The Child Guard

by Lorcan Montgomery

  Lament of Odran the Righteous

  That night, Kane lay awake, staring at the canvas over his head and toying with the rough wooden rose the dying man had given him. Every time he closed his eyes the faces of the Changelings danced across his eyelids; the singing woman, her horrified gaze meeting his as the flowers fell from her hair, the Changeling who had looked so like Eder but had been struck down by a grinning Terrell; the man in the holly crown, Alvar son of Eadgar, blessing him moments before the knife had come down. They had been human, once, perhaps they still were, underneath it all. It troubled him more than he could express.

  What was worse was when he looked over to Eder, bundled up and asleep beside him, and he felt the irresistible, magnetic pull to be closer to him, to press skin to skin and feel the warmth of Eder’s body against his. He could see in his mind’s eye Alvar leaning into Sophia’s kiss, his whole body swaying towards her. He remembered losing himself in Sophia’s kiss, when he’d thought it to be Eder, and the thought paralysed him with fear.

  The things she showed me...

  He gradually fell asleep, by restless degrees, and his dreams were strange and terrifying.

  He found himself on the edge of a clearing in a dark forest, still and cool under the light of the moon. There was a fire burning up ahead, the flickering light casting shadows onto the grassy ground, and the thunder of drums filled the open space.

  He could see people dancing, around the fire, their silhouettes enormous against the trees, their graceful limbs bathed in firelight and moonlight equally. The air was thick, heady and sweet, the smoke curling into the trees, making him light-headed.

  A small figure leapt across the flames, boldly, beautifully, and the other dancers seemed to draw back in awe as it whirled amongst them in a storm of bright red and gold ribbons, impossibly fast, yet never missing a footing or colliding with one of them. The drums grew faster, rising like a wave until they stopped, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. At the very same moment, the dancing figure stopped, bare chest heaving, silhouetted against the roaring fire, chin lifted to the sky and arms outstretched.

  It was Eder.

  The moment Kane realised, he took an involuntary step forwards, and as the earth shifted under his feet Eder’s attention locked on him, like a lasso. Although his face was in darkness, his blue eyes were clear, focused, bright, containing a question or a challenge.

  He crossed the clearing without thinking, in the blink of an eye, paying no heed to the intervening space. Eder’s clothes were rags, the remnants of a Child Guard surcoat, split and torn and shredded until he could move freely within it. He still wore his belt, and the shreds blossoming out from his waist looked like the petals of a flower from which he had emerged, pale and shining and new.

  Eder held out a hand, and tilted his head to one side with a shy smile.

  Kane took it, feeling the now-familiar jolt in his stomach, and allowed himself to revel in the feel of Eder’s fingers sliding between his own, filling in the gaps perfectly.

  Dance with me.

  Eder’s lips moved, but there was no sound but the thunder of the drums starting up anew, and before he could protest he didn’t know how, had never been taught or trained, he was whirled off into a dizzying spin by Eder, grinning like a maniac and moving like the wind, utterly unfettered by any cares or concerns. Kane felt sweat beading on his skin, whether from the energetic dance, the heat of the fire, or the way the whole of Eder’s lithe body pressed against his at alarmingly frequent intervals, he couldn’t tell.

  The dance changed direction, and Kane realised they were heading towards the bonfire, grown tall and hungry, flames licking the sky. Eder had been through it, had come out the other side, but Kane knew he could never hope to leap so high, to take such a sure-footed step into the unknown.

  He drew back, and the dance came to a halt. Eder turned to him, a mildly disappointed expression on his face.

  “I can’t,” Kane said, and his voice was loud against the drumbeats, now far away and indistinct. “I’ll never make it.”

  “You’re not ready yet,” Eder said, and his voice was similarly enclosed in some private bubble, away from the rest of the party. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Eder’s long, delicate hand came up to caress the side of Kane’s face, and he felt that breathlessness as his friend leaned closer, until he could feel breath against his mouth. “I’d wait for you forever.”

  Kane closed his eyes and felt Eder’s lips brush against his, warm and soft.

  There was a shout from across the fire.

  He drew away, reluctantly, and peered into the darkness. The drummers had stopped, and the only sound now was the tramp of hobnailed Child Guard boots on the dirt, as what seemed like a whole battalion marched towards them.

  Baffled by the sudden change, Kane had no time to do anything as General Cathan marched around the fire and grinned at him.

  “Good work, Brother-Captain, I knew we had a subversive in the ranks.”

  Kane wanted to protest, to declare this was no doing of his and for them to leave Eder alone, but his voice, so clear and loud a moment ago, had been stolen, and he could not make a sound as the troops encircled him and took rough hold of Eder.

  He didn’t struggle, he didn’t even make a token show of fighting against the guards who held him. He hung his head as they stripped the rags from his waist and dressed him in a plain white robe, like the ones the High Priest wore. The faceless guards led him through the fire, which banked down in fear at their presence, and Kane followed them, voiceless, like a shadow.

  There was an altar on the other side of the fire, and the revellers who had been dancing had donned white robes and gathered around, like a congregation at dawn prayers. Sampson was there, standing atop the huge stone slab, and there was a wicked little blade in his hand.

  Too late, Kane realised what was happening. He tried to grab for one of Eder’s guards, but his hand passed through them, drifting apart like smoke. He drew his sword, but that, too, had become immaterial and dissolved into silver light as it encountered the body of a nearby soldier.

  Eder was released, and Kane screamed wordlessly at him to run, but instead he stepped up onto the altar and lay down, his hands folded across his belly, as though he was relaxing on the grass at the Citadel. He turned his head, slightly, and as his eyes met Kane’s there was a sad light in them.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “It is the will of the gods.”

  Kane reached out to him, and was surprised when he connected. The congregation drew closer, and he forged through them, turning to mist and smoke in every place except the hand that was resting against Eder’s shoulder.

  Sampson began to chant, and Kane’s form resolved itself, kneeling atop Eder as the knife came down.

  A terrible, biting cold blossomed in the centre of his back, and the sight of Eder’s serene face below him dissolved into darkness.

  He gasped, choked on a lungful of air and the darkness receded in a rush, but it was not Eder’s face beneath him any longer, nor was he kneeling on a stone altar amongst supplicants.

  The surface beneath his knees was soft, a carpet of woven vines and flowers. As he registered Sophia’s look of catlike pleasure, her mossy green eyes half-lidded and lazy, he became aware he was naked, with her legs wrapped around his waist and a sheen of sweat covering his body. Beneath the scent of flowers and summertime, there was a musky, sweet perfume which clung to his skin.

  “You see, that wasn’t so difficult,” Sophia purred, stretching, crumpling flower petals beneath her outstretched arms.

  Kane fought to extricate himself from her, but her thighs tightened around him, hard and unyielding as a vice.

  “You can’t change your mind now, Kane,” she said, a warning tone in her voice. “We had an agreement.”

  “I didn’t agree to anything,” Kane protested, but Sophia smiled a wolfish smile and sat up, pressing
her breasts against his perspiring chest.

  “By my right as a daughter of House Vellamo, I claim your service,” she murmured in his ear, and a tingle ran up his spine for the briefest of moments. He felt a sharp pain around his head as she forced a crown of holly down onto his brow, scratching his skin and tangling in his hair. With the pain came a sense of clarity, and he noticed the world around himself for the first time.

  The supplicants at the altar had become Sophia’s Changelings, the open clearing a shady bower, lined with flowers and fronds of willow. Hollow eyes looked down at Kane, sad in their utter lack of expression. He could see the wounds on the Changelings from battle, the blood oozing down their skin in slow, ponderous rivulets. The woman with the flowers in her hair was holding her guts like a bunch of flowers she had gathered from the riverside.

  In the midst of them all stood Eder, in the simple white robe he had worn when lying on the altar. The holly-crowned man stood beside him, blood running down from his open throat and staining the shoulder of Eder’s robe a dark, vivid crimson. To his other side was the Changeling who had looked so like him, his skull cracked like an eggshell by the force of Terrell’s sword.

  Eder was shaking, Kane could see the tiny vibrations and hear the shudder in his breath as he stood helplessly amongst the dead Changelings. Kane reached out as much as he could, then gasped as Sophia’s nails raked down his back, drawing his attention back to her.

  “You have a lot to learn until you’re as good as Alvar,” Sophia said matter-of-factly, as though she had not just drawn blood from his back.

  “I’m not learning anything from you,” Kane said, struggling against the arms and legs which still held him tight. “Let me go.”

  She seemed to consider the request for a moment, then a cruel smile curled her lips.

  “Very well,” she said, and released him.

  It took a moment for Kane to realise he was free, but as soon as his mind caught up with the situation he scrambled off the bower and made straight for Eder. The Changelings’ grip on his friend was tight, but they didn’t respond to Kane’s presence at all and it wasn’t long before he had worked the cold fingers away from Eder’s arms.

  Eder looked up at him, still quivering like a rabbit in a trap, his blue eyes wide with terror.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” Kane said.

  Eder took off at a run.

  “Wait!” Kane called after him, setting off as fast as he could manage, uncaring of his bare feet against the rocky path, or the stinging wind whipping at his torn back. “Eder, wait for me, I’m coming with you.”

  The world outside of the bower was unlovely, a rocky, dusty plateau with no signs of life other than the willow in which Sophia and her retinue waited. In the distance the landscape receded into mist, and Kane desperately scrabbled to keep up with Eder before he disappeared into it.

  The horizon got abruptly closer, and in an instant Eder dropped from sight. Kane fell to his knees at the edge of the ridge, resisting the urge to rear back as he saw the sheer hundred-foot drop before him, below which was even more of the white mist. There were echoes coming up from the base of the ravine, thundering water or strange chanting which Kane couldn’t decipher. Eder clung to a chance ledge a few feet down, his fingers bloody and his nails ragged. Kane leaned forward as far as he dared, and reached out.

  “Eder, grab my hand, I’ll pull you up.”

  “Get away from me!” Eder shrieked, flinching away from the offered hand. His hand slipped and he slid down a few inches with a panicked shout.

  “Please, Eder, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  Eder’s gaze flickered down to the mist, then back up to Kane, considering which was truly the worse option.

  “I’ll protect you, I swear. From her, from anyone. Please, grab my hand before you fall,” Kane begged, holding out his hand. He dislodged some of the dirt from the edge of the ravine and it showered down onto his friend hanging below.

  Eder flinched as the dirt cascaded over him, and when his eyes opened it seemed like he had only just realised where he was. He grasped for Kane’s hand desperately, but as Kane wrapped his fingers around Eder’s wrist he felt lines of blood open up underneath them, as though he had talons.

  There was a sharp yank on his hair and his fingers cut deeper into Eder’s skin as they were both hauled up the face of the ravine.

  “How dare you?” Sophia demanded, flipping Kane over without visible effort. He felt the muscles in his shoulder tear and strain as he fought to keep hold of Eder who was still precariously over the ledge. “How dare you interfere with my beautiful visions?”

  Eder screamed again, shrill and piercing, and struggled to release his hand from Kane’s grip. The lacerations became still deeper as Kane’s fingers tightened.

  He tried to push Sophia away with his other hand, but she pinned his wrist to the rocky ground with contempt as she sat astride him, her long legs once again gripping his body.

  “Eder, hold on, just hold on,” Kane called, but if Eder heard him he gave no sign and continued struggling.

  “Let him go, Kane,” Sophia laughed. “You can’t save anyone, you never could.”

  A vision flashed before Kane’s eyes, a crystal clear image of two young children asleep in the roots of a tree, and in his surprise his hold on Eder loosened enough for the frantic struggling to finally become effective. He heard the scream as Eder fell, and Sophia let out a yell of victory as she wrapped her fingers around his throat. Kane felt the pressure grow in his head as he choked beneath her strong grasp. There was a wild light in Sophia’s eyes as she shifted position, rocking her hips in victory over his squirming form.

  “Enough,” a voice echoed around the dusty world, soft and feminine, bringing with it a hint of a spring breeze, the smell of the first rains and the brisk chill of the dying vestiges of winter.

  Sophia froze, then seemed to dissolve into fragments before Kane’s eyes, drifting away on the air and leaving him alone on the ground, naked and sore.

  “Rest,” the voice said, and Kane felt like someone had reached across his face and closed his eyelids. All of his pain drifted away, and he rose into wakefulness with a deep, satisfying breath.

  15. The Morning After

  “He who draws blood in the service of the gods shall find his sins washed clean with the grateful tears of the Sister.”

  The Book of the Twin Gods

  He opened his eyes in the pre-dawn light to find everything as normal, with Eder sleeping quietly, almost invisible beneath a heap of blankets. After a moment’s study, he shoved the rose carving down into the bottom of his pack, pulled on his spare surcoat and emerged into the camp.

  Nine neat mounds showed the hard work that had been done before they turned in. The debris of battle had mostly been washed away by the night dew, but here and there were still scraps of Changeling clothing and jewellery, as well as the occasional dropped weapon.

  Sampson was by the fire, staring intently into the embers, still in his bloodstained clothes. Kane sat next to him, and didn’t say anything.

  “I killed one of them,” Sampson broke the silence first.

  “I saw.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it to be like that.”

  “I don’t think anybody does.”

  “I was there, and I had my knife, and she was on the floor anyway,” Sampson’s voice shook, as he held his hands out in front of him, encrusted with blood and dirt and grime. “It was so easy, but there was such a mess. Look at all the blood.”

  “I can see.”

  “You wouldn’t think someone so skinny could bleed so much. There isn’t enough room to fit it all in the body.”

  “Maybe you should change your clothes,” Kane indicated his own clean uniform. He had left the bloodied clothes in a heap outside the tent, unable to bear the stink of them.

  “Perhaps,” Sampson said. “I wonder if I should not stay in these, as red as they are, perhaps I am more fitting to be a Child G
uard rather than an Immaculatus of the gods. Mine was not meant to be the path of steel and sword.”

  “You did what you had to, Sampson.”

  The boy waved a hand dismissively. “I know it was the work of the gods, to slay the enemy and to ensure the safety of one’s fellows. But… I swore to serve the twin gods as an Immaculatus, to remain pure forever in their service. And here I am, a mere month out of the Citadel, having allowed a Sidhe witch to share my food, lost the sacred tea and drawn a blade in anger.”

  “You’re doing fine, Sampson,” Kane said, reassuring himself as much as, if not more than Sampson. “We’re going to make it to Auris right on time, you’ll see.”

  “We are heading to Auris on the guidance of a treacherous Sidhe witch, what point is there continuing along this path?”

  “Regardless of whose idea it was, we were sent by the Citadel and we are going to complete the mission set to us. We’re all in one piece, we’re all together, and Cahaya is still safe.”

  “Ah, Kane,” Sampson gave him a sad smile. “You are a soldier, concerned with the physical health of your squad. I am the overseer of their spiritual health, and it is not such a promising picture. Our purity and holiness is leaking away by the hour, and there is nothing I can do but pray to the gods for a miracle.”

  “We have two weeks left, if that, until we reach Auris.”

  “A lot can be altered in two weeks.”

  “Then let’s hope it will be altered for the better.”

  A tent rustled behind them, and Kane looked over his shoulder to see Davena emerging. She approached the fire gingerly, but as soon as she registered Sampson’s appearance her expression hardened, and she strode around to stand in front of him, tiny hands on her hips.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing, Sampson?” she demanded.

  Sampson didn’t look up at her. “I am a murderer,” he intoned solemnly. “I killed in petty rage not in righteous justice. Her blood has stained my soul indelibly.”