Vengeance ttr-1

by Ian Irvine

  The bowl was shaped like a crater at the top of a small, round peak, an oasis of green in the middle of a wasteland so barren that it might have been scorched with thermitto. Her mother had warned her of the dangers of the Seethings, and so had Waitie, who had also taught Tali geography. Her overwhelming urge was to scurry down the slope to cover, and hide, though first she must locate Caulderon. Once down into the flatlands of the Seethings it might be impossible to find.

  The Seethings were mottled in reds, browns and yellows, littered with gigantic boulders and dotted with thousands of lakes, ponds and sinkholes, all steaming. Directly in front of her, not many miles away, a volcano reared up like a broken horn. Its slopes were brown and grey, as if everything that had once grown there had been swept away under landslides of ash, and grey clouds billowed from its top.

  There were three large volcanoes called The Vomits, though she was not sure which one this was. The Brown Vomit, perhaps. Another, reddish Vomit lay to its left, partly concealed behind it. She could not see the third.

  Behind her, across more steaming wasteland and grass-covered plains beyond that, a range of snow-blanketed mountains curved around on her left, growing higher and steeper until it disappeared behind The Vomits. The Crowbung Range. To her right, a little further than the closest Vomit, she made out an enormous blue lake.

  After consulting her mental map she concluded that she was looking at the southern end of Lake Fumerous, maybe three miles away. Caulderon would be to the right along the shore, three times that distance, though if she headed east across the Seethings she should reach the main south road within five or six miles, and once there she should be safe.

  Tali sighted on various landmarks that she should be able to see from the Seethings, and was making her way down, taking advantage of the cover of a boulder here, a gully there, when someone rose up from behind the bush in front of her.

  Tali jumped, then muffled her cry of surprise. ‘Rannilt — I thought you’d be miles away by now.’

  ‘Where would I go?’ said Rannilt, taking her hand. ‘Who’d look after me?’

  A vague unease stirred but Tali thrust it away. ‘Where’s your hat?’

  Rannilt looked around vaguely. ‘Left it over there.’

  ‘Get it, or the sun will cook you like poor Sidon in the heatstone mine.’

  Rannilt scurried away to retrieve her hat and pulled it down until it shaded her narrow shoulders.

  A few hundred yards further on, the grassland merged into a band of woodland sweeping down a series of corrugated hills. They had to reach the trees before the enemy came over the rim. But even if they got as far as the Seethings they would be visible for miles on the flat surface. And they were bound to leave tracks …

  One worry at a time. Tali was hobbling down the slope when Rannilt said, ‘What about old Mimoy?’

  There was only one way to say it. ‘She’s dead.’

  Rannilt took a shuddering breath and cried, ‘But I saw her move!’

  Tali froze. The girl must have imagined it. After losing all that blood, after being thrown down the slope, Mimoy could not be alive. Her body had been dumped further around the curving rim of the basin and wasn’t visible from here but, if they went back to check, any guard coming to the crest of the hill would see them at once.

  ‘You’re not goin’ to leave her there, are you?’ Rannilt said anxiously.

  Tali swallowed, her dry throat rasping. Just when she’d thought she had a chance.

  ‘Of course not.’ She took the girl’s cold hand. ‘The things you say, child.’

  They spotted Mimoy’s body twenty feet down from the rim, dumped like an unwanted bag of bones. Her cane lay a few yards further on. The slope where she lay was bare of any kind of cover.

  ‘Rannilt, can you do a tricky job for me while I get Mimoy?’

  She nodded vigorously.

  ‘Can you creep to the top and check on the enemy without being seen? You’ll have to be really careful.’

  Rannilt’s eyes shone. ‘Anything for you, Tali.’

  She bent low and darted up the slope.

  ‘Quietly!’ hissed Tali.

  Rannilt turned to wave, tripped and fell headlong, sending stones clattering down. Tali winced. Had the sound carried? She limped across to Mimoy and lifted her head. There was blood on the grass and on her torn ragweed blouse, and she was cold. Tali felt sure she was dead, until Mimoy’s left eye fluttered.

  A clicking sound issued from her wattled throat, a whispered, ‘Where?’

  Mimoy’s clouded eye focused on Tali, who saw a desperate longing there. She chewed on a knuckle. Mimoy was almost dead and every second they remained here increased the risk of discovery, but she could not ignore the entreaty in the old woman’s eyes.

  Tali smoothed Mimoy’s wrinkled brow. ‘In Hightspall. Mimoy, you’re the first Pale to escape Cython — the very first.’

  She picked the old woman up, every strained muscle groaning. How could she still be alive? Only by the agency of her own gift.

  ‘Hightspall,’ Mimoy sighed. ‘Home, at last.’ She looked up and her lipless mouth cracked into a grin. ‘Ha, ha! Beat you, Evvie. You said I’d never do it.’

  Tali wondered who Evvie was. Probably some childhood rival, dead for a hundred years.

  Mimoy’s bones settled, she gave a tiny groan and Tali thought she had died, but the old woman wheezed, ‘Lay me in the good earth, won’t you, daughter?’

  A fist squeezed the air from Tali’s lungs. It was too much to ask. The time it would take to dig a grave and bury the selfish old woman would eat up their one chance of escape. She should offer Mimoy the comfort of a lie, then abandon her the moment she died. It was the sensible thing to do, the only way Tali could hope to escape, warn her people and complete her own quest. The dead had no needs, only the living.

  But when Tali looked down at the ache in the old woman’s eyes she could not say no to her.

  ‘Yes, Mimoy. You’re going to tell me the names of Mama’s killers, and I’m going to lay you in the good earth of Hightspall. Where would you like to rest?’

  ‘Tell you when we get there.’

  ‘Psst!’ said Rannilt from above. ‘Someone’s comin’ out the shaft.’

  She ducked down. ‘Get my cane, brat,’ said Mimoy.

  Rannilt handed it to Mimoy, who promptly whacked her with it.

  Tali snatched the cane. ‘What did you do that for?’

  ‘You chose her over me. Give it here.’

  ‘So you can whack her again?’ Tali snapped the cane over her knee and threw the pieces away.

  Pain speared through her head. She stumbled and fell to her knees.

  ‘You’ll come to regret that,’ Mimoy said maliciously. ‘Cane, now!’

  CHAPTER 32

  Rannilt fetched the pieces of cane. Mimoy snatched them, hugged them to her, and they hurried down the slope. Tali’s back felt like a target all the way to the trees.

  After taking shelter behind a comfortingly solid trunk, she looked back. The rim of the valley was clear — no, someone was climbing it. A head appeared, and broad shoulders. The guard scanned the slope, checked along the rim then shouted and raised his Living Blade. Red flowed around the annulus and it howled. He ran back the way he had come.

  ‘What’s with him?’ said Rannilt, rubbing a trickle of blood from another skinned knee.

  ‘He’s noticed Mimoy is gone. Keep watch. They’ll soon be after us.’

  As they were moving on, the ground quivered. A loud rumble issued from behind them and a small cloud of dust drifted above the rim.

  ‘What was that?’ whispered Rannilt, pressing against Tali. ‘I’m scared.’

  It was an open secret that the enemy had invented many terrible weapons of war. Slaves in the know spoke of burrow-burrs, shriek-arrows, bombasts, fire-flitters and grenadoes. No one knew what they were, though some were rumoured to kill at great distances. Tali assumed the enemy was testing some weapon to attack the escaping slaves from
afar, though there was no point telling Rannilt that.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She held Mimoy with one arm and put the other around the girl’s skinny frame. ‘But I’ll look after you.’

  ‘She’s useless, and you’re a fool,’ said Mimoy. ‘I’m the only one who can help you.’

  Tali ignored her. If the enemy found them, she would have to abandon the old woman and run with Rannilt. The living must take precedence over the dying.

  She took a random route through the woodland, taking care to leave no tracks, then hobbled up a shallow stream, her burden growing heavier with every step and her resentment with it. How far did Mimoy expect to be carried? All the way to Caulderon? Selfish old witch!

  At once she felt guilty for wanting to get rid of the old woman who, after all, had been struck down trying to help her. Besides, Tali had been brought up to respect her elders, but where did that duty begin and end? Surely not in sacrificing herself?

  They climbed three low, knobbly hills, one after another, creeping over their crests where they might be seen against the sky. The Seethings lay beyond the last hill and as they climbed it the knot in Tali’s gut tightened. She fixed the chosen landmarks in her mind and trudged on.

  ‘I can see all the way back,’ said Rannilt, skipping beside Tali as though she had not a care in the world.

  How resilient she was. How quickly she had forgotten her terror of half an hour ago. Tali felt the burden and the threat growing with each step.

  Mimoy’s eyes opened a crack and she scowled at Rannilt. ‘Get me a drink.’

  Rannilt skipped off towards a rivulet.

  ‘Why are you so mean to her?’ said Tali.

  ‘She brings out your weaknesses and distracts you from your purpose.’

  ‘I don’t see caring for an abused child as a weakness,’ Tali snapped.

  ‘Survival is the only thing that matters.’

  ‘Not if I end up a sour old witch like you.’

  Mimoy slapped her across the face.

  ‘Do that again and I’ll abandon you right here,’ Tali said coldly.

  ‘No, you won’t. You’re too soft, too kind.’ Mimoy spat the word at her.

  Rannilt came back with a double handful of water. Mimoy lapped at it then shoved her away.

  ‘Can you see the enemy?’ said Tali.

  ‘Can’t see no one,’ said Rannilt.

  ‘Why are they holding back?’

  ‘Afraid,’ said Mimoy.

  Tali hadn’t thought of that, but they had seen her kill Banj with the torrent of white needles, and doubtless they blamed her for Tinyhead’s gruesome fate too. She was no longer a despised slave; she was an enemy using forbidden magery that was an insult to the lost kings of Cython. An enemy who had to be crushed so bloodily that no Pale would ever contemplate using their gift again. She was also the one, and the matriarchs had her under a death warrant.

  They continued over the hill and down. Tali’s robes were sodden with sweat and she was so weary that she had to talk herself into each step. She no longer had the strength to look ahead, nor the courage to look behind.

  ‘Why is it so hot?’ said Rannilt, wiping her face.

  Tali had been wondering that too, since it was late autumn. ‘I suppose it’s because we’re not used to the sun. The temperature is always the same in Cython.’

  Suddenly, a hundred feet from the base of the hill, Mimoy dug her nails into Tali’s wrist. ‘Bury me here, before the Brown Vomit.’

  Tali set her down. They were in a little dip where mossy ground squelched underfoot. The bottomlands skirting the hill were scattered with scrubby bushes, though they soon died out in the barren, steaming Seethings. The great volcano looked twice as big here, and far more menacing. It was not just erupting steam and ash — great boulders were wheeling through the air and crashing down on the slopes, smashing the rubble to powder. And judging by the rock scattered about, they sometimes fell out in the Seethings …

  She shook the fear off. ‘What about my mother’s killers?’ said Tali. Her hot feet sank into the cool, sodden ground.

  ‘Here, you stupid little fool! Now!’ hissed Mimoy, sounding stronger than before.

  ‘But … you’re not dead,’ cried Rannilt.

  ‘Wretched child.’ Mimoy’s trembling hand drew a small knife from beneath her loincloth. ‘Use it. Cut swift and deep.’

  ‘No!’ cried Rannilt.

  Mimoy’s eyes met Tali’s and Mimoy smiled grimly. Surely she didn’t mean …? Of course not; it was another test.

  ‘Rannilt,’ said Tali, ‘it’s all right. Go to the top of the hill and keep watch.’

  She settled Mimoy on the ground, then took the knife and made four deep cuts, carving a rectangle into the moss. After peeling it off, she hacked out sections of the peaty ground and stacked them to one side. Half an hour of heavy labour and she had excavated a wet grave an arm’s length deep.

  ‘It’s done.’

  Mimoy did not open her eyes. ‘Put me in.’

  Again the unease. Surely Mimoy did not want to be buried alive? But her voice was strong; she knew what she was asking. Tali made a pillow with a clump of moss, then lowered Mimoy’s withered body into the grave. She lifted her twisted, bloody feet in afterwards, neatly arranged her frail limbs and pulled together her bloodstained ragweed blouse. It must have been painful but Mimoy made no sound, poor old woman. Tali laid the broken cane beside her, close to her right hand, for it was Mimoy’s only possession.

  Tali rubbed her eyes. ‘Are you comfortable?’ She touched the old woman’s scarred skull. Had she also been attacked, but had survived?

  ‘I’d prefer it was drier, and warmer.’ Mimoy’s eyes opened and she looked up at Tali. ‘Are you stupid?’

  ‘I — er …’ Tali had no idea what she was talking about.

  ‘I picked you because you showed the ruthlessness required for survival. If you blub into my grave, I’ll pull you in with me.’

  ‘I’m not blubbing.’ Tali wiped her eyes.

  ‘Why are you wasting time on a wicked old woman who only ever abused you?’

  ‘You longed to go home to Hightspall, and I knew how you felt. It’s what I’ve wanted all my life.’

  A hand rose from the grave and whacked Tali’s shins with a length of the cane, hard enough to hurt. ‘Imbecile! What about your quest?’

  ‘I’m lost.’ Remembering those pinpoint-pupilled eyes, Tali shuddered. ‘I saw the enemy not long ago, looking out from Tinyhead’s eyes. Iusia said he can only be beaten with magery but I don’t know where mine is. Help me, please.’

  ‘You broke my cane.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but — ’

  ‘I was going to give it to you, but now the magery is lost.’

  ‘Your gift was in the cane?’ Tali whispered.

  ‘I told you that you’d regret it.’

  ‘But — why didn’t you say?’

  ‘Why don’t you ever think before you act?’

  Yet again, Tali’s temper had let her down, and this time it could be fatal. ‘I don’t understand a thing about my magery. Where does it come from?’

  ‘Don’t know. It’s unique.’

  ‘Then how am I to master it?’ Tali cried.

  Mimoy gave a pained shrug.

  ‘But back in Cython you said you’d help me with my gift,’ said Tali.

  ‘You broke my cane.’

  Tali tore at her hair. ‘Please help me.’

  ‘Had to come home to die,’ said Mimoy, her voice faint now. She was fading.

  ‘Mimoy, I can’t do this by myself.’

  Mimoy’s blue-veined eyelids fluttered.

  Tali took the wire-like fingers in her own. ‘Please tell me what to do.’

  Mimoy slumped, her head thudding into the wet peat. ‘Only — ’ she croaked.

  Tali bent over her. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Only one person … can show you … how … to master … your … gift.’

  She was slipping from the world. Please, give me some
answers first. ‘Who?’

  ‘Your — your enemy.’

  ‘My enemy? Is this a cruel joke?’

  ‘No — joke.’ Mimoy’s voice was little more than a sigh.

  ‘But who is my enemy?’ Then, hastily, for if Mimoy did not say the name now it would be lost forever. ‘And who killed my mother?’

  Mimoy’s pupils contracted and expanded, as if she did not know which question to focus on. ‘Poison — ’

  ‘Just the names,’ Tali said softly. ‘My enemy, and my mother’s killer. That’s all I need from you, Mimoy. Then you can rest.’

  ‘Poison,’ Mimoy repeated. ‘The worst.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? She wasn’t poisoned.’

  Mimoy reached up to Tali and her throat moved, but the effort was too much for her. Her eyes became fixed.

  Tali was adjusting the torn blouse when it came apart at Mimoy’s left shoulder, revealing her slave mark. A very familiar mark, the same as Tali’s own — the mark of House vi Torgrist.

  Mimoy must have been Mimula vi Torgrist, Tali’s great-great-great-grandmother. Her only living relative was dead.

  CHAPTER 33

  ‘The Rat Hole,’ said Rix.

  They had spent all the previous day following a series of unmarked tracks and dead ends until they finally found a way out of the mountains, then making their slow way around the flank of the Red Vomit and through the morass of the southern Seethings. Now they were on the rim of a small, bowl-shaped valley, looking towards the maze of fortifications around the roofed shaft. Rix lifted his kilt to scratch his gnat-bitten rump. The wind had turned north-westerly during the night and it was unseasonably warm here, a good six thousand feet lower than the wrythen’s caverns.

  He added, ‘I could take it with a hundred men.’

  ‘Since it’s unguarded, you could take it with a one-legged rabbit,’ said Tobry. ‘And you’d die as soon as you reached the bottom of the shaft.’

  ‘The grass isn’t worn,’ Rix mused. ‘There’s no sign that any army has ever exercised here.’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘And they’d have to — you can’t practise battle manoeuvres in a tunnel. They’re not planning war at all.’