The Boundless

by Peter Newman

  ‘How late are your replacements?’

  ‘Over two thousand years.’ The Bringer sighed again, long and deep. ‘Lady Pari, we are sick of this world.’ The others nodded. ‘Sick of this sky and its pale suns. Sick of the hungry Wild and the same rituals being played out over and over again. We cannot endure another millennia of this with only the faint hope that at some point we will be remembered.

  ‘It is time for us to go home. Will you help us?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  It didn’t take long for Vasinidra to reach the ruins of Sorn. Only days had passed since his last visit but it already looked different, the Wild reclaiming more of the buildings and pathways. It didn’t bother him though. Once he’d taken his mother home, the demons were welcome to it.

  He flew down, landing smoothly outside what had become her dwelling. Vines crawled up the walls, obscuring the wood completely in places. A couple of runners trailed over the path, inching their way towards the doorway and what he hoped was a Birdkin of some kind, was nesting in the roof.

  Knowing his mother’s penchant for traps and alarms, he stopped, checking the way ahead carefully before proceeding. But there were no wires, no secret holes, nothing to stop him approaching the house. He began to worry.

  It was impossible to be subtle in a seven-foot-tall suit of glowing sapphire armour. She would know he was here, and yet she was not standing in the doorway.

  Has something happened? Am I too late?

  He tried to tell himself she was out hunting or patrolling the grounds but it didn’t work. Instead, he started to picture the worst possibilities: his mother dead or taken by the Wild.

  ‘Mother?’ he called out.

  When no answer came, he banged on the door once before tearing it from its frame and tossing it aside. ‘Mother? It’s me. Where are you?’

  Someone snorted from within. It was not quite a laugh, nor was it quite a sound of disgust but somewhere between the two.

  ‘Mother?’

  He ducked and stepped inside. The blue light from his armour spilled ahead, illuminating a bundled figure by one wall. He saw a wizened face and a single hand clutching the blanket closed at her neck. It was Nidra but she seemed to have aged years in the few days he’d been away. Am I too late? Is she dead? But no, the rage still burned in her eyes, the expression on her face spiteful, hateful, and directed at him.

  ‘Did I scare you, my sweet one? Was it hard to have to wait for me to speak?’ she tutted. ‘You have no idea what waiting is.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Apologies are worthless. I do not want them.’

  He went down on one knee before her. ‘I’ve done it, Mother. I’m High Lord of the Sapphire now. I’ve come to take you to the Bringers and restore you to your proper place.’

  She studied him for a moment, her features rigid. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly.’

  ‘Say it again.’

  ‘As the new High Lord Sapphire, I am here to take you home, Lady Nidra.’

  Tears fell from her eyes, vanishing into the folds of her crumpled face. She made no sound as she cried, though her body shook violently. He steadied her with his hands and, when she was done, lifted her gently into his arms. She weighed nothing to him. It was like carrying a bag of twigs.

  He bounded out of Sagan towards the Godroad. The rest of the house were already on their way to the Ruby lands. But they would be going most of the way on foot. He would fly. First to Lord Rochant’s floating castle and then to the home of the Ruby High Lord. A smile grew on his face as he imagined the challenge. He might even beat them there.

  One leap took him up onto the Godroad, and he immediately felt the fizz of essence beneath his wings, making him feel light, energized. He started to run, eager to take to the sky once more.

  ‘What are you doing?’ snapped Nidra.

  Her voice distracted him, making it harder to keep the right rhythm. ‘Taking you home.’

  ‘By flying? While carrying another person? Don’t be a fool, Vasin.’

  He slowed, stung by the rebuke, then started to accelerate again. ‘I can do it.’

  ‘And what happens if you drop me? This body is all I have. It’s old and weak. It will break. Is that what you want?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If you don’t want me to die, you’ll stop behaving like it’s your first lifecycle. High Lords cannot afford to be so reckless.’

  Vasinidra slowed to an easy jog, gliding a little after each step.

  ‘Better,’ muttered Nidra. ‘Now, tell me what has happened. What state are the family in? Who is with you? Who is against you? And what has happened to Rochant? I want to know everything.’

  ‘Yadavendra is gone. It was …’ He struggled to find the right words. ‘Horrible. I wish there had been some other way.’ In the end, his uncle hadn’t seemed like a person any more. That last sight of him outside his armour would haunt Vasinidra forever. Stripped of the illusion of power his armour gave, Yadavendra was revealed; lost, a burned-out shell, full of paranoia and bile and … he glanced down at the bundle in his arms, and the similarities struck him like a physical blow.

  ‘There was no other way. My brother was mad. Now, what of the others?’

  ‘I … You were right about Gada. Once he knew you were alive, he stood with me. Uncle Umed is with us too, as is Yadva. For the moment.’

  ‘We will have to watch her.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know where the real Rochant is, but his vessel underwent the ceremony and managed to fool the Bringers.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. But once things are calmer, I’ll have him quietly moved away and give Rochant’s Godpiece to a new Deathless.’

  ‘Yes, that will be a powerful tool to move the others. We will have to think carefully about who we add to the house.’

  Mia, he thought. I want it to be Mia. But he kept the idea to himself. Better to wait and tell his mother after her restoration.

  ‘House Ruby teeters on the brink of destruction. I’ve sent the others there with our hunters. I only hope they arrive before the Corpseman does.’

  ‘It’s not the Corpseman we need to fear. It’s Rochant! He was the one who corrupted my brother. He’s the real danger.’

  ‘We have to look to the Rubies first. Their need is greater.’

  ‘No, Vasin. That’s what he wants. He’s tricking you, don’t you see? Distracting you with other things.’

  ‘It’s no trick. The Rubies are being slaughtered. Whatever Rochant is up to will have to keep until I’m back.’

  ‘No. No! Listen to me, Vasin. Listen! Let the others deal with the Rubies. You have to see me attuned to Rochant’s Godpiece so he can’t be reborn. Then, you hunt him down and kill his body. Do this for me, Vasin. Do it for all of us.’

  She took his nod as agreement and settled her head on his chest. Within a few minutes she was asleep. Even at rest, the lines of worry remained visible on her face. He wondered idly if they would follow her through to her next lifecycle. The Story-singers said that some wounds followed the Deathless through the ages. Perhaps these ones were too deep to heal.

  He looked down at her and wondered if he’d been too late to save her after all. ‘My name is Vasinidra now, Mother,’ he whispered, then took to the sky.

  The forest was calming by the time Chandni caught up with Glider. Whatever had stirred it up seemed to have gone away, or been killed, or met some other fate she’d rather not think about. She still had Varg’s hand. It was warm and solid and a little bit rough.

  Just like the rest of him.

  Glider was not alone. She was sitting opposite a pack of Dogkin, all white furred, most of them five-legged. Like her, their eyes were mismatched. It seemed as if they were discussing something, though it was impossible to tell the subject matter. The last time Chandni had seem them, they’d been trying to kill her and only Glider’s sacrifice had kept them safe until Lord Vasin arrived. She could still see the old burn scars where the Deathle
ss had beaten them, and the kinks in their legs where the bones had not set straight.

  They hadn’t forgotten her either. As soon as the two of them came into sight, the pack’s leader raised its head and snarled.

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Varg.

  As the pack sprang to their feet, Glider did the same and the air was suddenly alive with low growls and the threat of violence.

  Chandni assessed their situation quickly. There’s no way our Dogkin can hope to beat so many and we can’t outrun them.

  ‘Glider,’ she said in her sternest voice, ‘stand down.’

  The Dogkin turned to her with a puzzled whine.

  ‘Stay there. It’s fine.’

  ‘It is?’ Varg whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, squeezing his hand. ‘But keep behind me.’ She had an idea in mind, a dangerous one that she dared not think of too hard lest she run from it. Be strong, Chandni. There is no place for doubt.

  The pack quickly spread out, blocking off their escape, while the leader loped towards them. She didn’t seem interested in Glider or Varg; all her hatred was saved solely for Chandni.

  She thought about their first meeting, years ago. They’d hated her then too. It wasn’t hard for her to work out why.

  ‘This is about Fiya, isn’t it?’

  The pack howled at the mention of the old woman’s name. Chandni had killed Fiya to save her baby, offering the body to Murderkind as a sacrifice. Now, the pack wanted revenge. She wasn’t sure what the connection between them and Fiya was, but it had clearly been powerful.

  ‘You want to hurt me.’ She nodded sadly and held out her right arm towards the leader. ‘I know what it feels like when those you love are threatened or killed. I understand.’

  Varg’s chin brushed her shoulder as he spoke. ‘What are you doing, Chand?’

  The pack leader opened her jaws wide.

  Chandni placed her hand in its mouth.

  ‘Chand!’ Varg pulled at her left arm but she snatched it free.

  She didn’t feel the teeth puncture her skin. There was no pain at all, not even a whisper of sensation. She heard the bones crunch though and knew that it was bad. Don’t think about it. You are a Sapphire. You do not break.

  The pack leader’s glare shifted to surprise when Chandni didn’t react. She was careful not to look at the blood – my blood – staining its muzzle. Instead, she met its eyes and said, ‘I understand how you feel, but you should not have done that for I am not yours to hunt.’ She pulled the black feather loose from her hair and turned her head to display it. ‘See?’

  The old Dogkin let go of her hand and sniffed at the feather, then recoiled as if stung.

  ‘Murderkind,’ she said, and the pack fell silent. She noted the angry glares were gone, the mismatched eyes wide with fear. ‘Murderkind,’ she said again. This time the trees themselves fell quiet, as if the wind had died. Crowflies came and landed on her shoulder. It looked from her hand, to the Dogkin’s bloody jaws and shook its head.

  The pack were utterly still now, watching her with abject terror.

  ‘All I need to do is say that name once more. And I will. Unless you agree to serve me for one year. That is the price of my mercy. Will you pay it?’

  The pack exchanged glances and then looked to the leader, who howled once, long and loud, and then lowered her head.

  ‘Good. Now, look at me.’

  This close, she could see that, like Glider, the pack leader’s human eye was clear while those of the other Dogkin were clouded.

  The great white head regarded her and Chandni felt a sadness well up inside. ‘Varg, do you remember that story Fiya told us about her ancestors?’

  ‘What about your hand? It’s a fucking mess.’

  ‘Not now, Varg. The story, do you remember? I think it’s important … I think … I …’

  Everything fell out of focus for a moment, then came back.

  ‘Chand!’ said Varg.

  ‘Cha-aan!’ said Crowflies.

  ‘I …’ she looked down at her hand. Her eyes refused to work properly but she could tell it was the wrong shape and there seemed to be blood everywhere. ‘Oh. On second thoughts, perhaps you should look at my hand now, Varg.’

  Crowflies leapt from her shoulder as she fell.

  Someone caught her. Probably Varg. She smiled at the idea of being caught by Varg. Such strong hands, she thought, the smile fading from her face as she passed out.

  Sa-at’s mouth hung open. The figure dangling from Rochant’s arm, the one that seconds ago had looked so much like him had changed. He’d watched the image of his own face deform, the features starting to melt, save for the eyes that darkened and rolled. Brown skin had paled and faded from view, becoming a window to the organs and bones beneath. But the bone structure was wrong. A vertical line ran down the skull from the forehead to the top of the jaw. When the imposter had still been conscious, it had looked like it was trying to open, to unfold in some way.

  It was not a human skull.

  There was a gasp from the crowd as Rochant threw the body down at his feet. He turned to the guards, who seemed just as stunned as everyone else. ‘Take this creature and lock it beneath the castle.’

  Seven stepped forward, laying their spears down in a row to make a kind of stretcher and then rolled the body onto it with the toes of their boots. Everyone watched in silence until it had been taken from sight.

  ‘Attend me,’ said Rochant, pulling off his helm and tucking it under his arm. ‘Many of you have heard the story that I was attacked during my last lifecycle and that my family were killed. You will have heard that Honoured Mother Chandni saved the last of my descendants and brought him here though, as you have seen, it was no Sky-born baby she raised, and my blood does not flow in its veins.

  ‘Many of you will have questions. Many will have fears. I too have questions.’ He glanced in the direction the guards had gone. ‘And I will get my answers. For now though, let me put some fears to rest.

  ‘As you can see, the rumours of my assassination were,’ he gave a slight smile, ‘exaggerated. I am just as strong as I ever was. But there is much work to do. While I attend to matters of castle security, the gates will be kept closed. No one is to enter or leave until I am satisfied.’ His expression softened but Sa-at was sure there was something hard lurking beneath it, just out of sight. ‘Consider yourselves my guests for a little while longer. Before I go, I want to introduce you to my real Honoured Vessel.’

  Rochant beckoned for someone to come forward.

  After a moment, Sa-at realized that he was the one being gestured at. He went and stood by Rochant’s side, blinking in the glare of the sunslight. Everyone was looking at him. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he stayed very still as Rochant continued to speak.

  ‘He has had a difficult life and a long journey to get here. But he is home now. Please, make him feel welcome. And remember: Much of this is new to him. Be generous when answering his questions, and do not trouble him with your own.’ He leaned down towards Sa-at. ‘I promised that one day you would get to meet people.’ He gestured towards the crowd.

  But Sa-at couldn’t shake the images of his twin from his mind. ‘What will happen to the demon?’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘But why did it look like me and why—’

  ‘I told you. Don’t worry.’ He gestured to the crowd again. ‘Go on. They’re waiting for you.’

  Sa-at’s frustration was replaced with astonishment as he realized what Rochant was saying. ‘All of them? They want to meet me?’

  ‘Yes. There is no need to hide any more. Go forth, make friends. I will send for you later.’

  And with that, he walked away, a gaggle of staff following in his wake.

  Sa-at was alone.

  The crowd looked at him.

  He looked at the crowd.

  The only other time he’d been the attention of so many people had been outside Sagan. He rememb
ered their jeers and the pain as they’d thrown rocks at him. The memory made his hands shake and his throat draw tight.

  He wanted to say something. He felt that he ought to say something but the words wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t even form in his mind.

  Then, he caught sight of an older man with kind eyes. The man was smiling at him. He tried not to think about all the other people and just focused on the man.

  Their eyes met and the man waved a hand in greeting.

  He waved to the man and was surprised when a forest of hands waved back. There were many smiles now. The man approached and offered his hand. ‘Welcome, Honoured Vessel,’ he said. ‘I am Kir.’ He clasped Sa-at’s wrist and, after a pause, Sa-at clasped his. He’d once seen the Gatherers greet each other this way. The man’s grip was firm, reassuring.

  What is an Honoured Vessel? It sounds very special. I will have to ask Rochant about that.

  And then there were many people all around him, and hands squeezing his shoulders or taking his arm. The names came thick and fast until he gave up all hope of being able to remember them all.

  Sa-at was so happy at the attention he thought he would pop.

  I am here, he thought. I am home and these people, all these people, are going to be my friends. Everything Rochant has promised is coming true.

  He looked around to see if Rochant was still there, and saw him on the far side of the courtyard talking to a man in servants’ garb with three sapphire studs at his collar. The more Rochant talked, the more worried the man looked.

  When they finished talking Rochant bounded over. Sa-at noticed that he was now carrying a long wooden spear with a sapphire tip. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We should get you inside.’

  ‘Is something wrong? I’m making lots of new friends.’

  Rochant steered him away from the crowd. ‘They will still be there when we’re done.’

  Sa-at noted the speed at which they’d re-entered the castle. ‘Is it very bad?’

  ‘One of our enemies returns sooner than anticipated.’

  ‘Something from the Wild?’

  ‘No. A Deathless, like me.’

  ‘Will you fight them?’