64

In a Minute There is Time

What do you want? Said Candle, eyeing Murmux with narrowed eyes. The bird man held his ground, his palms open and his body relaxed. But there was a tightness around his eyes that Candle didn't miss.

"I want to help," he said. "Is that so unbelievable?"

Zephi snorted, and the shifter swung around to glare at her, his lip curling.

Stand back, said Candle. She needed to burn the Necromancer first and worry about Murmux's agenda later. The last thing she wanted was for the corpse to rise from the dead while they were arguing. Drawing in the liminal energy, she loosed a last bone-melting plume of flame which reduced the body to ashes. And not a moment too soon, for the Necromancer's body had started to twitch on the ground.

Satisfied that there was nothing left to rise, Candle turned, trying to get her tail into a position where she could swing it. Her dragon body was so large that it was difficult to manoeuvre in the confined space. Zephi and Murmux were standing right in the way, glaring daggers at each other. Neither seemed inclined to move, so in the end, Candle simply lost her patience and nudged them out of the way with one scaly leg. She smashed the lock off the cell door with a satisfying sweep of her tail and it fell to the floor in a mess of crushed metal. The human prisoners spilled out of the cell with a cheer. The children stared up at Candle with wide, wonder-filled eyes, while the adults gathered next to her flank to glower at Murmux.

The lightning bird brother bore the weight of their attention with casual grace, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms folded. He made no move but just stood there watching.

Do I need to fight you, Candle asked, staring down at him, her tail twitching. The iron of the lock had stung and she was feeling more than a little irritable.

"No," Murmux said, grinning. "I don't particularly want to fight you."

What do you want?

"Let me come with you."

What?

The confines of the cavern were making her claustrophobic and irritable. Her dragon body was better suited to mountain tops and the open ocean. Feeling tired and confused Candle transformed back into her human body. The change in scale was jarring, as usual. She went from dominating the room to having to tilt her head to look up at Murmux.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, keeping an eye on his hands, but they stayed relaxed and by his side.

"I don't like the Necromancers," he said. "I serve them but not by choice. I have to do as they say, against my will, always. I'm as much a slave as these poor wretches. More so even. Let me come with you. It is the only way I can escape from this life."

The humans muttered.

"You can't trust him," said Zephi.

"Says the filthy little Necromancer."

Murmux and Zephi bared their teeth at each other, and the girl let out a growl that was more animal than human. Candle stepped between them and gently pushed the angry child behind her. Zephi's eyebrows had been singed off from standing too close to Candle while she fought, and she looked even more feral than usual.

"I want my own destiny," said Murmux, looking back at Candle. "Is that so wrong?"

"He helped me before," said Candle, appealing to the little necromancer girl, and the crowd of agitated humans behind her, "when he didn't need to. Is it so ridiculous that he would want to leave this place?"

"Candle, I like you so much," said Zephi. "But trusting him is stupid."

"The child is right," called one of the humans. An older woman of at least sixty summers pushed her way to the front of the small group. Distrust shone in her eyes as she regarded Murmux, and her face was careworn and dirty. She looked as if she had not had a decent meal in a long time. "These creatures...." her glance raked over Murmux, "they serve the Necromancers. They do all their dirty work."

"They have to do as they are told," said Zephi, tugging on Candle's sleeve. Candle remembered that Murmux had said something about this to her in the great stone ballroom when they had been hiding from Ronove.

"A blood compulsion?" she asked him. "A curse?"

"Yes," said Murmux. "The only way to escape it is to leave. Please. Take me with you. I offer you a pact between us. You let me come with you, and I will help you protect your humans."

"They don't have minds of their own," someone shouted. "Kill it."

The cry was taken up by the crowd and then shushed into quietness by the older, more cautious humans who looked uneasily at the dark passageway. It remained empty, but for how long.

"I can't just kill him," said Candle. "Not when he's just standing there. The longer we stand here talking, the more likely the Necromancers will come."

"Or my brothers," added Murmux, to Candle's unease.

"It's dangerous," said Zephi. "If a Necromancer tells him to do something. He will do it."

"Is that true?"

"Yes. But only if I hear them." Murmux held up two balled up pieces of material which he then stuffed into his ears. "See?" he shouted. He took them out again and put the wads in his pocket. "And if they don't see me, if they don't know I'm with you, they will have no reason to give me an order... please... I can't stay here..."

"Kill him," said Abenathi's brother. "Kill him for all the blood he has spilt."

"This is not the time for this," said the older woman. "Kill him or bring him, but decide quickly."

Everyone looked at Candle. She could feel the weight of twenty pairs of eyes on her; twenty gaunt, pale faces turned towards her with anxious trust. If she made the wrong choice, their deaths would be on her soul. And yet, if the humans had stayed in their cells their deaths would have been inevitable.

Murmux was watching her with tension laced calm.

"You can come with us," she said to him, at last. The humans let out a collective groan. "But put one toe, one feather out of line, and I will kill you, without hesitation. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," his grin was wide and insolent.

"Put those stupid balls in your ears," she said, glaring at him. "And someone lend him something to cover up."

Someone tossed him a dirty shawl which he caught deftly and wound around his head and shoulders.

"Happy?" he said, too loudly.

Candle turned her back on him to address the humans.

"Let's get going. Zephi will lead the way. And quietly, we need to go quietly. No talking, no unnecessary noise."

Zephi and Candle each made a set of witchlights to light the way but kept them dim and low. Mumbling and rebellious, the ragged band of humans stumbled their way out of the cave and through the dark of the passageways towards the surface. The morbid darkness of the catacombs soon scared everyone into silence. The quiet was only broken by the collective shuffling of feet over stone and the occasional muffled curse.

Candle gestured for Murmux to walk in front of her, but he fell in beside her instead.

"Don't make me regret this," she said to him as they walked. He smiled at her wolfishly and pointed at his ears. Something about his irreverent enjoyment of the situation reminded her of Jotham, and a wave of homesickness nearly overcame her. Her stomach knotted and tears pricked at her eyes. What was she doing? Why was she trying to sneak through the catacombs with a pack of strangers when she should be on her way home? What was she going to do with them all? With Zephi? With Murmux? Jotham had been quite clear. The gates must be kept secret at all cost. There was no way she could take anyone home with her.

Her eyes slid sideways to the man walking beside her – to the boy really, for he couldn't be that much older than her. His tawny eyes were bright as he strode through the tunnels, ostensibly without a care in the world. The ridiculous shawl was wrapped around his head and shoulders at a jaunty angle. It did little to disguise him and barely covered his shoulders. Perhaps it would make him slightly less recognisable, at a glance. His tattoos moved and wriggled on the exposed skin of his arms. The effect was disconcerting. She really wanted to know what the runes were, what script they were written in. She wondered if Jotham would know. Perhaps he would have a book about them in his library.

Murmux raised one knowing eyebrow and Candle realised to her horror that he had caught her staring. A blush stained her cheeks, and she pulled her eyes away from his laughing gaze as he removed the wads from his ears.

"If you double cross me I'll –"

"You'll what?" he whispered.

She refused to reply, staring straight ahead, eyes searching for any sign of danger but the tombs remained still and dark. The only movement came from the ever present shifting of the tortured spirits that glided across the ceilings and clustered in the doorways.

With Zephi to lead them, they made good time. They arrived at the remains of Belias' tomb a short while later. The escaped prisoners stood gaping up at the tumbled stones and the distant patch of stars, high above.

"Go on!" said Candle, flapping her hands. "Climb!"

One after another, they scrambled up and out, boosting each other over the fallen rocks and sliding over the rubble. Murmux was surprisingly helpful, offering to lift the children and standing patiently as the older humans used his back as a stepping stone. It was clear that no one wanted his aid, but their dislike of him gave way in the face of practicality, and the need to make haste. There was an air of barely suppressed panic. Every excruciating moment that passed was another moment in which they might be discovered.

Candle stood guard at the bottom of the rock pile, her heart pounding as she watched the darkness. At any second, she expected a pale-faced Necromancer to come looming out of the shadows. None came. She stared until her eyes ached, and then after what felt like an age everyone was up and out.

With one last backwards look at the darkness she crawled up over the fallen rocks. Climbing up was more difficult than coming down, for the rocks and shale threatened to slip and shift out from under her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something would grab her ankles and she made her way with more haste than skill. At last, she could see the glitter of the stars and Murmux's face as he leaned down to offer her a hand. She took it with poor grace and he hauled her skywards.

Candle landed on the soft velvet green of the meadow and straightened, breathing in the soft evening scents of the open air. It was a relief after the stifling mustiness of the tombs. Zephi was standing with her head thrown back and her mouth hanging open, staring up at the Highway of Souls. The shifting lights of the gas clouds were reflected in the dark of her eyes as she blinked in wonder. A warm breeze lifted her hair off the back of her neck.

"It's so bright," she said, holding a hand up to shade her eyes from the dim light. "So much light." Zephi turned back to face Candle. "Are those stars?"

"Yes," said Candle. "But we must keep moving."

"It's so big. There's... so much space." Her lips dipped at the corners."I don't know if I like it."

Candle put her arm around the smaller girl, awkwardly.

"It'll be fine, Zephi," she said. "You'll get used to it, I promise. But we need to go."

"But where are we going?" asked Abenathi's uncle, and all the other escaped prisoners clustered around her. "Where are you taking us?"

"Which direction?" asked Murmux.

"Um... I didn't really think this far."

"You don't need to think," said Zephi, burrowing her head into Candle's side. "Just take us home."

Candle looked down at her helplessly, not knowing what to say.

"You can't abandon us," said Abenathi's brother. "We won't last a minute out here without protection."

Candle looked up at the menacing bulk of the Necromancer's Keep.

"This way," she said, gesturing down the valley. "I mean it's as good a way as any. Let's get away from here, just...start walking. I mean, I don't have a home... I don't have anywhere to take you." One of the toddlers started to cry, and his mother shushed him mechanically, her face pale and strained. "I mean, I won't abandon you–" said Candle. "Of course I won't abandon you. I'll make sure you are all safe."

"We can talk about it when we are not standing in the shadow of the Queen's Castle," said Murmux. "Go!"

To Candle's intense relief the group set off down the valley. Moving as fast as they could, they still plodded along. Forced by necessity to travel at the pace of the youngest and oldest, Candle's shoulder blades prickled as they crawled over the ground. All of the escapees were weak from their confinement, and none of them had eaten recently. Candle almost wished the Necromancers would attack, just to get it over with. It was impossible that they would all just be allowed to leave. What were they waiting for? She checked behind her for what seemed like the hundredth time. The cold, black silhouette of the Keep stood like an ugly sentinel blotting out the starfield.

"The Queen's Court prefers not to trouble themselves," said Murmux, glancing her way, "unless convinced of the importance of a task."

She felt a slight sense of relief.

"We are not important enough to trouble them? They'll just let us go?"

"Oh no, my brothers will be along shortly. Any moment now, I suspect. And we can't outrun them, not with this crowd."

The older woman who had spoken up in the tomb sidled up to join them. Candle suspected she had been listening in.

"My name is Narimab," she said. She stumbled over a mossy dip and fell against Murmux, who righted her carefully. "Thank you," she said to him, with a thin-lipped smile. She wiped the hand he had touched on her skirt. "And I wanted to thank you," she said to Candle, "on behalf of all of us, for your help so far. You are clearly kind and generous-hearted – for a dragon. If you'll excuse my forwardness. Can you not take us in?"

"Can't you go home?" asked Candle.

"Night," said Abenathi's brother, who was walking close by. "Abe was right, you are dense."

"Hush, Huruben," said Narimab. "We cannot return to our home," she said to Candle, "it lies in ruins. Our protectors abandoned us."

"Where can we be safe?" Abenathi's uncle asked.

"Nowhere is safe," Narimab bit the word off, like she was sinking her teeth into a particularly hard and unpleasant biscuit, and discovering a weevil inside. She turned to Candle. "Take us in," she said, "to your home. We will work in return for your protection. That is the usual arrangement, is it not?"

"I - I have never heard of such a thing." They all gaped at her. "And I told you, I don't have a home, I don't have a castle."

"Alright," said Narimab, but Candle could see that the woman did not believe her.

"Is there somewhere I can escort you to," said Candle, "somewhere where you will be safe? What was your original plan."

"The Rock," said Abenathi's uncle. "Angarrack, the great dragon fortress. That was where we were headed before we were attacked."

"Which way is it?" The whole group came to a confused stop.

"Where are you from," asked Murmux, "that you don't know the Rock?"

"It is across the isthmus," said Narimab, "at the end of the peninsula, where the sea meets the sky."

Candle turned her face towards the distant glimmer of silver that was the sea.

"That will take us a long time," she said, troubled.

"Don't worry," said Narimab. "The dragons will spot us before long."

"Great," said Candle, trying to sound like this was a good thing. The crowd looked at her as if she was in charge. She swallowed. "Come on then," she said, "we have a plan."

"And not a moment too soon," said Murmux.

Candle looked back, and her chest tightened. Heavy clouds were gathering against the Night Enchantments and the wind was rising. A host of winged creatures had taken to the air and lighting crackled across the valley as they wheeled towards them.