Lord of Souls es-2

by Greg Keyes

  Wormies-thousands of them-were swarming from the west, pushing what remained of the cavalry before them. That wasn’t enough for the gods, apparently-more were pouring from the lake and from the east, as if every single one of them had been called to this one place on the wall.

  “Why?” she grunted as they hastily tightened ranks.

  “This is where Umbriel is crossing over,” Brennus said.

  “So? There’s no gate here to breach.”

  “Not yet,” Brennus said.

  Mazgar growled, raised Blondie’s shield, and locked it with her companions on the left and right.

  The wormies came at a dead-on run, in nothing resembling ranks. They reminded Mazgar of ants, converging on a bit of offal.

  The first shock slid them back two yards, leaving a pile of the enemy like a low wall before them. But that didn’t deter the foe in the slightest; they scrambled up over each other and tried to run over the line, using the soldiers’ heads and shoulders as steppingstones. They needed spearmen, but those were mostly at the gate, where the main assault had been until moments ago.

  Mazgar roared her battle cry and sent Sister chopping over her shield. Maggots and putrefaction spattered on her face; she could taste them on her tongue, and like a tide coming in, more and more of them rolled out of the water.

  “The wall,” she heard Brennus gasp.

  She had a second a moment later to spare a glance to see what he meant. Their left flank had collapsed, but instead of rolling up the line, the wormies were throwing themselves on the wall, building ladders with their bodies. Above, the sky was bright with eruptions and incandescences, making a strange semblance of daylight that revealed the rotting faces leering at her, making colored jewels of their filmed eyes.

  Another wave of wormies hit, and they were pushed back almost to the wall itself, and more of them were ignoring her completely now as they tried to join their comrades in their insane climb.

  The man on her right fell, and as four wormies poured into the gap, she felt a bright and terrible pain in her side. Howling, she swung her shield and decapitated one as she slung it off, then took Sister two-handed to slay other wormies.

  Above, Umbriel passed over the wall, undeterred.

  Brennus cried out and fell against her from behind. With a grunt she swept one arm back, found him, and retreated until his spine was against the wall. A semicircle of blue flame arced out around them, and she braced for the wormies to come through, but they didn’t. More likely they were just going around.

  It was over.

  Brennus lay against the stone, heaving ragged breaths. She saw his wound, and felt her heart go cold.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen worse,” she replied.

  “Right,” he coughed. “But I’ll bet this is good enough.”

  “Brenn-”

  “I know,” he said. “I know what you have to do.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “It’s been an honor,” he said. “I may have said some things…”

  “You were right,” she said.

  The look of surprise on his face almost made her laugh. “About what?”

  “Children. I would have liked to have done that.”

  “I hope you know it wasn’t a proposition,” he replied weakly.

  “Yeah,” she said. The fire was starting to die. “I’ve gotta do it now.”

  He nodded.

  She raised Sister, fixed her gaze on Brenn’s throat.

  Then the sky seemed to crack, and her ears popped before a wind from above slapped her to her knees.

  Ears ringing, she fought back to her feet. Something had changed. She looked out over the ebbing flames and didn’t see any motion. Wormies were everywhere, piled against the wall as if blown there. But not a damn one of them was even so much as twitching.

  She lowered her sword.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked Brennus.

  He didn’t answer, and when she realized he wasn’t ever going to, she slid down next to him and wept, unashamed, until the sun came up.

  EPILOGUE

  Attrebus tapped his fingers on the sill of a high, narrow window in time to the jubilant music drifting up from below. The streets were filled with color and life, the air with delicious scents of roasted meat, fried fish, and pastry. In the wake of the vacance of Umbriel, his father had thrown open the storehouses, flooding the city with food and wine. Across town the arena hosted spectacle after spectacle, and tonight everything would culminate in the Emperor’s appearance and the presentation of the heroes.

  “There you are, Attrebus,” a strong voice behind him said.

  “Hello, Father,” he said, turning. The elder Mede hadn’t yet changed into his formal costume, but wore a simple robe over shirt and breeches. He seemed distracted by something, a bit unsure of himself, and that, to Attrebus, was a very strange thing.

  “I apologize for not seeing you alone earlier,” his father said.

  “You’re the Emperor, father,” Attrebus said. “I know you have many burdens.”

  “That’s true. But… I am a father, also. I forget that sometimes.”

  Attrebus nodded, uncertain how to answer. His father looked away, then took four quick strides and, to his astonishment, took him in his arms and wrapped him in a bear hug.

  “I thought you were dead,” he said. “I was sure of it. And my entire fault, for encouraging-allowing-the situation to develop as it did. I never meant you any harm, son. Quite the contrary.”

  “I know that, Father,” Attrebus assured him.

  “And look at you now,” the Emperor said, stepping back. “A man. A hero.”

  “I’m not a hero,” Attrebus said. “Whatever all of this has taught me, it’s that I’m not that. Sul was a hero, and Annaig, and Mere-Glim, and the countless soldiers who died outside of these walls. I was frightened, I made mistakes, at times I wasn’t even sure what I was doing or why I was doing it.”

  “And yet you did it anyway,” his father said. “What in the world do you think a hero is if not someone who does just that?”

  “I’m not the man in the songs.”

  Titus Mede rolled his eyes. “Of course you aren’t. Neither am I. We’re both better than those guys.”

  “You were the real thing,” Attrebus said.

  “In a way, perhaps. But you saved the Imperial City, perhaps all of Tamriel.”

  “You really believe me, then? About what happened?”

  “You were never the dishonest one, Attrebus,” his father said. “The lies never came from you. It has always been in your character to tell the truth. And in this case, the story is really too fantastical to have been made up. Besides, there were witnesses to the flight of you and the girl from the city. Never fear, tonight you will be given your due. The people will know their prince was their salvation.”

  “But I thought-”

  “I’ve had time to think,” the Emperor said. “I’ve changed my mind. The Synod and the College of Whispers may wish to claim credit for this victory, but I will not let them, not at your expense. Our people will know the truth.”

  “They shouldn’t,” Attrebus said.

  His father gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been very interested in politics, Father, but I’ve been catching up these past few days. With Hierem dead, you have a dangerous situation on your hands. You need the support of the council, and to have that you must have the support of the Synod and the College of Whispers. Besides which, those two groups have been at each other’s throats for years-here, they are claiming to have worked together. Perhaps it can be a start to their reconciliation.”

  “Are you saying I should give them credit?”

  “Yes,” Attrebus said. “Gods know I’ve gotten the credit for so many things I shouldn’t have-I can stand to relinquish what little I may be due here, if it’s what’s best
for the Empire.”

  His father stared at him for a moment, and Attrebus swore he saw a bit of moisture film his eyes.

  “You really have returned a man,” the Emperor said. “More than that-a prince.”

  “Maybe not yet,” Attrebus said. “But it’s time I started trying to fill that role the way it should be-don’t you agree?”

  “Very much,” his father replied.

  Annaig twitched the reins of her dappled gray mare and enjoyed the play of light and shadow in the forest around her. Attrebus rode a few feet away. It was strange to be with him, to see him, and to be silent; when they had known each other through Coo and the magic locket, every moment of contact had been filled with words.

  The silence went on a bit longer, but inevitably Attrebus broke it.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

  “I hardly know,” she replied. “It’s all very strange, isn’t it? To be so afraid.”

  “Afraid?” he said, sounding puzzled. “I-well, I’m hurt. I grieve for Sul. But I don’t think I’m afraid.”

  “You are. You’re afraid of talking to me, as I am to you. Strange, isn’t it, after all that time we strove to keep each other’s company, to have a single word between us. And now…” She shrugged.

  He stroked the mane of his horse. “Things happened to me,” he said. “Things I don’t want to talk about. I thought at first I was broken in a way that could never heal, that the best thing I could do was die. That’s how I felt when we finally met. I didn’t have anything to say to you because I didn’t have anything to say to anyone. And I know you had experiences that-”

  “Yes,” she said, cutting him off.

  “And now…” he began, but did not finish.

  She felt a sort of heaviness in her heart.

  “Now what?” she said.

  “I’ve begun to see that one day I will feel human again. I may never be the same, but I will have something to offer-ah, to someone-if they could be patient with me.”

  “Someone?”

  He nodded. “You, of course,” he said softly. “I’ve never learned anyone the way I learned you. I’m not sure what I thought love was before. I’m not sure I can define what I think it is now. But I cannot imagine life without you. I want to know you better and better as the years go by. I just need-patience.”

  She felt a little smile trying to lift the corners of her mouth, and perhaps it did, a very little.

  “I’m not a patient girl by nature,” she said. “I tend to rush into things or fall off of them. But if you can be patient with me, I can be patient with you.”

  And so they fell silent again, and let the music of the forest entertain them.

  Far away, another man and woman listened to a deeper, stranger music and watched the luminescent films they had named wisperills do their slow, colorful aerial dances, as if welcoming them. The trees hummed and murmured, not as before, but with the strength of the millions that spread out and away in the strange land, whose great boughs supported the island when it could no longer fly and helped settle it deep in boggy ground.

  Fhena leaned back against Glim and exhaled deeply. “This is a nice place,” she said. “I like it.”

  “So do I,” he said. “What I’ve seen of it.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Only that I don’t know where we are. At first I imagined that we would be returned to Clavicus Vile’s realm, but although I’ve never been there, I don’t think this can be that place.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “This is where the trees are from, not Umbriel.”

  “But where is it?”

  “Home,” she said softly.

  “Well,” he said. “Now.”

  “Always.”

  He smiled, and surrendered for a moment to contentment-after all, it surrounded him. Everyone wasn’t content, of course. Down below, with the lords gone, the chefs and others who considered themselves elevated were doing their best to kill each other. But the skraws and fringe workers were free, and many of them had already left the city to find their livings in the lush world around them.

  “What do you think that is?” he asked, pointing to a sort of spire near the horizon.

  “I don’t know,” Fhena said. “A rock? An old building? What about it?”

  “Tomorrow I think I’ll walk over and find out,” he said.

  “Fine,” she replied. “But tomorrow.” And she nestled deeper in his arms, and they watched the wisperills dance.

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