Survivors wait in fear and pain
The future looms, a creeping stain.
Almost all of the space within the Angelican Embassy in Sel Varence was crowded, noisy, and filled with an oppressive atmosphere of dread. The entrance foyer was occupied, wall to curved white wall, with broken families and crying children. At one end, a tall arched doorway led to another room were food was being served. Morose looking Angels wandered out of it carrying bowls of watery soup. An argument was taking place in there, rising above the rest of the din. Every sob of sadness or cry of pain or snap of anger echoed around the lofty chamber in a cacophony of despair.
A carved white stone reception counter stood in the middle of the room, beautifully crafted in the flowing forms of the Angelican style, gilded here and there with gold. Its opulence was a stark reminder of the Angel’s beloved city, now utterly destroyed, and a rude contrast to the shattered lives sprawled around it. Most of these people had once been wealthy; now they were left with nothing, not even their loved ones.
“Lieutenant Tan’Daran of the Sky Legion!” Tander announced to the harried Angel clerk bravely manning the counter, having to raise his voice almost to a shout to be heard above the noise. “And Li’Zan!” The clerk nodded, scribbling their names onto a piece of paper.
“Have any other members of the Zan family checked in?” Tander yelled.
The clerk squinted at him through his spectacles, then set his quill aside. “One moment!” He pulled a huge ledger in front of him, licked his finger and began flicking through the pages.
“I don’t like it here,” he heard Li whimper beside him.
I don’t, either, Tander thought dismally. This place is a nightmare. Li huddled close to him with her hands over her ears.
There was nowhere else for them to go, however. The entirety of Sel Varence was just as bad, full to breaking point with refugees from other parts of Daroria, escaping from demon-wraiths. There was a Human mob just outside the Embassy, protesting. Apparently, they resented their Angel neighbours taking up space and resources. News of the fall of Caer Sync had reached the city by now, but it was garnering little sympathy. On the contrary, it had caused a heightened state of panic.
Tander could feel the beginnings of civil unrest. Everyone could; it was leaking through the walls, setting already anxious and bereaved people on edge.
Things were about to get ugly.
“I am afraid I can find no further records of a Zan family,” the clerk called out to him. “I am sorry.” He paused, adjusting his glasses. “But there are three entries for the Sky Legion.”
Tander shook his head, then leaned across the counter. “The other members of the Sky Legion. Their names?”
The clerk looked down at his ledger. “Legionnaire Par’Shu, Legionnaire Nix’Erys and Wing Commander Re’Vier.”
Tander put his gauntleted hands on his head in relief. Reeves made it. Ferrian must have rescued him with that white Dragon; presumably Mekka as well.
I owe you a debt, my friend.
Li was tugging at his wing feathers. “Can we go now?”
Tander turned and crouched down in front of her, feeling awkward and out of his depth; he had no idea how to deal with children. But he had always been the type of person to say things as they were, and saw no reason not to with Li.
He took a deep breath. “Li… your parents did not arrive here. They… they may not show up.”
Li looked at the floor. “I know.”
Tander blinked in surprise. “You know?” He shook his head. “Li, why didn’t you tell me?”
She was silent for a long moment, with the awful noise of the hall reverberating around them. Tander had to listen very hard to hear her words.
“I found them in the forest,” she went on, still staring at the floor. “They were just lying there, under some stones. I tried to get them to move, but they wouldn’t.” She tried to look angry, but tears filled her copper eyes. “I thought Angels weren’t supposed to just die! There’s meant to be a big party, and they go to the Tower like Mekka did, and it’s beautiful, and everyone is there and they get to meet the Goddess!”
Tander felt his throat constrict, and he had to force back tears of his own. This was hardly the place to explain the realities of life and death to a ten year old kid. But he supposed he didn’t have to; she had already discovered that, the hard way.
He put his hands gently on her shoulders. “Li,” he told her. “Your parents did get to see the Goddess, I am sure of it. You don’t need to go to the Tower for that.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Really? But… where is she, then? If her Tower is knocked over, where does she live?”
Tander gave her a smile. “She’s a Goddess. She lives everywhere. Especially,” he tapped her forehead lightly, “in here.”
Li brushed at her nose with her hand.
Tander looked around. “Li, I need to go and report to my Commander,” he said. “Will you stay here?”
She shook her head firmly.
Tander sighed, expecting as much. But he could hardly abandon her in this dreadful hall to fend for herself. He stood up, patting her shoulder ruefully. “Looks as though you’re stuck with me a little longer, then.”
The door of the office flung open and Commander Re’Vier stalked through, his long white coat and wings swishing. Halting in front of the desk, he slammed the book onto it as though attempting to flatten the whole thing into the floor.
To his great annoyance, the Governor didn’t even flinch, just sat back in her chair. She looked as she always had; short grey hair styled impeccably, matching slate-coloured suit pristine, wings folded neatly at her back. Only a single graze on her left brow betrayed evidence that she had been through any kind of ordeal.
“Is there something you want, Commander?” she asked with infuriating calmness.
Is there something I want. He wanted to leap across the table and break her scrawny neck and shove that book down it. But then he would never receive any answers.
Snatching the offending item back up, he rifled through it, then held it up for her to clearly see the incriminating evidence. “What,” he hissed, “is this?”
Peering at the book, the Governor held out her hand. Reeves threw it at her. Unfazed, she straightened her spectacles and picked it up off the floor, then slowly perused it until she came to the missing page. “I see,” she murmured.
Reeves turned and paced the room, barely able to control his anger. He was still waiting on a new set of armour from the silvertine smith. Without it, he felt naked, weaker, drained of confidence and irritable. His eyes roamed the room, looking for something to break.
“Our contract has not been fulfilled,” he said tightly. “I have not received the entirety of what I asked for!” He spun suddenly. “And further to that,” he stalked back to the desk. “I was not informed, when agreeing to arrest him, that Mekk’Ayan was allied to a sorcerer and a GODDAMNED DRAGON!”
He slammed his fist on the table, but it wasn’t as effective without his gauntlets. It just hurt. His head hurt. He glared at the Governor.
“Those are… details I was not aware of,” the Governor replied. “My informant did not mention this, for which I apologise. However, if you have come here to accuse me of deliberately withholding information from you, then you are mistaken.”
“Oh yes?” Reeves sneered. “And what of your weedy little assistant? The one who drugged me before delivering that wretched book to my apartment?”
The Governor closed the book and set it carefully on her desk, clasping her wrinkled hands on top of it. “That was… a precaution.”
Reeves swiped a hand furiously. “A precaution for what?!”
The Governor watched him carefully. “Your reaction. She was aware that you would be… ah, less than pleased with the item she had brought you.”
Reeves’ eyes narrowed. “So you did know about the missing page!”
“Yes,” the Governor admitted. “That, and the fact that we are unable to translate the text for you.”
Reeves shook his head in disbelief. “What?”
The Governor ran a hand over the cover of the book. “This book is very old, likely a relic from the School of Magical Studies. It is written in a language that very few can now read.”
Reeves gritted his teeth. “And who, pray tell, can read it?”
The Governor looked thoughtful. “A sorcerer, I imagine.”
Reeves turned away from her, seething, putting his face in his hand. “And you expect me to believe that neither you nor your assistant stole the page, despite your utmost efforts to dissuade me from my goal?”
Behind him, the Governor sighed. Reeves glanced over his shoulder to see her leaning back in her chair, looking uncharacteristically weary. It was the first time he had seen her composure crack. “Commander Re’Vier,” she said quietly. “I am well aware that you personally detest all forms of literature, but this is a sentiment that I and my assistant do not share. We value books highly; they are our legacy from the time of the Ancients, a source of reverence for us. We would no sooner deface one in such a manner than tear off our own wings.”
She shook her head. “The book was already damaged when my assistant retrieved it from Grath Ardan. She did not notice the torn page until she had already brought it up from the library, and due to your insistent demands, there was no time to cross-check the main copy for the missing information.
“There is no way of telling how long ago this was done. It may not be recent. Perhaps the previous owner of this book anticipated others seeking out this knowledge and wished to prevent exactly what you are trying to achieve.” She gave him a long, studious look.
Reeves wandered to the other side of the small room and slumped down on a chair. His anger had shrunk into a hard, cold, sour ball in his stomach. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling defeated. “Then it may be destroyed,” he muttered bitterly.
“That is a possibility,” the Governor agreed. She hesitated. “The information still exists, of course. Grath Ardan retains the memory of all words ever written.” She shook her head as Reeves looked up hopefully. “Regrettably, the library now lies buried under several thousand tons of stone and liquid silvertine. The wreckage is so widespread that even the secret entrances are inaccessible.” She sighed again, ruefully. “It will take many years to excavate it, assuming Grath Ardan hasn’t been irreparably damaged.”
She pushed the little book across her desk, tapping it with her fingers. “You had best hope, Reeves, that the knowledge you seek is contained within this book, or the missing page can be found.”
Reeves sat quietly for a minute more, saying nothing. Then he got to his feet and strode towards the door, swiping the book off the desk as he went, not looking at the Governor.
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“Reeves.”
He hesitated on the threshold.
“I consider your part of our deal concluded. The remainder of your reward is in the bank on the market square.”
He turned slowly. “Mekka escaped.”
The Governor regarded him from behind her half-moon spectacles. “I had no wish to see Mekk’Ayan killed,” she said quietly. “I hold no personal grudge against him. I ordered his arrest because it was my duty as Governor, and it was what the people wanted.” She stared down at her hands. “I sought only to bring him to Arkana to face his crimes and receive justice in Caer Sync.” Her eyes closed. “The Goddess saw fit to drop her Tower on our city. I feel that is judgement enough for all of us.”
Reeves stared at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Are you afraid of him, Merrill?”
She picked up a quill and gathered her papers, not looking at him. “Good day, Commander.”
Reeves departed her office, still smiling. He was surprised to find his Lieutenant waiting for him in the gallery outside, accompanied by a small girl.
“How nice of you to finally make an appearance, Lieutenant,” he said sarcastically. He was in a less than welcoming mood, but he was genuinely relieved to see Tander alive. “And what’s this you’ve dragged along with you?”
Tander looked taken aback. “I… uh, this is Li, a survivor from Fleetfleer.”
Reeves waved a hand. “This entire Embassy is plagued with them. Why is this one following you around like a lost chicken?”
“She has lost her parents, Sir,” Tander explained, looking apologetic. “I… didn’t know what else to do with her.”
Reeves tucked his book back into his coat. “And what do you propose I do with her? Admit her to the Legion?”
The girl straightened excitedly. “Can I?”
Reeves glared at her. “Of course not!” he made a shooing motion. “Why don’t you run along and drown yourself in the soup?”
Li’s expression turned into a glare of her own. “I don’t like you!”
Reeves walked forward, crouched in front of her and ruffled her hair. “What a sweet, charming little child. Do you know how to fly, yet?”
And with that, he snatched her up and shoved her over the balcony.
Tander leapt forward. “Commander!”
Reeves slouched onto the balustrade. “Oh, what’s the fuss. Look, she is making new friends already!”
Down below, there was a commotion in the packed central chamber as Li flapped awkwardly into a group of people eating, spilling their soup bowls everywhere. She picked herself up and ran towards the door.
Tander rounded on him. “That was unnecessary!”
“We are an elite military force, Tander, not a babysitting service.”
Tander sighed. Then he shook his head. “Commander… are you alright?”
Reeves pushed himself away from the railing. “Fine,” he snapped, though he was far from it. “Our plan hasn’t changed,” he said. “But there are… complications.”
“Complications?”
“We must locate a certain… silver-eyed sorcerer.”
Tander blinked, looking surprised. Reeves eyed him. “Do you have something to say, Lieutenant?”
“I… met him, Sir. In the forest. He saved my life. He was on his way to rescue Mekka.” He gestured at the hall below. “He’s a friend to Li. Apparently, she met them in Grath Ardan some years ago.” He met Reeves’ eyes. “They were searching for a book, she said.”
Reeves stared at him, and swiped a hand in irritation. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”
“Well, I hardly had a chance before you threw her over the balcony!”
Reeves made a sound of disgust. “Go and fetch her! Bring her to me!”
Tander folded his arms. “So we are a babysitting service?”
Not bothering to reply, Reeves stalked away, leaving Tander standing in the gallery, staring after him.
* * *
Bumblebees buzzed contentedly around bright red geraniums; fuzzy, lazy visitors oblivious to anything beyond their colourful targets. Morning sunshine poured over them, flooding through the open window of the tavern and across a gleaming, varnished table.
Ben watched them, finding their peacefulness maddening. He could barely sit still; he was on his third cup of tea, just for something to do. His heels struck up a rhythmic tapping on the floorboards. He tried to stop them, but they started up again a few seconds later.
It was the morning of the fifth day after the Freeroamers had departed, and they had not yet returned.
Before leaving, Raemint and Flint had moved Hawk discreetly into a tool shed at the back of the inn. They’d locked it securely and gained the assurance of the innkeeper that no one, in any circumstances, was to attempt to enter it. It was confidential Freeroamer business. The innkeeper and his family readily agreed; everyone in the town liked and was grateful for the presence of Lieutenant-Commander Raemint and Sergeant Flint, and more importantly, their impressive silvertine weapons, which were currently the town’s only defence against demon-wraiths. No one wanted to put a foot wrong in front of the Freeroamers.
Now, the two seasoned fighters had gone off in search of Lady Araynia, Lord Arzath and Carmine Vandaris.
And Ben was beginning to wish they hadn’t.
Of course, they were trained for this situation; they were hunting Carmine, had tracked her all the way from Forthwhite. They knew what they were doing. But did they know exactly what kind of monster she had become? What if she had killed Lord Arzath and eaten his soul? What if she had turned into some kind of super dark demon-wraith sorcerer, on her way towards Meadrun at this very moment, intent on devouring everyone in sight?
No amount of training or fancy weaponry could stand against that. Only Ferrian had a chance.
And where was Ferrian??
Ben looked out the window at the sun-drenched town. There was a bronze statue in the middle of the main square, of an overly proud young man with his hands resting on the hilt of a fabulous sword. Ben assumed that it was meant to be Ferrian, though it didn’t look like Ferrian at all. He wondered if his friend was aware that it was here, and hoped he didn’t. He was fairly sure the sorcerer would not approve.
A soft, warm breeze floated through the open casement. A brilliant blue sky soared over the shining slate rooftops. Summer had almost arrived. Winter was nowhere to be seen.
I shouldn’t have left Araynia behind, Ben thought for the millionth time. He should have ignored Everine’s advice and listened to his gut, instead. But his sister would have stubbornly followed him and abandoned Hawk in the middle of the forest, and all of them would likely be dead by now. He had chosen the only sensible course of action. But it still felt wrong.
Why did she do it? Ben thought bitterly. Why did she walk away from us like that? To save a man she barely knew and was blatantly terrified of? She had witnessed her closest companion brutally murdered right in front of her, and she had gone back to face that demon. Could she really use the Sword of Healing? Was that even possible? Why had Arzath given it to her? Why, after it was too late to save Luca?
There were no answers to Ben’s questions, only doubts, and more doubts. The more he dwelt on them, the more confused and troubled he became.
Sitting here in this tavern, waiting and worrying, was surely killing him, only much more slowly…
Finishing the dregs of his tea, he glanced over at Everine, sitting opposite him. She looked pale and tired, her blue eyes dull, dark circles beneath them as she stared out of the window, cupping her mug of untouched tea. Her curls were held back with a couple of wooden combs; she wore a simple green and white cotton dress borrowed from the innkeeper’s wife, who had taken pity on their lack of possessions.
It made her look humble and… different. Not herself. She always fussed so much over her appearance: now she seemed not to care.
Ben had woken in the night a couple of times to find his sister crying from nightmares. He had suffered a few himself. Neither of them had gotten a good night’s sleep for more than a week; their flight to Meadrun had been harrowing.
And there was still the possibility that it wasn’t over yet.
Ben had spent the past few days restlessly wandering the town, sitting for hours on a new stack of bluestone slabs by the east gate, staring down the dusty road, listening to construction work on the wall, wondering morbidly who was going to show up first: the Freeroamers or the red-haired woman.
Not to mention their dark secret in the tool shed.
The townsfolk were oblivious, going about their daily business and greeting Ben and Everine every day with painful cheer. They had no idea of the danger they were in. Most were aware of the recent mysterious murders about the nearby countryside, but they gossiped about them as if not believing that such a thing could happen in their town. They acted as though demon-wraiths were something that happened far away and to other people. They were Coastland problems. Even though many of them were ex-Coastlanders themselves; they seemed to feel a false sense of security in the Outlands, or maybe it was just wishful thinking…
Ben rubbed at his eyes. In the slow, warm monotony of everyday life, with the sun beating down like this, sitting in a quiet tavern drinking tea, he could almost convince himself that were true. Or he could have, if Araynia’s scream at Luca’s death didn’t echo so sharply in his mind…
A sudden movement across the table caused him to look up.
Everine had stood up, still staring out the window, but this time with purpose.
Ben followed her gaze. Then he leapt to his feet as well. Both of them scrambled wordlessly out of their booth, rushing to the door.
They burst out of it in front of a surprised Centaur.
Lieutenant-Commander Raemint appeared black and incongruous in the morning light, her sleek hide gleaming. She looked weary and dusty, but to Ben and Everine’s relief, otherwise fine. Her face was serious.
“We have found your friend,” she told them simply, gesturing with her spear. “Come.”
The infirmary was a long, two-storey bluestone building on the other side of town, close to the western gate. It consisted of a single large dormitory ward running the length of the ground floor, plus a few private rooms upstairs, a surgery room, kitchen and necessities in the back.
Lady Araynia was situated in the main ward, at the beginning of the row closest to the door, enclosed with folding wooden screens for privacy. Raemint, Flint, Ben, Everine and a white-robed young nurse crowded anxiously around her bedside.
She was unconscious, and didn’t look good.
“This woman has suffered grave burns to much of her body,” the nurse was explaining quietly, “and is severely dehydrated. We will do our best for her.”
The unspoken ‘but’ hung ominously in the air between them all. Ben couldn’t bear it, so he finished the sentence. “But you don’t think she’ll survive?” he blurted out.
The nurse took a slow, deep breath. “We will do our best,” she repeated.
Ben ran a hand through his hair, letting it flop back over his bandanna. The pitiful little figure in the bed lay unmoving, swathed in bandages and poultices. He hardly recognised her, apart from her long, dark hair.
A hard lump had formed in his throat. Whatever had happened to Araynia in the forest, she had survived. She was clinging to life, but she wasn’t gone yet.
She stood up to Carmine and lived! She can’t die now!
Arzath had given her the Sword of Healing…
“Where’s her Sword?” Ben demanded suddenly.
The nurse looked across the bed at him, from where she was talking softly with Raemint. “The Lady’s possessions are being kept securely,” she replied. “You need not concern yourselves.”
Beside Ben, Flint grunted. Glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, the Freeroamer nodded at the nurse, giving her a smile. “How about you go fetch ‘em, eh?”
But the nurse clasped her hands in front of her, shaking her head. “Weapons are not permitted in a house of healing. The Lady may retrieve her belongings when she is fit to do so.”
“And what if she dies?” Everine stated bluntly from behind Ben, where she was leaning against the wall.
“Then her next of kin may collect them.” Looking around at their falling faces, the nurse’s expression nevertheless remained steady. “Failing that, they shall be sold to raise funds for our infirmary.”
Ben’s teeth gritted. I’ll bet, he thought cynically. You can’t wait to see how much that Sword fetches…
He sighed in exasperation. “It’s not a weapon! It’s…” he faltered. “Look, we need it, alright? It could save her life!”
The nurse’s expression grew colder, clearly suspicious of their motives. “Absolutely not. Now, if you don’t mind, you are crowding the ward. Only one visitor at a time, please!”
Flint settled his hat on his head, tugging the rim down sharply. “’Bout time we was goin’, Rae,” he said.
Raemint was staring at the nurse, and not in a friendly way. The Centaur was an imposing figure, towering over the young woman, who looked like a child in comparison. She stared so long that the nurse paled. Raemint’s tail twitched in agitation.
Then she turned wordlessly, and the Freeroamers left the ward, followed by Everine, and reluctantly, Ben.
They collected their own weapons from a guarded antechamber beside the entrance, then left the building. Outside stood another statue; this one made of white marble and depicting a beautiful robed woman pouring water from an amphora over a stricken man at her feet. Lady Fate: a popular deity with the sick and injured. The water from the jug trickled into a square basin at the base of the statue, filled with lilies and other water plants. The four of them walked out of the shadow of the infirmary, regrouping in front of the sunlit statue and tinkling water.
“Lemme get this straight,” Flint said, strapping his huge, shining crossbow onto his back with practised effort. “You’re tellin’ me the lass in there can use the Sword of Healin’? The actual Sword of Healin’? We’re talkin’ about ol’ Requar’s Sword, here?”
Ben nodded. “Yes. At least, she seemed to think she could use it...”
Flint finished tightening the buckles and put his hands on his hips, eyeing him sceptically. “I thought only one person could use them magic Swords?” he said. “Otherwise Ferrian could use it, eh?”
“Well… I don’t know!” Ben threw his arms up and let them flop back down. “I don’t know how it works! All I know is that for some reason Arzath gave his brother’s Sword to her, then disappeared, then Araynia went all funny and talked about seeing things, and got really upset and chased off after him!” He shrugged helplessly. “Maybe she’s just deluded, for all I know!”
“No,” Raemint said softly. They all looked at her. “Lady Araynia possesses magic. It is faint, but it is there.” She closed her eyes. “I have felt this magic before. It brought my soul back, when I thought it stolen. It allowed me to live, when I did not deserve such an honour. The memory of it is forever sealed in my heart.” She shook her head. “It is not similar. It is the same. It is Lord Requar’s magic.”
Flint scratched his stubbly beard. “Don’t suppose he had a daughter no one knew about?” he offered, but none of them had an answer to that.
Raemint frowned. “Unlikely. But she has indeed inherited his magic by some means.” She shook her head again. “I know naught of the intricacies of magic. But perhaps a little remained in the blade, as drops are left in a cup after it is drained?”
Ben looked up. “From what Ferrian told me, all the magic is supposed to leave the Sword when its owner passes away. There’s not meant to be anything left. The only way there would be was if… well, if Lord Requar wasn’t completely dead.”
Flint folded his arms, snorting. “Trust me, kid, he’s dead. He couldn’t be more dead if he tried, and damn, did he try harder than most.” He looked away, but Ben caught a flicker of a troubled expression cross his weathered face.
“Well, whatever. She has magic, and she can use the Sword of Healing. That means she can heal herself, right? We just need to get the Sword to her, and wake her up!”
Flint looked up thoughtfully. “You any good with locks, kid?”
Ben rubbed his cheek. “A bit? I mean, Mekka taught me some stuff, but I’m not as good as he is.”
Flint smiled. “Better’n the rest of us.” He nodded. “Reckon I can rustle up some bits of metal that’ll do the job.”
Raemint looked concerned. “And how do you propose we break into a civilian infirmary without causing a great disturbance? I want no one harmed. These townsfolk respect and trust us. I do not wish to jeopardise our good standing with them.”
Everine, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, sniffed suddenly, and drew herself up. Daintily, she brushed her blonde curls away from her face and smiled her sweetest smile.
“Leave that to me.”