by D. P. Prior
“Wait a minute,” Nameless said. “You sent Weasel? I thought Cordana—”
“You know how the Council is,” Abednago said. “They’d have debated for hours, in spite of the urgency of the situation. I must say, I’m surprised Cordana puts up with it, but it seems prevarication goes with the job and infects even the most forthright among us.”
“We?” Nameless grabbed a fistful of the homunculus’s white robe. “You’re on the Council? But you’re not a dwarf.”
“They were always coming to me for advice,” Abednago said. “When Old Moary died and Cordana was elected, she thought it would save time to have me on hand permanently.”
“So what now?” Shadrak said. “We gonna just stand here catching up, or are we gonna do something useful? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had a gutful of this stinking fish.”
Abednago eyed the husk girl. “Is she with you?”
Shadrak glared at Nameless. “You gonna answer that?”
“Yes, the lassie’s with me. For now. Until we work out what to do with her.”
“Do?” Abednago said.
“I mean, until she let’s us know what she wants to do; where she wants to go.”
“You have no idea, do you?” the homunculus said. “No idea what you’ve got there.”
“Then, why don’t you enlighten us?” Shadrak said. “Because I know of one evil shogging wizard who’s going to be very pissed off we reneged on the deal to hand her over.”
“Then, lucky for him you changed your mind,” Abednago said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shadrak took a step toward the homunculus, but Nameless threw out an arm to bar his path.
“What I mean is for me to know and you to guess at,” Abednago said. “You made your bed, you lie in it.”
Shadrak gritted his teeth and muttered, “Scutting homunculi.”
“Takes one to know one,” Abednago said. Then to Nameless, “Just be gentle. She’s still growing. At a guess, I’d say it’s not going to be long before she fully matures.”
“Then what?” Nameless said.
Instead of answering, Abednago crossed his thumbs and fluttered his fingers.
Nameless looked from him to the husk girl, but she was back to being distant, locked away inside herself.
“Come,” Abednago said, gesturing for them to precede him through the door. “Maybe there’s a touch of fate in this. Things always happen for a reason, don’t you think?”
“Wow,” Weasel said as he passed through the doorway.
Shadrak shoved him out of the way, but then it was his turn to gawp.
He entered a circular chamber with a huge round window opposite. Only, it wasn’t a window: it blinked, and at its center was the black circle of a pupil. Outside, shoals of fish streamed by in flashes of argent.
The ceiling was concertinaed, like the gills on the underside of a mushroom, and it was lit by some sort of green phosphorescence.
In front of the eye-window was a stool that looked to have been grown from fungus. Around the walls, tuberous nodules protruded from a glittering array of wires and crystals.
Abednago strolled in and perched upon the fungus stool.
“Plan, you say?” Nameless said, leading the girl in and closing the door. “You fancy sharing it? Because I’m just acting on instinct at this stage.”
He was acting on emotion, that much was clear to Shadrak. Nameless was terrified. Frightened to death of losing the last of his people. He’d always felt guilty about what he’d done to them back at the ravine. Shadrak thought he’d never hear the last of it, but recently, since he’d moved to Brink and set up the gym, the dwarf seemed to have come to terms with his past, as much as could be expected. But there was something else; something he wasn’t saying.
“When we get there,” Abednago said, swiveling the stool to face the eye-window, and yanking on something dangly, like a uvula.
The fish-craft tilted into another dive, though this one was gentler and more graduated.
“This thing got a crapper?” Weasel said, holding his crotch to illustrate his need. “I’m dying for a riddle.”
“When we get there,” Abednago said again.
The deeper they went, the darker the waters grew, until it was as though the night sky had fallen and swallowed them. Shimmering fish passed by in patterns like stars, reflecting some unseen light source that must have come from the strange craft.
The pressure in Shadrak’s ears increased to the point it was painful. After an age, pinpricks of amber dotted the darkness seen through the fish-craft’s eye. As they plunged closer, Shadrak saw that it was the glow from hundreds of embrasures. Closer still, and he could make out the spires and turrets of towers projecting above crenellated walls. It was a vast structure, as big as an island; a gigantic citadel encased in a bubble of glass that was all but invisible, except for where the light from the fish-craft struck it.
Nameless let out a sigh and laid his hand on Shadrak’s shoulder. “Arnoch, laddie, the ancient citadel of the Dwarf Lords. It’s where I brought my people after…”
He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence. After the ravine, is what he meant. After he’d slaughtered the dwarves of Arx Gravis.
“Wait a minute,” Nameless said, letting go of Shadrak’s shoulder and stepping up to Abednago’s mushroom stool. “Last time she sank, the city flooded. Are they… I mean…”
“They’re alive,” Abednago said. “No Destroyer for the dwarves to attempt to drown this time. The water shields are sealed tight. They were damaged, though, when the outer shields were corroded. We managed to patch the leaks, but at this pressure, it’s only a matter of time.”
“How long?” Nameless said.
Abednago shrugged. “A day or two. Three at the most, I’d say.”
Nameless set his jaw and gave a grim nod, full of determination. “So, no need to swim, then?”
“Not this time.” Abednago tweaked a couple of growths on the wall beside him, and the eye window aligned itself with a circular doorway set into the city’s outer walls.
As they approached, a crack down the center of the door parted to admit the fish-craft. Abednago piloted them into a vast flooded corridor. He yanked on another nodule, and from behind the craft came the grating of stone, and an echoing thud as the doors must have closed once more. Then, with a cascading rush, the water around the fish ship began to lower.
When the corridor was void of water, double doors of stone at the far end inched open to reveal a cluster of white-robed dwarves flanked by armored guards wearing red cloaks.
The dwarf soldiers began to form a shield wall, but one of the white robes pushed through and took a few steps toward the fish-ship’s view window. Despite the golden beard, finely braided, Shadrak could tell from the slip of a waist, the bulge of breasts beneath the robe, it was a woman. She thrust her fists into her hips and glared up at the eye-window.
“Cordana,” Nameless muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Abednago said, “it’s me she’s cross with.”
VOICE OF THE COUNCIL
The homunculus got up from his chair and led them out through the round wooden door. He tugged on a uvula hanging from the corridor’s ceiling and led them to the bottom of the fish-ship’s gullet. This time, when they stood upon its slick surface, the floor crinkled into steps then retracted and carried them back up. At the top, the mouth parted, and they stepped between the beams of light that served for teeth. The lower jaw dropped like a ramp, and Abednago walked down first, with Weasel, Shadrak, and the husk girl behind. They paused at the bottom, conferred with nods and looks, and then set off along the still damp corridor.
Toward Cordana.
Nameless followed at a distance, head down, mind a muddle of memories, thoughts, emotions. He couldn’t get away from the hammering of his heart, the warring ice and fire in his veins. He’d been so scared he’d lost her; that he’d never see her again. And yet, at the same time, he
knew he had no right to such feelings. Yes, he and Cordana had gone some way to patching up the past, but that’s as good as it got. Some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how hard you tried. Even a friendship like they’d once had couldn’t weather the things he’d done. Even the young love that neither of them had recognized until it was too late. For Thumil had proposed to her, and she’d accepted. And then, years later, driven insane by the black axe, Nameless had murdered her husband. He screwed his eyes shut, as if that could ward off the next thought. It couldn’t. He’d killed her baby daughter, too.
The broad corridor seemed to close in on him with each dragging step. He opened his eyes and let them fall anywhere but Cordana: the damp-stained walls, dusted with salt deposits and studded with doors; the ensconced torches that gave off an unnatural mauve glow; the grilles on the floor, through which the last of the water trickled away; the expanse of King Arios’s throne room just visible past the clustered councilors and soldiers, who still wore the red cloak and chainmail of the Ravine Guard.
Cordana strode to meet Abednago. She was mad, Nameless could see that. So mad, she didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she said.
“No, that’s him,” Weasel said, following a pace behind the homunculus.
The look Cordana gave him was excoriating, but it was a lightning strike, gone in a second.
Weasel faltered and came to a standstill.
Cordana returned her ire to Abednago. “Soon as the Kryptès said three were missing, I put two and two together.”
The Kryptès: the black-garbed agents that did the Council’s bidding. From back in his Ravine Guard days, when he’d served under Thumil, Nameless had had his fair share of run-ins with them. The Krypteia always struck him as both above and beneath the law.
“We needed to do something,” Abednago said.
“And I did,” Cordana countered. “I sank the city.”
“But was that your decision to make alone?”
“If we had waited for the Council to make a decision, it would have all been over before they’d even set the agenda.”
“Agreed,” Abednago said. “But that wasn’t the only decision you made unilaterally. You abandoned hope for us, not something I agreed with.”
“There wasn’t exactly time to confer.”
“Again, I agree. So, I did the same as you, and I acted alone.”
Cordana stiffened but nodded for him to go on.
“You run a tight ship, Lady Voice,” Abednago said, “so my options were limited. There also wasn’t time to find anyone more suitable. I just had to grab the first dwarves I came across. I must admit, I thought Weasel would let me down, but he came through.”
Weasel rolled his eyes and let out a harrumph.
“Bark and Goffin didn’t make it,” Abednago said, “but at least now, we have a chance.”
“You sent Weasel?” Nameless said, finally plucking up the courage to join them. “I thought you said Cordana—”
She punched him square on the jaw.
Nameless pitched onto his arse. His axe went flying, then flew some more, till it slapped back into his palm. He blinked back tears, and could have sworn the corridor was revolving. Always packed a punch, Cordana. Thumil used to joke she had baresark blood.
“What do you think you’re doing coming here?” Cordana said. “What the shog were you thinking?”
Nameless looked from Shadrak to Weasel to Abednago. The others stared back blankly, but Shadrak looked like he had half a mind to put a bullet through Cordana’s skull. Nameless held up a hand and forced a smile to show the assassin it was all right. It just took a while to get used to Cordana’s ways.
“Coming to help,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing his jaw. He ran his tongue over his teeth, checking to see if any had come loose.
“No,” Cordana said. “No, no, no. This cretin”—she jabbed a finger at Abednago—“wanted me to send for you, and I told him to forget it.”
Nameless took a step toward her, but she turned away.
“How could you do this?” She spun back round, hand raised to strike.
Nameless didn’t even bother to protect himself, but this time, when Cordana swung for him, she stopped her palm a hair’s breadth from his face. A tremor ran beneath her robe, and she swallowed thickly.
“I can’t…” she started, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t lose you as well.”
“You won’t—”
She cut him off with a finger against his lips. “I won’t, you hear me?” She lowered her voice to a whisper, cast a glance over her shoulder toward the other councilors and the soldiers. “Arnoch’s finished. We have no way of fighting that thing.” Before Nameless could interrupt, she said, “And neither do you. I’ve seen what you can do, Nameless. Me, more than anyone, and even with that axe, you’re no match for this monster. None of us is.”
“So, I just leave you all to die?” He knew he sounded angry, but that came from trying to suppress what he really felt. Even after all he’d done to save his people from the Lich Lord, he still felt responsible. He was responsible. If he hadn’t butchered them, sent them fleeing across the Farfall Mountains, none of this would have happened. They would still be in Arx Gravis, not Arnoch, and there’d be no five-headed dragon waiting above the waves to finish what he’d started.
“Someone has to survive,” Cordana said. “It was supposed to be you, you stupid oaf.” She thumped him on the shoulder, though without the force she’d used earlier. “It was supposed to be you.”
Nameless grabbed hold of the front of her robe, pulled her close. A gasp went up from the councilors, and a couple of the Red Cloaks advanced.
Shadrak drew a flintlock, but the soldiers only moved back when Cordana raised a hand without even turning to face them.
“It will be me,” Nameless said. “It will be all of us. This thing is alive, isn’t it?” He glanced at Abednago, who nodded. “So, it can be beaten. We just have to find a way.”
Cordana slumped against him. Her warmth shocked him, made him release his grip. For a moment, he thought she was going to weep into his chest, but instead, she pushed him back and looked him up and down.
Eventually, she said, “Not this time, old friend. Not this time.” She suddenly looked over his shoulder at the husk girl and said, “And who is this? You know better than to bring strangers—” She started to take in Shadrak, too, but Nameless cut her off.
“The girl’s fine, Cordana. She saved my life back there. As for the midget…”
“Watch it,” Shadrak said.
“I know Shadrak,” Cordana said. Her eyes clouded over, and Nameless realized his attempt at humor had backfired. Shadrak had come to Arx Gravis to help stop the massacre. Of course she knew who he was. Everyone in Arnoch did. It was only the fact he wasn’t a dwarf that stopped him being hailed as a returning hero. The dwarves might have accepted Abednago on the Council, but as a race, they’d never shaken off their inherent distrust of outsiders.
“Aren’t you forgetting to ask me something?” Abednago said.
“Yes,” Cordana said. “Why don’t you go boil your head?”
Abednago closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. “Do you think I’d go to all the trouble of bringing Nameless here if I didn’t have a plan?”
The other councilors started to draw nearer at that. The soldiers exchanged looks and decided to stay back.
As the rest of the Council of Twelve fanned out in a semicircle behind Cordana, Abednago said, “Remember the portal King Arios used last time the city sunk?”
Cordana’s eyes widened.
Nameless remembered it, too. Abednago had taken him and Cordana to see it after the Lich Lord had been defeated. Otto Blightey had sent his flesh-eating feeders after the survivors of Arx Gravis out of vengeance for Nameless’s role in his downfall at Verusia. With only a few hundred dwarves left, the homunculus had floated the idea they might one day follow the last of the
Dwarf Lords, if only the portal could be fixed.
“Remember, at the height of his despair, Arios never fully gave up hope,” Abednago said.
“He sent some of his people across the Farfalls to found Arx Gravis,” Nameless said, eyes never leaving Cordana’s. “And yet more even further from the Destroyer’s reach: through the portal to another world.”
“Thanatos,” Abednago said. “The planet of death.”
Shadrak gasped, and his pink eyes widened.
“But the portal’s broken,” Cordana said.
Mutters passed between the councilors.
“And I fixed it.” Abednago slowly took in each of the white-robed dwarves.
“How?” Nameless said. “You told us the homunculi didn’t want the Dwarf Lords to return, and that your lot, the Sedition, lacked the lore.”
“We did,” Abednago said. “But now we don’t. Defectors, you see, coming over to our side. Some of the finest lore workers among my race have joined the Sedition since the last time you were in Arnoch.” To Cordana, he said, “I apologize for not tabling it at a meeting, but even a homunculus has a finite life span. My point is, King Arios must have known something about this Thanatos. Must have known his people could survive there.”
Shadrak was circling like a vulture. His eyes had a hard glint to them that made them look like rubies. “Where is it, this portal? You say you got it working?”
“Laddie?”
“It’s where Kadee is, understand?”
“Your foster mother?” Nameless said. “But isn’t she—?”
“Dead? She is. But I hear her…” He stopped when he saw Nameless’s look of concern. “Look, I know I ain’t mad, so go with me on this. Kadee’s on Thanatos. I would have gone there before, but I had no idea how to find it. The Archon was supposed to tell me, only—”
“Only you killed him,” Nameless said. “Not that I blame you.” The shogger had it coming, any way you looked at it.
“But you can get us there?” Shadrak asked.
Abednago smiled that he could.
“And move the people again?” Cordana said. “Because, even if the Dwarf Lords survived, and even if they agreed to come back, there’s still the mother of all dragons up there. Having some fancy title isn’t going to stop their arses from being roasted.”
