The Iron Ghost Page 3

  ‘Indulge me for a moment,’ he said, pulling the skinning knife from his belt. ‘How about we cook our meat first this time?’

  There were a few faces pulled over that, and Crocus crossed her arms over her chest, her brow furrowed.

  ‘The meat will be ruined.’

  One of the other brood sisters stepped forward. She was shorter than Crocus by perhaps an inch, her white hair hanging loose against her cheeks. In the days since Baneswatch, Sebastian had done his best to learn each of the brood sisters’ newly chosen names, but this one still referred to herself as the Second.

  ‘We cannot eat the flesh while it is alive. Now we cannot eat the flesh without burning it first?’

  ‘Mother would often burn it,’ pointed out Ephemeral in a reasonable tone of voice. ‘We have all eaten burnt flesh.’

  Sebastian held up the hand not holding the knife. ‘Not burnt, merely cooked. You might like it. And, you see, we can use this animal’s skin for clothes, its fats for ointments. If we tear it all to bits, then you will only get this one thing from it. Using all the parts of what you hunt – this is one of the things I will teach you. In the mountains.’

  The one called the Second frowned. ‘When you make us your Ynnsmouth knights?’

  ‘No,’ said Sebastian. He took a slow breath, thinking of the globe of blue glass in his pocket. ‘But I will show you what is useful to know.’

  This hunger was new to them. They had eaten before, of course – Sebastian didn’t like to dwell too long on what they had eaten before – but from what Ephemeral had told him, Y’Ruen had sustained them simply by being there. The flesh and blood they had eaten, torn often from victims who were still alive, had been for enjoyment only. They could have marched for months with nothing in their bellies, surviving on the nurturing presence of Y’Ruen alone. Now that she was gone they were experiencing real hunger for the first time, and like children, it was something that troubled them incessantly.

  ‘This will take too long,’ said Crocus. She stood over Sebastian as he quickly skinned the deer carcass. ‘I am hungry now.’

  ‘I am also hungry now.’ This was Toast, a brood sister who looked curiously younger than the others. Ephemeral had told him that she had been the Eight Hundred and Forty Second, back in the birthing pits. ‘I am so hungry it hurts.’

  ‘Patience will be something else I will teach you about in the mountains.’ It wasn’t easy in the light from their small fire, but Sebastian deftly separated flesh from pelt, and spitted the animal quickly. There was some blood, and for a strange moment he found he could not quite look away from the red smears on his hands. It is the remnants of the demon, he told himself firmly. A demon that I have long since left behind.

  ‘Here.’ He lay the carcass across the fire, and rubbed his hands on his cloak. ‘Soon it will be cooked, and you will be able to smell it.’

  ‘How soon?’ said Toast, her wide yellow eyes riveted to the bloody meat.

  ‘Soon enough. Here, turn this.’ Sebastian gave her the end of the stick. ‘Keep turning it over, but slowly, so that it cooks on all sides.’

  ‘It is a waste of meat,’ said the Second, already eyeing up the deer and rabbits still to be skinned. ‘I could be full by now. We could all be full by now.’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Sebastian. He met her eyes steadily. ‘A lot of what I show you will not make sense to begin with, but I can help you to live in this world. As a part of this world.’

  ‘Trust you,’ said the Second. It wasn’t quite a question, but when the meat was ready she would not taste it, and Sebastian gave up the second deer carcass to those who still wanted their meat raw. They took it away from the fire at least, and then fell on it like wolves. Sebastian sat with his back to the fire, listening to the sounds of flesh being torn.

  ‘Give them time.’ Ephemeral came and sat beside him. She pulled her long hair out of its braid and began to drag a comb through it – some small souvenir stolen from a town or village they had sacked under Y’Ruen’s instruction.

  ‘Time. That I can give them.’ Sebastian toyed with the meat he’d served up himself. It did not taste how he imagined it would – it was flat, and stringy. He longed for some salt. ‘Time, and a place to be away from the world for a while. The sum of my own experience.’ He laughed a little at that. ‘I don’t know if it will be enough, Ephemeral. I don’t know what could be.’

  ‘It is something,’ said Ephemeral firmly. She found a knot in her hair and yanked the comb firmly through it. ‘It is a start.’

  ‘Did you enjoy the cooked meat?’

  Ephemeral nodded enthusiastically. ‘When Mother cooked it, it was mainly black and crusty. This is better.’

  Putting his dinner aside, Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue globe Crowleo had given him. The Secret Keeper’s apprentice had meant it as a way for Sebastian to remember who he was, he understood that now – a great gift indeed. Sebastian was fairly sure he didn’t deserve it.

  The flames from their fire danced green within the glass and he could see the god-peak again, distant and alone. Should he have let the soldiers of Baneswatch slaughter the brood sisters, as they had wanted to? What did it mean, to save murderers from murder?

  ‘It is very beautiful,’ said Ephemeral. She had put her comb away now and was staring at the glass ball. ‘When you look at it your face becomes calm.’

  For a long moment Sebastian didn’t say anything at all. ‘A good friend made this for me,’ he said finally. ‘When I look at it, I am reminded of him.’

  He noticed then that his fingers were still smeared with blood, so he put the globe away. On the far side of the fire the brood sisters who had eaten their dinner raw were returning, with the Second at the forefront. The ends of her long white hair were stained red.

  ‘Soon,’ he told Ephemeral, ‘we will have to leave this forest and travel down through the lakelands themselves. There it will be harder to hide, and we shall have to be especially careful. Those of you who have hooded cloaks should be sure to wear them. Those who don’t will travel in the middle of our company.’

  ‘There are many people down there?’ asked Ephemeral. She was braiding her hair again, her fingers deftly portioning her hair into three pieces before weaving them together. ‘Many human places?’

  ‘Many human places,’ agreed Sebastian. ‘And it may not be safe.’

  Not safe for us, he thought, and not safe for them.

  4

  ‘Tamlyn? Tamlyn Nox is coming here?’

  Barlow took her furred hat off and turned it round in her hands before thinking better of it and wedging it back on her head. The bitter cold was a slap round the face.

  ‘Gamlin saw her hisself, with his lenses.’ Yun shrugged unhappily. ‘She’s coming up the Bone Road on her own war-werken.’ He paused, and scratched his patchy beard. ‘I’d quite like to see that up close, actually. They say it’s the fastest one she’s built, and sleek, too.’

  ‘You’ll get to see it up close, all right,’ said Barlow, scowling. ‘I might well ask her if she can get it to eat you, then you’ll see it real close. This is all I bloody need, a visit from Tamlyn in the middle of an excavation. I’ve got charges about to go off all over the place.’

  ‘She could be coming to do a blessing,’ pointed out Yun mildly. ‘She knows the mountain like no one else, and since we lost the Heart-Stone—’

  ‘Lost it? We didn’t lose it, Yun, you idiot.’ Barlow glanced behind her into the quarry, the very heart of Skaldshollow. Men and women, looking like ants at this distance, scurried across the brown and grey rock, the earth-werkens themselves moving slowly, huge dark shapes of rock against the flesh of the mountain. They were too far away for her to see the intricate patterns carved into their stone hides, but she knew them as well as the ever increasing lines at the corners of her eyes. Ever since the Heart-Stone had vanished, her workers had been skittish, and why shouldn’t they be? Without it, their work would eventually become pointless. And now
Tamlyn Nox was coming, with her sharp eyes, her sharp tongue, and her witch’s ways. The best werken-crafter of them all, of course, Barlow was never going to argue with that, but she was hardly a reassuring presence. ‘How soon?’

  ‘About now, I’d reckon.’

  Barlow whipped round and, sure enough, a giant shape was cresting the top of the Bone Road. It was a clear day on the mountain, and she could see the thick veins of Edeian that riddled Tamlyn’s war-werken, which was, as Yun had promised, a sleek four-footed model shaped rather like a giant cat with a long pointed face. Its eyes glowed green. She could also see Tamlyn herself, riding between the creature’s enormous shoulders. Her dark hair was pinned into a careful gathering on top of her head, but the wind was making short work of that.

  ‘An unexpected pleasure, Mistress Crafter!’ Barlow scurried forward, plastering a smile on her face. ‘I wasn’t aware you were visiting us today, but obviously—’

  ‘I’m not here to catch you out, Barlow.’ Tamlyn dismounted, climbing down the steps chiselled directly into the werken’s stone flank.

  Barlow’s awkward smile froze into place. ‘Oh, of course not, no . . .’

  ‘You misunderstand me.’ Tamlyn marched over to them, glancing around at the sturdy buildings that marked the hub of Skaldshollow’s mining operation, and the dormant earth-werkens that squatted here and there. She wore only a padded coat, no hat or furs. Her skin, the warm colour of clay bricks, carried a flush of red on the tops of her cheeks, the only sign that it was freezing on the mountain. As ever, Barlow found it difficult to look away from her face, with its broad nose and narrow, black eyes. It was a face that could have been carved from a mountain itself, every bit as cold and beautiful.

  ‘Mistress?’

  ‘There has been a sighting.’ Tamlyn nodded at Yun, who was doing his best to vanish into the background. ‘You. Yun, isn’t it? Are there lookouts in place?’

  The scrawny man looked horrified to have been addressed directly. His eyes jumped from Tamlyn to her werken and back again. Perhaps he thinks she really is going to feed him to it, thought Barlow.

  ‘Yes, mistress!’ squeaked Yun. ‘I mean, the usual, the usual lookouts. No one has reported anything, mistress.’

  Knowing that nothing had happened but needing to check anyway, Barlow glanced at the distant beacons ringing the pit. All were unlit, as expected.

  Tamlyn cocked her head slightly, as though listening to something they couldn’t hear.

  ‘The usual lookouts?’

  Barlow winced and opened her mouth to answer but Tamlyn spoke over her.

  ‘Our greatest treasure is stolen, from right under our noses, and you see no need to watch the skies more closely?’

  For the briefest moment Barlow’s traitorous mouth wanted to ask how the great Mistress Crafter of Skaldshollow had failed to protect the Heart-Stone, but she bit down on her cheek until the urge passed.

  ‘There should be more war-werkens up here, I’ve said that before.’ Barlow paused as Tamlyn’s eyes narrowed at her. ‘If we should find another—’

  ‘There will be no other,’ snapped Tamlyn. ‘The Heart-Stone is unique, and it is ours.’ She touched a red-beaded necklace at her throat. ‘We will take back what is ours, and the Narhl will bleed for what they’ve taken.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’ Barlow felt a faint swell of pride, and corresponding anger. The bloody Narhl, with their cold hearts and flying lizards. They had no right. ‘You know we’ll always do our best for you, you only have to ask.’ She heard Yun cough slightly as he held in a snigger, and she made a note to confiscate his rum ration later.

  Tamlyn looked closely at them both, a twitch of uncertainty at the corner of her lips. ‘See that you do,’ she said, turning back to look at her werken, which was crouched obediently in a thin covering of powdery snow. ‘The quality of the rock – it is the same?’

  Barlow nodded, glad to be back on familiar ground. ‘Yes, mistress. If anything, the Edeian is getting stronger the deeper we go. The werkens constructed from these rocks will be the best we’ve ever made. Er, the best you’ve ever made.’ Although now we’ve no Heart-Stone to waken them, she added silently.

  Tamlyn nodded. ‘Good. It is time we surprised the Narhl. On the advice of the Prophet, I have—’

  There was a shout from across the pit – Barlow heard it clearly on the frigid air – followed by the soft wumph of a beacon being lit. As one, they turned to see the first of several warning beacons flaring into life on the other side of the mine, and above that, in the crisp blue sky, the wriggling shapes of a Narhl attack formation.

  ‘Fuck me sideways,’ muttered Yun.

  Tamlyn was already running for her werken, shouting commands as she went. Men and women were moving in all directions; some making for safety, others looking for weapons. Barlow stood frozen for a moment, torn between looking like a coward in front of Mistress Nox and being caught out in the open during a Narhl attack. And then Yun was running, waving at the men and women in the pit to get down, so she followed him, her eyes flickering from the rocky ground in front of her to the shapes in the sky, now much closer than they were just a few seconds ago. The Narhl were fast.

  Together they made it to one of the supply huts, but men and women in armour were streaming in and out of it, fetching range weapons and the portable catapults, so they crouched by the wall.

  ‘Can you see them?’ asked Yun, his teeth chattering. Barlow couldn’t understand how he could be cold; she was suddenly sweating.

  She peered around the hut and there they were, seven pale blue wyverns, rippling across the sky like eels in a stream, their short bat-like wings held out stiffly to either side. On their backs she could just make out the gaunt forms of the Narhl riders, their mottled faces stark and strangely angular. They wore glass goggles over their eyes, and each carried a clutch of ice-spears on their backs – she couldn’t actually see those, but she’d seen their work often enough.

  ‘Just a small force,’ she whispered, and then wondered why she was whispering. ‘They won’t hang about.’ If we’re lucky, she added silently.

  There was a tremendous crack followed by a chorus of screams as the first of the Narhls’ ice-spears fell, directly into the mine itself. Barlow winced, pulling her hat down over her ears as far as it would go. The men and women in armour were now on their own werkens, and all around them huge lumbering shapes of black and brown and grey rock were stirring into life, but the problem was the same as it ever was: the Narhl attacked from the sky, and the werkens could not reach them. Even so, some were fitted with giant catapults and as they watched, huge balls of granite were flung into the sky, scattering the sky-lizards. Flurries of fire arrows followed them up.

  ‘Tamlyn knew they were coming,’ hissed Yun. ‘That’s why she bloody came up here, she is a witch just like they say.’

  An ice-spear fell and struck the ground no more than twenty feet from where they were crouched. There was a crack as the air instantly froze and three unlucky men stood frozen in their tracks. One of them fell and shattered into pieces.

  Barlow scrambled to her feet. ‘Come on, we have to get inside somewhere.’

  They edged round the corner of the squat building, listening fearfully to the chorus of screams and shouts that now filled the pit. We were lucky we weren’t down there, thought Barlow. A few more minutes and I would have been, if Tamlyn hadn’t dropped in like that. As if summoning her, they saw Tamlyn on the far ridge, seated on the shoulders of her cat-like war-werken. She was impossible to miss with her black hair now streaming behind her like a banner, and the four-legged werken was as fast as Yun promised. It tore across the rocky ridge, chasing the distant sky-lizards. More ice-spears fell like deadly hail.

  ‘We should get down the Bone Road,’ said Yun. ‘Get under a sturdy roof.’ But he wasn’t moving. Like Barlow, he was watching with wide eyes as the soldiers under Tamlyn’s command urged their werkens to climb on top of each other, forming a rough pyramid of rock and glowi
ng Edeian. Tamlyn turned her own werken and urged it on, running towards the formation at full pelt.

  ‘Is she . . .?’ Barlow cleared her throat. ‘She’s not . . .?’

  The werken scrambled up its brothers and leapt clear into the sky. A sky-lizard wriggled sharply away but didn’t move fast enough. The werken collided heavily with the creature and down it came, squealing and thrashing. Tamlyn and the werken landed beyond the ridge, throwing up rocks and snow in all directions. The Narhl rider was trapped, held in place by his own straps and belts, and with a sharp stamp from the werken’s heavy foot his mount was dead. The remaining Narhl troops threw the last of their ice-spears and left, heading back to the mountains of the north-west, the centre of their own territory.

  ‘She brought one down!’ crowed Yun. He hopped from foot to foot. ‘She bloody well brought one of the bastards off his stupid bastard flying lizard! I told you that werken was the tops, I told you.’

  ‘Come on,’ Barlow reached up and wiped away a palm full of sweat from her forehead before it could ice over, ‘I want to go and see it.’

  By the time they got there, the Narhl was already tied up, and already dying. He sat in the snow with his goggles slightly askew where someone had pulled them up. He had apparently fallen badly when his sky-lizard fell, as there were bones sticking from his bare chest and dark blood pooling in his lap. Tamlyn was standing over him, a short sword in one hand and a small circle of soldiers surrounding her.

  ‘When is the next attack? Where is our Heart-Stone?’

  The Narhl looked up at her with little apparent interest. Barlow felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him; up close, the Narhls were a tall, well-built people with wide shoulders and narrow waists, and their skins were mottled white, black, grey and brown – the colour of a pebble-bottomed mountain stream. This man’s eyes were pale blue and his black hair was crusted here and there with what looked like green lichen.

  ‘There is little to say to mountain-killers,’ he said. His voice was soft. ‘Did you enjoy our brief visit?’