Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (51 page)

‘I have no idea who you
might be, but you can get off this table at once.’

Hag’s beak gaped in
silent amusement. She did like people who stood up to her,
particularly women.

‘The ghost said you are
called Snail,’ her hoarse rasp sounded over loud.

Snail’s hand tightened
round her tea bowl. ‘I am,’ she agreed.

‘I think we might be
friends.’ Hag hopped from the table to the back of a chair, her
wings half spread while she found her balance. ‘So you may call me
Hag.’

Snail inclined her head
politely, trying to appear quite at ease. At least this monstrous
bird didn’t inspire the same cold horror that Ferag had managed to
impart.

‘I shall tell them to
come here,’ Hag announced.

Snail cleared her
throat. ‘Tell who dear?’

She was astonished when
the bird ducked her head almost coyly at Snail’s thoughtless
endearment.

‘Jemin and
Tika.’

Snail frowned. ‘Jemin?’
The name was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t think where she’d
heard it.

Hag snapped her beak,
but gently. ‘Prince Jemin.’

‘Oh my,’ Snail’s hand
went to her bosom. ‘But we heard he was dead.’

‘No, no. Seola brought
him to the Dark Realm years ago.’

‘That bloody woman,’
Drengle blurted out, and froze when Hag turned her head in his
direction.

‘You mean Seola? I
don’t like her much either. She and her brother are always so
impertinent.’ She was disappointed that Drengle List offered no
further insult against Seola. He was trying to pretend he was
invisible.

‘Why are they coming
here?’ Snail asked a trifle unsteadily.

‘To kill that woman I
suppose. And the thing that’s creeping about the streets. They’re
bringing friends with them.’

Hag studied Snail’s
pale face. ‘You will be quite safe if you stay in this house. My
dear,’ she added almost shyly.

Snail struggled to
produce a smile. ‘Thank you. When should we expect these – erm –
guests?’

‘Tomorrow I think. I
have to go and tell them about the things in the streets. Well,’
she corrected herself. ‘I don’t have to tell them you understand,
but in this instance I choose to be helpful.’

Hag hopped down from
the chair to the floor. Ghosts had gathered in a thick mass, just
outside, and Hag hissed at them.

‘Guard this house
well,’ she commanded then pushed through them, her wings powering
her upwards.

‘Simert’s Balls in a
frying pan.’ Drengle righted his chair and sank onto it.

‘Language dear.’ Snail
spoke automatically.

‘But what will we do?
We don’t want no princes here. We don’t want nobody.’

‘I don’t think we have
a choice in the matter Drengle, but they won’t be stopping long I’m
sure.’

‘I hope they don’t.
I’ll be busy in my room tomorrow anyway. I probably won’t see
them.’

Snail nodded, only half
listening. ‘What did she mean I wonder, about things in the
streets? Creeping about?’

Drengle stood up again.
‘And she said they were coming to kill “that woman”.’ His voice
rose in panic. ‘What woman Snail, what woman?’

‘The Imperatrix
Drengle. You know full well that’s who she meant.’

Drengle rushed to the
door leading to the hall. ‘I won’t have nothing to do with such
things. It’s treason, that’s what it is. You get executed for
treason.’

‘Drengle, you are
already dead,’ Snail pointed out gently.

But Drengle List was
already halfway up the stairs, muttering fiercely to himself. Snail
sighed and got up to make some fresh tea. While the kettle heated,
she cleared up the pot of flowers Hag had knocked over. She
fervently wished that she wasn’t involved in any of this but, at
the same time, she was glad to be here in Gossamer Tewk’s house. It
felt much more secure than her own house had become, and she clung
to Hag’s statement that she would be safe here.

In the darkening
streets, what had been Tomin the anatomist was gone completely,
subsumed by the tusked creature’s raging blood lust. He killed
indiscriminately, leaving behind him drained husks. He had yet to
notice the others, similar to him but not, who hunted other
streets, other prey. Somehow, with Ternik’s death, a portal had
been wrenched ajar, and shattered fragments had passed through to
this world. Each different, each starving, each looking to dominate
the puny creatures they met, and each other.

The City militia,
strengthened by many units of the Kelshan regular guards, was out
in full force. Corpses had been found and reported by increasingly
frightened citizens. There were many creatures now, most inimical
to each other, but enough worked together to oppose full units of
guards with ease. The militia were efficient at handling drunken
revellers on the various festival days and nights, or watching for
pick pockets and petty thieves in the markets and business areas.
Dealing with unknown creatures like these they now faced, from whom
a miasma of evil emanated, was utterly beyond their capabilities.
The regular guards hadn’t faced anything like this either, but many
of them had fought, at least skirmishes, against the northern
clans.

General Beslow remained
at the guard post within the upper Citadel, receiving a constant
stream of messengers reporting events in the City. All entrances to
the Citadel were heavily guarded now, and several were closed,
barred and reinforced with barricades. Beslow listened to the
increasingly frequent reports with growing apprehension. He’d
spoken only briefly with the Imperatrix. She was convinced it was a
straightforward disturbance by the disaffected parts of the
citizenry, encouraged by agents of some of the Confederacy’s states
and the wild clans.

By the time Beslow had
received more than a dozen reports with explicit descriptions of
the state of the corpses, he knew they were in serious trouble. He
returned to the Imperatrix’s suite. He explained the similarity of
the new corpses to that of his man who had tailed Tomin. Then he
waited as patiently as he could for Veranta to reach to the only
possible conclusion.

‘You think Ternik is
responsible for this.’ Veranta sounded unconvinced.

Unable to sit still,
Beslow paced across to the shuttered window. ‘I would like to
summon any who still study such matters.’

He knew, only too well,
that Veranta had culled the mage born to the point of extinction
during her years of rule. Getting anyone to admit to such knowledge
now could well prove impossible, especially given that Beslow felt
time was very much against them. He paced back towards his
chair.

‘To answer your
question my lady, I do not know nearly enough of such things, but I
don’t think Ternik alone is responsible for this sudden
crisis.’

‘Crisis?’ Veranta was
indignant. ‘A small group of troublemakers hardly constitutes a
crisis General.’

‘A crisis my lady,’
Beslow insisted. ‘So far, I have received no report that any of
these “troublemakers” have been killed or apprehended, whereas the
militia and the guards are taking numerous casualties and already
too many deaths.’

Veranta crossed her
legs, a fold of one of her ghastly dressing gowns slipping to
reveal a length of pale flabby leg from which Beslow averted his
gaze.

‘So who do you think is
causing this trouble?’ she enquired.

Beslow met her hard
brown eyes. ‘The reports speak of only glimpsed figures, bestial
shapes, monstrous creatures.’

Veranta sat up sharply.
‘Monstrous? Do you think this is an attack by the Dark
Realm?’

‘Quite possibly my
lady. It seems an odd coincidence that your “expeditionary force”
has returned no word to us of their success or otherwise. I would
have expected some sort of information to have got back here. I
fear this could well be a preliminary attack upon
Kelshan.’

‘Are there enough
guards within the City?’

Beslow shrugged. ‘I
hope so, but I have summoned men from the north western garrison.
They are nearest to us and should reach us by midday tomorrow.
Riders have gone to other garrisons.’

Veranta reached for the
decanter on a side table and refilled her glass.

‘If these are magical
creatures,’ her lips thinned in distaste at having to speak such
words. ‘How shall we combat them?’

‘I am on my way to the
infirmary my lady. It is just possible someone there may know more
than they might normally admit of such matters.’

‘I would doubt that,’
Veranta said. ‘They swear allegiance to me when they take up their
posts and they know the laws concerning magery.’

Beslow was not
surprised by Veranta’s wilful blindness on this subject but it made
him feel tired. He saluted.

‘I ask that you remain
in these rooms my lady. The immediate vicinity is secure and there
are two units of guards at both entrances to your suite to ensure
your safety.’

He saw by her slightly
vacant expression that she really had no idea of the dangers facing
the City and, quite probably, herself. He checked that the guards
fully understood their orders when he left the Imperatrix and
hurried down to the lower level.

Beslow spent an
infuriating time in the infirmary. His questions were met with
innocent ignorance. Of course no one had any knowledge of mage
powers: it was against the law, was it not? Furious, he strode back
to the post he’d taken over to find messengers milling both inside
and on the staircase without. He’d had a map of the City stretched
on the wall and a junior officer was marking, in yellow ink, the
location of each reported trouble spot. Among the men waiting to
give more reports he saw a face he recognised and he called the man
out of the crowd.

‘Report,’ he
ordered.

The man went to the map
and pointed. Beslow peered closer. Near the harbour, the Oyster
District.

‘We saw three there
sir. All looked the same. More or less. They’d killed a dozen or
more dock workers and fishers.’

‘What did they look
like?’ Beslow was aware of the sudden hush behind him as the other
men waited to hear this guard’s account.

‘’Bout twice as high as
a man, walking on two strange legs – the knees seemed to bend
backwards. Two arms but sort of split at the wrist so there were
two definite hand things on each arm, one was bladed. Heads looked
too big. Three sided kind of shape with a great beak rather than
nose and mouth. Lots of teeth. Three eyes, middle one bigger than
the others.’ The man swallowed. ‘It was their speed sir. Never seen
anything move that fast.’

‘Anything
else?’

‘Dark grey skin with
cracks in it. Well, it looked like cracks. Don’t think it were
scales. Short wiry tails with spikes near the end.’ The man frowned
in concentration then shook his head. ‘That’s it sir. We were on
the roof of a warehouse. They didn’t see us and then they raced off
towards the first fish market.’

Beslow turned to study
the rest of the men in the room and squeezed against the open
door.

‘Has anyone seen any
weapons used effectively against any of these things?’

Several voices were
raised and the General pointed at an older man, close to the
door.

‘Seen arrows used sir.
Slid off ’em as if they was made of stone.’

Another man nodded.
‘Our unit had two crossbowmen sir. Bolts hit the things but then
just dropped to the ground. No sign of injuring ’em sir, but we
didn’t hang around to look too close.’

Beslow nodded and
looked again at the map. The yellow ink was gradually forming a
pattern which made a growing half circle approaching the Citadel.
He pointed at a man by the door.

‘Go and check how much
liquid fire is held – the infirmary officers will know.’

Several heads nodded as
the man hurried away. Liquid fire had been used, rarely it was
true, against the fortified walls of the main towns in the
Confederacy’s satellite states. And used to great effect. General
Beslow desperately hoped that there was a very generous supply of
the stuff stored within the Citadel.

There had been uproar
when Hag arrived in the Bear village and told them her news. She
perched next to Gossamer Tewk while Jemin and the Kelshans argued
bitterly over what course of action should now be taken. Whilk saw
no reason to change their plans – to open a gateway inside the
Citadel and go straight for the Imperatrix. Jemin was just as
vehement that they should at least try to assist the ordinary
citizens who found their streets infested with such horrors as Hag
described. The Bear, Cyrek and Daylith listened in silence as the
arguments raged. Hag watched in delight, cackling quietly to
herself. Eventually, bored, the glittering eyes fixed on Gossamer
Tewk.

‘I spoke to Snail. She
is at your house,’ she said.

‘Is she? Is she all
right? And what about poor old Drengle?’

Shea and Tika, sitting
alongside Gossamer listened; they too were bored with the men’s
circular argument.