The Diamond Isle

by Stan Nicholls

  The officer teetered at the wall, flames spreading across his upper body. Then he toppled and fell shrieking to the alley below. Broken against the cobbles, his limbs at crazy angles, he continued to burn.

  Tanalvah stood nearby, her arm extended, the wand in her hand. She seemed to be in some kind of daze. He called her name. She came out of the reverie, and as though only now realising she held the wand, let it slip from her fingers.

  ‘How…how were you able to use that thing?’ he asked, still shaken.

  ‘You know magic,’ she said. ‘Desire triggers it.’ Her words had a faraway quality. ‘That’s all it takes.’

  Disgleirio was inhaling deeply, pulling himself together. He looked down to the alley. The paladin whose arm he’d broken was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘The alarm’s going to be raised,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was small.

  ‘And, Tan…thanks.’

  She only nodded.

  The way Tanalvah saw it, she had added no more than a feather to the scales of redemption.

  3

  ‘How much further?’ Tanalvah asked.

  ‘Not long now,’ Disgleirio told her.

  ‘We’re going out of the city?’

  ‘Not quite. To the outskirts.’ He seemed reluctant to say more, presumably on the principle that what she didn’t know she couldn’t be made to tell, should things go wrong.

  They sat side by side in a small gig. As Tanalvah could hardly be expected to walk far, or ride a horse with any ease, Disgleirio had stolen the vehicle shortly after they escaped the paladins. With shadows lengthening and the curfew drawing near, he drove as fast as he dared.

  Central Valdarr was behind them and they were entering the city’s outer reaches. Even here there was evidence of Bhealfa’s successive occupation by both empires. Rintarah and Gath Tampoor had subjugated the island by turn for generations, and their most visible legacy was the muddle of architecture. As conquerors will, each erected monuments that commemorated their victory and acted as a reminder of who was in charge. Many of these structures were extravagant statements of imperial might that dwarfed the humble native dwellings surrounding them.

  When one empire cast out the other, the loser’s buildings were often demolished to make way for new constructs, or adapted to serve the incomers in a cycle that had repeated itself beyond living memory. The aftermath of recent civil strife also left its mark. Arson had proved popular of late, and the effects of glamour weaponry added another layer of visual discord. In places where they suspected nests of rebels, which is to say in poorer quarters, whole neighbourhoods had been razed by the authorities. All this made for a complicated cityscape.

  Wealthy or impoverished, every section of the city had one thing in common: magic was used in profusion. And now that night was falling its expression was more obvious, and spectacular. Far more intense than conventional lamps and candles, a myriad pinpoints of light flickered on and off in every direction. There were dazzling flashes, multicoloured flares, twinklings, sparklings and occasional outbursts that looked like earthbound lightning.

  But while the quantity of magical discharges was roughly even, its quality was noticeably variable. The nature of a district could be assessed by the strength or weakness of its emissions, and Disgleirio and Tanalvah witnessed a particularly stark example as they crested a rise. Stretched before them for a moment were two abutting sectors, one well-heeled, the other deprived. The former’s magic shimmered with a bright purity; the latter gave off the feeble glow of cheap and counterfeit sorcery. Disgleirio chose the road that ran through the less fortunate area.

  They had travelled more or less in silence. That suited Tanalvah. There were subjects she’d rather not dwell upon, and traps she hoped to avoid. Now Disgleirio decided he wanted to talk, though he began innocuously enough.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he said.

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Not finding the ride too bumpy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because if you are–’

  ‘Quinn, I’m expecting a baby; I’m not ill.’

  He grinned. ‘Of course.’

  Nothing more was said for a moment, then he asked, ‘What have you been doing with yourself these last few months, Tan?’

  It wasn’t a question she relished. ‘Moving from place to place. Trying to keep the children safe.’

  ‘How did you support yourself?’

  ‘Any way I could. I worked selling unlicensed glamours for a while. Served in a tavern; pounded herbs for a healer one time; scrubbed floors. Of course that’s become a bit difficult lately.’ She laid a hand on her distended belly. ‘But people helped me now and again.’ Some of it was true.

  ‘You didn’t try to find us?’

  ‘How could I? I didn’t dare go to any Resistance places for fear of spies. And you must have cleared out of them anyway.’

  ‘No, I can see that. But as I said; we’ve been looking for you.’

  ‘Valdarr’s a big place.’

  ‘I meant…I just wanted you to know we hadn’t given up on you.’

  It was hard getting her words out after that. ‘I…I’ve tried to keep out of sight.’

  ‘Until tonight.’

  ‘My luck ran out.’ Perhaps it really has, she thought.

  ‘Why were they after you? The paladins.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if they need a reason.’

  ‘True.’ His features took on a troubled cast. ‘Tan. About…Kinsel.’

  Her insides did a flip. Her knuckles were white from squeezing the seat rail.

  ‘It’s just…’ he stumbled on, ‘…just that…I don’t know if you heard, but–’

  ‘I heard.’

  He didn’t think to ask her how. ‘I’m so very sorry, Tan.’

  ‘You don’t have to be. We don’t know that he’s…gone. Not for sure. Officially he’s just missing.’ A cold thought touched her. ‘Unless you know any different?’

  ‘No. We’ve heard nothing beyond that ourselves. And you’re right; while there’s a chance we have to keep hoping.’

  Tanalvah came close to telling him she knew he’d argued for Kinsel’s death, but she was hardly in a position to do so.

  The houses they passed were less densely packed together, and the roads were rougher and pot-holed. There were glimpses of vegetation between buildings. The city’s gravitational hold was weaker out here on its farthest edge.

  They were heading east. The low mountain range that hugged this side of Valdarr was beginning to loom. In the crisp, moonless night it looked as black as a paladin’s soul.

  It was cold, fit to snow. She gathered her cloak more tightly.

  Disgleirio glanced her way. ‘We’ve never really recovered, you know. From the betrayal.’ He made it sound like a confidence. ‘It tore the guts out of us, Tan.’

  She’d dreaded him bringing up the catastrophe, though she knew it was inevitable he would. A nod was all she could manage.

  ‘We lost…well, who knows how many,’ he went on. ‘Including quite a few you would have known.’

  She was afraid he’d wonder why she hadn’t asked about that herself. ‘I…try not to think about it,’ she replied truthfully.

  ‘Can’t say I blame you.’

  ‘What about Serrah and Caldason? And Kutch? Any word on them?’

  ‘On the Diamond Isle, last we heard. Don’t know how they’re faring, but at least they got away.’

  ‘That’s good. Oh, and what about Phoenix?’

  ‘He got away to the Diamond Isle too. Or at least we think he did. The rest of Covenant linked up with us again within a few weeks of the betrayal.’

  Tanalvah shouldn’t have asked her next question, but couldn’t help herself. She had to know. ‘Does anybody have an idea who…’

  ‘Sold us out? There are plenty of theories, but no real evidence. Might not have been just one person, of course. Could have been a disaffected fact
ion in our ranks. Perhaps we’ll never know. But one or a hundred, I could never understand the mentality of a traitor.’

  ‘Perhaps whoever it was felt…compelled to talk.’

  ‘Torture, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was a kind of torture, she reflected.

  ‘I don’t want to bring back unpleasant memories, Tan, but Kinsel suffered that and he didn’t break.’ He shot her a sympathetic look. ‘To his great credit. But as I said, I doubt we’ll ever know what happened.’

  ‘Is that how everybody sees it? That we’ll never know, I mean. Are they getting over it?’ As soon as she said it she realised how idiotic a question it was, born of desperation.

  ‘It’s not something you get over, Tan.’

  ‘I know. I’m being stupid. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. We’d all like to forget it if we could. But the prospect of maybe never knowing who betrayed us hasn’t dampened our passion for finding out. There isn’t a member of the Resistance who wouldn’t cheerfully slit the bastard’s throat, given half a chance.’

  It was getting too uncomfortable for her. She tried changing the subject. ‘I didn’t ask about Karr. How is he?’

  ‘Damn near died when this thing first broke out. His heart. He pulled through, but his health suffered badly. Being Karr, of course, he’s made little concession to taking it easier. For once I think he’s right. We’re all working like demons just to stay alive.’

  She looked away, her eyes stinging. Guilt’s hot knife twisted in her gut.

  ‘We’re nearly there,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to rest soon.’

  If only that were true. She made an effort to collect herself, and dabbed at her eyes with a cloth. He was staring at her. ‘The cold air makes them water,’ she explained lamely.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, not seeing.

  At length she started taking an interest in their surroundings. The scenery was becoming semi-rural, with buildings standing more in isolation, and now she saw barns and smallholdings. Much further and they’d be in farmland proper.

  ‘Quinn,’ she asked, ‘where exactly are we going? The only thing I know of in these parts…’

  ‘Is the Pastures of Sleep. You guessed, Tan.’

  She couldn’t suppress a shudder. Had this all been an elaborate scheme after all? A ruse to lure her into a terrible retribution of some kind?

  He read her expression. ‘No need to look so grim. I know it isn’t everybody’s favoured location, but it’ll be fine, believe me.’

  A couple of minutes later they had first sight of their destination.

  The Pastures of Sleep was Valdarr’s oldest and most extensive necropolis. It had already existed in a modest form when the city was founded, and over the centuries it had grown in size, and in the elaborateness of its monuments and tombs. For generations it served as the last resting place for high and low alike. Bhealfa’s leading dynasties maintained grand family mausoleums within its grounds, but less regarded, or easily seen, were the acres given over to paupers’ mass graves. Now the cemetery was full, unfashionable and largely unused.

  A high stone wall surrounded the burial ground, though many of its more ostentatious memorials stood taller, displaying the tips of decorated spires. Mature trees towered higher still, their skeletal branches swaying in the brittle wind.

  ‘It wouldn’t be safe going all the way in this carriage,’ Disgleirio announced. ‘We’ll have to lose it and walk the last part. Can you manage that?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  He pulled into a small piece of open land with only a single darkened house overlooking it. After helping Tanalvah down he went to the gig’s horse and gave it a reassuring pat. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, assuming her interest in the animal’s well-being, ‘I’ll see he’s taken care of.’

  They set off.

  Curfew was in force and the streets were deserted, though that didn’t make Disgleirio any less alert. However, their short walk, hugging shadows, was uneventful, and soon they approached the cemetery’s imposing iron gates. An impressive entrance demanded an impressive lock, and the necropolis’ gateway was no exception. It bore a mortise larger than a man’s hand.

  ‘It’s got an alarm spell,’ Disgleirio explained as he dug into his pocket. He produced a key the length of a small dagger. The gate creaked shrilly as he opened it just wide enough for them to pass through, then he ignited a glamoured orb to light their way.

  It was, literally, deathly quiet. They took the central avenue, a broad boulevard edged with ghostly sepulchres. At the avenue’s far end, dark and brooding, stood an imposing temple, now falling into decay. Well before they reached that, Disgleirio led them round a corner and along a much narrower path, which was less well maintained, with crooked gravestones on either side, amid a tangle of untended vegetation. There was barely enough room for them to walk abreast.

  A voice growled, ‘Remember me!’

  Tanalvah squealed and grabbed Disgleirio’s arm.

  ‘Steady, Tan.’ He took her hand. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of; they’re only living memorials. Look.’

  Several nearby headstones had activated, projecting spectral likenesses of the graves’ occupants. The one that had spoken was an ancient man, bald of pate and with skin like yellowed parchment.

  ‘Passing sets them off,’ Disgleirio continued. ‘Sorry, I should have warned you.’

  She disentangled herself from him, feeling foolish. ‘Silly of me,’ she said.

  They carried on.

  Every few paces they triggered a glamoured memorial, conjuring animated images of the dead. Men, women, old, young; ailing in appearance or hearty; smiling or scowling. Tanalvah noticed that not all the graves were set off though.

  ‘They only work if relatives keep recharging the magic, of course,’ Disgleirio offered, almost conversationally. ‘It’ll all run down eventually.’

  Many of the deceased’s glamours were vocal. They presented greetings, pearls of wisdom and dire warnings. Some recounted their life stories or recited poetry. Others mumbled prayers or mouthed prophecies. The voices were beseeching, cheerful, hectoring, doleful, jaunty. A few sang or played musical instruments.

  Tanalvah loathed the place. She couldn’t help thinking what kind of messages would have been left by the people she’d consigned to their graves. When they rounded another corner and entered a quieter spot her relief was intense.

  They trudged on, encountering only the occasional garrulous crypt. An area of dense trees lay ahead and they made for it.

  ‘There’s something coming up I need to warn you about,’ Disgleirio told her. ‘We have sentinels.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  ‘They look dangerous. But they’re not top-grade magic. Essentially they’re for deterrence. If our enemies knew how feeble our defences really were–’

  A long, drawn-out howl sounded. It raised the hairs on the nape of Tanalvah’s neck.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘here they come.’

  A creature loped from the treeline, looking grey from this distance. It was joined by three more, sleek and fast. As they got nearer their features became distinct. They had powerful jaws and razor-keen talons. Their silky fur was pure white, and their eyes were pink.

  Tanalvah wondered why albino wolves were thought appropriate, before deciding they were probably all the Resistance could get.

  The wolves slinked closer, fanning out into a semi-circle, apparently positioning themselves to strike. They growled and snuffled convincingly.

  Disgleirio snapped his fingers at each beast in turn, one-two-three-four. The wolves turned into clouds of faintly phosphorescent green mist, then nothing. Tanalvah caught a distinctive whiff of sulphur.

  ‘The next line of defence is human,’ he promised, ‘and it’s just about the last one. Come on, it’s not far now.’

  He strode towards the trees. She had to hurry to keep up with him.

  They entered what proved to be a small wood. It was thick, with t
rees growing close together, and there was no path. In places, dead leaves had drifted into sizeable mounds, but Disgleirio knew exactly where he was going.

  ‘This copse runs to the foothills,’ he said.

  ‘That’s where we’re going?’

  ‘Yes. We’re nearly there. Are you all right with this? No problem with the walk?’

  ‘I’ll let you know if I need help.’

  Two armed men, black clad and sober faced, slipped from the foliage ahead of them, barring the way. When Disgleirio was recognised they lowered their weapons, but they continued to eye Tanalvah. She didn’t know either of them. Disgleirio told them about the abandoned gig and ordered it taken care of. The guards returned wordless nods and stood aside for them. It all happened so quickly and smoothly that it felt like a dream to Tanalvah, but her mind was on other things, and her trepidation was growing ever stronger.

  Shortly they reached a wall of rock, smothered in creepers and vines. Another pair of guards appeared, identified Disgleirio and hailed him. A moment later they were at the rock face, dragging aside a mass of netting cunningly woven with scrub. They revealed a cave entrance.

  Disgleirio took out another orb and handed it to her. It snapped into life. As they entered, he said, ‘This is actually the oldest part of the cemetery, the catacombs. No one comes here any more. Nature formed it, but there was a lot of tunnelling in the past, too. This is where our primitive ancestors first started depositing their dead, Tan.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘I should have asked. You’re not jumpy about going underground, are you?’

  ‘I’ll cope with it, Quinn.’ She was much more worried about facing the people she’d wronged. But it was too late now.

  ‘Good. But I think Serrah might have had a problem with it.’

  ‘What?’ She focused on him.

  ‘Serrah. She didn’t like–’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course. I don’t suppose she would.’

  They resumed their journey.

  ‘There are several other entrances.’ Disglierio jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Makes getting out in an emergency much easier. The tunnels themselves are a good defence, too. Easy to get lost if you don’t know them; and there are chambers that flood.’