Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (29 page)

And the others will know that too. I just hope in their eagerness they don’t start a gun battle in the street. The last thing I need is death and destruction making anyone ask who screwed up first. I pray to the four noble gods and Banesh too that we catch these mercenaries before they achieve whatever mischief they’re here to do.

The mercenaries rode away from Grasiel in silence, pushing their horses as hard as they could in the dark. The Skyriver brushed their road with a dull silver sheen, picking out the stones that were lying in wait and painting puddles as hollows of deepest black. They paused only once; the shriek of Safir’s horse pierced the night as it stumbled and there was a snap of bone. The easterner pitched himself sideways as his mount lurched, hit the ground heavily and rolled as the horse fell.

The troop reined in hard, Lynx hauling his horse wide to avoid the fallen man. Safir’s horse continued to scream, its piercing cry echoing off the buildings that flanked the road. Just a village, in truth, dark and silent. No watchmen came to investigate the sound before Reft silenced it.

Sitain watched the man turn his horse back towards the floundering creature and lean slightly in his saddle as he reached towards it. The horse didn’t seem to see the axe swinging and didn’t flinch away as he chopped right through its gullet, stopping the cries instantly. It fell back, legs kicking so furiously no one could get close enough to safely finish it off without an even-louder gunshot. Sitain felt a jolt in her stomach at the piteous sight and, unbidden, the tingle in her bones welled up, but before she could do anything the horse jerked one final time and fell still.

A sudden sense of grief washed over Sitain. Caught unawares, she gasped in surprise and felt tears spill from her eyes before she could roughly swipe her sleeve over her face and hide them. On the ground ahead Safir rolled over and groaned, clutching at his shoulder. Kas jumped down and helped the man up, her efforts prompting a hiss of pain.

‘Is it broken?’ Anatin called from behind Sitain. ‘Can you ride?’

Safir gave a pained cough and fought his way to his feet. He cradled his left arm in a way Sitain had seen before, face drawn. ‘I don’t much fancy staying where I am.’

‘You could hide, let them chase on after us,’ Kas said.

‘Yeah, sure the locals wouldn’t sell me out in the morning,’ Safir spat. ‘Tie this up and get me on a horse, Kas.’

The effort of talking made Safir pant, but Kas didn’t wait to let him catch his breath. She yanked a silk sash from around Safir’s waist and wrapped it around his wrist, deftly slipping that around his neck and under the other arm to bring around and pin the injured one. By the time it was tied Safir’s teeth were bared in a grimace of pain but Kas had been as gentle as the pursuit permitted.

‘Some help, Reft?’ Safir asked in a rough voice.

As Teshen retrieved the man’s belongings from the dead horse, Reft grabbed Safir by his belt and the scruff of his neck, hoisting him bodily up to dump him in the saddle.

‘Right fucking mess we are,’ the newcomer, Toil, said, grinning drunkenly as she leaned low over the saddle.

‘Who in deepest black are you, even?’ Sitain found herself saying, the moment of rest finally allowing her to catch up. ‘Weren’t you lot supposed to be rescuing some innocent little girl?’

‘Hey,’ Toil replied, ‘no need to go pointing out a woman’s age. It’s rude.’ She winked. ‘And anyway, innocence is overrated. Most men get bored of it quick enough, trust me.’

‘What?’

‘Starting to think my wit’s wasted on you lot.’ Toil nudged Lynx. ‘She simple or something?’

‘She ain’t a merc,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t expect to be lied to so much as the rest of us.’

‘So who are you?’ Sitain persisted.

‘Just a woman with a young girl’s heart,’ Toil said, fluttering her eyelashes at Lynx, ‘hoping to be rescued by some dashing hero.’

‘Yeah? Where do you keep it then? Your pocket?’

Toil’s eyes narrowed. ‘Aye, mouthy bitch got uppity so I took a memento. Got more pockets if you push me, girl.’

‘Sitain, fucking shut up,’ Anatin snapped. ‘You too, Toil. We ain’t got time for this.’

‘Keep the help in line then,’ Toil said, ‘or I will. Doesn’t look like she’ll be a whole lot of use if those Charnelers catch us up.’

‘She might help us stay ahead, though.’ Anatin gestured towards Safir. ‘Safir can barely stay in his saddle. Time to earn your keep, Sitain.’

‘What? You can’t be serious!’

‘Bloody am. Despite that ridiculous moustache and tendency to fire earthers past my nose, he’s a friend o’ mine. Don’t want him falling or falling behind.’

Sitain gaped, on instinct glancing back down the road as though expecting a company of Knights-Charnel to storm up through the dark that very moment.

‘What? She a night mage or something?’ Toil demanded, unexpectedly cackling with laughter when no one answered. ‘Shit. Well, that I didn’t see coming, I take it all back. You’ll be useful right enough.’

‘I don’t have the control to do that,’ Sitain said, ignoring Toil. ‘I could put him out entirely!’

‘Don’t hit him with the full force of it, then,’ Anatin said. ‘Hold back as much as you can, anything that takes the edge off means he’s got more of a chance to stay in the saddle.’

Sitain glanced around at her companions. Most of them just stared blankly back at her. Lynx only gave Sitain a small nod, while Kas didn’t wait for her to make a decision. She grabbed the reins of her horse and pulled it forward until Sitain was right beside the grimacing Safir.

‘Do it, girl,’ he said, teeth gritted against the pain. ‘That lot still fight wars in the east, remember? They don’t like my colour much. Not keen to find out how politely they’ll ask me questions if they find me.’

She just stared at him, mind blank. She’d practised of course, in secret, but never on a person. It wasn’t a gift she could just ignore, but the danger it had posed coupled with the disapproval of the temples had limited that. A drawing of shadows together to try and hide herself at night, a stilling of the odd chicken when she’d been sent to wring its neck. Nothing complicated, nothing that required her to really know what she was doing.

‘Hey,’ Kas called, slapping a hand against Sitain’s leg. ‘No time to think, boss gave you an order.’

‘But I—’

‘Need to try,’ Kas finished for her, ‘and try now before any pursuit turns up.’

Sitain opened her mouth to argue then closed it again, feeling the eyes of the whole group boring into her. She nodded and reached out as gently as she could. She placed her hands on Safir’s shoulder and tried to clear her thoughts, to let the tingle in her bones rise.

Like that first night with them
, Sitain reminded herself.
When the elemental came. Just let it come free a little, don’t push.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of her magic inside her, the image of a flower opening in her mind. The sensation was always there but dormant inside her, quiescent as she went about her day. It took a moment to look inwardly and coax the magic forward, but once she’d started it was no different to breathing or raising an arm – the action was just another part of her. The magic surged forward, eager for release, and Sitain found herself leaning back as she tried to restrain the flow.

Finally she found an equilibrium within herself. The shadowy gleam of magic that danced behind her eyes slowed its restless movement and began to follow her breathing, in and out, in and out. She let it settle into that rhythm for a few breaths then slid her hand gently down Safir’s injured arm as she exhaled. The man gasped and flinched, causing her control to waver, but as she let him go the balance returned. Again breathing out, she just brushed his arm with her fingertips before settling her hand very gently over the point of his shoulder. Safir hissed but didn’t move and Sitain let her other hand rest against his collar-bone. Again the magic drifted forward with her breathing and on the third breath she felt the tension lessen in Safir’s body.

She withdrew and opened her eyes. The man still looked uncomfortable but he gave Sitain a wan smile. ‘Still hurts,’ he croaked. ‘What sort of crapshit wizard are you?’

‘Ready to move?’ Toil called.

Safir nodded. ‘Better than I was, anyway.’ He winced as he spoke, but it was clear from the way he sat more upright that the shoulder was improved.

‘Let’s go then, kiddies,’ Anatin said, pointing up the road ahead. ‘Another hour, then we’ll stop to rest.’

The mercenaries set out, but Lynx held back. As Sitain trotted forward he inclined his head towards her. ‘Good work,’ the big Hanese said. ‘Not the easiest way to test your limits.’

‘Thanks.’ She ducked her head, trying to hide the fatigue that was filling her body even after that small effort. She continued on ahead, out of the corner of her eye seeing Lynx grin widely at Anatin.

‘Not such a shit idea now, eh?’

‘What?’

‘Saving her. Already showing her value, ain’t she?’

Anatin growled. ‘Aye, she’s showing she could be of use. You, however, you smug overfed bastard – you’re still the one who first got the Charnelers after us, so you ain’t forgiven yet. We survive a day, it’ll be a fucking miracle. You get no thanks from me, Lynx.’

There was a pause and in the dark Sitain was probably the only one who saw Lynx’s jaw tense. It only lasted a moment and then Lynx shrugged it off.

‘No pleasing some people,’ he said carelessly. ‘Did the other kids pick on you, when you were young?’

To Sitain’s surprise, the Prince of Sun laughed out loud. ‘Not twice they didn’t. Now shift yourself, afore that poor horse collapses under the strain.’

‘Aye, sir.’

A whistle from the rear of the column made Exalted Uvrel turn and squint behind them. Dawn was just a pale smear over the eastern horizon, trees looming like ghosts in the mist. She could make out little in the grainy gloom, but it was enough to catch the waving arm of the last rider. She called a halt and turned her horse, trotting back to join the young sergeant who’d signalled.

‘What is it?’

‘Riders, sir.’

He pointed back down the road. For a moment she could see nothing, but then the twitch of movement in the mist caught her eye. One, then two – moving fast to catch them.

‘Dismount,’ Uvrel barked at her troops, ‘let the horses breathe.’

The troopers gratefully slid from their saddles. They’d been riding through the back half of the night without a break, maintaining a hard pace all the while to try and eat into the mercenaries’ lead. She cast her eye over them; seventeen in total, most wearing the black and white livery of their order with the red collars of the dragoons. Two more ranged ahead, a pair of Surei locals with proven loyalties to the Order. The scouts were endeavouring to keep track of the mercenaries, to gauge their lead and ensure they didn’t disappear into the darkness.

Uvrel dropped from her horse and tottered a moment as her numb legs wavered. She had been riding for half her life but had never really enjoyed it; never found that rhythm in the saddle that some did. The beasts were a tool, nothing more – to be cared for properly as all tools were, but not to be loved or gloried in as though riding was some mystical experience.

The pursuing riders put on a final burst of speed to catch them and Uvrel could see the foam at both horses’ mouths before the knights reined in. It was Lieutenant Sauren and a young trooper with a broken nose she didn’t know, presumably just the best rider among those she’d found. The lieutenant half-fell out of the saddle in her haste to report, but remembered to yank her uniform straight before she offered the Exalted a crisp salute.

An effort to make amends
, Uvrel noted.
At least she has the brains to try.

‘Lieutenant Sauren,’ she said, returning the salute. ‘Not the reinforcements I had quite hoped for.’

Sauren’s eyes widened a fraction before she realised Uvrel was offering acknowledgement of her effort. An officer would not normally ride ahead of troops she commanded. ‘More follow, Exalted.’

‘How many?’

‘Two companies of mounted, sir, under Commander Quentes, and the rest of your dragoons. The Lord-Commander has also dispatched a squad each of grenadiers and light infantry.’

Uvrel was silent a moment as she finished counting heads. ‘So about six score. Good. They’ll be foolish to make a fight of it if they’re outnumbered three to one.’

‘There is more, sir,’ Sauren said hesitantly. ‘News from the city.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘The man who was murdered. Word reached the Lord-Commander just as I did – I did not wait for confirmation, but it seemed a trusted source. The Princip of the Council of the Assayed.’

‘What? He’s dead?’ Uvrel felt a cold sensation in her gut. ‘And I failed to stop them,’ she said slowly.

‘The Lord-Commander instructs—’

Uvrel held up a hand. ‘I don’t give a damn what the Lord-Commander instructs. The Lord-Exalted will have my skin for a wall-hanging if I don’t return with the assassin, at the very least. If there’s no one left to put to question, it would be best if I didn’t return to Grasiel at all – compared to that a murderer and a rogue mage are almost unimportant, so far as the Order is concerned.’

Sauren ducked her head in agreement. Her face told enough of a tale there. No officer would be advised to return and report such a failure, not when there were likely to be such disastrous consequences of the Princip’s death.

‘The Lord-Commander is taking steps to secure our position.’

‘Will he take the city?’

Sauren shook her head. ‘That did not seem to be the direction of his plans. The caches were to be opened and a regiment sent to monitor each of the deep armouries, but not assault them.’

Uvrel nodded in understanding. The deep armouries were storerooms deep underground, each one topped by a small keep where most of the city’s Assayers were quartered. The Princip had provided them with details of all three deep armouries in Grasiel, enough to take control of them if necessary. They were where the siege weapons were kept – the ammunition for the great catapults that defended the city.