18​ Baiting the Trap

TAVER KEPT HIS body low, clenching his jaw in the frigid air, his body wracked with shivers despite the extra furs. While Tezcat didn’t suffer the same problems with cold, he needed to watch her. The undead tended to freeze in place in such conditions. He’d already had to peel her off the ground once. Tezcat said they could use viralic magic to prevent themselves from freezing solid, which he assumed she was doing though he couldn’t tell.

Wish I could do that, he thought, shivering. Sometimes he thought there was a fire deep inside of him, a furnace he could almost touch. Yet, for some reason it remained out of reach. He hadn’t mentioned it to Tezcat in case she thought he was an idiot, but his earlier conversation with Beezer had him wondering. Also feeling dizzy, he shook his head to clear it. Being this high created problems.

‘It’s no matter,’ whispered Tezcat at his side. ‘I is still yours friend an’ all.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Creaking leather and hushed voices sometimes reached them, only to give way to the wind. The others had crouched further down behind some rocks. White flurries drifted across, sticking to furs and cloaks.

‘Tav, it weren’t yours fault.’

He nodded ahead. ‘Keep your eyes on the ridge. They may not be far off, and you don’t want to miss the signal.’

‘She betrayed you. I doesn’t blames you for nothin’. I blames only her.’

‘I know.’ Words didn’t change how he felt, but he didn’t want to upset her. ‘I’m fine.’

There had been sporadic clashes since their arrival at Reaper’s End. A dozen of the living killed, and two virals overcome by wights. The mages had fought hard, their Necros Guardians at their sides. Beezer hadn’t united them into a proper army, but instead had split them into smaller units, each with mages, Necros, and any Aidari with enough magical ability. Pick the enemy off in small groups, rather than let them gather and attack in a larger force.

He still wanted to take Tezcat away, but she wouldn’t leave. Her faith in Beezer was absolute. He wished he shared her optimism. This all felt like a last stand, and he didn’t see the point in that.

Taver’s unit consisted of ten Necros and three Aidari including himself. Tezcat and Nisky were the only virals. Nisky had turned up at Reaper’s, hours after they had, and in a sorry state too. Vent apparently hadn’t made it.

While the original Nisky recovered at Reaper’s End, two of her replicas were out scouting. Consequently, their group had more mages than the others. He wondered if it would prove enough. Nisky had demonstrated a skill for battling wights though the Necropolis no longer considered her a mage. He didn’t think the title mattered. What was in a name? It was what she could do that was important.

He heard movement, and half turned to see one of the others creeping up through the thick snow towards him.

‘She’s no imperial mage,’ said a gruff voice, echoing Taver’s thoughts. A Necros captain, in bronze scale and furs, hunkered down between them. Dever Marks was a dour man, scarred inside and out it seemed.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Taver, ‘does it?’

The captain shrugged, though he kept his gaze on the ridge above. ‘Don’t know her, and I don’t trust her.’

‘She’s a viral. Isn’t that enough for you?’

‘Not one of ours though, is she boy? She abandoned the Necropolis and that makes a difference. Besides, you think all undead think the same, dance to the same tune? Doesn’t work that way.’

‘Never saw one dance, so couldn’t say.’

‘You got a smart mouth, young Aidari.’

‘I don’t know much about her history, but she didn’t abandon the imperium, did she? Not like you lot did.’ Taver earned a dangerous glare for that, but he didn’t care. He liked Nisky, despite her habit of splitting into two or three whole other people, also named Nisky. ‘Anyhow, she saved myself and Cat from the wights. If not for her, we wouldn’t have made it. You people have funny notions about trust. She’s earned mine.’

The Necros devoted their lives to the protection of the undead, but only the mages of the Necropolis. They cared nothing for the imperium. The undead were guardians of the living, protecting the world from dark forces no one cared to describe. If a Necros could stop an unseen blade, they considered giving their lives a fair trade. They were a little like Aidari, Taver supposed, without any magical ability and far more martial training.

Knowing this, Taver was shocked at the level of hostility some held towards Nisky. Until that was, he’d learned they saw the imperium as a threat. Since the arrival of ships and apparent imperial soldiers, it was a belief now vindicated. Other undead weren’t welcome. Others weren’t trusted. The Necros served the Necropolis. It made no sense to him, but then he smiled, thinking about Tezcat’s reaction to it all, ‘Breathers is stupid.’

Aren’t we just?

‘Something funny?’ asked the captain.

‘You’d need a sense of humour to get it.’ Taver thought he heard the man growl. ‘When those wights descend on us, Guardian, you’ll be glad she’s with us unless you figured out a way of fighting them yourselves? No? I didn’t think so.’ The captain’s face darkened further.

The man slapped at his own face with a gloved hand. He had an ice pick gripped in the other, with thick gut rope about his waist linking him to the others and Taver. ‘What are we still doing up here, Aidari? There’s nothing here. It’s a waste of bloody time.’

‘You’re asking me?’

‘Well, you think you’re so smart. You tell me?’

Gits fed on the man’s exposed cheeks. Marks spat and cursed, unable to rid himself of the bloodsucking pests. The mites, often found near rivers and marshes, could survive for years beneath snow and ice, waiting for a warm meal. Several others among the living had similar trouble. Neither heat nor cold affected the pests, only smoke, but they could light no fires here. A silence lay over the peaks save for the moaning wind. The Necros captain eyed him once more. The mites seemed to affect every one of the living, but not him, and the captain had noticed.

‘We’re following orders,’ Taver replied. Glancing at the other man’s efforts to save himself, he hid a grin. ‘Try rubbing snow on your cheeks.’

Dever stared at him. ‘I’m frozen stiff as it is.’

‘It’ll relieve the itching, but how you like.’

‘Still don’t see why we’re up here. We should be back at Reaper’s manning those battlements. It’s what they’re for, ain’t it?’ The man was rubbing snow into his cheeks, and Taver stifled a laugh. The snow might help for a bit, but there were more of the insects buried inside it. Still, he deserved it for the things he’d said about Nisky.

‘We’s the bait,’ said Tezcat on his other side, before she grinned across at Dever. ‘You smells horrible. They hads to send you. You’ll pulls all them wights with your stink, not to mentions them gits. I hopes they nibbles holes in your face.’ She said it sweetly too while still smiling.

Dever Marks growled deep, and swore. ‘I know why I’m up here freezing my bollocks off, but—’ 

‘Quiet,’ she hissed, swinging her head towards the ridge, and causing the captain’s face to turn a shade of purple. Of course, that might have been the gits.

Taver’s ears strained to hear above the man’s mutterings, and the wind. Something had moved, disturbing snow. Wights didn’t shift snow but it might have been one of Nisky’s replicas.

The captain loosened his bronze short sword for the hundredth time. ‘They’re close,’ he hissed, ‘somewhere, up there. The bastards are coming.’

‘So, what’s we waitin’ for?’ Tezcat whispered.

Mark’s eyebrows rose as he eyed the undead girl. ‘I know you’re eager, but there’s only a handful of us here. Just be ready to send the signal.’

‘Why nots send it now? I smells them.’

‘No. Eyes on the enemy first. Those are my orders. Replicas one and two draw their attention, while we retreat. Then the replicas follow drawing them after us. You’d both better be able to run. We take up our positions at the valley floor, and pull them into the trap.’

Taver glanced down the way they’d come. Run? he thought. More like roll the whole way back down. ‘If she says she smells them, then they’re there. We may be the bait, but I’d rather we didn’t get eaten.’

Dever’s face grew more stubborn. ‘The girl’s no mage, boy, and I take instructions from mages, not Aidari. I need to be certain. Damn that undead witch, she should’ve sent word back by now.’ He looked to Tezcat. ‘You certain you heard nothing from her?’

She shook her head.

‘Where’s the other one gotten to? One is supposed to remain in sight.’

‘Exactly my point,’ said Taver, ‘something’s wrong.’

‘Shut it, Aidari.’

Taver muttered several curses into his pelt. Sworn to defend the mages until death, and as stupid as Tezcat claimed. Maybe that’s what it took to become a Necros in the first place. Muscles and stupidity.

A fat moon hung over the south in danger of encroaching clouds, while flakes danced on the wind as the snowfall lightened. Without turning, the captain gestured to the others, and untied the rope at his waist. With a warning look for Taver, the man climbed up towards the toothed spine.

Ah, Spectrum above, thought the Aidari. They were to wait for one of the replicas to signal Tezcat, who would then pass it on. Some undead had a way of communicating without words and Beezer wasn’t the only one.

He watched as Tezcat followed the captain. Tell her to do one thing, and she did the opposite.

Cursing himself for another fool, he went after her.

***

APPROACHING THE RIDGE, Tezcat found the scent had deepened. It reminded her of what breathers tossed out their windows into alleyways. Terming it a smell weren’t right though. She was familiar with all sorts of scents. Not that her nose was any use, but her magic could smell stuff. The living, for example, were pungent and oily. Her own kind was more pleasant, minding her of dirt and must, and good earthy smells. Other times of old puddles and mud. Normal scents, though best of all was the smell of fresh blood.

What she smelled now was a sickening odour. It seeped inside of her and made her feel dizzy. Of course, her actual nose was useless and it was her half soul what really did the smelling.

It scared her, never minding the undead didn’t feel fear. She’d never tell Taver though she couldn’t say why. Wasn’t like she cared what breathers thought, was it?

Remaining low, she inched her body towards the steep brow of the ridge. She drove her fingers deep, rough nails finding a grip, hoping they’d hold. She struggled to remember to move. Sitting still, watching, it felt peaceful and time meant little to her. Being stuck with wights just over the ridge, however, wasn’t a good idea. Her fingers gripped rock as she scraped her body over the summit. There was less snow here as the ridge fell away on the far side. Swirling flakes announced the vacuum beyond. As she reached the captain’s side she peered over, and saw nothing.

She crawled past the Necros breather, and within inches of a boulder, which hung preciously – no, wait that weren’t the word. Was it, preventively? Anyhow, it was dangerous sitting over her like it was. She inched round it, her left cheek caressing its edge.

The moon’s light was absent, its fat body hidden by cloud. She listened and waited. They were out there. The two Nisky’s had disappeared and the wights hadn’t taken the bait, and that wasn’t good.

A scuffle to her rear suggested Taver had followed her. She’d known he would, but he made his own choices, like she made hers. Problem was, he weren’t good at staying quiet. If the wights heard him, the plan would work after all, though most wouldn’t survive to celebrate. Although, she had to admit that one thing her friend was good at, was running away.

***

DEVER MARK’S PITTED face scrunched up against the breeze, as Taver crouched next to him, panting hard. ‘Anything?’ he asked between gulps? When the captain didn’t answer, he nodded over at Tezcat. ‘What’s she doing?’

‘Her job.’

Taver didn’t like the sound of that. ‘I thought Nisky was the bait.’

‘Been no sign of either one.’ He paused, and then spat, ‘The Grim’s balls on fire, but I thought I’d seen it all, you know?’ He shook his head. ‘Imagine, a whole other person crawling out of you. How often has she done it, I wonder? Are there hundreds of her out there somewhere? Thousands?’

Been wondering the same myself. ‘So,’ said Taver, ‘I guess this makes us all the bait then.’

‘We always were,’ said the Necros with a nod towards Tezcat. ‘But her and Nisky are the tip of it. Those wights seem to have a taste for the undead like nothing I’ve ever seen.’

They watched her crouched beneath a large overhang, unmoving. The snow was settling upon her, blending her in.

Movement deep in the valley drew Taver’s gaze. Not a natural sort of movement, but more a feeling of something sensed if not seen. He knew what it meant.

‘We’ve found them,’ said the captain in a hoarse whisper. He got to his feet with a nod towards Tezcat. ‘Make sure she sends the signal to the others below. They’ll be upon us in no time. Get ready, young Aidari for the race of your life.’

No captain, thought Taver, watching a rigid Tezcat stare into the darkness. We haven’t found them. I think they’ve just found her.