Authors: Unknown
The attack had come in the early morning, just as hara were rising from their beds to attend their day's work. It had taken some time for them to realise they were, in fact, being attacked, because each assault came secretly: in the yard of a home, in a back alley, in a bedroom where the curtains were still drawn. It was only when the cries began to resound from different points of the small town that hara realised these were not isolated incidents. Even as a har died, his throat opened like paper, he could hear the cries of a neighbour dying upon the pales of his fence next door. A harling shrieked with terror as his hostling's blood pooled in dead eyes on the kitchen floor, only to hear his best friend groan his last, while his parents helplessly tried to free him from an assailant they could barely see. Smoke beasts: that's what they were. Blurry shadows that flashed with silver, the metal of their weapons. They made no sound, they had no smell, you could not touch them. The first attack took only five minutes at most, and even while the residents of the town were still reeling from it, weeping over their dead, trying to organise their stunned thoughts, the second assault came, more deadly than the first. The town governor sent a rider to Galhea, moments before he was gutted and crucified upon the eaves of his own house.
Cobweb heard the details later, when he interviewed the messenger alone after Swift had made him tell the story several times. The messenger seemed only too relieved to be able to speak of the horror again and again. The details never changed. They did not have to be exaggerated.
“What will you do?” Cobweb asked Swift.
Swift was dressing himself in steel-strengthened leather armour, pulling on black gloves that looked as if they belonged to an executioner. “Investigate,” he said. “Cobweb, you and Snake work on our protection. You're all we have, I think. Send messengers to Seel, to Pellaz, wherever you can. Send messages to any har who can hear you.”
“I will,” Cobweb said. “But how can you protect yourself?”
“These shadows strike with blades of metal, not ether,” Swift replied. “They move quickly, but if they attack an armoured har, we have to hope this protection will afford enough time for us to defend ourselves.”
“How many are there, do you think?”
Swift shook his head, sighed. “Only a few hundred were confined in Gebaddon, all those that were left of Ponclast's forces. I can't see who would ally with them now. As they appear to have otherlane access far different to that of the Gelaming, I think they're making quick guerrilla strikes, with only a few hara. Our task will be to try and capture one of them. We can't answer this attack with might. We must find other means.”
“They will have a weakness,” Cobweb said. “Everyhar does.”
“Yes...” Swift paused. “I have spoken to Ithiel. He will remain here with you. He and his staff will speak to everyhar in town to ensure they take precautions. I think our enemy will attempt to pick off outlying towns before assaulting Galhea. They could have come for us first. They didn't. There must be something here they fear.” Swift reached out and touched his hostling's face briefly. “Take care. Take especial care.”
“If I cannot protect this house, I deserve to die,” Cobweb said. “This is my domain. None shall breach it.”
“Extend that protection,” Swift said. “There is more than this house at stake.”
As Cobweb stood on the front steps
of
Forever,
watching Swift lead a troupe of hara down the driveway, he could not help but be reminded of the times when he'd stood in exactly the same place watching Terzian depart on some campaign or another. One time, Terzian had not come back.
Do not think that,
Cobweb told himself.
Don't risk making it real.
He went back into the house and found the Kamagrian housekeeper, Bryony, in the hallway. “The staff are worried,” she said. “Nohar will tell us anything.”
“Bring all of them to the kitchens,” Cobweb said. “I'll speak to them. Send somehar to fetch Snake Jaguar and to find Tyson.”
Bryony went at once to do so.
For some moments, Cobweb stood alone in the hall, his head in his hands. His heart was pounding painfully fast, his breath was shallow. This was an ordinary day. Nothing was different. And yet everything was.
The messenger from Amber Ridge had insisted on joining Swift's forces, so Cobweb had to relate the story to his staff in his own words, as best as he could remember. His vision was filled with a blurry sea of round, panicked eyes. He tried to keep his voice level, to instil confidence. While he spoke, pans containing vegetables for dinner bubbled on the stove. Life went on, it always would.
Forever
lived up to its name. Whatever happened at Amber Ridge was a glitch, a mistake. Other hara might have died, but Galhea was safe. Still, it appeared the staff did not share this view. Cobweb could smell the heat of their fear. He realised, for perhaps the first time in his life, what the responsibility of being a leader of hara really invoked. He could not betray weakness or anxiety. If those feelings chose to gnaw away at the certainty everything would be all right, he had to be his own counsellor. Those who stared at him wanted to believe he could protect them. It was the job of the House of Parasiel. It was why they lived in this big house, why they were respected and obeyed.
Once Cobweb had finished relating what he knew, Bryony said, “This is ridiculous! Ponclast and his butchers are no match for the Parsic forces. What are they thinking of? The Gelaming put them in Gebaddon, it'll be easy to put them back.”
Some heads nodded in agreement around her, but Cobweb could tell that most of them harboured a superstitious fear. Perhaps, like him, they had begun to question just how fair it had been to fling the Varrs into Gebaddon in the first place, and how a har's mistakes might come back to haunt him later, once everything was forgotten, and life was deceptively rosy.
Once Snake arrived at the house, he and Cobweb worked together on a new, more potent, shield of protection. Cobweb was slightly shocked how much energy Snake demanded they pour into it. It felt to him as if his life energy were being drawn from his body. All that they were, they poured into a shield for others. It left them depleted, and Cobweb had never experienced that before with Snake. Both of them fell asleep exhausted on the floor of Cobweb's trance room.
Some hours later, Cobweb was awoken by what he thought at first was the crash and rumble of an electrical storm. He was fully alert at once and sat up. The room was in darkness, but flashing light from outside sporadically filled it. He got to his feet and went to the window. He could see with his physical eyes a dome of silver-white radiance over the town, which was unusual to say the least. He realised this was only possible because something striking the shield. It was not the shield he saw, but the hostile energy splashing against it.
“Snake!” he cried.
Snake was beside him in an instant, moving more quickly than Cobweb had believed him capable of. “It comes,” he said. “We must reinforce the shield.”
“We need more strength. We need others,” Cobweb said desperately. His own energy reserves were so depleted there would be little he could do to sustain their defences.
“Then go and find them!” Snake ordered. “Hurry!” He winced and gripped his chest.
“Snake...” Cobweb reached out a hand in concern, but Snake back away from him.
“Do it!” he growled. “Go at once.”
Cobweb ran out of the room. The only resources he possessed were the household staff, who were untrained and of low caste. He ran into Tyson on the stairs.
“I was coming for you,” Tyson said. “We're under attack.”
“I can see that, Tyson,” Cobweb answered sharply. “Where is Ithiel?”
“He was here earlier but went into town when the show started.”
“Is Ferany with us?”
“No.”
“Then fetch him immediately. I need both him and you to help me. You're no great magus, Tyson, but you're going to have to learn very quickly.”
“What?”
“Find Ferany. Quickly. Bring him to my trance room. But if you can't find him at home, return here without him. We have no time.”
Tyson left the house, while Cobweb went to the staff quarters where he found Bryony and Yarrow, the cook, attempting to keep their anxious hara under control. “I need those of you with psychic ability whatsoever to come with me,” Cobweb said.
They all stared at him speechless.
Cobweb sighed. He could see they were all senseless with fear. “Yarrow, you,” he ordered. “And pick whoever else you think can help.”
He turned to Bryony. “I must ask this of you. Your Kamagrian essence may be of great help.”
Bryony nodded and sighed, her face set in an uncertain smile. “I always meant to start... training. I should have done. I really should. But I'll do what I can.”
“That is all I ask,” Cobweb said. “Come to my trance room. We have to feed the shield with our energy. Put fear aside. Focus on this task. It is all that matters.”
Cobweb didn't wait to see how Bryony and Yarrow dealt with the staff. He went back into the family area of the house, unsure of what to do next. He had an intense urge to search for something, but he didn't know what. It was as if he'd forgotten something vital, something he'd meant to do that had slipped his mind. He went from room to room, reinforcing the protection glyphs at the windows and doors and hearths. Outside the night was alive with light. It was beautiful to behold. He was almost compelled simply to stand and watch it. Bewitching. Nothing had every touched Galhea, not even in the days when Terzian had waged war wherever he could. Galhea had always been the safely-protected heart. How would Terzian deal with this if he were here? And where was Swift? Why hadn't he returned? Amber Ridge was not that far away. Had he been lured from home so that it could be attacked in his absence?
Cobweb pushed his fearful thoughts away. He could not dwell on them. The danger was immediate. He had been brought to
Forever
simply to be a hostling, to give Terzian sons. He had become a domestic leader in the house, but now he knew he had to become more than that. He had to remember who he was, how he had once been wild and warlike himself. So long ago. Too dim to remember. The woman in him had slipped one night into the chamber of the warrior and had slit his throat while he slept.
“This is not my job,” Cobweb said aloud. “Aghama, Thiede, help us. I cannot do this.”
He put his hands against his face, pressed hard. It seemed a strange, soothing atmosphere came into the room. The deafening crackle of energy from outside became muted.
“Do you hear me?” Cobweb said. “Thiede, are you there? Tell me what to do. Give me strength. Come back to us. I am not the har for this task.”