The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (70 page)

A monstrous creature rose from the fumes, standing on its
back legs and beating its chest with a pumpkin-sized fist, making a sound like
a huge drum. It was at least two spans high, and in its other hand it held two
Imperial Guardsmen. Raising them to its mouth it bit their heads off, spat
their plumed helmets high into the air and beat its breast again.

Now it began to lay into a squad of Vomix’s soldiers with
the bodies, battering the troops out of the way with great sweeps of its arms.
It turned, caught sight of Maelys on the steps, dropped the headless bodies and
headed in her direction.

For a few seconds, she couldn’t move. Had it seen her? Even
if she ran, she could not hope to get away, for it could take six strides to
her one.

The sky-galleon came rocketing around a corner of the
palace, piloted by Tiaan. It banked sharply and M’lainte, who was seated at the
javelard, fired three spears at once into the chest of the beast. They
disappeared, it slapped its chest as if it had been bitten by a fly, and kept
coming.

Maelys forced her paralysed legs into action and was backing
away when a river of brown blood fountained from the beast’s mouth and it crashed
to the paving stones at the foot of the steps, shattering several of them.

‘Thanks,’ she said, raising an unsteady hand, but the sky-galleon
had already zoomed away.

The smoke was getting thicker; she could hardly see anything
now, and apart from M’lainte and Tiaan she hadn’t recognised anyone. Her
friends might all be dead.

Even if they were, she had to fight on. Stilkeen had to be
beaten and the world saved; there must be a way. Nadiril had said that there
was one single way to beat Stilkeen, and it involved the revenants. Maelys
turned, puzzling over that, and ran straight into Yalkara.

‘So,’ Yalkara said, holding her so tightly that there was no
chance for escape.

Maelys had not seen her since her arrival at the Range of
Ruin, weeks ago. ‘What do you want with me?’ she whispered, looking up at the
much taller woman. ‘Oh! What’s happened to you?’

The right side of Yalkara’s face was black and blue, a
ragged scar marred her once-perfect left cheek, and her nose had recently been
broken. Her clothing was tattered but, more tellingly, she no longer wore the
aura of ageless self-assurance that had so characterised her previously.
Yalkara looked defeated.

‘I have been fighting the Numinator ever since Stilkeen came
to the Range of Ruin,’ she said breathlessly, and her voice had the hoarseness
of old age now. ‘And she has beaten me. My own granddaughter has brought me
down. Yet I still have one hope.’

Placing her battered hands on Maelys’s belly, Yalkara
pressed gently, eyes closed, as if reading what lay within. Her fingers were
hot and had a slight tremor. What was she reading?

Yalkara froze, the tremor stopped and the heat drained from
her fingers, replaced by a prickly chill.

Maelys jerked away, more afraid than ever. ‘What are you
doing to me?’

Yalkara was trembling again, her whole arm this time, and
she could not stop it. She rubbed her fingers, which were blue, while her
knuckles were red and swollen like the joints of an arthritic old woman. ‘I
would never harm you, nor the child you carry.’

‘What?’ said Maelys dazedly. ‘Are you saying that I
am
pregnant?’

‘Yes.’

‘Definitely?’

‘Yes, of course. Haven’t you been feeling ill in the
mornings?’

Maelys was stunned. Pregnant? She had hardly thought about
the possibility since the Range of Ruin. She had not wanted to think about it,
and when there had been no signs, not even sore breasts, she had decided that
she could not be pregnant.

‘No … but it hasn’t yet been a month since Emberr and I …
What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with the baby?’ Her voice rose; she
was shaking too.

‘You carry a perfect,
old
human
baby,’ said Yalkara. ‘And all my endeavours have come to naught. I
will never see Emberr’s child, for soon I will be dead.’

Being pregnant changed everything. ‘Then my baby will be all
alone,’ said Maelys, for she felt sure that the rest of her family were dead.

‘I’m sorry. My life is running out, but before I go,
reparation must be made.’

‘You can start by telling us where you hid the pure fire.’

‘The Numinator and I saw Stilkeen’s proclamation during one
of our battles,’ said Yalkara absently. ‘But she does not know where any pure
fire lies, and neither do I.’

‘How can you not know?’ said Flydd, staggering out of the
smoke with Yggur. They were supporting each other, and both were blood-spattered,
smoke-stained and bleeding from many small wounds. The rivalry was gone; for
the first time they seemed like old friends, and Maelys smiled to see it.

‘You stole the fire and hid it,’ Flydd snapped. ‘You alone
had custody of it until you brought it to Santhenar.’

Yalkara did not reply. Maelys ran and threw her arms around
Flydd, then Yggur, heedless of the blood. ‘How goes the battle? I heard, in the
shadow realm –’

Flydd’s eyes nearly started out of their sockets. ‘What the
blazes were you doing in there?’ he bellowed, wrenching Maelys from Yggur’s
grasp and shaking her furiously. ‘Who let you in? And how did you ever get
out?’

‘If you’ll stop shaking me, I’ll tell you. Is – is
Nish all right? I heard that an army had fallen and another was on its knees.’

‘The Imperial Guard has fallen,’ said Flydd. ‘Nosby is dead,
and two-thirds of his men – they took the brunt of the attack and died
valiantly.’

‘And Vomix’s army is on its knees, more than a thousand dead
already –’

Yggur broke off as Tulitine hobbled out of the smoke. She
had a long cut across her brow and two rents down her left shoulder, almost to
the elbow, and yet, astonishingly, she looked better than she had hours ago.
Yggur helped her up to the top step, where they sat down together.

‘You should not be fighting,’ said Maelys, going to her
knees beside Tulitine. She had to keep busy; had to distract herself from the
thought of being pregnant, not to mention her worries about Nish. ‘Let me bind
–’

‘The wounds are clean and I can barely feel the pain,’ said
Tulitine. ‘Indeed, it’s a welcome distraction from my aching bones.’

‘What about Vomix?’ said Maelys. As long as he lived she
could not feel safe.

‘He disappeared not long after the atatusk first attacked,’
said Flydd.

‘Dead?’ she said hopefully.

‘Alas, no. He took his best thousand men and said that he
was trying to outflank the enemy, but he hasn’t been seen since.’

‘Has he run?’

‘Not Vomix. He’ll be in hiding, waiting for us to fall so he
can claim the spoils,’ said Flydd, and spat down over the steps. ‘But not if I
can help it.’

‘Where’s Nish?’ Maelys caught Flydd by the arm. ‘What’s
happened to him?’

‘We don’t know where he is,’ he said wearily. ‘He and Ryll
made some absurd plan to try and close the opening into the void, but …’

Maelys looked up, but the barrier could barely be seen
through the smoke and the opening was not visible. ‘I’ve got to find him.’

‘Not in all this mess,’ said Flydd. ‘And you have questions
to answer. What the blazes were you doing in the shadow realm?’

‘Looking for a way to attack a
being
. Klarm let me in –’

‘Where is the little runt?’ growled Flydd. ‘With his help,
and the tears –’

‘I don’t know …’ Too many thoughts were crowding through
Maelys’s mind; she could not tease them apart. ‘He sent me there to find old
Nadiril, and his spirit told me …’ Her voice faded as she thought about that
dear old man, giving up all he had left to save her, ‘… before the revenants
got him. Nadiril gave his spirit to get me out.’

‘What did he
tell
you?’ said Flydd.

‘That the revenants can only be attacked when they’re
outside the shadow realm. Vivimord is trying to convince them that it’s safe to
come out –’

‘How is he going to release them?’

‘I gave him his enchanted sabre. It’s the key to opening the
gate.’

‘You gave Vivimord the means to return from death?’ Flydd
said dazedly.

Maelys crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I had to take
the risk.’ And she prayed that it worked.

‘It’s a big risk. What if he comes back and leaves the
revenants there?’

‘Then I’ve failed,’ said Maelys. ‘But if they
do
come out, and we can attack them
before they rejoin with Stilkeen, they can be annihilated and Stilkeen will be
crippled for half an eternity … at least, that’s what Nadiril said.’

‘How do we attack revenants?’ said Flydd.

‘Unfortunately Nadiril didn’t know that …’

‘So either we face a resurgent Vivimord back from death,’
said Flydd, pacing, ‘if he betrays his word, or if he keeps it, the revenants
will come forth to rejoin with Stilkeen. Once that happens it will no longer be
crippled; it will be a thousand times as powerful, and bent on revenge.’

Through the thickening smoke, the sounds of battle rose and
fell. ‘It’s got to find the true fire first,’ said Maelys.

‘I feel I should know how,’ said Yggur, who had his arm around
Tulitine.

‘How to find the true fire?’ said Maelys.

‘No – the way to destroy the revenants. The answer
feels … just out of reach.’

Maelys started, for she’d had a sudden flash of memory
– the rain, the caduceus steaming on the hillside – but it eluded
her too.

Flydd stalked across to Yalkara, who was slumped on the
promenade some distance away. ‘I don’t believe that you know nothing about the
pure fire. Charon
never
give up.’

‘The other Charon gave up at the end of the Time of the
Mirror,’ said Yalkara. ‘They went back to the void, and to extinction, if you
recall.’

‘And you returned, so it’s hardly extinction.’

‘It is now. I’ve burned out my Art fighting the Numinator,
I’ll not get it back, and I’m ready to die. I can’t help you – I have no
idea where the pure fire is to be found.’

Flydd was watching her carefully, and finally he nodded.
‘You speak the truth. Very well; before you go, would you answer one question
for me?’

‘If I may,’ Yalkara said indifferently. She looked old now
and seemed to be fading by the minute.

‘When I found Rulke’s virtual construct in the Nightland, it
was
live
; therefore it had been used
after Rulke died – after the Nightland collapsed and was rebuilt. Did you
use the construct?’

‘Of course not,’ said Yalkara. ‘When I left Emberr there, I
departed via the gate through which I had entered, and could not return.’

‘What about Emberr?’

‘He could never leave the Nightland; not even with a virtual
construct.’

‘How curious,’ said Flydd. ‘Now, to the pure fire. Stilkeen
said it wasn’t far away. Was any lost, when you first had it?’

‘Not when I
first
had it,’ said Yalkara. ‘I guarded it with the utmost care.’

‘But later? After you brought it to Santhenar?’

‘I thought some might have been taken, once, but who can be
sure? Fire grows, and fire dies down. You can’t measure it in a bucket.’

‘When was this?’

‘At the end of the Clysm, not long before Kandor died
–’

‘Aahhh!’ said Yggur.

 
FORTY-SIX

Nish absently slapped his leg with the flat of his
sword, trying to work out a way to seal the opening, assuming they survived
long enough to try, which was looking increasingly doubtful.

The human and lyrinx guards were arrayed in a semi-circle
inside the opening, on the track that extended into the chilly void. There was
nothing to either side of the track – literally
nothing
– though further away separate bands of atatusk were
moving along it like beads on a wire until they blurred into the distance.

‘There’s thousands of them,’ said Ryll quietly.

And only two dozen human and lyrinx defenders to hold them
back until the opening could be sealed. The javelard operator began winding his
apparatus up so he could fire over the defenders’ heads.

An inflowing current of air ruffled Nish’s hair, and round
knobs of green ice were forming around the inside edges of the opening,
condensing layer by layer like pearls around grains of sand.

‘How are we going to raise the platform?’ said Nish.

‘That’s easy,’ said Aimee, who was standing on tiptoes
whispering to Clech.

‘At least they can only come straight on,’ Clech said in a
low rumble. ‘Imagine if they could attack from all directions.’

‘Nothing is fixed in the void,’ said Nish. ‘In five minutes
there could be a dozen paths leading this way. What’s your idea, Aimee?’

‘We sew the opening up, like a tear in the knee of your
pants.’

‘Fire!’ said Stibble, the burly, hairy smith who was Nish’s
acting sergeant. He did not deign to carry a blade, but wielded his
long-handled blacksmith’s hammer with deadly force. Crossbows snapped.

‘Direct hits.’ Nish recognised the voice of Lym, the stocky
little archer, then she said, ‘Beyl, Beyl, they’re not falling.’

‘It’s hard to kill atatusk with a chest or belly shot,’ said
Ryll. ‘They’ve got six ells of blubber there. Aim for the throat or the head.’

Neither would be easy to hit, for the nearest atatusk were
at extreme range, but the archers fired again. ‘Got one,’ said Zana.

‘He’s not falling, though. He’s pulling the arrow out of his
neck,’ said Lym, her voice rising. ‘That was a killing shot for any other beast,
and the atatusk is still moving.’

‘Hold firm,’ said Beyl, the grey-haired veteran, who also
sounded panicky.

Nish turned away. He had a job to do and he was wasting
time. ‘Sew it?’ He realised he must sound like a fool.