The Boundless

by Peter Newman

  It held out its three arms to her, making High Lord Spinel sway like a ragged doll. Even the stump of the fourth shifted in her general direction. The smaller antennae on its knuckles drifted for a moment, then flicked towards her. The larger antennae that protruded from its eye holes also strained in her direction, as if reaching out.

  She realized it had changed in other ways since their last meeting. It was bigger for one thing, and its lower legs were distinctly different from its other limbs. Longer, thicker. It had always been able to jump but now it looked … By the Thrice Blessed Suns, it’s become more like us. The curve of its feet matches those of my Sky-legs. The carapace is like a mirror to my own armour.

  ‘It seems time has been kind to both of us. I do like your wings by the way. What do you think of my new body? I’m rather fond of it myself.’

  It was hard to tell if the Corpseman understood her or if it had ears to hear the sound of her voice. But so long as it was attending to her, she and Arkav were safe. Very slowly, the Corpseman moved one of its arms, the gesture so languid it looked like it was being made underwater. It was beckoning her.

  ‘No, thank you. We’re very happy over here. Actually, I was wondering if it might be possible for us to go?’

  The Corpseman didn’t respond. In fact, it was ignoring her altogether. Its antennae moved in the direction of a new buzzing coming from the direction of the House Sapphire doorway.

  Instantly, all around her was in motion, the chamber full of leaping bodies and wings snapping out with furious energy. The Corpseman spread its wings and left, taking High Lord Spinel with it. The others followed, pouring down the corridor like water through a crack. A few seconds later they were gone.

  The Corpseman and the swarm had abandoned them. While relieved, she was somewhat insulted to be so easily discarded in the middle of a conversation.

  Arkav went to High Lords Opal and Peridot and put them out of their misery. It obviously pained him, just as it had pained her to send her own High Lord and High Lord Jet to their next lifecycle. But it had to be done.

  She gestured in the direction the swarm had gone. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘What are you hoping to find?’

  ‘I’m hoping the Corpseman will discard High Lord Spinel so we can help him without a fight.’

  Three bounds took them straight through the preparation chamber. The air was cloudy with perfume and the floor covered in a carpet of broken glass that crunched beneath their Sky-legs. It looked as if a storm had passed through House Sapphire’s entrance chamber. Hangings were shredded beyond recognition, and the soft crystals that provided illumination had been smashed from their housings, plunging the space into a gloomy half-light.

  What was left of the great door was closed, but sunslight peeked through the many holes. Chunks of marble lay scattered; the smallest was as big as her head and many were bigger. She stepped through the remains and Arkav joined her outside. The swarm were still visible, a dark cloud flying too low in the sky, skimming over the treetops. They gave chase, though it was clear that they would never be able to keep pace with the demons. When they reached the edge of the forest, the trees still trembled to an echo of that awful buzz and, on the edge of her perceptions she could hear their faint whisper: ‘Rochant … here … here … here …’

  She gave Arkav a sad smile. ‘It seems that, for once, Rochant’s arrival has been to our advantage. The Corpseman dropped us like a pair of hot stones as soon as it heard his name. A shame it didn’t drop High Lord Spinel.’

  Arkav was still looking in the direction the swarm had gone. ‘You want to follow it.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I don’t know if we can stop the Corpseman or its army, but we can beat Rochant. Perhaps that will be enough.’

  Vasinidra threw up for the third time. Blood and bile soaked into the ground between his hands. Mia stood behind him, holding back his hair, while another hunter stood nearby, carrying his helmet.

  They’d pulled out Rochant’s spear. The layers of silk worn beneath his armour had stopped the tip penetrating his flesh, but the whole area around the impact was swollen and unhappy. Deep inside, something was not right. It hurt to bend forward, it hurt to turn his torso, and even if he didn’t move, his stomach throbbed in an alarming manner.

  He’d lived and died enough times to know that this injury would be the one to send him on. Gradually though, the convulsions in his stomach settled, and he felt the pressure on his throat ease. His throat felt burned and raw, but the air passed through it again. He had a little time at least.

  Around him were a ring of hunters, and around them he could see more pairs patrolling the area. Bodies wearing Sapphire livery could be seen lying next to each other, united again in death. His heart sank. Our best people killing each other. How has it come to this?

  But he did not have the luxury of mourning. Too much time had already been lost.

  ‘Where is Lord Gada?’ he asked, wiping his bloody lips.

  Immediately, his brother landed in front of him. ‘Here, High Lord.’ Nidra came and stood at his side. Seeing her there, alive and standing among Sapphire without shame made his heart swell. She looked tired but alert. He gave her a bloody smile. ‘I thought I’d imagined you.’

  ‘No, my son.’ She gave him a strange look. ‘My High Lord. I was there when you fought Rochant, and I saw the defeat in his eyes. What a gift you delivered me! I will treasure it for all my lifecycles.’

  The praise warmed him despite the pain.

  She knelt down beside him, pulled off his helmet, and put something into his mouth. He recognized the taste. It was a form of Tack. Usually he smoked it, but he’d heard there was a much more potent form that could be chewed. He shook his head and went to spit it out. Tack brought oblivion, a sweet escape that had nearly destroyed him in the past. He’d vowed never to take it again.

  Nidra clamped his jaws shut. ‘Eat. It will help you through the pain. I’ve seen enough suffering for a thousand lifecycles.’

  Slowly, he chewed. Between the last energies of his armour and the potency of the drug, the agonies of his wounds receded enough for him to think again.

  ‘Tell me our situation, brother.’

  Gada’s hesitation meant things had not gone well. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the worst.

  ‘Lord Rochant’s hunters refused to stand down.’

  ‘You gave them a chance to surrender?’

  There was a pause. ‘We did what we had to do to save you, High Lord.’

  ‘And they fought you? Even though we had two flights to their one?’

  ‘To the last. They gave their lives to cover their master’s escape.’

  An image of Rochant returned to him, one spear through hand and neck, the other through his side. The man had been barely able to stand straight. ‘He … escaped … and you didn’t pursue?’

  Gada gave a nervous swallow. ‘Our priority was your safety.’

  A flash of anger came and went. There is no point in yelling at Gada, he acted to protect me and minimize further risk to our hunters. He forced his hands to relax and his breathing to steady. ‘Of course. Thank you, Lord Gada.’ He reached out for Mia and she took his hand, helping him to his feet.

  Fatigue seeped into his body. The aura of his armour was damaged, how badly he wasn’t yet sure, but his exalted state was diminished. Pain was that little bit sharper, more distracting. His thoughts mired in a thickening fog. ‘Do we have a trail?’

  ‘Yes, High Lord,’ said Gada.

  ‘Good,’ added Nidra. ‘We’ll all sleep easier once we’ve found the body.’

  He took a spear from the ground and snapped off the head in a single motion, turning the shaft into a makeshift walking stick. There was something else … what was it?

  ‘What about the others?’

  ‘Others?’

  ‘Yes. Two young men. One wearing house colours, the other dressed in black feathers.’

 
; Gada shook his head. ‘I’ve seen no sign of them, but there are many in house colours here.’

  ‘Not hunters. He was wearing a servant’s cloak, the kind favoured in the castle.’

  ‘Then no, High Lord. There is no one of that description here.’

  ‘No matter.’ He tested his weight and tried taking a step. The injury in his side complained, but with the right posture he could mitigate it. ‘Lord Gada, you will take your flight and follow the trail. We will do our best to keep up with you.’

  ‘And if I should catch Lord Rochant before you arrive?’

  Vasinidra raised his voice so that the others would hear. ‘Rochant Un-Sapphire is to be taken down any way you can. Catch him or kill him, whatever you like, but we give no more of our house’s blood to that traitor. Do you understand?’

  Gada nodded and sprang forward, spear held high. His hunters immediately formed up behind him. He watched their bouncing forms flit between the trees and vanish.

  In a much more stately fashion, Vasinidra followed, his own flight forming protectively around him. Mia marched proudly at his side. The hunter carrying his helmet offered it to him. Chunks of crystal were missing from the back, and it looked like a light touch would be enough to shatter the visor. The inside was still smeared with his blood. He was almost better off without it. Nevertheless, he put it back on, squinting through the cracks.

  With a flick of his head, he gestured for Mia to come close. ‘How bad is the rest of the damage?’

  ‘The wings are not safe to fly on, High Lord, and most of your armour is dark from the back.’

  Soon, he thought, it will fail entirely, and when it does my body will follow.

  The sensible thing to do would be to retreat. It was unlikely but just possible that his body would survive with the proper care. Nevertheless, he wanted to see Rochant’s end with his own eyes. The man might be even closer to death than Vasinidra was, but they’d underestimated him before at great cost.

  And while it seemed quiet for the moment, they were in the Wild now. They were the enemy. Trails could be lost or hidden. Other traps could be waiting. He’d told Gada to make sure there were no more deaths, but the longer they kept going the more impossible his order would become.

  Fortune’s Eye shone bright and gold above them, the two red suns already starting their descent towards the horizon. We have an hour to find Rochant, perhaps two and then we’ll have to return to safety.

  Mia remained at his side, as did Nidra. For this he was glad, as he had more questions for her. ‘What happened after I left you at the castle?’

  ‘Rochant happened. He was already there, waiting for me. It was unpleasant but what’s one more bit of suffering, eh? In a few years’ time I will be reborn and he will be nothing more than a story.’ She made a cutting gesture. ‘Forget Rochant, there is another problem. A smaller group of his hunters found me before I found you. Yi led them away but she hasn’t returned. I need her.’

  Vasinidra frowned. ‘It will be hard to find her, and even if we do it might be too late.’

  ‘It can’t be!’ Nidra reached up to grab at his arm. ‘She’s all I have. Do you understand? We need her.’

  It took a few moments for the import of her words to sink in. ‘Yi is your descendant?’

  ‘My last. Without her, I am lost. Do this one last thing for me, my son, and our fortunes will truly be restored.’

  ‘I could find her. Yes. I can do it. We still have a little light. She would be visible from the sky.’

  ‘But Vasinidra,’ Mia protested, ‘my High Lord. Your wings …’

  ‘Are you worried that I cannot fly?’

  ‘No. I am worried you will fly to places we cannot follow. You have already fought so hard and for so long. What if you fall somewhere in the Wild? What if I cannot find your body?’

  ‘Then I will return to a new one, to a house kept strong by you, Nidra, and my brother.’

  ‘Do not worry for him,’ Nidra replied. ‘His future is secure. Mine is not.’

  ‘But it will be, I swear it.’

  Mia saw the determination in his face and stepped aside with tears in her eyes. ‘We will watch for your signal.’

  It was a strange mix of sensations. Satyendra’s burns still nagged at him. The imprint of Rochant’s gauntlet stubbornly refused to heal. His palms remained tender where he’d gripped the sapphire bracers and the bones on his ribcage grated as they tried to slot themselves back together.

  And yet, the deeper they went, the easier it got to breathe. When he’d fed on the downed hunter, the flow of strength had been faster, the effects more immediate, more potent. He was both high and in pain, suffering and transcendent all at once.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his hands swinging back and forth. The fingers seemed too long for his palms, as if they had been stretched, and his wrists protruded from the bandages once more. A look down confirmed his legs and body were also longer than before. Where his cloak had hung to his ankles, it now came only to the back of his knees.

  Sa-at was much shorter now. A child next to an adult. But Satyendra didn’t have the width to go with his new height. He felt stretched out, elongated, but strangely hollow. Mostly though, he felt vengeful.

  They had stolen away from the fighting and into the quiet of the Wild. He had grown up on tales of the place. Story-singer Ban was forever banging on about the dangers. Why were there not stories about the beauty of the Wild? The freedom to walk and walk without coming to a wall or a drop was wonderful.

  When he adjusted his hood, cheekbones jutted out at odd angles beneath his fingers. He sucked in a panicked breath and pulled his scarf up further. ‘Well? Do you know which way Rochant went?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Sa-at. He gestured with a mud-stained hand. ‘But we shouldn’t go that way.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the suns are setting and Rochant’s bleeding.’

  Satyendra paused to consider this. Deep down, he knew that Sa-at was right, the sensible thing to do was to find shelter. Let other creatures finish Rochant off. But the hunters’ cries still echoed in his skull, making his fingertips tingle and his bones sing. He did not need to fear the dark.

  ‘I want to kill him.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘He wants to kill both of us, remember that.’

  Sa-at looked down, his lips twisting unhappily. Then he nodded. Out here in the Wild, emotions were easier to identify. Or perhaps Satyendra’s senses were no longer muffled by the non-stop dirge of the castle.

  He agrees with me but is reluctant. A strange mix of bitterness and sadness … and guilt. One breath in and Sa-at’s emotion was his to consume. There was a loud click as a rib popped back into place.

  ‘Take us after Rochant.’

  ‘But the trees were calling his name. We shouldn’t interfere.’

  ‘I’m not letting him get away!’

  Sa-at shook his head. ‘He’s done now.’

  ‘Oh yes, because your trees did such a good job last time he was here.’ He leaned down so that his eyes were on Sa-at’s level. ‘If we kill him, we’re free. There are two of us. He’s weak and alone.’ He tapped his head. ‘And we know how he thinks.’ And he will be thinking. Even if that evil shit is dying, he’ll be hatching a plan of some sort.

  ‘He’s going away from his castle,’ said Sa-at.

  ‘That’s what I’d do in his position. Go deep and try to outlast Vasinidra and his hunters out here. Most things of the Wild won’t touch him in that armour.’

  ‘Most things,’ echoed Sa-at.

  ‘My point is, he has a chance against demons. He has none against two flights of hunters and two Deathless.’

  Sa-at nodded but he’d already started to look about nervously, as if expecting trouble.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The forest goes quiet when trouble is coming.’

  ‘It’s been quiet since we first came here.’

  Sa-at gave a solemn nod and drew his
coat tighter about his body. ‘I know.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Night was coming on fast. Vexation and Wrath’s Tear had dipped below the tree-line, and Fortune’s Eye seemed in a hurry to join them. Despite having survived several nights out here, Chandni still found herself instinctively fearing the dark.

  Crowflies had raced ahead, and she hoped they were still going the right way. Murderkind’s domain had to be close but such things mattered little in the Wild. Around her, the trees stirred. Borne on the wind came the sounds of violence and pain. The thwack of person striking person. A scream, too long to ignore. Other shouts, their echoes all blended together.

  Varg gripped her arm. ‘What the fuck is that?’

  She looked around. Is this a trick?

  ‘Rochant …’ said the trees. ‘Here … here … here …’

  In seconds the wave of sound had washed over them and continued its swift journey.

  ‘Where is that coming from?’ asked Chandni.

  ‘I dunno. Knowing this place, probably anywhere but where we think it is.’

  ‘Can you tell, Glider?’

  Glider barked affirmatively, her nose pointing confidently into the distance. Rayen and the rest of the pack barked agreement.

  ‘They seem keen,’ said Varg. ‘But I reckon that if we go chasing whatever this is, we’re going to be heading away from Murderkind.’

  ‘I know, but I heard it say Rochant. I have to know what that means.’

  ‘Sounds like a trick to me.’

  ‘I agree with your hair-bound lover,’ said Kennelgrove.

  ‘But what if it’s not?’

  Varg just looked at her. ‘What if it is?’

  She patted Glider’s flank. ‘Then whatever is waiting will get a nasty shock. I have to see.’

  Wind rushed through her hair as Glider charged onwards, she and the pack seeming to know instinctively where they were going. Varg sat behind Chandni, his arms tight around her body.

  As the golden light faded from the canopy roof, she began to make out a glowing shape ahead. It reminded her of the time Lord Vasin had come to her aid. The pack had been against them then. Perhaps they were reminded of that time too, as their pace slowed dramatically and more than one of the Dogkin whined.