GLASS 4.5: UPSTART
“The arch-sorcerer’s mark is merely an offering. Theoretically there is no reason this cannot be served by a constant draw upon her Wellspring of Power. We have only to find a practical instantiation of this process. All research has heretofore fallen short. By what paradigm shall we approach this hole in our logic? This is our topic this evening.”
– from Mistress Arithos’s Lectures to the Adept Assembly
“Feychilde! Ve are coming!”
Seconds whipped past like the rooftops below us. I couldn’t be rid of my hateful consciousness. Couldn’t rip off and cast away my awareness. Where was the sweet slumber of non-existence?
I felt every adjustment of our course with a grinding sensation as his fingers moved minutely upon my naked rib-bones. Again and again he dipped his face, his teeth tearing into my head, splitting my scalp open.
The pain was my world. I couldn’t form thoughts. I couldn’t think. Only feel.
Still, I was alive, and breathing. The blood welling inside my chest cavity wasn’t yet stopping my one remaining lung from functioning. He hadn’t yet cracked my skull open or drained so much blood that I passed out.
Probably thanks to my screaming passenger. Was it her I had to thank for being trapped here inside this useless bag of nerves?
Where was Killstop? Was she still with me? Where was Em?
The vampire-lord held me before him, so that his chest was right in front of my face, the fine white-silk doublet with black rosebud-patterns embroidered near the seams. If I jerked my head back I could see his symmetrical face. Noble. Unearthly.
Inhuman.
Either way, I couldn’t see past him, couldn’t see whether they were following –
The white shape of the vampire became black, violently back-lit by a wave of lightning. Thunder ripped the air, and I heard him grunting.
So he could be hurt. He hadn’t even seemed to react when he’d impaled himself on my shield’s spikes.
We descended. Sharply.
Suddenly we were taking dozens of turns, whipping this way and that – I felt my crushed, dangling ankle impact on the corner of a building, flaring up from a dull pain to a searing agony – the vampire-lord was leading us down the streets, alleys, close to the ground – my bare ribs in his hand squealed as he twisted them –
Then I caught a blurred glance of it, chasing us: an unchanging frowning face, displaying its utter contempt. Killstop, not Em. She was barely ten feet behind us, advancing relentlessly, wood-carved stakes still gripped in her hands.
I heard Em crying out: “Killstop! Killstop! Vhere are you!”
“Stormsword!” It was Spiritwhisper replying, not the diviner. “We need help!”
We were lower now. I had an idea.
“No, Kas!” Zel, this time. “I’m the only thing keeping you alive!”
It… doesn’t matter… Zel.
“It does!” she sobbed.
Once he got me alone, even for a few seconds, he could drain me. Change me.
I spoke to the group: “Killstop… be ready…”
If we left him alone, even for a few seconds, Tanra could catch up.
Zel gasped: “Don’t -“
It was too late. The opportunity arose as the vampire swung us around a corner, and I did it.
As his change of direction arrested our motion briefly, I reached for the otherworld with numb fingers, let the vampire pull us through the bubbling greenness into the vibrant colours of Etherium’s treeline.
Together, the five of us fell through sweet-scented air, descending now. My attacker couldn’t fly here, or at least nowhere near as effortlessly.
The vampire snarled. The gremlin screamed. The winged ones, fairy and sylph, I couldn’t see or hear.
Yet again, I felt the ground rushing up at me, the inevitable collision – it didn’t even matter, it would just be one more iota of agony, one more weight hanging on the frayed rope that was my consciousness –
And yet again, the sylph saved my life.
Avaelar caught me by a hand and as he plummeted the vampire’s weight snapped some of my ribs clean out of my chest.
The now lavender-hued hand of the vampire-lord blurred as it tried to snatch again at me, but even an instant of no contact with the arch-sorcerer whose powers brought him through was enough to send him back.
The vampire disappeared in a fizz of jade energy before he struck the grassy earth.
Then Avaelar was setting me and Zabalam down – he was breathing over me, breath like honey – I was faintly aware that loud sounds were coming from my mouth, garbled words –
A fairy I barely recognised was flapping her wings furiously, hovering over me: her usually-blonde hair was grey, matted; her pink flesh was now pale and sweat-drenched; the blue dress was faded, almost matching her hair in hue…
“Stop!” she was screaming. “Avaelar, stop! Serenel! You can’t help this. Kas – Kas, you’ve got to open it again. Take us back!”
“Zel?” I tried to ask, feeling the pain and confusion melding into one, receding and then crashing back again in waves that came ten times a second…
“Open the jadeway!” She was panting, tearing at her faded dress. “I have to join with you, it’s the only way!”
Fingers of cold lead refused to respond. The bright night sky of the otherworld began to dim in my vision.
The strange old fairy’s words continued, insistent even as they faded in and out – or I faded in and out: “Kastyr Mor… -ink of Jaid, Jar…!”
Jade jar. It was the strangest coincidence. I suddenly had the image of green glass in my mind.
Jaid and Jaroan.
I reached for the green glass, shattered it, the shards falling all about me.
The portal opened, and we plunged through, back into the darkness of Oldtown. I lay writhing on cold cobblestones.
Zel must’ve joined with me immediately, as she now controlled my lips: “Zam, hime us! Ammie, come!”
‘Hime.’ She was asking Zab to hide us, but was being forced to utilise a mouth missing several teeth.
Everything hurt, but in a matter of seconds I was starting to relax as the honey-scent began to overcome my nostrils, the sylph’s life-giving vapours replacing the stinky city air I’d been choking down with each heaving breath.
But the tranquillity was short-lived – with some alarm I saw myself, staggering to my feet, five yards away –
Then there was another me, staggering to my feet, just past the first me, running in a different direction –
“It’s Zabalam,” Zel reassured me. “Avaelar’s keeping you maintained. I’m working on these bites. Try not to struggle.”
Suddenly a tangle of after-images flickered about me – I remembered we’d come back not only to Oldtown, but back into the flurry of combat.
She was there. The one with the frowning face. I couldn’t see her, but I could see the colourful blur on the air, sense her, moving about me in an unfixed pattern.
Sense something outside. Something trying to get past her. Another blur, pale, exuding a nethernal aura.
Killstop…?
“She hasn’t been bitten yet,” Zel supplied. “The distractions didn’t work, though. He knows where we are.”
“Killstop!” I tried calling her name but, however Spiritwhisper’s link between our minds worked, mine was no longer included; I could tell from the lack of ‘echo’.
I couldn’t get a good grip on what was happening – the duel of arch-diviner and vampire-lord was impossible to follow. She didn’t quite have the vampire’s strength, but I got the impression from the after-images of their motions that he couldn’t get close to me without her outmanoeuvring him, leaving an extended weapon in his path – he moved all around and above me but Em’s flight-spell gave Killstop the ability to be wherever she needed to be with far less than a moment’s notice.
The pain was receding. I had no idea how she was doing it, but my fairy was knitting me back together.
And I could still gesture, still will –
You took my teeth, monster.
Red flames birthed my mekkustremin, the only weapon in my arsenal that could hope to match the diviner and vampire in speed.
I growled something, and the towering doll-demon surged forwards on its ridiculously fast legs, its frizzy hair streaming.
“Don’t do that again. You’re weaker than you think. I’m having to use a lot of your energy here.”
Is that… why you looked…?
“Don’t start talking about my looks right now!” Zel growled.
The mekkustremin did its best to clobber the vampire, but the simple fact I could follow its motions meant it wasn’t in the same league.
I barely saw as the vampire landed claw after claw in its porcelain flesh, gouging holes in it – but I heard the result, the squeal of the porcelain as it was torn open to reveal the pitch-black, hollow interior; I heard the wails of the demon as it suffered, its frozen, painted-on lips still smiling incongruously.
Still, it seemed to help – I caught a glimpse of the vampire pinned between the two of his opponents, Killstop behind him, weaving above and below a series of open-handed strikes meant to fend her off while the vampire slew my fiend.
But she took advantage of its distraction, dancing in, driving a wooden stake through the vampire’s collarbone, stepping back, slipping the next two, clumsier swipes to drive the next stake down at his sternum –
He was too fast, and took Killstop’s arm, twisting hard enough to tear the limb off –
She barrel-rolled with the motion, refusing to give him the purchase he’d need to harm her in this way, and went spinning an extra half a dozen times in the air for good measure, wrecking his unnatural bones –
Crack crack crack!
And still somehow managed to bring the second stake down into his sternum, the instant he released his hold.
The blur of enhanced speed left them both as she sped back out of the way, coming close to me to watch as the vampire-lord collapsed back against my mekkustremin, the two wooden weapons protruding from his flesh.
Killstop was gulping in air, putting a hand out to the nearest wall to steady herself – meanwhile my screaming demon was taking advantage of the vampire’s prostration to rain down a torrent of horrific slaps at his face.
I’d seen those pudgy fists turn imp after imp into literal pulp. Now the cobbles beneath the vampire’s head cracked and splintered under the non-stop barrage of blows landing on his near-unbreakable skull.
“Kherem!” I choked as I saw the vampire’s cranium finally split open. I struggled to turn, getting to my feet as red flames returned my minion to its home dimension.
Avaelar gave me his arm and helped me stand; I oriented myself at the vampire-lord, broken on the floor just a few yards away.
“Thamks, Zam, Ammie,” I gasped. I gestured to my piggish little gremlin and rejoined with him. Leaning on my sylph, I staggered a couple of steps towards the vampire.
I glanced over at Killstop, rattled the words out: “Thamk you.”
The arch-diviner just shook her head, still breathing heavily, then she threw back her hood and tossed out her hair, running her fingers through it. She was steaming in the cold night air.
“You didn’t… see him?” she panted.
“Who?”
“Never mind… I’m letting the… the others know. You don’t… sound so good, Kas.”
I smiled grimly as I managed a couple more steps with the sylph’s help. “Smeak for yourselm.”
And thank you.
Zel didn’t reply.
I didn’t look down at my gut to check, but I was pretty sure she’d virtually healed me. Even my mouth was becoming less sore; my tongue told me that the swollen, broken gums were shrinking, sealing. I spat out some blood.
She spoke up at last. “You need to get an arch-druid to replace the ribs – we left them behind – and the teeth. If I regrew them, you’d feel it, trust me. You’re still suffering from some blood-loss, but between us we managed to keep all your bits inside, patch them up.”
And the bites?
“You’ll be fine.”
I had no idea you could… do so much.
“I’m not saying it was all the sylph’s work, but…”
I winced as Avaelar helped me cover another foot or two of the distance.
Don’t think I don’t know I’d be dead without you, Zel.
“I… well… How many times does this make it, now?”
Oh… at least four or five.
“Four or five!”
I chuckled to myself.
We halted over the white-clad undead creature. I could see the purple-red blood seeping out of his wounds; his glittering eyes were thrown open and transfixed… but the vampire was still alive. Or whatever passed for ‘alive’ amongst his kind. I couldn’t tell from any of the visual clues, but I could feel it. When I passed the wave of my will over him, his soul wasn’t just a little crevasse my sorcerous power couldn’t fill. His was a deep vault, a hidden cavern beneath the rocky shore, filled with bubbling amethyst hatred that descended for miles into the heart of the earth.
When I spoke it was slow, slurred, as I struggled to pronounce the words.
“Be mine,” I whispered.
Nothing.
“Be mine.” Louder.
Still nothing.
I opened my mouth to shout, uncaring how much it hurt. “Be –!”
The creature’s flesh still didn’t stir – but I felt the surge as the bubbling amethyst hatred turned hot once again, rose up like a geyser –
Danger sense.
Crimson lights birthed Aunty Antlers, and I brought her through so that she would crash with her forehooves straight down onto his upper body.
I sagged against Avaelar from the effort, but I’d not been wrong to act when I did – the very moment the gigantic elk-demon’s bulk of untextured red fur landed atop him, my enemy tried to move, surge up, claw at me with his savage fingers.
He got nowhere and was thrust back down beneath her weight, snarling and growling incoherently.
“This is a curious one, Master,” she commented, gazing down with burning eyes at the spitting, agonised-looking vampire.
“You’re fully healed, I see,” I replied, checking her over.
“My gratitude, Master.” She nodded her head, dipping her massive black antlers, seemingly unperturbed by the thrashing vampire-lord just beneath her hooves. “And my gratitude for the entertainment, when last you dismissed me. We have come to an accord, Khikiriaz and I. He will fight your enemies alongside me – have no fear of mutiny, for I have found him lacking in many things, and took time to set him aright. Might you… beckon him to the Material Plane, Master? He dreads the day he is called upon to face you again, face your rage. I would assuage his fears, and have you permit him to put himself back together again.”
The ikistadreng… is still torn apart?
I didn’t have the energy left to shudder as violently as it warranted.
“Let him fix himself,” I said. “I didn’t call on you for a conversation, Aunty. Let’s keep this strictly professional.” I looked down at the vampire. “Why won’t you bend the knee, creature? What’s stopping you?”
“I… was once… as thou,” he spat, “and may… not… be… commanded!”
He put on another burst of strength, trying to rise, but it was futile.
I saw the way the stake in his sternum wasn’t quite there yet – the one in his collarbone was buried deep, but the one in the centre of his chest could’ve done with being pushed in deeper. I was pretty sure that was why he was still in the realm of the living.
“Hate to tell ya, man, but being able to resist isn’t exactly going in your favour, this time, is it?” I grinned benignly down at him. I could feel the way my smile was lopsided, half my face almost unresponsive. “If you’d let yourself be commanded, I could keep you around, but if you insist –“
“I do – not; I – cannot!” he gargled.
I gazed down at him, understanding at last.
“You… actually can’t give in? Can’t be controlled?”
He shook his head, purple tears smoking as they fell from his eyes.
“Slay… slay me, upstart,” he spat again. “My brother… will not… fail…”
He’s an archmage?
“He was. Only a lich would retain his natural powers, though. He’s just like a vampire elder.”
He was like me, once.
“A super-murderous version of you, yeah.”
And if I kill him…?
“He goes to the shadowland. For a very long time.”
Until he gets his body back?
“Essentially. He could become a spectre… The process of eldritch-reincarnation is a little more comp-“
Okay, I cut her off grimly.
I leaned over to press my hand down on the stake, impale his heart –
Right then Em arrived, sinking down in front of me, bringing a white radiance into the muted red glow of my ikistadreng. I straightened back up to receive her as she leapt into my arms, wordlessly embracing me.
“We shall never… never let you…” the vampire-lord hissed, “never cease… our struggle. Mund’s fate will… will not… be ours… wi-“
“Great place to cut you off.” I looked at Em, and pointed. “Do you want to do it, or should I…?”
She spun out of my arms, judged it, then stamped her boot down on the blunt top of the stake protruding from his chest.
Purplish blood gushed out around the wood. My demon stepped away at my gesture.
In spite of the fiend’s withdrawal, the vampire arched his back, his face and hands contorting as though he were still struggling against an immense weight pressing down on his torso. Killstop came forward to watch as his flesh and hair started to pulse, becoming purple, transparent, shadowy –
Then it was gone. The two wooden stakes, no longer drenched in blood, lay amidst the collapsed-in clothing.
“Come on, let’s get back to the others,” Killstop said. “Spiritwhisper hasn’t connected you back up, and that really doesn’t bode well.”
I waved my demon back to Infernum, joined with Avaelar, and let Em take me by the arm before my wings had sprouted, carrying me off on the heels of the arch-diviner, soaring away into the moonlit night.
* * *
“It’s still going on,” Zel supplied in a terse tone as we flew.
They’re still fighting?
I supposed it had only been a few minutes, even if it’d felt like an age.
“Fighting might not be the word for it.”
“Hurry!” I cried on the wind.
Killstop, ahead of us, put on a terrifying burst of speed that swelled about us all. She must’ve been draining her energies, the way she’d been going at it tonight, the way she’d been exhausted after defeating the vampire-lord. I had to admit to myself that I was developing a newfound respect for the diviner.
When we reached Welderway, a scene of carnage greeted us.
Blood, purple and red, coated the walls on either side of the street. There were a number of limbs strewn about, mostly pale, ghoulish or vampiric in nature, but at least one arm that looked wholesome, strong, female – Fangmoon’s?
If it were hers, you wouldn’t have been able to tell by watching her fight.
The druidess was ripping through her opponents with two enlarged hands, standing back-to-back with Nighteye who, if anything, seemed to be possessed of even greater ferocity. I saw the supernaturally-tall druid bite, kick, knee and headbutt his foes, wringing some in half between his hands, showering the cobbles in their innards. Both of them were glowing green, soft light suffusing their flesh.
It was only as Killstop descended into the fray, punching holes in vampires with yet-more stakes that appeared from the folds of her robe, that I realised Leafcloak was near the doorway to the assassin’s-guild, bent over a comatose figure who was also glowing green. Right where my shield had been.
Spiritwhisper. They got Spiritwhisper.
As I prepared to touch down I stretched out the diamond on the edge of my pentagonal shield and ensnared a dozen ghouls, a few black-clad vampires in the mix. I reeled the diamond in, pulling the creatures up into the air to meet me, bending the pentagon until the diamond hung off my square-shield, then again so that it hung off my triangle –
Before I could shred them Em flooded the sky with fiery conflagration, incinerating the ghouls, melting the vampires.
Then we were there, and between the three of us – sorcerer, wizard, diviner – we had the situation under control in seconds.
Leafcloak was helping Spiritwhisper to his feet, physically hauling him up despite the fact he was almost half-again as tall as her. The two young druids shrank back to their normal statures, and Em started burning stray body parts to dust then spraying water to wash away the mess we’d made.
In the midst of the chaos I’d surreptitiously palmed a couple of vampires and ghouls, and waved them off to the shadowland. Em – Stormsword – didn’t seem to be in any kind of mood to take prisoners, and I figured that they might prove useful for questioning-purposes later. Some of these ghouls had been made by the vampire-lord, and his talk of a desire to what – conquer Mund, or something? – hadn’t sat well with me to say the least.
“There’re two more inside,” Fangmoon said to Leafcloak, coming to Spiritwhisper and shifting his arm over her shoulder, taking his weight from the elder druidess. “At the bottom…”
Leafcloak eyed us all in turn, her mask rustling in the night breeze, then wordlessly went through the open doorway. The wrecked door itself was gone, probably long-since smashed in the fight and turned to ash by Em.
“Leafcloak looks pleased to be here,” I observed.
“Riiight,” Killstop replied distractedly, looking across at Nighteye.
The druid’s shoulders were trembling and his hands were clenched; he stood fixed in place, seemingly watching as Em cleansed away the detritus.
“You okay, Nighteye?” I placed a hand on one of the trembling shoulders, felt the way the flesh was knotted-up, tensed, muscles hard as iron ingots with skin stretched over the top. “My good man?”
“Yes…” He sounded distant, then very slowly turned to look at me. “Yeah… I’m okay. You – you okay, Feychilde?”
“Missing a few teeth and ribs,” I said, then, seeing the way he sharply refocussed on me, continued: “I’m in no rush, though. You can fix those, right?”
He nodded, a fractional, minute motion. It looked like he was staring over my shoulder, lost in thought once again.
“Nighteye,” Fangmoon said, “come here; take Spiritwhisper off me. I’ll patch Feychilde up.”
The hand of the druidess upon my own was enough to get things going. I felt a strange, tingly swelling in my side and in my gums as she worked on healing me. Meanwhile, she gave Killstop a report on the battle, and before long the diviner had determined we’d taken down twelve vampires – not including the vampire-lord. We couldn’t count the ghouls – no one knew which had been raised by the vampire-lord and which had been raised by his children.
“And it’s entirely possible he’s been making even more vampires, since last week,” Killstop said worriedly. “I can’t see his actions – he’s like, like a ball of fluff. No stitches. Nothing neat.”
She crouched down and put one hand out to touch the wet cobbles.
“And… why was he…” she said in a musing tone, drifting off into silence.
“Why was he what?” Em asked.
Killstop shook her head. “Not the vampire-lord. The arch-diviner who saved me.”
My jaw dropped.
“Can you not do that?” Fangmoon murmured. “And stop tonguing the empty places in your mouth – we’re almost there.”
“Sorry. Uh – you mean…” I remembered now what Killstop had said before we’d finished off the vampire-lord. “Someone else was there?”
She nodded. “Stopped me dying. Only once. Ran in, grabbed the vampire’s arm. He was just there for one instant, then gone again. I’ve never… never seen someone move so fast. It was like he was, well, showing off. Like he knew even I could barely see him.”
I felt icy inside. “Describe him.”
“Pink robe? Purple? I don’t know. Sort of… circles of metal, like a visor across his face? I saw his mouth; he was smiling, and –“
“I know who that is,” I said.
“Duskdown,” Spiritwhisper grunted, speaking for the first time since his recovery. Nighteye was still propping him up, expressionless.
Em whistled. “Duskdown! And he didn’t kill you…”
Killstop shook her head. “The dead don’t get to go to the debriefing, do they? If he wanted to boast, he got his wish.”
He was there to save me.
“You can’t be certain about that –”Zel began.
No, but he took the dagger, remember? Clun’s dagger? To keep an eye on me…
For once, Zel was speechless, and merely harrumphed at me.
I didn’t want everyone thinking that I had a guardian arch-diviner angel, a darkmage bodyguard showing up to protect me and my friends. They’d question my principles, my loyalties, not to mention the very state of my soul… and that would be the last thing I needed.
Maybe that was why he was doing it…
“He’s always gloating,” Spiritwhisper was muttering sullenly. His injuries had clearly taken the wind out of his sails. “Man leaves his name above his handiwork half the time – piles of bodies with their blood used like paint. Letters five feet high.”
Killstop suddenly got to her feet, a flash of imperceptible motion. “Message coming in. Glyphstone…” She turned on the spot then raised her face, pointing eastward. “Magisters engaging ghouls.”
Em didn’t wait. She waved at us with a single wind-cupping hand, then dashed off like a gleaming arrow through the night. She’d renewed our flight-spells, I knew.
I looked askance at Fangmoon.
“You’re done.” She drew back her hand from mine; I felt my side, checked my mouth –
“You’ve done a fine job there,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. You’ve got an eldritch constitution. I think…” The druidess looked back at the less-than-happy-looking Nighteye and Spiritwhisper. “I think we’ll wait for Leafcloak to finish, then let her know. Get in touch if you need us.”
“Sure.” I rose into the air. “Can you link me back up, Spiritwhisper?”
“Done,” he communicated immediately. He might’ve been feeling glum but he was behaving professionally.
I nodded in gratitude to him then barrelled through the moonlight after Em, Killstop at my side.
* * *
It was four in the morning before I got home. It was still pitch black, and eerily quiet; I might’ve been out of my robe by the time I arrived but my enhanced senses were firmly intact and I had to strain just to pick out the snoring of dozens of men, women and children. It was strange, seeing Mud Lane with its big grey floating pavilions, filled with those who’d lost their homes, knowing I was responsible. I couldn’t help but feel proud. I’d made a difference. Not enough of one, perhaps, but enough to save some lives. I wouldn’t approach any of them as Feychilde, risk my identity. Sure, it would’ve been nice to get to feel some of their gratitude, but putting Jaid and Jaroan’s lives on the line just to ask some questions would ultimately be a selfish act, and a stupid one.
I made my way through the mud between the rows of tents that hovered a foot above the ground, wishing I could just use my wings and hover along with them for once. The sludge was particularly thin and sloppy this morning, what with the off-and-on rain of the previous evening, and despite partaking in several pitched battles I’d gone the whole night without getting half as dirty as I had in the last two minutes. Okay, so I had dried blood in my hair and all over my torso – perhaps something more than a quick wash would be needed… I was exceedingly pleased to reach the stairs leading up to the walkways.
Just a few footsteps from home.
At the end of the activities Killstop had surmised there were at least four more vampires out there somewhere, not counting others that could’ve been created in the meantime. When it came to the ghouls it was anybody’s guess. We’d had no reports of other attacks – but they’d surely arrive by the morning, once people started finding the husks of the victims.
I opened the door to the apartment into darkness. I could hear Orstrum’s breathing and, as I turned back to close the door behind me, by instinct I searched for the twins’ breathing –
Another. Here, in the room with me and Orstrum. Awake. Alert.
A thousand horrible thoughts flashed through my mind.
Zel. Wakey wakey.
“Can we take this outside?” I asked quietly.
“I’d prefer that,” Duskdown replied, casually unfolding himself from behind the furniture in the main room, striding across towards me. It was actually frightening, seeing the killing-machine, tall, hooded, masked, just walking randomly across my apartment floor.
“Him again?” my passenger muttered. “I’m getting no danger sense.”
I let him pass me in the doorway so that I could shut it to behind us, and he moved at an ordinary pace, stepping right though my shield without it so much as trembling.
I guess that answers that one.
Once we were at the walkway’s rail, looking out over the tents below us, I said, “You’ve got to stop watching out for me, Duskdown. Once is a freak bit of providence but twice would become a pattern. They’re gonna think I know you, and –“
He chuckled dryly. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, my young friend. I like what you’ve done with the place.” He gestured at the lane, a motion of his wrist so smooth and practised that he could’ve been slitting a throat. “You’re pretty much everything I hoped you would be. Thank you for holding up your end of the bargain.”
“You mean, not trying to arrest you? Because you’re just so arrestable…”
He laughed softly again. “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad. We have a ways to go together, you and I.”
“What do you mean?”
He just shook his head, still gazing down at the tents.
I could summon a demon, or ten… I felt in fine shape. Probably the best shape I’d ever be in, with this kind of opportunity. He was so close to me that the moment he realised what was happening he’d be thrown away from me, surrounded by my own killing-machines…
“Kas…”
But I knew it was futile. Killstop’s explanation of his power… He’d ensured that I knew he was fast even to an arch-diviner. He might have even been able to kill me before my shield triggered on his ill-will, react automatically the moment before I made a decision…
“What are you thinking?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry. “Can you… sense the people down there?”
“Their futures? You’re wondering if I’m planning on ending any lives tonight?”
I gritted my teeth and said nothing.
I would try to mask the invoking gesture in a wave of my arm –
“No, not one. Not… here.” He sighed and gripped the rail tight with both hands. “You must think I enjoy my life. You might understand, one day.”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t want to.”
He chuckled again, humourlessly. “Do any of us?”
“You smiled tonight. When you –“
He regarded me in silence, and it was my turn to flounder for words.
He smiled, when he was saving my life… That hardly sounds like an accusation…
“Or perhaps you understand better than I thought.” He sighed again, looking back down into the lane. “I pity you, Mr. Mortenn. May the tides of time shape you into a less-cruel instrument than I!”
He was staring at me again, an instantaneous change achieved without the interim stage of turning his head.
I met the gaze behind the mask, the inscrutable eyes of the arch-arch-diviner –
Then they were only an after-image; he was gone, twice as quickly as he’d moved when leaving my bedroom last week.
I stood at the rail for some time, the dark wind in my face, listening to the snores rising up from below, the murmured voices of those who’d awoken too early. I could even pick out Jaid and Jaroan, breathing softly. Safe.
The range, the precision on my senses was improving.
“It’s about time,” Zel said. “Don’t think this means you don’t have to wake me up, though, you hear me? You need me.”
I know, Zel. I need you.
I listened to their snoring, and I wondered about those he would kill before the dawn. Did they have families too? Those who waited for them to return and would be left waiting forever?
Did he really know what he was doing?
When I started to shiver I went inside, crawled into my bed without undressing or cleaning myself, and pulled the covers over my head, praying for the sweet non-existence of sleep that had eluded me when I hung from the vampire-lord’s hand by my exposed ribcage.
But to come to Yune’s peaceful shore one first had to cross the darkness of Mekesta’s ocean, where the dreams of Belestae’s making drifted upon the waves; and on those turbulent, bottomless seas I found no respite tonight.
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