The Crippled God (121 page)

‘“Best I turn now to the dull, official content next, so that we can later return to the juicy details. I feel justified in such expectations since I have discovered that women actually engage in the most horrendously explicit discussions of their menfolk when in the company of their bosomed friends, inviting tit for tat, and what tit could be more inviting than tat?”’

Spax burst out a harsh laugh, and then ducked. ‘Sorry, that was just me, being appalled.’

Idist resumed. ‘“Official now. Bugg formed up his own battalion, found an able commander for it, and then hired a fleet to transport said reinforcements along with all the resupply he could wedge into the holds. And then, following my proclamation of the sovereignty of the indigents out on the Isles, Bugg oversaw all the Teblor who, strangely, rushed to join the Letherii military with the aim of accompanying the Chancel fleet. Between you and me, the Teblor have to be the most contrary people I have ever known. Anyway, with all of Bugg doing this and Bugg doing that, I am understandably exhausted and I graciously accept your sympathy. To continue, the battalion now has three hundred Teblor in its auxiliaries. I believe some ancient prophecy has them in an advanced state of excitement.

‘“Just as my very own prophecy of your impending love-life having now come true (I trust), why,
I
am left in an advanced state of excitement – but not improperly so, I assure you. That would be sick. Never mind tales of war and mayhem, brother, spin me a romance! Trapped in a palace and chained to a wife, well, you can imagine my desperation here.

‘“Sincerely as I am to put into practice a new period of austerity here in the palace, I have just discovered the error of dictating this missive to my wife. So I will take this moment, before fleeing the room, to send to you all my love, and to extend my warmest greetings to everyone else whom you have forced into the awkward position of hearing this.

‘“With deepest affection, your loving brother, King Tehol.”’

‘Prince Brys,’ murmured Abrastal, ‘you have my sympathies.’

Brys sighed, and then, in a remarkably calm and steady voice, he addressed Idist. ‘Commander, when will the battalion arrive?’

‘They have already begun their march, sire. Two days behind us. I left orders to push on into the night and rise before dawn, so with luck they will arrive by dusk tomorrow.’

‘Thank you, Commander.’

As they walked back to the Letherii encampment, Idist and his troop maintaining a respectful distance behind them, Aranict took Brys’s
hand. ‘All that cheering and laughter – that was in gratitude. You do realize that, don’t you?’

He frowned.

‘Brys.’

‘He does it on purpose, you know. Sees me as far too serious – but then, it just so happens I am about to lead my soldiers into war. We have marched a long way and have suffered deprivations, and our enemy awaits us, fit, rested and probably thoroughly entrenched. That enemy will be choosing the ground, and to make matters worse they will probably outnumber us by a wide margin.’

‘Nothing he said made light of that,’ she responded. ‘And by his gesture alone, you must know that he worries for you. This resupply gives us a fighting chance.’

‘I know. And of course I’m grateful – how could I not be?’

‘Idist did warn you.’

Brys shook his head. ‘It’s not the letter, Aranict.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘What just happened back there played out in Tehol’s mind even as he dictated the lines to his wife. He knew I would want his words read out loud – my brother is diabolical and thoroughly shameless. I have spent my whole life walking wide-eyed into his snares, and none of it bothers me. In fact, I cannot help but admire his genius. Every time.’

Aranict was baffled. ‘Brys, what is it then?’

‘I cannot recall, Aranict – and I have been trying – I cannot recall Tehol ever saying that he loved me. And that alone is the measure of his concern, and it’s shaken me to the core.’

‘Brys—’

‘Tehol fears we will not see each other again. For all its mundane silliness, he came as close to saying goodbye as anyone could without using the word itself. And so, as you perhaps can now imagine, I miss him. I miss him dearly.’

She held tight on to his hand. As if that could help, when she knew that it could not. But she had nothing to say to him – her mind was blank, echoing in the wake of what had just rushed through it.
He expects to die. My love expects to die
.

The relief wagons rolled into the camp, and for the first time, Shield Anvil Tanakalian set eyes upon a Forkrul Assail – or so he thought, only to subsequently discover that the man was but a half-blood, a Watered. No matter, there was something of a nightmare about him – the skin white as papyrus, the way he moved, his arms crooking like snakes, the sinuous flow of his strides, and the ghastly coldness in his pallid eyes.

These are the deadliest of allies. I am not blind to the contempt you have for us, when you look upon our beleaguered, battered condition. But we shall recover, and swiftly, and when the time comes to do what is necessary, we shall be ready
.

He saw Setoc standing apart, ignoring the Watered and his officers, ignoring everyone and everything. Was she caught in the grip of the Wolves? Did they stare out now from her mismatched eyes?
She is a liability. But it’s not her fault – the Wolves have taken her, they use her – she is nothing more than a portal, and when the gods choose to manifest in this world they will tear right through her. I doubt she will even survive
.

If necessary, I will seal that portal. I will stop the Wolves from coming. I will do this to save their lives
.

So his prayers went unanswered. By her words she had made plain that the priests of the Grey Helms were all fools, self-deluded in believing they could touch the mind of the Wild. And generations of Perish who gave their lives to the Wolves …
a waste. All that blood spilled. And the struggles for power, those precious titles of Mortal Sword, Shield Anvil, Destriant, they all meant nothing
.

And therein lurks the cruellest truth of all. In the end, we are no different from every other cult, every other religion. Convincing ourselves of the righteousness of our path. Convincing ourselves that we alone hold to an immutable truth. Secure in the belief that everyone else is damned
.

But it was all a game, the sacred a playground for secular power struggles, venal ambition
.

What’s left to believe in?

His thoughts swirled, spun in a vortex, taking him down and down … to Krughava.
Did you see through it all? Did you decide that personal glory was all there was, the only thing worthy of aspiration? Are you, Krughava, the reduction of the argument?

Make your last stand. Die neck-deep in integrity and honour and duty – those words are borne on a flag, in three shades of red, and you will rally to that standard and once there you will happily die. Very well, Krughava, I can make sense of you now. It does not help, because still I will not follow you. But at least I understand
.

They didn’t need Setoc. The Grey Helms would be the wrath of the Wolves, the fury of the Wild, but without risk to the Wolves.
Yes, this is war, but do not come here. Not to this one. If you do, they will take you. If you do, gods will die on that day
.

I will not have it
.

He realized that he stood between the two – between Krughava and Setoc, between the profane and the sacred, and yet to neither would he give his embrace.
Poised on the knife edge indeed. I am the Shield
Anvil, and the virtue of blessing is my one and my only virtue, yet here I stand, trapped, unwilling to reach out to either one
.

It seems that the glorious death shall be mine, after all
.

‘Shield Anvil.’

He turned, found himself facing the Watered commander. ‘Yes?’

‘I suggest you rest and feed for this night. Come the dawn we can begin our march to Blessed Gift—’

‘Excuse me, where?’

‘Blessed Gift is the old name for the plain where awaits the Kolanse army. It was a land once rich with wheat.’

Tanakalian smiled, looked away. ‘Very well.’

‘Shield Anvil.’

He glanced back. ‘What is it?’

The Watered tilted his head. ‘I was about to comment on the impressive courtesy in the manners of your soldiers.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Tanakalian, voice tight, ‘I am … distracted.’

‘Of course. Brother Diligence wishes to know, are those pursuing you the only threat we should expect?’

Those pursuing … but I say nothing of the K’Chain Che’Malle. Not to you, not to any of you
. ‘I believe so. However …’

‘Shield Anvil?’

‘There was an army of foreigners – but they attempted to cross the Glass Desert. It is probably safe to assume that they have failed.’

‘I agree. We have sensed nothing impinging upon us from that direction.’

Tanakalian nodded. ‘Well, I doubt you would have anyway, but it pleases me to hear your certainty in your assessment that the Glass Desert cannot be crossed.’

‘A moment, Shield Anvil – you say to me that you do not think we would sense their appearance. Why is that?’

Tanakalian’s eyes wandered past, settled once more on Setoc. He shrugged. ‘Their commander wields an Otataral sword. Not that it could save—’ He stopped then, for the Watered was marching back to his entourage, shouting commands in the Kolansii language. In moments, three riders wheeled their mounts and set out at a gallop northward.

When he glanced back at Setoc, he found her staring at him.

The Shield Anvil realized that he was sweating, his heart beating fast in his chest. ‘It’s just an Otataral sword,’ he muttered, baffled at the Watered’s obvious alarm, unnerved by Setoc’s sudden attention.

Calm yourself. Hold to the knife’s edge. Breathe deeply … breathe
…

‘Even a man who has lived a life of sorrows will ask for one more day.’

Prayers of the Condemned
Kolanse Imperial Archives
Anonymous

CALM STOOD MOTIONLESS, FACING SOUTHWEST. THE SKY WAS EMPTY
, cloudless, the blue washed out and tinged green by the Strangers. Empty, and yet …
Death comes. I see a road built from bones and dust, a road slashing the flesh of the earth. It comes with the speed of the wind. It comes in the shadow of … gods below!
Confusion erupted within her. Then terror and dread.
Korabas! Unchained! But why? Who would do such a thing? Who has summoned this power? It is madness!
For an instant, she felt once more the unyielding weight of the stone that had once imprisoned her – suffocating, the horror of limbs she could not move, the darkness and the terrible, terrible solitude. And she knew what this was; she knew this sensation, this animal terror. Panic.
No! No one will take me again!

Trembling, she struggled to regain control.

Korabas. You are freed – I feel your bitter exultation. Perhaps I alone can truly understand it
.

But they will come for you. Can you not feel them? The Eleint are upon this world. They will kill you
.

Do not seek us. Do not pierce the skin of Akhrast Korvalain. We must not be wounded – not now, Korabas, I beg you
.

But she knew that there would be no reasoning with such a creature. From the moment of its creation, the Otataral Dragon had been doomed to an eternity of anguish and rage. Unmatched in power, yet that power was abnegation. Its only food was sorcery, but life itself was
a manifestation of magic, and so all it touched it killed. Only the Eleint possessed the will to withstand that.

Such … loneliness. The ordeal of existence … so unrelenting in its refutation. Yes, Korabas, I could look into your eyes. Without flinching. For I know the truth of your turmoil
.

She knew she could not alter the dragon’s deadly path. Her brothers and sisters had no idea what was now winging towards them, and against the Otataral Dragon …
they might all die. Reverence, Diligence, Serenity … all my pure kin. And all that we sought to achieve will be destroyed
. No, she could not stop Korabas.

But I can avenge the deaths of my brothers and sisters
.

She was camped three days from the bound body of Lifestealer. Three days from the one weapon capable of matching the Otataral Dragon.
Icarium. I will awaken you. If the Eleint fail – if they do not come in time – I leave Korabas to you
.

The two would seek each other out – they could do naught else.
The dragon is negation. But Icarium is an open wound into Chaos itself. When his self shatters, when his so-called rage is unleashed, he is but a conduit, a portalway. This is why he cannot be stopped – he is not even there. Shall you do battle against chaos itself? Impossible
.

They will clash, and that battle shall destroy the world
.