by Ian Irvine
The ground shook.
“Have I helped, or made things worse?” she said quietly.
“Another minute and they would have overwhelmed us.”
She looked up to the dark collapse zone. “I’ve got a bad feeling, Holm.”
“About where the collapse took place?”
“It can’t have been far from the Empound. What if… what if it was right underneath?”
Holm looked grave. “We’d better go up.”
Something rumbled in the depths. The floor shook violently and more rock fell, though this time it was just an ordinary rock fall — whatever had happened at the heatstone cube, the point of annihilation, had completed itself.
Tali felt the last of her gift drain away. She swayed and almost fell. “Something’s wrong,” she croaked. “Something’s very wrong.”
Lyf reappeared at the curve of the ramp, moving slowly and wearily, as though his magery could barely support him. What had he seen up there?
“What have you done now?” he cried. “Something has just changed, deep down. The balance is tipping towards the point of no return.”
“Wil went down…” Tali was so exhausted that she could barely speak.
“When?” Lyf shook her. Holm pushed him away.
“Half an hour ago,” said Tali.
“Where did he go?”
Tali pointed to the fuming crevice.
“He went down the Hellish Conduit?”
“Where does it lead?”
“Way down. To the Engine at the heart of the world, eventually. But surely Wil can’t do any damage down there,” Lyf said, as if to himself. “He wouldn’t know…”
“He said, Got to write ending. Engine going to end everything,” said Tali. “And he was dragging a great platina demijohn. I… I think it held alkoyl.”
“He wouldn’t!” whispered Lyf. “He can’t get to the Engine, surely. And he wouldn’t know how to do any harm… Or would he?” He looked up. “Errek?”
The wispy old ghost-king appeared in the air before him.
“Did you hear?” said Lyf.
“Of course I heard,” said Errek. “I’m your creation.”
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Wil reforged the iron book,” said Errek. “He could not have done that in Cython without the matriarchs being informed. Where else would he find the heat for so mighty a forging? Only near the Engine.”
“Is that why magery has been failing?” said Tali. “Because Wil’s been rewriting the iron book?”
“The way the balance has been tilting,” said Errek, “he must have been interfering with the Engine. You’ve got to stop him, Lyf. Right now!”
Lyf looked up at the collapsed area. “But… my people need me. I can’t turn my back on them now, when they need me most.”
“When you swore your kingly oath all those years ago, when you chose the way of healing magery, you also swore that the king’s noble purpose would always come first.”
“What noble purpose?” said Tali.
“Healing the land and maintaining the balance?” said Holm, low-voiced.
“Since you became king again,” said Errek, “you’ve neglected that responsibility. Now you have no choice. Go!”
“How can I heal the land?” said Lyf. “Without the catalyz, I can’t use king-magery.”
“Kill Wil, then brake the Engine. Use your bare hands, if you must.”
“That won’t heal the land. It can’t.”
“But it can delay the catastrophe.”
“First, I’ll take the master pearl,” snarled Lyf. “Tali created this mess.”
“Grandys created it,” said Errek. “With Maloch, two thousand years ago. Leave her — she’s bound up with the fate of the world, somehow. Go!”
Lyf wobbled towards the smoking entrance to the Hellish Conduit and disappeared as Wil had done. Errek vanished. Tali’s legs gave beneath her and she slid to the floor. She had nothing left.
“We’d better go up and see what the damage is,” said Holm. “Hoy, Tobry?”
He came across, wearily.
“Give us a hand with her,” said Holm. “She’s all in.”
Tobry looked pale, shrunken and further aged. It was not a good sign.
He picked Tali up and began to carry her up the ramp, but she found no comfort in his arms. All she could think about was his terrible end that could not be far away.
Every jolt sent hot pain spearing through Tali’s head. She closed her eyes; it hurt too much with them open. Around her, hundreds of Pale were panting as they scrambled up.
“What’s happened?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” said another. “Where have the enemy gone?”
There was no reply. Tali could hear the Pale’s bare feet slapping the stone all around. They ran in a mass for a minute or two, then stopped.
“To their armouries,” Radl was shouting. “Arm yourselves and hold the passages against the enemy. Pale in the Empound, come forth and take up arms.”
A great cheering rent the air. Tali forced her eyes open. The area was lit with lanterns and glowstones now, though it took a while to recognise what she was seeing.
The collapse had torn open the edge of the Empound and freed the trapped Pale who were streaming forth in their thousands. She could see the huge assembly area and some of the honeycomb cells, though there did not seem to be much damage there.
But there was massive damage in the other direction, where the Cythonian living quarters had been. The entrance tunnel was gone and hundreds of yards of the floor inside had vanished, drawn down into the annihilation hole. Much of the ceiling was gone as well, and the rest had fallen, destroying thousands of the small stone apartments in which the enemy dwelt.
“Most would have been unoccupied, their people long gone to Hightspall,” said Tobry, who must have sensed Tali’s horror. He put her down on her feet, but held her. “There might not have been too many killed.”
Tali blocked his voice out. She had made her choice, destruction over healing, and this was the result. She could not shy away from it. The victims, enemy though they were, were owed that much. And there would be many of them. Very many.
A great wailing arose from the passage to the right; she saw the enemy troops clustered there. The soldiers who had come so close to victory down below now faced a disaster they could not comprehend.
They made their slow way around the broken edges of the collapsed area and into their living quarters, crying out for the survivors, but they did not find many.
As the first of the injured Cythonians were brought out, the rescuers were confronted by ten thousand armed Pale. Many wore armour, and their numbers and new-found determination made them a formidable force. For the first time the enemy realised how the situation had been overturned; how drastically they were outnumbered.
“You can fight, or you can leave Cython,” said Radl quietly. “If you leave we will not hinder you, and you may take what weapons and possessions you will. But if you fight, know that we will fight you to the death.”
The Cythonians consulted among themselves, but they had taken thousands of casualties in the hours-long battle and all were exhausted. Now, as they looked upon the destruction of the homes they had lived in for the past fifteen hundred years, Tali saw the heart go out of them.
“Our matriarchs are dead, crushed in their apartments, and Lyf has abandoned us for a higher duty,” said a tall Cythonian with zigzag face tattoos. “We cannot make this choice.”
“You must,” said Radl, “or we will deal with you the way you planned to deal with us.”
After another long consultation, the tall Cythonian said, “We will go.” They began to gather their injured, and their meagre possessions, and then they went.
“Happy now?” said Radl to Tali.
Radl was covered in blood and had suffered many small injuries, though none marred her beauty nor hindered her determination to lead her people.
“No, I’m
not,” said Tali.
It was a victory she had never dreamed of achieving, from an attack that had not been planned, but she could take no joy from it. Thousands of lives had been lost on each side, and not just soldiers. Old men and women had been killed, girls and boys and infants. She put her head in her hands and wept.
“It’s not finished yet,” said Holm. “You’ve got to go on.”
“No, I’ve done enough damage.”
“There’s still a war up above, and we’re losing badly.”
“What can I do about it?”
“The chancellor needs soldiers, blooded in battle. The Pale can provide them.”
“I’m not leading anyone else to their death. I’ve too many on my conscience already.”
“You’ve got to ask them.”
“Why me? Why can’t you do it?”
“If we don’t defeat Lyf, he’ll try to take Cython back, and the blood bath will make today look like a tea party.”
He was right — she had to go on. Tobry boosted Tali up onto a heap of rubble where she could see the Pale and they could see her. Holm banged on a shield until people looked her way.
“You have won your freedom,” she shouted. “But your people in Hightspall are in the thrall of the enemy and cry out for your aid. Today I’m marching north to Nyrdly, to the aid of our country. Will you march with me?”
No one moved. No one spoke. They just stared at her with hostile eyes.
“Why won’t they answer?” she said to Radl.
“You’re not wearing your loincloth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re dressed. You’re not one of us.” Radl scrambled up onto the pile of rubble. “The battle has been won but the war continues. We have to fight Lyf, and defeat him, or he will come at the head of an army to take Cython back. Will you march under my leadership?”
Thousands of Pale raised their hands, though not nearly as many as Tali had hoped.
“Is that all?” she said.
“Hightspall sent our ancestors here as child hostages,” said a gaunt man with bloodshot, staring eyes. “Hightspall refused to ransom us, then made us out to be traitors and enemy collaborators. Why should we fight for a land that despises us, when we can have Cython for ourselves?”
“He’ll come back,” said Tali.
“And if he does, we’ll fight for our country. But we’re not fighting for yours.”
Tali climbed down, more exhausted than she had ever felt. “I want to go home.”
“You and I still remember our noble heritage,” said Radl. “We still think of ourselves as Hightspallers, and all our lives we’ve yearned to go home, but most of the Pale forgot their ancestors and lost their heritage long ago. Cython is their home, the only one they’ve ever known.”
“And even with all the destruction in this area,” said Holm, “the rest of Cython is warm, productive and safe. Why would they leave it for the bitter cold of Hightspall, and an uncertain war in a land that has long despised them?”
CHAPTER 105
“Did you kill Wil?” said Errek First-King late that afternoon.
“He eluded me,” Lyf replied, wincing as a healer finished binding his cruelly burned hands. “He crept down into cracks where I could not follow.”
“But you did brake the Engine?”
Lyf looked down at his bound hands. “Thank you,” he said to the healer. “You may go.” Once she had gone, and the door was sealed, he resumed. “As best I could, though it won’t last. I stopped the balance tilting all the way to disaster, but it can only be restored with king-magery. And — ”
“Lacking the catalyz…” said Errek.
“Where can it be? Unless it’s found, the balance can’t be restored, nor the land saved.”
“I would guess,” said Errek, “that it still lies in one of Grandys’ hoards, hidden before the time of his death, its true value never recognised.”
“But Tali knows our secret now, and so do her friends.”
“And a secret known to so many people cannot be kept. Sooner or later, Grandys will hear of it.”
“He’ll know where to go for the catalyz, and once he gets it, we’re lost.”
“Unless…” said Errek. He whispered in Lyf’s ear.
“I’ll call the ancestors into the temple,” said Lyf. Clumsily, with his bandaged hands, he inserted his nose plugs and led the way.
Within, the stench was now so foul that not even his hardiest workmen could enter. It was sickening even through the nose plugs. Did it presage the doom of his people, and the land as well?
“This sacred temple has been defiled beyond redemption,” he said to his ancestors, “but is that due to my crimes when it was the murder cellar, or to Grandys’ two thousand years ago?”
The ancestors did not speak. They were gazing at him in alarm.
“It should be torn down,” he continued, though the symbolism of such an act made him shudder. “But that would be like tearing down my own realm, my people, my land.”
“With Cython fallen, our final refuge lost,” said Errek, “our people are more troubled than ever.”
The eruptions at the Vomits had picked up in the past day and the land was quaking all the time now. Though Lyf had not told his people the true reason for it, every Cythonian knew that something was badly wrong, deep down.
“It will take a great victory to turn their morale around,” said Bloody Herrie.
“That’s what I’m planning.” Lyf opened the door and called to his attendant. “Order my armies to get ready. We’re marching north to Reffering in the morning.”
Lyf came back inside and closed the door.
“Are you intending to fight the chancellor?” said Errek.
“Not unless I’m forced to it. Our real enemy is Grandys, and if two sides are there, preparing to do battle, you can be sure he’ll turn up.”
“And then?”
“Grandys doesn’t know what the key is, but he knows where he hid everything he stole from my temple. I’m going to deal with him and get the key,” said Lyf.
CHAPTER 106
“You look dreadful,” said Rix from the entrance to the chancellor’s quarters. He could see the man himself, at the rear, bent over a stack of papers.
The chancellor’s head lifted and he gave a sardonic smile. “If I looked as bad as you do, I’d know I was about to die. Come in and get it over with, whatever it is you want.”
Rix limped in on Glynnie’s arm. Three days had passed since the fight with Grandys but his face was still swollen and covered in yellowing bruises, his split lip was scabbed and blue, and he ached all over. But at least he was getting better. Whatever ailed the chancellor appeared terminal and it had affected the whole army. The officers Rix had met on his way through the camp all looked defeated. They were going through the motions, waiting for the inevitable end.
Nonetheless, he felt that familiar gnawing in his belly. The chancellor had publicly condemned him and there was no saying he felt the way he had at Glimmering, when he had held Rix up to the world as a hero. If the chancellor was on the way out, he might feel that it was time to settle old scores, permanently.
They stared at one another for a long time. Finally the chancellor said, “Well?”
“You may take it that I’m no longer under the thrall of Grandys’ command spell,” said Rix.
“So I’ve heard.”
“What have you heard?”
“The tale spread across Hightspall like a forest fire.” The chancellor’s eyes slid sideways onto Glynnie. “May I see it?” He held out his hand.
After a brief hesitation, she reached into her bag, brought out the black opal armour broken off Grandys’ nose and dropped it in the chancellor’s small, wrinkled hand. He looked down at it, then laughed until tears flooded from his eyes.
“How tall are you, Glynnie?”
“Five foot two,” she said, frowning.
“And Grandys is six foot eight.” He looked up at R
ix. “It’s true then? She knocked the bastard down?”
“Glynnie got in five blows with a six-foot baulk of timber,” Rix said proudly. “Flattened his ugly nose against his bloated face, knocked him to his knees and had him howling and spitting blood.”
“Ah, thank you, thank you,” said the chancellor. “You’ve done me more good in a minute than all my healers and all their blasted potions have in a week.” He handed the piece of opal back and wiped his face. “You’ll want to keep that to show your grandchildren.”
“It wasn’t just me,” said Glynnie. “Rix fought Grandys to a standstill. He knocked out two front teeth, gave him a black eye and, but for a greasy plate underfoot, would have won. And Rix stole his horse. Don’t forget that.”
The chancellor’s lip twitched. “Did he now? Ah, that’s the icing. Well, Ricinus, you find me brought to a new low. My arm gone — ” He flapped his stump. “Half my army lost or deserted. Hope fading by the minute and, according to my spies, Lyf is already marching north to attack us. I’m in such desperate straits that I’m even prepared to enlist vagabonds, traitors and condemned shifters, so why should I baulk at a Herovian, dead-handed horse thief?”
“I don’t believe I am Herovian,” said Rix. “And I can’t say I go for their ideals.”
“Whatever! Is that what you came for — to hear that all is forgiven?”
“No,” said Rix. “I haven’t forgiven anything. I want a commission in your army — a captain’s rank.”
“A captain’s rank?”
“At Glimmering you sang my praises,” Rix said defensively. “You told the world how greatly my victory had improved morale.”
“Glimmering, yes,” said the chancellor, as though that had been a lifetime away. “But a captain’s rank… I’ll have to think about that.”
Rix swallowed. It did not appear as though the chancellor had forgiven anything either.
“But, surely — ?” said Glynnie.
“I said I’d think about it,” the chancellor said mildly. “In a day or two we’ll ride to Reffering. You can be sure Grandys won’t be far away, but which side will he fight on? Sit down. Eat, drink. We’re all going to die and I’ve broken out the best bottles I have. Let’s raise a glass to the end of the world.”
