Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun (14 page)

He detected a shape … a shadow within a shadow, low to the ground, sliding along in perfect silence. Something about the way it glided over the roadway, like a thick mist, raised the hair of his head. Once seen, he noticed more shapes like the first. Their paths seemed aimless, and thus unpredictable.

“Gods good and wise,” Zera breathed. Though just audible, her voice carried a note of fear that compounded Leitos’s own. “The city is overrun with
Mahk’lar
.”

“Then why did you bring us here?” Leitos demanded, his voice little more than a trembling hiss.

“Bone-towns have always been haunts for
Mahk’lar
,” Zera said. “Stones of protection prevent them from possessing the living ... but I have never seen such a gathering.”

“What do we do?” Leitos asked, clutching the stone dangling from its leather cord around his neck, even as he wondered how a bit of polished rock could offer any defense against creatures of the Thousand Hells.

Before she could answer, a chill blade slid up Leitos’s spine. He flung himself against Zera, who first cursed his clumsiness, then went rigid, eyes locked on something over his shoulder.

Leitos wheeled. Within the darkness before his eyes hung something darker still, a total absence of light in the shape of no living creature he had ever seen. The blade that had caressed him was no blade at all, but a jagged, inky-black talon. That terrible claw raised up amid eight others, all spread in a wide fan. They slashed suddenly, almost playfully, across his face. Cold agony raked through one cheek, the bridge of his nose. He wrenched back with a garbled shout. With the pain came a brief flaring of dull blue light that originated from the stone of protection and raced over his skin, then dissipated in crackling sparks.

The
Mahk’lar
jerked away with a hiss, a twisted thing trailing wisps of vapor. A single gray eye centered in its forehead narrowed in hate. “Yours is a destiny cursed,” it snarled. “The age of men is an undying corpse longing for the reeking soil of the grave.” The demonic spirit said more as it retreated and vanished, the words spoken in a language beyond human understanding.

“Come,” Zera urged, rising from her knees.

Heart pounding, Leitos touched his face, and found the skin whole. “What of the Fallen?” he asked.

“Safeguarded as we are by the stones of protection, no
Mahk’lar
can harm our souls or our flesh, but their creations—the
Alon’mahk’lar
—can destroy us.” She dragged him up and over the rubble at their backs, and they dropped into a lightless alley.

Shaking off his revulsion, Leitos pulled his wrist from her grip. “I will follow.”

Zera thought about that for a heartbeat, then set off. Soon, they were jogging along, crisscrossing the barren city on what seemed to Leitos a haphazard path. He did not question her. He did not have the breath, for one, and for another it was apparent that she wanted to escape the
Mahk’lar
as much as he did. Still, he could not help but wonder if wandering about, instead of simply climbing over the nearest city wall, was the best choice.

Large as the city was, they kept on for an hour or more, and still there seemed to be no indication that they were getting closer to escaping. Zera paused at a building that had burned hot enough to powder its brick structure. Around its foundation grew a stand of tall, stiff, bushy weeds yellowed and dried from the summer heat.

“Here we are,” she said, as if she had been looking for those weeds in particular. She used her dagger to cut through several woody stems, and pulled her skein of cord from her satchel. Dividing the weeds in half, she tied each bunch together, then secured one cord around Leitos’s waist, and the end of the other around her own.

She moved off, the trailing foliage obscuring her tracks. Leitos could not help but think it was a pointless endeavor, given that they had left a trail throughout the city, but amended his judgment when the city wall abruptly materialized out of the night. Understanding dawned. They were about to escape onto the road to Zuladah, and she was still trying to confuse Sandros and Pathil.

Not for the first time, Leitos felt inept for the task with which Adham had charged him. He had completely forgotten about the two Hunters. If left to his own devices, he would have simply run. Such an oversight would surely have meant his capture. He berated himself, but also committed the lesson to memory.

Zera angled toward a sprawling break in the wall, and a din of growls rose up. Zera slid to a halt. Leitos careened into her and bounced off.

“Cut yourself free,” she said, low but insistent. In place of the dagger she had been using, now her sword came to hand. “Defend yourself, Leitos, for we face
Alon’mahk’lar
.”

As monstrous figures closed in, Leitos stabbed his fist into the satchel tangled about his shoulders, slicing his fingers on the small knife he had stored away. Hissing, he pulled the weapon free and slashed the cord tied about his waist. He backed away as one of the creatures came closer than the others, an enemy so hideous that the sight of it threatened to unravel his mind.

The
Alon’mahk’lar
had the shape of a dog, and a cluster of bulbous eyes, glowing an ugly amber, sprouted from its broad, knotted forehead. Spines of bone stretched in a ridge from its thick neck to its lashing, club-like tail. Powerful limbs propelled it, legs that had more joints than they should, each knobby and dense with rippling muscle and cords of taut sinew. A rough, splotchy maroon hide covered it.

Zera flung Leitos aside as if he were no more substantial than an empty sack. At the same time, she flitted sideways as the creature sprang. Its mouth, a reeking cavern filled with back-curving fangs, snapped closed around the empty space where she had just been, spraying slaver. Her sword flashed, parting the side of the creature’s neck. Spinning, Zera whirled her sword in a tight circle. The blade rose high, arced down, parting the beast’s spine with a crunching shriek. The creature howled as it tumbled into the sand, forelegs clawing for purchase, its hindquarters convulsing amid the spill of bloody intestines.

Zera wheeled, letting the beast writhe in the throes of death, and faced the rest of the
Alon’mahk’lar
. Where they hesitated, she attacked.

Leitos stood frozen in place, jaw hanging loose as Zera flew into their midst. Her blade hewed bone, savaged flesh. Teeth and fangs slammed together on empty air and pained howls. The smell of blood curdled Leitos’s insides. The agonized cries of dying abominations washed over him, brought back the day Adham had sacrificed himself. The same clamor had risen up then, the same scents—

Leitos to fell to his knees on the sandy street, retching. He raised a shaky hand to swipe away the burning drool from his lips, but the hand never reached them. While Zera was engaged, another
Alon’mahk’lar
had circled around, seeking easier meat. Leitos moaned, an unconscious plea for mercy that he knew would never be granted.

The
Alon’mahk’lar
crept forward, a giant spider mingled with a scorpion. It rattled when it moved, a chitinous sound that set his teeth on edge. It advanced on ten legs, the swaying knees of which rose above its horned and plated back. Each leg ended at a single claw that scored deep grooves in the sandstone cobbles.

Leitos lurched to his feet, the knife in his blood-slicked hand poised to stab. Spindly legs clattering, the
Alon’mahk’lar
darted half the distance between them. Nearer it came, gaining two paces for each one he backed away. Nearer … nearer … nearer, until he heard a hissing whisper issue from its masticating jaws. Leitos’s thoughts ground to a halt, as words in the human tongue reached his ears.

… hold little one … hold … hold still … lie down … down ... sleep … rest child rest … submit … sweet flesh … feast … feed … devour bleed … bleed … oh sweet sleep …

The sibilant chant crept over his pebbled skin, sank beneath, wormed through him, froze his muscles and bones. He wanted to lie down, to offer himself up—

No!
a voice shouted within him, pleading, futilely resisting … fading … fading.

… still the heart… sleep child sleep … no pain … sweet blood … savor the meat … devour the soul … sweet nectar … sleep … slumber … rest … sweet perishing … sweet death … be still be … be quiet …

Leitos sank to his knees, eyes watering as that singsong whispering pierced his mind. The knife fell from his numb fingers. The lullaby filled him, a soft, comforting, eager muttering.

…s
leep … yes … rest … yes yes … lie down … yes yes yes … slumber … rest … peace … sleepslumbersleepslumberdie …”

Caught now in a placid dream, Leitos watched motionlessly as the creature’s jaws slid within a foot of his nose. Thick, pale foam spilled from its mouth.
Sleep
, he thought dazedly,
rest
.…

He slumped to one side, his body as limp as dewy grass. He no longer saw the beast before him, but rather a vision of a green field dotted with flowers.
So beautiful
, he thought drowsily. The sunlight was golden warmth on his face, so peaceful….

Sleep … forever … slumber … evermore….

A blow shattered the vision. For a moment he was trapped between the world he knew and the one he had seen. A thousand silvery-hot spikes lanced through his eyes, his skull, his very being. Even as the last syllables of that dread voice rolled over and through him, he found himself wallowing on the ground, choking on a mouthful of gritty dust.

“Get up!”
Zera ordered. She stood over the
Alon’mahk’lar
. It whispered no longer, and lay in pieces, oozing black blood. Somewhere nearby, hidden within the night’s oppressive murk, monstrous voices spewed condemnation.

Gagging on the dust coating his tongue, Leitos caught up his knife and scrambled unsteadily to his feet. Muddled, he stood in place, muscles shaking with the need to escape, but unable to choose a route.

Fingers clamped around the back of his neck and shoved him forward. In a shambling imitation of running, Leitos threw one foot in front of the other. Somewhere behind him, Zera bellowed in fury. Leitos ran on, gaining speed.

You cannot leave her!

With every step, his self-loathing grew, and finally he slowed, unsure how he could help, except to serve as a distraction to the beasts that harried Zera.

Suddenly she flew out of the night, hair wild, green eyes flashing. And she was grinning. A merciless smirk that had nothing to do with humor, only lethal joy. “Keep on!” she ordered, and he obeyed.

W
ith the
Alon’mahk’lar
hard on their heels, Leitos and Zera fled. The dead city flashed by, and the break in the warding wall fell far behind.
Alon’mahk’lar
spilled from decrepit buildings, drawn like hounds to the hunt. Zera guided them through alleys, buildings, and down streets, keeping them one step ahead of their enemies.

Zera ducked into a doorway without warning. Leitos kept on a half dozen paces, skidded to a halt, and raced back through the opening. Zera caught him as he flew past and dragged him down, her hand clamped over his lips. “Hold,” she breathed.

The demonic baying filled the night, coming closer. Leitos struggled not to jerk out of her grasp, the need to flee warring with her instruction.

“Their blood is hot for the hunt,” she whispered, sounding too excited by half. “That will make them careless. They will trample our scent amid their own and lose the trail. Watch. Wait.”

As the last word passed her lips, a pack of
Alon’mahk’lar
surged past the open doorway, a heaving swarm of misshapen flesh, grunting and squealing to each other in their accursed tongue. Another pack trailed the first, then another. Just as Zera had predicted, not one beast slowed, or so much as glanced their way.

When the sounds of the pursuit moved off, Zera said, “Now we sneak.”

Leitos shook away the mesmerizing effect of her stare, and glanced down the lightless corridor. They were trapped, as far as he could tell, and he said so.

“The buildings in old cities press together like boils on a leper’s backside,” she answered.

Despite his reservations, Leitos followed her deeper into the building, one hand on her shoulder, the other clutching his knife. His cut fingers stung, a dull throbbing he easily ignored. Besides the soft grating noise of his footsteps, the only other sounds came from the searching
Alon’mahk’lar
, which seemed to have finally realized their prey had evaded them.

How long can that last … how long before they double back and pick up the scent?
Despite Zera’s reassurance, he knew that once the enemy found their tracks, the building would become a snare, allowing the
Alon’mahk’lar
to stalk them at leisure.

Zera led them to a narrow stairwell, and took it up to the next level. Leitos came after, halting behind her on a landing. She exposed the firemoss globe, letting its light shine over their surroundings. Fire had gutted the structure, and the charred floorboards had burned through in many places, dry-rotted in others.

Zera hugged the wall, testing the floor with each step before resting her full weight upon the boards. Leitos was careful to step where she had, cringing every time a board creaked and sagged. He easily imagined himself crashing through and plummeting to the lower level. He swallowed dryly and forced himself to continue.

They kept on until they reached another stairwell, this one of wooden risers. Char and dust coated the thick treads, and Zera went more cautiously than before. Leitos came after, sweating profusely. The burned sections crumbled underfoot, raising puffs of ash that tickled the nose.

A bit farther, Leitos detected the clean scent of the night’s breeze. Zera tucked away the firemoss orb, and a rectangle of dark sky scattered with twinkling stars materialized before them. Zera rushed through the doorway, as did Leitos.

The building’s flat rooftop was a mass of cracks and gaping holes. One misstep would mean certain death. A door that might have once guarded the doorway lay a few feet away. In the shadowed streets below, groups of
Alon’mahk’lar
called to one another, or sniffed along the ground in erratic patterns. The individual bands were converging.