‘Varuun is weakened by its long slumbers,’ the Revenant thundered. Where before its voice had been harsh, the voice of a barbarian, it was now the sound of thunder: rich, rolling, immense. At its side, as puny as Myrrhini, stood the Scaren with the scarred face. Ranged behind them, stretching wide to either side and reaching far back, now stood thousands of vlekkenvorm. Myrrhini gasped as she saw animals of legend, predators, beasts of burden, warrior beasts, all standing motionless, staring at her, full of the ancient malice of the Scaren who had Linked them.
They held their primary forms for bare moments before shimmering and fading and collapsing into dust, leaving behind only Tatya, Alyosha, a julle and a beautiful wyvern. Myrrhini shook her head, unable to comprehend, her mind numbed by the sudden eruption that had surged through her.
‘If you are the best Varuun has to offer, its world will soon be mine,’ the Revenant thundered. It stooped, reaching out to take her up in its monstrous claw, but stopped before it could take her in its grasp. A sound like rocks shattering escaped its lips.
Myrrhini scrabbled away, forcing herself across the broken ground. The Revenant rose to its full height, spreading its wings wide in a display of strength as it turned around to discover what had interrupted its moment of victory.
Myrrhini ceased her scrabbling escape to stand and watch. As if the Revenant’s shock, its disbelief was felt by the rest of the world, even the wind died, leaving utter stillness, total silence. Overhead, the black velvet sky was cloudless, the stars staring down in cold disregard at the scene beneath them.
Keshik stood beside Slave, with Maida behind them. Flanking them were Alyosha, Tatya, the julle and the wyvern; in Slave’s left hand, raised high, was the Warrior’s Claw. From its three blades shot solid beams of light, shining with myriad colours. Myrrhini watched as the beams of light started to swirl, to rise, spreading out from Slave’s hand. Faster and faster they swirled until they formed an almost solid disc of blinding light.
The Revenant raged, shattering the silence with a cry of hatred and anger that caused the very ground to shake. Its wings rose then drove down powerfully, lifting the Revenant from the ground. Slave crouched slightly before he sprang up, rising impossibly higher and higher, far above the ground.
The beautiful wyvern, her feathers glowing brilliantly in the light of the Claw, kept pace with Slave, all the time shrieking her defiance, while on her back, Keshik brandished a sword that glowed from within with a soft, milky-white light.
Slave kept rising, gaining on the Revenant as they both surged up into the night sky. Myrrhini reached out to him through the flaming entrance to Eztli-Ichtaca, Seeing herself by his side in the strange half-world where anything could happen. In a heartbeat, she, too, was rising in the cold air, far above the ground, at Slave’s side.
He spared her a quick glance and a frown, before turning his attention once more to the monstrous flying beast. Its wings drove massively against the air, sending wind blasting against them.
How am I doing this?
How is he?
I am safe here.
‘Face me!’ Slave called. ‘You cannot flee me forever.’
The Revenant appeared not to hear Slave as it continued to drive higher and higher. The air became icy cold and, below, the wyvern gave a shriek of anger as the thin air would no longer support her wings. She carried Keshik lower, circling, awaiting her chance.
As if the wyvern’s descent were a signal, the Revenant stopped rising. Its wings beat a slow, powerful rhythm as it kept its position, hovering as Slave and Myrrhini surged upward to face it. They rose close enough to touch the hard, gnarled skin that resembled nothing so much as molten rock. Slave slashed at the skin with his Claw. The weapon sparked when it made contact, sending splinters of light spiralling down to the ground. Again he slashed at the Revenant, again the Claw sliced deep. The beast’s cries shifted from incoherent rage to deep bellows of something else.
Pain?
A massive fist swung at Slave and Myrrhini. Slave saw or felt it coming and turned to face it. It must have been twice his size, travelling as fast as a spurre on the hunt. Illuminated by the brilliant, clashing colours of the Claw, it shone against the utter dark of the night air. Slave made no effort to evade the blow that would smear him into nothingness were it to land. Instead, he spun the Claw in his fingers, sending the spray of colours outward in a spiral that enveloped the fist. The beast’s deep bellow shifted into a scream as its fist was gripped by the colours and held in place despite all the power behind the attack. For a moment nothing moved, then the Revenant roared and wrenched its fist free, shattering the confining colours. Shards tumbled towards the ground. Myrrhini watched them fall, seeing them erupt into plumes of broken stone when they landed.
Slave started to rise again, slashing at the fist as he passed. This time, instead of releasing splinters of light, jets of black fluid shot out, drenching them both. Myrrhini shrieked in pain as the hot, acid blood burned, but the pain was short-lived. The fluid seemed to sizzle and evaporate from her skin. She reached through Eztli-Ichtaca once again, rising swiftly, effortlessly, to keep pace with Slave.
The Revenant’s wings beat without pause, but its ascent slowed as the wings found less air to beat against. Slave grabbed Myrrhini’s hand with his free right hand. She returned his grip, but this was no lover’s hold. Power she did not know she had surged from her into Slave, then into the Warrior’s Claw. Slave drove the Claw hard into the Revenant’s body. Once more, jets of black fluid spurted out, but this time it fell, pouring down the beast’s body like lava. The Revenant’s ascent slowed even further, then it stopped. For a heartbeat they all hung motionless in the air, then the Revenant started to slide downward.
Slave kept his Claw in the body, driving it further in, dragging the brutally sharp blades deeper and deeper inside as the beast fell. Its roars had not diminished, even as it took punishment. With a jerk, it wrenched itself back, off the blade. Simultaneously it whipped both its arms around to crush Slave and Myrrhini between its massive hands.
Myrrhini screamed in agony as her bones shattered. Blood soaked her as it poured out of innumerable wounds where shards of her bones ripped out through her skin. In the extremes of her anguish, Myrrhini was unable to think. Slave, crushed against her, stared into her flame-filled eyes. His silver gaze captured her mind, stilling it. Impossibly, the pain faded. She tried to speak, but her mouth was filled with blood, allowing only a bubbling gasp.
‘Peace will surround me,’ Slave said to her. ‘I am the Beq and I bring war.’
Myrrhini tried to tell him something, but her lips would not work as more blood bubbled out from her throat, spilling down her chin.
‘Peace will surround me. You will be safe beside me.’
Safe in death, Myrrhini realised. Dead, nothing can hurt me again. And you will come with me into my void. With her last thought, she sent tendrils of Eztli-Ichtaca into the Revenant.
Slave watched the flames in Myrrhini’s eyes go out, just as he had seen in dreams. Now the sense of falling made sense as it had never done before. He gripped the wyvern on the Claw tightly and slashed with all his will at the hand trying to crush the life out of him. As the blade bit deep, he felt the wild, black rage swell up through him, filling him with the strength, the invulnerability he craved. For the first time, he welcomed the release from consciousness that he needed.
Slave shouted in the ancient battle tongue as he started to slice the Revenant’s fingers away from his body. One, two, three fell under his attack. As the grip weakened, Myrrhini’s body, no longer held by Eztli-Ichtaca, slipped and plummeted back to the ground, so far below. He did not even notice as he fought. He was covered in the black blood of the Revenant, but its heat could not harm him.
The beast released its grip on him, its hands pulling away, out of reach of the slashing, agonising blades. Slave kicked himself away from the retreating hand, towards the wounded chest. He flew across the space, Claw extended in front of hi
m, driving deep into the wound he had already carved. Inside the body of the beast, Slave whirled and slashed, carving deeper and deeper. The Revenant ripped at its own flesh, pulling aside the edges of the wound, seeking the Beq.
In its downward flight, it had not realised that it was now back into thicker air, where normal wings could fly. The wyvern shrieked as its claws ripped at the beast’s back, near where the wings sprouted. Keshik rose up and brought a two-handed stroke down with his sorcerous blade. It bit as deep as the wyvern, opening a brutal rent across the thick tendons that powered the wings. The Revenant bellowed in shocked pain. One of its wings lost strength, causing it to veer sharply to the side. The wyvern sank its claws in deep, trying to prevent being thrown off. Keshik lost balance and fell. He cried out in horror, but drove his sword into the beast’s back, slicing its flesh as he fell. The black fluid poured out, covering him completely. His fall slowed as his blade bit deeper and deeper.
Above him, the wyvern continued slashing at the tendon supporting the Revenant’s wings. The Revenant was struggling, lashing its arms front and back, trying to deal with the multiple attackers, none of whom should have been able to do what they were doing. It flailed its arms and wings, slamming them into its body, seeking the sources of the pain. Its blood poured out of its body, splattering down to the dead ground below.
Slave, lost in the blessing of the Revenant, was driving deeper into its monstrous body. His wild rage was seeking the beast’s black heart. Beneath sight, beneath knowledge, something forced him on, in, up, slicing his way, hacking, opening the inner workings of the monster. The Claw, still flashing with wild colours, cut through bone, tendon and gut as if through powder snow. Nothing slowed its progress.
The Revenant ripped open its own chest, screaming in agony as its ruined hand reached inside again to grab at Slave, but even as its remaining fingers closed on the maniacal creature savaging his way through its body, the Claw struck. Pain overrode consciousness as the Claw sliced off the remaining two fingers, causing the Revenant to snatch back what was left of its hand. Incoherent agony mixed with rage as it raised the stump of its hand to its face, staring in disbelief at the pumping black fluid that fountained out. At its back, the wyvern made the final cut, rending the great tendon, making the left wing slump to hang useless down the Revenant’s back.
Now, suddenly out of control, the beast tumbled down, spiralling faster and faster. Keshik was thrown off. He watched helplessly as the beast tumbled away, trailing black blood and screams. He gathered the last of his strength to bellow one word, holding his arms out in utter triumph. The word was lost to the winds, but it had never mattered who heard. It was always just for him.
18
Quetzalxoitl awoke with a scream. Soaked with sweat, her hair spread out wet like seaweed on the pillow around her head. Her exquisite nightgown lay torn across her body as if ripped aside by some predatory attack. She lay panting, aching from some unremembered exertion.
Footsteps rang along the wooden deck outside her cabin as servants raced to her aid. The first to arrive flung open the door without hesitation, only to stop in horror as her lamp illuminated the cabin. The Blindfolded Queen herself stared in utter disbelief at the blood spattered all around her. It covered the walls as if thrown there from a bucket, running down to the deck, mingling as it flowed with some kind of steaming black fluid. The cabin reeked of death, of rotting carcasses, of battlefields long left for the carrion birds.
‘My queen!’ the servant cried. ‘What happened?’
Quetzalxoitl stared at the walls of her cabin. ‘Get the Ogedei here,’ she ordered. ‘Now!’
The girl turned and fled, taking her lantern with her in her hurry to do as bid. Others crowded in the doorway, taking the chance to see what had caused such terror. Their wide-eyed faces were half lit from the lanterns they carried, appearing to glow orange in the flickering flames.
‘Get out,’ Quetzalxoitl snarled at them.
Hurriedly, they retreated, closing the door behind them, leaving her once more in dark peace. The ship rolled ceaselessly as it made its way across the Silvered Sea. The night, with only the dim light of Grada illuminating the velvet black, was still. The Queen rose from her soaked bed, threw aside what was left of her nightgown and walked naked to the porthole, staring up at the Little Sister. Her hand went to her mouth as she gasped. As she watched, a sliver line was traced across the Little Sister’s clean face. Behind it, blackness flickered, tracing a second line.
‘The light at the end of the world,’ she choked out. ‘It can’t be.’
The door opened behind her, but she paid it no heed as she pulled on her leather mask. Instantly, she saw the difference. The impenetrable black that had been slowly obscuring her vision into Eztli-Ichtaca was retreating. Even as she stared, the world became clearer. She knew without checking that the disconcerting flames in her eyes would be brighter, stronger, terrifying in their intensity.
‘What have you done, Eye of Varuun?’ she whispered.
‘You sent for me, Blindfolded Queen,’ the Ogedei said respectfully.
Quetzalxoitl spun around, not bothering to cover her nudity. ‘Do you see?’ she asked. ‘Can you see what is in my room?’
‘I can,’ the Ogedei said, drawing his sword. ‘How did this happen?’
‘The Eye of Varuun,’ Quetzalxoitl said. ‘Look out there.’ She pointed at the open porthole.
With the athletic movements of the supreme warrior, Zhan Tien crossed the floor to stare out at the moon’s scarred face.
‘The light at the end of the world,’ he breathed. ‘What does it mean?’ He turned from the porthole to stare at the naked Queen.
Under his stare, she felt oddly comfortable. His eyes did not look lustfully at her body, rather his gaze was assessing the risk, the damage, the likelihood of further incident.
‘The Eye of Varuun did all this?’ His gaze swept the room, taking in the slowly mixing red and black liquids, the tattered bedclothes, the Queen’s wild expression.
‘Not here, in Eztli-Ichtaca,’ the Queen corrected him.
‘It looks like it’s all here,’ he said, with the faintest hint of a smile.
With her newly returned acuteness of vision, Quetzalxoitl regarded the Ogedei, liking what she Saw in his destiny. She went to speak, but was suddenly self-conscious about her nakedness, which, given her situation, was somewhat silly. She turned away and gathered up a gown, holding it in front of her.
‘Could we discuss this up on deck?’ she said.
‘Of course.’ The Ogedei bowed, turned smoothly on his heel, and left.
After the door was closed, Quetzalxoitl lowered her gown. The oozing, red-black mess was pooling on the floors now, having slid down the walls, leaving them smeared. She pulled on a simple shift and reached out to touch the wall. Her finger came away sticky and tingling with faint pain. Quetzalxoitl sniffed at the substance. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. It smelled like raw meat mixed with rotting vegetation. The tingling pain faded. With her vision into Eztli-Ichtaca almost restored, Quetzalxoitl was Seeing much more. Without warning, flashes, imagery, sounds and smells struck at her mind with sudden fury. She reeled under the brutal attack.
What is this?
What am I Seeing?
… a vast monster rose on massive leathery wings, flying high above a wasteland strewn with broken bodies …
… a wyvern, screeching in fury, tearing at the monster …
… a man, standing on the wyvern’s back, hacking at the beast …
… Myrrhini falling, her body shattered, her mind destroyed …
… the Scarred Man, out of control, berserk, hacking, slashing inside the monster, sending spatters of black fluid tumbling after Myrrhini …
With an effort of will, Quetzalxoitl dragged her vision away from the ferocious battle in the sky to follow Myrrhini’s tumbling body. She focused on the Eye of Varuun, seeking any hint of life.
There. A heartbeat. Faint, thready — but there.
How could she still be alive?
Quetzalxoitl reached her hand out through Eztli-Ichtaca to rest it on Myrrhini’s face. The woman’s eyes flickered open. With shock, the Blindfolded Queen realised Myrrhini no longer had the eyes of the Quanhtli. Clear eyes stared back at her, Unseeing, not able any more to look into the world of could be. No matter their differences in the past, Quetzalxoitl could not leave her to die, splattered on unworthy ground. Her hand slipped around Myrrhini’s shoulders and she pulled hard, wrenching the falling Eye of Varuun through what might be back into the real world, to land at Quetzalxoitl’s feet.
19
Keshik woke up slowly, drifting back into consciousness through the pain and the cold. At first, he could only gather brief flickers of ideas, flashes of thought that jarred, spiked past the dull, thick fog that enveloped him.
… furs wrapped around him … a small fire … smoke … cooking … a gyrn flapping in the wild winds … Maida kneeling beside him … pain, so much pain …
… Maida, warm and welcoming, speaking, but he could not hear the words as he floated back away from consciousness …
… cold, so cold …
… Slave, sitting cross-legged, staring at him, his face utterly blank … that frightening weapon of his gripped in his hand, quiescent now, biding its time …
… where was Myrrhini?
By the time he was conscious enough to sit up, some of his wounds were starting to close. Every movement was accompanied by stabs of pain as his skin, burned by the viscous blood of the Revenant, pulled and tore again. He gasped but made himself sit up. Slave did not move, merely blinked as if to acknowledge his efforts.
‘What happened?’ Keshik asked.
Revenant Page 17