Rebellion ttr-2

by Ian Irvine

  “There are, from time to time, but we put them down swiftly and execute the ringleaders, which serves as a lesson to the rest of the city.”

  “Good. Continue.”

  “There was some trouble in the north, around Lakeland, but Rochlis has sorted it out. He’s a good man, Lord King.”

  “He has an overly sensitive conscience for a military man,” Lyf said coldly. All was not forgiven. “What’s the state of the south?”

  “Steady. It’s too miserably cold there for trouble, Lord King. I doubt you’ll have to worry about it until the spring.”

  “How about the west? What’s the chancellor up to?”

  “Growing his army and making alliances.”

  “How many troops does he have now?”

  “About seven thousand, according to our spies. But most are inexperienced, and they’re poorly led.”

  “I had all his officers killed after we took Caulderon,” said Lyf. “You can train a soldier in a couple of weeks, but it takes months to produce a good officer — or years. And Bleddimire?”

  “Your army is in position for battle and morale is good.”

  “Have my spies mentioned Bleddimire’s morale?”

  “Weakening by the hour.”

  “Then I can safely leave the business to Hillish. He’ll soon have another famous victory. That only leaves the Nandeloch Mountains.”

  “The north-east is as rebellious as ever,” said Durling, “but we can’t do anything about it until spring.”

  “Why not?”

  “The mountains are too high, too rugged, too cold. We’d need an army of twenty-five thousand to subdue the area and we don’t even have five thousand to spare. Besides, if we tried to fight there in winter we could lose half an army.”

  “Why?” Lyf said coldly. He did not appreciate such advice.

  “The roads are bad and the snow heavy. We run the risk of having our forces cut off by avalanches and freezing to death.”

  “Their petty little earldoms can wait until spring,” said Lyf. “Is there any news of Rixium Ricinus?”

  “I’m afraid not, Lord King… though we have hundreds of troops looking.”

  “I am displeased. Find him!”

  Durling withdrew.

  Lyf closed the doors, barred them and walked around the temple. He knew it was empty, but caution was ingrained in him and in this matter he could not take any risks. Once sure that no spying device had been hidden inside, he continued his painstaking search. He would remove every stone in the walls and ceiling if he had to.

  The key had to be found. The need was becoming desperate.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Where did I go wrong?” wailed Wil the Sump, rubbing his cavernous, eaten-away nostril until it bled.

  The little man was deep underground in the Hellish Conduit, a down-plunging passageway so sweltering and humid that each breath clagged in his throat and had to be consciously swallowed. A place where green, corrosive fluids seeped from the walls and welled sluggishly up through cracks in the floor; where sickening emanations howled out of the depths; where luminous, tentacled growths sprouted from every crack and cranny, and tiny multi-legged creatures cowered in cracks while the plants were the predators.

  Wil clawed at the encrusted wall until his fingernails tore to splinters, but it did not ease the agony he felt inside. The only thing that could take away the pain of his failure was the perilous alchymical solvent called alkoyl. But he had sniffed the last of his alkoyl eight days ago, he had no way of getting more, and withdrawal was like fishhooks dragging through his brain.

  That wasn’t the worst, though. Wil’s beloved land was in danger and no one else could save it. The ice sheets were creeping up from the southern pole, closing in around the coast, and if they were not stopped they would grind all life off the face of the land, as they had already extinguished everything on the great southern island of Suden.

  To save his country, Wil had to erase the iron book, The Consolation of Vengeance, that he had stolen from under Lyf’s nose, then reforge the pages and rewrite them to tell the true story. Wil loved books and stories more than he loved his own miserable life, and the true story of Cython had to be told. He had to know how the story ended, but how could he find the right ending now?

  He felt sure it involved the subterranean Engine, way down the Hellish Conduit at the heart of the world. Cythonians believed that the Engine powered the workings of the land itself, and Wil had planned to open the stopcocks to make the Engine race and melt the ice away. But the Engine had proven to be so vast, hot and terrifying that his courage had failed him, and he had run and kept on running. The Engine’s story was beyond his power to write.

  Nor could he rewrite the iron book. He had not yet succeeded in erasing the words Lyf had written, the words that had seemed so right until the one had appeared and made Lyf’s story go wrong. That was Wil’s fault too. Long ago he had lied to the matriarchs about the one, and though they had put all those little slave girls to death to get rid of her, Tali had survived and changed the story. She had changed everything.

  To erase the iron book, Wil had to have more alkoyl, but the stores held in Cython were closed to him now. The only other place to get more was the source, the Engine itself, for as it worked the Engine wept small quantities of the universal solvent. However he dared not approach the source.

  Until something changed, he would have to wait. But his pain could be endured no longer and he had a remedy for that. In the dark of night he would creep up the Hellish Conduit into Cython, and there he would strangle the life out of the first Pale he encountered. He should have killed Tali the first time he had seen her.

  That was only right and just.

  Tali was the one.

  It was all her fault.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Are you going to rescue the Lady Tali?” said Glynnie.

  Rix had been rowing across the lake for an hour, guided through the black night by a single bright star.

  “How could I?” he said curtly, for the rope binding his dead hand to the oar had chafed most of the skin off his wrist and the pain was unrelenting.

  “You killed a whole pack of shifters,” she said, and the awe in her voice was evident. “And with only your bare hands, you beat all those guards to save us. You can do anything.”

  Mentioning Benn would have been needlessly cruel. “I can’t rescue Tali,” said Rix. “I don’t know where the chancellor’s taken her. Besides, he’ll have her hidden by the best magery there is — magery that even Lyf would struggle to break.” He rowed on, wincing with every stroke. “Anyway, I couldn’t have done anything without you.”

  “Of course you could. I was in the way — ”

  “Without you and Benn I’d be dead,” he said bleakly.

  “Rix!” she cried.

  “I’m a dishonoured man, and I was going to — ”

  “You’re a wonderful man,” she said passionately. “You’re brave and noble and true to your word. And kind. In all my life I’ve never known anyone as kind as you.”

  A tight feeling in his chest prevented him from speaking for a while. “Thank you for saying so,” he said gruffly. “If it wasn’t for you…”

  “What?” said Glynnie. “What were you going to do?”

  “Give my life away, fighting the enemy.”

  “No!” Her cry rang out across the water.

  “Hush!” He stopped rowing and cupped a hand to his ear, but heard no sound save ripples lapping against the dinghy.

  “Why would you do that?” said Glynnie.

  “I’ve lost everything. Destroyed my family and my house. Betrayed my mother — ”

  “You didn’t do any of those things,” Glynnie said stoutly. “The stinking chancellor destroyed House Ricinus out of spite. And he forced you to name your mother; if you didn’t, he was going to kill Tobry. Then he did anyway. He’s a wicked, stupid man and he’s going to lose the war.” She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the
starlight. “Rix?”

  He could see where this was going. “I can’t do anything about the chancellor, Glynnie. He’s made me an outlaw; no one would listen to me.”

  She put a hand on his good hand. “But we’re never giving in. We’re not running off and hiding. We’re going to fight Lyf all the way — aren’t we?”

  Again the servant gives lessons to the master, he thought wryly. She saw things far more clearly than he did. “Yes, Glynnie. I’m going to fight for our country — to the very end.”

  Glynnie leaned forwards, impulsively, and threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” She sat back at once. “Where are we going?”

  How could he tell her his plan? It would crush her, but he had to see her safe. “I don’t know. It’ll take time to build a rebel army, so I need a hideout that’s easy to defend and hard to attack.”

  He stood up, the dinghy rocking under his weight, then drew Maloch, rested it on the bench seat and spun it. It stopped, pointing to the right. Rix checked the angle of the bright star. “Maloch is telling me to go north-east.”

  “What’s there?”

  He sheathed the sword. Ahead, there was nothing to see but darkness. “Beyond the lake, there’s Grume, then Gordion. After that, the Nandeloch Mountains run north-east for a hundred and fifty miles.”

  “What are they like?” said Glynnie.

  “Rugged. High peaks, deep valleys, snow and ice, rebellious people and bad roads. The last place Lyf would want to fight in mid-winter — and therefore the best place for me to go.”

  And, Rix belatedly recalled, he had a manor there. Fortress Garramide.

  It had been left to him by a great-aunt last year. At the time, he had been due to inherit a hundred manors and three million acres of land upon his father’s death, and Rix had taken no interest in another manor in the distant, uncouth uplands. But the world had changed. His main inheritance had been lost with House Ricinus’s disgrace and fall, yet Garramide was untainted, still legally his.

  Rix let out a sigh. He had a purpose in life and a place to go. It was all he needed. He took up the oars, braced himself against the agony in his wrist, and rowed on.

  “I’m not overly keen on that sword,” said Glynnie.

  “Me either, but without it, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s what worries me. Where is it sending us? And how does it know the way?”

  Rix shrugged. “It’s enchanted to protect me.”

  “Who enchanted it?”

  “Who knows? It’s a very old sword.”

  “Then the enchantment can’t have been made for you.”

  “I suppose not. Maloch belonged to Axil Grandys, originally.”

  “The chancellor called it a foul blade,” said Glynnie.

  “When?” said Rix.

  “Before he ordered his captain to chop off your right hand with it. Maloch didn’t protect you then.”

  Something scuttled across Rix’s grave. “Then why did you ask me to hold it while you were reattaching my hand?”

  “I thought it might help.”

  Rix swallowed a bitter retort. They’d been through that before. “We’d better keep moving.”

  Hours after their escape from the gyre he pulled the dinghy into a wooded cove and the keel rasped on sand. A yard-wide stream ran into the cove at its upper end. There were no buildings, no lights or smell of wood smoke, no sign that anyone lived nearby. They climbed out into ankle-deep water with nothing save the clothes they were wearing, Glynnie’s small pack and the money belt around Rix’s waist. He reached into the dinghy and retrieved the rope.

  “Where are we?” Glynnie asked listlessly.

  She had not spoken in the past hour, just sat there, staring into the darkness, shivering and wracked by bouts of quiet weeping for her lost brother. It might have been better if she had seen the lad’s body. At least she would know.

  Rix was no longer troubled by doubt. Everything in his life was certain, including its brevity. Henceforth, he had nothing save the sword in his left hand… and lost, loyal Glynnie. For a few days, at least, until he found a place for her. He shied away from the thought.

  “A mile north of Grume,” he said, belatedly answering her question. “We can’t leave any traces here, so stay in the water. I’ll get rid of the dinghy.”

  “How?”

  Rix took off his coat and handed it to her, then waded out, pushing the boat, until the water was up to his shoulders. Taking Maloch in his left hand, he thrust it through the planks, well below the waterline, then drove the blade down to the keel, across and back up. The enchanted sword cut through the tough wood as though it was card and the dinghy sank.

  He went back to Glynnie. “We’ll go up the stream until we come to a path, or rocks, and leave the water there.”

  “We could still leave tracks,” she said.

  “If they don’t come out of the lake, there’s no reason to suspect the tracks are ours. They could belong to anyone.”

  They walked up the stream for several hundred yards before the land rose in a ramp, the stream chuckling down over a series of rock shelves like broad, shallow steps. Rix turned left across the shelf into a low woodland. Dry bark rustled beneath their feet. They climbed a hill and at its crest he stopped to survey the land around.

  Away to their left he saw a scatter of lights, the town of Grume. In every other direction the land lay in darkness. It was getting colder and their clothes were still damp, but he dared not light a fire here.

  “What now?” said Glynnie.

  “Get away from the lake as quickly as possible. Then buy two horses, or steal them, head for the mountains and hope there’s enough snowfall to hide our tracks.”

  “How long will it take to get there?” she said as they headed down the other side of the hill.

  “Depends how long it takes to find a place for you,” he said without thinking.

  She stopped dead. “You’re sending me away?”

  Rix cursed himself for putting it so baldly. “No, I’m going to find a safe household for you — ”

  “I thought we were allies, working together,” she cried. “What have I done wrong?”

  He caught her by the shoulders. “Shh! There could be hunters out, or shepherds.”

  “Answer. The. Question.” Her voice was ground ice.

  “You saw what they did back at the gyre. They plan to kill me.”

  “And you need a fr — an ally to watch your back,” she said, her voice quavering.

  “I vowed to look after you and Benn,” said Rix. “I failed Benn; I’m not losing you as well.”

  “And my feelings don’t come into it?”

  He scanned the darkness, uneasily. “We can’t talk about this now. We’ve got to get clear.”

  She turned and walked away.

  Rix ran after her. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “You go your way, I’m going mine.”

  He groaned. “If we split up, it doubles the chance of discovery. And when they find one of us they’ll know where to look for the other. Anyway, you’ve got no money or anything.”

  “What do you care? You’re planning to dump me the minute you can.”

  “I’m not planning to dump you. Glynnie, be realistic. I’m going to do Lyf as much damage as I can, but in the end… I’m just one man, and I’m bound to be killed.”

  “So it’s all right for you to fight for our country, but not for me?”

  “I have a duty to look after you.”

  “House Ricinus has fallen! You’re not my master. I’m nothing to you.”

  “You mean a lot to me! But I vowed to look after you and I’m going to.”

  Her voice went even colder. “So after all we’ve gone through together, you’re getting rid of me?”

  “No, I’ll be providing for you as best I can. You’re a clever, capable girl. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

  “I’m not a girl,” she said, stamping her foot. “I’m a woman.”

 
“And you have a life to live.”

  “So do you.”

  He groaned. “I’m Lyf’s number one enemy — and high on the chancellor’s list as well. Whoever wins, they’ll come after my head and they’ll probably get it.”

  “But you’re all I have left,” said Glynnie. “I can’t bear to lose you too.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Three days had passed. Today was the day. Glynnie sank ever lower in the saddle of her stolen horse and refused to meet Rix’s eye.

  “It’s for the best,” he said. “What else can I do?”

  She did not reply.

  “It wouldn’t be right to take you with me.”

  “Which is why you’re casting me off like a worn-out pair of trews.”

  “I’m not casting you off. I’m setting you up for your future.”

  “Whether I like it or not.”

  “I’m responsible for you. You’re not — ”

  “Will you shut up! I’ve been looking after myself since I was twelve and I don’t want to be set up for my future. Damn you. You can go to hell.”

  Glynnie stared at him for thirty seconds, her fists clenched, then the ferocity drained out of her. Her face took on the resigned look he had seen all too often on the faces of the house servants — that this was her lot and she had no option but to accept it. A look he could not bear to see on her.

  “All right, Lord,” she said. “I can’t fight you any more.”

  “I’m not a lord. I’m just Rix.”

  “You’re disposing of me. That makes you my lord.”

  “What else can I do? I’ve lost everything and I’m probably going to die.”

  “You still have allies, and a belt full of gold. And now you’ve rejected me, no one in the world cares if I exist — or if I die.”

  “I’m not rejecting you. I do care!”

  “Then take me with you.” She said it dully, knowing the answer before he spoke.

  “I — can’t!”

  She bent her head to him, servant to master. “All I had was you. You were my family. Now I’m alone in the world.”

  Rix’s mouth tasted of ashes.