Orb Sceptre Throne

Antsy ran a thumbnail over his lips. ‘Okay. Rally to here?’

‘Might as well.’

Antsy waved for Corien and Orchid to come up.

It was a village sculpted from stone in every detail. Antsy and Corien descended a street of shallow stairs that ran between high walls cut with windows, doors, and even planters. All now was wreckage, tilted and uneven. Litter covered the street; fallen sheets of stone choked some alleys. Jagged cracks ran up the walls. And everywhere lay the remnants of water damage; they breathed in the stink of mouldering and mud. The stairs opened on to the main concourse of the houses the people occupied; they’d obviously just found the place and moved in.

Antsy felt naked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been without his munitions. He’d hated leaving them behind, but Malakai had been right: no sense in risking these people getting their hands on any. He carried only a dirk; Corien his parrying gauche. They advanced side by side down the middle of the street, careful to step over rubbish, broken possessions and scatterings of excrement. The population seemed to just squat wherever they wanted. Up ahead four men stood within the light of a single flickering lantern. Since Antsy and Corien stood in the dark the men could not see them — so much for having a light with you on guard.

‘Hello,’ he called.

Three of the men yelped, diving for cover. A woman screamed and was roundly cursed. Only one man remained standing in the light. ‘Yes?’ he called, squinting. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Newcomers.’

‘Ah! Welcome, welcome. Please, come right up to the light and let’s have a look at you. You gave us quite a start there.’

‘We’ll stay back here for now, if you don’t mind.’

The man held up his empty hands. ‘Fine, fine. Whatever you wish. We, you say? How many are you?’

‘My friend and I. We speak for a larger party. We’d like some information.’

The man motioned towards the houses as though beckoning his companions. ‘Come on, come on! No sense hiding. It’s not hospitable.’ He turned back to Antsy and Corien, bowing and holding out his open empty hands. ‘Sorry, but we’re a harmless lot, I assure you. My name is Panar. We’re just poor stranded folk, like yourself.’

‘Stranded?’ Antsy echoed. Something churned sourly in his gut at the word.

The man nodded eagerly. ‘Oh, yes.’ He raised his arms to gesture all about. ‘This is it. All there is. The Spawn. Utterly emptied. Looted long ago. The Confederation sailors might as well have knocked us all over the heads and pitched us into the drink.’

Antsy gaped at the man. ‘What?’ And a voice sneered in his mind: Fucking knew it! Too good to be true. He tottered a step backwards.

Corien steadied him with a hand at his back. ‘I don’t believe it,’ the lad whispered.

‘Believe it,’ Panar answered. ‘The Twins have had their last jest with us. All the gold, all the artwork, whatever. All gone. Looted already. Come, come! Relax. There’s nothing here for anyone to fight over.’

Corien leaned close to Antsy. ‘This smells as bad as a brothel.’

‘Yeah.’ Antsy raised his voice: ‘What about the Gap of Gold?’

Panar’s brows furrowed. He rubbed his chin. ‘The gap of what? What’s that?’

‘Bullshit,’ Antsy muttered. He noted that none of the men from the fire had reappeared. Nor any others, for that matter. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Corien began edging backwards. ‘Yes. Let’s.’

‘There’s no other way forward!’ Panar shouted. ‘This is it. The end of the road … for you.’

A screaming horde erupted from the surrounding doorways and engulfed them. Antsy went down like a ship beneath a human wave. He was trampled, bitten, punched and scratched. Broken-nailed fingers clawed at his eyes, his mouth, pulled at his moustache. Hands fought to slide a rope over his head. The stench choked him more than the slick greasy hands at his neck. Somehow he managed to get his dirk free and swung it, clearing away the hands from his eyes and mouth. He pushed his feet beneath him and stood up, slashing viciously, raising pained howls from both men and women. He reached out blindly to find a wall, put his back to it. They screamed and shrieked at him, inhuman, insane. It was as savage a close-quarter knife work as any he’d faced in all the tunnel-clearing he’d done. He slid along the wall searching for an opening, slashing and jabbing, ringed round by glaring eyes and dirty grasping hands.

His questing left hand found a gaping doorway and he slid into it, able now to face his attackers without having to defend his flanks at the same time. His face, arms and legs stung from cuts and slashes. His leggings hung torn.

A shout sounded from the dark and the mad frenzied faces backed away, disappearing into the ink of utter night. Antsy stood panting, his heart hammering, squinting into the gloom. ‘Corien!’ he bellowed.

‘Here!’ came a distant answering call.

‘Here! Here! Dear!’ other voices tittered from the dark, mocking and laughing. Antsy himself was frankly surprised to hear the youth’s response; he hadn’t thought the dandy could’ve withstood such a savage onslaught.

‘You’re trapped,’ Panar said from somewhere nearby in the murk. ‘Maybe you are with others. Maybe not. But I wonder … just where are they?’

Antsy said nothing. He’d been wondering that too. Earlier Malakai had hinted at his and Orchid’s going it alone. Now the two had all the supplies — and his munitions as well! And Malakai had neatly manoeuvred him and Corien down here. Had he and Orchid simply sauntered off leaving them to keep these people busy?

But he was being unfair to the girl. Surely she wouldn’t go along with that. And the munitions were useless without him to set them. Still … where were they?

‘The way I see it you have only one choice,’ Panar continued from the cover of the gloom, ‘give up now. You can’t guard yourself for ever. Eventually you’ll weaken. Or go down in some desperate rush into the dark. But where would you rush to? Believe me, there’s no escape. Best just to give up now.’

Noises sounded from the street and dim light blossomed. Antsy peered out — a lantern had been lit. Rocks clattered from the walls around him and he flinched back. Where in the Abyss was Malakai? ‘Hey, Corien,’ he shouted, ‘what do you say we link up and kill the lot of these rats?’

‘Gladly! I got two, I believe.’

Two. Out of how damned many? Too many. Had Malakai written them off?

Then the light went out. Shouts of alarm and fear all around. Feet slapped the stone floor, running. A woman asked from the night, her voice tremulous, ‘Is it the fiend?’ Someone cursed her to shut up. It seemed to Antsy that these people were uncommonly scared of the dark. He started to wonder if perhaps he should be too.

Was it Malakai? Antsy considered a rush to the far side of the street — Corien sounded as if he was there.

‘Red?’ Malakai’s disembodied voice spoke from just outside his doorway.

‘Yes?’

‘Cross the street then go four doors to the right.’

‘Aye.’

No answer. The man was gone — Antsy wasn’t even sure he’d been there at all: just a voice in the dark. He dashed out into the street. Part of the way across he tripped over a body and fell, knocking something hot that clattered off across the stone street. Cursing, he chased after it, only to bash his head against a wall. He knelt, squeezing his head in his hands, biting his lip. Someone ran by in the absolute black; Antsy had no idea who it might’ve been. Panicked shouting sounded all around.

Feeling about blindly Antsy found what he’d sought and burned his hand in the process: the snuffed lantern. With its handle in one hand and his shortsword in the other, he felt his way down the wall. Feet thumped and scuffed in the dark. Someone was crying far off in one of the houses. He reached what he thought was the fourth doorway. ‘Corien?’ he whispered.

‘Here.’

Antsy recognized the voice. He slipped in, covered the doorway behind him. ‘Malakai speak to you?’