The Chaos Crystal

by Jennifer Fallon

  Stellan didn't know, or particularly care. 'What happened out on the ice? Why did it break like that? Tryan said it was somebody using Tide magic'

  'Some bodies,' Declan corrected, downing the second glass. 'Cayal, Kentravyon and Elyssa, to be exact. I declined to aid them in their endeavours. Haven't been immortal long enough for tens of thousands of incidental casualties not to bother me just yet. But give me time; I'm sure I'll get there eventually.'

  'Cayal is here?' Stellan asked, concerned by Declan's bitterness. He didn't know what the spymaster had seen or done since leaving Maralyce's mine all those months ago in search of Arkady, but he clearly wasn't liking what he had become.

  'Oh, yes. Cayal is here.'

  'Who is Kentravyon?'

  'Another Tide Lord. Interesting chap. Makes Cayal seem sane and well-adjusted.'

  'Have you any news of Jaxyn? Or Diala?'

  'Well,' Declan said. 'I'm pretty sure they're not dead.'

  'That's not what I was asking, Declan.'

  The former spymaster shook his head and shrugged. 'Truth is, I haven't heard a word on their fate. And we're not likely to, either. Even Chikita doesn't know what happened to them and she was right beside them when the ice gave way.'

  'They'll have felt the others breaking the ice, won't they?' Stellan asked, remembering how Tryan had

  known what was happening because he could feel it on the Tide.

  'And they'll know they're outnumbered,' Declan agreed. 'The consensus seems to be that Jaxyn and his minions will slink away in the confusion and either regroup for a counterattack or find some other unsuspecting country — preferably on the other side of Amyrantha — to take over. One that's less work to take and hold and doesn't have the Empress of the Five Realms and her merry band of irritating offspring living next door.'

  Stellan stared at him with concern. 'You sound just like one of them, Declan.'

  'Apparently I am just one of them,'' he said, putting the glass down on the sideboard. 'Do you have the seal?'

  'What?'

  'The royal seal. Mathu's ring. Can't claim the throne of Glaeba without it, you know, and if you don't get back to the palace soon, your future majesty, it won't be yours to claim.'

  'Urn ... of course ... yes ... I have it. What are you talking about?'

  Declan threw his hands up. 'Tides, Desean, how dense can one man be? While you've been down here earning the undying gratitude of a vast number of Crash who would gut you in a heartbeat, should an immortal command them to, Tryan is up at the palace, as we speak, doing a deal with Cayal and Kentravyon to enlist their help to secure Glaeba's throne. Something he's got a good chance of getting away with, what with their king dead and the bulk of their army floating face down in the Lower Oran. I suggest you get up there before the deal is done.'

  Declan's news seemed to make little sense. 'Why would any other Tide Lords agree to help Elyssa take the throne of Glaeba?'

  'She has something they want,' Declan told him. 'They're prepared to do quite a bit to aid her if it will enlist her cooperation.'

  'Then the throne is lost.'

  'Maybe it is. But as you're the rightful claimant at the moment, you won't know what they're planning unless you get back to the palace and invite yourself into the discussions, will you?'

  'Of course,' Stellan said, as Declan's warnings finally began to sink in. 'I should go back. I think things are under control here now ...'

  'Go, Desean,' Declan said. 'I'll see to things down here.'

  'But you're a stranger. Nobody in Caelum is going to listen to a word you ...' Stellan hesitated as he realised Declan had an advantage that outweighed his nationality. 'Ah ... you're immortal now. The Crasii will do whatever you command.'

  'So it seems.'

  'Are you not interested in their negotiations at the palace?'

  'Only in so far as I think you ought to be there to represent Glaeba's interests.' Hawkes folded his arms across his chest and stared at Stellan in a rather disconcerting way. 'You're her king now, Desean. I'm just a former employee of the crown.'

  Hawkes was right. It was time to see this dangerous course of action he'd embarked upon when he brought Princess Nyah back to Caelum, through to its logical conclusion.

  Stellan nodded. 'Then I'll take your advice and return to the palace.' He looked down at the body of his king; he was still numb, his mind already filling with the things he'd need to establish, concessions he would have to demand. Tides, does it never end? 'Will you see Mathu remains ... undisturbed?'

  'If you really want me to.'

  'I do.' Stellan took a deep breath and turned for the door, realising as he did so that Declan had warned him what was happening up at the palace, but had neatly avoided answering any other questions about how he came to be here.

  He hesitated, his hand on the latch. 'You say you spoke to Chikita. She's not a Crash, she's a Scard. I believe they hate your kind. What was her reaction when she realised you were immortal?'

  'She tried to lay me open with her claws.'

  'But you healed instantly?'

  'One of the perks of immortality. Along with flying carpets.'

  That comment made no sense to Stellan but he wasn't sure he wanted an explanation. 'Did Chikita give you any hint as to what direction Arkady was headed when she fled the battle?'

  Declan shook his head. 'She had no idea.'

  'If she headed back toward Glaeba ...' Stellan began, almost afraid to give voice to the thought.

  'Then she would still have been on the ice when it broke,' Declan finished for him. 'I know that.'

  'What do you think happened?'

  'I think Arkady would be smart enough to head for the nearest shore.'

  'Then she might still be alive?'

  'Maybe,' Declan agreed with a non-committal shrug. 'Maybe not.'

  'Will you keep looking for her?'

  'What do you think I was doing when I found Chikita?'

  Stellan should have known better than to ask. He nodded. 'I should get back to the palace. Will I see you again, or are you leaving now the battle is done?'

  Declan shrugged. 'I'm not sure. Now I've spoken to Chikita, I doubt it'll take long for word to get back to the Cabal that I'm still alive. And one of the enemy.'

  'Are you the enemy now, Declan?'

  He shrugged. 'I guess that remains to be seen.'

  'What do you think the Cabal will do when they get word of your fate?'

  'That also remains to be seen and is much of the reason,' Declan said, 'that I wish I was still capable of getting drunk.'

  CHAPTER 29

  Warlock hadn't stayed to hear the rest of the conversation between Elyssa and the new Tide Lords. He slipped away into the woods, found his horse cropping a clump of tenacious dried grass that had somehow managed to push through the snow, and led him quietly away from the oil seep and back toward the workers' camp.

  'My lady said you are to finish dismantling the camp and head back to Cycrane,' he told the foreman without dismounting. 'I have urgent and secret dispatches she has ordered me to deliver. You must return to the city immediately the camp is packed and tell no one you have seen me pass by.'

  The foreman, a motley canine with a grey muzzle, nodded and turned to give the orders without questioning Warlock's authority to deliver them. Although they resented his favoured position with their mistress, they were used to Warlock conveying orders on her behalf, and the orders made enough sense that nobody would think them odd.

  Without waiting for the foreman to engage in any further conversation, Warlock urged his horse into a canter, found the road toward Cycrane and gave the horse its head. He had only one thought in mind — to find his family. Boots and the pups were hiding in a ruin north of the city, he knew that much, but he didn't know the exact location. All he knew was that the ruins were near the lake; rarely visited — particularly at this time of the year — but not that hard to locate if one knew where to look.

  His first notion was to skirt the
city, wending his way through the foothills until he emerged in the north, after which he could head back toward the lake where the ruins should be. His plan did little but highlight the fact he was still thinking like a Glaeban. Cycrane was built into the Caterpillar Ranges. There was no way to go around it, particularly not at this time of year when even the most navigable passes were blocked with snow. Even in the most clement weather, all the trade that took place up and down Caelum took place on the lake. If he wanted to go north, Warlock was going to have to go through the city or cross the ice — an idea he was forced to revise dramatically just on sunset when the ice shattered.

  Warlock had no doubt about who was responsible for breaking the ice-sheet. Cayal, Kentravyon, Elyssa, and perhaps even Declan Hawkes had done it, conspiring together to wield more Tide magic than any one immortal could handle on their own.

  And it had stopped the war in its tracks.

  But the cost in lives was horrendous. Even if the bulk of the dead were felines, whom Warlock instinctively felt ambivalent about, they didn't deserve to die without warning like that. And the immortals could have warned the Glaebans they were going to break the ice. Confronted with such a coalition of Tide Lords, Jaxyn may have even backed down, had someone given him the opportunity to withdraw.

  But the immortals didn't work like that. They didn't care about mortal lives.

  However, the Tide Lords had inadvertently done Warlock a huge favour. Now the lake was flowing again, he should be able to find a boat, seek out the ruins, retrieve his family and sail them back to Glaeba without having to wait out the winter. When he realised that Warlock changed his plans and decided to risk going through the city after all, rather than trying to get around it.

  * * *

  The confusion of the battle's aftermath was such that nobody noticed a single canine wearing a tunic bearing the palace insignia. He left his horse to fend for itself on the city's southern outskirts and made his way toward the wharves, sickened at the consequences of the sudden disappearance of the ice, now he was close enough to see the damage for himself.

  Someone had organised rescue parties who still worked by torchlight, even though it was well past midnight before Warlock deemed it safe to approach the water's edge, hoping to steal a boat.

  There were no boats to be had, however. Anything that could float had been commandeered for the rescue effort. He stood there for a time, watching them drag the bodies ashore. There were only corpses to be found this late in the day. Anybody who'd survived the breaking ice had made their way onto dry land in the first few minutes or they'd managed to cling to something buoyant, like a wooden shield, until they were rescued. By now, anyone left in the water was long dead from hypothermia.

  'You there!'

  Warlock turned, wondering if the barked order was addressed to him. 'Are you talking to me?'

  The man who'd hailed him was human, wearing the insignia of a captain and the colours of the Caelish Palace Guard. 'Don't just stand there gawking, Dog Boy,' the officer said. 'Get down there and help.'

  He was pointing along the wharf to where a barge heavily laden with bodies was tied up. Warlock had no desire to help, but it might be a good excuse to stay close to the water. He had no hope of finding a boat if he was sent on his way.

  'I... er ...'

  His hesitation made the officer suspicious. The man stepped a little closer, noticing Warlock's tunic for the

  first time. He threw his hands up. 'Tides, Dog Boy, why didn't you say you worked at the palace? What are you doing here, anyway, standing around like a lost puppy?'

  'I ... I have dispatches to deliver,' Warlock said, falling back on the same story he'd been using all evening to get through the city. 'I can't find the command post.'

  'Follow me,' the captain said, turning away from the wharf. He stopped a few moments later when he realised Warlock wasn't following. 'It's this way. Come on.'

  Warlock couldn't afford to refuse the offer of directions without raising suspicion, so he followed the captain along the wharf and out onto the main thoroughfare that ran along the waterfront. The officer said nothing as they walked, his breath frosting in the chilly night air, although he turned a few times to yell orders at other men or Crasii who didn't seem to be pulling their weight. All around them, cold, exhausted men and weary Crasii laboured to stack the dead in mind-numbingly large piles, awaiting the steady stream of wagons that were taking them — well, Warlock didn't know where they were being taken. A mass grave perhaps, somewhere on the edge of the city? Or maybe they'd just throw them in a ravine and cover them over, the way those bodies at the foot of Deadman's Bluff had been covered over and forgotten so many centuries ago.

  Can one forget this many dead?

  Finally they reached a building that Warlock thought looked more like a brothel than a military headquarters. Then the canine was forced to concentrate on more immediate concerns. The building had an overhanging balcony and a wooden veranda at the front; Warlock could smell the suzerain inside before they even stepped onto it.

  'He has dispatches from the palace,' the captain informed the feline on guard. She nodded and opened

  the door for him. Warlock had no choice but to step through it.

  The door closed behind Warlock, leaving him in a chilly, narrow, darkened hall. There was an immortal nearby — Warlock could smell the rank aroma of him — but there was no other sign of life. Which immortal it turned out to be was immaterial. Whoever it was would almost certainly report his presence to Elyssa. She would know by now that he was a Scard because he'd run away. Unless he got out of this building in the next few minutes, he was dead and the only thing left to be determined would be the time, place and manner of his demise.

  Warlock stared down the dark hall, wondering if there was a back door through which he could escape before the suzerain even realised he was here. He decided he had no choice but to assume there was another exit. There was nothing else he could do. Before he'd taken two steps in the direction of freedom, however, the door on his right opened and the suzerain stepped into the hall, colliding with Warlock, who barrelled backwards and dropped to his knees.

  'I am so sorry, my lord,' he gushed, his head lowered, his hands on the floor in the most submissive pose he could assume. 'To serve you is the reason I breathe.'

  He was expecting a kick in the head, or something equally punitive, but nothing happened. After a moment, Warlock looked up, daring a quick look at the immortal he'd collided with.

  'To serve me is the reason you breathe, eh?' Declan Hawkes remarked. 'Didn't used to be.'

  Warlock's heart slowly relocated from his throat and back into his chest where it belonged. But even though he was relieved to find this immortal was someone he knew, he didn't know how to take Hawkes's comment. He didn't understand how

  Hawkes could be immortal, either. Or why, after devoting a lifetime to saving the world from the Tide Lords, he had somehow found a way to join them. Still on his knees in the dark, freezing hall, Warlock studied the former spymaster warily. 'You're one of them.'

  'So everybody keeps reminding me. Get up.'

  Warlock climbed to his feet cautiously, not taking his eyes from Hawkes. The spymaster stood back from the door and indicated that Warlock should step inside. Not sure what else to do, Warlock walked through the door — only to see by the light of some candles, Mathu Debree's body laid out on a trestle in the centre of what looked like the main reception parlour of a very tacky brothel.

  Hawkes closed the door and leaned against it. 'It was stupid of you to run, Cecil,' the spymaster said. 'Elyssa's figured out you're a Scard.'

  'Then let me go, and I'll not bother you or your kind ever again.'

  For some reason, Hawkes seemed to think that was amusing. 'You know, I was impressed when I realised you were still with her. And she was quite taken with you, too. She was livid, actually, when she realised you'd bolted from the lake this morning. You've done remarkably well, not to be caught before now.'

/>   'I'm still not caught,' Warlock said. 'Unless you're planning to hand me over to her. Now you're on their side.'

  'I'm not on anybody's side,' Hawkes said. 'Can you get a message to the Cabal for me?' 'No,' Warlock said flatly. 'You can't, or you won't?'

  'Both,' he said, forcing himself not to look at the dead king beside him. That was a human problem he wanted no part of. 'I'm done with your intrigues, Hawkes. I'm going home.'

  'You'll never get near the wharf, let alone near a boat. And don't you have a mate around here

  somewhere? She'd have had her pups by now, too, I suppose.'

  Warlock didn't trust Hawkes enough to admit to any such thing. Actually, he didn't trust him at all. 'It's of no matter to you where my family is. It's your fault they're in danger. So let me go or kill me. I'm not helping you or the Cabal any more, Hawkes. Or your immortal friends.'

  Hawkes studied him for a moment with an expression Warlock found impossible to read in the candlelight, and then the former spymaster nodded, pushed himself off the door, and opened it for Warlock. 'Come on, then.'

  'To where?'

  'You've got no chance of getting out of Cycrane on your own, Warlock,' Hawkes said, addressing him by his real name for a change, and not the hated moniker 'Cecil' he'd been awarded by the Cabal. But just being called by his given name wasn't enough to make him trust this man ... or immortal ... or whatever he was these days. 'Not tonight. And certainly not with Elyssa on the warpath now she's just realised how badly she's been had by a miserable Scard.'

  'You're going to help me get out of the city?' Warlock asked, deeply suspicious of the offer.

  Hawkes nodded. 'We'll go down to the wharves and commandeer a boat for you.'

  'How? You're a Glaeban —'

  'Immortal,' Hawkes finished for him. 'I could commandeer the whole damned Caelish fleet if I wanted to, provided there's a Crasii in charge of it.'

  'Won't the other immortals have something to say about this?'

  'I wasn't planning to tell them,' Hawkes said. 'Were you?'

  This was too easy. 'How do I know this isn't a trap?' 'Because you're not important enough in the general scheme of things to warrant a trap,' Hawkes