The Perilous Tower: The Gates of Good & Evil Book 3

by Ian Irvine

  Was her job impossible? Probably, but he had come too far to give in now.

  ‘I’ll cast a healing on you,’ he said. ‘It’ll lessen the headaches and the nerve burning. And then a strengthening spell.’

  Tiaan choked, her right arm shook, and the construct shuddered in the air.

  ‘It’s safe,’ Skald said hastily. ‘We who would be masters of war must also master healing.’

  He cast a healing spell, followed by the strengthening spell. The grey-green tinge faded and her right arm steadied, but now his arm developed a tremor, as if her weakness had transferred to him.

  It can’t be done, he thought. Let everything go – you can still die with honour.

  How he wanted to, but he had to keep going. Even if they only got halfway to Skyrock it would be a mighty achievement, surely enough to make up for the family’s shame.

  No, he had to go all the way, though not for himself. He was a true Merdrun, and in the end his paltry wants and needs did not matter. What mattered was the True Purpose, and if he failed, it too would fail.

  Skald made another agonising trip up the ladder, forced the hatch up and hauled himself out onto the battered lookout platform. And gasped. They were high up and the wind bit into him like daggers grown from ice. In the past, cold had not troubled him, but he was so weak now the chill was creeping along his bones. A few minutes up here would finish him.

  He turned to go down and started violently. The sky galleon! Flitting from one cloud to another, perhaps a mile behind. Shadowing him. Gone again.

  Skald’s teeth chattered as he tried to work out Flydd’s plan.

  The sky galleon appeared again, a little closer. Had his nemesis spotted him up here? If Flydd had, he might blast Skald off the platform to his death.

  He scrambled down. It felt like a cowardly act, but he had to stay alive. A row of hooks on the far side of the cabin held three coats that could only belong to Rulke. Skald put on the heaviest but it failed to warm him. He was too far gone.

  He resumed his place beside Tiaan, holding himself upright by gripping the edges of his seat. He could not be beaten by that scrawny old runt of a man.

  What would Flydd do next? Skald could not think it through; it was taking all his mental capacity to support Tiaan and maintain the watch on Rulke and Llian. Both had recovered now and Rulke’s unblinking eyes were fixed on Skald. He shivered.

  On they flew. An hour later Skald was forced to renew the spells on Tiaan, and every hour after that. Was Flydd still following? There were no portholes in the rear wall of the cabin and Skald dared not go up to the lookout. Flydd might be close behind, waiting for the chance.

  No, he would want the construct whole, and its passengers alive. He would not attack while it was high in the air. But later, as the ground rose towards the Ramparts of Tacnah and the Great Mountains beyond, a chance was bound to come.

  On and on and on Tiaan flew, now towards the rising sun.

  By the end of the seventh hour, when Skyrock was still a hundred miles away, Skald’s healing and strengthening spells no longer had any effect. Tiaan was shivering and twitching, her face was swollen into a balloon, her red eyes leaking bloody tears.

  The construct had gone close to crashing three times in the night, and twice more this morning, and the last time she had only saved it a few hundred feet above the ground. If she lost control again, nothing could save them. He dared not go lower, because that would give Flydd the chance to force the construct to the ground, and Tiaan lacked the strength to climb higher.

  And the more power Skald used to support her, the less there was to keep him going.

  Endure! For the True Purpose. One for All!

  But not even the True Purpose moved him now, and there were still fifty miles to go. And he had used every skerrick of the power stolen from his sus-magiz.

  Tiaan was shaking uncontrollably, and moaning. ‘Let me go. Can’t do it anymore. Want to die.’

  Skald wanted it more than she did, but one thing drove him on. His desperate need to rise above the taint of his father’s cowardice.

  He lifted Tiaan out of the copper seat, fell onto it and heaved her onto his lap. It took all his strength; he was weaker than a Merdrun boy. She shuddered and wailed and tried to get away. He held her until she gave in, then returned her hands to the controls and drew on the last of his own magical power to strengthen her and alleviate her pain.

  ‘Keep going,’ he said. ‘I’ve got you. Not long now. You’ll be all right.’

  But he wasn’t. With no power left to numb the pain, the agony in Skald’s bones and his belly came back redoubled, and doubled again. Then the bleeding started anew. How much blood had he lost now? He was sitting in a puddle that squelched with every movement and oozed through the slots in the copper seat.

  Ten miles to go. The land had risen steadily as they continued east, the construct now only eighty feet above the ground. Flydd would strike soon. Skald wished they were higher but Tiaan could barely channel enough power for level flight.

  ‘Flydd’s right behind us,’ Rulke said suddenly. ‘He’s moving in for the attack.’

  Skald whirled. Rulke had worked the blindfold and gag free, and his dark Charon eyes, still fixed on Skald, seemed to be mocking him for a fool and a failure.

  Skald did not ask how he knew. ‘What’s he going to do?’

  ‘If I were him, I’d force the construct down. It’d probably survive a crash from eighty feet, and I might, too. But you and Tiaan won’t.’

  Her eyes were closed and she was making an awful keening sound, like a mother over a dead child. Skald held her upright with the insides of his arms while his hands enclosed hers on the knobs and he tried to sense out, beneath her convulsive shuddering, the instinctive movements she made to keep the massive craft in the air.

  But he had almost no power left. He’d lost.

  Or had he? A possibility occurred to him, a tiny one, almost hopeless. He had to take the chance.

  Skald extended a shaking arm towards the one victim who could not possibly resist him and cast a feeble little version of the life-drinking spell, all he had strength for.

  But how could Llian’s life be enough?

  59

  Had He Burned Her Mind Out?

  They shadowed the construct for what remained of the night and the first hours of daylight, creeping ever closer.

  Flydd was an automaton at the controls, muttering to himself as he waited for a chance to attack. ‘Now? No, not yet, not yet.’

  Karan watched the construct’s wavering flight with increasing terror. Five times it had fallen from the sky and she had been sure everyone inside it was going to die. Five times Tiaan’s geomantic genius had managed to save it, though the last time it had only been seconds from destruction, and it was clear that she could not do it again. Judging by the construct’s erratic path and jerky motion, she was almost done.

  It was even lower now, barely skimming the higher hills as it crossed the rising ground towards Skyrock, no more than ten miles away.

  ‘Xervish,’ said Karan, ‘if you leave it any longer –’

  ‘Still too high.’

  A skin-crawling horror struck Karan, then a sickening pain that grew steadily worse until she wanted to vomit. She slumped to her knees, palms pressed to the sides of her head, shaking it.

  ‘Karan?’ Flydd said sharply.

  She did not reply; she could not. Was she being attacked? How could she be, so far from anywhere? What was going on?

  Mummy, Mummy, Skald’s drinking Daddy’s life!

  How did Sulien sense such things from so far away? But it gave Karan the answer she needed. The pain, the sickness and the cold horror was coming through an involuntary link to Llian, and she had no choice but to break the link in case the spell jumped to her, then to Flydd.

  It meant rejecting Llian all over again, but there was nothing else she could do. She did not know how to block a life-drinking spell.

  Don’t worry, Sulien
, she sent. We’ll save him.

  But Sulien was gone and Karan could not find her. ‘It’s Skald,’ she said limply. ‘Drinking Llian’s life. Xervish –’

  ‘I’ve got to risk it,’ said Flydd. ‘Brace, everyone.’

  Karan slumped sideways onto the floor, still holding her head. She felt very cold, very weak. Flydd accelerated until the bow half of the sky galleon was above the rear of the construct, then cut the power. The sky galleon dropped sharply, the keel hit the top of the construct with a clang and a shock that made Karan’s teeth vibrate, and both craft fell.

  For a moment, Karan thought it might be best if Llian was killed in the crash. Occasionally, she had heard, people did survive a partial life-drinking, though they were never the same afterwards.

  Llian screamed as the spell sank deep into him. His eyes were bulging from their sockets, his tongue bloody and protruding, his mouth a rip across his blanched face.

  That’s for freeing Rulke! Skald thought. How dare you try to thwart me!

  Skald had begun to wrench the life out of Llian, and it proved surprisingly strong. Skald was anticipating the ecstasy to come when the link was brutally severed. Llian fell down, heels drumming on the floor, fists opening and closing spasmodically. Skald slumped forwards against Tiaan, gasping.

  ‘You – will – not – touch –my – Teller,’ grated Rulke.

  How had he broken the spell while his hands were bound? Skald could not imagine, and dared not try again. But the trickle of power he had taken from Llian might be enough. He heaved Tiaan upright, held her hands with his own and jerked on the left-most knob. The rear of the construct kicked up and there was a grating sound, then the weight of the sky galleon was off them.

  Crash, scum! Skald prayed. ‘Tiaan, go!’

  Her eyes were closed; she was completely out of it. But her hands made the necessary movements and the construct streaked away.

  Flydd was forcing the construct down when the bow of the sky galleon was driven up so sharply that it tumbled backwards in the air, slamming Karan, Maelys and Nish against the rear wall of the cabin.

  Flydd cursed and clung desperately to the controls as the sky galleon stood on its stern in mid-air, kept tumbling backwards and went upside-down. It was out of control and they were only sixty feet above the ground. Fifty feet! They were going to crash.

  Karan braced herself as she hit the ceiling. Flydd needed help but she was too weak. It felt as if part of Skald’s spell had come across the link and attached to her.

  Was Llian dead? She had no way of knowing.

  Nish sprang, caught hold of the control binnacle and supported Flydd while he tried desperately to right the craft, which was now plunging bow-first towards the ground. But with so little altitude, Karan did not see how it could recover.

  Flydd fought the controls and had the sky galleon almost levelled out when the front of the keel struck earth with an almighty thud, kicking the bow up again and hurling Karan and Maelys across the cabin. The keel hit a second time, carved a gouge across the ground for a hundred yards, struck a shelf of rock, the sky galleon skidded sideways, righted itself and slid the other way, and stopped.

  Flydd, who had a badly cut lip and a large bruise on his right cheek, staggered to the cabin door, heaved it open and looked east. As Karan came to her knees the construct wobbled across a ridge a mile away and was lost to sight.

  He cursed. ‘We’ll never catch them now. Skald’s beaten us.’

  ‘They might have come down on the other side,’ said Nish. ‘If they did, we can take the construct before anyone from Skyrock can reach them.’

  Karan lay on the floor, wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Llian, whatever you’ve done, I forgive you. Just be alive, and whole again. Or … if he’s drunk too much of you … die peacefully.

  There was no further sign of the sky galleon. Skald prayed that it had crashed and Flydd had been killed, though he did not think it likely. He had read all about the scrutators, and they never gave up.

  Seven miles to go. The pain grew ever worse as the last of the stolen power dribbled away, and his mission felt as impossible as ever. If Flydd had saved the sky galleon, he could still win.

  Five miles. You must do it. You can.

  ‘Flydd’s coming fast,’ said Rulke with a savage smile. ‘You’ve lost, you pathetic little man.’

  He was still tied up, his middle was covered in blood and he did not seem capable of attacking, so why did he seem so happy?

  The worry intensified Skald’s pain. He glanced at Llian, who was doubled up on the floor, fists clenched. There was blood on his bottom lip and his eyes were vacant. He would cause no more trouble, at least.

  How close was Flydd? Skald could not leave the controls to find out.

  Could he outrun the sky galleon? Skald felt sure the construct was the faster craft, but if he forced Tiaan to channel any more power it would kill her – unless he could take part of it through himself. But to do that he would have to drink part of his own life again, hideous though that had been last time.

  There was no alternative. He cast the spell on himself and sipped from his life force. The tearing pain inside him grew even more unbearable, though the heat searing through his arteries and along his nerve fibres partly counteracted it.

  He pushed the power lever forwards and the construct accelerated a little. Tiaan screamed and slumped sideways. Had he burned her mind out? There must be something left, otherwise the construct would have crashed. He could move the controls, but only Tiaan could channel the power where it needed to go.

  Only four miles now and, in what had to be a mirage, the beautiful blue and white twisted columns of Skyrock appeared above the hills in the distance. Not a mirage, a miracle!

  ‘He’s still coming,’ said Rulke mockingly.

  Skald braced himself for Flydd’s next attempt to force the construct down. He could still win.

  ‘We’re gaining on the mongrel,’ said Nish.

  ‘Not fast enough,’ said Flydd.

  ‘Can’t you get any more speed out of this thing?’ said Karan, chewing on her knuckles. She was feeling a little better now. The construct was less than a hundred yards ahead. Llian was so close. But if Flydd did force it down, and overcome Skald, what would she find inside? Perhaps it would be better if it crashed …

  ‘When we hit the ground, something must have jarred loose in the drive mechanism. This is the best I can do.’

  ‘Can we catch them?’ said Maelys.

  They gained a few more yards, but now the upper half of the tower of Skyrock was visible in the distance.

  ‘Touch and go.’ Flydd made a complicated series of movements and the sky galleon accelerated a little.

  Just three miles more. Endure!

  Two miles. Skald wanted nothing more than to set the construct down and allow oblivion to claim him.

  Don’t give up yet. Even this close, Flydd could snatch the craft, and victory, before help could reach Skald from Skyrock.

  The sky galleon was only five yards behind the construct now, both craft racing sixty feet above a dry, stony valley scattered with blue-grey bushes and tall yellow clumps of spear grass.

  Four yards.

  Three.

  Karan’s gnawed knuckles were bleeding, her heart thundering as if she had just climbed the great tower of Katazza again. She tried to convince herself that Llian was alright, that Skald’s life-drinking spell had failed. That things could go back to normal.

  ‘What you going to do?’ she croaked.

  ‘Nudge it out of the air,’ Flydd said, his bony jaw clenched.

  ‘Crash it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could kill everyone inside.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Once we cross the next ridge,’ said Nish, ‘we’ll be in the bowl around Skyrock. Where they have an army of 150,000, Xervish.’

  ‘I know!’ snapped Flydd. ‘Shut up and let me concentrate.’

  Two yards. One.


  Flydd tickled the controls and the battered bow of the sky galleon slammed into the left rear of the construct.

  60

  Mummy, I’ve Got To Break My Promise

  One mile. Another minute and they would be safe.

  Crash!

  Something struck the construct so hard that it hurtled off at a tangent, spinning so fast that it was dizzying. Llian sat up, wild-eyed, and projectile vomited.

  The spinning slowed. They were hurtling towards a massive rock outcrop at the top of the ridge and Skald did not know how to get the craft back under control. Only Tiaan could – if there was anything left of her mind.

  ‘Tiaan!’ he yelled in her ear. ‘Do something.’

  She made that terrible keening sound again. Her hands moved the controls minutely, the construct stopped spinning, lifted and shot over the rocks, so close that bushes scraped across the corrugated bottom. Then they were over the ridge and heading down the bowl-shaped valley surrounding the pinnacle of Skyrock.

  Ahead he could see the triple rings of scaffolding and work platforms, and on them, tens of thousands of workers and slaves. All looked the same as it had yesterday. Had it only been yesterday that he had left? It felt like a lifetime ago.

  A stranger’s lifetime.

  Flydd groaned. Karan watched desperately as the construct spun towards the rocks, knowing it was going too fast for anyone to survive the impact. At least it would be quick.

  But with only seconds to go it straightened out, lifted, and the base of the construct smashed through a patch of bushes on the top of the ridge, setting some of them on fire, and it wavered away.

  ‘How does the swine keep doing it?’ said Nish between his teeth.

  Flydd followed. On the other side of the ridge the enemy’s vast encampment appeared before them. To either side, the clusters of tents, some surrounded by palisade walls, occupied a good fifth of the sides of the bowl. And at its centre, the vast, spiralling blue and white tower.