The Pilgrims

23

The whole band crouched in a line along the ridge with weapons drawn, except Eric, whose mind even now was back with Siel, back with himself tossing one of her long braids away so he could better see the movements of her breasts, as if she were a toy he played with. The rest watched the soldiers below, whose conversation and laughter drifted up.

No one saw the Invia come until the air around them pounded with the sound of her beating wings. An arrow flew from further up the path where Siel kept watch. It gracefully sailed very close to the Invia with a sound of sliced sky. But the creature moved like a dancer in mid-air, white hair streaming behind her. The arrow skidded across the ground.

Anfen rolled to his feet, sword in hand, knowing he was the one she wanted. Siel now too, probably. Stupid girl. His wrists swung the blade two-handed, cutting overhead in a very fast figure-eight for such a big weapon. The Invia jerked backwards through the air as though pulled hard by invisible hands, and watched him with a face oddly expressionless. Someone threw a rock but again she dodged it with ease.

The others rushed over, weapons ready, despite Anfen yelling: ‘Hold!’ While he was distracted she darted forwards with incredible speed, just a blur of the white of her wings. She came up like a bird that had swooped, in her hands Anfen’s sword. He now lay on the ground, dazed, his face cut. It had to be the sword handle hitting him as it came free from his grasp … the Invia’s hands would not have struck him so lightly.

Slowly the Invia flexed her arms and with some effort — that much at least the sword’s maker could be proud of — broke the blade in two, examining then dropping the pieces. She watched Anfen to see what he would do. He did about all he could think of: lie on his back in a daze and think his last thoughts.

Sharfy leaped up, a knife biting through the air, but he didn’t get close enough. The creature didn’t seem to notice him. Kiown likewise sprang through the air, a mindless open-mouthed look on his face that was almost comical, but he slashed upwards with a long blade that came within a hair of striking the Invia. She spun away from his cut, moved out of his reach and gave him a quick look which, though expressionless, said loud and clear enough: you, sir, are next.

Eric, fascinated by this creature, felt about half a minute behind actual time. Only now did he sluggishly think: the gun. Hey now there’s a plan. Get the Glock out. Shoot that thing. Save the day. Batman would do it.

His hand had reached his pocket when from below came a shouted order. A dozen arrows shot up and fell across the platform with a fast drum roll of stone being struck. No one was hit — the arrows arced too far from the sheltering ridge — but one of them passed through the Invia’s wing. A burst of light flashed through the punctured gap; feathers puffed in the air. She spun, eyeing off the castle soldiers with still no expression troubling her face, then she swooped down fast.

Anfen got to his feet, feeling his face, where the cut had left a smear of blood down his cheek. ‘How many times do I have to tell you,’ he snarled, ‘do not attack them? No matter what.’

‘Get in the cave,’ said Sharfy, tossing Anfen another sword.

Anfen had already begun heading back to the tunnel mouth cut into the hilltop. ‘Watch below, tell me what happens,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘If they don’t kill it, we chance the groundmen’s traps. You should hope they don’t or you’re probably Marked.’

‘You’re welcome, boss,’ murmured Kiown.

The Invia was less cautious of these men than she’d been of the Marked one. Most humans knew better than to shoot arrows at her — these ones would learn their mistake sure enough.

She flashed through them, her swiping arms too fast to see, breaking bones and cracking open their hard plate armour. Ah, they would stop spears and arrows, those pretty polished shells, but not her hands if she hit with all her strength.

Little nicks from swords cut her as the panicking soldiers slashed at the blurred force in their midst. Others fired more arrows, foolish so close to their own men. Sure enough two fell back with arrows in them. Ten were dead or near enough after just a few seconds. For fun, she broke some of their swords without removing them from their owners’ hands.

Then her arm caught behind the hole of a breastplate, which she had punched through up to her forearm. It was enough pause for one of them to hack down with a halberd and cut her badly down the side. She shrieked. Newly strong with pain, she yanked free her arm with a spray of gore, then swatted off the attacker’s head and sent it flying like a punted ball. Light burst from the wound he’d inflicted and blood gushed down her side. Their blades hurt!

No more cuts. Later, later, she’d return. First she’d heal. The charm was old and would wait a little more. She might never find these men again — to wound her was not enough to be Marked, unless she soon died — but enough of them had already paid for firing upon her. She launched herself skywards, flying awkwardly and painfully, a dozen corpses below her, the rest of the unit scattering in panic, some holding badly broken arms, swords and armour in pieces on the ground like broken toys.

Case hardly even knew what happened. One minute, he’d jogged away from the supply cart, thinking he’d seen Stranger, the young lass, standing up on the rocky pathway that led up like a steep ramp on the right side, the quarry side. Just a glimpse of her, less than a blink of her green dress, and he couldn’t even be certain he’d seen it.

When he’d jogged off that way, the soldiers had been arguing. The furious commander had demanded to know who’d given an order to fire, because he sure hadn’t, he reckoned. The others had said yes, he bloody well had. Case had heard the commander’s voice too, but it had almost sounded like it came from some distance away from him.

Next time Case looked back, most of them were knocked over like ninepins, and the woman was flying skywards with slow lurches of her wings, dark blood dribbling down one side and over her foot as the army unit scattered.

He’d heard something going on — shouts, clashes of metal, and an unearthly shrieking that had been like a stabbing pin to all his senses. But she couldn’t have done all that damage herself, not in so little time. Surely. ‘Stranger?’ he called. ‘You here, miss?’

‘Case?’ called a surprised, familiar voice above.

‘Eric?’

‘Case! You’re kidding me. Is that you?’

‘Stay down,’ growled a less familiar voice. A head popped over the edge of the rock wall nonetheless and had time to glance around before someone up there yanked its owner back down. Case waved, then remembered that no one could see him.

He ran panting up the steep pathway, pausing for breath at the top. He passed the woman with the bow and arrow — he’d seen her fire, and the soldiers had seen her arrow sailing across. Now she turned at the sound of his steps and reached for her knife, crouching low like a hunter, but he was quickly up the path.

Out onto the open platform and there he was, crouched down at its far end with a bunch of others, all armed. ‘Eric!’ Case called. ‘Don’t worry, I think the fight down there’s all over. They got a piece of that winged woman, too. What in Christ she did to them I’d like to know, but she’s hurt. She flew away.’

Eric turned and stared about, as did a few others. ‘Case?’

‘They won’t see me. I got this weird necklace on, keeps me hidden. Magic, I guess. Safe here? These guys OK?’

‘Yeah, they’re OK. Are you?’

‘Need a drink and a bed. Back rub too if anyone’s granting wishes. You sure it’s safe? I see a lot of swords in their hands …’

‘Your friend?’ said Sharfy to Eric.

‘That’s his voice at least.’

‘I’m gonna take off the necklace,’ said Case. ‘Eric, you aren’t gonna believe the things I seen.’

Eric laughed. ‘Try me!’

Below, only two live soldiers remained. One had unhitched a mule from the supplies wagon, stuck a wounded friend on its back and slapped its rump. The mule didn’t move until the soldier started dragging it. They left behind the supply cart, with the second mule. ‘Weapons away,’ said Sharfy. ‘Fight’s over.’

‘Are you in charge now that Anfen got a face cut?’ said Kiown, who did not sheathe his sword.

‘Put it away,’ snapped Sharfy. ‘Anfen! Safe out here. They scared it off and it scared them off. Guess we won. And we got a visitor who can’t be seen.’

Case took off the necklace. Eric spotted him, laughed and ran over. They embraced as the bandits murmured amongst themselves. Siel jogged up the path and stared at Case, her knife still in hand.

Anfen emerged from the cave and gazed at Case, his Oriental-looking face a neutral mask, the sword Sharfy had thrown him held at the ready. He seemed about to speak, but let the pair have their moment, instead turning to the wreckage below. To the others: ‘Get down there, grab that supply cart. Don’t dawdle. They’ll send more out here now. We won’t get another chance through the pass.’ To Sharfy, ‘Stay with the Pilgrims.’ Anfen paused as he saw the necklace hanging in Case’s hand. ‘By Nightmare! And what might that be?’

Case quickly stuffed it in his pocket and backed away, cursing himself for a fool: had Stranger not warned him to keep it hidden?

‘You’re safe from me,’ said Anfen impatiently. ‘Time’s pressing; we’ll deal with it later. But keep that thing hidden.’

‘You folks see a young woman in a green dress up here?’ said Case.

No one had.

Embarrassed, Case wiped tears from his eyes. ‘I thought they’d got you, is all.’

‘What about me? Thought I’d killed you with a message in the dirt. Case, I hope you didn’t come here to rescue me or bring me back. I’m not going, not yet anyway. This is a new start.’

‘Hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest.’ They followed the rest of the bandits who hustled along the ridge and down the steep pathway. Sharfy walked with them, listening. ‘Who opened the door anyway?’ said Case.

‘Not these guys. They just saw it was going to happen, and ducked in to get the morning paper.’ Eric lowered his voice. ‘So I’m told.’

‘You’re told true,’ said Sharfy.

‘Eric, you really won’t believe what I seen. They had me inside this big huge castle. I saw this guy, this sick bastard they call “friend and lord”. I stole his drink! Believe that? It was a good drop too, let me tell you. He’s their king or something, and I stole his wine!’

Sharfy made a strangled noise, and was suddenly so agitated he hopped from foot to foot. ‘What? You saw Vous? How? Invisible! How close you get? Could’ve put a sword in his guts! Why didn’t you? No! Don’t speak of it. Wait for Anfen. Hush about that. Hush!’

‘You got it, I’ll hush,’ said Case, giving Eric a look that said: what a nut …

Down by the roadside’s carnage someone had already beheaded the remaining mule. Eric paused, transfixed by the sight of Siel carving from its flank with her curved knife, her forearms covered in blood. It was that which tipped him over the edge in his gorge’s battle to cope with the bodies scattered over the road. He bent over and retched.

Others went through the soldiers’ pockets, taking coins and such small tokens. Anfen crouched beside a survivor and asked questions, but didn’t get much response. ‘Valour men,’ he sighed, giving up. To Eric, ‘There’s a myth. The last-second reprieve on the battlefield for the dying, if they have fought well enough. Talking to the enemy wouldn’t help him get it. He’ll take his chances on a Great Spirit no one’s seen in a lifetime or so. If ever.’

Sharfy added so the dying man would hear, ‘A Great Spirit he hopes came to watch combat that lasted a few seconds. If you call that combat. More like men under an avalanche.’

But the man lay in pain keeping his silence, and they gave up on him. The others drank what water was left on the cart. They bagged and pocketed the meat strips and biscuits. ‘Same as what I gave you in the tunnels,’ said Sharfy, tossing a leaf-wrapped piece to Eric. ‘Keep it for later.’ He went through the discarded weapons. ‘All standard issue junk,’ he said. ‘All shit. Not even city-made. Castle-made. Cheap and nasty.’

‘Halberds are city-made,’ said someone else. ‘They’re quality.’

‘Too heavy for us,’ said Sharfy, ‘we’re in a hurry now.’ He looked pointedly at Kiown then picked up two swords, held one in each hand. ‘All the same weight!’ He laughed. To Eric and Case, ‘Pick one out, you two. Get a scabbard for it too, dagger if you want. Take a bow if you can shoot. What the shit, steal their dicks if you see one you like.’ Sharfy laughed. He patted Eric on the back and whispered in his ear: ‘You want to be a hero, you’re going to see a lot of this. Heroes kill the bad people, they don’t sneak past them. How many men you killed?’

Eric swallowed. ‘Only seven.’

‘Must’ve done it pretty clean,’ said Sharfy, smiling. ‘You’re white as bone, seeing all this blood.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You sure? You look dizzy. How are your eyes? Fading in and out? Here, how many fingers am I holding up?’ In Sharfy’s hand were three fingers which had been cut off in the melee, perhaps from a stray swing while the Invia charged through the soldiers. He wiggled them in Eric’s face. Eric retched again and Sharfy brayed laughter like a barking hound.

Siel wiped the mule’s blood from her hands with a soldier’s tunic. She had not spared Eric a look since he’d fled up the path, but now she did, and it indicated nothing to him at all. Something had clearly changed but he didn’t know what it was.

Anfen took Case aside. ‘Friend, I think we should talk.’

Case sighed and pulled the necklace charm from his pocket, its beads clicking together. ‘I was getting to like having it, but I’ll part with it,’ he said, handing it over.

‘Something like this no one ever really owns,’ said Anfen, holding the necklace away from himself as though it were dangerous. ‘I may return it to you, once I know more about it. I may not. Loup!’

The magician jogged over to them, grinning. Loup wore no shirt, evidently proud of a torso still hard with gristly muscle, peppered with white hairs or not. Anfen handed him the charm. Loup’s eyebrows raised, and a toothless smile widened through his beard. ‘An oldie!’ he said, twisting it around his leathery fingers. ‘She’s an oldie, all right. Still got some kick in her, too! My word, she has got some kick.’

Case said, ‘Someone told me dragons touched it, or made it. That probably means more to you than it does to me.’

Loup nodded as though very impressed, and fingered its beads. ‘How long’ve I got her?’ he said to Anfen.

‘Learn what you can, sooner the better. But we must move.’

‘I’ll try. Oldie like this, won’t tell her secrets in a hurry! Need t’be coaxed, she will. Give her time, she’ll come good.’ He seemed to be muttering this to himself as he walked off, tenderly stroking the charm like an adored pet. ‘She’ll come mighty good, this one will, oh aye. Lots to tell, she has. Lots to tell.’

Not far from the scene of the Invia’s carnage, on a flat, smooth piece of stone on the cliff face, the word ‘Shadow’ had been written in letters that looked like they’d been burned on with great heat, like a brand across the skin of cattle. There the word waited patiently to be seen by the next passing patrol.