5​ To Spit on a Mage

IN THE DISTANCE, Taver squinted at specks he thought might be ships beyond the village. They would have anchored further out, using landing boats. At his urging, neither he nor Tezcat had gone to their rooms. Instead, they’d managed to evade the guards who were preoccupied. Each time they’d attempted to get out of the Necropolis, however, the presence of the Necros had forced them higher. Eventually, they had reached the battlements.

Below them in the cobbled courtyard, Lyrin stood alone. From this height, the undead mage appeared nothing more than the size of a woodlouse. Tezcat insisted it was her, though.

His friend gripped the stone crenel, and on tip toe, peered down. ‘I could spits on her head,’ she suggested.

‘You’d miss.’

‘Bets I wouldn’t.’

‘This is not the time for that. We’re in trouble, Cat.’

‘Always times for spittin’ on mages.’ She screwed up her face and hacked up something, although he knew it wasn’t saliva. He turned his head. It would be a lot nastier, and nothing he wanted to see.

‘Cat, we got to find a way to evade the Necros. This whole place is about to implode. You know I’m right. We stay here we’re going to end up in the middle of a fight.’

‘I likes fightin’.’

‘I don’t think you’ll like it this time.’

She gulped down whatever it was she’d been planning to splatter Lyrin’s head with. ‘Where is they comin’ from anyways? You said Adalalcas was like home, so why is they sending bewitched soldiers to kill us?’

He didn’t have the answers. Did Rade? ‘Look, you were right. Beezer’ll make short work of them. We should still get out of the Necrop’ though. Just in case.’

‘I isn’t worried.’ She looked up at him, the sunlight, which had breached the fog, bright in her dull eyes. It was a contradiction he couldn’t help but admire. Like uncut cloudy diamonds. Many disliked the undead, as though they’d no right to exist. Dead was dead, some would say, and life was life. Why should there be anything in between? Taver had always answered that with, ‘Why shouldn’t there be?’

‘Well, it’s not Beez I is worrying overs. I saw other stuffs in Vasara when you came for me. I doesn’t likes what I saw, Tav.’

For the first time, behind the bravado, he saw fear in her eyes—felt it clutch at his throat, like cold hands seeking to squeeze the breath out of him. He’d tried to ignore the obvious, but there was more to this than ordinary soldiers. Bewitched, she’d said, whatever that meant.

‘Tav?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Thanks for comin’ backs for me.’ She seemed small to him then, though she was near his age. He took her cold hand and squeezed, before glancing down at the mage below. He’d tried earlier to get more out of Tezcat, about what she’d seen, but she wouldn’t speak of it.

‘I heard folks sayin’ we is done for.’

‘Don’t pay attention to them. Living folk always like to talk about nothing. You know that.’

‘They said there is breathers prosperin’ outside these walls, ordering virals be handed overs. It’s the same all o’er the islands. They say, once the undead is gone, the wights will go.’

‘You mean, protesting, right?’

‘You know, for a breather, you doesn’t hear good. I gets worms in my ears too. They tickles when they goes deep.’

He shuddered. ‘Okay, from who did you hear about this?’

‘What? The worms?’

‘No, about the protesters!’

‘Oh, Elvyra.’

‘Well, Elvyra talks too much.’ Whoever she was, she had to be one of the Aidari, or a servant maybe. ‘Don’t listen to her.’

‘She said they wants to burn us. Said we made them plagues and if they doesn’t burn us good, we’ll turn on ’em, all rabbits and stuff.’

‘Rabbits?’ he muttered scratching his head. ‘Oh wait, you mean, rabid.’

She nodded. ‘What I said, weren’t it? Maybes, it’ll work too.’

‘Huh?’

‘Turning into rabbits, and killing ’em all. We could destroys them. I knows it.’ Her brow furrowed, cracking the skin like old parchment. ‘I doesn’t wants to be handed over to no stupid breathers, and get all burnt. Burning hurts. Not likes we doesn’t feel pain too.’

‘Not all us breathers think like her, Cat. Don’t forget that.’

‘I never forgets, but you isn’t them and they isn’t you.’

‘That’s what I was trying to say.’ I’ll strangle Elvyra if I get hold of her, he thought, whoever she is. With near a thousand students living and undead in the Necropolis, it was impossible to know everyone. There were far more students in fact, than people in the village. He smiled at her, trying to comfort her. ‘This will all blow over. You’ll see.’

He glanced down at Lyrin below, and grabbed Tezcat’s arm. A delegation of twelve Necros, led by a commander with a white plume on his helm, approached the female mage. All had swords drawn, which considering recent events might have seemed logical. Something about them however, the way they moved, warned him things weren’t right.

Later, he would fail to recall what happened exactly. The only thing he would remember was twelve blackened bodies surrounding Lyrin. Their armour and clothing remained untouched, tossed aside like refuse. It was hard to see from such a height, but his imagination filled in a lot of detail. Lyrin returned inside the Necropolis, moving with speed and purpose.

‘Those Necros dogs tried murderin’ her,’ Tezcat shouted. ‘You saws it, right?’

‘Oh, this is much worse than I thought.’ How was he going to get her out? Keeping her from taking on the entire Necros guard was going to be hard enough.

‘Elvyra’s right. I doesn’t like her nose sticking up the way it does when she talks, but she’s right.’

He realised he still had a firm hold of her arm. ‘Yeah,’ he said, pulling her back from the wall, ‘maybe she had a point.’ What am I going to do? Where am I going to hide her? How do I get her out? They couldn’t remain there, no matter how powerful Beezer and Lyrin or the other mages were. Some of the older students were strong too, but could they protect everyone?

‘I still doesn’t like Elvyra.’

‘Yeah, me neither. Listen, you know I’m your Aidari, right?’

‘No, you isn’t; you hasn’t finished training, and I’m no mage yet.’

‘Right, okay, okay—forget that. Do you trust me is what I’m asking?’

She smiled. ‘You can let goes o’ my arm. I isn’t running off anywhere. Where you goes, I goes, right?’

He let out a long breath, and released her. ‘Right. Well then, I’m getting you out of here. Okay?’

This time she didn’t resist—just nodded.

Hand in hand they fled the battlement. Then the first screams and sorcerous concussions reached them from deep within the Necropolis.