Even if he still wore it around his neck, it would represent nothing. Any previous structures seemed irrelevant now. Existence fell into two categories: those who could muck in and look after the others, and those who needed guidance. Some were using terms of leadership whenever they addressed him: boss, chief, sir. He waved them down and asked to be called simply Fulcrom, but they didn’t stop doing it, and soon their expectations seemed to weigh down on his shoulders.
Their hopes became his burden.
He found joy in small things: children finding the time to play the odd game amidst these ruined lives. Or a puppy looking up from a basket being carried by an old man. A few entertainers engaged in spontaneous juggling acts, lifting the mood of the crowd. Storytellers pulled people in around campfires in order to forget about the evils that tormented them. There were rumels, like himself, and of all colour skins – brown, black, grey – helping their human companions, and vice versa, without a single hint of racial tension. There were people from immensely wealthy backgrounds – lords and ladies, retired military officials, landowners – all reduced to poverty; the poor, trained by years in the caves, helped them out with advice on ways of looking after themselves. It was, Fulcrom had to admit, immensely touching.
Occasionally something might fly overhead, too quickly for him to discern, but it was enough to cause panic on the ground. Enormous gouts of people would surge towards the woodlands or throw themselves in soft snow, and all that happened was that more people would suffer from frostbite or pneumonia. And each day, a few more people would die.
*
Eventually, after many days trudging across the wilderness, two outriders returned to the convoy and brought their horses in alongside Fulcrom. A man and his daughter, both well-built individuals, were protected by wax raincapes and woollen hats.
‘The coast, investigator, it’s the coast,’ the woman said. ‘It’s within reach. We’ll make it before sunrise if we continue straight on through the night.’
‘If we take rest it will be well into the next day,’ Fulcrom called. ‘That means we’ll be exposed to attack for longer. We’ve been OK the last two nights, but I don’t want to risk anything – we should expect an assault.’
‘People are tired, investigator,’ the man grunted. ‘Should let ’em get some rest.’
Fulcrom shook his head. ‘Many have been on transport, and of course they’ll be fine through the night. But the others will have to manage. I don’t want to risk the sky-city catching up with us. We’ve gone two nights without an attack, without any sightings. I’m not a paranoid man, outrider, but I think it pays to be cautious. Could you live with the guilt otherwise?’
‘No, no,’ the man said. ‘My apologies.’
He watched the two outriders turn and ride into the distance before disappearing into a dark forest. Soon it began to snow – yet again. Within the walls of the city it never seemed so bad; out here, each fat flake seemed to press against his face with greater intensity.
*
The next hour was slow going. The dirt road crossed increasingly boggy terrain before leading them uphill. Fulcrom remained mightily unimpressed with this route.
‘This hill goes on forever,’ Lan mumbled from behind, squeezing her arms tighter as if to prompt him into speaking.
‘Sorry,’ Fulcrom replied glumly. ‘It’s the only route we can take. It’s the most direct way to the coast. It’s all we can do.’
‘I wasn’t complaining about your navigational skills, I was just saying,’ Lan replied. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just wish we could hurry, but we can’t force people to go any faster. I want to get to the top of that hill as much as you do.’
‘Will we see the coast when we’re up there?’ Lan wondered.
‘I very much hope so,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘We should be able to see in every direction from the top, and maybe see how far behind they are, and if any more are on the ground.’
They went on horseback alongside the lead land-vehicle’s front wheels, and far enough away so that the horse’s immense hooves would not crush them.
That would not be a dignified end, after all I’ve been through, Fulcrom thought.
The convoy then moved through a landscape littered with spindly bushes and the occasional deep pool, which people stumbled into by accident. He pitied those that did, and pitied himself that he could not help everyone. There were thousands of people behind him; how could he choose to divert medical attention to everyone who stumbled or caught frostbite?
These must be the decisions of a god, something he did not feel comfortable with. Besides, one god-like figure among them seemed enough. Frater Mercury, the being who had been brought through to this world, seemed more like a statue than a god, as he perched on the lead horse. The figure simply stood regarding the vista: it must have been quite a view up there.
Upwards, slowly upwards.
Low clouds vanished leaving white wisps that trailed into the distance. Sunlight materialized, bright red and disarmingly warm at times. The crest of the hill was nearby, and Fulcrom decided to break free from his position and gallop towards it. Wind lashed his face, but he desperately wanted to get there. It seemed more important than anything.
The horizon lurched into view suddenly, the sky seemed brighter . . .
‘We made it,’ Lan said. ‘We did it.’
Eventually, the hill flattened out to a plateau; the wind picked up even more, but this time it came with a heavy coastal tang of seaweed or salty air. Down below, perhaps a good mile away from where they were standing, the sea met the rocky shore. The surf was lively; great white waves licked their way towards land. For some distance there was nothing to see except for an old military fortification or two, which might provide some shelter for those who needed it the most, and several vast, still rock pools. Birds were hovering on wind currents above the sea, in the deep distance. On the downward slope there was more grass poking up beneath the melting snow, perhaps brought by warmer currents, but it was enough to make him hope the supposedly decades-long freeze might come to a premature end.
‘What next?’ Lan asked.
Fulcrom took another deep breath of the coastal air, clearing his mind. ‘Well, I say we head down to the shore, then see about whether or not the land-vehicles can become sea-vehicles. As for the rest – we can either hope for more help from Frater Mercury, or we can scour the coastline for old sailing vessels. None of the outriders has found anything for us yet, but I’ve not given up hope. We really must set sail as soon as possible. We must.’
Turning his horse, Fulcrom examined the scene behind.
The closest it had been yet, the sky-city was a dark blot on the western horizon. It must have been just two or three miles from them at the most now, and from this new viewpoint its hideous glory was exposed to its fullest.
Twice the size of before, the thing seemed born from a baroque nightmare: loosely adhering to the shape of a sphere, it was as if a moon had made itself present just above the ground. Vast spiked pillars stuck out into the air around it and around them tiny black dots flew in slow circles – Fulcrom dreaded to think what they might be. Other structures appeared to be ribbed, or ribs themselves partially absorbed into the surface. There were glossy, bulbous things, and the shadows of grid-like rows, perhaps resembling some strange roads or streets. There were irregular flashes of light coming from within these hollows, containing explosions that defied logical thought. The sky itself appeared to veer away from its presence; instead of blue sky perfectly meeting its edges, there was a darker colour, smears and stains that were perhaps emissions from the city itself.
This thing – this monstrous city – had pursued them across an island, depositing bizarre life forms to attempt to murder those it had not slaughtered already. Fulcrom was not in awe of it any longer – he was furious at what it had done.
Beneath it, the tide of refugees flowed towards him, up the slope. The immense horses that pulled the land-vehicles came first,
and he could see the vast grooves the wooden wheels had left across the distant landscape. Even if their progress had been swifter, they weren’t exactly difficult to follow.
‘We’ve made it this far,’ he said, ‘we’ve come so close.’
‘It’s not over yet though,’ Lan said. That fierce determination had set in her eyes once again, filling him with positivity.
‘I’m scared, Lan. I seem to have become the centre of this.’ He gestured towards the refugees. ‘This isn’t what I’m used to.’
‘It’s not what any of us are used to.’
‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘It’s just . . . what if we don’t make it? If we get away from here, then what if we perish on the seas?’
‘Then we perish knowing we damn well tried. The only other option is staying and certainly dying here, on land. We’ve come too far to do that. I refuse to, in fact. Now come on, let’s—’ Lan jerked her gaze away at the sound.
There was a tremendous ripping noise from the west and, up in the sky, possibly directly above the rearmost of the refugees, part of the sky-city began to detach itself.
Even though it was a good distance away, Fulcrom could see one of the vast, spiked pillars separate from the main structure and lower itself to the ground slower than if it was falling naturally. There was a strange, ambient silence now, like being in the centre of a storm. Eventually, it connected with the earth, landing like an arrowhead in what Fulcrom thought was marshy terrain. He waited for the sound to follow, some bass shudder to denote its presence on the ground, but nothing came. Again, a lingering silence. The wind now began to change direction. Sounds began to travel further, voices being carried on the breeze.
‘What do you suppose that is?’ Lan asked.
‘Nothing that comes down from that thing,’ Fulcrom said, ‘has so far been beneficial to us. I have no idea what could be next.’
The descended structure lowered its other end, so that it eventually lay flat, stark and black against the snow. Barbed and smouldering as if hot, something seemed to flip down on its right-hand side. Out of it spilled a dark tide.
‘Warriors . . .’ Fulcrom muttered. ‘More of them. Dear Bohr, please, let there be no more.’
‘Is this it then?’ Lan asked. ‘Is this where the trail ends? Do we just send out the order for everyone to flee wherever they can?’
‘I don’t know,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘We’ve faced attacks before. We’ve done all right. If people just disperse, they’ll die.’
‘We’ve never faced that many – just look at those numbers. They’re filling up the whole landscape already.’
Lan wasn’t wrong. Swarms of these dark things seemed to occupy the terrain quickly; some began to take the form of orderly rows and regiments, tightly packed and intimidating.
‘It’s hard to see, but this looks like a concentrated attack,’ Fulcrom agreed. ‘There’s only one guy who can do anything about this.’
Fulcrom shouted and waved to get the attention of Frater Mercury, whose towering horse had now caught up with their own standard-sized animal. Eventually the god-thing stepped off the horse’s back, drifted down and connected with the ground effortlessly, using one hand to stabilize himself. Frater Mercury’s half-metal face shimmered in the afternoon sun; his cloak stirred in the onshore breeze. Fulcrom and Lan both dismounted, and then Fulcrom approached him.
I have been summoned, the voice said in Fulcrom’s head. Why?
‘Can’t you see?’ Fulcrom replied hesitantly, then jumped down from his horse, where he gestured to the sky-city’s latest manoeuvre. ‘They’re coming for us. This is it for us. We’ll die right here if you can’t help.’
Frater Mercury turned his head for a moment then returned his gaze to Fulcrom. Whatever he was – if indeed he was a he, Fulcrom only had a priest’s word for it – Fulcrom hoped he would be able to provide some assistance. ‘What can you do to help us?’
What would you have me do for you?
‘I’d like to see our people survive whatever is going to happen.’
We all die eventually, Frater Mercury said. It is a freedom, of sorts.
‘I don’t care for philosophy right now!’ Fulcrom said with irritation. ‘We’ve got tens of thousands of people coming up this slope and I want to see all of them live a little longer. Now, do you have any idea what is going to happen?’
Yes, Frater Mercury said.
‘What?’ Fulcrom demanded.
Slaughter is what will happen. But one gets used to it. I have seen enough for dozens of generations. I am indifferent to it.
‘I refuse to get fucking used to it,’ Fulcrom said despairingly. He felt Lan’s presence now, as she held his hand – a gentle, soothing touch. ‘I don’t know what your plans are exactly, but it is my responsibility to get these people to safety,’ he continued, ignoring the fact that he had previously thought otherwise. ‘Can you provide anything – anything at all – to help me do this? You’ve done it before, but this threat seems huge. Whatever you need from this world we can help you – I’ll do my best, for what it’s worth, but please . . .’
Silence. If Frater Mercury understood Fulcrom’s words, he showed no sign of it.
‘Don’t forget, I did help to see you brought into this world. Why did you come anyway if it wasn’t to help us?’
To die, Frater Mercury said mysteriously. For freedom. You have seen my tricks, as you call them, and you wish for many more. Think, dear rumel, what it is like to have millions of people demand such miracles again. It starts off very simple. The task of seeing that a child does not die of an illness.
The requests become larger after this: governments offer their allegiance if I can provide tools to create their worlds. I oblige and find myself locked in endless, endless councils and must sit through infinite pleas for assistance. Over the millennia, war comes – on a scale which sees my creations rise up against each other – my own children fighting against each other. The side I choose, the side of peace, is outnumbered vastly. Ultimately my children die. And then the world begins to end – slowly, dully, predictably, when time finally runs out. What use is any of it? Who can tell.
I have become imprisoned by the neediness of my creations. Yes, I seek freedom, too, but I first wish to see the landscapes I helped to populate. I would like to know how my . . . my work has flourished in this realm before I see to it that things are ended.
‘Your work,’ Fulcrom interrupted, ‘as you put it, is about to be fucking wiped from existence soon. Is that how you wanted to see it? If you did indeed create these things, is this what you hoped would happen? You have the choice now to not let many of your so-called children die in a genocide. This is not dignified.’
Dying rarely is.
‘Please,’ Fulcrom said.
After a lengthy silence, Frater Mercury added, There is an endearing persistence in your mind, rumel, though it is a story I have heard many times before.
‘Look, all I ask is that our people get the chance to move east across the seas,’ Fulcrom pleaded. ‘There we can seek our own military personnel or somehow organize ourselves naturally. It at least gives us the time for a fighting chance. We didn’t ask for this,’ Fulcrom waved to the airborne threat, ‘this is something that has been brought out of nowhere. I would not have so many people die at once. If you don’t like making decisions any more, let me make this for you.’
Frater Mercury seemed to consider these words – or that’s what Fulcrom hoped. He looked again to the swarms of the enemy that had extended so quickly and so far across the landscape.
What would your wishes be? Frater Mercury asked. You who have designated yourself leader of these people. I know you feel the burden – it is a burden, is it not? – so please, tell me, what do you first require?
Fulcrom’s heart skipped a beat. He had to think quickly. What was the most urgent thing, protection at the rear or seeing that they could leave the island? Think, man, he told himself.
‘The land-vehicles,�
� Fulcrom said. ‘I want them to travel through water, first, but I want more of them. I want to get all our people over this hill, down to the shore and simply to carry on eastwards. Is there any way you can do this before it’s too late? Can we get more vehicles to do this? We need to be quick, because we both saw the power of this thing. All we’re asking for is a little more time.’
It is possible, Frater Mercury replied. He spun then walked down the slope.
‘Now what?’ Lan asked. She was now on foot, her arms folded in the chill of the coastal wind.
A noise in the distance, like a horn: the swarms began to move forwards at the rear of the convoy. Fulcrom could see in the clarity of the late afternoon sun how the refugees from Villjamur and Jokull were being attacked.
‘Now what?’ Lan repeated. ‘What’s he going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Fulcrom said.
‘We should try to fight,’ Lan said. ‘Defend the people we can. See if some can escape in time – or until this Frater Mercury decides to help.’
‘You’re right,’ Fulcrom said. ‘I’ll give the order.’
They began to move towards their mare, watching the crowds begin to move past them and over the slope.
‘We’ll probably get killed before nightfall,’ Lan said nonchalantly. ‘I’m fine with that, but before that happens, I just wanted . . . I never got a chance to say thank you – for giving me something I’ve never had before.’
Fulcrom placed a finger on her lips. ‘It isn’t a charity I’m running. I’m in love with you, Lan, or had you not noticed? Now then.’ Fulcrom placed his foot in the stirrup and levered himself up. He offered to take Lan’s hand, even though she didn’t need it. She just tuned in to her internal powers and leapt up effortlessly.
*
After giving instructions for those at the head of the convoy to continue downhill towards Frater Mercury, Fulcrom and Lan galloped down the line, passing the miserable and concerned faces until they met up with clusters of soldiers. Fulcrom had been careful in planning their route to navigate close to the few military installations, outposts and training camps that were scattered throughout the wilderness. The further they travelled, the more soldiers they accumulated. Granted it had not been much, perhaps a couple of hundred troops here and there, but that was better than nothing. Just as importantly, Fulcrom had located a few cultists who had lost most of their relics, but still clutched a few items that might come in useful – and now was just such a time to try.
The Broken Isles (Legends of the Red Sun 4) Page 13
