The Hollow King, page 13
The remains of birds covered the ground and walls. Bones and feathers had melted into each other. Shrieking beaks jutted from stone. A single quill turned in the space above them, burning. The smoke was an oozing smear above it.
What had happened to this outpost had been overwhelming, a moment of cataclysm, but there were no signs of battle. Cado doubted that anyone inside had had the chance to do more than raise a sword.
‘What happened here?’ asked Valentin. Cado did not answer. In truth he was not sure of the specifics, but he knew the cause: magic. Breathtakingly powerful magic. They moved under the shadow of the gatehouse. The gate itself had blown outwards – was still blowing outwards, in fact. Splinters hung in the air, rotating with treacle-slow momentum. Brilliant light filled the space beyond the gate.
‘Am…’ The sound rose and faded.
Valentin stopped, head snapping around. It came again, sliding up and down, just on the edge of hearing. Cado nodded towards the tunnel beyond the broken gate.
‘Am…’ The sound shivered through the air as they moved forwards. The tunnel led through the rock wall into a courtyard between the towers. Cado could see the light blazing in the open space. A shiver was building under his skin. The false beat of his heart was becoming fainter, as though his stolen blood were trying to retreat as deep inside him as it could. Magic was not just thick here; it was a hammer blow to the outside of his skull.
Ahead, a woman hung in the light. She was on her side, half folded, arms and legs trailing, as though the whip-crack force that had sent her flying were still passing through her. She was rotating slowly, tumbling. The light poured down on her. The noise they had heard faded as she turned away from them.
Valentin made to step into the light towards the woman.
‘Don’t.’ Cado held the man back. Valentin turned, eyes angry. ‘Keep out of the light,’ Cado said and jerked his chin at where shadow pooled under an intact arch. Under it they would be only an arm’s-reach from the woman as she rotated towards them. Valentin nodded and edged across the bridge of gloom towards where the woman hung in the air.
‘Mistress,’ called Valentin, his voice shaking. Cado saw him swallow.
‘Am… Amena…’ The woman’s cracked call came again. Valentin shifted closer to the edge of the shadow, closer to where the woman’s face would be as she turned. ‘Am… Amena…’
‘Mistress?’ called Valentin again. ‘We have come from Aventhis, mistress. We have come to help. Can you hear me? We have come to…’ The words caught on the smith’s tongue, because the woman’s face had just come into sight. Half of her skull had been torn away by a chunk of stone. Splinters of both the stone and her skull spread to the side of her, turning with her as though both it and she had been frozen and set revolving like a spindle at the end of a tangled thread. The blood and meat of her brainpan was curved in a flat arc. Her lips were still moving, repeating the last words she had shouted. The eyes were open too, gazing into the light. ‘Am… Amena… Am… Amena…’
Valentin stared, mouth open, then made to lunge across the gap to her. Cado’s hand fastened on him. Valentin twisted, but Cado held him back.
‘Look,’ Cado said and gestured out past the woman. Another shape hung in the air five paces from her. Smaller, much smaller – just a bloody bundle of cloth hanging in the light, no clear sign that it was a human, and no need for one either. And up and out beyond that, more: a figure tumbling, back folded to a sharp angle, limbs already slack; a young woman, shield strapped to her arm, a shard of stone halfway through her torso, yet to hit the ground. A murmur of last breaths and words cut short came on the breeze.
‘Don’t go into the light,’ repeated Cado before Valentin could move. The smith tensed as though he were going to do it anyway.
‘This… they… they are not dead.’
‘No,’ said Cado. He understood what he had felt earlier now. ‘They are balanced on the edge between life and death. Trapped.’
‘So they can’t… What could do this?’
Cado looked at him. ‘We must get back to your city.’
Valentin looked up at the shaft of light hung with people. He gagged, trembled. ‘What about… them? There must be something that–’
‘There is nothing we can do.’
‘We have to try to–’
‘There is nothing.’
Valentin looked at Cado, and there was a flash of forge fire in the man’s eyes.
‘Soulblighted,’ he growled. ‘Soulless is closer to the truth, isn’t it? The living as cattle or pieces in a game.’ Valentin held his gaze steady. Cado could hear the drumbeat of blood in the man’s heart rolling fast. Then Valentin shook his head. ‘Sorry, I am sorry. I… You are right. We need to let the city know what has happened here. Maybe they can do something for them.’
Cado looked up at where the woman they had found pivoted slowly in place, the veil of blood and bone shards trailing from her skull, the gasp of her last cry pulsing through her over and again.
‘Perhaps,’ he said.
The rain struck them when they reached the horses. The valley was grey-smudged by falling water. Behind them the shaft of light engulfed the broken towers. The rune pinned to the air at its heart shimmered. The storm clouds turned around the light. Thunder snapped. Lightning touched the rain with silver.
Cado pulled the hood of his cloak up against the deluge. Valentin was quiet. His eyes were wide, as though still seeing the people in the broken tower, dead but yet to hit the end of life. Cado steadied his mount and looked at the iron ring on his index finger. He needed counsel, and not from a smith who had not ridden further than a handful of leagues from his city in years. He would need to warn Valentin. Solia was a hidden presence to most, but not to all. Some people without a speck of apparent magic could see or sense her, even hear her words just as he did. He would have waited until he was alone, but there was no time to wait.
‘You should prepare yourself,’ he began and glanced from the ring to Valentin. The smith was in the saddle of his horse, his hands in the middle of gathering the reins. He was looking down the valley, frowning, eyes squinting against the rain.
‘What is that?’ he asked.
Cado followed the man’s gaze.
Pale blurs, swift against the ground. Glints of silver blending with the falling rain.
‘Ride,’ he said, then louder, ‘Ride, now!’
He spurred his horse down the slope. Valentin followed a heartbeat later.
Their horses were not bred for swiftness, but they were running with fear. They plunged down into the bottom of the valley and forded the stream in a spray of icy water. Cado could see the pale riders more clearly now. Some were on horses, with shield and helm and long spear. Others rode beasts with long necks and slender tails that bounded on their hind legs. They were wind-fast, their feet barely touching the ground with each stride. Cado saw high helms on the riders’ heads and bows in their hands.
Cado spurred his horse harder. Valentin was breathing hard in his saddle, eyes locked on the way up the valley side as though he could will the ground to pass more swiftly. Cado glanced back.
The riders on the bounding beasts were outstripping the horsemen and splitting into two groups that reached to either side of Cado and Valentin. They were going to cut them off, and then the horsemen would be on them. He had time to think this, then the first riders were past them, circling. Cado could see coats of silver scales and cloaks of ivory. He wheeled his horse, looking for an opening. A line of arrows struck the ground just in front of his horse’s hooves. It reared back. The riders were all around them now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Who are you?’ called Valentin. His eyes were still wide, flicking between the turning circle of riders.
‘The very question I would ask of you,’ came an answer. The voice was clear and strong, pitched to cut through the growl of thunder and the drum of hooves. A rider broke from the spiral. Their armour was pearl white. A cloak of pale blue and pure white snapped behind them. They had a sword drawn, the blade low. Rain ran from the cutting edge as their mount came to a stop. Valentin glanced at Cado as though expecting him to speak. Cado kept his eyes steady on the figure beneath the curve of his cloak.
‘You are from the Granite Eyrie, from the resettlement called Aventhis,’ said the figure into the silence. Raindrops shivered from the azure plume and crest on their helm. They sheathed their sword and pulled the helm from their head. Valentin gasped, then stifled the sound. The face beneath was slim, like an arrow tip that had re-formed into cheeks and chin and brow. Black-in-black eyes looked out from either side of a blade-edge nose. Silver rings held a thick coil of black hair against her scalp. An aelf, thought Cado, but not one of the types that he had met before. He could taste danger and sharpness bleeding from her stillness. She looked at Valentin for a long moment. The man looked dumbstruck. She shifted her gaze to Cado. He felt that dark stare fizz like the heat of the sun. ‘Tell me your names,’ said the aelf.
‘Tell us yours,’ said Cado. The other riders were still circling, though more slowly. There were other figures coming down the valley, too. They were on foot but moving fast. Spear and sword tips glinted. If they did not break out of the riders now then they would be facing encirclement by foot troops as well. These did not look like a force raised from an enclave or city, they looked like a warhost: skilled, disciplined, dangerous. They would not be able to break through. Even if he were alone, it would be impossible. With Valentin it would be a brief jest and swift end. Under the edge of his cloak, he brought the fingernails of his left hand to his palm. The points bit.
‘I am Lotharic,’ said the aelf. ‘Regent by the Light of Lord Teclis, bearer of a Sword of the Sun. I come as emissary to all who would see an end of the night, and the return of hope. If you are such that have dwelt under the shadow of despair and the fear of death, then I am here as friend and ally to you.’ She bowed her head, the gesture small but heavy with control and formality. When her gaze came up again, her eyes were on Cado. ‘Now I would have your names.’
‘Cado.’
‘Valentin,’ said the smith. He was trying to keep his voice steady, Cado realised.
‘Where are you bound?’ asked Lotharic. She was still only looking at Cado. He could feel his skin prickle. He dug his nails into his left palm and felt blood well onto his fingers. The infantry was joining the cavalry now. Spear and swordsmen slid between the riders, formed up, eyes and weapons levelled. He could see high helms, shields, arrows already nocked to strings, swords drawn and ready. A figure came through the lines. He wore blue, white and ivory robes, and a conical hat. The rain beaded on the fabric. He held a crystal lamp on a tall staff, and his knee-high boots tapered to long metal spikes under each foot so that he stood almost as tall as the riders’ mounts. His eyes were pale grey, almost white, with ragged pupils like ink splashed onto paper.
‘We–’ Valentin began to answer.
‘We are bound where we please,’ said Cado, cutting him off. He shifted the shadow of his hood towards the newcomer. ‘Who is this?’
‘Atharion,’ said the aelf. He had begun to circle them. His stilts made his stride into swift cuts, like the snick and cut of shears. His gaze was like the noon sun. Cado shifted, despite himself. The smell of magic was billowing off Atharion; it tasted of burning sand.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Cado. ‘You are not of this realm.’
‘We bring light to the darkness,’ said Atharion. He had yet to blink.
‘And that is your doing?’ asked Cado, turning his head slightly to where the shaft of light shone on the outpost settlement.
‘They were given warning,’ said Atharion.
‘Warning?’ It was Valentin. The smith’s face had flushed under his beard. ‘Warning? Have you seen…? There are people… They…’
‘They were warned,’ said Lotharic. ‘They knew what would happen. It was known to them. They chose to remain. Believe me that we wished them no harm.’
There was no edge of sorrow in the words, just the clarity and conviction of a razor’s edge.
‘No harm?’ spluttered Valentin. ‘No harm!’
‘They resisted,’ said Lotharic. ‘The fear and darkness within them did not allow them to embrace illumination. Their lives ended because of that blindness, but still we saved them. Their souls will not suffer the fall into the utter-dark. They will not suffer the chains of un-life. We have given them to light. We have set them free.’
Valentin’s mouth was open. His head shook.
‘Did they ask for that freedom?’ asked Cado.
Atharion had returned to stand beside Lotharic. He tilted his head. Cado could taste magic in that gaze, hard, like light focusing through a crystal. He felt the blood oozing across his left hand. He ran his tongue across his teeth. Atharion looked at Lotharic. For the first time her gaze moved from Cado and Valentin.
Cado squeezed his left hand into a fist. Blood welled between his fingers. He formed a word on his tongue.
Atharion’s fingers danced through the air. Glowing lines trailed from the fingertips, forming a rune. Lotharic’s eyes went wide.
‘Kel’ylan!’ she hissed. Her sword was in her hand, a shining blur of sun and silver.
Cado threw his bloody hand wide. Blood scattered from his fingers. The word on his lips rasped from his teeth. Lotharic was across the space in a single bound of her mount. Cado felt the blood scatter into the rain and wind. The word he had spoken howled up to the thunder cloud. It was a call, a cry to the world of graves and death that echoed through the magic of Shyish.
‘Soulblight,’ she spat, ‘your last grave will be here.’
She raised her sword arm, and then whirled.
Valentin was still wide-mouthed and wider-eyed. Cado grabbed the man’s reins and yanked both of their mounts back as Lotharic’s sword sliced towards them. It was a cut of murder made poetry, fast and simple, distance and force balanced precisely. Cado jerked back in his saddle as the sword passed a handspan from his face. Its blade was blazing. Heat radiated from it as though it had just come from a forge. The skin of his cheek prickled. He twisted, controlling his mount with his legs as he held Valentin’s reins and drew his sword with his free hand. It was not a cavalry weapon, but the craft and magic of its forging made it leap in Cado’s grip. He did not try to parry the next blow, which was already coming. He struck. Lotharic was fast beyond the reach of most humans. But Cado was not human, and his sword hissed as it sliced at the aelf’s neck, and now it was her turn to arch back, bringing her sword up to turn the blow.
The weapons met. Force jolted up Cado’s arm. The marks on his sword shone silver as the burning blade kissed it. Lotharic coiled and a fresh wave of force rippled through muscle and sword. Cado’s blade vibrated and almost jumped out of his grip. Lotharic lunged into the opening. Cado wheeled his horse and the blow missed. He lashed out as they came around, and the tip of his sword found the join of an armour plate below the right shoulder. Lotharic reined back. Blood was seeping down her arm, staining the white of her armour. He saw a flash of pain and rage in her eyes, a blink of fire breaking through a shell of control. The whole exchange had not lasted two heartbeats. The rest of the Lumineth were reacting now. Valentin was slack-faced, shock still unfolding in him. There were bows rising. He could see the tips of arrows pulled up to shoot. Boots flexed in stirrups as spears began to lower. Magic gathered on the fingers and tongues of mages. It was all just a heartbeat. All so fast, but still to become the present, as though time were a cresting wave yet to break.
Far off in the distance, he heard the first howl answer his call. Then another, and more, shivering higher than the living could hear: the hunting cries of the dead. Light filled the world. Flashing. Green and white. The colour of sun falling through emerald water to the edge of darkness. Then the thunder crashing, out of time with the flashes, a roar that splintered into shrieks.
Cado alone could see. The aelves were blinking, trying to steady their mounts. Valentin was shielding his eyes. Cado kicked his own horse into motion, and whether it was the Soulblight’s force of will or because it was on the edge of flight already, it jumped forwards. Cado yanked the reins of Valentin’s horse, and they were going for a gap in the cavalry. One of the riders had enough of his senses to see him and lower his spear. Cado hacked through the shaft, backhanded the pommel into the rider’s helm, and then they were amongst the ranks of cavalry.
They were not free, though. There were spear and swordsmen running up the valley. The cavalry were turning to follow. The light that had been shrieking through the air was draining. The scream of thunder vanishing.
Then the dead came. The first of them appeared through the rain and storm cloud, ragged shapes of shroud, fizzing like black ball lightning. Ghost hands reached from cloaks. Shadows of skulls with broken faces opened their mouths. These were Nighthaunt, cruel spirits tormented by their own sins, now set loose on the realm of the dead. They came with no purpose but to torment the living and drag the life from their bodies. Cado’s blood and call had brought them, but they were not his to control, and now they fell upon the aelves like saw-fish swarming a bleeding cub. Arrows flew, spells loosed from lips, and suddenly the air was howling with light. The spells and silver bit into the descending spirits. Streams of black un-substance ripped free from hands and cloaks. A sound like shearing glass cut through the drumming of rain.
