Justice

by Ian Irvine

  “I tried to tell her that,” Holm wheezed. “But she wouldn’t listen. She never does.” He put an arm around her, fondly.

  “I’ve got to do something,” wept Tali. “Why did I make the wrong choice back in Cython? Even at the time I knew I’d regret choosing destruction.”

  “If you hadn’t, neither of us would be here now. You have to accept the past for what it is and move on. As I have done.”

  Tali tore the bottom off her shirt, wrapped it around his chest and back, and tied it tightly. The blood seeped through it in seconds.

  Rix turned to Lyf, his hand resting on the hilt of the talon blade, and tried to look stronger than he was.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Enough,” said Errek.

  Lyf went to the edge of the precipice, wearing the circlet.

  “The Five Heroes are dead,” he said in a booming voice that could have been heard right across the plateau. “The war is over. Lay down your arms.”

  CHAPTER 85

  It was pouring again, washing down the blood-drenched platform, cleaning the wounds of the living and the dead, and leaching the corpses of all colour. Even the opal armouring on the dead Heroes was fading now, save for Rufuss’s black-opal teeth, which still grinned insanely up at them from his bleached face.

  Holm was fading too. He reached out to Tali.

  “I’d hate for my bones to get mixed up with the bones of the so-called Heroes,” he wheezed. “There’s an eyrie at the very top of Touchstone. Would you lay me there, where the pure east rain can bathe my tattered soul and the sun bleach its last stains away?”

  She held his scarred hand, remembering the first time she had met him, back in Fortress Rutherin on the far side of Hightspall. He had been old Kroni then, the clock attendant, and she had been held prisoner by the chancellor-in-exile so she could be milked of her healing blood.

  Lyf and Errek had gone down the steps, out of sight. Rix carried Holm up. Radl, who had roused some time ago, stooped and hefted Tali in her arms.

  “What are you doing?” cried Tali. “Put me down!”

  They had been enemies since childhood, and even after the successful rebellion in Cython she had never felt that Radl liked her. Her bitter accusations back in Garramide had made it clear that nothing had changed, and it was no comfort at all that Radl’s assessment of Tali’s character had been proven right.

  “The Five Heroes were forever rivals,” said Radl, “yet the bond between them, arising out of all they endured and shared and fought for, bound them together down the centuries.”

  “Uh…?” said Tali.

  What was Radl on about? She and Mia had been friends; was Radl planning to avenge her? If she was, there was nothing Tali could do about it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

  “And so it is with you and I,” Radl continued. “I don’t like you, Tali—I never have and I never will. But we’re the only Pale to have led our people in defeat and victory, the only Pale to have made our own way in a foreign land. We’re tied together, you and I, in ways no one else can ever understand.”

  “Are you… planning on killing me?”

  Radl laughed. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said, today or back at Garramide?”

  “I thought, perhaps… revenge for Mia?”

  “If I was the vengeful type, my best revenge would be to save your life, not take it.”

  “You’re a strange woman,” said Tali.

  “Not as strange as you.”

  Radl carried her up, and Tali was glad to get away from the bodies and the once-sacred platforms, now forever defiled. It did not take long to reach the top—there were only twenty-eight steps to the bowl-shaped eyrie where the wyverin had perched.

  The bowl was thirty feet across and eight feet deep and, long ago, slots had been cut in the sides to allow rainwater to flow out, though they were now choked with a thick carpet of brilliantly green moss. Rix set Holm down on the broad rim and poked through the slots with the talon blade. The water half filling the bowl began to drain away.

  “This will do me nicely,” said Holm. “Prop me up so I can see.”

  “Which way?” said Tali.

  Touchstone quivered, then quivered again. “Quake,” said Rix. “Big one!”

  “Don’t face me east,” said Holm, “or I’ll always have the rain driving into my face. Nor south—the stinging sleet comes that way.” He chuckled. “North’s no good either—sun gets in the eyes—so it’ll have to be west. On a clear day I’d be able to see across the mountains all the way to Caulderon.”

  Rix lay Holm on the upper slope of the mossy bowl, facing west. It was still sodden but he was soaked through—everyone was. Tali wiped the rain off his face and the tears from her eyes.

  Rix sat down wearily on the far rim of the bowl, his shoulders slumped.

  “Turn around,” said Glynnie.

  He did so. She pulled up his shirt, cleaned the small knife slit in his back and bandaged it. He did the same for her shoulder.

  “What else can we do for you?” Tali said to Holm.

  “Half a cup of water would be nice.”

  She caught some clean rainwater in her cupped hands and held them to his lips. He drank a couple of mouthfuls.

  “Better not take any more in case it comes pouring out the hole in my back.” Holm managed a grin. “Funny, isn’t it?”

  “No,” said Tali.

  “We all have to go sometime.”

  “You’re too young.”

  “It’s nice to have been appreciated.”

  Touchstone shook violently and small stones rattled down the steps.

  “The Three Spells have tipped the balance,” said Holm, “and the quakes are going to get a lot worse. You need to find shelter, quick as you can—”

  He looked up as Errek and Lyf appeared overhead. Now that Lyf had king-magery at his command he had taken to flying again.

  “If this is another attempt at healing the land,” said Holm, “you’d better make it quick.”

  Lyf hovered, scowling. “You speak over-boldly for a humble clock attendant.”

  “And you sound more like a harassed clerk than an almighty king.”

  Errek chuckled and extended a wispy hand to Holm. “I’ve a feeling we would have got on, had we met in more cheerful circumstances.”

  “I think so too,” said Holm, shaking the wrythen’s hand as if it were a real, solid hand. “Can he do it?”

  Errek glanced up at Lyf, who was preparing himself as he had done back at the great dome of Garramide. “I’m not going to jinx him by answering that.”

  “Sit by me a moment. I could do with some advice.”

  Errek settled into the bowl beside Holm. “You look troubled,” said Errek.

  “I’m burdened by a youthful folly I’ve never been able to atone for.”

  “I’m aware of the life you’ve lived. And by living that good life you atoned long ago.”

  “Then why can I never find peace?” said Holm.

  “You don’t need atonement—what you need is absolution.” Errek raised his hand and rested it on Holm’s head. “And with my kingly perspective of ten thousand years, I give it to you.”

  Holm sighed and leaned back, and the deep lines on his face smoothed out. They sat together in an amiable silence.

  Tali settled on Holm’s left side. Lyf hovered above the centre of the bowl and cast his great healing spell over the land, three times. And three times he failed.

  Errek rose a few feet, looking grave. “Only one hope remains to us now. It won’t heal the land, but it might postpone the catastrophe.”

  “The one caused by my failure to do my kingly duty?” said Lyf bitterly.

  “The greatest failure of all is to give up. This is what you have to do: create a full body shield for yourself—”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t survive where you’re going without it. Then make a gate to the Engine, go through and I’ll tell you what to do next.”r />
  “The art of making gates was lost long before I became king,” said Lyf. “I’ve only ever used gates made by the ancients.”

  “Then divert the Sacred Gate—it’s not far from here,” Errek said testily. “You can do that, can’t you?”

  “I dare say I can, if you tell me how.”

  Errek floated up to him and they conferred.

  “You don’t look any better than I do,” Holm said to Tali.

  She tried to emulate his light-hearted mood. “I don’t normally go on a life-or-death adventure with a big hole in my head.”

  “Sorry. You’ve no idea how hard—”

  She stroked his scarred hand. “I do, actually. Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For getting rid of the damned pearl.”

  “You don’t miss it?”

  “There’s a loss—a terrible loss. But every time I used my gift it was like having an axe slammed into my skull. And as long as the master pearl was there, half the scum in Hightspall wanted to hack it out. I just want to live a normal life again.”

  “Have you ever lived a normal life?”

  “Slavery seemed normal when I was little. When my parents were alive.”

  Tali stared into space, reliving that long-ago time when she remembered being truly happy.

  Zzoouun!

  A round gate, six feet across and rimmed in shimmering grey, had opened above the far rim of the bowl. She sat up and looked through it, along a whirling tunnel that led all the way to the Engine at the heart of the world, the enigmatic Engine that had caused all the natural disasters that so troubled Hightspall.

  “Can you see?” She propped Holm a little higher.

  “There’s a cavern, glowing a luminous bluish-green. And a pool of water on the floor; clear, steaming water. I can’t see far through the steam.”

  “Keep talking. You can be my eyes.”

  Tali closed her own eyes, just wanting to hear Holm’s rich, comforting voice one last time. It took her back to happier days in his beautiful little boat. To the difficult time they had spent together in the cave in the iceberg. To their weeks on the tortuous road to Tirnan Twil, now destroyed, and on to Garramide… and to Tobry, back from the dead for the first time—She closed that thought right down.

  Holm’s voice strengthened. “The steam’s clearing a little… I can see a stack of rectangular metal plates rising up into the fog. The air’s shimmering above them; they must be really hot…

  “The stack’s enormous, like a pillar ten feet across. And it’s made of silvery-grey plates, each the shape and size of a large book… they’re just like the wyverin’s scales, Tali, save that they’re made of metal…”

  “Maybe they’re its cast-off scales,” said Tali.

  “I think they must be… but who put them there, and who arranged them so perfectly?”

  She did not answer, and shortly he continued, “There’s a breeze blowing through the gate. It’s clearing the steam—”

  When he did not go on, Tali opened her eyes and looked up. Holm’s mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with awe.

  “I can see more stacks—dozens of stacks of metal plates, rising high out of the water.” Holm’s voice rose. “They’re in a vast oval cavern… it must be hundreds of yards across and a hundred yards high. The roof’s like a dome but the rock’s all glassy—as if it’s been melted…

  “There are hundreds of stacks… No, thousands, Tali, stretching right across the floor of the cavern… and there must be thousands of metal plates in each stack. And… and the stacks are joined at their tops by soaring arches and domes and spirals, all made of perfectly stacked plates… arranged in extraordinary patterns. It’s… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “But who would build such a thing?” said Tali. “And why?”

  “I can’t imagine,” said Holm. “It would have taken decades… perhaps centuries. And there are piles of oval stones in the water, stones the size of watermelons, one pile beneath each arch and dome. They must be very old—they’re covered in brown watermarks.” He paused for another breath. “The water looks hot. The steam’s rising again.”

  “The stacks are supposed to be flooded,” said Errek, “but the cavern’s nearly empty. That’s why the Engine’s overheating, and why the balance has tilted so far. Lyf, the water channels must be clogged up—you’ll have to go in and clear them out.”

  “Where are they?” said Lyf.

  “See those square outlets around the wall? There’s eight of them and water should be flowing in to keep the Engine cool. Go through, unblock the outlets and flood the cavern.”

  “They’re ten feet across,” said Lyf. “It’ll take days to clear the muck out of all eight of them.”

  “Do what you can. Go, go!”

  Tali opened her eyes as Lyf flew across to the gate, only to bounce off with a dull thud and tumble to the bottom of the bowl. He tried twice more with a similar result.

  Rix clambered up to the gate and poked his arm through. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Well, it won’t let me through,” snapped Lyf.

  “There’s someone in the cavern,” said Holm.

  Tali stared at the silhouette. She knew that skinny, capering figure. “It’s Mad Wil. What’s he doing there?”

  “No good, I’d imagine,” said Holm.

  “He was there when the Engine first ran out of control,” said Lyf. “Wait! The outlets haven’t clogged up—they’ve been walled off. And only Mad Wil could have done that.”

  “The power Grandys drew for the Three Spells has overheated the Engine,” said Errek, “and there’s no water to cool it down. This is bad.” He called out to Lyf, who was hovering at the top of the gate. “What’s he saying?”

  Lyf made a movement with his fingers and Wil’s voice shrilled out through the gate.

  “All Wil’s fault,” he wailed. “Wil could have saved those little girls, but he let them die. Wil has to pay. Wil has to give himself to the Engine.”

  “Wil?” Lyf bellowed through the gate. “Unblock the outlets. Flood the Engine to the rooftop.”

  Wil turned his empty eye sockets one way and another, evidently trying to work out where the voice came from. The radiance in the Engine chamber changed from blue-green to yellow.

  “Wil, this is your king speaking. Unblock the outlets now.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Wil. “Wil is the true hero.” He gazed around him, beaming idiotically. “Lyf’s iron book was wrong. This the way the great story was supposed to end all along—Wil gives up his life to save the world.”

  He waded into the water and picked up a steaming metal plate in his charred hands.

  “It’s not even burning him,” Lyf marvelled. “Unblock the channels!” he yelled. “Hurry!”

  “Which one first?” said Wil.

  “The nearest one, you imbecile!”

  Wil put the plate back and waded across to the closest outlet, which had been neatly walled off with pieces of rock. He took several rocks from the top, then put them back and headed along to the next opening. He hefted another rock and stood on one foot, staring at it.

  “Just do it!” screamed Lyf.

  Wil put down the stone and went back to the first outlet, but again resolve eluded him.

  “Useless fool,” hissed Radl from behind Tali. She ran around the rim towards the gate.

  “No!” cried Errek. “No normal human can survive in there, unprotected.”

  “I know,” said Radl, “but someone has to go.”

  She dived through the gate, disappeared and landed in the pool several seconds later, raising a great splash. She stormed across to Wil and thumped him so hard under the jaw that he turned a backwards somersault and disappeared beneath the water.

  She ran through the steaming water to the nearest outlet and began heaving out the rocks and hurling them in all directions. Water trickled out. She sprang high and kicked the top of the wall with both feet, knocking down a l
ayer of rock. The flow increased.

  “She’s doing it,” said Tali.

  “The water isn’t coming in nearly fast enough,” said Errek. “The level is still dropping.”

  Wil bobbed up to the surface, floating spreadeagled on his back and choking up spurts of water. The radiance in the chambers suddenly shifted from yellow to orange. Radl kicked at the rock wall again and again, though her kicks were weaker now.

  “She can do it,” said Lyf.

  “No, she can’t,” said Errek. “That infernal radiance will kill her.”

  “It’s taking too long,” said Rix. He stood up. “I’ve got to help her.”

  Tali felt an awful premonition. “Rix, wait!”

  Glynnie, who had been sitting silently in the background, let out a howl of anguish. “You can’t go!”

  “It has to be done,” said Rix, “or Hightspall will die, and everyone in it.”

  The radiant glow changed from orange to an ominous red-brown. He moved backwards around the rim of the bowl as far as he could go, to get a small run-up, then tensed. Glynnie tried to hold him back but he pulled free. He ran around the rim and was in the air, diving for the gate, when Errek turned it solid.

  Rix bounced off and landed hard in the bottom of the mossy bowl. “What the hell did you do that for?” he snarled.

  “It’s too late,” said Errek.

  The radiance in the cavern shifted to a brilliant crimson, a lurid purple, then a coruscating blue-white glare that hurt the eyes. The luminescence increased a thousand fold. Radl’s olive skin blistered, her hair smoked, then the great Engine went wild, boiling the remaining water and, in a few dreadful seconds, burning her and Wil to writhing columns of smoke.

  “If you’d gone through—” Glynnie whispered, clinging to Rix. “If you’d gone through—”

  He got up and they stared into the fatal cavern, but nothing could be seen except smoky steam, lit from behind by the blue-white luminosity. Tali rose and bent her head, acknowledging her honourable enemy.

  “Radl was the best of us, and the bravest,” said Tali. “She knew no fear.”

  “She was a true hero,” said Holm. “Though one might argue… no, never mind.”

  “The hour I’ve always feared has come,” said Errek. “The Engine is out of control. Use the gate, Lyf. Get as many of your people out of Caulderon as you can.”