Cleansing Fire

Night had finally fallen on the Academy and Jerome was glad his duty kept him outside – the heat was oppressive and what with the Steward’s wife’s funeral, it would be quite close inside very soon. If he had to sit through a few hours of prayer and contemplation then at least he could do it out in the fresh air.

Even here Initiates were gathering to hear the benediction and be a part of the ceremony – the Steward’s wife had been well liked. The whole Academy was in a state of mourning and the Steward had declared a freeday so that the people could mourn with him. A freeday for everyone except the Guard of course. When do we ever get a freeday?

Of course, this far out of the Academy itself, the ceremony would be carried out by the gift of those inside so that everyone could hear. He could hear the deafening sound of hundreds of Initiates gathered in the Great Hall from where he was. The noise inside the city must be incredible. So far the night had been completely uneventful. Nothing to break the monotony. At one point, he thought he’d seen a wolf running across the plain but when he’d looked again there had been nothing there. Not even the wildlife would relieve his boredom it seemed.

He wished Terald had been assigned with him here instead of inside somewhere. He was unused to being on guard by himself and it was quite unsettling to be right on the outskirts of the town surrounding the Academy – it made the mountains seem so much closer. He shivered to think what ungodly creatures were stalking around the passes trying to find a way past the barrier. There had been no reports of activity in many, many years but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild. His mother had told him stories of the Skaji when he was small – tales to chill the blood and make certain that little boys would never misbehave for fear of being fed to the evil hordes of scaly monsters.

In the stories, the Skaji were always scaly – though he’d seen an old carving that had supposedly been done of one and it had looked anything but scaly. If he could use any word to describe what he had seen in the carving, it was… smooth. There didn’t seem to be a ripple in their tight flesh and there were none of the usual lumps that humans had – no elbows, knees or joins. Most unsettling of all though had been the creatures face – nothing but a blank, unbroken expanse of skin. Not even hollows to show where the eyes might be.

He had seen paintings of the Skaji since then – scaly like the stories but so far nothing had ever reached out and touched his soul like that simple carving had done. There was something deeply disturbing about that alien visage. He remembered he’d had nightmares for years when he was younger.

He looked around and saw that all the Initiates had already moved past him and into the city itself. All around him the land was empty, devoid of even a few simple plants and trees. He unlatched one half of the gate, struggling with both hands to lift the huge bar that locked into position - another reason why there were usually two guards on this gate – and began to swing it shut. Fortunately only half the gate was open or he’d have had a much harder time of it – even half was large enough for six men to walk through side by side and not come close to brushing the edges.

The gate was just about closed when he spotted a bobbing pool of light off a ways into the darkness. A late supplicant I suppose. Lucky I took a look before I shut up. It could get quite cold out on the plains and he would have hated to be out there alone with only the mountains for company. His eyebrows rose at the unexpected sight of quite a small person carrying what seemed to be an old fashioned brazier. He thought he caught a glimpse of long, blonde hair curling around the side of the hood but it was so hard to be certain in this light. He stepped out onto the path and held out his hand to help her across some of the more treacherous parts but he might as well have not existed for all the notice she paid him. She kept up the same slow pace, the crunch of dirt almost the only sound to be heard in the night.

“Madam, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your hood. By law, no person may go hooded within the city walls.”

Again, she paid him absolutely no notice. He frowned and danced from foot to foot, wondering what to do. She was hardly likely to be a problem by herself but the law was absolute. He sighed and, shouldering his spear, skirted around her and trotted up to the gate. Terald would probably have known exactly what to do. Jerome would just have to do his best and take things as they happened. He swallowed and slanted the heavy spear across the gate, barring her way.

“Madam, I must insist that you lower your hood. By order of the Steward, the local Governor and all authorities, none may enter the city hooded.”

There was still no response and she had closed most of the gap between them now. It occurred to him that this might be some sort of trick by one of the other guards – there were several who would not be opposed to playing pranks on him while he was on guard alone. He looked around to see if he could spot any of them up on the wall laughing at him. The walls were as empty as they had been a moment ago – well, it had been a slim hope really.

She was no more than a foot from him when she finally stopped, swaying where she stood. She leaned from side to side a few times, as if trying to decide which way to go to get around him. His arm had started to shake from the effort of holding the spear out – he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. She must have reached a decision because she suddenly lurched forward and moved towards him until she was pushing right up against his spear.

He looked around again to see if there was anyone that could give him a hand – he had no idea what to do; his training had covered all manner of situations but seemingly crazy old ladies had not been one of the topics. He reached out and put his other hand on her shoulder, trying to push her back a little. As soon as his hand touched her shoulder a ripple seemed to go through her, her whole body convulsing. A strange keening noise came from her hood, building in volume and she stopped pushing against the spear. Why couldn’t I just take a nice, easy job inside? He thought, pining for the warm wine that the other guards were no doubt having even now.

He pulled the spear away from her and stood in front of the open gate again, glancing worriedly at the opening. She was still standing right where she had been, shaking and keening; perhaps there was time to shut the gate – then she’d be someone else’s problem in the morning or she’d go away – he was certain that he would be forgiven for denying her entry. He lifted the spear to his shoulder and sprinted for the huge iron ring that would draw the gate closed. He grabbed it and began pulling at the heavy oak, getting it moving again. About a foot from being closed, it caught on a stone. Panting with the exertion and now with mild panic, he ran around the front again and dropped to his knees, desperately searching for the stone that had stopped the gate. It was dark and his gauntlets were making it very hard to feel anything. At last, his fingers brushed against something hard with sharp edges pushing up against the bottom of the gate. He wrapped his hand around it and tugged but it was firmly wedged. He heard a shuffling behind him and knew that she was coming closer. Feeling even more panic, he started to tug wildly, his breath coming in gasps as the keening sound began to drill into his head, louder and louder. He finally managed to pull the stone free and fell backwards with the sudden release. Suddenly, he realised that the sound had stopped. He couldn’t hear anything anymore, she had stopped moving and making that awful noise.

He looked around and saw the woman still facing the gates, shoulders slumped and face hidden in darkness. She started to move forward again and her arms rose up till they were parallel with the ground. A piercing sound, different from the previous one that she had been making started to come from her hood as she began moving faster. He lay in the dirt for a few seconds, stunned at her sudden change. She was only seconds away now and the noise she was making tugged at something in his memory, making him feel like a small boy again for some reason. He scrambled up from the ground, ignoring the sharp pain in his hands as rocks cut his palms. Lunging for the spear, he brought it up just as she reached him. Without even pausing, she ran herself onto the sharp blade, pushing herself almost to his shaking hands.

He just sat and stared as she quivered with the shaft of wood now wrapped in her hands. Drawing on some reserve of energy, she clutched the wood tighter and pulled herself closer to him, now eerily silent. He stared in horror as she came closer and closer, slowly forcing herself down. At last, she gave one last quiver and stopped, almost close enough to touch him. He shuddered and threw the spear down, feeling the need to wretch rising inside him. He’d never killed anyone before. As her body fell to the ground, the hood flipped backward and exposed her face. He felt like his eyes might pop right out of his head as he saw the smooth expanse of skin covering what looked like a normal human skull. No eyes. He hadn’t killed anyone – he’d killed one of the Skaju.

What one of them was doing here… he’d have to report to the Captain immediately. He was about to turn and run inside when a wailing rose up from the darkness. It rose and fell in crescendos and he thought it sounded mournful… and hostile. He ran back to the gate as more hidden Skaji joined in the wailing dirge. Their voices rose to fill the night and he slammed the gate, cutting them off a little.

The noise inside the city was still loud enough to drown out most of the noise outside and there was nobody but him around to hear. The night air rang with the strange mixture of rage and sorrow as he slammed the bar into place and ran up the street towards the inner city. The Captain would have to know what had happened.

The initiates moved along the floor of the Great Hall, arms clasped in the dark red robes they wore today, walking in perfect unison. Their voices rose and fell in the pattern of an ancient hymn. The language wasn’t known to many anymore but it had a beautiful sound when sung properly. The Initiates had nothing if not time so why not practice their singing?

Timbre rising and falling as they moved to their stations around the Hall, the song dropped down to nothing more than a loud hum as the waiting crowds rushed to fill the silence with a few chants of their own. It was good luck to chant or pray around the same time as the Initiates – it helped the Gods to hear you. Even at a funeral.

At least, that was certainly what Trini’s mother had told her.

“If you’re in the Great Hall when a service happens, for heaven’s sake chant. Why, I remember my friend Bessie meeting her young Bill just after she prayed at the same time as the brothers. It’s the gods’ providence.”

Trini bit her lip to stop the traitorous chant from leaving her lips. She’d done more than her fair share of ritual when she was younger and more naïve. Now she had more serious work to be doing. She very carefully pulled the stock from inside her voluminous robe and laid it carefully on the ground in front of her. She daren’t put it on the wall, which was closer to her, for fear of it falling below and making a fuss. Soon the string and trigger joined it and finally, the bolt. She checked that everything seemed to be in place and stood up again to see how things were progressing below. The Cardinals still hadn’t finished coming in – it would be a while still before the Steward arrived.

She picked up the various parts and ran her hands over them, feeling that none were warped or had unexpectedly cracked while being transported. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine. She assembled the crossbow, slipping the bolt into one pocket again and drawing the string tight with only a small grunt of effort. Locking the trigger, she set it down in an alcove and settled down to wait. The Steward might be some time coming but she had all night if necessary. If her mother had taught her anything, it was to be patient.

Balden looked down at his blood smeared hands. So much blood. It amazed him every time to see how much there was in the average human body. Grimacing slightly, he wiped his hands on a cloth that was being proffered, trying to clean some off his hands. The other Brothers were milling around waiting for whatever they thought would happen next. He knew there would be nothing for quite some time – the precepts had said it would take hours before things started.

He clapped his hands, startling the men around him. They stared at him as if they’d forgotten he was there. Such insolence wouldn’t go unpunished once he was properly in power. But not yet, oh no, not yet. Once he had his promised rewards and the world was rid of magic forever there would be many people begging his forgiveness. He hadn’t decided whether to be merciful or not yet.

“It is time for us to resume our normal duties. Remember, the call will come but once. Make your way down here immediately. This is the only area that will be safe; we will be sheltered beneath His hand. But only if you’re here before it starts.”

Some of the startled looks showed him they hadn’t all understood the implications of what they were doing tonight. Interesting, that. It seemed like there were some others that could do with elimination. He would need more sacrifices soon enough.

“Oroeho, Solan – you will take point after. Don’t forget your duties. You’re dismissed, go quietly to your places and remember to still your tongues. One breath of this during the ceremony and I will have your heads.”

Without waiting to see if there were questions – the time for indecision was long past; he strode up the ramp and started the long ascent to his quarters. If these fools actually did what he had instructed them to do there should be no problems. Balden was not a man given to taking foolish chances however – it was time to put his various contingency plans into play. Something going wrong at this stage could prove fatal. He felt stickiness on his hands and with a thought, sent a lick of across his flesh, scouring away the drying blood.

Instead of going straight to his rooms as he had instructed the others to do, he made for the Acolyte quarters. He hoped the boys were in their rooms – it would take hours to find them otherwise. They would not have been invited to the ceremony itself so there should be nowhere else for them to be.

He came to the door he was looking for and pushed it open without knocking. The two apprentices sitting on the bed looked up guiltily. They’d clearly been up to something they shouldn’t. Normally he would take pains to force them to tell him what it was and then punish them for it but he just didn’t have the time today. It’s so dangerous for the young to play with magic. We must protect them after all.

He motioned curtly to them and they dropped to their knees in front of him – they knew their place all too well. It was very simple for people as young as them to go missing in the Academy. There were always accidents of some sort happening.

It’s time. We have completed the rituals – now we must just wait for Him to move,” he said, taking the other bed as a seat. Fevan looked up at him from behind his lanky hair and Balden backhanded him casually, sending him sprawling. The boy would need to learn proper respect if he was going to survive the coming years. Without magic to help him, his small stature would become a target for those stronger than him. He continued with his instructions without missing a beat – Fevan must learn that punishments were to be a normal part of his everyday life – nothing remarkable or to be talked about.

“Once I give you the signal, you need to move to your positions as quickly as possible. You have the aah, tools I gave you? Good.”

He glanced over at Ioshi – he had been uncharacteristically quiet; it was usually him rather than Fevan that had to be reminded. Perhaps the lesson had finally sunk in.

He stood and ignored the looks of surprise and relief that flashed over their faces – they were used to these audiences taking quite a lot longer and being considerably more painful. Aah well, everything would be in place soon enough and then he could spend as much of his leisure time as he wanted teaching them how to behave. He briefly considered giving them the same warning he’d given the Brothers about getting down to the Well but discarded the idea immediately. He hadn’t told them where the Well was on purpose. The less people who knew, the better; and these two were completely expendable.

“Remember my instructions and follow them to the letter. Anything else will get you killed. Obey me absolutely and your rewards will be great.”

Fevan looked incredulously at him and he felt a twinge of anger. So much danger for a young one at the Academy. Perhaps he did have a few minutes to teach a lesson.

“Ioshi, get out. Fevan and I need to talk.”

He sat down on the bed again and waited for the younger child to flee the room. He set a spell to keep sound inside and started on his lesson. One way or the other, I will save you from yourself.

The procession was finally coming to an end. All the cardinals were in place and the Guard had been stationed at most of the entrances. She noticed that there were more than usual around tonight – if someone had betrayed her there’d be hell to pay. It had been difficult enough to secure a way out of the city without something else complicating her job.

She picked up the crossbow and loaded it in one smooth movement, the spare bolt laid carefully on the wall to the right. She aimed down the sight and settled in to wait again. The Steward should be along soon now – with the Guard in place he shouldn’t be too far behind. She checked once more that her shields were still in place – it would ruin everything if someone happened to see her sitting here with a loaded crossbow. She had paid dearly for the talisman that hid her tonight and she would have hated to think she’d been fleeced – the man had sworn it was the only one in existence; a gift created millennia ago by the gods for a favourite hero. She doubted that but the small amount of testing she’d been able to do seemed to show that it worked just as he had promised.

As far as everyone on all the other balconies was concerned, this one was just as crowded, though a closer inspection would reveal the people to look slightly out of focus and their features hard to pinpoint. She supposed no magic was perfect but that made her more than just a little nervous. It was an assassin’s job to hide in plain sight – apart from the other more obvious job; but this kind of subterfuge made her feel slightly dirty. She had never been completely comfortable with magic, preferring to rely on her own wits and hands.

She’d killed her fair share of the gifted and in her experience a lifetime of magic didn’t stack up well against a sharp dagger. Even the most powerful Initiate lowered their defences sometime and that was her opportunity to strike. Over the years she’d made something of a name for herself – as a person able to deal with the unique challenges the Initiates presented. At first, she’d been unable to understand why others found it so intimidating to fight one of the gifted. Then she’d discovered that not everyone was immune to their magic as she was. Magic could still influence her, as long as it wasn’t directed at her. Anything attempting to touch her directly simply… ceased to be. Once or twice when she’d been bored, she’d let some of the Gifted assassins try everything they could to get to her. In all the years, only one man had managed to get through her defences and he’s died swearing he’d told nobody how he’d done it. She’d felt bad about that but she couldn’t leave someone alive who knew how to get through to her. If word of that leaked out she’d be jobless in days and likely dead a week later.

She realised she’d been letting her mind wander and pulled it back to the alcove where the Steward would soon be standing. She closed one eye and sighted along the crossbow – she couldn’t stop a brief surge of pride that the crosshair was still perfectly on the mark.

She saw movement at the bottom of the hall and slowed her breathing down until she was certain she would keep the crossbow aimed perfectly. She smiled a little as the Steward came into the room – it wasn’t that she had anything against him personally; it was just that she had never enjoyed coming to ceremonies like this when she was a girl. It seemed oddly right that she should be sent on this kind of job now. Of course, he met her usual specifications as well so there had been no doubt that she’d do this job. With the recent death of his wife and the disappearance of his daughter, it was probably a mercy that he would die tonight.

He walked to the middle of the alcove, his ten personal Guard reluctantly leaving his side to form a protective ring around the box. Their eyes moved around restlessly, never stopping in one place for more than a few seconds. She’d wager that they saw and remembered absolutely everything in that one glance though – these were not people to be underestimated. They were the best of the Ring Guard, the top of the Elite and were trained from the moment of their selection to give their lives unquestioningly to protect the Steward. It was not uncommon for them to leave their families when they took on the duty – some families even held funerals for them, declaring them dead in every sense; in that way they could serve unfettered by anything in this world.

Fortunately during this particular ceremony they were forced to give their master some space. The funeral of his wife was a special occasion.

The bells began to chime – it was time for the ceremony to start. A deep chant started from the men’s section to the left and was soon joined by the women’s voices providing a counterpoint to the melody. Children arrayed across the front of the hall chimed in with sweet soprano voices while the other Initiates stood quietly listening.

She glanced around briefly to check that nobody was watching her balcony and then checked her sight again. Taking a deep breath – she was always nervous at times like this – she gently squeezed the trigger and felt the thump as the bow propelled the bolt straight down towards the waiting target. She always seemed to know if a bold had gone smoothly and didn’t even wait to see that it had found its mark before grabbing the spare, putting it in her pocket and disassembling the crossbow. It would take a few moments for anyone to realise something had gone wrong – even the Guard would have been distracted by the singing. She had perhaps two seconds before chaos erupted. She had just stowed the last piece of the crossbow when she heard the first scream. In moments another voice joined the first and suddenly a clamour of voices rose all around, some screaming, some shouting, and some demanding to know what was going on. She risked a quick glance at the crowd and realised there were now two sources of panic – one was the corpse of the late Steward and the other a group of dark armoured men forcing their way in from the side of the hall. No sooner were they inside than they started slashing at the people around them, swords cleaving a way into the crowd. Either they were completely suicidal or there were many more of them outside – the Guard could handle this many fairly easily in her estimation. She looked to the centre again and saw that the Ten were already halfway across the hall, two of them carrying the body of the Steward away. They would check that he was dead, help him if he was not and then return to the scene. Without them it might actually be a fairly even fight. Either way, this was not a place for her to be now – things were rapidly getting out of hand. She pulled the hood of her cloak down over her face, palmed the shield – ignoring the startled looks of people on other balconies as this one seemed to empty – walked calmly to the back of the balcony and down the stairs. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if in contemplation but each held white-knuckled onto a dagger, ready to be used in a matter of seconds if need be.

All she had to do now was make it out of the South Gate and she would be safe. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that a job ended with a killing – there were always complications. All you could hope to do was limit the problems and deal swiftly with any that came up. She slipped quietly out of the tiny side door to the kitchens and found herself on the cobbled streets of the city. There was a little less risk of being caught now she was out in the open – she’d still have to be careful but at least she could get rid of the costume. She sheathed her daggers and hiding behind a crate for a moment, slipped the heavy robe up and over her head. Underneath she wore clothes that would have fit perfectly in almost any city in the land.

It really helped that she was a woman – no doubt any guards who were not currently occupied would be out in the streets already and looking for the man who had killed the Steward. Good luck to them – by the time they figured anything out, she’d be long gone. She threw the robe into the crate and hurriedly pulled some papers over the top to hide it a little. She moved off and towards the gate as quickly as she could without looking suspicious. No doubt there would soon be an order to seal the city. She had to make it to the gate before that happened or she would have a bundle of extra complications. Fortunately she knew there was only one guard on duty there tonight and he should be easy enough to get past. The gate might not even be closed yet.

She set off at a trot down the street, listening closely for the clacking noise of the Guard rattles or for the sound of approaching footsteps. At this time of night footsteps either meant thieves or the Guard. She was a bout halfway down the main street heading to the gate when she heard the sound of running feet slapping against the cobblestones. She realised too late that they were right around the corner and was trying to move into deeper shadow when a Guard came barrelling at her. She had no time to hide before he pointed a finger at her and shouted something.

As he came closer, she could see that he was quite agitated about something.

“Hey you! You! Stop! You can’t go that way!” he shouted, pointing right at her. She carefully drew one of the daggers, already regretting what might happen. She couldn’t afford to have someone see her and report back that she’d been here at this time of night. Too many questions would come from it. She palmed the dagger and walked towards him, hands held up as high as she could to show she wasn’t a threat.

“You. Can’t,” he panted as he drew to a halt, “Gates.”

She made to skirt around him, perhaps go for a sharp blow to the back of the head – at least knock him out for a few hours, with any luck he wouldn’t remember any of this anyway – but he lunged at her and caught her arm. In a flash, instinct took over. The dagger scythed out towards his exposed throat as if it had a will of its own. His eyes widened as the blade found the soft tissue under his jaw and began the unstoppable progress from left to right, leaving a trail of red behind. His hands rose up to his throat, trying to cover the cut, hold his blood inside but nothing helped. The crimson floodgates opened and his blood spurted out between his fingertips, flowing down his neck and over his armour. Strange the things you noticed at a time like this - his armour was clearly too big for him; she wondered if he was one of those that lied about his age to get into the Guard. She took another look at him and realised he was nothing more than a boy. Her heart ached for what had happened, she didn’t think there was much else she could have done but there was still that aching throb.

It hurt her that she couldn’t stay here with this boy as he lived his last moments. He wore an almost comically perplexed expression, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She leaned in to try and make it faster for him but she got closer he grabbed her arm in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled her towards him. Blood bubbled on his lips as he tried to force words out, holding his ruined throat closed as best he could.

“Tell...them. Ska… skajii coming,” he managed before collapsing against the cobbles, his eyes staring sightlessly at the expanse of stars above. She reached down and closed his eyes, laying his cloak over him before running on towards the Gate. Why would he spend his last breath to say something about myths and fables? Skaji were creatures that mothers used to scare their children into behaving, nothing more.

She reached the gate and by the lack of guards, she assumed that the young man she had killed was the guard on duty today. What a pity, a life wasted in such a pointless incident. She was about to open the small sally-gate when she heard a very strange noise coming from outside. It was as if a giant beast was sniffing at the bottom of the gate, sniffing and snorting in the dirt. She heard it move from side to side and then settle on one particular part of the gate near the middle.

A peculiar keening sound started outside the Gate that made her shiver. Perhaps it would be better if she went to ground in the city for a while. She knew some places she was certain the Guard wouldn’t look, places she could rest undiscovered until things calmed down a bit. There was simply too much happening at the moment. And she really didn’t want to go outside with whatever was sniffing under the gate.