Chapter 6

‘Something like that will cost you your damned neck!’ Seroin leaned in closer to Tomga, who was still staring deep into the beer mug in front of him. ’In the more refined neighbourhoods, you can just wander around like that, but not in Sagvi! And not in any side streets.’

Seroin quickly looked around the room. The pub was dimly lit, with the only windows facing out onto a narrow side street, where the glow of the sun could only be guessed at. In the taproom itself, there were small, rickety tables with improvised stools huddled around them. A sloping bar snaked along the back wall, with the shelves behind it barely filled with bottles.

The few patrons in the bar did the same as Tomga and stared into their drinks; all of them were elderly. The barman poured one bottle into the next, trying in vain to divide his stock better. No one paid much attention to them, but this was not a sign of safety, not in Badazan.

Seroin remained bent over the table, her mouth close to Tomga's ears, her fingers clinging to her sharp dagger.

‘I know... I... I needed...’ Tomga gestured around the room. “It looks like home. Wood, windows, the feeling, the people. Light from the sun or candles, no artificial magic.” He took a sip and shook a little. ’I saw her. The woman.’

‘Your sister? Me too. Keep the image in mind! With the magic of memory transfer, it is important to draw on the memories frequently and accurately, especially with strangers. Otherwise, they quickly fade again, like a beautiful dream right after waking up. And I remembered everything. We'll find her, don't worry.’

‘It was too much. You say you didn't feel it, but I... I was there again. At my farm, my apple fields. I saw my children, my life, my home. It was... if I had known, I would have prepared myself, armed myself. But I didn't get the chance. It was too much...’

‘So you just ran away with strangers? The Ibis gang?’

‘I was told that soldiers from Daumaje are still greeted with respect here. That life is still a bit slower here. And it's true. I only had to state my rank to get a free beer. I can pay for the next one with these funny cylinders. Or like at home. Simple barter. Trade for trade. Not something like this...’

Seroin smelled suspiciously at his beer. ‘At least no one seems to want to poison you here. Why do they want you?’

Tomga pulled his jug back and stared into the reflection of his own eyes again. ’The Ibis probably consist partly of people like me... soldiers from the Daumaje. They want to recruit me. I already said no, but... I got a beer. So I at least owe them a conversation. Or are you going to warn me against a simple conversation, too? Can't you do that in your city of wonders, either?’

The young woman sighed. ‘No, Tomga, I won't stop you. Chat with your cronies from that war. I'll stay here, just watch over your and my pockets, okay?’

The elf nodded gratefully. ‘This place reminds me more and more of home. Do you know why?’ When Seroin shook his head, Tomga raised a finger. ‘Do you hear that? Nothing. Silence. No shouting, no noise, not the hissing of these platforms or the eternal howling of the illusions. Simply quiet.’

Seroin realised that he was right. But it was precisely this silence that gave her a queasy feeling. Silence in Badazan was unnatural, alien, like a river full of ink instead of water.

She jumped when the pub door opened loudly. A group of older people marched to the bar and were each handed a fresh beer. The tallest man among them, a bald man with a distinctive plaited beard, laughed and slapped the wood. ‘Thank you! Now, where is this hero? With whom do we laugh and cry like friends and blood?’

The barman pointed to their table and the big man sauntered over.

Tomga sat up straighter, stroked his blond hair and slapped his thighs. ‘That would be me. And since I've been here, I have not been greeted so honestly and openly. My name is...’

‘Tomga Balf!’ The bearded man stopped immediately and abruptly dropped his beer. ’Tomga! Balf!’

Seroin heard it long before Tomga did. The tone, the way of speaking, the sound. She gripped her crossbow tighter and slowly turned it under the table towards the bearded man.

‘You know me. I have served loyally, but... not in such a way...’

‘Your face.’ The human pointed directly at the elf's features. ’I see your face every day. And every day, I wish I could smash it to smithereens!’

At these words, the human's companions stepped around the table, and suddenly the two were surrounded.

‘Tomga... Balf. Even a linage name for what you did. Me, little Jarefo, I got nothing but fear!’ Jarefo spat beside the table.

Tomga raised her arms in appeasement. ‘My friend. If you fought on the side of nothingness, on the side of Defala and his ideas, the war ended with the departure of all ideas, Diersa and Defala. The nations are now close. There should be no bad blood...’

Jarefo hurled a chair across the room, the wood splintering against one of the windows and shattering the glass.

Seroin jumped up at that moment and held the crossbow open in the face of the bearded human.

But he only had eyes for Tomga. ‘Defala? You accuse me of such an insult? So you can sleep better? For your cruelties! Youuu. You left us in the lurch. The battle south of Lake Gartan. We were overrun, the enemy had an army, but even worse. There were enemy idea children on the ground. Your troops…’

Seroin couldn't help but lower her crossbow a little when the tall man began to weep openly and strongly, the tears running down his face and resting in his beard. ‘We saw you coming. We saw your army, we cried out in jubilation. And just as you arrived... you just turned around... and... and we were helpless against the forces of Defala.’

Jarefos trembled with a fear never to be forgotten. ‘You... you left us alone. Did they tell you who was there? Did they? We faced Dordana, second daughter of Ifor, the Forgotten. The woman also known as the vanishing seamstress. Have you ever fought against Oblivion? My men... The woman... she simply sang, a song so gentle and quiet... and my men... some of them no longer remembered their children... others screamed for their parents as if they themselves were just seven years old. The woman, so silver and beautiful ... she ... she asked us in song if we knew how to breathe ... Have you ever seen ... a man suddenly forget how to breathe? My troop was grub ... we ...’

Jarefo shuddered. ‘I still believed you would turn back, you would storm back, save us. Even when Keufador, Son of Disease, Iohelana, appeared, I believed in you. We coughed up blood and bile, sweated our lives from our bodies, grew smallpox and boils as disease rotted our bodies like overripe fruit. BUT WE BELIEVED!’

Suddenly his tears stopped. ‘Do you know when we gave up, when we gave up on you and all of Diersa's ideas? On the battlefield appeared... Ibini, the idea of fear itself. The cruelty... the horror... I can't...’

Seroin now dared to glance at Tomga, but even the sight of him made her falter. The elf held his arms tight, fighting against an inner tremor. ‘Arabara... she ordered it... retreat. You... we had different orders... to fight other evils, to stop worse evils. Bozan, it was about Bozan...’

‘AND WE WERE ONLY MORTALS? THERE TO BE DELEGATED AND CONSUMED?’ Jarefo took a step towards Tomga, but Seroin once again held the loaded crossbow to the human's chest. It was enough to stop him briefly.

‘You abandoned us. Alone and dying. On that day, we cursed the ideas. We, who have seen Ibini herself, felt the purest form of fear. We found ourselves here and founded the Ibis. Soldiers betrayed by fear... by their own men.’ Suddenly, Jarefo grinned in superiority. ’And here in Badazan... the word of ideas is worth diddly. None of it has any power. Badazan only allows such vermin in a zoo, A ZOO! They even have a valley harp there, they say! And a child of ideas, too! A beast and a demigod in a zoo!’

Tomga stared up at Seroin, her eyes filling with tears. ‘What is a... zoo?’

She kept her eyes fixed on Jarefo. ‘Not important. What is a valley harp?’

‘Not important...’ Tomga straightened up and looked Jarefo straight in the face. ‘I... I cannot explain myself. It was Arabara's wish. And I served her loyally. And I am loyal to her... What now, Jarefo? What have I done to deserve your eyes?’

The bearded man was just standing up again when a new voice hissed over to them.

‘We still decide who deserves what.’ Two figures stood in the entrance of the tavern, a tall elf and a sturdy woman. Both were dressed in a light blue robe, with a white belt tying it at the waist. Sturdy shoes and matching leather gloves adorned their bodies and a large, white ‘I’ was engraved on the robe at chest height. ‘Imagine, we're walking our classic route, a chair flies out of a window, weird.’ The elf whispered something in the woman's ear and she stepped out again. ‘Well. You're from the Ibis gang, aren't you?’

Jarefo exhaled heavily and nodded. ‘Yes, sir Inspector. So, what am I being accused of here?’

The inspector stepped further into the room, slowly and with long strides, as if he were approaching a throne. ’Nothing yet. That depends on the mood I leave this place in.’ He pulled a long metal rod out of his robe. The device had two fingers at the end, one made of bright white steel and the other of black. ‘You don't mind if I search you for forbidden artifacts of the old gods, do you? You Ibis are closer to those ancient corpses than the rest of us.’

Jarefo shook his head in defeat and slowly raised his arms.

The inspector moved the detector over his body, and at the height of his hip, the steel of the device began to hum. ‘Aiii. What do we have here?’ The inspector pulled a small dagger out of Jarefo's belt. ‘Purple... cold... and that fear. Is this a dagger made of the essence of Ibini? A dagger of fear?’

Jarefo was seething with rage, his eyes now back on Tomga. ‘Nothing less than this would have been deserved by this one. And you are stealing my righteous revenge.’

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‘Such artefacts are strictly forbidden. We both know that. But well. We can talk, can't we? What would I get from confiscating a small dagger? Maybe I'll find this dagger on my next tour, too. On a corpse and not on you. How many A.M.I.s would this be worth to you?’

Jarefo grinned, ready for this suggestion.

Then Seroin spoke up. ‘SV-134!’

The elf in the blue robe slowly turned his gaze to her, disbelief written all over his face. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Your number. SV-134. I know it. We know it. More importantly, Mr Shiverlip knows it. Very well, in fact. Sure, we could leave here right now. But you know better than many here who steps on Mr Shiverlips toes...’

The inspector looked at her harshly, his lips curving into a nasty smile. ‘I've heard about you. Once on the rise, now a puppet for gangs. But still, it remains Mr Shiverlips, you're right. It seems I have to take him from you here and now, Jarefo. Illicit goods remain illicit goods. And trying to find a way around that would incur the wrath of more powerful men. So...

A dwarf from the ranks of the Ibis gang stepped forward and stood in front of Jarefo. ‘You won't lay a finger on him. You can leave now, or we'll tear you limb from limb! I'll remember your face, your temper, I'll...’

A bolt of lightning shot straight and cold from the inspector's finger and struck the still-speaking dwarf squarely in the chest.

He flew backwards, smoking, hit the wall, and fell twisted and lifeless to the ground. A wide and still-smouldering hole yapped in his chest, containing the charred ashes of what had once been his heart.

‘A threat is to be considered an attack on the life of an inspector!’ The elf wiped his hands on his robe, a blazing grin on his face. ’More than just foolish.’

The remaining Ibis and Jarefo stared aghast at the inspector from their fallen brother, but none of them moved.

Only Tomga had jumped up and now his hand was on his sword hilt, his eyes fixed on the inspector himself.

The inspector raised his hand, index finger extended, and wandered threateningly through the room with it. ‘I'm not a candidate or a rookie inspector. I can do magic until the sun goes down. That's enough against you, Ibis Filth. Fighting with steel and stick. And that in the city of boundless magic. Give me a reason, Ibis Filth. And we'll save ourselves the trial, the paperwork and the talk.’

Jarefo trembled with rage, his hands clenched so hard that they turned white. But he didn't move.

With a firm step, Tomga stood in front of the man and held out his hand protectively in front of him. ‘You are a mage, not a bad one. But you use magic so recklessly that you simply burn away the life of Diersa? Where is your honour, your wisdom in your gift? Are you not ashamed?! You are a murderer without reason!’

The inspector examined the broad elf and shrugged his shoulders. ‘That sounds like a threat, I'd say. But you look to me like a fresh recruit, one leg should be enough.’ He raised his finger and again a straight bolt of lightning sprang forth, quickly seeking out Tomga's leg.

Everyone in the room jumped back, but the elf did not flinch. Instead, he seized the bolt of lightning in his hand and crumpled it up like a piece of paper with a quick movement. He shook his fingers and only sparks sprang from them. ‘Skilled. Not many throw with such force. But you forget respect and honour. I stood in Daumaje. And I have suffered worse.’

The inspector took a step back, frightened. ‘You... To defy an inspector of the free and beautiful city is...’

Tomga smiled gently and raised her hands in appeasement. ’Let's not overreact, no one else has to suffer here, you understand. Besides, your arm... Weak and still at your side. Two spells and you seem a little tired. But you needn't worry, no one here wants blood...’

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Jarefo struck him over the back of the head and stormed towards the inspector. ‘FOR MY BROTHER!’ The large human kicked with all his might and flung the inspector through the pub door and out into the street, planting the elf in the dirt of the neighbouring alley. Then he turned to Tomga. ‘AND NO ONE TAKES MY REVENGE! NO ONE!’ One of his men quickly threw him a broad axe, and Jarefo swung it in the direction of Tomga in an instant.

The knight was utterly bewildered and stumbled back in confusion, only managing to avoid the impending blow and the loss of his skull by pulling away from Seroin. ‘GET OUT OF HERE! JUST GET OUT OF HERE!’ The young woman pulled the elf towards the back room, just as another Ibis flew smoking into the wall.

The two inspectors were standing hunched in front of the pub windows and the woman threw lightning bolts from her hands into the interior. The other inspector was frantically searching for something in his robe. ‘DETECTOR! LISTEN! SV-134 CALLING! WE REQUEST IMMEDIATE...’ Another bolt of lightning from the female inspector made the other flinch and seek even deeper cover.

‘There's no need for bloodshed, there doesn't have to be...’ Now Tomga had no choice but to draw his sword to block the next blow of the axe. ’Jarefo. Hear me, please! No one else has to die here, no one. The war is over. I take responsibility for everything I did, everything. Give me a way to make amends and I'll choose it!’

‘YOUR HEAD!’ The bearded man swung again, but one of Seroin's crossbow bolts struck him in the upper arm. With a cry of pain, he dropped the weapon and glared angrily at the woman.

She grabbed Tomga and pulled him further away from the entrance. ’They are dead meat! Attacking inspectors means certain death. WE MUST GET OUT OF HERE NOW!’ She dragged herself and Tomga further back, while the Ibis began to defend themselves against the lightning strikes. They threw daggers and shot arrows, but none of the inspectors seemed to be hit. The smell of freshly burnt flesh hung in the air.

‘They don't deserve this! We have to talk, one of the city elders, the king, it must be... it can't be...’

A bright light suddenly shone in front of the tavern, but only for a short breath, then it faded away as it had come. It was accompanied by a short but distinctive drone, as if the whole world had shaken briefly.

Seroin now grasped the elf's neck in a rush. ‘GET AWAY!’

But the elf didn't move, staring at the entrance of the pub like the rest.

A figure about two metres tall walked through the door. Dark blue fabric was wrapped tightly around its body, the clothes were tightened at the arms, legs and torso with dark belts. Hands and feet were encased in black leather and a hood covered their head. Where a face would normally be, this figure wore a mask instead, smooth and made of reflective steel. It was so flat and low that one might wonder where there was room for a nose or even a forehead. No breath could be heard from beneath it.

The figure turned its head once around the room, then the smooth mask remained fixed on Jarefo. A voice, strangely deep, hollow and metallic, emerged from beneath the steel. ‘Attacking an inspector of the city of Badazan is punishable by death. Refrain from any further use of force and surrender to the authority of an inspector for arrest.’

Jarefo remained in place, his gaze showed that he did not know what was in front of him, but a fire burned in his eyes, a fire of belligerence. ‘For almost 110 years I have been waiting for my revenge! On so many out there. Now I have one and I won't give him up, never!’

The cloaked figure took a step forward. ‘Disregarding an announcement from a G.M.E. is equal to resistance against the city of Badazan. The verdict is unequivocal and must be enforced here.’

‘Nobody will...’ An Ibis dared to raise its voice. Immediately, he flew against the wall, his body almost torn in two by the force of the lightning.

The cloaked figure's movement was so swift that it was hardly even noticed. And so it began.

The figure did not hesitate. With outstretched hands, it threw a sea of lightning bolts into the room, each one aimed at one of the Ibis gang.

They barely had time to scream, most of them burning to death on the spot, their last act a short gasp for air before their never-voiced cry of fear. Those spared by the first wave stumbled backwards, only the few dared to counter-attack forward.

And it was precisely these who were targeted directly by the G.M.E. and attacked with such force that they disintegrated into ashes in mid-stride.

‘FOR THE IBIS! A LIFE FREE FROM...’ One of the gang jumped in front of the figure, a broad war hammer in his hands, swung for a deadly blow.

‘Resistance means sharing the verdict and execution.’ With one hand, the figure effortlessly blocked the blow of the hammer, catching the force like a light branch. The other hand rose to the face of the Ibis, whose features were distorted in disbelief before a bolt of lightning burned through his skull. His eyes only popped open briefly, then his whole head was blown apart.

The tall figure in blue raised its hands in a targeted manner against each attacker, and each movement ended with the death of one of the Ibis gang or simply another tavern visitor. If one of them tried to run past the figure, the figure turned and a targeted bolt of lightning landed in the neck of the fleeing person. After a short time, the corpses in front of the tavern's exit increased, a monument to the multitude of failed escapes.

If one of the gang managed to get closer to the figure and raised his weapon, the figure dodged behind him with a speed unnatural for mere mortals. The bewildered attacker blinked twice more, then the G.M.E. raised its hand to the back of its head and turned it into burning ashes.

‘OUT OF HERE!’ Seroin actually managed to drag Tomga into the doorway of the back room.

‘THE GUESTS! ITS BURNING THEM, TOO!’ Tomga clung to the doorframe with all her might. ’Seroin! We have to stop it, here and now, we have to!’

Seroin was about to hurl a tirade of insults at the stubborn elf when Jarefo suddenly emerged from the smoke of the thrown lightning bolts. His broad hands, veins bulging, held his axe. He leaped behind the G.M.E. The blade flew through the air and with a dull hiss, the edge buried itself deep into the back of the blue figure.

It didn't even flinch, but fell forward as if the blow had beaten the life out of its body. After the fall, silence returned instantly. There was no groaning or screaming; no one had survived the attack of the GM. Almost three dozen bodies lay burnt on the tavern floor, some of them just outside the door.

Jarefo was panting, perched over his victim, thick threads of saliva hanging from his beard, his eyes still wet from his previous tears. He looked around the tavern with a self-pitying look on his face; almost all of his men were dead. Then he saw Tomga in the doorframe and a desperate smile conquered his face. ‘No one will take my revenge. No one. I saw her. We all did. Ibini, the very fear itself. And I will beat her into your bones myself!’ With a heavy gait, the man slowly approached Tomga, the axe hanging heavily at his side like a dead arm.

Then there was a dull, hollow sound that reverberated through the room.

Everyone heard it and turned their heads towards the sound at the same time, the only one who was not surprised was Seroin.

The G.M.E. on the ground twitched as if a wave of fresh energy was flowing through his body itself. Then he lay still like a corpse. Another twitch. Again and again a blow tore through the body on the ground.

‘For all ideas and Diersa herself!’ Tomga took a perplexed step forward, but Seroin pulled him back.

‘NOT YET OVER!’

After a mighty twitch, the G.M.E. shot up, straightening its body as it sat, like a living doll. The steely mask looked slowly down at its body and with great composure the black-clad fingers unbuttoned a few buttons on the robe at chest height. In dark red, dry flesh with brittle and partly pale skin, nails as big as carrots lay, all hammered all the way around the heart. There were twelve of them and the most diverse symbols adorned the heads of the nails.

With a slimy hiss, the GMG pulled one of these oversized nails out of his chest, with hardly any blood flowing. The few viscous drops were pitch black. In the sudden silence of the tavern, the dropped nail sounded like a clap of thunder, then the G.M.E slowly rose back to his feet. He calmly closed his robe again. ‘Fer-magic required. Two more uses remaining. Existential threat detected, but avoided. Acute situation is classified as not insignificant. Reinforcements are automatically called.’

Jarefo was cowering in front of the G.M.E., his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked down at his axe, as if something might have gone wrong with its edge. ‘I... what are... at Diersa.’

The G.M.E. took a long step towards him. ‘The entity known as Diersa is being denounced in the free and fair city of Badazan. Comments such as that will be noted in your records.’ He raised his hand patiently and suddenly grabbed Jarefo by the face. ‘Assailant identified! Neutralise!’

The last scream of the big bearded man boomed muffled in the black glove of the G.M.E., then a light flashed and the upper body of Jarefo disintegrated into thin ash while his lower body flew backwards.

The G.M.E. shook the soot off his fingers and looked towards the Tomga. ‘Identify yourself. It is reasonable to assume that you are part of the group known as the Ibis gang.’

The elf was now shaking all over, his eyes widened in disbelief.

Seroin pulled him into the back room with all his might and slammed the door shut. ’The window. Now!’

This time, neither hesitated; both rushed through the quickly opened window and ran along the narrow side street. Between the dense, high walls, they looked like lost souls in the labyrinth of fear itself. Behind them, they could just make out the heavy footsteps of the G.M.E., and then new human voices sounded.

‘More Ibis, I think, but it doesn't matter. Whoever it is, just keep running, keep running. They're buying us time. Just keep running!’ Seroin hurried purposefully down the side streets.

Only Tomga dared to look back.

Again, but this time more distant, the sounds of lightning and the screams of people could be heard.

The elf turned his head away and his pace was driven as if by fear itself.