Ascendant's Rite (The Moontide Quartet) (76 page)

The cohort waded in, stabbing and hacking at the surviving Inquisitors, while beyond them, Jongebeau’s magi fled under scarlet and torn shielding. Nytrasia was still reeling in the saddle, but she steadied herself and started firing mage-bolts furiously at whoever came closest. Holdyne and Ferdi were blasted and dropped. Trefeld, screaming with battle-rage, flew backwards as a mage-bolt took him in the chest. Ramon lost sight of Nytrasia, then he saw her again on the far side of the mêlée, Perle’s body in her arms. Her eyes were wild.

She spurred her khurne and fled off to his left, heading south. A fresh wave of Vida men flooded into the space between them, pounding towards Lukaz’s cohort: a Kirkegarde unit, here to serve the Inquisitors. They were beautifully armoured, impeccably trained, from the highest echelons of Pallas society. Before the battle-hardened rankers of the Southern Army, veterans of three major battles, they crumbled in a bloody half-minute.

Manius and his front-rankers, augmented by Vidran’s second rank, stormed over the top of the Churchmen with brutal, businesslike butchery: hurling javelins, then drawing shortswords and punching them between gaps in their shield-wall,
thrust-step-thrust
and then breaking through so Harmon’s flankers could dart in, their longer blades dipping and darting faster than the eye could follow, stabbing necks and armpits and eyes. The first rank of Kirkegarde folded and the second tried to turn, but the third locked shields and finally held as a line of crossbowmen joined them.

Ramon flinched as he saw more of his men go down: little Ollyd, scythed by a javelin, the two Herde brothers shot by crossbows, side by side. Then a flood of Kip’s Bullheads hit the Kirkegarde from the side and carved a bloody path straight through them, wielding axes like maniacs.

The Fist was gone. The Kirkegarde went under, and then a gap opened between the two armies as Jongebeau’s few surviving battle-magi, their maniples battered, started pulling back, cowering behind shields and seeking only to protect themselves. As their bloodlust and rage subsided, Seth’s men let them go.

A riderless khurne careered by and Ramon went for it, reaching out with Animagery to grip its mind. He had some difficulty, for it was alien and slippery and unnaturally intelligent, but he managed, holding it in place as he propelled himself into the saddle. Nytrasia was a black blur in a cloud of dust as she fled south with Perle slung over the front of her saddle. He threw a look back, seeking Seth, and found him beside Evan Hale, who was on his knees, staring at the stump of his left arm. Gerdhart was bellowing for Lanna Jureigh or Carmina Phyl. Beyond, on the slope above, the Vida men were reforming, but it was clear that with the Fist destroyed, Jongebeau didn’t have the will to push this confrontation into full-scale battle. There were a lot of officers on both sides yelling, ‘Hold! Hold!’

But Alis Nytrasia was getting away.

Without further thought, Ramon kicked the khurne into motion and gave chase.

29

Delta

Men and Beasts

The mythology of Lantris is filled with men and women who are part-animal. These hybrid beings – lamiae, satyrs, centaurs and the like – speak to the fascination that the animal kingdom has for us, who feel at once part of it and at the same time
above
it: kings of all we survey. It is our ambivalent relationship with beasts – predator, companion and prey – that lies behind such famous tales as ‘Hektus Lionhead’ and ‘Derra and the Cygnus King’.

P
ALLAS
A
RCANUM, 703

Kesh, on the continent of Antiopia

Awwal (Martrois) 930

21
^st
month of the Moontide

Ramon kept his khurne moving. It was tireless, and in some ways magnificent, but it was also appalling, knowing a human soul was trapped inside this beast. Right now though, he needed every advantage and was prepared to use any tool that came to hand. As they rode he linked his mind to it, gaining sharper control, and learned a little of what it could do.

Nytrasia’s khurne would have left him well behind normally, but the Inquisitor was hampered by the weight of the wounded Perle and it soon became clear she wouldn’t risk wounding him further by travelling too fast. Ramon was catching up.

The battleground was miles behind him now, and he was moving cautiously again, not wanting to blunder into an ambush – Nytrasia was dangerous enough without ceding the advantage of surprise. He didn’t need to be in sight to follow her anyway – he’d slid a mental probe past her wards during the chase: she was heavily distracted and it hadn’t been hard. Now he scryed her gently, just enough to pick out distance and direction. As long as he kept his touch light, she’d remain unaware of his pursuit. She’d stabilised Perle’s bleeding, but he was still doubled over in front of her in the saddle. It would be dark soon, but she was barely a mile ahead, hidden by the undulating ground.

Where’s she going?
Ramon wondered as he put on an extra spurt. The khurne seemed inexhaustible, but he was struggling himself. Desperation drove him on: Nytrasia’s aura had the same deathly reek as Jelaska’s and he was pretty sure she was a Necromancer. If that was the case, the hours of darkness would be her sanctuary and strength.

He’d tried scrying for Sevvie or Julietta but found nothing. They were warded, or perhaps stashed somewhere beneath the earth. He could only hope that he’d be able to deal with whatever he found when he caught up.

Pater Sol, protect my daughter.

*

Severine Tiseme rolled herself into a bundle on the sweat-reeking cot, dabbing at her eyes and trying not to let her daughter see that she was scared to the edge of reason. The little hut had no windows, just a low door that even she needed to hunch over to go through – not that she could, for it was locked and bolted. Her gnosis was Chained, completely out of reach, and she couldn’t stop shaking. There was a Dokken with the Inquisitors, and his very presence terrified her.

He’s going to murder me and drink my soul
. They’d told her so, over and over, taking hideous delight in making her cry. So many questions, and always the threat of what they’d do to her if she didn’t answer; not even hours of confessions satisfied them.

‘All the magi deserters must die . . . but we’ll pardon you, Severine, if you tell us what we want to know,’ they’d said, so she’d told them everything they wanted to hear – she
had
to, for Julietta’s sake.

They all scared her: especially Ullyn Siburnius and his ugly threats; and vicious Alis Nytrasia and her repugnant shadow Perle . . . but worst of all was the Souldrinker, Delta. Just the sight of his shaven skull and hooded eyes was enough to set her limbs quivering. When she was a little girl, her mother always terrified her with stories of them, but seeing one up close was even more horrifying. He was outside now, prowling like a hungry lion.

Julietta whimpered in her sleep and Severine stroked her fine hair, murmuring, ‘Papa will come,’ to soothe her. ‘Papa will save us.’

She didn’t really believe that, of course. Ramon had never been good enough for her – and now, doubtless, he hated her. She would never be able tell him that looking back, every moment she’d ever spent with him felt golden.

As the light around the ill-fitting door faded, Julietta began to stir in her sleep, her little mouth quivering in anticipation of milk. Then Sevvie heard the thud of hooves and all her fears came flooding back.

But there was only one set of hoof-beats outside. She slowly sat up, mouth dry, heart thumping, holding Julietta to her breast.
They won’t kill me if I hold her. They’ll take pity. No one kills a mother.

Someone spoke outside: a woman. The words were muted by the door, but Severine recognised the voice. Just hearing Alis Nytrasia made her bowels churn as her imagination dredged up all those horrible threats again.

‘I said,
get up
,’ Nytrasia rasped, just outside the door – not to her, though. She was using the tone she reserved for Delta. She heard the Dokken make a choking sound, and there was scrabbling in the sand. The lock rattled, a bolt was shot back and the door swung open, flooding the tiny cell with light and fresher air.

‘Come out, Severine. Bring the brat with you.’

‘Please,’ Severine whispered.
If I stay in here she won’t hurt me. If I hold Julietta, she’ll remember that I’m a mother
. ‘I can’t.’

Something unseen seized her, like a hand around her throat, and pulled her towards the door. She clutched her child tight, trying to protect her as she was dragged bodily from the hut. Her foot caught the piss-pot, tipping it over, and the thin blanket she’d wrapped around them both snagged on the doorframe and tore, but Nytrasia, hand stretched towards her, was pitiless.

‘Don’t hurt me,’ she begged.

‘Are you a healer-mage?’ Nytrasia demanded.

Severine looked at her blankly, then her eyes went past Nytrasia to her khurne. Lying on the ground beside it was a figure wrapped in bloody cloth. The face was covered, but the arms were bare and smoking in the last rays of sunset.

What in Hel?

‘Can you heal him?’ Nytrasia barked, and with a jolt Severine realised that the Inquisitor woman was frightened too, such that she might tip over into sudden violence at any moment. She clutched Julietta to her and shook her head fearfully.

‘Then what use are you?’ Nytrasia shouted, gnosis-fire kindling in her right hand.

‘No!’ Severine wrapped herself around Julietta, who woke and began to cry. She clung to the tiny newborn in desperation, her mantra running through her head:
She won’t kill me if I’m holding her. I’m a mother – she can’t! No one could kill a mother and baby . . .

Then a voice rang out over the dell, crying, ‘
NYTRASIA!
’

Ramon’s voice.

Severine heard a squeal escape her lips.
He’s come for me!

*

Ramon tethered his khurne outside the camp then ghosted in behind the rocks, sixty yards above and behind the Inquisitor, but he’d barely arrived when she raised her hand against Severine – he could see Nytrasia wasn’t bluffing, and she was shielded, so the only way he could stop her harming Sevvie and Julietta was to distract her.

‘
NYTRASIA!
’ he shouted, and moved into view, showing his hands. ‘
WAIT!
’

The Inquisitor whirled, the shock on her face telling him she’d not known he was there. Then the shaven-haired Dokken, Delta, stepped from behind the small hut; for a moment Ramon wondered why he’d revealed himself, then he glimpsed a sliver of light running from Nytrasia to the man’s throat, where a periapt pulsed.

Dokken don’t use periapts – he’s a slave!
But that didn’t explain why he’d stepped into view, unless her control was imperfect. Something to think about later; right now he had to stop her.

‘You don’t need to hurt them!’ he shouted.

Nytrasia’s face became calculating. ‘I might
want
to,’ she snarled.

‘Well, let me put it like this, Nytrasia. If you touch Sevvie or Julietta, I’ll kill Perle.’

‘
No!
’ Her panicked reaction told him he’d hit a very raw nerve indeed. Then the slyness crept back into her voice. ‘Who are you to dictate to me, Silacian? Or should I say
half-
Silacian? Who’s your father, Sensini?’

‘Cut the pretence: you’ve spoken with the Treasury-men – you know exactly who I am.’

‘You’re right: I do. But what’s interesting is that your own lover doesn’t. Severine spilled everything else – every
single
thing – but you never told her that, did you? Sad to keep secrets from one you’re so intimate with.’ She peered about warily. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Don’t you know?’ Clearly Nytrasia wasn’t a seer. Well and good if she thought he had support: he just wished he did.

Nytrasia edged closer to Perle, who looked barely alive, lying there in the sand. Her voice changed tone, becoming more reasonable. ‘All right, Sensini. You win: you can have them both. I’m going to levitate Perle to the skiff and fly away with him and Delta. I’ll leave you the woman and the child. No tricks, just a back-down on both sides. My pride can just about take that. Can yours?’

That sounds suspiciously sensible
.

Perle moaned faintly and Nytrasia’s face went ashen. The wounded Inquisitor had started writhing and muttering his partner’s name softly, then he made a more chilling sound: a low snarl. Ramon remembered the impact of the two crossbow bolts, and him collapsing over his mount’s back and rolling off with blood everywhere.

How is he still alive . . . ?
Then he opened up his senses just a little and saw violet hues and smoking wounds and amended that question to:
Is he still alive at all?

Then he realised Nytrasia was
waiting
, scarcely daring to move. When he squinted, he could see that same violet light playing around her fingertips, barely visible in the glare of the setting sun.

Silence fell. Even Julietta’s weeping stilled, as if she too felt the sudden tension, the palpable sense of impeding doom.

Muted red-orange light was streaming sideways across the clearing, lighting them all for a final few moments before the sun sank below the horizon and the desert night took over. Delta’s pale face looked like a Lantric mask dipped in gold. Nytrasia was squinting into the light, her shadow long, her sword a ribbon of purple fire.

The sun’s going down . . . and she’s a Necromancer . . .

There wasn’t time to think it through properly; he just burst into motion, yelling, ‘Sevvie,
run
—
!
’

*

Severine was huddled into herself, clinging to her daughter for courage, when Ramon shouted, ‘
SEVVIE, RUN!
’ The cry cut through her.