Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three) (35 page)

After seven centuries, ghouls were abroad in Steelhaven once more, and all that could stop them running amok was an insane murderer.

And the only thing keeping that murderer in check was Waylian Grimm.

R
ag had no idea how she was going to square this one off. She’d just got the lads to foil Bastian’s plan to open the Lych Gate and now she had to tell them they was the ones had to open it. But what else was she going to do? Run?

You ain’t got no choice, girl. That’s your only option now. You open that gate and the city’s doomed. You don’t open that gate then you’re the one doomed.

Everything had gone to shit. She’d thought she was so fucking clever, always one step ahead, but now it was obvious she weren’t. Rag may as well have let Shirl be in charge. At least he’d be the one in the firing line when Bastian decided someone needed killing.

Time to call it a day. Time to get the fuck out of here before the shit well and truly landed. There was no other way. She’d never open that gate, it just wasn’t an option. As much as her life depended on it Rag knew she’d never be able to live with herself if she helped the Khurtas come flooding in. There was only one course left – get her boys and get the fuck out.

Harkas, Shirl and Essen could come if they fancied. She wasn’t in charge of them, not really. They could make up their own minds, but Chirpy, Migs and Tidge were her responsibility. She’d left them once and felt the guilt of it like a knife. There was no chance she’d be doing it again.

As she saw the tavern up ahead, sat all alone in the dark and the rain, she knew that there was no other choice. They could all disappear into the night. Four street kids fleeing the terror. Who’d even know? They’d spent their whole lives not being seen and staying in the shadows. She was sure they’d be far from this place before the Khurtas even noticed. Then they could just keep going. Let Bastian send his bloodhounds, let him put the word out that she was to be offed. It was sure as shite less dangerous than hanging around here.

Besides, weren’t no guarantee Bastian was even gonna survive this. Who was to say Amon Tugha would keep his bargain and give the Guild a pass? Especially now Bastian hadn’t kept his side of the bargain.

No, her and the lads would be far away by the time the dust settled. Once the fighting was done, if Bastian was out of the picture they could always think about coming back. There might even be rich pickings too. Lot of empty houses to hole up in. Lot of family heirlooms left abandoned. Lot of dead people wouldn’t be needing any of their gear no more.

Rag walked into the tavern by the back door, wondering about the rights and wrongs of that last one, when she heard a ruckus from inside. She opened the door to the main bar to see the place was upside down: tables overturned, bottles smashed, tankards strewn about. Big Harkas was sitting silent, leaned up against the wall, bloody towel held to his face. Shirl was sat beside him like some kind of useless nursemaid. Essen stood in another corner looking scared half to death.

‘What’s goin on?’ Rag asked, feeling a little sting of panic as she realised there was no sign of Chirpy, Migs or Tidge.

‘Some of Bastian’s boys paid us a visit while you were gone,’ said Essen. ‘Said you’d have some news for us when you got back. And—’

‘Where’s my lads?’ Rag said, fighting back the dread.

Two heads popped up from behind the bar, and Rag let out a sigh as she recognised Chirpy and Migs. They both looked terrified but at least they was alive.

‘We tried to stop them,’ Shirl said. ‘But they said Bastian wanted to make sure you knew he was serious.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rag said, glancing about the bar. ‘Stop them doing what? Where the fuck is Tidge?’

‘They took him,’ said Essen. ‘Said you’d have a job for us and taking him was to make sure it got done.’

Rag could only stare in between Chirpy and Migs. At the space where Tidge should have been stood.

You’ve got a decision to make now, girl. Looks like all those thoughts of running away are gone on the wind like so much ash. Looks like you’re gonna have to do exactly what Bastian wants or little Tidge is gonna get his little heart carved right out of his little chest. How you gonna live with that one?

Rag knew she could never live with that one. But neither could she live with opening the Lych Gate and letting those Khurtas in. That would never fly, no matter how much danger her boys were in.

‘What is it we’re supposed to do?’ asked Shirl, looking all mournful like he half knew the answer.

Rag looked at him, then to Essen and Harkas. Then to Chirpy and Migs.

‘I’ll tell you what you’re supposed to do,’ she answered, feeling her jaw tighten, her fists clenching. ‘You and Essen are gonna get Harkas and the young lads and you’re gonna hide down in Dockside. Those fire ships have been burnt to cinders and are sat at the bottom of the bay so it’ll be the safest place in the city. You’re gonna find the deepest hole and you’re gonna hide in it and wait.’

She knew she’d said it like she meant it and none of the lads looked ready to argue.

‘Wait for what?’ asked Shirl eventually.

‘Wait for me to come get you.’

‘Why,’ said Shirl, almost in tears. ‘Where you going?’

‘Where do you think I’m going? I’m off to get Tidge. Now enough talking and more fucking moving.’

Essen and Shirl picked Harkas up, who silently accepted their help. Chirpy and Migs followed them as they went for the door. Chirpy looked up at her as they made their way out.

‘You are coming back, ain’t you?’ he asked.

‘Course I am,’ Rag said, tousling his greasy mop of hair. ‘Now piss off.’

She watched them go, standing there for a minute alone in the tavern. She knew there weren’t much chance she was coming back. If Bastian didn’t do for her then the Khurtas would most likely come crawling over the city walls and do for her instead. There was no coming back from this. Up till now she’d always had some sort of plan, whether she thought of it in plenty of time or at the last moment. Right now she had no plan. No idea what in the hells she was gonna do.

No point putting it off, though.

Rag walked out of the tavern. The streets stank of rot and mud and smoke. Of war. Of death. She didn’t care about any of those things, though. As the rain soaked her hair and her jacket through, she didn’t think about any of it. All she thought about was finding Tidge … and maybe killing that bastard Bastian to boot. If only she was a killer. If only she’d taken to carrying a knife and learning to use it then maybe none of this would ever have happened.

As she saw the Chapel of Ghouls in the distance Rag knew it was hopeless anyway. She’d never have the stones to use a knife. Not on a living, breathing person. Getting someone else to do the killing for you, now that was easy enough. Sticking sharp metal in them until they stopped breathing was more than likely beyond her.

Once she’d made her way to the entrance to Bastian’s lair she paused, squinting up the street, towards the chapel. Was there something moving up there? Something fucking weird through the rain and the dark?

Focus, you stupid cow. Letting shadows in the night spook you is a sure way to get yourself killed.

Rag shook her head, ignoring whatever it was – if it was anything at all. The fear was most likely addling her mind, making her sloppy. Being scared had a habit of doing that, and she knew she couldn’t afford to let it put her off. Tidge was relying on her.

She slipped in through the entrance, relieved that there was no one guarding the door. Inside, the sound of rain echoed down the corridor to the underground passages and it weren’t no trouble for her to move silent. There were a couple of fellas standing in the dark, hoods drawn up against the cold and damp, but Rag was by them without either even knowing it. She’d never had the best sense of direction but even she managed to make her way to the centre of Bastian’s hideout without getting lost. There, in the shadows, she tried to think what in the hells to do next.

Light was coming in from somewhere, but from her hiding place in the dark Rag couldn’t tell which direction. Before she could think of where to start looking for Tidge she heard a voice from down the corridor.

‘It’s true, I swear it.’ The voice sounded firm but with an edge of desperation. ‘I’d cleared the rest of the gate detail ready for your boys to go in and do the job. When I saw all the lights had gone out I went back for a look.’

Rag made her way towards the sound of voices, careful to stay out of the light where it was cast across the floor of the underground cavern.

‘Then what?’

Rag almost froze at the sound of Bastian’s voice, creaking towards her like a rusty door hinge. This was it, though; Tidge must be close by somewhere.

‘Then I saw Jerrol. Asked him where the rest of his crew were and he said outside, but there weren’t anyone outside. Then he got spooked. Went up to check out some noise on the roof. I could hear weird shit all around so I fucking hid. It was dark, no one was going to see me. Then Jerrol started shouting, ran out of the gatehouse and into the street. That’s when he was fucking murdered. Later on when it had gone quiet I had a look around and his whole crew was piled up in the shadows. Wiped out to the last man.’

‘By who?’ asked Bastian.

‘I couldn’t really make them out in the dark. But there were kids. Little kids running around in the night. One of them was a girl, I’m sure of it.’

Rag froze at the edge of the entrance. If Bastian wasn’t going to kill her before, he sure as shit was now. Nevertheless, she peered around the corner, slow as you like, trying to see in. Bastian and two of his men were standing in the room, lit bright as day by a lantern on a table. There was another bloke with his back to her wearing a green jacket with the royal seal on it.

Bastian was smiling now. ‘Let me get this straight, Platt. You mean to tell me a dozen of my dirtiest, meanest killers were done over by a bunch of fucking kids?’

The Greencoat held his hands up, trying to take a step away. ‘I … I’m only saying what I saw. I swear it.’

Everyone was looking at the fella now, and Rag could sense they were wondering whether or not to shove their knives in him. She took her chance, stealing into the room, sticking to the wall where there was still shadows.

‘What you saw?’ said Bastian, as Rag skirted the edge of the room. There were crates and sacks in the way containing gods knew what but she wasn’t here for no loot. ‘Or what you want us to think you saw?’

Rag peered round the edge of a wooden box and her heart leapt. Sitting there like it was the most normal thing in the world was Tidge. He was listening to proceedings with a bored look on his face.

‘Why would I make something like that up, Mister Bastian?’ said the Greencoat with a hint more desperation in his voice. Rag waved over at Tidge, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Bastian was silent, as though he were contemplating whether now was a good time to kill the Greencoat. Then one of his men leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Rag waved at Tidge again. This time he noticed, but didn’t jump or make a sound. Good lad, that Tidge. Lot brighter than he looked.

‘You’re right,’ Bastian said. ‘We do know someone who fits that description.’ Something rumbled overhead, like a storm had just hit right on top of the cave they were in. ‘Don’t we, Rag?’

She froze. Tidge froze too, just staring at her. That was it, she knew there was no point creeping around any more, and slowly she stood up from behind the crate.

‘Come to save your little friend?’ Bastian said, just before there was another rumble. Part of the roof crumbled, dropping to the floor, though no one seemed to notice but Rag.

‘What do you fucking think?’ she said defiantly.

‘I think you’ve come to get bloody gutted,’ Bastian spat between his clenched teeth, signalling to one of his men with a bony hand.

Bastian’s henchman slowly pulled a long dagger from his belt as the cave rumbled once more.

Rag came out from behind the crates, holding an arm out to Tidge. He moved towards her, taking her hand.

‘You let him go,’ she said. ‘He ain’t done nothing to you. He’s no part of it.’

Bastian’s lips curled back in a leer that almost made her sick. ‘It’s not him you should be worried about. It’s y—’

The whole cave suddenly rocked. Bastian was almost knocked off his feet and the other blokes dropped down, covering their heads as the ceiling collapsed here and there.

Rag weren’t about to hang around and wait for Bastian to finish his sentence and she tightened her grip on Tidge’s hand before dragging him towards the exit. The rumbling calmed down as she ran into the dark and she could hear Bastian and his men coming behind, shouting at her and at one another.

As she ran she heard something through the corridor. It was a screech like she’d never heard before; seeming to carry with it all the fear she’d ever known in that one horrible noise. It echoed through the tunnels so loud Rag had no idea which way it had come from.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Tidge said in his little voice. Rag would have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been so shit scared herself.

‘No idea,’ she replied. ‘And we’re not gonna be down here long enough to find out.’

As she dragged him further through the tunnel she could only hope she wasn’t lying about that.

E
ndellion watched beside Amon Tugha. He stood in silence, observing the assault from a distance, watching his Khurtas die by the thousand. The main gate to the city was smashed and artillery had blown a massive breach in the wall further to the east, but the warriors of Steelhaven defended it valiantly. She was almost moved by their sacrifice – surrender would have been the more rational response. If Endellion had learned one thing, these southrons were far from rational.

To the west of the city something caught her eye. A single flaming arrow was fired out across the river, soaring far over the derelict city that sat beside the new one like a corpse. It seemed strange; there were no Khurtas attacking from that side of the city, nothing that would require a flaming arrow to see.