Midnight tides

You will find, my friends, no sweeter world than this, where honour and faith and freedom are notions levelled one and all, layers as thin as hate, envy and betrayal. Every notion vulnerable to any sordid breeze, stirred up, stirred together. A world without demands to challenge the confused haze of holy apathy.

The god of dust rises dominant -

Ahead, a dozen wolves, charging straight for him.

There would, it seemed, be a delay.

Udinaas bared his teeth.

‘How are you managing it?’ Bugg asked.

The Errant glanced over. ‘The wolves?’

‘They’re everywhere but here, and they should have arrived long ago.’

The god shrugged. ‘I keep nudging them away. It’s not as difficult as I feared, although their leader is too clever by far – much harder to deceive. Besides, the beasts keep running into other… opposition.’

‘What kind of opposition?’

‘Other.’

The shouts from within the temple ceased then. Silence, no movement from the dark doorway. A half-dozen heartbeats, then, a muttering of voices and swearing.

The mage, Corlo, appeared, backing out and dragging a limp body in his wake, a body leaving twin trails of blood from its heels.

Concerned, Bugg stepped forward. ‘Is she alive?’

Corlo, himself a mass of cuts and bruises, cast the manservant a slightly wild look. ‘No, dammit.’

‘I am sorry for that,’ the Errant murmured.

More Guardsmen were emerging from the doorway. All were wounded, one of them badly, his left arm torn loose at the shoulder and dangling from a few pink-white tendons. His eyes were glazed with shock.

Corlo glared at Turudal Brizad. ‘Can you do any healing? Before the rest of us bleed out-’

Iron Bars stepped from the ruined temple, sheathing his sword. He was covered in blood but none of it was his. His expression was alarmingly dark. ‘We were expecting wolves, damn you,’ he said in a low growl as he stared at the Errant, who had closed to lay hands upon the most grievously injured soldier, raising new flesh to bind the arm once more to the shoulder as the soldier’s face twisted with pain.

Turudal Brizad shrugged. ‘There was little time to elaborate on what you were about to fight, Avowed. In case you have forgotten.’

‘Damned cats,’ he said.

‘Lizard cats, you mean,’ one of the Guardsmen said, spitting blood onto the street. ‘Sometimes I think nature is insane.’

‘You got that right, Halfpeck,’ Corlo said, reaching down to close the eyelids of the dead woman lying at his feet.

Iron Bars suddenly moved, a blur, past the Errant, both hands lifting-

– as a huge white wolf, claws skittering, pitched round from an alley mouth and, head ducking, lunged toward Turudal Brizad, who had only just begun to turn round.

The Avowed caught it in mid-leap, left hand closing on its right leg just beneath the shoulder, right hand clutching its neck beneath the beast’s jaws. He heaved the wolf high, pivoted and smashed it head first onto the street. Crushing snout, skull and shoulders. Limbs kicking spasmodically, the Soletaken flopped onto its back, yellow vomit spurting, urine arcing as it died. A moment later, all movement from the limbs ceased, although the urine continued to stream, the arc dwindling, then collapsing.

Iron Bars stepped back.

Halfpeck suddenly laughed. ‘It pissed on you!’

‘Be quiet,’ Iron Bars said, looking down at his wet legs. ‘Hood take me, that stinks.’

‘We should get back to the ship,’ Corlo said. ‘There’s wolves all over the place and I don’t think I can keep them away much longer.’

Turudal Brizad. ‘But I can. Especially now.’

Bugg asked, ‘What’s changed, apart from the Pack getting chopped to pieces?’

The Errant pointed down at the dead Soletaken. ‘That was B’nagga, the leader of the Jheck.’ He shot Bugg a look, astonished and half disbelieving. ‘You chose well,’ he said.

‘This squad managed to escape Assail,’ Bugg said, shrugging.

The god’s eyes widened. He turned to Iron Bars. ‘I will ensure you a clear path to your ship-’

‘Oh, damn,’ Bugg cut in, slowly turning. ‘They’re getting out.’

‘More trouble?’ Iron Bars asked, looking round, his hand drifting close to the sword at his hip.

‘Not here,’ Bugg said. ‘But not far.’ He faced the Avowed, gauging.

Iron Bars frowned, then said, ‘Corlo, take the squad back to the ship. All right, old man, lead the way.’

‘You don’t have to do this-’

‘Yes I do. With that wolf pissing on me I feel the need to lose my temper. It’s another fight, isn’t it?’

Bugg nodded. ‘Might make the Pack seem like kittens, Iron Bars.’

‘Might? Will it or won’t it?’

‘All right, we might well lose this one.’

‘Fine,’ the Avowed snapped. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

The manservant sighed. ‘Follow me, then. It’s a dead Azath House we’re heading to.’

‘Dead? Hood take me, a garden fete.’

A garden fete? Dear me, I like this man . ‘And we’re inviting ourselves, Avowed. Still with me?’

Iron Bars looked across at Corlo, who had stopped to listen, his face bloodless as he repeatedly shook his head in denial. The Avowed grunted. ‘Once you’ve dropped ’em off, come and find us, Corlo. And try and make your arrival timely.’

‘Avowed-’

‘Go.’

Bugg glanced at the Errant. ‘You coming?’

‘In spirit,’ he replied. ‘There is another matter I must attend to, I am afraid. Oh,’ he added as Bugg and Iron Bars turned to go, ‘dear manservant, I thank you. And you as well, Avowed. Tell me, Iron Bars, how many of the Avowed remain among the Crimson Guard?’

‘No idea. A few hundred, I’d imagine.’

‘Scattered here and there…’

The grey-haired soldier smiled. ‘For the moment.’

Bugg said, ‘We shall have to run, I think.’

‘Can you keep up?’ Iron Bars asked.

‘As swift as a charging wave, that’s me,’ Bugg said.

Brys stood alone in the corridor. The howling was, thankfully, over. It was the only sound that had managed to penetrate the walls. There was no way to know if the garrison was fighting in the city beyond the Eternal Domicile. It seemed such a pointless thing…

His breath caught upon hearing a strange sound. Brys lowered his gaze, fixed it upon the Ceda, who was lying curled tight in the chamber beyond, with his back to Brys and the throne room behind him.

Kuru Qan’s head shifted slightly, then rose a fraction from the floor.

And, from the Ceda, there came low laughter.

The path was unmistakable. Keening with glee, the demon drew itself to the cave’s entrance, contracting its massive, corpulent presence, the bloated flesh of its body, away from the river’s broad span. Inward, gathering, hovering before the tunnel beneath the city, where old swamp water still flowed, putrid and sweet, a flavour like sweet nectar to the demon.

Ready now, at last, for the lunge, the breaking away from the grip of its master. Who was so regrettably preoccupied at the moment.

Now.

Surging forward, filling the cave, then into the narrow, twisting tunnel.

To the heart. The wondrous, blessed heart of power.

Joy and hunger burning like twin fires within it. Close, so close now.

Squirming down, the path narrowing, squeezing with the vast pressure of overlying stone and earth. A little further.

Reaching out, the space suddenly opening, blissfully wide and high, spreading out to all sides, the water welcoming in its warmth.

A storm of long-still silts sweeping up, blinding, shadows of dead things cavorting before its countless eyes.

The heart, the enormous cavern beneath the lake, the city’s very soul – the power-