Assail (88 page)

Pran Chole bowed his head to Silverfox and she nodded her grave agreement. ‘We so pledge.’

The Forkrul extended its hand and Kyle took the necklace. ‘What of the Jaghut?’ it asked.

The woman motioned the Sayer youth, Orman, forward. The young man adjusted the patch on his eye and stepped up with his spear held straight. He thumped its butt to the stones, saying, ‘We so pledge.’

‘And the Tiste Andii?’

Jethiss nodded solemnly. ‘I believe I have been sent here to make this pledge. And to ask of you a boon …’

The two Forkrul exchanged a glance. ‘We will adjudicate that in time,’ answered Penance.

‘As to this new founding of the peace,’ intoned Arbiter, ‘we Forkrul pledge our honouring.’ It gestured curtly and the many Assail scattered among the rocks clambered quickly up the slope. All in eerie silence.

Kyle examined the modest lump of amber in his palm. Did you know, Ereko? Was this why you left this behind? Yet how could you know? Perhaps it was a hope only; a seed cast into the future with the hope that it would find the right conditions, the right soil, to germinate. He retied the lace about his neck.

‘Well done,’ Fisher murmured low to him. The bard sounded infinitely relieved. ‘The giving of that stone is a tale I would have you tell.’

‘It is a sad one.’

‘Of course. All the important ones are.’ Then he turned away, his breath catching, and Kyle glanced over: Jethiss now faced the Forkrul. Fisher was at his side in an instant, taking his arm. ‘You need not pursue this,’ he hissed.

‘I wish to,’ the Andii answered, quite calm.

‘It is perilous beyond your grasp.’

‘My memories are slowly returning, Fisher. I believe that this will complete them.’ The Andii offered a crooked smile. ‘Finding out who you are in truth is always a perilous undertaking.’ He faced the Forkrul. ‘I ask a boon.’

Arbiter nodded. ‘Speak.’

‘Once, we Andii were blessed by the protection of a powerful champion and weapon. A storied blade. Now he and it are gone. I ask of you Forkrul a weapon worthy of us Andii. Worthy to protect us. Will you grant me this boon?’

The Forkrul glanced to one another once again and Kyle intuited a great deal of communication was exchanged in each of these moments. They broke off the gaze and Arbiter turned to Jethiss. ‘We shall fashion for you a blade worthy of you,’ it answered.

‘I accept,’ Jethiss said even as Fisher drew breath to cut in with a shout.

‘
No!
That wording. I fear that wording. There is something there. Some hidden danger.’

The Andii merely let out a long exhausted breath. ‘It is too late. What is done is done. Now we shall see what the Forkrul can provide.’

In answer, Arbiter curled its thin fingers, inviting Jethiss onward. ‘Come.’ The Andii followed the two up the slope. Eventually he disappeared from sight behind a boulder.

Fisher sat heavily among the rocks. He hid his face in his hands. ‘I fear we shall never see him again.’

Kyle eased himself down next to him, sighed his utter weariness. ‘We shall see.’

Footsteps sounded and a shadow loomed over them: Kyle squinted up at the Jaghut woman and Orman with her. ‘You will await your friend?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘He is a fool to ask anything of the Forkrul. They are vicious, cruel, and amoral.’

‘Then it is best we do not disturb them,’ Fisher observed, sharply.

The Jaghut woman tipped her head to him. ‘I have a modest abode nearby. I will bring you some food and blankets.’ She limped off. The stones rattled and crunched beneath her sandals.

Kyle studied the young man, Orman. ‘You will return to your people?’

He leaned upon the tall spear, touched self-consciously at the patch over his eye. ‘Yes. When the ice melts – and Mother assures me it will quite quickly – it is my wish that we should build a new Greathall where we shall all reside. All we Icebloods. The blood-feuds and vendettas between us, I hope, will be things of the past.’

‘A worthy goal,’ Fisher said.

‘You will always be welcome in our hall.’

‘I shall look forward to such a visit in the future.’

‘And you too, Kyle, friend of the Children of the Earth, and wielder of the white blade.’

‘I thank you.’

‘Until then,’ and Orman bowed and headed down the slope, thumping the butt of the spear loudly to the stones as he went.

Fisher let out a heartfelt breath. ‘That spear makes me as uncomfortable as your sword.’

‘There is something primal about it. And it is an Imass weapon, after all.’

Silverfox approached with Pran Chole and the woman Kilava. Kyle and Fisher scrambled to their feet to bow to her. ‘Summoner,’ Fisher welcomed her.

She waved off their formality, addressed Kyle. ‘Thank you, White-blade. I do not know what it is you carry, but somehow it tipped the scales in our favour. I am not naïve enough to believe that the Forkrul have hearts, but perhaps it touched something within them. A sense of nostalgia, maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘In any case, you have my gratitude.’

‘I think of what I carry as friendship,’ Kyle said.

‘Friendship?’ She brushed back her wind-tossed hair. Kyle was struck by the unexpectedly girlish gesture from such an apparently aged woman. ‘Would that they could understand such a thing,’ she murmured.

‘You are off?’ Fisher asked.

‘Yes. We head south. I would gather up as many of the T’lan as I can, then we shall continue our search.’

‘Your search?’ Kyle asked.

‘Yes. I will find them all, friend Kyle. And when I have found them they will know the gift of the Redeemer and I shall release them. None shall be left behind.’

Fisher bowed once more. ‘I wish you success.’

Pran Chole gave them a nod, dipping his deer headdress. ‘Farewell. Or not. Perhaps we shall meet again.’

‘Perhaps,’ Kyle acknowledged.

Last came Kilava. The short powerful woman now carried a half-smile on her lips. ‘That went far better than I had hoped or expected. Well done, Whiteblade.’ She faced Fisher. ‘Bard. Good to see you again.’

‘And you, Kilava.’

She leaned forward and planted a light brush of a kiss on Fisher’s cheek, then walked off. Kyle watched her go, astonished, then returned his wondering gaze to the bard.

‘You were once …’

Fisher sat once more, sighing, his hands hanging loose over his knees. ‘Another time, Kyle.’

They were alone now with the moaning, gusting wind. The thick deck of clouds churned below, effectively cutting off the world beneath. It seemed to Kyle that here among the frigid peaks they were in the realm of the gods. The day was cooling: the sun had descended behind the cloud cover to the west.

He blew upon his hands to warm them and knew that without his Iceblood, his Jaghut heritage, he would be frozen stiff.

Fisher opened the satchel at his side and withdrew the stringed box, the kantele of the Losts. He examined it to make certain it hadn’t been harmed.

‘Will you play?’ Kyle asked.

He shook his head. ‘No. Too cold.’ He wrapped the instrument and gently returned it to its case.

‘What tale will you tell of what has occurred here?’ Kyle asked.

The bard nodded profoundly. ‘Ah yes. That is the question.’ He extended his legs straight out before himself and crossed them at the ankle, meshed his fingers over his chest. ‘One mustn’t feel constrained by the facts.’ He shot Kyle a sideways glance. ‘Poetic truth is a higher truth, you know. Names and events must be changed to disguise the mundane – and invariably disappointing – truth behind.’

Kyle smoothed his now long and drooping moustache, smiling. ‘Of course. In other words, you’ll make up what you want and claim that’s what happened.’

‘Of course. Now, tell me the tale of your finding of this stone.’

Kyle eased back among the rocks as best he could. He shot a glance high above, searching for any sign of Jethiss, then pulled his cloak tighter against the wind. ‘Well … I didn’t
find
it. It was given to me. Left behind by a friend.’

EPILOGUE

SHIMMER OPENED HER
eyes to find herself once more standing among the grassy hills and broad ring of canted stone menhirs mottled orange and olive-green by lichens. It was chill, the day was bright, the sky blue and dotted with wispy clouds, yet she could not see the sun. Now she understood why she was here, and she sighed, hugged herself, and started walking a circuit of the stones.

Soon she discovered she was not alone. Smoky, the dead mage – who was not dead in truth – walked with her. His sandalled feet kicked the frayed and scorched edges of his brown woollen robes. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, resolutely not looking to her … waiting.

After a time, she asked: ‘How long have you known?’

‘We didn’t really
know
,’ he answered while he scratched at his patchy beard. ‘We suspected.’

‘Yet you said nothing.’

‘We would not burden the living.’

‘In which I no longer number,’ she observed, and was surprised by the lack of bitterness in her voice.

‘Yet you could return, as before. The option remains for you.’ She halted. ‘Why just me? Why not any of you?’

He stopped with her, rubbed his chin ferociously, his gaze lowered. ‘Not just you, Shimmer. K’azz was the first to discover this.’

Though she understood that she was not breathing in this place, Shimmer felt her breath catch and her chest tighten in dread – old habits. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, slowly.

Still unable to match her gaze, he said, ‘He died long ago, Shimmer. When Skinner and Cowl buried him alive – he died. Yet he did not die. He discovered the truth of the Vow then. Eventually, he clawed his way free.’

He drew a heavy breath – perhaps merely in a gesture to put her at ease. ‘I’m sorry. Anyway,’ and he shrugged, ‘had to happen some time. And we are coming back. Slowly. Eventually, we will return.’

She nodded her understanding. ‘I see. Like the T’lan Imass.’

He answered her nod, his hand at his beard. ‘Yes. Somehow, our Vow echoed theirs. Perhaps it was the location – the physical source of this spirit realm. Or K’azz’s words. Or the spirit of our intent and conviction.’ He lifted his bony shoulders once more. ‘Who knows?’

‘But we can never … leave.’

‘Yes.’

She faced him. ‘So … everyone is here? All the fallen? Petal? Sept? Cole? Even … Skinner?’

‘Yes. All the Brethren.’

She peered round, seeing no one. ‘Well? Where are they?’

‘We’ve found it best not to overwhelm. First things first.’

She studied him, her gaze narrowing. ‘Such as?’

‘As before. Do you wish to return?’

‘Return? You mean … I may? I can?’

‘Yes.’

For some reason she felt terribly unworthy of this gift. Unwilling to pursue it, as if it would be an insult to all the Brethren who had come here before her. ‘Why me? Why not the others?’

He raised a hand as if to calm her. ‘I understand, Shimmer. Do not worry yourself. Some choose not to. Some do. In time, they will.’

She took another steadying breath, though she knew it for a deceit. ‘Very well. Then yes, I choose to return.’

He nodded at this and smiled crookedly. ‘We all knew you would.’ He held out his hand. ‘Farewell … for now.’

She reached for his hand but somehow her fingers passed through his and she blinked, the world growing dim, then she blinked again to glowing brightness that made her flinch and cover her eyes. Someone held her hand and she saw that it was K’azz.

‘Welcome back, Shimmer.’

‘I wasn’t really gone, was I?’ she said in wonder.

‘No. Not really.’ He and Blues helped her up and steadied her. They still stood upon the ice-field.

‘Did you know?’ she asked of Blues.

He scowled his dismay and amazement. ‘I knew something wasn’t adding up, but …’ he took a shuddering breath, ‘I still can’t believe it.’

Cal-Brinn offered his hand and she took it, squeezing.

‘You knew, yes?’

The old mage nodded. ‘I suspected. Omens and hints from Rashan told me to wait. That answers would come here. And so I waited.’

‘I see. What now, then?’

‘Now we wait a little more,’ and he gestured to the gathered Ice-bloods. They were peering up towards the cloud-obscured heights. Even the Imass faced the north. The wind sighed and hummed as it whipped between their bones.

‘And what of us?’ she asked K’azz.

‘We return to Stratem – all of us.’

She nodded her heartfelt agreement. ‘Yes. All of us.’

They waited in silence then. Shimmer now understood their long shared silences. They were Avowed. They could wait. A thought struck her, and she asked, ‘And what of Cowl?’

K’azz had been gazing off down the mountain slope and the immense vista beyond of snow and twisting spine-like ridges of black stone. He lowered that gaze to his feet, his brow clouding. ‘Yes. Cowl. He blames me still. He would kill me if he could, I think.’