully for a few minutes before pushing it to one side.
Frai stuck his head out and looked around; they were in a back street. The light was fading. They had been below ground for longer than he thought. They needed to get to safety before darkness. He looked up at the buildings. It would be possible to gain their bearings from the rooftops. They could then head back to their lines. He descended the ladder and reached down for Travin who caught his hand and pulled himself up. They climbed up and out onto the cobbles.
The street was empty and quiet. Not a thing stirred. They were accustomed to the stench and hardly noticed it.
Travin stared at his sergeant. "Gods man, if I look anything like you… if we meet the infected again, they'll take us as one of their own. You look like a half dead sewer rat!"
Frai nodded and spoke. "Aye captain, it's the truth." He looked down at the sewer opening. "I hate to leave poor Flint down there but there's nothing we can do for him."
Travin nodded and looked around. "See…there's no blood on the walls here."
"Aye, at least there's that," Frai replied.
"Let's get up there and see where we are before the light goes."
The two men scaled the wall of a storehouse. They used the window frames and down pipes and made it to the tiled roof. From there, they gained more height by using an access ladder to a higher section. They soon found themselves with a good vantage point of the city. They saw they had moved west instead of north. They were further from their lines than they had thought. The docks were a short distance away.
"At least we're out of the blind district. I wonder what happened to the others who went in with us."
Frai grunted and spat into the street below. "I'll bet they're drinking ale and eating boar right now back in the rear."
"Let's hope so sergeant."
They used the roofs and covered ground keeping away from the blind district. After half an hour, they came within sight of their lines. There were the colours of the ninth; green and blue against a gold background. Their hearts lifted and their pace quickened against the rapidly fading light.
They dropped down to street level a block away from the barricades and approached waving their arms.
"Hail men, returning scout party. Hello…" Frai shouted.
"Nightfall, nightfall…" Travin shouted remembering the watch password.
Silence greeted them. Nothing moved or breathed on the front line.
Travin looked at Frai and they quickened their pace. They were unchallenged and made
it to the barriers. The place was deserted. Travin climbed over the barricades and looked around. Something was not right; a bad feeling gripped him. His hand reached up to his forehead, he felt strange. The angel's dried blood was still there. When his hands touched it he remembered its terrible scream, he shivered. The moment passed.
"Over here sir!" Frai shouted on his right.
Travin went over to his sergeant. The barricade was smashed. Something had breeched their lines at this point and had advanced on the main body of the army.
"Find a weapon, let's go." Travin picked up an abandoned sword and shield and started advancing to the rear. Frai armed himself and followed his captain.
Where were the bodies? Where was the destruction? Where were the signs of battle? Travin asked himself. Had a retreat had been ordered? Travin pressed on to the command area further behind the lines.
He saw the briefing tent. The sun was sinking fast and the sky was a myriad of reds and pinks. Crows sat perched on the roofs of nearby buildings. There, in front of the tent, stuck on top of a pole, was Commander Severin's head. The rest of his body lay crumpled on the ground.
The colours of the ninth army lay smouldering in a pile of burning rubble off to one side.
"Commander Severin? What's happened?" Frai's voice was hoarse.
"The position's overrun. Looks like a rout. Hopefully, a retreat was ordered otherwise the ninth's been lost."
Frai looked at his captain, shocked. "But the ninth has never been routed. Not in any campaign, ever."
His words were ignored as Travin fell to the ground, a searing pain tearing through his skull.
~
Luana could not believe her eyes. Elias stood across the road from her. She looked up and down the road and saw they were alone. She was about to stand up when Elias spoke.
"You can come out now, it'd be polite to say hello, don't you think?"
Luana smiled. Did he have eyes in the back of his head? What had given her away? She stepped out onto the road and walked towards the highwayman. True to form, he wore his mask. This time it was plain black. His eyes were clear, focused.
Sanctuary Page 6