by Ian Irvine
She had tried to hide on these barren slopes with Nish, last autumn. The only cover nearby was a scatter of spindly bushes and an occasional depression or boulder. Further up stood a patch of woodland, and there was scrub in the gully, though neither would conceal them from a determined search.
As they were heading for the woodland, a huge soldier limped over the rise directly ahead, followed by a dark, beautiful woman and, partly concealed behind her, a smaller man.
The big soldier looked vaguely familiar, though Maelys had never seen the woman before. She was turning to run when the smaller man moved out from behind the woman and her heart leapt. Could that shaggy, haggard wretch be Nish, alive?
‘Nish!’ she cried, and pelted up the slope. ‘Nish, we saw the flood; we were sure you were dead.’
The trio froze, staring, then Nish came on a step. ‘Maelys?’
She crossed the distance in seconds, past the grinning giant and the beautiful woman, and threw herself into his arms so hard that she almost knocked him off his feet.
He clung to her, smiling in bemusement. ‘And we were afraid you had drowned. Is that Yggur and Tulitine?’
‘Yes,’ said Maelys, hopping up and down, still holding him, before realising that Nish might not share her feelings – the feelings she had not realised she’d had for him – and that the woman with him might be more than a friend. She disengaged herself and stepped back at once, confused and embarrassed.
He was staring at her as if she were a long-lost treasure. ‘You can’t know how much I’ve cursed myself for running on ahead that day. How did you escape the flood?’
‘I was high up, with Yggur and Tulitine. When we went back to look for you, everyone was gone. I was so afraid. Where’s Xervish? He’s not …?’
Nish was looking over her shoulder. ‘Malien?’ He ran to her and Yggur, leaving Maelys even more confused.
They crossed to the other side of the ridge, where Nish’s small force lay hidden in a patch of scrub that extended the length of the gully. Persia had quietly left the old friends together, and Nish led Maelys, Yggur, Tulitine and Malien back to the camp, where they breakfasted on field rations and Malien’s strange but delicious Aachim food, before settling down to briefly tell their tales.
Maelys’s eyes never left Nish’s face while he told the story of the battles at the Range of Ruin, and all that had happened since. Surely she can’t be that pleased to see me, he thought, after the way I treated her. But it was so good to have her back, unharmed, and as strong, brave and beautiful as ever. Maelys had always bolstered his faltering heart and he felt all the stronger for her being here. There might be a faint hope after all.
‘So you found the pure fire,’ he said when everyone had finished. ‘I don’t know how you did it –’
‘And we can’t imagine how you beat that mighty army at Blisterbone,’ said Yggur drily, ‘so we’re even. What’s the plan?’
‘We’re waiting to see which army moves first,’ said Nish.
‘If I were a rebel, and had chthonic fire,’ said Malien, ‘I’d let someone else go first.’
‘What if they were rewarded beyond their wildest dreams?’ said Tulitine.
‘I’d be working out how I could take the reward away from them. Or, if they suffered an unpleasant fate at Stilkeen’s hands, I’d quietly withdraw.’
‘How many armies are down there?’ said Maelys.
‘Five, we believe,’ said Nish, ‘including Vomix’s.’
Maelys moved closer to Nish. ‘I thought he died on Mistmurk Mountain!’
‘The man we saw there wasn’t Vomix; it was Vivimord transfigured to take his place. Vomix is alive; I fought the bastard a couple of weeks ago, and unfortunately failed to kill him, though he very nearly killed me.’
She clutched at his arm.
‘The others include the present seneschal of Fadd, Lidgeon,’ Nish went on, ticking them off on his fingers. ‘He leads a force only half the size of Vomix’s, I’ve heard, but he’s a cunning devil. There’s also a private army that sailed north from Tiksi, led by Hackel. The Jackal, they call him. A pleasant fellow to your face, but don’t let him get behind you.’
‘Who else?’ said Yggur, lying down and putting his head in Tulitine’s lap. She stroked his brow.
Nish did not reply for a moment; he was too surprised. He had not seen his old ally with a woman before, and Tulitine of all people. Clearly, much had changed in the four weeks since they had been separated.
‘General Nosby, the commander of the Imperial Guard at Morrelune. It’s fanatically loyal to the God-Emperor and if Father does comes back, or his appointed deputy, Klarm, every man of the Guard would give their lives for him. I don’t know what they’ll do if Father really is dead.’
‘Would they transfer their loyalty to you, Nish?’ said Maelys.
‘An excellent question,’ said Yggur, ‘to which we don’t have an answer.’
‘I’ve heard rumour of one other army,’ said Nish, ‘but I don’t know anything about it.’
By this time the sun was riding up a clear, brassy sky; it was going to be a hot day and Maelys was wilting. ‘I’m really tired. If nothing is going to happen for a while …’
‘Good idea,’ said Nish, yawning. ‘We marched half of last night and I’m not planning to move before mid-afternoon unless I have to. The lookouts will warn us if anything happens.’ He rose. ‘There’s a nice, shady napping spot further up.’
He was looking at Maelys, and she accompanied him up the slope, though the others remained where they were.
‘You didn’t mention Xervish, after Roros,’ she said. ‘Where’s he gone?’
‘There’s so much to tell,’ said Nish, putting a companionable arm across her shoulders. ‘He went looking for chthonic fire two weeks ago and I haven’t heard anything since. I – I didn’t want to mention it in front of everyone, but I’m worried about what he’s up to.’
‘I don’t understand.’
They settled down in the coolest patch of shade and Nish went though his concerns about Flydd: his odd behaviour, frequent disappearances, his apparent obsession with the tears, and, most damning of all, that he had not made a portal with the serpent staff until he left Roros. ‘Renewal changed him, and not for the better. I’m worried that he’s after the tears – and not to destroy them.’
‘No!’ Maelys said flatly. ‘He has been different ever since renewal, though that’s to be expected – especially since Yalkara interfered with it. But deep down he’s the same old Flydd –’
‘How would you know?’ he said quietly.
‘I – I believe in him.’
‘But Maelys, when he took renewal, you’d only known him for a day. Flydd and I fought together and travelled together for years during the war, and he’s definitely different now; he’s harder and meaner, and it bothers me.’
‘Let’s wait and see what happens when he returns.’
‘If he does,’ Nish said darkly.
Maelys frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. She was the most loyal of friends and had never stopped believing in him, even when Nish could not believe in himself. It was one of her defining qualities and he could hardly fault her for it.
‘Is there any news about Klarm and the tears?’ she said hastily.
‘Not since he went into the shadow realm, but if he turns up the tears could change everything.’ He paused. ‘Tulitine isn’t looking well.’
‘The Regression Spell isn’t reverting the way she expected. She hasn’t aged, outwardly at least, but the pain in her bones grows ever worse.’
‘And she only used that spell on herself to save me,’ said Nish, shaking his head at a generosity of spirit which, for all his courage on the battlefield, felt beyond him. ‘Yggur looks worn out, too.’
‘His Art is almost gone, and I’m sure it has to do with the caduceus.’ Impulsively, Maelys took his hands, but realised what she had done and hastily dropped them. ‘How are you, Nish? You look exhausted.’
‘I am. What a bunch of crocks we are,’ said Nish, leaning back against a tree and staring at her until the blood rushed to her cheeks. ‘We’re all knackered, battered, broken, or decayed, except you. You’re more beautiful than ever, Maelys –’
‘I – I – Don’t talk nonsense. The aunts always told me how little and plain and mousy I was.’ She looked away.
‘Plain? Mousy!’ Nish snorted. ‘What nonsense. How can you believe anything they say?’
‘They’re all I have left.’
And that was his father’s fault. He changed the subject hastily. ‘Have you learned anything about your gift?’
‘No, and I never will; I’m too old to begin with the Art, and the lessons Father put into the taphloid for me are lost forever. But then, I didn’t know I had a gift until a few months ago, so I haven’t really lost anything.’
The tone of her voice said otherwise.
FORTY
In the early afternoon, Maelys was sitting on the coarse grass with Nish, watching Tulitine, whose head was bowed. She was using her seer’s skills, aided by a decoction Malien had given her, made from a root of the black-petalled Aachan daisy, to search for Klarm. Nish felt that the dwarf and the tears were his only hope now – and a very slim hope at that.
‘I have him!’ she said suddenly.
Maelys leaned forwards but Nish put a warning hand on her arm and she sat back again.
‘Catacombs,’ said Tulitine. ‘Very deep, dark; deadly. The dwarf staggers; his arms and chest run with blood; but he will not set down the tears. He is gone.’
Her head sagged to her breast and she slept, her breathing light and fluttering, for ten minutes, before rousing drowsily.
‘I know no more,’ she said as Nish opened his mouth. ‘Klarm is in the depths of some catacombs, and the time is now, though I can’t tell if he’s close by or a hundred leagues away.’
‘So he escaped the shadow realm and he still has the tears,’ said Maelys. ‘Your enemies would pay a fortune to know that.’ She got up.
‘Let’s hope their seers aren’t as clear-sighted,’ said Nish.
They went with Tulitine to the edge of the copse and watched her make her painful way down the gully.
Maelys said, ‘Even if Klarm does turn up, he won’t help us, will he?’
‘If you were trying to save the world, would you ally with the weakest army here?’ said Nish, scanning their surroundings and running his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘Why isn’t anyone moving? Anything would be better than this interminable waiting.’
‘It won’t be long now. Are you all right? You look terrible.’
‘My guts are burning like acid and I want to throw up. I’ve done everything I could do, Maelys; I’ve driven myself to the limits of what mind and body can take, and I’m afraid it’s not going to be enough. I can’t bear to think that Santhenar might end here, today, because of something I’ve done wrong – or failed to do.’
‘You can’t take that burden on yourself,’ she said softly. ‘Stilkeen is an immortal being – it’s bigger than all of us.’
‘Someone has to. And what if it is the end? How can beautiful Santhenar be destroyed because of something Yalkara did thousands of years ago? I can’t come to terms with that.’
‘Surely …’ she began.
‘That’s what it’s come down to, Maelys. It’s not right, but Stilkeen has roamed the universe for half of eternity. It must have seen a million worlds, so why would it care about ours? If it gets the pure fire back, it could crush Santhenar the way you or I might swat a fly.’
Shivers ran up and down her back. ‘There isn’t much hope, is there?’
‘Between Vomix and the other armies on the one hand, Stilkeen on the other, and the threat of annihilation from the void, I don’t see how there can be. And what if it deliberately drew everyone here so it could destroy all its opponents at once?’
‘Why would it do that?’ said Maelys.
‘I’ve no idea. We’re dealing with a superior being. How can we possibly out-think it?’
‘We can’t. Yggur lost most of his Art just when we needed it most, Tulitine can barely walk, you look like you fell out of your own coffin, and I … we need help desperately, Nish.’
‘We’re not going to get it. We’re on our own.’
Psshhhhffftt! With a whispering sigh and a puff of fog that vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, a glassy, bubble-shaped portal opened further up the slope and a small, skinny, horribly scarred and incredibly ugly man stepped out. A very familiar figure that Maelys had never expected to see again – no, could not possibly see again.
‘Xervish!’ she cried, for the man looked exactly like the Xervish Flydd of old, before he’d taken renewal. She began to run towards him, but stopped. This had to be an illusion or chimaera created by one of their enemies.
‘Wait!’ said Nish, who had his sword in hand, ‘Who are you? Stay back, Maelys, it could be Yalkara. She once possessed Flydd, remember? Stop right where you are,’ he shouted.
‘It’s me, you bloody moron,’ the original Flydd’s harsh and acerbic voice was unmistakable. ‘Is there another man on Santhenar who could wear this body with pride?’
Maelys, incongruously, giggled. It was Flydd, of course it was, and suddenly the despair lifted. With Flydd at their side, anything was possible, even taking on a being.
‘Certainly not me,’ said Nish, sheathing his sword and looking as though he’d just been relieved of an unbearable burden. ‘If I was that ugly I’d sew myself into a warthog’s skin and count myself fortunate.’
‘Why you obnoxious little sod,’ cried Flydd. ‘It took me fifty-six years to look this way, plus the services of the Council of Scrutators’ ten best torturers. You’re almost as hideous and you can’t be thirty-five.’
He came down the hill, swinging the serpent staff with the forked tongue, and Nish ran and embraced him. Flydd returned the hug, though only briefly, then pushed him off. ‘Let’s not get carried away. I haven’t missed you that much.’
Flydd embraced Maelys heartily and long, and she knew he was delighted to see her; she also knew that he had a fondness for beautiful young women and, despite his appearance, had no trouble getting them … at least, while he had been a scrutator. Before –
Remembering what she’d seen when he had been naked and going through renewal – or rather, what he had lacked – she bit her lip and stepped away.
‘Why did you go back to the old Flydd, surr?’ she said timidly.
‘My renewed body didn’t fit properly, and it was giving me all manner of trouble, to say nothing of changing me in ways I didn’t like. You must have noticed.’
‘No,’ said Maelys hastily, ‘not at all.’
‘Liar,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Moreover, the ladies weren’t nearly as satisfied by the renewed, middle-aged me as they had been by the scrawny old man I’d been fifteen years earlier –’
‘Funny that,’ said Nish.
Maelys was looking in every direction but at Flydd, her cheeks hot.
‘– and since the serpent staff allowed me to make portals,’ Flydd went on, giving Nish a keen glance, ‘and do one or two other things –’
‘You took renewal again,’ said Nish.
‘I certainly did not; do I look that stupid?’
‘Well, since you ask …’ grinned Nish.
Flydd swiped at his head. Nish ducked.
‘I thought I’d try reverting the renewal,’ said Flydd, ‘and to my surprise the staff assisted me.’
‘Wasn’t that a terrible risk?’ said Maelys, remembering the agony he had gone through during renewal. Flydd had barely survived it.
‘It was, but I was in such pain I didn’t much care whether I lived or died, as long as the pain stopped. The reversion wasn’t fun either, and it certainly wasn’t pretty, but it worked. And most importantly, I got rid of the woman in red,’ he muttered. ‘There’s no one in my mind now except me.’
‘But y
ou didn’t revert to the er, old Flydd you were just before renewal,’ said Maelys tactfully.
‘You put it so nicely, my dear. He was on his last legs, no use to man or beast, so I allowed the Reversion Spell to run a bit longer than it should have. I wasn’t greedy, mind. I didn’t want to go back to my youth – I merely returned to fifty-six.’
‘You were older than that when we first met, weren’t you?’ said Nish.
‘A year or two,’ said Flydd, who seemed very pleased with himself.
‘And, er, therefore you would, must have –’
‘Yes, I’ve got back the equipment that the Chief Scrutator’s torturers cut from me that day on the platform suspended above the rooftops of Fiz Gorgo,’ he snapped, ‘if it’s any of your damned business. And I’m planning to put it to vigorous use once we’ve cleaned up the little mess down below.’
‘I don’t want to know about your sordid private life,’ said Nish hastily.
‘And neither does sweet little Maelys, I’m sure,’ said Flydd. ‘Look, she’s blushing again. I’ve never met anyone else who colours so easily nor, now that I think about it, so prettily. You could do a lot worse, Nish.’
Nish frowned, looking anywhere but at Maelys, who turned away hastily, her cheeks crimson now.
‘What are you talking about?’ they both said at the same time.
Flydd gave them a superior smile. ‘I’m right; you’ll see. Let’s go down and you can brief me on what everyone has been up to.’
‘I’d like to know what you’ve been up to.’
‘There isn’t time to tell it twice. Have you got anything to eat? I’d forgotten how hungry this old body gets.’
After gratifying expressions of astonishment at Flydd’s reversion from everyone except Malien, who had known the old Flydd well but not met the renewed version, they briefly told him their tales. Maelys noticed that Persia kept staring at Flydd, a wistful yearning in her dark eyes. What was it about the old scoundrel?
‘Just as well you brought back chthonic fire,’ he said, munching on curled-up shavings of spiced, preserved meat from Malien’s stores. It was as black as char, as hard as a lump of wood and so spicy that it lifted the roof off Maelys’s mouth, but Flydd ate it with equanimity. ‘I didn’t find any.’
