The Soothsayer, page 10
They hissed in unison as they closed in.
“The shadows have become flesh!” Balaam snorted and backed up against the locked gate.
“No, no!” Colin shook his head. His heart raced, and at that moment, he saw every beating he had ever taken, every face that had ever caused him to cringe, and his fists clenched. A single word flashed in his mind, one he did not know but was compelled to speak. With a swift kick to Balaam’s side, he screamed, “Animus!” His voice echoed throughout the graveyard.
Balaam’s eyes narrowed, and he reared as if the word had branded electricity into his backside, then charged toward the creatures.
Alexandra moved past the crowds unobserved, noticing that once bright smiles were replaced with dull looks and paranoid glances. Like a mouse, she scurried from shadow to shadow, keeping her head down as she moved along the King’s Way, the central road that led through the heart of Gilead, across the main bazaar, and eventually, to the castle. As she slid silently past the guards without their notice and entered into the main market area, she came to a small shack nestled between two boarded-up shops. She hopped a small worn fence and knocked on the front door, the sound no louder than a footstep.
A quiet voice responded from within, “Go away, we have no money.”
“Helen, it’s I, Alexandra,” she whispered. “Please, I have need of you.”
“Alexie child?” Helen slowly opened the door. Alexandra’s face fell as she saw her closest handmaiden and the woman who’d raised her, gaunt and haggard, wearing simple rags barely stitched together.
“Helen! What’s happened?” she said, embracing her friend.
“I would ask the same of you,” Helen replied. “We were told you’d abandoned the kingdom; gone to live as a nomad. Which sounds just like you.” Helen brushed aside a lock of hair that hung across Alexandra’s face and smiled. “But where are my manners? Please sit, I can put a kettle on if nothing else.”
Alexandra shook her head. “I could never leave this place for long. My heart lies here. How has a year’s time brought you to this?”
“Avery and I make do.” Helen beckoned her in and closed the door. “We scrimp and save, but Taran isn’t well.”
“Your little one?”
“Aye, he reminds me of you at that age. Always running wild, ready to take on the world. But his gait has slowed, and he coughs horribly at night,” Helen said as she hung an ashen pot over the small fire in the hearth.
“I know someone who may be able to help him,” Alexandra offered. “His name is Samuel, though the walk there can be long.”
“With the curfew I doubt we’d make it back in time,” Helen said. “You-know-who has instituted a city watch, and their taxes are high.” Helen’s smile faded as she turned to straighten a few meager blankets on a cot. “I hear they protect us from the rabble, but their manner is cruel.”
“Your husband is a soldier in the king’s army, Helen! How could such a ridiculous tariff be brought against you?”
Helen looked away. “Oh Alexie, I thought you knew.”
Alexandra shook her head.
“Avery was demoted from his station. The queen saw him stripped of rank when he refused to enforce her ordinance to burn the old annals and histories.” Helen moved to a humble table and set a few dishes aside, avoiding the princess’s gaze.
“Burning the books?” Alexandra asked. “In the libraries?”
“Not all, just the ones that give mention to the Maker and his works.” Helen sighed. “I suppose it was a stupid thing to fall low for.”
Alexandra took Helen by the arms. “No. No, it wasn’t. Stay true to his decision. You’re his compass.”
“I know,” Helen said and nodded. “Now he’s a lamplighter. He has friends still in the guard, and it’s their quiet generosity that keeps bread on our table.”
“This wrong will be righted. There is treachery in the Hall of the Lion, and I think Samuel, the man I spoke of, has words that will open the king’s eyes to it.” Alexandra held the sealed letter up.
“Didn’t you hear? Your father’s deathly ill; has been for some time now. Queen Mariselle tends him day and night.”
Alexandra shivered. She knew her stepmother’s hands were wrapped around her father’s throat. “What illness?”
“Hard to say. Little word comes from the castle these days. But we haven’t seen the king’s face for several months. Rumor is he’s not long for this world.”
“Helen, can Avery get me inside the castle? I’ve heard word of a jailor who might sneak me to my father’s bed chamber.”
“Well I suppose yes, but why? You’re the heir apparent, you could go straight there.”
“No, there is no welcoming for me. Trust me on this, Helen. The queen would see me dead long before I reached the upper hallways of the castle.”
“Then I’ll take you to the market stands. Avery will be there with Taran and his wick about this time. He’s always given access to the castle courtyard and could at least get you that far,” Helen said grabbing her shawl.
chapter 16
A Desperate Flight
COLIN AND BALAAM BURST PAST the dark creatures, knocking them over, and raced back down the lane. The serpents coiled and chased after them.
“They’re following us!” Colin yelled as Balaam veered down a narrow alley of gravestones. The demons flung themselves around the tombs and closed in to pinch off their escape.
“They’re cutting us off! We’re dead!” Colin shrieked as he kicked at Balaam’s sides frantically.
“Yes, wonderful! Keep saying such helpful things!” Balaam yelled back and veered again, running up the sagging side of a crumbling tomb to its roof and hopping to the next one and the next like they were stones on the water. The serpents hissed and raced forward at the bases of the tombs, slithering parallel to the donkey’s course.
Colin clutched Balaam’s mane as he stared, wide-eyed, ahead. They were charging towards the cemetery’s wall, several inches higher than the tombs themselves.
“Wall! Wall! Wall!” Colin screamed and pulled back on Balaam’s mane.
“Let’s see them try this!” Balaam yelled back as he ran across the last roof and, with a mighty jump, hurled them into the air, barely missing the wall’s ledge and crashing into a thatch cart on the other side. Colin held tight as they smashed through the cart and onto the street. Guards nearby ran forward, brandishing spears. “Halt!”
“New problem!” Colin yelled as he clung to Balaam, who darted past the guards, knocking them over in his wake.
“Always!” Balaam snorted as he careened down an alley and onto another street, then veered again onto the King’s Way leading to the royal courtyard.
“Okay, slow down!” Colin called. “We lost them.”
Balaam slowed his pace as they entered the great market. Stands, overhangs, and shops were littered with random goods. Crowds of people moved about, and merchants carried baskets of wares. “Let me have control here. Subtlety is key,” Colin whispered to the donkey.
A group of guards on horseback turned onto the street before them. The captain’s face went sour. “You! Boy! Halt!”
“Oh shit,” Colin moaned.
“Wonderful leadership, very subtle,” Balaam said and rushed to the right, knocking over a cart and sending pottery flying.
“After him!” yelled the captain, and his men gave chase.
Colin spun his head around as Balaam charged down another street. The guards rushed closer and closer. One soldier grimly eyed Colin, pushing his mount ahead to match Balaam’s speed. He thrust his spear at Colin, and Colin grabbed it. The two struggled with it as they hurtled down the lane, their mounts neck and neck. The onlookers screamed and ran as the two riders knocked over merchant carts and crates between them.
Without warning, a merchant pushed a cart out from a side alley in front of Colin’s opponent. Both man and horse collided with it and fell away. Two other guards replaced him within seconds.
“Go faster!” Colin yelled as he kicked Balaam’s side.
“I’m a donkey! Not a race horse!” Balaam called back.
The lane split to the left and the right ahead. “Pick one, great leader!” Balaam demanded.
“Uh, right! No, left!” Colin screamed.
Balaam dashed ahead, down the left lane, and into a caravan of garments.
Reams of fabric went flying, covering both Colin and the donkey.
“I can’t see!” Balaam screamed.
An unending ream of silk covered Colin’s face. He could hear the guards’ horses behind as he fumbled with it. “Just keep going!”
Balaam flew past scattering crowds, past screaming merchants, and right through a thatched wall.
“Yes, m’lady. Of course I can take you to the courtyard, but if what you say is true, then we must do so as the quietest of mice,” Avery said and handed Alexandra his burning wick. Avery’s blue eyes twinkled as he guided Taran to his mother.
“Mister Taran here nearly ran off again, but I think he’s ready for supper.”
The little boy jumped into Helen’s arm, and she laughed. “Not minding, Daddy? Well, no pudding for you.”
“Pudding?” Taran whispered and cocked his head.
“Well, at least that’s what I call it.” She winked at Avery.
“Aye, more like a dried biscuit with a bit of sugar”—Avery kissed Helen’s cheek—“but made with love.”
Alexandra smiled as she watched them. Life had stolen every comfort they had, yet they seemed richer than any noble family in the court.
“I can give you my hat; you’ll appear as my assistant.” Avery placed his oversized burlap hat on her head.
“Hardly a fit, Avery, but I thank you. Discretion is vital,” Alexandra said.
Colin and Balaam, covered in fabrics, burst through the thatch wall behind them.
“You?” Alexandra’s mouth dropped. The boy was barely recognizable in the tangles of linen.
Colin pushed the last of the ream from his face. “Alex, we don’t have time!” He grabbed her arm, and Balaam stumbled a little.
“What are you doing?” Alexandra started and pushed back until the city guards bolted around a nearby corner behind them.
“Get on!” Colin screamed, and Alexandra hoisted herself on Balaam’s back behind Colin.
“Yah!” Colin yelled and kicked Balaam forward.
“You’ve gained weight!” Balaam yelled back as he ran, the fabrics still covering most of his head. “Would it please someone to get this damn thing off me?” Balaam shook his mane furiously, but the fabrics still blocked his face and tangled about his neck.
One of the guardsmen rode alongside and swung his mace at them.
“Right, Balaam!” Alexandra screamed.
The donkey veered to the right. The mace missed Colin’s head and collided with Alexandra’s still-burning wick. Another horseman raced to their right. The rider drew a bow, notched with an arrow.
“Left!” Alexandra screamed.
Balaam veered to the left, and the arrow flew mere inches from Alexandra’s face.
“This is insufferable!” Balaam yelled.
“Take the high road to the courtyard, we can lose them in the alleys!” Alexandra yelled.
The road again forked, the left route curving, the other climbing.
“Right!” Colin yelled and kicked.
“No, you fool, left!” Alexandra yelled louder.
“Which way?” Balaam cried out.
A spear flew overhead as more horsemen raced in behind them.
“Right!” Colin screamed. Balaam turned down the right path and into the courtyard of the great temple.
“Oh! Okay, maybe left,” Colin called sheepishly.
Balaam raced forward up the white steps of the city’s central shrine, a structure that Alexandra thought rivaled the size of any small village. Priests, dancers, and merchants screamed as the trio sprinted into the inner sanctum. Alexandra’s wick caught itself on a tapestry, depicting serpents and pagan rituals. The flame leaped from the stick and danced up the banner, devouring the cloth like a starving wolf. Balaam sped them to a ramped altar and a twenty-foot-high statue of a many-armed god with a smug face.
“Dead end!” Colin yelled.
“I can jump it!” Balaam yelled back.
“No! No! You can’t!” Alexandra screamed.
The donkey rushed them forward up the ramp as Colin pulled the last fabric from Balaam’s eyes.
“No! No, I can’t!” Balaam screamed in surprise, but his momentum could not be stopped, and the three flew into the marble deity, knocking it over. The trio collapsed to the ground. Fire arched overhead as the flames jumped to each Amorite banner in a feeding frenzy before spitting their ashes and rods to the ground.
Covered in soot and debris, Balaam shook himself and slowly stood. Alexandra felt the hands of the guards lift her and then push her to her knees. Colin was thrown down next to her. She saw Colin look up to see Mariselle in regal purple robes standing over him, but the queen’s gaze was on the princess.
“The gods are kind indeed,” the woman said as she leaned down and lifted Alexandra’s face with her hand. “Two spies in one night.”
Alexandra spat in her face. “Don’t touch me, Mariselle!”
Mariselle wiped the saliva from her eye and smiled. “Charming. As always.” She turned to the guards. “Send them to the dungeon. A public trial should be fine entertainment tomorrow. You can toss them into Korah’s Maw afterward.”
chapter 17
A Black Response
EGAN STARED OUT ACROSS THE dark waters. Something didn’t feel right. The Vizier’s ship had been gone for over an hour, and no flags had been flown. No signal had been sent either, as was the custom during negotiations.
“Chief!” A city watch captain bustled down the stairs and out onto the dock. He saluted Egan. “We’ve had a major disruption at the market. The city watch requests your aid.”
“What is it, Captain?” Egan barely turned his gaze from the water.
“My men chased down some vandals, sir. They’ve caused quite a commotion; sparked a mob, it seems.”
Egan sighed. A grand battle it was not. “Fine, take twelve of my men. Whatever the outcome from these negotiations, it will be a while yet I think.”
The younger captain saluted and called twelve others with him. The platoon quickly made their way up the great stairs toward the city.
A recruit looked to Egan. “Chief, should we fortify the docks? They have a sizeable fleet out there. We could ready archers at the very least and—”
“No, we wait,” Egan snapped and paced the jetty. “Sharper minds are at play.” The words rang hollow in his mouth.
Hours passed, and fog filled the bay. Egan’s men joked and chatted quietly among themselves. Egan leaned on one of the pier’s pylons and skipped a stone across the water. It bounced perfectly several times before disappearing into the gloom. He sighed.
Then a call came forward from a watchman, high on the grand stairway: “Ship’s approaching! Flying our flag!” His voice carried down to Egan and his men. Egan turned to see a ship, torches ablaze through the mist, sailing fast for the docks.
“It appears to be the Vizier, Chief,” one of the recruits called.
“Yes, he has grand news I’m sure.” Egan straightened his uniform. “Something I won’t hear the end of for a fortnight.”
“Sir, the ship’s not slowing!” the recruit called again.
Egan peered through the fog. The torchlight was noticeably brighter, and it came ever closer. “Maybe recruit, maybe . . .” Egan started, but with a gust of wind, the ship broke through the gloom. Its sail was ablaze with fire, the banners of Gilead burning on the port and starboard sides, casting red light on the pig poles planted across the deck. The heads of Egan’s men stacked four high were mounted on the poles. Off the main mast hung the bodies of the Vizier and Salain.
“No! No!” Egan screamed as the ship plowed forward, smashing through the small fishing boats tethered to the dock. Egan felt his stomach drop as he saw a great brazier strapped to the female figurehead of the ship. Barrels and crates were tied to it like some kind of sick gift.
Egan’s eyes went wide as he spied a long-corded fuse burning its last at the bundle.
“Run! Run! Damn you all!” Egan called to his men, who were trying to throw tow lines on the ship’s cleats as it sailed past.
The ship exploded, sending his men standing on the edge of the docks flying. Metal and wooden debris flew across the water and pinned five more of his men to the ground, instantly killing them. Egan was knocked back to the base of the stairs; the air sucked from his lungs.
Fire. Screaming. Chaos.
As Egan’s eyes cleared, he saw his men running. Others, covered in flames, raced for the water. He could hear the watchmen’s voices rise above the confusion.
“Attack! Awaken, sons of Gilead, we are under attack!” their voices cried overhead.
Egan stood, dazed, and saw black corsairs racing toward them through the fog. A war drum sounded a savage beat as the cries of the Amorites filled his ears. The ships slammed into the docks, and hundreds of warriors swarmed out like cockroaches.
He ran forward and tried to pull his standing men back, but they were leaped upon by countless attackers dressed in black, their faces covered by ashen masks, their hands wielding serpentine blades. Every beat of the drum brought another Corsair crashing onto the shore.
