Page 66 of The Simurgh

ISAAC’S RICHtone soothed the horses as he reined them in. The carriage slowed and the only sirin who’d not returned to the cabin to recuperate after flying the coach over uninhabited countryside, now landed upon the roof with a great thump. At the sound of claws meeting the metal railing, Tyvain’s skin ran awash with gooseflesh and a great, wracking shiver took hold of her.

‘Feck, is it just me, or did it just get real cold right now?’

‘Neither here nor there for me.’ Jane perched at the edge of her seat, peering out the window. ‘There’s the church, though it’s too dark to see much.’ A sirin squatted at her feet, in between her parted knees. Sleeping. The poor critters were suffering with all the flying about, first from London, then on this maddened dash. Exhausted enough that they hadn’t stirred as Isaac bumped them over every pothole he could find when he took to driving. Tyvain was equally exhausted but had never less felt like sleeping. That foreboding feeling hadn’t shifted one inch, still with her, still wrapped around her like a night-gown of lead.

‘Jane, do you see Silas?’ Sybilla spoke so quietly Tyvain barely caught it.

‘I think I saw Lalassu in the churchyard…’

‘But what about Silas?’ Sybilla leaned forward, trying to peer around the elemental to see outside. Both she and Tyvain were seated opposite to where the view of the church could be seen. From their window they could glimpse what appeared to be an abandoned village. There was a scattering of thatched-roof houses. All were unlit despite it being dark enough now that lack of candles inside would have resulted in many a shin being whacked against a table leg. There was no smoke from chimneys, either, even though Tyvain could have sworn she’d seen a few curls when they were approaching.

‘No sign of him, I’m afraid,’ Jane said, opening the door and lifting her leg over the dozing sirin so as not to disturb it.

‘Perhaps he’s inside waiting on us.’ The Valkyrie had gone from near-mute the whole journey to now being fantastically optimistic.

‘’E said ‘e wouldn’t wait for us, looks like ‘e’s keepin’ to that promise. Can’t ya, you know, feel him, or somethin’?’ Tyvain ventured– and received a derisive glare from the angel.

‘We are not connected in that way.’

‘Well, it’s just that…ya know…the whole resurrection thing…’

‘Do I look like one of the sorcerer’s ash-men, Tyvain,’ Sybilla said. ‘I’m not Silas’s puppet.’

Clearly, Tyvain had touched on a very raw nerve. ‘I know that. I know.’ She raised her hands. ‘Just worried, is all. That dolt is liable to do somethin’ stupid, especially considerin’ all my talk of doom and gloom.’ She shuffled across the seat, aiming for the open door, which Jane now blocked, one foot on the pedestal step but her arse still on the edge of the seat. ‘Are ya sure that’s ’is ’orse you’re seein’? This is the right place?’

‘Oh, for crying out loud, woman.’ Jane’s sudden rebuke made her jump. ‘She is hardly a run-of-the-mill mare. I know it was her.’

‘Feckin’ ’eck, keep ya wig on, luv.’

Jane huffed as she finally alighted from the cabin. ‘Then stop asking bloody stupid questions, Tyvain.’

Cripes, the sylph was snappy. Sarcasm was one thing, and the elemental had that in spades, but just being plain surly was not something people tended to accuse Jane of. Tyvain didn’t have to guess what ate at her. They were both jumping out of their skins for the same reason.

‘Well the news isn’t good, I’m afraid.’ Phillipa stuck her head into the interior, without bothering to leave her seat alongside Isaac at the front of the carriage.

‘Feck!’ Despite it being the third time this journey that the ghost had done so, Tyvain found her wits startled once more. ‘Stop bloody doin’ that.’

‘Sorry. I did knock this time,’ Phillipa said, floating there like a head that had been badly-mounted on a trophy wall. ‘We have arrived at Newchurch-in-Pendle. And I have to say, I do not like the feel of this place at all.’

‘You don’t ’ave to say nothin’,’ Tyvain set her hands to either side of the doorway, preparing to get out of the carriage. ‘But seein’ as ya did, what’s the feel, then?’

Phillipa didn’t think on it. ‘The Blight. It has the most indelicate odour.’

‘The Blight is here? Is it effecting you? Should we be concerned?’ Jane said, standing near to the open door.

‘No, no, I don’t think so. Not all of us are susceptible. I worked with my lady for many years when she was afflicted, but I was not changed. And right now, I feel normal–’

‘Ain’t a single one of us that can claim that.’ Tyvain shooed Jane away from the door. ‘Lemme get out.’

‘Help Sybilla first, Ty.’

‘I don’t need it.’ Sybilla opened the door opposite, and dragged herself to the edge of the seat. The Valkyrie moved too slow for Tyvain’s liking but she’d given up asking after Sybilla’s health. ‘Tell us more of the Blight, ghost.’

‘Well, on my lady it had a rather distinct pong, very pungent,’ Phillipa said, ‘But that’s not what’s here. It is more like a lingering scent, you know, as when one removes a corpse from a room but the reek hangs on?’

Even Sybilla paused in her pain-staking effort to leave the cabin, and stared at Phillipa.

‘Bloody ‘ell, no. Can’t say I know that,’ Tyvain said, peering at the gloomy churchyard, which spread out behind a low stone boundary wall. By all appearances it was nothing special, the usual rows of headstones, some glowing with the pale cling of lichen, and a hulking great shadow outline denoting the church itself. ‘Not yet, anyways. Speakin’ of corpses, anyone wonderin’ where the Dullahan is?’