Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) (52 page)

‘Again, I am sorry, Thomas,’ Jillan said.

‘Hey, you!’ Ash fumed. ‘Thomas is a man of taste and discernment, and has a more mature palate than you, besides. Let him be the judge. I will not have you besmirching my good name and homebrew, especially when you’re in no fit state to stop me putting you over my knee and tanning your young behind.’

The blacksmith raised Ash’s battered flask to his lips and they all stopped. Thomas took the smallest nip and then he was choking and wheezing worse than ever. Aspin and Jillan couldn’t help smiling as Ash glared at them and slapped the blacksmith on the back.

‘The sooner … the sooner we get to Hyvan’s Cross, the better.’ Thomas coughed. ‘Strong as I am, I’m not sure how much more of travelling with you three I can survive.’

The sunken road began to peter out. Thomas steered the horses to the right and then through the hedgerow. The foliage fit so closely together where they left the route that upon visual inspection alone none would have thought there was a way through, particularly for something as large as a wagon. The horses stepped upwards and hauled them onto a chalky compacted surface. The blacksmith made a clicking noise with his tongue, and the untroubled horses set off down the new road.

Interrupting the silent but relaxed reverie the companions had fallen into, Thomas announced, ‘We must follow the normal roads the rest of the way to Hyvan’s Cross, I’m afraid, for the sacred way leading from the city itself was deliberately destroyed long ago, when the people fled the Saviours’ minions.’

‘It is far colder without the shelter of the sunken road,’ Ash said a bit peevishly, blowing on his hands.

‘Yes, I would advise a blanket each. There is a crossroads not far ahead, where we will take the road that leads directly to the city. From the crossroads, it is but half a day’s journey.’

As they approached the crossroads a strange sight greeted them, a statue of a big ugly woman in the centre. There was also a handsome youth wearing a sun-metal helmet who appeared to be waiting for them.

‘Ah, there you are!’ the youth hailed them.

As they came closer, Jillan decided the youth’s eyes implied he was far older than he first appeared. Far, far older. Then he saw the statue move and he realised it was alive. How was it possible? Maybe it had a clever mechanism inside, like some of the puppets old Samuel had used to make back in Godsend.

It’s rock blight, you nitwit. An illness from too much contact with stone. She’s as normal as you are … although that’s not too normal, eh? Hmm. Oh dear. If that’s who I think it is, then we really are in trouble. I
—

Taint? Where are you?
But the taint had disappeared, or been blocked, just as it had been in Linder’s Drop. More than a little concerned, Jillan whispered to Aspin, ‘Can you read them?’

‘I wouldn’t advise it!’ the youth shouted, although Jillan was not sure what the stranger was referring to. Surely the youth hadn’t heard him from this distance.

Aspin concentrated. ‘The grey … woman is … a good person. She means no one any ill. As for the man … Ouch!’ His hands went to his temples. ‘So many characters. Too many. It’s overwhelming! Can’t make it stop! Help!’ The mountain warrior passed out, and it was only Ash’s perfect timing that saved Aspin from falling into the road.

‘Sorry. I did warn him, though. It’s why I wear one of these,’ the youth called, rapping his helmet with the knuckles of one hand. ‘A bit of water splashed on his face and he should be all right, if a bit groggy for a while. But well met! Come closer and allow us to introduce ourselves.’

There was something seductive and compelling in the man’s voice. Jillan felt as if he was meeting a long-lost friend and wanted to run to him. Even the horses seemed drawn to him, but Thomas kept them back.

‘Who are you and what is it you want of us?’ Thomas asked brusquely, his suspicion clear.

The man-youth spread his hands. ‘Mere common courtesy. Your names perhaps. As a gesture of good faith, I am happy to give you ours, with your graceful permission and a prayer that it will satisfy you.’

‘Your words are as pretty as your looks, stranger,’ Ash answered as he sloshed water over Aspin’s face and waved a hand in front of Jillan’s eyes to break his stare. ‘In fact, you are
too
pretty. Like my friend the wagon-driver here, I instinctively find I do not trust you. Your appearance seems a deception. I would prefer you more plain, or more like your companion there.’

The man-youth’s smile only became bigger and harder for Jillan to resist. ‘And who might you be to judge prettiness so well?’

‘Me? I thought it was you who was giving the names round here. I am Unclean, if that will satisfy you. I suspect it will not, however.’

A look of distaste flickered across the man-youth’s face. ‘And I suspect you are Ash of the woods, while you others are Jillan Hunterson, Aspin Longstep and Thomas Ironshoe. Your fame precedes you, and it is for that reason that I have come to offer you my help. May I introduce Freda of the north, a most gifted woman and my boon companion? And I am known merely as Anupal.’

‘Anupal?’ Thomas repeated, as if tasting the name and finding it more than a little unpalatable. ‘As in Anupal who is more often referred to as the Lord of Mayhem?’

‘Well, yes,’ the man-youth replied reluctantly, then hurrying to add, ‘but that’s really a bit of an exaggeration. There was this terrible misunderstanding between—’

‘The Great Deceiver?’

‘Er … yes, but that was just those on the losing side who called me that. Sour grapes. Those on the winning side called me—’

‘The King of Lies?’

‘Look, truth is a matter of opinion most of—’ the Peculiar attempted to explain.

‘Abbadon, He Whose Name Is a Curse?’

‘That one was actually more of a joke from a drinking game I played when—’

‘Malmandius, the Friendless?’

‘I haven’t even heard of that one. Surely a case of mistaken identity. Besides, I have lots of—’

‘Morlah, the Untrustworthy?’

‘Now, you see—’

‘Jezziah, the Eternal Mercenary? Targ, the Devil of Durnoch. Miserath, the Traitor God,’ Thomas pronounced, the names passing their own sentence.

The Peculiar took a slow deliberate breath. ‘I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start again, shall we? I have come to offer you my help against the Saviours. On your own you can never succeed and all will end. You must know that to be true. Haven will fall. The Geas will be lost.’

‘You know nothing of truth,’ Thomas spat. ‘You offer us your help? We would prefer you offered it to our enemies, ever-twisting demon! You share none of our concerns, for are you not also the god of chaos and endings?’

‘You know where Haven is?’ Jillan asked.

‘I have a way to find it,’ the Peculiar replied smoothly.

‘Do not listen to him, Jillan!’ Aspin shouted, bow raised, although he had to be held up by Ash. ‘My people know of you, most evil god! He is the forbidden one, the fifth, the dark and betraying brother. Begone from here, fiendish foundling!’

The Peculiar replied through a rictus grin. ‘Stupidity. You would raise a pointed stick against a god? What is this ridiculous posturing?’

‘Everything has a weakness and, you never know, I might get lucky, eh?’

The Peculiar’s eyes narrowed. ‘And will you raise a pointed stick to the thousands of soldiers in Hyvan’s Cross? To the mad Saint himself? Or do you have a way into the city such that you can avoid them all? No? I thought not. Now, can we have an end to these tantrums? You know, I’m not actually that bad once you get to know me. Lest you forget, mountain man, I was worshipped by your people before the Saviours came. And yours, blacksmith. So enough of this. Much as it grieves me to say it, we need each other. Given that unfortunate circumstance, it would be easier all round if we could try to get along, no?’

‘Shoot him, Aspin!’ Thomas urged. ‘Do not delay.’

‘Wait,’ Jillan whispered, and Aspin hesitated.

‘Gah!’ Thomas snarled in exasperation, knowing that the moment to act was lost.

‘Anupal, how will you get us into the city? How will you find Haven?’

The Peculiar now adopted a more relaxed smile and pose. ‘At last, someone with the sense to ask. Why, Freda here can pass through rock as easily as you pass through air, Jillan. She can take you straight through the city walls. And Freda has knowledge of how to find Haven.’ His face became serious. ‘But there is something I must have from you in return, Jillan, for payment must always be made. What I require is for your ears alone, Jillan, and you may not then let others know of the specific terms.’

‘Do not listen to him, I beg you!’ Thomas demanded, facing Jillan. ‘We will find another way into the city.’

‘Say no, Jillan,’ Aspin counselled.

‘Ash, what do you say?’

The woodsman blinked, suddenly the focus of everyone’s attention. ‘I … I do not know. I have never heard of Anupal. But from what you’ve said, would he not also be the god of fickle fate and the impossible? I … Well, I’ll go with what everyone else thinks. But if we really were in peril, wouldn’t the wolf have sensed it and, well, I don’t know.’

‘I will hear you out,’ Jillan said to the Peculiar and climbed down from the wagon.

‘Idiot!’ Thomas barked at Ash. ‘How could you conscience this?’

‘I always knew there was some weakness in you,’ Aspin sneered, pushing Ash’s hands away from him. ‘Would you side with the dark and betraying brother? Coward! Truly you are Unclean!’

Something in Ash snapped and he snarled back at them, ‘What? Am I to be asked about conscience by one who uses his own daughters to lure strangers into the clutches of a gnomish wizard? Am I to be called coward by a pagan people who hide in the mountains, fornicating with the Chaos as they do their own mothers?’

Shouts of outrage. Hands went to weapons.

‘Enough!’ Jillan roared, and made the air close with his magic. ‘What is wrong with you? Who needs the Lord of Mayhem with the three of you like this? If you bear me any love, you will stay at peace while I hear what he has to say, and then I will make up my mind without apology to anyone or anger on any part!’

Jillan returned to his friends and looked up at them. ‘They will travel with us. All three of you were right in your own way, even Ash. Do not be angry with each other and do not worry for me, please. They
will
help us, I’m sure of it.’

‘If that smug overweening worm comes near me …’ Thomas promised, veins bulging in his neck and forearms.

‘Or makes the mistake of falling asleep while I am still awake …’ Aspin averred.

The two pagans looked at Ash, absolutely no forgiveness in their eyes, then back at Jillan, their disappointment plain. Then they turned away.

Dusk was falling. The Peculiar had chosen to make himself scarce, though no one knew where he’d gone. Jillan picked his moment to go and talk to the rock-grey woman. He crouched down next to her, barely coming up to the top of her craggy knees. Even so, she shuffled away and watched him nervously.

‘Thank you for helping me,’ Jillan said. ‘You have not asked for anything in return.’

Mutely, she shook her head.

‘I have something for you,’ the boy said, holding out his hand. ‘They’re nothing really, but my father gave them to me. I thought you might like them.’

She tentatively held out her palm and he deposited four stones into it. She stared and stared at the stones. No one had ever given her anything before.

‘To keep?’ her mouth crunched.

‘Of course.’ The boy smiled.

Not even Norfred had given her anything for her own.
Nothing
, the boy called them! She’d never had anything so valuable in all her life. A green, a red, a blue and a yellow stone, just like the ones in the temple of the rock god. Tears came to her eyes as she set them into her skin around her neck.

‘Pretty.’ The boy nodded.

She gazed at him. She liked him far more than her friend Anupal, although she would never dare tell Anupal that. She hoped he would not be able to hear that thought either.

Freda’s eyes drifted down to the gold symbols on the boy’s armour. She couldn’t decipher all of them, but the ones she could told her he was steadfast.

‘I will take you to Haven if I can,’ she ground out. ‘Do you know anyone called Jan?’

‘Sorry, no. But if I meet someone of that name, I’ll tell you.’

‘Thank you.’

The wind changed direction and the boy raised his head. ‘Do you hear that moaning?’

‘Friend Anupal says it is the city.’

‘It sounds like it’s in pain.’

‘Yes,’ she quietly agreed.

CHAPTER 12:

And always too late

T
hey all heard Hyvan’s Cross long before they saw it. Its shrieking and moaning in the wind was so loud they had to shout to hear each other.

‘The air funnels up this narrow valley and plays the hollows and depressions like a flute or pipe. We get the same where I live. One of our peaks is named the singing mountain and on certain days is heard from one end of the range to the other,’ Aspin told them.

Freda shook her head. ‘It’s more than that, I think. I hear snatches of a tortured voice on the wind. It stopped me sleeping properly last night.’

‘I had strange dreams,’ Aspin added. ‘Fortunately, I forgot most of them as soon as I woke up, but I do remember experiencing a feeling of great relief once I was free of them. What about you others?’

Jillan shrugged, but he had to wonder what nightmares he might have had if he hadn’t been wearing his armour. He looked at Thomas, but the blacksmith had had bags under his red eyes since they’d left Linder’s Drop, so probably hadn’t been sleeping anyway.

Ash held up his empty flask. ‘I was kept entertained by my homebrew last night, which no one else seemed to want to share. Slept like a baby, though.’

The Peculiar, who’d been walking ahead of the wagon in which the rest of them travelled, dropped back a bit and shouted up to them: ‘The voice is Wayfar’s. When the Saviours took the city from his followers, the Saint shattered Wayfar with a blast from a terrible horn of sun-metal. Poor Wayfar was literally blown and thrown to the four winds, but still rails around Hyvan’s Cross as he tries to reform himself. But his power is broken and so he must suffer this fractured existence forever more … or until he fades away.’