Narinu called from the rear of the building. There was an adjoining room, a narrow set of stairs and beside the Warrior, a heavy steel hatch in the floor. “It’s a cellar. Just some spoiled food and rotting bedding, but it’s dry enough.”

  “And that hatch looks sturdy,” Wayrn added.

  “What else?” Ain asked. There was something strange, a faint pulse from a path below but nothing usual. And nothing related to the darklings, it seemed. Instead, the path was soft...not the footfalls, but the echo. The way it returned. As if sometimes there was a path and sometimes not. More water? No, something different again.

  Odd, but ultimately useless?

  “Nothing. No weapons, no furniture, just another empty room. Nothing up top.”

  “Can you keep watch?” Ain asked. “I feel something, there’s a strange path down there. I need to be sure.”

  He nodded. Jedda took the stairs. “I’ll make sure the darklings cannot climb up.”

  Ain stepped down the short flight. Wayrn followed and soon, a light glowed when he lit a lamp. Ain examined the walls, passing swollen crates of what must have once been wheat. He stopped at the back wall.

  “Here.”

  “What is it?”

  Ain put a hand on the old stone. “There’s something beyond. A path; something I’ve never felt before.” He thumped the wall with the heel of his hand. A piece shifted. Light slipped through the chink. False wall? He pulled the brick free; a bright light poured into the cellar.

  Too bright to see what lay beyond – yet it couldn’t be the marsh, they were underground. He dropped the brick and reached for another piece of stone. “This light, it can help us,” he said.

  Wayrn joined him, shielding his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. How could he be? It was just a vague feeling... “I don’t know how. Help me open the wall.”

  Wayrn pulled another piece of stone free. Ain joined him and within moments, they’d opened a way to another room, its edges just visible beyond the bright light. Ain moved in, hands outstretched.

  The path drew him forth.

  The centre, he just had to reach the centre. “Wayrn, call the others. This is the way we escape.”

  “Are you certain?” Wayrn asked, stepping after. He caught Ain’s arm. “Maybe we should be sure.”

  Ain opened his mouth to answer but the light flashed, blinding, burning.

  Chapter 44.

  Flir charged.

  Fragments of stone shot through the street. A shard cut her cheek and another shredded her leg. She stumbled but closed with the Ecsoli, who was slow to react after his attack failed. She slammed her fist into his breastplate, casting him across the street and shattering bone – both plate and ribcage. When he did not rise, she bent to haul a slab of broken stone up and then heaved it into the press of bodies struggling before the city gates. It flattened the centre, scattering others – Sap Men and Ecsoli alike.

  She wiped blood from her cheek, pausing to take a breath.

  A team of Gigansi skidded around a corner, sickles flashing. They cut into the rear of the Braonn warriors, cleaving limbs and heads as they fought. Bright amber flashes followed; a yellow giant towered above the melee – until a hammer blow shattered him into a thousand glittering fragments. A blue-cloaked Ecsoli flung a hand at the Sap-Born and the man shrieked as his limbs shattered at odd angles.

  Flir glanced over her shoulder. Her own force was not far behind, laying another of the precious acor barrels. She’d split their store into as many smaller casks as possible but who knew if it would be enough? Next would be to draw the Ecsoli into the trap and find out. Flir grinned. “Which means me.”

  She started forward, meaning to distract them, when a new group of Ecsoli entered the battle, flinging men aside with their gloves or breaking bones as they charged. One cast a wind with both arms, slamming a Sap-Born and an unfortunate Gigansi through a wall. The men disappeared into the building, which shuddered and collapsed.

  The Ecsoli turned to another enemy – Flir.

  He pointed and a gust buffeted her but she kept her footing, dropping to a crouch. He strode forward, twisting his hand and Flir growled when the bones of her leg started to creak. She tensed, fighting it.

  The Ecsoli’s mask began to glow.

  Pain increased.

  She tore at the cobblestones. A piece came free. She hurled it forward.

  He brushed it aside and continued to attack her body. Flir swore as the pain increased. Bastard. So much for her plan of drawing them out.

  An arrow flashed across the street, thudding into the man’s shoulder. He spun with a muffled shout. She was free. Flir dragged herself up and broke into a shambling run. Another volley of arrows flew by as Seto’s men, led by Holindo, stepped into the street. She stumbled to them and turned back a moment.

  The Ecsoli had erected some sort of hidden barrier, mask glowing furiously, and the arrows were dropping to the ground before him. He turned to call for help. The bulk of the Ecsoli force broke off their fight with the Sap-Born – few of which remained standing. Only one man with glowing amber veins remained, flanked by two others holding hammers and a smaller group of warriors in forest greens.

  “Go,” Flir shouted to her force.

  They charged back around the corner, sprinting for the end of the next street. Flir kept after, nodding to Ciano where he was crouched in an alley as she passed. Beside him would wait a closed lamp, which he’d throw to the stones as the Ecsoli drew level.

  At that point the man would be on his own.

  If the trap were a success Ciano might not survive. If it failed – he’d surely be killed. A barrel of acor lay buried beneath the cobblestones. Enough of the powder was spread atop the replaced stones, resting between the cracks, that it would blow at first hint of flame.

  Or so it would if it knew what was good for it.

  Flir skidded to a halt, waving Holindo and the archers back. They were to act as if trapped by what appeared to be a dead end. They could fire on the Ecsoli, but it was meant to look like panic. Draw them in, since the bastards were greedy to kill. She lifted a hunk of stone, half a wall taken from rubble, mortar still crumbling from the edges, and braced herself.

  A line of blue thundered into view.

  They barely paused upon seeing her and she sucked in a breath. The lead Ecsoli had already raised a gauntlet. Bones in her legs ached. She stiffened. Her arm started to shake, twisted from the inside. A few arrows flew by, but as before, they bounced off air.

  A little closer.

  She raised the slab of wall, whole body twitching, wracked with pain as the Ecsoli bore down. Now! She heaved. Stone sailed overhead. The Ecsoli pushed themselves forward, and the stone landed behind them, just as she’d hoped.

  It put them into position, and hopefully, distracted them enough for Ciano to act.

  Fire flashed between their legs.

  The street erupted.

  Stone, bones, earth, blue-cloaks and fire spewed in a fountain of death. Flir raised an arm as it rained down on nearby buildings. A piece struck her arm and she grunted. Dirt continued to fall as she strode forward. The nearest blue shape was a mangled mess of blood and charred flesh, but a second figure crawled from a pile of broken paving.

  The Ecsoli noticed her, letting out a muffled gasp as he reached his knees. He raised both hands and Flir fell into a crouch, but no wind came, no stone raged forth. Instead, the mask glowed and the Ecsoli’s limbs began to grow. Clothing tore as bone pushed through, elongating until great, claw-like appendages replaced hands.

  Flir flinched. What new horrors did the Ecsoli unleash now?

  But her enemy faltered, as if spent, and clattered to the broken earth. Flir dashed forward and drove her fist into the back of his head. The Ecsoli made no sound.

  “You should never have come to my city,” she said.

  Holindo and more men rushed to inspect the wreckage and the dead, but by the sounds of it, few if any of the Ecsoli had survived. She rolled her invader over. The Greatmask bore only scratches. Flir pulled it free. A young woman. Her face was slack and deep marks and cuts were left from when the mask was driven into her face.

  Flir stood. “Foolish, girl.”

  She carried the mask as she rounded up her force; the weight of it, and the fact that it survived the explosion and her blow, suggesting the object was more than the common Greatmasks the invaders used. She snorted. Common. Greatmasks as common – was that the most unnatural thing about the whole mess? She scanned the streets. Had Ciano survived? If so, he would be circling to their next position.

  “Where to now, Lady?” Holindo asked. His men had collected whatever bone might be of use and were wrapping it in cloaks.

  “Closer to the palace – I want to pressure them, now that the fighting is starting to spread.”

  “Right.” Holindo called his orders and set them marching, but Flir hesitated. A tall figure strode up the street, his robe singed and torn, one arm bandaged red at the forearm. He wore a Greatmask but his robe was crimson.

  She stepped forward. “Danillo?”

  He signalled as he drew near. “The Pale Girl creates havoc, I see.”

  “I’m doing my best,” she said with a grin.

  “I am glad to see you well, Flir. Where are the others?”

  “Sofia, Notch and Emilio have gone to collect Seto. They’re chasing Marinus in the mountains. He’s making his move for the Crucible.”

  “Damn him.” Danillo turned toward the mountain. If he was afraid for his daughter, his fear was well-contained. “I would follow them...I want to follow, but there is a new threat that I must deal with first.”

  Flir smothered a groan. Just what they needed. “The Sap-Born are troubling the Ecsoli but I don’t think they’ll last. They’re too few.”

  “Not this Sap-Born.” He looked to where Holindo was leading the men. “Bring them back, we have a new priority. Did Sofia ever mention Catrin and Efran?”

  “Not much, but I know enough to suspect I ought to be worried.”

  “We all should. Catrin has done something to herself – no doubt with Mor’s help – something that we may all live to regret. Quickly, gather our men and I will show you.”

  ***

  Flir peered over the roof to a market several streets away – while her vantage point offered a clear view for the most part, other buildings and several thin columns of smoke did obstruct what Danillo pointed to. “She will be visible soon.”

  Holindo crouched beside her, the rest of the men, including a shaken Ciano, lining the wall of some noble’s roof-garden. The scent of wet earth was strong – dying plants sat in overturned garden boxes nearby.

  “There’s nothing yet,” Flir said.

  “Soon.”

  Flir sighed. “When did you see her?”

  “Not long after she entered the city – even then she was too powerful for me to face directly,” he said. “I’ve been hiding and hunting the Ecsoli since escaping the Harper. It was only through chance I was there to witness her entry.”

  “We assumed if you’d survived, you’d be shielding yourself. Sofia used Argeon to search for you.”

  He was silent a moment. “I couldn’t risk sending her a message and in truth – I couldn’t find her, couldn’t find any of you with Osani.” A hint of pride crept into his voice. “She and Argeon work together well.”

  “She wanted to search for you.”

  “Best that she did not. If Marinus takes the Crucible, he will have a mighty supply of bone to create powerful suits indeed. The ancient bones of the Sea Beast will be ripe with power.”

  He stopped, leaning forward and pointing again. “There.”

  “I don’t see...” Flir trailed off. A handful of men or women, it was too hard to say, ran into the market, stumbling over themselves and each other. They had not made it halfway across when a figure of blazing amber stormed into the square. Flanked by smaller figures cast in silhouette, it towered over all but one – yet even he too, the bright being dwarfed.

  “Catrin,” Danillo murmured.

  Gasps rose along the walls. Flir leant closer herself. The girl moved erratically, the flailing of limbs clear even at a distance. Yet the man beside her appeared to be urging her on, his gestures calming.

  “Can she see us?” someone asked.

  “Not from here – her light blinds her from such a distance,” Danillo answered.

  The fleeing Ecsoli had neared the end of the square when Catrin lifted a hand. An amber stream shot forth, splattering into one of the Ecsoli, whose scream crossed the distance easily. Amber spread through his body in a flash and he was dragged back, tumbling over the stone, limbs as liquid.

  When he reached the amber figure, he was enveloped and her shuddering eased. Yet it did not cease and she was already casting tendrils after the other Ecsoli. Several skidded around a corner. One fell, waving his fellows on. He rose, flinging both arms at Catrin but her amber tendril enveloped him and he too was swallowed whole.

  “She must eat or she will be consumed herself, by the Sap she has invited into her body,” he said. “I fear it will consume the entire city if we do not stop it.”

  Someone wretched.

  “By all the Gods,” Holindo rasped. “How do we stop such a creature?”

  “We starve it,” Danillo said.

  Chapter 45.

  “So how do we starve her?” Flir asked.

  “Cut her off from anything she might devour,” Danillo said. “The problem we face is this – what can we use to hold her? You cannot see from here, but her trail sears stone and wood alike.”

  “Iron?”

  “Perhaps. We might try it.”

  “Bone?” Holindo asked. “From the Sea Beast? Not that we have much.”

  Danillo stared out over the streets. Flir followed his gaze. He was watching the amber glow disappear between buildings. “I did not learn enough about the Sap Groves, despite my time as prisoner there. What I can say is that the Sap is not alive but once it has been twisted, it seeks to expand. It feeds off whatever it touches.”

  “Then the Sap-Born will die if left alone?” Flir said.

  “In time, I believe they would. But the magic is young, no-one knows its true effects.” He shook his head. “I do not know which is worse – the Ecsoli misuse of their Greatmasks or the abomination of the Sap-Born.”

  “Why don’t we simply let her deal with the Ecsoli first?” one of the men asked.

  Danillo shook his head. “Too risky. That girl was the size of a full-grown woman when she entered the city and look at her now – she must be near fifteen feet tall. If we let her take too many, how large will she grow? She will be unstoppable.” He started toward the stair. “We must not lose her.”

  “We need a giant hole,” Holindo said as he followed. “One which she cannot climb.”

  “Of earth?” Flir said. “She might subsist on worms and bugs.”

  “It might work,” Danillo called over his shoulder. “Where is such a hole?”

  “There are several, since the Renovar attack. We might be able to deepen one with more acor,” Holindo said. He paused to swallow, as though his throat troubled him. “The problem is how we ensure she stays within. Anyone might come along and disrupt us. Be they Sap-Born or Ecsoli.”

  “If we use the acor directly on her?” Flir asked. “Doesn’t the amber need a...host for its intelligence.”

  “If we do that she explodes – spreading amber everywhere,” Danillo said. “I fear then we will all die, devoured from many sides as multiple people are struck – or even accidently come across the amber – and are transformed.”

  Flir caught Danillo’s arm before he burst from the ground floor into the street. Holindo waved the line of men into a crouch. A troop of Gigansi charged up the cobblestones, sickles flashing. None so much as glanced around as they ran.

  Danillo gave Flir a nod of thanks. “I will ask Osani for a solution but in the meantime, we need to lead Catrin away from people. I will be that bait – she will recognise me.”

  “I know where,” Flir said. She slapped the wall, shaking fragments of stone free. “The Alchemisti. Holindo, where was that fellow’s workshop?”

  “I remember. I will prepare him.”

  “We also need one of the vats from the attack. If he has any vitriol, we’ll take that too.”

  Danillo paused. “Alchemisti?”

  Flir explained about the order and how they used vitriol in the defence of the city. “He might be able to help if he still has either of the vats he made; they were giant.”

  Holindo nodded. “Seto ordered them repaired after the attack. Renaso will have them, if the Ecsoli haven’t found him.”

  “Try,” Danillo said. “I will lead her back this way.”

  He dashed up the street. With each step his shape grew less distinct. Flir blinked. While he hadn’t disappeared, it was as though his robe had shimmered into a new shade, matching the stone around him.

  Flir caught Holindo’s arm. “Where is the last of the acor? Still in the Harper?”

  “Yes. It’s the barrel we were unsure of.”

  “Water damage or no, we have to risk it. I want to sink Renaso’s vat into the earth, we need to set a trap.”

  “Right. Where?” Holdino asked.

  “What about the old dog-race-tracks in the shipyards?”

  “It’s exposed.”

  “But there’s space and few people around. The Lower Tier is like a ghost town now.”

  He grunted. “True. And it’s a risk no matter where we choose.”

  “I know.”

  He tapped the nearest pair on the shoulder, one of which was Ciano. “Underground, go.”

  They ran for the nearest grate and slipped out of sight. Holindo glanced at the remaining men, a mix of Shield and Seto’s black-clad thieves, all armed with swords, bows, even a spear in one man’s hand.

  Yet would it make a whit of difference against the Ecsoli?

  Or Catrin?

  No choice but to roll the dice. “Captain, lead the way,” Flir said with a grin. “Time to set a nasty surprise for that glowing menace.”

 

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