Wintercraft: Blackwatch (28 page)
‘Why would you do that?’ asked Silas. ‘What did you have to gain?’
‘I needed someone I could trust,’ said Dalliah. ‘Someone who could see the world the way I see it. You were my first choice. The subjects who died before you were never meant to survive the procedure. Da’ru needed to perfect her skills. And she did so admirably. I only pointed her down the path the veil had already shown me. You were never meant to lead an ordinary life, Silas, any more than Kate Winters was meant to sell books in a dying town. With your skills, you could have changed Albion a thousand times over. You could have overthrown the High Council and taken their place if you had wished. I gave you a gift, Silas. And what did you do with it? You obeyed orders. You waited. You tried to ignore what had happened to you instead of exploring its possibilities. You wasted the greatest opportunity any man could be given, but how you spent your life was not important to me, so long as it led you to be in the right place at the right time. We are all following a path that was laid out for us long ago. Even him.’ She nudged Bandermain’s arm with the toe of her shoe. ‘The veil did not show me the truth until much later, but you were meant to have your spirit torn. You were meant to find Kate Winters and bind her blood to your own. Fate made sure you played your part in history, Silas. You are as much its pawn as any of us. That is why you are here.’
Silas looked round at the hanging bottles. There was no way to tell which one belonged to him, but if his blood was in there it meant traces of Kate’s were too. Silas knew enough about the Skilled to see that something else was going on in that room, something that had nothing to do with Dalliah’s plans for the veil. The place felt too strange. The air felt heavy. The longer he stayed within it the more effort it took to think. ‘Those vials,’ he said. ‘How much of my blood did you take?’
‘Enough,’ said Dalliah, as Bandermain struggled to his feet. ‘That was one of the reasons I chose you. You are an intelligent man, so it surprises me how stupid you can be sometimes. Wintercraft is not a warm and friendly discipline. Its strength comes from blood, suffering and pain. Kate Winters is already discovering that for herself. Even you recognised Wintercraft as the fastest way to free your spirit and find peace in death. You did not care what would happen to the girl when you were finished with her. You did not care what you were opening up inside her soul. There were reasons her family buried that book in the end and why the Skilled were so eager to keep it secret once it had resurfaced. But
Wintercraft
never remains buried for long. Walkers always find their way to its pages. The veil shows us everything. You believe that you have mastered the veil’s secrets. You are wrong.’
Wintercraft
never remains buried for long. Walkers always find their way to its pages. The veil shows us everything. You believe that you have mastered the veil’s secrets. You are wrong.’
Something sharp prickled inside Silas’s chest, like tiny hairs stabbing the inside of his lungs.
‘The creeping lung is a very interesting disease,’ said Dalliah. ‘Tiny creatures that spread and pass between hosts, embedding themselves in human lungs and slowly eating away the tissue until there is nothing left. Did you think you would be immune to it here? Do you still think your body does not need to breathe?’
Silas tested his lungs, making them bristle more sharply with each deep breath.
‘What the veil slows down, it can also speed up,’ said Dalliah. ‘Under the right conditions it can even transfer physical suffering from one body into another. We may not suffer the ravages of illness and disease, but we feel the shadow of them living within others and we can spread a sickness by influencing the soul. We can make a body believe it is suffering. We can turn it against itself and carry it right to the very point of death. How are you feeling, Silas?’
The first spasm gripped Silas’s lungs like a fist. His chest heaved and he coughed speckles of warm blood.
‘Our bodies do not degrade as quickly as those of others, but they are still quite fragile,’ said Dalliah. ‘We need to take care of them. You have been careless.’
‘This is not possible,’ said Silas.
‘Why? Because Da’ru told you it couldn’t happen?’ said Dalliah. ‘Where do you think she was getting her information? From
Wintercraft
? Don’t be so stupid.’
Wintercraft
? Don’t be so stupid.’
Bandermain stared at Silas as if he was watching his entire world fall apart. ‘You told me this wouldn’t happen!’ he said. ‘You told me it couldn’t affect him!’
‘Silas is as healthy as he was the moment he walked in here,’ said Dalliah. ‘His body only
thinks
it is ill. He cannot fight it. His mind is not strong enough.’
thinks
it is ill. He cannot fight it. His mind is not strong enough.’
Silas glared up at her.
‘The girl is supposed to cure me,’ said Bandermain. ‘She is supposed to make me like him. But it makes no difference! Look at him!’
‘Calm yourself, Celador.’
‘He should not be able to die!’
‘He cannot die. But that does not mean he cannot suffer.’
Silas gasped for breath. He felt as if he was drowning. His lungs were filling with blood. His body was not healing and the damage was spreading. He had become used to believing in his body’s ability to repair itself and had spent many minutes underwater without any desperate need for air, but this was very different. His body was failing from the inside out. He had assumed, wrongly, that his lungs were no longer of any real use to him. Any energy his body needed was drawn directly from the veil. The veil had kept him alive, no matter what extent of abuse his body had suffered, and he had relied upon it to sustain him. He had not realised how precious his body still was to him until that moment.
‘Pain is the only way to control you, Silas. Da’ru proved that. You are not as strong as you believe yourself to be. Not here. Not any more. I truly believed we could be allies, but now I know better.’
Silas did not feel his body when it hit the floor. His mind was focused fully upon his chest and the scratching pain, like needle-thin claws scraping inside it. He could hear Bandermain’s voice close by and Dalliah speaking calmly in reply. He punched the floor, barely aware of the pain cracking across his knuckles as they crunched into the stones.
‘You have done well, Celador,’ Silas heard her say, as darkness spread across his vision, leaving only a pinprick of light. ‘Soon we will be free of our pain. Nothing has changed. The girl’s death will save us both.’
Silas tried to move, but his limbs were heavy, his body as immovable as a tombstone knotted down by weeds. Then his sight gave out and all he had was the drifting emptiness of the dark. He reached for the veil, focusing hard upon the circle surrounding him. He could feel Dalliah’s energy threading around the room in a gentle pulse, just enough to attract the veil. He should have noticed that. He should have sensed it, but it was too late for regrets. He felt the remnants of Kate’s blood vibrating within him: Walker’s blood. His cheek rested upon the stones, pressed within a tiny puddle of his own blood. Silas concentrated on that blood – willing it to connect with the circle and the veil. It took every ounce of energy he had left, but he felt the chill of the veil upon his face - the freezing touch of Wintercraft – as frost spread out across his cheek.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Bandermain, but Silas was not listening.
Whatever Dalliah had done to him prevented the veil from healing his body, but she could not restrain what was left of his soul. Silas cast his mind out into the veil, fighting the pull of the pain as it struggled to draw him back. Bandermain and Dalliah stood over him, watching as his eyes glazed grey and his body fell still.
‘What does this mean?’ asked Bandermain.
Dalliah smiled and turned away, walking over to the building’s iron door.
‘Wait! What about our agreement?’
‘You will have what you were promised,’ said Dalliah.
Bandermain felt Silas’s neck, searching for a pulse, but found none. The frost of the veil crept across to his fingers and he snatched them away. ‘Witchery,’ he whispered. ‘What
is
this?’
is
this?’
But there was no one left to answer him.
18
Into the Dark
Kate looked back as the river curled swiftly away from the city and saw its huge torchlit walls stretching in a wide curve in both directions, further than the eye could see. If there had been any wardens posted at the river gate they were gone now. Edgar nudged her arm and pointed to something dark among some leafless bushes lining the riverbank. It looked like a black boot, and there was something glinting near it. A silver dagger held in a lifeless hand.
‘So much for the wardens,’ he said.
Kate watched the walls of Fume being swallowed by the night as the Blackwatch slid the split mast up to its full height and attached a large black sail that billowed powerfully in the wind. The leader took charge and soon the wind was powering them along faster than the river could flow, cutting through the wild counties of Albion and pushing them towards the distant eastern shore.
Once Fume’s towers had fully disappeared over the dark horizon, Silas’s crow suddenly became agitated. It clicked its beak sharply and shook its head as if something was trapped in its ear. Kate tried to calm it, but nothing she did made any difference. She grabbed hold of it to keep it still and the moment she touched its feathers she knew something was very wrong. Edgar was huddled beside her, glaring at the Blackwatch one by one, so he did not notice the look of shock on her face until she grabbed hold of his wrist, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were fully black, she was breathing heavily and her skin was tinged with blue.
‘It’s Silas,’ she said.
‘Where?’ Edgar looked out over the side of the boat, squinting at the banks.
Kate could not describe what she was seeing. She knew she was looking into the veil, but all she could see was darkness; the same kind of empty void she had seen around Silas when he entered the half-life with her on the Night of Souls. And then she felt it. Silas’s presence, as near to her as Edgar was. ‘He’s here,’ she said quietly. ‘In the veil.’
‘Maybe it’s just a shade,’ said Edgar. ‘There’s no reason to think—’
Kate gripped Edgar’s hand tightly as images flashed suddenly through her mind. They felt like memories, but they did not belong to her.
She saw a town filled with white buildings and a circular room lined with bones. There was a Blackwatch officer standing beside her and candles and vials were hanging down from a domed ceiling
. ‘It’s Silas,’ she said, as a heavy feeling clouded within her chest. ‘He’s ill.’
She saw a town filled with white buildings and a circular room lined with bones. There was a Blackwatch officer standing beside her and candles and vials were hanging down from a domed ceiling
. ‘It’s Silas,’ she said, as a heavy feeling clouded within her chest. ‘He’s ill.’
‘What happened? Where is he?’
The two of them fell quiet as the thin officer walked beneath the sail and spoke quietly to the leader. He turned and pointed to Edgar, who shrank back against the guardrail.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ he said.
Kate released the crow and let it hide in the space between them before the leader handed over control of the boat and walked over to them.
‘Stand up,’ he said.
‘Why?’
The man heaved Edgar up by his wrist and the crow scuttled into hiding behind Kate. ‘Where is it?’ he demanded.
‘Where’s what?’
‘There are feathers on this deck. Silas Dane’s bird is here. Where is it?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
The leader turned to his men. ‘Find it. Kill it.’
Kate stood up before the officers could get close. She grabbed the crow and threw it as far as she could over the side of the boat. Its claws scraped the water as its wings beat hard into flight, and it fluttered in a wide circle around the lanterns in the sails, out of reach of the arrows that the dark-haired guard sent spearing towards it. The crow cackled up into the night sky, shadowing the boat while staying mockingly just out of bowshot.
The leader grabbed Kate by her coat collar. ‘What did he tell you?’ he demanded.
‘Let her go!’ Edgar pushed the man hard enough to make him pay attention and the stronger man struck him hard across the face.
‘I have reconsidered the boy’s position,’ he said to his men. ‘He is no longer welcome on this boat. Kill him.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Kate cried.
‘Do not tell me what I cannot do.’
‘You could have left him behind. Why bring him all the way out here if you were just going to kill him?’
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