A Shout for the Dead (59 page)

'You must be old indeed to be so wrong. For one thing, your lifeless body returning to the embrace of God will give me enormous pleasure. Undeserved but that is not for me to decide. Perverse is the grace of God, don't you think? Once you and your craven staff are out of the way, I can dispense the justice the people demand.'

'You can't
...'
began Aurelius.

'Count up, Aurelius. Advocate away; you, shall we say, incapacitated and Jhered absent with another heretic. Unless I am mistaken, that leaves me at the top of the tree, doesn't it?'

'The Advocate will return soon. The military are with the Ascendants. Your authority will be brief. I am sad I will not be there to witness your demise.'

The Chancellor shook her head. 'Oh, Aurelius. And to think I used to actually respect the sharpness of your mind. Even this afternoon, I had to admit you beat me on a point of law. But you haven't seen it all unravel, have you?'

She reached out and stroked his face. He turned away but she grabbed his chin and he wasn't strong enough to deny her. Their eyes met.

'The Advocate will come back but she will be too late, I'm afraid. Poor woman, deluded and distracted by the evil Ascendancy she took to her bosom. She will, of course, be arrested by my officers to stand trial on the charge you deferred before your "unfortunate" death.

'I've waited a long time for a catalyst to bring the citizens behind me. And the military will have no choice but to bend their knee to me. They are, after all, servants of the Conquord as are we all. Thank you, Aurelius, for the part you played in my succession to power.'

Aurelius struggled in her grip and shook his head loose. Armour of God soldiers grabbed his arms and held them down at his sides.

'The legions are mobilised. The Tsardon are coming, backed by Gorian's Ascendant power and the marching dead. Kill the only people capable of standing before him and you kill yourself.'

The Chancellor laughed. 'Do you think I really believe that feeble lie? Rumours designed to scare the faithful into accepting the Ascendants as saviours. There are no marching dead. Gorian Westfallen is almost certainly dead and rotting on an Atreskan field. And the Tsardon? They can come. And I will speak with them. And if they do not listen, I will destroy them, faithless heathens.'

She shook her head and made the Omniscient symbol over her chest. 'Poor, poor Aurelius. Blessed are you who go now to the embrace of God the Omniscient. Your cycle on this earth, this time, is complete.'

The Chancellor bowed her head. Aurelius closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the sword coming.

Ossacer and Arducius ran through the long dark corridors of the Academy. Fighting echoed on the floors below but chasing past a window, Arducius could see that the Victory Gates remained closed. There had been no alarm yet that the Academy was under attack. The barracks beyond the gates appeared dark.

'Get the eleventh-stranders, Ossie. Tenth should be in the safe room. I'll bring the twelfth to you.'

'See you there.'

The brothers split at an intersection. Arducius raced down a long corridor, his sandals slapping off the marble. He ran past ranks of doors, each letting into small rooms once populated by visiting Order ministers and now used to interview new potentials if they were used at all. Further down the corniced corridor, decked with paintings of Order hierarchy of ages past, they'd knocked together several rooms to form dormitories. One used to house the tenth strand until they w
ere granted their own rooms on t
urning sixteen. Another, the eight children of the fledgling twelfth strand. Little ones, only seven years old.

In this distant corner of the vast, sprawling Academy, the noise of conflict was little more than dim echo. There was no noise either from behind the dormitory door. Arducius had no time for delicacy. He pushed open the door. Shutters were pinned partway back to let in the cool of night. Colonnaded alcoves and shelves were filled with books, rammed in after an instruction to tidy up. The gentle sound of breathing filled the air.

'Up, up, up!' shouted Arducius, slapping his hand on the door. 'It's Arducius. Come on. Up.'

Three of them jerked awake. He heard one cry out. In the darkness there was confusion and alarm. He hadn't lit a lantern. He didn't want the enemy to track his progress if he could avoid it. Questions came at him but he couldn't tell from who.

'No time to dress. Grab your togas and follow me. Dress later. Come on. Genna, Delius, Julius, Paul. Wake up.'

'What is it?'

'Trouble in the Academy. Remember what we spoke about and what we have to do?' Arducius crouched down now, getting to their eye level and calming them. 'Who can tell me?'

'We have to be quiet and go to the safe room.'

'Excellent. Don't be scared. We'll be all right. But hurry. Come on. Drop that book, Garrell.'

The children were crowding into the doorway. Someone was crying.

'Come on, now,' said Arducius. 'Don't cry. I'm here with you and I won't let anything happen to you. Follow me to the back stairs. All right? Everyone ready?'

Nods and yeses had him smile.

'Good. Come on then, and remember
...'
He put a finger to his lips.

Holding Genna's hand, for the poor little girl was shaking and barely awake, he walked quickly back down the corridor to the intersection where he had left Ossacer. He turned left and hurried towards the back stairs. Servants' stairs. They stood behind a grand oak door and were rough underfoot with unfinished walls hemming them in as they spiralled down a central column.

Arducius pushed open the door. A shout echoed up from the floor below. There was a clash of swords and running feet. The children bunched. One let out a scream.

'Shhh,' said Arducius. 'Please. They don't know where we are and they're going away.'

He looked over them all. So small. So innocent. His anger flared but he quashed it and instead, forced calm into his lifelines.

'Come here. All hold hands.'

They did and he gripped Genna's hand a little harder. Their energy maps were revealed to him. Taut and too bright. Blue, yellow and red clashed as they tried to deal with the shock. Arducius bled his calm across them all. He saw them begin to breathe a little easier and the brightness fade from them.

'Good. Good. That's it. Now we need to be very quiet on the stairs. And you might see things you don't like. Trust me. It isn't far now.'

Their eyes were wide in the dark but he thought he had them. He led them into the stairwell. No light came from below. No shadow. Arducius didn't need light. The blank grey of stone was the backdrop against which tiny motes of loose energy fluttered in the airflow. But below there was a concentration of dim red and brown. He thought it was on the ground floor and it was certainly a person. And outside the door to the stairs. The drab brown of worked wood formed a barrier to his energy sight.

'Come on,' he whispered.

Step by tiny step, they moved downwards, heading for the cellars where the safe room was located. Built of steel and stone, and with an entrance covered by wine racks, it was big enough for the whole Academy. Provisioned and ventilated, they thought it might even survive the destruction of the entire building. A fine idea but they had to get there first.

Arducius kept his focus on the human energy map below. It was moving. The sounds of fighting were growing louder. The morass of energies out in the main halls of the Academy were chaotic. Light and fire, gathered masses signifying groups of men. Impossible to know if they were friend or foe.

Sweat was creeping down the back of his neck. The hand in his was twitching and hot. He looked back up the stairs as they turned the corner that would bring them down behind the door and the single figure outside it. Arducius put his finger to his lips again. Every head nodded. Every little body was pressed against the outside wall. There was a feeble light feeding down from above. Moonlight, he thought. Enough for them to see by.

Closer to the door, Arducius could see that there was another energy map. Another man. But sitting down. No. Slouched, slumped against the wall. And the energies were dimming. Bleeding away. He froze. Someone else was walking towards the doorway. Voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying but they were both men.

The door opened. There was a rustle on the stairs behind him. A helmeted head appeared. If he looked up, he'd see Arducius but not the children who were that bit further back round the corner of the central pile. He let Genna's hand go. He could feel all the children cringing into as small shapes as they could muster. One slip of a foot and they would all be discovered. Arducius sampled the gentle movement in the air, ventilation in the stairway. It would be enough. He let the map of wind form in his mind.

Below him, the soldier looked to his right where the stairs went down towards the cellar and complete darkness.

'Been down there?' asked the soldier.

'No,' replied the other. 'Not yet anyway.'

'Keep an ear out.'

'Yes, sir.'

The soldier looked up. Arducius released his Work. The slight air energies in the stairwell channelled though his body, amplifying into a blast of wind that picked the soldier up and threw him out of the doorway. Armour shrieked as it scored across the marble floor of the corridor outside. Arducius kept the wind blowing and marched down the stairs.

'Children, run. Down to the cellar. Don't look back.'

He moved into the doorway. The soldier was lying prostrate, unable to rise. He was shouting. Of his companion, there was no sign. The body of the Ascendancy guard was slumped to Arducius's right. A slick of blood ran away across the floor, picked at by the howling wind and spattered on a nearby wall and door. The children ran behind him, shouting and screaming on their way down into the dark of the cellar. They were safe but they had been seen. Arducius knew what he had to do.

A sharp point jabbed in to his neck, right below his ear.

'Lose it, devil boy,' said a voice. The point pushed harder, breaking the skin. 'Or sentence is carried out here and now.'

Arducius let the Work dissipate. The howling subsided. The other soldier got up, dusted down his skirts and breastplate, rearranged his Armour of God cloak and walked towards him. Arducius held his head high.

'You come with us. The Chancellor wants to see you. We'll come back for the brats.' The soldier stood right in front of him. He was a centurion. There was blood on his gladius. 'Very impressive trick. Pity it'll be your last, eh?'

it won't be, and you'll never know it's coming,' said Arducius. 'Murderer.'

The man frowned and took off his helmet. He was greying and short-haired, eyes hard and full of hate.

‘I
don't recall asking you to speak, devil boy.'

His helmet connected with the side of Arducius's head. He was conscious long enough to fear for his bones when he hit the ground.

When Arducius opened his eyes it was to see Ossacer's face looking above him. There were hands on his head and a throbbing pain that dissipated quickly. He smiled but Ossacer's expression bade him drop it.

'Don't,' he said quietly. 'Had to fix you, but pretend you're hurt, all right? They'd kill me if they knew what I'd done.'

Arducius frowned. He felt fine. A blow to his head that Ossacer had plainly eased but apart from that. He looked down his body. His toga was smeared red. He started.

'Don't worry, Ardu. It isn't yours. You fell on a victim of our glorious Chancellor.' Ossacer raised his eyebrows. 'Broke your arm, dear brother. And a couple of fingers. You really should let me investigate how to fix that brittleness.'

Arducius shook his head. 'Keeps me careful.'

Memory swam back into his mind.

'A bit late now, anyway. You didn't make it to the safe room either? Where are we?'

'Chancellery,' said Ossacer. 'Why don't you sit up. Remember your head hurts.'

Arducius was lying on a recliner in front of the cold fireplace. He put an arm on its back and helped himself up, Ossacer's hands on his shoulders pushing him. The Chancellery was ablaze with light. And it was crowded. Arducius's heart fell.

The eleventh-strand trio were there, sitting on a recliner at right angles to his, staring at their feet. Two of the tenth strand as well, Cygalius who was in no condition to run and big Bryn, named for the old dear departed blacksmith of Westfallen and just as strong. No doubt he had stayed with his brother. Brave but foolish, but still he stood over the prone Cygalius, daring anyone to try and hurt him. Andreas and Meera were with them too, sitting on high-backed chairs pushed together so Meera could put an arm round the old man's shoulders.