Seasons of War

Emergency meeting of the Darquesse Society at Ulysses’ house. His wife was out. They had to be done by nine.

“How are you doing?” Lily asked when Sebastian walked in.

“I lost Darquesse,” he said. “How do you think I’m doing? How does someone lose a god, you ask? Well, first of all, you have to be incredibly boring, because only someone incredibly boring can drive away their god simply by talking to her. And this is a god, by the way, who has just spent the last three months staring at a wall. The wall was more interesting than me.”

“Sebastian,” Bennet said, “please stop blaming yourself.”

“There’s no one else to blame. I was the only one there. I’d love to blame someone else, believe me. I’d love to blame Forby or Tarry or whoever, but … but it’s my fault.”

“Are you quite finished?” Ulysses asked.

“Not really.”

“Have a seat. Go on. Sit on the couch.”

Sebastian sighed, and sat. They were all looking at him.

“I have good news,” said Bennet.

Adrenaline surged. “She’s back? She’s back!”

“She’s not back,” Bennet said quickly. Then he shrugged. “She’s kind of back.”

Sebastian leaned forward. “Where is she?”

“All over the place, actually. Kimora saw her two days ago, just walking down the street. I asked if she was sure it wasn’t Valkyrie Cain, and Kimora said no, she was wearing that black skinsuit thing. Then Ulysses saw her when he was waiting in line for a coffee. That was on Wednesday.”

“So she’s walking around?”

“Apparently so. And no one’s bothering her because they probably all think she’s Valkyrie Cain, even though she’s wearing a skinsuit and Cain, as far as I know, wears regular clothes.”

“So she hasn’t disappeared,” Sebastian said. “And she hasn’t gone back to the Faceless Ones’ dimension.”

“She’s still here, my friend.”

Sebastian stood up. “Then I’m going to find her.”

Xena bounded through the High Sanctuary foyer, scattering sorcerers in her path, and Militsa dropped to her knees and the dog thudded into her arms. She fell back, laughing, as Xena wriggled and slobbered and bounced.

Valkyrie walked up to them, ignoring the disapproving looks she was getting. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem,” Militsa said, and squealed as Xena licked her ear. “You say goodbye to your family?”

“Yep.”

“How did Alice take it?”

Valkyrie hesitated. “There were tears.”

Militsa held up her hands and Valkyrie pulled her to her feet. Xena started jumping up.

“Xena, sit,” Valkyrie said, and immediately the dog sat and was calm.

Now that they had a moment of peace, Valkyrie took her girlfriend in her arms, tilted her back, and gave her one of her patented Best Kisses in the World. Militsa responded by wrapping her fingers in Valkyrie’s hair and pulling ever so slightly.

When the kiss was done, Valkyrie righted Militsa and held on to her while her balance returned and she stopped swooning.

“Wow,” Militsa said, fanning her face with her hand. “You’re telling me I have to go two months without that?”

“It won’t be two months, I promise.”

“Such cruel and unnatural torture,” she murmured, then shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, what were you saying about Alice?”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said, scratching Xena’s head. “There were tears when I told her I had to go away for a bit. It was kind of, I don’t know … scary, the way her mood switched. One moment, totally happy and fun. The next, instant sadness.”

“Of course she was upset. She’s a kid. Two months is an eternity to her.”

Valkyrie gave a brief smile, and Militsa knew her well enough to change the subject.

“So when will the doggy be expecting her walkies?”

“Morning, whenever you get up, and evening, whenever you get in. She might try and hop up on the bed with you at night, but you can shoo her off and she won’t be offended.”

“How could I shoo this beautiful creature off my bed?” Militsa cried, planting a huge kiss on Xena’s head. “By the time you get back, we’ll be the very best of friends. Won’t we, my little princess?”

Xena wagged her tail in response.

Skulduggery and Tanith were waiting across the foyer. Valkyrie nodded to them, then became aware of a tall blonde zeroing in on her location.

Valkyrie squared her shoulders ever so slightly, smiled, and held out her hand. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Valkyrie Cain.”

“Arabella Wicked,” the blonde said as they shook. “I’m a teacher at Corrival Academy.”

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“Then you know that Militsa and I used to be together.”

Militsa straightened up. “Here we go …”

“She mentioned it, yes,” Valkyrie said, keeping the smile.

Arabella regarded her coolly. “I feel I ought to tell you that I made a huge mistake when I ended our relationship, and I plan to win Militsa back.”

“I’d agree with the first part,” Valkyrie responded, “but I don’t like your chances with the second.”

Arabella was just a shade taller than Valkyrie – enough so that she could look down at her. “You don’t scare me, you know.”

“If I was trying to scare you,” Valkyrie said, “you’d be scared.”

“OK,” Militsa said, “can I just interject before you two alpha females say something so macho there’s no coming back from it? Valkyrie, I love you. Arabella, we broke up, and I’m with Valkyrie now, so there’s no chance of us getting back together.”

Arabella turned to Militsa, and took her hands in hers. “I was young and confused and stupid when we separated, and I didn’t know what I had, or what I was losing. I’ve spent the last few years re-evaluating everything in my life, and you’re the missing piece. I will fight for you, Militsa.”

“And I,” Valkyrie said, “have to go.” She leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in less than two months.”

“I love you,” said Militsa.

“Love you, too,” said Valkyrie. She gave Xena a cuddle, told her to stay, and raised an eyebrow to Arabella as she walked over to Skulduggery and Tanith.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Skulduggery said.

“And I tried to overhear, but there were too many people passing by,” Tanith chimed in. “You OK?”

Valkyrie practically snorted. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not worried about the threat Miss Wicked may pose to your relationship?” Skulduggery asked.

“Eh, have you seen me?”

Tanith looked over at Militsa and Arabella. “I don’t know,” she said. “The blonde’s a hottie.”

“I’m a hottie.”

“Yes, you are. But you’ll be gone for two months.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Valkyrie said, “but I’m quite secure in my relationship. Are we ready to go?”

“Not quite,” said Skulduggery, flicking an unnoticeable speck of nothing from his lapel. “Before we embark on a trek across an alternate world, some of us are going to require a change of clothes.” He paused. “And we’re going to need a whole lot of weapons.”

They met the others in a darkened room away from the steady traffic of sorcerers.

Dexter and Saracen were dressed in rough work clothes and heavy boots. Valkyrie watched them slide pistols into holsters, knives into sheaths. Ammunition went into belts and bandoliers. Assault rifles hung from straps on shoulders. Dexter covered his with a long coat, Saracen with a poncho.

Tanith, her sword across her back and a pistol on her hip, slid knives everywhere else. She picked up a rifle, checked its sights. Satisfied, she looped the strap over her head.

Valkyrie wore her necronaut suit, with her two shock sticks crisscrossing her back, refusing every firearm she was offered.

Serpine wasn’t trusted with a weapon. Sulking, he was handed the bulkiest backpack, and muttered to himself as he tested its weight. Luke tried to smile his commiserations, but got such a glare in return that he immediately turned his attention to the revolver he’d been given. A good old-fashioned gun, where nothing could jam or go wrong. Perfect for a fella who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Skulduggery came in. Valkyrie had seen him in a variation of this outfit before, during the War of the Sanctuaries. A long coat, lots of cracked leather and rough, hard-wearing clothes. Scuffed boots. His left arm encased in dull black metal. His gun holstered low on his leg.

“I’m going to need a weapon,” said Serpine. “A handgun. A knife, at the very least.”

“I’ve got you something,” Skulduggery said, passing him a metal glove.

Serpine frowned at it. “What is it? What does it do?”

“It stops you from using that red hand of yours.”

The glove dropped to the floor. It clanged heavily.

“I won’t wear it.”

“Yes, you will.”

“This is ridiculous,” Serpine said. Red energy crackled around his right hand. “How am I supposed to be useful if you stifle my potential?”

“You’ve got your other hand,” Dexter said. “You can still throw energy. We just don’t trust you with a one-shot, one-kill weapon like your little Necromancer trick.”

“You trust me enough to bring me on to your team.”

“Only because we have to.”

“I will be fighting alongside you,” Serpine said. “We’ll be encountering the same dangers, facing the same threats. Fighting back to back. I have nothing to gain by betraying you.”

“And yet we still find it impossible to generate any degree of trust,” said Saracen. “It’s our fault entirely, and we feel bad about it, I swear. But you’re wearing the glove.”

Skulduggery took out the pebble. “Don’t make us put it on you ourselves, Nefarian.”

Serpine stared, then glared, then snarled. Then he grumbled, and muttered, and picked up the glove and shoved his hand in. It clicked as it locked around his wrist. He flexed his fingers.

“It’s uncomfortable,” he announced.

“Nobody cares,” said China, sweeping into the room. She wore extravagant trousers and a beautiful top and a cloak. An actual cloak. “You all look suitably downtrodden – certainly enough to pass for weary travellers at a distance. Do try not to let anyone see you up close, however. It might spoil the effect. Now then – Luke.”

“Present!” Luke called.

China frowned. “This isn’t roll call, Luke. I was just saying your name.”

Luke blushed. “Right. Yes. Sorry, Supreme Mage.”

“Luke will be shunting you into the Leibniz Universe. You will arrive at these same coordinates, but on that world. The distance to the outskirts of Dublin-Within-The-Wall, where Mevolent resides, will be approximately twenty-two kilometres. Across uncertain terrain, and assuming you avoid enemy patrols, you should walk that in around five hours. You have two months to observe the target, come up with a plan and execute it. Luke will shunt back every two weeks with a progress report.”

She tapped the wall and a section opened, revealing a table covered with a sheet.

“The God-Killer weapons have been recovered and various repairs have been made,” China said. “They will be loaned to you. I expect them back, in working order.” She pulled the sheet away, picked up the bow and a quiver of arrows, and passed them to Saracen.

The dagger China gave to Tanith. For a moment, just as they stood there, Valkyrie wondered if Tanith would be able to resist the opportunity to say something snarky to the Supreme Mage – but she accepted the weapon without a word.

Dexter took the spear, and the massive broadsword – the blade scarred from where it had been put back together – went to Skulduggery. It was too long to hang from his belt, so he put it across his back instead.

“Nothing for me?” Serpine asked. “Nothing for me or the boy? What do you think of that, boy? Everyone else gets God-Killers except us.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t mind,” said Luke. “I’m not really much of a fighter anyway. If I was given a sword, I’d probably cut my own head off.” He laughed at that, but nobody else did, so he stopped and blushed and examined his feet.

China’s eyes rested on Valkyrie. “And the final God-Killer,” she said, “for the only warrior who can wield it.”

She held out the Sceptre of the Ancients. Valkyrie looked at the golden rod, at that glittering black crystal. The weapon the Ancients had used to drive the Faceless Ones from this reality – to drive her kind from this reality. So much had changed since she’d first picked it up. Back then, she was the good guy, descended from a long line of good guys.

These days, things were a lot more complicated.

Valkyrie took the Sceptre, felt its weight. They’d made a belt to go with it, so she put that on, the holster low on her leg, like Skulduggery’s gun. She slipped the Sceptre in, crystal first.

“I’d give a speech,” China said, “but I’m late for another speech I have to give about something I don’t care about. They’ll wait, of course, because waiting is what people do for me. For you, though, I thought I’d offer a few short words of encouragement. Kill Mevolent for me, my Dead Men, and save the world. That’s all.”

She swept from the room.

“You heard the lady,” Skulduggery said.

“Just to make it clear,” said Saracen. “We’re the Dead Men. We are. And Luke is an Apprentice Dead Man.” He looked at Serpine. “But you’re not. You understand?”

“Perfectly,” Serpine said.

“Luke,” Skulduggery said, “are you ready?”

Luke gulped, and bobbed his head up and down in an awkward approximation of a nod.

Valkyrie picked up her backpack. Inside, she’d packed a few changes of underwear, food, camping equipment, some ammunition for the others, and buried there, right at the bottom, the music box.

“Wait,” she said. The others looked at her. “Loo.”

She left the room, went to the nearest toilets and made sure they were empty. Then she said, “You want to come out?”

Her own face materialised in front of her, an eyebrow already raised. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“I haven’t felt you near until just now,” said Valkyrie. “Where have you been?”

“Searching,” Kes said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Something’s different. It’s been different for a few months. I don’t know what it is.”

“You want to come with me?”

Kes smiled. “To Dimension X? To a bunch of unhappy villagers and scowling sorcerers? No, thank you.”

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“I think I can survive that long without your sparkling conversation. And I want to keep looking for whatever it is I’m looking for. It’s been bugging the hell out of me, it really has.”

“Well, I’ll try to bring you back a souvenir.”

“Fridge magnet.”

“OK.”

“And maybe a fridge.”

“You got it. Hey, Kes? Those things I said last time we talked …”

“Yeah? What about them?”

Valkyrie smiled. “They were all true, every one of them.”

“That’s my girl,” Kes said, grinning. “You take care of yourself.”

“See you soon,” Valkyrie said, and Kes faded away.

She returned to the others, grabbed her bag, and they stood in a circle. Luke closed his eyes.

After a minute of standing there, Saracen spoke. “You OK there, Luke?”

“Yes, sir. I just need … just need a little time to focus on the frequency.”

Saracen nodded and smiled, and they all stood there for another few minutes in total silence.

Then the room began to flicker …

… and now they were outside, under a grey sky, standing in long grass with warm rain splattering on to the rocks around them.

“I did it,” Luke whispered. “I did it!”

“The delight in your voice is disconcerting,” said Serpine.

Skulduggery took out a compass, then pointed ahead of them. “Let’s get walking.”

Grand Mage Sturmun Drang lay dead on the slab, eyes open, his clothes soaked through with his own blood. The wound to his chest was about eight centimetres across, and narrow, inflicted by a blade of some description. A large knife, perhaps.

“Why was it moved?” Temper Fray asked.

“What?”

“The body. Why was it moved from the crime scene?”

Commander Hoc pulled at the sleeves of his jacket, a sure sign of irritation. “The crime scene was a public street. We have a team there now. You haven’t missed out on some vital clue, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Witnesses?”

“None so far.”

“Cameras? CCTV?”

“None in that area. This is your case now, Sergeant. The German Sanctuary demands answers, to say nothing of the Supreme Mage.” Hoc walked to the door.

“Why me?” Temper asked.

Hoc turned back. “What?”

“This is a high-profile murder, sir, and you’ve got investigators a lot more experienced than me. Any one of them would jump at a case like this.”

“And yet it has landed with you,” said Hoc. “Do try not to make a mess of it, Fray. A mistake like that could end your career.”

He smirked and left the morgue, and Temper looked back at the body.

“Spear,” said the coroner, rolling up a trolley of instruments.

“Sorry?”

“If you’re wondering about the weapon used. It was a spear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“What kind of spear?”

“The pointy kind. I doubt it was thrown, though. More likely jabbed. A single wound, by the looks of it, though I haven’t started examining the body properly yet. Who was he?”

“You don’t recognise him? That’s the German Grand Mage.”

The coroner shrugged. “Politics don’t interest me.”

“He sat on the Council of Advisors with Praetor and Vespers.”

“Councils don’t interest me.”

“What does interest you?”

“Corpses.”

“Do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

The coroner nodded. “That’s what they say.”

“How long has he been dead?”

“About four hours.”

“Defensive marks?”

“None that I can see so far.”

“So … the German Grand Mage, experienced veteran of countless battles, out for an evening stroll, gets taken by surprise and killed with one jab from a spear without even attempting to defend himself. Should be an easy solve, this.”

The coroner grunted, amused. “Know many killers who use spears, do you?”

Temper frowned. “I know of one.”

The land brought with it a vague but persistent sense of déjà vu. Not with every step, nor with every turn, and not even with every hill – but now and then Valkyrie was struck by how this was home, and yet it wasn’t.

Most of the familiar landmarks didn’t exist here. Buildings and roads were missing. There were fields and meadows instead of street corners and estates. There were empty villages of stone and wood instead of motorways. Instead of a neat and orderly canal, there was a stream, crossed with bridges like stitches on a cut.

And no people. No villagers, no farmers. No meek mortals scurrying away at their approach. And no sorcerer patrols, either. No Redhoods or Sense-Wardens. No floating barges collecting prisoners.

Skulduggery and Dexter and Saracen talked as they walked. Tanith would chime in occasionally. Serpine tried, and was told to shut up. Valkyrie stayed quiet.

Her head was at her again. It buzzed with grating, rasping whispers. The longer they walked, the harder it became to think clearly. To focus.

It got dark. They had another five kilometres to walk, but Skulduggery wanted to approach the city in the morning, so they stopped to make camp. Valkyrie found a secluded spot, out of earshot, and sat with her back against a tree. She pulled her bag in close, pulled it open with trembling fingers, and lifted the lid of the music box.

The sweetness of the tune filled her head and all the whispers went away. It seeped into her veins and she lost the jittery feeling in her fingertips. Her nerve endings calmed. The flutter in her chest, the churning in her belly – they settled. She leaned her head back and gazed into the distance with half-lidded eyes. She could stay here forever like this. This was nice. She was content.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket next to her chest, and she opened her eyes and tapped off the alarm and closed the box. She packed it away, went back to camp with a smile on her face. When it was suggested that someone fetch some firewood, she volunteered. Luke said he’d help.

“This is my first adventure,” Luke said, as they walked.

Valkyrie added a broken branch to her collection, then looked around for more. “That so?”

They’d found some trees. Not a wood, exactly, but enough for some dry twigs to be scattered on the ground, if you kicked the top ones away.

“I always wanted to go on an adventure,” Luke said. “I just never thought I’d actually be on one, you know?”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

“There’s a lot more walking than I’d expected.”

Valkyrie nodded. “Yeah, that’s the part they leave out in those epic poems and stuff.”

“Suppose there’s only so many ways you can describe walking. Walk. Stroll. Wander. Shuffle. I think that’s it.”

“Meander.”

“Meander. Right. Though that’s less impressive if you’re on an adventure. You don’t get too many knights meandering into danger.”

“In the poems,” Valkyrie pointed out. “In real life, you’d be surprised.”

Luke turned his head away from her. “Did you hear that?”

“I was too busy being witty.”

“I thought I heard a shout.”

She walked up beside him, and they didn’t move for a few seconds. She was about to shrug when she heard it. Definitely a shout. And definitely a panicked one.

They put down their sticks and hurried through the trees, out on to the wet grass.

There, at the bottom of the sloping hill. A man, running in the gloom. Being chased by three people. He stumbled, fell, and his three pursuers descended on him.

“Dammit,” Valkyrie muttered. She grabbed her shock sticks, gave one to Luke, and started running down the hill.

“Hey,” she called out as they neared. “Hey, leave him alone.”

The man howled in pain and kept struggling, and the howl became a scream.

“Hey!” Valkyrie shouted.

The three pursuers looked up, snapping their heads round in her direction, the crackling blue light of the shock sticks illuminating their features.

Their skin was lined, dirty. One of them had a chunk missing from its cheek. Their mouths were smeared with blood. Their eyes were clouded. Some of their hair had fallen out and their clothes were filthy rags. The stench they brought with them was the too-sweet stench of rotting meat.

The first one launched itself at Valkyrie with a screech and she cursed and stepped back and jammed the stick into its neck. Electricity coursed. The thing seized up where it stood, arms bending, fingers curling, muscles standing out beneath its skin, so tight, like they were about to snap. Valkyrie whipped the stick back, then cracked it into its knee and it went down.

The other two came at her. Luke started whacking the one with the beard. With each strike, the shock stick made the zombie jerk.

The female got close enough for Valkyrie to smell its breath. It clamped its teeth on her forearm and dragged its head from side to side like a dog, but it couldn’t get through the necronaut sleeve. Valkyrie backed up a little, watching it try to eat her, watching the way its face contorted with a hunger she could never imagine. Its hands scraped at her. Those eyes, the irises drained of colour, held not one scrap of the woman this creature had once been. There was nothing there. Just the hunger.