The Demon Horsemen (12 page)

‘Jarudha be with you,’ said Lily at the door.

‘And with you,’ Meg replied. She walked quickly out of Brewery Lane, her mind swirling with the palpable changes already wrought by the Seers on the people of Port of Joy. How many already accepted the new regime as willingly as Lily? How much harder would it be now to stop what had begun?

M
eg stepped back from the portal glowing in the doorway from the common room to the bed space and thanked Chase for allowing her access to his memories once more.

‘My head has its uses after all,’ he remarked, grinning at his companions.

‘Apart from ramming open a thick door,’ Swift quipped.

Everyone laughed.

‘Jon will be all right with you?’ Meg asked, turning to Mouse. The girl nodded. ‘We might be some time,’ Meg explained. ‘Keep this space as clear as you can because we’ll return here.’

‘There’ll be more food tomorrow,’ Swift promised Mouse, seeing how hungrily the girl was attacking the leftovers from the meal she and Chase had prepared that afternoon.

‘When we’ve gone through you can let your dogs back inside,’ said Meg. ‘The rat will come with us.’ She turned to her three companions. ‘Are we ready?’ she asked.

Chase, Swift and Wahim nodded. Swift adjusted one of the two hand peacemakers in her belt that she had bought that afternoon.

‘Whisper?’ Meg said. The black rat looked at her, then scampered into the light and vanished.

‘Guess that means yes,’ said Swift.

‘Remember—nothing foolish,’ Meg reminded them. ‘We stay together. We avoid trouble. Don’t fire a peacemaker unless you have absolutely no other choice. If things go wrong, we leave immediately through a portal. Otherwise, we find Passion and get out as soon as we can. No heroics.’ Everyone nodded. ‘So,’ Meg concluded, ‘we go.’

She stepped into the light. Swift, Chase and Wahim followed.

The gaol corridor was lit with old oil lanterns spaced intermittently, shedding only enough light so that a person could walk its length without bumping into something. It was a place of shadows. Meg stepped out of the portal and stood aside until her companions appeared. Chase bumped into Swift as he stumbled out of the blue light. To one end of the corridor was a chamber emanating solid light. The other end was dark.

‘Is this the right place?’ Meg whispered.

‘Yes,’ said Chase, blinking.

‘So which way?’

‘The light leads up to where they process the prisoners. The dark end goes down to the lower Bog Pit levels.’

‘Is this familiar?’ Meg asked Swift.

‘No. I wasn’t brought through this part.’

‘Where’s Whisper?’ Wahim asked.

‘She’ll come back when she finds something,’ Meg told him.

‘But which way did she go?’ he persisted. ‘We could follow her lead.’

‘Ordinary prisoners are taken to the lower levels,’ said Chase. ‘I think we should go that way. We know
Passion won’t be in the same section I was in. I’ll show you which way I was taken and then we’ll go the opposite way.’

‘It’d be better to be heading upwards if we run into trouble,’ said Swift.

‘No, it has to be down,’ Meg decided. ‘Swift, you lead.’

The assassin led her companions quietly along the corridor to the dark end, where it split into a T-junction. ‘Right,’ Chase whispered. ‘They took me left.’

They crept to the right for ten paces and came to a set of stone steps leading down. Rusted metal lanterns hung at the head and foot of the stairway.

‘I know this place,’ Swift whispered. ‘I’d forgotten the corridor back there, but this goes down to the women’s cells.’

‘Good,’ Meg replied. ‘What’s at the bottom?’

‘I think there’s a guards’ chamber. Then another space before the cell gates.’

‘How many guards?’

‘I can’t remember. Maybe six. Maybe ten. It was a long time ago.’

Meg was silent.

‘What will we do?’ Chase asked.

‘We need to know how many guards are on duty,’ said Meg.

‘Too easy,’ said Swift. ‘Wait here.’

She crept stealthily down the steps to the foot, paused, then returned to report. ‘Six. Four playing cards, one in the doorway into the cell area, and one asleep.’

‘That’s three each,’ said Chase.

‘No,’ Meg said. ‘No violence. Were they looking towards the entrance?’

‘No,’ said Swift.

‘Could you see the cell?’

Swift hesitated. ‘A little.’

‘That might be enough. I’ll try another way. We need to be sure Passion is in here first. Come with me down to the bottom of the stairs,’ she said to Swift, and then to Chase and Wahim, ‘Keep watch up here. We don’t need anyone walking in on us.’

She and Swift went down the steps until they could see into the guards’ chamber and the opening beyond. The guard in the doorway was slouching against the stone wall, fiddling with his belt buckle. The four playing cards were engrossed in their game. Squinting, Meg made out bars in the shadows and a dark space beyond. She tapped Swift’s shoulder and they retreated to the top of the stairs.

‘Now what?’ Swift asked.

‘I’ll try to portal into the cell. If Passion is there I’ll portal her out.’

‘What about the other prisoners?’

‘We can’t take them all,’ Meg said.

‘That’s not what I meant. Some of them are in there for good reason. If anyone’s suspicious of you, you could end up in real trouble. I’d better come with you. Besides, it was your rule that we weren’t to separate.’

‘Then we have a problem,’ said Meg. ‘We can’t leave Wahim and Chase alone out here.’

‘And they can’t go in there with the women,’ said Swift. ‘We’d have the guards on us in a flash.’

‘Wait here,’ Meg said, and crept back along the corridor to where the young men were crouched at the T-junction. ‘Is there anywhere you can hide if someone comes?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Chase. ‘The corridor down that way has no side doors. It was built to make it impossible to hide if a prisoner tried to run.’

‘We have to take a risk,’ Meg said, and explained her plan.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Chase assured her. ‘Just don’t take too long.’

Meg returned to Swift. ‘Whisper would be very helpful right now,’ she said.

‘Where could she have gone?’ Swift asked.

‘No idea. I’ve told the others our plan. Now shield your eyes.’ As Swift held up a hand, a blue light crackled across the corridor from wall to wall. ‘Go,’ Meg urged. Swift stepped through. Meg followed and the light vanished.

‘Get off me, you fucken idiot!’ a woman screamed. Meg felt a fierce punch in her leg. She fell to the floor, confused in the darkness. Rough hands closed around her throat and a weight pressed on her chest. Then her attacker grunted and her weight slid to Meg’s left. A hand grabbed Meg’s tunic and pulled her upright.

‘Come on,’ Swift whispered.

Meg stumbled in the young woman’s wake, trying to gather her senses. Swearing trailed them. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Meg saw the soft glow from the guards’ chamber away to her left and the shadow of the guard who was leaning against the wall by the doorway.

‘It’s not real smart to appear on someone’s chest,’ Swift whispered. ‘That nearly caused us serious trouble.’

Meg could still feel the pressure of the fingers on her soft neck. ‘It was a guess,’ she said, referring to the portal.

‘The darkness is good for keeping us hidden, but it’ll make it bloody near impossible to find Passion,’ said Swift irritably.

Meg’s nose flinched at the stench permeating the cell, a smell far worse than her memories of the animal pens from her Summerbrook childhood. She heard snoring
coming from somewhere near her feet. ‘We need to ask someone,’ she said.

‘Follow me,’ Swift urged. ‘Keep your hand on my back and only walk where I do.’

Still struggling to make anything out in the dark, Meg obediently followed. They were moving away from the light of the guards’ chamber and she considered casting a night-vision spell, but Swift was moving too quickly. Then her boot squelched in liquid and she heard the young woman swear. ‘Piss channel,’ she hissed, too late for Meg to avoid it.

Swift stopped. ‘Use one of those light balls you make for a few moments,’ she said. ‘We need to see who’s in here. Be warned: they’ll come to it like moths, so be ready to put it out and get out of here.’

The stench, darkness and uncertainty almost overwhelmed Meg, but she rallied her thoughts and formed a very dull light sphere. At the edge of the light, shapes moved.

‘We’re looking for Passion,’ Meg whispered.

‘Passion Goodenough,’ Swift added.

One shape materialised into the form of a pale, rake-thin woman. ‘Who are you?’ she hissed.

‘Do you know Passion Goodenough?’ Swift asked, slipping her knife from its sheath.

‘And if I do?’

‘Tell her to come here,’ Swift said.

Meg stared at the woman, recognising the marks of starvation—the hollow eye sockets, sharp cheekbones, angular arms and legs. The woman was naked and her head had been shaved. Behind her, similar figures hovered like wraiths, staring at the floating light above Meg’s palm.

‘What’s it worth to us?’ another woman asked.

Swift glanced at Meg.

‘Your freedom,’ Meg offered, to Swift’s surprise.

‘What’s she look like?’

‘Red hair. Pretty.’

The woman snorted. ‘No girl in here with hair of any colour. No pretty ones either.’

The shapes closed in. Swift swept her knife in a savage arc and snarled, ‘I’m not one to mess with. If you know the name Swift, you’ll know who I am.’

‘Prince-killer!’ a voice rasped in the darkness. The response echoed around the cell in whispers.

So I am known
. Swift appreciated her notoriety, but also knew that she no longer had an assassin’s anonymity if even the women locked in the Bog Pit knew of her.

‘The girl isn’t here,’ a woman announced bluntly.

‘Then where?’ Meg asked.

A commotion erupted and sharp whispers raced through the crowd beyond the light. Those at the edge retreated and the woman who’d spoken sank quickly into the darkness, muttering, ‘The stinking dogs are coming.’

An orange glow crept along a wall. ‘The guards,’ said Swift.

Meg dissolved the sphere and a shimmering blue light appeared on the rough wall, as if smeared there. ‘Go!’ she ordered, and Swift leapt into the haze, Meg after her. The portal faded as the guards’ lantern light spilled into the chamber of wretched women.

M
eg arrived in the corridor to a chaos of movement, noise and flickering light and alarm. She was pushed heavily against the rough stone wall and lay there a moment before she could make sense of what was going on. A man groaned. Another shouted. A body tumbled at her feet. The yellow light went out. ‘Are you all right?’ she heard Swift ask, and hands took her and helped her to her feet.

‘Sorry,’ Chase muttered. ‘We had nowhere to hide.’

‘How’s the cut?’ Swift asked Wahim, and turned away from Meg to examine the Shesskar’s arm.

‘Let me see it,’ Meg said.

‘It’s superficial,’ Swift said dismissively. ‘We can’t stay here.’ She stooped to wipe her knife blade on the red uniform of a corpse at her feet.

‘Where’s Passion?’ Chase asked.

‘Not down there,’ Swift replied.

‘Are you sure?’

‘She’s not down there,’ Swift repeated irritably.

‘So now what?’

Meg felt something nudge her ankle and looked down, expecting to see the hand of a dying soldier pawing at her. Instead, there was a dark shadow. ‘Whisper,’ she said.

‘Where’s she been?’ Swift asked.

Meg focussed on forming the question
Where?
in Whisper’s consciousness, and a moment later received an image of a young woman lying face down in a narrow cell. ‘She’s found Passion,’ she said.

‘Where?’ Chase asked.

‘We have to follow her,’ Meg explained.

‘Why don’t you go into her mind to get an image of the place like you did with me?’ Chase suggested.

‘You want Meg to go inside the mind of a rat?’ Swift said derisively.

‘Whisper used to be Erin’s sister,’ Chase reminded her.

The idea astounded Meg, but it seemed logical. ‘I could try,’ she said.

‘We need to hurry,’ Swift warned.

Meg focussed on Whisper and began the spell, but she met a solid psychic wall. Whisper bolted away along the corridor.
No!
Meg projected.
Sorry!

‘What happened?’ Chase asked. ‘Where’s she gone?’

‘She won’t let me in,’ Meg said. ‘I scared her.’

‘She’s still there.’ Swift pointed to a tiny shadow at the edge of lantern light at the far end of the corridor.

‘We do this the hard way,’ said Meg. ‘Strip the uniforms from the soldiers. I have an idea.’

The uniforms were a poor fit for Chase and Wahim. Chase looked like a child dressed up as a man and Wahim couldn’t do up the buttons on his jacket.

‘We won’t get away with this,’ Swift muttered as they approached the entry chamber at the end of the corridor.

‘I have a little something extra to add when we go in,’ said Meg. ‘You know what to say.’

Wahim and Chase took their positions behind Swift, who placed her hands at her back as if she was bound.
Meg fell in behind them with Whisper at her feet and the motley party entered the chamber.

It was a large space with one long central bench table and a doorway in each wall. The walls were stone blocks, hand-chiselled centuries ago by slaves of the Shessian kings. The moonlight spilling in through the windows and the lantern light from the high ceiling gave the space an airy effect, until one saw the shadows of restraining chains and manacles at points around the walls. Four soldiers were on duty, one at each doorway. No one seemed particularly interested in the party as they entered and headed across the chamber towards the main archway. When they reached it, the soldier on duty addressed them. ‘And what’s the problem here?’

‘We got king’s orders to take this wretch upstairs for some special treatment,’ Chase said and winked.

The soldier looked at him, trying to place his face, and then his attention shifted to Wahim’s dark skin. ‘I didn’t know there were Shesskar in the army,’ he said warily.

‘Since when can’t a Shesskar be a soldier?’ Wahim asked angrily. ‘Did you fight at Crossing Creek?’

‘No offence meant, mate,’ the soldier said. ‘Just never seen you around here before.’

‘Rostered on this morning,’ said Wahim. ‘Can’t wait to get back to the barracks.’

The soldier snorted. He reached forward and wrenched up Swift’s head by the hair to stare at her face. She scowled at him. ‘Must be desperate times if his lordship wants this piece of rag.’

Wahim and Chase laughed with him. When Meg saw Swift’s knuckles clench and whiten behind her back she coughed.

The soldier looked past the trio at her. ‘What’s with the old bag?’

‘Special request,’ said Chase. ‘She gets to clean up after.’

‘Nice touch,’ said the soldier approvingly. ‘I’d hate to think his lordship was taking a liking to the old tarts as well as the young ones.’ He let go of Swift’s hair and stood aside. ‘See you shortly.’

Chase and Wahim marched Swift through the archway into a cobbled courtyard. Meg trailed them, Whisper scooting along at her feet. The night sky was clear and full of stars and the moonlight washed the stones white. They glanced up at the surrounding buildings and spotted a light in the window of the three-storey keep directly ahead. The other windows were dark and forbidding.

‘I thought there’d be more guards,’ Chase whispered as they passed under the veranda that sheltered the main door into the keep.

‘Where are you going?’ a voice demanded, and four armed men emerged from the shadows.

‘King’s orders to take this piece of rag up for special treatment,’ Chase replied.

‘What’s your name, soldier?’

He hesitated, then mumbled, ‘Chase.’

‘Who’s your hordemaster?’

Chase’s silence aggravated the man. He stepped closer, pushed him in the chest and growled, ‘I asked you a question, soldier.’

Meg’s heart raced. This was what she had hoped to avoid. What spells could she use to make the men harmless without hurting them?

The man grabbed Swift’s face and turned it up. That was his mistake. Before he could register that she had moved, her knife was buried deep inside his chest, under his sternum, point piercing his heart. He groaned and let go of her chin and stepped back. Chase’s peacemaker flashed and roared and a second man stumbled back into the darkness. Wahim charged the third, bringing him to the ground with a sickening thud.
The fourth lifted his peacemaker to shoot at Swift, and dropped it in horror as it burst into flames from Meg’s spell. Swift was instantly on him.

Meg saw that Chase’s shot had alerted the other soldiers, who were already running into the courtyard. ‘Come on!’ she yelled and ran for the door. She turned the handle, but it was locked.

‘Here!’ Swift called, and Meg heard keys rattle as the assassin rifled the first soldier’s pockets. A peacemaker roared and a bullet thwacked into the wooden door as Swift fumbled with the lock. The door swung open. Another peacemaker fired and a bullet ricocheted off the wall beside them. ‘In!’ Swift yelled and the group scrambled through and slammed the door. Swift locked it. Men started beating on the exterior and shouting.

‘Light,’ Chase urged.

Meg conjured a sphere and the room lightened to reveal several doors and a stone staircase sweeping up to the next level. Whisper was already on the third step. The others ran to follow her, trailed by the sounds of men bashing at the door. At the first floor, the stairs opened onto a landing with a row of dark wooden doors, each with a tiny barred window. Whisper paused at one door, sniffing, then continued towards a second set of steps leading higher.

The next level opened into a broad chamber lit by candles, similar to the rooms Meg remembered in Queen Sunset’s palace. This room was empty of furniture, however, and austere, as if it had a more sinister function than entertaining guests. Three doors led from it. Light spilled from beneath one. Whisper stopped there and sat up on her haunches. Swift went to turn the handle but Meg called, ‘Wait!’

‘But Whisper says this is where Passion is,’ Swift argued. Chase stood beside her.

‘She’s not in there alone,’ Meg said quietly.

‘How do you know?’ Chase asked.

Meg nodded to Whisper. ‘She knows.’

‘Who’s with her?’ Swift asked, turning her bloodied knife slowly, as if anticipating the kill.

‘I don’t know.’

‘That door downstairs won’t hold forever,’ Wahim warned.

‘I know,’ said Meg. ‘Let me go in first.’

She approached the door and listened, but the only sounds she could hear were the soldiers beating on the door below and her thudding heart. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and opened the door.

A thick-set man in Kerwyn military trousers, his chest bare, stood with a hand peacemaker pressed firmly against the head of a naked young woman bound to a chair. A second peacemaker in his left hand was pointed at Meg. To his left a soldier aimed a long-barrelled peacemaker at the door. A third man lurked in the shadows to the left.

‘Come in,’ the bare-chested man invited coolly. ‘Make sure your friends put their weapons on the floor.’

Meg motioned for the other three to enter and divest themselves of their weapons, which Swift did with extreme reluctance. Meg noticed the livid scar across the man’s face, partly obscured by his thick black beard. She recognised the warlord though she’d never met him. His hairy paunch suggested his new position was proving generous. Passion’s eyes were wide with fear, and the plea in them wrenched at Meg’s heart.

‘What luck,’ Warlord Fist said, studying Chase and Swift. ‘You’d be the brother and the half-sister.’ He focussed on Swift. ‘You I know very well, Prince-killer.’ His eyes shifted to Meg. ‘But why bring an old woman with you? Strange place for a mother or grandmother.’
His attention moved to Wahim. ‘My guess is you’re the former bouncer of the brothel where this slut worked. Now it makes sense how you were all able to vanish in Shesskar-sharel.’ He grinned. ‘My luck is in.’

Meg’s mind ran through the spells she had learnt through reading or talking to Erin and A Ahmud Ki, but the peacemaker pressed against Passion’s temple was too great a risk. Fist’s finger was tight against the trigger.

‘So you’ve come to rescue your sister,’ the warlord said. ‘You know you cost me a lot of men chasing you all over the countryside. Did you make it to the old empire capital?’ When no one answered, he nudged Passion’s head with the muzzle of the peacemaker. ‘Well?’

‘Yes, we did,’ Meg answered.

Fist stared at her. ‘Who exactly are you?’

‘Her grandmother,’ Meg replied, meeting the terrified eyes of the girl tied to the chair.

Fist snorted. ‘My grandmother was never brave enough to rescue anyone.’

‘Why would your grandmother bother with a piece of shit like you?’ Swift said.

‘Smart mouth,’ Fist said sarcastically, and pressed the peacemaker harder against Passion’s head.

Downstairs, the sound of a door cracking echoed through the building.

‘Do you have the keys?’ Fist asked. Swift produced them. ‘Good,’ said Fist. ‘Hardhand, take the keys and let our friends in.’

The man in the shadows approached Swift gingerly, holding out his podgy hand for the keys. Swift dropped them on the floor.

‘You really don’t have manners, do you?’ Fist noted laconically. ‘Pick them up, Hardhand. The little bitch won’t bite you.’

Hardhand stooped for the keys, and warily navigated past the group and out the door. A different movement caught Meg’s eye. Behind Fist, perched on a window ledge, Whisper crouched in readiness to spring. ‘No!’ Meg cried.

‘No, what—’ Fist began, but the missile smacking against his hand interrupted him and discharged his peacemaker. The sudden shot distracted the second man and he glanced in the warlord’s direction. That was enough for Swift. She leapt. Chase and Wahim charged Fist, who was hitting the rat clinging by its teeth to his wrist, and another peacemaker roared in the struggle.

Meg headed for Passion, focussing on an unmaking spell. The ropes binding the terrified young woman fell to the floor. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, embracing the girl. Passion burst into sobs, her shoulders heaving uncontrollably.

The noise of fighting ceased and Meg turned to see Swift, Chase and Wahim facing a cornered Fist. Blood streamed from the warlord’s forehead and right hand, but he was still waving a sword menacingly. Swift was twisting her knife in her hand. Chase held a peacemaker.

‘Wait!’ Meg cried. She released Passion, faced the doorway and cast her spell. A portal appeared. Downstairs, men shouted and boots clattered on the stone steps. ‘Chase! Wahim!’ Meg ordered. ‘Help Passion.’

Chase handed the peacemaker to Swift and the two young men hoisted Passion to her feet. With her arms around their necks, they carried her into the blue light and vanished.

‘Swift,’ Meg ordered. Swift did not move, her eyes locked in fierce defiance with the warlord. ‘Swift!’ Meg hissed. Reluctantly, the assassin backed away from her quarry, her disappointment palpable. ‘Go!’ Meg barked.

The warlord stepped forward as Swift reached the portal, but she stopped and aimed the peacemaker at him. ‘Come on, you bastard. Do it.’

‘Swift! Now!’ Meg yelled.

Soldiers appeared beyond the haze at the top of the stairs. Swift looked to Meg, but the old woman frowned and nodded her head at the portal. Reluctantly, Swift stepped through. Whisper bounded after her.

‘I’ll hunt you down, all of you,’ Fist growled. He started for Meg, but she raised a hand and pointed her finger at him, an action that called his bluff. He stopped and glared at her.

‘Interfere with my family ever again and I will kill you,’ Meg said coldly. And she stepped into the portal.

Howling with rage, Fist hurled his sword at the blue light. The light vanished and his sword spun through the doorway, clattering across the stone floor towards the startled soldiers who had arrived with Hardhand.