The Twisted Citadel

by Sara Douglass

Isembaard

  Isaiah sat and watched Hereward sleeping. She was deeply asleep, her entire body relaxed, her mouth slightly open, her face so tranquil Isaiah thought it almost looked pretty.

  The book lay at her side.

  Isaiah looked at it for a very long time before he leaned over and gently slid it away from her.

  He more than thought Hereward would have sprung awake as he took the book, but she slept on, and Isaiah settled himself with the book in his lap.

  They'd lit a small fire earlier, and it still flickered enough that he could read the list of chapters.

  They were all the same.

  What the river god needed to do to save the land.

  Isaiah sat with his eyes on the book for some time, then he raised his face to look around.

  There must be, he thought, a hundred thousand Skraelings encircling them now. They were hunkered down on the ground, their silvery eyes noting his and Hereward's every movement, their tongues lolling from their mouths. From time to time one of them would whisper, or whine, but they made no move in their direction.

  Isaiah looked to the south. He could feel the One moving closer. He would arrive within the day, and Isaiah felt his stomach turn over with the nausea of fear.

  What did the One want? To kill him? To chat?

  Even if Isaiah had wanted to, there was no escape.

  He returned his attention to the book, and turned the page to the first (and only) story: What the river god needed to do to save the land.

  It was not very long, and Isaiah read it in only a few minutes.

  He closed the book, his face expressionless, his thoughts in turmoil.

  Finally, after almost an hour of sitting completely still, he slid a finger under the cover, opening a very slight gap into the pages, then he whispered a phrase in a strange guttural language.

  For a moment, nothing. Then there was a movement among the black braids that hung about his shoulders, and a small green frog crept down his arm, hesitated on his hand, then slipped inside the book.

  Another one followed, then another, and soon score after score of frogs were emerging from Isaiah's braids and moving over his shoulder and down his arm to vanish into the book.

  Eventually, it was done. Isaiah closed the book and slid it back close to Hereward.

  It was very dark by now, and he did not think that the Skraelings had seen the frogs crawling over his arm and hand into the book.

  He hoped not.

  Isaiah and Hereward slept.

  There was a movement at the edge of the river. A rat, unbelievably, crawled out from the glass river as if it had been mere water. He crept close to the sleeping couple, his eyes keeping careful watch on the encircling hordes of Skraelings, even though he was certain they could not see nor otherwise perceive him.

  The rat did not pause to study either Isaiah or Hereward. Instead he moved straight to the Book of the Soulenai. The rat paused as he reached the book, then reached out a forefoot and touched the cover gently.

  A moment passed, then the rat edged up the cover and, with a wriggle, slipped inside the book.

  The cover of the book sank back down flat, and all was still.

  To the south the One strode out, drawing closer to Isaiah and Hereward.

  His face was set directly north, but his thoughts were elsewhere--to the northeast, where he could sense the Lealfast aiding Isembaardians to flee through the Salamaan Pass.

  Bingaleal. It was Bingaleal who led the Lealfast contingent at the Salamaan Pass.

  Good. The One knew that Bingaleal was the most committed to the idea of abandoning the Lealfast's loyalty to the Lord of Elcho Falling. Whatever Bingaleal decided, the rest of the Lealfast would accept, sooner or later.

  Once he'd had his fun with Isaiah, then Bingaleal awaited and the trap for Maximilian Persimius could be set.

  How long did the last of the Persimius mages have to live? A few weeks at the most.

  And then...then everything on this land--every animal, every flower, every soul--could be absorbed into Infinity.

  The One began to sing, his rich voice echoing over the landscape, and he sang of the nightmare of Infinity.

  Part Three

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Central Outlands

  Do you know what

  Ibelieve, Axis?" Georgdi said as they rode their horses eastward in an easy loose-reined amble. "I think you are enjoying this freedom so much that you are secretly pleased the Lealfast haven't spotted so much as a general's whisker in the days since we've left Maximilian."

  Axis grinned. "As are you, Georgdi. You Outlanders are never happier than when roaming your country's vast plains with no destination in sight."

  "It would be better," said Georgdi, "if there were no Isembaardians in sight, either."

  He suddenly realized what he'd said, and looked at their companion in some consternation. "Present company excepted, of course, Zeboath."

  "No offense taken," said Zeboath. The young physician had been traveling with the Isembaardian army ever since it had left Sakkuth so many months previously. He'd not had much to do, apart from splint the occasional broken bone from campfire brawls, and now reveled in the chance to travel in a much smaller unit with Axis--as once they had when they'd escorted Ishbel from the FarReach Mountains down to Aqhat.

  "It cannot be easy for you," Zeboath continued, "to see such vast numbers of foreigners suddenly move through your land."

  "I don't have much say in the matter," Georgdi said.

  The conversation lagged, and the three men rode in silence for a while. Their men rode in a loose column behind them, relaxing in the late winter sunshine.

  The Lealfast had seen nothing of the generals in the days since Axis had left the main army. There had been a single incident a few days previously, one of the Lealfast being slightly injured by a collision with a bird while investigating a small column of Isembaardian soldiers, but no sign of the generals.

  Well, no physical sign, but there were signs that they were active. The Lealfast had reported to Axis that troops were massing near Margalit, which was almost certainly due to one or more of the generals'

  influence. Axis had sent word back to Maximilian, but until he could see for himself--and he was at least a week away from the larger troop congregations--he wanted to take no action.

  Axis was also having some doubt about the Lealfast.

  He'd had gnawing doubts ever since Eleanon and Inardle had shown him the origin of their people, mainly centered about the why of the Lealfast's apparent devotion to Maximilian. Added to these doubts were now grave reservations about their fighting ability. He'd tried to talk to Eleanon about the Lealfast's experience, with no luck. He'd tried to draw out the Lealfast man on tactics.

  With no luck.

  Whatever Axis tried to discuss, Eleanon evaded. Axis thought that evasion was what the man was best at.

  Axis felt as if his hands were tied. If he pushed, he was afraid he might alienate the prickly Lealfast so greatly that they would abandon Maximilian altogether, and Axis was not sure Maximilian could afford to lose them.

  Well, at least he was riding with them now, if a day or two behind their forward units.

  At least he was closer, if something should go awry.

  Eleanon drifted with his fighters, looking for Armat, although in truth his heart was not in the search. As each day, almost each hour, passed, Eleanon grew more resentful at Axis' attitude, even though it was little more than he had expected from the StarMan. Axis kept probing and jibing, and Eleanon just withdrew deeper into his defensive arrogance.

  He communicated a little with Bingaleal. As yet Bingaleal had heard nothing from the One, but he had met some of the roving parties of Skraelings who told him that the One was a great god who thought the Skraelings his true servants and would reward them, once he had consolidated his power over all lands, by making them his favored counselors. Naturally riches and much free meat also featured in the Skraelings' tales of just how
the One would eventually reward them.

  It irritated Eleanon that the Skraelings had such contact with the One and the Lealfast as yet did not. The dark spire was too dangerous to use while Axis watched Eleanon so closely and while the marsh witch Ravenna was out scrying for power to fuel her own ambitions.

  The One surely understood that the Skraelings were vile creatures, useful only for the mass terror they could generate, while the Lealfast could be much better partners in the One's quest for power.

  Surely.

  Eleanon wished he were in Isembaard. This entire journey north to Maximilian Persimius had been all but useless. Maximilian was weak and could not give the Lealfast what they needed.

  He should be south.

  South was almost certainly where lay the Lealfast's future.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Isembaard, and the Outlands

  Isaiah?"

  He woke, springing almost instantly into full wakefulness. How had he slept so long? It was midmorning already.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "The Skraelings aren't looking at us anymore."

  He blinked at her, not understanding, then looked at the Skraelings.

  They were all staring south.

  "Shetzah!" Isaiah muttered.

  "What is it?"

  "The One comes. The pyramid made...well, made of whatever flesh it is, I suppose. Hereward, I don't know what will happen. I will do my best for you."

  Hereward's eyes welled with tears, surprising Isaiah.

  He hesitated, then rested a hand on her shoulder, only to have her shrug it off.

  "I just want to get out of here, Isaiah. I just want..."

  She didn't finish, but she didn't need to.

  I just want to live.

  "I will do my best for you," Isaiah repeated, wishing he had something better to say.

  Hereward wiped her eyes, then nodded at the Skraelings. "Look."

  The Skraeling throng was slowly shuffling apart by the glassed river, opening up an avenue to the south.

  Isaiah glanced at the book--it was lying by Hereward's feet--then looked down the newly formed avenue.

  Something was coming.

  It was still a few hundred paces away, but Isaiah could just make it out.

  A man-shaped figure, but one formed by what appeared to be gleaming blue-green glass.

  Hereward took a step closer to Isaiah, and he thought she must truly be scared to want to stand so close.

  Strangely, given their mutual dislike, he was very glad of her presence. Hereward would be useless in any confrontation between the One and himself, but at least she was there, providing the comfort of another warm, living person.

  The Skraelings had begun to whisper, a low, hissing, undulating mumble of adulation.

  A shiver ran down Isaiah's spine.

  The One drew closer, and Isaiah could make out its features. It had assumed the form of a handsome man with a strong nose and piercing eyes, and Isaiah recognized its features instantly.

  The pyramid had taken the physical aspect of Boaz, the Magus who had once thought to destroy it.

  Boaz, Maximilian's kinsman and Ishbel's ancestor.

  Then Isaiah's eyes were caught by something trailing a pace or two behind the One, and his eyes widened in shock.

  It was a small, red kitten, gamboling along as if it didn't have a care in the world.

  Feed the pretty kitten, the Book of the Soulenai had said.

  The kitten was so incongruous, and so bizarre, that Isaiah had difficulty dragging his eyes away from it. It darted this way and that, enjoying itself hugely, chasing an insect here, an airborne speck of dust there.

  Then it suddenly realized its master had walked too far ahead, and it sped forward, batting at the One's ankles with its paws.

  Isaiah managed to drag his eyes back to the One, who was ignoring the kitten. He was very close now, and Isaiah could see the glow of the pulsating golden pyramid within the creature's translucent breast: he had the Infinity Chamber for a heart.

  "Well met, Isaiah," said the One, coming to a halt a few paces away. His voice was strong and rich, surprising Isaiah, who had expected something uglier.

  Instead, his voice was almost hypnotic in its beauty.

  Hereward had by now crept so close to Isaiah that she was pressed against his side, and he put an arm about her shoulders.

  Isaiah doubted very much that either of them were going to get out of this alive.

  "I'm not going to kill you," said the One. "Not if you do as I wish. Shall we sit?"

  "I know who and what you are," the One said to Isaiah, once they sat in an awkward little circle on the riverbank.

  The kitten was playing a few paces distant, just at the corner of Isaiah's vision, and he found it irritatingly distracting.

  He wondered what its purpose was.

  "Water or river god, tyrant, meddler, call yourself what you will," the One said. "It is of no matter to me.

  All I need from you is to deliver a message for me."

  A message. Not death, then.

  "And you?" said Isaiah. "What should I call you? Kanubai?"

  "I am not Kanubai, as well you know," said the One. "Kanubai is dead. Used and useful, but very dead.

  Now I walk. I am the One. I have no name save for the indivisible.

  "Now," the One continued, not giving Isaiah a chance to respond, "you will deliver a message to Maximilian Persimius."

  "As you will," said Isaiah. "A message is easy enough. But will you not tell me of your purpose? Why it is that you have chosen to wake from your pyramid and walk? Why you have chosen to murder this land and river?"

  The One smiled. His teeth were completely translucent, and Isaiah could see the green swell of the creature's tongue through them. "My land and river now. No longer yours, in any measure. And how have I murdered it? I have merely turned it to my own will."

  The One's tone changed as he spoke, becoming infinitely more threatening, and so Isaiah inclined his head, deciding to deflect the creature's anger. "As you will. Will you tell us the message you wish Hereward and myself to deliver to Maximilian?"

  "You are going to deliver the message to Maximilian Persimius for me, Isaiah. Hereward's fate is not yours to decide."

  Isaiah saw Hereward turn her head and stare at him, terrified, and he hoped she would keep silent.

  Hereward said nothing. She dropped her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap, and Isaiah now found himself irritated that she had kept her silence.

  "Maximilian and Ishbel," said the One, "are committed to my destruction. It is in their blood. So I need you to deliver to them this message."

  The One took a deep breath, and Isaiah found himself fascinated by the movement of the glass of his chest. It looked very pliable, almost soft, and Isaiah wondered if it was warm to the touch.

  "Maximilian Persimius," said the One, "and Ishbel Brunelle Persimius are to bring to me, at Sakkuth--"

  Isaiah kept his face impassive, but the choice of meeting place puzzled him. Sakkuth?

  "--three objects. They are to bring the Weeper. They are to bring to me the Goblet of the Frogs. And they are to bring to me the crown of Elcho Falling."

  "Or...?" Isaiah said.

  The One smiled, very tight, very cold, and there was a brief gleam in his black eyes. "Ah, in the `or' lies the rub, does it not?"

  Bingaleal stood on the plains between Hairekeep and the entrance to the Salamaan Pass. Thousands upon thousands of Isembaardians continued to stream into the Pass, hoping to escape from the destruction of their homeland. Some of his companions had reported to Bingaleal earlier in the day that there was a massive wave of Skraelings sweeping through Sakkuth. Soon they would be moving northeast toward the Salamaan Pass.

  The reports had also said that there was not much left of Sakkuth.

  The Isembaardians had generally accepted the Lealfast's attempts to aid them. The Lealfast were, after all, better than what lay behind them. Most of the refugees we
re completely benumbed. All they could think of was that they needed to get beyond the FarReach Mountains into safety.

  Bingaleal did not know how "safe" the Outlands would prove. He was not sure if the Skraelings would stop at the Salamaan Pass, or if they'd just continue to surge through.

  And if they did? What then?

  In the end, Bingaleal did not care overmuch. What he was truly interested in lay much further south.

  All he wanted was the chance to explore it. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should abandon the Isembaardians and fly down to DarkGlass Mountain.

  But every time this thought crossed his mind, something stopped him. Some deep instinct told him that flying south to the pyramid was a useless exercise.

  It was coming north to meet him.

  Far to the north, in the Central Outlands, Bingaleal's brother, Eleanon, led a large sortie of Lealfast toward a column of soldiers some five thousand strong marching northwestward.

  The Isembaardian column was led by the renegade general Armat, in full view of the forward-flying Lealfast scouts.

  "If Maximilian and Ishbel do not bring me these objects," said the One, "I will invade their lands with such horror that--"

  "They will resist you," said Isaiah.

  "Ah, I was so afraid that you would say that," the One said. "It might get very messy, yes?"

  Again, that frightful, cold smile and the brief gleam in his obsidian eyes.

  "They will not refuse," said the One. "I am, Isaiah, going to build a curse on their future. It is not a `might be' curse, it is a reality. The instant I build it, their future has altered. Watch, Isaiah, and see what Infinity can do when it is roused."

  The One lifted a hand. "Watch," he said, "the power of the One."

  "Armat!" the scout reported back to Eleanon. "Armat!"

  "Where?" Eleanon said. He, and the other Lealfast with him, were traveling on the air, almost invisible.

  "A half hour's flight to the east," said the scout. "He's leading a column of some five thousand men to the northwest, perhaps to try to intercept Maximilian's force."

  "Perhaps." Eleanon wondered why Armat had chosen to show his hand now.