Seasons of War

Valkyrie tore her arm free. Teeth came with it. She swung the stick, and the thing staggered, but didn’t go down. Luke was still hitting the bearded one, still making it dance. The one with the broken knee was dragging itself back to the moaning man.

They weren’t human. They weren’t alive. Valkyrie had gone up against something like this before. Not the same kind of zombie as Scapegrace, the kind that kept their faculties, the kind that could think and talk and feel. These were the other kind. The dangerous kind. These were walking corpses. Shells of who they used to be. But all the old rules still applied, which meant that removing the head or destroying the brain remained the surefire way to stopping them.

She used the shock stick. Smashed its jaw and then its skull. It fell and didn’t get up, and she hurried over to the creature on the ground, stomped on its head until it stopped moving.

Valkyrie returned her stick to her back and went to help Luke, grabbing the zombie’s head with both hands and pouring her lightning into it.

It collapsed, and Luke stood there, panting. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t freak out, either. That was a good sign. Boded well for the future.

The man they’d been chasing moaned again. Valkyrie knelt by him.

“Sir? Are you OK?”

He rolled over, trying to get away. She was a sorcerer, and sorcerers probably frightened this man just as much as zombies.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Valkyrie said, staying where she was. “We want to help you. We’re with the Resistance. Do you hear me? We’re fighting Mevolent. We’re on your side.”

The man, who wore rags every bit as filthy as the things that had tried to eat him, turned over on to his back, too exhausted and too injured to go any further.

Valkyrie showed him her open hands. “We can help you.”

He shook his head. He was crying, his right leg was a mess, and he was clutching his arm. There was a deep, bloody wound right below the elbow.

“He’s been bitten,” Luke said.

Valkyrie didn’t respond.

“Those were zombies. They were, weren’t they? You know what happens when you get bitten.”

“I know,” she said, straightening up.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should we … should we leave him?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sharper this time. “I don’t know what we do. I don’t know what the right thing is. We … OK, we take him to the others. They’ll know how to handle this.”

Luke hesitated.

“What?”

“It’s just,” he said, “he’s been infected. So that means he’ll turn. And what if he turns while we’re carrying him?”

“We’re not leaving him here.”

“OK,” Luke said, and nodded. “No. You’re right. We can’t. We have to take him with us. OK. Sorry.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Valkyrie, and turned back to the injured man. “Sir, we’re going to help you. We’re going to take you with us.”

“No,” the man said. “Please.”

“We’re not your enemy. We’re not even from here. We just want to help you. Can you stand?”

Valkyrie reached for him. He shrank away. She kept her hand there. After a moment, she moved closer. Slowly. She took hold of his good arm and he let her help him to his feet.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Proinsias.”

“Proinsias, I’m Valkyrie, and that’s Luke. If you come with us, we have food and medicine. Will you come with us?”

Proinsias nodded, and Valkyrie hooked Proinsias’s good arm round her neck and helped him walk. She wanted to ask questions as they moved, slowly, back up the hill, but Proinsias had retreated into his head, where he muttered to himself and wept.

“Think there are more of them?” Luke asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Valkyrie answered. “But let’s assume there are. Keep an eye out.”

He nodded. “You think this is the sickness that Serpine heard about? You think the sickness is zombies?”

“I hope not.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Calling them zombies, I mean. Almost seems silly. You kind of understand why movies and TV shows find different names for them. Calling them zombies, I think, makes them sound less scary than they are. Also, like, not all zombies are the same. My uncle was a zombie, and he wasn’t all bad. He never tried to eat us or anything.”

“He still around?”

“Bits of him, yeah.”

She readjusted Proinsias, and resumed walking. “I know some zombies, too. They tried to kill me a lot back in the old days, but now they run a pub in Roarhaven and they’re OK.”

“You get to see them much?”

“Not really. I’m sort of worried that if I call by to say hello, they’ll be dragged into whatever mess I’m in right at that moment. Honestly, I figure it’s kinder to just leave them alone.”

“That’s a little sad.”

“Is it?”

“Well, yeah. You’re stopping yourself from seeing friends because you want to keep them safe.”

Valkyrie laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call them friends. They did try to kill me, remember.”

“But hasn’t everyone?” Luke asked, the moonlight catching his grin.

She raised an eyebrow. “You want to carry this guy?”

“No, no,” Luke said, hands up. “I’m fine keeping an eye out for monsters.”

“Well, OK then. Just watch the lip.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, still grinning.

“They’re called the draugar,” Serpine said. “Do you have them in your dimension?”

“We have them,” Skulduggery responded, his façade in place for the benefit of the mortal in their midst, “but not like this. A draugr doesn’t transmit infections. That’s a zombie trait.”

“The same applies here – but it would appear that there has been some cross-pollination between the species.”

The fire crackled. Valkyrie stared through the flames at Proinsias sitting opposite. He was sweating badly. There were dark rings under his bloodshot eyes. His wounds had stopped bleeding. That, apparently, was a bad sign.

“They came from the south,” Proinsias said. “Like a tide they came. Swept over everything. These … things … You’d see one, and by morning the town is gone and all the people have been changed. We thought the sorcerers would stop it. This was a danger to everyone, not just us. We thought they’d come in and use their magic and use their fire and burn them all.”

“But they didn’t?” Saracen asked gently.

“They tried,” said Proinsias. “They burned some. But there were just too many. In all my years, I’ve never seen a sorcerer get hurt. Never. I grew up thinking of them as gods. But they’re not gods. They never were. They’re just people, and they die just like people.” He smiled. “This is justice. That’s what it is. Justice for all the terrible things you sorcerers have ever done. Now you have an enemy you can’t stop. One you can barely fight. Justice.”

Skulduggery asked, “How widespread is this?”

“I’ve only heard stories.”

“What have you heard?”

“It’s everywhere,” Proinsias said. “Ireland only has one place – one sorcerer city – that hasn’t fallen. Everything else is gone. My brother, he’s a fisherman. A boat passed him. Small one. It was a family, all the way from France. They said the draugar were there, as well. The little lad, my brother said, had a bite mark on his leg. Just like I have.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Nobody wanted to answer. Almost nobody.

“Yes, we are,” said Serpine. “But we’re going to do it humanely. I’m going to ask you to face the other way, and then I’m going to start hitting you with a rock.”

“Serpine,” Tanith snapped.

Serpine reached out, patted Proinsias’s leg. “Don’t worry, my mortal friend. I’ll be as gentle as I can be. It will take but a few minutes. I can even sing to you while I—”

Serpine stopped talking and slumped sideways, mashing his face into the dirt. Skulduggery stepped over him, took his place on the log he’d been sitting on.

“We’ll have to kill you,” he said to Proinsias. “I’m sorry, but, once you turn, you become dangerous. Not just to us, but to anyone else you might meet.”

Proinsias nodded. “I … I understand.”

“It will be quick,” said Skulduggery, his voice soft, “and it will be painless. Do you want me to do it now, or do you want to wait until you turn?”

Wiping the tears away, Proinsias sniffled. “I’d like you to wait, sir,” he said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to live as long as possible.”

“Of course.”

Proinsias coughed specks of blood. “I don’t think that’s going to be very long, though.”

“No, I don’t think it will be, either,” Skulduggery said. “Would you like to go for a walk, Proinsias?”

“I would, actually. Thank you.”

Skulduggery helped him up, and they walked slowly from the camp into the surrounding darkness.

When they were gone, Luke raised his hand.

“Don’t have to raise your hand to speak,” said Tanith.

“Yes, sorry. Um, I’m just wondering if we should, like, post a perimeter or something, in case there are any more draugrs out there …? I mean, we’re going to be sleeping, and—”

“Draugar,” said Dexter.

“Sorry?”

“The plural of draugr isn’t draugrs, it’s draugar.”

“I don’t think I can hear the difference.”

“One draugr is draugr. More than one is draugar.”

“Are you just repeating yourself?”

Dexter frowned. “They’re different words.”

“I’m with Luke on this one,” said Valkyrie. “They sound the same to me.”

“Two completely different words.”

“What do we do with Serpine?” Tanith said, nudging him with her boot. He mumbled something in response. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear it.”

“I think he said to leave him alone,” said Saracen.

Tanith nodded. “Gotcha. Sorry, Nefarian. In future, I will do more to respect your boundaries.”

He mumbled again, but everyone ignored him, and Valkyrie looked into the dark, at the space where Skulduggery and Proinsias had disappeared. Somewhere in that dark, most likely before the hour was up, a human being was going to die. She wondered how many more would join him before this mission reached its end.

Serafina’s mansion stood behind a tall black gate with protective sigils woven into the metal. Temper was escorted through by two armed guards, their faces hidden. Once he stepped off the white marble pebbles on to the first step, he was met by three other armed guards. They took him inside, where he was left alone in a large room with guards at both entrances.

Religious tapestries on the walls waved gently in the summer breeze that drifted in through the skylight, each one depicting a new atrocity visited by the Faceless Ones upon their enemies.

“Beautiful, no?”

Temper turned. Serafina Dey – Serafina of the Unveiled, the High Superior of the Legion of Judgement – glided towards him, her dress flowing around her like wisps of cloud.

“High Superior,” Temper said, and gave a polite bow. “It’s very good of you to see me.”

Serafina smiled. “Anything for a man who abandoned the side of my brother and his ridiculous organisation. The Church of the Faceless is a sham of an order, and I commend you for recognising that. Perhaps I could interest you in joining my own Legion? Such a defection would not go unnoticed in a city such as this.”

“Thank you, High Superior, but I’m actually here on official City Guard business. I’m looking for your sister.”

“But of course,” Serafina said, and motioned Rune over. A solid slab of muscle in a simple uniform, Rune was the head of Serafina’s security team – and she was every bit as intimidating as Temper remembered.

“With apologies,” said Temper, “not that sister. I’m looking for Kierre of the Unveiled.”

Rune glared, and Serafina stiffened slightly. “I’m afraid our sister is indisposed,” she said. “She has undertaken the Twelve Vows, number five of which is—”

“No communication, yes, I remember. I’m going to have to insist, unfortunately. This is a murder investigation and I’m sorry to tell you that your sister is required for an interview.”

“Our sister is a valued member of our church,” said Rune. “You can’t speak to her.”

“Rune is quite correct,” Serafina said. “Under the terms of the Religious Freedom Act, the City Guard may not interview someone of high standing within any religious organisation. The Legion of Judgement qualifies, wouldn’t you say?”

Temper smiled. “I would. I had just hoped that Kierre might be a little more forthcoming.”

“Well,” said Rune with a sneer, “she isn’t.”

“Thank you for coming to see us, Sergeant Fray,” said Serafina. “You may leave now.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this, so Temper thanked them both and walked out the way he’d come in. As he approached the gate, he saw what looked for a moment like two men, one sitting on the other’s shoulders, both covered in a multilayered robe festooned with rusted chains. But it wasn’t two men. It was merely the misshapen form of Strosivadian, Serafina’s younger brother.

“Temper,” Strosivadian said in that deep, guttural growl his voice had become, “what brings you to us this day?”

Temper craned his neck and smiled up at him. “I’m investigating a murder. Thought your sister might be able to provide some answers.”

Strosivadian frowned, his monstrous brow heavy over bloodshot eyes. “You are police now? That surprises me.” The extravagant headpiece Strosivadian wore was made from the melted-down blades of some of the warriors who’d tried to kill him over the years. It glinted darkly in the sunlight.

“Maybe you can help me,” Temper said. “I’m looking for Kierre.”

Strosivadian’s thin lips, crisscrossed with deep scars, twitched downwards. “She is a suspect?”

“Actually, I just want to clear her name off the suspect list. A formality, nothing more.”

“And how many other names are there on this list?” Strosivadian asked.

Temper hesitated, and Strosivadian put his big, gnarled hand on Temper’s shoulder, and leaned down.

“I may be a monster, Temper, but I am not a stupid one. Stay away from my sister. She is the youngest of us, and we are mightily protective of her. If you seek to harass a member of my family, may I suggest my brother, Damocles Creed? We are not so protective of him.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Temper. “Thanks for your help, Stros. It’s good to see you.”

“After all these years,” Strosivadian said, and straightened up as much as he could before walking away, his robes brushing the ground, his chains rattling.

They approached the city from the west.

The vegetation at the base of the giant barrier that encircled Dublin-Within-The-Wall had been trampled into the dirt, evidence that thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of people had been standing there. The wall was higher than even Roarhaven’s, but not so high that Valkyrie couldn’t fly to the top in a few seconds, pulling Saracen after her, or Tanith couldn’t jog up. Skulduggery brought Dexter and Luke with him. They left Serpine on the ground, and argued about who should go back for him. Skulduggery lost.

The last time Valkyrie had been here, the city had been alive. Every person on the street was a sorcerer, wearing this dimension’s version of high fashion. Redhoods patrolled, and City Mages kept order, and any mortals were stuck indoors, doing the cooking, the cleaning, the day-to-day chores that sorcerers were too good for.

There had been no cars, but floating carriages that zipped by each other, controlled by Elementals from perches at every corner. There had been machinery whose function Valkyrie couldn’t begin to guess at, working right alongside technology so old-fashioned it was as alien to her as anything else.

But today the city was quiet, and dark, and still. Carriages lay in the streets, abandoned. Discarded. Even Mevolent’s Palace showed no signs of activity.

Valkyrie stayed where she was while Tanith ran down and Skulduggery took the others to street level. No alarms were raised. No traps triggered. When they were all safe behind cover, she stepped off the edge and plummeted, only turning on her magic a moment before impact.

She loved flying, but, seeing as how she left a trail of white lightning whenever she did it, it wasn’t the most discreet way to travel.

“No one in the immediate vicinity that I can see,” Saracen murmured, scanning their surroundings. “Doesn’t mean they’re not hiding.”

Dexter frowned. “So what if they are? Can’t you see through whatever they’re hiding behind?”

“I see through things in layers, Dex. You really want me to examine every single wall or piece of furniture?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not going to. Quick sweeps of the area, that’s what you’re getting.”

“What use are you? Seriously?”

“If the pair of you are quite finished,” Skulduggery said, checking his rifle, “we’re heading for the Palace. Saracen, you’re on point. Dexter, bring up the rear. Let’s go.”

Rifles to shoulders, they moved quickly out from cover and crossed the street. Sticking close to the sides of buildings, they passed through the city, the steeples of Mevolent’s Palace always ahead of them.

Saracen held up his fist. Valkyrie crouched with the others. A few seconds later, a crowd of draugar came round the corner. Valkyrie counted twenty-three.

She switched on her aura-vision. The colours she perceived changed over time as her visual range grew more sophisticated. Where once living people had been a range of colours, now they were mostly orange, with hints of other shades, like dancing motes.

But these draugar … they were a dull, dull grey that, even as she was looking at them, seemed to shrink.

Skulduggery lowered his rifle and reached to his shoulder, fingers flexing. The sword lifted from its sheath and, once free, flipped smoothly, its handle landing in Skulduggery’s grip. “We may as well try these God-Killers out,” he said softly. “See if they kill the dead. Saracen?”

Saracen shrugged, put his gun away, and nocked an arrow in the bow. He took a moment to aim, then let the arrow fly. A draugr went down, the arrow in its head. He loosed a second arrow that caught a draugr in the chest.

“You’re supposed to go for the head,” Serpine whispered.

Saracen didn’t even glance at him. “One, shut up. Two, arrows fired from this bow kill whatever they hit. Three, shut the hell up.”

Dexter stepped into the middle of the street, and gave a low whistle. The draugar swivelled their heads. Snarled. Started to come towards them.

He hefted the spear, waited until three draugar were advancing in a passably straight line, and threw. The spear crossed the space like a missile, impaling the three draugar. They slumped to the ground, properly dead this time. Dexter held out his hand, and Valkyrie watched the spear tremble. It flew back as if it was on a wire, and Dexter caught it.

The rest of the draugar broke into a run, and Tanith and Skulduggery went to meet them. Tanith’s dagger flashed, and Skulduggery’s scarred broadsword slashed, and the draugar that came apart didn’t try to get up again. Skulduggery and Tanith backed away as the other draugar threatened to surround them.

“You’re up,” said Saracen.

Valkyrie waited until Skulduggery and Tanith had found cover, and then she pulled the Sceptre from its holster. Nine draugar left. Snarling and snapping and getting closer. The crystal crackled and she felt that familiar hum in the palm of her hand, and then black lightning streaked and the draugar exploded into clouds of dust.

When the last of the dust settled on the street, Valkyrie put the Sceptre away, and Skulduggery and Tanith stepped back into view.

“It would appear that the God-Killers can kill the undead,” said Skulduggery. “Good to know.”

They reached Mevolent’s Palace without encountering any more obstacles. They climbed the steps to the massive doors, and Valkyrie used the Sceptre to make a hole in one of them, big enough to pass through.

The weak afternoon light struggled to penetrate the thick, stained-glass windows, which meant the shadows were deep. The tank, which had once held the remains of this dimension’s Mr Bliss, was broken and empty. Glass covered the floor. They lowered their weapons.

“I can’t feel any movement,” Skulduggery said, his hand out against the air. “Saracen?”

“As far as I can tell, we’re alone in here.”

Skulduggery pulled down his hood. “Let’s go up. Watch your step, and be wary of traps.”

They climbed the massive staircases, rising through each floor of the Palace, passing abandoned treasures and chests of astonishing riches. Signs of a hurried, forced evacuation.

When they reached the top floor, they split up, went looking. Ten minutes later, they regrouped.

“What happened here?” Tanith asked. “Why’d they leave?”

Skulduggery walked out on to the long balcony that stretched out over the city. The others followed.

“The city was surrounded,” Serpine said. “I can’t have been the only one to notice the footprints in the mud outside the wall, can I?”

“Of course not,” said Dexter, scowling.

Saracen looked around. “Wait, there were footprints?”

“The draugar had the city surrounded,” said Serpine, “so Mevolent evacuated everyone – probably had them all teleported away.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tanith said. “Why did they leave? Yes, they were surrounded, but there’s no damage to the walls. No damage to the gates – which are closed, by the way. There are a few draugar in here, sure, but not enough to cause any real problems. They could have stayed, used Elementals to burn out the horde at their leisure.”

“Something else was at play here,” Skulduggery said, his gaze on the streets below. “Serpine, where would they have gone?”

“There would be nowhere more fortified in this country than where we are right now,” Serpine responded. “If they had to leave, Mevolent would have gone straight to one of his other walled cities.”

“How many of those are there?”

“Including this one? Five. He has cities in Russia and Australia, but Dublin-Within-The-Wall was his home. Tahil na Kurge in Morocco would be the biggest, and Tahil na Sin would be the easiest to get to. That’s in Transylvania.”

“Of course it is,” Valkyrie muttered.

Tanith nodded eastwards, to the glittering sea. “The docks appear to have plenty of boats lying around. Taking one of them to Germany wouldn’t be a problem.”

“So long as we avoid the mermaids,” said Serpine. “They can be quite active in the English Channel, and I would advise staying as far away from them as possible.”

“I second that,” said Valkyrie. “OK, so once we land in Germany, how far to Transylvania?”

“Maybe sixteen hundred kilometres from where we’d come ashore,” Skulduggery said. “Assuming twenty kilometres a day, we’d walk it in just over eleven weeks.”

“Eleven weeks of walking?” Valkyrie said, eyebrows rising. “Well, then it’s a good thing some of us can fly, because I am not walking for eleven weeks.”

“I wouldn’t fly, if I were you,” Serpine said. “Europe is known for its giant bats.”

“Its what?”

“Bats,” he said again. “Giant ones. Anything bigger than a sparrow gets plucked from the skies and devoured.”

“Mermaids in the sea and bats in the air? Seriously? Well then, I’ll only fly during the day.”

“A wise decision,” Serpine said, nodding, “were it not for the fact that these bats are not especially nocturnal.”