The Pilgrims

‘Well I’ve no family, just girlfriends. Going to keep it that way.’

‘Adopt them. Make it a family.’

The soldier laughed. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the other. ‘Looking forward to Vous’s temple?’

The other scoffed again. ‘A joke. I’m not fussed. It means breaking bread and toasting his name at meals? I can do that, if it’s worth a good home. If it’s worth having bread to break.’

‘Did you read the whole law? They’re allowed in your home any time to see that you “worship in earnest”. It also means you can’t make rituals for the other Spirits. Who’s your preference?’

‘Inferno.’ They both laughed at this apparent joke. ‘Tempest, mainly. I was raised on a farm, we needed the rain. You’re a Valour man, I take it?’

‘I don’t bother with any of them.’

‘That’s fair. My wife swears to Wisdom, of course.’

‘Not for long, if you mean to go through with this.’ The other’s voice lowered further. ‘You worried about … what it might mean, long term?’

‘Nahh! I don’t believe it. You can’t just make someone a Great Spirit by building him a temple, praying to him, teaching him some magic, or whatever it is they do. They might think otherwise but they’re wrong. He’s a good enough lord anyway.’

The other lowered his voice. ‘Half the cities are starving.’

‘We aren’t. I didn’t say great. But good enough. People accept the new ways and they’d be fine.’ The other soldier said nothing to this. ‘He can be a little crazy if he wants,’ continued the first. ‘Food in the belly.’ This was a common saying Case had heard, along with ‘as the Dragon wills’.

The commander stood and cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get going,’ he said. ‘Up we get.’

‘Up we get?’ muttered one of the soldiers disbelievingly. ‘We’re back in the nursery.’ They tossed their half-empty skins back on the supplies cart. One bounced off Case’s chest and fell to the ground. The soldier frowned at the cart. ‘Now wait, that’s the second time I’ve seen that happen.’

‘I didn’t see anything. Forget it.’

‘Drink skin bounces in mid-air? There’s something funny about that cart, I’m telling you.’

But they lined up behind the other soldiers, and Case’s heart slowed a little.

Until, that was, he saw the shape in the rocks above, to the left. It wasn’t the same Invia who’d given him the charm and set him loose in the castle; this one had long flowing hair as white as her wings, and her limbs were long and gangly. She crouched on a jutting outcrop like a cat about to jump. None of the soldiers seemed to have seen her. She watched something atop the rock wall opposite, then stared right down at Case.

His hand crept to the charm around his neck. ‘You want this back, don’t you?’ he whispered. And he could tell she was about to come and take it.

Verily, she was.

She did not know all the secret business of her newly dead sister, but she knew the charm down below bore Ksyn’s touch, and did not belong around this old Otherworlder’s neck. She would take him back with her, too, to see what the others made of it all — peacefully, if he would come that way.

It had not been the charm that drew her here; it was the Marked one, rather, who had temerity indeed to travel so openly, this far north, let alone to make camp on a high place, where his Mark could be seen from a long way. On sight of it, anger was not what she’d felt; in fact, she felt very little. It was just a fact he must be killed, that was all. Marks were rare, yet this blazed on him with a huge red glare, its noise painful in her ears. But she didn’t yet see him, hidden behind the rock wall opposite. Was he enormous, with fangs and claws? An elemental? A mage perhaps?

It was not he who had killed her newly dead sister, she knew that. That Marked one, tied to the castle roof with tongue cut out by his elders, had been dealt with, that matter resolved, the birds pecking at what was left.

And now she realised this one bore not one Mark, but three. Rare! To have slain three Invia! In one attack, or did he hunt them down over time? No wonder the aura flared so bright and huge. Had there ever been such, in all the world?

He first, or to collect the charm? The soldiers appeared to be guarding the old man who carried it, since he sat so comfortably in their midst. She looked from one to the other, undecided. Either fight could be a risk — many men below, swords, halberds, short-bows with fast little arrows. The Marked one had allies nearby — would they help him? If the Marked one had killed three sisters, he too was very, very dangerous, maybe more than all the others combined. What mistakes had her sisters made? She would be cautious of him when making the kill.

The glare of those Marks was so bright! The ringing in her ears so painful. Best to shut that sound out first. She jumped from her place on the wall.

23

The whole band crouched in a line along the ridge with weapons drawn, except Eric, whose mind even now was back with Siel, back with himself tossing one of her long braids away so he could better see the movements of her breasts, as if she were a toy he played with. The rest watched the soldiers below, whose conversation and laughter drifted up.

No one saw the Invia come until the air around them pounded with the sound of her beating wings. An arrow flew from further up the path where Siel kept watch. It gracefully sailed very close to the Invia with a sound of sliced sky. But the creature moved like a dancer in mid-air, white hair streaming behind her. The arrow skidded across the ground.

Anfen rolled to his feet, sword in hand, knowing he was the one she wanted. Siel now too, probably. Stupid girl. His wrists swung the blade two-handed, cutting overhead in a very fast figure-eight for such a big weapon. The Invia jerked backwards through the air as though pulled hard by invisible hands, and watched him with a face oddly expressionless. Someone threw a rock but again she dodged it with ease.

The others rushed over, weapons ready, despite Anfen yelling: ‘Hold!’ While he was distracted she darted forwards with incredible speed, just a blur of the white of her wings. She came up like a bird that had swooped, in her hands Anfen’s sword. He now lay on the ground, dazed, his face cut. It had to be the sword handle hitting him as it came free from his grasp … the Invia’s hands would not have struck him so lightly.

Slowly the Invia flexed her arms and with some effort — that much at least the sword’s maker could be proud of — broke the blade in two, examining then dropping the pieces. She watched Anfen to see what he would do. He did about all he could think of: lie on his back in a daze and think his last thoughts.

Sharfy leaped up, a knife biting through the air, but he didn’t get close enough. The creature didn’t seem to notice him. Kiown likewise sprang through the air, a mindless open-mouthed look on his face that was almost comical, but he slashed upwards with a long blade that came within a hair of striking the Invia. She spun away from his cut, moved out of his reach and gave him a quick look which, though expressionless, said loud and clear enough: you, sir, are next.

Eric, fascinated by this creature, felt about half a minute behind actual time. Only now did he sluggishly think: the gun. Hey now there’s a plan. Get the Glock out. Shoot that thing. Save the day. Batman would do it.

His hand had reached his pocket when from below came a shouted order. A dozen arrows shot up and fell across the platform with a fast drum roll of stone being struck. No one was hit — the arrows arced too far from the sheltering ridge — but one of them passed through the Invia’s wing. A burst of light flashed through the punctured gap; feathers puffed in the air. She spun, eyeing off the castle soldiers with still no expression troubling her face, then she swooped down fast.

Anfen got to his feet, feeling his face, where the cut had left a smear of blood down his cheek. ‘How many times do I have to tell you,’ he snarled, ‘do not attack them? No matter what.’

‘Get in the cave,’ said Sharfy, tossing Anfen another sword.

Anfen had already begun heading back to the tunnel mouth cut into the hilltop. ‘Watch below, tell me what happens,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘If they don’t kill it, we chance the groundmen’s traps. You should hope they