Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 26: Chapter 26

That night, he dreamed of demons.
It was a dream that didn't make a great deal of sense; one minute he was on the island again, only it wasn't Grace who was dragged into the crypt, but Nova, staring at him all the way down with those bottomless, powerful eyes. The next minute, he was sparring with Yddris, only Yddris had an axe and all Jordan had was his dagger; he was losing, and Yddris had him on the floor and then reached up and pulled down his hood and Arlen grinned that yellow grin at him before another demon came charging up behind. Jordan called out a warning but it was too late, and then the crimson turned green and there was that pounding, the beat in his head, going, going....
"Stop!" he yelled, and almost fell out of bed. The pounding continued, and Jordan's blanket was on fire. He remembered where he was just as Nika rushed into the room.
"Hang on," he said, breathing out a long sigh as they both realised Jordan wasn't being murdered. Jordan's face warmed as the Unspoken put his blanket out and pulled it off him, leaving it in a smoking pile in one corner of the room. For the second time, Jordan had woken up dripping with sweat, his nightshirt covered in dark wet blooms.
"Bad dream," he said, into the expectant silence Nika left for him. The dream's contents were slipping away from him already, but it left him feeling sick and shaky and oddly ashamed.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay." Nika hovered there for a moment. "It's terrible timing for Yddris to be called away so often."
He turned, and Jordan's eyes followed to the ruined blanket. "He's gone again?"
"He's the representative for the Guild in the Reach," Nika explained. "All the heads of house have gone for a briefing from Lord Harkenn on how to handle the situation. He'll be back very soon, I'm sure."
Jordan nodded. Shaking off the chilling remnants of his dream, he eyed the man from under his damp fringe. "Did I wake you up?"
Nika shook his head. Jordan thought he could smell alcohol.
"You mind if I sit with you for a while, then?"
"Of course not. You're very welcome to." A gloved fist clenched at Nika's side. "I'd be glad of the company."
In his last set of fresh clothes, Jordan joined Nika in the front room a few minutes later. He wondered when he'd get the opportunity for a bath here; at the inn there'd been one readily available most days, but he hadn't seen anything that approximated to a bathtub in Yddris's house and his recent run of terrible nights was taking a toll on his hygiene. As he sat down on the floor near Nika's chair, he prayed to whichever of Nictaven's many gods was listening that he didn't smell too horrific.
"What is that pounding noise?" he asked abruptly, almost absently, and then blinked when he realised it had been out loud. "I hear it when Yddris is away."
"Nictaven," Nika replied, thankfully seeming to think nothing of the question. "The source of your magic. It runs underground. Only those with a direct link to that source can hear it."
"It's a bit much."
This elicited a short chuckle. "Aye, it is. Yddris will teach you how to tune it out."
It was then that Jordan realised he could hear people outside. "Wait, is it daytime? How long did I sleep?"
"It's almost midday."
"Oh."
"You needed the rest. You haven't taken it easy enough for someone who just manifested."
"I slept all night and most of a whole day. Sounds like taking it easy to me," Jordan muttered. Nika just nodded, still watching the window. Jordan noticed the bottle he had retrieved from the cellar the previous day sitting in the corner behind the chair, completely empty.
"That was Yddris," Nika said, making him jump. "I only had two shots."
His tone suggested that this wasn't uncommon, and a small knot of misgivings tightened in his gut. Yddris always smelled very faintly of drink. Jordan hadn't thought it was quite that much drink.
Yddris entered not long afterwards, after Jordan had forced down a bowl of greyish porridge and succeeded in not throwing it back up again – a feat that was impressive partly due to his nightmare-induced roiling stomach, and partly because he had never seen porridge so very grey. Hap was close on his heels, and Koen bounced into the room behind them like a breeze had blown him in by accident. Though Jordan didn't know Koen very well, he was at least grateful for the company of someone else who had recently been through a similar ordeal, and someone who was also more than capable of carrying a conversation when Jordan didn't know what to say.
Nika stood up, and Jordan followed suit with much less grace. The pounding in his head had vanished. After the gust of fresh air, he was suddenly conscious of the smell of smoke in the house from his blanket. Yddris sniffed conspicuously, and then made a motion that suggested a dramatic eye roll.
"I see you haven't decorated since I was last here," Hap said to Yddris. Koen put down two large knapsacks against the wall. Jordan felt somewhat cheered at the prospect of them staying for a while.
"No need to," Yddris grunted. He sounded tired. "It's just somewhere I store equipment and the occasional apprentice."
Jordan didn't know whether to laugh or scowl, and settled for a bizarre mixture of the two.
Koen scanned the room. "Do you have any furniture?"
"Whose house is this?" Yddris said indignantly. "Yes I do, just not in here. Cheeky shit."
"Glad to be of service," Koen said, and then spotted Jordan. "Well met. You look better."
"Really?" Jordan said, "That's news to me."
The other apprentice joined him in the corner, leaning past him to get at one of the bread rolls Nika had left out. "So. You and Yddris, huh?"
Jordan looked at him, unsure of where this was headed. "Yeah."
Koen nodded, swallowed and then said, "You'll do great."
"Thanks..." Jordan said, grudgingly grateful for the vote of confidence. When he tuned in to the conversation the Unspoken were having, he was annoyed but unsurprised to find that he was the topic of conversation.
"I don't think he's well enough yet," Nika said, "He's not in a good way today."
"It's better than sitting around twiddling his thumbs during all that's going on with the murder," Hap said, "Yddris is going to be up at the castle half the time for the next week or so. You can't look after a new apprentice that whole time on your own, Nika."
"I'm capable."
"The Guild wouldn't rule that way," Yddris said, "Not with an apprentice who's had no training at all. He can't even control it consciously yet."
Despite there being a legitimate reason why he couldn't, Jordan felt his cheeks heat up, aware again of the lingering smell of his burnt bedsheets.
He looked up as Hap approached him. He was holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Jordan knew what it was before he even had hold of it, and battled with a sudden urge to throw it across the room.
"That was fast," he made himself say, looking down so that he didn't have to pretend he was okay. He undid the twine with shaking fingers and the paper fell open, revealing the brown apprentice cloak neatly folded inside.
"Cloaks are a priority job," Hap said. "I'm fairly certain your measurements are accurate, but if you have to have it altered a bit it's not the end of the world."
It felt like the end of the world; it felt like, somewhere far back along the way, he'd stepped into someone else's life.
He tipped the cloak out of the package, aware of the other four watching him. With it, a few more garments fell out; two shirts and a pair of hide trousers, a leather jerkin, and a pair of leather gloves.
"Is this all for me?"
"Before this gets sappy, the Harkenn household is paying for your upkeep, including clothes," Yddris grunted. "Unless you want to run up and thank his Lordship in person first, just put the damn things on."
Jordan's legs were leaden as he went out into the hall, entered his bedroom and shut the door. He laid all the garments out on the bed and stared at them for a long minute, before his eyes travelled to his red anorak, folded on top of the wardrobe, in the pocket of which was Arlen's note. Was there a way to get hold of him faster?
He shook that thought away. He couldn't move too fast, or people might figure out what he was doing. The nagging suspicion that it was a bad idea, that maybe he was heading straight into some kind of trap, did occur to him, but he had no other options. Until he found other leads for a way home, he had to take the risk. For Grace. For himself.
He stripped and dragged on his new clothes as gingerly as if they were burning him, struggling with the odd toggle-like buttons on his shirt. It was warmer than his tunic, but felt lighter, held close to his body by the long-sleeved leather jerkin and tucked into the top of his trousers. The hide was still stiff and smelled of wax. Looking down at himself – he had yet to locate a mirror in the house – he felt he looked more than a little bit of a chump.
Not that anyone was going to see it, he supposed. He approached the cloak with caution. It unfolded as he lifted it by the shoulders, thick and heavy and ominous. Putting it on felt like shutting himself in a tiny room with a locked door, and he hesitated after doing it up. It wasn't too close-fitting, but it was tailored in at the shoulders and the torso, done up with small silver clasps, and moved more freely below the waist. It felt like a very practical dressing-gown.
He returned to the front room without putting his hood up, and hovered in the doorway until the Unspoken noticed him. It was more unnerving to see them gathered there now that he was also wearing a cloak. He didn't feel like one of them, but at the same time he felt worlds away from the ordinary people passing in the street beyond Yddris's window.
Koen was the first to notice him. He had moved onto his second bread roll.
"That fits just fine," he said through a mouthful.
Jordan looked at the floor as the others turned to stare at him, and he felt his magic rise to the surface and get pushed back again by Yddris.
"See, Nika?" Hap said, leaning on his stick, "I didn't overestimate his shoulder width. He needs some room to grow or Yddris will spend the next few years running back and forth from the tailor's. Take it from me," he added to Jordan, "Koen's had five. He even managed to split one of them."
"It was an accident."
"Deciding to vault over seven beer barrels in a line wasn't an accident," Hap retorted, "You're lucky you didn't break your neck."
"I hasten to add that I did manage it," Koen said to Jordan.
Hap sighed, "Yes, by swinging off a crossbar in the pub roof and bringing it down with you. You've been my most expensive apprentice just in damages."
"I'm also your favourite," Koen said, cocking his head and apparently not expecting any argument, since in the next minute he was steering Jordan towards the door and ramming his hood over his head. Darkness closed in on all sides.
"Where are we going?" Jordan asked, temporarily disorientated. He tripped down the front steps and Koen hauled him up again like he weighed nothing.
"You need books and equipment," Nika said from somewhere to his left. "So we're taking you to get it while Yddris deals with some castle business."
Jordan pivoted, fighting against his hood to try and find Yddris in the vicinity. His tutor was walking directly behind him, radiating amusement.
"You'll get used to the view," he grunted. "Try not to look too hopeless in public, though, eh? It's bad form."
"Why is it so deep?" Jordan asked, trying to rearrange his hair under the cowl so the weight of the fabric didn't crush it flat into his eyes. "I can't see shit."
"And no one can see you, either, which is the point," Koen said. He let go of Jordan's shoulders, and he staggered in surprise. "Your other senses catch up eventually. Just takes practice."
Without the faintest idea what Koen meant, Jordan latched onto the trailing hem of the other apprentice's cloak as his guide, only occasionally looking up to re-orientate himself. Yddris left them at the main street, and as he retreated and the pounding returned to Jordan's thoughts, he didn't think he imagined the other three men moving to surround him.
It took him a while, but he eventually worked out how to walk in a straight line without needing his eyes on the floor the entire time. The difference between the last time he had come into the city and this time was both stark and alarming. He hadn't imagined people parting to get away from the Unspoken; it was very apparent as one of them. As they moved through bustling streets, crowds parting for them all the way, his magic picked up on the tinge of fear in the air, mingled with curiosity, resentment, and in some rare cases a distant sort of reverence. The others were unfazed, but Jordan shrank in on himself under the weight of the judgement.
"Looks like the news isn't out yet," Hap muttered.
"Of course it isn't," Nika replied, "They'll be thinking of some diplomatic strategy for preventing mass panic."
"I thought people didn't like..." Jordan began, stumbling between 'us' and 'you' and producing garbled gibberish instead.
"They might not like us, but we're handy to have around when the demons come for the children," Hap said. He didn't sound bitter; it was simply a fact. "We're still protection from the night. A man might dislike a sword for its association with violence, but he'll take it up to defend his family."
"But...Unspoken are people. Not.... Not weapons."
Hap only shrugged. Discomfited, Jordan looked at Nika, but the other Unspoken was distracted, staring into a nearby window.
"We should be able to get some of what you need in here," he said. Jordan turned. It was a shop front; a few books were ranged in the display, but Jordan could read neither the shop's name nor the titles of the books. It wasn't as fancy or well-lit as the book shops he had seen on his first night in the city, but seemed more practical in nature. Nika led him inside, and Hap and Koen waited at the door.
"I'm probably missing something here," Jordan muttered, looking around at the floor to ceiling shelves. "But I'm not sure how much good these are going to do me if I can't read."
The shop smelled of old paper and binding glue. The polished counter was unmanned, the stub of a candle and a set of wax seals left abandoned on the surface. As Jordan looked around, he thought he saw something skitter away in the shadows at the top of the nearest bookcase. Before he could confirm it, an old man had stepped out of a doorway in the corner which had previously been covered by a curtain. He was stooped; his skin dusky bronze and eyes a dark amber. He smiled, and his teeth were oddly peg-shaped, as if they'd once been sharp but had worn to stubs. Jordan tried to place who it reminded him of, and then he remembered Vek from the deli shop and his wickedly sharp teeth.
"Well met, Soli," Nika said warmly, and the old man hopped down the step from the doorway and came towards them. Though he was old and bent almost double by a swollen, knobbed spine, he was still almost of a height with the Unspoken.
Soli made a series of rapid gestures with his hands. His jaws sat strangely with each other; his mouth worked as he gestured, but no sound came out.
"I'm looking for Vernias's book of demons," Nika said, though Jordan had understood nothing of the exchange. "Volume two as well if you have it. And Draskell's runic manuals."
Soli looked at Jordan and then gestured to Nika.
"No, he isn't mine," Nika said. "He's Yddris's."
Soli gestured again.
"Three days."
Soli raised a brow and then smiled at Jordan, winking. He then started to move around the shelves with purpose, as if he knew where exactly everything was. By the time he was done, there was a stack of five volumes on the counter. They looked dense and ominous.
Jordan's eyes were drawn back to the top of the shelves; he was alarmed to find a small, triangular face staring back at him from the other side of the room with inquisitive bright green eyes.
"He says she's called Ren," Nika said, startling him. The little face disappeared, only to reappear a few bookcases closer. Soli was gesturing again. "She's a shadowrunner. The Trihk call them Corriombra."
Jordan stared, trying to sort through the words to find a few that made sense.
"Trihk is a Varthian tribe," Nika explained. "Have you met Vek yet?"
Jordan nodded.
"He's from the Tochk. There are lots of tribes, but they all follow the same deity."
Soli had moved to the shelves and was coaxing the animal down, rubbing his fingers together and making soft popping noises with his mouth. It came down after another moment, and sat quite docile in the man's arms as he brought it over.
"Hi," Jordan mumbled. The big green eyes blinked at him. He looked at Nika, and then down again in alarm as he felt little claws gain purchase on the front of his cloak. The shadowrunner wriggled out of Soli's arms and hung there, its lithe little body held on only by its claws. The tribesman stepped back and smiled widely, revealing a wet stump where his tongue had once been. It took all of Jordan's willpower not to stare.
Tentatively, he wrapped his hands around the animal, and it settled its weight in his hands with a contented chirrup. It was fox-like, but with dark fur and a longer body. Its legs were strong but stumpy, and though the claws were small, they were very sharp. Jordan could feel them digging in even through his cloak and the jerkin underneath.
"She likes you," Nika translated for Soli. "He says he has...are you sure?"
Jordan looked up, and found Soli and Nika in quiet, quick conversation. The Unspoken straightened.
"He wants you to have her."
"What?" Jordan said, uncomprehending. The shadowrunner gave a little wriggle in his arms and chirped.
"He says he had a litter of them born in his storeroom. There are about ten around the place," Nika continued to interpret, "and he doesn't know what else to do with them. They make good pets. They're very loyal and can scavenge better than a demon can. Good companions." Soli paused, and so did Nika. "Especially when you are lonely."
Jordan fidgeted. The bookseller was looking at him intently, as if he saw something Jordan didn't want him to see. He looked down at the shadowrunner. It blinked back, already looking like a permanent fixture.
He murmured, "Did you say her name was Ren?"
As if both taking that as a confirmation, Soli grinned, nodded, and went to the counter to total Jordan's book pile - which had expanded to seven books while he'd been distracted – and Ren scampered up Jordan's front and wriggled into his hood. She wrapped herself around his neck, ignoring his protests, and settled there like a warm, lightly rumbling scarf.
"Will Yddris mind?" he asked Nika. He was already attached to the idea of having the shadowrunner around. An animal didn't judge him for where he'd come from or what he could do, or want this and that from him because of it. She was reassuringly uncomplicated, and he'd never really had pets at home. There'd been animals in the house, a few fish and a cat that hadn't liked him, but this was new, and it was the first new thing in a while that wasn't stressful or traumatising.
"Oh, probably," Nika said, counting out the money for the books. "But he's not here, is he?"
Jordan laughed, even surprising himself. Nika chuckled, too.
"The thing about Yddris is that he'll say no as a matter of principle until you do it anyway," the Unspoken said. "From one apprentice to another."
"I'll remember that."
He was still grinning when they left the shop.