Best Laid Plans (16 page)

‘They found no respite in death, however. The skeletal creature returned and employed a powerful necromancy, which raised them along with their steeds. Here we remained, entombed, but conscious throughout the centuries.’

‘This skeletal creature you describe…’ Barek began.

‘Now goes by the name of Cadman,’ Shader said.

Osric nodded.

‘He was once governor of Sarum?’ Barek asked.

‘Probably not by design,’ Shader said. ‘Cadman’s a liche, of that I’m certain. I’ve faced his kind before in Verusia. I expect he became too successful at whatever else he was doing and attracted unwanted attention. I can’t imagine a less desirable position for a liche. They’re cowardly wretches, always laying plans to ensure their own survival.’

The creatures he’d fought in Verusia had largely been mindless minions. Their liche masters were rarely seen, and seldom stuck around in a fight. When cornered, though, they were deadly opponents. Shader had seen an entire company blasted apart by dark fire. The Seventh Horse had given chase, but found nothing other than shapes in the mist.

‘But why would the Lost follow Cadman after what he’s done to them?’ Barek asked.

‘Despair has robbed them of the strength to oppose his will. When faith in Ain dies,’
Osric touched a spectral hand to his forehead,
‘people will believe in anything: prophecies, powers, the influence of the stars. If they’re desperate enough, they’ll even believe lies.’

‘But not you,’ Shader said.

‘My allegiance remains to Callixus, the man in possession of his own will, not the slavish automaton he’s become. And whilst Ain is slow to answer my prayers, He grants me faith.’
Osric locked his eyes to Shader’s.
‘But faith can be very dark.’

Shader looked away and then stood. He walked to the entrance, staring out at the trees. ‘You still haven’t told us what this dome is.’ He slapped a hand against the wall. A resounding clang echoed around the chamber.

Osric drifted to his side, following his gaze.
‘That I do not know,’
he said.
‘And I doubt Cadman really knows either. The world is full of mysteries, praise be to Ain. Do you intend to join this battle against my brothers?’

Shader thought for a moment before he replied. Sammy’s voice was strong in his mind; that and the remembered pain of Shadrak’s blade. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What?’ Barek said. ‘But the White Order…’

‘Are in good hands. Justin might be a terrible Nousian, but he’s a capable knight with a good head on his shoulders.’ Shader grimaced, realizing he could just as well be talking about himself. ‘Hagalle may not take too kindly to our having escaped,’ he continued. ‘He has more than enough men to deal with Cadman. I’m going after Shadrak. I need to get back my piece of the statue.’

‘The Statue of Eingana?’ Osric asked.

‘You know of it?’

‘There is a society within the Elect that ensures the Order remains true to its purpose. It is called the Saphra Society. Only a handful of knights are invited to join, mostly from the upper ranks. In my time I rose as high as Marshall so I was a member, as was Callixus. We preserve the secrets of the Order, the reason for its foundation.’

Something else Shader had been kept in the dark about. What next? Some revelation about the Templum itself? Dark secrets concerning his parents? In this shifting world he was beginning to wonder if he could even trust his memories, his sense of who he was. Shader fought to keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘Which is what?’

‘The Elect were formed in response to the Blightey affair. When the Ipsissimus was murdered, his Monas was taken.’

Shader knew all that. Blightey had eventually been cornered with the help of the Grey Abbot. ‘That’s ancient knowledge.’ Shader suddenly thumped himself on the head. ‘Idiot,’ he said. ‘The Monas concealed a piece of the statue, just like the Grey Abbot’s.’

Osric nodded.
‘That’s the raison d’être of our Order, brother Shader. The Elect are trained with the sole purpose of protecting the artefact from those who would steal it. There have been many more attempts. Ipsissimi have been attacked by evil forces that have driven them insane or killed them. It is a function of the Saphra Society to ensure the artefact is safely passed on to the successor. You would have known all this if you’d not abandoned your duty as Keeper.’

Shader spun to face the wraith. ‘What? How could you…?’

Osric pointed with a gaseous finger to the Sword of the Archon sheathed at Shader’s hip.
‘The Ipsissimus would never permit the Archon’s sword to leave Aeterna, and only the Keeper can wield it. There can be no doubt that you won the competition, for the sword follows your desires. I may have been blinded by its light when you entered the dome, but I am not blind to reason. If you had stayed in Aeterna you would have known of the Saphra Society. The Keeper of the Sword of the Archon sits at its head.’

Shader felt giddy. Aristodeus must have known all this. That night at the docks he’d encouraged Shader to flee to Sahul. And the Grey Abbot— he’d been the one to suggest the tournament.

‘This Society of yours,’ Shader’s voice was hoarse. ‘Who founded it?’

‘The Ipsissimus,’
Osric said,
‘but on the advice of the Grey Abbot and one other.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Shader said. ‘A bald man in white robes? Goes by the name of Aristodeus?’

Osric’s eyes narrowed to glowing slits.
‘Yes, but how do you know this? He must have been dead for centuries.’

The more Shader pieced together about his old mentor, the less he liked it. ‘There’s obviously more to our beloved philosopher than meets the eye. What do you make of the fact that he knew I was planning to bring the sword to Sahul? In fact, he positively encouraged it.’

The wraith’s misty body rippled and his eyes flashed.
‘Ain preserve us,’
he whispered.
‘This is the time of Unweaving!’
Osric floated away into the chamber and then turned back to face Shader.
‘Aristodeus said the time would come again, but I never thought I’d live to see it.’
He looked down at his ghostly arms and chuckled.
‘Now there’s irony for you.’

Shader looked blankly from the wraith to Barek.

‘Does this have anything to do with the epic of the Reckoning?’ the lad asked. ‘Only Elias said something about the Unweaving. Said it had begun before, but had been stopped. Something to do with the Technocrat of the Ancients.’

‘Sektis Gandaw,’ Shader said. ‘The man who tried to un-create. Wasn’t he betrayed by his own creatures?’

Barek was pacing, face furrowed with concentration. ‘The dwarves,’ he said. ‘They stole the statue and gave it to Huntsman’s gods. You know, the spider, the toad, and the crocodile.’

Osric’s body was throwing off streams of black mist and his eyes were like flames.
‘Aristodeus told us he was there, that he would have failed completely had it not been for the dwarves.’

Shader’s head was pounding. He’d heard all that stuff about the dwarves and the gods before. Elias had wittered on about it incessantly back at Oakendale. Rhiannon had been his sounding board. Shader had spent more than one night drunk on scrumpy listening to the bard’s crazy histories. But Aristodeus’s involvement in all this, that was news to him and it made his skin crawl. There was something shouting at the bottom of his mind, clamouring for recognition, but every time he tried to focus in on it he was met with emptiness.

‘We must get the statue back,’ Shader said. ‘If Shadrak’s taking it to the Anglesh Isles it can only mean one thing.’

‘Mawgs?’ Barek said.

‘Sektis Gandaw’s creatures,’ Shader said. ‘Shadrak must be working for him.’

‘I will go with you,’
Osric said.
‘This must be the path Ain has prepared for me. This is the way of my redemption.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Shader said. ‘I need to think.’

‘If you have Osric with you, then maybe I should rejoin the White Order,’ Barek said.

Shader shook his head to clear it. ‘But what about the Emperor?’

Barek puffed out his cheeks. ‘If I run into him, I’ll have to change his mind.’

‘You’ll never sway him with words,’ Shader said.

Barek shrugged and merely offered Shader his hand. The two embraced and then Shader walked from the dome with Osric drifting alongside. He watched as Barek headed back through the forest in the direction of the city.

‘What now?’
Osric asked.

‘Port Sarum,’ Shader said. ‘And if we’re lucky, we’ll find ourselves a ship bound for the Anglesh Isles.’

‘Water,’
Osric said with evident distaste.
‘I can hardly wait.’

L
allia peeked through the crack of the closet door. Cadman was passing along the corridor with a corpse-knight in tow, a huge shogger with its jaw hanging off and one eyeball swinging from a thread. It wore rusty chainmail with broken links and a once-white surcoat sporting the Nousian Monas. Maybe that would shut the bloody liberals up, she thought with some satisfaction. All that crap about the Emperor being paranoid and intolerant of difference. She’d known from the word go the Nousians were shifty bastards. More than that, they were downright evil.

It all went wrong the day Zara Gen received that old tramp, Jarmin, and she’d been the one to greet him. She knew he was trouble from the minute she clapped eyes on him, but she’d assumed the Governor knew more about the situation than she did. Lallia clenched her teeth. Funny how you think you know someone only to discover later on that you got it completely wrong. She wouldn’t be voting for him next election, that’s for sure. That’s assuming he wasn’t dead along with the rest of the council.

Lallia began to wonder if she should have mentioned something about Cadman after she’d walked in on him. Maybe if she’d warned Governor Gen, the slaughter could have been averted.

Problem was, Cadman’s dodgy pills had been good. More than good. And the perfume he’d given her in return for cleaning up his mess was still strong on her skin—even after all this time holed up in a closet with only a bucket to shit in and nothing to eat. At least he’d not been lying about that: it was potent stuff and she’d not had a cold night since. Not until the death-knights had come, that is.

Cadman checked another window catch—three times as usual—and waddled along to the next. The death-knight watched the way they had come, red eyes taking in every inch of the corridor. Lallia ducked back behind the door as the skull turned in her direction. When she heard its shuffling footfalls move away she looked again. As she’d expected, Cadman was fiddling with the lock on Zara Gen’s office door. Another death-knight stood guard outside, hands resting on the pommel of a broadsword.

Cadman stroked the end of his moustache, his ample frame quivering like jelly. With one thumb thrust into the pocket of his velvet waistcoat, he rapped on the door and entered, leaving the big death-knight and the guard outside. If there was anyone left alive in Arnbrook House, you could bet that’s where they’d be. If it was the Governor, and if Lallia could find a way to get him out, who knows what the reward would be?

Lallia slid her back down the wall of the closet and wrapped her arms around her chest. It was a total bitch that Cadman had skeletons for guards. They never needed relieving, and so she’d had no opportunity to make a run for it.

Matted strands of chestnut hair hung over her eyes. If this went on much longer she’d never pull again, no matter how good the perfume. Still, she thought, giving her bum a pat, it wouldn’t do her figure any harm going without food for a few days.

She groaned as she realized she needed to pee. The stench from the bucket was getting unbearable, but what choice did she have? She swooned as she stood, steadying herself against the wall, and then pinched her nose shut as she moved to the back of the closet.

***

Elias reclined in the Governor’s chair, tilting it onto its rear legs and putting his feet on the desk. Zara Gen glared at him from the seat opposite, his eyes saying what his lips could not. He’d been gagged and bound since he’d tried to nip out the door when the death-knights brought Elias in. He was lucky to be alive, Elias reckoned, as the skeleton on guard had grabbed him by the neck and raised its sword to strike. Zara Gen had broken free and scampered back inside the office, apologizing profusely, and the skeleton had remained outside. Within the hour, though, two more knights in rusty armour had come in and tied him to the chair. When he’d started to protest, they’d silenced him with the gag.