The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 70
“I suffer whether you believe me or not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Prove it.”
“Osani. The plain mask. I cannot use it, it’s not tied to my House.” She trembled as another wave of pain shot along her limbs. “If you want...a useful servant, you’ll have to believe me.” She raised her hand with some difficulty and grabbed his arm. “Or you can watch me die.”
Efran hadn’t stopped her from grabbing him. No doubt he was confident that his strange power protected him, but he removed her hand gently now. “Very well, Sofia. I will return with Osani and test the truth of your words. I know enough to find what you have said about the houses familiar. Something your father mentioned perhaps?” He paused. “But should you lie, and attempt or even succeed in attacking me, your friends will die. You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He stood. “Good.”
Sofia made it to her hands and knees once he left, struggling with each movement. Next she lifted a single leg, bringing her knee up and placing her foot flat on the floor. Finally she lifted her head and pushed up. Her back creaked and she gave another cry, biting the inside of her cheek.
Swearing, she reached her feet and stretched out her chest with a grimace. Pulling her shoulders back and flexing her muscles was slowly increasing her flexibility but her body was slick with sweat beneath her robe. A trail ran down her neck and her hair was damp.
Footsteps beyond the door announced Efran before he entered. This time his veins glowed amber and he carried Osani.
He lifted an eyebrow when he saw her but said nothing, only handing the mask over. Sofia ground her teeth as she reached out and placed it on her face.
Pain vanished.
She slumped, a groan of relief escaping.
Efran had watched her carefully, but when she made no move to attack, and simply stood still and slowed her breathing, the glow in his veins eased. “I see.”
“I told you. I need to wear a mask.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Now I will see my friends. And my father.”
“In time, yes.”
“Now. I can hardly take you at your word, can I?”
He laughed. “A fair point but there is no time. You have work to complete first.”
“Work?”
“You can eat now, however. You must be hungry.”
What was going on? His eyes had not changed; he wanted her as a slave. He wanted the masks, he held to his purpose. His offer was simply part of ensuring her compliance, but his game was a long one. And it wasn’t anything Tantos hadn’t already tried when posing as Lupo.
“Show me this work.”
“Come along then.”
He led her through a narrow hall, lined with doors and clear windows. A heavy mist cloaked the outside and a set of stairs waited at its end. The murmur of voices rose from below but he did not take her down. Instead, he opened the last door and showed her inside.
A young Anaskari woman sat at a table, poring over a large book. Her brow was creased in concentration as her quill wove across the page. She looked up, pushing long black hair from her face. “Father.”
Sofia blinked. Not Anaskari.
He went to her and touched her cheek. “Catrin. How are your studies progressing?”
“Well enough.” Her gaze drifted to Sofia. “Is this her?”
“Yes.” He gestured. “Meet Lady Sofia, my dear. Successor and keeper of the Greatmask Argeon.”
“Hello, Sofia.” Her Anaskari was faultless.
Sofia frowned at Efran. “What is this charade?”
Catrin answered. “Father is preparing me for the most important journey of my life. Of our people’s lives.”
Efran put a hand on her shoulder. “And you will help her, Sofia.”
Sofia tensed. Something Derrani said, before he died. He’d accused Tantos of being blind about Gianna. He’d called her Gyana. A Braonn imposter. “You’re going to send her into the city, because she looks Anaskari. As what, an assassin? Your own daughter – how old is she? How could you do that?”
He shrugged. “She is only a little younger than you. Certainly old enough to undertake such a great task.”
“I want to go.” Catrin added. “And I’m so glad you’re going to help me.”
“No, I’m not.”
Efran shook his head. “Remember our arrangement, Sofia? You will help my daughter. You will tell her everything she needs to know. You will finish her education, the customs, the phrases, the history, the life of a noble. You will give her all the little details only a native can provide, thereby finishing her transformation.” He met her eyes. “You know what will happen should you refuse.”
Sofia glared at the smiling pair.
Chapter 52
Flir signalled to Luik, mostly a pale smudge against the darkness, who nodded then melted into the shadows across the hall. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the closed doors, a line slicing the sunburst mosaic.
Luik was joined by dozens of Shield and a row of Mascare, all concealed within the shadowy columns. On her side of the room waited her own line of soldiers and archers, spreading to encircle the empty hall.
Archers also lurked in the loft. Pins, she’d safely stowed away in the palace, having already sent him back with Wayrn – who’d not been happy about being left out. No point getting Pins killed and if Wayrn was hurt Seto would be furious. And if she was honest, a night ambush wasn’t Wayrn’s speciality.
Last was Alosus, at the mouth of the stair. He waited for Flir’s signal. The giant had been prepared to act as bait. Or was it just a way to taunt Vinezi? He was eager to ‘send Vinezi to the White Embers.’ Flir didn’t ask what they were, but the resolve in his eyes was clear.
And now the slippery bastard was within reach.
Their luck had held; she’d been able to get into position before Vinezi tried to use the passage again, something she’d not been sure would be possible. But lookouts posted on the floor above reported seeing a small group approaching the temple and now all she had to do was spring the trap.
Muffled voices echoed outside. Flir drew her blade and held her breath. Alosus stepped onto the mosaic and waited, arms folded.
The doors swung open and a small party, half a dozen, entered the temple. Several stopped to flick rainwater from their cloaks while others lit torches. One was speaking in an agitated tone, his Renovar accent clear.
“But who is responsible?”
A new voice, Vinezi, answered. “Whether we are responsible or not, something’s been woken. It won’t matter once we have more bones.”
Flir strained her ears. What had been woken?
Once light filled the room, Vinezi froze, demanding a torch. He strode forward, shouting in Old Anaskari.
Alosus answered, voice firm.
Vinezi continued his tirade. Flir watched, choosing her moment. The others needed to move further into the hall. Vinezi’s face appeared odd – had he aged? Or was it just the torchlight? Part of his cheek appeared grey. What did it mean? Did a different man stand in the hall?
Or was the dead man in the cell an incredible decoy?
Or a brother, as Luik favoured?
No. There was a conceit to the way he walked, the way he demanded answers from Alosus. Only Vinezi, the man who’d blown up the Pig and stayed around to gloat, who’d taunted them so often, would speak that way. The man in the cell, the man Seto had captured, was a decoy.
Finally the other men moved further into the room – and by their torches she could see, few were Renovar. The others had Anaskari colouring. Which meant they were doubtless from the old land or new recruits.
Time.
Flir stepped out of shadow. “Come to pray, Vinezi?”
He spun, and his men threw back their cloaks to reach for weapons. The temple door slammed shut as her men outside sealed Vinezi in. A line of Shield stepped into the light. Archers drew their beads and swordsmen held blades ready, as men fell into position, blocking escape. Luik grinned at the prisoners and Alosus drew his sickle.
“What a warm welcome,” Vinezi said, expression dark.
“I’ll give you a simple choice. You and your friends die right now or surrender right now,” Flir said. She took another step forward.
“Is there no third option?”
“None.”
“Very well.” He threw his cloak to the floor. A network of bones had been woven into his clothing. Many appeared to be fish bones, though some were larger. A single large bone had formed something of a breastplate and thinner pieces ran across his hands and up his forearms, in such a way as not to restrict movement.
A necklace of odd pieces ringed his neck and when he raised his free hand, bones clattered on bracelets.
“Ready for that third option?”
Bones like those from the Sea Beast?
“Fire!” Flir gave the order too late. Bows snapped but Vinezi was already moving. He swept his arm in a line and Flir and her row of men were flung to the ground. Arrows went astray, several striking Vinezi’s men.
She found her feet and charged. Luik’s line bore down on the man, but Vinezi swept another arm, torch blazing, and they too were cast to the ground. Even Alosus was driven back, though he kept his feet.
Shouting echoed throughout the temple and the ring of blades followed, as Vinezi’s men were engaged. Flir stood before Vinezi, who raised an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you plucky?”
She drove forward and he brought his hands up sharply.
Stone erupted and she rolled aside.
Alosus threw his sickle but Vinezi deflected it with more bone magic. The giant charged after his throw, grasping Vinezi by the throat then flinging the big man across the room.
Again, Vinezi’s magic protected him, even as he bounced from a column. He leapt to his feet and swung his arms again. This time stone flashed from shadow, smashing into the Shield and his own men alike. Hoarse screams followed. Flir ducked as another piece sped by her head.
She leapt after him, sword whistling. Vinezi raised an arm and her blade stopped, inches from his arm. “You cannot stop me, girl.”
“Let me decide that.” She put more pressure on and his eyes widened as she drove his arm down. She lashed out with her free hand, cracking bone with a blow to the lower rib. He collapsed with a roar, his torch hitting the floor in a burst of sparks, even as more stone flew across the room.
Flir leapt back.
A second piece swept her legs out and she grunted as she hit the floor. That was going to bruise.
Another scream as yet more stone flashed, this time slamming down from the roof to crush a man’s head. A shaft of moonlight poured into the hole and an arrow sped across the gap. It bounced off Vinezi as he found his feet. Flir scrambled after him but the man was stopped by Alosus, whose giant hand engulfed his arm.
Luik appeared, swinging his mace.
It bounced off Vinezi’s back without causing the man to even stumble.
“The stomach.” Flir shouted.
Vinezi struggled with Alosus, whose face was twisted in a snarl as he tried to drive his fist into Vinezi, unable to beat the magic.
Cracking sounds came from above.
Huge slabs of stone crashed down from the roof, burying struggling men. Flir dived away, her cry lost in the roar. She tumbled into the columns, chest heaving. Stone continued to rain down on the mosaic, light, wind and rain pouring in after. Some few Shield had fallen back to the safety of the columns and the archers in the loft were safe, but the temple floor was littered with bodies.
Hints of armour and red robes were visible among the rubble. An arm twitched in one pile and she stepped around trails of blood as she made her way to the centre of the heap, where Vinezi and Alosus had stood.
Stone shifted as she neared. She crouched, but no more debris flew across the room, instead, part of the pile creaked, beginning to sink. A hole in the floor? Flir dashed forward.
There! Mottled skin. Alosus, still covered in stone, was sliding toward the centre of the hole. She caught his arm and pulled him back from the edge, swearing when she noticed a hint of fabric and bone slipping away beyond him. She carried Alosus to the columns, laying him flat. His chest rose and fell but his body was heavily bruised. Had he survived simply because he was strong, or close to Vinezi when the man pulled the roof in?
She motioned to one of the surviving Shield, who’d rushed forward.
“Help him. And search for survivors.”
Flir scanned the rubble until she found Luik. He’d escaped most of the wreckage but he was unconscious. She brushed aside some large pieces of stone – they’d leave serious bruises – then moved him to the clear space near Alosus. His eyes fluttered.
“Luik?”
He groaned. “I’m alive. Go get him.”
She stood.“Someone bring a healer, right away.”
“Where are you going, lady?” one of her men asked.
“After Vinezi.”
“You think he’s alive?”
“Not for long.”
Chapter 53
Near to a week out of the city they passed Anaskari wagons, stirring grey dust of the Wasteland. Ain stood back, a frown on his face as each one, half a dozen in all, rumbled by.
The frown wasn’t only because he missed the Bird of the Sun.
Morning sun beat down on rotten flesh that dripped from the rear of the wagon beds, empty now. They’d doubtless been to dump the remains of the Sea Beast in the Waste. Did that mean the place would soon be diseased? Just what everyone needed.
Only a token force of Shield rode with the drivers and when Wayrn spoke with them, they carried on without bothering Ain or Schan.
“They’ve been dumping the flesh in the Wards, which we’ll reach by nightfall,” Wayrn reported.
“What will that do to them?”
“I don’t know. Surely nothing?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Schan said. “I’d be more concerned about what the Wards might do to us.”
“I’ve never seen them,” Wayrn said. “How dangerous are they? I understand they no longer actively attack travellers?”
“No, but some folk simply never return after going inside.”
He nodded, looking into the distance. “And then?”
“Two weeks to the Cloud once we pass the Wards, hopefully no big sandstorms to slow us either.”
“Something to look forward to then.”
They resumed their journey. By noon the path to Tanija and the caves of the Mazu Clan appeared, dark ridges rising in the distance. Ain paused to water his horse, taking a few sips from his own flask. Their stores were generous. Despite the strength of the path beneath his feet, he wouldn’t need to find a well before the Wards and a detour to see Tanija probably wasn’t necessary.
Though he would have liked to see the man and his family.
Wayrn left the road, taking only a few steps into the rock-strewn Waste, a hand raised to shield his eyes. “Something shimmers in the distance. Another illusion from the sun?”
Ain joined him, Schan not far behind. Wayrn pointed to a rock formation, tall as a man, that stood in a half-circle. Heat waves blurred the distant stone.
“It’s nothing,” Schan said.
“I suppose.” Ain turned away, but spun back when a flash of red caught his eye. Wait... Nothing. Only the heat waves and the drab grey of the wasteland. He squinted. Still nothing.
“Coming, lad?” Schan asked.
“Sorry.” Ain returned to his horse and on they rode, Schan leading and Wayrn between them. The Braonn kept glancing over his shoulder. Ain soon joined him. Was there a new disturbance, closer, wavering in the air?
Sands!
It could have been the creature that stalked him on his first journey. Or, more accurately, stalked the Bird of the Sun. But that one had been more camouflaged. This figure was different – and yes – there it was again. A hint of red in the heat waves.
“Schan.” His pulse quickened. Something about the waves...they were...unnatural. His horse stamped a foot in the sand. Wayrn’s own mount snorted. “It’s changing.”
A wisp of shadows, black and red entwined, formed in the waves.
“Ride,” Schan called, and wheeled his mount. Gravel and dust flew as Wayrn followed, and Ain snapped his own reins, his horse happy to comply. He glanced over his shoulder. The wisps had solidified, wavering as they kept pace.
“Faster,” Ain shouted.
They tore into the Waste, the path magnified beneath them. Each hoof beat was like a thunderclap and his chest heaved. Still the thing kept pace and worse, began to gain on them.
Schan angled toward the still distant ridges and Ain cried out but his friend didn’t turn, instead taking them toward more treacherous patches of the waste, the rockier, uneven paths heading toward the hills.
When Ain next turned, he saw a second swirling mess – this charging in from the west. Dust storm. The grey wall was closing, creeping yet, but still dangerous. Another curse. Had the Sands abandoned them?
The wavering wisps grew closer still. He steered his mount around a sharp dip, breathing hard. Schan had sought higher ground and Wayrn was close behind, but Ain’s detour was taking him away from them. The blur of grey stone and gravel slowed beneath his horse’s hooves as he angled back toward the others, picking through rough terrain. The howl of wind rose and the red and black menace poured forth its panic – how had it come so close so quickly?
Even the dust storm was too near.
The horse stumbled into a hole. Ain clutched at the reins but it was too late, he was already flying through the air. He crashed to the ground with a cry, groaning even as he rolled to his feet, a dull throb spreading along his hip.
The storm swallowed his horse and he fell back when it screamed. He spun. Where were the stalking wisps? Gone. Yet from inside the screen of dust that rose around him, darkening the sun, was the sound of ripping fabric, of puncturing sounds and of flesh being torn from bone.
Darklings!
The true Mazu clan. Those who stole blood to fuel their sinister magic, those whom had supposedly died out centuries ago.
_preview.jpg)
