The Pilgrims

awaited them behind the city walls, only that something unnamed would leave Elvury’s defences weak by the time they got inside, that their mission was to finish the city off then enjoy a day’s plunder before the castle overseers arrived to catalogue the takings.

Back along the ‘road of death’, as it would be known in tavern lore, thousands of bodies in colours of many Aligned cities were piled in a short space, with no one to collect the wounded or to finish off those dying slowly. At the tunnel’s entrance, waiting with the elite unit sent to stamp out any potential rebellion, the General ordered the deaths of those few who’d refused to enter the pass. Some had got away and fled towards the elemental plains, where punishment enough probably awaited them from the wild things there. There had not been many deserters, little more than a hundred in all. The General marvelled at the waste of troops so brave. Vous’s feet had trampled this road, and Valour, if he had watched the fight at all, gave no battlefield reprieve.

60

High up as he was, Eric was mercifully too far to see many details in the gruesome picture below. The distant sounds of it, the screams and thuds of heavy rocks toppling, were bad enough. Then had come the huge logs, soaked in flammable oil and tossed down amongst the scrambling bodies, to be lit by fire-tipped arrows.

The war mage hadn’t shown much interest in proceedings down there; once or twice it had made rasping speech Eric took to mean it wished for them to leave. ‘The city is just over there, isn’t it? Is it safe there?’

‘Not safe,’ it answered, surprisingly lucid.

‘Are you sure? That army lost a lot of men.’

It clawed the air with its fingers, irritated. ‘A ship sails on … churning waves. A wave crashes into … churning rocks. Rocks fall on … churning ground …’

Eric nearly succumbed to the urge to kick it. ‘Fuck! I wish you could speak clearer. What do you intend for me, then? To take me to Anfen?’

It looked confused. ‘A servant.’

‘A servant, great. Know what? I wish you’d change clothes. Is the human skin really needed? It’s supposed to look like human skin, to make you feared, right? In fact, is that human skin?’

A high-pitched garble sounded in its throat.

‘Great. You’re wearing human skin. Just great. So is Anfen at the city or not? Let’s find him. Take me inside.’

The war mage spat and made a rasping sound of disapproval, but grasped him again and leaped off the ledge. For two seconds they plunged straight down until it veered away from the deathly scene in the pass, making a curved line through the sheer walls for the northern gate. From this short flight, with no visible magic in the air its body was soon almost too heated to bear, its breathing a deathly rattle. Flight in skies thick with magic had heated it up much more slowly.

The huge gate approached. Beyond it plumes of smoke poured into Elvury’s skies and horns blew like pained cries. The first invaders to make it through the pass gathered off to the left in an area free from raining arrows and rocks, and waited for others to catch up.

The war mage perched up on a high turret on the gate itself, smoke and stink puffing from its overheated body. The city unveiling beyond was bigger than Eric had anticipated. The far southern gate was too distant to see, even from this high up. Thousands of rooftops and steep roads extended out across ground that dramatically sloped away from the mountains on the right and left of the gate. They’d landed on the highest part of the city’s wall, atop of which was a thick platform with room for defenders to take places for shooting below. In both directions were bows, shields, quivers and slings lying discarded. It took a moment for him to realise that what defenders remained did not face the pass, where the invaders still streamed through. They faced back into the city, and from the walls occasional arrows rained down inside it.

Directly below on the city’s side was what might have looked like a child’s messy room, with toy soldiers scattered around in broken parts, were it not for the litter of organs and blood spread thick on the pavement. Screams and distant sounds like explosions could be heard, and fires raged. There were few survivors moving about.

Still as statues down there — still for the most part — were Tormentors, and suddenly Eric understood: dead city; the reason the pit devils had been driven north; and the timing of the troop build-up. There, the reasons stood motionless or stalked around in that jagged, lurching stride, like badly controlled puppets. A mass of spent arrows littered the ground, many of which had hit their targets and bounced away, only the most powerful bows and crossbow bolts piercing the monsters’ hides. No foot soldiers remained standing to fight back. In the far distance was the unmistakeable shape of a Tormentor, only it was massive, striding between buildings, then lost from view. ‘Holy shit,’ Eric said.

‘Not safe,’ rasped the war mage, clutching at his sleeve, its foul breath like rotting meat. ‘You’re Shadow.’

In places, the odd Tormentor corpse lay in broken pieces, though each one was massively outnumbered by human bodies. Eric wondered if Anfen’s corpse was down there too, and supposed it probably was.

Behind, the arrows and rocks had all but ceased raining down in the pass. There was a bustle of activity on the ground just outside the city, where among the sizeable crowd of invaders who’d survived, battering rams were being prepared for an assault on the gate. The war mage’s bird-like feet scratched and tapped impatiently at the ground, as though trying to communicate what its voice had failed to. For the first time, Eric wondered how the locals here would react to the sight of it. He said, ‘Stay here. OK? Don’t move. I have to go speak to one of those archers, but they might think you’re an enemy. Understand? I’ll be back.’

It cocked its head, but gave no indication of having understood. Eric ran to the nearest huddling shape, some way along where the top of the wall met the iron gate. A young archer — fifteen, sixteen at most, with a chubby freckled face and drooping bottom lip — looked towards him with blank, shell-shocked eyes. The kid made no motion to use the curved wooden bow which lay on his lap, one hand limply resting on its string. Eric kneeled beside him and could smell the kid had pissed himself in fright. ‘I’m a friend,’ he said lamely. ‘My name’s Eric. Are you OK?’

The kid shrugged without a change of expression.

‘What happened here?’

‘What does it look like?’ the kid said, his voice flat.

‘I’m the wrong person to ask. Looks like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’m going to find a man named Anfen. Do you know of him? He works for the Mayor. Do you know where I’d find him, or the Mayor?’

The kid shrugged and pointed across where the shelf jutted from the mountainside, held up by thick pillars and running like a halo above the city. Perhaps some magic had gone into its construction, for in many parts it seemed to defy gravity. Here and there ramps ran down to the city below, but guards were posted behind barricades closing them off. Rich-looking buildings were lined along the shelf where the young archer had pointed, and people were moving there in heavy traffic. ‘Why don’t you come over there with me?’ Eric said. ‘They look safe over there.’

‘They’ll die soon,’ the kid said in that same flat voice and shrugged. ‘Everything will.’

It occurred to Eric that the kid just may have seen colleagues, mates — even his own father — slain directly below. He crouched down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Maybe, but it’s less lonely over there. And wouldn’t you like a bite to eat? I sure would.’

The sound of footsteps shuffling behind him. Oh shit. The war mage had come. The kid’s face broke out of its shocked blankness and his eyes went wide.

‘Don’t worry, he’s with me,’ said Eric. To the war mage, ‘Don’t hurt him! You don’t need to protect me from him, OK? He’s a friend.’

‘Ah, but,’ the war mage rasped, hands moving expansively, face animated, voice fast. ‘Once a man approached his mirror not thinking the glass to be liquid and in he fell. Drawn sideways he was from a high place such as this into a sea-sized pool of reflection, battered by his own fists from the other side of the unshattered glass, as per falling rocks into the churning broth …’ Its cat-yellow eyes flared wide and it began that swaying