Roger Taylor - Arash-Felloren

‘Where is the Highest?’ she demanded as she strode into the Audience Hall. The Acolytes and Novices abandoned the windows around which they were gathered and, after some brief but frantic confusion, lined up in front of her, their heads bowed.

‘He’s in the city, Ailad,’ one of them replied. ‘With Gariak and two other guards.’

Imorren nodded. That was not good. Whatever had disturbed the Tunnellers it would be naive to imagine that their anger would be confined to the Vaskyros. And most of the Lesser and Higher Brothers were out looking for the Anointed. There was no saying what the consequence would be if one of them were attacked and had to use the Power to defend himself.

Damn those Weartans!

This must be ended, and quickly.

‘Find the Captain of the Guards,’ she snapped. ‘And have one of the Tunnellers brought to me immediately.’

Imorren made her way to the seat from which she conducted much of the Order’s daily business. She knew that the performance of so simple and familiar an act would reassure the others. She looked at them and allowed herself a slight smile, as if the turmoil surrounding the building was nothing unusual and not worthy of any other acknowledgement. With a kindly gesture she singled out four Acolytes, and said quietly, ‘Stay with me. I will need you to carry messages. The rest of you continue with your normal duties.’

They had scarcely left when a Novice returned with the Captain of the Guards dragging a bloodstained figure. Imorren beckoned him forward and motioned the others away, out of earshot.

‘I was bringing this one to you, Ailad,’ the Captain said, bowing. He kicked the Tunneller brutally behind the knees, making him drop to the floor. A powerful hand bent the man’s head forward. ‘Show some respect for the Ailad, worm.’

Imorren had read the Tunneller’s face as soon as he came into the hall. Stupidity riven with terror. Pushed too far, he probably wouldn’t be able to remember his own name, still less explain what was happening.

‘Gently, Captain,’ she said. Her tone was mildly reproachful but her look made the Captain step back smartly. ‘These people obviously have some serious complaint to attack us like this. We must hear it.’ She bent forward. ‘Please, look at me, sir,’ she said coaxingly. ‘No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe here. You must tell us what’s brought all this about.’

Slowly the man looked up. As he met her gaze, she smiled radiantly and gave an encouraging nod. It was a look that had destroyed the will of sterner men than the wretch now before her. ‘Why are your people doing this?’ she asked, her voice soft and a little tremulous.

The man, transfixed, did not appear to hear. The Captain raised a hand to strike him but a gesture from Imorren stopped him. She repeated the question, adding, ‘We’ve done you no wrong, surely? You must tell me what’s happened so that we can talk about it properly. People are being terribly hurt. Do you understand me?’

The man licked his lips several times, then swallowed and nodded. ‘It’s that thing… that animal… whatever it is,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘The one you brought up from the caves for the Pit.’ He began to plead. ‘It’s killing everyone. Just killing them. On and on. It…’

Imorren had heard enough. Her smile vanished and she was again cold-faced and upright in the chair. The man reached out to her. ‘Ailad…’ He fell suddenly silent and began clawing at his throat and gasping, as though there was a band tightening about it. The four watching Acolytes each took an instinctive pace backwards, as did the Captain. Though she had given no outward sign, they knew she was using the Power against the man.

Imorren was satisfied. The actions of the Tunnellers were now clear to her. She even conceded that the assault was probably her own fault. Flush from the slaughter in the Loose Pit and the contact she had had with the Anointed at the Jyolan, she had sent the creature to feed. But she had forgotten its true nature, the nature that He had so assiduously bred into its original sires countless millennia ago. Forgotten or underestimated. It seemed that its appetite for the terror it caused in its victims was truly without limit, as it was meant to be. Unlike any other animal, it would kill and kill without pause unless controlled.

A noise disturbed her reflection. It was the Tunneller. He was on all fours, retching as he struggled for breath. Imorren cast an irritable glance at him, then as suddenly as he had been attacked, he was released. He collapsed on to the floor, gasping and twitching. ‘Get him out of here,’ she said to the Acolytes. ‘Take him to the dungeons.’

As the man was being dragged from the hall, Imorren moved to the window. It overlooked the main courtyard which was filled with struggling Tunnellers. ‘Your men can hold the second gate?’ she asked the Captain without looking at him.

‘No,’ the Captain replied. ‘We lost several in that first rush, and we’ve got too many out in the city on personal escort duties. But we’ll hold the third. They’ll soon get tired of dying in front of that, then we can start getting them out without too much trouble.’

‘They’ll do a great deal of damage if they get past the second gate.’

The Captain could read nothing in her tone or her posture. That was normal. He put his faith in the estimate of his worth to her that he had formed long ago – she needed the benefit of his fighting experience. That and that alone, clearly stated. ‘We can’t hold it,’ he confirmed unhesitatingly. ‘There’s too many of them and too many ladders and platforms lying about there. If we make a stand, they’ll outflank us and move directly to the third gate.’

Imorren nodded. ‘I have complete faith in your judgement, Captain. Do what you must to get rid of them. Keep me advised of events.’ She turned and looked at him. He met her grey-eyed gaze. Like most in the higher ranks of the guards, he was tied to her by bonds he could not begin to understand. ‘Take as many prisoners as you can. We’ll have need of them later.’ The Captain bowed and left.

Imorren looked down into the courtyard again. Who’d have thought the Tunnellers had such spirit in them? Suddenly, she felt good. The damage that they might do would be an inconvenience, no more. In return she would have captives whose life energies could be taken without question. No one was going to ask questions about missing Tunnellers. And the creature – the Serwulf – His blessed harbinger – was indeed as powerful as the old writings had said. What an asset it would be. It could perhaps even be used to track down others of its own kind – for there must be others for this one to have survived. A pack could be bred. They would be trained and ready for when He returned, perhaps even improved upon, if that were not a heresy. Then an idea came to her. It amused her. If the creature had driven these people from the tunnels, then it could be used to drive them back – or at least out of the Vaskyros. She would enjoy watching it work, and in the panic it induced there would surely be many wounded to be taken as prisoners. She must find the Keeper and have it recalled.

Faint echoes of the conflict outside followed Imorren as she descended into the lower depths, but she scarcely heard them. Her mind had leapt beyond the disturbances of the present and was vaulting into a new future.

She came eventually to the cages and stalls which held the strange and tortured creatures that the Kyrosdyn had bred or captured in the depths, for experiments and use in the Loose Pits. As it always did, the feral stink pervading the place roused her, touching the deep hatreds that sustained her. She bared her teeth in response to the cacophony of barkings and mewlings that greeted her, but walked on without pause.