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The frothing torrent was impenetrable-opaqued red with blood. ‘Stop,’ the assassin gasped.
‘Stop what? Look at that water! Stop what ?’
‘Stop… drawing… from this well…’
It was a long time before the shivers left his body, to be replaced with countless aches from his collision with the chamber’s ceiling. Cord had left then returned with others from his company, as well as Sinn, carrying blankets and more torches.
There was some difficulty in prying the long-knives from Kalam’s hands. The separation revealed that the grips had somehow scorched the assassin’s palms and fingerpads.
‘Cold,’ Ebron muttered, ‘that’s what did that. Burned by cold. What did you say that thing looked like?’
Kalam, huddled in blankets, looked up. ‘Like something that should nave been dead a long time ago, Mage. Tell me, how much do you know of B’ridys-this fortress?’
‘Probably less than you,’ Ebron replied. ‘I was born in Karakarang. It was a monastery, wasn’t it?’
‘Aye. One of the oldest cults, long extinct.’ A squad healer crouched beside him and began applying a numbing salve to the assassin’s hands. Kalam leaned his head against the wall and sighed. ‘Have you heard of the Nameless Ones?’
Ebron snorted. ‘I said Karakarang, didn’t I? The Tanno cult claims a direct descent from the cult of the Nameless Ones. The Spiritwalkers say their powers, of song and the like, arose from the original patterns that the Nameless Ones fashioned in their rituals-those patterns supposedly crisscross this entire subcontinent, and their power remains to this day. Are you saying this monastery belonged to the Nameless Ones? Yes, of course you are. But they weren’t demons, were they-’
‘No, but they were in the habit of chaining them. The one in the pool is probably displeased with its last encounter, but not as displeased as you might think.’
Ebron frowned, then paled. ‘The blood-if anyone drinks water tainted with that…’
Kalam nodded. ‘The demon takes that person’s soul… and makes the exchange. Freedom.’
‘Not just people, either!’ Ebron hissed. ‘Animals, birds-insects! Anything!’
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The frothing torrent was impenetrable-opaqued red with blood. ‘Stop,’ the assassin gasped.
‘Stop what? Look at that water! Stop what ?’
‘Stop… drawing… from this well…’
It was a long time before the shivers left his body, to be replaced with countless aches from his collision with the chamber’s ceiling. Cord had left then returned with others from his company, as well as Sinn, carrying blankets and more torches.
There was some difficulty in prying the long-knives from Kalam’s hands. The separation revealed that the grips had somehow scorched the assassin’s palms and fingerpads.
‘Cold,’ Ebron muttered, ‘that’s what did that. Burned by cold. What did you say that thing looked like?’
Kalam, huddled in blankets, looked up. ‘Like something that should nave been dead a long time ago, Mage. Tell me, how much do you know of B’ridys-this fortress?’
‘Probably less than you,’ Ebron replied. ‘I was born in Karakarang. It was a monastery, wasn’t it?’
‘Aye. One of the oldest cults, long extinct.’ A squad healer crouched beside him and began applying a numbing salve to the assassin’s hands. Kalam leaned his head against the wall and sighed. ‘Have you heard of the Nameless Ones?’
Ebron snorted. ‘I said Karakarang, didn’t I? The Tanno cult claims a direct descent from the cult of the Nameless Ones. The Spiritwalkers say their powers, of song and the like, arose from the original patterns that the Nameless Ones fashioned in their rituals-those patterns supposedly crisscross this entire subcontinent, and their power remains to this day. Are you saying this monastery belonged to the Nameless Ones? Yes, of course you are. But they weren’t demons, were they-’
‘No, but they were in the habit of chaining them. The one in the pool is probably displeased with its last encounter, but not as displeased as you might think.’
Ebron frowned, then paled. ‘The blood-if anyone drinks water tainted with that…’
Kalam nodded. ‘The demon takes that person’s soul… and makes the exchange. Freedom.’
‘Not just people, either!’ Ebron hissed. ‘Animals, birds-insects! Anything!’
‘No, I think it will have to be big-bigger than a bird or insect. And when it does escape-’
‘It’ll come looking for you,’ the mage whispered. He suddenly wheeled to Cord. ‘We have to get out of here. Now! Better still-’
‘Aye,’ Kalam growled, ‘get as far away from me as you can. Listen-the Empress has sent her new Adjunct, with an army-there will be a battle, in Raraku. The Adjunct has little more than recruits. She could do with your company, even as beaten up as it is-’
‘They march from Aren?’
Kalam nodded. ‘And have likely already started. That gives you maybe a month… of staying alive and out of trouble-’
‘We can manage,’ Cord grated.
Kalam glanced over at Sinn. ‘Be careful, lass.’
‘I will. I think I’ll miss you, Kalam.’
The assassin spoke to Cord. ‘Leave me my supplies. I will rest here a while longer. So we don’t cross paths, I will be heading due west from here, skirting the north edge of the Whirlwind… for a time. Eventually, I will try to breach it, and make my way into Raraku itself.’
‘Lady’s luck to you,’ Cord replied, then he gestured. ‘Everyone else, let’s go.’ At the stairway, the sergeant glanced back at the assassin. ‘That demon… did it get the captain and the lieutenant, do you think?’
‘No. It said otherwise.’
‘It spoke to you?’
‘In my mind, aye. But it was a short conversation.’
Cord grinned. ‘Something tells me, with you, they’re all short.’
A moment later and Kalam was alone, still racked with waves of uncontrollable shivering. Thankfully, the soldiers had left a couple of torches. It was too bad, he reflected, that the azalan demon had vanished. Seriously too bad .
It was dusk when the assassin emerged from the narrow fissure in the rock, opposite the cliff, that was the monastery’s secret escape route. The timing was anything but pleasant. The demon might already be free, might already be hunting him-in whatever form fate had gifted it. The night ahead did not promise to be agreeable.
The signs of the company’s egress were evident on the dusty ground in front of the fissure, and Kalam noted that they had set off southward, preceding him by four or more hours. Satisfied, he shouldered his pack and, skirting the outcropping that was the fortress, headed west. Wild bhok’arala kept pace with him for a time, scampering along the rocks and voicing their strangely mournful hooting calls as night gathered. Stars appeared overhead through a blurry film of dust, dulling the desert’s ambient silver glow to something more like smudged iron. Kalam made his way slowly, avoiding rises where he would be visible along a skyline.
