The Pilgrims

33

No one had been put on watch duty, so Eric was the first to hear it. As he came up from deep sleep, he thought it was only the claws of Faul’s birds scraping the metal floors of their cages. The half-giant’s snoring from deeper in the house rumbled like an idling engine.

He hadn’t noticed Siel climb under his blanket, and it was a shock to find her naked body pressed to his, with his arm pulled around her, her hands clutching it like he was her protector. Fine joke, that — she could probably kill him with bare fists. Her skin felt cool on his and he could smell her body, unper-fumed and clean.

The sky had just begun to lighten, so that the sleeping silhouettes stood a little firmer across the long spacious room. Again came the sound that had woken him, thump thump on the roof. Like something falling on it. His heart quickened.

With regret he gently prised himself away from Siel, trying not to wake her, but she stirred, and was up a second later. She heard something too. In seconds she was clothed again, bow in hand, stalking through the house with footsteps not making the slightest creak on the floorboards. Eric pulled on his shoes, grabbed the army-issue sword, scoffed at himself and picked up the gun instead, quickly strapping on the holster. It was loaded and ready to fire. He went out after Siel, his steps not nearly as stealthy as hers.

He had just begun to wonder if they’d imagined things when Lalie’s voice came from outside, a shrill yell: ‘Something here! Help, something here! They’re back, they’ve come!’ Her words dissolved to panicked whimpering.

The whole company was up, armed, and rushing through the house. There was a crashing sound as something punched through the roof. Anfen shouted an order Eric didn’t catch. He and Siel were out on the porch with Lalie, who groped for them in her terror. Siel told her twice to be calm. Now she slapped the girl, and Lalie hushed.

They stared around the yard. The rocky outcrops, the forest lined down to the left, were black outlines against the bluish gloom. Again came the sound on the roof. And the sound of wings beating the air. All Faul’s birds began screeching at once.

‘Lalie, do your beasts have wings?’ said Siel, pulling an arrow back, angled upwards. Lalie whimpered and didn’t seem to hear. ‘I don’t see it,’ Siel muttered. ‘Answer me! Do they have wings?’

But Lalie cowered on the floor, stupid with terror.

Faul’s snoring still rumbled from within the house. They heard Lut’s voice in there trying to rouse her, apparently without luck.

Anfen and the others came outside on the porch with them. Then many things happened at once.

A flash of light flared out in the yard. There, a woman in a green dress — Stranger — had arms aloft, a look of concentration on her face. A fountain of light poured from her, illuminating the yard like a lightning strike that stayed put, but for its slow twisting. She had not made the sound on the roof; she was showing them what had.

Perched on the yard’s lone tall tree were two Invia, staring at the house — rather, at Anfen. Wings beat at the air again as two more took off from the roof and flew to join those in the tree. Not knowing who or what else was inside with the clearly dangerous Marked one, they had wanted to draw him out.

‘Damn it,’ Anfen muttered. He didn’t even look at Stranger. He called to the Invia, ‘You only want me?’

There was a fluttering whistle in response, like an unearthly bird’s coo. Anfen strode down the steps, into the yard. Stranger called, ‘Fight them, I’ll aid you.’

Siel hadn’t looked away from Stranger for a moment. She loosed an arrow which sliced the air and narrowly missed. Stranger looked at her with great surprise. Case gave a strangled cry and threw himself at Siel, who had begun aiming another arrow. It flew well wide, as Siel tripped over Lalie and landed sprawling on the porch.

Anfen meanwhile approached the Invia in their tree. All four creatures watched him and only him, the Marked one, their faces neutral and curious. One by one, they stood and stepped onto the air, wings spreading. Back over his shoulder, Anfen yelled, ‘Don’t attack them. Take the charm to the council. Sharfy leads. Be safe.’

Whatever Stranger had been planning to do to aid him never happened. A huge white wolf big as a horse sprang from the gloom with its mane flaring. It charged her, teeth bared, a growl in its throat.

‘Hoo boy,’ Loup muttered, ‘still dancing, these two. Far Gaze, that’s the wolf. Now what’s she? Fox, rabbit, or a bigger wolf yet?’

Stranger didn’t seem to see the wolf, even as it sprang for her. Then came a flash of green motion and she was gone, the wolf’s jaws closing on nothing, the clack of its clashing teeth loud even from the porch. It circled back around ominously, its size making it seem slow despite the ground it covered with paws thumping hard on the turf. It leaped at some further point, seeing something the rest of them couldn’t, jaws snapping on air. Then again it leaped and bit, and again. Stranger, hidden, kept evading it. She did not seem to fight back. The pillar of light, pouring like a fountain from the ground, remained where she had stood.

Sharfy unsheathed his knives and stepped uncertainly into the yard as the Invia carefully took positions around Anfen. They circled well above his head, cautious of one so Marked, though he seemed just a normal man, easily enough dispatched with one swift fist. One sister had mistaken him for such already and flown back wounded; he had cunning tricks, this one. This kill would be as certain as any ever made. They would take great care.

Anfen stood poised beneath them, army-issue sword angled backwards. There was suddenly something unlocked and liberated about him; his movements were smooth and easy, more than just resigned to his fate; rather, relishing it. The beating wings ruffled his hair. Suddenly he dropped his sword to the ground, laughed, and fell to his knees, offering his throat.

One of the Invia experimentally swept down, just a blur of white speed. She came up higher than the others, fearing some counterattack, but the man lay flat on his back, dazed. The others waited; to feign death was an old trick in the wild. Into what trap was he luring them? Dropping the sword had thrown them into slight confusion, and a series of quick whistles exchanged between them too high-pitched for the humans to hear — that was a strange move! Sophisticated, this warrior. A shame about the Marks, for he was worth a long life. Oh well.

Another of them swept down then back, feinting to strike.

Boom. Boom. Eric’s gun fired twice. The noise of it was shocking and, in the background, Faul’s snoring ceased at last.

The Invia ignored the foreign sounds, assuming it to be something done by the duelling mages. The shots had missed. Eric seemed to be watching from above: someone who looked just like him ran down the steps, out into the yard, fired again three times. One of the Invia screamed and fell writhing to the ground, the tallest and thinnest, with flowing cobalt black hair. The others scattered, flying higher, the deadly trap they’d feared now revealed.

Eric shot as the one with scarlet hair dived at him. A puff of feathers blew and a column of light beamed in the dark night through the hole in her wing. He hit her body with another shot. She screamed loud and spun in the air. Click went the empty chamber of the gun. But they fled. It looked like they were divers plunging towards an ocean of dark sky, filling it with their cries, inhuman and beautifully mournful. Blood pattered down from the wounded one and landed like raindrops in the dust.

The pillar of light from Stranger’s spell had slowly withered to a trickle, writhing like a thin snake. Anfen rolled to his feet, picked up his sword. The Invia staggered up also, blood beginning to thread down its torso, one wing stretched rigid, the other limp and flopping. She cried out in confusion, trying to understand how and why she was hurt. She made a clumsy lunge at Anfen. He swung his sword at her, the blade flashing fast but missing as the Invia fell, sprawling, away from him. She lay shuddering. ‘It’s too late, Eric,’ Anfen said. His voice was incredibly tired, as though he’d have preferred the rest of death. ‘You’re Marked. You hurt her on the day of her death. Doesn’t matter which of us makes the last blow.’

The Invia darted forwards, summoning some last reserve of that incredible speed, a fizz of motion. Anfen’s eye hadn’t left her. He swirled on his feet like a matador, spinning, wrists cocked, the blade angled behind him and held still. The Invia nearly decapitated herself on his sword, then fell, a burst of light pouring from the fatal wound, a shriek in her death that, despite her cut throat, spread as far through Levaal as there were ears to hear it.

For what seemed a long time, everything was still and calm. The light from Stranger’s spell had faded to a flickering ghostliness and kept dimming, the twisting shape of it no longer distinct. The huge white wolf, Far Gaze, had run back the way he had come, every so often leaping high, jaws snapping at what seemed just air. Stranger, still hidden, fled from him. The wolf chased her until he had bounded from their sight and into the trees. Neither of the mages returned.

Siel got back to her feet and gazed at Case with her teeth bared. Sharfy had seen that look in her eye once before and remembered what her curved knife had done to the last poor bastard on the other end of it. He ran back up the steps and stood between her and the old man.

Case did not know his peril; his eyes were on the yard, where he’d seen something slip from Anfen’s pocket. The charm lay in the dirt, and he carefully marked the place, his heart pounding as he watched Anfen to see if he’d remember it.

Eric crouched by the Invia’s corpse. He felt sick and numb, his mouth so dry he could hardly peel his lips apart. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not to himself, not to Anfen.

Anfen’s slanted eyes caught and held his. ‘I know what you’re feeling. But it wasn’t murder. They aren’t as human as they seem.’

Eric swallowed. ‘They don’t seem human at all. They seem better than us.’

Anfen put a hand on his shoulder. ‘This is our world, not theirs any more. The Dragon cleared this world of the dragon-youth, of which this is a servant, so that we could dwell here. Remember that.’ Anfen stood. ‘We’re all birds in a cage anyway. We must talk later. You are now Marked. You should learn what that means. And I must know all you can tell of that weapon you used. I wish you’d told me of it earlier.’

Later, when Eric would look back on this moment, on Anfen’s words and the look in his eye when he spoke, he would think: I know why you didn’t say thank you. I’m pretty sure you seemed happier when you were walking out to die, dropping your sword, offering your throat. Like you’d been waiting for that moment a long time. Like it’s why you chose to camp on the hilltop, knowing the Invia would see you, and come for you …

Right now, with the Invia’s corpse beneath him, and the sound of her death wail still ringing in his ears, such desolation was a feeling Eric could understand too well. Anfen headed wearily back towards the house.

Suddenly in the doorway stood Faul, and she surveyed the sights of the yard in the fading light of Stranger’s spell. Her huge face was suddenly ferocious with rage. She stared at the Invia’s corpse. ‘WHO?’ she boomed. ‘WHO SLEW THIS ON MY LAND?’

Its blood still dripped from Anfen’s blade. His pained smile said it all: And now this …

Faul moved with speed impossible for something her size. All those on the porch were picked up and hurled towards the yard, the last of them airborne before the first had landed. Case luckily (unless Faul had intended it) landed on Sharfy, not the bare rocky turf. Only Lalie remained, squirming in fear on the end of her rope. Faul loomed over her.

‘AND YOU, GIRL. DEATH FOLLOWED YOU SURE ENOUGH, HERE, TO MY DOOR. IT CAN FOLLOW YOU ELSEWHERE. BE THANKFUL I DO NOT SNAP YOUR SILLY NECK. MY HANDS ITCH TO DO IT.’ Faul yanked the rope, pulling free a section of the post it was tied to. She picked up Lalie and hurled her towards Anfen. His arms spread to catch her, but she knocked him over, both of them winded, her leg grazed as it scraped on the ground. The piece of post thumped hard into the turf nearby.

‘TAKE BACK YOUR GIFT OF DEATH,’ Faul bellowed at Anfen. ‘I SHOULD SQUEEZE YOU ALL BY THE GUTS TO GET BACK THE FOOD AND DRINK I MADE, AND GAVE YOU, IN MY FOOLISHNESS. IN MY …’ her voice choked up.

‘We’re going,’ said Anfen as they picked themselves up. ‘I hope we meet again, when you’ve calmed. Thank you for your shelter. I’m sorry this happened.’

Faul’s feet boomed down the steps. ‘I WILL NOT CALM. LEAVE NOW OR I BREAK YOUR HEADS LIKE EGGS.’

‘Come,’ said Anfen to the company. ‘If our host will be so kind as to throw us our possessions, our going will be easier.’ Lut emerged, a look of utmost regret on his face as he dumped their packs and gear into the yard.

Eric turned just in time to see it. Case had edged his way around the group, while the company gathered their things, all eyes nervously on Faul. Now Case made a run for a patch of ground just beyond the Invia’s corpse. ‘Case?’ Eric called.

Case looked back at him, hesitated, then grabbed the necklace from the ground and slipped it over his head. He vanished. Scuffs of dirt trailed away at the pace of his jog. ‘Guys! Wait!’ Eric called, rushing to follow before he lost sight of Case’s trail.

But Anfen and the rest didn’t hear. At that moment, Faul charged like a bull, a howl of rage tearing from her throat, eyes ablaze. They scattered, all of them. Eric had a second to decide which way he went.

In that moment he could smell Siel’s hair while her body nestled against his under the blanket, felt hope and desire bloom through him as it had just before hell had broken loose, a triumphant giddy voice crying: she’s mine! He also heard her voice, saying she’d looked inside his heart and mind and seen nothing. He hadn’t realised at the time, nor with the ensuing distraction of the scale vision, that they had been the most painful words ever spoken to him. He knew the choice may right now be: lie with her again tonight, or chase an old man through the wilderness, probably to their pointless deaths.

If they met again, he could explain what his choice had been trying to show her, if it wasn’t already clear to her. ‘You stupid, stupid old fucker,’ he muttered, and ran in the direction he’d seen the scuffs of Case’s footprints take.