Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (37 page)

‘No,’ Kal said. ‘You’ll slow me down. And you
really
need that bath right now!’ Kal swung her leg over the frame of the velocipede, and set her booted feet in the pedals. ‘I’ll join you at the Thermalore later.’ She kissed him goodbye.

‘Hey, don’t I get a kiss, too?’ Nim said. ‘But seriously, Kal. Zeb is free now. You don’t need to go hunting this killer any more!’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Kal said. ‘If what I suspect is true, it’s not only the consular candidates that are in danger. The ghost of Feron Firehand could be eliminating
all
of his family’s enemies!’

She took off down the alley, turned into the Forum, and pointed the vehicle down Arcus Hill, letting gravity carry her down the Kingsway. People jumped out of the way as her finger flicked the trigger of the little bell.

Kal was worried: with this latest victory, Ben was going to be the talk of the city tonight, especially when all the senators and other influential citizens met later on at the opening of Cassava’s games. What vengeful spirit would be able to resist such a high-profile target?

Kal pumped the pedals. It was time to stamp out the Firehand dynasty’s remaining embers of power.

IV.vii

Deus ex Machina

Kal bombed down Arcus Hill; the cobbles of the Kingsway—worn smooth by millions of feet—offered almost zero resistance. The wheels of Nim’s velocipede were ringed with
cuchuck
—the same rare substance that soled Kal’s boots. Except that Nim had added a cushion of air between the tough, elastic substance and the rim of the wheel. The ride was smoother than the sprung coaches that senators were dragged around in.

The velocipede flew over Lovers’ Bridge, and even momentarily left the ground at the apex of the hump. This stunt elicited some cheers from pedestrians, and Kal chanced a glance back to flash them a grin. She was still on a high following the court victory. All her friends had worked together to help Zeb, and now Kal was doing what she loved best: setting out on a new exciting and dangerous mission. She wasn’t exactly sure what she would find at Firehand’s county villa, but then even the uncertainty was part of the thrill.

In Satos Square, Kal had to brake hard and thread her way carefully though the crowds. They were gathered around three large cages that had been set up in the centre of the square. Inside, wild animals prowled and paced: a panther, a gorilla and a horned reptilian creature that Kal couldn’t put a name to—exotic beasts the public could expect to see set upon gladiators and condemned prisoners at Cassava’s games. The crowds were taunting the creatures and throwing sticks and stones at them. But all Kal could think of was how funny it would be if she could somehow magic away the bars of the cages.

She considered running up to her apartment to fetch some more weapons and equipment, but it would be too risky to leave her vehicle unattended. She would just have to improvise if she got into any trouble. Trying to steer the velocipede around the perimeter of the square, Kal found the pedals hard work at such a slow speed. She tried flicking the levers on the handlebars, and after a series of jerky clunks, found that she was suddenly able to accelerate away with ease. Nim really was a genius!

Kal passed through the East Gate and onto the Field of Bones. Preparations were underway for the elections: wooden palisades were being set up in order to manage the hordes of voters who would descend on this place to mark their ballot cards. Kal sped right though, crossing the long shadows of the statues that lined the road to the city: the giant stone soldiers of General Truebolt’s lost legion. What had Ben said their motto was? Oh, what did it matter? They were all long dead.

Kal was pedalling alongside fields of corn and cabbage now. Although still within the outer ring between Amaranthium’s two walls, this was the closest most people ever got to the country. Here, in the fertile flood plains of the Cold Flow, the humble hovels of lowly farm labourers shared the same address as the opulent country villas of Amaranthium’s wealthiest families. The Firehand estate was three storeys high in places, but it was so wide, with many wings and extensions, that it seemed to lie low on the ground, hugging the earth like a sleeping dragon.

There were lights on in the villa, and a guard at the gate, so Kal left the road, stashed the velocipede behind a hedgerow, and skirted around the estate’s red brick wall until she found a point of entry: a spot on the wall where the chance arrangement of a poplar tree, a corner of the villa, and the blinding glare of the sinking sun made it a perfect spot to scramble up and over without being seen.

Kal climbed onto the stables, then onto the terracotta-tiled roof of the villa itself. In the eaves of what she guessed was the servants’ wing, Kal spied an open window. She approached it from above, then dropped off the guttering and swung inside.

A young girl of perhaps fourteen was sitting on a simple bed, darning a sock. Her mouth gaped open when Kal dropped in, but she didn’t jump or make a sound. In Kal’s experience, it took a lot to provoke an extreme reaction in household staff. Kal smiled at the girl and flipped her a silver shilling. The unspoken deal struck between them was,
you didn’t see me
.

Kal slipped down shadowy corridors and stairs. It was that time of day when it was dull inside, but too early for the lamps to be lit: the perfect time for creeping around. Kal waited in the darkness at the foot of a stairwell as a guard strolled past, then continued on in her search for Firehand’s library.

She ended up stepping through a door that led to the entrance hall of the villa: a vast space with twin sweeping marble staircases and a tessellated glass roof that let the sunset flood in. Kal closed her eyes against the sudden light, then opened them again slowly. When she did, she came face to face with …

… herself.

It was the painting that Firehand, on the advise of Gwyn, had purchased from Ben:
Vuda and the Dragon
. Under a blood-red sky, on the slopes of an ancient pyramid, Vuda faced off against the nemesis of the gods. Her hair was black and her skin was dark. Her bosom swelled and her eyes were steely and set wide-apart. Kal laughed every time she saw it. Her own hair was a muddy brown, her skin was pale, and her bosom rarely troubled the seams of her clothes, but Ben had captured her eyes perfectly. She wondered if Firehand had noticed.

She turned her back on the painting, and continued looking around. There was a set of stairs at the back of the hall that led down to a heavy-duty metal door in the basement. It was protected by what looked like an incredibly complex warded lock, so even if Kal had brought her tools, she would not have been able to get through. Will had been right when he said Firehand had lots of interesting locked doors. Oh well, she’d keep looking around and worry about this one later.

Kal found what she was looking for on the second floor: a long room lined with bookcases that doubled as a museum and art gallery. Pedestals around the room held up busts and small statues of various gods. Cabinets supported large glass cases that displayed ancient religious relics. Kal lingered over one of them: the hoof of Mena.
Seriously?
Whether it belonged to a god or a goat, it was certainly old.

At the far end of the room, Kal discovered what was surely the Firehand archive: hundreds of books on the life and times of Feron Firehand. One section of books was locked behind glass:
The Lord Protector’s personal memoirs!
Kal ripped the leather cover off another book, laid it over the glass, then put her elbow to it. The glass broke quietly. Taking care not to cut her arm open, she reached in and extracted the volume labelled
505,
the year of the revolution.

She took the book to a seat by the window. The library had blinds to diffuse the sunlight and protect the books. Kal ran the blind up and positioned herself so she could keep an eye on the drive up to the villa. When Felix returned from the games, she would make herself scarce.

Until then, it was time to go digging into his family’s past …

* * *

Kal closed the book and tossed it to one side. The sun was a red stain on the western horizon, backlighting the city with a bloody glow as darkness closed in all around. Shouts and cheers could be heard from the distant amphitheatre, as men and animals tore each other to shreds.

Kal’s mind was five hundred years away, though, thinking back over the life of Feron Firehand. Everything she had feared had been verified by the man’s own hand, in page after page of confidently-inked script. She had suspected bloody secrets, but the hero of the revolution, by his own admission, had been a monster, ordering the deaths of all his political enemies even while goblins and trolls smashed against the city walls, and dragons wheeled overhead.

The bloodiest massacre in Amaranthium’s history had been instigated
inside
its walls.

And now it was happening again.

Kal looked up when she heard the noise of a carriage approaching. Felix was back. What should she do: confront him? Hide and spy on him? Get the hell out of here and warn Ben that Felix was resurrecting his ancestor’s murderous ways?

Then something caught her eye: a flash of light out in the fields. Something else, or someone else, was approaching, and had been briefly marked out by the dying rays of the sun. In the courtyard below, Felix was helping Gwyn down from the carriage. The guard at the main gate was watching them, his back to the fields …

The guard turned too late. The armoured figure walked up to him and ran him through with a sword before he even had time to react. Kal jumped up from her seat and ran out of the library.
The ghost was coming for Felix; this wasn’t what she had expected at all!

She took the stairs four at a time, and hit the bottom with a such force that every bone in her body jolted and her jaw slammed on her tongue. She pulled open the front door and yelled to Felix: ‘Get in!’

Felix looked at her in bewilderment. Another of his guards who had been standing by the carriage moved to intercept the approaching killer. The guard raised his sword, only to have his right arm chopped clean off, followed by his head.

Felix made it through the door with Gwyn in his arms. Kal shut and bolted it to buy them some time from the killer, who was advancing on them implacably, a bloody sword in one hand, a glowing brand in the other.

Kal shoved Felix and Gwyn away from the door, and herded them down the steps to the basement. The senator looked frightened and confused. ‘Moonheart?’ he stammered. ‘Who … what is happening?’

They stopped outside the metal door. Above them came the sound of the front door being smashed to pieces. If Kal was right, though, the key to the lock in front of them wasn’t the kind you kept anywhere but in your own pocket at all times. ‘It looks like your ancestor is disappointed in you, Felix,’ she said. ‘Now get this door open! Hurry!’

‘I don’t have a key,’ Felix snapped, hugging Gwyn close. ‘
You
stop that thing, Moonheart,’ he continued hysterically. ‘I’ll reward you!’

Gwyn looked calm, and fixed Kal with a curious expression. She felt a shiver of fear snake through her body, but nevertheless she drew the dagger from her boot. She could hear the clatter of armoured feet on the tiled floor above. Her weapon was going to be useless against an armoured ghost; so unless the killer passed them by, they were going to get slaughtered down here.

‘Gwyn will …
Phanto
will aid you,’ Felix said, clutching the child tightly by the arms. ‘Put your faith in him and you will win this fight.’

The heavy footsteps were approaching. A shadow blocked out what little sun filtered down the stairs. ‘Why don’t you give
Phanto
to me?’ Kal suggested. Firehand bristled at the implication: that the killer would possibly leave Kal and the child alone. His grip tightened and Gwyn let out a small sob.

The armoured figure started down the stairs. The only light now came from the orange glow of the brand. The flaming fist of Feron Firehand hung in the air, and Kal could feel the heat of it on her face. She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry with fear. But then what could she possibly say to frighten off a ghost?

She felt something cold touch her arm. Gwyn had dipped his hand into Felix’s pocket and produced a key; a delicate steel key with a long shank and many teeth. As the killer descended the stairs, Kal took the key and slid it into the lock. It turned; the heavy door swung open on massive oiled hinges, and Kal pushed Felix and Gwyn inside.

She slammed the door shut right in the killer’s visored face. There was a series of violent clangs as the killer knight slammed a gauntlet repeatedly against the metal, but the door was six inches thick; nobody would be breaking through tonight. Kal turned the key and pocketed it. ‘Thank you, Gwyn,’ she breathed. ‘That was divine interven—’

She stopped dead when she turned and saw where they were. Four thick foot-long candles lit a small cellar that had been turned into a shrine to Felix’s child-god. A life-size winged statue of Gwyn-as-Phanto was the centerpiece of a display that included a pile of golden treasures, gilt-framed pictures and strange carvings. In front of the statue was a low wooden table, with ropes at each corner.

Felix seemed furious that Kal had entered his sacred space. But he took his anger out on Gwyn, striking the boy with a solid smack across the face, then shoving him away so that he fell to the floor, crying.

Kal was still stunned as she took in the other items around the cellar. Implements hung from hooks on the walls: wooden staves, knotted ropes and leather thongs with multiple plaited tails. But what were they for? The ropes on the table would never hold a person down … the table was too small—

‘You
beat
him!’ she gasped.

Kal ducked not a moment too soon as Felix swung a heavy wooden baton at her head. She turned to face her attacker and ended up taking the return swing directly on her shoulder, making her stumble backwards and drop her dagger. Firehand followed up in a frenzy, raining blows down on Kal as she tried to regain her footing.