The Wolves Of War Page 9

  But she hadn't seen him since the day she had returned from boarding school to learn of the catastrophe that had befallen her family. She hadn't needed a private teacher at that point as it was decided she should go to the Windgarth Academy a little early. And with what had happened to the king he no longer had any need of advisers. The Court hadn't wanted anyone to know just how grave the king's madness was. And so he had been dismissed.

  Did the royal technologist know something useful? Was he even still alive? And if he was where could he be found? Those were the questions that she needed answers to. And none of which she suspected she could get until the gates to the rest of the city were opened. Because Master Barachalla was no longer a guest of the palace. He didn't live in the Imperial Quarter. He might not even live in the city.

  Still, she had a name. A place to start. That she realised as she turned back to the coffin and her thoughts, was something she hadn't had in ten long years.

  “Father, I would like to be alone with my father for the moment.” She dismissed her old tutor. But not because she wanted to pay her respects to her dead father. Rather she wanted the peace to start planning her investigation. The priest would not help her. And if he guessed what she would do when she caught the morph, he would try to stop her.

  But she would not be stopped. Not when she finally had somewhere to start.

  Chapter Nine

  Argen wasn't happy that he had to visit the private audience chamber. He wasn't happy at having to be in the Palace. Or in fact at being in the Imperial Quarter at all. He was a priest and not a servant of the palace. He should be free to go where he wished, when he wished. But the Imperial Quarter was locked up tight. No one was going in or out. Not without the permission of the Court. And while there was a secret way in and out of the city through the sewers, no one was supposed to know about it so he couldn't use it as it might give the secret away. Not that he would want to go through the sewers at the moment given the possibility of what might be waiting down there.

  At first he had thought the lock down would end soon. But as day after day had passed and the gates had stayed firmly closed he had begun to realise that it wasn't going to happen. Not even when people had started leaving the city in numbers. They were actually leaving Abysynth as refugees! But the Court would not open the gates. Nor would it make any announcements. They just kept the damned royal wagon flying around the city as if the king was inside, inspecting the damage. They could at least have made a few announcements. Let the people know that things were going to be repaired. But they hadn't done that either.

  The Court was mad. The nobles were desperate to keep the news that the king was dead a secret, but unable to agree on anything else, including how they would do it. And when they did make an announcement of some sort it was as confused as that of the lowliest muckspout. It seemed that they had finally made a decision. A terrible one. Argo thought it would have been better to let the city fall.

  Then again, perhaps there was a reason that they were unable to do the right thing. The Court was as broken as everyone else.

  The inner circle had consisted of the heads of the fifteen most noble houses of the city. Three of those fifteen were now dead. Three more were badly injured. That left nine to make the decisions. And of those nine men in front of him several were injured, dressed in bandages and resting on seats and crutches. A number of them Argen knew were facing crises of their own with loved ones dead or dying, property destroyed and businesses in ruin. They would rather be anywhere else but here. The Court had been hit as hard as anyone else in the city.

  They had come together at the start when they had absolutely had to and made the necessary decisions to keep everything together. They had been united in their fear and the decisions then had been easy ones to make. But now that the worst of the danger had passed and the time had come to make new decisions or repeal old ones, they could not find agreement. On anything. They could not agree on whether or not to open the gates. And so for the moment the Imperial Quarter remained locked up tight. They could not agree on the right words to make an announcement to the people. And so they said nothing, leaving the people without words of support or reassurance.

  It seemed to Argen that they argued like frightened old women. And while they did the city died.

  “My lords.” Argen strode boldly across the tiled floor towards them. He realised instinctively that his best chance was to seem certain, even when he wasn't. They would respond to that. Their most desperate desire was to be given direction.

  “You asked to see us Priest Argen Cooper?” Lord Sternfell greeted him curtly. He looked unhappy. They all did.

  Argen was offended by being addressed by his family name. He was a priest of the Great Sage. Priests didn't use their family names. Nor did they get addressed as “Priest”. “Father” was more respectful. No doubt Lord Sternfell had used it to make some sort of point – but Argen had no thought as to what it might be.

  “I ask to be allowed to leave the Imperial Quarter and for several others to do so as well, my Lord.”

  Argen's words were greeted by an immediate chorus of denials and confused protests as the lords of the realm all spoke over one another. He gathered they'd been doing that for some time which was why the realm was falling apart. Fortunately, Lord Sternfell seemed to have gained some authority among them. He raised his hand and eventually a measure of calm returned to the others.

  “Why? For how long? And where do you wish to go?”

  “Because Lord Julius and I have made a discovery. And I believe I now know at least a little of how what was done to the royal family, was done.”

  This time Argen's words were greeted with silence. The silence of disbelief. After ten years of not knowing what had been done that wasn't surprising. Meanwhile he was wondering where the major-domo was. He'd expected to have Julius by his side when he spoke to the Court.

  “Continue.” Lord Sternfell did his best to appear calm and in control of himself as he spoke. But it was obvious from his eyes that he was barely either of those things.

  “The theft of the globe from the Arcanium was the first clue. No one knew what it was among the arcanists. But then we learned that ten years ago, up until the tragedy that befell the royal family, it was being studied closely by Master Barachalla, the royal technologist. And that after what happened to the royal family his post was terminated. I understand he may have left the city.”

  “Once I learned this I immediately sought to find out where Master Barachalla lives – assuming of course that he is still alive – but could not locate him. The guards still search but I have little hope. However, the post of royal technologist has not been refilled in ten years, and the papers from his study were boxed up and moved into storage. Luckily they were never destroyed and I have them now. In them I learned many of his speculations about the globe and what it does.”

  Argen paused for a second to take a breath, and once more wished that Julius was there with him to support his testimony or that the papers had been more than just scribblings and seeming madness. But the major-domo wasn't there, the papers were what they were, and he had to carry on.

  “Master Barachalla believed the globe to be an ancient masterwork of technological wizardry. In fact, he believed that it was a bridge between the magical and the technological. A way in which someone without magic may gain equivalent abilities.”

  Actually that was mostly speculation on his part, based on the diagrams the technologist had left behind of the globe in action, and the references he'd made to the various books in his chambers. It seemed to him that the technologist had been slipping into senility, and that much of what he had concentrated on before the end had been bad verse – love poems for the most part, written for a woman he refused to name.

  “It is my belief that it was used, and in the process harmed the royal family.” Suddenly all eyes were fixed intently on Argen. The nobles even stopped breathing as they stared at him, all of them no doubt wondering
if he was right. After all this time without an answer could he finally have one?

  “So first I must ask that an inquisitor and a squad be sent from the Imperial Quarter to find Master Barachalla. To bring him back and find out what he knows. Should he still be alive.” It was the last that worried him most. Master Barachalla had been an old man ten years before. He could well have passed on or if he still lived have slipped fully into senility. If that was the case, there was no hope for the two heirs. But even if he was dead, maybe there were others who knew of what had been done? Or at least there might be some more notes.

  “I will need three more parties sent out as well.”

  “Three?”

  “In reading through the notes that Master Barachalla left in his study it became clear that the ancient device could only be operated by a very particular type of wizard. A morph. One whose magic was not simply a gift he could use with his mind, but was actually bound into every nerve and fibre of his being. The device uses their actual blood.”

  “As you know the inquisitors have been hunting for a particular morph for ten years. The aged wolf morph seen at the time of the tragedy. But they have not found him and my thought is that he long ago fled the city. However, it is believed that there are three other morphs within the city. Or there were before the city started emptying out.”

  “We do not have the globe or know where it is. Even if we found it no one I know of knows how to operate the device. Of course, Master Barachella does but again, we do not know where he now resides, or even if he's still alive. And even if we found both Master Barachalla and the device we still have no way of knowing if what was done can be undone. But it seems clear that if there is any chance of restoring even a measure of sanity to the remaining members of the royal family, we must find them. And we must have a morph available for if and when Master Barachalla and the device are found.”

  Argen paused for breath and then continued. “We have ten years of investigations into the morphs to help us find them. Clues as to their identities. We would have more had they not been hunted for so many years. We will need three parties sent out to track each of them separately, in the hope that one will be lucky enough to find one and bring him or her back.”

  “Two more inquisitors will have to be sent out with these parties, and I will lead a third group. As a priest of the Great Sage I may be granted insight by my Lord that will be useful.”

  More than that though he thought he had a better chance of tracking down one of the morphs than the inquisitors, simply because they had been at it for ten years without success. Obviously they were doing something wrong, and he suspected it was in part because their pink aura glasses didn't work on morphs. Without them they were severely handicapped.

  “And I will go with him!”

  Argen jumped as the Princess' voice unexpectedly rang out from behind him. And when he turned he jumped again. She was standing there in her leather armour, a sword affixed to her hip, and a look of steely determination on her face. Julius was there by her side, looking worried. Argen guessed that Julius had already fought and lost the same argument that the Court was about to have with Elan. He'd never seen her look so resolute before.

  “Princess!” Lord Sternfell was the first to begin the objections, but only by a heartbeat. Then it became a chorus.

  But even as they began, Argen knew that they were about to lose. They were divided and uncertain. Few in number and unable to reach a consensus on anything. And she was a strong willed young woman who by the looks of things was determined. She was not going to be stopped. Not even if the fate of the kingdom was at stake. Worse, they had no authority to order her to do anything and they knew it. She would force them all the way to the point of having to openly defy the only remaining royal. She would force them to openly acknowledge that Abylon had no ruler, and they wouldn't dare do that. So this time they would back down and she would win.

  He would have to yield to her will as well. In the end, only her own family could direct her and he was not family. Better he thought, to say nothing and hope in time to be able to reason with her. If that was possible.

  The real question was, what would her presence mean for the hunt? Because he saw the anger in her as well. And he knew the lack of hope she held for her family's recovery. Was she going to try and help him bring back a morph? Or was she just going to try and kill them? He very much feared it would be the latter.

  Chapter Ten

  The road north was cold and hard, and Briagh hated walking it. But he had little choice. Abysynth, the capital of Abylon was no more. Close to half a million people were now leaving it. Fleeing it in truth.

  The wolves had gone. The city guards had gone too. Both had been killed in the fighting. And no one knew whether either the royal family or the wolf mother still lived. But what they did know was that the city was in ruins. All of it save the Imperial Quarter which was tucked up securely behind its walls, and which no one was able to enter or leave.

  Most of the rest of the city had burnt down. Now the people were leaving.

  The poor from the Escarpment had been the first to go. But then they had nowhere to live any longer, the entire quarter having been destroyed. They also had no income. Most of them who worked, did so as street entertainers, ladies of the night, messengers, day labourers and odd jobs people. But they couldn't do that anymore. Not when those who hired them depended on a functioning Merchants Quarter and Warehouse District to pay their fees. With both destroyed there was nothing to sell and the markets were empty. With nowhere to live and no jobs they had quickly taken to their heels.

  The merchants had also left soon after. Packing up their wagons they had left the city in a nearly continuous stream. For them though, even though their businesses had been destroyed, it wasn't so terrible. Many had places to go. Other concerns in other cities. Or at least enough wealth to start again elsewhere. They were the lucky ones.

  After them the rest had slowly followed though their lot was harder. Many of them like him had proper homes, and to start again in a new town or city was hard. Especially when what coin they had wouldn't go far. But they couldn't stay in a city with no work.

  With the Merchants Quarter and the Warehouse District destroyed, the workshops and factories couldn’t operate. They had no supplies coming in and no way to send their products away to buyers. So the entire Industrial Quarter had fallen silent and the owners and their workers had started leaving.

  The Docks couldn't provide any work either, because while ships could come and go and they could load and unload them as they wanted, there was nowhere for the goods to be sent to. There were no markets to sell them at, and no customers either. The city's markets were empty like everything else, with the only wares being bought being food and warm clothes for the journey. So the wares from the ships were now mostly sitting on the docks. Those that hadn't been destroyed or pinched, that was. Moreover no new ships were coming in, choosing instead to sail up the coast to other cities where they could sell their wares.

  Even the farmers who would normally be bringing in wagon loads of grain, fruits, meat and vegetables were hardly seen. They needed coin for their provisions, and coin was running low. It appeared they were taking their goods elsewhere to sell.

  Ironically the same was true for Briagh. He had no work either. There was little left for him to steal and what he did take he couldn't sell anyway. And so he had been left with a home in a derelict city and little more. He had stayed as long as he could, hoping that the King and the Court would finally open up the Imperial Quarter and things would start working again. But that hadn't happened. After a week of waiting he had finally given up and joined his neighbours as they slowly evacuated the city.

  Most of those from the Docks had decided to head either east or west. To follow the coast roads to the other port cities where they could hopefully find work. He understood their thinking but doubted they would succeed. Henton and Peatfield to the east were not nearly as large as Abysynth, a
nd while Cosynth to the west was huge, it had only a minor port. Briagh instead had chosen to head north. Inland to the Flinder's Plains where a dozen more cities and hundreds of towns lay. That in the end was where he had come from and he had decided to return there. On the plains there were plenty of wolves but no wolf mother. As for the king, well he might still be King Harold the Good – or the Mad – but he wasn't seen in these parts. Two more excellent reasons to live anywhere but Abysynth,

  There were others who had chosen the same path. Ahead of him he could see wagons, riders and people walking. Families, husbands and wives, larger bands and individuals. Even a few steam wagons. Little groups of them were now spread out over a dozen leagues or more, mostly following the road north. Behind him of course it was the same. This was no organised departure; just a lot of people choosing to leave at the same time. He guessed it had been the same for days and would stay the same for many more. Until Abysynth was completely deserted – save for the Imperial Quarter of course. The gods alone knew what was happening inside it.