The Dusk Watchman

CHAPTER 13

‘And here we are,’ breathed Vesna as they rounded a sprawl of young oaks and spied the lights of a fort two hundred yards away. ‘Now we’re the faithful on pilgrimage to the holy city.’

‘I can feel the blessing of the Gods upon me already,’ Zhia commented. She slipped the shawl from her head and shook her hair out loose behind her.

The sun had set behind the hills more than half an hour ago. As twilight lay heavy on the Land they looked an otherworldly collection; the dark gleaming eyes of Zhia and Legana, Isak’s shadowed scars and Vesna’s ruby teardrop catching the last of the light. One thin cloud reminded Isak of a pike’s mouth against the dark sky, but he kept the thought to himself. His companions might not be a superstitious lot, but they were apprehensive about what they would find in Vanach, so no sort of omen would be welcome.

Isak led them to the fort where a regiment of Ghosts was waiting, formed up in two neat company blocks and ready to receive them. The men had been sent on ahead to reinforce the fort’s permanent garrison, ready to provide military support should Isak call for it. It was a compact place, one of a string of six along the Vanach border, too small to cope with the additional hundred soldiers and their horses. Isak counted more than a dozen three-man tents pitched behind the fort; a makeshift corral had been set up within a cluster of ash trees beside that.

‘My Lord,’ called a soldier not wearing the Palace Guard livery; Sergeant Ralen, once one of Isak’s personal guard, approached them and saluted the white-eye he still considered his commander. ‘You’ve made good time. We only got here yesterday.’

‘Where’s Major Jachen?’ demanded Vesna as Isak slipped grimacing from his horse.

Ralen’s expression wavered a fraction. ‘Ah, ill, sir.’

‘Drunk?’

‘Sure it’s somethin’ he ate, sir.’

The Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn advanced on Ralen, who had taken a few steps back before he even realised. ‘I don’t care, Sergeant,’ Vesna said quietly. ‘Moorview hit Jachen hard; we all saw that before you left.’

‘Still sure it’s somethin’ he ate, sir,’ Ralen insisted. ‘Major’s always been prone to thinkin’ too hard, I’ll admit, but he’ll be right next time you see ’im.’

‘That’s good enough for me,’ Vesna said. He turned to the rest of the party as the last of them dismounted. ‘We eat quickly, then we’re off again.’

‘Off?’ Ralen echoed in surprise. ‘But it’s dusk. You’re travellin’ at night?’

‘It is part of our pilgrimage,’ Isak explained, easing his way down to one knee and allowing Hulf to clamber up his thigh. These days he had a permanent frown on his face: partly because of his scars, but also because of a sense of disconnection with the Land around him, one that eased when he felt Hulf’s thick fur under his fingers. ‘If we’re to make it to the Grand Ziggurat we’re going to have to pass bands of Carastars and Black Swords, and the commissars will be watching everything we do. The first step is to travel only under Alterr’s light — to claim the sanctuary of her gaze.’

‘Sounds like jumpin’ through hoops to reach your death,’ Ralen commented, ‘but the Menin lord couldn’t stop you, so this lot don’t have much chance — they’re all fuckin’ starvin’ anyway, so I hear.’

Isak couldn’t help but look past the man to the empty plain beyond the fort. He knew there would be Carastars watching it — the mercenaries were permitted free rein along the Vanach border to dissuade the population from fleeing — but their camps were not near any potential invasion route. They weren’t being paid to defend the state, just to terrorise those parts the commissars didn’t.

The Black Swords, Vanach’s army, was a less known quality. The soldiers served as both religious enforcers and police, under the direction of the commissars, but both Leshi and Shinir said they rarely ventured into the borderlands.

‘Let’s hope they’re not too hungry,’ Isak muttered, raising his still-bandaged left arm. The bite-wounds and burns were much improved, but the scar tissue remained sensitive. ‘I’m not yet healed from the last time something chewed on me.’

Ralen laughed and gestured towards the food being brought out for the party. ‘Don’t worry, sir; all the buggers’ll be after Daken first. Plenty of time to get away while they’re eatin’ him.’

Beyond the border, with night fully fallen, seeking the sanctuary of Alterr’s light proved more literal than Isak had expected. Several among them had excellent night vision, with Legana and Zhia most obviously unhindered by the dark, but the rest were forced to rely on their comrades to choose a safe path. Trade between Vanach and Narkang had dried up years back, and what had once been a road was no longer anything more than a strip of relatively level ground, so barely a minute went by without someone needing to point out a hazard to those behind.

Vorizh Vukotic’s journal stated that only a party of twelve, the number in the Upper Circle of the Pantheon, would be afforded Alterr’s sanctuary; the clear implication being that it had to be exactly a group of twelve for the commissars to honour that agreement. So they rode two abreast, with Zhia and Doranei in the lead, no one going ahead as forward scouts in case they were attacked on sight.

After a couple of hours of unimpeded travel, Isak began to wonder if there was anyone around at all.

‘It’s uncharacteristically thoughtful of my brother,’ Zhia said to the Land in general, ‘to ensure we can travel only under cover of night. He was never usually one for practicalities.’

‘Self-interest,’ Doranei grunted from her side. ‘He wants someone to find and use Termin Mystt or he wouldn’t have left a journal in the first place. So he might as well tailor his directions to the two most likely to do what he wants.’

Zhia patted him on the arm affectionately. ‘That’s a little too direct a thought process for him, pretty one.’

‘It all sounds rational enough,’ Veil said, riding behind Doranei. ‘Might be he was having a good day?’

‘You don’t build a state in a day,’ Zhia replied, ‘and that’s what Vorizh did in Vanach — rebuilt the whole society according to his needs. That requires more than just one good day. It takes time even with skilled underlings to carry out your orders. The hierarchy of Vanach is a strict one, with every citizen finely graded. Only Black Swords, commissars and priests can travel between provinces at all, let alone head towards Vanach City. Vorizh coopted an entire nation and imposed these rules upon the people, but don’t expect all of it to be rational or obvious.’

‘Well, ain’t you just a ray of sunshine?’ Daken muttered from further back. ‘Still, I’m fine with leavin’ you to figure out what yer bugshit-crazy brother is about. I’m just looking for something t’kill.’

‘Then you’ll get your wish soon enough,’ Zhia replied cheerily. ‘We’re being watched.’

Isak tore his gaze away from the ground beneath him and sat upright, but couldn’t spot anyone. There were trees beyond the fifty yards of open ground on the left, while their path ran beside the tree-line on the right. ‘Where?’ he asked.

‘Ahead,’ Zhia said, ‘under cover of those tall pines: there’s a company of men.’

Isak still couldn’t make anything out under the trees, but they were still a few hundred yards away from the spot Zhia had indicated. If they continued on their current course they would pass within a dozen yards.

‘I can smell them,’ Zhia confirmed, flashing Isak a quick smile. ‘One is carrying an injury; his blood is on the wind.’

Isak nodded and closed his eyes briefly. With one finger he brushed the Crystal Skull hanging from his belt and opened his mind to its stored energy. A dizzying burst of power fizzed through his mind and he hunched low over Toramin’s neck, gripping his saddle tightly until it had passed. After the initial discomfort came a more familiar sensation: the warm metallic tang in his mouth as magic raced through his veins and traced a delicate path over his many scars.

He felt a lurch as his senses caught a breeze and drifted up into the night air. The starlight prickled faintly on his soul as he moved up above the trees; the lesser moon, Kasi, a warm, familiar touch, with Alterr a sharp, clear flavour in his mind. The cool presence of clouds hung above him as he reached out with the dew drifting slowly down and caressed the grass ahead.

The Land was dormant there, with few night creatures anywhere nearby, but Isak could not tell whether that was because of the scent of a vampire, or the distant presence of Ghenna that occasionally appeared on the edge of perception. A breeze shivered through the trees and Isak gave a soft gasp as it seemed to run right through him, but he continued his questing and soon found the waiting soldiers.

Moving outwards, he drifted away from the excited clicks of the bats darting around the treetops and plunged down into the woods on the right. His nose was full of the scents of bracken and bark, but he found no bright human minds shining in the dark there and soon let the wind carry him back to the warmth of his body.

He opened his eyes and blinked down at his huge horse, still walking patiently behind Daken’s smaller steed. Beside him, he saw the whites of Mihn’s eyes looking up at him. The small man already had his boots off and the magic of his tattoos was gathering the night around him.

‘Go — Veil and Leshi, you too. When Alterr next goes behind a cloud, circle around behind them. They’ll be expecting to ambush anyone coming this way and we can’t be sure there’s a commissar among them.’

‘Did you sense a mage?’ Zhia asked as Mihn looked up at the greater moon.

Isak shook his head. ‘You might see more.’

‘Certainly, but I’m more interested in gauging the extent of your remaining powers. You’re not long returned to the Land, and Vorizh is certain to have some surprises in store for whoever takes Termin Mystt.’

‘Planning on being elsewhere?’

‘No — but he might well test you alone.’ She returned her attention to the Carastars ahead just as a cloud began to advance across Alterr and the moonlit ground around them began to dim. ‘What’s more, the closer we get to Vanach, the more likely there will be mages, and I doubt any are tolerated outside the Commissar Brigade. If they see how strong we are, they may perceive us as a threat.’

‘You want to kill every mage we meet?’

Zhia laughed. ‘No — I’m saying we might have to.’

They rode on in silence. Isak tried to follow the three men he’d sent off on foot, but they had disappeared entirely before they had gone twenty yards and he quickly gave up staring out across the still plain. When he looked down, he realised Hulf was also gone, but the dog had vanished just as silently; he had adapted to the witch’s tattoos as quickly as any of the Brotherhood or Ghosts. He realised there was nothing he could do about it; he’d have to rely on the fact that Hulf wouldn’t attack a man unless he was going for Isak.

No Carastar will see or hear him. Maybe it’s better Hulf keeps away; he’ll most likely get trampled in a fight.

They covered the remaining ground quickly, the soldiers among them surreptitiously loosening the ties on their weapons as they rode. Half-anticipating the flash of a crossbow bolt at any moment, Isak found himself angling his scarred belly away from the trees where the mercenaries were waiting.

‘That’s far enough!’ called a gravelly voice in the Narkang dialect. ‘Throw down your weapons and dismount.’

Doranei glanced back at Isak, who nodded to him.

‘Why?’ The King’s Man demanded on behalf of them all. ‘Sounds like a stupid idea with all the dangerous sorts round here.’

‘Your choice,’ laughed the Carastar. ‘Keb!’

Nothing happened. A hail of arrows failed to leap from beneath the trees. In the hush, Isak thought he heard a grunt of puzzled consternation before the speaker gave another shout: ‘Keb, Dass — shoot him!’

Still nothing happened, and after a minute or two Doranei gestured for the group to keep on moving — at which point two men armed with spears broke from cover and charged towards them. Before anyone else could react, Daken had hurled his axe over-arm; it caught the nearest in the chest and smashed him to the ground in a spray of blood. The second mercenary yelped and threw himself to one side, abandoning his spear in his terror and ending up on his knees with his friend’s blood running down his cheeks.

The white-eye slid from his saddle and walked unconcernedly over to him to retrieve his axe. Another Carastar ran to intercept him before he could retrieve his weapon, but Mihn appeared from the lee of a tree, swinging his staff. He caught the man in the gut and sent him wheezing to the ground.

A second appeared, lunging with a spear, but Mihn had already skipped out of the way as though performing some dainty dance and before the mercenary could react he had lifted one leg and slapped his bare sole against the shaft of the spear, sending the head plunging down into the ground. Without pausing, Mihn snapped his leg forward and kicked the Carastar in the face with enough force to knock the man flat.

‘Enough!’ shouted a new voice from the trees. ‘No more killing.’

Doranei cocked his head at the new speaker: this one wasn’t a Narkang mercenary, as the first had been; most likely that was a Vanach accent, which meant he was a commissar.

‘We claim the sanctuary of Alterr’s light,’ Doranei announced, hoping it meant something to the man.

There was a pause.

‘The first sign?’ the commissar asked in a stunned voice, more to himself than any other. The shock of Doranei’s claim seemed to have driven the wind from his lungs, and when he emerged into the moonlight the man walked as though dazed. He was a large man with thick limbs, much to Isak’s surprise. They were renowned as blackmailers and cruel bullies, using fear and spiteful words to turn men against each other, so Isak had expected some sort of rat-faced weakling who hid behind his authority.

The commissar wore a basic brown tunic and trousers, his lack of armour and the pale scarf around his neck making him stand out from the merceneries. In the dark it wasn’t clear what colour it was, but Doranei guessed at pale yellow, an echo of the greater moon above them, since Alterr was the dominant God here.

‘You claim Alterr’s sanctuary? I — forgive me, it has been a long time since my days of instruction. I had almost forgotten-And the mysteries of… ’ He tailed off, but then visibly rallied as he remembered what he had learned when first inducted into the ranks of the commissars. ‘You must number twelve.’

Doranei inclined his head to concede the point. ‘Veil, Leshi.’

In complete silence the pair picked their way out from the darkness of the trees and stood with weapons drawn as the commissar counted them again.

‘You are twelve,’ he said eventually, adopting as dignified an air as he could muster. ‘Lady Alterr blesses you with her light, and so you may travel safely so long as you do so.’ He turned to the copse. ‘Captain, you and your men may come out.’

‘Rather not, if it’s all the same ta you,’ the Carastar replied nervously. ‘I’ve heard talk o’ the mysteries and the halls o’ the ziggurat. Some sort o’ saviour or prophecy, right?’

‘It is a prophecy,’ the commissar said, ‘but one beyond your comprehension — only the most faithful of Alterr’s servants are revealed the mysteries, so you should not gossip or speculate.’

‘Aye, I won’t. My point being, we didn’t know who you all were, sirs and ladies, before you announced yourselves. Don’t mean no disrespect, but given we almost made a terrible mistake there, I’d sooner slip away right now rather than show my face.’

The commissar was momentarily speechless, flustered both by the ancient legend standing before him and astonished that his orders had been questioned for once. Even the Carastars were subject to the rule of the Commissar Brigade; the captain knew to defer to him.

‘No disrespect will be taken,’ Doranei interjected before the commissar could recover himself. ‘We would not object.’

‘You-? Well, then, as you wish, Captain.’ The commissar shook his head in puzzlement, but he was not going to countermand Doranei’s statement. ‘Wait for me at the camp — but first send your fastest rider on ahead to Ghale Outpost and inform the ranking commissar there that the first sign has been revealed. He will know what to do and make arrangements for our guests.’

He bowed low to Isak’s party as the sound of men retreating came from the trees. ‘My name is Commissar Yokar,’ he said, peering at Doranei and then Zhia, before scrutinising Isak as the largest among them and Vesna as the most regal. His knowledge of their prophecies would be limited by his rank, but he clearly expected one of them to stand out and show him what the mysteries expected.

‘I am at your disposal. Might I — might I ask who is the leader of your group?’

There was a pause before Isak nudged his horse forward. ‘I am.’

‘I am honoured to be in your presence. Might I ask my Lord’s name?’

‘Sebe,’ he replied as he slid the shawl from his head and saw Yokar visibly flinch when he saw Isak’s battered face, but he managed to keep silent. ‘My name is Sebe.’

The commissar was too overawed to notice Doranei’s reaction to the name, but it took only the smallest movement from Zhia to keep the King’s Man quiet. They all knew the king and Isak had agreed he should not use his own name, to avoid provoking months of religious debate. Isak had said that if their mission was to become famous, it deserved to be in the name of a man whose renown had been missed by the Land at large.

‘My Lord Sebe,’ the commissar said awkwardly, unsure how to address the white-eye, ‘I cannot offer you an escort according to the lore, but should you need supplies or horses, you have only to command me.’

‘That will not be necessary.’ Isak replaced the shawl to keep Alterr’s light off his face. ‘We have a long way to travel before dawn, so you may return to your work.’

Seeing the exchange was at an end, Doranei and Zhia started off again across the moonlit grass. The tattooed soldiers leaped back onto their horses and fell in behind their lord, and they all moved off quickly. The commissar was left alone and staring after them. He jumped as Isak turned in his saddle and clicked his tongue, then stumbled backwards when a grey shape broke from the trees opposite.

Hulf trotted out into the open and regarded Yokar. Man and dog watched each other suspiciously for a few moments before Hulf gave an unexpected sneeze and turned after Isak, dismissing the commissar with a swish of his tail. When thick cloud crossed both moons Hulf seemed to disappear entirely and that was enough for Yokar. The commissar fled back into the trees.

An hour before dawn the party reached what appeared to be an abandoned farmstead and Isak called a halt. While the soldiers of the group went on to investigate, Isak eased himself off his charger and watched Legana do the same. Vesna had offered the Mortal-Aspect a hand, knowing her balance was permanently affected by the loss of her Goddess, but she had ignored him. Even when she stumbled and had to grab the saddle to steady herself, she shrugged off any attempts to help.

Isak watched Vesna frown at the display of independence, but he said nothing, just stayed as her side until she had recovered herself and glared at him. Dismissed, Karkarn’s Iron General trudged back to his horse and led it to the dilapidated corral where Ebarn and Tiniq were starting to rub down the horses.

Isak followed. He nudged his friend as his horse was taken off him. ‘You’ve been quiet.’

Vesna’s frown deepened. ‘Not much to say.’ He headed around the back of the corral, away from their companions to a break in the trees behind, through which he could see the western sky where the sun would soon rise. The colours of night were already bleeding from the sky, but Isak knew Vesna saw none of it. The neat patter of paws behind them told him Hulf had joined them and on instinct Isak knelt down and drew the dog close.

All of a sudden Vesna’s head sagged and his legs wavered. Gods-granted strength or not, the famous warrior would have fallen to his hands and knees had Isak not jumped up and reached out to steady the man. He guided Vesna to a wide tree-stump a few yards away, sat him down and sat on the ground himself, while Hulf inveigled his way under Vesna’s thigh until he was sitting between the man’s legs and looking up, begging for attention.

Vesna gave a bitter, pained laugh and began to scratch the dog behind one ear with his un-armoured hand. Hulf arched appreciatively and tilted his head until he was pressing against the Mortal-Aspect’s leg.

‘He’ll never get too much of that,’ Isak commented.

‘Mihn said Ehla gave him to you?’

‘So he tells me. I don’t really remember.’ He winced and pressed his fingers to his temple. One fingernail had refused to grow back after his time in Ghenna and the rest were marked strangely, symbols or some strange script cut into the skin beneath. ‘The time after my escape… I see the cottage by the lake, and figures around me, but they’re like ghosts in the mist.’

‘We all are now,’ Vesna commented sadly, peering down at Hulf’s bright eyes. ‘I feel like we’ve slipped out of life, as if we’re just shadows hunting for the bodies we once possessed.’

‘Some of us are,’ Isak replied with a slight smile. He put a hand on Vesna’s shoulder. ‘But not you — you, my friend, have greatness ahead of you.’

‘Greatness? All I feel is emptiness like ice.’

‘That’s because you mourn, right down to the bone. Tila’s death hurt us all, but your loss was greatest and there’s nothing can ease your pain. I’m sorry. But she saw the greatness in you; the strength not only to survive but overcome.’

‘You speak to me of strength?’ Vesna asked, astonished, ‘when it chills me to even imagine what you endured?’

‘We white-eyes, we’re born to survive, to wade through rivers of blood until we’ve reached our goal.’ Isak tried to smile but the effort defeated him. ‘We’re tools to be used; I see that now. Whatever purpose the Gods or Aryn Bwr sought to use me for, I’ve found my own path — but the white-eyes are the bloody hand of history. We’re not equipped for what happens after victory; we must leave that to greater men.’

Vesna glanced back at the house behind, where a light now shone through the shutters. It was too bright for a lamp; it had to have been cast by one of the mages. ‘You’re not alone there. Perhaps it would be best for some of us if we did not survive this war.’

‘Enough of us’ll die already; there’s no need to seek it out. His hand will reach for us all in due time.’

‘So we just have to wait our turn?’

Isak shrugged and rose, offering a hand to Vesna. The Mortal-Aspect took it, but he did not rise immediately, instead taking a moment to stare at the strange contrast between the two. Each man had used his left hand: Isak’s scarred and white, Vesna’s a black metal gauntlet. They interlocked like some esoteric symbol, a curious symmetry that seemed to hearten Vesna.

‘Let’s hope history doesn’t think me a fool, then, wallowing in my personal misery when the fates of every man, woman and child hang in the balance.’

‘You are far from a fool, my friend,’ Isak said. He hauled Vesna up and pushed him towards the house. ‘Only a monster wouldn’t feel the pain.’

The pair slowly made their way back to the front of the house. It was a large building, considering the remote location, and looked as if it had been abandoned for several seasons. Rampant creeper swarmed over the nearside walls, so thick that when someone inside tried to opened the shutter, the mass hanging off the roof obscured their face entirely. Isak watched as the person hacked away at the worst of it while Hulf stalked the twitching trails at the base of the wall with geat delight.

On the other side of the building was a half-collapsed barn and animal pens, none of which looked safe to enter. Daken was standing beside the barn, surveying it, then he gave the whole thing an almighty kick and hastened its downfall. The groan and snap of timbers seemed to satisfy the destructive little child in him and he turned away with a wide grin.

‘Ain’t running out o’ firewood today,’ he commented brightly, accompanying them inside. ‘Piss and daemons; this the best we could do?’

Isak inspected the interior over Vesna’s shoulder. It was not so very different from the cottage by the lake where he’d lived so recently. The smell was more the musty scent of slowly rotting wood, but there was no stink of bodies, human or animal, nor mould. There was little furniture beyond a broken table and two benches, but it was an improvement on spending the day out in the open. He knew Zhia at least would agree with him. ‘It’ll do for the day,’ he said out loud, prompting nods from several others.

Veil had already collected a great armful of kindling which he was unloading into a brick-walled firepit at the back of the room. A rough clay chimney had been incorporated into the wall behind. Isak took the largest pieces of kindling and lit them, holding them just below the chimney; when the smoke rose up freely and he was sure it was clear he dropped the sticks into the pit, let Veil put the rest of the kindling down, then watched as Doranei deposited two logs on top. He lit the lot and watched the flames start to hungrily consume the wood, for a while losing himself in the dancing orange flames.

‘I don’t understand,’ Fei Ebarn said as she came in ahead of Tiniq. ‘This house looks sound enough — so why was it abandoned?’

‘Most likely the owner got marched off for some transgression or other,’ Shinir said darkly as she rooted through her pack, ‘and out here, there’s no one to take the place once it’s empty.’

‘Marched off where?’

‘Slave camps, though they’re not called that, o’ course. No one’s allowed to own another human in Vanach, but they say everyone belongs to Alterr, so some — lots — get taken off to serve their Goddess in whichever ways the Commissar Brigade chooses. They don’t want anyone but the Carastars within a couple days’ ride of the border; makes it simple to work out if you’re fleeing the benevolent fellowship.’

‘So this land’s used for nothing?’

Shinir nodded. ‘You’ll see: two days of riding and we’ll reach the first town. From there on, nothing’s allowed more than one day away from any local administration. You grow crops past that, you’re trying to evade the moral guidance of the commissars — and by extension, the priesthood and the Gods themselves-’

‘-which means you’re a heretic,’ Vesna finished, ‘and we’ve seen enough of that talk in Tirah to guess how they treat heretics here.’

‘This farm must have been used by a commissar in recent years,’ Shinir said. ‘The edict for the protection of souls was issued ten years back, well before this place was abandoned.’

Isak crouched down in front of the fire as the flames continued to rise. ‘“The protection of souls?” Vorizh really is mad.’

‘If it was he who issued it,’ Zhia said quietly from behind Isak, ‘then he has much to answer for here.’

Isak turned and saw the dark, angry gleam in her eyes. ‘You don’t think he did?’

‘My brother might be mad, but capable of self-delusion? I’m not so sure. We were all cursed to feel the suffering of others, and even now I feel a sickness in my stomach for what we might find around this first town. If he is the one issuing orders from the heart of Vanach, he will be constantly pained by the suffering he is causing.’

‘I can tell you what we’ll find,’ Shinir growled, unafraid of the expression on Zhia’s face, ‘guarded farms, where slaves must pray all night and work all day, where it must be their fault if the crops fail — it can’t be the soil suffering without crop rotation because Alterr’s light nourishes all. The women get raped as often as the guards want, and strangled if they become pregnant, because a baby’s a divine blessing which no heretic would get. It can’t be the rape that gets her that way, so she must have been consorting with daemons instead, and so she’ll be carrying a daemon-child.’

‘Do not think to lecture me, girl,’ Zhia said, taking a step forward, ‘and do not think my rage is any less than yours, when the Gods have cursed me with always knowing the pain of others. My point is solely that mortals need no vampire ruler to inflict such horrors on each other. You are all quite capable of it without anyone’s help.’

Vesna stepped forward and placed himself between them. ‘Enough, both of you. Let’s get some food and sleep; it’s been a long-enough day without picking fights amongst ourselves.’

‘Oh let ’em fight,’ Daken grinned, ‘I like that idea.’

‘Fuck yourself, you white-eye shit,’ Shinir snapped, drawing her khopesh and pointing the sickle-like weapon at him.

‘I said enough, all of you!’ Vesna demanded, his voice suddenly full of the War God’s divine authority. It was enough to make anyone who’d fought in battle stop dead, even a blood-mad white-eye like Daken, who inclined his head and turned away with a small smile on his face.

Vesna realised belatedly that Daken had spoken up to keep Shinir from getting herself killed — she was a vicious woman who didn’t know when to back down from anyone, even when she was out of her depth. Luckily, someone so quick to anger was also easily deflected.

‘Sleep,’ Isak echoed as he headed for the corner where Mihn had deposited his baggage. ‘Save your fights for the morning — I’m sure I heard that once.’

‘Not from someone who’s travelled all night,’ Zhia pointed out before she headed into the back room, where the shutters were still closed and the dawn light would not disturb her. ‘Someone wake me when there’s food.’

Both Veil and Daken opened their mouths as Doranei moved to follow her, but Vesna raised an admonishing finger before either of them could speak. ‘I said enough. Your jokes can also wait.’

Their first day in Vanach was uneventful. Word of their arrival travelled slowly in the empty borderlands of the Carastars, so they all managed to sleep before dusk came and they set out again. That night they encountered a second band of patrolling mercenaries camped across the road: two low-ranking commissars accompanying nearly fifty men. They had met Commissar Yokar’s rider and come to investigate for themselves.

They were probably a raiding party, Vesna thought, armed for war. Doranei and Veil had to work hard to control themselves, having seen the results of such raids, but Isak was more interested in the less-deferential attitude of the two commissars leading them. As soon as they had passed on by, the white-eye spurred his horse forward to join Zhia at the front of their column.

‘Tell me again about your brother’s journal,’ he asked the vampire.

She gave him a level look. ‘The answer you’re after is no.’

‘You didn’t hear the question yet.’

The moon was again bright overhead; Alterr’s eye was a day away from waxing full and shone all too clearly on Zhia’s exposed teeth as she smiled humourlessly. ‘I heard it easily enough; one learns to read people after the first few lifetimes.’

‘And your answer’s no?’

She turned away. ‘No, yes and no. No: there was nothing contained in the journal that specified divisions or branches within the Commissar Brigade; yes, I saw the bone clasp on the scarf was a different colour; no, I do not know the significance.’

‘But,’ Doranei supplied from Isak’s other side, ‘considering they claimed the same rank as Commissar Yokar, it’s still significant, even if it only tells us they’re marked according to what job they’re doing. The ones in charge of raids ain’t the same as those supervising patrols, and most likely there’ll be more differences.’

‘And yes, it means some commissars don’t care so much for the mysteries, so they’re probably in this for more simple reasons,’ Isak finished.

‘Good news at last,’ Zhia concluded with a smile. ‘If someone tries to kill us before we reach the ziggurat, I might not have to eat the girl before we get there.’

On the fourth day they were forced to camp under a canopy of tall pines. Zhia retreated into a double-layered tent to hide from the sun while the others cooked or lay out in the tree-filtered light. Isak and Fei Ebarn managed between them to coax a deer close enough for Leshi to shoot, whereupon half the party set about butchering it and cutting half of the meat into thin strips to dry above the fire while the rest roasted below.

After an hour of activity, they were finished and sat down to eat, tearing apart blackened hunks of venison with their teeth to expose the more succulent meat below. The humour of the group was markedly improved now they had settled into a routine to match the strange nocturnal life Vorizh Vukotic had forced upon them.

After he’d finished eating, Veil lay back against his pack with a satisfied sigh and loosened the adapted vambrace that had been made for him, with its twin prongs extending past his wrist. ‘So what happens to the people of Vanach once we’re done here?’ the King’s Man asked. ‘If this place is built around a lie, does the lie collapse?’

‘Not if Isak plays it right,’ Zhia said through the open entrance to her tent, which had been angled away from the sun to keep her from being burned. She watched her lover pull a cigar from inside his brigandine and blew a kiss towards him; a wisp of smoke drifted through the air and settled on the cigar’s tip to light it for him. ‘Only the commissars know what to expect at all, and all they know is what Vorizh has left for them on the inner walls of the ziggurat.’

‘So we sell them another lie?’

Zhia raised an eyebrow. ‘Unless you have a spare army hidden about your person? We give them hope, something these people have lacked in a long time. The commissars can hardly argue with their mysteries being fulfilled and their saviour leaving to pursue the work of the Gods — certainly not if it leaves them in charge with an even greater mandate than before.’

‘How long does hope last?’

‘Ten thousand days,’ Isak mumbled, lost in the lazy glow of the fire’s embers, ‘longer than good intentions.’

Mihn reached out and put up a hand on his friend’s arm, but only succeeded in startling the white-eye; his flinch prompted Hulf to wake and wriggle up closer, thumping his tail against the ground until Isak reached out to him.

‘Long enough for the Land to have changed,’ Mihn said with finality. ‘Whether or not we are left to see it, the faith of Vanach will be overturned by what comes. There will be no exceptions.’

Before anyone could respond Legana began to click her fingers. With no time to bother with the slate hanging from her neck, the Mortal-Aspect pointed out through the trees with an urgency that needed no words.

Leshi was guarding that flank of the camp; he was already moving silently from tree to tree. He worked his way forward, bow at the ready, but he made no attempt to draw it fully yet. The others went for their weapons. A muffled curse came from Zhia’s tent, but Doranei turned to the entrance and motioned for her to stay where she was. If her help was truly needed at this point in the journey they had sorely underestimated the Commissar Brigade; they didn’t want to risk her getting burned by sunlight anywhere there were religious fanatics.

Isak closed his eyes and opened himself to the magic in his Crystal Skull, but before he could reach out to the Land around them he realised Zhia was doing the same. With a deftness that astonished him, he felt the vampire’s mind sweep past him and catch him in her wake, bringing his thoughts with her as she danced between the trees. Her touch was as cool and smooth as the emerald set in Eolis’ hilt, as unyielding, but just below the point of discomfort.

He fought the urge to resist, knowing she was the stronger and posed him no threat, but it proved nearly impossible: her perfume filled his nostrils and grew thick in his throat, but it could not obscure the scent of a vampire that his white-eye soul screamed to kill. It was a faint and ancient odour, the tang of old blood mixed with the more familiar taste of magic, and something else he couldn’t identify.

For a moment he managed to block out Zhia’s nature, and he glimpsed a party of men in black hoods advancing on them from the left, but then it all became too much and he had to tear himself from her magical grasp. He fell to his knees, gasping and shivering as he tried not to retch.

Zhia returned to her scouting; it took her only a few heartbeats to sweep the whole area; with his senses still open to his Skull Isak could almost follow the slight disturbance of her mind through the afternoon air.

‘ Ten coming in on our flank with crossbows,’ she said in his mind and pointed Isak towards the group he’d seen, ‘ and another twenty spearmen moving from the north.’

Isak repeated the words out loud and Vesna pulled his breastplate over his armoured arm and let Doranei strap it around his body. ‘Daken, Mihn, Tiniq — flank the crossbows; Ebarn, you draw their attention, and Shinir, get up a tree with a bow.’

The Farlan woman nodded and grabbed her weapons. She had been born with some natural magical talent, but her tough upbringing had made her an Ascetite rather than a mage, turning the magic inwards and giving her unnatural physical skills instead. With little apparent effort she scampered up the bare trunk of the nearest pine and found herself a good position from which to shoot. Leshi, their other Ascetite, had already half-vanished into the forest; crouching in the lee of a great pine trunk, the ranger’s mottled brown cloak blended into the bark, and combined with his preternatural stillness made him easily missed by any scanning eyes.

‘Legana, stay here and look helpless in case any slip past,’ Vesna ordered. She was beautiful enough that they’d most likely want to capture rather than kill her, and anyone coming within reach of those knives was as good as dead.

‘Doranei, Veil, keep close behind me; Isak, head away on our right flank. We go as fast as we can. I’ll punch through the spear-men and we’ll come at them from the back while Isak lights them up.’

Nods all round and weapons drawn showed his orders were understood. Each of them looked serious, grim-faced. Without a mage the attackers were never going to win the fight, but that wouldn’t be much consolation to anyone who lost a friend in the process.

‘Let’s move.’

Isak watched Vesna lead the way across the needle-carpeted forest floor. The Mortal-Aspect moved as silently as the tattooed King’s Men, running at a crouch in the direction Zhia had indicated. Isak went slower, knowing he was less stealthy than the others, but making sure he’d be in position when Vesna attacked. The enemy had split their forces: they no doubt wanted to spread panic with the crossbows first, so the larger group wouldn’t be expecting to be attacked themselves.

Behind him Isak sensed Ebarn embrace the energies in her Crystal Skull, her magic unfolding like a flower with its sharp tang overlaying the forest’s resinous scent. He stumbled and nearly fell, his mind alive with sudden memories, as Doranei ducked down behind a tree, sword held low at his side. For a moment he was on the south trail, east of Helrect, where he’d first seen Doranei’s black sword, where he’d first tasted magic filling his mind.

I’d been hoping for the scent of pine again, the forests of home no different to these. In his mind there was a blank emptiness at the heart of his memories, a picture torn in half where a man he couldn’t remember was lost from his memory.

Carel, his name was Carel.

Reminding himself didn’t matter, however; the memory was lost from Isak’s head no matter how much Vesna or Mihn told him of the veteran Ghost. A dull throb flourished in the back of his head, the numb pain of ice pressed against skin that always came on when he tried to remember things that were lost, as if the holes in his mind opened onto a void where even warmth was dead. A part of him feared the cold would consume him if he tried to look into that void too long.

I’m dead to him; he’s dead to me. ‘Balance in all things,’ Isak whispered.

The pain fled and he found himself blinking out across the forest floor at the still figure of Vesna, half-armoured, half-God.

‘We must find balance,’ Isak continued as though repeating a charm against sickness, ‘before hate, before rage or revenge. I’m nothing without control and the Land’s a wasteland without balance.’

He forced himself to continue, moving sluggishly at first but quickly recovering himself as the white-eye’s anticipation of a fight began to sing him his blood. He couldn’t tell how close the enemy were now, and tried to gauge it from the three ahead of him. They advanced steadily, covering the ground quickly before the shooting started elsewhere, using anything they could as cover, fallen trees and dips in the ground serving where bushes or bracken did not.

After fifty-odd yards they stopped and Vesna looked back to check on Isak’s position. The Farlan hero gestured to let him know that the enemy were approaching and Isak raised Eolis in acknowledgement. Where Leshi was they couldn’t tell; the ranger had vanished from sight, but Isak knew he’d be close. He could hear the Vanach soldiers now, the faint brush of bracken betraying their presence not far off. He put his hands down to the Skull at his belt and saw tiny threads of lightning crackle over his scarred fingers. He might be free of his obligations to Nartis, but the spirit of the Storm God lived on inside him and he could feel the magic hungering to be released.

As one, Vesna, Doranei and Veil broke from cover and charged. Isak followed, and saw Vesna reach the enemy first, his armoured fist encased in spitting green energies as he cleaved through the spear of the nearest and spun to shoulder him out of the way. He caught a second shaft with his left arm and it exploded into matches while he chopped through the mail-covered thigh of another.

Before any of the men could react Doranei had arrived with his enchanted blade, his long, graceful sweeps parting shields and men in a single blow. Veil followed his Brother, not looking for the killing blows as he slashed with a longsword, just putting them down: one he winged, another managed to deflect the blow with his spear, but was caught with a punch to the ribs from Veil’s spiked arm. The twin spikes were barbless and came away freely as Veil passed. Isak saw a bloody wheeze of air expelled from the man’s pierced side: he was no further threat.

As the three pushed on through their enemy, the line folded inwards to follow them. On their left flank a man suddenly staggered drunkenly, and Isak saw an arrow protruding from his neck just as a second shot from Leshi struck the next in the chest and knocked him over. Isak could see their uniforms now, and he launched a coruscating lance of magic at the black longsword stitched onto a pale leather surcoat, which ignited when the bolt struck. The lightning wrenched the first man around and grabbed the next in its teeth too fast to avoid; then another was taken by the spitting energy, striking with the force of a ballista bolt and smashing them to the ground where they convulsed, screaming as their black swords burned yellow on their chests.

Now Vesna turned and attacked from the other side. He stepped between spear-points and cut left and right before the soldiers even saw him. Limbs were severed and bodies dropped away, but he didn’t wait to see; he was already moving on to the next. The quickest of the Black Swords dropped their spears and pulled out their own swords out, but Vesna adapted in a heartbeat, turning away their weapons with a duellist’s flicking skill, then stepping in for short, lethal thrusts.

Isak did not bother with artistry but trusted to the edge of Eolis and his own supernatural speed. Holding his sword in two hands, he turned an outthrust spear and stepped in to decapitate the owner. Seeing Isak was inside his guard, another soldier slammed his shield into Isak’s side, trying to throw him off-balance. Isak rode the buffeting and slashed back, chopping the wooden shield in two and eliciting a scream of pain.

The Black Swords fell like wheat, unable to meet the skill of their attackers or resist the power of their swords. Isak punched one soldier with a magic-wrapped fist and the man’s head snapped back, his face shattered, while another, bewildered and terrified by the storm of blood all around him, stood still and stared aghast at the arrow protruding from his chest. Doranei glided past him as he looked down, caught in a dance of his own and barely noticing as he lopped the soldier’s sword-arm off And then there was only one.

Vesna struck the last a glancing blow, his armoured fingers whipping across the soldier’s face and sending him crashing to the ground, and at last he could be still: his sword outstretched and ready for another blow that was not needed. He looked around at the squirming injured at his feet and peered intently at each, then stalked over to one lying face-down and kicking weakly.

He rolled the soldier on his back and found the yellow scarf around his neck denoting a commissar. One of them had opened the man’s belly and the pock-cheeked man was gasping like a fish even as he tried to scream. Vesna ended his pain and moved on to the next, assessing the man’s injury before putting him out of his misery.

Isak checked those near him: the closest two were dead, but the man who’d hit him with a shield was still alive. He lay on his back, his face contorted with pain as his life’s blood pumped from the stump of his arm, spurting weakly with every panicked breath. The man was little older than Isak himself, but the white-eye felt nothing inside as he kneeled to inspect the injury.

Mihn said I did this once for Carel, he recalled. The man stared up at him with horror in his eyes, right hand clamped around what remained of his arm. Did he thank me, I wonder, or was it my fault to begin with?

He reached down and touched two white fingers to the spurting wound. The soldier shrieked then fainted as searing flame encased the end of his arm, blessedly passing out as his blood steamed and the fat sizzled with the stink of bitter pork.

‘That one still alive?’ Vesna called. Isak cocked his head, for a moment unsure, before he nodded to Vesna.

‘Good, that gives us two — that’s enough to find out who among the commissars doesn’t want a saviour.’

‘Two?’ Leshi asked with a humourless laugh. ‘Don’t reckon so.’ The ranger walked to where Vesna stood over the man he’d struck across the face instead of killing him. ‘You’ve got something of the white-eye about you now, Iron General.’ He rolled the soldier over with his foot and pointed. The man’s jaw, nose and cheek were shattered and bloody. There wasn’t quite the impression of a hand in his head, but the damage was clear. No one needed to check if he was still breathing. ‘See?’

Vesna stared down at the corpse, then flexed his black-iron fingers with a worried expression. There was blood smeared over the ornate metal.

‘Don’t worry,’ Isak called, ‘you get used to it.’

‘I barely caught him,’ Vesna muttered. ‘It should have just knocked him over.’

‘Try getting an accidental elbow in bed,’ Doranei muttered darkly as he bent to wipe his massive sword on a corpse. ‘Pretty sure Zhia broke my rib once when she rolled over in her sleep.’

Isak hauled up the unconscious Black Sword and draped him over his shoulder. Before moving off he turned to view the bodies of the rest. ‘Not one thought to run.’

Leshi said grimly, ‘Unless their commissar’s dead, they don’t dare. Better to get massacred than have your name reported back. The Black Swords are faithful soldiers o’ the Gods, the first tier o’ the Blessed. They’re encouraged to have families and raise the next generation of devoted warriors.’

‘And if the parents are found wanting, the children must be defective too?’ Vesna guessed.

‘You run from battle, you’re defying the word of your God — heresy through cowardice, and that means they make ’em face their death.’ The stoical, otherworldly ranger shivered and looked down. ‘Saw a mechanism for it in a core settlement, made just for executing cowards. They strapped every member of a family into the frame and swung down a bar with two spikes — impaled ’em through the eyes, one by one.’

With that Leshi turned and headed away from the slaughter to see how their friends had fared. Isak found he couldn’t tear his eyes off the dead bodies, it was only when Vesna started to go through the jacket of the commissar that he seemed to jerk awake.

‘There’s nothing here,’ Vesna reported after a short while. He fingered the dead commissar’s scarf. It was fastened by a white leather band just below the man’s throat.

‘I’d swear Yokar’s wasn’t white,’ Vesna said, looking at Dora nei, who had been closest to the man.

Doranei nodded in agreement. ‘It was darker, hard to tell exactly what colour at night, but certainly not white. Reckon this indicates a faction within the brigade?’

‘There are markings on it, a script maybe? It’s not Elvish or any I recognise. Some sort of designation I’d guess. Who watches the watchmen, eh?’

The King’s Man sheathed his sword and started back towards their camp. ‘Aye, keeps ’em all in line, then, recruiting the worst for secret internal security. Not so far from my job as I’d like.’

Back at the camp they found their comrades all healthy and unharmed. Though Daken was liberally sprayed with blood, the white-eye’s cheerful expression told them it wasn’t his own.

‘You took a prisoner?’ Mihn asked, as they approached. He glanced back at Daken. ‘Somehow we managed to forget that bit.’

‘Bring him in here,’ Zhia ordered. ‘I’ll find out what he knows.’

Vesna gave a cough of shock. ‘Hey, hold on now — just what are you proposing to do?’

Isak deposited the unconscious soldier on the ground out side Zhia’s tent and looked from one to the other as Zhia, peering through the flap, stared Vesna down. The rest of the party took an imperceptible step back, with the exception of Mihn and Doranei. The King’s Man stood his ground, but Isak saw dismay on Doranei’s face rather than anything antagonistic. He guessed this was an uncomfortable discussion the lovers had already had.

‘You disapprove?’ Zhia murmured.

‘I’m asking what you’re planning on doing.’

In the shadows of the thick shawl that shaded her face, Zhia raised an eyebrow. ‘And yet in a way that makes me think you don’t really want an answer. How about this: nothing worse than the murder you’ve already done and the torture you were likely planning for the boy.’

‘You’ll feed on him?’ Vesna persisted. ‘Turn him with your curse? Gift this place with one more of your kind — most become blood-hungry monsters when they’re turned, no?’

She glanced at Legana. ‘My dear, what lurid stories have you told them about our exploits in Scree?’ There was a playful edge to Zhia’s voice, but in a way that reminded Isak what parts of a sword were dangerous. ‘How I live isn’t your concern, Iron General — be glad I have joined your cause when your lord was one of those to flay my soul with this curse!’

‘Oh, I’ve not forgotten you’re an enemy of the Gods, be assured of that.’

Isak stepped between the pair. ‘Peace, my friend,’ he said, putting a hand on Vesna’s shoulder.

The Mortal-Aspect tensed and Isak could see him physically resisting the urge to shake it off him and draw his sword again. After a moment the man inside won through and he met Isak’s eyes. He gave Isak a slight nod: I’m fine.

He turned to Zhia. ‘My apologies.’

Zhia dismissed it with a wave. ‘There is a God inside you, one that is born to fight. To deny it will take more effort than you could have imagined. I am just glad it is a man of such discipline holding Karkarn back; the War God was ever in need of a controlling hand.’ She forced a smile. ‘We are such opposites that I’m sure there will be tawdry romances invented about us, but in the meantime there are things we must know about our enemy. This man will die — I cannot leave him alive to inform on us — but nor do I make others suffer needlessly.’

With that, she covered her head again, walked forward and grabbed the soldier under his remaining arm. The petite vampire carried him back to her tent and tossed him effortlessly inside. Looking like a spider with its prey, she ducked in after him, but not so quickly that Isak didn’t catch a glimpse of shame on Zhia’s shadowed face.

Cursed to be a monster, he recalled, cursed to always know what a monster she is. A lesson more of us could learn.