by Kerstin Hall
It was as if a switch had turned inside my brain. I was overcome by a dizzy rush of sensation; colours bloomed over my sight, and the smell of flowers overwhelmed me. I saw, for a brief moment, two rooms overlapping one another. The bare, dark fortress shimmered with a honeyed vision of sunlight and silk, a carpet of golden blossoms, and the warm hum of familiar voices. Music, a feeling of anticipation, a hunger …
I must have staggered, because a hand closed on my forearm. The vision vanished with a snap.
“I know this place,” I gasped.
They all stared: Asan, Morwin, Jesane, and Rhyanon. Their eyes glinted in the dark. A wave of panic rushed over me. I quickly pulled free from Rhyanon, my pulse racing.
“Sorry,” I stammered. “I think I came here when I was a child. With friends. I’m sorry, I just didn’t realise until now.”
“Are you okay?” asked Jesane.
“Fine! I’m fine.” My voice came out high. What had I done? Hallucinations, Celane had said, with that strange lilt in her voice, that gleam in her eyes. I forced myself to laugh. “I think it’s just stress.”
“Keep it together, Raughn,” said Asan.
“Yes, Commander.”
She picked up a second lantern and passed it to me, motioning for me to light it from the first. “Enforcement left a cache of supplies here three years ago. We get what we need, take it up to the roof, light the beacons, and let the Order know where we are.”
“Understood,” I muttered, my face hot. It was a relief when the others turned away from me, although a faint hint of satisfaction played at the corners of Morwin’s mouth. I didn’t like that at all.
Deeper into the fortress and away from the windows, it was pitch black. The air smelled dank: wet earth and iron and decay. The lantern light cast streaks of wavering orange over the walls and caught on the edges of small recesses cut between the stones. Offering holds, all empty now. Snatches of the vision still ran over my sight; I could see the holds filled with carved stones and wads of orange feathers, everything dripping with black oil. I fought to control my breathing. The further we walked, the more plaster remained on the walls, and some faded paint still showed in slicks of sickly green and peach. We moved quickly, and our footfalls resounded in the empty corridors.
Asan paused to hang her lantern on a hook at the top of the basement stairs.
“Watch your step,” she said.
The stairs ran downwards alongside the wall, carved right out of the stone of the hill and thick with cobwebs. The room below was huge, a vast hall that must have stretched almost as wide as the fort itself. A little beyond the stairs, I could see a shadowed mound—a five-foot-high heap of firewood covered in an oilcloth. The earthy smell grew stronger still.
“There should be cloth sacks here somewhere,” said Asan. She descended two steps at a time. “Herald Hayder, can you pack them with wood while we carry?”
“Of course.”
Asan reached the base of the stairs and walked over to the woodpile. She pulled aside the oilcloth and picked up a log. She nodded, grimly satisfied.
“Still dry,” she said. “With the smell, I thought we might be in trouble. Morwin, could you take that lantern from Raughn and light another?”
Something about the basement bothered me—beyond the yellow spill of the lantern, the shadows formed a shifting wall. Discarded furniture from the Order’s past occupations cluttered the room like misshapen islands. The furthest corners of the chamber remained completely dark.
Still, I did not want to draw any more attention to myself. I took one of the hessian bags that Jesane offered and began stuffing it with tinder. Rhyanon stayed close to me. Did she think I was going to faint or fall apart? Her protectiveness unnerved me, as did the way her gaze kept darting between Asan and Morwin. Her jaw moved; she was grinding her teeth.
“Some foresight on the part of Enforcement.” Morwin surveyed the covered crates of blankets and boxes crammed with jars of preserved food. She wandered over to have a closer look. “Keeping all these supplies at the Crown, I mean. Why go to such trouble?”
“Enforcement policy.” Asan methodically packed wood into a bag. “The department has a mandate to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what, exactly?”
“Circumstances like these.” She grunted as she straightened.
“So does that make this your initiative or a typical Enforcement policy?”
“I wasn’t aware that you took such an interest in our logistics.” Asan jerked her head toward the stairs, and I quickly rose and followed her. “Don’t worry, the idea of the caches predates my tenure as Commander. I just ensure they are restocked.”
“How many are there?”
“A few. The exact number slips my mind.”
“An approximation, then?”
“Really, Jiana? I’d almost think you were more worried about stocks of firewood than our present crisis.”
Reverend Morwin huffed, but said nothing else.
Outside, the Sisters had organised themselves. Along each stretch of the parapet walk, women stood and stared out across the moonlit fields. An uneasy quiet had settled over the Crown; from the base of the hill, I could hear the horses nicker and stamp. Poor animals. They were probably safe though; if the Haunt showed up, it was almost certain to ignore them. With a feast of Sisters nearby, horse flesh was no temptation.
Lien, one of Asan’s junior officers, was waiting for the Commander at the bottom of the stairs. She squinted in the sudden brightness of the lantern light.
“Nothing so far, Commander,” she said, even as her hands flicked through a perfunctory gesture of respect. “We’ve got the sharpest eyes watching the eastern side. I also ran a quick inventory on the lace situation—only four brought emergency vials, but most of us performed a rite within the last week.”
“I suppose that’s the best we could have hoped for.” Asan sighed. “Not that I’m any better; I’m only running on half power. Morale?”
“Not too bad. A little jumpy, especially the non-Enforcement Sisters.”
“To be expected. Try to keep things orderly.”
“Yes, Commander.” Lien bowed her head.
“Good work so far.” Asan started up the exterior stairs to the roof. “Leave the lantern inside, Reverend Morwin. It’s going to ruin the watch’s night vision.”
The roof of the Crown rose slightly higher than the exterior walls; a flat stone rectangle about thirty feet across. The bridges slanted down to join with the parapets, and long years of exposure had worn every surface smooth as ice.
Easy to slip, I thought as I watched Morwin out of the corner of my eye. The Councilwoman never looked away from Asan. A thread of lace, a little shove, and the Commander could be dead on the stones below. It would be a different sort of accident, but not a wildly improbable one. Celane would still get the extra Council seat that she wanted. I emptied my sack of wood where Asan indicated. Maybe Rhyanon’s twitchiness was just rubbing off on me.
“Can you stack that up, Olberos?” Asan passed Jesane her tinder box. “Don’t light it yet though.”
“Understood.”
Then, like the last gasp of a wounded animal, the breeze died.
My skin prickled. Something had changed; the atmosphere over the fort grew close and cold. No one made a sound. I stared out into the darkness, aware of the rapid beating of my heart, the chill of sweat against my skin.
“It’s here,” muttered Asan.
The horses screamed. A moment later, a Sister on the eastern wall gave a shout.
“Ten more women on the east side.” Asan’s voice rang crisp through the night. “Do not try to bind the target until it’s within reach. Conserve your lace.”
There was a clamour of footfalls as women from the other parapet walks rushed over to the east wall. Beyond them, I saw a ripple of darkness cutting through the grasses, unnatural in its silence and speed, tearing up the hillside on bone-thin limbs.
“Now!” said Asan.
Ten feet from the wall, the Haunt collided with the lacework net. It stopped instantly, and its body seized as invisible ropes coiled around its legs, arms, torso. Tangled up in our power, it threw back its head and shrieked. The sound was awful, and I automatically took a step backwards, my hands covering my ears.
“Hold fast!” said Asan.
The disease was far advanced; the creature below scarcely resembled a human at all. Every part of its body had stretched like putty rolled thin, its flesh withered away to leave bones that protruded sharply from its mottled skin. Its hands were grotesque—the fingers extended to twice their length, and tapered into claws. Two spurs of bone had cracked through its forehead, and black blood leaked down its face. Its mouth yawned, gums crowded with new teeth, and from the sunken hollows in its skull burned a pair of golden eyes.
“Stay focussed,” said Asan, her voice cool and flat. “Carsi, Phea, slowly withdraw your lace.”
The two Heralds nodded. I saw the moment they let go of the binding; the Haunt jerked as though discovering some new slackness in its restraints. But the remaining nets were woven tight enough to contain it.
“Good work.” Asan’s shoulders unbunched, just a little. “We have a long night ahead of us, but the worst is done. No slacking.”
A few muted smiles from the Enforcers.
“As soon as your lace starts to run dry, shift the binding on to the next available Sister.” Asan nodded to herself. She turned. “All right, Olberos, you can light the beacon now.”
Jesane fumbled with the tinder box, her hands clumsy. I felt just as rattled; I had never seen a Haunt like this before. It seemed unthinkable that the slavering, disfigured creature below had been an ordinary man until recently. He could have been Osan. Or Finn.
A spark jumped from the flint, and the tinder caught. Jesane bent close and nursed the fire with her breath.
“I want this beacon visible on the other side of Aytrium,” said Asan. “Keep it burning, we’ll bring up more wood. Raughn, with me.”
When she turned back toward the stairs, Morwin was blocking the way. The Reverend’s eyes reflected the flames. There was something oddly smug in her expression.
“Shouldn’t you oversee matters here?” she asked. “Surely your talents are better spent keeping the Haunt under control?”
Asan’s eyes narrowed.
“I have every confidence in my subordinates,” she said.
“Still, for the Commander General to haul firewood while a threat stands just beyond the walls? I don’t know, Saskia, it feels like your priorities are skewed.” Morwin shrugged. “Unless you have some other reason to accompany Raughn to the basement?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m only suggesting that the Acolyte and I are more than capable of finding our way without you.”
Don’t leave me alone with her.
Asan made an expansive gesture. “If you’re so concerned with the Council’s good image, fine. Olberos, go help Raughn. Reverend Morwin and I will handle the situation here.”
Now it was Morwin’s turn to look annoyed. Jesane scrambled to her feet, only too happy to escape, but Morwin still stood in the way of the stairs.
“Is there a problem, Jiana?” Asan took a step closer. Her voice was velvet-soft and dangerous. “Something you would like to say, before I begin to wonder at the source of your newfound courage?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s strange, but you don’t seem at all worried about the Haunt. Really, I should recruit you to Enforcement. We don’t often see that kind of unflinching bravery.”
A muscle in Morwin’s jaw twitched.
“And it leads me to wonder if this fearlessness might be related to certain purchases at a back-alley butchery in Ceyrun.” The light caught the underside of Asan’s features, turning her face lurid and strange. “A few pigs’ hearts, a couple of calves’ livers.”
I thought I must have misheard, but Morwin inhaled sharply. An expression flashed across her face—fury? shame? fear?—but I did not know how to interpret it. The moment stretched, tight as a wire. I felt frozen.
“You really think I’m that stupid?” asked Asan.
I was not certain what would have happened next. Morwin stood with her fists balled and her cheeks flushed, afraid and on the verge of violence. In contrast, Asan was a picture of studied composure, cool, almost indifferent to Morwin’s aggression. But I never got to find out because, at that moment, a scream pierced the walls of the fort.
I jumped. The women on the parapets turned around, confused. A second scream rang out. This time it cut off sharply.
Rhyanon, I realised.
Asan recovered first. She shoved Morwin aside, nearly sending the Councilwoman tumbling over the edge of the roof.
“Whatever happens, do not release the binding!” she shouted.
I rushed after her. The Commander threw herself down the stairs, and I struggled to keep up. Below, I saw Lien hurrying inside, and the swing of light as she grabbed Morwin’s abandoned lantern. There were footsteps behind me, but I did not look back.
“Hayder?” Asan demanded. “Hayder, what’s going on?”
Rhyanon did not answer. Asan swore as she tore around the doorway and into the building. I reached the base of the stairs and sprinted to close the distance between us. The Commander had caught up to Lien and the light veered wildly as they ran, a disorienting lurch of shadow and brightness, glimpses of walls and doorways that were swallowed by darkness seconds later. Visions swarmed and flickered across the stones; I saw mouths stretched wide, human hands reaching from the holds, swollen fruit that burst in flashes of red.
“Hayder?” Asan shouted again.
“Saskia, don’t!” Rhyanon’s panicked voice drifted up from the stones. She sounded like she was in pain. “There’s another one down here.”
“What?”
I reached the entrance to the basement. Lien was already at the bottom of the stairs, with Asan right behind her. The lantern hanging from the hook burned steadily; just inside the circumference of its light I could see Rhyanon slumped against the woodpile. Blood darkened her robes, and she clutched her shoulder. Red spilled over her fingers.
“Go back, get more help,” she cried.
I hesitated, unsure of the situation. Lien was only a few feet from Rhyanon, but she stopped and glanced at the Commander.
In the deepest reaches of the basement, I heard a faint rasp. Then yellow eyes bloomed in the darkness.
“Get back!” I shouted.
Lien’s lantern went out like the flame had been pinched between two fingers. In a blur of speed and teeth, the Haunt leapt clear over the woodpile. It struck her across the chest—a thoughtless backhand swipe—and she flew sideways and slammed into the wall. A claw had sliced her throat open, clean as a knife gutting a fish. Her blood splattered over the ground. She didn’t even have time to scream.
Too late, my lace collided with the Haunt’s torso. It stumbled back a step.
“Oh Eater,” I whispered. Lien slid sideways and fell over with a terrible, dull heaviness.
The Haunt’s legs tensed to rush forward again, but Asan yelled and her lace whipped around its body. I saw its flesh crushed beneath her power, crumpling and bruising black.
“You fucking bastard!” she screamed at its face.
Forcing aside my horror, I stumbled down the last few steps and threw out ropes of lace to support her net, twining my power around hers. I could feel Rhyanon trying to do the same. Asan’s lacework had a rigid, precise quality; the web around the Haunt was a work of mathematical intricacy. My mind reeled. How could she weave this, soaked in her subordinate’s blood and staring down her own death? Asan breathed heavily, her shoulders trembling with rage.
The Haunt growled, a rumbling vibration I felt in the depths of my chest. Blood dripped from its hands, and its antlers spread like a canopy of bone from its forehead. At near ten feet tall, it towered over Asan. Although the Commander
stood right in its path, it stared past her. Stared at me, with eyes that glowed like the sun.
I heard footsteps and Jesane gasped as she reached the top of the stairs.
“Get help,” I yelled. “We need more lace!”
The Haunt shook itself, and our binding rippled. Asan snarled. I tore my eyes off the creature for a moment, chancing a glance over my shoulder. Instead of running for backup, Jesane was stumbling down the stairs to assist us. Morwin shadowed her.
The Reverend wasn’t looking at the Haunt. She was looking, with concentration, at Asan.
It was instinct, more than anything else. I withdrew my lace from the binding and flung a protective net over Asan’s shoulders. Morwin’s power hit mine and tore through, but my ropes were enough to weaken the blow. Instead of crashing into the Haunt, Asan only staggered forward before she caught herself.
“Fuck!” she gasped.
Morwin made a small sound of surprise; she had not expected resistance. Her eyes darted toward me, and she recognised the shock on my face. In that instant, I think that she looked scared; she raised her hands like she wanted to deny her actions. Then her neck snapped sideways.
I recoiled. Reverend Morwin collapsed. Jesane’s eyes flew wide and her hands rose to her mouth.
Morwin’s head lolled at an impossible angle.
That was lace, I thought wildly. And it wasn’t mine or Jesane’s, it could not possibly have been Asan’s, which means …
“What’s going on?” Asan demanded. When no one answered, she made a sound of disgust and quickly glanced over her shoulder. She saw Morwin. “Oh shit.”
The Haunt pulled against the net, and its arm strained forward, grasping for Asan. It bared its grey needle teeth in a grin. Saliva dripped from its jaw.
“Saskia…” Rhyanon began. Her voice was faint and her skin bone-pale.
“Stay awake, Hayder.” Asan took another step backwards. She was almost beside me now. Perspiration shone on her forehead. “Olberos, get backup. Now.”
“Yes.” Jesane ripped her eyes away from Morwin’s corpse. The Haunt made a strange keening sound, and the noise appeared to snap her out of her daze. “Yes, Commander.”
“As fast as you can,” said Asan, although Jesane was already running up the stairs.