Ruin

by John Gwynne

  Her attention was drawn back to the ship as the cabin door creaked open and a warrior emerged. He was holding a chain, which he tugged. A female giant walked out onto the deck, tall and muscular, an iron collar about her throat. Another giant followed behind her, bound to a connecting chain at the waist. This one was male, shorter and slighter, with wisps of a scraggly moustache. A giant bairn. I did not even know that such a thing existed.

  More Vin Thalun warriors followed behind, spears levelled at their prisoners. The giants were led from the galley onto the far bank; the chain linking them was attached to the iron ring in the great stone. One of the Vin Thalun prodded the small male with a spear, making him twist away with a pitiful whine. The female snarled, stepped in front of the smaller one and lunged as the Vin Thalun laughed and jabbed at her with their spears. They soon grew bored of their baiting and left the two giants. The giantess cupped the young male’s face in her hands, the two exchanging a look both bleak and tender. Fidele felt the breath catch in her chest – something about the gesture was shockingly moving. Fidele remembered doing the same to Nathair as Aquilus was laid in his cairn, remembered the grief they’d shared in a look, intimate and unique only to them at the loss of Aquilus, husband, father.

  She is his mother.

  She felt Maquin’s hand on her arm, saw him gesture that it was time to leave. She didn’t want to go, a wave of empathy for the giant mother and child almost overwhelming her. She had been a Vin Thalun slave, just with different shackles. She wanted to help them.

  There was a burst of sound close by, the reeds shuddering about them as Senios tore himself from Maquin’s grip and threw himself forward. Maquin lunged after him, his knife stabbing into Senios’ leg. The two men tumbled down the riverbank, splashing into the water, disappearing in a mass of white foam.

  Panic exploded in Fidele. The two men rose to the surface of the river, grappling, spluttering. Senios broke free of Maquin’s grasp and swam away, heading for the far bank. Maquin followed, seemingly oblivious or uncaring that the Vin Thalun warriors from the ship had noticed the commotion and were aiming their spears at the river.

  ‘No!’ Fidele yelled at Maquin. And he must have heard her, for he glanced up at her, then back across the river to where Senios was being hauled up on the ship by his comrades. Maquin scrambled back to Fidele, grasping at her hand to pull himself ashore. There was a whistling sound as a spear sank into the ground close by, another followed shortly behind.

  ‘Quickly,’ Maquin snarled, vanishing into the reeds. Fidele paused and looked back, saw the two giants staring at her. For a moment Fidele’s eyes locked with the mother. I am sorry, she thought.

  CHAPTER TEN

  UTHAS

  ‘Lift,’ Uthas cried, and a dozen Benothi giants grunted as they took the weight of the cauldron on two long iron poles. For a few moments the cauldron hung suspended over the dais, its resting place for two thousand years, then they shuffled forwards, transferring it onto a huge wain that stood nearby. Its timber frame was reinforced with iron, but it still creaked as the cauldron’s weight settled. Leather straps were tightened and secured to iron rings, fixing the cauldron in place. Then a leather sheet was unfurled and tied tight, hiding the cauldron from sight. The wain had taken nearly two full days and nights to construct, the forges of the Benothi belching smoke as great wheels and axles had been fashioned, using iron and weathered and hardened timber gathered from the huge doors that had hung within the fortress of Murias.

  It still stinks in here. Uthas wrinkled his nose. The cauldron’s chamber was still littered with the dead. The Benothi giants had tended to their own fallen, carrying their dead kin from the hall to lay them in a great cairn beyond the gates of Murias, but the stinking tangle of Jehar and wyrm corpses had been left to rot. He looked with disgust at the bodies strewn about him. Some of them appear to have been . . . chewed upon. Uthas looked up, his eyes meeting with Calidus, who stood beside the wain directing his Kadoshim brethren. He let out a long breath and looked away. I don’t want to know.

  Eight of the Jehar warhorses were harnessed to the wain. At his signal it moved forwards slowly, the wheels crushing flesh, crunching bone as they rolled across the cavern floor. The Benothi followed, an honour guard.

  ‘You have done well,’ Calidus said to him as they left the chamber. ‘The cauldron is not of this earth, the fabric it is made from is dense and heavy. But that wain is sturdy enough to carry it a thousand leagues.’

  ‘The Benothi are skilled craftsmen,’ Uthas said with a hint of pride.

  They passed through the wide corridors of Murias, Uthas feeling a blend of melancholy and anticipation growing in his belly. He was leaving Murias, home of the Benothi for two thousand years, possibly leaving it behind forever. I will not look back. It is the destination that is important: the end, not the beginning.

  Eventually they reached the entrance hall. A line of wains stood waiting, all loaded – most with huge barrels of brot, enough to provide sustenance for them for a year or more. Though it appears the Kadoshim are acquiring other tastes.

  The Kadoshim were spread about the hall, thickest around the wains. Once the wounded Kadoshim, Bune, had been brought back to Murias and the others had heard the disastrous fate of those that had rushed after Meical and his companions, Calidus had managed to introduce a level of order to the Kadoshim. And they were adapting to their new bodies well, suppressing the spirits of their unwilling hosts and learning the way of flesh, as Calidus had taken to calling it. Nathair stood to one side of the open gates, the bulk of his draig making him easy to find. The giant Alcyon stood with him.

  ‘Come,’ Calidus said to Uthas, ‘it is time to hear Nathair’s answer to my offer.’

  ‘What will be his choice, I wonder,’ Uthas said as they strode across the wide chamber.

  ‘He will choose life. He is no fool. He has dreams, delusions of nobility and greatness, but when life or death are only a word apart . . .’ Calidus smiled coldly.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘As sure as it is possible to be. But one thing I have learned in this world of flesh – mankind is fickle, and nothing is certain. So I have a rule: prepare for all eventualities. If he says no, then I have a lock of his hair. I need Nathair; we are too few and he has the keys to an empire within his reach. And I have worked hard to make this so; it’s taken a considerable amount of time and effort to bring all of this about.’

  ‘I can only imagine,’ Uthas grunted.

  ‘And so I would not like to see it all wasted. Nevertheless, things could go awry.’ Calidus looked behind at the wain emerging into the chamber. ‘Bring Salach and whoever else you think necessary if we need to dispatch Nathair’s draig.’

  Uthas raised an eyebrow, not relishing that thought. He remembered the creature carving a way through a mass of wyrms in the cauldron’s cavern. He gestured to Salach, Eisa and another half-dozen of the Benothi. They followed.

  ‘That would be a shame; it is a magnificent creature, and useful.’

  Calidus shrugged. ‘It is bonded to Nathair, would tear even me apart in his defence. If Nathair is to die, the draig must be killed too.’

  ‘And Nathair?’

  ‘If it comes to it, Alcyon will take care of him.’

  They approached Nathair in silence. The King of Tenebral was spooning something from a bowl. When he saw them approaching he stepped closer to his draig and gave it the remnants of his meal. A long black tongue licked around the bowl, the creature nudging Nathair with its broad flat muzzle. Absently, Nathair scratched its chin and tugged on a long fang. Alcyon took a step back, his eyes fixed on Calidus.

  ‘We are ready to leave,’ Calidus said to Nathair, conversationally.

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘It is time for you to make your choice.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can,’ Nathair muttered, massaging his temple.

  Calidus stared at him with a hint of a smile. ‘You already have made it. You are just struggling with the fi
nal step. You realize if you continue on this path there can be no going back for you.’

  Nathair snorted. ‘You appear to know me better than I know myself.’

  ‘I do, Nathair. We have been through much together, you and I. Risked much. Dared much. Gained much. And here we are on the brink.’

  ‘You deceived me,’ Nathair whispered. He looked intensely at Calidus, and for a moment Uthas caught a flash of real pain in the young King’s eyes.

  Betrayal is hard to bear. I saw that same look in Nemain’s eyes when she realized the truth about me.

  Calidus returned the gaze calmly.

  ‘You know I had no choice. You would not have understood. If you were in my position you would have done exactly the same. For the greater good. Have you not done things that others would consider questionable, for the greater good?’

  Nathair winced at those words, as if they brought him physical pain. ‘I have,’ he said, a whisper.

  ‘And have you not withheld information, even from those you value and trust? Veradis, for example? Again for the greater good.’

  ‘Aye.’ Louder this time.

  ‘Well, what I have done and will do is for the greater good – I am offering you a chance to fulfil your vision, to see an empire bring peace to these Banished Lands.’

  ‘Over a mountain of bodies.’

  ‘Was there ever going to be any other way? How many have already died for your visions of peace? This is no different. You and Asroth share the same vision: a world of order, of peace, where the powerful are able to make decisions to better lives without politics or bureaucracy getting in the way. You are stumbling over concepts – good and evil, right and wrong. Asroth has been depicted in the history of your world by his enemy – of course you will think him evil. But he is not. He is like you, a sentient creature with the ability to choose. Our base instinct is to survive, and sometimes to survive you must fight. This is not a game; it is a fight for life or death. But I promise you this, give you my oath: if we win, we will create an empire that will be everything you ever dreamed of.’ Calidus paused and stared keenly into Nathair’s eyes, holding him. ‘Join us. I will not lie, we need you.’

  ‘Need me?’

  ‘You are no fool, Nathair. I will not tell you what you already know.’

  ‘That I control the warbands of Tenebral, and that I have forged an alliance with Helveth, Carnutan and Isiltir.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Calidus nodded. ‘I have the Kadoshim, Uthas and his Benothi, Lykos and the Vin Thalun. And Rhin. A powerful force, but not all-powerful. Together, though . . .’

  ‘With me as your puppet-king, you mean,’ Nathair said. His draig turned its eyes on Calidus and gave a low, baleful rumble.

  ‘Not as a puppet. As a king, with the others as your vassals – Rhin, Lykos, Uthas. These Banished Lands are too vast for one man to conquer unaided.’

  ‘They are,’ Nathair agreed.

  ‘So join me. Together we can crush Meical and his allies. Fulfil your dream. And afterwards you will rule. More than a king, you shall be Emperor of the Banished Lands, ruler of all you have conquered. So, you see, nothing will be changed from your dreams of old.’

  ‘And what of Asroth? What does he want?’

  ‘Victory. Only victory. Asroth’s desire is to defeat his enemies. The Ben-Elim. Meical, his Bright Star Corban and the band of brigands they’ve gathered about themselves. Afterwards, when they are dead –’ Calidus shrugged – ‘then this world is yours.’

  ‘Mine? Asroth would not rule here?’

  ‘No. He does not wish to rule – bureaucracy and administration hold little attraction for my master. All that he wishes for is to see his enemies destroyed, once and for all. To see their blood and bones ground into the earth. To make Meical and his Ben-Elim nothing but a stain upon the ground.’ Calidus’ mouth had constricted into a sharp line, eyes narrowed to slits.

  He is remarkably convincing, thought Uthas.

  ‘And to achieve that victory Asroth needs you. He needs about him those who share his vision, whom he can trust. And, remember, Asroth chose you, above all others.’

  Uthas was studying Nathair, ready for any indication that there would be defiance. He wants to believe Calidus, longs to be the hero of his own story, and Calidus is telling him what he wants to hear. Flattery blended with a measure of truth.

  ‘Your dreams, which you have been having for years,’ Calidus continued. ‘They are true. Asroth picked you out, chose you from countless others. You, Nathair, have the qualities to see this through. To make a difference. To rule. The only error in your dreams was the name that you chose to give Asroth.’

  ‘And myself,’ Nathair said, the earlier bitterness still in his voice, but weaker now, diluted by something else.

  Hope.

  Calidus shrugged.

  ‘My dreams,’ Nathair said, a distant look in his eyes. ‘They made me feel different. Special, chosen.’

  ‘And you are. All you need do is change your perspective on Asroth. I will not lie, he is angry. Angry at Elyon, the Great Tyrant, his hubris nothing but a cloak for his betrayal.’ Calidus’ face twisted with a flicker of rage, like lightning on the horizon. ‘Asroth had the audacity to question Elyon, and then to challenge his wisdom. Elyon is proud, arrogant.’ Calidus smiled and shrugged. ‘Questioning him did not go down too well. Asroth was betrayed and cast out, along with those of us who stood beside him, we who had the impudence to wonder, to ask, to question. We were all betrayed by Meical and the Ben-Elim, with their piety and zeal, their lack of interest in the affairs of mankind. They are callous and cruel.’

  ‘Your words, they are convincing,’ Nathair frowned. ‘But, how can I trust you, now?

  ‘Would Veradis trust you, if you confessed to your past deceptions as I am confessing to mine?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps. Not immediately, but if I proved myself to him . . .’

  ‘As I shall prove myself to you. Join me and you will see. You can trust me, Nathair – there is nothing hidden between us now. Ask me anything.’

  ‘What is your plan – the next step in this war?’

  ‘To consolidate what we have. The cauldron is the greatest of the Seven Treasures; it must be kept safe. I would take it back to Tenebral, where we are unassailable. And the other Treasures must be found. They are needed to break the barriers with the Other-world.’

  ‘So you would bring Asroth into our world?’

  ‘Aye. That is the goal. To crush our mutual enemies. That is the only way we can win.’

  ‘And I would continue to rule Tenebral now, and be high king in your new order?’

  ‘Yes. More than that. You would be this world’s emperor. Those who help me will be rewarded. You. Uthas. Lykos. Others beneath them – Rhin, Jael, Lothar, Gundul. Together we will conquer these Banished Lands and bring about a new order.’

  He is wavering. Only the final step remains.

  ‘All that you have to do is say yes.’

  They stood there in silence a long while, Nathair and Calidus locked in a gaze that excluded all else. Eventually Nathair sighed, passing a hand over his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘I will join your cause. Though I would tell you, the trust between us must be rebuilt.’

  Calidus smiled. ‘Do not trust in me. Trust in Asroth.’

  ‘What do you mean? I have just given you my word.’

  Calidus paused and stared at him, then he laughed. ‘Oh, Nathair, your sincerity, it really is quite inspiring; I can understand why Asroth singled you out. But trust must run both ways and you must forgive me if I have a suspicious mind. How do I know that you have not given your word to prolong your life, to buy yourself time until you are reunited with Veradis and a thousand eagle-guard at your back? I wonder, will you feel as committed to this cause then?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You will understand if I take steps to guarantee your integrity?’

  ‘What steps?’

  ‘You will see, in
just a few moments.’ Calidus strode to a pot suspended over a fire, emptied its contents and drew something from his cloak: a vial, dark liquid within it.

  ‘What is that?’ Nathair asked.

  ‘The blood of an enemy. A powerful enemy; it is the blood of Nemain, once-Queen of the Benothi. Give me your hand.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It is time you met your new master.’ Calidus stepped closer, gripped Nathair’s hand and lifted it, then turned it, looking at the palm. ‘You have made an oath before.’ His finger traced a white scar.

  ‘Aye. With Veradis.’

  ‘You are about to make another.’ He turned and poured the blood from the vial into the pot.

  Pale morning sunshine and a chill wind filtered through the gates of Murias as Uthas stood and waited.

  ‘Make ready,’ Calidus cried, his voice filling the chamber, and for a few moments all was chaos.

  This is it. The moment that the Benothi march to war alongside the Kadoshim. He took a deep breath, an effort to calm the mix of fear and excitement that coursed through him.

  A hand touched Uthas’ arm and he turned to see Eisa standing before the surviving fifty Benothi warriors.

  ‘You are our leader, now. Lord of the Benothi,’ she said, offering him an object.

  Uthas looked closer, saw she held a necklace fashioned from wyrm fangs. They were threaded on an iron chain, bound with silver.

  I am not worthy. A betrayer. A murderer.

  He bowed his head, allowing her to slip the necklace onto him. It was a pleasant weight upon his neck and shoulders.

  ‘I thank you,’ he said as he raised his head. ‘I will lead you to glory and a new age for the Benothi. We will hide in the shadows no more.’

  Voices bellowed their approval and then they were moving out.

  And not just the Benothi. I will reforge what was Sundered. The clans will join behind me. They must.