A thunder of monsters, p.7
A Thunder of Monsters, page 7
Wren glared at him, horrified at the thought.
“You think I’m a monster,” he said.
She wiped tears from her eyes. “You enjoyed telling me that you think my friends are dead. And you thought nothing of killing dragon children just to create your stupid armour. Only a monster could come up with a plan like that!”
His mood seemed to suddenly change. Instead of his apparent delight in tormenting Wren, he looked weary. “So you know the dark secret of the obsidiac,” he said. He looked at his own armour for a moment, then shook his head and stood. “I’ve wasted enough time here. Perhaps we’ll talk again.” He turned to leave, but paused. “There are worse monsters than me in the world, child. That plan was not my idea.”
Then the Black Knight strode off into the darkness.
As the army marched towards the edge of the bone trees, Patch saw Tobias’s gaze move between the tops of the trees and the meadow-grass in front of them.
He was judging the distance, Patch realized – because those trees would soon come crashing down. The nearer the Pipers were to the treeline, the more accurate their Battle Songs would be, but the greater the danger.
“Position!” Tobias cried, and the army halted as one. “Short Fives, by rank! Begin!”
The three leading ranks of Battle Pipers began to play, building up their Songs – the Short Fives, a short-range destructive blast.
The first rank started their Song, and kept perfectly synchronized. The second rank began playing after fifteen seconds or so, the two Songs weaving together like the melody sung in a children’s round. After the same gap had passed, the third rank joined in, and the resulting three Songs combined into a sound so beautiful that it was hard to believe the end result would be destructive.
And then: the notes of the first rank’s Song rose in pitch, climbing the scales rapidly until the Song was almost a scream. The final, highest note was called the release note. The moment it sounded, the Song flew at the trees, hitting them low on their trunks, shattering wood. Patch was almost surprised to see that those creepy trees were made of wood after all, given how unpleasantly bone-like they were.
None yet fell, however. The next rank of Pipers strode forward, and the second Song was unleashed. Trunks splintered, and the bone trees began to topple.
Now the third and final rank stepped to the fore, and their Song was let fly; trees that had withstood the first two Songs gave way at last.
“Hold!” cried Tobias, and they waited for the crunch and crack of falling timber to stop. Now it was time to venture beyond the treeline. From that point on, death could come at them from all sides.
Patch scanned the gloom behind that first line of devastated trees, looking for any sign of the devil-birds. Barver, on Patch’s left, was looking just as intently.
“Anything?” Patch whispered to him.
“Nothing,” said Barver. “Although if they’re truly invisible, I’m not sure if that helps.”
Alia stood to Patch’s right. “In daylight they can’t be completely invisible,” she said. “They would look like a creature made of glass, according to the legends. And even that would be hard for them to keep up for long.”
“Shield contingent ready!” called Tobias. “Pikes and archers ready!” The circle of Battle Pipers who had the task of creating Shielding Songs began to build their melodies. Behind them, the archers readied their bows; in front, the outermost circle of soldiers formed a dense ring of sharp pikes. “Short Fives, recommence!” called Tobias, and the leading ranks started their Songs once more.
Alia looked to Barver, and to Patch, and nodded. “Now it really begins,” she said.
For an hour, they moved forward into the trees. The front ranks settled into a rhythm – they would release their Songs in turn, until four full cycles had completed. Once those twelve devastating blasts had hit the trees in front of them, a burst of Shielding Songs would be sent out into the forest ahead. All eyes would watch for any disturbance that could indicate the presence of devil-birds.
So far, there had been none.
Then, the clearing would start. Soldiers moved as much of the debris to the sides as they could, as quickly as possible. Barver and Merta did the heavy lifting, dealing with the larger trunks. There was almost no vegetation on the floor of the bone-tree forest, which was a blessing.
Once the clearing was complete, the army would make its way forward again, the front ranks of Pipers repeating their performance for the next audience of trees.
It seemed so simple, and Patch was at the centre of the army – the safest possible place. Yet at every moment he felt that disaster was seconds away, that the devil-birds would swarm through their defences and kill every single one of them. Fear filled him from head to toe, as they made their slow progress through the forest.
He looked back, seeing the corridor of destruction they’d left behind them, and the relative safety of the meadow receding into the distance. The forest ahead was still thick, giving no hint of how much further they would have to venture.
At last, though, things changed. After yet another toppling of the trees, the soldiers moved forward with Barver and Merta, ready to clear the way so the army could progress. A shout came up, and Barver hurried to where the call had come from. Patch strained to see, as a soldier ran over to Barver, carrying rope. Then Barver came back to the centre of the army, to show Tobias and Alia.
The dracogriff threw a large bundle of knotted rope to the ground.
“There!” he said. “The first of them, caught in the blasts.”
It took Patch a moment to understand what he was seeing. It wasn’t just rope, of course – there was a shape in among the knots, one that made little sense to Patch’s eyes. Like a creature made of glass, Alia had said, but this sorry specimen was starting to become more visible even as he watched, small regions that showed dense blue feathers, the rest transparent and oddly shimmering. Its true size was hard to gauge, but it seemed big.
“Dead?” said Alia.
“I hope so,” said Barver. “I tied it up all the same. It doesn’t seem to be breathing.”
“Possibly alone, but no guarantee of that,” said Tobias, thoughtful. He called to his army: “Eyes on the shadows! Watch for movement!”
Alia kneeled by the devil-bird.
“Be careful,” said Tobias. Some of the shimmering body darkened, and a clawed foot became visible, the lethal claws three inches long. Alia seemed to reconsider, and stood back from it.
“When it’s fully visible I want to examine it,” she said. “It’ll help to know exactly what these things are capable of. Barver, can you carry it as we move?”
“Of course,” said Barver, without a flicker of concern.
Patch looked at the creature’s body, and wondered just how many there were, out among the bone trees.
It wasn’t long before they found out.
Five more rounds of destruction, clearing, and advance went without incident.
The captured devil-bird had become fully visible now, and Alia found it fascinating. She freed up one wing to allow it to be stretched to its full extent of six feet, the narrow feathers a deep blue. Unlike any other bird Patch had seen, the devil-birds had an additional clawed hand halfway down the wing, the three claws even longer than those on its feet. He was relieved when Barver retied the wing firmly to the rest of the bundle.
The feathers had a curious stiffness to them, and gave a sense that they too could cut through skin. The head was long and narrow, ending in a hideously elongated beak crammed with serrated teeth – another feature none of them had ever seen in a bird.
Every time Barver picked it up and moved it forward, he had an expression of real distaste.
Patch couldn’t help staring at it, even though it made him feel ill to see the blade-like claws. “I wish you’d get rid of that,” he told Alia.
Alia shook her head. “There are things to be learned from it,” she said.
Another round of Short Fives was completed. Barver and Merta were called to the front to help clear the debris, Barver leaving the corpse of the devil-bird behind. The worst of it, for Patch, was watching his friend go to the very edge of safety, while he was surrounded by the protection of all the Pipers and soldiers. He stared at the shadows intently, every muscle in his body wound tight.
He had a sudden sensation of being watched, and spun around, but there was only the corpse of the devil-bird, tightly bound in rope.
Then a call came out from the left flank: “Movement in the trees!” One of the pike soldiers stood, pointing into the forest beyond, but Patch could see nothing.
The defensive circle of Pipers maintained their Shielding Songs. Patch turned to look at Alia and Tobias. Their expressions were tense.
Another call came, this time from the right flank; then another call, from the front. It was enough for Tobias: “Shields loose by pairs, all sides!” he ordered, and a set of Shielding Songs was released, from half of the Shield Pipers. The Pipers immediately began building their Songs again, at which point the other half would release theirs. Shielding Songs were normally held in place, acting as a defensive barrier – this was a way to use them as an attack, to drive back an enemy, but it would be an exhausting race to build the Songs fast enough.
“They’ll tire quickly at that pace,” said Alia.
“We can’t afford to be hemmed in,” said Tobias. “We need to kill the creatures or scare them off. Just one of those things getting through would be a catastrophe.”
There was a bright flash ahead – Barver was unleashing his fire.
“I’m going to the front,” said Tobias. “We’ll see if Short Fives can take down the devil-birds! Keep pressing with the Shields, Alia, for as long as they can manage!”
“I will,” she said. Patch could see purple sparks circling her fingertips, and she noticed him looking. “There’ll be no sorcery yet,” she said. “That’s what the island seems to take exception to, and I daren’t provoke it unless I have no choice.”
“How many of them are there?” said Patch. Another blast of fire raged ahead of them.
“Hard to tell,” said Alia, but now everywhere Patch looked he could see movement – fragments of body becoming visible, the creatures tiring quickly in the light and dropping their disguises, letting out a cry as they did – terrible screeches that echoed around Patch.
The high-pitched release note of Short Fives sounded from the front rank, and dozens of devil-birds were flung backwards.
“Archers ready!” cried Alia. “Careful targeting!”
The arrows began to fly, passing unhindered out through the Shielding Songs, but it was disheartening to watch. Even the surest of shots seemed to be brushed aside by the devil-birds, while those few that stuck deep were snapped away by claw or beak, and not one of the creatures fell.
“Save your arrows!” cried Alia, and the archers ceased. “Pray that the Short Fives are having a better effect,” she muttered, almost to herself.
Something drew Patch’s eye – again, it was the rope-bound devil-bird, and Patch silently cursed the thing. And then he looked closer. For quite some time now, Patch thought, it had been fully visible – yet he must have been mistaken, for now part of its head was translucent. And had it always had its legs bent that way?
He was about to say something, when its red eyes snapped open. Shock took the breath from him. The words Tobias had spoken echoed in his mind: just one of those things getting through would be a catastrophe.
“Alia!” he cried out, but as Alia turned to see, the devil-bird’s razor claws sliced through the rope in one motion. It rose and bounded towards him. Patch tripped in his haste to back away, and in an instant he felt a searing pain in his ankle, as an agonizing grip pulled him into the air.
Three more hours of sleep were all that Rundel and Erner had, but Erner was grateful for it. After that, they went straight to the Council residences, which took up the central floor of the northern wing of the Castle.
First, they knocked on Lady Rumsey’s door.
“Virtus Stone,” she said as she opened it. “Time for my grilling?” She smiled as they entered, but she seemed nervous.
Erner looked around. It was the first time he’d ever seen a Council member’s room, and it was extraordinary, far more luxurious than Rundel’s quarters. It was clad in elegant carved wood; bright tapestries and paintings hung from the walls.
“Take a seat and we’ll begin,” said Lady Rumsey. They sat at a table in front of a blazing fireplace. Erner took out a small notebook.
“My apprentice will take notes,” said Rundel. He put his hand in his pocket. Erner knew that was where the strange pyramid device was, primed ready with obsidiac to see if the truth was told.
With each member of the Council, it would prove to be more or less the same – the extravagant quarters, polite-yet-wary greeting, and a little unease as the questions came. Lady Rumsey first, then Lord Cobb, Lord Pewter, and Lord Winkless. Erner took notes for all four.
Rundel would always begin in the same way: “As I informed the Council this morning, Ural Casimir was killed. Did you know of his death before I told you?”
Each Council member said they’d not known – which was as expected, as nobody knew Casimir’s true identity. If the pyramid had indicated a lie, it would have been damning evidence of their involvement.
Rundel’s next question: “Was the new quest to hunt the Hamelyn Piper – the Great Pursuit – the idea of Lord Drevis?”
A unanimous yes.
Then: “And when he decided to leave on an expedition himself, did he discuss it with the Council?”
Lady Rumsey had thought about it for a moment, before frowning. “No,” she said. “We only found out once he’d gone. He’d left us a letter explaining that he wanted to keep his destination secret, but that he would return within a month.”
“Were Battle Pipers sent on the expeditions?” Rundel asked her. “Is there any word from Kintner Bastion?”
“We did receive something from the Bastion, about a training exercise,” said Lady Rumsey. “Half of their number, as I understand it! It could be Lord Drevis, I suppose, using a training exercise to keep their true purpose disguised?”
Hearing that, Erner smiled to himself. It sounded exactly how Tobias would have done things, so at least that part of the plan seemed to have gone well.
Eventually, the questions turned to Skamos, which the Council members each thought a strange topic to bring up as it had nothing to do with Ural Casimir. But for both Rundel and Erner, any information on what could have happened to Barver, Patch, Wren and Alia was vital.
“The dragons used a new kind of weapon,” Lord Cobb told them. “Great spheres that exploded with terrifying force. The city was levelled, once it had been evacuated. We’ve decided to play it down for as long as possible, to avoid panic. Especially now that the Dragon Triumvirate has…” He shook his head, but then seemed to change his mind. “No, it’s time you knew, Rundel. There are reports that the Dragon Triumvirate are no longer in power – that military leaders have taken over the affairs of dragonkind, under the command of a general called Kasterkan.”
Erner felt a sudden chill. The Dragon Territories had been ruled by three monarchs for thousands of years – the Dragon Triumvirate. For that ancient system to have been overthrown was shocking.
Lord Cobb and Lady Rumsey both thought it made war between humans and dragons more likely.
Lord Winkless was dismissive. “The dragon military wants only to seal off its lands, and have nothing more to do with humans,” he said. “There’s no expectation of war. As for their terrible new weapon, the repairs to the Battle Horns in the Keep have made them more powerful than ever before. I oversaw the work, and the weapons used in Skamos pose little threat to us.”
Lord Pewter was more wary, however. “I fear the dragons may wish to settle old scores,” he said. “And that makes them very dangerous…”
The questions continued. It was often the more innocent ones that were the most important, Erner noticed – while asking about the reassignment of Custodian Pipers to the Great Pursuit, for example, Rundel would throw in little questions about loyalty and trust that, on their own, might have caused offence. As it was, the Council members answered everything they were asked, without objection or anger.
Back in Rundel’s quarters, Erner was keen to learn what his master thought. “Well?” he said. “Are they to be trusted?”
Rundel took the pyramid device from one pocket. From the other, he took the cylinder – the device that was supposed to detect magical persuasion – and the spare fragments of obsidiac. He set them all on the desk in front of him.
The cylinder had a metal ring around the centre which – according to Alia – would turn in the presence of someone who was being magically controlled by another.
“This showed no signs of a problem, for any of the Council,” said Rundel. “Which is good, although we can’t really be certain that it works at all. We do know the pyramid is effective at spotting lies, though, after testing it with you. Each of the Council lied at times. Small things, nothing very significant.” He tapped the device. “But useful. It guided my questions, and helped reveal truths I may not have wormed out of them otherwise.”
