Lord of Ashes

FORTY

‘But you told me he was dead,’ Waylian said, looking in disbelief at Bram though his words were directed at his mistress.

‘I told you no such thing,’ Gelredida replied.

They stood in the entrance hall to the Tower of Magisters. Outside the distant roar of battle crept over the sound of the rain beating down.

Waylian could only stare at Bram, at his hollow, dishevelled features, at the arrogant smile he held despite his appearance. Hatred burned inside him along with the need to throttle the bastard, but he knew he couldn’t. If Gelredida had released him she must have done so for a bloody good reason.

He could only think about how they had been friends. About how popular Bram had been with the other apprentices, but what a dark secret he had hidden. The murders he had committed and the evil magicks he had conjured that day within the Chapel of Ghouls. Had Waylian not managed to manifest some magick of his own and stopped Bram, the outcome would have been catastrophic. And here was Magistra Gelredida, unleashing him from his prison to roam the city once more.

‘Why is he alive?’ said Waylian.

Gelredida glanced over at Bram, who shrugged his reply, obviously as much in the dark about that as Waylian.

‘He is the Maleficar Necris. He has power beyond imagining. Power that perhaps no mortal should be allowed to wield, but right now he could be the only thing that will save this city.’

Waylian was about to say he didn’t understand, but he stopped himself. He’d said those words far too often. Made himself look the dolt on too many occasions. He was damned if he’d do it again, especially with that murdering bastard Rembram Thule leering at him like some loathsome toad.

‘If there are no more questions, we have work to do,’ said Gelredida.

In the absence of further argument she led them from the tower. Bram followed, Waylian at the rear. Gelredida had seen fit to send the rest of the Raven Knights within the tower to the wall, so they had no further escort as they made their way out onto the city streets.

Two sets of manacles secured Bram’s wrists; one made of iron and another similar to those Gelredida had worn in the Crucible of Magisters to nullify her powers. Waylian could only hope they would be enough. He had seen Bram’s potency first-hand and it had almost killed him. The only reason he’d survived was blind luck and he was in no mood to push it any further. It was times like this he wished he carried a blade. Then he could see how dangerous Rembram Thule was with a knife between his ribs. He wouldn’t be so fucking scary then, would he?

‘How’ve you been, Grimmy?’ Bram asked conversationally, as they made their way across the city. Screams rose above the sounds of battle and the rain had already soaked through their cloaks to the robes beneath. And now a man Waylian thought he’d killed was talking to him like they were strolling along a quiet beach. Of everything that had happened to him — from a near icy death in the Kriega Mountains, to facing a murderously animated tree in the amphitheatre — this was the most insane.

‘How the fuck do you think I’ve been?’ he replied.

‘I don’t know, Grimmy. That’s why I’m asking. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been locked up in a dungeon for Arlor knows how many weeks. They didn’t keep me apprised of how you were getting on and I’ve missed my old pal.’

‘Fuck off,’ Waylian spat. ‘Fuck off, you fucking mad fucker.’

Bram looked genuinely hurt. ‘Aw, come on now. There’s no need for rudeness.’

‘No need for … You tried to end the fucking world, Bram. What in the hells is wrong with you?’

Bram shook his head. ‘There’s no need to be hostile. I’ve just got ambition, that’s all, Grimmy. It’s not my fault you’re happy to be someone’s lapdog.’ He nodded towards Gelredida. If she could hear she didn’t acknowledge it.

‘I’m no one’s lapdog. And you’re bloody insane. Don’t talk to me.’

He dropped back a little, letting Bram and Gelredida walk ahead some distance. As much as he wanted to believe he was no one’s lackey, he knew the truth of it. And he knew he’d let Bram get to him. Despite his former friend being insane he was clearly still a manipulative bastard. Probably best if they both kept their mouths shut.

They didn’t have to walk on much further for Waylian to realise where they were headed. The Chapel of Ghouls stood ominously in the distance. Waylian felt a knot tighten in his stomach as they neared it, the memory of what had so nearly happened in that place making him feel sick. What made that sickness worse was the uncertainty about why Gelredida was taking them there now. Luckily Bram asked the question so Waylian didn’t have to.

‘Far be it from me to doubt the wisdom of the Red Witch, but why on earth are we returning to this broken-down old ruin?’

They had reached the gate now, with its fiendish brass carvings, each one in the shape of a ghoul or its victim. She drew her hand over the gate panel and whispered her quiet words. Waylian felt nausea engulf him as it had done the first time he came here, only now it was not so intense. This time he almost seemed to handle the experience with ease.

As the brass carvings moved in their silent dance and the gate opened, Gelredida stood and stared up the path to the Chapel of Ghouls. ‘You wanted your chance at greatness, Rembram. And now you’re about to have it.’

Bram glanced over at Waylian, both eyebrows raised as though the prospect excited him.

‘Er … Magistra?’ said Waylian. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking about what I think you’re thinking about.’

Gelredida crossed the threshold and made her way up the path towards the chapel. Bram matched her long stride as Waylian stumbled along beside them.

‘Magistra?’ he said again.

‘If you’ve never trusted me before, Waylian, you need to trust me now,’ she said without turning towards him, her focus fixed on the ominous building.

‘But this is madness. This is insane, you can’t …’ But Waylian knew she could.

Of course she can, Grimm. She’s the Red Witch; she can do as she pleases. How many people has she burned to get her way? How much has she risked to save this city? She was only too eager to put you in harm’s way and you’re her apprentice. Do you think she gives a shit about the lives of a few bog trotters swelling the city’s underbelly if it defeats the Khurtas?

Gelredida didn’t lead them into the chapel itself, but up a makeshift stone staircase that twisted up the side of the building. Waylian followed behind Bram, mad thoughts of tipping the bastard off the stairs to his death flying through his head. But he knew he’d never have the courage for that, never be brave enough to defy his mistress, even when it seemed that she had lost all reason.

They reached the roof of the chapel and Gelredida walked around the perimeter with her hand held out, palm facing down. As she passed each stanchion set in the parapet that surrounded the rooftop, a torch burst into bright yellow flame. Despite the rain drumming down hard, the flames burned bright. In the light Waylian could see the roof was perhaps twenty feet wide, gaps in the flat mosaic tiles under his feet showing through to the chapel beneath. The pattern on the tiles was laid in some arcane design which Waylian didn’t recognise.

Gelredida came to stand before Bram, staring him in the eyes. In return he regarded her with his usual arrogant expression.

‘You will finish the ritual,’ she said. ‘You will unleash the ghouls on this city. Only you can do that. And only you can stop them.’

‘What makes you think I’ll do that?’ Bram asked with a grin.

‘Because if you don’t, Waylian will kill you.’

Waylian will bloody what?

Bram glanced over at Waylian, who tried to look as brave as he could, and not like someone had just kicked him in the fruits. ‘Him? He got lucky last time, you know that as well as I do, witch. He couldn’t kill a crippled fly.’

‘You would be surprised at what he’s achieved since you were locked away from the sunlight.’

‘You’re right, I would. If he can conjure more than piss out of his cock I’ll be fucking amazed.’

‘You don’t need to worry about him. You need to worry about you,’ said Gelredida, staring into Bram’s eyes. Waylian could feel the air turning, a metallic tang emanating from where his mistress stood. ‘You will compel the undead of this place to destroy the Khurtic army. You will do your best to ensure they focus their assault on the enemy and spare the people of Steelhaven. Do you understand?’

Bram stared back at her, his arrogance gone now as he looked into her eyes. ‘Yes, Magistra,’ he replied.

‘Now, prepare yourself,’ she said, before removing the bracelets from around his wrists. Still manacled by the iron chains, Bram set about preparations for the ritual, mumbling some dark incantation as he knelt on the floor, tracing sigils in the cracked tiles with his fingertips.

Gelredida walked up to Waylian, regarding him warmly. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

‘You are ready?’ she asked.

Waylian nodded. ‘Yes, Magistra,’ he replied, though he knew he was anything but ready.

‘At the first sign he is about to betray you, kill him.’

‘But … how?’

Gelredida smiled. ‘You will find a way, Waylian Grimm. You always do.’

As much as he appreciated the faith she was putting in him, he couldn’t help but feel it was misplaced. How was he going to stop Rembram if the bastard disobeyed his mistress? And for that matter, where in the hells was Gelredida going to be?

‘Magistra. I don’t understand. Why is it down to me to control Bram? Why can’t you do it?’

Gelredida smiled back at him, and he could see sadness in her eyes. ‘My time is over,’ she said.

Waylian felt his stomach lurch.

He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words as she turned and walked away from him to kneel in the centre of the rooftop. Bram came to stand over her. His former friend was grinning once more. ‘You really haven’t told him anything, have you, old woman?’

She began to pull off her robe. ‘I am sorry, Waylian. But this is the only way. I have been infected with the power of the Veil itself. I am already dead.’

Waylian could see the sickness that infected her hands had spread, covering her shoulders and chest in a web of black veins. Bram glanced over at Waylian as Gelredida handed him an iron dagger from her robe. ‘You see, Grimmy, you can’t achieve anything without sacrifice.’

‘No,’ Waylian screamed. ‘You can’t.’

Gelredida stared at him with genuine sorrow in her eyes. ‘Remember what you must do. And do not hesitate.’ She looked back at Bram. ‘You neither.’

Bram gave her a wink. ‘Oh, you know there’s no chance I’ll hesitate, old woman,’ he said.

As he raised the dagger, a silent incantation on his lips, Waylian wanted to rush forward. He wanted to rip the knife from Bram’s grip and plunge it into his heart. This was madness, this couldn’t be happening. Gelredida wasn’t thinking straight, the canker that had infested her body must have spread to her brain. But as the sounds of battle crept across the city, Waylian realised she was right. The Khurtas would soon overwhelm the city. This was the only way.

Gelredida closed her eyes as Bram plunged the knife into her chest. Waylian almost felt it pierce his own heart, clutching at his robe, tears welling in his eyes as he gritted his teeth against a cry of remorse. She made no sound as her head lolled backwards. Bram continued his incantation, seeming to gain in strength and stature as he mumbled the dark words.

Waylian could only watch through the torchlight as he saw dark magick seep from the blade of the iron dagger, spreading across the magistra’s body. As it did so pressure began to build in Waylian’s ears. He lifted a hand to his face to stem a trickle of blood from his nose just before the rooftop beneath his feet shuddered. One of the torches fell from its stanchion, and all the while Rembram mumbled his silent incantation.

As the dark sorcery continued, the air growing more humid despite the cold rain, Waylian took a step forward, heeding his mistress’ words. If Bram betrayed them he would have to be killed without hesitation. The boy’s eyes were shut tight now as he grasped the dagger in two hands, the blade still buried deep in Gelredida’s chest. Her flesh had turned black, her body little more than a desiccated shell. Waylian clenched his fists, willing Bram to show him any sign of treachery.

The Chapel of Ghouls shook once more; this time masonry fell from the side of the building, shattering on the ground far below. Something cracked open within, like a giant egg breaking open with life, but Waylian knew there was nothing alive in there.

Bram’s eyes suddenly flicked open, two black orbs staring up at the rainy night sky. At the same time something howled. Waylian felt it more than heard it. The noise seemed to clench his insides, tearing out any strength he might have had, replacing it with terror.

He staggered back, gripping the parapet of the roof. Below, in the wan light, he could see movement. Figures were creeping from the chapel, moving like animals though their limbs were unmistakably humanoid. From this distance Waylian could make out no details, and part of him was grateful for that.

After seven centuries, ghouls were abroad in Steelhaven once more, and all that could stop them running amok was an insane murderer.

And the only thing keeping that murderer in check was Waylian Grimm.