All stands quiet, life has fled
Tracking footsteps of the dead.
“Not a little... ostentatious,” Parsh remarked dryly.
The remaining members of the fabled Sky Legion – four men and one ten-year-old Angel child – stood as a glittering group upon a grassy, windswept bluff, facing a monumental black and white piece of architecture.
Reeves was inclined to agree; leaning on his spear, he regarded Castle Whiteshadow with a curious mixture of distaste and awe. He had to concede that the building style was elegant yet dominant, diverging boldly from the usual boring Darorian standard, but far too melodramatic for his taste. Multitudes of slender, lofty windows set in delicate wrought iron frames peered down at them – but they were all glassy, cold and dark.
The commanding effect was further diminished by a mess of scaffolding sprawled against the black side of the castle like the exposed ribcage of a beast that had been slaughtered and left to the wilderness.
Raising a newly-gauntleted hand, he directed Nix to proceed.
The young Legionnaire looked sullen, but obeyed without question. They all watched, in mingled tension and amusement, as their green-winged compatriot edged through the softly rippling grass, spear extended guardedly.
Nix reached the porch without incident. Looking visibly relieved, he straightened to attention, awaiting his Commander’s next orders.
Reeves set his own spear to his shoulder and strolled towards the castle, eyeing the building as he did so, but there was no sign of life to be seen anywhere around it save a few rooks high up on the roof, squabbling amongst themselves.
He came to stand beside Nix, and looked back the way he had come. No magical defences? he thought, raising an eyebrow. Interesting.
Turning back to the porch, he studied it carefully. It was bordered by tall white pillars, with gold, white and black tiles set in a geometric star-shaped pattern covering the walls and floor. Tall double doors of sturdy, iron-bound oak were set in an arched stone frame; one painted black, the other white. Dead leaves clustered in corners beside a couple of badly neglected plants in urns.
Nothing looked out of place.
Ascending the short steps, he rapped on the door with the butt of his spear.
The sound echoed through a cavernous chamber beyond, and faded into silence.
No one appeared.
Reeves tried again, with the same result. He grasped one of the gilded handles.
It was locked.
“Shall I… pick the lock?” Nix offered, nervously.
Reeves shook his head. There was nothing he desired in this ridiculous failed monstrosity of a school. Whirling, his white coat swishing out behind him, feathers ruffling in pique, he strode back across the bluff.
“No one is here!” he snapped, glaring pointedly at Li as he did so.
He knew full well that the girl had never left Arkana before and was unlikely to know anything about Ferrian’s whereabouts, but he needed to direct his ire at someone and he resented bringing a child along with them. For some utterly unfathomable reason, Tander had taken the wretched little thing under his protection and Reeves had better things to do than argue with his Lieutenant. Besides, Li was apparently a friend to both Mekka and the detestable silver-eyed sorcerer, and was therefore a useful bargaining chip should the need arise.
It was the only reason he tolerated her horrible little presence.
To her credit, Li fearlessly returned his glare with one of her own, and the Wing Commander’s lips twitched almost into a smile. She might one day be Legion material, after all…
Tander was contemplating the deserted castle. “Ferrian must have had a good reason to leave this place abandoned,” he mused.
Of course he does, Reeves sneered to himself. Striding out to the edge of the bluff, he stood in the long grass and wildflowers, staring out over the sunlit valley. An ominous, black round tower stood on the opposite side, amid the sprawling, ivy-choked ruins of some older fortress, also of black stone. To his right, a spectacular waterfall dropped off the cliffs into sparkling, rainbow-streaked mist and a wide river that meandered its way in shadowed tinkling music down the valley. The wind was cool and crisp, reminding him with a brief wistful pang of the Snowranges, in a distant country far to the east and south.
I know he has the damned page! Reeves fumed privately. He could not figure out how the sorcerer could possibly have managed to acquire it, or how he had even learned of the existence of the Book in the first place, but Reeves knew, with every thundering pound of blood in his veins, that it was so.
And Mekka!
His hand tightened on his spear, so hard that it hurt. Had that black-feathered piece of scum torn the page out when he had picked the book up during their meeting in the field, then feigned ignorance? Had he been mocking Reeves the whole time??
He clutched at his helmet, feeling a dull ache begin to form in his forehead. He had been wrong to distrust Governor Merrill. He realised now that she was honest to the point of deception, that in business matters she was above treachery, and that she was exactly the sort of person to regard a slab of ancient dead text in far higher esteem than her fellow living beings. He believed that she had not betrayed him, in spite of her disapproval.
But someone had.
Fear seeped slowly through his veins, like a deadly poison. He had been so careful to hide the exact nature of his mission from everyone who could potentially undermine it; even his own men in the Sky Legion were oblivious as to the true revelation that was to come. They knew only that he had founded a mysterious cult in the Goldenwood, and had been discreetly recruiting members to it for years. Only Merrill and the Twin Emperors were privileged to know the details, and then only because he needed their assistance…
And now, cruelly, he needed the help of one other.
The only person on Arvanor with the power to stop him…
“Well, someone must have seen him!” Parsh was complaining behind him. “He’s riding about on a bloody Dragon!”
He turned. Parsh and Nix were quarrelling like the old rooks up on the towers. Tander was consulting a large map unrolled in his hands, which he had purchased in Sel Varence and was the only one of them who could read it. Li peered curiously over his elbow.
“Shut up!” Reeves barked at the Legionnaires, marching over to his Lieutenant, who could at least be relied upon for competent advice.
“There is a town on the other side of these mountains,” Tander explained, tapping a silvertine-sheathed finger on the map. “Just past the foothills to the south, around two days direct flight. Someone there may know Ferrian or be able to give us information on his movements.”
Reeves didn’t bother to feign interest in the drawing; the mess of lines and squiggly symbols meant nothing to him. “Fine,” he replied curtly, and indicated to the others that they should move out.
They took to the air.
Several hours later, as the sun dipped into a blazing pit on their right, gilding wings and armour red-gold; as they were searching for a suitable resting place to spend the night, the Sky Legion came across something vast and disturbing.
A clearing opened up below them, a huge hole blasted into the middle of the forest, as though something massive had exploded there.
They circled over it watchfully, but nothing could be seen moving.
Commander Re’Vier ordered them to descend.
They roamed carefully about the clearing, poking now and then with their spears at the ash, but found not a single trace of life: not even a mosquito or an ant. Everything had been thoroughly obliterated. A strong fragrance of burnt wood suffused the air, which was very still and had an incongruous icy chill to it. Patches of snow lingered in the shadows of charred logs.
Reeves recalled that Ferrian was supposed to have command of powerful Winter magic, and his skin prickled uncomfortably, but his heart rate also quickened at the thought: the silver-eyed sorcerer had been here, and recently.
The sun had almost disappeared over the treeline, sending her final dying rays across the wasteland like an eerie echo of the conflagration that had engulfed this place. Reeves made his way over to Tander and Li, who were examining marks in the burned dirt.
Tander rose at the approach of his Commander. “There are tracks all over the place,” he said, gesturing around at the clearing. “Several different people have been here. The imprints are clear, and happened after the event. And some are unquestionably those of a Dragon.”
Reeves inclined his head. “This is Ferrian’s handiwork, then?”
Tander hesitated. “I cannot say for sure. He was certainly here.” He pointed towards the centre of the clearing. “There’s evidence of a pyre, that was created in the aftermath.” He shook his head, looking sombre. “At least one person perished here, maybe more than one. And someone was left alive to carry out funeral rites.”
Reeves stared at Nix kicking the remains of the pyre with a silver boot. Goddess’ mercy, how he hoped it was Mekka, lying in that ash…
“There is, uh, something else, Commander…”
Reeves followed his Lieutenant towards the pyre. A few yards away from it, Tander stopped abruptly, and pointed with his spear at something on the ground.
Nix came over to look as well, then brought himself up and backed away hurriedly.
It was a dark, metallic, oily-coloured puddle.
The sun had hidden herself away, and the air had grown much colder, and much darker.
Marvellous, Reeves thought in dismay. Now we have demon-wraiths to deal with, as well…
Unpleasantly, he remembered Tander’s description of a gigantic pyramid-shaped trigonic thing that Ferrian had related to him at the collapse of Caer Sync. Reeves tried carefully to put it out of his mind, as thoughts of it made his chest go tight and he couldn’t afford to panic over unknown monsters.
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He took up his spear. “Be on your guard,” he told his men. “There are wraiths about.” Turning away quickly, so that no one would see his troubled expression, he launched himself into the air.
The others followed in apprehensive silence.
It was past dusk of the following evening when the Sky Legion finally arrived at the township of Meadrun.
They could tell instantly that something was wrong here, too.
The entire town was pitch dark. No lanterns or lights bloomed; there was no one to be seen walking the streets or travelling on the main road leading east and west. Carts and market stalls stood abandoned, some with food still rotting in crates, and milk souring in pails. There were no animals either; no wandering dogs or chickens, no cats on the roofs, no sparrows or pigeons in the plazas.
No smoke from the chimneys. No sound from the taverns.
Not even crickets.
No one. Nothing.
Just an incredible, otherworldly silence.
The Legionnaires alighted quietly on the cobblestones before the arched entrance of the town. Scaffolding crawled its way along a partially constructed stone block wall, along with a mess of masonry and builder’s equipment, and carts covered with tarps, all undisturbed, with tools still sitting where they were placed. Within the town, a thick fog curled low about the buildings in a languorous fashion, lit to a bright glow by a sharp-eyed moon.
“I’ll bet my arse-feathers there are wraiths in there,” Nix muttered, spear held in a defensive position.
Even Parsh was too disquieted to make a snarky comment.
They all stood staring uncertainly at the deathly quiet town.
To everyone’s astonishment, Li strode forward, stood in the middle of the archway, and faced them.
“Ferrian might be here!” she declared, hands on her hips, small wings white and fiery red in the moonlight. “And Mekka!” She regarded them all sternly. “I’m going to find them!”
And with that, she spun on her heel and walked off boldly into the mist.
Tander stepped forward in alarm. “Li!”
Reeves burst out laughing. Twirling his spear in a gleaming flourish, he sauntered off after her, whistling a jaunty marching tune.
Tander sighed and followed at once.
Parsh and Nix exchanged glances. Then they both raced each other to catch up.
No one wanted to be shown up for a coward by a young girl.
Grey stone houses rose, double-storied, out of the luminous mist to either side, accented with colourfully-painted shutters and frames, and windowsill boxes drooping with wilted summer blooms. All of the neat little diamond-paned windows were dark. Here and there, doors stood open carelessly to the night air, revealing disconcertingly black pits within what should have been cosy homes.
Tander’s skin crawled. He was overcome with a queer feeling, as he walked, that the group of Angels he was with now were the only living beings left in the world.
They had seen no one else for more than a week, since leaving Sel Varence behind. It had been a cold and lonely flight across the mountains after the stifling madness of the overcrowded Embassy, with all of them still haunted from the events in Arkana. They had arrived at Ferrian’s castle and found it deserted, then discovered the patch of desolation in the forest, and now this eerie abandoned township.
What is going on? he thought anxiously.
Nothing had gone right since they had arrived in Fleetfleer. Strange and terrible events were happening, spreading throughout Arvanor. He had an awful feeling that Caer Sync was just the beginning…
There is some sort of black pyramid thing… made out of trigon… Ferrian’s words echoed back to him uncomfortably, like a newly-remembered detail of a nightmare.
What did that mean?
And where was Ferrian?
Despite Li’s assertion, Tander was almost certain that neither the sorcerer nor his magnificent Dragon, nor Mekka – or indeed, anyone – were to be found here. The place was too quiet. He would have said it was like a graveyard, but it was not in the slightest. He had been to Human cemeteries before, and quite liked them; they were quaint, serene places to contemplate life.
This town was no peaceful repose for the dead. This was like the shiver of unsettled water at the bottom of a disused well…
Reeves was still whistling behind him, making his nerves dance around weirdly.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Li marched ahead undaunted at the head of the group, without weapon or armour. Tander was impressed at her bravery, and wondered if the Commander felt the same or was furious that the girl had taken the initiative before anyone else had.
He smiled a little despite himself. Most likely both.
He made sure to stay close to her, spear at the ready.
They walked on. The air felt cold and clammy, smelling faintly of rotten meat and something burnt. At some point, Reeves stopped whistling, but the silence was even more unnerving.
Nothing moved, save the mist swirling around them.
None of the Legionnaires had fought demon-wraiths before; though they had been warned of their presence in Daroria, they had assumed the plague confined to the cities along the western coast. They knew Queen Minoa had exiled herself to the northern continent of Enopina, due to the royal palace at Crystaltina being overrun, and the Darorian Army had all been lost to wraiths, leaving the entire kingdom defenceless and governless.
Now Arkana had fallen as well, and the wraiths had evidently already crossed the Barlakks…
The mist began to darken, quite suddenly. Tander looked up to see the moon and stars disappear, smothered in fog. The darkness deepened rapidly, washing over them all in a heavy, freezing, oppressive black tide.
Reeves called a halt. Tander reached out and grabbed Li’s shoulder, stopping her.
The Commander attempted to light a small lantern, then cursed as it flickered and immediately died. At the same moment, all of their armour and weapons lit up with a dim silvery phosphorescence.
It wasn’t enough to see their way by, but at least they could make each other out. It was not, however, an encouraging sign…
“Brace yourselves,” Reeves ordered, and they all took up defensive positions.
The wraiths swarmed them in shocking silence. The silvertine radiance illuminated twisting, grotesque humanoid forms that slid out of the darkness like coiling smoke. Their spears whirled and shredded the wraiths with ease, but more poured out of the nothingness behind them, an endless swirling flood of the damned.
Tander tried to ignore a sickening pain in his gut and a flood of nausea that threatened to bring him to his knees. His skin broke out in an icy sweat. Behind him, he heard Li half-retching, half-sobbing.
“Do not look at them, Li!” he cried. “Keep your eyes closed!”
His spear ripped through the maddening face of a wraith, and he panted with the effort of fighting his own primal instinct to flee. He demolished another wave that came at him, his spinning weapon leaving glittering trails of silver motes in the air, and risked a glance over his shoulder…
… just in time to see Parsh fall.
The Angel collapsed gracefully mid-swing, falling like a dancer onto the pavement.
“Parsh!!” Nix cried.
“Into the air!” Reeves screamed.
Tander was frozen in a moment of stunned horror, halfway between obeying Reeves and staring at his fallen comrade, when the sound of thunder broke his trance.
It took him a second to realise it was hoofbeats, echoing down the street.
A silver streak approached, whirling through the darkness, and a moment later something huge and black lunged into view.
Tander reacted on instinct, stabbing out with his spear, only to have it thrust aside.
“Come with me!” a female voice bellowed, and without waiting for any of them to react, turned and charged away again into shadow.
Reeves sprang into the air and flew after her.
Nix and Tander hesitated, looking down at Parsh. A black, oily, smokelike substance poured out of his eyes and mouth.
Nix uttered a furious cry, slashed a final time at the wraiths, and fled after Reeves.
Tander gulped down a knot of horror, scooped Li up under his free arm, and joined them.
They flew speedily through the darkness, which fell away after a short time, revealing moonlit fog once again, and the galloping shape of a black Centaur armed with a silvertine spear. They followed her along the main street, finally emerging into a large square with a bronze statue at its centre, depicting a young, noble sorcerer with his hands resting on a sword.
The statue, bright in the moonlight, watched impassively as the Centaur swerved to the right, heading towards a large building aglow with lanterns, their warm, inviting light burning through the mist.
The remaining members of the Sky Legion descended, running after the Centaur as she barged through the front door, kicking it open roughly with her powerful front hooves.
When they were all inside, she slammed the door closed and barred it, then went to the nearest window to be sure they weren’t being followed.
When she was satisfied there were no wraiths to be seen out in the night, she turned to face them.
“It is not safe here,” she declared bluntly, though in a soft voice. “But the wraiths are slow and their memories short. They will search for a time where we fought them. If we do not wander, they will forget that we exist.” She gestured around the room, at the lit lanterns. “When the light dims, we will know of their coming.”
Nix was pacing up and down, distraught, the light catching on his colourful feathers. “We can’t just leave him out there! That is no way for an Angel to die!”
“Nix,” Tander sighed. Slumping into a chair, he put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. “There is no Tower to bring him back to.”
They all fell deathly silent.
When Tander opened his eyes again, the Centaur was frowning at him in confusion. “What say you of the Tower?”
No one responded.
Reeves, who was sitting on a bar stool, took his helmet off and slammed it onto the counter. “Fetch me a drink,” he demanded.
The Centaur drew herself up impressively, her dark-skinned expression glowering. “I am not a bartender,” she replied. “I am Lieutenant-Commander Raemint of the Freeroamers!” She regarded them all suspiciously. “And who are you? What brings you to this town?”
Reeves didn’t answer. Instead, he slipped off his stool and made his own way around the bar.
Tander looked up at the Centaur. “We are the Sky Legion,” he told her quietly. “We are… searching for a sorcerer named Ferrian. I don’t suppose you have seen him pass this way?”
Raemint looked surprised. “No. I have not.” Her shoulders slumped a little in weariness, and she shook her head. “I only wish that I had.” She looked as grim and troubled as Tander felt.
The silence was broken by the explosive sound of Reeves spitting liquid across the tavern floor. It was followed by a fit of coughing so violent that Tander half-stood in alarm.
“What,” Reeves wheezed, clutching at the bar for support, slamming a bottle onto the counter, “in all Hell is this? Demon piss?” He continued to glare at the beverage as though it had personally insulted him.
Then he took another swig.
Ignoring his Commander attempting to kill himself behind the bar, Tander settled into his seat again. Li sat on the floor beside him, knees pulled up to her chest, looking pale. Nix, taking inspiration from the Commander, went and helped himself to a random bottle, as well.
Tander took his helmet off, set it on the table beside him and rubbed at his face. He could hardly blame them. He couldn’t get the chilling image of Par’Shu’s death out of his head.
The Sky Legion was down to three, now.
Lieutenant Raemint came and stood before him. “I am deeply sorry for the loss of your Legionnaire,” she said, and looked as though she meant it. “I have seen too many lost in this town.” She closed her eyes sadly. “I… I tried to prevent it, but could not.”
Tander looked up at her in astonishment and awe. “You have been defending this town against demon-wraiths… on your own?”
Raemint regarded him sombrely. “There were others. I… sent them away, for their own safety.” She shook her head. “A squad of Freeroamers was due to arrive, but I have not seen them. I have had no word of Ferrian or Mekk’Ayan.” She paused, eyeing him, then the Commander and Nix. “It is my understanding that it was the Sky Legion who apprehended Mekk’Ayan, and took him to the Holy Tower for Judgement,” she said. “Is this correct?”
Tander was silent for a moment, then nodded. He stared out at the mist lurking beyond the tavern windows. Then he related everything that had happened since they had arrested Mekka in Forthwhite.
He tried to be succinct, but it took a long time to tell. Raemint stood listening quietly, without interruption.
There was a long pause after he had finished. “That is… astonishing and grave,” the Centaur whispered finally. “I… I have no words.” She took a deep breath and let it out again. “Caer Sync has fallen. I can hardly believe that such a thing is true.”
Tander could hardly believe most of the things that he had seen either, as though he had witnessed it all through someone else’s eyes.
Raemint was frowning. “Ferrian should have arrived here. I do not understand where he has gone.” She shook her head. “But that is not the only mystery to be solved…”
Tander looked at her uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
“The one who desolated this village. The monster who created this plague of demon-wraiths. She is… still here.”
Tander looked dismayed. “Lieutenant, if you expect us to help you fight this thing—”
Raemint shook her head. “No. That is not it…” Her brow creased as she struggled to find the right words. “I… cannot explain it to you. It is… impossible to describe. I must show you.”
Tander frowned. “Now?”
Raemint nodded. “The wraiths are distracted, and our destination lies on the other side of the town. We shall be safe until they begin roaming again.”
Tander glanced over at Reeves and Nix, who were both wholly occupied sampling the contents of the bar; neither looked in any condition to go anywhere, except for the floor.
Reluctantly, he nodded, and got up. Approaching the counter, he said: “Commander Re’Vier. Sir? I am going out with Lieutenant Raemint to investigate something. I will be back shortly.”
Reeves was peering at the label on a black-glassed bottle. “I wonder…” he slurred, “if this’s… actually… rat poison…”
“No Sir!” Nix declared, waving a bottle of his own. “I’ve got… that one…” Swaying, he staggered against a wall and slid down it.
Tander sighed. Turning away, he went over to Li and crouched before her.
“There are some nice rooms upstairs, Li. How about you go and find the best one before Commander Reeves gets it first, hmm?”
The little Angel just stared up at him, gloomily.
His throat felt tight. The poor girl had been through so much already, and now he had dragged her into a demon-infested town. He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Li,” he assured her. “I will not be gone long. If you get scared, fly up onto the roof and wait for me there, all right?”
She got up and hugged him. “Please come back!” she said.
Tander fought back a dangerous surge of emotion, and hugged her back. “I will come back, Li, I promise!”
The girl nodded into his shoulder. Then she pulled away and ran off up the stairs.
Tander watched her go. Then he retrieved his spear and helmet, nodded to Raemint, and they went out once more into the mist-shrouded night.