33 Desool

AIYANA AWOKE WITH a start, followed by a headache. Pain prevented her eyes from opening. She felt disorientated and remained on her back gathering her senses. She remembered stumbling through a forest of maple and stunted hemlock, which had bordered a wide river. Exhausted, she’d fallen into the water. She could remember splashing about, choking and spluttering. She had an unreasonable fear of drowning.

A hand lifted her head and someone thrust a chipped bowl against her lips. She lashed out, striking the bowl. She heard it shatter against something.

Her first thought was Liviana or her soldiers. Sitting up, she willed her eyes to open. Instead, she flung herself to the left and retched.

‘Desool Veelp,’ said a voice close to her ear. She leapt up and her eyes flashed open in terror. Her vision swam and she tottered. A hand gripped her arm and steadied her, which she tried to shrug off while stumbling backwards. The hand persisted. Her vision began to clear though her eyes watered. She forced herself to calm.

It was a grubby room with rough walls and patchy plaster, sparsely furnished and covered in cobwebs. Her vision improved a little, nearby objects clearer. Several fat tallow candles and two three-wick clay lamps covered a battered wooden table in the room’s centre. There were large piles of refuse scattered along the walls. There appeared to be no windows, just a single wooden door and a thick crossbar.

The Nephilim sat back onto the low cot. To be precise, it was an imp. The same height as Aiyana. Beneath a cloak it would’ve look like a tall muscular man. However, it was a child or perhaps a teenager as humans thought of it. Not worth the fuss. Thinking of those staff wielders, she swallowed a lump in her throat, revising her opinion. She remembered him now. When she’d seen him looming over her, she’d been certain that was it. He must’ve hauled me from the water, she realised, but why bother?

Soiled blankets crawling with life covered the bed. The end of the cot, where the giant sat, looked damaged. Although they were the same height, he weighed a lot more. Several crawlies emerged into the flickering candlelight, to disappear within the disturbed folds. Aiyana ruffled her hair, scratched at her clothing. She didn’t fear insects, but she wasn’t fond of them either.

‘Desool Veelp,’ said the imp in a thick voice. ‘Minat al, Canaan, no, a resh at desool met.’

What in Grim’s black blood was wrong with her eyes? Tears dripped down her cheeks, though she wasn’t crying. She scrubbed away a thick film of crust on her eyelids.

‘A resh at mana col a dark?’ It had a concerned look in its eyes. ‘To rel rast a min no?’

‘I don’t speak gibberish,’ she snapped, scratching, feeling tiny legs all over. ‘Don’t you know any Icarthian words?’ He gave her a blank stare. ‘Where am I?’ Green pottery shards were scattered across the floor, the boards wet. It was trying to give me a drink.

It grunted at her, ‘Desool Veelp.’ Its voice was musical, though it spoke in deep tones. She assumed it was the Raddhonar tongue or whatever form the giants used. There were several dialects, the human form easier to learn.

She felt dizzy and sat back on the cot. Why was it helping her? Was it alone? No, that wouldn’t make sense. This imp served someone in the city, someone human. It was a logical conclusion, and a worrying one. It seemed harmless. Am I a prisoner then? What will it do if I try to leave? She thought maybe she might try to learn more before making the attempt. Besides, her body didn’t feel strong. It could stop her if it chose to and without much effort, she didn’t doubt. She checked for her ring and found it on the middle finger of her left hand. She kissed the silver wings thankful she was alive.

She offered a prayer for Cathya, and after a moment’s hesitation, one for Turol. She recalled staggering towards trees, vision doubled. In her drugged state, she hadn’t been able to think. She should never have abandoned Cathya. If you hadn’t, she reasoned, by all accounts, you’d still be drugged to your eyelids, helpless.

Behind the table a wooden pallet lay on the floor piled up with rubbish and blankets. She thought they were inside a city from the echoes filtering through. Likely Byrsa, then. How long had she lain unconscious? Her headache made thinking difficult and though dizzy, she tried to stand. Her legs wobbled, but she refused the oversized hand. She needed time.

Had she lain here in this place too long? ‘Where is your master? Who is he, or she?’ Its master had to be human; otherwise, she was way too late. She decided to name him, Desool, since he liked that word. If Desool understood, he didn’t answer. His arms were exposed, the rest of his body bound in ribbed leathers. She noticed abrasions in his shoulders and two across his left cheek, one leaking pus.

His skin was ebony, covered in patches of fine, almost invisible grey hair. He wore black hair in braids past his shoulders. His forehead was thick and jutting, and his nose broad. His face wasn’t unpleasant despite that. The imp had no wings like certain adults of its kind. The Rephaim clan had those, or so she knew from books anyway. Maybe they developed them at puberty, which meant if Desool was Rephaim, he was young. After all, he was only about six foot tall, thereabouts.

‘Minat resh at stone blood col mot,’ rumbled the giant, grabbing and holding her hand, gentle but firm. In it, he placed a metal object. It took her a moment to realise it was a dagger of sorts. It had an odd design, a split down the centre. It appeared like two curved blades joined at the hilt. The inner edge of each blade was serrated, which seemed strange. The left glowed dark blue, while the right shone like the finest iron. The hilt was plain by comparison, white bone.

‘Rettar minat bequest col,’ it said in its rumbling voice, closing her fingers about the hilt. Its hands were warm and soft, not hard like she’d expected. What a strange gift.

It was then she spotted the inert form on the wooden pallet, what she had taken for rubbish. The light was dim and she hadn’t noticed before. Where had he come from? That it was male, she saw clearly. Grabbing a piece of blue cheese, she munched as she examined their guest. She wasn’t worried about any threat, not with Desool there. He’d made it clear he was helping her.

‘Namta,’ said the coarse voice at her back. ‘Namta, minat al, Canaan. Tool resh a dark blood?’

‘Listen,’ she said between bites, not taking her eyes from the pallet, ‘I don’t understand you, okay? You’ve a lot to tell me, it seems, but you’re wasting your time.’ No, she thought. I’m the one wasting time. She had to move, and quickly if she was to stop Liviana.

Desool continued expounding in his tongue as though relating a long-winded history, which she attempted to tune out. She turned away, thinking of leaving, and tottered towards the door. She felt stronger. Whoever the man was, he wasn’t her concern. Maybe she could bring Desool with her. A better bodyguard she couldn’t ask for, but what if something happened to him? He was a child after all. No, she’d go alone.

‘Well, well,’ said a voice behind her, halting her halfway, ‘look at what Goliath’s long lost great bloody grandson went and dragged in.’

‡

AIYANA WHIRLED TO STARE at the man on the pallet. Of all people, sitting up proud as you please, he was the last person she’d expected. He’d changed. Taller for a start, but the deterioration was pronounced too. She hadn’t noticed it before with his back turned to her. She gave him her most imperious stare. ‘It appears even giants will pick up anything off the streets these days, all sorts of leftovers.’ Desool moved to a far corner of the room, shoving rusted armour and other refuse off to the side. It appeared that was where he slept.

The man chuckled. ‘Ouch!’

She leapt towards Threadfin and embraced him in a tight hug, her anger evaporating. Why she’d felt anger at all, she wasn’t certain. By the manner his body shuddered, he was laughing, and she laughed too. They were both alive, and for the moment, together. She pretended they were young again with the run of the palace, giggling over a prank. The pretence was shallow, reality weighing upon her.

‘Never believed I’d see you again, little brother,’ she whispered in his notched ear. ‘I don’t care how you came to be here. I’m sorry. I know you must’ve hated that place.’

She pulled away from him to look at his face. His green-tinged skin was more desiccated, eyes sunken, hair greyer, but he appeared unharmed. He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Miss me then, sis?’

‘You know, you were not sent into exile just to turn around and come right back. You were supposed to stay there. Anyhow, I thought someone was getting you to safety.’ Yes, that was why she’d felt annoyed.

‘I could say the same about you. What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be anywhere near Byrsa or any city. They promised me.’

She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of anger or pain. Anger would’ve been better. ‘You knew it was me behind it, didn’t you? You knew all along.’

Threadfin winced. ‘Father always listened to you.’

‘Liviana knew about you, Fin. It was just a matter of time. I think she planned to use you to bring down our family and take power.’

‘It seems like she managed it just fine.’

‘True, but she didn’t get you. I hated myself for it. You believe me, don’t you? It was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ve missed you.’

He paused for a long moment, before he asked, ‘Did father know the truth?’

The question caught her off guard. The look on his face, his tone, gave no doubt as to what he meant. She heard a low rumble from the corner where Desool dozed. Otherwise, it was quiet. Too quiet, considering there was a huge city out there. ‘I don’t, I ...’

Another grin, mischievous and cheeky. ‘I finally remembered the crows. Besides, I did the math. Our mother was infected with plague thirty years ago, seven after Sarscha was born, but less than one before you came along. I guess she was in the early stages with you when she fell ill.’

‘I ... I thought you’d forgotten. You were so little.’

‘All those breathers getting ill, guards, servants, it was you all the time.’

‘Wasn’t always me,’ she said, feeling defensive, and resentful of the feeling.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture, ‘We will always have the crows. That, I will never forget again.’

She couldn’t help but wince at the memory, at what had followed. It was the last time she had openly displayed her nature.

‘We do what we have to,’ said Threadfin. ‘I’ve learned that much since leaving.’

‘In answer to your question, yes, father knew.’ She watched for his reaction, but he just nodded. It surprised her. He had changed, becoming somehow wiser if that was possible.

He laughed, ruining the image. ‘Right then, what other talents you got? Twisting father around your finger can’t have been all. Obviously, I know you can hide your appearance. Neat trick by the way; could use a few tips in that direction. You know how hard it is to get a date looking like this?’ He gestured at himself with another grin. ‘Good job I got my charm. Most girls who chew on my ear get more than they bargained for.’

‘You shouldn’t have come back. It’s gotten too dangerous. My Darken turned on me and abducted me! Can you believe that?’

‘Actually, yes.’

‘She meant well, but I can’t run. I won’t.’

‘You really want it that bad, don’t you,’ he muttered

‘What are you talking about?’ An uneasiness settled upon her.

He rubbed at his neck, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. It felt like one was coming. ‘Well, maybe your Darken had a point.’ He ignored her glare, and it was her best. He’d always been good at doing that. ‘I came back to find you, but once I learned about Gog, I had to change my plans. You were supposed to be far from here by now. Listen, I’m going to take you somewhere safe and then—’

‘Don’t you dare.’ She stepped back from him, feeling hurt and betrayed all over again. ‘You are not my keeper, little brother. I was ever yours.’ She had not meant the vehemence in her voice to be that, well, vehement.

‘That’s unfair.’

‘The right to rule passed to me. I’m sorry it turned out the way it did, but it’s not yours, Fin, not anymore.’

‘Huh, like I said ...’ He paused, as though searching for a way to calm things. ‘Look, you cannot be thinking of going back to Icarthya. Others will deal with Avitus. I won’t allow you to put yourself in that sort of danger. And you can’t stay here either. Gog of Magog is due any day with his ginormous horde of giants, and it won’t be for a gold-rimmed cup of green tea and a bloody fig biscuit.’

‘You have no say over what I do,’ she answered in a quiet voice. Controlling her anger wasn’t easy. She was shaking. ‘I have fought against my own Darken to remain. I must do my duty.’

‘Breathers,’ he said in disgust, waving a thin arm. ‘What have they ever done for us? We are the last of our kind. They slaughtered us by the thousands, and they’d kill us both if they knew. We’re virals, the bringers of plagues, spawn of the Grim. You know what they say.’

‘Not all of them are like that.’

‘I know that now, but many still are.’

‘I am their imperatrix, or at least I will be. I owe it to them. People believe what they hear and don’t always know how to think for themselves. I can change that. I can teach them the truth. Most of them are decent, just ignorant. We can teach them.’ It seemed Threadfin’s hatred of breathers had softened, a little. It was a start.

‘To the pit of Grim with this altruistic rubbish. You owe them nothing.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she said in a sad voice, but maybe you will one day. The only way she could truly care for them all, was if she sat upon the throne. It had to be her. She trusted no one else, not even Threadfin.

‘I ... I knew you were in danger, or that you soon would be.’ He sounded as though he was unsure what to tell her, as if she hadn’t known all along about the extent of his talent. ‘You’re the reason I came back. You must stay out of Icarthya, but you must leave Byrsa too. Liviana has set Gog on me like a vicious warg, but I won’t let him have you too.’

‘I am leaving Byrsa,’ she answered in a tight voice, ‘to return to Icarthya where I belong.’

‘What is it you think I’m trying to do here?’

‘You don’t think I know you mean well? My Darken meant well. Everyone means well, but no one wants to save the people.’

‘Maybe, they’re not meant to be saved.’

Aiyana’s hand stung, and it took a moment to realise she’d slapped him. She fought the urge to apologise. She loved him, but her tolerance was limited these days. Desool had started awake, and was grumbling in his tongue.

Rubbing his cheek, her brother turned his head as though checking it still worked. She hadn’t hit him that hard. ‘Okay, I deserve that,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘I didn’t mean it as it sounded.’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘No, really, I didn’t. You’re right. We need to do something. Well, I guess this means you won’t listen to reason.’ He muttered something else she couldn’t hear, and then uttered a long dramatic sigh. ‘I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.’

‘Nothing and no one are forever.’

‘I’m not going to let you die, even if you hate me for it. I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep you alive.’

‘You don’t have a choice, little brother.’ She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but it was hard. ‘I will reclaim the throne. The people need order, stability. They need me. Liviana has something in her possession and I mean to get it back, and to crack her skull while I’m at it. That is my job and mine alone. You will stay out of it. It seems you’ve enough to be getting on with.’ That he would face a danger she couldn’t imagine soured her stomach, but she stowed the feeling away. They both had their duty.

‘The Shathra Stone; you’ve been trying to find out what she has since she returned.’

Her efforts had resulted in three of her spies going missing, and most recently, their father’s death. Liviana would answer for her crimes, but securing the Stone was paramount. Whatever its power, she knew she couldn’t allow Liviana to possess it. She had an idea of what it was, what it could do. The few texts on it she’d dug up were vague at best. ‘This Nephilim child of yours, you got any others like him?’ Half a dozen would be a help. She realised she would use Desool after all. Too much was at stake, not to.

‘Huh, and I thought he was yours. I ... ah, ran into trouble, and he just happened by as though he’d known. I think he may be working for the Aidari. I sort of ran into them too. You know, they’re not what we thought. They’ve a fool notion I’m supposed to save the world or something. Interesting bunch, for breathers, I mean.’ He muttered again, and then added, ‘Did you know I’m the prophesised one?’ He laughed, but there was no humour in it.

She turned her back on him. ‘I think you should leave. It was good seeing you, but you should go. I need to get going. I’ll get a ship most likely.’

‘I spotted two quinqueremes and four triremes in port. Some smaller boats, but they were all setting sail. The Spectrum above knows there are enough people who want out of this city. Just don’t travel as you. Liviana may have exemplars here too. Just flash some silver dralans. You got coin, right?’

She grimaced. ‘Thank you for understanding. Well, I guess—’

‘Your Darken was right,’ said Threadfin. ‘You should’ve listened to her. Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think I’m about to face a bloody Nephilim horde? Just to have you return to Liviana’s clutches?’

She whirled and advanced on him, giving him a hard poke in the ribs, then another, driving him back. ‘None of that tripe, do you hear? You have your destiny and even I understand that, if not why.’ Fear gripped her when she thought of it. She didn’t want to lose him either.

‘You can’t defeat her alone. Besides, I never believed in destiny. I do believe in you.’ He said that last in a whisper.

She stopped poking him, realising it wasn’t doing any good. He always managed to turn her anger. Just like Cathya, he sought to save her with all the best intentions. ‘You mean more to me than I can explain, Fin, but we’re all grown up now. We’ve changed. You have a destiny to meet whether you like it or not. Just, let me meet mine on my own terms. Give me that much respect.’

‘I think—’

Both jumped at a loud thumping at the wooden door.