At first Vanas could not process the words that had come from Ishkinil. First, she had said she would not slay him, but then she said they were to die. His mind churned, confused thoughts seeking to process it, as the meaning of it all sunk in. “You would give up so easy, you who have faced down sorcerers and tyrants without fear, have defied the gods themselves?”
Ishkinil laughed, though the sound had a cutting edge to it. “Who said aught of giving up? Nay, that is not my meaning at all. Do you know how the Blood Rites function?” Vanas shook his head. “They track the living, not the dead, performed with dark magics so that they can follow you like a hound tracks its prey, to the ends of the world and beyond if needed. They need not rest, nor search, simply follow your trail. If that bond is broken, if no more you live, then no more shall they be able to track you. To them it shall be as if you are already dead and no more can, or will, they search for you. They are not concerned with the dead, only that you be so.”
“But I shall be dead,” he protested. “How shall that aid me?”
“For a time, only,” she assured him, though her words were of little comfort. “Do you forget who I am? You need but trust me on this and all shall be well. You shall be free, to live your life and enjoy your wealth, forgotten and safe.”
Even as she finished speaking, from the door there came a scratching sound, of a scarping at the wood, and with it came a long and melancholy cry, the call of a bird. Vanas half jumped at the sound of it, frayed nerves startled by the noise, of fear of the hunters, compounded by the gloom of the tower and Ishkinil’s words. She reacted not, no show of surprise or concern.
“Good,” was all that she said, “Help has arrived.”
She opened the door part of the way, allowing light into the tower, and with it a bird, a large black raven that sauntered on in. It was of the deepest shimmering black, seeming to draw all light into it so that it appeared darker still, its two white eyes standing out stark in the black. A touch of concern crept over Vanas at its appearance, for the ravens were harbingers of death and doom. Whereas Ishkinil was the Handmaid of Death, the ravens were his messengers and eyes. Ever were people wary in their presence for fear that death had set his eye upon them, though few would harm them for fear of his wrath.
The raven hopped its way across to where they stood, to beat is broad wings and jump up into the air. It came to rest on Ishkinil’s mailed shoulder and settled there, turning its head to look upon Vanas. The sweating man felt unease at such close scrutiny.
“Help has come from a raven?” he asked.
Ishkinil nodded, half-smiling, but only just, for he could see that she was most serious about it. “He has been sent to us in our hour of need. What news do you bring?” she asked of the raven.
Much to Vanas’s surprise, the raven answered, talking in the language of men, his words deep and croaky. “Many claws of the Red Talon are in flight, hither and thither. Beware, for the draw near and time you do not have much of.”
“Aye, it is much as I feared. We need must take action, and with haste.” She moved around to the rear of the tower, behind the pillar that supported the ceiling above them. “Here,” she said, motioning for Vanas to join her. He did so, reluctant yet knowing he had few options but to trust her and follow. As he joined her, he saw what it was she had found, for iron rungs were set into the rear of the pillar, leading up to the roof, to where an opening led into parts unseen above. “It is an unusual design,” Ishkinil observed, studying the rungs. “It makes it hard to climb in a hurry, but easy to deny others should they wish to follow. We need to go up.”
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She grasped a rung, testing it for a moment, and then began to climb, the raven leaving her shoulder as she did. Swift, she ascended, flowing up the rungs, to the opening above and then she was through. It took but a moment for her head to appear in the opening. “It is safe to follow.”
Vanas looked up, his mouth going dry and his head swimming. He liked not heights at the best of times, and now was not so. He trusted not the rungs either, for he knew not how old they were. They may have held Ishkinil in her climb, but he was a man who had enjoyed life and had the physique to show for it. Taking hold of the first rung, he began to climb, slow in his motions, trying to avoid looking up or down, but instead focusing on the smooth stones of the pillar. At each step he tested the rungs beneath his weight. Some groaned or flexed slightly, but all held. Stressful was the climb, his fear that at any moment he would lose his grip or footing and tumble to the stones below. When at last he reached the top, a sigh of relief left him. The opening was a tight fit, forcing him to squeeze through, to pull himself up with the aid of Ishkinil. He rolled to the floor alongside the opening, breathing heavily.
“I may never leave,” he croaked.
The room was dark, darker than the one below. There were no windows around it to allow light in, and the only source was from below, through the opening. A flash of black wings came through it as the raven joined them.
A sudden light flared in the dark, as blue-white flames ran the length of Ishkinil’s sword, Dirgesinger. Faint it was, just enough to allow glimpses of the room and what it held, a soft, pale glow. There were rotting crates stacked up around the room, and mouldering sacks resting against them, stores of some type. Vanas did not know how they would have been brought up, not via the rungs for certain, but there they were, stored for who knew how long, preserved by the heat and the dry.
Ishkinil ignored them being more focused on the room itself, its walls and floor and ceiling. The sturdy central pillar continued from below, teaching up to the ceiling. Unlike below, here steps wound around the outer wall of the room, allowing access to the floor above via easier means.
“It will do for our purposes,” she announced.
Vanas hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. “And what is that?” he asked, reluctant, dreading the response.
“We need to kill you, to make it appear you are dead. You should have stayed down. Lay down here,” she ordered, pointing to a spot on the floor nearby to the pillar with Dirgesinger.
“You are sure this will work?” Vanas asked as slowly he approached the spot she had indicated, and slower still lowered his bulk to the ground. The stones were uncomfortable beneath him yet barely did he notice them, for his troubled thoughts were turned elsewhere. He could not believe that he willingly was going along with Ishkinil’s plan. Yet he, who had spun webs and intrigues among the decedent gilded cities, could see no other options before him, no stratagems to save himself, and so complied as meekly as lamb going to the slaughter.
“It will work.”
The raven hopped over to where Vanas lay, coming to rest alongside his head, bathed in the pale light of Dirgesinger so that it appeared that his eyes seemed to glow. Observed up close, its beak looked so large, so sharp and Vanas once more felt sweat running free. If the raven took one peck, he could do naught to stop it.
“Close your eyes, and relax,” Ishkinil instructed.
“It is easier to say than to do,” Vanas shot back. “You are not the one dying.”
“No, but still it needs doing.”
Vanas sighed, even as he shut his eyes, trying to calm nerves and worries both. Total dark enveloped him. He felt a weight come to rest on his chest, as the raven hopped on to him and only just did he bite back a startled curse, to resist the effort to sit up and sweep the bird aside. He had to trust Ishkinil, that she knew what she was doing. “What happens now?”
“You will sleep, and more than sleep, for a while,” Ishkinil answered, her words sounding distant, as if she was moving away. “When at last it is all over, I shall awake you again,” she promised.
“And I will feel nothing?”
“There will be no pain,” she said. It did not satisfy Vanas completely, yet he doubted that he would get more out of her than that.
“Proceed then.”
“I already have.”
His thoughts came slower and a soft warmth settled over him. Eyes felt heavy and a feeling of peace seemed to shroud him. For a moment he struggled with thoughts of why he was there, of what he had been worried about, but these he put aside, for here was safety. Towards him came rushing a vast light, endless as the skies, enveloping him in its warmth and comfort and no more he knew.