The Daylight War

The count and Arlen postured like two dogs presenting over a bitch, but Arlen had bigger teeth, and the loyalty of the pack. All around them, Cutters adjusted their grips on their tools, and the Wooden Soldiers shifted nervously.

Arlen ignored the tension, breaking the stare with a disarming smile. He turned to Renna, bowing and sweeping a hand at her in a smooth, practised gesture. He might not wait on proper manners most of the time, but it was clear he knew them.

‘My apologies for not introducing my companion,’ he said. ‘This is Renna Tanner, also from Tibbet’s Brook.’ He stood, looking up over Thamos’ head to the Cutters clustered around them. ‘And my promised.’

Again Renna saw the collective jaw of the crowd drop, but this time she felt her own fall with them. His saying it aloud, in front of these people, made it seem far more real than it had just a moment before. She was promised to Arlen Bales. Again.

This time, Thamos was quicker to recover, moving to Renna and bowing, taking her hand and kissing it smoothly. ‘An honour to meet you, Miss Tanner. Let me be first to offer my congratulations.’

Renna knew from Jongleur’s pantomime that gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands in the Free Cities, but she’d never so much as seen it done. She stiffened, not having the slightest idea how to respond. She felt her face colour, and was thankful for the cover afforded by the night.

‘Th-Thank you,’ she managed at last.

Thamos rose and turned back to Arlen. ‘Now,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if you’re quite finished making the bumpkins gasp, might we have a word or two in private?’

Arlen nodded, and the count’s manservant escorted the leaders to a large pavilion of heavy canvas at the centre of the warded section of clearing. Inside, the tent was richly appointed with warm fur carpets, a four-poster bed, and a great table surrounded by a dozen chairs. At its head was what Renna could only describe as a throne, a heavy thing of polished wood with a high back and great ivy-carved armrests. It was the biggest chair she’d ever seen, and dwarfed every other seat in the room. Haloed in magic and wearing his bright armour, Thamos looked like nothing more than the Creator himself as he took the seat, sitting in judgement over the proceedings.

A moment later, Arther, Thamos’ manservant, cleared his throat and held the canvas open for the Tender Renna had seen looking after Jow Cutter and the other wounded. He carried his warded staff, but though his beard was grey, he was still straight-backed and seemed to have no physical need for the support.

‘Tender Hayes, High Inquisitor under Shepherd Pether of Angiers,’ Arther announced. Arlen’s brow furrowed, and Renna could sense his immediate mistrust of the man.

‘Sent to replace Tender Jona, I recall,’ Arlen said, looking to Thamos as if the count had been the one to make the announcement. ‘Has Jona gone to your inquisition already?’

‘That is the concern of the Tenders of the Creator, and none of yours,’ Tender Hayes cut in acidly.

Arlen snorted, glancing to Darsy.

‘They took him weeks ago,’ Darsy said. ‘Vika is beside herself with worry, but they wouldn’t let her accompany him, and she has had no word since, despite all her pleas.’ She nodded slightly Thamos’ way.

Arlen looked to the count, but Thamos spread his hands helplessly. ‘As Tender Hayes says, this is a matter for the Council of Tenders. It is out of my hands.’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Not good enough. A wife deserves word from her husband and proof that he is well … as he had best be.’

‘How dare you!’ Tender Hayes demanded. ‘You may wear a Tender’s robe, but you are not of our order, and it remains to be seen if you—’

‘If I what?’ Arlen challenged.

‘Enough!’ Count Thamos said. ‘A Messenger will take a letter from Mistress Vika tomorrow, and return with one from her husband in one week. If she wishes to visit her husband, an escort will be arranged.’

Tender Hayes fixed the count with a stern glare. ‘Your Highness—’

‘I’m not your student any more, Tender,’ Thamos cut him off. ‘Spare me the lecture. If the council has a problem with my ruling, they can take it up with my brother and see who truly has his ear.’

They exchanged a look, and Hayes nodded, bowing. ‘As Your Highness commands.’

Thamos grunted. ‘Good.’ He looked to Arlen. ‘May we consider the matter closed, or do you have more veiled threats for me? We have taller trees to fell than some hamlet Tender preaching off Canon.’

Arlen nodded. ‘Taller by far, Highness. The corelings have tired of our resistance. They mean to push back, and push hard.’

‘Let them,’ Merrem snarled. ‘Every demon in the Core ent got half a wit between them. We’ll make a bonfire so big the Creator will see it.’

Dug grunted in agreement, but Thamos said nothing, staring hard at Arlen over steepled fingers.

‘We haven’t seen a fraction of what the Core has to throw at us, Merrem,’ Arlen said. ‘Less than a week ago, me and Renna met a demon a good sight smarter than either of us. A mind demon. It had a bodyguard, a coreling that could change into anything it wished, and when the mind was around, the demons started behaving different.’

‘Different, how?’ Dug asked.

‘Like soldiers with good generals,’ Arlen said. ‘It sent a copse of wood demons after me that attacked with clubs when their talons failed to pierce my wards.’

‘Night,’ Merrem shuddered, and Dug spat on the carpet. Renna looked to Thamos, but the count seemed not to have noticed. He had gone deathly pale, and she could smell his fear. She wondered what had happened to the powerful leader and savage fighter he had been just a moment earlier.

‘My mother must hear of this,’ Thamos mumbled after a moment.

Everyone looked at him curiously. Tender Hayes scowled. ‘Mother, Your Highness?’ he murmured. It was too quiet for the others to hear, but Renna heard the words as clear as day. Her senses were stretching farther every day.

Thamos gave a start, sitting up straight as some of the colour returned to his face. ‘Brother,’ he corrected. ‘My brother, Duke Rhinebeck, must hear of this immediately. Arther, ready a Messenger!’

Arther moved to comply, but Arlen raised a hand to forestall him. ‘I regret to inform Your Highness that there is worse news. Mind demons can reach right into your thoughts and eat them, knowing everything you do. They can even take over and work your body like a puppet.’

‘Creator!’ Merrem exclaimed. ‘How are we supposed to fight against that?’ The count’s face looked so green Renna thought he might slosh up at any moment.

‘The greatwards are proof against them,’ Arlen said. ‘And for the rest, there are mind demon wards.’ He produced a sheaf of parchment and a warding brush from somewhere in his robes. The brush seemed an extension of his arm as he quickly drew a large mind ward, turning it to face the others at the table.

‘This symbol can block their intrusion.’ He pointed to the same symbol tattooed on his forehead, and the one in blackstem that now adorned Renna’s. ‘Mind demons are even more sensitive to light than regular corelings. Even moonlight stings them. They only come to the surface at the cycling of the new moon. Those three nights, anyone outside an active greatward needs to be wearing this ward on their head.’

Darsy traced a finger along the curves of the symbol. ‘It’s simple enough. We can make stamps and put them all over town.’

Arlen nodded. ‘Do it.’ He looked to the Butchers. ‘And you’re going to need to step up recruiting and get the Cutters ready for corelings that know how to fight smart.’

‘Got recruits aplenty,’ Dug said, ‘but that just means there’s a lot of raw wood running around with warded spears and not a clue how to use them.’

‘They’ve got three weeks to learn,’ Arlen said. ‘I’ll help as I can, but this is on you, Dug Butcher. You and Merrem,’ he looked at Thamos, ‘and your count.’

‘Can’t believe you just gave up an army of demon hunters,’ Renna said as they went back to the horses.

‘Never wanted to lead an army, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘These days, any army I lead is apt to have more red on their spears than black. Folk need to stand together, day and night. I’d only get in the way of that. Let Thamos have his throne.’

He looked at her and smiled. ‘I can always kick him back off it, if need be.’

Renna laughed, and a nearby wood demon glanced about excitedly at the sound, trying to find its source. She was only a dozen feet away, but in her warded cloak she could have walked right up to it unnoticed.

The cloak Leesha had so lovingly made for Arlen.

‘Knew there was a reason I never quite liked this thing,’ Renna said. She reached up, undoing the clasp and letting the cloak fall to the ground. The demon gave a shriek as it caught sight of her, coming in fast.

Renna let it come, standing her ground until the last moment before sliding aside, stabbing her knife into a fold in the demon’s armour as it stumbled past.

The demon clutched the wound, but it was not fatal, and already its magic would be healing the damage. It turned back to her and shrieked again. Renna met its eyes and spread her arms, waiting.