Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Jordan started awake to something howling outside his window. At first he mistook it for a remnant of his dreams – they frequently featured demons these days – until it happened again, even closer this time.
He shot upright. Ren stirred and resettled at his feet, unperturbed by the sound. The world beyond the glass was pitch dark, save for the faint radiance of a distant moon.
He got out of bed, wincing at the cold floorboards and the chill that hit him as he left the warmth of his blanket. He didn't feel the cold as much as he used to, not since his Gift had manifested, but at night Nictaven was still freezing, even to him. Something clattered outside. He stumbled to the window and peered out, but couldn't see anything except the top of the wall that marked the back of Yddris's land, the one where Arlen had been sitting just days before.
He jumped as the world turned green, and spidery runes glowed like beacons on the walls. The demon he had heard was rendered visible, and when he recognised it his heart fell into his stomach. It was the same type of demon that had started all this, which had dragged Grace into the crypt with it and brought them both here. He recognised the large ears, like satellite dishes, twisting and turning in response to sound; the awfully humanoid torso, the thick hairy legs, the queasy fear that roiled in his stomach at the sight. His hand, resting on the window ledge, spat green and then burst into flame.
Jordan cursed, and then jumped as a floorboard creaked near the doorway. He turned.
"Yddris," he breathed. "You scared the living shit out of me." He paused. "Do you ever sleep?"
"It's not a habit," his tutor said, stepping into the room. He joined Jordan at the window. "And well done, by the way."
"For what?"
"You knew who I was without me telling you."
"I..." Jordan stopped, realising it was true just as the protest rose to his lips. "Oh. How did I do that?"
"Astral signature," Yddris said, watching the Listener root through a neighbour's rubbish pile. "Everyone has one and they're all different. It's how we identify each other without needing to see faces. It's easier to do with Unspoken, since the signature is exaggerated by our magic, and you'll be most familiar with mine since I keep a leash on yours. But it's a good start. Out of interest, do you smell it?"
Jordan frowned. "Smell what?"
"Some Unspoken describe the differences in signature as smells. Just wondering if you're one of them."
"No," Jordan said, "Unless yours smells like whatever it is you smoke."
Yddris laughed. "I've been reliably informed that mine smells like nettle wine, so no, you don't."
"Do you?"
"No. Koen does, I believe."
"Really?" Jordan said. He felt strangely embarrassed at the idea that the other Unspoken was able to smell who he was, and he'd never even known. "Has he said what mine smells like?"
"Dog shit."
Jordan opened his mouth, and then closed it again.
"Don't look so horrified, boy, I'm joking."
"You're awful," Jordan muttered, face heating. He turned back to stare at the Listener. It seemed to have grown bored with the rubbish pile, and was making a slow retreat down the alley that ran behind Yddris's house. "Aren't you going to kill that one?"
"Nika is at the other end of that alleyway. Good job you're up already, because I was going to make you watch it anyway."
"Watch wh—"
The alley lit up. Since Yddris had released his hold on Jordan's magic, the world already looked faintly green, but Nika's arrival was akin to a moving bonfire. The Listener stopped, ears casting around it, but it seemed unable to locate the Unspoken nearby. Jordan remembered clearly enough just how quiet the noise had been that had brought the demon on the island down on top of him, and watched Nika creep closer with his mouth swinging open.
"Is he floating or something?" he hissed."Cuz that's weird."
"If you pay attention," Yddris said, as if Jordan didn't already have his eyes glued to what was happening, "you might see that the air is rippling. Nika's confusing it with noise vibration. It can't find him."
"How?"
"Manipulating the ambient magic."
"Uh...huh. That was enlightening."
Yddris only chuckled. "You're not quite there yet, boy."
Nika lunged. Something flashed above his head and for a moment, the Unspoken moved out of sight, ducking below the wall. Jordan found himself craning his neck to get a better look.
Nika reappeared behind the demon. At first it seemed as though he hadn't done anything, but then the demon stumbled and let out a howl that chilled Jordan's blood. He felt again that hot, rancid breath on his face, the suffocating weight of the enormous creature on top of him; it took him a moment to remember that he wasn't having the air crushed out of him at that moment. He sucked in a deep, grateful breath.
Nika sketched something in the air. The way the impression lingered afterwards, imprinted on his vision, reminded Jordan of the sparklers he and Grace had had as kids, writing their names in the night sky before it fizzled out. This time, though, he saw the writing clearly, and the rightness of the sigil hanging in the air in front of the Unspoken thrummed in rhythm with something deep and primal at the back of his mind. He had seen Koen draw a rune in the air to light the lanterns in much the same fashion, but this one was different. Stronger, somehow.
Then the impression in the air began to change shape, unravelling like rope as Nika drew a second rune, and then a third. The rope, glowing like emerald glass, shattered. Countless shards of magic darted forward, burying themselves in the hide of the Listener and leaving smoking holes in their wake. The howl cut off. Without any particular ceremony, the demon keeled over and lay still.
The whole thing had been over in a matter of seconds.
Nika's aura dimmed. The night returned to its usual colours, only faintly tinted with green, and Jordan remembered to breathe. The Unspoken in the alley turned and raised a hand. Mute, Jordan waved back.
"He drew the runes that big for your benefit," Yddris said. "The more practiced you are, they become second nature." The man's hand flickered at his side. When he showed it to Jordan, a perfectly carved blade sat in his hand, vivid green. Within its semi-transparent surface, green fire swirled and rolled; a storm in a sheet of glass. "See? This took five runes to make."
"You're having me on."
"I'm not." Yddris had a smile in his voice. "Night take me, boy, you look like you've just walked into the Pit by accident."
"If the Pit is as bad as it sounds, I feel like I did too." He looked at the blade again. "How the hell am I supposed to learn how to do that?"
"You're my apprentice now until you're skilled enough to take the black cloak. You will learn, no matter how long it takes," Yddris said. "But this is also why it's important to understand how to fight without magic. Until you can draw and cast the runes quickly and without mistakes, you're still vulnerable. All it takes is one slip and you've got a demon inside your guard."
Jordan shuddered and looked at his bed, but despite the early hour, the prospect of more sleep was as distant as a dream. He looked out of the window again, but both Nika and the Listener's body were gone.
"What do you do with them when they're dead?"
"Take them to a guard post, where they'll register it and dispose of the body outside the city. The registers are taken to the castle bursary so each kill is added to your state pay."
"State pay?"
"Private service is paid on the job," Yddris explained. "If you haven't been hired by someone to get rid of a demon, but have had to because it's posing a threat, Harkenn covers your wage. Prevents confusion over who's supposed to pay you."
"You talking shop?"
Jordan turned. Koen entered the room and helped himself to the side of Jordan's vacated bed, reaching out absently to scratch Ren's ears. She whined and rolled onto her back.
"But if demons attack people randomly," Jordan said, "why would anyone hire privately?"
"Harkenn only covers protection of citizens," Koen piped up. "If you want your livestock protected or your buildings re-warded, you need to hire us. Some demons don't pose a threat to people, but they'll lay waste to your farm. Or if you've got the money and you want a demon hunter at your beck and call, you can hire us for that, too."
"Not you, though," Yddris muttered, "You can consider yourself booked up on that front for the rest of your working life, I'm afraid, boy."
Jordan scowled, but Koen continued as if Yddris hadn't spoken, "Or you can hire us for our other skills that aren't demon-hunting. Nika makes a lot of his money as a physician."
Jordan's head was spinning. It was too much information for so soon after waking up. He vaguely remembered a conversation he had heard, matching it belatedly to the time he was attacked at Kedrick's inn – something about not being able to afford Unspoken. His head had been too clouded with pain at the time to retain most of it, though, and it slipped away, leaving just the niggling feeling of something that didn't sit right.
The front door opened and closed in the other room. Yddris, his lesson apparently over, turned and went out into the hall. Koen got up and took his place next to Jordan at the window.
"You coming to have breakfast?"
"Not hungry." Jordan swallowed. He could still see the runes, bright on his retina, and how small Nika had looked next to the demon; the flicker of his tutor's hand; the piece of glass constructed entirely out of magic. His own magic was still crackling near the surface – Yddris hadn't reined it back in yet – and it felt raw and unsophisticated, more alien in his body than ever. The flicker of emerald green in his window reflection, the pinpricks of light that were his eyes, drove him back to the bed with a chest that felt constricted with iron bands.
"Jordan?" Koen asked. "Are you alright?"
Jordan sucked in a breath. It was like forcing it through a straw. His eyes prickled. The room returned to cold darkness as Yddris clamped down on his magic.
He drew another breath. His heart pounded in his ears, suddenly too loud; another breath. And another. Another.
"Nika," Koen said, worry in his voice, "Nika!"
"I'm fine," Jordan said, only he couldn't fit it between breaths. The room span.
Hands clamped on his arms, dispelling the sensation that everything around him was a dream; that if he reached out it would dissipate like smoke. Nika knelt in front of him, and for a second Jordan was so sure he smelled the demon's blood on him that he wrenched himself away, feeling something pop in his shoulders when the grip didn't give.
"Jordan," Nika said, shaking him. "Jordan, look at me."
"No!"
Because suddenly he only heard Grace's voice; Grace's voice as it was fading, as she was turning away from him, as she was leaving him, hand in hand with a girl who had no wings and eyes like pits.
"Get off!" he said, dragging each word out on a breath. He pulled, ignoring the pain lancing through his arms, and the Unspoken finally let go of him.
Something cold and wet touched his hand as he fell back. He turned, and forgot for a minute why there was an animal on his bed. Then he gasped, shuddered, and wrapped his arms around Ren as she clambered onto his chest. All at once, the room stopped moving around him. He buried his nose in her fur, listening to the rumble of her purr. She sat perfectly still, waiting.
"Sorry," he whispered. He wasn't sure who he was apologising to. A hot flush of embarrassment raced through him. "I don't know what just happened."
He had been fine; a bit concerned, he'd admit it, but fine. His chest ached. He wanted to go back to bed and pretend nothing had happened. Like he hadn't almost fallen over the cliff-edge of a mental breakdown in front of near-strangers.
"Just tell me what you need," Nika said. Jordan winced at how shaken the man sounded, and realised he must have looked insane, trying so hard to get away, as if it was Nika's fault he was in this situation.
"Cup of water would be great," he muttered. "Thanks."
He flopped back onto the bed and let his arms fall by his sides. Everything hurt. White spots danced over his vision when he blinked, plastering the ceiling with dizzy stars. Ren, judging he was calm enough, gave a self-righteous sniff and curled back up to go to sleep on his stomach. He absently buried his fingers in her fur.
Yddris moved into his line of view, upside down.
"Maybe we'll have a couple of days' break," he grunted. He didn't sound shaken, like Nika had, but strangely wary. Like he had just realised he'd been handed a bomb and was expected to teach it without it detonating.
Jordan pretended he hadn't noticed. "Did Laurel say anything about when she's around?"
-
"Panic sounds reasonable to me," Laurel said, cradling a mug of soup between her hands. "You've had a rough time, by the sounds of it."
Jordan just stirred his own mug absently with a spoon, eyes on the table between them. They sat in the corner of the inn's taproom. It was a quiet day; the only others present were Kedrick and Yddris, who were having a low conversation at the bar over a bottle of whisky.
"But it was so stupid," he said, without looking up. "We were just talking about how Unspoken get paid, and it's like everything came down on me at once. I must have looked like a nutter. Maybe I am a nutter." He glanced at her. "Do I seem like a nutter?"
Tiny frown lines appeared between her brows even as she smiled. "Your otherworld terms get very confusing sometimes. If that means do I think you're mad, then no. You seem very rational to me."
"You're just saying that."
"I promise I'm not."
"Useless, then."
"Jordan." Her hand moved to cover his, and then she seemed to think better of it. "You aren't useless."
He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by someone entering the inn. Laurel had the view of the door from her side of the table, and when she stiffened, Jordan turned to look. The man who had stepped inside was huge, the size Jordan had only seen matched by Vek. Like Vek's, this man's skin was dusky tan, covered in scars and faded tattoos, and his hair was long, though his was streaked with silver and tightly plaited. Only one tattoo was still dark and sharp, and that was the grinning horned mask on the back of his hand.
Jordan almost knocked his mug over with his elbow, thinking of Arlen, as the giant raked the room with yellow eyes. He grinned at Laurel, revealing sharp teeth that were clearly maintained to stay sharp, dotted with silver and gold. Jordan shifted on the bench, blocking her with his body. The giant's grin faded and a dangerous glint appeared in his eye. Jordan set his jaw and held on tight to his bladder control.
"Can I help you?" Kedrick said without putting down his whisky glass. Yddris was on his feet.
"Looking for someone," the giant grunted. He had a heavy accent which Jordan just barely understood.
"Whoever you're looking for, you'll have to look elsewhere," Kedrick replied. "I don't tolerate your kind of business under my roof."
"Oh, don't worry," the giant grinned again. Jordan shuddered, glad it wasn't directed at him anymore. Under the table, Laurel grasped his hand and squeezed. If they'd been in any other situation he might have grinned like an idiot. "Just delivering a message."
Kedrick put down the glass and corked the bottle. He wiped down the bar and put the cloth in the washbasin, before he answered. His tone was steady, careful, as if he were negotiating with a wild animal.
"Who are you looking for?"
"Yddris."
The Unspoken, motionless until this point, finally shifted. Jordan stared, panic biting at his lungs.
"Go on," Yddris said. If he was worried, it didn't show in his voice. He had sounded warier after Jordan's episode that morning. "I'm all ears."
"Laurel and Jordan, you two go upstairs," Kedrick said.
Laurel got up immediately, but Jordan stayed frozen to the bench. At his name, the giant's attention had zeroed back in on him, eyes searching and curious.
"Jordan," Laurel said, taking his arm and pulling. Jordan blinked, and then stood up and hurried to the stairs with her, only glancing back once when the assassin behind him boomed out a laugh. He took a step forward, and Jordan faltered, but Yddris stepped smoothly into the man's path. Despite the size difference, the stranger didn't seem inclined to press his luck. Jordan took the opportunity to escape, while that yellow gaze wasn't pinning him to the spot.
"Who is that?" he asked Laurel, as she dragged him into her room and closed the door. "He has a Devil's mark."
"Usk," Laurel said. A waver in her voice stilted his name. "He's ex-Varthian, though there are rumours that he still eats human meat, only he does it because he wants to, not for religious reasons. He's one of Harkenn's most wanted criminals, but he's never been arrested."
Jordan, alarmed, looked back at the closed door. "Should we do something?"
"Yes." She was already in motion. She pulled back the rug on her bedroom floor, revealing a trapdoor underneath. "I'm going to get the city guard. You stay here."
"No way, I'm coming with you."
"You can't leave without Yddris," she said, opening the hatch and easing it down so that it didn't hit the boards and make noise. "Too dangerous. I'll be fine."
"Laurel..."
"Jordan," she cut him off, "I said I'll be fine. I'll be back soon. Close the trapdoor after me."
She went to the hole, paused, and then ran back again, flipped back his hood and kissed his cheek. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. By the time he gathered the wits to move, she was down the stairs.
"Laurel," he said, starting forward. He couldn't hear what was going on downstairs, but he trusted Yddris and Kedrick to handle themselves.
A scream from the room below.
"Laurel!"
He flew down the steps. They were made of wood, and creaked ominously as he descended. It plunged him into cold darkness, the dank stone chill of a cellar. His heart jumped into his throat as he hit the stone floor. He cast around in the darkness, straining his hearing and wishing he had the night vision his magic gave him when it wasn't under wraps.
"Laurel?"
He froze as something cold and sharp pressed into his throat. The bulk of another body appeared behind him. With breath reeking of booze and smoke, an unfamiliar voice spoke into his ear at little more than a murmur.
"I think it's best if you come quietly."
The knife vanished. Jordan whirled, hand going to his own blade, when something collided with the side of his head and he was knocked off balance. As the world swam, as someone wrenched his arms behind his back and tied his hands, he gathered as much awareness and outrage as he could and directed it inward; his magic prickled, sparked, and he could only hope Yddris understood just before the emptiness reached out and claimed him.