Coyote Chronicles (The Veteran Book 1) Read online

  For both corpses, what blood there is has long since congealed. They’re cold, which is obvious in this climate. Rigor mortis has completely stiffened the limbs although it’s difficult to judge anything from that, especially in this weather. There is fixed lividity to the clammy skin. Most significantly there are no signs of any fly eggs hatching or feeding maggots, beetles and any other insects. Probably been dead for half a day I would say, meaning they were attacked sometime at night. Gregor reaffirms that fact by spotting a used torch on the floor as he wanders about.

  I look around in all directions, at all the silent buildings and empty side roads. No wolf or carrion have disturbed the body, meaning something is scaring them off. “The beast is still in Almaz.” Not nearby though or the horses would sense it.

  “Beast or beasts?” Gregor growls and that makes the hair on my neck go all funny.

  He’s standing with the Twins in a wide doorway of a big building, grand like all the others. The creature at their feet is massive, one and a half times as tall as the tallest man I’ve ever seen and with ridiculously wide shoulders tapering down to a very slim torso and hips. Overly long limbs are slim and covered in dense muscle. Bare body completely covered in thick grey and dark brown fur. That head though, it’s like a mixture of primate and human, with small dark eyes beneath a thick brow and its mouth wide and full of sharp teeth, just as sharp as the scary looking claws on its hands and feet. The Twins ask if we know what it is and I shake my head. I don’t know what the hell this creature is, to be honest. It’s like a huge yeti or monkey crossed with a vampire.

  Another one rests further inside the doorway and both are peppered with arrows and decorated with blade wounds, while just one has severe scorch marks that I would presume magical in origin. Some of the humans that I suppose killed them are scattered inside the building. Dead. Shredded in grotesque fashion like their friends in the road. Again, not as much blood has been allowed to pool from the wounds. One of the humans is different: dressed in dark grey, a white symbol on her chest, an ash dot on each palm. Newborn.

  “Our friends retreated into here,” says Gregor, half-heartedly looting where he can. “Either they took on an enemy they underestimated or they were ambushed.”

  “And they were finished off by a different beast than these two.”

  “More than one, I’d say,” Gregor adds. “Whatever they are.” He eyes me for a while as I ponder. “You ain’t concerned are you, Vet? No.” He huffs. “To you this just means we’re on the right track and that’s all you care about.”

  “This is a good thing, isn’t it?”

  “Your definition of good is screwed, Vet.”

  “Always has been.”

  Wary of attack from either human or monster we decide to continue down the main road, passing more ancient frozen corpses or freshly dismembered corpses and occasional monster corpses. For a city in ruins this is a well populated place!

  Those creatures – it’s like a normal vampire took a bunch of primates and turned them into some sort of half breed version of themselves. Kill a vampire and they die a horrible death: some explode and some disintegrate but the body doesn’t usually remain behind like these one have. Vampires are evil undead creatures, which means that chop off their heads and their bodies revert to a corpse-like state, dry and withered, just like their damned souls. These beasts aren’t doing that and I wonder why.

  “I wonder what those things are called,” Gregor muses, obviously thinking the same things as me.

  “Can’t really call them Vampire Monkeys.” I say. That sounds stupid.

  “Vamonkeys?” he suggests with a smirk.

  “Aye, that’ll work, I guess!”

  After a while we reach an extraordinary sight in the middle of the road. A living Vamonkey (if you can call it ‘living’ and it isn’t ‘undead’), although thankfully it’s not standing up. Instead, it’s dragging itself through the snow, leaving a dirty smear of dark blood in its wake, like a strange slug. Despite the multitude of arrows in its side and entrails hanging out amongst its broken legs, it’s very determined. It ignores us entirely in its struggle to reach what I assume is its goal: the palace.

  Me, hazarding a guess, facing towards the palace, “It’s guarding something.”

  Gregor, latching onto my idea, “And the Newborn have come for it.”

  Finally the beast runs out of strength and lays there, breathing heavily into the snow around its face. Its eyes regard us and I fall into those small black pits. There’s no malice there. Nor is there compassion. There’s only existence. Instinct. Just like many creatures. It has no interest in our affairs. Its need to defend whatever is in that palace is a natural calling and I find that fascinating. Still doesn’t mean that a healthy one of these won’t tear our heads off if we bump into one. Despite this, a strange sadness fills us all as we watch it slowly die.

  We pass through the open palace wall gates into a courtyard split into multiple levels leading up. Piled at one far end of the courtyard are more Vamonkey corpses, these ones more rotten, with some showing damage from magical attacks and others from manmade weapons. At the completely opposite side of the courtyard is a pyre, recently used. Judging by the charred remains and stacks of armour this is where the human dead have been cremated. Not recently though. A light coating of snow covers it all.

  I dismount. “The attacks weren’t just last night.”

  “Aye,” agrees Gregor, “Been going for days, Vet. Weeks even.” Gregor kicks at the ashes under the pyre to reveal a charred femur bone, “Maybe more.”

  “I’m guessing they finally ran out of numbers.”

  “Aye,” agrees Gregor again, he pulls out rags and pieces of armour from the dark pile. We recognise Icromm’s colours plus grey uniforms of the Newborn. “Surely we should’ve bumped into a guard or a sodding priest by now.”

  There’s also something different here, I can feel it while Gregor hawks and spits to one side. Leaving our thick furs with our horses, we slowly make our way up the steps and onto a huge bridge that spans a big chasm where rushing water can be seen. Great clumps of ice have formed under the bridge over the years and just looking at it makes me feel even colder. The palace, meanwhile, sits on a naturally independent portion of rock, totally surrounded by the surging river that throws itself towards the waterfall and it’s a wonder that this brutal force of nature doesn’t carry the palace along with it. A dark structure, it towers upwards in mockery of the mountains surrounding it.

  “This walkway still sturdy after all these years?” Gregor mutters. Aye, if it gives way then we’re done for! What would kill us first? The fall? The cold? The rocks?

  “Scaredy cats!” chide the Twins, before they both jump onto each bridge parapet and continue walking along that treacherous platform covered in snow and ice. Flaunting confidence they walk with faultless balance, even performing a couple of cartwheels as they go. Giggles follow. Show-offs.

  For now the bridge stays firm. We reach the doorway and a cold sigh escapes that gloomy opening, carrying with it a strange scent that tingles my senses. Gregor notices it too as he hawks and spits to one side again. This one is a very familiar magic. Tastes like tar and smells just as foul. Brother Vim.

  “Found you!” I growl.

  A grim grin sets upon my face. I draw free my old sword, roll my shoulders and eagerly step into the darkness.

  I take little interest in the palace interior – it could be filled with piles of bright gold coins or naked nubile women for all I care. Instead, my concentration is locked solely onto that black magic scent and I follow it like a hunting hound, practically with my snout forward and sniffing as I go. What pleases me the most is that I know he must still be here. Unless there is a secret exit out of this place, or he committed suicide out of a window and over the waterfall, then the only way out was back across that waterfall bridge and down the steps into the courtyard and we would have noticed that.

  We probably all expected to be led into the bow
els or the very top of the palace, but the magical trail leads us back out through a side entrance and into what used to be the palace gardens. Nothing lives now except a few hardy trees clumped amongst the snow and ice and battered by the elements. Beyond the garden wall is cold, empty air and a deadly drop down into the churning waters below. The garden arcs around the side of the palace and towards the rear, where the distant city of Haer can be seen. Pressing on we pass the edge of the waterfall, a thunderous noise dense enough that it nearly deadens all other sound. At least that means no one will hear us coming. Chilled water spray hangs in the air, freezing as slick ice on a multitude of surfaces. Finally, we round the palace, discovering a large external area in its shadow. There are rows and rows of pillars (with no roof to support), leading like a strange forest up a multitude of steps to a huge platform hanging over the very edge of the cliff. Up there are roughly two dozen figures in dark grey, silhouetted against the bright morning sun.

  Looking back at the palace, part of the wall on the first floor has been torn open. Huge chunks of building lay scattered about, some having tumbled a couple of pillars over. This damage looks fresh and smells like Vim’s work. He pulled something out of there, did he? Pulled it out through the wall?

  Keeping low we scurry towards them, using pillars, snow drifts and other obstacles as cover. The Twins understand my hand signals and split off in another direction to flank the Newborn. Sneaking and crawling, until my knees and back ache. I just push the pain away to the back of my mind until I don’t really notice it anymore. Voices catch on the wind, the fleeting words becoming more audible against the fading roar of the waterfall the more we leave that majestic wonder of the natural world behind us.

  A flash of magic and then suddenly some of the figures have completely disappeared. We get close enough to hear proper conversations. Can see that the snow has been cleared from the whole area to reveal a star within a circle decorated with strange glyphs, all inlaid into the stone. Someone holds up a hand, chants something and more people disappear. Must be some sort of teleportation circle, built by the makers of these ruins and Brother Vim has the ability to power it up. I recognise him now, his silks draped over a body slightly hunched over. He raises a hidden hand, another chant and then a few more Newborn comrades and the last of Icromm’s soldiers disappear in a fizz of energy, leaving three Newborn behind with Vim and Tolvik. Two of those unknown Newborn hold onto straps that supports a metallic box between them. It’s got all manner of strange symbols etched into it.

  Before Gregor charges into the fray I steady him with a hand on his arm, signalling for patience.

  “Well done, Brother Vim,” praises Tolvik, nodding his approval

  Vim replies with his strange voice. “Obliged, Brother Tolvik.”

  Tolvik holds his hands behind his back and looks back at the palace behind us with an air of arrogance. “I thought the energies exerted finally obtaining the Blood Armour from the palace vaults would’ve left you too weakened to use this Travel Circle.” Must be what’s inside that metal chest. Another treasure of power? Is that what they were doing in the temple near Dead Man’s Outpost too? Tolvik continues, “And yet, you impress me once more, Brother Vim. Especially considering the activities of those insufferable monsters again last night.”

  “I have pondered, Brother Tolvik, on how those creatures came to be.”

  “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking, Brother Vim. Please continue.”

  “Thank you, Brother Tolvik. I believe they were created by the makers of the Blood Armour.”

  “Vampires, Brother Vim?”

  “Indeed, Brother Tolvik. Ancient primates living in the mountains turned into vampire half breeds and left with the sole purpose, a desperate need, to protect this city, its inhabitants and their treasure.”

  “A sound theory, Brother Vim. I wonder what happened to their vampire masters.”

  “One can only speculate, Brother Tolvik, nonetheless their legacy remains in these creatures of theirs.”

  Tolvik nods. “Their persistence in protecting the palace from thievery is indeed admirable, but futile nonetheless, Brother Vim.”

  “Indeed, Brother Tolvik. The wards protecting the vault were also strong and breaking them was time consuming, despite Sister Wath doing the ground work for me over the past few weeks. While of course expendable I was glad that Princess Icromm’s guard proved their worth against the beasts last night while I was engaged in finally freeing this treasure box. However, a pity it was that not all of our own brothers and sisters are able to return from this hateful place either.”

  “We’ll honour their sacrifice, Brother Vim. And of us that still remain, our Mother will surely reward us for all the good work we’ve done.” He turns on his heel and places a hand on his comrade’s cloaked shoulder. “Now, my good friend, I trust you have adequate power set aside for our final tasks of the day?”

  “Yes, Brother Tolvik, enough strength remains. Observe.” Vim turns away from us and lifts a hand. For a moment I panic that they will teleport and be lost to us once more. Something else happens instead.

  A smaller flash this time and a strange grey blob appears in the air before them, hovering in the Travel Circle and shimmering almost like oily, molten metal, just like the robes Vim wears. The conjuration grows, thins out and then hardens into an oblong shape, much like a mirror and within that mirror a face materialises. Gregor gasps and I probably do exactly the same. By the Gods... I almost cannot believe it... There, a face I’ve not seen for years, decades even. A face of my past. Older. More pained. Scarred by blotches of old burns. Once luscious hair now completely gone. Yet it’s him. It could only ever be him. Those same intense eyes. That same smirk.

  Satipo.

  Chapter 14

  “High Brother Satipo,” hails Tolvik, bowing his head briefly, as does Vim.

  I simply stare in shock at my old friend. Can’t believe how disfigured he is from the dragon flame, poor bastard. Is he just as damaged inside, I wonder?

  “May the shadow of our Mother fall upon you,” the five priests chant in perfect fanatical unison.

  Satipo is casual in his response, “Aye, aye, and may her shadow and whatnot fall on ya too, lads.”

  Decades since I’ve heard that voice. Brings back a ton of memories, some I hadn’t thought of for years, probably forgot about completely. I know he was a crazy bastard at times. I know that he had a massive influence on me, both good and bad. However, despite the past and the present, he’s still my friend. Nothing will ever change that, whatever happens next.

  I’m frozen to the spot, the layer of ice covering this dead city finally resting upon me, preventing me from ever moving again until I’m another one of those ancient old corpses we’ve seen dotted about. Try as I might, I cannot interrupt this conversation. I’m too anxious, unsure what to say.

  On the flip side, Gregor is the one able to move and who can probably think of a whole bunch of things to say and I have to stop him again, much to his silent chagrin. We need to see how this plays out first, maybe get some clues as to his whereabouts in case us popping our heads up scares him off. Then how would we find him?

  Satipo seems different. The person I’d once known was playful, energetic and youthful to the core. Despite the playfulness still being apparent there’s now the measure of someone older, harder and pained. Someone broken. “So, how goes ya great quest? Got good news, right?”

  “Indeed, High Brother Satipo,” purrs Tolvik triumphantly, chin high and proud, “We’ve acquired the Cup of Wills and additionally, this very morning, Zalman’s Blood Armour. In a few moments Brother Vim will teleport these items to you,” which puts a grin on Satipo’s face. It turns into a broad smile when Tolvik adds, “More importantly, we have Loktie’s Pipe in our possession. This too will be teleported to you immediately.”

  Satipo chuckles, “Well, now that’s the news I been waiting for! As usual, ya excelled ya’selves. Go give each other a pat on the back!”
/>   “Thank you, High Brother Satipo,” smiles Tolvik, a little unsure whether to take his boss literally about the back slapping, “Mother Umbra will be delighted with our progress.”

  “That she will,” replies Satipo. “As always ya come up with the goods. That’s why I trust ya to get the important jobs done over any other acolytes.”

  “Unfortunately there were casualties here in Almaz,” adds Tolvik. “There are even those whose bodies we’ve not yet recovered. Regrettably there is no time and so this frozen city will be their tomb. High Brother Satipo, I can confirm the fallen now if you wish…”

  Before he can continue with that Satipo butts in with a laconic response. “There’s always casualties, Tolvik. The weak, or those sacrificing themselves for the greater good, or those taken from us prematurely…” he trails off, momentarily distracted. Then, “Ya mission is over. Come on home.”

  Tolvik is clearly miffed. “Respectfully, High Brother Satipo, what of the remaining part of our mission? We have just one remaining asset to collect before returning to Broken Naile.” Broken Naile… is that where Satipo is?