Death''s Angels

  Looking closer, Rik could see that each had a small collar with a gleaming stone upon its neck. Sorcery controlled the ripjacks. Noticing the massive jet black wyrm emerging through an inner gate of the Palace, Rik knew who was doing the controlling. It looked like Lady Asea was serious about her hunting.

  He took a long breath and settled down, clutching his weapons for reassurance. He had not liked the way the Lady Asea had looked at him at all. It had made him feel as if she was looking right down into the blackest depths of his soul and seeing things there that amused her. He hoped it was not the case, for if she could, she would have found out all about his dealings with Bertragh.

  Briefly Rik wondered if he should go to her and tell her what he knew, in return for a pardon for his acts. Surely one of the First, a Terrarch sorceress would know what to do about the Ultari. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, he suppressed it. There would be no pardon for him and the others. The best he could hope for was a quick death if his role in all of this was found out.

  The bridgeback lurched out of the courtyard and into the square. Ahead of them a crowd of people were gathered to enter the main temple. A few of them turned to stare curiously at the passing soldiers.

  Another thought stole into his mind. The factor and Zarahel would have to die. They knew too much and they must not be allowed to spill that knowledge to the authorities. That would mean the pyre for Rik and his friends as surely as if he had confessed. As soon as he got the chance, he would talk with Weasel and the Barbarian. They would find a way to kill the Prophet and his companion.

  “I tell you I’d shag her,” said the Barbarian, looking meaningfully in the direction of Lady Asea’s wyrm. It was well out in front, following the trail of the ripjacks as they loped towards the mountains.

  “You’re mad,” said Toadface. “One of the First? I would be so scared I could not get it up.”

  “She could make my soldier stand at attention any time,” said the Barbarian and guffawed. He elbowed Rik. “I said, she could make my soldier stand at attention any time.”

  “I heard you the first time,” said Rik. “Better make sure she doesn’t.”

  “Why? From what I heard I would not be the first man she’s ridden.”

  “Bellow it a bit louder, why don’t you?” Rik said. “There’s the slim possibility she might not have heard you that time.”

  “There’s no need to be touchy just because your girl went off with the Lieutenant…”

  “What?” Sergeant Hef asked, turning to look back at them all with his wise monkey eyes.

  “The Lieutenant and some of his brother officers were in Mama Horne’s on Solace night,” said Weasel, sucking his teeth with a certain grim satisfaction. His eyes never left Gunther’s face.

  “The Light will forgive your lies,” said the fanatic. He was obviously still in a charitable mood after his experience in the mines. Rik almost missed the old Gunther who would have been raving and threatening Weasel by now. His forbearance was starting to be more annoying than his former ranting.

  “If that’s true I would keep quiet about it,” said Hef, and the utter seriousness of his tone quietened them all down. “The Exalted have a way of getting even with men who do them down.”

  “Can’t say as I blame him,” said the Barbarian. “Rik’s girl is very pretty.”

  “She’s not my girl,” said Rik.

  “Then why are you moping like dog whose bone’s been took away.”

  “I am not moping.”

  “Whatever you say,” said the Barbarian. He looked back at Lady Asea’s wyrm. “I tell you, I would definitely shag her.”

  Sardec watched the mountains come closer. He was alone on his wyrm and he had plenty of time to think. It was the second time in as many weeks he had been ordered up here among the hill-tribes.

  He looked at Asea’s great black mount. Of all the wyrms, it was the only one that did not show any unease in the presence of the ripjack pack. He guessed it was used to them. Certainly the black-clad servant guiding it showed not the slightest difficulty in keeping the bridgeback under control. The other one stood behind the lady surveying the terrain with a bow in his hand.

  A bow, Sardec thought. Why a bow? Perhaps Asea had some ancient enchanted arrowheads among her gear, he thought sourly. She seemed to have just about everything else. It was amazing that she had on her person so many relics of Al’Terra. Well, she was one of the First.

  He put his spyglass to his eye and studied the pack. He was still annoyed about the way she had unleashed it while he was still in the courtyard. He was sure that had been deliberate, an effort to humiliate him in front of the men that had almost succeeded. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to draw Moonshade when those killers surrounded him. He could still remember their acrid reptilian stench, and the smell of rotten meat coming from their mouths. If her control had been less than perfect, or just one of the ripjacks had gone into killing rage, the whole pack would have fallen on him. He had seen such things happen.

  The leading ripjack had its head bowed over the trail, sniffing. It was the dominant female, the one which the Leash would be attuned to most strongly. The rest of the pack would follow its lead. Even as he watched, they did, spreading out in wide hunting arc, searching for the prey they had been promised.

  After a few moments he found his thoughts going back to the human girl. It embarrassed him but the encounter still carried a huge erotic charge for him. Perhaps when he got back from this mission, he would seek her out again. Or perhaps he would seek out another human wench, maybe two.

  If he got back, whispered a small scared part of his mind.

  They made camp close to their previous site. Rik joined the group of soldiers who watched, amazed, as Lady Asea set up camp. From the luggage on the side of her wyrm, the two servants produced what looked like a short metal pole.

  A word from the sorceress and the pole telescoped upward to half again the height of a man. Moments later filaments shot out from the top and buried themselves in the ground. There was a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow and a tent stood there. Its fabric shimmered oddly, seeming to blend in with the mountainous background, and Rik knew that from a distance it would be very difficult to see.

  As if she has not just performed a wonder, Lady Asea strode off to set the wards around the camp, leaving her strangely robed servants to tranship her gear from the wyrm to the inside of the tent.

  After a discreet nod to Weasel, Rik headed off among the trees like a man looking to have a piss. The former poacher joined him a few minutes later, and they stood watching the stars emerge above the mountains.

  “I know what you are going to say,” said Weasel in a low voice.

  “You do?” Both of them looked around to make sure no one was near.

  “About Bertragh - it would be better for all of us if he was not taken alive. No knowing what he might tell Lady Asea or the Inquisition if he is given a chance.”

  Rik looked at him for a moment, his natural reticence warring with the emotions that threatened to tear him apart.

  “What else is on your mind? You’ve been sulky as a kid all day. It’s not the girl, is it?”

  Rik thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. It’s part of it at least.”

  “Then don’t be so bloody childish. If she likes you, she likes you. If you like her, you like her. The business with the Lieutenant was just that: business.”

  “You think?”

  “She certainly talked enough about you when you were away on your little mission. Maybe if you had stayed, the rest of it would never have happened.”

  “You think?”

  “Practising to be a parrot, are we? There’s only one way to find out what any woman is thinking and it does not involve magic.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ask her.”

  “I’ll think about it but it’s not just that…” Now that they had come to the crunch, Rik felt his reluctance to talk a
bout it return. He saw Weasel was waiting.

  “What else?”

  “It’s the other thing. You think we did wrong with those books, that maybe you could go mad or be swallowed by the shadow just by reading them? Do you think our souls are in peril for what we did?”

  “What am I, Halfbreed, a bloody priest? How should I know?” He tried to make a joke of it, but there was an underlying seriousness to his tone. “Maybe you should have listened to the Barbarian - he told you no good ever came of reading books.”

  “I am starting to think he might be right. Make sure you mention Bertragh to him.”

  “Oh I think that thought may have worked its way even through the armour plate he calls a skull.”

  “He should give it a warm welcome. It’s in a strange place.”

  “Ha-bloody-ha. Come on we’d best get back and grab some grub. At least the weather has improved since our last little jaunt up here.”

  If it had, Rik could not tell. It was just as cold and just as windy. The only improvement he could spot was the lack of intermittent snow. Maybe that was what Weasel meant.

  On his way back Rik was surprised to find Lady Asea looking at him. He shivered and it was not with the cold. What did she want, he wondered? She beckoned to him. He swallowed, tried to keep his guilt off his face, and strode as confidently as he could over to her.

  “Can I help you, Lady?” he asked. She studied him for a while, head tilted to one side. She walked around him. He stood stock still wondering at this sinister inspection. She moved with the gait of a hunting cat. The ripjacks followed at her heel. Suddenly he was sweating. He felt the tension build within him. What did she know? What did she suspect?

  “Who was your father?” she asked.

  “I do not know, Lady.”

  “Your mother?”

  “She died when I was still a baby. I never knew her.”

  She came to a halt just in front of him. He found he had to look up at her face. He saw his own features distorted in the mirror of her liquid metal mask. “You have Terrarch blood.”

  “Many people have told me that, Lady, but I do not know.”

  “I am telling you, boy, and I do know.”

  Rik did not know what to say. He was more shocked than he would have expected. All his life he had wondered about this, but to have it confirmed by one of the First was more than he could have expected. She spoke a word and reached out and touched his brow. He felt the shocking spark of power pass between them. What had she done, he wondered?

  “You have Exalted blood and something more, and yet you are a common soldier. That is a shame.”

  “There is nothing I can do about it, Lady.”

  “One more thing,” she said. “My agents in Redtower have reported certain rumours to me.”

  “Milady?”

  “They concern certain mystical books.”

  It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from flinching. He had been a fool to imagine that they could get away with selling the books without it being noticed. Of course, the Terrarchs had informers everywhere. Of course, word had got out. He steeled himself for the accusation to come.

  “Books, milady?”

  “It seems they were being sold by a group of soldiers. Three soldiers. Would you know anything about that?” What does she know, Rik wondered?

  “Why would I know about such things, milady?” She looked at him and gave a dazzling smile. Rik knew how a bird felt when confronted with a serpent.

  “If you should hear anything about such a thing, please let me know.”

  “Of course, milady.”

  Without another word, she turned and walked away, the ripjack pack following at her heel. Rik stood absolutely still. He felt weak. It was a long time before he could return to his duties.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sardec was surprised when the dark servant arrived with a politely worded request that he join his mistress for conversation. He was even more surprised by the opulence within her tent. The floor was scattered with rugs and the air was filled with the smell of incense. A single tripod-mounted glowstone lit the interior and warmed the cold night air. Lady Asea certainly believed in travelling in comfort.

  She had removed her silver mask. It lay atop a small chest that doubled as a table; for all intents and purposes it was just a plain silver mask once more. He looked at it feeling a touch of awe. It was another link with the mighty magics of the past.

  “Greetings, Prince, and be welcome.”

  “I thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It is as nothing. Please be seated.” He sat cross-legged on one of the small rugs. She sat opposite him. He was immediately aware of her overwhelming predatory beauty, of the sensuality she wielded like a weapon. Surely she was not bringing it fully to bear on him.

  “I see you are admiring my mask. It is another work of art in its way, forged by the smiths of Athaenar in the Mountains of the Mist, in the world we lost.”

  “It’s a pity we also lost the knowledge to make such items,” he said.

  “We are so much less than we were.”

  “You miss the home world. That is understandable…”

  “Alas, it is not a matter of mere sentiment, my Prince, it is something more. We are quite literally diminished. To the First, the lack is like the lack of breath you feel when your dragon flies at great height. We are weaker, our senses are less keen. Magic was so wound up in the fabric of our beings that we are physically less capable than we once were. You grew up here, and so are not aware of this, but I can assure you that once you walked the green woods of Al’Terra you would understand instantly what I am saying…”

  “I regret that I have never had that experience, Lady Asea, nor am I likely to. The way is closed. There can be no return.”

  “Indeed.”

  Sardec has the sudden uncomfortable feeling that this whole conversation had been pre-planned by Lady Asea, that the mask had been placed where it was to draw him into it, that his own reaction had been predicted and planned for.

  For the life of him, he could not see why. Once again he felt suddenly out of his depth with this ageless beauty and her deep knowledge of things he could never begin to appreciate. And doubtless, he thought sourly, that too was part of her plan.

  His ruminations were interrupted by one of her servants. He could not tell which, they were so similar in appearance and bearing. The man bore a bottle of wine. The shape and colour of the bottle marked it as being from the vineyards of the Selari. Since Asea’s clan were famous for their subtly narcotic vintages, he suspected it would prove interesting drinking. He wondered too whether this interruption had been planned. For the first time, he noticed something odd about the servant’s eyes. They reflected the light like a dog’s. Was it possible he was not entirely human, was perhaps some sort of homunculus?

  “I am afraid I have little understanding of sorcery, milady.” He said just to see what the response would be.

  “That is to be expected given your family heritage.” The wine was poured in goblets of crystal. It made his tongue tingle and almost immediately he started to relax. “The Harkes are more famous for their knowledge of dragons than of magic.”

  “Alas, these are not the best of days for dragons either.”

  “This is not the best of worlds for dragons. Like ourselves, dragons are intrinsically magical creatures. That is why they are dying off, or returning to wyrmhood.”

  “Returning to wyrmhood, madam? I thought they were degenerating into it.” He wondered if she was being subtly insulting, knowing that he was of the youngest generation of Terrarchs and must have often heard disparaging comparisons between his contemporaries and their elders.

  “Adaana raised dragons up from wyrms. The lesser breed came first.”

  “That is not what most of the lore-books say.”

  “That is what Adaana told me.”

  Sardec cursed. Of course, she was of the First. She was a famous sorceress even among them.
It was perfectly possible she had spoken with the Dragon Angel in person.

  “That is an unanswerable argument, my Lady, although it is not one that is common knowledge.”

  “A great deal of the truth gets suppressed these days - for political purposes.” Now we come to the meat of it, he thought. He understood what was going on here now. He was being tested to see where his political sympathies lay. He took another sip of the wine and decided to enjoy the process as much as possible. “A great deal of the truth has been suppressed since we came to this world.”

  “I feel sure you are going to provide me with more examples.”

  “I am not sure you will like the one that most instantly springs to mind.”

  “Perhaps I might be the judge of that.”

  “Very well. Dragons, those proud symbols of the Terrarch race, are not the only things she raised up. She raised up our people as well.”

  “This is hardly news, Lady. The Books tell us that.”

  “They do not say what she raised us up from.”

  “Why, our ancestral race, of course.”

  “And what would that be?” she prompted.

  “The Al.”

  “And what exactly were the Al?”

  “I am starting to feel like I did at my first catechism, Lady, but in honour of your beauty and your status among the First I will answer you. They were people very much like us, but lacking the gift of immortality the Dragon Angel gave us.”

  “What if I told you they were people very much like those soldiers out there?”

  He laughed outright, the idea was so fantastic. “You might as well claim we are descended from apes.”

  She smiled back, amused by his response, and then spoke swiftly. “I could claim that too.”

  “You could, Lady, but you won’t. You are far too well-bred and sensible.”

  “It is an interesting experience being patronised by one so young.”

  “I do not mean to patronise you, Lady. I merely assumed…”