The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 68
Alosus smiled back and they conversed, Wayrn occasionally joining in. When he finished, the King pointed to the hole. “So this is what Abrensi has to guard? You made quite the mess, Flir.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “What about Alosus?”
“He is remarkable.”
“Where did Vinezi find him?”
“I had a suspicion, the moment Wayrn mentioned him, but it should be obvious – and might explain a lot.”
“Tell me.”
“He’s speaking something close to old Anaskari, so I can understand most of what he says. He’s afraid Vinezi will hurt his son, but he’s pleased that you have the King ‘working for you’ as he puts it.”
She grinned.
“And what does that tell us, my smiling fool? Who might speak old Anaskari?”
“Old Anaskari people.”
“Yes. And?”
Wayrn slapped his forehead as Seto spoke. Flir glanced at Luik, who had an eye on the opening in the wall, and appeared only half-listening. Old Anaskari? The kind of language spoken centuries ago. Which meant...
“I am stupid. They’re from across the sea – aren’t they?” She rubbed her eyes. That explained everything, right down to Vinezi’s uneven accent. “All of them, Vinezi, Alosus here. From the land of your ancestors. Quite a journey, as I understand it.”
“Indeed. No ship has reached Ecsoli – or returned to tell so if they did. But it would explain much. Vinezi’s knowledge of the city and palace, of Mascare secrets.”
“And he’s here for bones.”
“And we have more than enough of them.” Seto exhaled. “Can you catch him, Flir? Alive? There is much more afoot than we first imagined.”
“This is our best chance, without flooding the entire mountain with men we can’t spare – we can do that later. Alosus said Vinezi was in the city.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Then do what you do.”
“But, you aren’t staying back this time, surely? Everything else is in hand?”
“Not everything. I have an unfinished task,” he said, giving her a look, which meant the mask, before continuing, “and your countrymen are close now. I wish to accompany you, Flir. Most keenly. And maybe if I have more success than I expect, I will.” He shrugged. “But for now, make your plans and catch him finally.”
“I will.”
He nodded. “Whatever you need, Flir.”
***
With Abrensi and his force camped before the opening in the wall, Flir marched down the sloping tunnel, torch held high. Shadows jumped before her, bouncing from the old stonework. Alosus, Luik and Wayrn trailed her, but no Pevin or Ain this time. Both had other tasks to complete. She’d wanted to scout alone, but Seto wasn’t having it.
The sweet old scoundrel.
But any more people in the tunnel and it would be clogged. As it was, Alosus walked with a stoop.
“Let’s collapse part of the tunnel. Bury him,” Luik said.
“We have to be sure, Luik.”
He grunted. “Where are we now?”
“Somewhere under the Second Tier – maybe halfway between the Palace walls and Second wall.”
“And that last opening into the aqueduct? I still think we need to watch it.”
“If they use it, Abrensi will see them.”
“I meant if they start following us.”
Flir stopped. “Then switch with Alosus and listen hard.”
Another grunt and shuffling as Wayrn explained to Alosus. They walked on, moving through bends and turns. The only steps were in small groups and there was always another set leading up, somewhere along the way. The path remained roughly even.
And it had been used. Footprints had worn a serious trail in the thick dust on the floor. How long had they been using it? Long enough for Vinezi and his men to learn modern Anaskari? To learn the city. Was months enough? Probably.
But what of the months prior, to prepare and leave the old Anaskari lands? Which no-one had seen or heard from in hundreds of years. Beyond the northern seas. Through the storms and on and on for who knew how long – no ships that searched for it returned.
They climbed another flight of stairs until at the very limit of her torchlight, a door appeared on a landing. She signalled for quiet and crept forward. Reaching the door, she placed her ear against the cold steel.
Nothing.
She whispered. “We’re rushing in, all right?”
Flir stepped in and kicked the door from its hinges. She leapt into an empty room. Birds scattered, shrieking through a hole in the roof. Sunset fell into a decrepit space, splashing over streaks of droppings on the stone walls. Nests filled the corners.
A few feathers drifted to the leaf-strewn floor. Papers, torn and water-logged joined them.
She padded to a dust-choked window. The Second Tier stretched beneath her upper storey position, its black rooves and dark windows dusted with orange. Below, people moved about, wrapped in heavy cloaks as the wind swirled around them.
Beyond, sails of the remaining ships were creeping from the harbour.
“Where are we?” Luik asked.
“Let’s find out.” She headed for a stairwell. At the bottom waited another rundown room, this one stuffed with shelves and half-ruined books. Stern statues of stone lined the walls, the bearded figures holding giant hammers in both hands.
“Celno.”
“The Mountain God,” Wayrn said. He snapped his fingers. “We’re in the Mountain God’s Temple.”
“He’s not very popular in the city, is he?” Flir said.
“Not for a long time. Gods of the Ocean have been more popular for centuries now. It’s seen as ‘provincial’ to worship Celno, now that the mountain families are out of favour.”
“So why use this place? Is there a link? Or just because it’s quiet?”
Wayrn shrugged. “Probably nothing beyond its convenience. It has access to the passage within the wall and as you say, few come by here anymore.”
Luik pointed to the door. “What about the priests?”
“Let’s ask,” Flir said.
The corridor beyond was empty, doors leading to simple rooms with little more than old cots inside. One looked to have been slept in, an old bottle of fire lemon on the window sill.
“The priests here don’t seem very concerned with their establishment,” Wayrn said.
The corridor opened into a wide, circular hall with a high, domed roof. Triangular columns with huge bases lined the room, evenly spaced. From the walls hung carved stone reliefs of Celno and his worshippers working at a forge or hacking rock from a mountain. Large double doors stood closed, blocking the wind.
A marble floor looked to have been swept recently, revealing a complex mural of coloured pieces that depicted a sun rising over the Peak of Celnos.
“What are you lot doing here?”
A man in rumpled clothes, broom in hand, shuffled out from one of the columns. He affected a stern look, but a hiccup ruined the effect. His eyes widened. “Celno’s gut, you’re huge,” he told Alosus.
Wayrn translated and the giant smiled.
“Who are you?” Flir asked.
He leant on his broom. Up close, he was younger than he appeared, the lines on his face misleading. “You first, girl, you’re the uninvited guests.” He pointed. “And you won’t find anything back there, if you’re thieves. And if you want to kill me then let me have another drink first, damn it.”
“We’re not here to kill you.” Flir made introductions and he frowned.
“So I’m not about to die?”
“We’ll see,” Luik muttered.
Flir shook her head. “No. We just want to ask some questions.”
“Oh. All right.” He scratched his head then walked back into the columns. Flir waited.
“Is he coming back?” Wayrn said.
Flir followed the man. A steel ladder had been worked into the wall beyond the column, leading up to what might have been a loft. The man’s broom lay on the floor. Light bloomed above. She growled. “Are you up there?”
“Who’s there?” came the reply.
“This is ridiculous,” Flir muttered before lifting her voice. “Come back down.”
“Go away. Temple’s closed.”
“What sort of priest –” She broke off with a sigh. “Luik, would you go and get him for me? I’m afraid I’ll wring his neck.”
He climbed the ladder. A commotion followed, then Luik appeared, holding the man by his shirt. He dangled the fellow over to the ladder, ignoring the man’s protests, and called down. “Ready?”
“What does that mean?” the man said.
Flir spread her hands. “Ready.”
Luik dropped him.
The priest screamed and kept screaming even after Flir caught him. She set him on his feet and gave him a shake. “Hey. Listen. We need some answers.”
“I’m alive?”
“Yes. Now, what’s your name.”
“Pins.”
Flir opened her mouth to ask if it were true but thought the better of it. “Good. Pins, have you noticed anyone visiting the temple often?”
He snorted. “Not since the Mountain Priests left.”
“You’re not the temple priest?”
“No. I just look after the place while they’re gone back up the mountain. One of them visits every few months to pay me.” His expression grew mournful. “It’s bare-enough to cover my drink.”
“Have you had any other visitors lately?”
“A group of Mascare seem to come in a lot. I’m not sure when it started. My memory’s quite hazy.” His face brightened. “Maybe we should check on donations?”
“I’m sure they’re overflowing. Pins, how many were there?”
“Ten the first time. Then two. I think. Maybe more.”
Flir exchanged a glance with Luik before looking back to Pins. “Do they ever have any one else with them? Do they speak to you?”
“They just keep to themselves. One time, I was up because my bladder was full and I...” He trailed off when she raised an eyebrow. “And well, I saw them talking and one of them looked be a southerner, but I can’t be sure. Don’t they have their own gods?”
“When were they here last?” Wayrn asked.
Pins blinked as he focused on the new speaker. “Ah, last night. Or this morning. No, wait. It was dawn. Or noon.” An earnest nod. “Noon.”
“Do they often visit twice in one day?’
“Never.” Another hiccup. “Sometimes.”
Flir turned to the others. “This is the place, we just have to hurry.”
Luik glanced around. “Here?”
“Definitely. We’ll have to make sure there’s only the main entry and the passage but there’s space to hide men in the columns and we can cover the exits from outside too. Vinezi won’t expect it either.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Not if he’s been using this place for months.”
“What about Pins?”
“He’s going back to the palace or somewhere out of the way,” Flir said.
“Oh my, the palace? It sounds a treat. I’ve nothing to wear, you understand,” Pins said. A funny look passed over his face, and he bent to empty his stomach onto the floor.
Chapter 48
“Gods be damned!” Sofia spun from the empty cell and ran for the half-broken door, skidding to a halt. A line of figures, dozens of Sap-Born and Braonn warriors, poured into the compound. Efran and Mor led them, striding for the tree.
Sofia kicked a chair. Fool. She’d let her desperation to find Father rush them into a trap and now she’d doomed her friends. How pig-headed could she be? She should have made sure he was in the cell.
Time was running out.
“Quick, help me.” She grabbed the table. Nia joined her and together they heaved it onto its side and shoved it up against the broken door. A small gap remained, enough to see through.
“What’s wrong?” Notch asked.
“Efran,” Sofia said.
Nia put her face to the gap. “We’re being surrounded. At least thirty men. And most of them Sap-Born.”
“What do we do?” Emilio asked. “We can’t fight our way out, not with those numbers.”
“Can you break the back wall?” Notch asked Nia.
“I doubt it. It’s much thicker and it would take too long. Living wood is more difficult.”
Notch limped forward. “What about Argeon?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can only really spirit-walk. And I don’t feel connected to the weather, in here.”
“The storm is easing anyway,” Nia said.
“Another illusion?” Emilio asked.
Sofia paused. Was the grove still blackened? What could she change here? Nothing really. “They already know we’re inside.”
“We have to do something,” Notch said.
“Stall them,” she said. “I need time to think of something.”
Notch moved to the door, glanced throughout and turned back, face grim. Sofia clenched fists. What could she try? Argeon was one of the most powerful artefacts in the world – why couldn’t he just destroy them?
But even if she knew how, she might never find her father if she killed every last one.
“Give up,” Efran shouted. “Save us the trouble of breaking bones if we have to drag you out.”
Notch leant against the door. “First man through the door dies, Efran.”
“And what of the ten, twenty or hundred after that?” He sounded amused.
“Think a Greatmask can’t handle that many?”
“Not in the hands of an amateur.”
Notch swore. “Sofia, any ideas?”
“I’m thinking.”
Efran shouted again. “Last chance. You have no-where to run, and no-one can help you.” He paused. “And Sofia, think about your father. And your friends. You’re the only one I need alive, you know.”
Sofia ran to the door. “I’d be a fool to trust you.”
“Then you all die and I have the masks.”
“You can’t use them.”
“Your father will instruct me.”
“He’d die first,” Sofia shouted back.
“Either way you are still dead and I have the masks.”
Sofia froze. More darkness. What if she brought darkness down, the way Tantos had? Could she? She showed Argeon the tree, the compound and the Sap Grove disappearing beneath a cloak of night.
Nothing happened.
A loud sigh came from outside. Efran snapped an order and feet marched toward the tree.
Nia spun. “Lady Sofia.”
“I’m trying to bring darkness. We might escape then. Start on the back wall.” To Notch and Emilio. “Hold them.”
The Butterfly-Eater dashed to the back wall, tearing off her gloves as Notch and Emilio braced themselves against the door. A pounding started, rocking the table. Notch gritted his teeth and Emilio’s face was pale.
“Argeon, I need your help.” She hissed the words, but no darkness came.
More thumping on the doors.
An axe head appeared in the wood, inches from Notch’s own head. He flinched as he fell away, drawing his dagger. Another axe hacked into the door.
“How long, Nia?” Sofia called.
“Too long.”
The rest of the door burst open and men piled into the room, barrelling into Notch and joining blades with Emilio, who attacked with such ferocity that he drove them back momentarily. A pulse of amber flashed and then she covered her face, eyes burning.
When she could see again, Emilio was lying dazed on the ground and Notch knelt at the mercy of a sword point. Even Nia was blinking furiously, surrounded by Sap-Born.
Efran appeared before her.
“Choose, Sofia. Agree to serve me and I will not immediately execute your friends.”
She glared at him.
Efran turned to Mor. “Do the Shield first.”
“No!” She caught his arm, then flinched away from the glow. “Spare them. I will serve you, Gods be damned.”
Her words hung in the room.
Finally he nodded. “Much better.”
Chapter 49
Ain rubbed his eyes from where he stood at the door to their rooms. How deep into night was it? “You’re truly letting us free?”
King Oseto raised an eyebrow from where he waited outside. “Of course. I am a man of my word.”
“And the Solave?” Could the Anaskari actually demonstrate honour? Truth? It hardly seemed possible from where he’d sat, locked in admittedly pleasant rooms with Schan, ever since returning from the underground.
The King was flanked by Wayrn, whose expression was dark, and half a dozen Shield, who watched on in silence. The men wore orange in addition to their silver; the Honour Guard.
“She is being escorted to the Mountain Gate as we speak, where my men here will soon convey you both. Please carry this to your Elders.” He handed over a letter, sealed with the Anaskari Swordfish. “In addition, I will be sending Wayrn here as my special envoy, further to the gesture of peace.”
Peace. Still he played that card, but why? The King had what he wanted. “The Elders will not be able to read it. And we do not require an envoy.” He glanced at Wayrn, whose expression had not brightened.
“It is of course in your writing and Wayrn is happy to be part of such a momentous event.” Oseto smiled. “Thank you, Ain for lending me your skills. I have included provisions for your journey. I hope you convey my message with the sincerity in which it has been offered, and that Wayrn is treated with respect as befitting the peace we attempt to achieve.”
“I will show them your letter. And Wayrn will not come to harm,” he said. Odd that of all the people in Anaskar, Wayrn was most pleasant. Perhaps because he, like the King, could speak Medah properly and so few Anaskari could.
“Thank you, Pathfinder Ain. Giovan and his men will accompany you beyond the Mountain Gate for your protection if you wish. It is best you leave with the cover of darkness, lest the populace grow too curious about you. And do take care of the Solave, she is precious.”
_preview.jpg)
