Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (22 page)

The memory of the night elemental was fixed in his memory, those twisting and shimmering facets of darkness a wonder like nothing he’d witnessed before. To get so close to an elemental was a once in a lifetime opportunity for most.

Huh, more likely end of a lifetime
, he corrected himself. There were stories of travellers seeing such things from afar, the raging storm of firedrakes or inexorable bulk of stone trolls, but this was as close as most got – watching the dance of the thunderbird, hidden by cloud. Those who got closer never lived to tell the tale. Lynx hadn’t sensed any such threat from the night elemental, but whether that had been its nature or Sitain’s presence, he couldn’t tell.

A little steadier he looked back at Sitain and cocked his head, squinting to look at the young woman.

Gods, I must be drunk.

The air seemed to twist around her; near-invisible eddies and fractures forming from the gloom of night. Sitain wasn’t moving, just swaying as though listening to a rhythm in her head, but as Lynx found his eyes watering he realised what it was.

‘Oi,’ he called across the courtyard. He glanced up at the windows of the rooms above, but few were not taken by the company anyway and most of the shutters were closed against the autumn chill.

The darkness seemed to snap back into place as Sitain flinched and swung around, eyes wide with surprise.

‘Enough o’ that,’ Lynx said, taking a hesitant step forward even though the glimmers of night incarnate had vanished as soon as he’d spoken.

‘Wha’?’ Sitain peered at him, face screwed up like a child in thought, before finally recognising Lynx and giving him a vacant smile. ‘Lynx. Hello.’

‘You’re pissed. Get yer bunk,’ he said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the bunkroom.

‘Tha’s where’m going.’

‘You weren’t going nowhere.’

‘Just enjoyin’ all this,’ she announced, spreading her arms out wide.

Lynx looked around at the empty courtyard. ‘Space?’ he hazarded. ‘Smell o’ horse shit? Quiet?’

She shook her head and began to pluck at the empty air around her. ‘Nah, all this.’ Whatever she thought she was touching, Sitain’s face seemed to fall into a state of calm as she teased and pulled at the darkness around her as though working a loom. Lynx couldn’t see anything happen as a result but something shouted a warning at the back of his mind all the same.

‘Stop foolin’ around,’ he said urgently, ‘you’re seein’ things.’

‘Wha’ about all this?’

‘Moonshine-whispers,’ he said dismissively, just about sober enough to say whatever it took to get her inside.

‘Thought I were drinkin’ brandy?’

‘Shows how pissed you are.’ He flapped his arms in the direction of the bunkhouse. ‘Go and sleep before you fall down. I’ve got some soberin’ up to do.’

‘Why?’

‘Guess.’

Her face twisted in thought then distaste as she realised what he meant and with just a dismissive wave of the hand she staggered off to the bunkhouse, banging on the door until a sleepy-eyed boy opened it and helped her inside.

‘Good,’ Lynx said with a satisfied nod. ‘Now me.’

He took another step forward and swayed as the ground lurched under him. Shaking his head he tried a few more, attempting to cross the courtyard, but as he neared the spot where Sitain had been standing the dizziness only grew, the fog in his head making his limbs feel weaker than ever.

Without warning he staggered backwards and fell hard on his backside, blinking in surprise at the empty courtyard. Suddenly everything seemed an enormous effort and he groaned at the idea of standing up again.

‘Ah fuck it,’ Lynx muttered, casting on mournful look back at the closed inn door. He rolled sideways and got himself onto his hands and knees. Standing up didn’t seem to be an option, but the bunkroom was a short crawl away. He set off, the vision of his bed displacing every other thought from his mind.

Up ahead the darkness winked and writhed. Lynx blinked, his head pounding from the fall and the exertion of jogging through dark city streets. They only had a handful of horses left and only two of the group were riding – Anatin leading the way and the beautiful madwoman, Toil, who lolled uncertainly in the saddle and would have fallen without Reft’s support.

‘Girly, where are you?’ Anatin called out, somehow contriving to whisper as loudly as he could. They were in a small square, just an opened-out section of street with a humped shrine to the god Veraimin on one corner. A pair of oval glass lanterns shone there like eyes, the intricate cut-glass casting lines over the cobbled ground and illuminating a mural of the sun across the shrine’s back.

For a moment there was no movement then the darkness ahead shimmered and Sitain stepped forward from the overhang she’d been lurking beneath, fear etched clear on her face.

‘Was she just doing—’ Kas exclaimed until Lynx broke in.

‘Later!’ he barked. ‘Let’s get clear.’

‘That ain’t a surprise to you?’ she said, turning to give Lynx a strange look as Sitain scampered forward.

‘Not really.’

Kas shook her head in disbelief. ‘Oh, shitting marvellous.’

‘Shut up all of you,’ Anatin said. ‘We need horses, not complaints.’

‘Coming right up,’ Teshen said as he ghosted over to a closed set of gates and yanked one open. Above a nearby door was a sign that in daylight could be read as Threegates Livery Stable.

The whinny of horses came from inside, then the scramble of feet on straw. Lynx pressed a stubby finger to his temple and tried to massage the ache from his brain while he watched an emaciated stablehand with a tangled mass of black hair lead a pair of saddled horses out to them. Teshen followed with a pair more and passed the reins on to Safir before heading back in.

Soon they all had a mount and half had a spare tied to their saddle. Anatin tossed a small purse of coins to the stablehand, who opened it and nodded briefly. Before the order to move out could be given, Toil lurched to one side and vomited noisily.

‘Someone get me out of this bastard city,’ she growled, wincing up at the Skyriver as she swept her hair back. ‘Had enough o’ this place.’

‘Can you ride?’ Anatin demanded.

‘Yeah. Don’t ask me to jump walls or nothing, but I can follow someone through streets.’

She briefly looked around at the saddle of her horse, flapping briefly behind her back before giving up. ‘Guess I’d not be much of a shot anyway,’ she added, as much to herself as anyone. Her hand came to rest on the short-swords that hung from her belt, but she didn’t try to draw one, just took comfort from their presence.

‘Come on,’ Anatin said after a glance around his small command. ‘City gate’s just down this street, we’re going in hard. Reft, you blow the Poorgate, everyone else spark up the walls. If they drop the cage we’ll never make it out.’

The Prince of Sun slammed his spurs into his horse’s flanks and the beast leaped forward through an archway. Behind him went Olut, Reft and Teshen, with Safir, Toil, Varain and Kas following close behind. With his mage-gun shouldered, Lynx followed with Sitain riding close to his side.

‘Where’s Tyn?’ the young woman asked just as they crossed through the arch into a narrow street. Up ahead loomed the imposing blockish shape of Threegates, through which some of the company had left the city.

‘Didn’t make it.’

‘She’s dead?’ Sitain gasped.

‘Lot of people dead in our wake,’ Lynx snapped. ‘Now shut up and watch the horse in front.’

They rode out into an empty marketplace. Abandoned rows of stalls spread left and right, the majority clustered around a public well away to the right. Lynx couldn’t see anyone at first and breathed a sigh of relief. A large part of him was expecting a rank of Knights-Charnel, a sudden volley of icers or a shouted ultimatum.

‘State your business!’ roared a great bear of a man from the gantry above the Poorgate, the smallest of the three city gates there.

His yellow-hooded livery and dark Surei skin were obvious by the light of a torch he carried – certainly no Charneler, this one, but Anatin didn’t bother replying. Quick as a snake he raised his mage-pistol and fired on the man. The sparker caught him full-on and lightning exploded around the small gantry he was stood on. Screams came from further back, but Lynx didn’t see who was there. As Olut put another sparker into the guard-room window, Reft nudged his horse around Anatin’s and fired on the gate itself.

The deep crash of his earther boomed against the stone walls and made the stalls around them shudder, leaving Lynx’s already-pounding head ringing. Dark spots burst before his eyes and though he heard the great crack and splinter of the earther striking, it took him a moment to make out the damage it had done.

Up ahead the Poorgate lurched with a tortured creak. The uppermost of its massive iron hinges had been torn right through and a chunk of stone chewed out of the wall beside it. Somehow the gate held up but Varain was already pushing his horse forward with a calculating look on his face. The second shot burst right through the reinforced wood just as a yell came from the lower guardhouse and Teshen fired at its barred window. Sparks exploded all around it and screams came from within, but suddenly that wasn’t the only sound hammering at Lynx’s ears.

He turned left, hearing the drum of feet, and saw a horseman clatter around a corner towards them, the Skyriver palely illuminating a Charneler uniform. He raised his gun on instinct but the Charneler wheeled as soon as he saw the mercenaries, sawing hard at the reins and yelling at the top of his voice. Safir turned and fired in one smooth spin, but was defeated by the sudden movement and Lynx saw the white blur of an icer dart wide.

In the next moment the man was gone again, away round the corner, and they had no time to pursue. Anatin jammed his pistol into a sheath and darted forward, Reft and Varain close on his heels. Lynx roared for Sitain to go and the young woman crouched low over the neck of her horse and jabbed her heels into its flanks. The group tore towards the gate, Lynx taking up the rear with his gun ready, but other than a flash of white he saw nothing before he entered the short covered section that led beyond the city.

He couldn’t help but look up as he went, the dark points of the cage just a suggestion in the blackness overhead, but a creeping sense on his neck seemed to feel their presence all too clearly. The cage was principally there to present an obstacle to attackers, to mangle and deform under the impact of an earth-bolt that could break down any wall, but Lynx knew what that heavy rattling framework of spikes could do to men.

And then the blackness vanished and cool welcoming air washed over him. There were more shouts from the city, the clatter of boots and hooves, but he felt a moment of elation all the same as the starlit ground opened up around them. The main highway stretched out ahead, a dulled grey sliver of packed earth punctured by star-speckled puddles from the earlier rain. There was no cover here, no houses or trees within a hundred yards of this stretch of wall, only a set of fenced livestock pens that deliberately narrowed the road for traffic entering the city. They were forced to move at a canter, one behind the other to avoid the nervous horses jostling each other as detonations echoed through the short tunnel behind. Lynx turned to see the white trails of ice-bolts linger a moment longer in the air.

It was enough to drain his elation. The memory of open walkways up to the wall became very clear in his mind, the clatter of boots on stone echoing through the hushed night as though Charnelers were racing up them to take firing positions on the unprotected mercenaries.

‘An— Boss!’ he shouted forward, realising only just in time that they didn’t want their leader’s name heard by any pursuers. He might not have been a famous mercenary commander, but he’d led his own company for years now and wouldn’t require much identifying.

‘What?’

‘Coming up behind!’

Anatin urged his horse forward past the final pen and wheeled to one side to allow Reft out. ‘Keep going!’ he ordered, waving them past.

There were more shouts from the street behind and Lynx turned as far as he could in the saddle. He caught a flash of movement and pulled the trigger without aiming. The sparker raced forward and was swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel. For a moment he thought it had failed, fizzled out to nothing instead of exploding, but then a great jagged flower of lightning blossomed in the confined space.

Two figures were caught in agonised tableau, impaled by crooked claws, before disaster happened. A shudder of movement, some wrench of the world that Lynx’s straining eyes couldn’t make out, then the cartridgecase of one Charneler blew up. A pale cloud filled the tunnel and an ear-splitting sound louder than an earther slapped forward against Lynx’s ears.

He flinched away, automatically hunched up against the blast, and felt the sting of fragments – ice, stone or flesh, he didn’t want to know – smack into his back. Some survival instinct kept him riding straight and once his vision cleared he saw Sitain’s horse a few yards away, pushing forward into a gallop. Nearby, Anatin had his pistol out, levelled and pointing at the walls behind.

Lynx fumbled at the breech of his own gun, flicking away the spent casing, but Anatin just cackled and slapped the flank of Lynx’s horse, shouting, ‘Ride!’

A sixth sense made Lynx look away, off towards the inky night where Sitain was labouring forward, but still the brightness seared into the back of his brain when Anatin pulled the trigger. His horse stumbled, terrified by the flare of light and unguided by its half-blinded owner, while Anatin only laughed the harder.

Lynx growled and blinked furiously as a great hiss tore through the night behind him, then Anatin was at his side and riding past, roaring with laughter all the while. Lynx glanced towards the city walls through blurred eyes but stopped before he could look straight at them. A great beacon of searing white burned somewhere on the wall, but he couldn’t see where or put anything into focus.

Shattered gods, a light-bolt?

He didn’t bother looking back again. Even out of the corner of his eye it hurt to see the white blur raging on the wall, the whole of Threegates lit up like day. He forced himself to head on after Anatin through the blur of darkness – trusting to the gods or fate or something that he would find his way.