The Curse on the Chosen (The Song of the Tears Book 2) (9 page)

‘Vapours seep up through fissures in the rock from
bituminous layers deep below Mistmurk Mountain. The same vapours feed the
cursed flame and the greater abyssal flame that is its uncanny source –’

‘
What
greater
flame?’ said Nish. ‘I haven’t heard of any other kinds of flame.’

‘I built the fireplace in my hut over a fissure, years ago,’
Flydd continued as though Nish had not spoken, ‘thinking that, once I grew too
infirm to cut and carry peat, I would still have warmth and a blaze to cook on.
And the well of dreams when I needed it …’

‘Well of dreams?’ frowned Colm.

‘The seeping vapours induce prophetic visions in those who
have the gift of the seer, which thankfully I do not, and by breathing their
vapours, oracles can connect with the ethereal realm where the shape and timbre
of the future is encoded.’

‘Like the Pit of Possibilities?’ Nish said uneasily,
remembering the dark futures it had predicted, especially for Maelys, and among
them the solitary bright possibility for himself. He had always craved the
respect that high office brought and, despite seeing how power had corrupted
his father, a little part of Nish still yearned for it.

‘No!’ Flydd said firmly. ‘Not like it at all.’

That made little sense. ‘Then surely, with the vapours, you
would have had strange dreams every night?’

‘On warm nights, when there was no need for a fire, I lit
the vapours before retiring; I am no oracle and prefer my own dreams. But
during renewal, when Maelys was asleep, the fire flared as though vapour had
gushed forth, then died down and I heard a hissing beneath me. The mystical
vapours had found a new path up through the rock and it was then that I had the
dream – if it was a dream …’

No one spoke, and Flydd went on. ‘I didn’t feel myself at
all; I felt like someone else. Her!’

‘But … you haven’t become a woman,
inside
, have you?’ Nish wasn’t sure he could deal with that.

‘You know I haven’t,’ said Flydd, ‘though it can happen. The
woman dressed in red was standing by the greater,
abyssal
flame, and though I could see her, I was also looking out
of her eyes.’

‘Do you mean that you were in her mind?’

‘It felt that way, though she could have been in mine.’

‘What was she doing?’

‘Trying to do something with the abyssal flame, but it
wasn’t working.’

‘Perhaps she was an amateur,’ said Colm. ‘Out of her depth.’

Flydd chuckled at the unintended pun. ‘Not at all. She’s a
master of the Art; or once was.’

‘Where is the abyssal flame?’ said Nish.

‘Deep down. She had a stern, handsome face, from what I saw
of it,’ mused Flydd, all dreamy and distant. ‘And she was dressed in robes that
have not been worn since ancient times. I’m sure I’ve never seen her before,
yet I feel I know her.’ Clothing rustled against rock as he stood up. ‘Maelys
should have given the signal by now.’

Nish came back to the present with a start. ‘She’s been
ages. Something must have gone wrong.’

He felt tense all over; his muscles were as taut as cables.
Waiting here was like thumbing his nose at fortune; every minute Jal-Nish would
be tightening his cordon around the mountain, and sending his scouts creeping
further into its hidden passages, cutting off every way of escape save the one
Flydd could not get into – the shadow realm.

‘We’ll give her a bit longer,’ said Flydd.

‘What is the shadow realm, Xervish?’ said Nish. ‘I’d never
heard of it before you mentioned it the other day.’

‘It’s a nether world, a way station for spirits detached
from the body after death to rest until they finally fade into nothingness.
I’ve heard that it was benign once – though scary – but something
that did not belong was trapped there in ancient times, and has corrupted it.’

‘
What
something?’
said Colm.

‘I don’t know. It’s now the home of dark shades called
revenants, and darker nightmares: it’s the ethereal realm where necromancers
delve to further their unpleasant Arts. In the later stages of the war, Chief
Scrutator Ghorr, a mancer who had mastered more of the Dark Arts than anyone,
set out to find the shadow realm, for he thought it might prove useful in the
war, or, if the worst happened, provide a final refuge for a select few.’

‘Your depraved council, no doubt,’ said Colm frigidly. ‘If
they hadn’t prolonged the war, I would never have lost my home, my family and
my inheritance.’

Flydd ignored the bitterness. ‘Ghorr decided it was too
dangerous to use, so he sealed all known ways into the shadow realm.’

‘Forever?’ said Nish.

‘Well, nothing is forever. What one brilliant mancer can
lock, another will eventually unlock.’

‘When was this?’ asked Colm.

‘About fifteen years ago, but destruction of the nodes broke
the power that had been used to seal the entrances – that’s how I can
hope to get in.’

Flydd was being careful with his words. The scrutators had
always been close-mouthed; they guarded their secrets with other people’s
lives.

‘I felt a tug on the rope!’ hissed Colm. ‘Two and two. It’s
the signal.’

Nish could hear it rasping on rock and its coils settling on
the ledge beside him, then Colm cursed.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Flydd.

‘Her weight’s gone off it,’ said Colm hoarsely. ‘She’s
fallen!’

Light suddenly flared at Flydd’s fingertips, bright enough
to hurt Nish’s eyes. ‘You’ve got your Art back!’ he hissed.

‘Any fool can make a bit of light,’ Flydd said in an
imperious voice, rather higher than his usual tones, then stared at his
fingers.

‘Are you all right? Your voice –’

‘It’s nothing,’ Flydd said harshly, in his normal voice.
‘We’ve got bigger things to worry about than my state of mind.’ He studied the
coils of rope. ‘Maelys wouldn’t have been more than a span above the slab. She
won’t be hurt. She’ll try again.’

‘How could she fall with her harness on?’ Nish swallowed
hard. And she might be pregnant, with
his
child. There were times when he still ached for the child he’d fathered on
Ullii, a dozen years ago – a child killed in the womb by the foul sorcery
of Scrutator T’Lisp. Why had he let Flydd send Maelys down? ‘She must have been
attacked.’

‘She took the harness off,’ said Flydd. ‘Maelys has trouble
following the simplest orders.’

Colm let down a couple of coils and they waited again.

‘About your Art –’ said Nish.

‘A tiny bit has come back – no more than a gifted
five-year-old might display,’ Flydd said without expression.

‘But you just said –’

‘I don’t want to talk about it!’

Flydd allowed the light to dwindle to the feeblest of
glow-worm gleams. Colm sat rigidly upright, hands clenched into a knuckled knot
over the rope. Despite his harsh words, he did seem to care about her. Flydd
began muttering again, though Nish couldn’t make out the words. He rubbed his
knotted jaw. What was the matter with Flydd? That voice had definitely not been
his – it could have been a woman’s voice. What if the woman in red was
trying to take him over?

Colm’s hands jerked, then again and again. ‘She’s back!’ He
came to his feet, feeling the rope, but frowned. ‘She’s trying to climb it. Why
doesn’t she tie on?’

Flydd was staring down into the black hole. ‘She’s been
discovered.’

The rope went slack. ‘She’s gone this time,’ Colm said
dully, and reached for his sword. ‘They’ve got her.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Flydd.

‘We’ve got to go down,’ said Nish.

‘There’s no more defenceless man than one climbing down a
rope,’ said Flydd.

‘Maelys has been a good friend to me – a better one
than I have to her – and I will
never
abandon her.’

‘Nor I.’ Colm’s knuckles had gone white. ‘Despite …
everything.’

Flydd sighed. ‘And sometimes I forget that I am no longer a
scrutator, but just an ordinary man. Of course I won’t abandon Maelys; I should
never have sent her down in the first place. I merely wished to teach her a
lesson.’

‘But … none of us could have gotten through,’ said Nish.

‘I lied; chimneys don’t narrow downwards; they get wider.
Even Colm could squeeze through with a bit of effort and a liberal coating of
swamp creeper goo.’

‘She’s braver than all of us put together,’ Colm said,
flushing in mortification.

‘Indeed she is,’ said Flydd, ‘for we’re men of action who’ve
spent a lifetime learning our brutal trade. It’s all new to Maelys, and very
hard, yet does she ever refuse a challenge? Come on.’

‘Where are we going?’ said Nish.

‘Down and in the back way: the first guarded way we came to.
Leave the rope.’

‘We may need it,’ said Colm.

He tossed the rapier to Nish, who caught it awkwardly. It
felt good to have a weapon again.

‘If we haul the rope up, they’ll know we’re coming,’ said
Flydd. ‘If we leave it, they’ll have one more way to watch.’

‘Father has enough men to watch a hundred ways,’ said Nish.

‘Years ago I protected these caves against him; his men
won’t find their way through easily.’ The finger-light died.

‘How come you didn’t tell us that before?’ said Colm,
aggrieved.

‘I’ve only just remembered that I’d done it.’

It explained why the men they’d encountered earlier had been
lost and confused, though Nish didn’t take much comfort from it. His father
could have broken Flydd’s enchantment by now.

‘So how come Vivimord got in when you were taking renewal?’
said Colm.

‘When I set the enchantment,’ Flydd replied, ‘I didn’t know
he was my enemy. No single enchantment can protect against every mancer. This
way.’

Nish couldn’t imagine how Flydd knew where to go, for he
couldn’t see a thing, nor remember the myriad twists and turns they’d taken
since escaping from Jal-Nish.

‘Quiet,’ whispered Flydd after some minutes. ‘We’re close.’

‘How are we going to do it?’ said Nish.

‘With extreme violence. And no chance offered.’

No one became a member of the God-Emperor’s Imperial Guard
without losing most of their humanity, and they would ruthlessly exploit any
hesitation. Even so, and despite all the killing he’d done during the war, Nish
could not take another man’s life without a qualm.

He hardened his heart. It was their lives or his; their
lives or Maelys’s; their lives or else the God-Emperor would prevail, and if
the tears gave him the secret of immortality his brutal reign would last until
the end of time. Nish could not endure that thought; Jal-Nish had to be
overthrown.

They turned another corner and saw the faintest illumination
reflecting off the stone wall from around the next bend.

‘Wait here.’ Flydd went forward silently.

Nish felt an urge to practise a few strokes with the rapier,
a weapon he had not used in many years, but restrained himself. Flydd would not
appreciate its point coming his way in the dark.

Shortly he was beside them again. ‘There are three guards,
sitting ten or twelve paces past the corner, just before the entrance to the
flame cavern. They’ve got their backs to us, watching the other passage. At the
corner, I’ll make light and we’ll rush them while they’re dazzled. We’ve got to
take them down without warning. If one gets away …’

‘We know,’ said Nish, holding the rapier point down so as to
avoid accidents. He was longing for bloody action now. It would help to take
his mind off the pain.

They agreed on battle signals and headed for the corner.
Flydd peered around it, then moved noiselessly out. Nish followed half a span
to his right, for the passage was broad here. A little way ahead, he made out a
flicker coming from an opening to their left – the entrance to the cursed
flame chamber. This side of it, three large silhouettes waited in the dark.

Flydd touched their wrists again, the signal that he was
ready. Nish tensed; on the count of five a brilliant light burst forth from
Flydd’s upstretched fingers and they charged.

The man on the right was scrambling to his feet when the
rapier took him in the back of the neck; he collapsed without a sound. On the
other side, Colm had taken the head off his man with a single savage blow.
Blood sprayed onto the tunnel roof and all over them.

Unfortunately Flydd stumbled and fell hard, and the third
soldier took off into the dark so quickly that Nish had no hope of catching
him. Before he could move, Colm swung his sword over his shoulder and sent it
flying viciously through the air. It struck the fleeing soldier in the back and
brought him down.

Colm went after him without a word and finished the job,
returning with jaw set and eyes hard.

‘That was a … mighty throw,’ Nish said, uneasily, for it
showed a side of Colm he hadn’t seen before. Nish had killed with military
efficiency, while Colm’s blows revealed a violent rage, barely kept in check.

‘I’ve suffered plenty at their hands,’ Colm grated. ‘In the
past, your father’s men showed me no mercy, and I’ll give them none.’

‘You never forget an injury, do you?’

‘Why should I?’ said Colm with a hard stare. ‘All I ask for
is what is mine by right.’

Nish withdrew his rapier, wiped it on the soldier he’d
killed and helped Flydd up. The light from his fingers was just a glimmer and
he was waxen pale.

‘Bloody renewal!’ Flydd muttered. ‘Legs gave out as soon as
I tried to run.’ He studied the bodies. ‘They’re not wearing uniforms. I wonder
why?’

Nish could not have cared less. His pulse was racing, and
every heartbeat sent a fresh spasm of agony through his burned hand, but he had
to endure it. He had to find Maelys –
if
she was still alive
.

He wiped the worst of the still-warm blood off his face,
went around the headless man, whose neck stump was dribbling blood, and headed
into the flame cavern. Left, right, left he went, the light of the cursed flame
growing; now the long stone slab Maelys had described was no more than twenty
spans away, with the rope and harness suspended above, but there was no sign of
her.