CITY OF BRIDGES

34

Hot Time in Delta

A cart trundled along the lane, the axles in dire need of oil if the constant squeal was any indication. The driver, head down and concentrating on the darkened lane, failed to see the lithe figure sail overhead from one side of the lane to the other. Leonie bounded over the rooftops with ease, doing what she did best.

A gusty wind swept in from the east, bringing with it a nauseating stench from the bog. She wrinkled her nose, cursing under her breath. Clouds boiled overhead threatening rain, but giving good cover from the two crescent moons.

The lane below was clear. On the other side, the rear entrance of the temple beckoned. With a small twist of the harness dial, she leapt the ten paces to the top of the temple’s outer wall, landing quietly behind one of the unadorned pilasters. Bits of the old render crumbled under the sudden weight. Dust filtered to the ground; the chips of mortar sounding like a hailstorm in the quiet of the night.

Muttering curses, she crouched in the shadow and surveyed the courtyard, waiting for someone to investigate the noise. Empty barrels and crates cluttered the area within the confines of the walls. Her nose picked up the unmistakeable odour of the stables to her left. She was about to drop to the ground when she heard a snuffling near the base of the crates. Her ears flattened automatically as two large dogs wandered around, broad snouts to the ground; one raised its leg for a moment before moving off after its companion.

Why is it always damn dogs?

She considered the distance to the main building. It would be a big leap, made difficult without a run-up. The scuff of a boot alerted her to the presence of others. Crouching even lower and glancing around, she spied five robed figures skulking in the shadows a few paces up the lane and heading towards her. Leonie was out of their line of sight for the moment, but that would soon change when they moved nearer, she was above the back gate. The figures continued their approach. In the courtyard, she saw the dog’s ears flick. A low growl permeated the night as they trotted closer to the gate.

Preparing herself, she bunched her leg muscles and leapt forwards, twisting the dial to maximum the instant her paws left the wall. Brickwork cracked as she pushed off, reducing the effect of her leap. Behind her, she heard a muffled oath when loosened bricks hit the ground. The dogs below growled menacingly and trotted towards the sound.

Wind whistled through her ears as she sailed the distance. I’m not going to make it. All too quickly, she slowed, a body-length from the roof guttering. The dogs below started snarling in earnest. A glance down showed they were still interested in what was beyond the gate and not aware of her. Good.

Contemplating the temple’s roofline, she became mindful of the wind buffeting her further away. She was directly above the courtyard; if she lowered to the ground, those dogs would smell her out. Not so good.

Wracking her brain, she tried to come up with a plan. She knew she could keep the harness charged and stay in the air as long as she remained awake, but the stiff breeze seemed intent on blowing her out towards the harbour. She snatched her belt-pouch and rifled through the accumulated contents. Her lock-picks, a small, blue wyvern scale, ball of twine, fluff, dirt and a pinecone. With the dawning of an idea, she separated the twine and pine cone, letting the wind take the fluff and dirt. Tying the twine to the stem, she looked at her work sceptically.

Deciding the roof was too smooth with its slate tiles, she lowered her height until level with a balcony and estimated the distance. All she had to do was use the cone’s weight to loop over the railing. Keeping hold of the end of twine and leaning forward as much as possible, she tossed the cone towards the balcony, aiming above the balustrade.

It just reached, the cone barely hanging over the lip of the railing. With the utmost care, Leonie pulled on the twine and incrementally decreased the distance. When there was enough twine pulled in, she tugged on it to pull the cone to her. The next time she tossed it, the cone looped over the railing a couple of times, making the anchoring firmer. In short time, she was hovering over the balcony. She reduced the harness setting until she was on the floor then peered down to the courtyard for the other intruders. Leonie didn’t want to be anywhere near them if they were caught.

Far below, she saw the five shadows enter the courtyard via the gate. The two dogs lay unmoving by the gate, dark wisps of smoke rising from them.

Flamer’s? What were Woorin followers breaking into the Death Sect for? Shortly, the bulk of the building blocked her view of their progress.

Knowing little of the Temple’s layout, Leonie considered her options. Other than the current surviving members, few citizens were privy to such knowledge. They weren’t going to come forth with the information for fear of retribution. She dared not speak of it to Jade simply to avoid any argument.

“Maybe I should’ve asked Evlin,” she muttered. A thought occurred. If the Flamer’s were breaking in, they probably knew their way around. She had to go find them. Deftly turning, she darted to the glass-doors leading to the interior. The doors were unlocked. Popping her head in and glancing each way, Leonie stepped into a gallery. A long, wide landing followed the curve of the building. The centre of the gallery, bordered with a stone-carved handrail, opened into empty space. On opposite sides of each floor, torches illuminated stairway access to lower levels. Moving closer to the edge, she saw three more similar galleries below. The temple floor must be below ground level; it looked much lower than she expected.

The curved ceiling rose above, covered in artwork showing a dark, desolate place. She took a moment to take in the scene. Dark shapes were scattered across the barren landscape; some lying down, others crawling, standing or flying. All the major species were represented, some Leonie didn’t recognise. From the forehead of each figure, white tendrils radiated towards the centre of the dome. As the eye followed the undulating path of each tendril, they grew darker, merging at the apex. The centre was so black, no light reflected from the area, even to her eyes. Maybe light is being sucked in? The scene made her uneasy. She shivered, her fur standing on end. Turning away, she tried to concentrate on the main task.

From this vantage point the floors below appeared empty. In her experiences, the fewer the people, the greater the chances of encountering magic of some description. Then again, what imbecile breaks into the temple of Death? Leonie proceeded cautiously, wary of traps and the tell-tale aura of power.

Pausing to check the charge on her harness, Leonie twisted the dial to a minimal setting and glided down the closest stairs, silent as a ghost. The descending stairway alternated sides at each level. The next lot were across the room.

Stopping by the balustrade, she considered the potential of getting caught if she floated down. The faint creaking of a door gave away the presence of others nearby. With the acoustics of the dome structure, it was difficult to gauge the precise direction. Her ears pricked up, twitching back and forth to gather as much information as possible. Her whiskers detected up the faintest trace of air movement. A draft came from below and left, back towards the courtyard.

Leonie ‘listened’ intently, ears twitching. The Deathers? Had she or the others alerted someone, somehow? Was it the Woorin intruders? Leonie wished she could blank her thoughts.

She padded silently across the floor to the stairs and warily descended.

On the level immediately above the main floor, Leonie estimated she was directly over the front entrance, which led out to the grand plaza. Crouching by the edge of the stone balustrade, she peered over its railing. A door at the opposite end of the main floor stood ajar, but no figures could be seen. The back-door? Leonie doubted they managed to cross the floor without her knowing. She considered the area on either side of the back doors, some of it obscured by the black-stoned pillars supporting the tiered floor system. She’d have to move quickly to catch up.

Leonie backed up, took a running jump over the balustrade and sailed across the void, using her harness to cover the entire distance, landing on the hard tiles a few paces from the doors.

No sooner had she landed when high-pitched screeching assaulted her ears. Instinctively she ducked and rolled behind the nearest pillar. No attack came, but the screams continued in ragged gasps. Leonie now realised what made the noise; only a rrell in sheer agony could make that blood-curdling sound. Her thoughts went to the mutilated bodies in the streets, found prior to her return.

The screaming came from her right. Ducking behind a thick tapestry, she came across an archway with stairs leading down. She felt power being drawn. Taking the stairs two by two, all senses straining to ensure no surprises awaited her. The sound of steel on steel rang out shrilly, grew louder with her every stride.

The bottom opened into an alcove. Beyond lay a large rectangular chamber lit by torches, with two doors near each corner on the far side. A body in red lay smouldering inside the arched entrance. Further in, robed figures, six in red and four in black, were engaged in a vicious battle. Some of the Deathers looked scorched, their red robes trailing smoke as they moved to ring the centre of the room where an altar stood.

Unless her eyes deceived her, another half-rrell was chained to it!

“Pasha?” she hissed in disbelief almost forgetting to stay hidden.

Oblivious to the activity around him, a chanting priest stood over her, dagger held overhead. Leonie could barely hear his words, and his head was hooded. An ominous darkness loomed about him, and it didn’t take much to deduce the half-rrell was about to be sacrificed. There was no way she could cover the distance in time. Whipping her throwing dagger out, she flung it towards him.

The praying abruptly halted. The darkness waned with a roll of thunder. Falling to his knees and dropping his own weapon, he clutched the hilt of the one in his chest. It took a few moments for the red-robed warriors to realise the fate of the priest. But when they did, they doubled their efforts against the intruders. The priest lay on the floor, unmoving.

A distant door banged behind her. She heard voices and running footsteps, alerting her to the pending arrival of others. But who? Twisting her dial savagely, she quickly rose to the arched ceiling of the alcove, almost smashing her head in her haste. Flattening herself against the ceiling, she adjusted her harness to a lesser setting and tried her best to blend in with the wavering shadows.

She felt power being drawn. A fireball erupted, engulfing the chamber in a bright flare. The black-robed men were immune to the effects, but red-robed figures staggered or rolled blindly, attempting to fight and put out the flames at the same time. With the priest down, the Flamers quickly gained the upper hand. They closed in on the altar, stabbing any Deathers within reach, and began to undo the chains.

Leonie blinked away the flash-spots, disbelief at what she saw. The Woorin Brotherhood were saving the half-rrell!

Screaming, the scorched prisoner flinched, struggling as they tried to carry her away until one coshed her. With the body now limp, they moved hurriedly towards the stairs.

Opsyss reinforcements met them, flowing down the stairs like a river of blood in their red robes. They forced the Flamers back into the chamber. Before the Flamers could release another spell, another chanting priest, surrounded by gloom, appeared from one of the other doors on far side of the room. In his presence, the charred and smouldering bodies arose from the floor as tendrils of the darkness touched them, coiling around them like a serpent.

Flashing in the light of the flames, swords and daggers clashed. Caught off-guard, the four Flamers were overwhelmed by the living and the dead; the tiles were soon awash in their blood.

Smoke from the fires rose to the roof, billowing and roiling in the confined space. Leonie choked back a cough. Bile, caused by the reek of burnt flesh, threatened to give her away.

As one, the undead stumbled to the sides in a group. The surviving Opsyss warriors took up the smoking half-rrell body and laid her out on the altar. It was quickly determined their sacrifice had died. They began to bicker amongst themselves until a door behind them opened.

At a command from the hooded newcomer, they dropped to their knees in silence, as did the undead. Leaning on a staff, he raised an open palm. He uttered a word. The undead dropped to the floor with a sigh the moment it left them, and the evil gloom dissipated as did the fires, casting the bulk of the chamber into shadow. Now only a few sconces shed a dim flickering light.

At the same moment, intrigued and appalled at the events below, Leonie felt heavier. Her harness’ power almost depleted by the spell-casting. She had overstayed her visit and didn’t relish the idea of remaining in this place of carnage to recharge it. Trying to hold her breath and keep an eye below, Leonie kicked and crawled along the ceiling towards the stairs in an effort to get there before the harness’s power dwindled completely. She wasn’t going to make it in time.

With a quick glance she spied a dark corner. Silently dropping to the floor with a roll and blended with the shadows.

Striding to the body of the fallen priest, the new arrival rolled him over. After examining him, he pulled the dagger free, holding it close for a look. He then placed it on the altar, careful to not touch the blade’s edge, then wiped his hands on his robes. He removed his hood, revealing an older face.

Immediately, the surviving red-robed men bowed.

“That is an assassin’s weapon.” The priest pointed. “It would appear the Jart’lekk are in league with these wretches.” He looked with disdain at the four corpses from the Woorin temple. He raised his voice. “Search everywhere; find the murderer. Bring him to me!”

“At once, Master Lothas,” they replied as one.

Lothas? Leonie cursed silently. Who had she killed?

The group of surviving clerics moved. One stayed behind to assist the high priest as the rest headed for her door.

“Leave it,” Lothas commanded. “It won’t be going anywhere. Join your bothers and bring Alen’s killer to me.”

The remaining acolyte bowed and ran after the others.

Lothas took a long last look at the feline corpse on the altar before turning to the rear door. He paused for a moment, then disappeared beyond the threshold.

When it became quiet Leonie crept out of the shadow and approached the altar. It was a very unpleasant sight, but Leonie felt she owed it to Pasha, for neglecting her all these years.

“I’m so sorry it came to this,” she whispered. “If only I had known you were back—” She spun at a noise.

“How touching.” Lothas stood at the doorway. “We finally meet in the flesh, Leonie. I still have some questions for you.”

“Good luck with that. You failed once before – you really think you have a chance face to face?”

“You were at extreme range and had some assistance. Now you are all alone and in my domain. I am feeling confident.”

Leonie sensed his mind trying to enter hers; he failed.

“Get used to being disappointed,” she chuckled at his surprised look. “I’m not the half-rrell you thought you knew. No longer will I succumb to being your puppet.”

“Intriguing. Ah well. What I can’t get in life, I will learn in your death.” He raised his arms and started chanting. In moments the temperature dropped and the chamber darkened considerably. To make matters worse, Leonie heard familiar growling getting closer.

Stepping back, she felt the altar behind her. Leonie spun around, grabbed the dagger and vaulted over the altar. A pair of glowing eyes came through the doorway leading from the stairs. Undead hounds now? She was about to toss the dagger at it, but realised the poison would probably have little effect on those already dead. She twisted, hurling it at Lothas instead.

Her aim was true. Inches before it struck Lothas, it stopped mid-air and dropped to the floor.

“Slistorf!” she hissed. The second hound had entered the chamber. They separated to cover both sides of the area. Leonie knew from her experience with Evlin that undead were strong and tenacious. There was only one obvious thing to do. Leonie leapt over the altar and raced to the third door in the other corner of the room.

The door opened easily. She jumped through and slammed it shut. Putting her shoulder against it to brace it. Seconds later the hounds ran into it, jarring her to the bone. The door wouldn’t last too long. Leonie hurriedly looked around the dark room.

A lounge along the wall to her right, with table and chairs in the centre. One door on the left and another set of stairs opposite. Leonie vaulted the table and hit the stairs three at a time. The door cracked and splintered behind her.

This night was not going as she had imagined. You’ve still got Lothas to deal with! There was an open door at the top of the stairs. She darted through the doorway and hid behind it. This is a crazy idea. Leonie held her breath as the two hounds bounded into the large room and kept going. She quietly stepped back into the stairway, softly closing the door behind her. It suddenly dawned on her she had not even contemplated Lothas might follow the hounds. Pivoting instantly, she was greeted by nothing but an empty stairway. Stupid mistake!

Leonie sighed with relief and considered her next options as she descended. She hoped Lothas didn’t expect her to be returning so quickly – or at all. She had fleeting considered that while in his own sanctuary killing him might prove difficult, but Alen had died easy enough.

Carefully taking a moment to examine the room, she moved past the shattered door towards the smoky chamber. It was quiet, with only the dead scattered on the floor. A smart girl would be leaving now. As she entered Lothas’s rooms she heard distant howling.

Lothas was nowhere to be found here. He couldn’t have gone too far. She retraced her steps back to the sacrificial chamber. Fearing the hounds would burst through the door any moment, Leonie bounded through and jogged up the far stairs towards the main area.

Shouting and more clashing of weapons became louder as she neared the top. The fifth Woorin intruder was cornered. It looked like the Deathers were trying to take him prisoner, but he was not having any part of it. She recognised Lothas moving in from the edge of the group. He started a familiar chant. Once again, the immediate area grew dark and cold.

The Woorin brother dropped to his knees and shouted a phrase. He flared brightly. Leonie averted her eyes at the brilliant flash; a resounding boom shook the building. Even on the far side of the hall, the shockwave knocked her over. She sprawled across the tiles. When she managed to look back, the mob of red-robes were scattered across the floor, most unmoving. All were fire damage and smoking. The nearest column cracked and the floor above tumbled, showering the area with plaster and rubble.

She knew there was very little time before the place would be crawling with every Opsyss follower, but she had to make sure Lothas was dead.

Jogging between the bodies, she checked each one, finally coming across the high priest, crushed by a slab of the upper terrace. His face was mostly charred, but there was enough to recognise, and the bald head and tattoos confirmed it. He wasn’t breathing.

Voices and the sound of many feet prompted Leonie to make good her escape. The main doors, close to the fallen floor, were the nearest exit. She hoped there’d be enough confusion to slip through unnoticed.

There was a yell from above. Looking up she saw several acolytes looking over the second-level balcony and pointing at her. More acolytes appeared beside them to see, crowding around and leaning over the balustrade. There was another resounding crack and before any of them could move, the balcony on which they had gathered buckled, crashing to the one below. As the main support for that area was the column damaged by the heat blast, the whole section of balconies collapsed.

Leonie dived back from the huge cloud of falling debris as bodies, limbs and more rubble from the upper floors rained down around her. Chips and mortar glanced off her, but not sufficient to cause more than scratches and bruising. The main exit was now blocked. Screams and moaning assailed her ears as she turned and bolted to the stairs, coughing in the dust. Luckily, this side of the temple remained mostly intact. If no one barred her way, her best route would be the way she entered.

Without hesitation she bounded up the cracked structure. Racing around the next level, aiming for the next set of stairs, she heard a commotion below. She increased her pace and finally reached the exit. Cold wind buffeted her the moment she stepped onto the balcony. The weather had closed in and a light drizzle was falling. Thick rain clouds blotted the sky.

Leonie looked down, regaining her breath and clearing her lungs. She savoured the coolness of the rain as it helped soothe her burns. There were two options available – the stack of crates about thirty feet below and hard flagstones beyond that, or the roof of the adjacent stables. Perched on the railing, Leonie grabbed the eaves and flipped her body up as the hounds suddenly appeared on the balcony.

She had all but forgotten them in the confusion. It was sheer luck she jumped when she did as their approach had been uncannily silent. Their claws gained little purchase on the smooth tiles and they careened into the railing where she had just been standing. Snarling as they moved in confused circles, all too soon they picked up her scent. Two pairs of baleful orbs looked up.

Leonie slunk along the edge, and when directly across from the stables, she leapt the short distance. Distributing her weight evenly, Leonie landed on the shingles with barely a sound, performed a tight roll to absorb her momentum and stopped in a crouch. Glancing back to the balcony, the hounds were nowhere to be seen. She hoped they’d find something else to chase until whatever spell controlling them wore off.

The rain, which had been a light sprinkle soon increased to a downpour. Thunder and lightning to the north meant the night was going to become very wet.

Keeping low, she bounded along the ridge of the roof to the end. Gripping the eaves, she vaulted over the edge, dropped to the lane and raced back towards the web. Always mindful of the glowing obelisks, she ducked and weaved in the shadows, avoiding the clerics of the various orders who were out and about in numbers investigating the ruckus.

What happened tonight was bizarre and needed much thought. While waiting for the lane to clear, she took shelter under the eaves and looked back. A portion of the Opsyss temple could be seen through the rain; it definitely looked lopsided and plumes of grey smoke swirled away in the wind. The explosion from the temple had awoken many people in the city. She could hear voices and the unmistakeable sound of boots stomping on the nearest bridges. The city guard no doubt being mobilised. Delta didn’t need a religious war; no civilisation did. The Powershaper Wars flashed through her mind.

Tired, singed, sodden and blistered, all Leonie wanted to do was wash and rest. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come until she thought things through, she made her way to Jade’s apartments. If she’s not awake yet, she soon will be. Leonie found it was always better to bounce her ideas off someone whose mind worked like hers.

Leonie paced the floor between the bed and window, leaving damp paw prints in her wake.

Jade sat bleary-eyed in her bed, pillows around her, exasperated by the news. “This is how you ‘keep your head down’, is it? You’re drenched and wearing my carpet out.”

“I thought you’d want to know straight away.” Leonie continued pacing. “Besides, I’ve still got questions needing answers.”

“You’re right. I’d be annoyed if I heard about this in the morning; but more annoyed about you going there.” Jade climbed out of bed and stomped to a cupboard. She grabbed a jar from a shelf and stood behind a chair. “Sit down and lean forward.” Unstoppering the container, she gently applied some ointment to the worst of Leonie’s blisters. “You don’t deserve this.”

“I know.” Leonie paused. “Pasha’s dead. They were going to sacrifice her. The Flamers arrived, and all hell broke loose. She didn’t survive. Neither did Lothas or his sidekick, Alen.”

“They killed Lothas?”

“No. I killed Alen with the assassin’s dagger. Now they think the Jart’lekk did it. Lothas died when the building collapsed on him.”

“What was the Woorin brothers doing there if not to kill Lothas? They’ve been feuding for decades?”

“Can you believe they were trying to rescue Pasha.”

“Rescue?” Jade paused rubbing the cream.

Leonie shrugged. “Looked like that.”

“The Flamers went through a lot of trouble to ‘rescue’ a half-rrell; no doubt thinking it was you.” Jade continued working. “Now they think you’re dead… again; let’s keep it that way. Did anyone see you?”

“None living.”

“Good. If we’re lucky, both sects will be too busy to worry about you now.”

“When have we ever been lucky?”

“If Lothas was killed,” Jade continued, “then perhaps that undead assassin won’t be making visits again either. As for what Styx may’ve done inside your head, I can’t help you there. Right now, anything would be an improvement.” She finished applying the cream. “Done. So… did you manage to garner any more information? Assuming that’s what you went for?”

“Nothing.” Leonie gingerly stood and stalked to the window, clenching and unclenching her claws in frustration. “Absolutely nothing, except their taste in tapestries is even worse than yours.”

“Ah well, glad we found that piece of trivia.” Jade grumbled through a yawn. “Watch the carpet, don’t pull the weave. Do you know how hard it is to steal something that size?”

Leonie tried to relax. “If the sects are off my back, I can look for more answers.”

“No, you can’t. Go home and rest, and, although it pains me to repeat myself, keep your head down!” Jade tossed her the jar of cream. “Let them continue to think your dead.”

Leonie barely caught it in time and deposited it in her pouch. “Thanks, boss.”

“You only say ‘boss’ when it suits you. Don’t thank me. I don’t want my carpet ruined.”

* * *