by Ian Irvine
‘You don’t feel you’re fit to be entrusted with so vital a mission?’
Skald chose his words with particular care. ‘If you require me to assassinate this prodigious thorn in our side I will do my best, but at the present time I don’t know enough about the thapter site, the people you have sent there, or Flydd and his allies, to judge whether I can hope to complete the job. Or whether it’s way beyond my capabilities.’
It was a long speech to Durthix, who mostly heard, ‘Yes, High Commander’ or, ‘No, High Commander.’ Had it harmed Skald? Made him seem wishy-washy?
‘All right,’ said Durthix. ‘I will entrust the task to you.’
‘How many troops will I be leading, High Commander?’
‘None.’
‘I’m going alone?’
‘I wish I could send a battalion, to make sure of the mongrel. But I’m constrained on all fronts.’
Durthix walked to the window, looking out at the grimy, smoke-stained buildings of Guffeons. He seemed to be worrying at something. Skald remained at attention, and shortly Durthix came back.
‘Your oath also holds with what I’m about to tell you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘In every particular.’
‘Yes, High Commander.’
‘I’m sending you by yourself because we’re desperately short of power. We drained the summon stone preparing Skyrock and the stone will never replenish, because the enemy have destroyed it.’
‘We can draw from the fields of Santhenar, though.’
‘They’re barely enough to meet our daily needs. But to prepare for the Day of All Days we need all the magical power we can find. We’ll have to draw on every field within range to its limits, and even that won’t be enough. But –’ Durthix shook his head. ‘Not your problem.
‘That’s why, though I would dearly love to send a hundred troops to eliminate Flydd, I can only spare the power for a one-man gate. I’ve reserved enough for you to gate there and back, but that’s all. Do you understand, Captain?’
Skald’s thoughts were a fever of possibilities. The Day of All Days. How he wanted to help bring it about. ‘Yes, High Commander. Though as a sus-magiz I can draw on a different source of power.’
‘Drinking lives.’ Durthix’s mouth twisted down. ‘Ordering it is one of my darkest duties. But if that were the only obstacle …’
‘What other obstacles are there, High Commander?’
‘Life-drinking is addictive, Captain. Have you not felt it?’
Was there a right answer and a wrong one? Unable to tell, and because Durthix had confided such vital secrets to him, and also because the high commander was skilled at picking a lie, Skald settled for the simple truth.
‘Yes, I have, High Commander. And it troubles me. Once I begin the process of drinking a life it becomes so exhilarating, so ecstatic, that I might not have the strength to stop.’
‘Thank you for your honest admission, Captain. Life-drinking corrupts the very soul. You have seen it in our magiz, I’m sure?’
Again Skald hesitated; Dagog might consider the truth as a betrayal. Was this why Durthix had gone against his magiz? ‘Yes, High Commander.’
‘No one in the grip of that addiction can be trusted to put the True Purpose first. If it comes to the choice, that person will feed their addiction before anything else. So, no!’
‘High Commander?’
‘I do not wish you to drink any more lives, for fear of losing you to the addiction. Whether your attack on Flydd succeeds or fails, you may only drink a life if there is no other way to escape.’
If it fails, thought Skald, I will surely be dead. But it was warming to know that Durthix cared. No, he didn’t care about Skald. One for All! He valued Skald for the contribution he could make to the True Purpose.
‘When do I leave, High Commander?’
‘Tomorrow. Go to your barracks; prepare yourself. This is the most important mission of your life.’
‘Thank you, High Commander.’
Skald went out, duelled in the practice yard for four hours, sharpened his sword and knife, ate and went to his bed – a canvas stretcher in an empty corner of the vast barracks – early.
And again the magiz woke him in the dead of night.
‘Are you plotting against me, Sus-magiz?’
Skald instinctively shrank away, and Dagog smiled. His lips were plump and blood-red – he had been drinking lives again – and his crooked teeth were sharp.
‘No, Magiz!’
‘You spent a long time with the commander yesterday. In a locked room.’
Skald sat up. He wanted to rise and dominate the much smaller man with physical size, but that could be fatal. ‘Yes, Magiz.’
‘Do you forget that, by your oath as a sus-magiz, your ultimate loyalty is to me?’
Another question with no right answer. The tension built up to the snapping point. Skald wanted to punch the wizened little man’s head in, then drink his life.
‘Try it,’ whispered Dagog. ‘Please, do.’
He was trembling with eagerness. Or was he deep in the thrall of his addiction? Either way, it was a deadly moment. If Skald cracked, the magiz would have him. Or if Dagog’s desperate need to feed his addiction overwhelmed him, he would lovingly, sickeningly take Skald’s life … and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The magiz’s power was ten times greater than the power of a lowly sus-magiz.
No, a hundred times.
33
A Hateful Alien Device
Karan roused sluggishly, rubbing her crusted eyes. She was on a narrow bunk, downstairs in the sky galleon. She tried to sit up but it was too much of an effort. Her head throbbed, her ribs and belly hurt, and her heart was racing. Just being awake was exhausting.
And Nish’s rescue felt oddly remote, as if it had happened ages ago. Though, given the horrors of that hour, this was no bad thing. She pushed herself upright, inch by inch. Maelys sat a few yards away, gazing fixedly at something in her lap.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ said Karan.
‘Five days,’ Maelys replied without looking up.
‘What! But no one sleeps for –’
‘You were in a bad way, bleeding inside. Xervish had to put you out so he could work on you. It … it was touch and go …’
‘He saved my life?’ The pain in Karan’s belly turned icy. She had nearly died, without ever realising? ‘What about Nish?’
‘He’s all right,’ Maelys said indifferently. ‘You can’t kill good old Nish.’
Previously, she had been desperate to rescue him. What had happened between them? Why was she so hostile?
‘And Flangers?’
Still Maelys did not look up, and Karan felt a twinge of unease. ‘In a lot of pain, not that you’d know it. He’s such an old soldier.’
‘Have you known him long?’
‘Four years. Flydd and I found him and Yggur in the Numinator’s special prison, a tower made from ice in the frozen south. After escaping, we fought together against the God-Emperor. Flangers is a good man. Chissmoul doesn’t deserve him …’
‘How is she?’
‘When she’s flying, as now, she’s in a state of bliss,’ Maelys spat. ‘But if the little bitch thinks she may never fly again, she makes sure everyone feels her pain.’
Her rage was so corrosive, so undermining of all they had achieved during the rescue, that Karan had to get away. She dressed slowly, every movement an effort, and got up, hanging onto a rail for support. She looked down at the object in Maelys’ hand – and felt a sickening jolt.
‘Where did you get that? That’s not – It can’t be –’
The Mirror of Aachan looked much as it had when Karan had carried it long ago, and she never wanted to see the cursed thing again.
‘It’s changed,’ said Maelys, a trifle vacantly. ‘Yalkara cleansed it before she gave it to me.’
‘How?’ said Karan suspiciously.
‘She passed it through chthonic fire. The mirror was com
pletely erased, she said. And if anyone would know …’
Yes, Yalkara ought to know, but to Karan it would always be a deceitful alien device, and never to be trusted.
‘It was a gift for my unborn son, her grandson-to-be that she wouldn’t live to see.’ Maelys’ dark eyes grew wet. ‘He was stillborn, the worst day of my life. Losing him destroyed me, Karan. And three days later my little sister, Fyllis, was gone as well.’
She put her head between her knees and wept, silently.
Karan knelt beside her. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t imagine – that must be unbearable.’
‘My son was perfect in every way, yet he was born dead. Why?’ Maelys cried. ‘He so reminded me of his father, Emberr – the first man I loved.’ She looked up the steps towards Nish, who was leaning on the side of the sky galleon talking to Flydd, and lowered her voice. ‘I now think he was the only man I’ve truly loved.’
Karan got up and walked away. How would Nish feel if he knew? Maybe he did; maybe that was what was wrong between them.
‘I did love Nish … for a while,’ Maelys added. ‘We were good for each other. But it was too soon.’
‘Llian and I, we’ve had our troubles,’ said Karan, turning back. ‘Massive troubles, but –’ If they survived, everything had to change, and most of all, herself. But how could she ever tell him what she’d done?
‘Nish thinks I should get over it,’ Maelys said bitterly. ‘But the baby wasn’t his. Maybe he was secretly glad it died.’
Karan’s cheeks flamed. ‘You shouldn’t be telling me this.’
‘Who else can I talk to? All my family are dead.’
‘I’m happy to listen,’ Karan said carefully, ‘but you need to –’
‘Long before we met, Nish fathered a child with a young woman called Ullii, but someone who wanted to use her special gift killed the unborn child with sorcery. Does Nish ever think about his child, or grieve for it? Or does he think a dead baby doesn’t matter?’ she said shrilly.
‘Why don’t you ask him? He might be tormented by the loss.’
‘I can’t talk to him. It hurts more every day. I can’t think about anything else.’
Llian, Llian, where are you? Karan slumped on her bunk, her eyes flooding. She had abandoned Sulien into the care of cold strangers, and Sulien was probably going to do something reckless to find him.
‘I’m sorry.’ Maelys knelt beside Karan. ‘I’m so selfish, after all you’ve done for us. And you’ve lost so much.’
‘I still have Sulien, the best thing in my life,’ said Karan. ‘And Llian might not – might not –’ She changed the subject. ‘Why don’t you ask someone to be a mediator?’
‘Who?’ cried Maelys. ‘Chissmoul?’ A peal of hysterical laughter. ‘Flangers? He isn’t that kind of man.’
‘That still leaves Flydd.’
Maelys flushed. ‘Nish is his closest friend, now. Don’t mention it again.’
She turned back to the Mirror of Aachan with such yearning, as if what she saw there was her only comfort now, and Karan felt profoundly disturbed.
But it wasn’t her problem; Llian was, and Flydd had given his word to look for him. Nonetheless, Karan was knotted inside as she went to his little table. He was hunched over the farspeaker, his maps and notes spread on the floor around him.
‘Xervish?’ she said tentatively. No, get straight to it, he owes you. ‘I did all you asked of me … and now I’m holding you to your promise.’
At his flash of irritation, her anger, never far below the surface these days, flared. ‘Assuming you’re a man of your word.’
‘I don’t forget my promises,’ he said coldly, ‘and I don’t appreciate –’
‘You were a bloody scrutator! I assumed you were used to plain speaking. But if I’ve hurt your feelings –’
His face hardened, the scars standing out lividly, then he sighed and indicated the seat on the other side of the farspeaker. She sat, her guts throbbing.
‘I’ve made a search for Llian, the best I can with the devices I have, and asked all my spies to keep an ear out. No one has heard a whisper.’
‘You said you’d go looking for him.’
‘I said I’d look for him when I could. And I have. How can I go looking for a man who could be anywhere in the world? Besides, I’ve had bad news from my spies, lots of it.’
‘What bad news?’
‘I’ll tell everyone when I finish this.’ He looked down at his notes, clearly wanting her to go away.
‘If you can’t look for Llian now, when? We’re at war; there’ll always be an excuse –’
‘It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason. And since we are at war, with thousands of people dying daily, I’d need a damn good reason to abandon them to look for one man who’s probably dead.’
It was a punch in the gut that left her breathless. No argument would sway him now, but she felt an urge to strike out, to assuage her own agony by hurting him.
‘I won’t be so quick to save your hide next time, you hideous little creep!’
‘Nor I yours.’
‘Gratitude isn’t your strong suit, is it?’
‘Nor is appreciation of the bigger picture yours,’ he said pointedly.
‘Go to hell!’
He smiled thinly. ‘I’m glad we understand each other so well. Now piss off. I’ve got another eleven spies to try and contact, and I’m not expecting any of them to have good news.’
Nish came down the steps, followed by a great hill of a man, as tall as Rulke but broader in the shoulder. His dark face was vaguely familiar, though Karan had no idea where she could have met him.
Maelys must have seen her confusion for she said quietly, ‘It’s Clech.’
Fragments of memory bobbed to the surface. Karan had been on the verge of collapse when he had stormed up the track, rode down the last two Merdrun and savagely beheaded their sus-magiz. A quiet, gentle, loyal man, Nish had said. A former fisherman with a lantern jaw and deep wrinkles around his eyes.
Clech shook her hand, gravely. ‘Thank you for all you did for my friends.’
‘I’m so sorry about Aimee.’ Again she saw that tiny, fine-boned, brave woman, face-down on the lawn. She had been no threat. Why had the enemy killed her?
‘I should have been there.’ The muscles in his face went slack, the skin sagging. He screwed his eyes closed, his shoulders heaving. ‘We finished the mongrels, at least.’
‘We did what we could.’
‘Aimee was my life and I will have no other mate,’ he said. ‘Nothing to live for now. Plenty to die for.’
He went up and she followed, needing fresh air. Clech headed forwards, his hands gripping the bow shields so tightly that Karan would not have been surprised to see indentations in the metal.
Half an hour later Flydd called them together. ‘I’ve spoken to everyone I can contact, and no one had good news. I’ll start with the worst, from Wilm. The enemy sus-magiz, Skald, who captured M’Lainte, gated back to the Sink of Despair the following day with another squad, and took the spellcaster. This is a disaster.’
‘Where did he take it?’ said Nish.
‘No way of knowing … though Lilis tells me the Merdrun have cleared the land and are building a gigantic camp next to a towering rock pinnacle called Skyrock, in the Ramparts of Tacnah. At the western end of the Great Mountains,’ he said, indicating it on the map. ‘There’s a monster node beneath Skyrock.’
‘What use is it, in the middle of nowhere?’ said Nish.
‘None of my spies lived long enough to tell me.’
‘That all?’
‘Aviel made the double batch of nivol, and Maigraith took a team to the summon stone to destroy it, but found it almost drained.’
‘Why isn’t that good news?’ said Maelys.
‘The Merdrun had drawn most of the power out of it,’ said Flydd. ‘She dissolved it with nivol in case it regenerated and scattered the remaining sludge over a wide area.’
‘I assume they
used the power to make their gates to Skyrock?
‘Yes. They’ve sent thousands of labourers there already, and many skilled slaves. Architects, designers, masons, carpenters and so forth.’
‘What are they building?’
‘No idea. And in another troubling piece of news, Tiaan Liise-Mar was abducted this morning.’
‘She was a pilot, wasn’t she?’ said Karan.
‘Yes, though before that she was a brilliant artisan and geomancer,’ said Flydd. ‘With Malien, she helped to create the first thapter –’
‘Which is?’
‘A flying construct. Tiaan played a vital role in the Lyrinx War, though, fool that she was, her conscience got the better of her and she destroyed all the nodes at the end of it – which is why we’re in such a dire situation now.’
‘Have they taken any other former pilots?’
‘Another eight,’ said Flydd. ‘There never were many; it’s a rare talent. And quite a few were killed in the war – or when Tiaan destroyed the nodes. She didn’t think of that when she was being so high and mighty.’
‘Ancient history,’ Nish said hastily. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’ll tell you when I know. We’re flying to a place I won’t name – a refuge for people with rare skills – to hire a few of them. I’m also after a force of archers and swordsmen.’
‘What for?’ said Nish.
‘When you need to know, I’ll tell you.’
Karan, too tired to wonder what he was up to, went below. Though she had only been up for a few hours, she needed more sleep, days of it.
Karan woke abruptly when Flydd came pelting into the camp, followed by three men she had not seen before, ten archers carrying crossbows, and a dozen guards with swords.
‘Sky galleon!’ he yelled. ‘On the double!’
They scrambled aboard. Flydd gave instructions to Chissmoul, who lifted the sky galleon with a stomach-heaving jerk and streaked south. The three men were thapter artisans; Flydd did not introduce them. The archers gathered at the left side of the stern and the swordsmen at the right side, talking among themselves.
