Ioth, City of Lights

by D P Woolliscroft

  “Go!” said the Saint to the church guards, a look of anguish on his face. “See what is happen—”

  And for the second time, the boy did not finish his sentence as the huge brass doors of the Sanctum opened in a terrifying screech of metal on stone, blazing fire erupting through the now open portals. The doors, ripped from their hinges with an almighty screech, sailed into the air and landed on the marble floor, sending up a cloud of splintered wooden pews and stone dust. Alana watched, slack-jawed, as the fire and smoke subsided and the Sanctum welcomed its new visitors. The man with the eagle was at their head—it wasn’t hard to recognize him from the Assembly chamber earlier that day—but she hadn’t seen the others who accompanied him. A few steps behind him was a fat man who hobbled along, his shaven head glistening in the light of a thousand candles, and flanking him were two others dressed in garish clothes of pink and yellow and red.

  And around them, rushing into the Sanctum, must have been a hundred Pyrfew soldiers.

  Chapter 43

  Grandparents

  The past few days had been rough on Toad.

  After the soldiers had come to their meeting hall, and Shep’d had been taken away by those other men, he hadn’t known what to do. That was his new family that had been struck down in the place where they gathered to sing songs in praise to Arloth. He knew it wasn’t a real church, but surely what they had in their hearts made it a hallowed place nonetheless.

  But the men that had come hadn’t cared. Why would they kill his family? Those people wouldn’t harm a mouse, and he knew there were much worse people in the Ladders that never seemed to have anything bad happen to them.

  Toad had run away as he was told too, scampering back to his room where Marn was playing with her doll; but he hadn’t been able to relax. The hours had passed and the sun had tracked its low arc in the sky until finally he hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and he’d snuck back down to see if Shep’d had returned. He wasn't there. But there were more city guard, walking round as if they owned the place, talking to the people who lurked in the Base. One of the guards saw him, and beckoned for him to talk, but Toad wasn't going to trust them, even though this one was smiling.

  He’d ran back to the ladder that took him up to the Prom, the soldier swearing and chasing after him. Toad hadn’t stopped but kept going up the different ladders to get back to his home. On the third layer he’d looked down to see the guard confronted by a handful of big men, locals who often lingered around, sticking their hands in the guard’s chest. There’d been a fight, and the guard hadn’t come out of it too well. The people of the Ladders didn’t take kindly to outsiders coming in and causing trouble.

  But the authorities weren't in the mood to be too kindly either. That night there’d been more guards who came into the Ladders. He’d heard the commotion first as he was lying down trying to sleep next to Marn. She didn’t wake, even as Toad had gotten up and gone outside to walk around the scaffolding on their layer to see what was happening. From his vantage point he saw that the guard had come prepared but the good (and the bad) men and women of the Ladders were not afraid to protect their homes. The fighting had carried on for hours, back and forth around the Prom and the Base until eventually the soldiers had retreated. Toad hadn’t been able to sleep the rest of the night, the sounds of families crying or calling out in anger for the people who had died were only too audible through the thin floors and open doors of the tower blocks.

  Yesterday morning the Ladders had returned to something more like normal. The guard had gone, and people died around there all the time, so most folks just got back to surviving. Toad didn’t know what to do, so he had taken Marn with him to roam the towers and see if he could find any of the other remaining members of his family; find someone they could talk to and maybe, just maybe, beg for some food to tide them over until Shep’d returned.

  It was hours until they’d found Echa and Maho. They’d greeted him and Marn warmly and shared some bread with them, but they didn’t have a lot else. Echa had told them they were saving their few coins to celebrate the Blessing of the Children, and asked if they would they like to join them. Marn had eagerly agreed before Toad could politely decline, not wanting to be a burden, but no matter what he said they wouldn’t hear of the two of them spending the Blessing somewhere else.

  “After all,” they said, “it’s not called the Blessing of the Children for nothing.”

  Last night he’d found it difficult to sleep again. This time it was his own thoughts keeping him awake. Why was it if Arloth was there to look after the good people of Ioth, did so many people like Echa and Maho struggle? Why did the others die? It made him wonder what the point was in following the teachings of the Saint if there was never anything to show for it. Just when he’d thought that he and Marn had found a place in the world that would welcome them, after such a long time without their mother, it had been destroyed by the people who ran this city. And where were the church knights who were supposed to protect the believers of the faith? He doubted they even knew or cared what had happened.

  And so that was why he was running through the streets of the Fan, a loaf of bread tucked under one arm and a wheel of cheese shoved into his trousers. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was against what Arloth and the Saints said was a good life, but why care about that when no one cared about him? He just wanted to make Maho and Echa happy and contribute to their evening. He was sure that the baker and the cheese-maker wouldn’t be celebrating with overripe vegetables and yellow water. Arloth was just going to have put a tally in the bad behavior column for him today.

  Toad was fast and small, and as usual nobody else in the city tried to intervene, so he lost the fat baker with little trouble. When he got back home, Marn was beside herself with excitement at what “a kindly old soul” had gifted them for the Blessing of the Children. She’d told him that she was so happy that they had come to Ioth, where there were so many good people. Of course she wanted to tuck in right away, but he told her that she had to wait until the afternoon when they went to see Echa and Maho.

  Echa and Maho lived in another tower, on the fifth layer, so it took them a while to negotiate the lines at all the various ladders and rope bridges. It seemed like everyone else was moving around to see their families or friends on this special day. But they arrived eventually and Echa was overjoyed to see the gift that Toad had brought. She didn’t ask where it had come from, for which Toad was grateful. It was one thing to lie to his sister—he didn’t want to spoil her view of the world—and another to lie to the people who had opened their door and their hospitality to them. There was a stew that had been cooking over a small oil stove for most of the day. Mainly vegetables but there was a little meat in there too, and the bread was wonderful for soaking up the greasy brown liquid. Maho had a single clay bottle of ale that he shared with his wife and Toad was surprised when he was offered a cup too.

  They talked about their old families. Toad didn’t like to think about his mother, but he told them about how he had tried to help her when she got sick but the doctors just took her money and didn’t do anything to help. He found himself crying as he remembered the burial service, the one arranged by his uncle that Toad had found out afterwards had taken almost every penny his mother had left. Marn hugged him when she saw him cry, and he held her tight. Echa told them about her own family, in Ioth still, who wouldn’t talk to them anymore. She missed her children, but most of all she missed her grandchildren. Toad did not think this was right at all. How could someone abandon their own mother when he would give anything to have his own back?

  “We can be your grandchildren,” said Marn brightly.

  Echa wiped her eyes, and her husband looked forlornly into his cup. “That would be nice, dear,” she said. Then Echa was on the receiving end of one of Marn’s hugs. When the little girl moved on to embrace Maho, they all laughed as a smile creeped slowly over his face.

  The afternoon had disappeared only to be followed by a c
hilly evening. They moved out of the single room that the old couple shared and onto the gantry outside. Toad was happy they had such a wonderful view of the city; the Sanctum of Arloth seemed so close he could almost reach out and touch it. He could see down into the square outside the great church and the revelers congregating there. From the gas lamps burning brightly he could almost make out the faces of the people as they laughed and danced and passed bottles to each other, waiting for the chance to go in for the midnight mass. Maho disappeared back into the room for a moment and came back out with another clay bottle of ale. The old man winked at Toad as he poured him another cup.

  There were many children with their families down in the square, and it made Toad wish that he was there too. Would this be the time when a new Saint was chosen and he wouldn’t be there to be the one? He supposed it didn’t matter after what he had done today. The fact that he was still thinking about wanting to truly dedicate his life to the church actually took him by surprise, given what he had been up all night considering. He supposed that he couldn’t turn his back on Arloth that quickly. After all, here he was in the company of these two kind souls. His belly full and his face flushed from the ale. Perhaps Arloth was looking out for him after all. He looked over at Marn and it made him happy to see her cuddled under Echa’s arm as her legs kicked off the side of the scaffolding.

  He noticed a commotion in the square. A group of people pushing their way through to the steps and he peered to see what was happening, but then, almost instantly, he was distracted by another strange sight. Across the city, all at the same time, five great different-colored glowing birds rose into the night sky. Toad nudged Maho with his elbow, pointing at the strange sight.

  “What are those?” he asked, a touch of fear in his voice. Were these some magical beasts that only he could see? Is this what beer did to you? None of the other families that lined the scaffolding seemed to show any sign of concern.

  “Nothing to worry about, lad,” reassured Maho. “They’re balloons. Made of silk and full of burning air. Oh, they are a sight alright. It must be getting close to midnight. They’re heralds for the rest of the lights. You just wait until you see this.”

  Toad was doubly relieved that he wasn’t going crazy and that the old man wasn’t worried about the situation. He found himself watching as they slowly rose, floating above the gas lit city. It was beautiful. Then a cheer went up across the whole city like a wave, and thousands of small glowing balls of light joined the great balloons rising up into the air. There were reds and oranges, rising in clusters from all the corners of the city. The people in the Ladders joined in a chorus of their own shouts of jubilation and rounds of applause. Ioth stretched out below him, the pin pricks of light from the gas lamps below and the floating clouds of candles rising into the inky blackness.

  “There you go. Ain’t they grand?” marveled Maho.

  Toad realized he was grinning from ear to ear. One day he hoped he would be able to send a candle into the sky. His mother’s name on his lips as he did so; sending a message floating to the heavens where she waited for him. He sighed contentedly.

  “Look down there,” someone from a few rooms over called out, and Toad found himself trying to follow the woman’s pointed arm down to the Sanctum. Where a moment or two ago the square had been full of people enjoying the celebrations, now they ran from men in green, silver streaks flashing before them. Then he heard the screams, though faint over the sounds of laughter and singing all around him from the people who had not seen what was happening.

  Men in green, approaching the Sanctum and cutting down anyone in their way.

  The same men who had attacked their congregation.

  Echa saw it too, and she put a protective hand over Marn’s eyes. She pulled the girl away from the edge of the scaffolding and ushered her in doors as she and Maho stood.

  “They’ve come for the Saint,” said Toad. It was the only thing that made sense. First, they wanted to take Shep’d, truly someone who was devoted to Arloth. And who else was so devoted? Surely only god’s chosen child. Toad’s hand went to his rope belt, and tucked inside was the little hammer that Shep’d had given him. He didn’t know if it was the ale but he felt so mad his head spun. He had to do something.

  “I’m going to help,” he said to Maho. “Will you look after Marn?”

  “The church can look after themselves. Come on, there’s nothing you can do.” Maho reached for Toad, intending to guide him indoors too, but the boy slipped the old man’s grasp and was already running for the ladder to take him down. Toad wasn’t sure what would await him or what he was going to do, but at least he knew that Marn would be safe.

  Chapter 44

  The Bird Man

  Talking.

  Motega was just thinking about how pointless it was at times like these. No one ever listened; it always just ended up in a fight. Why not just skip to the violence straight away? They should have taken down the Archimandrite as soon as they arrived. He supposed he could have done it at any time, though for a while he’d been content to just look at the boy. Seemed like everyone else had felt the same way.

  And now they’d only gone and blown the bloody doors off.

  He couldn’t see exactly who it was, but he could make a pretty good guess. The smudges of green running into the vast nave of the Sanctum confirmed his fears. Motega stepped backwards, closing ranks with his friends and the Ravens. He reached for his bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver that hung at his belt. They were surrounded on three sides by the church knights, who were in turn penned in by the armored Pyrfew soldiers.

  How many of those fuckers were lurking on that island?

  Really, these Iothans almost deserved everything they got. Talk about letting the lion in the chicken coop. If only they weren’t in the middle of it.

  Then he was able to clearly see the men that strolled across behind the soldiers. Here, finally, was the birdman that people had been mistaking him for. He was quite disappointed; this bastard was much older than him. And uglier. Did people not pay any attention? The eagle on his shoulder looked familiar. Like one of the ones that had attacked Per in Redpool. Like the one he had seen in his spirit animal’s mind when he had been spooked. Well, his bird was better than that brute. Motega whistled and through the still smoldering doorway and across the vast chamber flew Per, settling down on his shoulder with a shriek.

  The birdman and his companions stopped about thirty yards away, behind the broken ring of soldiers. There were at least a hundred of the bastards. Maybe fifty of the church knights and then fifteen of them. Including Alana. The odds didn’t look good.

  “We have come for the reliquary!” called out the birdman. “Give it to us and you won’t be harmed.”

  “Eryrlaw, what are you doing?” screeched the Archimandrite. It seemed like it was double-cross-a-traitor day. “This is not what we agreed!”

  “You can have what is left of the city, after we have taken tribute. Give us the body.”

  Motega looked back over his shoulder at the supposedly holy men. The boy was beginning to glow with a golden light, his eyes becoming brilliant white beacons like someone had put a thousand candles in his skull.

  “Leave here!” The boy’s voice boomed with a bass note at odds with the boy’s age. “You cannot take what we will not give.”

  Motega bumped up against Alana as they all clustered together and she whispered something that he didn’t catch.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I said that’s Aebur. The fat man with no hair.”

  “Who?”

  “He was the spymaster in Kingshold. It was one of his men that you three saved me from. Jyuth was going to kill him but Hoskin took him to the dungeons. I guess we know where he escaped to.”

  Another traitor. Motega narrowed his eyes as he looked at the sweaty bastard, considering where to place the first arrow.

  The two standing beside the birdman looked like court jesters, dressed in bright colors, w
rists jangling with bangles, as they each tossed a ball in the air, catching it as it came down. They moved in complete unison. Their matching clothes, and now that he looked, their matching faces, were strangely disturbing. They wore wide smiles, that showed their teeth, and their eyes were bugged out wide like a skyweed fiend. By contrast, the birdman looked disappointed, almost bored.

  “So be it.”

  Three words was all it took for the shit to hit the cart wheel. The Pyrfew soldiers advanced on the church knights, who stepped into a ready position with a practiced synchronicity. The evil looking twins drew back their hands and threw the balls, each arcing over the top of the soldiers to land close by to where he stood. But Motega hadn’t stopped to watch. He’d seen plenty of grenados in the past and what they did to anyone caught nearby—fuck, he hoped that Trypp had brought his with him given this mess—so he was already turning, grabbing Alana around the waist and running for the apse. The others all did the same, rushing past the Archimandrite who was still standing there gawping in shock at someone having the temerity to betray him. They leaped past the golden railing to where the alter with the golden reliquary of Arloth rested. His knees hit the floor with a sharp pain, Alana shielded underneath him, and he waited for the explosion.

  There was a noise, but it was hardly a bang. Just the smashing of the glass globes on the stone floor.

  A dud?

  He pushed himself up from Alana, thankful she hadn’t accidentally stuck him with the sword she still held in her hand, and looked to see what had happened. Two puffs of smoke rose from the floor, and out of them stepped the two ugliest dogs he had ever seen.

  As big as the wolves back home on the plains of Missapik, but their jaws were square and vicious, bulging with muscle, the mouth housing long sharp yellow teeth. Which he could see horribly clearly because it looked like the creatures had been skinned alive, muscle and bone showing; a thing worse than his worst nightmares.