The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3)

by Ian Irvine

  Closing her eyes, she took the taphloid in her right hand and turned around. It was unlikely to be a scrier; they located their victims, then waited for the soldiers to take them. That only left Klarm – and he had the tears.

  FIVE

  Klarm was as bruised, battered and filthy as Nish, and a trail of blood ran from his swollen nose down his chin, but he looked as though he’d just been given an unexpected birthday present.

  Nish cursed himself for not keeping a better lookout, for there was nothing he could do to save himself. Klarm will take me back to Mazurhize, he thought, and put me in that stinking cell again, and I won’t be able to take it. I’ll go insane.

  ‘It had to end, Nish,’ Klarm said. ‘It’s for the best.’

  Nish tensed, but Klarm pressed the knoblaggie harder into the small of his back. ‘Don’t try it; I can make every nerve in your body scream.’

  ‘I never thought of you as a sadist,’ Nish said, ‘but I don’t suppose there’s any limit to what you’ll do to suck up to your master.’

  ‘I don’t enjoy inflicting pain,’ said Klarm, unprovoked, ‘but I’m not giving away any chances either. If you force me, I’ll subdue you in the quickest way possible.’

  Nish turned around, slowly. Klarm’s right hand had a muddy bandage wrapped around it and was seeping a thin yellow fluid, as Nish’s hand had when he’d been burned by the tears. He recalled the dwarf’s earlier cries, after he had used Reaper. Clearly he had not mastered it, since it had hurt him so badly.

  ‘How did you get here so quietly? The tears, I suppose. The stinking tears.’ Though Klarm was not wearing them.

  ‘Know your enemy,’ said Klarm. ‘I didn’t need to use them; I swung through the trees.’

  ‘I forgot you were like an acrobat, once.’

  ‘I was an acrobat, and I’ve kept up my skills. It’s one field where dwarves are superior – we have most of the strength but only half the weight. No one else could have got to you in time.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Follow my orders. I’m taking you back, and Maelys once I find her, and dispatching everyone else.’

  ‘How you use words,’ said Nish, sickened by what Klarm had become. ‘You’re not dispatching my militia – you’re slaughtering good, decent people for defending their own country.’

  ‘I’m following my orders,’ said Klarm, but he looked uncomfortable.

  ‘That excuse has served cowardly, murdering scum like you for thousands of years. Are you also dispatching the friends you fought beside during the war?’

  ‘The war ended ten years ago,’ said Klarm. ‘Flydd and Yggur are rebels against the God-Emperor and, as I’ve sworn to serve him, my former friends are now my enemies.’

  ‘My father’s rule is illegitimate,’ snapped Nish. ‘He took power by force.’

  Klarm sighed. ‘Power grants its own legitimacy, as you very well know. Jal-Nish has remained God-Emperor because he has the strength to hold his empire. He’s defeated every rebellion, of which there were many in the early days.’

  ‘And you admire the way he’s done that, do you?’

  ‘I don’t admire everything he’s done, but I swore an oath and I cannot, will not, break it.’

  ‘Why does everyone have to die?’ said Nish.

  ‘Because the God-Emperor ordered it, and he’s the only one in a position to see how desperate our situation is.’

  ‘You’ve got the tears. You can make your own decisions – unless you’re afraid to!’

  ‘No!’ cried Klarm, and Nish wondered if he was afraid of them. ‘The tears have to be studied, practised, mastered. No mancer can simply pick them up and use them. Jal-Nish held them for many years, and there is still much he doesn’t know about them –’

  Klarm broke off, then added, ‘Santhenar is in mortal peril from Stilkeen and without unity we can’t survive, so this rebellion has to be crushed. That’s why I follow Jal-Nish’s orders to the letter.’

  ‘What a load of self-serving tripe,’ said Nish. ‘You’ve been supporting Father for years.’

  ‘He first saw the danger from the void a long time ago,’ said Klarm. ‘And every time he looked again, the threat grew more serious.’

  ‘Anyway, you could leave the militia here. With no food or supplies they’ll almost certainly die.’

  ‘Even Flydd and Yggur? Don’t take me for a fool, Nish.’

  ‘If my father does come back, you could say that they disappeared in the jungle.’

  ‘When you’ve given your word, do you only pretend to keep it?’ Klarm said coldly. ‘My word is my sacred bond; I will put Santhenar’s interests above those of any individual’s, no matter how painful it may be to me personally.’

  So he did care, just a little. Was there any way to use that?

  Klarm pressed the knoblaggie to Nish’s chest and he felt a sharp pain there. ‘Get moving.’

  How long ago had Nish been taken? Maelys thought it could be as much as twenty minutes and, assuming that Klarm had returned to the upper clearing, they would be there by now, unless he had taken Nish away on the air-sled.

  She pushed through the forest to the track, beyond where the tree had fallen. The river had risen further and other trees were quivering. She stepped onto the track and ran, praying that there were no enemy stragglers ahead.

  At the upper edge of the forest she peered into the clearing and saw Klarm not far from the caduceus, hauling Nish onto the air-sled. Maelys was scuttling across the slope, taking advantage of every bit of cover – drifting mist, rotting logs and dead soldiers – when she noticed that the lowest part of the clearing was flooding up through the trees.

  Tulitine had said that the river was partly dammed nearby by fallen trees, and the troops from the far ridge must have crossed by walking along the trunks. After the torrential rain of the past hour the river was rising rapidly and spreading out from either side of the dam, and it could well rise further up the clearing.

  She crept from fog bank to hollow until she reached the centre. The air-sled was only a dagger throw from her and the mist was thinner here, so she went down on hands and knees in the mud, dragging the sabre. A ragged wheel of bodies encircling the caduceus marked the place where the militia had made its stand.

  Klarm glanced around sharply, as if he had sensed her, then pushed Nish to the deck of the air-sled. Unsnapping the locks on a metal box, he gingerly drew out Gatherer and Reaper and hung them around his neck from the chain, the way Jal-Nish had worn them. The caduceus flared and Maelys made out, faintly, the hackle-raising song of the tears. Her taphloid gave another of those off-centre wobbles, warmed and momentarily she saw luminous vapours streaming up from them.

  Klarm began to tie Nish to the tall pole at the front of the air-sled. Next he would fly away and her chance would be lost. She had to move faster.

  She wriggled upslope past a young militiaman dead from a blow that had almost cut him in half. Maelys turned her head away, fighting the urge to be sick, and went around him towards a pile of bodies. One was a woman no older than herself, pinned to the ground with a spear.

  She scurried on, past dead with wounds so ghastly she would have nightmares about them for months. More terrible yet were the soldiers who were still alive. She could not bear the look in their eyes, nor the whispered pleas to be put out of their misery.

  There was no blood, though. The rain had washed every drop away, and the bodies had a bleached look, as if they had been soaked in water.

  As she was crawling by the caduceus, Klarm pulled Nish’s last knot tight and sprang off the air-sled, frowning. Its frame was twisted, the prow buried in mud where it had crashed to the ground.

  Maelys passed a tangle of bodies, all Imperial troops. That they were the enemy did not make her feel any better. She was about twenty paces from the air-sled now, and there wasn’t much cover between her and it. Klarm hacked away some of the mud with a knife, clambered on and extended his right hand towards Reaper, but drew it
back. Turning away, he paced in a tight circle.

  ‘You must,’ he said to himself, and touched the surface of Reaper with a quick, nervous flutter of the fingers. The air-sled shuddered and tried to lift itself out of the mud; the stern rose but the prow did not; it was stuck fast. He jumped off again, carrying a spade, and began to excavate mud from the front and sides.

  Maelys tried to look like a corpse until he went aboard and tried Reaper again. The air-sled began to shake and shudder; mud flew through the air and plopped down all around but the prow would not come free.

  The shuddering stopped and Klarm went down the back, rummaging in the metal box that had held the tears. She crawled forwards, a little ball of mud, never taking her eyes off him. If he got down now he must see her.

  Nish was watching her. His hands were bound behind him and another rope had been pulled tightly around his chest, fixing him to the pennant pole. He inclined his head to the right, then again. Did he mean her to go around the right side?

  Maelys was crawling that way when Klarm slammed the lid of the metal box and went to the right side. She hastily wriggled under the prow where he’d dug the mud away, knowing that it did not overhang enough to hide her if he came up the front. Clinging to the heavy sabre, she tried to think of a way to attack the most powerful man on Santhenar.

  Nothing came to her. She could not see onto the air-sled from here, nor hear anything but the rain pounding on the metal deck, and Klarm could be anywhere. She fought the urge to crawl away and save herself. She had no idea how to free Nish, only that she must. He had been a hero of the war when she was just a little girl; he was the only one who could save the militia now.

  ‘You’re making a bad enemy, dwarf,’ Nish said loudly.

  Maelys did not hear any reply, but once more the air-sled began to shudder.

  ‘What if Father never comes back?’ said Nish.

  It sounded as if he were trying to distract Klarm. Did that mean he was coming to the prow? She pressed herself deeper into the mud.

  ‘I’m his only heir,’ Nish went on. ‘The Imperial throne comes to me, and the first thing I’m going to do is purge my enemies.’ Nish paused, then added, ‘But there’s still time for you.’

  ‘Save your breath,’ said Klarm from close by. ‘I’m not going to break my oath.’

  Reaper sang, a shriller note, and the mud heaved and began to steam. The prow of the air-sled lifted fractionally but fell back, cracking her on the top of the head.

  Maelys slumped into the mud and for a few seconds she could not move. The air-sled lifted again, further this time, and she heard the suction breaking, the mud beginning to slide underneath and carry her with it. If the craft dropped now she would be crushed to death.

  Fighting a splitting headache, she dug the sabre into the mud and dragged herself out as the air-sled splatted down again. Maelys fell flat in the mud, shaking.

  ‘– and you’re going to be my very first victim –’ Nish cried, sounding panicky. What was the matter with him?

  ‘Aha!’ cried Klarm, and before Maelys realised that he’d seen her a fiery noose twisted around her waist, another around her ankles, and she was lifted from the mud and dropped onto the air-sled. The sabre rang on the metal deck as it slipped from her hand.

  Klarm was several strides away, his fingers just above the surface of Reaper. He’d won, and how he was enjoying his triumph. Maelys tried to stand up but the nooses would not allow it.

  Nish was staring at her, and when she caught his eye he gave a stiff little nod. Did he have a plan? She didn’t see how he could; there was no way he could get free. The sabre was just a few ells from her hand but she could not move to take it.

  As Klarm came for her with a length of rope, Nish kicked the dwarf’s legs from under him. He fell hard, lost contact with the tears and Maelys’s nooses vanished. She snatched at the sabre as Klarm struggled to his feet, the tears swinging on their chain. He was going for Reaper when Maelys lashed out.

  The sabre struck the chain near the point where it was attached to Gatherer. The tears shrilled, sparks flew in all directions and she saw something rouse briefly inside her weapon, then fire ran along the blade and it sheared through the chain. Gatherer went flying over the side; Reaper hit the deck, trailing the chain, and rolled across until it was stopped by the metal rim.

  Klarm collapsed, his little legs drawn up to his belly and his arms wrapped around his middle. Maelys went after Reaper and was about to flip it over the side with the sabre when Nish cried, ‘No!’

  Fool, she told herself; the slightest contact with Reaper could burn her hand off. She darted across to Nish and cut his bonds.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, rubbing his hands to get the circulation back.

  They jumped down and she gave him his sabre as they hurried away. It was raining as hard as ever.

  ‘I’ll never forget this, Maelys,’ he said, clearly moved that she had gone through so much for him. ‘I couldn’t take that again.’

  ‘Take what?’

  ‘Imprisonment in Mazurhize; and being in the thrall of my father when he comes back. As I know he will.’

  Maelys did not reply. Her heart-rate was slowly returning to normal. She’d done it, and now she could hand over the unwanted responsibility.

  ‘You remind me, over and again, who my real friends are,’ he said. He looked back over his shoulder and walked faster. ‘Where’s the militia?’

  ‘In the lower clearing. I sent them up the top, to the best defensive position I could see, but that was at least half an hour ago. And the enemy were close behind. I – I’m really worried.’

  ‘Were Flydd and Yggur there?’

  ‘Yes, and Tulitine, but they weren’t much better.’

  ‘They’ll think of something,’ he said. ‘Flydd is the best man in the world in a difficult situation, and Yggur is almost as good.’

  He was putting on a show of confidence for her sake, but she was not convinced. She looked back. Klarm was on his feet, walking awkwardly and holding his belly. He clambered off the air-sled and began to paw through the mud.

  ‘Lucky it was Gatherer that fell over the side,’ she said. ‘Had it been Reaper he could have used Gatherer to find it.’

  ‘Mmm,’ he said, breaking into a run. ‘Come on.’

  Maelys stayed beside him for a while, but she was exhausted from labouring through the mud all this time and could not keep up.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, knowing she was holding him back. ‘You’ve got to reach them before Klarm does. I’ll be close behind.’

  He slowed until she caught up. ‘I’m not leaving you,’ Nish said, his jaw knotted.

  ‘I’ll be fine, the taphloid will protect me. Two scriers looked directly at me on the way here and didn’t see a thing.’ Though they had sensed something amiss. ‘Go!’

  ‘All right. But be careful.’ He kissed her on her muddy brow, the first intimate gesture she’d ever had from him, then ran down to the forest without looking back.

  She plodded after him, checking over her shoulder. Klarm had found Gatherer; she could see it shining from here. He carried it carefully to the metal box, wound the chain attached to Reaper around his wrist and looked about. Maelys froze, then slowly crouched, knowing he would see her if she ran.

  The song of Reaper swelled to a jarring cacophony. The caduceus, which had died to a dull orange, flared white-hot again and she felt the taphloid’s insides wobble. There’s too much Art in this place, she thought, and too many uncanny devices interfering with one another. Something has to give, and if it’s my taphloid …

  The air-sled shook violently and tore free, sending clots of mud spinning in all directions. Klarm curved it around the clearing, looking for her. Maelys lay down so her pale face would not stand out against the mud, and prayed. It was all she could do. If he saw her, she was lost.

  Klarm made another circle, closer in. Did he know she was still in the clearing? Probably – he was the most astute of men. Her only cons
olation, as he circled for the third time, was that every minute’s delay increased Nish’s chances of reaching the militia. He must be well into the forest by now.

  The air-sled was only a few spans up, with the dwarf standing at the prow, his head swinging from side to side as he studied every hump and hollow, every body. He would pass close by and she did not think the taphloid could conceal her at such short range.

  She held her breath, monitoring his progress by the abrasive notes from Reaper. Klarm was now so close that she could sense the malevolent core of the Profane Tear. He must see her. Should she jump up and run, or attack with her knife? No, Reaper could kill her as brutally as it had slain the red-haired archer.

  A slow shudder rolled through the sodden ground, lifting her minutely and letting her down again. Maelys ignored it, forcing herself to remain as still as the dead, but the ground heaved again, harder this time. Was it an earthquake?

  Klarm let out a furious oath and the air-sled shot away, banking in a semi-circle and soaring up over the forest at the river side of the clearing, out of sight. The flood level had risen visibly there. Maelys climbed shakily to her feet, faint with relief. Why had Klarm gone that way? What could be more important than catching Nish?

  There was no way of telling, so she ran, and was almost to the deer track at the lower edge of the clearing when two people emerged from the forest near the top of the slope. She recognised them at once, for few men were as tall as Yggur, while only Tulitine had that elegant, upright carriage. What were they doing?

  Maelys was running up to intercept them when there came an ear-shattering roar from the direction Klarm had taken, and a three-span-high wall of water and torn-up trees swept across the lower side of the clearing and slammed into the forest where she had been heading. It sheared off the giant rainforest trees as if they had been weeds, then thundered downriver. The dam had given way.