The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (237 page)
Read The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection Online
Authors: Tom Lloyd
Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Vampires, #War, #Fiction, #General, #Epic
BOOK: The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection
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‘Gods,’ Veil and Dirr said in the same breath. As they spoke they felt a distant tremble underfoot and a crack of thunder split the sky.
‘Don’t just fuckin’ stand there,’ Daken snapped as he caught them up, giving both men a shove. He pointed to their right, where Veil saw a sudden red glow in the distance. ‘That’s Litania, that is; she’s havin’ her fun now.’
Veil blinked and realised the thunder hadn’t come from the sky at all; it had been somewhere in Breakale and loud enough that it might have been an entire building collapsing. Daken gave a coarse laugh and went on ahead, clapping a comradely hand on Telasin’s shoulder. The man jumped like he’d been stung and lowered his weapons, head bowed.
‘Five for you, eh? I got me some catchin’ up to do!’
Veil upped the pace of his scouting ahead. In the distance an orange glow grew steadily, he guessed somewhere close to the Breakale-Hale gates. When they reached the gate into Eight Towers he found it half-open, but guarded by both a squad of Menin soldiers and some Byoran troops.
Veil passed a signal back and hunkered down to wait for support, which came in the form of Cetarn, the oversized Narkang mage. As usual, he wore a cheery grin on his face, as though what they were about was nothing more than high jinks.
‘What have you got for me?’ Veil whispered.
‘A little misdirection should do,’ Cetarn replied.
The mage’s attempt to keep his voice low sounded painfully loud to Veil, but he ignored it as Cetarn made him stand upright. Muttering under his breath, Cetarn ran a fleshy hand over Veil’s head before repeating the process over himself. That done, the big mage grabbed Veil’s arm and dragged him out into full view of the soldiers.
‘We don’t look any different,’ Veil hissed, watching the soldiers notice them.
‘Not up close, no,’ Cetarn said cheerfully, ‘but at a distance, trust me — we appear to be the most magnificently blessed young ladies those men have seen in a long while.’
Veil almost choked at the notion, and he would have tripped on the cobbles had Cetarn not had a firm grip on him.
‘That’s a good idea; don’t we look so pretty and drunk?’ Cetarn commented brightly.
Veil recovered himself in time to see four dark shapes ghosting through the shadows on the other side of the street, evading the soldiers’ notice. When Veil and Cetarn were ten paces away the nearest soldier gave a cry of surprise and Veil realised the glamour had failed. The soldier reached for his weapon, but he was cut down by the first of the Brotherhood. As Veil ran to join the fight his Brothers were already cutting a path through the soldiers to the gate.
One tried to race through, only to be thrown back by the force of a spear catching him in the side. The next King’s Man kicked out and snapped the shaft against the closed half of the gate, lunging with his sword at the holder and pushing on through.
Veil made for the nearest Menin, feinting right to get behind the tip. Keeping his swords close, he ran straight into the man and spun off his shoulder, stabbing him in the hip even as he darted away and trapped the next soldier’s weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone’s livery suddenly catch fire. The bright burst of light made the man he was facing hesitate and Veil used the chance to knee him in the groin and smash a pommel into his face. His opponent reeled and Veil chopped down into his arm, then his exposed neck.
As the last man fell and silence returned, Veil checked his surroundings. There were no other soldiers in sight aside from the remainder of their company, who were quickly making up the fifty yards between them.
‘It’s clear,’ called the King’s Man who’d gone through the gate as he dropped to kneel at his injured comrade’s side.
‘How is he?’ Veil asked, watching the bulky shapes of Daken and Coran moving side by side as though in competition.
‘Fucking hurting,’ the injured man grunted, ‘but I ain’t dead yet.’
Veil turned. It was Cedei, one of the veterans of the Brotherhood. ‘Good — but you’re not coming with us like that. Cetarn, stop the bleeding and help him up. You’ll have to make it back to the gate on your own.’
‘Aye,’ Cedei agreed in a strained voice. ‘Luck to you. See you when the killing’s done.’
‘When it’s done,’ Veil confirmed and thumped his forearm against Cedei’s as Coran reached him just ahead of Daken.
‘The alarm will be raised soon,’ Veil said, looking at the bodies on the ground. ‘We’ve got a straight run to the Ruby Tower, so best we get Mage Firnin out in front now to clear the beggars out of our way.’
The white-eyes agreed and they set off jogging in two columns towards the Ruby Tower. The streets were still empty, but there were sounds in the city now, shouts coming from Breakale, and from the main gate between the two districts. Even Daken began to look serious: the real fight was close at hand. Whatever Litania had done, the panic had started.
Dawn was still more than an hour off by the time they reached the wide avenue that skirted the Ruby Tower compound. Behind it was a plateau of enclosed ground a hundred yards across, a series of peaked roofs, and pipes that channelled the floodwaters around the compound. A large statue of Kiyer of the Deluge was positioned at each corner, each with a wide, distended mouth from which the water was channelled into the avenue. The ground outside the gate was open cobbles for fifty yards before reaching the three main streets leading away from the tower.
Veil’s company took a road parallel to one of these. It was blocked at the end, to protect the entrances to the houses on each side, but it gave them a concealed route for most of the way, with a narrow passage which took them to the north corner of the open ground. When they were all settled he moved forward with Doranei and Mage Firnin, the woman carrying a saddlebag with enough care that Veil was keen to see the back of it.
Firnin set the bag down and sat cross-legged on the ground, tugging at her breeches and shirt to put them perfectly in order. That done, she pulled a flask from her pocket, took a long slug of what smelled like brandy, and poured the rest down her front, ignoring the expressions on their faces.
‘What’re you doing?’ Doranei snapped as he watched her. This wasn’t what she’d outlined to him the previous day when he’d told her to take care of the beggars — that was what the saddlebag was for.
Firnin opened one eye and scowled at him, which twisted a scar down her face into an even more jagged line. ‘Trying to avoid the death of innocents; the bag can help you get out instead. Have Cetarn signal me when you want the way cleared.’
‘What are you doing now?’
The mage didn’t reply, and Doranei realised he wasn’t going to get an answer without interrupting her concentration. Camba Firnin’s main skill might be as an illusionist, but she was still powerful, and now wasn’t the time to anger her. Instead he made himself comfortable and stared out over the white-shrouded figures that even now knelt at the gates in prayer. There weren’t as many as he’d feared, and he mouthed his thanks to Cerdin, God of Thieves, whom the Brotherhood had adopted as a patron God.
It was hard to gauge in the darkness but he guessed there were a little more than a score of them, perhaps thirty faithful, all in a circle with heads bowed. Along the wall fluttered scraps of paper and cloth, reminding him of prayers to Sheredal, the Aspect of the Goddess Asenn called the Spreader of the Frost. From the sheer number on show Doranei realised it wasn’t just a handful of Byorans who were praying for intercession with the Gods. He couldn’t begin to estimate how many prayers had been attached to the wall, but it looked like hundreds.
The scene of still reverence continued for a dozen heartbeats, until, without warning, a white misty figure stepped out from the compound gate. Doranei’s heart gave a lurch. It was a child, robed in cloth-of-light, and resembling the ghostly Aspect of Vasle inhabiting Morghien, King Emin’s long-time ally. Even before the praying figures had noticed it the figure set off down the main avenue, oblivious to the gasps it provoked as it passed the beggars. By ones and twos they struggled to their feet, looking around in bewilderment — one reached his hand out to the illusion, but when he tried to speak the words faltered in his throat.
‘Karkarn’s horn,’ Doranei spat, ‘you’ve just reaffirmed their faith, you stupid bitch!’
‘Stop your whining,’ Firnin said in a breathy whisper. ‘Are they following?’
Doranei looked at the beggars, who were all staring after the child as it reached the top of the street and started off down it. When it became clear the child was leaving, they stumbled after it, a few crying out in wordless fervour.
‘Yes, they are.’
‘Good. Leave me here.’ He could hear the strain in her voice now. ‘I’ll lead them as far as I can, then give them a nightmare that’s hard to worship.’
Doranei opened his mouth to argue before realising it would waste precious time. ‘Damn. Okay.’ He signalled the rest of the company forward, carefully draping the saddlebag over one shoulder.
They came in a sprint, with Daken and the battle-mage Ebarn at the fore. There was no time to talk; everyone already knew their established positions, and they all knew how vulnerable they were out in the open. It was reasonable to think that news of the fire in Breakale had already reached the Ruby Tower — with luck the gate wasn’t barred but they couldn’t afford to make assumptions. Once she was standing in front of the gate Ebarn planted her feet firmly. Doranei gently placed the saddlebag on the ground to one side and took his place in the second rank.
‘Close your eyes.’ She stretched her arms out and braced herself while the soldiers immediately behind her, Telasin, Coran and Veil, were careful to give her room. The silver thread and crystal shards attached to her tunic began to glow, and sparks darted through the air around her. A moment later her skin glistened pale green and Doranei, knowing what was coming, ducked his head.
With a great gasp Ebarn threw her hands forwards and a flash cut the darkness, twin streams of magic leaping forward and exploding on the compound gates with an ear-shattering crash. The gates were ripped from their hinges and launched into the compound, while Ebarn staggered backwards into Veil’s waiting arms.
As Doranei blinked and cursed at the effect on his night-sight, the white-eyes leaped eagerly forward, weapons raised. Telasin followed, into the stink of the Dark Place that filled the air and the chaos caused by the inrush of Brotherhood troops. A roar of wordless rage that could only be Coran cut through the clatter, shouting and screaming.
Once Doranei met the bewildered Ruby Tower Guards inside, his training kicked in. A spear jabbed out of the dust-filled gloom and he dodged to the side, feeling it catch the side of his brigandine. The fear flaring inside him came out as a shout and he launched himself forward before the Byoran had a chance to withdraw. His sword had pierced the man’s throat and before he’d even fallen Doranei had turned and chopped with his axe into the arm of the next guardsman.
Past him there was only empty ground, and though Doranei looked around, there was no further threat. The wave of Brotherhood had crashed over the outnumbered defenders and slaughtered them with savage speed. It was only a matter of seconds before the attackers were the sole people standing, taking great gulps of air as Daken’s laughter echoed around the compound walls.
‘Let’s go find more,’ he roared, heading for the main entrance to the tower. Doranei followed him, as did Telasin, whose body now appeared to have fat strands of dancing black smoke attached. Osh, the Mystic of Karkarn, joined them, together with the four thieves and Mage Cetarn. The mage-killer, Shim the Bastard, hurried along in the rear, his axe as yet unblooded.
Coran led the rest to the barracks, in the other direction.
The cackling Daken was first to reach the entrance. He sidestepped a spear point with surprising agility and rammed the spiked tip of his axe into the guard’s gut, driving him back through the tall double-doors. Doranei raced to follow and found himself staring at an empty throne in a dimly lit audience hall. There were no guards in the room so he followed Daken across the hall and headed for the smaller of the two doorways on the far wall.
Beyond it was a bare room with three more open doorways. It looked like this was the way to the rear buildings where the servants lived and worked, so he backtracked to the main hall. In the gantry above he saw a soldier with a crossbow looking down at him, and an unmistakable figure in mail and a steel skull-cap: Ilumene.
‘Catch me if you can, puppy!’ Ilumene yelled as the soldier levelled his crossbow.
Doranei ducked back through the doorway, shouting a warning to his companions caught in the open. The bolt went through the throat of the nearest, one of the thieves, who fell without a sound.
‘Damned traitor!’ Cetarn roared, his face scarlet with sudden and rare fury.
The mage looked around for a moment before his gaze alighted on Telasin Daemon-Touch. As Doranei ran for the other door to find a staircase he saw Cetarn run around the possessed soldier and place his hands on the man’s back. Telasin, knowing what was going to happen, tensed, weapons at the ready.
With a burst of green-tinted light Cetarn punched forward and Telasin was propelled up to the landing. He hooked a leg and arm neatly over the balustrade as he reached it, in the same movement hacking at the archer’s neck.
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