Midnight tides

Withal sighed. He glanced over at the two Nachts. Their contested driftwood was a scattering of splinters lying between them. Both creatures were staring down at it, bemused, poking fingers through the mess. The Meckros rose. ‘All right then, lad, let’s go.

She was behind the black glass, within a tunnel of translucent obsidian, and there were no ghosts.

‘Kurald Galain,’ Corlo said in a whisper, casting a glance back at them over one shoulder. ‘Unexpected. It’s a rotten conquest. That, or the Edur don’t even know it, don’t even know what they’re using.’

The air stank of death. Withered flesh, the breath of a crypt. The black stone beneath their feet was greasy and uncertain. Overhead, the ceiling was uneven, barely a hand’s width higher than Iron Bars, who was the tallest among the group.

‘It’s a damned rats’ maze,’ the mage continued, pausing at a branching.

‘Just take us south,’ Iron Bars said in a low growl.

‘Fine, but which way is that?’

The soldiers crowded round, muttering and cursing in their strange language.

Corlo faced Seren, his expression strangely taut. ‘Any suggestions, Acquitor?’

‘What?’

The mage said something in their native tongue to Iron Bars, who scowled and replied, ‘That’s enough, all of you. In Letherii. Since when was rudeness in the creed of the Crimson Guard? Acquitor, this is the Hold of Darkness-’

‘There is no Hold of Darkness.’

‘Well, I’m trying to say it in a way that makes sense to you.’

‘All right.’

Corlo said, ‘But, you see, Acquitor, it shouldn’t be.’

She simply looked at him in the gloom.

The mage rubbed the back of his neck, and she saw the hand come away glistening with sweat. ‘These are Tiste Edur, right? Not Tiste Andii. The Hold of Darkness, that’s Tiste Andii. The Edur, they were from the, uh, Hold of Shadow. So, it was natural, you see, to expect that the warren would be Kurald Emurlahn. But it isn’t. It’s Kurald Galain, only it’s breached. Over-run. Thick with spirits – Tiste Andii spirits-’

‘They’re not here,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen them. Those spirits. They’re not here.’

‘They are, Acquitor. I’m just keeping them away. For now…’

‘But it’s proving difficult.’

The mage nodded reluctantly.

‘And you’re lost.’

Another nod.

She tried to think, cut through the numbness – which seemed to be the only thing keeping away the pain of her battered flesh. ‘You said the spirits are not Edur.’

‘That’s right. Tiste Andii.’

‘What is the relationship between the two? Are they allied?’

Corlo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Allied?’

‘Those wraiths,’ Iron Bars said.

The mage’s gaze darted to his commander, then back again to Seren Pedac. ‘Those wraiths are bound. Compelled to fight alongside the Edur. Are they Andii spirits? Hood’s breath, this is starting to make sense. What else would they be? Not Edur spirits, since no binding magic would be needed, would it?’

Iron Bars stepped in front of Seren. ‘What are you suggesting?’

She remembered back to her only contact with the spirits, their hunger. ‘Mage Corlo, you say you’re keeping them away. Are they trying to attack us?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Let one through. Maybe we can talk to it, maybe we can get help.’

‘Why would it be interested in helping us?’

‘Make a bargain.’

‘With what?’

She shrugged. ‘Think of something.’

He muttered a string of foreign words that she guessed were curses.

‘Let one through,’ Iron Bars said.

More curses, then Corlo walked a few steps ahead to clear some space. ‘Ready weapons,’ he said. ‘In case it ain’t interested in talking.’

A moment later, the gloom in front of the mage wavered, and something black spread outward like spilled ink. A figure emerged, halting, uncertain.

A woman, tall as an Edur but midnight-skinned, a reddish glint to her long, unbound hair. Green eyes, tilted and large, a face softer and rounder than Seren would have expected given her height and long limbs. She was wearing a leather harness and leggings, and on her shoulders rode the skin of some white-furred beast. She was unarmed.

Her eyes hardened. She spoke, and in her words Seren heard a resemblance to Edur.

‘I hate it when that happens,’ Corlo said.

Seren tried Edur. ‘Hello. We apologize for intruding on your world. We do not intend to stay long.’

The woman’s expression did not change. ‘The Betrayers never do.’

‘I may speak in the language of the Edur, but they are no allies of ours. Perhaps in that, we share something.’

‘I was among the first to die in the war,’ the woman said, ‘and so not at the hands of an Edur. They cannot take me, cannot force me to fight for them. I and those like me are beyond their grasp.’

‘Yet your spirit remains trapped,’ Seren said. ‘Here, in this place.’

‘What do you want?’

Seren turned to Iron Bars. ‘She asks what we want of her.’

‘Corlo?’

The mage shrugged, then said, ‘We need to escape the influence of the Edur. We need to get beyond their reach. Then to return to our world.’

Seren relayed Corlo’s statements to the woman.

‘You are mortal,’ she replied. ‘You can pass through when we cannot.’

‘Can you guide us?’

‘And what is to be my reward for this service?’

‘What do you seek?’