Read Ascendant's Rite (The Moontide Quartet) Online
Authors: David Hair
Ramon came roaring out of the shadows, his cloak rippling like bat wings. Perle was tearing at his dressing, revealing livid-white corpse-skin that immediately began to char as the necromantic-gnosis in his aura was corrupted by the sunlight.
He’s dead – he’s been reanimated! And when the sun goes down, he’s going to be free to rip us apart
—
Belatedly her brain interpreted what Ramon had shouted:
RUN!
To the left was the hut, behind it the skiff – but her gnosis was Chained, and the Dokken was there. So she went the other way, stumbling as the rocks gouged painfully through her thin sandals, as Nytrasia screamed, ‘Delta! Get the baby! Kill the woman!’
She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the Dokken turn his mask-face her way. His boots crunched on the sands as he followed her, getting closer and closer . . .
*
Ramon went for Perle, his blade raised, as the last few seconds of sunlight started vanishing and the night prepared to roll in like a giant boulder.
She’s kept him alive through Necromancy, and that takes blood . . .
But before he could think it through, Nytrasia stepped into his path and their swords hammered jarringly together and locked. Gnostic shields scraping against each other and setting off sparks, they both shoved and he was sent rolling head-over-heels. He jumped back up, circled right and came in again, slashing at her legs, but she parried, riposted and nearly skewered his thigh. He spun away, gasping, tried again, and came back bloodied across the left shoulder.
He backed up, blocking and shielding hard.
‘You’re still only a half-blood, “Dubrayle”,’ she jeered. ‘I’m a pure-blood. You can’t beat me.’
Behind her Perle whimpered, ‘
Mother!
’ Then he cried out, ‘
I’m burning!
’
‘Hold on!’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Just a few moments!’
‘
Mother?
’
Ah . . .
Ramon backed up a pace and glimpsed Delta pursuing Sevvie; he darted out of Nytrasia’s reach and hurled a mage-bolt at the unshielded Dokken, blasting him off his feet. But Nytrasia used his inattention to strike back and he barely fended her first bolt and had to physically throw himself to one side to avoid the next. He came up even further from Perle, still writhing on the ground.
The sun slipped a little further; now it was half obscured by the horizon.
*
Severine heard Delta a heartbeat behind her, felt him reaching out . . . then Delta shrieked in agony and fell on his face – just as she, distracted, found herself running off the edge of a drop.
For a moment her legs flailed for purchase in the air and then she fell into darkness. She sheltered Julietta against her chest and shielded her as they tumbled over broken stones and slid, grazing skin and tearing flesh. Then her head struck a larger rock, right by her ear and she almost blacked out, and Julietta slipped from her grasp. She whimpered fearfully and groped around in the shadows, her voice echoing oddly. Above her was a line of pale sky, a narrow ribbon of light. She’d fallen into some kind of shallow cleft, only a dozen or so yards wide. Julietta was only a few yards below her, screaming and wriggling, half-free of her swaddling.
Then a head and shoulders appeared, silhouetted against the sky above. His features were lost in the shadow, but she could tell it was Delta. He began to slither face-first down the slope towards them.
She scooped up her child, then tried to scrabble up the far side of the cleft as the Dokken reached to the bottom. He straightened up, his smooth skull gleaming wetly from a fresh wound. His eyes were blank as he lunged towards her.
*
I shouldn’t have come alone.
Ramon circled to the right, trying to get a line of sight on the half-dead Perle, but Alis Nytrasia kept extending her shields to protect her son. The young man’s body kept twitching into life. The most delicate necromantic-gnosis couldn’t be completed while the sun was still up . . . but darkness was only a few more seconds away.
He backed away, moving towards where he’d seen Severine running, and called with his mind to the khurne he’d ridden here. The creature responded with a whinny, but it was at least a hundred yards away. Nytrasia let him retreat unmolested, focused on protecting her son.
He guessed she’d used a Revenant spell to bind soul to flesh to buy the young Inquisitor time until a healer could be found. The Arcanum tutors had called the spell a ‘last resort’, because each minute Perle spent in that state would be killing him in different ways. In a few hours he’d be so far gone that not even the Inquisition would take him back. Though Ramon wasn’t sure Alis Nytrasia cared any more; she just wanted her son alive.
And I’m here for my daughter. At least she’s not a ravenous corpse . . .
His khurne burst into view and he ran towards it, widening his shields to protect them both, easily deflecting the mage-bolt Nytrasia fired at his back. Behind her, Perle gave an eerie moan and slowly pulled himself upright. Bloodied blankets fell away from him, revealing a horribly damaged body: his midriff was swathed in filthy bandages that looked to be holding him together; what bare skin Ramon could make out was either corpse-pale, or seared black. His eyes now glowed with violet light, the same colour that pervaded his aura and crawled down his blade. He looked at Nytrasia questioningly, then his eyes went to Ramon and he howled with pure hunger.
Rukka!
He spun, calling to his khurne.
Then another mage-bolt slammed through the edges of his shields, far too powerful for him to stop, and blasted the khurne’s forelegs to stumps. The construct screamed in anguish, and so did he as they both catapulted head over heels. Instinctive kinetic-gnosis was enough to break his fall, but he shredded his skin painfully as he skidded across the barren ground. The khurne’s neck snapped horribly and it crashed into a heap a few yards away.
Then the night flowed over him as the sun’s light dissipated and the purple glow of Perle’s eyes closed in.
*
Severine fell on her back as the Dokken clambered towards her, all thoughts of resistance crumbling in the lurid glow of his face, lit from below by the giant crystal he wore. His shields faded as he pulled the thrashing child from her grasp. She wailed, her hands reaching for Julietta, her own terror momentarily eclipsed as she tried to wrench the baby from him. For a fraction of a second, the Dokken, with only one free hand and his shields lowered, was unable to ward her blows.
Her hand gripped the pulsing crystal—
— and light exploded all around, a noiseless convulsion that blew through her. For a moment she was alone in the starry night, adrift in a sea of stars, ghostly faces spinning towards her – then those faces were all Delta’s face, crying out in agony as he fell away from her.
Stars . . . I’m floating . . . alone.
Ramon? Julietta?
Something like wind blew it all away.
*
An arrow hit the Revenant in the middle of the back, and Perle, half-dead and taken unawares, threw his arms in the air, his spine arching, as a web of light crackled about him. His cry was echoed by Alis Nytrasia as the pain transferred itself along the link sustained by her spell.
More arrows flew, thudding into Perle’s shoulder and leg, and more crackled off Nytrasia’s shields. The cord linking her to Perle glowed brighter as she poured more energy into him, seeking desperately to keep him alive.
Ramon dived for the space between her and her son, sent raw energy into his blade and severed the link, and both Revenant and Necromancer convulsed, momentarily dazed – then Ramon swung his sword and chopped with all his strength into the back of Perle’s neck. The blade carved right through; his head rolled off and sluggish blood ran from the stump.
Nytrasia screamed and fell to her knees.
A dozen steps, taken in two heartbeats, and Ramon rammed his shortsword up under her chin and out through the top of her skull. She stared up at him, a grotesque vision he cut short by kicking her off the blade and punching it through her breastplate and into her heart. He still wasn’t done, not until he had spotted the scarab that darted from her mouth and stamped on it until it was nothing more than a smear amidst the stones.
He looked up to see Silvio Anturo and Tomasi Fuldo and half a dozen other men rising from vantage points on the right. All were carrying bows, with arrows nocked and ready—
Fuldo raised a hand and they lowered their aim. ‘Ramon, are you all right?’
‘Si, Tomasi!’ Then Ramon whirled about, crying, ‘My daughter—?’
He found Severine down a small cleft. He thought at first she was alive, until he got close enough to see that the front of her chest had been blown open, her ribs laid bare. He fell to his knees, aghast, then turned with murderous intent. The Dokken, Delta, was lying on his back, also burned, but still alive and breathing raggedly. Behind him, whimpering blindly, was Julietta. Ramon swept her up, shaking, and hugged her to him.
Delta groaned and rolled over, looking up at him. In ruined hands he held a big, blackened chunk of crystal. He was staring at it, a drawn, haunted look on his face.
‘Hold,’ he whispered in Rondian. ‘I surrender.’
‘
Surrender?
’ Ramon echoed, as a red flame roared in his heart. ‘You don’t get to
surrender
, bastido! You just killed the mother of my child!’
Delta looked up at him, his lugubrious eyes pleading. ‘It was not me – I swear this! The crystal flared when she touched it—! It was none of my doing! Please, mercy . . . When she touched the crystal, she broke the bindings on me. I am finally free of them!’
Ramon’s desire to strike didn’t abate, but he managed to rein it in and asked, ‘What do you mean,
free
?’
‘Free of the Inquisition! Please, mercy!’ Delta’s eyes narrowed with recognition. ‘I remember you – from the camps.’
‘Then you’ll know why there can be no mercy. You’ve killed thousands of innocents, you
pezzi di merda
.’ Ramon raised his hands. ‘You leave me no choice.’
‘No! No! You don’t understand – I want to
help
you.’
‘Help me what?’
‘Help you fight the Inquisition!’
30
Ebensar Heights
The Moontide Economy
Since the Ordo Costruo completed their bridge, a new phenomenon has entered the empire: the boom-and-bust cycle of the Moontide. For two years in twelve, money flows in rivers, the wealthy speculate madly on all manner of goods and the prices of everything from grain to timber to gold itself spikes to insane levels. Afterwards comes the fall, leaving new victors and new casualties in the eternal struggle for wealth. It is in its way as devastating as any military action.
T
REASURER
C
ALAN
D
UBRAYLE, LETTER TO
E
MPEROR
C
ONSTANT,
P
ALLAS, 918
Ebensar Heights, Zhassi Valley, on the continent of Antiopia
Awwal (Martrois) 930
21
st
month of the Moontide
Kaltus Korion was a worried man, and those worries were mounting by the day.
His army was dug in on the Ebensar Heights, a range of hills on the western slopes of the Zhassi Valley. Ebensar was the westernmost point he could safely occupy without risking inundation when the Bridge was destroyed and the floods came. The position was secure and his army was strong, but everything else was falling apart.
His main concern was feeding his men. The caravans from Hebusalim and the west had stopped far earlier than planned; those from Javon had ceased as well – Tomas Betillon had been knifed in the back, metaphorically or literally, it really didn’t matter which – by that snake Gurvon Gyle. The details were sketchy, but it was clear that Gyle had betrayed them. Unsurprising, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
It got worse, though: something complicated had happened, the sort of shit Calan Dubrayle had prophesied, and as a result the traders would only accept gold . . . but his army had none left. He’d had to commandeer the last three caravans and hang the traders who protested, but the result of that had been no more caravans. His army had about a month’s food left, if they went on short rations, and then they’d be down to eating their mounts. Some units already were.
We’re fucked. Invincible, and fucked.
It wasn’t even as if his troubles ended there. That idiot Jongebeau’s reports had arrived: the Inquisition and Kirkegarde men sent from Vida to crush the deserters led by his former son had been massacred.
My son has betrayed the empire.
For years, Seth had been a disappointment – no, worse, an embarrassment: timid, overly sensitive, prone to tears, despite everything he had done for him.
I tried to bring him up hard, to make him strong. It’s his mother’s fault.
The boy had been ridiculously eager to please, and always overreaching – always trying to show off, by leaping a pond or rose-bush, and always ending up in a squalling pile, while Kaltus fumed and his friends tried not to titter.
The reports coming out of the south, of a trek across enemy territory, cunning ruses and daring manoeuvres, heroic attacks and steely defensive lines? Those weren’t his son. Seth wasn’t
capable
. And in any case, just like those stupid pratfalls of his childhood, these deeds brought no pride, no honour to the Korion name, just shame.