Richard Ford - Herald of the Storm

The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge it was an accident. A stupid mistake, made by a stupid bastard. Denny had said he regretted it, and Nobul had no reason to think he was lying. That was the only thing that had kept the lad alive — the fact that Denny was sorry. If he’d made light of it, made a joke … well, Nobul had killed men for less.

‘I’m bored,’ said Denny, like the child he was. ‘We should head towards Eastgate. See if there’s any action down there.’ Why would we go looking for trouble? ‘Nights are getting colder. It don’t do to be wandering around in the cold.’ It’s better than lying in the ground, dead as a doorpost . ‘There must be something going on somewhere.’ Shut up, just shut your …

There was movement ahead. Nobul could see figures through the dark, hear armoured men moving along the street.

‘What’s th-’

‘Quiet!’ said Nobul, sick of Denny’s constant wittering.

The figures were moving fast, and Nobul had to make a quick choice: ignore it or investigate. If only to give Denny something to occupy him, he picked the latter.

The group ahead moved with surprising speed considering some were wearing heavy armour. Nobul quickened his pace, trying to get a better idea of what he was dealing with.

A patch of light gave him the chance to get a better look.

There were four of them, two in dark armour — Raven Knights from the Tower — and two in robes, who could only have been magisters. What in the hells were they doing out at this hour, and moving with such urgency?

‘What do you think?’ Denny whispered. ‘There’s something going on, isn’t there?’

Yes, it was obvious something was going on, but Nobul had no idea what. If it was the affairs of magickers then he could quite happily have left them to it, but there was something in their gait, their urgency. Something was happening.

‘Should we follow them, Lincon? What should we do?’

Denny certainly wasn’t helping him think. That was probably why, despite every instinct telling him to leave them to it, Nobul carried on after them.

As he followed he could see the foursome making their way towards the centre of Northgate, and Nobul knew exactly what was there — hells, everyone knew exactly what was there — the Chapel of Ghouls. The thought of where this group was heading began to worry him. Members of the Caste on their way to the Chapel could not be good.

It was with rising panic Nobul saw all four go through the open gateway, a gateway that had never been opened for as long as he could remember. Despite his fear, Nobul crossed the street after them, pausing at the gate.

Denny looked at him quizzically, grasping his sword in hand. ‘Are we going in?’

Nobul stared after the group, hearing the Raven Knights in their armour making a racket as they moved towards the chapel. If they needed help surely it was the Greencoats’ duty to give it. He was a protector of the city now, and if the legends about the chapel were right, they’d need all the help they could get.

With Denny at his side, Nobul crossed the threshold, following the cobbled path that ran up the knoll towards the Chapel of Ghouls. He fully expected to find the foursome standing outside it, wondering how in the hells to get in, but when he saw the massive stone door lying smashed on the ground and the entrance open he stopped again, apprehension winning out over sense of duty.

‘What do we do, Lincon?’ Denny asked, clearly just as spooked.

‘I’m fucking thinking!’ he snarled.

He hadn’t meant to lash out, but Denny was doing his head in, always asking questions, always on the want. Couldn’t he think for himself?

Nobul stared into the dark. He should go in after them, they might need help, they certainly looked like they were ready for trouble — Raven Knights never left the Tower of magistrates unless something was up. But something was holding him back, a dark and dirty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was no good, he couldn’t just hang around outside all night waiting for someone to come out. With a nod to Denny he rushed inside.

They came out in a massive chamber — bigger than the Sepulchre of Crowns — and the pair of them stared in awe. Not for long, though. A shout from above pulled them both from their reverie. Nobul couldn’t make out the words, but they were loud and they were angry. Denny looked just about ready to piss himself, and Nobul was almost ready to join him. This was magister business, and it was never going to be pretty work. Surely they were better left to it. Either that or he and Denny should go and get help. From the shouting above it looked like it was all kicking off.

He turned to Denny, nodding his head, his mind made up.

‘All right. You go and-’

Something smashed into the ground right next to them, missing Denny by less than a yard. The lad yelped in fright, and Nobul was right ready to drop his sword and scarper.

It was a crumpled body, one of the Raven Knights, his limbs skewed all funny, his helmet dented in on one side, something dark and nasty seeping out of the gaps like oil.

‘Fucking hells,’ said Denny, staring at the body.

Whatever was up there had just killed one of the feared Raven Knights. Fucking hells was probably just about the right assessment.

Nobul stopped thinking. There was no time to go and get help now; there was just them. Whatever was going off could be all over soon and who knew how bad it would be if they did nothing. Grabbing Denny by the shoulder, Nobul bolted towards a flight of stairs that led up to the roof.

He took the staircase as quick as he could, and he was pleased that Denny, despite his obvious fears, was right behind him. As they climbed, there was a strange smell, almost overpowering them with the stink of something dead, something rotting.

Denny cursed, slowing his pace and shielding his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow, but Nobul would not stop. His blood was up now with the prospect of violence, of murder.

Was this what he wanted? Had this been what he’d been needing all this time since Markus had died? Something to fight? Something to kill?

He’d find out soon enough.

Denny slipped behind him, cursing again, but Nobul carried on, seeing the platform above. He could hear more shouts of desperation, screams of horror, and he knew he was needed. There was also something in the atmosphere, a metallic feeling like the air before a storm, but Nobul knew this was nothing to do with the weather. He had seen magickers in action before, experienced their fell work. He knew this could only be the cloying effect of sorcery.

Nobul burst out onto the platform to a scene of chaos.

The other Raven Knight lay slumped in a heap of black armour, and Nobul didn’t have to look twice to know he was a goner. A grey-haired witch was doing some kind of hoodoo on a naked girl who didn’t look like she was going to be up and about any time soon.

Then there was a lad lying on the ground, didn’t look much older than Markus, and standing over him …

Nobul almost ran away right then at witnessing that thing standing there.

It was another boy, but not like any Nobul had ever seen. His eyes were black pits in his head and his hands … those fucking hands … sharp like an eagle’s talons, growing longer with every moment.

Denny almost fell right back down the staircase as he came to stand beside Nobul.

‘How does it feel to know you’re going to die, Grimm?’ said the twisted, daemonic travesty of a boy. It was clear he was evil, and though Nobul had no idea what was going on, he was sure as shit he wasn’t going to stand around and let someone be torn apart by some daemonic bastard.

Nobul picked up a chunk of rock lying loose on the ground and flung it as hard as he could. The missile smacked the black-eyed lad right on the head and, as he staggered back, Nobul and Denny moved forward, brandishing their swords. Before they could attack though, those dark eyes turned on them, furious intent written in their black depths.