by Darius Hinks
‘I need your help,’ he said.
The hare studied him closely. ‘You have tricked your way into my palace, young prince. I’m not sure how, but I sense the hand of the Mage Queen.’
There was still no anger in the animal’s voice and Haldus decided to risk speaking plainly.
‘I came to you a long time ago, with the idea that you would fight at my side and help me–.’
‘If that is why you have come now, I fear you will be disappointed.’
‘No,’ said Haldus quickly. ‘I was lied to. I understand now that your power is of a different kind. I was tricked into coming here. All I ask is that you help me leave.’
‘You can leave the way you came.’
Haldus tried to keep his voice level, but as he sensed the assembled nobles pressing closer to listen an infuriating tremor entered his voice. ‘We cannot. The whole valley has been consumed by creatures of Chaos. The Plague Father has surrounded your realm and blocked our way home. If we leave this place we’ll be butchered before we can travel half a mile.’
The hare fell silent again. After a few seconds it closed its eyes and seemed to sleep.
More silent figures began to emerge from the shadows behind the throne, staring at Haldus and Avernus. He looked at them properly for the first time and noticed how disparate their outfits were. They must have been assembled from all the great realms of the forest.
‘You must help me,’ he said, turning to face them. ‘The wise have foretold my future.’ It made him blush furiously to make such a grandiose claim, but desperation drove him on. ‘The forest’s wellbeing is in my hands.’
The courtiers backed away, clearly surprised at being addressed directly.
Haldus was about to pursue them when he noticed that they were staring at the throne.
The giant had opened his eyes and leant forwards, snapping twigs, scattering rats and filling the air with a cloud of dust.
As the dust cleared, Haldus saw Calaingor clearly for the first time and realised his flesh had been petrified. His tall, regal body had been motionless for so long it had become a fossil, turning his elegant limbs into a collection of pale, dusty stones, like columns of veined marble.
Calaingor’s cracked, magisterial head was topped by a crown of black leaves but they were the only living thing about him, other than his pale blue eyes, which stared out from their immobile sockets with all the clarity of youth.
‘I must help you?’ Even when he spoke, Calaingor’s face did not move. His voice emerged from between dusty, unmoving lips.
The air in the chamber dropped and Haldus took a few steps back.
‘I need your help, Lord Calaingor,’ he said, but his words sounded weak and unsure.
‘And what help would you ask of me?’
‘Your aid in battle and safe passage from this valley. I have a traitor to find and a forest to protect. I…’ Haldus struggled to find words as he felt the huge blue eyes watching him. ‘I… My way is blocked, Lord Calaingor. I am trapped here by enemies I cannot defeat.’
Lord Calaingor’s body did not move any further. Twigs, insects and small animals were still tumbling into the gap he had formed by shifting into a new position. The chamber was filled with the sound of claws scrabbling on stone and the whispering of the courtiers. None of them had seen such a thing before.
There was a long silence while the giant considered Haldus’s words. Then, finally, he spoke. ‘I can give you what you need,’ he said, ‘but it will cost us both dearly.’
Haldus glanced at Avernus who gave him a warning glance.
‘There is no cost I will not pay, Lord Calaingor,’ said Haldus. ‘I cannot rest until I face the liar who sent me to this valley. My people have died in their hundreds.’ His voice cracked with pain and anger. ‘Take what you need, just get me out of here.’
The giant sighed, sending a cloud of dusty cobwebs drifting from his stone jaw. ‘Very well. Then it is done. The price will not be to your liking, but the Cromlech of Cadai must be preserved. And I cannot tend to it alone. This realm must remain unchanged, even though it is through the power of fresh souls.’
Haldus shook his head, already sensing that he had made a mistake and cursing his impetuousness.
The courtiers began stepping from the shadows with sad smiles on their faces.
‘I will free you from this valley, prince,’ said the giant. ‘It will tire me greatly but I am not without a heart. The Cromlech and I are as one. And we still have power. We can free you from this trap.’
There was sadness in the giant’s eyes but his voice was like iron. ‘But I will have my price.’ He looked towards the fields where Haldus’s army was assembled. ‘Your people will remain here with me. Forever.’
Chapter Twelve
Ordaana. The word rattled round her head like an infuriating tune, but its meaning eluded her.
She crawled out from beneath the weight that was holding her in place and climbed to her feet. Then she drew herself up to her full height, towering over the tallymen and unfurling the oily membrane of her wings. The tallymen scattered and cringed, sensing violence, but she was too confused to do anything but stand there, beating her wings against the breeze. The fawning, drooling faces of the tallymen were familiar, but for the life of her she could not recall why.
I am a flesh fly, she thought, picturing herself crawling on a piece of decomposing meat. The thought depressed her. A simple insect. It was not the fate she had hoped for.
Ordaana. The word jarred her again and spoke of another life. A time before she crawled on carcasses, leaving maggots in her wake.
She looked down at her body and saw to her surprise that, despite the oil-black tessellations of her skin, she was more than a simple insect. She had two arms, two legs and a slender body, still clad in the remains of a once-beautiful lemon-coloured gown. There was a silver knife tucked into her belt and the sight of it brought everything back to her.
‘Lady Ordaana.’ The words emerged from her throat as a thin, rasping croak. Her vocal cords were too warped to form the words clearly, but a croak was enough. It brought her back to her senses. As she recalled everything that had led her to this point, a familiar, comforting sensation flooded her thoughts: hate.
In a second, her confusion vanished. She had been leading the tallymen into the tunnel so that she could spring her trap. Prince Haldus had come dangerously close to harming her child, the wonderful product of her union with Alkhor, but she had agreed a plan with the traitor, Cyanos, to lead Prince Haldus here; to lead him to his death.
But something had gone wrong. She frowned and looked back at where she had fallen. The dead weight she had been trapped beneath was an enormous hawk. Its steaming guts were spread across the ground, mingling with a carpet of fuchsia-coloured fungus. The rider was absent, but she could easily guess what had happened to him.
She looked at the tallymen and saw that she was right.
They were huddled round the corpse of the fallen asrai, forcing insects and spores into his wounds; pouring vile draughts down his broken neck.
After a few moments, the corpse began to judder and change.
She looked away in disgust. She may have finally given in to Alkhor’s ‘gifts’ but she did not wish to see such transformations taking place in others.
‘Have they emerged from the Cromlech, yet?’ she demanded, turning towards Ganglion.
The crimson-skinned daemon was staring, fascinated, at the corpse as it climbed to its feet, reborn as another shambling plaguebearer.
‘Ganglion,’ she snapped, grabbing the horn between the daemon’s eyes and swinging it round to face her. ‘Has Prince Haldus emerged?’
Ganglion recoiled and bowed. ‘No, proctor, he has not. It cannot take much longer though. Lord Cyanos assured us the prince would not find aid here.’
Ordaana shoved the daemon aside with a disgusted hiss and launched herself into the air.
As she flew, she saw that the fighting was all done. Haldus�
�s warhawk riders had been butchered. Their bodies were everywhere – either piled in mounds or responding to the obscene ministrations of the tallymen. It was the same sight she had watched countless times in the recent weeks. As the year ended, so did the reign of the Mage Queen. Ordaana’s host had fallen on each of her lords and ladies in turn – leaving their halls in ruins and transforming their armies into gibbering mobs. It was more glorious than she had ever dreamt it would be – tearing those pompous cowards from their thrones and seeing the final, wonderful moment of recognition in their eyes just before she destroyed them. The nobles who let her be driven from Ariel’s court were now begging her for mercy as she tore their halls down around their ears.
Ordaana’s fury rushed through her. And yet the final victory eluded her. Haldus was the key – Alkhor had assured her of that. There was a link between him and Orion and her final revenge could not be achieved until she took his life, but he, and over half of his riders had vanished into the Cromlech of Cadai.
‘Did you lie to me, Cyanos?’ she whispered, drooling bile and maggots. ‘I pray for your soul that you did not.’
She flew higher, scouring the vast tunnel that Alkhor had used to consume the valley. There was no sign of Haldus or that smirking strumpet Ariel had sent to watch over him. She sank her nails into her black, glinting forearm, struggling to hold back a scream as pus oozed up over her fingers. ‘You said Lord Calaingor would not help them.’ She howled: ‘You said he would not help them!’
She tried to calm herself. All was not lost. Haldus was still trapped. Since he entered the tunnel, she had filled it with thousands more of Alkhor’s offspring. There was no way out. Haldus would not cower behind some old stones while his people died. Her child would continue flooding the Saros valley. The lords and ladies gathered around the Crowfoot Falls would continue to drown. Without Haldus to lead them, they were nothing, and he knew that. They would bicker and strut even as the waters rose over their heads. Still, her anger coursed through her. Haldus had tried to destroy her child and she itched to watch him die.
She flew closer to the ancient towers, peering into the mysterious gaps between the crumbling statues. She could see nothing; nothing but the judgement in the eyes of her former gods. She flew lower and saw that, despite their numbers, Alkhor’s tallymen had still failed to cross the boundary of the ancient shrine. They were piled up in great mounds at its base, clawing at the ground with tools and claws, but failing to gain an inch.
‘You cannot escape, Haldus,’ she said, flying away from the mass of toiling bodies and back to the tunnel’s entrance. ‘You can delay me a little, but that is all. As you stall me here, my child destroys your army. I can wait. Either way the end is at hand.’ She shivered in anticipation at the thought. With the asrai defeated, Ariel would have no option but to strike out against Alkhor herself. She would come in the spring, or whatever pitiful season passed for spring, and she would bring her hunter king with her. They would throw themselves at Alkhor’s impossible creation and then… Ordaana closed her eyes and touched the silver knife at her belt. And then she would have her revenge.
She flew like that for a few moments – eyes closed and her hand on the knife, picturing her final victory, picturing the moment when she would take Ariel’s life. Then a dull clanging sound dragged her from her blissful fantasy.
She looked down and saw that the larger tallymen, the ones they used as heralds, were ringing their brass bells in warning. Dozens of them had risen up from the throng, signalling an alarm.
‘What are you doing?’ she said, looking down at them in confusion. She had never seen them do such a thing before. On the rare occasions they rang their bells, it was to celebrate the birth of a new disease or the sight of a new mutation, but never like this – with a frantic urgency that was infecting the whole army.
At first she could not see what had alarmed them so, then she noticed that they were all staring at the circle of stone towers. Some of them were even backing away. Her head reeled. The tallymen were retreating. She had never seen them behave like this.
She turned back towards the Cromlech to see what could have caused such a stir in her empty-headed servants.
What she saw was so shocking that she almost tumbled from the air.
The gods had come to deal out their judgement. The far end of the tunnel was flooded with light and, silhouetted by the glare were seven towering figures. They were each over a mile tall and, as the valley shook beneath their weight, Ordaana whispered their names in terror.
‘Isha, Asuryan, Hoeth, Lileath, Loec, Ladrielle,’ she said and then, finally, with a shuddering sob, ‘Kurnous.’
The stone effigies were marching towards her. Their eyes shone with the light of a thousand suns and their crowns were the spiralling heavens. All of them were majestic, terrible and filled with wrath, but Ordaana could not see beyond the first of them: Kurnous. The rage and power she had glimpsed when Orion led his Wild Hunt was only a tiny fraction of the animal fury that was now striding through the valley. His crumbling antlers were shrouded in thunderheads and illuminated by flickers of lightning. As his hooves pounded down into the crowds of tallymen, the ground shattered and slumped, as though in the grip of an earthquake.
For a while, Ordaana could do nothing but stare in awestruck horror, but then, as the gods pulverised her army, crossing the length of the valley in a few strides, she realised what had happened. The stones of the Cromlech had come to life. The gods had imbued their avatars with their essence and strode forth to destroy her army.
The ranks of tallymen crumbled before their wrath, either turning to flee or dying beneath feet of crumbling stone. Ordaana saw that the light behind them was not simply a glimpse of the Otherworld, it was a vast hole that the gods had torn in Alkhor’s tunnel. They were destroying his trap.
Ordaana tried to calm herself with a long, deep breath. As she flew towards the tunnel entrance she wondered if, even now, she could win the battle. After so many victories, the thought of defeat was incomprehensible. Perhaps, even against the gods she could find a way? The army of tallymen was vast beyond anything she had ever seen before. Perhaps, if she rallied them she could–
Ordaana’s thoughts were obliterated by a deafening howl.
It was so loud she felt as though claws had been jammed into her ears. As she turned, she felt blood rushing down her neck.
The noise had driven the entire army of plaguebearers into a desperate rout. Even such simple minds could recognise the sound of their doom and they clawed at each other in a desperate attempt to reach the opening at the end of the valley.
Ordaana looked briefly at the origin of the noise and then clamped her hands over her eyes, unable to bear the sight.
Kurnous had lifted a great, flame-shrouded horn to his lips and filled the world with the sound of his bloodlust. It was the incomprehensible music of the Otherworld. It was the threads of the Great Weave, twisted into sound, and Ordaana wept to hear it. She screamed, trying to drown it out as she soared from the tunnel along with hundreds of other mutant insects. As Ordaana left the valley, the tunnel collapsed behind her in a blaze of white-hot, celestial fire.
Flies poured from the valley like plumes of smoke, wheeling and banking as the tunnel caved in behind them. Ordaana looked back through tears of rage and caught a brief glimpse of the stone gods. They were pummelling her army – smashing the tallymen into pulp with weapons the size of mountains. They were shattering the ground with each blow but, to Ordaana’s relief, they did not pass beyond the mouth of the valley. As her glistening wings hurled her up through the clouds, she saw the face of Kurnous one last time. His dreadful, infernal eyes burned into her soul, filled with rage and accusation.
She groaned and turned away, fixing her gaze on the rest of the forest. It eased her suffering a little to see that it was still firmly in Alkhor’s diseased grip. Her home had become a colourful explosion of fungus and enormous, mutant insects. The few areas of woodland left were islands of sanity
, surrounded by lunatic swathes of colour and steaming, yellow rivers. Ordaana relaxed a little as she flew north.
‘My child,’ she whispered, excited by the thought that she would soon see her offspring. She had left it with the bulk of Alkhor’s army, at the Crowfoot Falls. They had cornered the last of the asrai lords in the Saros Valley and she smiled as she pictured the scene that would be waiting for her. By now, they would all be either transformed into tallymen or drowned. Surely that would be enough for Alkhor? What could it matter if the wretched hawk lord lived when she had killed everyone else?
As she approached the valley, Ordaana’s view was obscured by clouds of crows, flies and other insects, all hurtling towards her. She smiled, assuming that they must have already picked the bones clean and be moving on to find the next battlefield.
It was only as she glided down between the arms of the valley that she saw what had happened. At first her mind was unable to comprehend the scene and she thought she must be lost. The valley was crowded with thousands of dark, tightly packed fir trees. The River Saros was visible only as flickering shimmers of light beneath the pines. She flew lower, peering through the clouds of flies, and saw asrai nobles, charging between the trees with their banners trailing behind them. Her once-great army of tallymen was destroyed. Most of the daemons had been butchered by the advancing asrai, but those that remained were running for the hills, abandoning weapons, jars and ledgers as javelins flew after them.
Ordaana whirled desperately back and forth above the trees, unable to understand. Then a dreadful thought gripped her. ‘My child,’ she groaned, swooping towards the eastern end of the valley.
As she flew downriver, she saw that the trees were packed even more tightly near the mouth of the valley. It was as though they had exploded from the riverbed.
Ordaana began to whine as she saw great mounds of white blubber scattered across the valley. She refused to accept the truth at first, trying to convince herself that this must be a different valley. Then she looked back to the west and saw the glittering claw-like falls.
