The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (27 page)

‘The God-Emperor is determined to protect our world,’ Klarm
went on, ‘and he’s the only one who can. That’s why I cannot break my word to
him. Loyalty matters to me and I will not turn my coat; I also know that no one
else can protect Santhenar from Stilkeen.’

‘We can,’ said Flydd, ‘once we bring the empire down and
wield the tears.’

‘How long would the world be racked by civil war before you
succeeded –
if
you did? Months?
Years? I can’t take the risk, Flydd. Besides, as you pointed out, it takes
great strength of purpose to master the tears, and much practice. Jal-Nish
spent thirteen years learning their powers and perils; you could hardly do it
in less.’

‘I believe I could,’ said Flydd. ‘All modesty aside, I was a
better mancer than he was. Far better.’

‘Maybe so, but it does not mean you can pick up the tears
and wield them in our defence. I’m sorry, Xervish, I cannot yield. I swore to
my God-Emperor and I will not give them up, not even to you. Farewell … and
don’t think too badly of me. I may have done bad things, but I did them for
good reasons. We were the best of friends once, weren’t we?’ There was the
slightest pleading note in his voice.

Flydd wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction. ‘Were we?’
he said coldly. ‘I often reckon up my true friends and give thanks for their
steadfastness, but I never see you on that list.’

Klarm shivered, bowed stiffly from the waist, then cupped
his left hand above the surface of Reaper. He turned away, growing ever more
transparent, walked into the solid rock of the white-thorn peak and
disappeared.

 
NINETEEN

‘That was interesting,’ said Flydd as the Gendri
militia came streaming up the track, and Nish’s survivors stumbled down to
greet them.

‘I’m not sure that I take your meaning,’ said Nish
distractedly.

‘Klarm is afraid to use Reaper, and that astonishes me, for
he’s the bravest man I’ve ever met.’

‘Physical bravery is one thing; courage in the face of such
unknown and uncanny Arts is quite another,’ Nish said, with feeling.

‘I quite agree, but Klarm is a mancer of both power and
subtlety, and long experience. As a scrutator he created hundreds of devices
for mancery, and I never knew anyone with a more subtle understanding of those
Arts. Why should he be afraid of the tears?’

‘Because he does not understand the particular Art behind
them?’

‘There must be more to it than that,’ said Flydd. ‘I wonder
… can he fear that the tears have been shaped by the warped mind of their
master, and now have a malicious life of their own?’

‘If he’s so afraid, we should also be wary of them,’ Nish
said pointedly.

Flydd shrugged and turned to stare at the mountain into
which Klarm had disappeared. Was he planning to follow him, even into the
shadow realm? Flydd had once proposed to take that dreadful path himself,
thinking it was the only way to escape from Jal-Nish’s cordon around Mistmurk
Mountain, but Yalkara had intervened and he had ended up in the Nightland instead.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Nish forced his thoughts
back to the present, his quest to overthrow his father and, most urgently, how
they were going to get off the Range of Ruin before the really wet season broke
and trapped them for its five-month duration.

‘How many people can the air-sled carry?’ he said.

‘Chissmoul?’ Flydd called. ‘Leave off groping Nish’s
lieutenant and come here.’

She came across, not in the least abashed. ‘Surr?’

Flydd repeated Nish’s question.

She frowned and touched the bandage over her missing ear.
‘If we sling safety ropes around the edges we might pack everyone on. Why do
you ask?’

‘I presume you don’t want to walk all the way to the centre
of the empire. Besides, the Gendri militia can’t carry our wounded down,’ Flydd
said to Nish. Another crack of thunder sounded, louder this time. ‘The
really wet
season is going to break any
day now. You’d better send them back at once.’

‘I don’t think any force on Santhenar could shift them just
now,’ said Nish, choking up as he watched the Gendrigorean troops embracing one
another like long-lost friends. ‘It’s been a long time since my militia have
had anything to celebrate. We’ve got to give them time to greet old comrades,
begin to grieve for all they’ve lost, and celebrate their victory.’

Flydd seemed slightly irritated, but finally nodded. ‘It’s
been a long time for us all. You’d better join them; you’ll appear proud and
standoffish if you hold back.’ But then he smiled and extended his hand.
‘Magnificently fought, Nish. No one else could have done what you’ve achieved
here today. I’m sorry we took so long to get back, and left you no word.’

‘What did take you so long?’ Nish asked as they walked down
to where his militia lay sprawled in the sunlight while the Gendri men were
setting out the best food they had. A line of stretcher-bearers was carrying
the wounded, attended by the two healers, down to join them.

‘I’ll tell you some day, when we’ve got the time. Suffice it
to say that Klarm had the air-sled well guarded, and it took all our ingenuity
plus a good slice of luck to get to it then, modestly, a stroke of sheerest
genius for us to steal it from under his nose.

‘He retaliated with Gatherer, of course, and if it had not
been for Chissmoul’s brilliance, the air-sled would have fallen from a great
height, which would have been the end of us. I could not take that risk again,
so we went to ground some distance away along the Range of Ruin, and there was
no way to contact you.’

‘How did you take control of the air-sled?’

‘I tried using the serpent staff and, to my surprise, it
worked – eventually.’

‘So did mine,’ said Nish, ‘though
why
it worked bothers me.’

‘Indeed,’ Flydd said perceptively. ‘The caduceus wasn’t left
behind as a warning – Stilkeen left it so we would use its separate parts
to get ourselves out of trouble. It’s moving us around like pieces in a board
game, and I don’t know why. But we can worry about that later.’

‘I worry about it all the time,’ said Nish, then forced it
from his mind and headed down for the feast.

The thunder was growing ever louder and even the
slightly tipsy Gendrigoreans were beginning to look anxious.

‘We’d better go,’ said their captain, Glemm, a thickset
farmer from the south of Gendri province with shiny black skin and eyes the same
colour, and an incongruous tonsure of white hair around a bald patch as shiny
as a polished army boot. ‘We’ve got crops to harvest. We can’t be trapped on
the range for the
really wet
season.’

‘Could you survive if you were trapped?’ said Nish. ‘I thought
that was a death sentence.’

‘It would be for
gwishin
like the enemy. And even for you, Nish, resourceful as you are. But we know the
mountains; when we have the time we can find food anywhere, plus the herbs we
need to keep the ulcers and fevers at bay. It would not be easy to feed us for
that long but we would survive … at least, those of us who are unharmed …’

Nish had anticipated that. ‘We’ll take the injured with us,
on the air-sled.’

‘Back to their homes?’ said Glemm.

Nish hesitated, and Flydd interposed at once. ‘Unfortunately
not. The air-sled has been giving us a lot of trouble and I’m not sure how long
we can keep it flying. The mancery that powers it –’

Glemm shuddered and flicked his hand over his left shoulder,
a sign to ward off evil. Those nearby emulated his gesture and a murmur of
unease spread like a wave through the sprawled militia.

‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ said Flydd. ‘But I
can’t take the risk of going to Gendrigore in case the air-sled fails and
strands us there. Your war may be over but ours is just beginning, and we’ve
got to go south to the heart of the empire with all speed. As soon as the news
gets out that Stilkeen has taken the God-Emperor –’

Glemm repeated his gesture, three times.

‘– every rebel on Santhenar will be out for what they
can get, and between them they’ll tear the empire apart, unless …’

Flydd rose to his feet and addressed them all. ‘Unless the
Deliverer makes himself known throughout the empire at once, and stands ready
to fulfil the promise he made at the end of the war. Nish must tell the world
that his father has been taken by a
being
from beyond, and immediately claim the Imperial throne. If the news about
Jal-Nish gets out first, it will be too late.’

Nish stirred but did not contradict Flydd, since that could
only make things worse. However he was not planning to claim the throne, and as
soon as they were in private he intended to remind Flydd of that vow.

‘Nish may claim the throne,’ said Glemm, ‘but not everyone
will support him.’

‘Many will stay loyal to Jal-Nish,’ Flydd agreed. ‘At least,
until they can be sure he’s never coming back. And others will try to seize
power for themselves. Unless we act fast, there will be civil war.’

‘Where are we going, Xervish?’ said Nish.

‘As far down the east coast as the air-sled will take us.’

‘It would be faster to fly across the corner of the Sea of
Perion,’ said Nish, mentally tracing the route, ‘then from the mountains of the
Wahn Barre and all the way south-east to Father’s palace, Morrelune, near
Fadd.’

‘Aye,’ said Flydd, ‘if we trusted the air-sled to take us
that far. But the craft has already given us trouble and we can’t afford to be
marooned in empty lands if it should fail. We’ll head south to Taranta, which
isn’t far as the air-sled flies, and make the initial announcement.

‘From there we’ll fly east to Crandor, the wealthiest nation
on Santhenar, and also the most independent and rebellious. Its capital, Roros,
is a great and proud city where people will remember your promise, Nish, and
many will welcome you. From Roros we’ll hop from city to city down the coast,
spreading the news and showing your face everywhere. Then, should the air-sled
fail us, we’ll be able to take a fast ship south.’

He paused, then looked over the militia. ‘Of course, the
Deliverer – Nish – can’t go alone …’

No one spoke for a long time, then Aimee rose painfully to
her feet, holding her ribs. ‘We’ve followed our captain all this way and we’re
not going to abandon him now. I’m with you, Nish, and so is this great lump.’

She put her hand on Clech’s woolly head, which was level
with her waist though he was sitting down. ‘Though what use he’ll be, since
he’s stupidly broken both his legs …’

‘Thank you,’ said Flydd, pointedly shaking the tiny hand and
the huge one. ‘Roros has healers whose spells can work marvels upon broken
bones, and they’ll have you on your feet in weeks.’ He surveyed the seated
militia, frowning.

‘What’s the matter with you lot?’ cried Aimee. ‘Stand up for
the man you believe in. Up,
up!
’

One by one, the twenty-five able-bodied men and women of his
militia rose and came forwards to stand beside him, looking abashed. ‘We’re
with you, surr,’ Hoshi said quietly. ‘All the way.’

‘Thank you,’ said Nish, deeply touched despite Aimee’s
coercion. ‘Though it’s a bit late to start calling me “surr” now.’

‘Sorry, Nish,’ grinned Hoshi.

Nish caught sight of a small, carrot-topped figure among the
militia, one hand heavily bandaged, and his smile faded. ‘Huwld, you can’t come
with us.’

‘I must,’ cried the boy. ‘I set Uncle free, and he brought
the enemy here. It’s my fault that most of the militia are dead. I’ve got to
make up for it.’

‘What’s this?’ said Glemm, frowning. ‘How could the boy
–?’

Nish explained, briefly.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Glemm. ‘We know about Boobelar.’

‘How?’ said Nish.

‘We caught him below the entrance to the pass, robbing the
dead.’ Glemm spat on the ground. ‘The brute tried to escape –’

‘What happened to Uncle Boobelar?’ whispered Huwld.

‘In war, lad, there can only be one punishment for such
behaviour – we would have put him down …’

‘But?’ said Nish, praying that Boobelar hadn’t got away
again.

‘He tried to escape over the side of the ridge, but with the
weight of all his loot he lost his footing and fell. He’s dead.’

‘And I have to make up for what Uncle did,’ said Huwld.
‘I’ve got to go to war with Nish.’

‘No, Huwld,’ said Nish. ‘If I’d known you were with us, I
would have sent you back at Wily’s Clearing. Besides, you’ve done as much as
any of my soldiers could do, and you’ve lost a finger to prove it.’

‘I have to pay,’ wept the boy.

How could it be so hard to tell a child what to do? Nish was
beginning to despair when Flangers came forwards.

‘Huwld, we’ve fought together at the defences these past
days, and your work has saved many lives. I understand how you feel – and
you know I do, for we talked about my own troubles one night – but you’ve
done enough, soldier.’

‘Please, Lieutenant –’ said Huwld.

‘No, lad,’ said Flangers. ‘You’re going home. And that’s an
order from your commanding officer. You do know what the penalty for disobeying
orders is, in war?’

‘Yes,’ said Huwld quietly, ‘but I would never disobey
your
orders.’ He forced a smile, and
saluted. ‘Surr!’

‘Thank you,’ Nish said softly to Flangers after the boy had
turned away. ‘I was afraid I would never convince him.’

‘He’s a good lad, with as stout a heart as any kid I’ve come
across. But too young to take such burdens upon himself. Far too young.’

‘Perhaps it’s a lesson to us all,’ Nish said pointedly, ‘to
not blame ourselves for things we’ve paid for long ago.’

‘You may be right,
surr
,’
said Flangers.

A mass of cloud swirled up and over the tops of the
mountains, blotting out the sun, and a chilly wind tumbled down the slopes into
their faces. ‘Not long now till the really
wet
season
begins,’ said Glemm, rising. ‘Not long at all.’