by Sara Douglas
"It is one of my comrades," he said. "You have not met him, for he has been in Escator these many years past."
Within minutes the man had climbed to join them. Tall and spare with thick dark hair over lively eyes, the man embraced Lister, then shook the hands of the Lealfast present as Lister introduced them. "This is Vorstus," said Lister. "He has been `minding' Maximilian."
"I have watched the Skraelings pass by," said Vorstus. "It is all happening, then."
"You seem somewhat delighted at the notion," said Inardle.
"You haven't been stuck in Escator these past thirty odd years," said Vorstus. "I'm dying for a bit of excitement."
Inardle gave him a strange look, then raised an eyebrow at Eleanon.
"Maximilian will need you soon," said Lister. "It is difficult to imagine that Isaiah has not yet broached the subject of Elcho Falling with him."
"Elcho Falling," Vorstus said. "I cannot wait."
"As he said," Lister remarked drily, "he's the one who has been stuck in Escator all these years while we have had the delightful company of the cursed Skraelings."
"Where is Isaiah now?" said Vorstus.
"Somewhere close to the Sky Peaks Pass," said Lister. He rubbed his hands together, as if suddenly tired of the cold, windy vantage point they occupied. "Shall we join him, then?"
Northwestern Isembaard, from the western banks of the Lhyl to the far western branch of the FarReach Mountains, was a roiling nightmare. Skraelings--or what had once been Skraelings--had seethed out of the FarReach Mountains and washed down over the northern plains of Isembaard like a rotting inundation of death. Many people had died under the sudden, unexpected onslaught, although some managed to escape west into the mountains, but within a day of the creatures emerging from the FarReach Mountains, northwest Isembaard was utterly lost.
The first wave of dog-headed creatures had reached DarkGlass Mountain a week or so after they'd crossed into Isembaard. They seethed over the glass pyramid, climbing over each other in order to reach its capstone, then sliding down the far side. Within moments the entire pyramid was covered with a writhing mass of gray, partly transparent creatures, their dog muzzles slavering in excitement.
Deep inside DarkGlass Mountain, Kanubai raised his own muzzle and howled.
The mass of Skraelings covering the pyramid screamed at the sound echoing beneath their bodies, and they tore off thousands of the plates of glass in their desperation to find the shafts that led directly into the Infinity Chamber.
Where waited Kanubai.
When the first creatures arrived in the chamber, they abased themselves before Kanubai, rolling over on the floor and presenting their bellies to him, that he could suckle from them all their life's blood.
By morning, when Kanubai would have had the opportunity to suckle lifeless a few thousand of the creatures, a devil-sun would rise over Isembaard, and it would emerge, not from the east, but from DarkGlass Mountain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Entrance to the Sky Peak Passes, the Outlands
From the Salamaan Pass, Isaiah's vast army moved inexorably north. Adab and Margalit fell with nary a murmur. Neither port nor city had been built to withstand sieges, and they had no military defense, for all the fighting men were west with Georgdi.
No one had expected a threat from the south.
No one, for a moment, thought to try and resist this juggernaut, sweeping through like an inexorable,
unstoppable tide.
Isaiah sent a force of some twenty thousand men into Adab, and some forty thousand into Margalit, to keep them submissive and to secure his own rear, but he did not enter either place himself. Instead he pushed north, north, and then slightly northeast, moving the column as fast as possible.
Isaiah's route north was accomplished with virtually no military action whatsoever. Village after village,
town after town, had laid down before him without a fight. Most Outlander men were fighting with Georgdi to the west, and none who remained was stupid enough to attempt resistance.
By the time Isaiah had reached the west of the Outlands, a day's travel from the Sky Peak Pass, he had something like a third of the numbers that he'd led through Salamaan Pass. The rest he'd left at various locations along his winding trail northward, partly to guard his rear and to keep the Outlanders subservient, but mostly because he simply could not sustain and feed such a massive number of people himself. The Outlands would need to dig deep into their reserves of food, and no doubt their resentment would grow by the day, but very soon, Isaiah reasoned privately, they would have far more, and far worse, things to worry about.
The remaining third of Isaiah's column consisted of the core of his army--his best and most experienced fighting men. It also contained his five generals (irritated at the lack of fighting, but contented with the spoils in territory gained thus far), as Isaiah wanted none of them left behind to become bored and perhaps decide to embark on some military adventures of their own, as well as Axis, Maximilian and his company, and Ishbel.
Maximilian was largely content to allow Isaiah to push north as he wished. He still had to take that final step of actually assuming the mantle of the Lord of Elcho Falling, but Maximilian did not think he needed to do that until they reached Serpent's Nest itself. He was mildly surprised at the move to the northeast,
but Isaiah had explained to him that they might meet survivors of the Skraeling terror in the Central Kingdoms at Sky Peaks Pass. Maximilian spent his days riding either with StarDrifter or with Axis,
sometimes with Isaiah, deepening his friendship with Axis and, somewhat to his surprise, with Isaiah.
In the evenings, Maximilian generally walked the boundaries of the column's encampment. Alone. He spent the time deep within himself, returning time and time again, in his mind, to the Twisted Tower,
wondering what he was going to do about its empty spaces. Maximilian had accepted fully that his were to be the shoulders to bear the burden of Elcho Falling, but he doubted his ability to bear the weight well.
Perhaps Serpent's Nest held some answers, some hope.
He saw Ishbel occasionally. Sometimes they met in the evening, as Ishbel now made her camp with StarDrifter and Salome, who shared a tent set apart from that of Maximilian, Ravenna, and Venetia.
Their brief conversations were awkward, and Maximilian supposed she was as glad as he to break them off. There was no animosity between them, but there was a huge abyss of things said and done, of regret,
of loss, and of that enormous weight of sadness and despair with which Ishbel claimed he would burden her life.
Maximilian supposed they were better off apart than together. He couldn't bear to watch her gaze turn to bitterness because of the grief he had brought into her life.
Besides, there was the added complication of Ravenna.
On this night Maximilian sat in his tent, one hand gently resting on the Weeper as it lay at his side,
watching Ravenna and Venetia as they prepared a light evening meal. There was a tension between mother and daughter that hadn't been there when first they'd left Narbon so many months ago.
Maximilian was not sure what it was--he had avoided asking Ravenna--but he did know that Ravenna had suggested none too gently to her mother that she seek somewhere else to unroll her sleeping blankets.
Venetia had not shifted from Maximilian's tent, for which Maximilian was grateful. He did not particularly wish to be left alone with Ravenna, and he did not wish to cement their relationship into semiformality by having people say There stands Maximilian and Ravenna's tent, rather than saying, as they did now,
There stands Maximilian and his party's tent.
Ravenna was a problem Maximilian did not know how to solve. He'd got himself so drunk that first night in Sakkuth, both with wine and with enraged, frustrated love; he'd wanted to forget everything that he'd seen and heard over the past evening, drink himself into oblivion, and all he'd done was further complicate his life. He'd known of Ravenna
's interest, she'd made it perfectly clear to him on their journey through the FarReach Mountains, but in the face of finding Ishbel again it had meant nothing.
Maximilian wished he had not slept with her. Ravenna had used the opportunity to slide completely into his life, so that now she shared his bed every night. If she had been some nameless, anonymous woman Maximilian would have welcomed the physical relief from his frustration, and he could have then thanked the woman and asked her to leave.
But he could hardly ask Ravenna to leave. Not after all she had done for him.
And most certainly not now.
At least with Venetia sharing the tent, he had an excuse to avoid making love with her. He found that difficult...sober.
He sighed, imperceptibly, but Ravenna heard and turned her head to him, and Maximilian could see her tensing, readying herself to rise and come to him.
At that moment Isaiah ducked through the flap of the tent, and Maximilian rose with a too-wide smile on his face.
Isaiah saw the smile, glanced at Ravenna, and grinned in return. "Maximilian, can we speak?"
"Let's walk," said Maximilian. "The crispness of the snow will do my head good."
"The scouts report that there is a column of men, and some Icarii, less than a day's march to the west,"
Isaiah said. They walked the northern border of the encampment, their boots crunching through the snow.
Maximilian could not reply immediately. "A column"--all that would have been left of the fighting forces,
and perhaps even peoples, of the Central Kingdoms.
"How many?" he said finally.
"Perhaps fourteen or fifteen thousand," Isaiah said, "and in a desperate state. There must be more,
Maximilian, further to the west perhaps. There must be more who have survived, I am sure of it."
Maximilian did not want the comfort. "Fourteen or fifteen thousand?" Gods, what had happened to Escator? Had the Skraelings seethed that far west?
"They will reach us by noon tomorrow," Isaiah said. "Doubtless they shall be surprised to see their old friend traveling with the invader."
Maximilian spent a few minutes alone before returning to the tent.
Isaiah's news had shocked him. It drove home how disastrous had been the wars, and then the Skraeling invasion, for the Central Kingdoms. It particularly shocked him because he realized in a blinding flash as Isaiah spoke that the time had come to leave Escator behind him completely.
It was time for Elcho Falling.
Maximilian sighed. Then, suddenly, his shoulders straightened and he swiveled about on his feet, turning to look northeast, toward where lay Serpent's Nest.
The Mountain at the Edge of the World.
Home, as Ruen never had been.
Much later that night Ishbel woke from a nightmare, crying out in fear.
The Lord of Elcho Falling had been standing in the snow, his back to her, when he'd slowly, slowly,
turned his face to look over his shoulder at her.
The Lord of Elcho Falling wore a face, and it was Maximilian's face, and the despair Ishbel felt now was worse than she'd felt ever before.
"Ishbel?" It was Salome's voice, concerned. Since leaving the Salamaan Pass, Ishbel had traveled with Salome and StarDrifter, sharing a tent and deepening her friendship with them both. Axis often joined them as well, but he was with some of the troops tonight, no doubt indulging in soldierly camaraderie and building useful friendships and alliances.
"Ishbel?"
Ishbel felt a hand on her shoulder and finally blinked into awareness.
"I'm sorry, Salome, I woke you."
"You woke half the encampment," said Salome, "but now we're all awake, come sip some tea with me,
and tell me of what you dreamed."
"Oh, I don't want to--"
"You will sit with me, and sip tea," said Salome, somewhat grimly, "and you will tell me of what you dreamed. I am sick to death of being woken up every second night with your nightmares, and StarDrifter and I would both like to know to what we owe the pleasure. StarDrifter? Get up."
Ishbel rose reluctantly, hearing StarDrifter grumble as he, too, sat up from his sleeping roll and moved over to the barely alight hearth in the center of the tent.
Salome was all efficiency, poking life into the coals, setting a kettle to steep, fetching mugs from a corner.
Ishbel sat down cross-legged before the hearth, watching her with some admiration. For a woman who had so recently grown her wings, Salome moved with a lovely grace. Ishbel was sure that had it been her, she would have carelessly dragged a wingtip through the coals well before now.
"I'm sorry," she said to StarDrifter, who was yawning to one side.
He gave a small shrug. "No one can resist Salome. It will be she who rules the Icarii nation, when we discover it, not I."
Ishbel saw Salome look at StarDrifter, saw them smile slightly at each other, and felt a pang of such envy she actually felt physically ill.
Salome sat down herself, checked the kettle, pursed her lips in annoyance to see it not yet begun to steam, then looked at Ishbel. "Tell us about the dream."
Ishbel thought about trying to squirm her way out of it, but almost instantly decided resistance was useless. Besides, she trusted both StarDrifter and Salome, and perhaps they could offer some advice.
"It is about Maximilian," Ishbel said, and StarDrifter grunted.
"How surprising," he said.
"StarDrifter!" Salome hissed. "Go on," she said to Ishbel. "We need to do something while waiting for this damned kettle to boil."
So Ishbel told them: about her experiences as a child, locked in the house with her family's corpses;
about what the corpses had whispered to her; about the dreams of the Lord of Elcho Falling that had continued throughout her life; what she had said to Maximilian in the woodsman's hut (at which both StarDrifter and Salome winced); about her horror when she realized that Maximilian was the Lord of Elcho Falling.
"I love him--" Ishbel said.
"Well, I'm glad you can finally admit that," Salome muttered, stirring a handful of tea leaves into the kettle.
"--but I have put such a distance between us and I don't know how to close it."
"Do you actually want to?" said StarDrifter.
Ishbel opened her mouth, then closed it, not knowing how to answer.
Salome waved a hand over the kettle, dissipating some of the steam that trickled from its spout. "All this talk of sadness and despair trailing about Maxel's shoulders," she said. "Very dramatic. I commend your imagination. But what do you know of this sadness and despair? I don't doubt that you can see and feel it, but how do you know its origins, or purpose? It could just as well represent Ravenna's desperate clutching at Maxel's shoulders."
StarDrifter laughed, and Ishbel managed a smile.
"The despair reaches out to envelop my life," she said. "It comes from Maximilian. Is caused by him. I
wish it didn't. I wish it wasn't there, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she gestured helplessly.
"I have no idea what this miasma of despair means, Ishbel," Salome said, "but I see that you love the man, and he you."
"Ravenna--" Ishbel said.
"He doesn't love her," Salome said. "He is irritated by her. He feels bound to her by guilt and by the stars alone know what else, but he doesn't love her. You. Only you."
She took a deep breath. "For all the gods' sakes, girl, none of us can have any idea what that vision you have of Maximilian means, but this I do know. You have to live your life, and you need to take the risk.
You need to clear the air between Maximilian and yourself. You need to make it perfectly plain to him that, despite all this talk of a nasty miasma, you want to share your life with him. Damn it, you must. Are you not bound by blood and destiny? Do you not both love each other? Yes, yes, I know both of you have made mistakes, and said and done things that perhaps you shouldn't have. But if you don't take the chance, Ishbel, you will shrivel
up and die, and Maximilian with you, and everyone else with the tragic pair of you. Ishbel, this is the selfish Salome speaking here! I want to live. Sort it out with Maxel."
Both StarDrifter and Ishbel were staring at Salome by this stage, then StarDrifter gave a short laugh.
"I can add no more to my wife's wisdom, Ishbel. Sort it out with Maximilian. You must."
CHAPTER NINE
Entrance to the Sky Peak Pass, the Outlands
They had set out as usual in the morning. Up before dawn, striking camp, trudging forward, foot after foot--most of the horses had been eaten weeks ago. They had long since ceased sending out scouts, for the Icarii were exhausted, and as sick at heart as everyone else, and neither Georgdi nor Malat cared to hear whatever bad news they might bring.
Eventually, they knew, they would meet up with the Tyrant of Isembaard's forces. Georgdi and Malat had discussed briefly what they would do once they met: unconditional surrender and pray that Isaiah would feed them. There was not a man or woman among them in any fit state to fight, and fifteen thousand starving, exhausted, tottering excuses for soldiers and citizens would be no match for what they'd heard Isaiah commanded.
They had also discussed the possibility of retreating--to Pelemere, or Kyros, or wherever. But neither man had wanted to turn back west. For all they knew, the Central Kingdoms were utterly destroyed.
West lay only rotting flesh and ruins. East lay...something else. They just had to pray that the something else was better than the rotting flesh and ruins.
It was, as always, BroadWing who brought them the news.
There had been some words among the Icarii traveling in a group just behind and to one side of Georgdi and Malat, and then BroadWing had taken off, lurching a little in his tiredness as he rose into the sky.
Malat supposed that with their superior sight the Icarii had spotted something ahead.
BroadWing returned within minutes, landing a few paces away from Georgdi and Malat.
"Do I want to hear it?" Georgdi asked.
"An army, massive," BroadWing said. "Stretching as far east as my eye could see."