Chaosmage (17 page)

To make matters worse, Monella sank stiffly to one knee, and in front of everyone swore a blood oath in a loud, clear voice. The rest sank to their knees and repeated the words until Alyssa was looking at Zannah over a sea of kneeling heads. For a second Alyssa thought the Morrin would also kneel, which would've been more than she could bear, but thankfully Zannah didn't.

It took Monella a while to explain to the group outside the gate but once they realised they wouldn't be turned away several wept with joy. Zannah collected every weapon and secured them in a safe location before Alyssa was allowed down onto the street.

Under instruction from Monella, and with several others watching from the walls, one by one the new arrivals knelt in front of Alyssa. Each swore a blood oath of fealty and when one woman tried to kiss her hand Alyssa drew back in horror. When it was finally over she hurried into the main building, suddenly desperate to be away from the adoring faces and grateful smiles.

The corridor swam in her vision as tears clouded her eyes and she swallowed a desperate hitch in her throat. This wasn't right. She wasn't a leader. She wasn't a member of the nobility. No one should be bending their knee to her. She didn't want this. Until now she'd let people hold on to whatever rituals made them happy, but this was a step too far. She had to stop it before it could spread any further.

Turning on her heel Alyssa wiped her eyes and intended to march back up to the courtyard when she saw the faces of other people around her in the corridor. All were looking at her with the same adulation as the new arrivals. It had always been there and she'd just not seen it. Pride had made her blind and now it was too late.

Biting her lip she managed to make it to her room and close the door before the first sob escaped her lips. She curled into a ball and wept, praying through floods of tears to the Blessed Mother for wisdom.

T
ammy had spent the morning visiting other mercenary camps and now only one remained. She'd left it until last on purpose because it had the worst reputation. Several people she'd spoken to had fled from the camp, which was run by a Morrin known as Fenne. Although the conditions they endured in the other bases were not comfortable they preferred it to Fenne's camp. This time Tammy had left the winery in her leather armour, armed with two daggers and her sword.

With a heavy pack of wine clanking on her shoulder she approached the final camp with some apprehension. The building must have once been a temple, as she could see a golden dome rising above what had formerly been a white stone wall. Now it was black and grey, smeared with what looked like dried blood and ash.

The neighbouring buildings on either side had been torn down and all rubble cleared away. A series of metal spikes driven into the ground formed a tangled web of sharp edges and blades along both sides of the temple. The wall looked as if it had originally been intended to be decorative. It had not been designed to protect worshippers from a siege, but now Fenne had turned the temple into a fortress.

At the front of the compound the only gate remained clear of spikes. The thick wooden doors looked new and had been banded with iron. Fenne had created a choke point and no doubt behind the gates he had a nasty surprise for any Forsaken that managed to make it through. Whatever else, the man was obviously devious and well prepared.

Long before she approached the entrance Tammy realised she was being watched. She'd spotted at least two lookouts positioned in buildings on either side of the street. Brief flashes of light from pieces of a mirror relayed a message back to the main camp so by the time she arrived four mercenaries were watching her from atop the wall. All were
hard
-
faced
men and women and each carried a bow held at the ready.

Moving slowly Tammy slid the rucksack off her back and took out a bottle of wine. Much to her surprise the gates started to open before she had a chance to make the offer. Four more mercenaries came out to meet her, three men and a woman with spiky red hair. Their leader, a
well
-
built
Seve dressed in ragged grey furs over chainmail, rubbed at his greying beard as he craned his neck to stare her in the eye. Though he was slight for a Seve, at only six feet tall, with a craggy face and eyes so dark they were almost black, Tammy thought he looked familiar. The most unusual feature about him that stuck in her mind was that he carried a sword on his back. It was a peculiarity normally reserved for Drassi warriors.

From the way he was looking at her it seemed as if he also recognised her from somewhere. “Perizzi?” he asked, and she nodded. “We all end up passing through there eventually.”

“Do you know why I'm here?”

“We keep an eye on the other camps,” he said by way of explanation. “I'm Kovac. If you want to come inside we'll need your weapons.”

Tammy didn't try to argue the point or even threaten them if they reneged on the deal, but as she passed
Maligne
over to Kovac she paused. “Take good care of this blade. It was a gift from a friend.”

Kovac took the sword from her and held it carefully. “You have my word.”

She didn't think his word was worth much, given his profession, but again she kept her mouth shut. One of the others reached for the pack and she handed it over, then offered the bottle in her hand to Kovac. He passed it on to someone else, who pulled out the cork and took a sip.

“That's good shit,” said the woman with spiky hair.

“How would you know, Sylla?” asked one of the other mercenaries as he reached for the bottle but she snatched it away.

“I used to sell this stuff,” said Sylla, staring at the bottle with a frown and then smelling the wine. “Where did you get it from?”

Tammy said nothing. If Sylla was telling the truth and she knew her wine then any information could be dangerous. Anything she said might give them a clue as to where the wine had really come from.

“Fenne agreed to the same deal,” said Kovac, steering her towards the open gate. “The wine for one hour inside the camp. I strongly suggest you don't linger.”

Tammy accepted the warning and then there was no time for further conversation as she had to watch carefully where she was walking. Just beyond the gate was a huge yawning pit, maybe ten feet deep, lined with more metal spikes. Stones that had probably been poached from neighbouring buildings formed two high walls on either side, creating a long tunnel.

A narrow wooden gangplank lay across the middle of the pit and she waited until Kovac had crossed before following. Even then the plank wobbled up and down with just her weight and Tammy had to raise her arms to maintain her balance. One wrong step and she'd plunge to a grisly death. The pit was too long to jump and there was no space on either side to walk around. It was devious and it told her much about Fenne.

“One hour,” said Kovac, gesturing around the courtyard. Unlike the other camps the temple was all on one level. There were several small outhouses built into the walls of the courtyard, two large stables and beyond them three long narrow buildings. Finally, at the back was the temple itself, its golden dome reflecting some of the meagre winter sun.

Tammy spotted several local people hard at work, fetching and carrying water from a large central well, cleaning weapons, repairing arrows and sharpening a massive pile of metal spikes. One woman worked the crank while two more held a crude metal bar against the grindstone and a shower of sparks erupted. A woman dressed in leathers stood over them, yelling instructions as sparks burned their skin.

Elsewhere she saw more people being brutalised and not one of them fought back or even glared at their tormentors. Shael was a land of broken people and those in front of her had come to accept such treatment, as if it were just their lot in life.

Tammy heard horrendous sounds of what could only be torture coming from one of the outhouses. Kovac flinched as the screams reached fever pitch and then suddenly cut off. The door of the small building flew open and a lean Morrin emerged, stripped to the waist.

Fresh blood dripped down his face and neck and more covered his furry chest and arms. His horns and hair were doused in it and he spat a huge red wad onto the ground. Everyone in the courtyard stopped what they were doing to stare as a heavy silence fell.

“Get back to work,” snarled the Morrin. As if whatever he'd been doing hadn't just happened, everyone turned their faces away and went back to their tasks. As long as it wasn't them. After all, as they probably kept telling themselves, worse horrors were waiting for them outside the gates at night.

Tammy took a deep breath to try and maintain her calm. She managed it eventually but it took a while for the adrenaline to fade. Time was short so she went to work, approaching the nearest person.

After speaking to several locals, once they were given permission by whichever mercenary was lurking nearby, Tammy had very little new information. All of them had lost friends and relatives in the last few years and the pattern of disappearances seemed random. Whenever possible she mentioned Alyssa's offer of sanctuary in a whisper. Each time the person listened but never agreed to anything. One woman laughed and said she wouldn't be caught out by such a trick, and that she was loyal to Fenne.

Tammy was beginning to worry that none of the locals knew anything when she came across an old man scrubbing potatoes. At a second glance she realised he wasn't actually that old, but his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. He was so skinny Tammy could see every rib of his body. One of his eyes was swollen shut and a purple bruise ran down one side of his face.

“I'm Tammy.”

“Perron.”

“What happened to your face?”

“I got caught eating a potato,” said Perron with a grin that showed several broken teeth. “I was just so hungry.”

Time was getting on and Perron was her last chance to ask any questions about the Forsaken. “I'm here to offer you something better than this.”

“That's what he said.”

The words make Tammy's scalp prickle. “Who?”

Perron resumed his scrubbing and his voice dropped to a whisper. “They don't want us to talk about it. This was a few months ago, before it turned really bad. Jambral was a decent sort. He used to hunt and fish, so they sent him out to scavenge for food. One day he went out and didn't come back.” Perron finished scrubbing the potato and picked up another from the pile. “We thought he was dead. A few people had disappeared or run off, except the next day he turned up. He just walked up to the gates with a deer slung over one shoulder.”

Perron's eyes misted over and he started drooling, probably at the thought of venison. He smacked his lips together and went back to work, keeping one eye on the mercenary lurking nearby. Without looking around Tammy knew Kovac was stood not far away. He had shadowed her the entire time but oddly had not stopped to talk to any of the other mercenaries.

“One night Jambral told me what had happened. He went out hunting and was just so tired he fell asleep. By the time he woke up it was nearly dark. The Forsaken found him and they took him.”

“Took him where?” said Tammy, as gently as she could. It was the one question that she kept coming back to which no one could answer.

“I'm not sure,” said Perron. Tammy smiled through her teeth, trying not to let her frustration show. “They hit him on the head and carried him off the street, but he woke up on the way. They took him somewhere cold and he said it smelled damp. The cold seemed to seep into his bones, but after a while none of that mattered any more.”

Tammy had a good idea of what Perron was going to say next but she wanted to hear him say it. “Why not?”

“They changed him. After that he felt stronger and he was always so warm. He wasn't tired, and hunger wasn't twisting him up inside any more. He wasn't alone either as he was connected to the others. Jambral tried to explain it to me, but he didn't really have the words.”

“Did he say how he was changed?”

“No, he didn't.”

Despite his current predicament, the broken teeth, swollen eye and fear of the mercenaries, she knew Perron was lying. Working as a Guardian, and even before, Tammy had developed a talent for knowing when someone wasn't telling the truth. She thought about explaining her offer of sanctuary to Perron, but knew he wouldn't believe her. Instead she tried a different approach.

“If you could have anything in this world, what would it be?” she asked. Her question was unusual, but from Perron's expression it was almost as if he'd been expecting her to ask it. At what seemed like the end of the world, when death was so close, it must have been a question he'd asked himself many times before. It didn't take Perron long to think of an answer.

“My daughter, Rheena. She's all I have left.”

Tammy gripped one of Perron's hands until he looked at her. “I swear I will do everything I can to get her somewhere safe.”

She sat back and for a few moments just listened to the scrape of his brush. Eventually Perron collected his thoughts but still spoke in barely more than a whisper, as if afraid of what might happen when the words found purchase in the world.

“Jambral said the Embrace wasn't something beautiful. It was painful and horrific. They forced his mouth open and made him swallow something. He nearly choked to death. Worst of all he said that he could feel it moving. It was alive.” Perron shuddered at the thought and covered his heart with one hand, in remembrance of the Blessed Mother. “This creature they made him swallow, it became part of him. Eventually he didn't know it was there any more. It nourished him and made him stronger and healthier. After that he didn't care.”

“What did it want in return?”

Perron shrugged. “He didn't know, but the Forsaken needed him to be strong.”

“What happened to Jambral?”

“Something went wrong,” said Perron. “The Embrace was supposed to bring him peace, being one and many together he said, but it didn't work properly. That's why he came back. He could still feel the other Forsaken, but he was different. That didn't matter to them,” said Perron, gesturing towards the nearest mercenary. “Jambral couldn't hide what was happening and soon they noticed he looked far too healthy. When they realised he'd been changed they ripped him apart and burned the pieces.”

“It's time to go,” said Kovac, glancing around nervously.

“What's wrong?” asked Tammy, but the mercenary just shook his head.

“I won't forget my promise,” she said to Perron before hurrying after Kovac across the courtyard. The gate was closed and the gangplank over the pit had been taken away, but the guards inside the gate picked it up at their approach.

“Open the gate,” said Kovac and three mercenaries moved to follow his order.

“Wait,” said a voice from behind her. All of the mercenaries paused in what they were doing and Tammy saw Kovac's shoulders slump. She turned around to see Fenne walking towards her, flanked by a dozen mercenaries. He'd cleaned off most of the blood and pulled on a shirt, but there were still patches on his face like war paint. The Morrin's smile was unnerving and Tammy felt her pulse begin to race as her body anticipated an imminent outburst of violence.