COBALT 7.2: HIGH GROUND
“I broke all the secret armies. I need your help. We need to build a new one, in the open. If you have the power… bring it. Use it. We need it.”
– taken verbatim from the recordings recovered in the Invocatrix
Timesnatcher’s voice still low, he spoke as though to himself: “I fol-followed him… all the way here. All the way to you, Yune…” He looked up at us. “F-Feychilde, you… thank you. Killstop – you were… You were, as ever… you know.”
She curtseyed. For my part, I just stared at him, thinking.
But I did nothing… Was this something he planned, somehow? But how could he – he can’t foresee Duskdown… can he?
It’d been weeks since I’d got a sense off him that I couldn’t trust him – not since he explained Winterprince, that night after the battle with the heretics… Now that feeling came back in spades.
Then I heard as Ibbalat whistled, and Anathta called, “Nice one with the light-show! Really pretty!”
In moments the crowds started to reconverge, the news swiftly spreading – “Timesnatcher killed Duskdown!” Cheers and hoots of appreciation started to fill the air.
But the whispers rippling through the onlookers were wrong on both counts. Timesnatcher hadn’t done it – not alone, at least. I was certain he’d ensure the Magisterium paid out to Killstop too. And, more importantly, Duskdown wasn’t dead – he was wounded and bloody. (I could smell it, and, no, it was not appetising.) He had, however, been struck a blow to the temple that knocked him out, judging from the huge injury on the side of his face – and he would be dead soon from it, if not from the daggers embedded in him…
I ignored what was going on behind me, the chatter of the crowd and their distant applause, the comments of Phanar’s friends.
“What will we do with him?” I asked. “He’s not a heretic.”
“Zyger,” Timesnatcher said with grim finality. “It will be my pleasure.”
He bent across the body, hefted it unceremoniously in his arms, and vanished.
I looked at Killstop. “He said ‘Die’ was about to do something. My friend Die.”
“I think, Feychilde, you’re dealing with a classic case of mishearing,” she said without looking back at me – she was facing away from us and turning on the spot, waving to the onlookers. “Hey, those vampire ears of yours…” she went on. “You aren’t hearing everyone say Die and Death and Blood all the time, are you?”
“Kill me,” I said with a sigh. “I’m almost a hundred percent positive he was talking about Direcrown.”
I didn’t have any friends called Di or Dye (or, yes, even Die – it wasn’t inconceivable for a champion or darkmage to have a moniker shortened to ‘Die’, was it?)… but there was one possibility I couldn’t discount, and the mention of Redgate brought it straight to the fore of my mind.
Direcrown.
Could he have thrown a fit at Redgate’s demise? Could he have been up to mischief? On Yearseve?
“So Direcrown is your friend now?” Em asked sceptically.
“Direcrown,” Timesnatcher said, reappearing in his place as though he’d never left. He was smiling, beaming broadly, but his eyes were still wet with tears. “Go on.”
“No, he’s not my friend, but,” I floundered, “Duskdown might’ve thought he was.” I turned to look at Bor. “Spirit, can you replay the memory for them?”
“Sure.”
It went through my mind as well, clear as day:
“He’s doing it, right now. He’s verified Redgate’s death, and he’s planned this out – I can’t stop him alone –“
“Who’s doing what?”
“Your friend, die –“
Timesnatcher spoke at once, and despite his words he didn’t sound worried. “Direcrown employs fiends of fate-corruption to hide himself from us. Regardless, I can say with absolute certainty that he is currently ensconced in the place we go on nights such as these.” He cast a glance up at the full moon. “Killstop, can you confirm?”
“No doubt in my mind,” she replied; however, her voice was a bit dreamy, distracted. “That isn’t how those… rhimbelkina work, anyway – if he isn’t deliberately using them –”
“I’m aware,” Irimar cut her off, then looked again at me. Was he trying to stop her blabbing divination secrets to me? “What is it you think is happening, Feychilde? We’ve had no rep-“
Killstop’s hand suddenly shot out, gripping him by the upper arm.
She said only one word, but the urgency in her voice slashed at me:
“Fire.”
* * *
“Guys!” I yelled as we lifted off into the air. “Get some drinks!”
I hoped they’d get the implication that we’d meet them later at the Mare – I could hardly shout it out.
“Is there anything we can do?” Phanar yelled back.
“Don’t die on your wedding night!”
He flashed a grin up at me, his arm around his new wife, Ibb and Ana just behind them.
“We can help!” Kani cried, stepping out of his embrace and looking up at me.
I just shook my head. I was certain these guys were good at what they did – the best, even – but there was no way I was going to let them risk their lives right now.
“See you later.” Ana offered me an out, turning away.
I nodded, then we were gone, riding the wild waves of our diviners’ powers just as much as we rode the wind.
From high up, the vampire senses didn’t fail me. I spotted the orange flickering almost immediately, even if it wasn’t where I’d expected.
Outside the walls.
“The camps,” I said over the link Spirit had established. “Gods.”
One of the larger nests of tents, on the northern side of the Plain Road, looked as though it had already been turned into a charred mess – all that was left were tattered bits of fabric, blackened bits of its former inhabitants – and its neighbouring camps were ablaze. Each one had to host hundreds, maybe thousands of immigrants…
I looked down, trying to judge our speed, but it was pointless. The avenues of Hightown whipped past far below as we flew at an incredible pace. We were far from the Fountains, and there were no crowds here in the frigid roadways to stare at the blurs we left behind as we soared.
When I’d first flown over these streets, there’d been a yellow canopy under me – now it was a white one, snow and frost woven in webs like brittle, tactile clouds between the branches. Aside from the towers and gardens and rows of houses, there was nothing but the snowy hills clinging to the dark, leafless trees, only exposing the road beneath at the long, dark ravine running up the centre of the street.
“Glyphstone message incoming,” Killstop said over the link Spiritwhisper had established. “Ignore it. We’re almost there anyway.”
“But then it keeps moanin’ at us,” Spirit complained.
The enchanter did have a point. Glyphstones would’ve gotten a couple of improvements if I were the king of the world, but it would’ve been a start just to post some guards carrying one of the devices in the camps, in case of an event like this… What had the watchers on the wall been thinking?
We cut across Hilltown and passed above the wall of Mund, following its course briefly, then descending sharply towards the flames beyond the Treetown Gate.
There wasn’t much that most of us could do – we were on rescue-duty, physically manhandling trapped victims out of the wreckage, transporting them to safety far from the inferno. At times we would stop and peer through the smoke just like any of the other witnesses to this chaos, doing our best to locate our next targets through vampiric senses or future-sight or mind-magic. The flight-spell massively helped, of course, still outstripping my sylph-wings in responsiveness. At one point I followed a group of brave individuals who’d covered themselves in snow and freezing water before plunging into the conflagration, seeking their loved ones – the heat was oppressive but the satyr-skin helped me escape unscathed, and with their help I found and freed a young boy whose leg had been pinned by a fallen, smouldering tent-pole. In the time it took me to save the single little lad, Killstop and Timesnatcher went whizzing past me with fifty, a hundred…
Stormsword, unlike the rest of us, was perfectly situated to turn the disaster around in less than a minute.
Before we even halted to assess the scene, the snow stopped and giant droplets of rain started to sheet straight down – then thunder rolled across the invisible darkness of the sky.
Within ten seconds the downpour was torrential – within thirty it was as though the storms above were literally emptying themselves, a flood of immense proportions crashing down on us, enough to catch the breath –
Yet it affected only the local area – fifty yards beyond the cinders in every direction, snow still drifted through the air.
It didn’t take us long – it was over.
“Nice work, Stormy Baby,” Killstop thought.
“How original,” Em replied in an overly-sweet tone. “Thanks, though.”
The arch-wizard started blasting us with air to clean the muck from our robes, and she hit Tanra a little harder than the rest of us, but the seeress bore it with good grace and a little floating curtsey.
“No darkmages I can find trace of,” I said.
“Nor I,” Timesnatcher said.
The murmur of agreement went around the group.
“It feel like a demon’s been here?” Spirit said.
“Are you asking me?” I looked over at him curiously. “What does it feel like when a demon’s been somewhere?”
“Why are you askin’ me?” he replied. “Don’t you know?”
“No…”
“Oh…”
“Gentlemen – we should put that aside for a moment,“ Timesnatcher began, then broke off to yell: “Wanderfox!”
At that very moment a gigantic, reddish-feathered falcon swept across the darkened sky; it wheeled and plummeted, then came to hover, flapping its tremendous wings, just a few yards from us. The crowds of immigrants, already awed at our sudden appearance and distraught at the disaster, let out a few more cries of anguish and surprise.
“Timesnatcher,” the elven arch-druid said in a tone of respect, his voice echoing calmly from the sword-length beak. “I was just seeking out the wounded –”
“You’ll have the most luck visiting them in there.” The arch-diviner pointed to a particularly-large pavilion nearby, in which most of the fire’s survivors had been sequestered. “But first – you can’t sense a perpetrator, can you? Anything that might be useful to us?”
“No, I apologise.” The great falcon tipped its head towards the pavilion, then back to the seer. “I will see you anon?”
The druid made it a question – he was checking we were still intending on making it to the Gathering.
Timesnatcher nodded. “Once the magisters take over, head back, will you?”
The druid inclined his feathered head in agreement then took his leave, the reddish falcon-form shrinking in size as he coursed down towards the tent full of burn-victims.
“Okay. I had to check, just in case. Let’s go to the Gathering.” Irimar swept his gaze across us, lingering just a little longer on me I thought. “We’ll keep an eye on Direcrown’s reactions – I’ll prod him, but don’t expect much. In all likelihood, Duskdown set this fire in motion before appearing at the wedding, and sought only to drive a wedge between you and your fellow arch-sorcerers… For all the good it did him. We’ll meet later to discuss things.”
“At the Mare,” Em suggested. “We must toast the newly-weds, remember?”
“Cool by me,” Spirit spoke up.
We started to fly away, taking almost the same route back as we used coming – Mund was massive, and though the Tower of Mourning and opulent Shrine of Yune weren’t near each other, from here they might as well have been.
I didn’t like it, the way Timesnatcher had taken charge. His decision was a poor one.
“Die… Die… Die…”
“Kas, you’re worrying me.”
“Sorry, Tanra… Didn’t realise I was thinking it aloud.” That wasn’t quite true, but it was better to generate some conversation than fly in silence – after what I’d just seen, the bodies, the horrific injuries than only someone like Wanderfox could heal… I was getting inured to the such sights, but it was still worse without a source of constant distraction – I supposed I was still missing Zel. “But it has to be a diviner, does it, if you can’t see it?”
“Not… necessarily…”
Em cut in suddenly: “I vill meet you zere.”
I turned, and spotted her heading down towards the guards atop Mund’s wall.
“I’ll catch up too.” I moved off to join her.
Tanra sighed. “No – Irimar, let’s let it play out.”
“If we must,” Timesnatcher replied.
We all followed Em in time to catch her opening barrage.
“Why were we not notified of this before it was too late? Do you have an estimate of the number of dead?” She glanced across the petrified-looking watchmen – two of them were astride griffons, and even the monstrous birds looked subdued. “Where is your captain? I would have a word with them, immediately.”
“Er – I’m captain of the sh-shift, m-m’lady Stormsword,” squeaked a woman in their midst. “B-but it’s the g-gate captain you’ll w-want to see – I’m new…”
“She’s new,” one of the other watchmen repeated just after she said it, a rueful expression on his bearded face.
I arrived at Em’s side just as her expression below the mask was softening slightly. I knew she wouldn’t have been acting quite so forthrightly in her magister’s robe, but here she was Stormsword, the up-and-coming wizardry-wielder of Mund… Her mask afforded her not just anonymity, but a whole new identity, a kind of power less tangible than magic but no less real –
I remembered the way I’d threatened Haspophel and his colleagues, when he’d misbehaved in front of me…
None of us were immune to the authority the champion’s robe afforded. It was greater than magistry. It said, ‘I take no drop from the likes of you’, and Em personified the role perfectly.
She ignored the quivering captain, the woman whose shift hadn’t just been ruined once, by a massacre, but now twice, the champion’s scorn ringing in her ears; and Stormsword moved on from this stretch of the wall, heading south, back towards the gate.
It only took seconds. We followed, watching and waiting, hovering just behind as Em floated over their heads and engaged them. Her weapons were words, no less stinging than lightning-bolts. We looked on as the gate-captain did his best to explain his failure to get the word out in time – he thought he had it under control, he thought those he delegated to had it under control… He was a big guy with big arms folded over a big, breastplated chest – he wasn’t young, or inexperienced, or new. His beard had grey in it, his eyes held wisdom.
And even he was shaking in his boots, on the defensive.
“And the number, captain?”
“Over a thousand,” he rumbled, lowering those wise eyes. “We’re not gonna get an exact figure, n’all likelihood, ma’am.”
“Over a thousand,” Em breathed. “I suggest you revisit your methods, watchman. Contacting us should have been your priority.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” he drew himself up slightly, returned his cool gaze to her, “you aren’t the chief here –“
“To whom do you report, then, captain?”
“– and the regs don’t allow me to contact champions directly without –”
“This is nonsense!” Em cried. “I have viewed the glyphstone – it was you whose message we received!“
“Yeah. Exactly.” The watch-captain shook his head. “You wanna meet the chief? He’ll be here to kick my ass within the next few hours – he’s entertainin’ guests tonight, I do believe…”
He sighed.
“I… see.” Em sounded suddenly deflated. “You – broke the rules to speak to us?”
She looked over her shoulder at me, and I could see the way she was embarrassed suddenly, confused.
Why exactly did Tanra want this to ‘play out’? I growled internally, not for communication. To show Em up?
Then I noticed as Killstop inclined her head to my girlfriend.
Stormsword returned her gaze to the captain, and when she spoke her voice was cool, level, even compassionate:
“Do you wish me to stay, or return, to speak in your defence?”
The bearded veteran stared back at her for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. “No – no, I’ll handle it. The lads’ll back me up.”
The other watchmen gathered around started nodding, mumbling in agreement.
“And well done, you know, with that rain you conjured,” he went on. “Looks as if I did the right thing, calling you.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, a different thank-you.”
She waved a hand towards the watchmen on the wall beneath her, and I saw the change as the very air about them momentarily glowed a bright, sunlit yellow – the radiance swiftly faded, but I knew she’d put them under a warming-spell that would probably last hours.
“Something to keep off the chill. It is going to be a cold night.”
“M’lady!” the captain cried, then thumped his breastplate with his gauntleted hand in gratitude. His subordinates followed suit.
As we flew away, she called back, “And the new captain, down the ways? Please apologise to her for me. I believe I worried her.”
His chuckles rolled out through the night air. “It will be done, Stormsword.”
We made for the Tower of Mourning, aeromancy and chronomancy again entwined to produce that perfect form of motion – but as we flew, I contemplated which of the two impressed me most. Em, for the way she handled the gate-captain after her argument was undercut – or Tanra, for wanting it to happen.
Is Tanra seeking to change Em? Make her… better? Is this how diviners play games with us all, allowing an event this time, barring it from taking place next time? Is it really so simple for them?
But it was rarely so overt.
‘Irimar, let’s let it play out.’ She’d actually said it aloud – well, not aloud aloud, but psychically-aloud…
I looked across at Tanra sharply, and, although she wasn’t looking back at me, she was staring away with a studied purposefulness. It was as though she’d been gazing at me until the very moment I decided to turn my head, glance her way.
I had no way to know for sure, but I had a sneaky suspicion that the whole reason she wanted it to ‘play out’ was for me to see it, to think about this – nothing to do with adjusting Em’s outlook on the world.
Adjusting mine.
* * *
This night was the third full moon since we became champions – the night of my third visit to the mystical chamber beneath the Tower of Mourning. We flew across the musty courtyard, entering the dark archway in the blue-veined black rock and making our way down the ancient stair. The moment Em mentioned racing, I skipped ahead of the others, flitting incorporeally through the stone.
It was the third time – and it certainly wasn’t getting old. I could’ve come here every night if we’d been allowed. There was a sense of majesty, age, in the air here – something that wouldn’t have felt quite right in daylight. I knew that in my imagination and memory, the Tower of Mourning was always going to be indelibly associated with the darkness, with the bitter chill of an oncoming winter.
Who’d decided we should only enter this hallowed place on the full moon, anyway? I knew the doors had to open at other times – otherwise Tanra wouldn’t have been able to enter and retrieve Tyr Kayn’s device from the Ceryad’s crystal roots. If the gods admitted us willingly, that had to mean the full-moon-rule was something we had invented… I mulled it over for a minute as I floated straight down through the steps in darkness, vampire eyes guiding the way.
I supposed the rule made sense, though. It would certainly make it easier for the diviners and enchanters to ensure no one came in using the Ceryad without oversight.
I wondered, idly, what a touch of the crystal tree would do to my powers. Would I be able to create a huge shield? Would I be able to just wave a hand and summon arch-demons from Infernum?
Yeah… maybe it was a good thing that we didn’t get unrestricted access to the chamber. If I was coming up with it, you could damn-well bet Redgate would’ve wanted to give it a go. I was still finding it hard to believe just how twisted that guy had been, but there was no way the adventurers were lying about what the arch-sorcerer had done to them. It was enough to keep you awake at night, just listening to them talk about it… Living through it? The notion made my skin crawl.
And by the sounds of things – setting aside Duskdown’s words about me and their potential meaning – Redgate was Direcrown’s only true friend…
I reached the tunnel at the bottom, only to find Timesnatcher and Killstop already standing in front of me. Tanra had her mask half-removed, shoving a slice of hot cheese-bread down her throat.
“She went for something to eat, just to prove a point,” Irimar said.
“Don’t sgkip ahead ob me,” Tanra said noisily. “Had to sglow down the cook while I paid him. Nice bloke. Pretty sgcared ob me at firbst.”
As she finished her food, Em and Bor came down the stairs behind me, Em in the lead.
“Damn it,” she said.
“Hey, Killstop went for cheesebread.” I pointed an accusatory finger at the seeress. “And you didn’t come last – sorry, Spirit.”
“Whatever,” the enchanter said, moving past us. “Flyin’s for losers…”
I flashed him a grin, but Em was frowning.
We approached the doors of Glaif and Illodin and, as usual, they swung inwards before we reached them, admitting us into the vast cavern’s darkness. The light of glowing orbs refracted through the waterfalls dripping through the high ceiling, through the leaves of the crystalline tree whose branches reached up to catch the transparent liquid and make it into ribbons of colour.
Almost everyone else was gathered, if I judged it right – there were a few new faces, but Wanderfox hadn’t arrived yet, and a handful of others were absent… Bladesedge and Bookwyrm were retired, at least temporarily, and were presumed gone from the city. I couldn’t criticise them for it, really, given what they’d been through. The new enchanter Ripplewhim hadn’t shown up this time, as expected, but the gnome wizard Copperbrow was here, chatting to Mountainslide. Other than those few recalcitrant champions, there was apparently always a handful who didn’t show up; however, we had arch-diviners orchestrating that aspect… Never before had I seen someone arrive after we formed the circle around the Ceryad.
For now, the champions of Mund were still milling about, talking and waiting patiently for the proceedings to begin.
I located Direcrown, found him standing alone near the edge where the waters ran off into the abyss. He looked impeccable in his rust-coloured robe, its tall collar and hood, the silvery crowns upon its outer layers. He had his arms at his side, looking pensive, the tall, jagged spikes of his diadem gleaming like a ring of golden daggers above his head.
His shielding looked as impressive as ever, but I could handle that, one way or another.
You can drop on it, Timesnatcher, I thought.
I’d had enough of the games. ‘Prodding’ him… He wasn’t livestock being driven to market – he was a human. A champion. So what if he were a darkmage? He deserved confrontation – even more so if that were the case!
It has to be put to the test.
As I moved away from the others towards Direcrown, Timesnatcher took my arm, halting me.
“No, Feychilde,” he said over the link. “Let me handle it.”
I looked into his eyes, watery blue orbs floundering beneath the twelve-pointed star surmounting his mask’s brow. I very deliberately moved my gaze down to his hand on my sleeve, then back to his eyes.
My mind rattled off various options, but I went for the juiciest.
“Let me go,” I said aloud.
I spoke softly, but it was enough.
My vampiric essence informed me that Direcrown was turning around to look at us – perception was typically a two way street for a vampire, and I sensed it. As he became aware of me, I became aware of that awareness.
Good. Let him look.
“Kas, this is Duskdown at work,” Killstop thought at me. “What are you doing?”
You should know perfectly well what I’m doing, Tanra. It was you who showed me the way. Not just him. Both of you.
But I wouldn’t say it – I just gazed at her.
“Let him go, Timesnatcher.” Em spoke aloud too.
“There’s nothin’ wrong in his head,” Spirit said in my defence, looking from Tanra to Irimar.
Bor wasn’t alone in staring. Slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity, a silence fell across the assembled champions – dozens of eyes and ears were focussing on our exchange.
It didn’t matter now, whatever Irimar said or did to try to stop me. There were too many witnesses for him to silence me – with a subject matter like this, no one was going to want him to anyway. I was certain I wasn’t the only one his reticence to provide information grated on.
“Direcrown,” I said in challenge. “It’s time.”
“Feychilde,” Timesnatcher growled, belatedly releasing my arm.
“Time for what, my boy?” The arch-sorcerer didn’t hold back in asserting his superiority with his tone and his posture, stepping closer gracefully and peering at me through the demon-face’s eye-slits. “My fanged boy… I do believe I have seen a performance like this once before, and I do not care for it.”
“You will care.” My voice shook, but only a little – just the right amount. It was anger seizing my throat, not sorrow. “Just because you can hide your thoughts and your destiny doesn’t mean we can’t guess at their contents. You can recognise your enemy from the shadow he casts, just as well as by the mask he wears. Tonight you killed over a thousand people, in the camps by the eastern –“
“I can quite assure you, I’ve been present in this chamber for near-on an hour, with witnesses whose impartiality –“
“And your eldritches?”
“Well, come now, Feychilde.” Suddenly there was a hint of fear emanating from him, a twitchiness I’d never seen before as he paced slightly on the spot. Did he really think he was hiding it? “How might I prove such a thing? But surely you do not believe that I possess a creature of such deviousness as to elude detection when committing so heinous an act.”
“Come now, Direcrown. Would you force us to ask Spiritwhisper to touch the tree? I know you’re protected, but it can only take so much.”
Direcrown laughed, a high-pitched, nasal sound, all haughtiness and contempt. “Oh, my boy – and to think that I had such high hopes for you!” He turned slightly, pointing at Timesnatcher beside me. “Tell me now, how you recruited Spiritwhisper before he inherited his magic… oh, wait, was that not his predecessor? Your pet, whose pet in turn you were in truth!”
“Timesnatcher isn’t moving me,” I said coldly, and I felt the collective wince ripple through the chamber’s occupants. “This is coming from me, against his wishes. Trust me. I understand his powers.” I glanced at Irimar, then back to our foe. “Why did you do it? Why did you kill them, Direcrown?”
“My patience wears, boy,” the darkmage spat. “I hath no such demon, I caused not these fires –“
“Who said anything about fires?” I took a step towards him. “The gate-captain didn’t specify the attack! If you’ve been here an hour, how do you know there were fi-”
“You think I cannot smell it upon you!”
“You shouldn’t be able to,” Stormsword grated.
“How perfect. The upstart wizard knows all that might be known of the worlds of demons and the powers they might impart upon –“
“You’re just trying to goad us into striking the first blow, aren’t you?” I cried.
“– and her incorrigible lover takes the high ground, even as he contemplates violence –“
“Enough!” Timesnatcher roared, hastening between us. The green, coruscating blades appeared in the arch-diviner’s hands. They’d been freshly cleaned of Duskdown’s blood, but I found I could still smell it.
Perhaps he could smell the reek of the conflagration, still clinging to the fibres of our clothing…
“Enough,” the seer went on more quietly. “I see it now, Direcrown. I see what you have done. The fiend of conjoined essence, the fiend of true invisibility, the fiend of funeral pyres… It was clever. Not clever enough.”
Direcrown laughed again with his hands on his hips, cackling almost hysterically, tipping his head back into a stream and letting the water from the ceiling patter down on his mask – then he seemed to calm down, realising what this meant.
The grotesque mask turned one way then the other sharply, the droplets flying off it.
He was weighing up his options and assessing his opposition.
“You can’t fight your way out of this,” I said, feeling sick. His silence, now, was essentially a confirmation, an admission of guilt…
He looked behind him, at the ominous blackness of the chasm.
He could escape that way, I thought. He could try…
Then Direcrown sighed. “Damn you. Why do you think I attacked the camps?”
Exclamations of anger shook the chamber.
“It’s Yearseve,” he continued, unheeding. “Let the innocent children of Mund go free in health and prosperity.”
“And let the immigrant children of Mund die in smoke?” I snapped. “Whose ashes we crawled through, saving the dying babies, the feeble and sick?”
Direcrown lowered his face, and when he spoke it was in a cracking, husky voice: “It is not the least of the things I have done – it is not the worst. You don’t understand – Wyrda, she listened to me and –“
Timesnatcher blurred another six feet closer to him. “You choose to invoke the darkest name we dare speak – the Goddess of Treachery – in your own defence?”
“He died!” Direcrown moaned, and the words sounded like something awful being dragged from his chest, the jagged teeth of a saw caught in his breastbone. “You don’t understand! He taught me –“
“I think I understand perfectly,” Timesnatcher said grimly. “I see Yathira.”
Direcrown went deathly still –
And then his hand shot out, fingers extended.
“Netherhame,” said the seer.
All at once I became aware of a pressure, a wave of wind that stirred only my mind – I heard the sound of a clear crystalline bell pealing out, and two azure spears of force leapt past me –
Behind me, Netherhame was touching the Ceryad.
The strikes were every bit as effective as Saff and Tarr using their newfound arch-wizardry to evaporate their enemy’s shields, back in Branbecks Bridge: Direcrown’s barriers were smashed, stars exploding and lines bursting – and he was left vulnerable.
There was a rush of air, a thunderclap that only rang out after the deed was done; Timesnatcher didn’t appear to have moved, but from the way his arm was bunched and the way Direcrown flew through the air, I could tell he’d delivered the killer a knockout-punch.
The arch-sorcerer landed in a puddle not ten feet from the chasm’s edge, unconscious on the stone.
Glimmermere – Imrye – was there in moments, kneeling by his side to ensure he’d entered a comatose state. Only then did the silent cavern slowly burst back into sound, the pitter-patter of water dripping from the ceiling drowned out by uproar.
Everyone was yelling at everyone else – Timesnatcher was answering ten questions at once, almost literally. It seemed some weren’t convinced Direcrown was guilty despite his admission, after everything that’d happened with Lovebright and Neverwish – some wanted to wake him up, while others were so enraged they wanted him killed on the spot.
I saw Copperbrow standing nearby on his own, practically quivering in his bronze-coloured apparel.
I crossed over to the little wizard, trying to ignore the mayhem. “If it weren’t for how placid everything was last time,” I yelled, “I’d think this kind of thing was the norm. My first time, an enchanter got an eternal prison sentence because of a dragon…”
“I d-did hope we were done with all that…” he mumbled.
He sounded young, though age could be deceptive when it came to the demi-human races, and the mask hid his appearance.
I thought about what Everseer had said. What the heretics believed.
The dragons fear the twins alone. They seek a resurrection of their elders, and only the twins… only they can stop them. Everyone in Mund – in the world, really – is as good as dead. The Age of Nightmares shall reign across the face of Materium once more…
The champions… we fail. The twins are the key.
“You never know your luck,” I said casually, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice.
Mountainslide walked over. The young dwarf wizard was wearing a new robe, reddish, granite-looking, with artistic little avalanches embroidered into it in gold. His upper-face mask, the overhanging boulder with eye-holes, was the same as ever – it didn’t cover his frown; nor did his beard hide it.
“Feychilde,” the dwarf said. “Can you tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I can tell you I’m not a big fan of how people keep getting knocked-out mid-sentence tonight.”
I turned to look at our leader, and he was staring back at me.
“What are you hiding, Timesnatcher?” I asked plainly – my voice’s quietness undercut the crowd’s babble, and many of those talking shut up to listen to his answer. “Come on, if you know Direcrown could subvert your sight, why would you think you understand him any bet-”
“I found out Redgate made him. Redgate made him an archmage. He is the creature of Lyferin Othelroe.”
Gasps and mutters rippled out: I contributed my own under-the-breath “what?” to the sound.
Timesnatcher glanced down at Direcrown, then back to the crowd of champions. “Lyferin, last scion of what was House Othelroe, Lord Shadow to the Second Seat of the Arrealbord, inheritor of the ancient Domains of Carvedael and Ilswent. Yes, we have opened Redgate’s records, and unlocked his past; I was ready to submit my report to the Magisterium this afternoon but I wished to tell you first. You deserve to know. You need to know.” He gestured. “Lyferin made this man an archmage… He made him by making him kill – an irreplicable act, I assure you. Direcrown is just the latest of his victims to be uncovered. A victim, and yet no less culpable for it. Direcrown’s actions will resound across the oceans of destiny – the lives he took – the futures he destroyed.”
There was tumult again, and more uproar.
Yet all I could think was that if ever a secret needed keeping, this had been it. Was it my fault? Did he tell us all this because of me, my mistrust?
‘He made him by making him kill.’
Sweet Yune.
Even the notion that it might be possible… It could drive men to such misdeeds my imagination fled screaming from the concept.
“This cannot leave the room,” I said shakily, echoing others.
“That isn’t true,” Tanra said quietly from beside me. “It can. It shouldn’t, but it can.”
When I glanced at her, I saw she too was staring at Irimar.
“Will it, though?” I asked her.
She shrugged and sighed.
“This doesn’t answer my question,” Mountainslide rumbled. “None of this makes any sense, Timesnatcher. Start at the beginning.”
The doors opened, admitting Wanderfox. The elf’s mask hid his expression, but I could guess at the shock that would be on his face at finding us all in such disarray.
“Everyone’s here,” Timesnatcher said, and clapped his hands together smartly. “A Gathering on Yearseve is a special event, I feel. As befits the spirit of the season, we have a present for you all. It was our favourite malcontent, our apex predator, Duskdown, whose final free choice in this world gave away Direcrown’s.”
The hushed whisper was now like dry autumn leaves in the breeze, made of gasps, of breaths caught in throats –
“Yes. Lightblind is avenged, and all those thousands he has slain over the years. Duskdown is now held, pending his sentence. I have no doubt as to what that will be.”
There were cheers of jubilation, dismayed scowls transforming to joyful grins, and several people came forward to congratulate him. I heard at least one person mutter knowingly to their friend, “I heard the news on the way over.”
“And Kill-” I called.
“And Killstop – I owe it all to her!” the seer cried over the noise. “Without her aid, who is to say what might have happened?”
I stepped aside as champions, especially the mages, descended like a flock of birds upon Tanra too, all wanting to shake her hand, act like they knew her.
“Thanks, Kas,” she thought at me dryly, and I caught her glaring at me through the mob. “At least Irimar tried to avoid mentioning it.”
I grinned. “Don’t want accolades? You’re gonna have to stop saving the city, then.”
Timesnatcher and Dimdweller removed Direcrown from the chamber with far less dignity than had been afforded Neverwish, and when they returned I heard Sunspring calling out: “Come on, ladies and gentlemen, spread out. Might as well do it properly! Let’s get started – I’m sure we’ve all got places we want to be tonight.”
I found my spot in the circle, looking out across the assembled powers of Mund, as the second Gathering of Mortifost began.
And we were one more champion, one more arch-sorcerer, down.
* * *
I made my way back from the bar, heading towards the glass wall overlooking the snow-clad streets of Hightown where we’d claimed our tables. I had to navigate through the thickest crowds I’d ever witnessed in the Mare, and there were the additional obstacles known as Time Trees. The coniferous things were as big as Twelve Hells and twice as prickly, sitting there festooned in green and gold tinsel. Their needles were blue-white spines that changed colour in the first few days of Mortifost, turning dark-green again only when the festive season was over.
The bards, a five-piece band, had given up singing the cheesy Yearsend tunes they’d been performing when we first arrived. The families out dining with their young children had all left, making more room for drinkers. Now a moody ballad rippled bittersweetly from their instruments, their voices warbling with angst:
You’re in a dream
Finding all the ways you are
You’re on a journey
I cannot follow
But I’ll wait for you right here
You’re gone
In this moment
I stand
Blinded by the sun
But you’re gone
On your own
And I can’t close my eyes
I can’t look away
When your shadow is there
By night or day, moon or sun
Every direction I face
Like the rose, brittle upon your pillow
It helps me move on
But when will my tears come?
When will my sorrow fall?
You’re gone
In this moment
I stand
Blinded and alone
But you’re gone
I’m alone
And I stand
I cannot follow
But I’ll wait for you right here
For the journey
For the way
For the day you reappear
You’re in a dream
Finding all the ways you are
You’re on a journey
Near and far
Why don’t you wake up and reappear?
And the dead rose still has its thorns
I move on
Following the circle after all
Always, forever, coming back to you
I still wait to shed my tears
Reappear
Reappear…
“Well, that was a nice, uneventful evening, wasn’t it?” I said, placing Em’s glass down on the table in front of her and taking the chair on her right. “A wedding, and two archmages in custody…”
“The two Dastardly D’s,” Bor said in a musing tone, wiping beer-foam from his lips.
“Duskdown, and Direcrown, am I getting this right?” Ibbalat asked loudly.
He winced as we all simultaneously shushed him, then continued in a quieter voice, “Were they brothers, or something?”
“Not so far as we are aware,” Irimar answered. He’d arrived at the Mare unmasked and in ordinary clothes just like the rest of us, seemingly unfazed at revealing his identity to the adventurers now we had taken the step of trusting them. “Any similarity in chosen name is purely coincidental.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Kani said. “There’s a reason behind it, there has to be.”
“There’s only a finite amount of names,” Tanra said. “When we were preparing ourselves to confront Tyr Kayn, we arrested a number of her lackeys, coming across no fewer than three minor darkmages whose chosen names started with Black-something… Not to mention the somehow-completely-unrelated Terroreyes and Tranquileyes, a sorcerer from Hilltown and an enchanter from North Lowtown, respectively…”
“Come on,” Ana said with a snort, “two people can’t come up with such similar, terrible names without it being a conspiracy.”
“Definitely no relation,” Tanra insisted.
“Mundertaker!” I coughed.
“Deadgate,” Ana said, looking pointedly at Kani.
I glanced at the smiling bride, her hands around her glass of lemon-water.
“You called him Deadgate?” Em asked.
“Just before she –” Ibbalat mimed Kani smashing her mace into the ground.
We’d all heard the story – the ‘greater dispel’ Wythyldwyn let the cleric channel, momentarily stripping a whole horde of eldritches from the Materium and bringing about Redgate’s downfall.
I wondered if she could do it again – a trick like that would’ve been invaluable in an Incursion…
“Sounds pretty badass to me,” Em said.
“And this Direcrown,” Phanar murmured, “you say that he was Redgate’s closest confidante?”
Irimar and Bor both nodded.
“Then good riddance,” the warrior went on, and raised his small cup of wine in tribute.
His eyes remained troubled, but no one else seemed to notice.
“Hear, hear!”
We each raised our own glasses and tankards, joining the toast, though my heart wasn’t quite in it. Direcrown was in Magisterium custody, but so what? He’d still sacrificed over a thousand people to his dark goddess in the name of his dead master…
“So,” Em said, leaning forwards and placing her hand on Kani’s across the table, “what are you doing for ze honeymoon?”
“Well, we were thinking of visiting Habburat in the new year – you’ve got that Spring Door here, and we’ve never been that far to the east…”
I looked at Em, enjoying this new distraction. “We totally need to go too, some time.”
“You’ve never been?” Ibb asked me.
I shook my head.
“Wow – but you’ve lived here your whole life, haven’t you?”
I looked at Bor. “You ever been? To Habburat, I mean.”
He gave me the exact look I expected, the raised eyebrow and smirk of incredulity.
“So, that’s not really the kind of thing you do here, then?” Ibb pressed. “You don’t often get chance to travel?”
“There’s neighbourhoods in Sticktown I’ve never even heard the names of, never mind visiting them…” I swigged my beer. “The Doors? Until I became an archmage, I’d only seen the Autumn Door up close, and that was by queueing up with the tourists. And the Giltergrove, where it stands, is a stone’s throw from where I live!”
“Reckon it’s mostly merchants goin’ back and forth,” Bor said. “You gotta have a license, even if it’s just for, like, a day-trip, way I understand it.”
“Things are strange here,” Ibbalat said.
“Tell me about it,” Em said, rather darkly.
What’s going on with her tonight? I wondered, staring into her face as if I could scry out my answers so simply.
“Why don’t we show them what Yearseve’s like in Mund for a champion?” Bor asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“You want to come see some darkmages?” I asked, looking around. “We can do a quick patrol, see what we can see, but I promised the twins I’d be back early for Father Time tonight…”
“No offence, but we might not,” Kani said. She looked at her husband. “Shall we grab a room, if they’ve got one? Or would you rather we go home?”
Phanar stared at her, suddenly looking rather timid.
“We can afford it, husband,” she said, smiling sweetly.
As though reacting to his own hesitancy more than to her prompting, the warrior spun on his heel and approached the bar-staff to discuss their vacancies.
It was Yearsend – I was certain every room would be booked up – but everyone had their price, and Phanar had access to a ridiculous amount of money from what I could tell.
“Ibb?” Em asked, getting to her feet with a bit of a wobble. “Ana?”
The rogue answered for the pair of them, grinning and pulling two daggers out of nowhere – if I didn’t know better, I’d have said she had portals to another plane hanging off her wrists, the ease and speed with which she produced them.
“Let’s give it a go,” Ibb said. “I’ve got another couple of flying-spells prep-“
Em put out her hand to cut him off, grinning defiantly and wobbling some more. She raised her cup and made him wait for her to finish her drink before saying:
“Leave ze vizard-shpells to me.”
* * *
The warehouse was huge, containing row upon row of shelves, housing glass vials in all different shapes and sizes; the place was well-lit by Spiritwhisper’s steady sunbeams, and less-so by Stormsword’s flickering silver ribbons. Ibbalat was scouring the shadows for our foe – a spell of his own making was shining in his eyes, a wane-leaf of his own procuring in his teeth; he was looking extremely keen and excited to be here.
The rest of us were being perhaps a tad less active.
“I shwear, it vosh a rat,” Em mumbled, teetering on the air.
“He’s not a rat,” Tanra hissed, “he’s a gnat. Tiny.”
“Tiny-tiny,” the drunken wizard mumbled on in a sing-song voice. “Teeny tiny rat…”
“Gnat,” I said, stifling my laughter as I cast about. I couldn’t see the dark-druid anywhere, or hear him, or smell him…
Em looked over at me like I’d slapped her.
“Come on Kash, admit it, you lurbe her. You think she shaved the shity – agaaain.”
It was a mixture of emotions – the alcohol made me want to titter incredulously, but I went cold inside, just a little, and did perhaps the stupidest thing possible in this situation – I glanced over at Tanra before replying.
“I think someone’s had a bit too much to –“
“Alvay shugging her – ‘oh look, I hit her in ze head again, vhat a mishtake’ –“ she managed to gasp mockingly without being sick, but not without hiccuping “– better give her a hug – you think she’sh attractive –”
“Of course I don’t,” I snapped, “have you seen you?”
“Uh oh,” Anathta said ominously, using the exact same intonation as Tanra had last night when Em overheard Ana calling her out.
“Sho she’sh not attractive.”
I glanced over at the seeress again, guiltily this time, sensing the frostiness emanating from that direction. Tanra’s hands were on her hips in mid-air, staring at me and being no help at all. Bor was looking back and forth between us.
“Of course she’s attractive, but it’s not like I’m attracted to –“
“Sho you admit it! You like her!”
“No, I’m just trying to be honest…”
“Why’re you tryin’ to do a stupid thing like that?” Bor asked, chortling.
“Yes, you! A shtupid thing, ishn’t it?” Em burst out, pointing accusatorily at the enchanter. “Putting your armsh round me on ze shtairsh!”
I looked between the two of them, the little trace of cold inside me suddenly becoming an icicle big enough to wound, sharp enough to scratch my heart.
“What stairs?” I asked.
“Before ze Gazzering!”
“Nah – that was nothin’ like that.” Spirit scowled. “An arm. Friendly, like.”
It sounded reasonable. He sounded reasonable. It was obvious that, given his powers, if he’d intended something more he could’ve done whatever he wanted to our minds – could’ve made Em forget…
But he wouldn’t. He was Bor. If he was dark, the whole world might as well be.
Still, I couldn’t help but get angry with him. Every time he elbowed me during fortify games came back to me in a single flash, a single re-experiencing.
“Well, why were you putting your arm around her?” I drifted closer to Em. “What was the point?”
“Hey, man, your missus ain’t wrong – why are you always tryin’ to get your arms all over mine?”
“Yours?” Tanra flared.
“I’m not!” I cried, incensed at the suggestion. “If you’d rather I leave her on the ground when she’s hurt –“
“I have a name,” the seeress snapped at me.
“A name I can’t use!” I gestured blankly at the shelves where a dark-druid probably wasn’t hiding anymore.
“Oh, hi, I’m Killstop,” she grated.
I understood. Now she was helping. We could argue with each other in front of them. That might work.
I opened my mouth to retort, but Bor cut me off:
“Look! See, somethin’ just passed between them then, did you see his eyes? Man, I don’t even need my powers… Come on – I don’t just mean in the heretic attack – it happened last week when that big critter was in the Greywater, didn’t it! Carryin’ her round again… And why are you always takin’ her aside, whisperin’ together?”
“And all ze… hic!… shecret little looksh…” Em said, glaring at me when she wasn’t blinking. I think she was running about ten seconds behind.
“Maybe I should just take a look,” Bor muttered, looking aside, “find out for myself.”
“You won’t do that,” Tanra said.
I felt my eyes widening in fear. If they found out what we knew – gods, the feeling of liberation… I could imagine it washing over me, releasing me from this self-imposed imprisonment even as it bound me to the inescapable consequences.
What exactly might happen, I wasn’t sure. If Em realised we were saying heretical things, would she kill us on the spot? I couldn’t imagine her killing me, but – Tanra? Honestly, I had no idea. Bor could be even more dangerous, if he was inclined to be… We couldn’t tell them that we had some notion of the Heretics’ aims – not without the irony of them wanting to kill us, for being potential killers…
Whoever came up with this system was truly stupid. Bad ideas needed bringing out into the open and confronting, especially the most persuasive bad ideas – that was just common wisdom, the only way for such things to be defeated, dispelled for good. Very bad ideas – like, oh, say, ‘kill everyone in Mund’ – definitely needed bringing out into the open.
The epiphany was there on the tip of my figurative tongue, but my ale-befuddled brain couldn’t quite grasp the ramifications.
Unless they’re right, and the Magisterium knows it… Death is the only answer?
No, that couldn’t be it.
I looked between Bor and Em, only now realising they were frozen. Ibb and Ana had wisely drifted away down another aisle while we argued and I hadn’t even noticed at the time, but I could tell from their shadows that they weren’t moving either.
I turned my gaze back to Tanra.
Was she going to drag me over the coals?
“Sorry, about that… You know as well as me there’s nothing between us, right? You’re hot, sure, but you’re a good friend, and you know you’re not the one for –“
“Kas.” She sighed. “Of course I know… But why didn’t I bring a druid? I should’ve been more careful. Even Kani might’ve been able to un-drunk the lot of you…”
“We’d have had to deal with this at some stage, sooner or later,” I pointed out. “They were always going to get suspicious. What’s our escape route look like?”
“Bor’s really tempted to look in our heads, you know,” she whispered, sounding frightened all of a sudden. “And he really isn’t the sort, trust me. I… I don’t know what to do. We don’t have to do much, we don’t need long, but if we’re going to head it off we have to do something…”
“If we play on their faith in us – if we just tell them, ‘look, there’s something we can’t tell you, but don’t you trust us to be doing the right thing?’… What happens then?”
She was shaking her head. “It’s the ‘please don’t tell anyone else’ that’s the worst –“
“Then we don’t say that!“
“It doesn’t work; it just goes wrong in different ways. Talking about any of this stuff, it only stops them trusting us, and it always – goes – wrong.”
“What does going wrong look like?”
“I don’t know exactly!” She folded her arms across her chest, twisted in the air. “Other diviners get involved at some point and the fabric just tears.”
“Then… we let it tear.”
“No,” she said, clearly suppressing a shudder. “No, we can’t –“
“Look – you showed me tonight, you and Duskdown. Your sight is a crutch, Tanra. If you can’t account for everything, you can’t account for anything. So, it goes wrong. You say every way we do it, it goes wrong. Well, let’s let it go wrong the right way. Do the right thing. Tell as much of the truth as we can without endangering them… and without endangering us.”
“But it will – we could both be killed for this!”
“Or maybe we end up with allies – think, Tanra! If Irimar knew what we knew –“
“It’s a fantasy, Kas. Our futures fall right off the scales. Revealing anything is like, like pouring a bottomless jug of water on our heads. Funny at first. Tolerable. But we’ll drown eventually. Our skulls will cave in. It won’t be so funny then.”
“Yearsend gifts! Would they believe it if we said we’d been collaborating on gifts?”
She stared at me like I was knee-high to her, barely even speaking Mundic.
“Well, what do you propose then?”
She laughed lightly. “Oh, that’s right. Haha, I didn’t see that! Thanks, Kas!”
“What?” I asked, baffled.
“There’s a distraction coming up, and if I play my cards right…”
“Distraction?”
“… We might buy a few weeks’ reprieve at least. We’re going to have to be more careful in future, though…”
“Wha…?”
“Let’s see,” she said, as though I had any idea what she was talking about.
Time resumed its normal flow – and Tanra slid through the air towards Bor, then brought her body up into a kneeling position, robes trailing down around her.
“Love of my life,” she intoned in a mock-sombre voice, “wilt thou take me to be thy bride? If thou seekst…” she sniggered “… a gesture of mine intent, take of me an eternity.” I heard her voice crack. “I-I am but a humble woman, yet all I ha-hath shall be thine shouldst thou consent to be my husb-ha-haaa…”
The ridiculousness of this startling turn of events broke the tension effortlessly; he grabbed her and hugged her, telling her to shut up and laughing along with her as her attempt at highborn-speech devolved into cackling; Em’s eyes were wide with shock and a growing sense of… embarrassment?
The sheer ease with which the seeress had flipped the argument on its head, using her lunacy to our advantage, was truly legendary. Em had gone from outraged to abashed in the space of seconds…
It was incredible. It was… scary.
I went to my girlfriend wearing my best grin, took her hands and –
“Could it be more of a midge?” I heard Ibbalat muttering to Anathta on one of the adjacent rows.
I’d forgotten all about the dark-druid. I only understood what Tanra meant as the villain we’d been pursuing took advantage of our non-archmage companions, transforming into some huge, hairy behemoth and knocking over several shelving units.
Thousands of glass vials exploded into shards. The whole stack collapsed and two aisles became one.
Ah yes. Distraction.
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