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His practicality worked its own particular magic on her, and the horror freezing her in place faded. “True.” She physically shook off the lingering effects of shock. She was here to scout, not to mourn. “I think we should wait to split up. Haradis may be dead, but it may not be abandoned.”
They entered cautiously, picking their way across rubble scattered across moonlit streets. Anhuset spared a glance at Serovek, noting the tight set of his mouth and hollow expression. He might not have suffered the shock she did at the sight of Haradis's current state, but he carried with him the memory of it overrun by thegalla.
There were places in the world ancient or haunted or both. Remnants of Elder magic spun by the long-vanished Gullperi lingered there, along with ghosts unable to break the tethers that bound them to the life their bodies had forsaken. Haradis was old but not ancient, and the magic of the Kai had been drained by sorcery that made five men eidolon. From what she could tell, it wasn't haunted either. Even the dead didn't loiter in Haradis. It was emptiness profound—except for her instinctive certainty, she and Serovek weren't alone.
“Are you looking for anything in particular or just noting things to report back to Brishen?” Serovek asked the question in the same low voice, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the wrecked landscape.
“The latter.” Her instincts continued sounding an alarm that there was something here to find, but as of yet, it chose not to make itself known. She kept a tight grip on her knife, even knowing the weapon might be useless against whatever hid from sight.
Serovek followed her to one of the market squares, once a lively place whose perimeter was lined with stalls and interior enjoyed by visitors strolling under starlight and children playing on a manicured lawn. The grass was dead, the stalls collapsed heaps of debris. Bits of clothing littered the square. Anhuset paused in front of a cluster of rags. On first glance, it looked as if a washer woman had dropped her basket and left the spilled contents where they lay. Frocks and tunics, a cloak, even shoes and boots lay within the heap, all stained with dark splotches.
“I won't describe what seeing a fullhul-gallain one place is like,” Serovek said as he squatted next to the heap. “But I think seeing this was worse, and it's everywhere in Haradis.”
Confused by his comment and the scene before her, Anhuset poked at a dress hem with the tip of her knife. “But what is 'this?' All I see is a pile of dirty, discarded clothing and shoes.”
Serovek turned to stare at her, the expression of sympathy on his face from earlier transformed now to one of awful pity. “Ah, firefly woman, Brishen shared very little of our battle here, didn't he? And I'm guessing the refugees refuse to speak of what they saw.” He gently pushed the hand holding her knife away from the clothing. “The stains you see on the clothes, they're all that's left after thegallaconsume their victims.”
Anhuset's heart vaulted into her throat and she leaped away from Serovek and the gruesome memorial to Haradis's dead. The horror she'd beaten back outside the gates nearly overwhelmed her once more. “I didn't know,” she said in a tight voice. The memory of her cousin's face, the flicker of horror in his eye when anyone mentioned Haradis by name had been the only tell or reaction he revealed. “My gods, the burden Brishen shoulders.”
The margrave stood and closed the distance between them. “It's a heavy one indeed. Think hard as to whether or not you want to share with him your visit here. If you do, I'll offer my own observations as well. If you don't, and we find nothing of import, then it will be our secret.”
“Why would you do this?” He had no reason to ally himself to her in this way, no obligation to keep any secret for her.
“Because Brishen is my friend, and I suspect he, like Megiddo, came away from thegallawar more scarred by it than the rest of us. Why add to the burden you say he carries?”
They left the square then, Anhuset sick to her soul by every proof of Haradis's complete annihilation. She tried not to look at the numerous mounds of clothing dotting the streets. Instead, she scanned the few shops and dwellings that remained standing, peering inside with the conflicting hopes of finding something and finding nothing. She was spoiling for a fight, a way to bleed off the angry despair engulfing her. The gods help any human or Kai scavenger who might be looting their way through what was left. She'd carve them into pieces small enough to fit inside thimbles.
A thin echo of bone-chilling laughter drifted on the wind from the direction of the palace. Ice water trickled down Anhuset's spine. The laughter was like nothing she'd ever heard and prayed she'd never hear again.
“That's the sound ofgalla,” Serovek said. No pity or sympathy remained in his expression. Dismay had replaced both. Dismay and fear. The laughter pealed once more, this time closer and just as terrifying. “Water,” Serovek snapped. “Run for water.”
They sprinted back the way they'd come, toward the crumbled walls and broken gates and beyond that the safety of the canals and the prison they made of Haradis. More of the gibbering laughter sounded, nearly on their heels, and Anhuset stretched her legs for all she was worth to reach the gate. Serovek kept pace beside her, a swift runner despite his size.
She caught a roiling motion from the corner of her eye and glanced to the right. “Fuck!” she shouted, and the abomination rushing toward them on a writhing cloud of shadow shouted back in a voice that mimicked hers.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” The shout pitched higher until it became a scream that made her ears throb and teeth grind.
Suddenly Serovek veered away from Anhuset, sprinting directly across thegalla's path. Both Anhuset and thegallashrieked, she in shock, it in triumph as it darted toward its victim.
“No you don't, you bastard,” Anhuset snarled, unsure if she spoke to thegallaor to the margrave, figuring it applied to both.
Desperation pushed her to greater speed. She reached Serovek before thegalladid, grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward a broken fountain set in the middle of a rubble-filled courtyard. They hurtled over the fountain's ledge, splashing ankle-deep into stagnant water deposited there from previous snows or rain.
Thegalla's gleeful shrieking changed to unearthly howls of rage at finding its prey snatched out of reach. It twisted and writhed midair, collapsing in on itself in a miasma of oily smoke before bursting outward to reveal a jumbled mess of every kind of body part as well as misty images of faces, mouths wide in silent screams.
“I thought the Wraith kings forced them all back into the void and sealed the gate.” The idea that they'd failed made her stomach knot itself into a ball of nausea.
Serovek kicked a spray of slimy water onto thegalla, slinging even more as the thing recoiled out of reach. “So did I.”
Anhuset seized his arm. “Enough. You keep doing that, and we'll be standing in a dry fountain with no protection.” She let go of the margrave and kept an eye on thegallawho'd retreated but didn't flee. So began a waiting game, and all the odds lay in the demon's favor.
She'd saved herself and Serovek from being devoured for now, but he was far from appreciative. The thunderhead of a scowl descended on his features. His dark eyebrows lowered, and for the first time since she'd met him, he bent the full weight of his disapproval on her in a withering stare.
“Never do such a thing again,” he said, practically baring his teeth at her. “If not for that foolish stunt, you'd be through the gate and safe among the canals right now.”
“And you'd be a bloody stain on those fine clothes you're wearing,” she snapped back. “I don't need a hero to save me,” she continued in a milder voice. “Though what you did was heroic and brave. And stupid.”
“Sha-Anhuset.” He said her name in such a way that Anhuset forgot about thegallafor a moment, startled into silence by what she saw. “You misunderstand me. One of us has to survive this little trip to warn Brishen there's at least onegallafrolicking about Haradis. Between the two of us, I'm probably stronger, and I know you're faster. Strength isn't what would save us from that thing.” He waved his knife toward thegalla, and it lunged at him, snapping four sets of newly formed teeth.
