Age of War

Chapter 8

Jonis rested on the handle of the shovel as she got her breath back and wiped the sweat from her brow. This must be the only place in Atlas that was still warm, here in one of the deepest chambers of the Cyclops stables. Maybe it was all the torches that flickered in the wall sconces required to light the vast vaulted dome, or perhaps something darker and more dangerous. Even for a Keeper, there was always something faintly unnerving about Cyclopes, and a strange, unnatural aura often seemed to surround them, as if they were not truly of the mortal world. Which of course they weren’t, in a literal sense. Across from her was a yawning opening barred with a thick iron portcullis. Beyond it, a dim shape shifted in the gloom. Normally the creature had the run of the pit, but for now it was confined by bars and chains while Jonis cleaned it out. She hadn’t had to do this task since she was an apprentice, and she knew exactly why she was here. Oh, no one said it was a punishment, but making a Keeper as skilled as her do this was a waste of resources and everyone knew it. But it kept her out of sight. It kept her busy, and quiet. No more crazy theories from Jonis. No more unsettling ideas being voiced around The Circle. No more rumours and whispers. Sighing, she set to again, levering up a chunk of crumbling dung from the black flagstones and dumping it into the barrow. She was completely inured to the smell by now, but whenever she went back to her chambers she knew her skin and clothes continued to reek of it. Jonin didn’t spend a lot of time around her, that was for sure, but there could be other reasons for that…

“Hey!”

Jonis turned with a start to see someone hovering on the stairs by the entrance to the pit. She cocked her head. “Calam?”

The figure stepped into the light. She was a tall, slender woman like Jonis, but her hair was white-blonde, quite unusual in Atlas, and her flesh was marked with tattoos in the same jagged design as the one Jonis had around her eye. Calam was amongst the most revered Keepers in the city. She was also an old friend. She grinned as she looked around the pit. “Should you be doing this?”

“Ask the Matriarch. She’s the one who sent me down here. I didn’t know you were back in Atlas.”

“Likewise.” Calam was dressed much like Jonis, in a dark leather tunic and tight breeches with high black boots. She wore the same kind of curved sword on her hip. Her walk was all swagger. She was something of a legend in her own lifetime, tipped to become Matriarch herself someday, and Jonis would have found her insufferable if they hadn’t known each other since they were children. When she looked at her, she didn’t see the boisterous, arrogant Keeper who was known as much for sleeping with every man or woman who took her fancy as her battle prowess, but instead the vulnerable, gawky girl she’d once been. Now she squatted by a pile of dung and took a handful of the dry fibrous mass and crumbled it between her fingers.

“You know that stuff is toxic, don’t you?”

Calam smiled. “Even to us?”

“How should I know? I’d rather not find out.”

The other woman dusted off her hands and stood up. “Why are you down here?”

“I told you: Matriarch’s orders.”

“What did you do?”

“Does it matter? How was Helios?”

“Fine,” Calam shrugged, “about the same as here. People starving, too fucking cold, full of arseholes.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?”

“A bit of both,” Calam said, waggling her hand back and forth. “What about Talos?”

“A lot of people tried to kill me.”

“Oh. That sounds dull.”

“It had its moments.” Jonis stooped again and shovelled more of the stinking faeces. She was happy to see Calam, but she wasn’t in a very good mood. This wasn’t how she wanted to be reunited with her wildly successful friend.