The Pilgrims

55

‘There’s something weird about this,’ Eric muttered. ‘Why have they sent it after us?’

‘It’s nuts. No offence if you can hear me, buddy,’ he said to the war mage. It locked its cat-yellow eyes on Case and he took an involuntary backwards step. Heat still emanated from its body though many minutes had passed. Foul-smelling smoke curled off its blackened horns. Case stamped out the small fires starting near the Tormentor’s severed hands. The pieces of its broken head showed no sign of interior organs: they were like cleaved stone.

‘I think our new friend used up a lot of juice to kill that thing,’ said Eric. ‘If another one starts moving, or a bigger one arrives, it might cook itself right away.’ To the war mage, ‘Can you handle many more of those?’

It clawed at the air in some gesture they couldn’t interpret.

‘That a yes or a no?’ said Case.

It skipped towards him and croaked, ‘Horse’s hooves. Ticks and fleas. Fleas and ticks.’ Its head tilted back and its mouth opened to the sky as it gave the curdling scream Eric and Case had both heard before, then cocked its head, waiting, it seemed, for an answering call. If one came, the war mage alone heard it. ‘Are you calling for help?’ said Eric.

‘A servant,’ it said tiredly. ‘Heat.’

The war mage approached the Tormentor’s corpse, its clawed feet finding careful purchase between spikes on the dead creature’s chest. Some of the spikes still moved. It poked the body with its staff, gripped a spike and with a hissed breath and a strain that made its arm shake, wrenched the spike free, cutting its hand badly in the process. All this, apparently, to see whether the spike was suitable for eating, for it poked the tip experimentally in its mouth, bit down, cut its gums, then threw the undamaged spike away. Blood spilled through its lips, into its beard, but it seemed not to notice.

The war mage cocked its head. ‘A threaded course is narrow,’ it said. ‘Rival comes. Running fast. I’ve purpose, too much heat besides, to death it. We flee.’ It pointed a hand dripping blood in the direction, if Eric judged right, of the river, then set off that way in shuffling steps, every now and then hopping up to levitate a short distance. It crouched at the edge of the clearing to wait for them to catch up. They looked at each other, then followed.

As Eric had guessed, they soon came to the river again. He didn’t think there was much point trying to talk to the war mage, but: ‘How are we meant to cross? Is there a bridge near?’

It ignored this and grabbed Case under his arms. Alarmed, he reached for the gun before remembering Eric now had it. His legs cycled the air as the war mage jumped, sailed lightly over the river, bore him across to the far bank and set him gently down. It then flew back, grabbed Eric in rough, coarse hands and jumped him across too, seemingly untroubled by the weight, despite him wearing a pack. Case said, ‘With your leave, whatever your name is, we’re hungry and sore. Is it safe for us to stop a while and eat?’

Again the war mage gave no answer, just raked at the floor with its long toes like bird’s feet as though in irritation, and crouched down low to munch the undergrowth. The heat arising from its exertions slowly faded. Its horns had almost resumed their normal dull yellow, and no longer gave off smoke.

Case, taking its reaction for assent, dug around in their supplies pack for food, taking some of the bread — a touch stiffer by now — and strips of salted pink-red meat, which looked like ham but tasted like fish.

‘Just what the hell is it doing here?’ Eric whispered, nodding to the war mage, which gazed across the river at the far bank, its face watchful. ‘We have to assume it’s working for the castle. And maybe it’s here to help us get back to Anfen. Just like Kiown said he wanted to. Which meant maybe he wasn’t lying about that.’

Case took a swig from the water-skin. ‘A servant, sounds right. What’s the other part mean? Your shadow?’

‘No idea. Maybe it means it has to stay close to us, like it is our shadow.’

‘But it only says it to you, not me,’ said Case.

‘Actually, you’re right. Then I have no idea at all.’ They munched for a while, both ravenously hungry, both aware it was very nearly a meal they’d never have eaten, and for that it tasted better than any. Back where they’d been, the tall winding spires of magic could still be seen towering over the treetops.

‘Hey, bird man, you hungry? Try this, it’s better than leaves and dirt.’ Case took a handful of bread and brought it to the war mage. It sniffed and pawed blindly for the bread, its eyes never leaving whatever it gazed at beyond the far riverbank. Its head occasionally moved as though following something’s passage, but they could see nothing across there but the all too familiar trees.

‘What the hell is he looking at?’ said Eric.

‘Maybe he can see more of those monsters in the distance.’

A loud growling sounded in the war mage’s throat. It hadn’t eaten the bread, and now cast it aside and stood, planting its staff and summoning magic from the air with those chopping motions.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Eric.

The war mage didn’t answer. Urgently it stuffed leaves and twigs into its mouth, swallowed, and bared its teeth. Its body tensed as it scanned the line of trees across the water. ‘All things put to use,’ it muttered, pieces of dry leaves spraying from its lips.

‘It sees something,’ said Case. ‘Hey! There, see that? It wasn’t a Tormentor.’ He peered across the water. ‘It was white, moving between the trees. Fast, too …’

Now Eric saw it too, looming ominously as it circled towards the river bank: the huge white wolf that had attacked Stranger at Faul’s house. Head lowered, its great body heaved with panting breaths as it stared at them across the water.

The war mage shrieked so loud Eric and Case ducked and covered their ears. It chopped the air frantically with its staff, funnels of dark colour threading quickly down from the sky, and breathed this air deeply.

The wolf backed up a few steps then charged towards the bank, launched itself, and made it two-thirds of the way over before sinking with a massive splash. The water didn’t delay it long — soon it had paddled to the bank and surged out, water pouring and spraying off it. It ran right for the war mage, paws thumping the ground loud as drumbeats.

Case grabbed Eric by the collar and pulled him back. ‘Which is our friend?’ he said. ‘Who do we shoot here?’

‘The wolf is,’ said Eric. ‘If not both. We’re not shooting either. Far Gaze!’ he called. ‘The war mage saved us!’

The wolf didn’t seem to hear him. It veered from its charge and darted sideways with speed that seemed surreal for something that size. The war mage had balanced on one leg, other limbs sticking out like some kind of martial arts pose as it spewed a plume of inky darkness, narrowly missing the wolf. The grass beneath the spell curdled, blackened and instantly died, as though nothing had ever grown there. The stink of it was noxious and even from a distance Eric and Case both had coughing fits. Spent magic from the spell curled skywards in a funnel tall as a tornado.

The wolf widely circled the war mage once, twice, then came at it again. Case’s eyes didn’t see the cloud of magic sucked in fast about the war mage, forming an instant streaking pattern around it quick as a lightning flash. A rippling wave of heat shot forth, which Eric and Case both felt from some distance away. Leaves on the ground around it were pushed away and spontaneously set alight. Again the wolf veered safely away from the spell. Its plan was clear enough: to let the war mage cook itself.

It would not have long to wait, for already the war mage looked much worse for wear. Its horns had turned black from just two spells; again, it was using far more power for this enemy than its cousin had for the spells which had killed regular people, back at the door. As the wolf circled then came at it again, the war mage, awake to its game, declined to cast. The wolf split into two — one a mirror image of itself veering around as before, while the other, the real wolf, darted with a burst of speed and jumped, jaws wide and teeth like rows of knives set in a blood-red mouth.

The war mage screamed again as the wolf fell heavily upon it, both bodies thrashing around wildly in the burning sticks and leaves, its clawed feet striking and gouging at the wolf’s underside. For a few frantic seconds the two mages were a thrashing blur, then a burst of red flame erupted in their midst like fireworks. The wolf yelped loud in pain and darted away again.

Blood sank thickly down the war mage’s chest from where it had been bitten. Thick smoke poured from its horns and its cheeks were blackened as though with soot. But it stood again, teeth bared. The wolf wheeled about, its mirror image turning also to make a figure-eight. From a canter it started its charge, and again the war mage declined to cast. Instead, it moved straight for Eric, and with rough hands it lifted him from the ground and flew.

Eric hardly had time to figure out what was happening before the ground and the woods were suddenly things seen from high above and between his feet. Case and the huge white wolf both looked up as they rapidly dwindled to the size of insects.

The war mage’s stink and heat were terrible, almost enough to make him squirm from its grasp despite the certain death a fall would bring. He felt blood from its bitten throat and chest dripping down on him, hot as droplets of boiling water on his neck and upper back.

Soon it descended to a clearing some way west where the woods were thinner, set him down, hobbled to a tree and took bites out of the trunk’s bark as easily as if it were crunching into biscuits. Eric rubbed streaked drops of its blood from his collar and raised the gun. ‘Take me back to my friend,’ he said.

Bark crunched in the war mage’s mouth, crumbs spilling from its lips. It patted the air wearily, knocking the gun from his hand and holding up a clawed finger in warning. For many minutes it ignored him and ate bark, until the smoke pouring from its horns gradually thinned to nothing, and they returned to their dirty dull yellow. ‘Take me back to my friend,’ Eric said.

‘You’re Shadow.’

‘Stop fucking saying that. Take me back.’ Eric picked up the gun again.

‘Two drops in the river,’ the war mage said, gesturing incomprehensibly.

‘I will shoot you. Take me back now.’

It took Eric by the underarms again and began to fly, its heat now duller. At first he thought it was obeying his wish, but when the treetops were again below his feet, he saw that the huge white wolf ran towards the place they’d just left, and that Case now rode on its back, clutching onto its neck for dear life.