BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

off their joy. It had been so long, so very long. She had almost forgotten how good it tasted.

In a brief pause between songs, she stepped up to the microphone, arms outstretched, and said, “Tonight, we remember Saltire. Tonight, we mark their passing. So great is the loss that all words have decayed to empty husks. They fail to convey our sorrow, the hollow in our hearts. Instead, let music speak for our souls; let melody cry grief and love. We sing in remembrance and salute the departed. Saltire; in your honour, we play.”

The crowd, silent while she spoke, now roared. Chase turned to Ursel, shoulders raised, shaking his head slightly. Before Ursel had chance to explain, there was a drumstick cue and the amps erupted. De-tuned guitar and a low, urgent bassline pulled their attention back to the stage.

Chief dominated the space. Where she had felt herself fading, her body weak, she now possessed the strength of an army. Her long, slender limbs were invigorated – muscle, tissue and bone super-charged with an electrifying energy. Her spirit was satiated on the feast of her followers. Wonderfully replete, she knew she should bring the show to an end. Yet the taste was so sweet; it had been so long in coming. She recalled Bend Sinister’s words of caution but felt unable to resist. As the song drew to an end and the guitar’s sustain faded, the calls for “More! More! More!” engulfed her, spellbinding. The demand became her justification, the scapegoat for her greed. One more¸ she told herself, then gave the signal to her players.

Cole caught the signal and hollered, arms in the air. It had been a difficult parting with Evan. Not that Evan ever put pressure on him not to attend. But that just made it harder, Cole felt. The two most important things in his life pulled in a tug of war that could tear him apart. In the end, Evan had encouraged him to go, unable to bear the torment in his partner’s eyes.

Gently placing Evan at the back of his mind, Cole had watched the entire performance from the foot of the stage, revelling in the music. His allegiance would always be to Bend Sinister, but he still loved a Chief show. The atmosphere was infectious. A timely antidote to the stress of producing and distributing a thousand copies of Bluemantle in under forty-eight hours. He beamed at Chief, all conflict forgotten.

Someone pulling on his arm broke the hex. He turned to find a young man breathing hard, his eyes bulging, mouth agape. Cole let himself be dragged away from the stage, to one side of the cave. The young man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into Cole’s ear. “Deaf Squad. Up top. Loads of ’em. They’re closing in.”

A commotion began to stir around Chase as word spread. Oblivious of the cause, he tried to block it out, staring at the stage, not wanting to miss a note.

Beside him, Ursel spotted Cole and read his expression. She grabbed Chase’s arm. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

He looked at her, bewildered.

“We have to go,” she cried. “Now!”

–

“I’m telling you, it’s here,” snapped Dent Lore, squaring up to Wulfwin.

“We’re on the side of a fucking mountain,” roared Wulfwin. “I see no sodding show.”

Deaf Squad troopers and Allears surrounded them, wary of the tension between their leaders. The WatcherCams hovered in loose formation. Wulfwin had removed his ear defenders, ordering his men to keep theirs on. They couldn’t hear what Wulfwin was shouting, but they had become deft at lip-reading.

“The terrain is messing with the frequency,” said Dent. “The mountain’s affecting the acoustics. There’s something strange about the sound. I can’t work it out.”

“Don’t invent excuses, Lore. You said it was up here. Where the fuck is it?”

Dent stood his ground, breathing even. “We’re still hearing it. The source is nearby, I’m absolutely certain. But we’re getting too close for my team. I’m pulling them back. It’s over to you guys.”

Wulfwin glared at Dent. This was protocol; he knew Dent was right. The Allears’ job was to find the source, but they were highly vulnerable to the influence of the music. Once they made a positive detection and located the source, they were to fall back and let the Deaf Squad, fully protected, step in.

Wulfwin squirmed, fury and frustration contorting his face. He turned to his men and signalled for them to stand to attention. The men gathered in formation before him, leaving their Allear wards stranded without their sighted guides. Wulfwin spoke into his helmet’s mic. “It’s down to us to finish the job and bring this home,” he said. “The sound is coming from somewhere around here. The area’s huge. Spread out. Let’s find those fuckers.”

They saluted and shouted, “Yes, sir,” in unison.

Wulfwin turned back to Dent. “You’d better hope to crow it’s out there, Lore. If you’ve called this wrong, you’re going to suffer. I’ll personally see to it. And I don’t care what Blix says. You won’t get away with this.” He snapped on his ear defenders before Dent had the chance to reply.

Wulfwin led his men forward. Dusk had long since surrendered to darkness. A full moon graced the ground with silver, illuminating the way by welcome chance, more effectively than the troopers’ headlamps and hand torches. Yet the shadows caused by jutting rock and leaning boulder played games with their straining eyes. The Deaf Squad scoured the moonscape, climbing and sliding over rock, up, over and around walls of impenetrable obstruction, hunting ever closer.

Meanwhile, trapped beneath their feet, their prey cowered.

–

The enchantment in the cave had collapsed.

Players and followers alike froze in terrified silence, dreading the rumble of combat boots.

Chief cut the power to the stage and addressed the crowd, at pains to speak softly yet still be heard. “You must flee. But take heed, remain calm. Make no sound. Escape is possible, but through cunning.” She gestured to Cole, who made his way through the anxious