Richard Ford - Lord of Ashes

‘Because if you don’t, Waylian will kill you.’

Waylian will bloody what?

Bram glanced over at Waylian, who tried to look as brave as he could, and not like someone had just kicked him in the fruits. ‘Him? He got lucky last time, you know that as well as I do, witch. He couldn’t kill a crippled fly.’

‘You would be surprised at what he’s achieved since you were locked away from the sunlight.’

‘You’re right, I would. If he can conjure more than piss out of his cock I’ll be fucking amazed.’

‘You don’t need to worry about him. You need to worry about you,’ said Gelredida, staring into Bram’s eyes. Waylian could feel the air turning, a metallic tang emanating from where his mistress stood. ‘You will compel the undead of this place to destroy the Khurtic army. You will do your best to ensure they focus their assault on the enemy and spare the people of Steelhaven. Do you understand?’

Bram stared back at her, his arrogance gone now as he looked into her eyes. ‘Yes, Magistra,’ he replied.

‘Now, prepare yourself,’ she said, before removing the bracelets from around his wrists. Still manacled by the iron chains, Bram set about preparations for the ritual, mumbling some dark incantation as he knelt on the floor, tracing sigils in the cracked tiles with his fingertips.

Gelredida walked up to Waylian, regarding him warmly. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

‘You are ready?’ she asked.

Waylian nodded. ‘Yes, Magistra,’ he replied, though he knew he was anything but ready.

‘At the first sign he is about to betray you, kill him.’

‘But … how?’

Gelredida smiled. ‘You will find a way, Waylian Grimm. You always do.’

As much as he appreciated the faith she was putting in him, he couldn’t help but feel it was misplaced. How was he going to stop Rembram if the bastard disobeyed his mistress? And for that matter, where in the hells was Gelredida going to be?

‘Magistra. I don’t understand. Why is it down to me to control Bram? Why can’t you do it?’

Gelredida smiled back at him, and he could see sadness in her eyes. ‘My time is over,’ she said.

Waylian felt his stomach lurch.

He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words as she turned and walked away from him to kneel in the centre of the rooftop. Bram came to stand over her. His former friend was grinning once more. ‘You really haven’t told him anything, have you, old woman?’

She began to pull off her robe. ‘I am sorry, Waylian. But this is the only way. I have been infected with the power of the Veil itself. I am already dead.’

Waylian could see the sickness that infected her hands had spread, covering her shoulders and chest in a web of black veins. Bram glanced over at Waylian as Gelredida handed him an iron dagger from her robe. ‘You see, Grimmy, you can’t achieve anything without sacrifice.’

‘No,’ Waylian screamed. ‘You can’t.’

Gelredida stared at him with genuine sorrow in her eyes. ‘Remember what you must do. And do not hesitate.’ She looked back at Bram. ‘You neither.’

Bram gave her a wink. ‘Oh, you know there’s no chance I’ll hesitate, old woman,’ he said.

As he raised the dagger, a silent incantation on his lips, Waylian wanted to rush forward. He wanted to rip the knife from Bram’s grip and plunge it into his heart. This was madness, this couldn’t be happening. Gelredida wasn’t thinking straight, the canker that had infested her body must have spread to her brain. But as the sounds of battle crept across the city, Waylian realised she was right. The Khurtas would soon overwhelm the city. This was the only way.

Gelredida closed her eyes as Bram plunged the knife into her chest. Waylian almost felt it pierce his own heart, clutching at his robe, tears welling in his eyes as he gritted his teeth against a cry of remorse. She made no sound as her head lolled backwards. Bram continued his incantation, seeming to gain in strength and stature as he mumbled the dark words.

Waylian could only watch through the torchlight as he saw dark magick seep from the blade of the iron dagger, spreading across the magistra’s body. As it did so pressure began to build in Waylian’s ears. He lifted a hand to his face to stem a trickle of blood from his nose just before the rooftop beneath his feet shuddered. One of the torches fell from its stanchion, and all the while Rembram mumbled his silent incantation.

As the dark sorcery continued, the air growing more humid despite the cold rain, Waylian took a step forward, heeding his mistress’ words. If Bram betrayed them he would have to be killed without hesitation. The boy’s eyes were shut tight now as he grasped the dagger in two hands, the blade still buried deep in Gelredida’s chest. Her flesh had turned black, her body little more than a desiccated shell. Waylian clenched his fists, willing Bram to show him any sign of treachery.

The Chapel of Ghouls shook once more; this time masonry fell from the side of the building, shattering on the ground far below. Something cracked open within, like a giant egg breaking open with life, but Waylian knew there was nothing alive in there.

Bram’s eyes suddenly flicked open, two black orbs staring up at the rainy night sky. At the same time something howled. Waylian felt it more than heard it. The noise seemed to clench his insides, tearing out any strength he might have had, replacing it with terror.

He staggered back, gripping the parapet of the roof. Below, in the wan light, he could see movement. Figures were creeping from the chapel, moving like animals though their limbs were unmistakably humanoid. From this distance Waylian could make out no details, and part of him was grateful for that.

After seven centuries, ghouls were abroad in Steelhaven once more, and all that could stop them running amok was an insane murderer.

And the only thing keeping that murderer in check was Waylian Grimm.

Rag had no idea how she was going to square this one off. She’d just got the lads to foil Bastian’s plan to open the Lych Gate and now she had to tell them they was the ones had to open it. But what else was she going to do? Run?

You ain’t got no choice, girl. That’s your only option now. You open that gate and the city’s doomed. You don’t open that gate then you’re the one doomed.

Everything had gone to shit. She’d thought she was so fucking clever, always one step ahead, but now it was obvious she weren’t. Rag may as well have let Shirl be in charge. At least he’d be the one in the firing line when Bastian decided someone needed killing.

Time to call it a day. Time to get the fuck out of here before the shit well and truly landed. There was no other way. She’d never open that gate, it just wasn’t an option. As much as her life depended on it Rag knew she’d never be able to live with herself if she helped the Khurtas come flooding in. There was only one course left — get her boys and get the fuck out.

Harkas, Shirl and Essen could come if they fancied. She wasn’t in charge of them, not really. They could make up their own minds, but Chirpy, Migs and Tidge were her responsibility. She’d left them once and felt the guilt of it like a knife. There was no chance she’d be doing it again.

As she saw the tavern up ahead, sat all alone in the dark and the rain, she knew that there was no other choice. They could all disappear into the night. Four street kids fleeing the terror. Who’d even know? They’d spent their whole lives not being seen and staying in the shadows. She was sure they’d be far from this place before the Khurtas even noticed. Then they could just keep going. Let Bastian send his bloodhounds, let him put the word out that she was to be offed. It was sure as shite less dangerous than hanging around here.