The Pilgrims

where it also vanished. ‘Beyond World’s End, for all we know. But a dead wind means Inferno cultists have been here. It’s leftovers from some of their rituals.’

‘Two more, yonder,’ said Loup, displeased Sharfy had got so close to it.

‘I don’t fathom this,’ said Siel, peering at everyone with her dark eyes wide. ‘These are fresh tracks, two days old at most. Where are they? Look over by that fire. Do you see the chopped-off arms and legs lying about? It’s fresh, not old bones! A large gang of them had a ritual here. They danced around a huge fire. They had an orgy. See the loosed shackles and ropes? They had victims to toy with, likely kidnapped from the road. They cast their foul magic.’ She poked at the footprints with her boot. ‘There are some marks here I don’t understand. The tracks all rush off, that way.’ She nodded ahead, where the ground sloped down out of sight. ‘No patrol came through here to clear them out. But something scared them away.’

The surrounding trees were tall, silent and watchful. Anfen said, ‘So perhaps they’re all waiting for us, just over that rise there. Siel, wear the charm please and scout ahead.’ He tossed her the Invia’s necklace.

Siel’s returning footsteps disturbed the leaves and sent Loup into panic, fearing a dead wind coming right for them, until she spoke. ‘Come. You should see this. It’s ugly.’

‘Are we in danger?’ said Anfen.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, removing the necklace and becoming visible. ‘But if we are, it’s not from cultists.’

‘You sound very sure of that.’

‘Oh, I am. Come see.’

They crossed the sloping turf and came to an old hunters’ hall, solidly built though many of its thick logs were rotting. A kind of shanty town of lean-tos and tents made of animal skins spread around behind it. Tracks were visible here, even to Eric’s untrained eye, of a panicked stampede to get away from something and into the hall. Through its windows — no glass, just square gaps in the wood — the scene was far worse. Corpses lay in twisted piles, like a giant thresher had been through the crowded place. From within a horrible reek came that tugged at Eric’s memory. ‘Sharfy,’ he whispered. ‘That smell. In the caverns, remember? Back near the door. The dark passage we couldn’t see into …’

Sharfy nodded. ‘Weaker here, but it’s the same smell. We walked right past whatever did this.’

Anfen stood in the doorway gazing in. A mask of blankness closed down on him, making his young face lifeless as a stone statue. ‘Don’t come closer, Pilgrims,’ he said quietly.

‘Another fine stop-off courtesy of our friendly guides,’ Case whispered, pulling Eric by the arm out of earshot of the others. ‘Have you had enough of these people yet? Where are they taking us anyway?’

Eric groaned. ‘Maybe ask them? Case! Who the fuck else is going to look after us here? We’re in the middle of nowhere. We don’t know a thing about this place and there are dead people every time we turn around! Do you think you know the lay of the land better than them?’

Case said nothing and Eric knew his words had ricocheted without effect.

‘Look here. They tried to barricade the door,’ said Sharfy. ‘Something smashed it in.’

‘Can anyone think of anything, anything in the world that would scare twenty or thirty Inferno fanatics so badly they’d run screaming for cover? Let alone kill them all in such fashion?’ said Anfen.

‘Not mid-ritual,’ said Sharfy. ‘They go crazy. I’ve seen em at it. Nothing would scare em. Anything that might kill em gets em more excited.’ He said in a lower voice: ‘That’s why midritual’s a good time to kill em.’

Anfen moved from the doorway and gazed at the treetops as though to cleanse his vision. Eric noticed that for a good while afterwards, the troop leader was reluctant to look directly at any of them and seldom made eye contact. At his feet near the door there were scratches and gouges in the turf, as though someone had hammered spikes deep into the ground in some random pattern then removed them. They were clustered in a rough trail which ran back past the site of the bonfire, from which the cultists had fled, then turned almost at right angles back to the trees. It had been easy to miss at first, partly hidden by foliage and dead leaves.

Siel donned the charm and followed the trail, little scuffs in the dirt indicating her footsteps. Something screeched from the trees and everyone jumped. A huge black bird flapped skywards, ugly as a vulture, cackling as though amused. An arrow sailed after it from Siel’s invisible point in a graceful arc, visible only well into its flight. It landed tip-first in the dirt.

Soon she returned, fetching the arrow on the way. ‘Not far in, there’s a groundman tunnel gap, larger than usual. The strange tracks lead right to it. Two pit devil corpses nearby.’

‘Pit devils didn’t do all this,’ said Sharfy with finality.

Siel removed the necklace and gave him a rare smile. ‘Oh?’

‘No way. Wrong tracks. Too far from the tunnel opening. And the bodies didn’t look like devils got at em.’

Siel nodded like an attentive pupil. She said, ‘That may also explain why one of the devil corpses has been picked up and impaled through the chest on a tree branch, quite high up.’

There was no talk for a moment. ‘How high up?’ said Sharfy, as though this changed things.

‘Three times a man’s height. Both bodies marked by holes like those tracks, punctured by many spikes. Shall I take you? Your analysis will be … useful.’ Eric had a feeling she didn’t like Sharfy very much, nor anyone else who ever lived. Except Kiown, perhaps …

‘We’re not going anywhere near it,’ said Anfen. ‘Everyone move. We are not camping in these woods tonight.’

Eric took Anfen aside. ‘I don’t think Case is up to another long march, let alone a long, quick one.’ He didn’t say, fearing it would sound silly: He also needs a drink the way a sick man needs medicine …

‘He’s going to have to be up to it,’ said Anfen. ‘Unless death is his preference.’

‘How much further?’

Anfen’s jaw clenched with annoyance. ‘A full day’s march, then the going gets easier. There’s a friend of ours out the other side of the woods who will give us shelter as long as we need it. Maybe even a drink for your friend. I see his hands shaking and his temper, but it can’t be helped.’ To the company he said, ‘Let’s move.’

At that moment something dashed through the hunters’ hall doorway. A young woman in a woven wool skirt and jumper, both torn, running with a limp. She was barefoot, eyes wild with fright or rage. Her clothes and skin were coated thick in dried blood, which made her hair stand stiff. Panting, she stared at them like a wild animal unsure whether to flee from them or go nearer.

Anfen stepped towards her. ‘You’re safe, don’t run.’

‘Safe!’ The girl — midway through her teens — barked bitter laughter. Her teeth showed white through the dark stains, as though this was the lone part of herself she’d been determined to scrub clean. Anfen unstrapped the scabbard from his belt and let it drop to the ground, stepping towards her again, palms open. ‘Safe from us, at least. We’ll feed you if you tell us what happened.’

‘I’ve eaten,’ she said, and laughed again. It was a horrible sound, despairing and caustic.

Anfen said mildly, ‘Very well, but I suspect our food is better. Our conversation, too.’

‘Leave the food there, then go,’ she said. ‘You won’t need it any more. They will get you too, if you’re worthy. I alone was not. Inferno sent them to collect us. He was pleased with the work we’ve done.’

‘A mysterious Spirit, Inferno, to compliment you this way.’

‘Yes!’ she said eagerly, teeth showing.

‘You have been through a lot.’

The girl’s demeanour shifted before their eyes, as though conflicting wicked forces wrestled for her emotions. Her head slumped forwards: something won the battle. She said no more. Anfen took her arm and guided her back to the others. He left her with Siel then picked up his sword. Siel looped a rope around the girl’s waist none too gently and handed the other end to Sharfy, who tied it around his wrist. The girl gave a dark look to them both; she had clearly not expected to be tied.

‘Where is your home city?’ Anfen asked her.

‘I have none. No past. Lalie is dead, I am her corpse.’

‘Where was it, before you fell in with Inferno?’

‘Fell in,’ she snarled, mocking. ‘He calls all who are worthy.’