The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (47 page)

Killian took a deep breath. "I didn’t like Tingara. It was worse than Aynar, much worse. I could see the urchins lurking around the big tent, picking pockets in the crowd. The beggars there had it worse that I ever did. I heard that the streetclans in Seranthia taught the children sweet songs and then crippled them terribly, sending them out to beg."

Ella put her hand to her mouth. "That’s awful."

Killian nodded. "Carla and I became lovers. One night, we left the camp and stole into Seranthia to be alone together. To see the night shows. When we returned, the camp was gone. The big tent was no more."

Ella held her breath.

"It had all been burned to the ground. I asked everyone in the area what had happened, but no one would talk to me. Finally an old woman told me they’d been taken by the legion. Someone from the crowd had reported that the troupe was spreading sedition against the Emperor. All I could remember was Marney saying something about helping the street children."

Killian’s voice began to shake with emotion. "We arrived in Seranthia just as they were lined up along the top of the Wall, along with a bunch of other ‘seditionists’. We could see the blood on their skin; they’d been cut to pieces by the whip. They were all there. They were my family. We watched as they were pushed off the Wall, their bodies broken beyond recognition when they hit the bottom. Carla left me then. I didn’t blame her. Marney was her father."

Tears slid silently down Ella’s face, but Killian didn’t notice. He seemed to be living the events all over again.

"I buried them all, as best as I could. I dug their graves in the forest with my hands, carrying their poor, destroyed bodies one by one. Then I went back to the ruins of the camp, where nothing but the corpses of the stage animals in their blackened cages remained. I don’t know how long I stayed there.

"Eventually I made my way back to Salvation. I started to steal again, but this time I don’t think I cared whether I was caught or not. I got into trouble a few times, and I broke some bones. Then I stole from a templar but my body gave up on me." Killian shrugged. "They put me into a cell in Stonewater, and one day they gave me something to drink, some kind of black potion. The templars watched me carefully. It tasted strange but it didn’t affect me, and they were excited."

"What do you think it was?" Ella asked.

"I really don’t know. Then one day I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, and there he was. He asked me my name, and I told him. He said, ‘Do not fear Killian, for all your troubles are now over.’

"I asked him who he was, but I think I already knew. He took me in, cared for me. He gave me a small house in Salvation, with my own guards and everything. I call him my master."

"Who was it?" Ella said.

"Primate Melovar Aspen, Primate of the Assembly of Templars."

Killian looked away, and they continued their long march.

~

E
LLA
digested the information as if worrying at a piece of meat. Something strange was occurring. The templars had no lore, no knowledge about runes or matrices or activation sequences. However they possessed essence in abundance.

The templars kept the secret formulas for producing essence. They had the relics of the Evermen that created the black liquid.

Ella needed to think of how the Primate fit into everything that was happening. She had been so focussed on the Emperor. Was stealing the Lexicons simply a way of weakening the houses? Was it the Primate’s plan to drain the Lexicons and eradicate magic from the world? But without lore there would be no need for essence — how would he control the houses, those who would do anything to get their Lexicons back? The Primate could not expect to conquer all of Merralya, even with every templar warrior at his disposal.

Yet something was happening. They were at war. People were dying. Raj Halaran were fighting for their very existence, and soon it would be Altura’s turn. If the Primate had a plan, where did the Emperor stand in all of this?

Killian seemed lost in thought too. He had obviously brought up memories he had thought long buried. Ella’s feelings towards him had changed somehow; she knew him better now. She understood his purpose. She’d shared herself with him, back in Altura, and he’d now shared himself. Yet he was still distant. Would he come to help her, rather than crippling her people in a single blow? Or would he leave her, trick her, as he had done last time?

The sun burst again through a hole in the clouds. The horizon rose in an unbroken line, dropping off suddenly in the distance, as if they were walking towards a cliff.

"We’re walking to the rim of the crater," said Killian. There is a small canyon just on the edge. That’s where Torlac is located."

"When will we arrive?"

Killian looked at the sky. "Before sundown, if we’re lucky. After sundown, if we’re not."

"Killian?"

"What?" he frowned at her.

"Thank you for telling me. About your life I mean. It must have been hard."

He shrugged. "There are people who’ve had it worse, I should know."

"Still," Ella said, struggling to find the words. "I..."

"Come with me," he said.

He took her by the hand, his palm warm and dry. Ella ran with him to a crest in the rock — a random peak — tall and with a shallow enough slope to be easily ascended.

He laughed as he half-led, half-dragged her up the hill. Soon she stood with him at the summit, panting.

"Look!" he said.

She followed his arm, and gasped.

Ella looked over the rim of the cliff and into the bowl of the crater itself. It was immense. A road wound down from the rim, twisting first one way, then another, to eventually reach the shore of the sky-blue volcanic lake. An island occupied the centre of the lake, and a tiered city perched atop the landmass, rising level upon level to a turreted palace on the very summit. Flags and pennants fluttered in the wind, visible even from this distance, the
raj hada
of the elementalists a red-and-blue blur.

"There’s something coming from the water, what’s that haze?"

"It’s steam," Killian said. "The water is hot, almost boiling."

"It’s true then. How do they cross it?"

"See that small square, half way across the lake? There’s another one, passing it."

"Oh, I see it."

"That’s the Halapusa Ferry."

"Talk about a secure city."

"That it is, Ella. Look over to the right now — see that cleft in the crater’s rim? That’s where we’re headed: the trade city of Torlac. We’d best be going if we’re going to get there before nightfall."

44

Choose your ground well. War is a game of geography.

— Memoirs of Emperor Xenovere I, 318-7, 381 Y.E.

H
IGH
Enchantress Evora Guinestor blanched when she saw the body. It had been torn to pieces, completely dismembered, viscera spread across several hundred paces. The man’s head was finally found by one of the trackers, an expression of horror still readable on what was left of his face.

"There’s still one more scout missing," Captain Joram said soberly.

Evora pulled herself together. "Thank you, Captain. How many does that make in total?"

"Five. Two trackers and three scouts. Whatever it is, it’ll be onto the sentries next. High Enchantress, may I have a word alone?"

"Of course, Captain."

Evora walked away from the other men. The four ever-present bladesingers came along unbidden.

They had left Alturan lands some time ago. Moving such a large group of soldiers — nearly forty encumbered men — through the Wondhip Pass had been a difficult task, but they had come through with only a few cuts and scrapes. Her trackers said the thief had come this way, as had Ella. They’d found the corpse of the eldritch. Reading the marks of the runes, the High Enchantress couldn’t believe someone would do such a thing to an animal. And her respect for Ella had increased.

They’d also found evidence of two separate struggles in the pass. Apparently the thief had been accosted, but escaped. The second struggle was a different story — Evora could see the scorching marks left on the stone, burn marks that only powerful runes could make.

The young enchantress was learning.

One of the men said he could pass for a Petryan. He’d scouted the town across the pass, learning that there had been a struggle between some officials and a young girl with pale blonde hair who had asked about a priest.

Then the trackers had come back and reported that Ella had been captured. Evora only hoped the girl came out alive, untouched by the hands of the thief.

Their entire journey had been plagued by cliffs, rivers and treacherous passes. Now there was some evil creature out there.

Evora could tell when she was being hunted.

Her guards couldn’t keep up a fast pace, and still be fully prepared for whatever was out there. Something was toying with them, slowing them.

High Enchantress Evora Guinestor had a fury now, a pent up rage that needed releasing. The trackers now told her they were only a day behind the thief and his captive. She would see him pay.

Joram waited until they were a short distance from the men. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Those wounds — they weren’t made by any beast. It was a man."

"A man?" Evora raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, a man."

"It’s true," one of the bladesingers said. Captain Joram frowned at him. The bladesinger looked away, unperturbed.

"How do you know?"

Joram continued, "It was a sword, or some kind of knife. The slashes were made by an edged weapon, not claws or teeth."

"But the sounds — the snarls, the roars?"

"I don’t know, High Enchantress."

Evora nodded. "You did well by telling me this away from the men. How are they holding up?"

"Fearful, but determined."

She decided she was beginning to like Captain Joram. He may have been thorough and rigorous, but he was also truthful.

"Good. Speed is our ally in this chase, but we mustn’t neglect our defences."

"High Enchantress, let me find this creature," one of the bladesingers said.

"No."

"I could wait..."

"I said no!" she turned the full weight of her glare on the man. He backed down.

Silently, they rejoined the company. Their faces were grim — they knew they were far from home. It was unlikely in this barren land, but if a party of Petryans caught them out here, it would be impossible to explain their presence. They would be considered a war party, and treated as such.

Captain Joram spoke, "Remember men, Raj Petrya are thus far neutral in this conflict, but our presence here is far from welcome. Stay alert. Scouts, I want you to stay in sight at all times. Trackers, always stay between the scouts and the main body. Move out."

The bladesingers stayed close to the High Enchantress as they moved. Every rock was a potential enemy. Every tree could contain a foe. It was tough going, and it wore on everyone’s nerves. The men had been up since before dawn and continued long past the sunset. It was the only way they could keep pace with their light-travelling quarry while still maintaining an effective defensive formation.

All the while, there wasn’t a man who didn’t know the High Enchantress was burning up inside. Calling always for more speed. Longer marches. Her countenance was so fearsome that the men relied on Captain Joram to communicate with her on their behalf.

They ate on the march. The sky was so darkened with clouds that Evora’s glowing timepiece was the only way to know it was midday. The men felt the presence of some unseen evil. The darkening of the sky only echoed the feeling.

Suddenly they stopped. One of the scouts was sprinting down the hillside, yelling as he ran.

"Pull yourself together, man!" Captain Joram said.

The scout came up to them, speaking between gasps. "Sir! I saw it. Gayal, he was on the ridge, some way back from me. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. It was so quick I couldn’t believe my eyes. The blood, it gushed out of his body."

Evora could see the men exchange fearful glances. She wished the scout would be quiet, hold his tongue and give his message elsewhere.

Joram pressed him for more information. "Yes, yes, man. What did you see?"

"It was a shape in white robes of some kind. It walked on two legs — it must have been a man. I thought I saw steel."

They all heard it then, a great snarling sound reverberating from the hills. Even Evora jumped when it was followed a heartbeat later by a piercing shriek.

The bladesinger looked at the High Enchantress, one eyebrow raised. Sighing, she nodded. He loosened the zenblade at his side, a wicked grin on his face.

~

T
HEY
posted half the already-exhausted men as sentries and the other half caught what little sleep they could. The bladesinger had left at dusk, and there wasn’t a man or woman among them who didn’t follow his departure with their eyes, a prayer to the Skylord on their lips.

They lit up every nightlamp and everyone checked their weapons, and then checked them again. These weren’t common Alturan soldiers, these were elite infantry, with enchanted metal armour of overlapping scales and the best single-activation swords the enchanters knew how to make.

Yet whatever was out there had scared battle-hardened men, soldiers who had faced the imperial legion during the Rebellion without a qualm.

Far away they heard a snarling.

"Look!" a man said.

A piercing bright light flared somewhere in the night. Even through trees and other obstructions it still lit half the night sky.

"That’s one of ours," said the High Enchantress. The men looked at her. "It must be the girl. We’re close."

There was silence for a time. Every man was on edge.

A man’s scream sounded in the night, somewhere not far away, the note one of extreme pain. Evora held her breath. The scream was suddenly cut off.