The Fathomless Fire

by Thomas Wharton

  “Where are they going?” Balor shouted. “The battle is here.”

  Will had no answer, but as he gazed down at the column, he felt a cold wave of dread pass through him. There was something in the way these dark figures moved perfectly in step, as if each was exactly the same as all the others, that was familiar to him in a terrifying way.

  “It’s the fetches,” he said. “The armoured fetches Nonn told us about.”

  “Why aren’t they attacking the fortress?” Balor said. “Well, never mind that now, we have to keep moving.”

  They started climbing again. A short time later they reached the landing and hurried through the archway, which gave onto a wide circular platform of stone, surrounded by columns, some cracked and fallen over. There were black scorch marks on the flagstones, and on many of the columns. Far above, a thin ray of morning light had pierced the smoke and cloud, and the naked stone of the towers high above glowed a pale red.

  “This is a training ground if ever I’ve seen one,” Balor said. “Probably where they practise using the staves.”

  “Will Lighfoot,” Shade said warningly, and Will turned to see what the wolf’s watchful eyes were fixed on.

  A tall figure stood at the edge of the ring. At first Will thought he was clad in some kind of dull-grey armour, then he saw that the armour was in fact the figure’s flesh, and that it was not metal but clay.

  “The stone giant,” Balor muttered, then he grinned. “I’d forgotten about that. And I’m the bear. Well, let’s not disappoint the Dreamwalker’s children.”

  “That’s Ord, the golem,” Will cried. “The one we met in the bog. He didn’t hurt us then. Maybe if we just walk away…”

  “He’s the Sky Lord’s servant now, remember?” Balor said. “Mark my words, he’s been sent to find us and bring us back. Will, take Shade and get out of here.”

  “You can’t fight him, Balor,” Will said. “He’s too strong.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said the wildman.

  The golem was much as Will remembered him. Silent, impassive – then suddenly he was moving towards them like the stone of the fortress itself come to life.

  Will could feel his heavy tread underfoot. He backed away with Shade, and watched in fear as the golem advanced slowly, inexorably on Balor, who had yet to move. Ord approached the wildman with arms at his sides and eyes fixed as if unseeing. At the last moment the golem’s arms rose and reached for Balor, who braced himself and grasped Ord’s wrists. It was clear to Will now that the wildman had waited for his moment, in the hope of throwing the golem to the ground, but although he strained with all his might and grew purple in the face, the golem did not move.

  Finally Balor let go and staggered back, his face gleaming with sweat.

  The golem came at him again, as slowly and unrelentingly as before.

  “I will help Balor Gruff,” Shade said, but Will clung to him tightly.

  “You’re hurt, Shade. Please stay here.”

  This time when Ord reached him Balor ducked under his outstretched arms and threw himself at the golem’s midsection. He dug his feet in and shoved. Now the golem actually moved backwards a step or two. Then his arms reached around the wildman. At the last moment Balor dropped and rolled away. Will understood what would happen to him if the golem got Balor in his grip, and the wildman seemed to know it, too.

  The golem came at Balor again and the wildman swung one of his huge fists and struck Ord full in the face. The golem’s head and torso jerked back with the force of the blow, but his feet, Will saw with astonishment, did not even move. He righted himself just as Balor struck again, with a blow that Will thought would have been enough to floor an elephant. And again the golem’s upper body was thrown back, but he was not budged the slightest from where he stood. Again the golem righted himself and came on.

  Balor seemed to understand clearly now what he was facing. He backed away and began to circle his adversary, his eyes never leaving the stone giant’s. The golem followed Balor, his slow, steady pace unchanged, unhurried.

  Suddenly the wildman bent forward as if exhausted or in pain. As Ord approached and reached for him once more, Balor sprang up, grappled the golem from below and succeeded in lifting him off the ground. The strain on Balor’s face was terrible to see. He was only able to lift the golem’s feet less than a hand’s breadth from the stones, but it seemed as if he were lifting a mountain. Balor’s brawny arms were around the golem’s midsection, shaking as the wildman squeezed his opponent, but there was no apparent effect on Ord. With a cracked roar, Balor heaved the golem away from him. Ord struck the floor, rolled once in the dust, then climbed to his feet and started towards Balor again as if nothing had happened.

  Will could see that Balor had little strength left. The wildman didn’t back away again, but his chest was heaving and as he came on, he tottered for a moment as if he might fall. As the golem came past the place where Will was watching, Will saw that instead of the green stone from Finn’s ring, the golem had set in his forehead a dull black disc.

  “Balor, his forehead!” Will cried.

  Balor shot a puzzled glance towards Will, who touched his own forehead.

  “The disc in his forehead!”

  Balor’s eyes widened with understanding and he nodded, just as the golem’s arms reached for him once more. He batted them away, struck the golem a blow to the chest and pulled his fist back with a grimace of pain. Then he clutched at the golem’s forehead with his other hand. His fingers scrabbled desperately for a moment, before he pulled his hand back as the golem reached for him, but it was too late. The golem’s arms were around him now and his hands locked together, imprisoning the wildman. Balor struggled, growled, hammered the golem on the back with his fists as he was lifted easily off the ground. For a moment it seemed as if nothing was happening, but Balor’s face darkened, his features contorted, and Will knew that the golem was slowly squeezing the breath out of him.

  A friend will fall, Will thought in horror.

  “He’s killing him,” he breathed desperately.

  Shade pulled away from Will’s side with a growl and leapt at the golem. His jaws closed around one of Ord’s wrists and his head wrenched to one side. The golem’s grip loosened just long enough for the wildman to free one of his arms. But the golem flung the wolf away in the next instant and regained his crushing hold on Balor.

  Shade hit the stone floor and rolled. He was up a moment later and Will was by his side.

  “Shade, wait—” Will began, but Shade was already running at the golem again. Then suddenly he stopped.

  Out of the shadows strode Corr Madoc, followed by Finn and a small party of Stormriders carrying torches. One of them seized Will by the arm and another pointed a lightning stave at Shade.

  “Enough,” Corr said, and Will realized he was speaking to the golem.

  Ord let the wildman go, as if he was suddenly forgotten. Balor tumbled to the floor, gasping for breath. The golem stood over him, unmoving, not even looking at the adversary he had bested, as if waiting patiently for his next task.

  Finn hurried to Balor and crouched by his side. The mordog who was holding Will back released his grip, and Will darted to Shade’s side. Finn turned from examining the wildman.

  “He’s still breathing,” he said. “We need to get him to Alazar, Corr.”

  “Your friend the wildman isn’t dying,” Corr Madoc said. “The golem does not kill. We’ve seen it many times already, when we send him against our enemies. My mages tried to change that, but they weren’t successful. It makes the golem less useful, perhaps, but still, he’s practically unstoppable, and quite intimidating in battle.”

  Finn stood and faced his brother.

  “Did you order this attack?”

  “I ordered the golem to find your friends and hold them,” Corr said, returning Finn’s steady gaze without expression. “It was for their own safety. The Nightbane have been driven back from the walls for now, but they are regrouping a
nd the assault may begin again at any time.”

  “You did this for our safety, Corr?” Finn cried, his eyes blazing. “Look what’s happened to Balor.”

  “He will live to fight another day.”

  “The question is,” said a voice from beyond the circle of men, “will any of you?”

  Doctor Alazar made his way through the press of Stormriders, followed by a man Will had not seen before. He was older than Corr, his hair thin and greying, his face pale and deeply lined. There were dark rings under his eyes.

  Alazar hurried to Balor’s side. The wildman groaned and raised his head.

  “’Zar, good to see you,” he said groggily. “Did I beat that thing?”

  “To a standstill, my friend,” the doctor said.

  Balor grinned and closed his eyes. The golem still stood where it had dropped the wildman, as lifeless as a statue.

  “Is he…?” Will asked the doctor, tears welling in his eyes.

  “He lives,” Alazar said. “He’s just passed out, Will.”

  The words came to Will again: a friend will fall. Balor fell to the golem’s strength, but he will live, Will thought with relief. And if all of the shadow’s predictions had come to pass, did that mean Rowen and Shade and Will’s other friends were safe now? Desperately he hoped it was so, but deep down he felt a faint dread still churning inside him.

  “Yates,” Corr said to the man who had come with Alazar, “you should be resting.”

  “I’ve been asleep long enough,” the man said in a hoarse voice. “I’m done with all of this, Corr. If you won’t let me go, you’ll have to kill me.”

  Corr’s gaze locked with Yates’s for a long moment.

  “Go where you will, then,” Corr said at last, turning away from him.

  “He should be free of this place,” Alazar said. “You all should. I know now why the gaal is so important to Corr’s men, Finn. I know why they’re so desperate to drive the Nightbane from the dwarves’ city. They need the fever iron. After they’ve taken it a few times, their bodies crave it and sicken without it. Over time they need more and more of it to gain the fierceness in battle that it gives them. But the more they take, the more it poisons their bodies and minds.”

  They all looked at Corr, who glowered at the doctor, then turned to Finn with a shrug.

  “There is always a price to be paid,” he said.

  “I saw it in the wounded,” Alazar went on. “They’re barely aware of their injuries. I asked them about returning to their homelands some day, and they no longer care about that. All they wanted to know was when they were getting their next ration of the gaal. Yates here is one of the few who fought against the craving that was killing him. That’s why he tried to get away. Nonn and his folk knew about this, they must have known, but they kept it secret from you and your men, didn’t they Corr, until it was too late and you needed the gaal as much as the dwarves needed your swords.”

  “Are you … taking the gaal, Corr?” Finn asked.

  “We all are, brother,” Corr said. “You are, too. It’s in the air here. There’s a fine, almost invisible dust from the smelting of the ore. It’s everywhere. You’re all gaining strength from it right now. Just think: you’ve all gone without sleep for hours, you’ve hardly eaten a thing, and yet none of you feel tired or weak, do you? You already see what the gaal can do. Think of that, and perhaps you will judge us less harshly.”

  “We saw the armoured fetches marching below,” Will said. “They’re heading south, out of the valley. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them.”

  “We’ve seen them,” Corr said. “We will respond when the time is right.”

  “There is no time left,” Finn said. “Clearly, they’ve been building up their numbers and their strength for this day, while you thought you were keeping them boxed in. The dragons’ attack, the chains, it’s all a diversion to keep you busy, Corr, while their main force escapes the valley, probably to attack the lands to the south.”

  “We don’t know that,” Corr said. “It may well be a feint of another kind, to draw our attention while they launch a greater assault on the fortress. These armoured fetches are just puppets. Their helmets have no visors, no eyeslits. They’re walking blind, mindlessly, where they’re bidden. Their purpose may only be to draw us out, so that the Nightbane can finish us.”

  Helmets without visors, Will thought, and then he remembered Rowen’s dream.

  “I know where they’re going,” he cried. “They’re marching on the Bourne. Rowen saw it, in a dream she told me about. Armoured figures without faces. They were hollow inside. They had Fable surrounded. She saw this happening. They’re going to attack Fable.”

  Corr turned to Will with a dubious look.

  “Someone, not you, saw this in a dream?” he scoffed. “I will need more proof than that, boy, before I believe such an unlikely tale. Of what possible interest would Fable be to the Night King?”

  “I don’t know, but Rowen is a loremaster, descended from the Stewards,” Will said. “She can see such things. Finn knows her, too.”

  “It’s true, Corr,” Finn said. “Rowen is the granddaughter of Nicholas Pendrake. She has a gift of seeing into the weave of the Realm. I don’t pretend to understand it, but I wouldn’t dismiss anything she says.”

  Corr smiled.

  “Pendrake is a good man. One of the few in Fable I ever trusted. But Finn, if I had listened to all the prophets and soothsayers over the years who warned me to turn back, the Bourne probably would have been overrun long ago. Will here is desperate to get home. To see the girl again, no doubt.”

  “I’m not lying,” Will cried. “You have to believe me!”

  “You promised you’d let my friends go if I stayed with you, Corr,” Finn said. “Let them return to Fable now, to warn the Errantry about the host coming south. Even if Fable is not their destination, our people should know about this so they can prepare for the worst.”

  Corr looked up into the dawn sky, then at his brother. For a terrible moment Will thought he was going to refuse. Then he sighed and put a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

  “So be it,” he said. “I have no time for your friends and their foolishness. It’s better they were out of here than spreading their wild tales among my men. Yates, are you well enough to pilot a skyship?”

  “I am, Corr. The doctor has helped me get back on my feet.”

  “I questioned the dwarves’ healer,” Alazar said, “and he finally admitted to me that his people know of a herb that can be brewed into a medicinal drink. It helps the mind and body resist the fever caused by the gaal, and takes away some of the craving for it. The healer was reluctant but in the end he gave me a small amount of the dried herb. It has helped Yates already, and it can help the rest of your men, Corr. The healer wouldn’t tell me where to find more of the herb, but perhaps if you ask Nonn—”

  “My men do not need medicine, doctor,” Corr broke in harshly. “They need victory. Yates, you may leave if that is what you wish. Take the boy, the wildman and their wolf friend back to the Bourne, or as close to it as you can. We’ve never flown the ships such a distance, and I don’t know for certain if they can even make it that far, but it’s the only way you’ll cross the plains in time to bring your empty warning to the Errantry.”

  “Thank you, Corr,” Finn said.

  “You’re staying here, Finn?” Will said sadly.

  “I am, Will. You’ve saved Shade, and I know Balor will get you back to Fable safely.”

  “All of us should leave,” Alazar said. “You and all your men, too, Corr. Give up this hopeless siege and bring all your ships south. If Will is right we will need your help to defend the Bourne.”

  Corr smiled bitterly.

  “I tried to defend the Bourne once before, doctor, if you remember. But the Errantry didn’t want my help. And you said it yourself, my men need the fever iron. Without it, we cannot help anyone, least of all ourselves. There is nowhere else for us to go, now. This is where we m
ake our stand.”

  “Then I’m staying too,” Alazar said. “I’m needed here. More of your men, Corr, are likely to die from the wretched state of your infirmary, than in battle.”

  “Alazar, you can’t,” Finn cried. “You must go with Will and Balor. They need you too.”

  “If ’Zar wants to stay, let him,” the wildman said, and they all turned in surprise to see that he had woken and was struggling to rise. “Someone needs to watch out for you, Finn, since clearly you’ve abandoned all sense. I will get Will home safely.”

  “Balor, you’re in no condition—” the doctor began.

  “I’m fine,” Balor rumbled, climbing stiffly to his feet. “It takes more than some walking mudball to put a crimp in my step.”

  “Very good,” Corr said. “I’m glad to see you suffered no worse damage, wildman. You fought like no one I’ve ever seen, and I wish I could keep you here. You’d be of much use in this battle. But enough. Take a ship, Yates. One of the scouting skiffs. That’s all I can spare, and even that is more than we can easily do without now. Go, before I change my mind.”

  “Wait,” Will said, stepping forward. “One more thing. The Horse Folk boy, Hawk. Let us take him back to his people.”

  The Sky Lord turned to Will.

  “Why do they matter to you?” he said. “You’re not even from this world, boy.”

  “It matters because I’m like you,” Will said, refusing to back down from the Sky Lord’s steely glare. “The Dreamwalker, Hawk’s father, believes I’m a hero returned. He thinks I’m the one who will bring the rain back to his lands. He’s looking to me to make things right again for his people and I know I can’t do that, but maybe I can bring him back his son.”

  Corr studied Will for a long moment, and Will saw something in his cold eyes change.