Blood in the Valley Page 17

  “Well,” Vohl began through gritted teeth, “what are your orders, then, Procurator?”

  “Defend the walls as before, you fool!” Aigann howled.

  “We need more men, at least,” Vohl replied. “If the Palace Guard could just be released to—”

  “We are not going to discuss this again! You men will hold the walls to the last!” Aigan ran a hand through his oiled hair, brought it away leaving his carefully-coifed locks in disarray. “And if any of you or yours breaks and runs, I will send the Guard out to seize your families for the treason!”

  “At least open up the dungeons and give us those men,” Vohl pleaded.

  Aigann started to reply then held himself back, eyes widened with the fevered glimmer of paranoia. “Oh,” he whispered through trembling lips. “Oh, I see your little plan now, Rhenn.”

  Vohl waved a hand in frustration. “There is no plan.”

  “You’d have me turn out the gnome and then you’d all abandon the city together. Is that it?”

  “You have lost your mind, Aigann,” Vohl snarled.

  “I’ve lost my mind to let you hold any responsibility for protecting this city,” Aigann replied, his voice gone suddenly, unnaturally calm. He pointed towards the door. “Get out. You are stripped of your City Watch command and if I see you again, you will be arrested!”

  “Vohl...” Muddle began, unfolding his arms and clenching his fists.

  “No.” Vohl put his hand on Muddle’s arm, could feel the fury boiled under the scarred skin. “No, it’s all right. Let’s go.”

  “Get out of my sight!” Aigan roared.

  Vohl glanced around at the City Watchmen but none would meet his gaze. “Good luck to you all, then,” he said bitterly.

  “Out!!!”

  Vohl strode from the office with Muddle prowling at his back. The Palace Guardsmen watched them go with hands on their weapons. A pair followed them out then slammed the doors to the office at their backs.

  A giggle that was the best release of tension Vohl could manage left his lips as they passed between columns and descended a set of stairs. More Guardsmen watched them go, tense and ready for a brawl. Muddle glared at each.

  “They’re not following,” the half-breed eventually said.

  “Not yet, they’re not.”

  “What now?”

  Vohl glanced over his shoulder to ensure that they were out of earshot. “We get back to the Loving Imp. And we make our own plans.”

  JAYCE EMERGED FROM the dark of unconsciousness to patters of moisture on his face. He groaned, tasting salty droplets on his lips. A haze shot through with nightmare afterimages of destruction and falling over the city parted to reveal the candle-lit interior of a vaguely familiar room and a girlish face bent over him, inexpertly-cropped locks dangling about it.

  “Danelle,” he croaked through a throat seared dry by fumes and fire.

  The girl collapsed over his chest, weeping, her weight driving another groan from his battered chest. He put a hand up, the motion sending pain in jolts up his arm into his shoulder, and stroked the back of her hair.

  “It’s all right, girl,” he whispered. “I’m all right.”

  “Oh, Master...” Danelle sat up. His vision focusing finally, Jayce could see the yellow-black circles sagging beneath her bloodshot eyes. She turned to another girl, waiting near the door to the room, and asked, “Have Masters Vohl and Muddle returned?”

  “I will go and check,” the girl replied.

  “Thank you, Teelee,” Danelle said as the girl departed.

  “I’m back in the Loving Imp.” Jayce glanced about.

  “You are,” Danelle answered, clasping his hand. “You’re safe.”

  Jayce managed a weak smile, recalling a similar exchange between himself and Illah what seemed centuries ago, in his tower, surrounded by the Skinners. He remembered the half-elf’s dubious response. He remembered Illah...best not to think on that now.

  “My last little spell worked, then,” Jayce said. “A minor bit of levitation. I’d never practiced it much. But riding on a dragon’s back, it’s best to be prepared.”

  “You were magnificent, Master,” Danelle gushed. “You single-handedly turned the tide.”

  Jayce offered the best approximation of a shrug he could manage, reclined in bed. “The dragon did that. I just drove it onward. Fascinating creatures, dragons.” He frowned. “I regret its service to me ended as it did.”

  “You’re back,” Danelle said, wiping her eyes clean, “that’s all I care about.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, my girl.”

  She took his hand in both of hers. “Master, I...I’m so sorry about the things I said. If you hadn’t come back and...and the last thing that passed between us was bitterness...” She trailed off into sobs and released his hand.

  “There, there,” Jayce cooed, patted Danelle’s shaking shoulder. “It’s the past. We’re together again, and I will need you now, more than I ever have.”

  Footsteps rumbled up stairs, coupled with raised voices. A moment later, Vohl and Muddle bustled into the room.

  “Well,” Vohl barked with a wide grin, “you finally turned up, didn’t you?”

  “I thought you might be missing me,” Jayce replied, holding out a hand. Vohl accepted it and shook Jayce till he winced.

  “Sorry,” Vohl said, releasing the grip and frowning. “How do you feel?”

  “Like someone who has fallen out of the sky.” Jayce chuckled and instantly regretted it as new shards of pain shook loose within him.

  “Yeah, you look it.” Vohl knelt at the bedside opposite Danelle. He started to say something, apparently didn’t know how to word it then started again. “By the gods, Jayce, what has happened?”

  Jayce tried to piece back together the splinters of his memory, sifting through images of horror, impressions of fear, of flight, and the terrible, dragging weight of sleep-deprivation. Finally, he shrugged and said, “It was a trap.” He squeezed Danelle’s hand. “We should have known. Illah and I tried to get close, determine something of the nature of what has guided events to this end. But...as I said, a trap.”

  Vohl nodded, gnawing his lip. “And Illah?”

  “We were cut off.” Jayces closed his eyes, tried to fight back the shadows of all that had transpired. “I...I don’t know. If she lives now, it might be she would wish to be dead.”

  Vohl winced and looked away.

  “What is it, this Thing that leads them?” Muddle asked over Vohl’s shoulder.

  Jayce opened his eyes, took strength from his friends’ faces, their concern, as he recalled the choking fog of purist darkness. “To call it evil is incomplete,” he said. “It is comprised of malice so old, so refined in its hate of this world and its desire to dominate that all is drawn into it. Individuality, the mind, reason; these things mean nothing, are drawn into the pit of this thing’s wickedness and snuffed out.”

  Muddle exchanged a glance with Vohl. “Can it be beaten?” Vohl asked.

  Jayce smiled sadly. “I wish I knew, my friend.”

  Vohl stood and folded his arms. He looked at Muddle. “Then it’s like we were saying; we cannot stay here.”

  “No,” Jayce said, trying to sit up with sudden energy. Pain clamped his muscles tight and he slid back onto the pillow.

  “Easy, old friend.” Vohl put a hand on Jayce’s chest.

  “We’re penned-up in here, like animals cornered and awaiting the slaughter,” Jayce rasped. “We must get free and buy ourselves time, time to learn how to fight it.”

  Vohl nodded. A curious smile began to work at the corner of his lips.

  “I take it you have a plan?” Jayce asked.

  “I might,” Vohl replied with a flick of his eyebrows. “Will you be up to any more spell-casting?”

  “Look at him!” Danelle cut Jayce off before he could respond. “You can’t ask him to do more!”

  “It’s all right, my dear,” Jayce said, patting the g
irl’s arm to calm her. He met Vohl’s gaze. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe I can. I’ll need a little more rest and some time to meditate. It’s only through my magic I’ve been able to get this far. I’ve used so much of myself up.” He glanced at Danelle, set a hand upon her arm. “But perhaps with Danelle’s help, we might yet do some good.”

  “Good enough.”

  Jayce noticed an absence amongst the circle of friends, berated himself for not picking up on it sooner. “Where’s Dodso?”

  Vohl’s grin faded. “Under arrest.”

  “What?”

  “The Procurator threw him in the dungeon,” Muddle snarled and spat to one side.

  “Aigann?” Jayce wanted to ask more but shook his head. There was no time. “Tell me your plan includes getting Dodso out, Vohl.”

  “It might, indeed.” Vohl snorted. “That little twerp is going to owe me for this.” He touched Jayce’s shoulder. “Get that rest you were talking about. We’ve got things to do, to get what I’m thinking of in motion. You’ll have a little time.”

  “Thanks,” Jayce replied. “It’s good to be back.”

  Vohl smiled. “Back together again.”

  DESPITE THE MANACLES about her wrists and ankles, Illah managed a trance, cross-legged in the yurt the hobgoblins had inexplicably moved her into. Breathe in, breathe out. Cleansing air drawn into her lungs, horror and hate expelled. She sought Zaiden, the Hammer of Law and Balance, sought the other Gods, too, listening for their call across the serenity of her mind.

  None answered.

  Illah sighed and let her concentration fall away. She opened her eyes to the interior of the yurt, a bowl left near one knee, crusty with the vileness that passed for food amongst goblinoids, the bed of embers sending serpents of blue-gray out through the vent in the roof. The flap of the yurt door shivered at the shadow of a passing guard.

  None answer me, she thought. They recoil from the stain of my sins and from the hold he still has on me. Gods forgive your servant; I am trying. Please give me a sign.

  The muscles of her body tensed as the air went electric around her, a shimmer of energies felt under the skin. Hope starting up in Illah, was then crushed as the familiar stench of ancient death, ancient evil wafted in through the suddenly fluttering tent flap. The glow of the fire lost its yellowy tinge, took on a deep red that sulked amongst the cinders like tiny claws. The sounds of the camp around her prison seemed to fall away. She didn’t need to look up to know what was about to enter.

  Satayebeb ducked into the yurt and stood over her, smirking.

  “Be gone, Purveyor of Filth,” Illah rasped without meeting the demoness’ gaze.

  “For a priestess, have a nasty mouth,” Satayebeb replied pleasantly. “I don’t know what he sees in you.”

  Illah closed her eyes and tried to find the trance again.

  “And so much disrespect,” Satayebeb said with a chuckle.

  Illah’s chains quivered then yanked forward, dragging her face-first onto the floor of the yurt. She opened her eyes to see the links pulling her towards Satayebeb’s feet, the manacles twisting, metal grating into the raw strips around her wrists. She hissed in pain as her bonds tightened about her, chains snaking around her legs and arms, pinching them together until it felt as though the bones would break.

  Satayebeb’s eyes glimmered. She raised a foot and put her boot heel down on the side of Illah’s face, shoving her cheek into the dirt floor. “That’s better,” the demoness said. “You seek the word of your false gods, yet ignore one who was present when your world was made.”

  “You made nothing,” Illah rasped. “You and your kind were shut out of Creation for trying to destroy it.”

  “You’re wrong.” Satayebeb ground her heel against Illah’s skull, drove her further into the dirt. “We sought only to dominate and be loved for it in return. The entities you call Gods abandoned you mortals in a world their neglect had left cruel and uncertain.”

  “That is freedom,” Illah replied, her words half-muffled in the gritty taste of earth.

  “Freedom is a pretty word for nihilism,” Satayebeb hissed.

  “It’s better than slavery.”

  The release of pressure on Illah’s head was her only warning of the kick that followed. Illah’s head jolted to one side at the impact of Satayebeb’s toe, blasted sparks across her vision that faded into a hard pinprick of pain. Illah gritted her teeth to suppress a groan as the world shuddered sickeningly around her. After a time, it settled and she could sense Satayebeb pacing around her.

  “I didn’t come to fence with the likes of you,” Satayebeb said.

  Illah rolled onto her back, skull throbbing. She took a few breaths to hold back a rush of nausea before saying, “Why did you come, then?”

  “To offer you a deal.”

  Illah forced a grim chuckle. “You have nothing I want.”

  Satayebeb shook her head. “Come now, we both know that’s not true. Lonadiel. He can be yours, if you still desire him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, but you do. Your teetering faith in senile gods shields your mind from me, but I know a woman’s heart. You still seek to ‘redeem’ him.”

  “Redemption is his for the taking.”

  “He won’t.” Satayebeb stopped her prowl to look down on her, a grin that could almost be motherly playing across her face. “Little fool, don’t you think I know the things he said to you, his ‘plans’? He lies to you, and you even know it, but still you cling to your hopes.”

  Illah bit her lips until she tasted blood, fighting back the urge to respond.

  “He is mine.” Sateyebeb shrugged. “But I am a generous sort. I will grant him to you. All you have to do is give yourself to me.” She held out a hand.

  Illah rolled away. “You see the world, mortals, as things to take. But love and loyalty cannot be taken.”

  The cluck of Satayebeb’s tongue mocked her. “I am older than your Mauvynn, girl. I am older than any of the civilizations that dragged themselves out of the morass of barbarism to call themselves risen above others. I know what can be taken.”

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  Satayebeb cackled, the harsh sound of it worming its way into Illah’s nerves, tormenting her with a thousand whispers of promised, hellish delights. “I have languished eons in the Void, clawing my way up out of the Demonic Vortex to tempt mortals. Believe me; I have the time to waste.”

  “Go and tempt another,” Illah said. “I have made my choice.”

  Silence dragged. Satayebeb’s sigh broke it. “A pity. You would have made an admirable addition to my family. I have always wondered what it would be to have a daughter. Very well.” Illah heard the swish of the demoness’ cloaks as she moved to the exit. “You speak of a choice, of this Free Will you mortals delude yourselves into believing defines you. Well...you will have a choice, I promise you.”

  The bunching of Illah’s muscles eased. Sound clattered around the yurt and the fire crackled to its former glow, told Illah that Satayebeb was gone. Wincing at the pain of bruised, strained joints, she sat up and crossed her legs again. She cupped her hands together and closed her eyes, sought serenity. Her mind answered her with blank darkness.

  Still, the gods did not answer.

  Hear me, she prayed. Show me the way...

  VOHL GAZED AROUND THE barroom at the gathered men and women. The poor light cast their faces in hard shadows, pinched eyes catching lantern-light and reflecting it back with the cold glimmer of fear. A few sipped ales half-heartedly, the sweet redolence of the alcohol faint behind the stink of packed, sweating bodies. The light of late afternoon spilled through the partially-cracked door to the tavern in a shaft of red. Muddle waited there, eyes scanning the street outside.

  “It has come to this,” Vohl began, “Procurator Aigann has lost his mind and has condemned us with his refusal to see facts.”

  A few of the citizens shifted in their seats. Two or three exchanged glances. They were mem
bers of the Watch, but none higher than foremen. Vohl couldn’t trust any of the commanders and even if he could, none would dare slip away while Aigann’s Guardsmen prowled. That the Procurator’s informants might be watching the Loving Imp had occurred to Vohl, but risks had to be taken.

  “We have to get out of here,” Vohl continued. “Eredynn is doomed. But we don’t have to be doomed with it.”

  “The ships in the harbor?” one of the men asked from a corner.

  “That’s right.” Vohl nodded. “There are plenty, all the leftovers from the Expedition and more with plenty of room, thanks to the flight of many of our fellow citizens already. They can take the families and dependants out, if we organize.”

  “Is there no more we can do?” another man asked, an older fellow Vohl recognized as a cobbler he’d once had repair his boots. “Last night you said—”

  “I know what I said!” Vohl hissed and instantly regretted it. He softened his voice, let the bitterness and fear pass. “I wish things were different. If we fought hard, we might be able to buy ourselves another night, maybe two. If we had had the weight of the Legion, maybe things would be different. But they aren’t. I’m sorry, friends.”

  None moved now. Vohl could hear their breathing and his own pulse. One by one, they all looked up at him. He wanted to sag back in his chair or kick it away and stomp cursing from the room. Why me? I’m just a man, not even a particularly bright one at that! Why couldn’t it be someone else they look to? He recalled the exhilaration of addressing the militia before and felt it turn sour in his gut.

  He knew this was real leadership. He knew why Dodso had looked bowed and broken before it.

  “So, what do you have planned?” a woman asked.

  Vohl steeled himself to continue. “After we disperse, you are all to gather those you trust and tell them to pass the word on to those they trust. Tell them to organize their families and have then ready to make for the harbor when the time is right.”