The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (64 page)

‘Maelys, meet Yulla and M’lainte,’ said Nish. ‘Back in
Roros, Yulla was planning to look for a weapon against Stilkeen – but
sand
?’

‘If it was in such pain from simply being in our world,’
said Yulla, ‘we reasoned that contact with any physical object must be so much
worse.’

‘So we hit it with hard, gritty sand dug from the River Zur beside
the Great Library,’ said Lilis, ‘a million sharp grains at once. The pain was
so bad that it had to run.’

‘We’d better do the same,’ said Flydd. ‘Stilkeen was about
to open the void.’

‘I believe this is yours,’ said M’lainte, handing Nish
Vivimord’s sabre. ‘I found it when I raised the air-sled.’

‘Thanks,’ said Nish absently, putting it down on the side,
for his own sword was much more to his liking.

The craft spun on its axis, hurtled down the broad hall, and
outside. The sun had set and the surroundings of the palace were now lit by
hundreds of concealed lanterns.

Nish, looking back, saw something hanging from the ceiling
of the open ninth level, directly below the spire. He touched M’lainte’s arm.

‘I think that’s Father’s body. We’d better check.’

She curved the craft back towards the highest level, and
inside. As they approached, Nish could smell the rotting body and he had to
turn away. No matter his father’s crimes, and they were legion, he could not
bear to see him like that.

‘Is it definitely Father?’

‘It’s him,’ said Flydd sombrely.

‘And he’s dead?’ said Nish. ‘It’s not some spell or cunning
illusion?’

‘No illusion can exist this close to Stilkeen,’ said Malien.
‘The body looks as though it’s been dead for weeks.’

‘The God-Emperor is dead,’ said Flydd, then took a deep
breath. ‘Long –’

‘Don’t say it!’ gritted Nish, knowing that Flydd was about
to say,
Long live the God-Emperor
.
‘Don’t you dare put that on me. M’lainte, get out of here.’

Flydd’s mouth snapped closed. M’lainte headed outside, set
down and they climbed over the sides of the sky-galleon onto the elevated,
four-sided promenade surrounding Morrelune. Between the palace and the range,
the endless barrier wall of the void cut through ground and sky, half a league
away.

Yggur cleared his throat. ‘Your armies await your command,
Nish.’

‘Command?’ said Nish, still thinking about the death of his
father. ‘Yes, right.’ He had to focus. Once Stilkeen tore open the void, the
attack could come from anywhere – or everywhere.

‘Pull yourself together!’ said Flydd, thumping him hard on
the shoulder. ‘This is the moment we’ve been fighting for ever since you
escaped from Mazurhize.’

Nish studied the featureless barrier. ‘How can we defend
ourselves against what’s up there? Any kind of creature imaginable could come
out.’

‘Without the aid of our enemies, we can’t.’

‘Vomix will be a threat as long as he lives,’ said Nish,
‘and Hackel’s army is hungry for loot. They won’t help me.’

‘They will while their own survival is at stake,’ said
Flydd, ‘and I’m going to do my best to ensure that any attack falls on them
first. Talk to Nosby; he’ll be looking to the son of the God-Emperor for
leadership. Tell him that you’re committed to the survival of the empire, and
to recovering your father’s body – you can say that much without
compromising your precious principles, surely?’

And you never give up, Nish thought irritably. ‘I’ll have to
get to Hackel’s mercenaries before Vomix does, or they’ll blame me for what
happened inside.’

‘Flydd can take care of that,’ said Yggur. ‘Get moving,
Nish. I’ll make a truce with Vomix – for what it’s worth.’ He headed one
way, and Flydd the other, then both stopped, staring.

A needle beam of white light went angling up from the top of
the palace towards the barrier wall and touched it, hundreds of spans above the
plain. Vapour wisped out and the needle of light moved across the barrier,
cutting through it in a semicircle, then began to shake and abruptly went out.

‘I don’t like the look of that,’ M’lainte muttered.

Someone handed Nish a fieldglass and he focussed it on the
ragged semicircle. Shadows behind the barrier converged on the curved cut and
forced it outwards to form a horizontal flap, a platform about twenty spans
long and equally wide. A broad path ran up to the opening from the void side,
and a gaggle of creatures, some familiar to Nish from the Histories, others
bizarre, appeared there, jostling and snapping at each other.

A large crocodilian beast broke free and scuttled across the
flap or platform, but plummeted off the edge to the paved plain far below,
killing itself instantly.

‘The void doesn’t have gravity as we know it,’ said Ryll,
from behind Nish, ‘and it can take a while to get used to. Let’s hope a few
more go the same way …’

A host of winged lizards forced their way through, unfurled
long wings and glided down to attack Vomix’s army, which was nearest to the
opening. A snake with fins wriggled under the platform and disappeared. Other
beasts, many and various in shape and size, climbed down, clinging to the
Santhenar side of the barrier with claws, hooks or barbs.

The flow through the opening from the void stopped suddenly;
creatures small and large darted to left and right. Drums thudded like mallets
thumping into wooden blocks. Nish slid the tubes of the fieldscope back and
forth, trying to focus on the blurred shapes beyond the opening.

An upright, bear-shaped creature appeared in the opening. It
was a span and a half high, as big as a large lyrinx, though its thick,
streamlined body had grey skin as smooth as a seal’s. A pair of long teeth
protruded from its upper jaw like the tusks of a walrus, only larger. Its body
was long, its legs short and, even from this distance, its eyes were bright and
intelligent. A bandolier slung from its left shoulder to its right hip had
various objects thrust through it, and it carried a trident in its right hand.
It pounded its left fist against its belly, making the drumming sound,
thumpa-thump-thump, thumpa-thump-
thump.

‘What’s that?’ Nish said hollowly.

‘Atatusk,’ said Ryll. ‘I hope it’s the only one.’

Nish had a feeling it wouldn’t be. ‘Are they bad?’ he said,
looking up at Ryll. Though he was a small lyrinx, he stood head and chest above
Nish.

‘Put it this way,’ said Ryll, bright colours shivering
across the armoured skin of his chest; Nish hoped he wasn’t regretting coming
to the aid of Santhenar, ‘when we dwelt in the void, atatusk ate us for
breakfast.’

The atatusk approached the edge of the platform, drew an
object like a bamboo fieldscope from its bandolier and surveyed the scene.
While thus occupied, one of the winged lizards tried to creep by, belly to the
ground. Without looking, the atatusk backhanded it across the side of the head;
it went tumbling down, hit the paving and did not move.

The
thumpa-thump-thump
grew louder, and the front line of a marching rank of atatusk appeared, six
wide. Nish could not see how far back it extended.

The first atatusk put two flat, flipper-like hands around
his mouth and said in an enormously amplified, barking voice, ‘I, Lemno
Gorgandyre, lay claim to this world for the atatusk nation.’ Over his shoulder,
he added, ‘Find the white fire for Stilkeen, then stamp on all those squirming
grubs.’

Gorgandyre seemed to be looking directly at Nish now, and a
creeping terror washed over him. Once these creatures gained a foothold on
Santhenar, it would be impossible to get rid of them.

‘We’ve got to keep them out,’ he said, knowing that he had
no way of doing so.

‘Too late,’ said Ryll.

Gorgandyre lifted a coil of rope from his back, snapped the
hook on its end over the edge of the platform and threw himself off, sliding
down the rope so fast that smoke rose from his grey palms. He reached the
plain, spat green gobs into his hands, then grounded the butt of his trident
and waited as the rest of his troop followed, thirty in all. Another troop of
atatusk appeared at the opening.

‘We’ll never defeat them,’ said Ryll, colours flashing all
over his armoured skin. ‘It’s hopeless.’

‘We’ve got thousands of men,’ said Nish. ‘And your five
hundred lyrinx.’

‘And the atatusk in the void are numberless. I’ll go back to
my own.’ Ryll bounded away.

A messenger came running from the Imperial Guard, carrying
signal flags on a pole. ‘General Nosby’s compliments, surr, and he stands ready
to follow your orders.’

‘Signal him to stand by,’ said Nish as more runners
converged on him. Hackel’s officers also offered their support, however Vomix
demanded that Nish abandon any claim to the throne and swear allegiance to him.

Nish did not bother to reply, for Gorgandyre’s platoon of
atatusk were converging on the seneschal’s forces and he would soon be fighting
for his life. As another platoon of atatusk started to slide down, Nish began
to formulate a battle plan. Standing on the top steps of the promenade, where
he could see most of the nearby plain, he weighed up his troops, taking account
of their capabilities and weaknesses, and began to issue orders. The signallers
sent them to his detachments and they wheeled to face the enemy.

He checked his sword, then mentally noted where Flydd,
Persia and Yggur stood, Tulitine and Malien, Ryll and Liett, and all his other
allies. The sky-galleon shot by, Lilis at the javelard, Yulla seated on her
catapult, then hurtled off to the attack. Everyone could be accounted for
except Maelys. Where was she? She’d been here only a few minutes ago.

Then the fighting swept towards him and there was no time to
look for her.

 
FORTY-THREE

Maelys was pacing along the side steps of the promenade
surrounding Morrelune, which were not fire-touched, thankfully, but good, solid
stone. Stilkeen had said that the pure fire was not far away, hidden in a
corundite vessel, but what was corundite? No one knew, not even Lilis, who was
on the deck of the sky-galleon, at the base of the steps.

‘It sounds like a mineral,’ the librarian said. ‘Why don’t
you ask Yulla?’

‘Why would she know?’ said Maelys, who knew nothing about
Yulla save that she had once been the governor of Crandor.

‘She has the best mineral collection in the world. Yulla?’

‘Corundite is a very hard and heavy mineral,’ said Yulla,
who was readying the sky-galleon for take-off, ‘like ruby or sapphire, but it
can be any colour.’

‘Thanks,’ Maelys said absently. So she had to find a vessel
made from a hard, heavy mineral that could be any colour. It was no help at
all.

The sky-galleon lifted and shot away. Maelys had just passed
in front of the entrance to the palace when Stilkeen slid down its webs into
the audience chamber, gathered spilled chthonic fire from the floor and,
shaking with pain, formed it into a tight beam which it directed upwards to cut
a semicircle through the void barrier. Its webs slipped, it let out a shriek
and the beam cut off; Stilkeen wrapped the fire webs tightly around itself once
more and disappeared upwards.

The flap cut into the barrier was forced down to form a
horizontal platform, and through the opening Maelys saw a broad path leading
into the void, with dozens of strange and savage creatures clustered on it.

She watched in horror as the alien beasts poured forth and
came down to the plain. The Histories told many stories about the creatures
that inhabited the void, and all were desperate to escape from its unrelenting
brutality.

What was she to do? She had no skill at arms and could not
fight them; the least of those creatures would kill her in an instant. But
there had to be
something
she could
do to help.

If Stilkeen tried again it might make so many openings that
the defenders would be overwhelmed, but after the ruthless way it had dispatched
Hackel and Zofloc she did not want to go anywhere near it. And yet, while she
wore the taphloid it did not appear to see her … and it was crippled by pain,
which evened the odds a little.

Dare she try to stop it? Maelys crept back and forth, peering
between the columns into the palace. She looked around to ask someone for
advice, but the promenade was deserted and suddenly there was fighting all
across the plain.

The longer she hesitated, the more people were going to die
and the greater the risk that Stilkeen would breach the barrier again. She had
to act now. Alone and without a plan of attack, she headed into the fire
palace.

Maelys darted from column to column along the hall towards
the audience chamber. Her palms were sweating; one minute her heart was racing,
the next she could barely feel it beating. If Stilkeen
could
take on any aspect, it might be hiding there now. And even if
the taphloid concealed her from its sight, it might hear or smell her.

The shadow webs still hung at the rear of the audience
chamber, though they appeared to be empty. As she crept closer, sand grated
underfoot, the sharp sand that had driven Stilkeen away, but where had it gone?

The hair rose on the back of her neck. Someone was watching
her,
but not with their eyes
. Maelys
loosened her knife in its sheath, slowly turning around.

‘Who’s there?’ she said hoarsely, trying to control her
terror, for the taphloid only hid her from Stilkeen. What if it was Vomix
behind her? Her throat went so dry that it was hard to get the words out.
‘W-what do you want?’

‘Help!’ called a deep voice from somewhere below her. A
voice she recognised.

It was Klarm and, for as long as she’d known him, he had
been her enemy, but if Stilkeen was everyone’s enemy, maybe Klarm was on her side
now. ‘Where are you?’

‘Caught in one of the God-Emperor’s stinking traps! Come
down the stairs to your left.’