The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (76 page)

‘Nish, you’d better get on with it,’ said Flydd abruptly.

Nish roused, with an effort. ‘Er, what?’

‘Take command of the survivors, before they get restless.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. How many
are
left?’

‘Hackel’s mercenaries have fled but some three thousand of
Vomix’s and Lidgeon’s troops remain, plus their injured, and they’ll swear to
you if you demand it.’

‘All right,’ said Nish, ‘but I’ll not take their oaths as
God-Emperor, only as commander-in-chief of the empire’s forces.’

‘Whatever!’ snapped Flydd. ‘Just get on with it.’

Nish took their oaths, then distributed Vomix’s enormous war
chest equally to every surviving man and woman, excepting himself and his
allies. The coin was tainted in his eyes and he wanted none of it.

‘I’d advise you to put your troops to work at once,’ said
Flydd. ‘Idleness will allow them to brood upon their terrible losses, and we
can’t afford that.’

There were thousands of dead soldiers, far too many to be
buried in the thin, stony soil, so Nish ordered that they be carried to the
cracked and crumbling sump that had once been Mazurhize Prison and placed in a
pit there. When it had finished settling, the pit would be filled with rubble
and the huge slabs that had roofed the prison would be placed on top, a
permanent memorial to the slain.

The lyrinx gathered their own fallen, then dragged up dozens
of dead trees and built a pyre on the far side of the plain, near the forest.
The bodies were carefully arranged on the pyre and the sacred rites said over
them, after which Ryll sent a runner for Flydd, Nish, Yggur, Malien, Tiaan and
Maelys, plus those surviving members of the militia who had fought beside Liett.

‘Is it the worst?’ Nish asked.

‘I’m afraid so,’ said the lyrinx messenger, a big, heavily
armoured female with a battered green crest. ‘Our beloved Matriarch has fallen;
Liett is dead.’

They stood by the pyre, at a respectful distance to one side
of the mourning lyrinx, while Ryll carried Liett’s limp body to the top of the
pyre and gently folded her beautiful wings for the last time. He kissed her
brow and her crest, knelt beside her for several minutes, gazing at her, then
backed down.

‘Thank you for coming, my friends,’ he said when he reached
the bottom. He embraced them one by one. ‘Liett would have been proud to see
such a gathering.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Nish, so choked up that he could barely
speak. ‘She was one of the greatest of all the lyrinx, and I’ll never forget
her. I’ll miss her more than I can say.’

‘There was no lyrinx like her,’ said Ryll. ‘I may remain as
Patriarch, for a while, but I will never take another mate.’ His eyes shed
thick tears. ‘And yet, if she had to die young, Liett would have wanted to go
this way, in battle defending her friends and everything she cared about, and
this beautiful world. She loved Santhenar more than any of us.’

The sacred rites were spoken, then Ryll carried fire to the
four sides of the pyre and within minutes it had enveloped all the bodies, the
flames roaring higher than the treetops as if to carry their spirits away to
their own special corner of the shadow realm.

When the bodies had become ash, Nish and his friends trudged
silently back to Morrelune. The Aachim and Faellem had gathered their dead to
be taken through the portals to their own lands, while the Whelm were bearing
theirs into the forest, though they would not permit anyone to help them, or to
witness their rites.

‘What are you going to do about your father?’ Flydd said
quietly, for Jal-Nish’s body remained in the crumbling palace.

‘I plan to bury him myself, when it’s safe to go into
Morrelune. Despite all that he did, I owe Father that much.’

But not today. Nish could not face it.

He went looking for Maelys and found her in one of the
healers’ tents, sitting beside Aunt Haga, who was confined to a stretcher and
cursing everyone in sight, though she broke off the moment he entered.

‘Prince Cryl-Nish,’ she said, pasting on a sickeningly
obsequious smile and trying to rise and bow at the same time. ‘Or should it be
Emperor?’

He grimaced. Last autumn, Haga and her two sisters had
required Maelys, as a family duty, to lead Nish away from Mazurhize and try to
become pregnant by him, so as to save Clan Nifferlin and restore it to its
rightful position. Though he understood why they had imposed that duty on
Maelys, he had not forgiven Haga for it. And yet, she was Maelys’s only
surviving adult relative, so he could not spurn Haga either.

‘Call me Nish,’ he said. ‘I’m no prince nor emperor, and
never will be; I’m just an ordinary man.’

‘Of course, Prince Cryl-Nish,’ said Haga.

Fyllis was on Maelys’s other side. She took after her mother
and aunts and looked nothing like Maelys, being tall for her age, slim, blonde
and blue-eyed. Fyllis had recovered more quickly than anyone had expected and
now, though as pallid as a long-term prisoner, and with a hacking cough, she
was sitting up, smiling as she played with a little wooden toy.

Nish knew nothing about her save that she was an obedient,
somewhat simple child with an astonishing gift – she could hide people
from the God-Emperor’s scriers and wisp-watchers. Last autumn, when she had
only been eight, the aunts had sent her into the horrors of Mazurhize to get
Nish out and, incredibly, Fyllis had done so. He would never forget it, nor
forgive the dried-up old women who had put such a burden on her.

‘Hello, Fyllis,’ he said, shaking her pale hand. ‘I’m Nish.
Do you remember me?’

‘Of course,’ she said softly. ‘I rescued you from Mazurhize.
You were very smelly.’

Aunt Haga choked. ‘Fyllis, how dare you speak –’

Nish cut her off with a gesture. ‘Yes, I stank, and I’m
sorry. You saved my life that day, and I want to thank you with all my heart.’

‘And you and Maelys saved mine,’ said Fyllis. A shadow
crossed her face. ‘But not poor Mummy, or Aunt Bugi.’

‘We didn’t get here in time; I’m sorry.’

‘Aunt Bugi was tired; she went to sleep and didn’t wake up.
And Mummy just cried and cried. She was always crying, ever since Daddy had to
run away. Mummy is at peace now.’

‘Yes, she is. Are you hungry?’

‘I’m starving. The food in your prison was horrible. I
couldn’t eat it.’

‘Neither could I,’ said Nish. ‘But that’s all over now, and
as soon as you’re better we’re going to have a feast.’

‘A feast!’ Fyllis clapped her hands. ‘I’m better already.’
Nish smiled and stood up. ‘Rest a while. I’ll come for you when it’s ready.’

‘The last feast I remember was at the end of the war,’ said
Maelys, going with him to the flap of the tent. ‘I was only her age.’

‘What are you going to feast on?’ said Flydd, walking slowly
by with Yggur, whose arms and chest were swathed in bandages, and his face and
hands shiny with balm.

Tulitine had not been able to heal his burns completely and
he was still in great pain, and yet, he looked more at peace than Nish had ever
known him. Yggur’s carbonised hair had been shaven, revealing a long, bony
skull, which made him look rather severe even though he was smiling.

‘Army rations, for the most part,’ said Nish. ‘Supplemented
by delicacies from Hackel’s personal supply wagons. Call it a victory dinner,
if you prefer, in recognition of all that our friends and followers have done …
especially those who gave their lives on the way. And to serve as a marker
between the past and the future – between the God-Emperor’s brutal reign
and … whatever comes next.’

Flydd gave him a keen glance from under his single,
snake-like eyebrow.

‘But also,’ said Nish, ‘thinking about the last victory
feast we had ten years ago, and – and the way it ended so abruptly, so
terribly, I wanted to do it properly this time.’

‘We all wish we could have that day over again,’ said Yggur.

The tables were set up on the other side of Morrelune,
away from the battlefield, in the triangular space between the edge of the
plain, the pit surrounding the palace, and the Sacred Lake. The head table was
placed closest to the jumbled rock at the edge of the pit and had a pleasant
view, for those facing away from Morrelune, across the lake to the mountains
beyond.

Nish had set it up so the ten survivors of his militia could
be seated together. Clech and Aimee were to his left and the rest of the
militia occupied that end of the table. Having no happy memories of Morrelune,
he had seated himself so his back was to the palace.

Maelys was on his right, with Fyllis beside her, playing
with some little wooden figures she’d brought from Mazurhize. Haga sat next to
her, and Nish noticed her secreting a basketful of large golden fish under the
table. She must have caught them in the Sacred Lake, and good luck to her. Clan
Nifferlin had lived on the verge of starvation for years and the fierce old
bird never missed an opportunity to feed her family. She would always survive.

Opposite Nish sat Flydd and Persia, who was laughing at
something Flydd had said, then Flangers and Chissmoul, Yggur and Tulitine. She
looked much better since the caduceus had been destroyed and did not seem to be
in such pain. Further down sat M’lainte, Yulla and Lilis, who wore a feather in
her hat and a brown patch over her left eye and looked more piratical than
ever, though she had been subdued for some time after Maelys told her of
Nadiril’s fate.

Malien, Tiaan and Ryll were at the end. Ryll’s huge figure
would ordinarily have dominated the table but he was slumped on his bench,
silent and lost in his grief. Clearly, he did not want to be here.

‘Well done, Nish,’ said Flydd, raising his goblet so that
the wine glowed in the afternoon sunshine. ‘After last night, this is just what
we needed.’

‘I wanted our “feast” to be as close to the one we shared at
Ashmode, at the end of the lyrinx war, as I could manage,’ said Nish. ‘And the
food is on that low par, though the wine …’ he took a deep sniff, ‘is
surprisingly good.’

‘I confiscated Vomix’s private stores before they could be
looted,’ said Flydd.

‘How come you didn’t share it out among the troops?’ Nish
said with a sly grin.

‘That would have been like washing my filthy feet in it.
There are limits!’ Flydd took a sip and said quietly, ‘I know why you’ve
organised the feast this way.’

‘I hoped, if we could have it again, that it might lay one
of my demons to rest,’ said Nish, thinking of Irisis’s death.

‘I hope it does.’

‘And what does the future hold for Xervish Flydd, ex-scrutator?’
said Nish, changing to a more cheerful subject. ‘Are you going to write your
Histories of the war again?’

‘They were the great work of my life, when I had nothing
else to do for nine years in my amber-wood hut, but I’m not planning to write
them a second time.’

‘Then it must be the little cottage and the flower garden,’
Nish said teasingly.

‘Nope,’ said Flydd. ‘Had a garden for a while at the top of
Mistmurk Mountain. Wasn’t as interesting as I’d imagined. Plants don’t
do
anything; they just sit there.’

‘Then what?’ said Nish. ‘I can’t believe you’re going to
fade away like some decrepit old pensioner.’

‘You’ve got a damned hide,’ cried Flydd. ‘We’re going on a
long holiday. I’m planning to catch up on all I missed in my years on the mountain,
and since that time at Fiz Gorgo when Ghorr’s torturers … you know.’

Nish did know. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To Roros, of course, the centre of the civilised world. The
weather is warm, the people friendly, and the food and wine are magnificent.
We’re leaving on
Three Reckless Old
Ladies
as soon as things are sorted out here. Tomorrow, I hope.’

‘Tomorrow?’ cried Nish, feeling abandoned to a task that he
had never wanted and which he felt was way beyond him. ‘But … what about the
empire?’

‘I’m sure it’s in good hands.’

‘After all the months of trying to manipulate me to become
God-Emperor, you’re just going to walk away?’

‘Learned the error of my ways,’ said Flydd airily. ‘It’s
time for a new generation to take over.’

Nish did not believe Flydd could let go that easily, but he
let the absurd statement lie. ‘You keep saying
we
. Who are you going with?’ How could he have met someone so
quickly? But then, women had always been drawn to the ugly old scoundrel.

‘He’s going with me,’ said Persia, taking Flydd’s battered
hand in her smooth brown one and looking extremely satisfied with the
arrangement. ‘My seven years with Yulla are up, and my indenture has been
fulfilled. And, now that you’ve seen to Vomix, Nish, I’m free at last.’

Flydd will give you the security you crave so desperately,
Nish thought. He won’t let you down. ‘I wish you the very best,’ he said, and
meant it. ‘Yggur, I don’t need to ask what you and Tulitine will be doing in
your retirement.’

‘My Art will be gone within days – maybe hours. I’m
just an ordinary man with not long to live, and I can’t say that I’m sorry
about it.’

‘All things must pass,’ said Tulitine. ‘But not for a few
years yet, I hope.’

‘What will happen to the Regression Spell now?’ said Maelys.

‘I don’t know,’ said Tulitine. ‘The pain in my bones began
to fade when the chthonic fire disappeared and the caduceus died, though the
spell could still harm me in other ways. But whatever happens, Yggur and I are
going to live our lives as though each day were our last.’

‘What about you, Maelys?’ said Flydd.

She was sitting back with her arms wrapped around her
stomach. She glanced at Nish, who realised that he was staring at her and
looked away.

‘Aunt Haga, Fyllis and I are going home,’ said Maelys.
‘We’re taking Mother’s body with us, and Aunt Bugi’s, and Father’s bones if I
can discover where he was buried. Once they’ve all been laid to rest I’m
calling home the surviving cousins of Clan Nifferlin, and we’re going to
rebuild Nifferlin Manor just as it was before – only better.’