The Veil Page 42

  I turned away from the ceremonial platform and didn’t look back.

  *

  I knocked on the door to I’orin’s bridge.

  “Enter,” came a voice from inside.

  The door slid open and I stepped past two saluting Lightwardens into a room resembling a Star Trek Starship. The bridge interior was hexagonal shaped and ultra-modern, the outer ring filled with computer panels that whirred and flashed in an array of colours. An inner horseshoe-shaped console contained all manner of equipment, including a sweeping radar screen, which emitted a high-pitched beep as it used some kind of echolocation to keep track of the ship’s position. All of the crew dotted around the bridge were sitting on chairs formed from small pools of Lunafell water. A central seat – made from luxurious leather – was positioned in front of a sleek pole-mounted monitor. Captain Garrat was leaning forward on the chair, studying the monitor screen, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

  “You requested to see me,” I said, stepping further into the room.

  It took Captain Garret a while to pull his attention away from the screen. When he did, he gave a friendly smile and then stood up, walking over to me. “I know that time is sensitive for both of us, so I will keep this brief,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  He cleared his throat. “Concavious is where we will part ways.”

  My mouth fell open. “What?”

  “When we reach the Submerged Freeport, I’m afraid that you and your friends are on your own.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You can’t do this. We have a deal with Highwarden Caria!” The Lightwarden crew looked over at us, but after a glare from their superior quickly returned their attention to whatever work they were doing.

  The captain took a deep breath. “I am afraid that this command comes from the Highwarden himself. As I am sure you are aware, Hades’ forces are pushing down across Idisa from the north, and heading – among other places – to the city of Fenodara. The Highwarden needs as many of his men and fleet at his disposal as possible. My instructions were to abort the mission and return home if at any point our numbers fell to less than half. This was not unexpected – we knew it was likely that we would lose some of our forces, after all this is a dangerous route – but he, and I had hoped that we would have at least managed to get you to Yornheim before we had to retreat.” The Captain gestured out of the window down towards the section of deck where the ceremony had taken place. “However, after last night’s devastating clash with that Hydra Queen, I have had to make the difficult decision to abort early.”

  “Don’t abandon us,” I pleaded, stepping forward. “Please. We need your help to get to Yornheim.”

  The Captain shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “We are not abandoning you as such. We simply cannot be the ride that takes you to your destination. However, we were prepared for this situation. Highwarden Caria had us fill bags with the Old Money, which you can use to charter a fleet from Concavious mercenaries. You will still get to Yornheim, it might just be slightly later than anticipated.”

  Time is the one thing that isn’t on our side.

  “But we are all Chosen,” I insisted. “We know next to nothing about Pandemonian customs, not to mention the rules of Concavious. The whole point was that you or one of your men could do the hiring for us, people who know how it is supposed to work. I don’t think the citizens of Concavious are just going to accept four Chosen waltzing into their city and demanding a ride to Yornheim.”

  “You would be surprised. Concavious is a city that holds alliances to no-one.” Captain Garrat pulled a black, silk bag from his pocket and shook out a square gold coin onto his hand. He clasped it between finger and thumb and held it up for me to see. “In the Freeport, this does the talking for you.” He put the coin back into the bag and then handed it over to me. The coins were light, but the bag felt heavy through the weight of its ramifications. We’re on our own. I’d always known it was going to happen at some point, but the thought still filled me with panic. “We will provide you with more of these coin bags. More than you will need to convince any mercenaries to help you.”

  “This is your ship,” I carried on regardless, desperate to make him change his mind. “You could just take us the rest of the way and say you lost the men on the way back. The Highwarden doesn’t need to know.” I stared into his eyes, trying to find a point of compassion.

  The captain gestured down at a run of consoles that were completely silent, their screens as black as night. “I’orin took a hard blow last night, Guardian Eden. She is running at only sixty-eight percent efficiency. If we fell into more trouble, it is unlikely any of us would make it out alive.”

  I placed a hand to my chest. “I’ll protect the ship. You know I can. You’ve seen first-hand what I am capable of.”

  “Nobody is doubting your capabilities. If we did, then you wouldn’t have even come this far with our aid.” The captain folded his arms behind his back, sweeping against the ceremonial robes as he did. “If I am being completely honest, in the aftermath of the Hydra attack, I did contemplate doing exactly what you requested, to simply push forward and try our best to get you to Yornheim. However, I could not reconcile the appearance of Cetus in my mind. That is what finally convinced me to turn back.”

  His words made no sense to me. “I-I don’t know what you mean. Surely the appearance of Cetus is a good thing?” I could hear my voice rising, but I didn’t care. “Surely one of your own gods making itself known to you can only mean that you are doing the right thing?”

  Captain Garrat raised a hand. “No it does not. The Divine Elementals do not concern themselves with the dealings of the lowly mortal. It is a rarity that any of them even make themselves known, and from what I have learned, Cetus is the second one of our gods you have interacted with.”

  “But the fact that they notice me means that I must be important to them!”

  “And that is exactly what troubles me. When Cetus appeared to us, it didn’t seek to communicate with you. What it did was scare away the Hydra Queen so that you couldn’t kill it. I don’t believe it was protecting us, I believe it was protecting the Hydra from you.”

  It was then that I remembered the second vision that Cetus had shown me, one where I and the other Guardians died in the rough waters surrounding a sinking I’orin. Was this what it was planning all along? Did it know that this would happen…of course it did, the Elementals are omniscient. I didn’t know what to think, so I just continued on with my side of the argument, seeing how it played out. “But the Hydra attacked us,” I said. “Why would Cetus protect the one who did the attacking?”

  “For the same reason that I already spoke to Highwarden Caria several hours ago and confirmed the orders to return home once we reach Concavious. The reason why The Sorrow chose you as its target, and why Hades and his Highwardens have made you a central target. The reason why some of the Elementals appear to be trying to control your actions, and finally why anyone who comes close to you is putting their lives in dire jeopardy.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you are dangerous.”

  30

  Gabriella

  Thousands of faces stared at us. Thousands of eyes shimmering with an almost crazed level of bloodlust. Thousands of different species united through the single desire to be entertained by death.

  Dizziness tossed my mind around and I had to fight a powerful urge to pass out as I stared up at the sinister knight, her orange-veined armour glinting like cooling magma in the oppressive glare of the twin suns. I can’t believe that I allowed myself to be tricked, that I was so desperate that I actually allowed myself to trust that disgusting Physicker.

  Troy had dropped the weapon he was carrying and fallen to his knees in the rusty sand. He stared down at his hands, which dripped dark blood to the ground in steady beats. I ran over and flung my arms around him, my gratitude at seeing a familiar face outweighing the nightmare situation that we’d found ourselves
in.

  “Troy, are you okay?”

  The Guardian didn’t respond to my embrace or my words. He just kept staring down at his bloodied hands, his huge chest heaving up and down as he struggled to hold himself together. Our captors had really gone to work on him. He had stitched slits at the corners of his mouth and half of his left ear had been carved away. In addition, his nose was an almost unrecognisable pile of cartilage that spread across his face and gave him black eyes.

  Mio dio, what the hell have these monsters done to him?

  “I thought I’d made it out. I thought he was helping me,” he whispered to himself.

  Grey ran over to us. His face was still an absolute mess, but he looked far better than when I’d seen him on the stretcher. We wrapped our arms around each other and I could feel him tremble as he fought back tears. “I wasn’t going to abandon you both, Huntmaster. I was going to get help…I thought,” he croaked, his voice muffled by his facial injuries, and – I noticed as I pulled away and saw the dark marks across his throat – the results of brutal strangulation.

  “I know you wouldn’t have abandoned us Grey,” I whispered. “None of us would.”

  “I just had to get out…”

  “I know.”

  “I thought I’d made it,” repeated Troy, still in shock.

  I glanced at Grey. “Help me get him up.”

  Grey nodded and together we heaved against the shell-shocked giant, dragging him to his feet. The crowd remained completely silent as we huddled together, and all that could be heard was the harsh whistle of the wind and the flapping of Lilith’s burned cloak. That was until the knight started clapping – a slow, steady sound that was full of mockery.

  “Such a beautiful and touching reunion,” she said in her hoarse, disjointed voice. “It is almost enough to make me cry, although it is somewhat difficult to shed tears without tear ducts.” Her macabre comment earned a patter of forced laughter from the crowd. She placed her hands down on the balcony balustrade and stared down at us. “Guardians, you have ended up here whilst trying to escape this place, and in doing so you each killed a number of Pitguards.” She gestured around to the crowd. “How do we feel about that, Populace?” The crowd booed theatrically as Lilith wagged a finger from side to side, as if she were a mother chastising her naughty children. “It seems they think you did something quite despicable,” she said once the spectators had settled.

  “You didn’t give us a choice!” shouted Grey, his voice thundering over the quiet.

  “Didn’t I?” Lilith cocked her head as if trying to remember. “The way I see it, you had a number of choices. I merely provided you with an opportunity and a challenge. The opportunity being the chance to escape, as well as the means to do so, and the challenge being to accomplish it without the support of your friends. The rest was up to you. You could have gone your own path. You could have trusted those brilliant Chosen instincts and made it out quietly. Instead, all three of without fail decided to kill for revenge rather than be discrete, and it was you who decided to mistrust your own instincts and instead rely on the directions of someone whom you had no reason to trust.” She gave a dark laugh. “If this were a test, you would have all scored very poorly.”

  I stared up at Lilith, feeling more hatred than I had felt for anyone in a long time. Not simply because she was the composer of all the pain and suffering that we had endured, or that it was she who had taken us from those we cared about, but mainly because she was right.

  I was so desperate to escape I didn’t think things through. I rushed and made poor decisions. If I’d have done things differently, I might have made it out… The realisation was sickening.

  “Now you have done wrong against us, and deserve to be punished,” she said, earning a cheer from the crowd.

  “You kidnapped us and tortured us. It’s you who deserves to be punished you crazy bitch!” screamed Troy as he suddenly came to life, his face bright red with anger, spittle flecking from between his lips.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Troy, it’s pointless. She’s going to do what she wants, regardless of what you say.”

  As I anticipated, Lilith ignored Troy’s comment as if he hadn’t spoken. She leaned forward again, and it felt like she was staring right into my soul. “I will be departing this evening, as there are others who require my attention. But before I go, I thought it would be fun to take in a show. Your punishment will be my show, Guardians.”

  Lilith turned abruptly, her scorched cloak fanning out behind her, and walked back towards a set of four throne-like chairs under a stone awning, protected by half a dozen of the mouthless guards. She settled into a chair adjacent to the grandest one and then raised a hand, coiling it into a fist.

  A group of nearby guards reacted by pulling down on a network of chains, and the large doors at the opposite end of the arena started to crank open. “Troy are you back with us?” I said over my shoulder, as I clutched the Pitguard’s blade tightly in my hand.

  “Oh, I’m here,” he barked between gritted teeth.

  “Don’t give up no matter what,” I said. “Whatever comes through those doors, we handle it as a team.”

  “You got it,” breathed Grey, his knuckles tight around his own blade.

  “One hundred percent,” said Troy, raising his scimitar.

  My heart was pounding so hard as the doors winched open, I felt like it was going to explode at any given moment. The vast hinges of the doors gave a final screech and then thumped into the side of the arena, sending up plumes of the red sand. When the clouds settled, I narrowed my eyes and grounded my stance, preparing for whatever nightmare creatures the insane Lilith would have imagined up for us to fight.

  The terrified faces of five prisoners stared back at us.

  *

  What I was seeing took me by complete surprise. I’d expected to see hoards of highly trained warriors, or a tortured creature dragged from a cave in some dark corner of Pandemonia. Instead we were looking at three Elves, a Pixie and a Dwarf, dressed in mismatching and badly fitting pieces of armour, clutching swords and daggers with trembling hands, and looking scared as hell.

  Good god, they’re prisoners just like us.

  The new arrivals stood in a group, none of them daring to approach first. The Pixie was female, her blonde hair knotted with grime and patches of blood. She had been crying recently, the tears leaving track marks in her dirty face. She stared up at Lilith, as if searching for some kind of answer.

  “You want your promised freedom, Luminar?” said the Scorched Knight from her seat. She leaned forward. “Then fight for it!”

  The prisoners gave cries of anguish, and I realised that they had been tricked too. Probably promised their freedom beyond those doors.

  “Fight or die!” said Lilith.

  The five Luminars looked around at each other, and then started to shift forward, one tiny footstep at a time.

  “We can’t fight them!” said Troy, lowering his scimitar.

  “I don’t think we’re going to have much of a choice!” replied Grey.

  The prisoners were edging towards us, their faces strained with fear and apprehension. The fifty yards between our groups felt like a chasm that was slowly drawing together.

  Some of the Populace started to boo and hiss in response to the slow-moving fight. In response, Lilith gestured towards one of her silent guards. He detached a black rifle from his side and shot one of the Elves in the arm, sending him staggering backwards and howling in pain. The same guard swung his gun around and unleashed a bullet towards Troy. I grabbed the hunter and yanked him to the side. The bullet thundered into the ground where he had stood moments before.

  “Fight or die!” repeated Lilith, shouting in her tortured voice.

  The guard let out a spray of bullets behind the prisoners as a final incentive and then they all ran forward towards us, weapons raised and shouting.

  “Don’t kill them!” I shouted at Grey and Troy.

  We all cast ou
r blades down to the ground and ran forward. I met the Dwarf first, who swiped out with his sword. Pivoting around him, I slammed a boot into his back and he lurched forward, stumbling. The crowd let out a cheer. He spun around and charged at me again, sword raised above his head. I stepped easily away from the downward arc of his blade and delivered a snap punch to the side of his head, watching as his legs tangled and he fell to the ground in a cloud of red dust.

  He telegraphs all of his moves.

  For a Dwarf he was a poor fighter, and a horrible realisation dawned on me. He’s a worker, not a warrior. One of the few miners left who work with a pickaxe instead of a battleaxe. I glared up at Lilith, who was watching nonchalantly from her throne. And this bitch wants me to beat him up for a crowd’s pleasure. I couldn’t wait for the moment I would slide the blade of one of my Blood Brothers right into the narrow gap beneath her helmet and armour and pierce her jugular.

  The Dwarf scrambled to his feet and came at me, swinging the sword frantically. I backflipped twice as he rushed me, and then on the third flip extended my leg, driving my boot under his bearded chin. The blow lifted him right off his feet and he landed on his shoulders with a loud crunch. His eyes rolled up into his head and the crowd whooped and cheered in response.

  A knife swiped at me from the side. I jerked my head away, but felt the tip scrape against my cheek. Spinning around, I saw the terrified Pixie stepping towards me, one hand guarding her face, the other clutched around the hilt of a short katana.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed as she struck out with the blade again. I jumped back and felt the rush of air as the blade missed my midriff by a few centimetres. She followed up with a low sweep that took my legs from underneath me, and made me land heavily on my back. She vaulted towards me, driving the katana downwards as I rolled to the side, and the blade sank into the dusty ground. I jerked an elbow into her temple and then climbed to my feet as she struggled to get to hers.