Wintercraft: Legacy (18 page)

‘What are they doing?’ asked Tom.

‘Just . . . letting us know they are here.’

The two of them moved back along the bank until they were forced to wade into deeper water and Tom bumped into a wall set with a blue window.

‘All right,’ said Artemis, talking loudly, trying to sound authoritative. ‘Tell us . . . Tell us what you want.’

Some of the shades left their places on the banks and drifted across the water, heading straight for Artemis. ‘Go inside,’ he said, pushing the door open for Tom. ‘Quickly.’ The moment the two of them were inside the building, the shades stopped moving, content to watch them from a distance. Tom stayed by the doorway, looking back at them with nervous fascination.

‘Climb out of the water,’ said Artemis. ‘You’ll catch your death in this cold.’

Tom scrambled up on to a table at the side of the room
and sat there shivering. Artemis waded deeper into the room and bumped into something solid that was hidden under the water close by. His hands found what felt like an open circle made of stone.

‘
Artemis
. . .’

Tom sat up straight. Artemis put a shaky hand upon the edge of the circle and the stone tiles trembled beneath his fingers. A symbol glowed in the water – a snowflake – flickering as though lit by a submerged flame.

‘I – I don’t . . .’ he stammered nervously, looking back at Tom. ‘I can’t . . .’

‘. . .
book bearer
. . .’

‘No. That’s not me,’ said Artemis, talking to the symbol, not knowing what else to do. ‘My niece, Kate. She’s the one who—’

‘. . .
she abandoned us
. . .’

‘I don’t know what she did. I’m looking for her. I want to help her.’

‘. . .
Kate will see in the darkness. She is not strong enough to resist us
. . .’

‘Who are you?’ demanded Artemis, his voice quivering. ‘How can I hear you?’

‘. . .
we have claimed this wheel to speak with you. These stones are ours now. We are your past, your blood, and your bones. We gave you life through the centuries. You carry our name, but you deny our ways. You and Kate are nothing without us
. . .’

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Artemis. ‘If you are Kate’s ancestors, you would try to help her.’

‘. . .
you let her go
. . .’

‘I was protecting her!’

‘. . .
from us
. . .’

The stone tiles became colder than ice, but Artemis refused to lift his hand away. ‘Was Kate here?’ he asked. ‘Did you speak to her?’

‘. . .
she will finish our work, then she will die beside us
. . .’

‘No. Your time is over. This is her life.
Her
time.’

‘. . .
no Winters walks alone
. . .’

Artemis pushed himself away from the spirit wheel and the light in the symbol died. ‘I am talking to the air!’ he said furiously.

‘Shades were alive once,’ said Tom. ‘They still are, just in a different way.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Artemis. ‘I don’t care about any of it! I want Kate out of this city and back where she is safe. With me.’

‘. . .
your chance has passed. You have a new role to play
.’

Water drained swiftly from the centre of the wheel, sending droplets spluttering into the air, and Artemis spotted an object hidden in the space it left behind. The purple cover of
Wintercraft
was damp, but not soaked through. The edges of its pages were discoloured, yet the papers themselves had survived. Artemis reached in carefully to lift it out. He inspected the book on all sides, ran a hand over the silver studs speckling its edges and opened it carefully to the first page, which bore the inscription he already knew so well.

Those who wish to see the dark, be ready to pay your price.

Those words had never seemed more true. That book had already cost him and Kate their family. Now its legacy was threatening to claim Kate too.

Artemis turned gently through the pages and faint whispers spread around the room. Halfway through, the pages were parted by a loose note that had been slipped in between them. For a moment, Artemis hoped that Kate had left something behind. The paper was dry and fragile, and when he unfolded it he found a letter signed with a name he did not know.

‘What’s that?’ asked Tom.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Artemis, before reading the letter out loud.

‘Ravik Marr?’ Tom suddenly looked even more interested. ‘Da’ru used to talk about him. He was her grandfather, or great-grandfather. A powerful Skilled in his day.’

‘I don’t think he lived very long after writing this,’ said Artemis, continuing to read.

Wintercraft
was already an uncomfortable weight in Artemis’s hands. Now it felt like a stone.

Artemis’s hands were shaking a little, but he read on, keeping the next lines to himself. The final section had been written much more carefully, its letters formed with great precision.

Tom waited to hear more. ‘What does the rest of it say?’ he asked.

Artemis let the note fall closed. ‘It says I have to follow Kate.’ He tucked the note back into the book and closed it gently, not wanting to let the spirits in the room see Ravik Marr’s final words. Artemis’s idea of what was and was not possible had shifted greatly in recent months. He had
worked with books all his life, and the idea of a soul being locked inside the pages he was holding – while certainly disturbing – did not seem as unlikely as it once might have.

The surface of the water rippled with tiny waves and Artemis made for the door, carrying
Wintercraft
with him. ‘It’s too cold to stay in here,’ he said. ‘We need to go.’

‘
Artemis
. . .’

The voice chilled him. He did not have to look down to know that the silver eyes were still close by.

Tom dropped down into the water and beat him to the door. A drift of warm air passed across their faces and the lake receded slowly, its waters dragging at their legs until they were walking on relatively dry ground.

‘I’ve never seen water do that before,’ said Tom.

‘Nor have I,’ Artemis said warily.

The shifting water had exposed part of the upper lake edge, allowing them to climb safely back to the streets. The shades were still standing around the water, but Artemis made a point of not looking at them as the lake surged in to fill the path behind them.

‘What do we do when we find Kate?’ asked Tom.

‘We find out what is happening and we get her out of it.
I’ll
get her out of it. You will be hidden somewhere I know you are safe.’

‘Like out here, you mean? With them?’ Tom raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by that plan.

The lakeside was certainly not a place anyone would want to be alone in the dark. There was something disturbing about the way the shades watched them walk by. They were distant, but alert, and their forms faded smoothly
into the water whenever Artemis limped close to them.

The Winters’ tower loomed up ahead, easily dwarfing the other towers around it, even in its broken state. His parents had told stories about it when he was young. They had talked about the pride of the Winters and the secrets they had hidden away, not only in the book of Wintercraft, which had been missing for many years in his parents’ time, but in other places, like that tower, where his father believed time lost all meaning to those of Winters blood.

Artemis had never taken those stories as anything more than fables, but believing in them was what eventually led his brother to his death. Now, standing within eyesight of the tower itself, Artemis wished he had paid more attention to his parents’ words.

When the two of them reached the point where Kate and Dalliah had headed into the streets, the sky in the east glowed with soft orange light. Artemis ignored it, believing it to be the first light of sunrise. When the sky faded unexpectedly back to black, he glanced at the rooftops, where another fiery glow soon followed the first. This one was higher up, like an orange star that rose straight up before sinking back down into the city. A faint sound echoed from the towers: a heavy sound that reverberated like a beaten drum.

Artemis kept walking, not knowing what he had just witnessed.

The walls of Fume were under attack. The battle for the city had begun.

In the distant east, a street was licked by fire. The air filled with the smell of foul smoke and a fiery mass smouldered where it had become embedded in the side of a tower. Plumes of smoke rose like fingers from the city’s surrounding walls. The narrow walkways within them flickered with firelight and flames spread along them like sparks along a fuse wire, forcing night-servants and slaves to run down the spiral staircases into the city, fleeing for their lives.

Distant screams carried across the city and wardens swept through the streets in packs, their black robes streaming back to expose the leather armour beneath. Every one of them was heavily armed as they forced their way up on to the burning walls, passing the servants streaming down.

Beyond the walls, organised ranks of Continental
soldiers had gathered out of arrow-shot. The network of watchmen stationed along Albion’s coast had failed. No birds had carried messages of an incoming enemy attack and the Wild Counties were vast enough for any number of soldiers to pass through unseen. The High Council would never have expected more than a thousand men to appear at the gates within the space of a day. Silas was the only one who had ever planned for such a direct assault. Now he had been proved right.

The black-clothed enemy had reached the city before the wall guards could raise the alarm. The wardens were vastly outnumbered, but the officers listened to Silas’ warning as word of it carried through their ranks. The order to prepare for battle had spread quickly through the city, calling every warden into their defensive positions. During his time as warden leader, Silas had ordered them to train for a city attack twice a year and that training sharpened every officer’s mind now that the enemy truly were at the gates. Even though Silas was not there in person, the wardens followed his orders as diligently as if he were shouting them from a tower top.

Five men to a battle group.

Secure the section of wall under greatest threat.

Send teams to the gate farthest from the attack and defend in case of possible infiltration.

Execute, imprison and contain.

Runners lit beacon fires at strategic positions on rooftops across the eastern city, and scattered copper filings upon them whenever an enemy was spotted within their line of sight. The copper-tainted flames burned
green, allowing lookouts to identify the section of the wall most under threat.

As the wardens advanced, the city’s remaining residents fled out through the besieged streets, leaving their protectors to fight for their homes. Not one of them chose to pick up a weapon and defend themselves. They were used to having people serve them. Now they expected wardens to die for them as well.

The yellow moon moved behind a bank of heavy cloud as soldiers converged upon the walls, bombarding the buildings beyond them from horse-drawn siege weapons loaded with fiery ammunition designed to tear into buildings and scatter destruction across the ground below.

Hot streaks cut through the air as arrows speared over the walls. The wardens took cover and warden bowmen posted upon the battlements soon returned fire. A handful of men fell, but most officers were practised enough to hold their positions until the flurry of arrows gradually lessened and a loud thud announced the arrival of a battering ram at the eastern gate.

That sound was every Fume resident’s nightmare. The gate shuddered, sending shivers through the mighty walls. The noise carried through the streets and was heard as far away as the central city square.

Thud
.

Thud
.