Eighty Four: Wights

Dela cowered against the wall. She had never seen so much blood.

The handsome man with the dark hair and cold eyes had let her out of the huge house the back way as if it were a mercy, but she didn't know her way in the quarter and was scared to try. She didn't know where Thorne had gone or if he would send someone back for her. She hoped so. She didn't know what she was going to do if he didn't.

But before that, there had been blood.

She was used to blood; she dealt with dead bodies all the time. She'd seen war wounds, hunting wounds and every other kind in between, but she'd never seen them inflicted, never seen someone's life leaving them in a gouting stream. Worst of all had been the look on the dark-haired man's face – Marick, she thought the Angel had called him – like all that loss of life was nothing to him. It wasn't enjoyment, but he certainly didn't care about the lives he cut down with his blade. It had got worse when more men had arrived and the fighting had begun in earnest.

The lead Angel had run. She didn't know where and didn't much care, as long as he didn't come anywhere near her. He'd seemed spoiled and cruel, and she wasn't much minded to find out what he was capable of, which was fortunate as he'd forgotten all about her.

That left her to sit against the wall of the big house, huddle for warmth, and try not to cry.

She wasn't succeeding at that last one.

She felt filthy, like she'd committed something she would have to atone for. She'd worked with the Devils. She'd broken into a temple. She'd deceived Lady Kerrin and Lin. She didn't deserve to go back to Kiel, but her only other option was to go home, and she couldn't face that either.

Footsteps nearby made her jump. She looked around, huddling tighter. She'd heard rumours about the dead quarter, and what might happen to a girl who wandered into it without an escort. Last time she'd had one. Now she was alone. Terror coursed through her like spilling blood. She squeezed her eyes shut against that image, but it was burned into her mind.

"Why are you sitting in a gutter?"

She looked up. A woman stared down at her, choppy short hair a halo around her face. Her eyes glittered but most of her face was in shadow even in the rising light.

"I...don't know my way out," she whispered, and tears threatened again.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Get up, girl. Nothing says victim like sitting on the ground and sniffling."

She did. When standing, she realised the woman wasn't much taller than she was. Somehow she didn't think that made her any less dangerous.

"Arlen said you might be here," the woman said. "You're the acolyte, aren't you?"

With the guilt swirling in her thoughts, it felt more of an accusation than a question. She nodded, throat tight. She wouldn't cry in front of this woman who disdained it so much.

"I'll take you to the edge of the quarter." She cocked her head. "You don't seem like an acolyte to me."

Another blow. She flinched inwardly and said nothing, staring at the ground between their feet. She just wanted to go back to her pallet and pretend nothing had happened tonight, if she could.

The woman sighed and walked off. Dela followed, assuming she was supposed to but half-expecting to be berated for it any moment. There was still noise inside the house, but it didn't sound like fighting. It sounded more like an argument now. Curtains covered the windows so she couldn't see what was going on, and a small part of her was glad that her morbid curiosity had been foiled. She'd seen more than enough tonight to last her a lifetime of nightmares.

"Mostly posturing," the woman said, somehow following her gaze without turning. "Men. Hurry up, girl, I don't want to miss all the good stuff."

"What will happen now?" Dela asked. She wasn't sure if she expected an answer or not. The woman gave her one anyway.

"Whatever the fuck you want," she said. "You're in charge of your own life."

"What if you don't know what you want?"

The woman turned back to her, raising one delicate eyebrow. "Then pick a direction that appeals and see where it takes you. As for what happens with that," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the mansion they'd left behind, "Nict only knows. Too many questions not answered for anyone to know." She sounded troubled by this.

"Did you always want to work with the Devils?"

The woman laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "I've found my niche. It wasn't my childhood dream, but who gets to achieve those? I just knew I didn't want to be a bed-slave, and at the time those were my options."

Her tone closed. Dela had the good sense not to pry further, even though her curiosity burned in her. Her curiosity had got her in trouble time and time again, and she didn't want to upset a woman who hadn't put her knives away yet.

So she talked about her own dreams instead.

"I always wanted to make a difference," she said. "If I'd stayed with my tribe, I would have been expected to wed by now, and have children until I couldn't anymore, and then when my children were grown I would help them look after theirs. But I didn't want children. I wanted to make people's lives better. People who already lived and needed help. So I ran away in the night without telling anyone I was leaving. I doubt my mother's forgiven me. I don't think she ever will." Her voice cracked. And now Kerrin will find out how deceitful I am and kick me out. "So I joined Kiel. And now I've lied to them as well, and put my friends in danger and committed crimes and I never manage to do what I'm told. And now I don't know if that's right for me, either."

"You think about things too much."

Dela flinched. But what had she expected from blurting out her life story to a Devil? Sympathy? Sage advice? The woman stalked ahead without looking back.

"Seriously. People who think too much are the most miserable." A dark glance over the shoulder. "What do you want? First answer. And don't give me the wishy-washy about helping people again, I'll be sick."

Dela frowned. She did want to help people. It made her feel good. She liked the variation, the different people... "An adventure."

"Adventure," the woman repeated, nodding slowly. "And you thought a temple would give you that?"

"I could be a travelling priest," she protested, though the woman's words made a terrible kind of sense. She would spend much of her time in one place, even as an evangelist. That was what priests did.

"You should ask the witch men for advice," the woman replied.

"I'm not Gifted."

The woman grinned at her. "Or you could ask the Devils."

Dela shook her head almost as instinct. She'd had enough to do with the Devils to last her a lifetime. She didn't have the stomach for it, didn't get any thrill out of it. And that wasn't even accounting for the misery they caused with their 'missions'.

"Talk to the witch men," the woman repeated, and stopped walking. Dela blinked, and realised the street had opened out. They stood at one end of a bridge, and on the other side were the lights of the living city. She looked up at the castle high above them. All seemed normal, and yet the world seemed too still. It took her a moment to pinpoint what was missing; even at night, Shadow's Reach was never still and silent. The noise of the city faded into a background hum that one never noticed until it stopped. It wasn't an effect of the dead quarter; it felt as though something was about to happen. A shiver ran across her skin.

"Is everyone still locked down?" she asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

"Seems like it." The woman seemed unconcerned, and after a moment's pause, motioned at the bridge and turned to leave. "There you go."

"Thank you," Dela said, startled at the abrupt end to their conversation. Then, "I didn't get your name."

"Ashe." She didn't turn to answer, and after a moment disappeared back into the shadows of the quarter, melting into the gloom. Dela watched the place she had disappeared for a moment longer, then stirred herself to action. Luck had got her this far and she was not about to lose that advantage to dawdling. If she hadn't been so exhausted she would have run across the bridge, but all she could manage was a weary trot. Even after she reached the lights of the civilised part of the city, though, she didn't feel safe. The eerie quiet pressed on her like a physical presence. She had been turned around by the unexpected detour to the dead quarter, so she struck off in the vague direction she thought her shelter lay in. She passed no one she could ask directions from, and when she finally knocked on a few doors out of desperation, no one answered. She knew there were people in; lights shone in the windows and on many occasions she saw a curtain twitch out of one corner of her eye. Maybe they thought she had plague.

Disheartened and fearing that she herself might run into one of the plague victims that hadn't yet been rounded up, she forced herself to keep moving, praying she did run into an Unspoken who might know the way or at least take her somewhere she could overnight and recover. She was freezing cold, and hungry, and dehydrated and tired. Before long it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other, and she knew that if she missed one beat she would stop and collapse where she stood. Her gut churned with the stress of the night and she prickled all over like someone watched her every move.

When she finally spotted a building she recognised, she peered at it for several steps until it would come into focus. Her heart lifted. She was in the right area, and though Lin and the priestesses would be absolutely furious with her, she would at least get food and sleep and feel safe again. The reassurance put a spring back into her step as she traversed the last few streets that led towards the shelter, and joy sang through her when she heard voices. Familiar voices. Was that Lin?

She paused. It was Lin – but why did she sound so scared?

She slowed as she reached the last turn and peered around the building. Armour winked at her in the moonlight hanging overhead, and the huddles on the cobbled ground resolved themselves into the kneeling forms of her friends. One priestess still stood, chin up despite the Caelumese blade hovering at her throat.

Kerrin.

Dela held onto the wall as her knees threatened to give out on her. They couldn't kill Kerrin, they just couldn't. But what could she do against so many soldiers except die herself?

Her brain was soupy with exhaustion as she tried to think – it was the only thing that kept the full implications from filtering through. Something that would disperse the Angels without killing her friends... It seemed impossible. Every time she thought she had an idea she had to dismiss it for implausibility, or couldn't make it pull together at all. She wouldn't make it to the castle in time to get help from Harkenn's army, and besides if Angels were here, they'd be there too. Even if she found an Unspoken, one Unspoken against so many wasn't much more use than one acolyte.

A cry echoed across the city, and an idea came to her. It was stupid and reckless and could potentially get them all killed, but she had nothing better.

She dashed back the way she'd come, flinching when she heard Taria scream behind her. Some sort of commotion followed. She passed dozens of windows with curious faces peering out and cursed everyone for cowardice. Kiel did nothing but good work, but once the Caelumese were involved it was all over. She couldn't afford to think of what was happening behind her or she would freeze and be unable to do anything. Now, before the shock registered, that was the time for action. Her father had always taught her brothers how to use fear to fuel a dangerous hunt or win a battle rather than cause paralysis and disaster. He had probably thought she wasn't paying attention, but she was glad of her eavesdropping now. She found reserves of energy she could not access without true fear, and ran.

She found what she wanted a few streets from the shelter. Despite her determination she had been hoping to run into someone who could help her, and who might have a better idea than the madness she had come up with. She had to duck behind a building twice to evade the gaze of Caelumese and counted herself lucky that they seemed too intent on their purpose to investigate even if they had sensed her. No one but the Angels seemed to be out tonight. No one had raised an alarm that she had seen or heard; Harkenn's own troops were conspicuously absent.

So she had no help in dragging the pile of debris she had found into the middle of the street, at a small crossroads where she believed there were no rune nets, last she had checked. It was a poorer region of the quarter, and Kerrin had always cautioned them to stay close to the buildings if they had to come this way. The old panelling she found must have been from a collapsed wagon, left there for whoever wanted it. She found a wheel around the corner from the pile and broke the spokes from it, kicking through the centre and sighing with relief when she found it brittle with age. The iron-banded outer ring defeated her – she let it roll away.

Ah, but to make fire she needed a match. She checked the pockets of her dress. No matches. Of course.

Terror thrilled through her when she heard another scream from the direction of the shelter. Eyes blurring with panicky tears, she set to knocking on doors again. This time one man leaned out of an upper floor window, but refused to throw anything down when he saw the bonfire pile.

"You cracked, lass?" he cried. "You'll bring a Bull down on us and everyone'll blame me for it. Haven't seen a Whisperer all night. It's a death wish." And he slammed the window shut before she could explain that she was trying to save the Head of Kiel's life.

She'd run out of doors to try. She moved to the next street. She was straining not to panic – panic never got anyone anywhere – but she couldn't shake the image that had entered her mind of finding the Lady and her friends strewn across the cobbles like abandoned clothes when she returned, too late to save them. She stifled a sob and almost turned back. If she caused a distraction someone might get away. But before she could take another step, a Wight rounded the corner, followed by three others, penning her in.

They cackled as they approached. She backed up one step, then two, breath turning solid in her throat.

She ran. She didn't hear them pursuing her but she knew they did. She imagined she could smell the rot on their breath, the passage of it across the back of her neck. Though her mad plan had worked in unexpected ways, in practice it seemed even madder. She found strength she didn't know she'd had left and pushed on, wondering how she was managing to keep ahead. Then something moved in her peripheral. One of the pack had circled around and was preparing to pounce on her from a side alley; the side alley she needed to lure them down in order to circle back to the shelter.

Kiel help me, she begged, Varthi preserve me. Somebody, please.

She turned on her heel. The demon seemed temporarily nonplussed by her unexpected direction, and that uncertain step was all she needed to get past it. It snapped at her in passing, and she screamed as she ran, her dress tearing in its teeth and a searing line of pain shooting across her thigh. Was it one of the venomous Wights? She hadn't paid enough attention and she didn't dare look behind her in case she tripped.

A figure appeared in the alley entrance. Dela shrieked a warning as teeth grazed her ankle from behind. A flare of green appeared in response. An Unspoken.

"Thank you, Kiel," she whispered breathlessly, "Glory to Varthi." She raised her voice to a hoarse shout, "Don't kill them!"

"What?" A man's astonished voice. Without thinking she grabbed his arm as she shot past him, feeling a crackle run over her skin as she did so. For a moment she feared he would drag her to a stop but he ran with her. "What in Kiel's name are you on about, girl? They almost had you!"

She didn't have time to be grateful that he had listened. "Caelumese. Kerrin. They're going to kill Kerrin."

She didn't know if he believed her. She didn't much care. Then he said, "At least let me make some space for us."

The Wights had already fallen back at the Unspoken's arrival, and fell back further as he trailed a line of green fire behind them.

"Where?" the Unspoken demanded, but then they rounded the corner.

The scene in front of them was even worse from this viewpoint. Most of the acolytes Dela knew were on their knees in a line on the cobbles, foreheads pressed to the ground. They had dragged patients from their beds and laid them out with their other captives. It was evident that some had died from the shock. There was blood, but Dela couldn't tell whose. The leader of the Caelumese group held Kerrin against his chest now, a blade still at her throat, and shouted at everyone on the ground in heavily accented Common. All this Dela took in in one instant before the Unspoken dragged her to one side and the Wights fell among the Caelumese, snarling and snapping. Screams rang through the air. Feathers flew. Metal clanging and Caelumese curses accompanied the rumble of retreating footsteps and demon cries.

"Disabled the net," the Unspoken said. "Go and get everyone back inside the building."

"Kerrin..."

"I'll deal with that."

She didn't question it. She hurried towards the figures on the ground, most kneeling now to stare in horror at the carnage.

"Back inside the building!" Dela yelled, plucking at tunics as she passed to grab their attention. "If you can do it swiftly, carry those who can't walk. Move, move now!"

If there was one thing Kelian acolytes were taught from the day they donned a robe, it was how to work under crisis conditions. They had spent the whole season doing it. Taria, Kell and some of the older girls leapt to their feet. The younger ones needed more jostling, but went. With the clash and cry of demons and Angels echoing behind them, the girls of the Kiel temple worked with well-oiled efficiency, dragging patients they could not carry, chivvying stunned civilians along with the sharpness of mother hens. Dela scanned the gaggle for Lin and didn't find her. Behind them, the Unspoken kept them protected with a line of runes that glowed faintly on the cobbles.

"She's inside already," Lucine said to her as she hurried past with an armful of blankets. "She tried to bite a soldier's nose when he grabbed her and got hit over the head."

That sounded just like Lin. "She's alive though?"

"She was last I checked. Can you help me move this girl? She's got broken ribs."

Dela set her concern firmly aside and found her centre, much more easily now she was in a familiar setting. She knew how to do this. She worked alongside her friends for what felt like an interminable time. The ground floor of the shelter was soon packed with the sick, the dying and acolytes who had simply collapsed. Dela hurried back out for the last of them and found the Unspoken helping Kerrin back towards the shelter. Blood had soaked the collar of her practical work shirt and her face was wan. Still she managed to smile at Dela.

"Take her inside. She's bleeding from a deep cut on her leg, I think," the Unspoken said. Taria came up and took one of Kerrin's arms, and Dela took the other. As they helped her limp back inside and settled her on one of the last available stools, the Lady resisted them.

"I have to help," she said hoarsely. Dela pushed her back down, not gently.

"He was about to kill you, my Lady. You're bleeding badly. Respectfully, you need more help than you can give right now."

Kerrin appeared to struggle to focus on her. "There were so many. I thought they had come to kill my girls." For the first time ever, Dela saw the Lady's eyes fill with tears. "I've never been so terrified in my life. You all mean the world to me." A vague frown followed. "Dela, you're bleeding."

Kerrin looked at her bloody palm, and Dela looked down to find that the cut dealt her by the Wight had soaked her dress. She felt dizzy just looked at it. It was miracle she was still on her feet.

"It was a Wight," she said. Now she had had her attention drawn to it, she felt faint. "I have to ask the Unspoken if they were venomous..."

She staggered. Strong arms caught and steadied her from behind.

"They were Bone Wights," the Unspoken's voice said, "You're not going to die from venom. But you do need to staunch that bleeding. You shouldn't have been working so hard with a wound like that."

They lay her down next to Lin's pallet. The room had started to swim, but even through the haze Dela saw the pad of gauze around her friend's head and the blood that had spotted through. Then the blessed rise and fall of her chest. Someone knelt down beside Dela and matter-of-factly stripped off her dress. A muttered curse. Kerrin's voice came from somewhere nearby, indistinct. How much of this feeling of unreality was exhaustion, and how much was blood loss?

You think too much. Ashe's words came back to her. She smiled, faintly. She reached across and grasped Lin's limp hand. She was quite content not to think at all for a while.

"Torian," someone said, as if from a great distance. Maybe Kerrin? "Torian, I think you need to see this."

The Unspoken's voice was even more distant. "...reserved, as far it usually goes. She'll wake up sore, if she can feel it through those wounds...." He drifted out again. And just before darkness claimed her completely, she heard, "...and perhaps I will take her on myself."

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)