Old Man's Ghosts (41 page)

Rhe nodded. He turned to his remaining Lawbringers and lifted his chin to address them all. ‘Spread out around the perimeter wall. Arrest anyone attempting to escape and do not ask them twice.’

As they ran to obey, scattering left and right until none were within view, he returned to Narin. ‘A window, then.’

The Investigator shook his head. ‘There’s some sort of ghosts inside. They dragged the demon from Irato and they’re guarding the broken windows.’

‘So our guns won’t work?’ The Lawbringer hesitated.

For a moment Narin saw fatigue in Rhe’s eyes and at last noticed that the man’s clothes were not quite perfect. Trails of blood stained his sleeve and one hand was pressed against his ribs. Under Rhe’s fingers Narin could see torn cloth and, by the way he was standing, he must have had a cracked rib or two. In the starlight his pale face and hair remained ethereal and emotionless to most, but Narin had spent two years watching that face for signs of life.

‘You need to do something!’ Kesh demanded, stepping up beside Narin.

Rhe stiffened. ‘Suggest something,’ he said coldly.

She jabbed a finger towards him, then off to his right. ‘Not you – you.’

The Lawbringer turned to where she pointed. Prince Kashte sniffed and carefully brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the hilt of his sword.

‘Be careful where you point that thing,’ he said lazily. ‘Especially towards your betters. It might just come off.’

‘You know what?’ Narin joined, shifting forwards half a step so Kashte was forced to change his focus. ‘I don’t think we need to be careful. You and your friend – it’s time for the both of you to stop pissing around and get involved.’

The Imperial’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you think we’ve been doing thus far?’

‘Playing, playing with us all. But now Enchei needs help and there’s no time for playing. He’ll be dead if you don’t do something
right now
.’

Kashte titled his head to one side. ‘And why was your tattooist friend the one taken?’ He nodded towards the palazzo. ‘By the sound of it, he’s got some rather angry company – yet he’s still alive to be rescued? How about you tell me what’s so special about your friend first?’

Maiss barged her way forward and levelled a gun at Kashte. Behind him half a dozen Imperials drew their pistols, but then Enay limped forward and swung the lance from her back.

‘If you can save him, how about you get on with that and worry about answers after?’

‘Ah, your mercenary friends; mercenaries with Astaren weapons, I see. What were your names again?’

Despite its bulk, Enay raised the lance so it was in line with Kashte’s face and the prince was staring into its oversized barrel.

‘Bugger our names – what’s Narin talking about?’

Lawbringer Rhe raised a hand. ‘All of you, lower your guns,’ he commanded.

‘Fuck off,’ Enay responded. ‘I want answers and I want them now, otherwise the lot of you aren’t going to have faces much longer.’

‘Now now, children,’ called another voice from the street. ‘I think we can dispense with the harsh language and posturing.’

Narin turned in astonishment to see Prince Sorote emerging from a side-street, two more armed Imperials in his wake. A thin strip of gold ran around his collar but beyond that and the pistol at his waist there was little indication of the man’s caste. His tunic, trousers and coat were all plain and dark, the slim cane in his hands just topped with a small silver sun.

‘Who’s this?’ Enay demanded.

‘I think the question is more who are you, my dear?’

Narin raised a hand before she had time to get even more angry. ‘Prince Sorote, time’s pressing and our friend’s not going to last much longer. I need you to do something to help him, or to get us inside.’

‘What makes you think I have that power?’

‘Because I’m not a bloody fool, whatever you high castes might think!’ Narin snapped. ‘All your interest, all your little questions and curiosity in the unnatural – don’t fucking lie to me. You can do something and I warn you, now’s the time to do it.’

‘You warn me? Be very careful, Investigator Narin. You have a history of turning your powerful friends into enemies, one that may prove the death of you soon.’

Narin shook his head. ‘Not this time. My friend needs help and you’ll do it right now or your secret will get out – I promise you that. The Office of the Catacombs, isn’t that what you call yourselves? Just another tiny little corner of the vast Imperial family, eh? I don’t know if you found something in those catacombs or it’s just a useful place away from prying eyes, but you’ve shown me enough of what you’re doing.

‘Between you and Rhe, you let House Dragon know about the safe-house faster than was necessary. Might be you even tipped the Gealann off about the attack, made sure it was an ambush. You want them to fight because only then’ll House Dragon’s hold over Imperial lands weaken enough to maybe break.’

‘But only if you have your own Astaren,’ Kesh continued. ‘And while you know Dragon’s spies are always on the lookout, there’s a respect afforded to members of the Imperial family itself – so if you could hide your new Astaren anywhere, it’d be in your catacombs.’

‘No, not hide,’ Narin said. ‘Recruit. All those young men and women trained to fight but kept in a gilded cage. They must have jumped at whatever was offered, secure in the knowledge that Astaren retribution probably won’t be the same for their caste if you’re caught.’

Narin shook his head. ‘I’ve no problem with what you want to do, but you better damn well believe me that if Enchei dies I’ll make sure the Houses hear about it.’

‘Or have they already?’ Prince Sorote asked, glancing at Enay and Maiss. ‘Your friend is clearly no mere tattooist. If we had secrets, as you suggest, and the power to save him, it would expose us. One might reasonably assume it would be safer to kill you instead.’

‘Firstly, these two are House Ghost,’ Narin said. ‘So they’ll not be part of any war between Eagle and Dragon. Secondly, they’re not alone in the city. If they die, their friends will know it. Right now this conversation’s only between us.’ He glanced at Enay and Maiss as the pair glared at the Imperials. ‘And it’ll stay that way if we all play nice. Their mission – and Enchei’s – doesn’t cross your plans.

‘There’s no need for any of us to fight here – most likely rising Imperial power will be good for House Ghost anyway. Distract some of their competitors, even. Either way, if Enchei lives he owes you a favour and these two have an incentive to keep your secrets. If Enchei dies, all bets are off and Ghost’ll be crawling over this city, I promise.’

Prince Sorote paused, then looked at Kashte. The belligerent young prince made no indication either way, but something seemed to decide it for Sorote. Narin’s years on the street had taught him when someone was about to throw a punch and when they’d decided against it. The fastidious, academic-seeming Sorote was far from a brawler, but men under pressure acted in similar ways whatever their background.

‘You ask for a lot of faith,’ the prince said, in a carefully controlled voice.

Narin felt a flush of relief. It wasn’t agreement, but tacit acceptance that there was some truth in his suspicions. Up until now he’d not been certain of anything, but Sorote hadn’t laughed in his face and called him deluded, as Narin had been half expecting.

He gestured for his companions to lower their weapons and once they had done so the assorted princes and princesses of Kashte’s Imperial cadre did the same.

‘Faith from both sides,’ Narin said carefully. ‘Enchei’s identity has been years in the making; they don’t want to throw it all away now.’

There was a long, taut moment of silence, but finally Prince Sorote nodded. ‘Whatever his mission, it’s taking place in a city controlled by House Dragon, so I doubt we would object to his goals. It appears we have a deal, Investigator.’

Narin sagged with relief, the tension that had been holding him upright suddenly draining away to leave his injury feeling like a lead weight.

‘Thank you.’

‘One condition – you two,’ Sorote said, pointing at Enay and Maiss, ‘retreat outside the compound. Unless you’re willing to show me your secrets in turn?’

To Narin’s surprise, the fierce young women made no objection; they showed no sign even of surprise. Without a moment’s pause they both limped through the gate with an Imperial escort until they were out of sight.

‘Shout if there’s something to kill,’ Enay called softly over her shoulder as she went.

Prince Sorote nodded to his lieutenant. ‘Kashte – spread them around this face of the palazzo. Give the tattooist a chance against this demon.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Kesh breathed as the Imperials ran to obey.

‘What we can,’ Sorote said curtly. ‘The rest will be up to him.’

Narin watched as each one took position around the palazzo wall, stopping two yards short of the wall itself and dropping to their knees. Weapons sheathed, they each bowed their heads and stretched out a hand towards the wall. Behind them, Kashte paced like a caged lion, sword and gun at the ready and watching the door and upper windows. Without being asked, Myken moved to a few paces behind him, musket at the ready. As she passed, Prince Kashte gave the warrior caste a small nod.

At first nothing happened, but still Narin found himself holding his breath as he waited. After a dozen heartbeats he felt the anxiety bubble up inside him but as he opened his mouth to speak Prince Sorote raised his cane warningly. The words died in Narin’s throat and in the next moment he felt a strange prickling sensation on his skin.

He felt the hairs on his neck rise, then a creeping greasiness as the sharp winter air became alive and charged. Tiny flashing threads of light began to creep around the kneeling Imperials, thin sparks disappearing up towards the night sky. The air between them and the palazzo began to shimmer with some weak lambent light as their hair lifted and twitched in a non-existent breeze. The haze of light and darting slivers rose steadily, forward and up until they reached the grey stone walls and pushed on through without any sign of resistance.

‘Is that it?’ Kesh demanded in a whisper. ‘What good will that do?’

‘Your friend’s a born fighter,’ Sorote replied, ‘if I’m any judge. Master Narin’s feats of heroism always seemed to take place alongside his aging friend, as I recall. This will level the field for him, I believe – diminish the power he faces. I doubt we can meet this Leviathan Astaren head-on if your friends cannot; these defences are as powerful as anything I’ve ever seen. And so we change the game, make it about skill in combat rather than power – that is where your friend has the advantage, we must hope.’

‘For your sake you’d better be right,’ Kesh warned, nodding towards the gate. ‘Those two aren’t in a forgiving mood tonight.’

Enchei felt the change like a mouthful of air to a drowning man. The smoke-filled palazzo was a wreck inside. His silver-dust smoke mingled with raging shadows and darting ghosts as though he was already dead and inside one of the seven hells. Fires burned behind the shroud, while the splinter of beams echoed from the roof overhead.

He looked down at his hands and watched the crackle of lightning between his metal-clad fingers stutter and fade. A sudden sense of fatigue washed over him as the power in his limbs waned – not washed away, but sapped by some strange, nebulous emanation behind him. This time it wasn’t something Priest had done, though, it was a dull cloud hanging in the air that dulled everything.

Looks like Narin’s finally found a use for his betters,
Enchei thought, with a manic sense of hope.

He turned his hand over and watched the light fade from the rune engraved underneath – the power stored there bleeding out into the smoky air to dissipate. One by one he sensed the echo-stones he’d scattered around the palazzo flicker and die and quickly he thought a silent mantra to still the magic running through his armour. He was unsure how much remained, but it would fade to nothing if he kept his defences high.

Somewhere not far away the demon roared once then retreated, driven back by the sapping radiance. A sense of quiet fell over the palazzo – the confused clatter of the echo-stones and heavy footfalls of the demon fell away to leave an ominous silence. He tested his baton and watched the stream of distorted air fracture then diffuse into nothingness just two yards away. He didn’t bother testing his darts, just sheathed his baton and checked his knives instead.

Let’s hope it’s not just me,
he thought as he rose and moved around the sideboard he’d been using for cover,
otherwise this may be over a little quick.

Enchei skirted the wreckage of a staircase, keeping low and weaving from side to side as he searched for the others. From nowhere a ghost leaped up, claws red and reaching, but as he dodged and slashed back, the ghost faded to nothing. Enchei threw himself forward to where the ghost had been, rolling back up on to his feet but not moving quickly enough to avoid a blur of red light washing over him. This time the blow wasn’t so heavy, a bundle of canes cracking down on his back rather than a giant’s sword, but still it threw his balance off.

He struck blind as he wheeled, catching nothing but evading another stroke. At last he saw her – torn and bloodied, but closing with a dancer’s speed. The cane slapped down once, twice, then she whipped her spinning blades up at his riposte. Enchei lunged at her and on past, happy to distance himself for a moment then changing direction again. A pillar stood between them but he had his own target in mind – the demon.

A huge black shape stood off to the right of the main door and Enchei ran for it with abandon. Great claws descended sluggishly but he wove a path through to the ruined corpse beyond. Still he was lashed with tendrils of shadow that buffeted him left and right while he made no attempt to retaliate.

Only when he came close enough to the corpse did Enchei do anything more than evade and deflect, taking blow after blow on his armoured arms. He could barely see, feeling the great mass of shadow as a choking, overwhelming presence and using that weight itself as a guide to the demon’s heart.

The demon scratched and tore at his mind, ripped the air from his lungs and scourged his back with terror’s claws, but the Imperials had done enough. He stabbed again and again, muscles screaming as he chopped through flesh and bone – the demon too weak to utterly engulf his mind. The shriek of demon song stripped at his mind’s defences so savagely that he felt the death rune on his chest pulse once with readiness. And then with one final blow he severed the corpse’s spine and sent its head tumbling to the ground. Summoning his reserves, Enchei whispered words of light into the tempest of demon song and a brief, blinding flash erupted from his chest.

The shadow-form was cut through, slashed to ribbons which melted away on the winds of that strange haze cast from outside. With one final monstrous howl the Terim abandoned the dead flesh that anchored it in the world and seemed to explode around Enchei, rushing shadows that melted into nothing and left only an acrid stench around the fallen corpse.

‘And then there was one,’ Enchei called, blinking the afterglow of light and shadow from his eyes.

His ears rang with the last traces of demon-song, his normally-infallible balance reeling amid the whirl of movement and unknown incantations.

‘One?’ Priest replied, stepping out into the debris-strewn hall. ‘Hardly.’

A ghost stepped out from her body, then another and another. A cold fear flickered in Enchei’s heart as that became five then six, then he lost count as they charged as one in a dizzying blur of half-real movement.

He let his body move in automatic response; not thinking about the pattern of parries and strikes, but only responding with a dance he knew in his bones. The ghosts were enfeebled by the Imperial song outside, but every slash and blow nudged and distracted him. He whirled around as he fought, one eye still on Priest as she waited for an opening but concentrating all his efforts on the storm of ghosts.

Whether one came, Enchei could not tell, but suddenly Priest was there – launching forward with every scrap of strength and power she had remaining. The cane slapped against his leg like an iron bar, the cascading blades worked their way along his chest towards the joints and bit. He threw his all into a flurry of slashes and followed it up with a savage knee-strike to her back. Even as the ghosts tore at him, Enchei felt the crack of armour underneath his blow and the gasp of pain from Priest.

Through the blur, Enchei saw the dull metal disc he’d planted earlier fall away, along with pieces of her armour. With a flicker of elation in his gut he wrenched himself free of the grasping hands and raised his dagger. Red light flashed like a rapier across his face but the armour held and in the next moment Enchei hurled the dagger at Priest.

On instinct she threw her hands up and blocked the weapon, but it gave Enchei time to dive forward under her guard. Grappling furiously, he hammered half-lit runes against her armour, stabbed and slashed with his knuckle-dagger while she tried to twist and throw him. The ghosts swarmed over his back but Enchei continued his reckless assault, face pressed into her chest as he pumped his legs and drove her backwards.

He slipped his hand down to his belt and was punished immediately by a blade slamming into the back of his shoulder, through his armour. Flames of pain raced down his arm but he didn’t stop, yanking the last of his grenades from his belt and pulling it round to the damaged part of her back. He called whatever power was left in his hands and felt a hiss of lightning briefly surround his fingers. With a last burst of strength in his legs he finally tipped her back and over.

Priest’s balance gave out as she tried to work her blade further into his shoulder and down they went. Enchei dipped his head and slammed her into the stone flooring, howling with pain as her dagger twisted violently in his wound. As his vision blurred he hauled with all his strength to free his hands and at last they—

Everything went white. He didn’t hear the explosion; just felt the gut-punch as he was hurled up. His hands were thrown out wide by the force of the explosion, his body snapped up and around to tumble in a heap beside Priest. More pain came, then a slap of darkness as the grenade’s flare receded. Lights and colours swam before his eyes. He sensed movement, grey shapes pouncing forward, but no claws pierced his shuddering, defenceless body. As one they were hauled through the air, the unseen radiance of the Imperials casting them back once more as Priest’s strength failed.

Enchei wrenched around and screamed as his weight went on to his left hand. Again his eyes blurred, overtaxed strength taking an age to dull the blinding agony. With a gasp he found himself able to see again, levering himself up to his knees with his one good arm and not daring to look at the other.

Beside him, astonishingly, Priest stirred and looked up, her mouth forming an O of pain and wonder. Enchei found himself unable to stand for a moment, struggling under the weight of his own body. He could only watch in amazement as the woman slowly focused on the failing roof above and turned her head towards him. Her clothes were flayed to nothing, the strange scale-patterned armour now cracked with dark fissures from which blood flooded.

‘Slayer of gods,’ she whispered, shuddering under the agony of movement.

Enchei stared back a moment, awed she could manage to speak at all, but at last he nodded.

‘Slayer of gods,’ she repeated, a small smile appearing on her lips, ‘it is time to run.’

He looked down, eyes widening. The rents in her armour began to glow, red light shining out over the expanding pool of blood around her. More cracks began to appear, rapidly spreading all the way across her chest as the light intensified to magma-red. The light filled his mind but Enchei could only scrabble backwards, his exhausted body failing him as Priest’s scraps of clothes were consumed by flames. Even through his armour Enchei could feel the heat.

‘
Come on, old man!
’ roared a voice inside his head.

He tried to look around but the searing red light was everywhere, filling his mind. Distantly, he felt a jerk and a burst of renewed pain as his arms were grasped by strong hands. Suddenly he was surging backwards, dragged like a ragdoll through a crashing obstacle course of wreckage while the ball of red light rose and expanded before him. He felt the heat and light consume him, blotting out the world around—

And then he was hauled free, the light no longer red but instead the unfeeling ice-white of the Gods above. The ground beneath him became rough and clattering rubble instead of smooth flagstones and at last he made out shapes around him. The looming bulk of the palazzo, lit red from within like the belly of the seventh hell. The shattered front doors, one torn entirely from its hinges, flashes of white and gold on the figures staring aghast down at him, his blood-stained and panting daughters each standing with one hand under his armpit.

Maiss ducked down and slipped his arm over her shoulder, bringing Enchei upright while the veteran tried not to cry out again at the too-slowly-receding pain in his hand. With his one good hand he fumbled at the hidden clasps of his helm – the armour now constricting with its power so sapped.

Enchei pulled the helm off and gasped at the shocking slap of cold air on his skin. He felt himself tilt sideways and had to grab at Maiss’ shoulder until the world righted itself under his feet.

‘How bad?’ he croaked at his daughter.

‘You or us?’ she said with a snort.

‘I ain’t dying,’ he wheezed. ‘I meant you.’

She patted his shoulder. ‘Better’n you – so long as we get out of here.’

Up ahead the first of the roof timbers began to fall, Priest’s body invisible at the infernal heart of dancing flames. Nothing of the inside at all was visible and even at the mouth of the gate, twenty yards from the palazzo’s stone flanks, Enchei’s skin stung with the heat. He sensed movement and drunkenly brought his punch-dagger up, realising a moment later it was just the Imperials being driven back by the intense heat.

‘Now now, Master Jen,’ Prince Sorote said from behind him. ‘Let us not part on unfriendly terms.’

‘Part?’ Enchei echoed, looking around at those assembled and noticing Narin, Kesh and Myken for the first time.

Behind them, Irato sat with his back against the wall – still reeling from the demon-fragment being torn from his mind no doubt, but the man looked straight back at him and gave Enchei an unsteady nod.

‘After all that, you’ll just walk away?’

Sorote gave him a half-bow. ‘I am a man of the Imperial caste,’ he said solemnly. ‘My word is my bond. Without that assurance, what would the Imperial family have?’

Enchei coughed, wincing at the pain it provoked. ‘More’n I’d have suspected a few days ago.’ He waved away any reply from the prince. ‘You’ll get no argument from me – just thought there’d be some bargaining to be done.’

‘It is concluded. Your friends are quite capable without you.’ Sorote smiled. ‘I wish you luck in whatever your mission is in the Imperial City,’ adding, with an inclined head towards Prince Kashte, ‘so long as it doesn’t interfere with our own endeavours.’

Enchei looked up at Enay, lance slung easily beneath one arm, then exchanged a look with a pale-faced Narin. ‘Our mission? Guess I can agree to that easily enough.’

Sorote bowed. ‘Then we shall leave you. I suspect House Iron’s Astaren will eventually creep from their burrows to investigate this, so it’s time we were elsewhere.’

At his gesture, the Imperials swept away and disappeared into a side-street far from the eyes of the district, leaving only Lawbringer Rhe standing in the street beyond.

‘The scene is mine,’ Rhe announced, looking straight at Narin. ‘You, Investigator, are suspended. You should leave now.’

The six friends looked at each other, all too tired to laugh at the absurdity.

‘Gladly,’ Narin said with a weary nod. With Maiss supporting her father and being supported in turn, Enay hauled Irato up to his feet and steadied the former goshe.

‘I’m not carrying him home again,’ Narin commented. ‘Once is enough.’

‘I’ll walk,’ Irato groaned, ‘I just need an arm to steady me.’

With half their number propping the others up, they began the long trudge home. Enchei offered Rhe a grateful nod as they passed, but the Lawbringer was already looking past him at the flames shooting from the palazzo roof. A small smile crept on to Enchei’s face, but then he caught sight of his mangled fingers and that faded again.

‘What mission do I have?’ he whispered once they were past the Lawbringer. ‘Am I likely to get in Sorote’s way?’

Narin gave a snort. ‘Your mission? Same as all of ours, just to keep on living and look after your own. Prince Sorote can imagine what he likes, I’ll not correct him.’