The Dead Gods Read online

  The Grand Mage sighed and stood up. He looked over the bay with a faraway look in his eyes, as if trying to peer far beyond the horizon toward the northeast. “Indeed it did, Braebec, indeed it did, and it troubles me greatly. I have meditated long hours, trying to discern the omen of the flaring flame, and the shattering of Grenteel in our order’s inner sanctum. I have calculated in my mind, and the two events, the omen and the subject of this tale, happened at the same time, I believe. Whilst mounting a counter-attack on the Holms, small islands in the Cheama that were occupied by Acaross, Broud sent a unit under a Commander Kaziviere into the Great Northern Marsh, seeking a suspected enemy base there.”

  “Kaziviere? Kaziviere?” mused Braebec, “Ah yes, Commander Rendroc Kaziviere of the 14th Foot. His family has estates and mines in southwest Cyria….” Braebec stopped, puzzled. “But the 14th are back from the north, they’re camped outside the city.”

  “Your knowledge of the great houses of Cyria is without equal, Braebec!” the Grand Mage said, chuckling. His humour slowly subsided back into seriousness and he turned to look directly at Braebec. “But he had remained in the north, all the same, commanding a new unit based out of Northport. Apparently Kaziviere was instrumental in exposing the treachery of the dominar, and had Broud’s full confidence. His unit found the base, overcame the defenders and destroyed it. During the attack they fought an undead one.”

  “God’s Fire!” Braebec said. He nervously ran his hands through his hair, moving it away from his face. He noticed the silver strands in the sun, and also that his hands shook slightly. “How did they manage to defeat it?”

  The Grand Mage sat down. “Alas, the report leaves out that part. But the worst is that the foul creature guarded a stonehouse….”

  Braebec sucked in air suddenly, but biting his lip, said nothing.

  “Kaziviere and others entered the stonehouse.” The Grand Mage spoke quietly. “From the description I can only surmise that they met the Messiah of Shadows himself.”

  “He still walks the earth, then,” Braebec said sadly. In my heart I knew it was so… I knew we hadn’t done enough. Braebec’s thoughts drifted to another time and a dreadful encounter.

  “Yes, my friend, I am sorry,” the Grand Mage said, seeing the pain in his companion’s eyes. “From what I understand, Kaziviere himself threw the monster into the vortex, and both he and it disappeared from further knowledge.”

  “Kaziviere did? But there must have been some other magic at play here? A mortal man doesn’t just defeat the Lord of Shadows!” Braebec said incredulously.

  The Grand Mage nodded. “Those were exactly my thoughts, my friend. The truth of General Broud’s message is what is left unsaid, I surmise.” He looked deep into Braebec’s eyes and tutted to himself, reluctant to ask of the inquisitor what he had to. “Braebec, you of all of us in the guild, have earned a life of peace and quiet contemplation, but I need your investigative and exorcist skills again. I am sorry.”

  Braebec shook his head. “What I have earned is due to the Fire God’s grace, the light in the dark place, the outcaster of shadows … You wish me to go north to the Cheama and investigate?”

  The Grand Mage smiled. “Yes, Braebec. Perhaps go to the encampments first and ask the current commander of the 14th of the manner of Kaziviere and why he remained in the north. I will assign you a squad of flame inquisitors as bodyguard and enforcement for your journey to Northport.”

  Braebec Conziva stood up. “No need, Grand Mage. I work better alone in dark places.” Braebec shivered again slightly and gave a look to the Grand Mage. The Grand Mage nodded sadly, understanding his meaning.

  Braebec continued, “Besides … I do not wish to intimidate the saviours of the Northern Holdings or the people there. I will head north as soon as I may. What is the will of the Senate regarding Northport?”

  “They will decide by sunset today. I am due to consult with them later; I have withheld my words about the shadows,” the Grand Mage said, standing up and facing Braebec. “I agree with you about not wishing to rock the boat unduly. Some will want to send another dominar to Northport, no doubt some relation of a senator, eager to grab more power and influence for his house. But I will argue, quite convincingly I think,” the Grand Mage said, smiling knowingly, “that Broud should remain acting dominar during this ensuing war with Acaross, to ensure the continuing loyalty of the Northern Holdings and the troops stationed there. Word of their victory can only inspire the northern muster, now training and preparing here in Cyria. Broud will need a new alchemist for Northport, so you will have company for the voyage north at least. I will leave the choice to you. We will say that you are escorting him to Northport to instruct him and help him settle in. You will have papers and seals giving you free passage across the Empire. I hope that all can be achieved quickly in a visit to Northport, but ….”

  “I understand, Grand Mage.” Braebec sighed. “I will have to investigate the stonehouse in the Great Marsh, at least. I will visit the 14th today and return to the seminary this evening. If I may, I would suggest the young alchemist Morcan Tavili. He is skilled in alchemy and is a fast learner of our craft. Such a posting would suit him I think … and I trust him.”

  “Very good, Braebec, I will summon him and give him instruction.” The Grand Mage paused. “I should ask on behalf of the Lord of Keys and Books that you bring back the stolen parchments if possible.” He reached out and took Braebec’s forearm, and they clasped each other in a sign of comradeship.

  “Absolutely, of course I will,” Braebec said. “Depending, of course, upon where my investigations lead. I will endeavour to report to you when I may. In my absence please look after—”

  The Grand Mage held up his palms. “Of course, Braebec, consider it done. I will visit Dendec’s cell daily as you have done. Is there any improvement?”

  “Alas, no,” Braebec said, as the wind blew the long silver strands into his eyes. He swept his hair back in frustration. “He still babbles to himself and eats insects when he can. Sometimes I wonder if he even recognises me.”

  “Not recognise the man who saved him from the dark place, and brought him back into the sunlight? I’m sure he knows and recognises you, Braebec,” the Grand Master said, trying to convince himself as much as his companion. “Besides, how could he not know his own brother?”

  ***

  Tamzine Claypit coughed and spat over the ship’s side. Her spittle quickly disappeared in the foaming spray of the waves that churned about the sloop, this sloop called the Raven. She breathed deeply, and stood up straight. She released her long blonde hair from her fist, kept far from her face as the waves of nausea had made her retch over the side of the vessel.

  It had been a fast crossing, much to Tamzine’s relief; she had dreaded experiencing the nausea of seasickness again as they had departed Northport. She had suffered terribly, as had many on the cramped troop ships during the campaign around the Talons over a month ago.

  A steady westerly wind had driven the Raven before it. She was the fastest sailing ship on the Cheama according to her skipper, Captain Sendel, and she should be allowed to run with the wind while she might.

  The sails snapped, and the rigging of the sloop thrummed as they hungrily grabbed the wind. Her timbers creaked and settled as she ploughed through the winter waves, their tops flecked with white foam. ‘The Raven’s Song’, was how Captain Sendel lovingly described it. He understood every creak and vibration he felt through her timbers and ropes, as if the ship spoke to him in a secret language, or she and her captain were somehow one and the same: a fusion of flesh, rope and wood.

  Tamzine felt the spray of the Cheama in her face. At last the sickness had passed, the sun was now sinking and the sea air made her feel tired; she needed water.

  “Feeling better, Razoress?” Captain Sendel asked, walking effortlessly with the rolling of the ship’s deck.

  Tamzine smiled, despite her previous nausea. She was gradually getting used to her new name, earned
at the Battle of Broadholm while serving in General Broud’s bodyguard. Captain Sendel had an easy manner; he ran a well-organised ship, but it was not as formal as the troop carrier she had shared with General Broud and his retinue.

  “Better, Captain, although I don’t think I will ever get used to sea crossings,” she said as she opened the water gourd she carried. She took a gulp, swilling it around her mouth before spitting it over the side.

  Captain Sendel smiled. “If you face a sea crossing in the future, chew some fennel seeds, for they can help with the nausea.” Sendel stopped, sniffed the air and looked westward, at the sky behind the ship’s stern. He turned back to address Tamzine: “You will be pleased to know that the seas will be calmer tomorrow, and you can tell your companions that we will be at the Chemanite coast by morning. If Mother Cheama and Father Sky are good, my sweet Raven will be docked at Keanasa by nightfall.” He patted the smooth timbers of the ship’s sides lovingly as he mentioned her name. As if in answer, the ship creaked and her ropes hummed. Sendel listened and understood as his ship spoke to him. “Now, if you will excuse me, Razoress?” he said, and went to find his white bewhiskered first mate, Culdur, to direct the crew to make the slight alterations to the sails and rigging that the Raven had asked for.

  Tamzine took a gulp of water and this time swallowed. She felt no urge to bring it back up. Satisfied, she went to the hatchway and carefully went down the steps to the berth deck below. From the beams above her head lanterns swung, giving a low glow, and it took a short time for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Either side, sailors on rest before the night’s watch either played dice or slept in their swinging hammocks.

  She was aware of lustful eyes looking at her in the dark. The eyes dropped or turned away quickly when she glanced their way; her fearsome reputation with her twin falcatas was well known. She made her way to where her companions were quartered, avoiding the swinging lanterns that threatened to hit her head as the Raven was blown along through the churning waves.

  Beneath a dim lamp’s overspill sat Tuan Blackstone, the wielder of the Sun Shard. As ever, the crystal of power hung around his neck, hidden under his tunic. Hidden from prying eyes, only a handful of trusted people were aware of its existence. Called to the Imperial banners during the muster last year, life had changed forever for the young fair-haired Gewichas warrior. He and his comrade in arms, Bronic, had been assigned to an Imperial force hunting for a Flint Father priest who had crossed the great mountains and come south into the Summerlands.

  A skilled hunter, Tuan had tracked down the Flint Father, Kress Startooth, little realising that the Flint Father had all the time been seeking him, to bestow him with the Sun Shard. Through visions of the past, Kress had taught Tuan their mutual history and the power of the Sun Shard. The passing of power had called for the death of Kress Startooth. Tuan was now known to the Flint Father Elder Circle as ‘the Bloodshadow’, their eyes and ears south of the mountainous barrier. The mountains were like a wall; the northern lands beyond them both a haven and a prison to the exiled Flint folk.

  Beside Tuan sat the mute giant Bronic, the Turanesci Red Rage warrior. He was leaning against the bulkhead of the ship, looking bored. There were only so many times he could sharpen his sword and axe, or oil and maintain his matchlock musket. Tuan had stopped him from getting into fights with the Raven‘s crew, much to Bronic’s disgust. He had even taken to keeping his ruddy brown hair and beard trimmed to pass the time. He must be bored! Tamzine thought in amusement.

  Sitting cross-legged beside them was the Flint Father called Klesh, younger brother of Kress Startooth. His mind and body bore the mutilations and scars of years of captivity: kept as a dog by the cruel Lord Sheerak of Acaross, he had been given refuge by Tuan and Bronic’s commander and Tamzine’s lover, Kaziviere, during the action against the Acaross incursion at the Talons delta.

  The Flint Father looked up and smiled at Tamzine as she sat down with her companions and took another swig of water. His eyes shone bright under his heavy brow ridges.

  “Girl with swords!” Klesh said in greeting. He spoke haltingly in the common tongue. For years he had been denied any conversation; consequently he spoke in a very matter of fact way. “You done retching?” he asked, in all innocence.

  Tuan and Bronic laughed as Tamzine suddenly stopped in the process of swallowing her mouthful of water, and reminded suddenly of her previous sickness, she once again felt a wave of nausea.

  Klesh looked confused at his companions, not understanding the joke. Tamzine forced the mouthful of water down and smiled. “Ignore these two, Klesh. Yes, I am much better, thank you.”

  Tamzine grasped one of her falcatas and drew it. She took out a whetstone, and began sharpening the wickedly inward-curved blade in long, deliberate strokes. “Captain Sendel says we should be ashore on the Chemanite coast by tomorrow’s nightfall,” she said, not looking up from her work.

  “At last,” Tuan said. “You hear that Bronic? We’ll be ashore tomorrow night; your enforced boredom is almost at an end!”

  The mute giant smiled. Using the Sun Shard, Tuan was able to hear Bronic’s thoughts when he wished him to, but lately he had been trying to speak. He made strange, guttural noises in his tongueless mouth. Tuan nodded; he understood what his friend said, although Tamzine and Klesh looked on, puzzled.

  “Yes of course, Bronic. We will find an alehouse and spend our first night ashore in comfort,” Tuan said.

  Their conversation was interrupted by loud laughter from across the berth deck. Some sailors, just off duty, were playing dice and drinking wine. Tuan saw that two of them kept looking over at their party; they seemed to be finding amusement at his and his companions’ expense. He chose to ignore them. He grabbed his canvas knapsack and rummaged inside. He smiled as his fingers found what he felt for.

  “Here we are.” He brought out rolled papers tied together with fine cord. He unfastened the binding and opened up the roll. It contained four papers bearing a wax seal. “General Broud gave me these before we left Northport; we have one each. They are official documents giving us free passage across Imperial territory. You have one as well, Klesh; little did you know when you offered your services to Commander Kaziviere that you had unwittingly signed up to the banners like the rest of us.”

  Bronic chuckled, while Klesh scowled. “I serve no Emperor. But I will help find your Commander Kaziviere, and kill the shadow if I can. My life I owe to Kaziviere and your brother, Sword Girl,” he said solemnly.

  Tamzine’s face dropped to sadness, remembering her brother, Jonas. “Tell me of his death again?” she asked softly.

  “It was outside the house of shadows, at the Acaross base in the marshes. Lord Sheerak—” Klesh’s body shook on mentioning his former master’s name. “—was crushing my life away. He held me in the air, his hands around my throat. I would surely have died; cruel Sheerak was now no longer a man. My blade plunged into his heart but he bled only shadows, and die he did not. Your brother came, bravely swinging his sword, offering the evil one battle. He saved my life but only at the loss of his … I will repay my debt to your family, Sword Girl. I, Klesh, swear it so.”

  Klesh shook still, and his head began to rock back and forth. Tuan placed his hand on the Flint Father’s shoulder. “Be at peace, Klesh, he is dead, I’m sure of it. Bronic carved him to pieces and I commanded the Salamanders to consume him. He is nothing but Marsh Dragon turd now.”

  Klesh tried to smile, but the mental wounds inflicted upon him by Sheerak were deeper than the scars he bore on his flesh. He drew his cloak around him and withdrew to the shadows, sitting and leaning against the ship’s side. He looked at the stumps amid his fingers, recalling each mutilation he had suffered. Sheerak the man or Sheerak the undead creature; each was a monster in Klesh’s mind.

  There was loud laughter from the drunken, noisy sailors across the deck. Tuan felt Bronic tense beside him, and the big Turanesci looked at him. Tuan shook his head, which seemed to irritate the mute gia
nt all the more. He sat back looking at his hands, cracking his knuckles.

  Tamzine looked over her shoulder in annoyance at the group across the deck, and then turned back to Tuan.

  “So this Sheerak creature was guarding the … this… Stonehouse?” she asked quietly.

  Tuan replied as loudly as he dared, striving to be heard above the drunken rabble opposite. The shadows seemed to draw closer around them as if they were a living thing. “Yes. He had been given life by the abomination inside. When Klesh escaped from Sheerak, his tormentor had been dying from wounds infected with marsh fever. The restored Sheerak was but a mockery of the foul immortal creature that dwelt within that house of shadows. It was powerful. It would have taken me, Tamzine, it would have consumed my soul and taken my power for itself. I couldn’t resist its foul magic in that room. All I saw were shadows in my mind ….”

  Tuan rubbed his forehead, as if trying to remove the memory. “The blackness consumed and extinguished the light of the Sun Shard. The Shadow Lord was leading me into a swirling gateway. I would have gone, too, if it hadn’t been for Commander Kaziviere. I don’t know how he did it, but he broke the spell of fear - both over himself and the rest of us - and pushed the monster into the portal. Kaziviere and the creature disappeared through it, and we were left in an empty room. He spoke your name, Tamzine; it was the last word we heard from his lips, and then he was gone.”

  Tamzine smiled, remembering not Commander Kaziviere, but her lover, Rendroc Kaziviere. “I will find him. Even if I must cross the whole world, I will find him.”

  “We will all find him, Tamzine,” Tuan replied. “And perhaps then we can understand these stonehouses and slay that foulness that resides in them.”

  They were interrupted by the appearance of a large Taleeli sailor, emerging out of the shadows opposite. His breath reeked of wine and his visage exuded menace. Behind him, his companions followed, eager for the amusement of the baiting about to unfold, now their game of dice was over. The big sailor looked at Tamzine lustfully.