Songreaver (7 page)

"Nonsense, Max," Serepheni said, "I think
you're doing a splendid job."

Max gave her a twisted smile.

"I'm worried about him," Serepheni said.

Max sighed. "He's safer than any of us right
now," he said, "The ghouls will sneak him into the city, and find
him a safe place to stay... no matter what happens to us."

Serepheni frowned. "Are you certain they can
be trusted?" she asked.

Max scoffed. "Ghouls are simple creatures,
but they are honorable to a fault... in their own way."

"What does
that
mean?" she asked.

"I really do have more important things to be
concerned about at the moment," Max said.

"Stop worrying," Serepheni said, "It will all
work out. Just try to be... courteous."

Max looked at her for a long moment then
snapped his visor down. The polished silver skull grinned back at
her. "I will be as courteous to them as they are to me," he
said.

"Oh, Goddess, we're going to die," Serepheni
groaned.

Garrett smiled, in spite of his own
trepidation. His eyes rose to the great tomb-city of Wythr, rising
above the dry wastes that lay between the mountain and the river.
Somewhere within those walls, Caleb and Lampwicke were waiting for
him to return. His stomach twisted into a knot to think what the
priestesses might have done with them. Warren had assured him that
zombies and fairies were far too valuable to harm, but what if they
had been shipped off and sold out of the city? Would he ever see
his friends again?

He looked back over his shoulder at the cloud
of dust, and the shambling forms of the undead horde moving against
the haze. One way or another, the sisterhood would answer to the
necromancers they had betrayed.

The army reached the city's outer walls as
the light of the sun, eternally obscured by the gray clouds that
hung over the city, had taken on a slightly ruddy hue.

"I hope we make it home before Curfew," Max
said, turning his grinning skull visor toward Garrett.

Garrett snorted.

Serepheni frowned. "That
is
a
problem," she said, "Perhaps it would be best if we make camp here
for the night and send a delegation in to meet with the Matrons at
dawn."

Max stared at her for a moment then shook his
head. "Momentum!" he shouted, and spurred his dead horse on toward
the city gates.

"Max!" she cried, her horse cantering off in
pursuit of the rogue deathlord.

Garrett, finding himself suddenly alone,
patted Ghausse on the shoulder and said, "Let's go find
Cenick."

Ghausse shook his black fur and stretched his
legs in a dizzying burst of speed, grateful for the chance to run.
Garrett held on tight as the dire wolf raced across the field
toward the gray column of undead soldiers lead by the burly,
tattooed necromancer.

"Garrett!" Cenick called out, raising his
hand in greeting from the back of his shaggy mountain pony.

"Can I ride with you?" Garrett asked.

"Always," Cenick said, "Any word from our
glorious leader?"

Garrett shook his head. "I think he wants to
go into the city tonight, but Miss Serepheni didn't think that was
a good idea."

Cenick shrugged his shoulders. "I always
wanted to break a Watcher," he said, his face grim, "I wonder how
those monsters would fare against someone who isn't just another
terrified child who got locked out after Curfew."

Garrett laughed, remembering his own
experience with the skeletal giants who guarded the city's streets
after nightfall.

"What do you think Max is going to do?"
Garrett asked.

"Something foolish," Cenick said.

"Shouldn't we try to stop him?" Garrett
asked.

Cenick laughed. "Garrett," he said,
"sometimes the only cure for folly is a bigger fool. I'd prefer
Max's folly over the sisterhood's any day."

A brilliant flash of green fire drew all eyes
to the city gates. A tower of verdant flame shot up from Max's hand
toward the gray sky, and his voice boomed out, loud enough to be
heard beyond the city walls and all the way back to the army that
followed him.

"Wythr, city of a thousand tombs!" Max cried
out, his voice so loud that Garrett's ribs vibrated with the sound,
"Your army has returned from the land of the dead. The grave itself
cannot hold that which is twice-born and will not die. We have met
the sons of the red god and taken their bones in spoil!"

The green flame licked upward and faded
against the darkening sky, its light flickering for a moment on the
silver skull emblems of Max Zara's black armor. As the flame died,
a gloom seemed to fall over every dazzled eye, and Max spoke
again.

"We have returned... Victorious!"

"Now!" Cenick shouted back over his
shoulder.

As one great, half-rotten, beast, the whole
army of the dead opened its creaking jaws and roared out a single,
inarticulate moan that echoed against the gray walls of the silent
city. Cenick shouted too, and Garrett joined him, screaming like a
mindless zombie, their faces lit with wild glee.

"Open wide your gates, oh great Mother of the
Dead, and welcome home your children!" Max cried.

Cenick wheeled his pony and leveled his hand
toward the black banner of his command, held aloft by a massive
zombie in a beaten gold death mask. The banner depicted a horned
skull with a broken chain clenched between its fanged teeth. He
whispered a word, and the banner suddenly flared to life, the
skull's hollow eyes burning with silver flame, and a lambent aura
flickered around its trailing pinions.

Across the field, each necromancer spoke the
words to activate the sigils woven into their own personal banners.
On Cenick's right flank, Garrett recognized the jester's mask
symbol of Jitlowe's unit, its banner now wreathed in purple flame.
To the left burned the crimson talon of a younger necromancer who
called himself Jacks.

Then all eyes turned to the city gates.
Wythr's walls towered above the field, silent and unyielding.

Max raised his hand.

"Here we go, Garrett," Cenick said, "Stay
close to me... no matter what happens."

Max's hand fell, his forefinger leveled at
the city gate.

"Foreword!" Cenick shouted, and the army took
one great, thunderous step toward the gray walls.

The reverberating blare of brass horns rang
out from the city, and a brilliant golden light spilled out through
the crack of the main gates. Then the gates swung wide, and people
began spilling through them and out onto the field between the army
and the city. Smaller gates along the wall opened up now as well,
and more people, bearing all manner of lanterns and torches, poured
out onto the field, crying in unison.

Garrett gasped. "Are they attacking us?" he
asked.

Cenick rose up in his saddle, staring in
disbelief.

A great crowd of people surged toward the two
small figures of Max and Serepheni who stood their ground against
the onrushing mob.

"What's happening?" Garrett said.

Cenick began to laugh. "Peace, my brothers!"
he shouted to the other necromancers, "We are welcomed home!"

A great wave of people, waving lanterns and
crying out with joy closed around them. Merchants and beggars and
dockworkers crowded around. Hands reached up to clap Garrett on the
back, and someone pressed a warm muffin to his lips. He laughed a
muffled thanks, trying to control Ghausse as children stretched out
their hands to stroke the big wolf's fur. The wolf grumbled but
submitted to the petting with not a little insistence from his
rider.

A pretty girl in an ivory-colored dress
grabbed Cenick by the collar and pulled him low enough for a kiss.
He pulled away with a befuddled grin on his tattooed face.

The crowd pushed past them, all the way to
the front ranks of the undead army. Someone hung a flowered garland
around the neck of a confused zombie in a green doublet. Little
boys darted in to bang sticks on the armor of an undead soldier in
Chadiri red. All around, Garrett heard cries of
thank you
and
welcome home
.

Then Garrett saw someone moving through the
crowd toward him like a gray ghost. Her long, hooded cloak
fluttered silently as she stepped between the jostling bodies of
the city's people, drawing nearer to him with every graceful step.
Her pale smile cheered his heart to the point of breaking.

"Marla!" he cried.

She was there at his side then, looking up at
him, her dark, beautiful eyes brimming with happy tears. His soul
trembled with warmth at the cool touch of her hand on his leg.

"May I ride with you?" she asked.

"Yes!" he nodded fiercely.

Marla swung up behind him on the wolf's back,
wrapping her arms around Garrett's waist. She leaned close, her
chest against his back and her chin on his shoulder, squeezing him
gently.

"Lady, Veranu," Cenick hailed her, "Do we
have you to thank for this?"

"The people are to thank," she laughed, "Once
they learned the truth of what had happened in the North, they
wished to show their gratitude."

A fresh cheer rose up from the crowd around
them.

"Thanks for telling them," Garrett said.

"Oh," she said, "news from your uncle."

"Is he all right?" Garrett asked, his heart
leaping.

"Yes," she laughed, "He's with my mother now,
and they're safe. They'll be home within a week."

Garrett's mind reeled, all of the tension of
the past few days breaking apart and melting away. "Wait," he said,
"does this mean that you don't have to leave?"

Marla laughed. "We don't have to leave!"

Garrett would have hugged her, if she weren't
sitting behind him. He had to settle for an exuberant cheer.

Ghausse joined in with a sort of yipping
howl, and all around the crowds of city folk shouted and hailed the
heroes of the Chadiri war.

Chapter Eight

For the first time in anyone's memory, Wythr
passed a night without a Curfew. A citywide celebration burned the
lamps through the long night, and folk of every sort mingled in the
streets, fighting the chill with warm cider and the songs of many
lands. Much to Cenick's disappointment, the Night Watch never
appeared on the streets. In fact, there had been almost no sign of
the sisterhood's authority at all. Bands of green-liveried Templars
stood guard around the temple and Merchant's Quarter, but made no
move to interfere with the celebrations, so long as the revelers
kept their distance.

Max had relented to Serepheni's better
judgment and ordered the undead to remain outside the city walls.
Most of the Necromancers had dispersed into the city to try to find
out what had happened to their houses and belongings, or just to
enjoy the celebration of their victory.

Serepheni and Max had gone straightaway to
the temple, while Cenick and Garrett proceeded to Uncle's house.
Marla took her leave of them shortly after entering the city,
explaining that she still had a bit of a mess to clean up at the
pet shop. Much of Garrett's joviality departed with the vampire
girl, and it died altogether at the site of the large "Public
Auction" sign nailed to the door of Uncle's manor house.

Cenick mumbled something uncharacteristically
crude as he dismounted and walked to the front door with a
stiffness in his stride. He ripped the vellum poster down and
tossed it into the gutter. He tried the door, finding it
locked.

"I don't have the key," Garrett said, his
breath frosting the cold air.

Cenick seemed not to hear him. The big man
looked up, scanning the stone facade of Uncle's house and the high,
narrow windows, almost fourteen feet above the street level. He
unbuckled his knife belt and draped it over the short wrought iron
fence that bordered Uncle's withered front garden. He hung his
skull medallion beside the belt and pulled off his tattered purple
robe. He wore patched trousers and a stained undershirt with his
arms bare. Black runic tattoos traced the rippling curves of his
muscles as he sprang up to grab the lintel of Uncle's front door.
With a painful grunt, he hauled himself up to the narrow ledge
between the lintel and the stone arch above the door.

He grinned down at Garrett. "Good thing I've
lost some weight," he panted, "I haven't done this since I was your
age."

"Be careful," Garrett said.

Cenick crouched as best he was able in the
small cove beneath the arch, then swung out, one hand holding onto
the arch, the other reaching up for the iron bars of an upstairs
window. His thick fingers wrapped around a black bar and he let go
of the arch to hang with his boot toes scrabbling against the
rough-hewn stones of the wall as he brought his other hand up.

A moment later, he had both hands on the bars
of the window. The muscles of his arms corded and flexed as he
pulled himself up to the narrow windowsill. He straightened his
back and stood up, facing the barred window, his boots shaking as
he supported his weight on the tips of his toes. Holding on with
his left hand, Cenick reached back, slipping his right hand beneath
the waistband at the back of his trousers. He drew out a small
knife with a short, slender blade and brought it around between his
body and the window.

Garrett climbed down from Ghausse's back and
walked to the front door, hoping to get a better view.

Cenick gave a little laugh of triumph, and
the stained glass window swung open on its hinges. He clutched the
knife between his teeth and reached one hand inside to hold himself
steady as he worked the iron bars loose from their sockets with his
free hand.

"You're
really
strong!" Garrett
gasped.

"
Na 'eally
," Cenick said through his
clenched teeth. He dropped the loose bars inside the room with a
dull
clunk
and then pulled the knife from his mouth. "I
spent a month dissolving the mortar with acid when I was twelve.
This used to be my room."