The Dusk Watchman

CHAPTER 26

Darkness came quickly to the forest. They waited in silence as the shadows descended, watching the light of an ill-omened moon play over the distant grass. The creatures of the forest were wary of what walked the Land after sunset.

When a cloud briefly masked Alterr’s yellow eye, Grisat noticed a pale light far out on the moor and shivered. It moved steadily, keeping well clear of Moorview’s ordered boundaries, yet unafraid to be seen. It was well away from the moor road, he knew; nowhere any sane traveller would be at night.

Daemons, Grisat thought to himself, his fingers pressed against the coin charm half-embedded in his skin. He had been finding that coin less of a threatening presence the closer they came to Moorview, seeing what creatures were being drawn to such a place of slaughter. Now the cold shadow settling over his shoulders felt like a greater protection than the steel plates sewn into his jacket.

Most villages he had passed had been draped in mourning cloths, black banners hanging from the gates and long ribbons of cloth fixed to the branches of prominent trees. It was hard to tell if war or daemon predation had started the mourning, but many of the ribbons looked recent, not yet touched by the elements.

The countryside was still and empty for the main part. Even during the day few went too far from home without company. There were a few ancient, vague stories of the Age of Darkness, but now folk’d be scouring their memories for everything they had ever heard of that time, when the Gods had weakened themselves as gravely as now. He’d left a package by the highway leading north from the moor, pretty sure no one other than the intended recipient would stumble across it — but if any did, they’d mutter a charm against Finntrail and their deadly gifts and hurry on.

‘Our friend is coming,’ whispered a voice in his ear.

Grisat bit down onto his lip. He’d not heard Ilumene creep so close; the man had got right up to him without disturbing the forest undergrowth.

‘Where?’ Saranay, the third of their party asked. She was dressed little differently to when Grisat had first met her in that Narkang bar.

Ilumene pointed back into the forest and they both turned to look. The ground undulated for miles up to this ridge abutting Tairen Moor, providing ample cover for anyone approaching. Grisat could see nothing except a mass of black overlaying the chaotic tangle of trees behind them, and he could hear as little as he saw.

‘Who is it,’ Saranay muttered, ‘some bloody Harlequin?’

Grisat flinched and fought the urge to giggle hysterically. He could well guess who it was, and idle comments like that in the company of cruel men often proved to have consequences.

It was a few minutes more before three ghostly faces loomed out of nowhere. Even though he was expecting them, Grisat had to muffle a whimper when he saw the Harlequin masks and Venn’s tattooed face. They wore dark woollen cloaks over their regular clothes, as much for concealment as warmth, Grisat guessed.

They really mean to do this. We’re to steal past hundreds of soldiers — into the castle to murder men who could turn us inside out with a word.

‘Shall we go?’ Venn asked curtly without greeting them.

Grisat’s eyes widened: the black Harlequin had his right arm in a sling, his wrist in a splint. Though he’d never seen the man fight himself, he had heard of him from Ilumene. That someone had injured Venn was as remarkable as Venn betraying no apprehension at assaulting a castle left-handed. He’d heard Venn was a powerful mage, though when he’d asked Ilumene back in Byora he’d just laughed and said, ‘One of ’em is anyway’, without deigning to explain further.

‘You’ve found them?’ Ilumene asked, and Grisat turned his attention back.

‘No. They would notice my efforts to scry the castle,’ Venn admitted.

‘As much as I’d like to kill every soldier here, I don’t think we’ve got time,’ Ilumene said.

‘What do you suggest, then?’

‘I’ve been here more’n once, and I know the ones we seek. They’ll be in the state rooms: Holtai at the top of the tower, most likely, since he’s the scryer, and Ashain in the king’s chamber since he’s an arsehole with a chip on his shoulder. We use the forest gate — there’ll be guards there, but not many. You can’t get troops through this forest without utter chaos, so the road’s the only path to watch on that approach. Holtai’ll no doubt have a web across that and the ground moor-side, leaving the walls and guards to dissuade any coming through the forest.’

‘Easy, when you think about it,’ Saranay scoffed. ‘I don’t know why you even needed us to come along.’

Ah, some sense at last, Grisat thought. Ilumene and Venn might breeze through this mission — we mere mortals won’t find it so simple.

‘Glad you think so,’ Ilumene said, his eyes fixed on the castle wall just visible through the trees. ‘We wait for that cloudbank to cover the moon, then move.’

The forest gate was on the right where the road cut through the trees and a hundred yards of cleared ground between forest and walls. From where they lurked Grisat couldn’t see the guards on the walls, but he knew they were there, so a straight run would be lunacy.

‘Won’t we be seen?’ Grisat hissed as Ilumene began to edge his way into a position where he could see the moon clearly. ‘You said they’d detect any magic.’

‘We best not use any then.’

Grisat hesitated, looking to Saranay for support, but she was focused on the castle walls. He followed her gaze and caught a wink of light from atop the battlements, then a second.

‘A signal?’ he breathed, feeling the heat of Ilumene’s scorn as soon as the words left his mouth.

‘You think?’ he asked. ‘But who would be signalling from the castle wall? Don’t tell me there’s a traitor in their midst, Grisat — say it ain’t so!’

The mercenary bit down on his lip and looked away. Ilumene was always at his most antagonistic and animated before a fight. Keeping his mouth shut was the only sensible choice from here on.

The signal repeated a few minutes later, and intermittently after that, but they had to wait in the shadows for almost half an hour before slow-drifting cloud covered the moon. Ilumene wrapped a black scarf around his head with slow, deliberate movements, then slipped silently onto the open ground, Saranay and Venn at his heel.

Grisat followed as silently as he could, wincing at every twig breaking underfoot. The shield he’d looted from the battlefield felt ungainly, slung over his back, but he’d seen men spitted for questioning Ilumene’s orders, so he kept silent.

The castle wall ahead bulged out in front of them, protecting the ballista behind, and a square barbican enclosed the forest gate. The dense forest, steep slope and cleared land, not to mention the swift rivers running behind, meant the castle wasn’t as vulnerable as it might look at first sight.

The group stopped when they reached the wall and pressed themselves flat against the stone to hide from those above, but there was hardly time for them to check their bearings before the signal came: a husk of corn dropped from the battlements above, flashing down past Grisat’s face. Venn plucked it from the air and held it up to Ilumene, a quizzical expression on his face, but Ilumene only beamed in response and headed off along the wall towards the gate.

In less than a minute the group had reached the near side of the forest gate, where they found a rope hanging down the shadowed corner of the barbican. The squat little building had just the gate below and a small room above, which no doubt housed a couple of soldiers. A ditch in front was deep enough to need a bridge to cross it and made breaking down the iron-banded gate difficult for any attacker.

Ilumene scrambled up the rope with an agility that belied his size and pulled himself over the lowest part of the battlement. Grisat held his breath, aware how exposed the man was, but there were no shouts of alarm or warning. Within minutes, a tiny scraping sound came from the gate as the bolts were drawn back and it opened, just enough for them to slip through. Ilumene closed it after them again, a wide grin on his face. In the gloom Grisat could make out a spray of black droplets on the man’s ash-grey brigandine.

‘Saranay, up those stairs,’ Ilumene whispered, pointing to a narrow flight set into the wall. ‘Deal with any curious guards that come your way and keep the gate clear for us.’

She scowled at being left behind, but didn’t argue. She spared Grisat an ambiguous look as she trotted up the stairs, one long knife already freed from its sheath.

Ilumene was already focused on the next step of his plan. He kept look-out — for what, Grisat had no idea — but after a long wait he finally gestured, and without a word started off around the walled yard. His group followed noiselessly. Grisat had been shoved into the middle by one of the nameless Harlequins; he was forced to follow Venn so closely he was terrified of tripping him and causing a commotion. Ilumene led them through the stable and into a cobbled courtyard, then past the large main door to the castle to a smaller one set in the stone wall. While his companions crouched in the shadow of a massive creeper, Ilumene turned his attention to the door.

He had it open in a matter of seconds — their agent had managed to leave the great bolts open, Grisat guessed. Once inside, Ilumene allowed them to pause, and Grisat found his heart was pounding so furiously against his chest that he could feel the coin’s pinch on his skin.

‘Servants’ quarters,’ Ilumene whispered, pointing ahead where a short corridor was faintly illuminated by moonlight from the room on the left. As he led the way, Grisat caught a glimpse of a long hallway with an enormous map painted on one wall. Once past the moonlit room it was almost pitch-black in the servants’ corridor, but there were no obstacles, so Grisat copied Ilumene’s lead and walked with one hand following the line of the wall, the other on his knife.

It took a time to traverse the castle at such a cautious pace, but eventually they came through a curtained arch into the tower. Ilumene glanced back at his comrades and nodded to Venn before drawing his other long knife and trotted up the stairway, one of the nameless Harlequins close on his heel. Grisat followed as fast as he could, but he didn’t even see the guard until Ilumene’s knife was sliding out of the man. Beside him a second Narkang man was gaping in horror at the sword piercing his mailed chest; the Harlequin had lunged and his sword, arm and outstretched leg describing a near-perfect straight line.

Both guards had died without a sound, and they continued up the staircase. Grisat could taste the fear in his own mouth, peppery and sour, as his heart thumped madly. One small mistake, one tiny sound and they would all be dead. Well, maybe not all, Grisat thought bitterly, but I’ll be first to bite it, so screw the rest of ’em. This is their cause, not mine. I just don’t want to die.

At a grander door than any they’d seen thus far, Ilumene gestured for Grisat and one of the Harlequins to wait. Grisat had worked some jobs in Narkang; he recognised the king’s bee emblem worked into the carved door panels. Venn and the second Harlequin disappeared up the stairs towards the upper chambers, where the scryer was most likely quartered.

Ilumene caught Grisat’s eye and gestured to his back, and Grisat nodded and sheathed his knife before slipping the narrow cavalry shield off his back, his eyes still on the door in case it opened unexpectedly. Ilumene took hold of the shield and inspected the runes he’d scratched into it a few hours before. The marks were very like the coins they all wore as a mark of their allegiance; Grisat hadn’t asked questions, but the fact Ilumene had checked the runes cheered him.

Got to be some sort of protection, Grisat had told himself, something temporary, before Ilumene gets his knife into the man.

Ilumene gestured that he and Grisat would go through together, then split up to draw the mage’s attention while the Harlequin came in close behind. Grisat drew his sword and hunched low behind the shield, waiting for the signal. When Ilumene rapped smartly on the door with his knuckles, Grisat almost dropped his sword in surprise.

There came a grunt from within, the surprised sounds of a man waking suddenly. ‘What is it?’

‘Tea, sir,’ Ilumene called, affecting a breathy wheedle to his voice. ‘Found some juniper berries in the kitchen; thought you might want some.’

‘But how-?’ The man’s voice tailed off and Grisat heard footsteps in the room beyond that stopped short before they reached the door. ‘Come,’ the man ordered eventually, unbolting the door with a sharp clack.

Grisat flinched as he stood poised to burst through the door.

Ilumene turned the latch-ring smartly and opened the door part-way, not enough to afford the mage within a view, but sufficient to provoke any preemptive attack, should one be coming, but nothing happened, so Ilumene grinned fiercely and elbowed Grisat, prompting them rush in side by side.

Huddled behind his shield, the mercenary caught only a glimpse of the room beyond: a large fireplace was in front of him, the orange glow of flames casting a soft light across the rich red rug and slender chairs set before it. Dark wooden furniture blended into the shadows around the walls. There was a narrow spiral staircase on the right, at the foot of which stood a man, his face illuminated by a lamp on the wall above him. White traces of light were frozen in motion around his lowered fingers as Grisat started to charge forward, his feet suddenly leaden.

Ilumene was already a step ahead of him, driving forward with his knives held low. The mage’s mouth was open, an O of surprise, before a flash of light danced in his grey eyes. Grisat watched the change as he continued to flounder forward.

Bright stabs of light blinded him, crashing through the room with the fury of lightning, and Grisat felt the impacts against his shield, a double-punch that smashed him aside like a rag-doll. As he fell, more stuttering light tore through the air and in the after-light he saw figures captured in movement: red droplets of blood flying up, hanging in the air, while the Harlequin wove a path through them.

A cry of pain and Ilumene’s deep bellow shocked him back to his senses, and the clatter of steel and crashing magics assailed his ears. Grisat heard himself moan before his voice was drowned out by the wet slap of meat and the gasp of a dying man. He felt a body fall on his legs, limp in death, as a flash of energies scorched the beams overhead and winked out.

Then there was nothing. All was still. Grisat blinked and tried to sit up, but his body would not obey. Fear echoed from deep inside him; somewhere distant there was pain, but though he could sense its presence, he could not feel it. A cough broke the quiet, then there were muttered curses and the scrape of boots across the floor.

He heard a knife clatter on the bare wood of the staircase and he tried again to look up, but he couldn’t manage more than to stare at the scorched plaster, gaping like a fish drowning. For a moment he thought there might be words of some half-remembered language, but the effort of trying to fathom their meaning exhausted him.

A face appeared above him: Ilumene, bloodied and battered. His mouth hung open in a savage grin as red-tinted saliva dribbled out.

‘Still with us?’ Ilumene rasped.

Grisat tried to reply, but only a whisper of air escaped his lungs. The big soldier mouthed something in reply, but it was increasingly distant and garbled, as though his ears were submerged in water. He tried again, and failed, but Ilumene nodded as though he had understood the mercenary’s words all the same.

Ilumene brandished a glassy object above Grisat’s head and he tried to focus on it, but it caught the light and dazzled him. Ilumene grinned again and crouched to wipe his stained dagger on Grisat’s jacket. The mercenary flinched as the slender tip danced past his eyes, but Ilumene didn’t appear to notice.

‘Sorry ’bout the shield pretence,’ Ilumene said, sheathing his dagger. ‘You looked like you needed a bit of encouragement before you went through that door with me. A Bloodrose only works for the wearer, though, so false runes is all I had for you.’

Grisat had to strain to understand his words; that effort drained his strength and dimmed the room around him.

Ilumene patted his shoulder and stood. ‘You just lie there now,’ he said gently. ‘Get a good long sleep. Don’t worry about the rest o’ the guards.’ He slipped the glassy sphere into a cloth bag and tied it at his waist.

Grisat’s chest was tight. He didn’t try to speak again, or rise; he felt completely drained. Ilumene’s mention of sleep grasped him like a loving embrace.

‘Don’t worry ’bout the guards,’ Ilumene repeated with a wolfish grin. ‘Venn’s finished upstairs so mebbe we do have time t’kill ’em all. Emin does enjoy these little surprises.’

As the room darkened, Grisat watched Ilumene draw his knives again and turn towards the door. A blanket of peace settled over him, warm and comforting. The shadows crept closer, but now he didn’t fear them. It was time.