Col Buchanan - Stands a Shadow

Caretaker Heelas had been through his share of personal Purg-ings over the years. He knew how to handle pain by now, and so he did, summoning his will and forcing himself to relax into its waves.

‘If I shout, I can have a dozen men here within a moment.’

‘Then shout.’

Heelas looked about him. Priests and Acolytes came and went across the lantern-lit space. Over by a far wall a firing squad was dispatching some of Tume’s Home Guard survivors. More soldiers milled around one of the nearby warehouses, where they were offloading a munitions cart, carrying away boxes of grenades and other explosives. He could call for them, certainly, but he would only be dead all the sooner.

What does it matter. She’s dying anyway.

‘You can’t reach her,’ he said, coolly. ‘She’s in the Sunken Palace. In the heart of the rock.’

‘Describe it to me.’

He did so, all the while thinking how strange it was, what the mind and body will do to hold onto its life for even a single precious moment longer.

The flesh is strong, he reflected.

Just as he finished, the man struck him three times in and out, as fast as a snake striking. He walked away even as Heelas folded onto his knees, his hands clutching his torn and bloody stomach.

‘Help me,’ Heelas gasped, but no one heard him.

It was too late for help; he toppled sideways to the ground.

With his head resting against the boardwalk, he gasped and looked at the specks of grit scattered across it like rocks in a desert.

An ant was working its way through that landscape. He watched it twitch its antenna towards him for a moment as he lay there dying, and then it continued on its way.

Che thought she was dead when he dragged her body out of the canal and lay her down against the lakeweed. Curl sputtered, though, when he pressed hard against her stomach, then rolled onto her side and coughed.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.

She wiped her mouth, taking a moment to find her voice. ‘I think so.’

Across the canal the street was a roaring inferno. Curl sat shivering as they watched it, and he held her in his arms until she began to settle.

The itch in his neck was more a constant throb now. He looked about him, at the buildings on this side reflecting the light of the fires, the narrow street choked with the debris of looting.

They’re close.

‘You need to go now,’ he said as he helped Curl shakily to her feet, the water running clear of their clothing.

‘What about you?’

‘There’s something I must finish before I can join you.’

Her forehead furrowed, and she glanced along the empty street.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he told her. ‘Just be careful.’ Even as he spoke he felt a sudden twist of guilt at letting her go like this.

‘Here,’ he said as he shoved the pistol into her hand.

‘I’ve never used a gun in my life.’

‘And you won’t have to now. It’s waterlogged. Needs taking apart and oiling again. If you get into any trouble, just point it and use it as a threat. Here, take this too.’ He took the belt of ammunition from his waist, and buckled it around her as she watched him. ‘You’ll look more the part wearing this. Remember, just use it as a threat. Don’t try firing it, understand?’

‘Of course. I’m not an idiot.’

‘Then go,’ he told her softly.

Curl stood there, out of her depth and trembling. He drew a finger down her cheek, and when it reached her chin he tilted her head up so that their eyes met.

She grasped the finger and held it before her. ‘You look after yourself, Che, do you hear me?’

He liked the sound of her speaking his name.

‘I will.’

Their kiss was a brief one, something awkward about it; two strangers parting ways.

She backed away from him, then walked off into the night.

Che was alone once more.

Guan’s sister stared open-mouthed at the firestorm before them, her eyes catching the flames within their glaze. She was swaying slightly, as though to some inner rhythm of music.

A rifle banged somewhere in the distance. An officer broke free from the line of soldiers to investigate.

‘Where is he?’ asked Guan impatiently, scanning the row of open markets that remained the only section they hadn’t set on fire.

‘Give it time. Our men will flush him out.’

‘If they’re not trapped somewhere in there with him. I tell you, we should have seen something by now.’

Guan was starting seriously to doubt this plan of theirs. It was too messy, more of a spectacle than anything practical. Better if they had just gone in alone to deal with Che. But, as so often happened, he’d allowed his sister to persuade him otherwise.

They were holding hands, as they sometimes did; as they had done since their childhoods. She squeezed as though to reassure him.

Along the street stood a thin line of soldiers, faces wrapped in scarves like their own, all of them staring through the empty markets at the banks of flames and smoke piling into the night sky. In the streets behind, a second ring of soldiers lay hidden and waiting.

‘You think he deserves any of this?’ he asked his sister.

‘And what’s deserving got to do with anything?’

‘Even so. He’s one of our own.’

Cold air against his palm as she released it.

‘You voice these concerns now? After he’s deserted? After he’s shown himself to be the traitor we practically accused him of being?’

Guan knew it was useless to argue with her. Besides, some truths were strong enough to stand on their own.

‘You’re thinking they’ll do the same to us, after all of this is over.’

‘Why wouldn’t they? We know as much he does.’

‘Yes, but by doing this we prove that we can be trusted. This is good for us, Guan, I can sense it. They need the likes of us for their dirty work. Whoever they are.’

‘Let us hope that you’re right.’

It was hard to see far with the grey haze filling the air.

Something raced from the stalls with a carpet of flames on its back. The nearest soldiers levelled their crossbows and fired.

It was a dog on fire, yelping and biting at the flames as it ran. It convulsed as the bolts struck it and rolled to the ground dead.

Swan swore under her breath. Sourly, she said, ‘These people. They just leave their dogs behind them to die.’

Not for the first time, Guan looked to his sister with something approaching wonder at how her mind worked. Twins they might be, sometimes able to finish each other’s sentences, or read each other’s thoughts, yet some kink was in her that he did not seem to share.

He was about to remind her gently that she should have no problem with burning dogs if she had no problem burning people, when his neck throbbed once, and then again more powerfully.

Guan clutched a finger to his neck as Swan did likewise.

‘Get ready,’ he told the soldiers in front of them. ‘He’s coming out.’

They aimed their crossbows while his sister drew her pistol. Minutes passed as smoke tumbled out from between the stalls. The pulse grew ever faster in his neck.

Still there was no sign of anything. The crossbows began to sway in the men’s hands.

‘He should be close enough to see by now,’ Swan said, raising her gun towards the markets.

Guan remained still. There was something wrong about this. Che should be almost on top of them now.

‘You don’t think-’

He spun around, and his sister did the same a moment later. They both looked along the street in both directions, at the houses that lined the opposite side and their darkened windows.

Guan drew his own pistol, stepping to one side as he did so.

‘Swan,’ he said, and together they retreated into the shadow of a wall as deeply as they could.