Black Scars (Blood Skies, Book 2) Read online

  “Black said you’d mentioned to her that someone in your party was actively searching for the Woman in the Ice,” Cross said. He was suddenly worried, but he wasn’t entirely sure why.

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “The expedition as a whole wasn’t looking for the Woman, but one of its members was. He asked me about it a couple of times: if I’d heard of it, if I thought the rumors about it were true, and so on. He was so insistent that I finally asked the head archaeologist, a guy named Kyver. Kyver told me there was some rumor that one of the Bone Towers might house the Woman in the Ice, but it was pure conjecture, and it had nothing to do with why they were going. He was frankly surprised that anyone besides himself even knew about the rumor, or why they would bring it up.”

  Cross nodded. His worry grew.

  “The guy who asked you about it…”

  “That was the weird thing. He was one of the armed escorts – a mercenary hired out of Ath when one of the group’s regular men came down with the flu.”

  “So the guy asking about the Woman in the Ice…”

  “Wasn’t even part of the original party.”

  “What did he look like?” Cross asked.

  Cole paused. It was obvious that she needed to concentrate in order to remember, which worried Cross even more.

  “He was tall, with short blonde hair. He wasn’t really handsome, but not really…well, not really remarkable at all…he was just sort of plain. I’m not even sure if I could point him out again if I had to. But he wore all black.”

  “What sort of weapon did he carry?” Cross asked.

  “Funny, I never actually saw it,” Cole said, thinking back.

  The airship bounced through some turbulence. The interior was only dimly lit by red stones set high in the walls, rubies that cast everything in a bloody haze.

  “I think it was a rifle,” she said at last. “I remember now. It must have been, because it was very long, and he kept it wrapped up and stashed away with his other gear.”

  “He escaped, didn’t he?” Cross asked. “When Cradden and his gang attacked you?”

  “Yes. He didn’t even put up a fight…he just fled. He was gone in an instant, while the expedition team was being…shot down.” She swallowed, pained by the memory. Cross gave her some time.

  “Did he give you his name?” he asked eventually.

  Cross loaded his HK magazines. He hadn’t even realized he was doing so.

  “Markos.”

  Cross laughed.

  “Jennar. His name is Jennar. Markos is one of his aliases. It’s an old alias, and he hardly ever uses it…but he has used it before.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Trouble. And the fact that he was with your party, looking for the Woman in the Ice…that’s even more trouble.”

  Everyone else woke up a couple of hours later. The night outside was still pitch black, so dark there might have been nothing outside of the vessel except for an unending and starless void. It was as if they floated through ink. The rumbling airship – with its bloody lights and the ear-shattering monotony of its engines – existed all by itself, a blip in an endless ebon sea. It seemed they’d flown forever, and whatever reality existed beyond those walls was part of some other world. As long as they stayed in the ship, they were safe, safe from the reality of all they’d been through, and everything that they still had to do.

  But they couldn’t stay in the ship forever.

  “We have trouble,” Cross explained when everyone was awake. They ate MREs and drank water. Everyone was tired, miserable and exhausted. Even washed and somewhat rested they looked and moved like people who’d been to hell and back.

  And we still have one last stop on our trip.

  “Trouble?” Black asked. “What, more?”

  “Just for something different, right?” Kane laughed.

  Cross had Cole recall her story. Black nodded with the parts that she was already familiar with.

  “The reason that Cole can’t remember exactly what he looks like,” Cross explained, “is because this man, Jennar, is a warlock who uses his spirit to disguise his appearance. That’s a very rare and very difficult talent that only a few mages have. Also, that long weapon he had wasn’t a rifle, but it’s a sort of sword called a nightlance.”

  “I’ve heard of those,” Kane said. “It’s a Crujian weapon, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Who is this clown?” Black asked.

  It was Ramsey who answered.

  “Black Circle,” he said. The way he mouthed those words, it was as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Nothing else needed to be said. The Black Circle was well known, even if many chose to believe they didn’t exist. Nihilists and fanatics who lived in the shadows, the Circle’s efforts revolved around a drive to bring about the downfall of all life. They were well-supplied, well trained, and very powerful. Luckily, their numbers were few, but they were capable of doing incredible damage given the right opportunity. Some said the Circle believed they were God’s angels, sent to punish those who’d somehow survived Judgment Day; others thought they served some other-worldly evil, a demonic or undead agent, or even The Black itself.

  Whatever their motives, one thing was clear: they were friends to no one, for they sought the destruction of all. They wanted to watch everything – the world, its people, all of it – burn. They sought oblivion, and they were willing to give their own lives to achieve that end, if necessary.

  A member of the Black Circle had been there with Cole, searching for the Woman in the Ice. Weeks had passed since Cole had been abducted. For all they knew, the Black Circle had already found what they were looking for. And if they had, there was no telling how much damage they’d already done.

  EIGHTEEN

  KARAMANGANJI

  They came upon the frozen city at first light. Soldiers from Claw Company, out of Ath, waited for them, just as Ramsey had promised.

  Even through the frosted and thick-paned window of the airship, they saw how much brighter the world became that far north. They were deep in the Reach, in Gorgoloth territory and well beyond the White Line. They felt the biting chill even through the walls of the craft.

  They had no real plan aside from finding the Bone Tower that Cole thought housed the Woman in the Ice. They hoped they’d beat the Black Circle agents to the site, but Cross thought that was highly unlikely. The best they could hope for was that the Woman was buried deep, or else shielded behind a great deal of arcane safeguards, and that the Black Circle hadn’t actually reached her yet. Still, it had been weeks since Cole’s party had been ambushed, and even though it would have taken Jennar some time to gather his allies and guide them back to Karamanganji, the Circle still had a significant head start.

  Cross’ nerves were on edge, and his pulse raced with worry.

  They touched down to the west of the frozen city. Everyone threw on as many layers of winter clothing as they could: heavy coats, hats, thick gloves, extra pants, double layers of socks, anything that Ramsey had on hand. Unfortunately, the Gol had never really anticipated making an arctic trek, so their clothing supplies were a bit thinner than they would have liked.

  Bitter winter wind greeted them as the rear doors slid open. Blasts of bone-chilling air cast everything in white drifts and icy fog. Cross shivered the moment the doors opened. The faces of the refugees from Thornn were wrapped with shreds of torn blankets. They all looked like stuffed scarecrows, and they moved with about as much grace.

  The sky was dull white, and the earth was pale and sheen. Most of the ground was layered with sheets of snow so cold it had fused into layers of ice. Sharp stones protruded from the ground like shards of broken glass, and a trail of rock led up the face of Mount Karamanganji, a desolate peak that stuck like a black and jagged tooth into the frozen sky. The ruins of the city stood at the base of the mountain, easily visible from atop the rise.

  It was a city of ice. Glacial buildin
gs were fused into the frozen rock. Wide streets covered in uneven layers of petrified snow ran between spires of glittering dark crystal. Gray fog curled off of the featureless buildings and filled the air between the stark white towers with vapors of rolling shadow. Needle-thin bridges connected the delicate structures like misplaced horizontal icicles.

  The breadth of the city was impressive. When the wind turned in the ship’s direction, Cross tasted cold so raw it burned his tongue. He sensed powerful and ancient spirits, their origins and numbers so vast and scattered they would not be pinpointed. They swam through the currents of the air, heavy, formless and pure, like uncut diamond matter.

  The group met Claw Company atop the ridge that overlooked the city. Cross saw a ground transport and a tank. Both were made out of magically-treated steel, and they were lightweight vehicles that could be carried by the cargo transport airship grounded on a ridge that overlooked the city.

  Only a few Southern Claw soldiers were visible out there in the snow, their brown and deep red armor hardly camouflaged but probably the best choice for keeping track of soldiers so that no one became lost in the arctic wastes.

  Airships ran reconnaissance over the frozen city streets. Cross counted at least six Bloodhawk warships in the air. They were sleek and lightweight vessels shaped like aerial speedboats.

  With the troop transport and the two land vehicles, that meant that the Southern Claw had sent a least two platoons. Cross was relieved: he didn’t want the entire Company. He had a bad feeling about what was coming.

  A cluster of soldiers made their way towards the vampire airship. It pained Cross’ eyes to even watch them in the stinging snow. He felt his sinuses freeze.

  “Lieutenant Crylos?” Ramsey called out, his voice drowned in the wind.

  “You must be Ramsey!” a man called out. “This way!”

  The soldiers led them into a makeshift white tent that was nearly invisible in the eye-numbing wind. Inside were a number of tables with maps pinned to them, plenty of supplies, sandbags, and a hex field generator that provided power and acted as an early warning system against intruders. Cold iron rods and sacks of blessed earth rested near the center of the tent. The generator made the air inside surprisingly warm.

  A witch waited in the tent. Her dark hair was pulled back to reveal intricate tattoos cast on her neck and angular cheeks. She held a dark crystal attached to a string over one of the maps.

  The man who’d spoken with Ramsey pulled back his hood. He was young and unshaven, with dirty blonde hair and large blue eyes.

  “I’m Lieutenant Crylos,” he said, and he shook everyone’s hand in turn. “Sergeant Ankharra is busy divining for any obvious signs of recent disturbances in this area. Thus far we haven’t turned anything up, but give us time. We’re good at finding trouble.”

  “This should be a match made in heaven, then,” Cross laughed. “You served with Sergeant Stone in Scorpion Company, right?”

  “I did,” Crylos nodded. “Good man. Sorry to hear about what happened to him. I’ve heard a lot about you, Cross.”

  Cross couldn’t decide if the fact that he had a reputation was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Where’s the rest of your Company?” Ramsey asked.

  “Patrolling near Saarn. That’s actually where the entire Company was bound for when we received orders to come and help you.” Crylos looked at Cross, clearly assuming the warlock was in charge. “What are we expecting, exactly? All we were told was that there was something of import in these ruins, and that agents of the Black Circle were looking for it, as well.”

  “We hope that the Black Circle is all we have to deal with,” Cross said grimly. “We may have vampires on our tail. Or worse.”

  “Excellent,” Crylos nodded. His face was almost expressionless. Cross couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, or if he really was excited about the notion of facing vampires. He decided Crylos would make a terrific poker player.

  Black, Cole and Kane all kept surprisingly quiet. Ekko kept her hood drawn, as they’d agreed she would. Cross and Black had both used basic thaumaturgic currents to help mask her presence from top-down vampire detection measures. Since Ekko wasn’t a full vampire, she’d remain undetected unless someone specifically searched the exact spot where she stood. The implications of what might happen if Ekko’s nature was discovered was more than Cross wanted to think about, as was the notion of having to convince Crylos that it was okay that they had a vampire on their side. There were some things that were all but unheard of to the average Southern Claw soldier, and the notion of working with the undead was one of them.

  Funny how much I’ve changed, Cross thought. I used to think like that, too. Maybe everything would be easier if I still did.

  “That’s kind of rare, isn’t it?” Cross asked Crylos. “For a witch to be an officer?”

  “Ankharra is one of the few,” Crylos nodded.

  “I think I’ve found something,” Ankharra said, right on cue. Crylos nodded for everyone to convene at the map. Harsh winter wind cut through the tent as the flap opened and a handful of other officers joined them.

  Ankharra briefly surveyed the new arrivals. She was a lean and handsome woman with dark and exotic eyes and full black lips. Cross felt her spirit, raw and male and filled with primal hunter power. His spirit felt largely insignificant next to Ankharra’s. Worse, he felt Black’s spirit test Ankharra’s. Two male spirits in the same area was always dangerous. The level of anger and aggression was so thick that Cross nearly choked on it.

  “Danica Black?” Ankharra said with a mean-spirited smile. “It’s been a long time. I’m surprised they let you out of your dungeon.”

  “I’m surprised you can even survive in this climate,” Black smiled back. “Don’t reptiles need to bathe in sunlight to stay warm?”

  Kane laughed, and he clawed the air and made a sound like a hissing cat.

  “Anyways…” Crylos interrupted.

  “There are arcane trace elements near this Tower,” Ankharra said. She pointed with a dark fingernail to a spot on the map.

  “Is that it?” Cross asked. Cole stepped up. She had to study the entire map for a moment to gather her bearings.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s it.”

  “Most of the energy is residual,” Ankharra continued. “It’s maybe a week or two old. But something has occurred near that tower, as recently as yesterday morning.”

  “Like what?” Cross asked.

  “And you are?” Ankharra asked him pointedly. Cross saw Crylos give her a look, but he shook his head, and smiled.

  “Asking you a question,” Cross answered. “What sort of activity?”

  Ankharra regarded him a moment, and then smiled back.

  “It’s focused destructive power, for the most part. Channeled fire, large scale explosions squeezed into tight spaces…things like that.”

  Cross and Black exchanged glances. The Revenger nodded.

  “The Black Circle,” he said. “They’re blasting. They think they’ve found her, and now they’re trying to get to her.”

  “Well?” Crylos asked.

  Cross ran his hand over his face. Even with the small amount of rest he’d gotten on the airship, he felt as though he hadn’t slept for days. His stomach was tight with worry, his nerves were on edge, and he had trouble focusing his eyes on anything for more than a few seconds without getting dizzy.

  We are so close, he thought. So close to ending this…but now, more than ever, we have to stay alert, and we have to be ready.

  “We’d better get rolling,” he said.

  “What do you need from us?” Crylos asked.

  “More than anything, I need you to keep Karamanganji secure, if that’s possible.”

  Besides the threat of vampires coming after them – not to mention the Sleeper, which Claw Company could do little against – there was no telling what else might stalk the ruins of the ice city. They were deep in Gorgoloth territory, and depending on which
rumor one heard there could be anything from Regost wanderers to Cruj scavengers traipsing through the icicle necropolis.

  “We could use one squad with a vehicle as backup, in case these Black Circle fruit loops are waiting for us,” Ramsey said. “Our intelligence on them is shaky, at best.”

  “What do we know about them?” Crylos asked.

  “They’re bad guys,” Kane said.

  “That’s it?” Crylos laughed.

  “Um…they’re really bad guys,” Kane said.

  “That about sums it up,” Cross said with a smile, and he looked at Crylos. “Good enough?”

  “Good enough,” the Lieutenant nodded.

  Even though Crylos offered Cross and his “specialist team” a Southern Claw Bloodhawk warship to use in place of what Kane referred to as their “beat-up vampire jalopy”, Cross refused. Their purloined ship worked just fine, and Cross didn’t want to dip into Claw Company resources any more than he had to. He was already wracked with worry over how many losses Crylos might suffer before it was all over, and he would do his best to minimize those losses any way that he could.

  Cross was also surprised when absolutely every member of his new and makeshift team insisted on going right into the heart of danger, though he knew he shouldn’t have been. He, Black and Ekko had no choice, and Cole and Kane would do what they could to keep their lovers safe.

  Who surprised him was Ramsey. Even though the Gol had made his status as a non-combatant crystal clear, he also insisted that he tag along.

  “Are you sure?” Cross asked once more. It had stopped snowing, and the wind was gone. The white landscape was cold and still. Deep blue mist slid down the face of Mount Karamanganji, while the city itself stood silent and stoic, a dingy glacial metropolis, frozen like a photograph.

  They stood just inside of the ship. Their escort, a Bloodhawk, waited close by, it’s half-dozen soldiers armed and waiting.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Ramsey said. “Trust me, Cross…I don’t make decisions lightly.”

  “You’ve already done plenty…”

  “And yet the most important bits are the ones we’re just now getting to.” Ramsey crossed his arms. “I just destroyed years of work I’d spent infiltrating the Ebon Cities bureaucracy to get you and your people out. And I condemned hundreds of prisoners to die the moment that I let that damned shadow know where you were.”