Lord of Ashes

TWENTY-FOUR

Waylian could only imagine the battle waging to the north of the city. He had seen it first-hand the night before, had lived it in all its bowel-threatening glory. It was just a relief he didn’t have to experience it now. He was almost grateful that Gelredida had spared him the wall and given him a different mission. In his gut, though, he knew this would be no less dangerous than standing there waiting for the Khurtas to come running at him. In fact, it was likely much more dangerous.

He stumbled through the blackened wreckage of what had been Dockside. Here and there buildings were still standing — islands amidst a sea of devastated property. Fires burned all around and it took all Waylian’s concentration not to trip amidst the detritus. His companion was no more sure-footed either. If anything, Aldrich Mundy was clumsier than Waylian, if that were even possible.

What had his mistress been thinking to partner him with Mundy? The lad was clearly a little bit … challenged. If this mission was as important as it seemed then surely he should be accompanied by a senior magister. Or someone who wasn’t mad, at least.

‘Keep up,’ said Waylian, as the bespectacled apprentice tugged on his robe, which had become snared on a blackened timber jutting from a pile of rubble.

He thought Aldrich might give him some petulant comment, using all the verbose language he’d been led to expect, but the lad merely did as he was told. For a moment Waylian felt guilty. Aldrich had obviously never seen devastation like this. Despite his obtuse nature he was most likely terrified out of his wits.

‘We’re nearly there,’ said Waylian, stopping and waiting for Aldrich, who clomped through the uneven ground like a new-born foal. When he eventually reached Waylian’s side, Aldrich looked up at the night sky, his eyes lighting up from behind his thin-rimmed spectacles.

‘Fascinating,’ said the apprentice.

‘What is?’ Waylian asked, but he needn’t have bothered.

He heard the distant roar, saw Aldrich’s face brighten with light and the lenses of his spectacles turn white, and spun around to look at the burning missile soaring over the sea wall.

‘See how it maintains its structural integrity until the moment of impact?’ Aldrich said, pointing up at the night sky. ‘It takes a great deal of ingenuity to-’

‘Fucking run!’ barked Waylian, grabbing Aldrich’s robe and dragging him away from where the missile was quite clearly going to land.

He stumbled, Aldrich clapping along behind in his sandals. Something scraped against Waylian’s thigh, tearing his robe and lacerating his flesh. He growled but tried to ignore the pain, not daring to look up as the ground all around them brightened like the dawning of a new day.

The heat grew more intense against his back, the noise deafening. Waylian grabbed Aldrich by the shoulders, tackling him to the ground, as what was left of the street exploded behind them. Fragments of masonry soared all about as Waylian sheltered behind a broken wall. Flaming shards burst against the street and Waylian covered his head. He could hear Aldrich squealing beside him as the world seemed to break apart in a searing explosion.

When he could eventually open his eyes Aldrich was mumbling to himself, still curled up in a ball. Waylian was about to reassure the lad when he felt his leg burning. The hem of his robe was in flames, and he started to desperately beat at it with his scuffed hands.

This is madness. You’re going to die here. She’s sent you to die again. You should run, Grimmy. Call it a day. You’ve done enough for her — surely this is a suicide mission too far.

When the fire was out Waylian glanced at the devastation. Through the fires that raged all around he suddenly spotted something in the shadows of a collapsed building. Three sets of eyes peered out from soot-blackened faces. Waylian couldn’t tell if they were children or adults, but the fear written in their features was easy to see, despite the lack of detail. Suddenly he felt a growing sense of urgency to complete his mission.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, rising to his feet and pulling Aldrich with him.

‘What a quintessentially stentorian experience,’ said Mundy, his voice quavering.

The left lens of his eyeglasses was now cracked and he stared with a wild look to him. Waylian had no idea what help Gelredida had thought he’d be, but it was doubtful he’d be much use in a state of shock.

You’d best pray for a miracle, then, Grimmy. It’s not like you’re going to be able to destroy that fleet of ships single-handed, is it?

They pressed on south. The Sea Gate was easy to see over the plain of flattened buildings and Waylian was instilled with a sense of foreboding. This place was already like the hells. If they tarried much longer there’d be nothing left but cinders, and whoever else was left cowering in the rubble would be doomed.

Waylian and Aldrich picked their way further through the ruins and when they eventually reached the Sea Gate there were several Greencoats crouching beside the wall. Their green jackets were soot darkened, their faces black, but still they waited. Waylian could only admire their dedication. He doubted he’d have borne the same commitment had it been his job to guard this gate.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ said one of them as Waylian and Aldrich came to crouch beside them. The man’s face was a broken mess and he glowered angrily.

Waylian glanced at Aldrich, but it was obvious he had nothing to say. On any other day he’d have taken that as the blessing it was.

‘We have to get out there.’ Waylian pointed through the blackened iron portcullis, the wooden gate that would have stood in front of it having long since burned down.

‘No chance,’ said the man. ‘This gate stays closed. Those are our orders.’

‘We’re from the Tower of Magisters. We’ve been sent to take care of those ships.’

He could hear the fear in his own voice. Part of him wanted the man to listen, to appreciate what he was doing. Another part wanted the man to tell him to fuck off back to the tower where at least he’d be safe … for now.

‘I don’t give a flying shit if you’ve come straight from the queen’s bloody bedchamber. This gate stays shut.’

Waylian glanced around at the other Greencoats. None of them looked in a mood to disagree with their comrade. None of them looked in the mood for anything but running, truth be told. From the corner of his eye, Waylian caught sight of a pile of charred bodies, still smoking in the cold night. He wondered for a moment if they were the bodies of more Greencoats, friends of those left here to guard the gate. These men had been through the mill, of that there was no doubt. Who was he, a young pup dressed in a burned robe and looking scared as a fox in a snare, to order them around?

Without another word Waylian took Aldrich’s arm and guided him away from the gate. He glanced to the north and thought about whether to head back to the Tower of Magisters to report his failure. But then he’d reported enough failures to his mistress. He’d been given a mission and he would bloody well carry it out, even if it killed him. Not that very many of the missions she gave him were without life-threatening peril.

‘Come on,’ he said to Aldrich. ‘There must be another way over.’

Aldrich followed obediently as they made their way along the base of the wall. Before long they reached the stairs leading up the parapet, and with no other option they both climbed up to the battlements. The pair of them crouched below the crenellated wall and carefully Waylian peered over the side. Under the moonlight he could make out the crescent bay, the still waters looking black beneath the night sky. In the distance the fire ships sat in a row, their decks lit by burning braziers. Had they not been so dangerous, had they not flung so much death and destruction on his city, Waylian might have thought them beautiful.

Leaning his head out further he looked down to the ground below. He couldn’t estimate the distance but it was obviously too far to jump.

‘Think, Waylian,’ he said aloud. He knew there was no point addressing Aldrich — he couldn’t understand the lad at the best of times, and now in such a state of terror it was unlikely he’d make any more sense. ‘There must be a way.’

He looked up and down the wall. Perhaps there’d be a rope somewhere. Perhaps a fisherman’s net he could fashion into a ladder. As he moved along the walkway he realised Aldrich wasn’t following. Turning he saw the apprentice was staring out to sea.

‘We need to move,’ Waylian whispered, though why he was whispering he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if the mariners on the artillery ships were going to hear him.

Without a word of reply, Aldrich clambered on the wall, gripping the merlons to either side of him.

‘What are you doing?’ said Waylian, panic gripping him.

He rushed to Aldrich’s side, reaching out to pull him back, but with unexpected speed, Aldrich gripped his wrist and pulled him up onto the battlements.

‘What the fu-’ was all he had a chance to say before Aldrich leaned back and pulled them both over the lip of the wall.

There was no time to scream. No time to try and stop himself as he fell into the darkness. The air rushed in his face, his stomach lurched violently. As they fell Aldrich gripped him around the arms and Waylian squeezed his eyes shut, girding himself for the impact.

When he opened them again they were both standing at the base of the wall, Aldrich still holding him in a surprisingly tight grip. They looked at one another as the sea breeze brushed their faces. Aldrich didn’t say a word, letting go and leading the way down to the dock. Waylian stared for a moment, not quite able to believe he was still alive, then followed, on legs like jelly. He had no idea what magicks Aldrich had used to halt their fall but he was thankful for them anyway.

‘Next time, bloody warn me,’ he whispered. If Aldrich heard him he gave no answer.

They made their way down to the waterside and along the great crescent harbour, their shoes making barely a sound on the wood. As they moved through the dark another flaming missile was fired from one of the ships, soaring past them and over the city wall to land with a dull explosion.

Waylian was following his fellow apprentice now, who seemed to have taken the lead. He should have been put out about the sudden change in their dynamic, but if he was honest with himself he didn’t really have a clue what he was going to do when he got to the harbour anyway.

When they were level with the ships, Aldrich stopped, glaring out at the row of vessels anchored in the water.

‘What now?’ asked Waylian. ‘I hope you’ve got something spectacular planned.’

Aldrich turned, smiling now, and he offered his hand to Waylian.

‘Oh indubitably,’ he replied. ‘But your assistance is required.’

‘How so?’ asked Waylian, reluctantly taking Aldrich by the hand.

‘You have tapped the Veil before, haven’t you, Waylian?’

‘Of course I have.’ By mistake, but I’ve still bloody done it.

‘Then let’s try it together. It’s quite the most quickening of experiences.’

Aldrich knelt beside the harbour, laying his palm on the wooden boards at his feet while still gripping Waylian’s hand. At first there was nothing, no incantation, no magickal signs, only the pungent smell of the sea carried on the night breeze.

It was some time before Waylian realised his hand had turned to ice. A cold he’d never felt before crept up his arm where Aldrich gripped him, into his flesh and into his bones. He wanted to call out but he had no voice, wanted to pull away but there was no strength in his limbs.

He looked down to see that where Aldrich’s other hand was touching the planks they had turned to ice, a solid sheet that spread from the young man’s fingers and down the side of the strut on which the crescent harbour stood. The more he stared the more he saw the ice spread out from the base of the harbour and into the sea. Waylian could hear the ice cracking as the sea solidified and all the while he grew colder.

Just as he thought he could stand it no longer and would be turned into a solid block of ice, Aldrich released his hand. Waylian collapsed to the boardwalk, feeling heat instantly flood back into him. Aldrich merely stood, looking out to sea and at the pathway they had both made. Waylian saw it led out into the night, towards the waiting artillery ships in the distance.

‘What now?’ he mumbled through gritted, frozen teeth. ‘Are we supposed to just stroll up and put their fires out?’

‘No,’ Aldrich replied. ‘There is no way we would succeed with such a strategy. But they could.’ He pointed back up towards the city.

Waylian looked, but through the dark he couldn’t see a thing. Then, through his cold-numbed ears, he thought he heard a sound like thunder.