Into Battle

by Garth Nix

  And back in the Castle, like a dark stain across his life, there was the memory of his failures, the accident he had caused, and the deaths for which he was responsible.

  Atonement was the answer, Tal thought bleakly. He had to make up for what he had done. He must release Lokar and his father and the other Guardians trapped in the Keystones. He must defeat Sushin and Sharrakor and save the Veil. Not just for his people, but also for the Icecarls. He owed Milla that, and more. It was all up to him.

  "Fly to that ledge," he said, pointing. "We will transfer back from there."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Assembly of the Miners was a vast natural cave that had long ago been adapted into a splendid auditorium. Its sloping floor had been shaped into broad terraces and the protruding rock at its southern end sculpted into an imposing pulpit.

  In its heyday, during the construction of the Castle, it had regularly held gatherings of twenty or thirty thousand people. That time was long gone, and much of the vast chamber was dim now, the Sunstones on the ceiling far above faded.

  The Underfolk used a fraction of one of the terraces to store stone bottles of oil, but otherwise the hall was deserted.

  The Assembly was an ideal gathering place for Milla and her Icecarls. It had many entrances and exits, most importantly a very broad corridor leading to the Clear Ascendor, one of the major stairways of the Castle, that led all the way from the lowest Underfolk levels to the beginning of the Violet.

  Milla's strange cavalcade of Crone, Spiritshadows, damaged Bennem, spirit-departed Jarnil, dozing Ebbitt, and wounded Crow had arrived in the Assembly without difficulty. They had seen Underfolk on the way, but they had quickly scuttled away when they saw the Spiritshadows.

  Apart from them, the lower levels of the Castle were quiet. They saw no other Spiritshadows, and there was no sign of any general alarm. There had not been any attempts to close the many doors and gates that had probably not moved for centuries, or decades at least.

  Malen made her patients as comfortable as she could near the pulpit, while Milla and Adras traversed the terraces of the Assembly. Satisfied that there was no ambush there, and that it would be easy to both attack or retreat from, Milla returned to the others to wait for her first warriors to arrive, and to speak to the Crones through Malen.

  It wasn't a really long wait -- less than eight Chosen hours--but it felt like one. Milla was acutely aware that the Chosen, forewarned by Jarnil, could return at any time. Or the free Spiritshadows already in the Castle might decide to attack both the Chosen and her little band. Milla wondered what the bound Spiritshadows would do if they were confronted by their brethren. Would their bindings force them to fight? After all, the Chosen employed a variation of the Prayer of Asteyr, which, as far as Milla knew, could not be thwarted.

  The free Spiritshadows probably wouldn't attack until the Veil was destroyed. They would have to bring a vast host from Aenir to overcome both the Chosen and their bound Spiritshadows. They couldn't do that until the Veil was destroyed and the light made them more powerful.

  The question was, how damaged was the Veil already? Milla wished Crow was conscious, so she could ask him what he had learned in the Red Tower. She knew that he and Tal had gotten the Keystone, but not much else.

  A slight sound alerted Milla to movement near one of the nearer entrances. She crouched, knife and Talon ready. Odris slid across the ground to her right side and reared up.

  An Icecarl slipped around the corner. A Shield Maiden. She saw Milla and gave her the good-hunting sign, two fingers held straight down and whisked to the side. Milla returned the sign.

  The Shield Maiden disappeared back beyond the doorway. A moment later, she returned. A Shield Mother came next, followed by a tide of Shield Maidens and hunters. The Shield Mother clapped her fists briefly at Milla, then turned to direct her followers to fan out as they entered the chamber, tapping each one as they passed and pointing them in different directions.

  All the Icecarls carried airweed draped across their hunting packs, in case they had to fight their way back through the heatways. Milla was pleased to see that forethought.

  More and more Icecarls poured in. Another four Shield Mothers arrived, each clapping their fists to Milla before joining the first Shield Mother to confer briefly, then direct their Maidens or Hunters to join different groups. Milla waited patiently. This was always the way of the hunt. Only when everyone was in a proper position would the lesser leaders come to the Icecarl who led them all.

  She was surprised by the next arrival. A gigantic Icecarl, his chest and arms bare, bent his head to fit through the door. His feet and all his skin save a small circle around his nose, mouth, and eyes were stained a deep, rich blue. He wore only trousers, his feet bare. The trousers were made of the shimmery, scaled skin of a rare and extremely dangerous Norrworm. Around his waist was a heavy chain of golden metal, the links as thick as Milla's hands.

  Only one Icecarl went barefoot on the Ice and lived to walk again. He had to be the famous Sword-Thane Jarek Bloodswimmer. Not only had he killed two Norrworms, he'd had to swim in their blood for three sleeps, until it seeped out of the ice cave where they died. The blood had permanently transformed his skin, making it very tough and resistant to cold and fire.

  Jarek was a Wilder. The chain was his weapon. At his side was a small woman, who at first glance looked like a regular Shield Maiden, until Milla noticed she wore her furs in a strange fashion, had six differently shaped knives at her belt, and her low boots were also made of Norrworm hide.

  Milla knew her, too, for her legend was twined in Jarek's own. She was Kirr, a Shield Maiden who had been given leave to wander with the Sword-Thane. She was Jarek's companion, the only Icecarl who could control, at least a little, his Wilder rages. He never harmed her, and she could bring him out of the fury. The Crones considered this to be an important service, so she was not required to join a Hand.

  Jarek and Kirr saw Milla, and clapped their fists to her before heading up to watch yet another entrance. Milla was surprised, caught staring at them. She was almost too slow to clap her fists in return. She had seen some other, less famous Sword-Thanes on the Mountain, but had no idea that Jarek and Kirr had joined them.

  More Shield Maidens came in, then two Freefolk, Gill and Ferek. They started to head toward Milla, then hesitated, not sure they should approach, because the Shield Mothers hadn't done so.

  Milla beckoned them over.

  "Don't worry," she said. "The Shield Mothers are just getting everyone sorted out. Where are Clovil and Inkie?"

  "They're showing some of your people the airweed lake," Gill reported. She kept staring at all the arriving Icecarls, obviously excited by the activity.

  "Then they're going to try and convince some of the Fatalists that the time has finally come to break free!"

  "Good," said Milla. "I'm glad you have come back, because I wanted to ask you if you will be guides. We will need you, and as many other Freefolk as you can gather, to show us the way to different parts of the Castle. Particularly the Chosen levels."

  "Sure!" exclaimed Gill. "My parents were table-washers for the Red, Orange, and Yellow Commons. I know those levels really well."

  Ferek was silent. Milla saw him swallow and twitch nervously.

  "Though we will need someone here, too," she added quickly. "This will be our ship-home, for the Crones and the wounded. We will need a Freefolk here, one who knows these lower levels. It's an important job. Perhaps, Ferek, you will stay here and do that?" Milla had once valued courage above all else. But since then she had been in the Hall of Nightmares, and she knew what that place could do to a child, one who did not know how to call the Crones to save them from bad dreams. Ferek was such a child.

  "Yes, yes, I will," said Ferek, looking relieved.

  "Good," Milla replied. She saw the Shield Mothers turn and approach. There were twenty of them now, which meant twenty Hands of Shield Maidens, two hundred and forty in all. Plus maybe another
hundred hunters and Jarek and Kirr.

  "Perhaps you will see how Crow does?"

  She moved away from them, toward the Shield Mothers. This would be the first real test of her command. They were in enemy territory now, and their full force still on its way. Would the Shield Mothers obey her?

  Out of the corner of her eye, Milla saw Malen leave Crow's side and hurry over. The Crone was not going to let Milla talk to the Shield Mothers alone.

  "I greet you, Shield Mothers," Milla announced, hurriedly closing the gap. At least she would get a few words in before Malen caught up.

  "War-Chief," rumbled the reply. Some of the Shield Mothers said the title more easily than others, Milla saw.

  "Come," she said. "We will take council. Ah,there is the Crone Malen. I will ask her to join us."

  Since Malen was at that time only a few stretches away and obviously not to be left out, the Shield Mothers knew that this simply meant Milla was not going to wait for the Crones to tell her what to do. Some of them nodded slightly in approval, but at least as many had faint, barely impolite scowls.

  They were not going to make this easy for Milla.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Shield Maidens gathered around Milla in a semicircle. Malen stood with them, rather than next to Milla. Even though she didn't want the Crone to join her, Milla felt keenly alone.

  They all waited for her to speak.

  She ran her gaze along the Shield Mothers. She had met most of them, and knew most of their names, but not much else. Little could be told from their faces or garb. All of them wore light, in-ship furs in the colors of the Hand they led, and Selski-hide armor. Some had polished shell armor plates over the top as well. Most carried swords and spears of Selski or Wreska bone treated with the glowing algae the Crones had given them, though there were two who had bright Merwin-horn swords.

  Without their face masks, they were much easier to tell apart. They ranged in age from five or six circlings older than Milla to the vastly experienced Shield Mothers who might have had thirty or forty circlings leading Shield Maidens upon the Ice. For the latter, this would probably be their last great expedition before they went out alone to wrestle with the wind and test the warmth of the Ice against bare skin.

  Milla found her throat dry and didn't know what to say. They were all staring at her, waiting. She had never imagined that this would be worse than confronting a Merwin, or escaping a Hugthing in Aenir. But she must not show her fear. Or do any Rovkir breathing, because they would notice it. She must simply speak.

  "The Chosen have been warned of our attack," she said, talking too quickly. "I think that even now they scurry back from Aenir. It was my plan to attack before they knew we were here, but that chance is lost to us now. Now I think we must make these lower levels our own, and hold them until sufficient airweed is delivered for our full host to come through the heatways."

  The Shield Mothers nodded. They would not speak until Milla invited them to.

  "I will show you where we are. Who has a hide and a drawing-stick?" Milla asked. Immediately several rolled-up Wreska hides were offered to her, and a variety of writing-sticks, from basic charcoal to a thin brush and bottle of Thrill-ink.

  Milla spread the hide out and knelt down, sketching quickly with the charcoal. She drew a very basic plan of the area around the Assembly, then a rough cross section of the Castle, showing the Underfolk levels and the major stairs that she knew.

  "We will hold the top Underfolk level at these stairs and this ramp, and at any others that we may find," she said, pointing to several different points. "Then the Chosen will not be able to get food or have their servants attend to them. Most of the Chosen are soft, and will suffer greatly. That will help us when the time comes for the full attack. We must move quickly to have every possible stair and way between Red One and Underfolk Seven blocked."

  A Shield Mother sliced the air with her palm. "Speak," responded Milla.

  "What of the Underfolk? Will they resist?"

  "Perhaps," said Milla. "But it is my wish that they are not to be harmed unless there is no other way. Some may try to go to work in the Chosen levels, but they must be turned back. We will have some

  Freefolk to help explain to them, and others who will guide us."

  Another Shield Mother sliced the air, one of the older ones, with many scars upon her face and hands. Milla nodded.

  "This is a straight plan, War-Chief, but to make sure I have it in my old head, may I repeat it? We hold all stairs and ramps and ways between us and the Chosen, kill or capture Chosen or Spiritshadows, be wary of Underfolk but treat them well, and die before retreating."

  "Yes," said Milla. "We must hold these levels, until the arrival of the main host."

  Another slice through the air.

  "Yes?"

  "Perhaps we should speak no more, War-Chief, but hurry to find all stairs and ramps, and be ready before the enemy strikes."

  Milla nodded. "This place shall be our clan-ship. Send all messengers here. Beware the shadows, for they are more dangerous than the Chosen, even with their light magic. Now, who shall go where? Speak freely."

  The Shield Mothers gathered even closer, and spoke quickly, sometimes over the top of one another. But it was soon decided which Hands would go where, and as each decision was made, the relevant Shield Mother would turn away and hurry to gather her Shield Maidens and hunters.

  Finally only one Shield Mother remained. The older one, with many scars. Her name was Saylsen, Milla remembered.

  "I will stay here, with my Hand, to guard the ship-place and the War-Chief," said Saylsen. She glanced at Malen, and Milla caught a slight nod from the Crone. Obviously this had been decided already.

  "What do the Crones say of our plans?" asked Milla. She had seen Malen's eyes go cloudy through nearly the whole meeting of the Shield Mothers.

  "You are War-Chief," replied Malen, neatly avoiding an answer. Then she added, "The Freefolk boy. Crow. He is conscious. You wished to speak with him?"

  "Yes!" Milla looked across at the pulpit. Sure enough, Crow was sitting up. Ferek was giving him a drink. Gill had left a little earlier, proudly leading a Hand of Shield Maidens.

  Milla also saw Jarek and Kirr. They were sitting on a ledge beyond the pulpit, playing the knife-hide-stone game.

  Saylsen saw her look. "Jarek and Kirr are with my Hand. The Crones asked it of them."

  Guards, Milla thought. She wondered if they were there to protect her, or to protect Malen from her. After all, if anything happened to Malen, then Milla would be free to do as she liked, until the Crones sent a replacement.

  That prompted a thought.

  "Are more Crones coming?" Milla asked.

  "Not until the battle is won," replied Malen. "It is not the place of a Crone to be in battle."

  "What about you?" asked Milla. Malen wet her lips and looked troubled.

  "You know Crones must never join any fighting. There was a lot of talk about even sending me here, where battle may come anywhere. As for the wounded --""Wounded live if they are meant to," interrupted Saylsen with a shrug. "If there are no Crones, there are no Crones. Warriors fight and warriors die."

  "I was speaking, Shield Mother," said Malen.

  Saylsen did not seem repentant. She gave Milla a look that seemed to say,

  This is our business, not the Crone's.

  "Come and talk to Crow with me," said Milla to Saylsen. "He knows the Castle well, and is a sworn enemy of the Chosen."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The rainbow colors cleared away, leaving only a steady violet light. Tal blinked and felt the stone lid of the sarcophagus above him. "Adras?" he whispered. He felt cool shadowflesh across his arm as Adras slid out and up the side of the sarcophagus.

  "Yes?" "Just checking," whispered Tal. "Are you all right?"

  "Aenir is better than here," replied Adras. "I don't like being a shadow."

  "You'll get back there," said Tal. He said it automatically, but it stu
ck in his head and he paused to think about what he was saying. What would he do with Adras? It was now certain that Milla was right when she said that the Chosen should not have Spiritshadows.

  In addition to saving the Veil, Tal would have to make sure all the Spiritshadows the Chosen now had were sent back to Aenir and made to stay there. This would include Adras. And what would happen to the Chosen when all their Spiritshadows were gone, and--as Tal admitted had to happen--the Underfolk were freed?

  Tal shook his head. Best he think like an Icecarl and worry about the Ice in front of him, not what lay behind or far ahead.

  "There is something sharp… and hot… cutting into me," complained Adras. "Can we get out now?"

  "Sorry," apologized Tal. It was time to act, not lie there thinking. With Adras's help he raised the lid of the sarcophagus a fraction and looked through the gap. The Mausoleum was silent and there were no bright lights disturbing its perpetual twilight. Tal could hear a lot of shouting in the distance, but it was far off and didn't seem to be coming any closer.

  He slid off the lid and climbed out. Adras flowed out after him.

  The Red Keystone was lying in the sarcophagus. Tal reached in and picked it up.

  "The pocket doesn't work when I'm a shadow," said Adras, rubbing his stomach.

  Tal knew Spiritshadows had difficulty handling Sunstones, though they had no problem with normal items in the Dark World. He supposed it was another part of the mystery of their transformation between the worlds, the transformation that made them Spiritshadows.

  Together they replaced the lid with its statue of the long-gone-to-dust occupant's Spiritshadow. Then Tal held up the Red Keystone, his forehead wrinkled in thought.

  "I suppose I should release Lokar," he said, looking down at the half of the Violet Keystone on his finger. "If I can."

  Adras nodded firmly. "Prison bad. Better to be free in the air."

  "We'd better find somewhere to hide first," Tal said. He could still hear the shouting, and he wanted to know what was going on. But Adras was right. Now that he knew he might be able to release Lokar, he should do so as soon as possible.