When Dead Gods Dream.

A primal panic pulsed through Wren, each heartbeat bringing a fresh wave of fear and confusion. She simply couldn’t comprehend the empty room. Her mother was a frail invalid. Less than two minutes had passed,and there had been no hubbub that would have followed Rosabella being spotted on her feet. She had heard no shouts and there were no signs of a struggle. It was as though the woman had evaporated into the very air.

The shocked stasis of her thoughts was shattered by a sudden wailing shriek. The sound ripped her back into reality but it did nothing to ease her sense of confusion. It was painfully loud and seemed to assault her from every direction at once. She knew the sound. All residents of Voyeur knew it, and feared it. 

“Demons!” screamed one of the children. 

Wren dashed from the room and quickly gathered up the foundlings as calmly as she could manage. She smiled down at the children and gently soothed them despite the panic that she was barely keeping in check within herself. 

“We all just need to stay calm, okay,” she told the huddled gathering that had formed around her. “The guards will act quickly like they always do. You just need to stay in here where it’s safe and look after each other. Even a demon wouldn’t want to cross Rosabella. But I need to get the others who aren’t here to safety. Granny Vorshe is in charge while I’m gone. Silva, get some of the children on lookout just to be safe.”

It was a lie. Wren knew it was selfish but she needed to find her mother. Thoughts of the other children were a distant blur in the back of her mind. She ran from the orphanage, circling the building thoroughly in a widening spiral in search of any signs of Rosabella. All the while the siren screamed out its terrifying tenor. 

The order fields kept all demons out of the city. It couldn’t stop those that were summoned from within though. It was a rare occurrence, but it happened now and then. Wren had heard that siren three times in the past, but each time she had her mother at her side to comfort her. Rosabella’s quiet confidence always reassured her and made Wren believe with every fibre of her being that nothing could hurt her. Now she felt weak. Vulnerable.

She forced herself to stop and think. The siren made it almost impossible for her. She couldn’t go on like this though. Her mother had vanished within a two minute period. Her room had no windows, and nobody had seen her leave, or anyone else enter. Even with the chaos caused by the siren she knew someone would have mentioned something like that. She had passed the door and it had still been closed. The makeshift door was heavy and creaked awfully. The noise it made was a necessary safety measure. Nobody had gone through it. Barring something supernatural, Rosabella must have left through a window.

Slower this time, Wren circled the building, carefully studying the slurry of muck beneath each tall window. A chaotic mess of footprints surrounded the orphanage from the children playing. It would be all but impossible to pick apart any one set from here. 

“Mistress has gone,” purred a voice from behind her. She turned to see Amber the cat perched on a window ledge. “Mistress is in no condition to travel.”

“Do you know where she went? What happened?”

“No. I was sat beside the stewpot hoping for delectable offerings. You reek of panic though, and the mistress’ scent has gone.”

“I need to find her. Could you pick up her scent?”

The cat looked torn between expressing disgust at being compared to a sniffer dog, and pride at her obviously heightened senses. “Purrhapse, if we are close enough. There are many overpowering smells, and mistress’ scent is certainly strange but very subtle. I refuse to mucky my paws though.”

Wren didn’t wait for Amber to change her mind. She grabbed the cat and moved away from the building. Amber hissed and quickly scrambled up onto Wren’s shoulder. The children rarely left the orphanages grounds, and those that came and went did so by the main street. If anyone had snuck in or out, then they must have left some trace on the outskirts. Buildings crowded in around the orphanage on all sides but few souls crossed the boundary that separated the old church from the mundane residences beside it. 

There! Barely discernible in the thick mud was a single imprint. It was slight but it existed. Wren found another solitary print a few yards away, then another. “Keep your steps slight and spaced”. It was advice that her mother had taught her to keep Wren from being followed. Amber confirmed Wren’s with a deep purr of satisfaction. It seemed Rosabella really had left of her own accord, though Wren had no idea how she could have moved so quickly and with such nimble steps when her body had withered so far. 

Wren followed the tracks until they joined a throughway and disappeared into the well-used path. Amber motioned for her to follow the street to the right when a scream broke her concentration and caused her to look up. Others followed until a crowd of terrified shouts rivalled the siren. They were coming from the same direction Rosabella had gone.

Wren didn’t think. She couldn’t allow herself to feel fear or she knew it would consume her. She just had to act. Against the sudden current of fleeing people, Wren ran toward the screams, her hand clutched tightly around a pouch of bone-bane spores. The only thing she cared about was finding her mother.

“Don’t run towards the stench of fresh death!” Amber hissed, digging her claws into the soft flesh of Wren’s shoulder. “Mistress wouldn’t be stupid enough to go near demons!”

“We have to follow her before we lose her scent! I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll cherish those words and sense of value when my broken body is dashed across the floor by an unspeakable horror,” the cat spat, disdain dripping from each word. Despite this, she didn’t move from Wren’s shoulder.

She burst through the last of the people and skidded to an abrupt stop. The scene before her was like something from a nightmare. Crimson splatters coated the walls and soaked the muck between homes. At the centre of it all stood a creature that could only be a demon. It appeared as a giant twisted hand, all sinew and muscle, two fingers serving as legs, two fingers as arms, and a thumb at the top where its head should be. Thousands of smaller fingers twitched and curled across its body. The thumb was bent crooked so that the nail faced forward, giving it the impression of a face. 

Wren watched in horror as the creature pulled an unlucky man into its embrace. The large finger arms wrapped around him, locking him in place as the tiny fingers ripped at his skin and burrowed through his flesh. 

A stone hit the demon’s head and its attention turned to its assailant. So did Wren’s. Rosabella stood swaying a few yards from the creature, another stone held in her hand, her face pale but resolute. Her thin shift was damp and coated in dirt. She looked like she could barely stand yet there was no trace of fear on her face or in her body language. She faced down the monstrosity with an unnatural serenity. 

“Stop this. You’re not here for them.”

The demon dropped what remained of the man. It took a few slow steps forward then dropped down onto all five limbs and bounded forward like a twisted spider. In an instant it was on her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her down beneath it. 

All logical thought vanished from Wren’s mind. She was already halfway across the gap to where the demon and her mother were. The bone-bane powder would be useless. Rosabella was too close and Wren wasn’t sure that the demon even breathed. It certainly didn’t have a visible mouth or nose. The only other thing she had was her knife. It would have to be enough. 

Wren hurled herself at the demon’s back and drove the knife into its wiry tendons with all her strength. She slashed and bit at the smaller fingers that sought to pull her down. Each touch made her skin crawl. Amber jumped away and disappeared down an alleyway but Wren didn’t notice. She let out a feral scream as she hacked and slashed again and again.

The demon staggered to the side then collapsed to the ground. It was far from dead though. Its limb fingers bent backwards and suddenly Wren found herself in the palm of the hand. Its grip tightened and she felt the small digits begin to dig painfully into her. She expected blinding pain but it never came. The demon held her securely but it almost seemed frozen in place. The thumb swayed uncertainly between Wren and Rosabella.

“Wrenfred!” Rosabella screamed. “No! You aren’t supposed to be here! Run! Go!”

“Not without you!”

“It won’t stop while I’m here. They won’t stop. I’ve been a damn fool.”

Wren didn’t know how long her respite would last. She had to act fast. Mustering the last of her strength she surged up and jammed her blade into the flesh beside the thumbnail so the bone edge slid behind the keratin plate. The demon shuddered then gripped Wren tightly, She felt her bones creak under the force as the air was squeezed from her lungs. Her vision blurred then darkened.

The monster suddenly bucked and hurled Wren across the street. She took a liberating lungful of air and forced herself back onto her feet despite the searing protest of every joint in her body. Rosabella had a narrow dagger that she had plunged into the finger-demon, and despite its size, the weapon seemed to be causing it much more pain than any of Wren’s attempts. 

“Run!” shouted Rosabella. She stumbled towards Wren and grabbed her hand, pulling her down an alleyway as the monster rolled and writhed on the ground.

They sprinted down the passage, taking corners without slowing, their lungs burning with each breath. Crashes behind them told Wren that the demon had recovered from whatever Rosabella had done to it.

“Quick, in here,” Wren said, motioning towards an open doorway.

“We can’t hide. It’s got my scent now.” Each word took a toll on Rosabella. Wren was basically dragging her along now. “We have to fight it. Kill it. They can’t know about you. Head towards the Maw.”

Wren didn’t have the breath to argue or press her for more answers. The demon was closing in fast. 

“Fuck off back to the hells, you over-inflated hand!”

The shout was followed by a series of shattering sounds. Wren recognised the voice. She turned her head back to see Krow sweeping down the alley with a dozen other birds following behind him. Each was dropping a clay pot down onto the finger-demon. Acids and oils splashed across the monster, and a final pigeon dropped a lit torch that ignited the oils. The demon made no sound but it thrashed into walls and threw itself to the floor to roll through the thick mud. 

“Krow!”

“We’ll talk about my reward for saving you again when you’re safe. Keep going. The guards have a barricade set up just ahead.”

This was just the hope she needed. Her feet pounded through the slurry with renewed vigour. She just had to make it a little further and the guards would take care of the demon. Then they’d be safe. They were almost there. Wren could see the barricade at the end of the alley. 

The ground started to shake rhythmically behind her. The demon was back on the move. Wren mustered the last of her strength and the barricade opened up before her. She staggered through and it closed behind her, managing a few extra steps before her legs finally gave out and she collapsed. Rosabella fell beside her, her breaths an awful rattling sound that shook her whole slender frame. 

A dozen men with shields and spears rushed into place between the women and the demon. The demon burst through the barrier and was instantly set upon by the spears. It threw the men aside, shattering the shields with heavy swings of its arms. Its whole body was deformed and bloody. Burns formed pockmarks across its body and huge patches of the smaller fingers were missing. Still it showed no sign of slowing.

Rosabella pulled herself back onto her feet. Wren didn’t know how. She was completely spent so she couldn’t begin to imagine how her mother was feeling. The woman’s resolve amazed her as always.

“The guards aren’t going to hold it back long. Not this type of demon. They single mindedly track their prey. As demons go they’re one of the most durable.”

“What do we do then? Do you have any more of those daggers? That hurt it, right?”

“No. Just the one. They’re rare. It would have killed a lesser demon without an issue. This needs something bigger. We need to get closer to the Maw. Come on, my little Wrenfred.”

“I can’t move.”

“You’re my daughter. I know you can get up as many times as you need to. Now hurry.”

Wren didn’t feel like she could stand, but seeing the demon push ever closer gave her the encouragement she needed. Krow grabbed her cloak in his talons and flapped frantically to help lift her. A wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm her but she forced it down and followed after Rosabella. 

The central market around the Feeder Peaks and the Maw was deserted. They worked their way quickly through the stalls towards the towering obsidian pillars of the Peak. The finger-demon sensed them moving and ignored the guards. It started after them at a gallop.

They reached the edge of the Maw as the demon caught up with them. Rosabella pushed Wren to the side and faced the demon down, her heels kissing the plummet into the abyss behind her. Too late Wren realised what her mother was planning. 

The demon sprang at Rosabella, its fingers curling around to embrace her. From out of nowhere a golden blur slammed into it with a hiss, knocking it to the side. Amber the cat hissed and spat as her claws tore a flurry of gashes across what should have been its throat. The demon shrugged off the attack and Amber leapt back to stand between the creature and Rosabella.

“Nothing will harm the Mistress!” she hissed.

More guards appeared from behind and skewered the demon from behind. It reared up and batted them away, starting forward with a pained rage that clouded its senses. It kicked at Amber with enough force to send her flying back, straight into Rosabella’s gut. The blow knocked the woman back and she toppled over the edge. The demon stared after her for a moment in confusion, then its attention snapped to Wren as though she was its entire world.

A wave of unfiltered emotion flared through Wren as her mother disappeared over the edge. She screamed a wordless scream and grabbed a discarded spear from the ground. She had no conscious thoughts. She was a beast intent on the kill. She charged the demon without any concern for her own safety. 

Krow pecked at her hand and she opened her fingers just enough to allow him to slip a disc into her grip. Wren had just enough awareness to recognise it as a soul cell. She clenched it so hard that it hurt and directed her will down into the object. 

Blue flames burst into existence around her and spiralled along the length of the spear. Wren knew she didn’t have enough sparks to do much but she didn’t care. She had to do something. The spear slammed through the demon’s centre but Wren didn’t stop. She could feel the sparks fueling her body. She felt incredible strength. Without slowing she forced the demon back and they both toppled over the edge.

Air rushed past her as darkness enclosed around them like a coffin. She screamed with pure range and pulled more power from the sparks. A burst of power propelled her forward and the velocity of their fall increased. More speed. That’s what she needed. Every cell of her body screamed out in pain as she burned through her life savings of sparks.

Faster and faster she fell, the demon writhing and convulsing at the end of her spear. Then the darkness resolved itself into the unconscious body of Rosabella. She was still clutching Amber. Wren let go of the spear with one hand and reached out to grab her mother and pull her close. She hugged her tightly then drew upon the last fleeting sparks. It hurt so bad that she couldn’t breathe.

Then they hit the ground and the pain vanished completely. Wren saw a white light, then her soul dissolved into a sweet nothingness.

Previous – 6. The Saint.

Next – 8.

When Dead Gods Dream.

Wren was woken by a sharp prod to her kidney. Her eyes snapped open to see a group of children around her giggling excitedly. She had overslept, and of course the children would be up early. Wren herself had told them to be ready for when Rosabella would wake.

A sense of excitement smothered out the weariness in her bones. She shooed the children away and quickly took her place in the line of children waiting to wash. When it was her turn she stood on the wide tray that collected spilled water and wiped her skin down with a cloth she had brought with her and a bucket of murky water. 

Wren dressed and donned her father’s cloak. She always wore it on days like this. A gaggle of children had gathered around her curtain in anticipation. She grabbed the flowers she had bought the previous day then set to work organising things for when it was time.

“Silva, could you brew a tea with some lavender please. Ginny, help Granny Vorshe cook up the roach mince I bought. Everyone else, get this place nice and tidy in case Mum is strong enough to walk. A cleanup is well overdue either way.”

The children dashed away to their various jobs, chattering excitedly the whole time. Rosabella had become a legend to the younger children who hadn’t known her before her sickness had worsened. They saw her as a sleeping princess from a fairytale who would one day wake up and save the world. Secretly, Wren hoped for the very same thing.

Wren walked through the hall straight to a small room at the back of the building. It was the only separate space and was the private sanctuary of her mother, Rosabella. The room was scarcely bigger than the pile of rags that made up a basic bed, but even so, it was a luxury that most in Voyeur didn’t have access to. Drawings by the children plastered the walls and all manner of stones and trinkets they had found were scattered around as good luck charms and decorative art pieces. The room had almost become a sort of shrine where people came to make their offerings.

Rosabella Ashmoore was laid upon the bundle of rags, her porcelain skin and white hair contrasting with the dark fabric like a ghost in the void. She was thin, painfully so, and her chest lacked the steady rise and fall of healthy breathing. She could have been a corpse, but some aura about her gave her the sense of an art piece, a moment captured in paint awaiting the chance to continue its life.

Rosabella had always been a sickly woman. Before giving birth to Wren she had been a teacher from another city but had travelled to Voyeur with Wren’s father. He had died in a mining accident before Wren was born, but her mother often told her stories about how wonderful he had been. Those stories always made her mother smile, no matter how much her illness was affecting her. It was why Wren liked to wear her dad’s cloak when she visited her. 

Wren knelt down beside her and watched, waiting for tiny hints of life that Rosabella still displayed up close. She reached out and held the pale hand in her own. It was almost skeletal. Gently she squeezed it.

“Mum. It’s time to wake up.”

Rosabella stirred ever so slightly. Wren repeated the firm squeeze and spoke the words again. This time her mother’s eyes twitched open and gazed upon her. There was a moment where terror flooded her eyes, then it faded and a calmness eased across her features. She smiled and squeezed Wren’s hand back.

“Good morning, my dear one.” Rosabella’s voice was soft and had a dreamlike quality to it. “How long has it been?”

“Another two weeks like we thought. Doc Tabbot has changed your serum again so hopefully it will start reversing things. He was able to stabilise your sleep to two weeks so he must be on the right track. Here.”

Wren fished out the small tube Doc had given her and uncorked it. She passed it across  to Rosabella and watched as she drank the liquid within. Her mother made a sour expression and stuck her tongue out.

“The taste never improves, but the doctor does what he can. I’m grateful. They always help to dull the pain.” Her features smoothed and she settled back down into the blankets, pulling several across herself despite the humidity. “What stories do you have to tell me this time, Wrenfred? I remember so little from the last time that I must have been with you only a short while. Please, tell me how you’ve been.”

Had anyone else asked, Wren would have given a dismissive answer. Her life was little more than a constant chain of work. She didn’t really socialise either. Now that Rosabella was unable to properly care for the orphanage someone needed to keep things floating. For her mother though, she wanted to paint a vivid picture of life that she could cherish from the confines of her room. She told stories of the children’s antics and as her recap neared its end she remembered something else that would make Rosabella smile.

“Deeno paid us a quick visit last week too. He’s doing well. He said he’s with the haulers now and shares a roof with a few of the other haulers and their families. Most importantly though, he said his partner is expecting a child. He promised they’d visit again when it has been born so he can introduce you. He’s grown up a lot these two years since he left us.”

“That is wonderful for him. Life continues even in hardship and beauty emerges from even the ugliest of times. It helps give you faith in a better future.” Her eyes lost their focus for a moment. Wren could tell she had slipped into another memory. After a few seconds they refocused on Wren.

“What about yourself, my dearest Wrenfred? Has anyone caught your eye yet?”

“You’ll be the first to know, Mum. I don’t think I’m cut out for that kind of thing. The only man that’s touched me lately was probably trying to kill me, and I accidently threw bone-bane spores at him. He grabbed me with a knife outside the wall and I panicked. I’m pretty sure most people just see me as the weird white haired witch girl.”

Rosabella’s eyes sharpened. There was an intensity in her stare that Wren hadn’t seen for years. “Someone tried to harm you? Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail. What did he look like?”

The questions went beyond concern for Wren. A fierce fear burned in the depths of her eyes. The look scared Wren. She tried to recall everything she could about the event.

“He was average height and scrawny. Wore the usual sort of rags you see everywhere in the outer city. Unkempt hair. I don’t think I was targeted as anything more than a young woman outside the walls alone. The knife was just a common working knife. I saw him following me but I couldn’t back to safety without passing him. I thought I could deal with him quickly and run but he was stronger than he looked. I think he was high on something going by how his eyes looked. I grabbed the first pouch I could and he definitely felt the bone-bane.”

Rosabella seemed to relax the more Wren spoke. The intensity and fear drained away and she slumped back down into the rags. “I’m glad you’re safe. There are a lot of bad people in the world.”

“Try not to worry about me. You taught me how to defend myself as a little girl and I’ve never stopped practising. I’m a fighter.”

The words had a strange effect on Rosabella. She tensed again, but this time there was no intensity. Instead it was as though she had slipped into a dream. Her pupils widened and expanded until they filled her whole eyes and her skin lost all its warmth.

“The fighter fled for five long forties with friendly fortune’s aid. Now foul foes find footprints once again. Fear! Fear! Fear! The frenzied fervour flowers soon. Foetal sins will finally be found. The forever forgotten fighter falls to fell deeds. Death dawns and divinity devours. They are coming!”

The words burst from Rosabella in a horse rasp. Then it was over. Rosabella sagged, her breath coming in gasping pants that shook her frail frame. Tears ran down her face in a silent torrent. Wren had never seen her in such a state before.

“Mum?”

The word seemed to snap Rosabella back to reality. She clutched tightly onto Wren’s hand.

“What happened? What did I say? I don’t remember anything. Only pain.”

Wren relayed the last few moments, trying hard to remember the exact wording. She knew her retelling wasn’t perfect but the general message was hauntingly memorable. Rosabella simply listened, her face unreadable. Finally she spoke.

“I need to think. Go help the others with dinner. I’ll need to gather my strength to properly clear my mind.”

“But what was that? A vision? They’ve never been that violent before.”

“It isn’t the first time one has come like that. They used to all be like that. I learned how to control them but my guard was down. It isn’t a pleasant. experience.”

“What does it mean? Those words scared me.”

“Don’t fear, my darling. I promise I’ll protect you. Just give me a little time. I’ll make everything better. I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you need to rest.”

“Don’t be silly. I bet the children have been waiting for me. I know you have. I just need a minute to gather myself. Help me to stand, dear one.”

Wren obeyed and helped Rosabella to her feet. The woman was so light, her skin so cold. When she was up though she stood tall and didn’t sway at all. Even as frail as she way, Rosabella wore strength like a cloak around her shoulders. Wren tried to help her mother to dress but Rosabellas waved her away.

“I’m still capable of dressing myself, dearest one, for a while at least. Help set the table. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Wren reluctantly left the room. By the smell floating through the orphanage, the food was almost finished anyway. The centre of the room had been cleared by the children and a long mishmashed table had been assembled. Most of the work looked to be done already. She watched Silva as he poured tea into a mug and carried it across to the head of the table. Rosabella always appreciated a hot drink when she woke. Wren met him there and picked up the cup as he placed it down.

“I’ll give her this now. I know it will get cold if we leave it here. She’ll not get a chance to drink it once the other children start asking her questions.”

She took the drink and took a steady walk back to her mother’s room. She opened the door and froze. The cup fell from her slack fingers and shattered, the scalding water splashing across her legs. Wren didn’t even notice the pain.

Somehow, Rosabella was gone.

Previous – 5. Pilgrims on the Path.

Next – 7. Those From Above and Below.