The Boundless

by Peter Newman

  And then, there was a more defined movement, as if the essence currents were some great beast that spat them out.

  He felt a great jolt run through his body and then he was lying on his back. It took him a while to realize that his mind was spinning rather than the world. And it took a while longer than that for it to stop.

  When he sat up, his shoulders, elbows, and wrists all protested. He didn’t care about them though, being too busy pulling off the helmet so that he could vomit without obstruction.

  After having emptied his stomach, he felt much better, though the pain in his arms was suddenly much more pressing. He lifted his head and looked around.

  The castle was far, far above. From this angle, the man-made structure was completely obscured. All he could see was the rocky base lit by soft veins of sapphire.

  To his right, directly beneath it, was a large rent in the earth. A chasm with perfectly smooth sides that led down into the darkness. Just looking at it made him shiver.

  The ground around him was mostly dry earth, odd tufts of grass, and a few plants that were too stubborn to die. Satyendra was standing a few feet away, facing away. He was barely visible under the starlight.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Sa-at.

  ‘I saved you.’ There was a tightness to his voice that spoke of pain.

  ‘How?’

  ‘By taking the fall for both of us. I caught you, I stopped you smashing into pieces on the rocks. I kept my promise.’

  ‘Sort of.’

  Satyendra’s silhouette half turned towards him. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, you did help me escape the castle, like you promised.’ He held up his hands. ‘But you hurt me.’

  ‘That wasn’t my fault!’

  Sa-at frowned. ‘An oath is an oath.’ Before Satyendra could answer, he became distracted by something. The glow from his bracers was irregular, smudged in places. He peered at them and realized that there were burn marks on the crystal. Black hand-prints left by a layer of seared skin.

  Maybe he was squeezing so tight because it hurt.

  ‘Are your hands okay?’

  ‘Why would you care?’

  ‘Are they?’

  He heard a bitter sigh. ‘No.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘No.’ Satyendra tucked them into his armpits.

  ‘If we can get into the Wild, I know things that will help.’

  ‘Why do you assume I’m going to come with you? I’ve helped you escape. You don’t have any hold on me now.’

  ‘What’s “assume”?’

  ‘You think you know what I’m going to do when you don’t know me at all.’

  Sa-at thought about this. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Whatever I want.’

  ‘Oh … What do you want?’

  Satyendra turned his back again. ‘I don’t know. But you should take off that armour.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it can be seen from miles away, especially at night.’

  Sa-at took off the Sky-legs. He liked their bounciness but didn’t like the way it made his legs feel out of control. He took off the greaves and the wings and the chest plate. He took off the vambraces and the gauntlets. It would be wrong to return to the Wild in Deathless armour, he knew this. Better to go back as a friend than as a wound.

  He stood up and took off the cloak he’d been given. Beneath it he still wore his coat of feathers. He hadn’t realized it until now but none of the things he’d been offered had felt right. They had been exciting for their newness, but they had not been his.

  ‘Do you want my cloak?’ he asked.

  Satyendra took it without a word, knelt down, and began tearing it into strips. He fastened one around his head like a scarf and pulled up his hood. The others, he started to wrap around his right hand. Then he stopped and muttered something under his breath.

  ‘You shouldn’t cover them up,’ said Sa-at. ‘Not until we’ve found the right juices.’

  ‘I need to use my hands.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t interfere!’

  Satyendra struggled for a while. It was painful to watch.

  ‘I can help, if you want,’ said Sa-at.

  Satyendra nodded, but didn’t look in his direction.

  It was difficult tying the bandage in the dark, but Sa-at had a lot of experience of doing things by touch, and so he managed. When that was done, he bandaged Satyendra’s left hand as well. ‘When we get into the Wild we can do better.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Satyendra.

  He isn’t my friend. I don’t think he’ll ever be my friend. But I feel sorry for him. He’s like me. Even though he grew up in Rochant’s castle and I grew up in the Wild, we’re both lonely.

  They began walking away from the chasm towards the dark of the forest. Sa-at’s sadness was mitigated by the thought of seeing Crowflies again. I’ve missed it. It will be pleased to see me, and it will help me find my mother. He wondered if Satyendra and Crowflies would get along. He imagined them meeting and a smile broke out on his face. Probably not, he thought.

  They were only just on the border of Sapphire lands when Vasinidra brought his flight down to land. He told himself it was because it wasn’t fair to push his hunters all the way through the night, but deep down, he was feeling his exertions keenly.

  Given the late hour, they landed on the Godroad. Nobody commented about the fact that it no longer guaranteed their safety, but it weighed heavy on them all.

  While his people enjoyed a respite from the weight of their wings, their chatter a balm of comfort in the night air, he saw Gada coming in to land. His brother’s flight was close behind, and soon the two groups of hunters were mingling freely.

  Vasinidra moved away down the Godroad so that he might speak with Gada in private. The two clasped arms. Though the light from the Godroad was comforting, the darkness on either side of it was not. I try to avoid the Wild at night. It’s bad enough in the day, but after the suns set it becomes something else entirely.

  ‘Please don’t take this as a complaint, High Lord, but why have we stopped? I thought you were keen to reach Lord Rochant’s castle.’

  ‘It’s just us here, brother. You may speak freely and without fear.’

  Gada nodded, but his expression remained guarded. ‘I thought I was, High Lord.’

  We were never close but there is a distance between us now. How can there not be? It struck him then that he had authority over Gada. He decided which Sapphire Deathless got to return, when they got to return, and in which body. As High Lord, he chose what was added to their legend for good or for ill. He held his brother’s future lives in his hands. How then, could he expect his brother or any of the other Deathless to be without fear in his presence?

  ‘Of course you were, Lord Gada. To answer your question, I am playing the long game, tempering my desire for speed with the need to keep our hunters from exhaustion. The fight with Quiverhive may be over but the Corpseman remains at large. And in truth, I am tired too.’

  Gada removed his helmet, there was concern in his eyes. He pulled nervously at his beard. ‘Forgive the bluntness of my question but how long have you been exalted?’

  ‘Since we began the hunt for the Corpseman.’

  ‘That’s what I feared.’

  ‘Believe me when I say that I want nothing more than to take off my armour and sleep. But there’s no time. I can’t doff it here, so the best thing to do is to push on to Lord Rochant’s castle.’

  ‘I thought you said we were going home.’

  ‘I meant back to our lands.’ He pulled off his own helmet and shook out his long hair. It was good to feel the air on his face. ‘There are some things I need to tell you. The others don’t know and I would prefer it to stay that way.’

  Gada nodded. ‘You can trust me, High Lord.’

  I hope so, thought Vasinidra. He could tell his brother was pleased to be taken into his confidence. There was a little puffing of his slender chest,
and a crease of the mouth, mostly hidden by his beard.

  ‘While you went directly to the Rubies, I took Mother from her exile in the Wild and returned her to Lord Rochant’s castle. With luck the Bringers will be seeing to her rebirth as we speak.’

  ‘I wondered if she was the cause of your absence.’ He leaned closer. ‘When you announce her return to the others, I will stand with you.’

  ‘It warms my heart to hear that. I’m hoping that the reason the Bringers haven’t responded to Lady Anuja yet is they’re busy serving me, but I’m worried, Gada. With everything we’ve seen lately …’

  ‘What do you fear, High Lord?’

  Vasinidra shook his head. ‘The Corpseman and Quiverhive haven’t just been attacking settlements, that would be bad enough. They’re attacking our way of life. I think they meant to wipe out the Rubies entirely. I’m hoping that they don’t understand how we return, that they were just obsessed with destroying every Ruby they could find. But what if the Corpseman does know? If it can get onto the Godroad, where else can it get to? What other refuges of ours are no longer safe?’

  Gada’s long face looked drawn. ‘You think it could attack one of our castles?’

  ‘Perhaps. Or the Bringers themselves. I’m saying that we need to be prepared for anything.’

  ‘But Vasinidra—’ Gada caught himself, ‘High Lord. How does the Corpseman know these things? Is this all from when Samarku Un-Sapphire betrayed us? Or did Mother …’ He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

  ‘Not Mother. Perhaps this came from Samarku, but I believe the true traitor is Rochant.’

  ‘Lord Rochant!’

  Gada took breath to start talking. Knowing his brother’s penchant for being long-winded, Vasinidra held up a hand to silence him.

  ‘Listen. There are things you need to know. Honoured Vessel Satyendra’s rebirth was a failure. Rochant’s soul never entered his body. I don’t know why the Bringers didn’t spot it, but they didn’t. Satyendra pretended to be Rochant but that was a lie. The real Rochant is still alive and in league with the Scuttling Corpseman. He betrayed our mother and the house in order to gain power. He betrayed Samarku as well.’

  ‘What?’ blurted Gada. ‘He … Surely not?’

  ‘Yes. I think it is Rochant’s aim to destroy us all. We need to remove Satyendra from his post and reassign Rochant’s Godpiece to Mother. And we need to do it quickly.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course, but why are you telling me this, High Lord? All this is within your power.’

  ‘Because if something happens to me, I need you to be ready.’

  Gada just nodded, dumbstruck.

  ‘Things have not always been good between us, brother. That is my fault as much as yours. Now we must be our best selves. The house and its people must come first.’

  After a moment, Gada approached and tentatively put a hand on Vasinidra’s shoulder. ‘I agree with everything you say, High Lord. But please, I beg you, take off the armour. Rest. Allow us to escort you back to the castle. You’ve been wearing it for too long and it is taking a toll on you.’

  ‘A little rest and something to drink is all I need. The suns will be rising soon. We’ll continue onto the castle and then, I promise, I’ll do what you ask.’

  Gada patted his shoulder. ‘Very well. I will leave you to your thoughts.’

  Vasinidra watched him go. He’s worried about me going the same way as Yadavendra. Is this how it started for my uncle, I wonder? Did he think that he’d just wear the armour until the threat had passed? And the right time never came. He stared out at the impenetrable border of trees, unsure if he would ever feel at peace again.

  Varg and Chandni rode on Glider’s back alongside the pack. This pleased Crowflies, who could make greater haste, and irritated Kennelgrove, who struggled to match their pace. Chandni found she was content with both those outcomes. Despite Kennelgrove’s constant muttering about his injuries they made good time and nothing opposed them, and yet there was something in the Dogkin’s tense manner that made her feel uneasy. ‘Does anything seem wrong to you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Varg. ‘It’s quiet. Too bloody quiet if you ask me.’

  ‘What do you think it means?’

  ‘I think it means the rest of the Wild knows something we don’t. I ain’t seeing any bodies, so I reckon whatever normally lives round here is either hiding, or gone.’

  She looked round, half expecting to see some horrific demon bearing down on them, but there was nothing save for a sense of emptiness. Even the trees seemed further apart from each other in this part of the forest, each one standing alone, their branches not touching their neighbours, not even reaching out to them.

  It feels so … sad.

  ‘This is awful!’ announced Kennelgrove. ‘Such loss, such emptiness. And I fear it is only the beginning of the long and final end.’

  ‘No,’ said Chandni. ‘We’ll find a way to make this better.’

  ‘We will?’

  She was careful not to meet its gaze, though it made her feel as if she were being disingenuous. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Such hope! Oh, how poor Kennelgrove could use some of that. Perhaps we might barter again when I’m done with your prince …’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she replied with a shudder, and urged Glider to put some more distance between them.

  ‘I don’t like the way this is going,’ said Varg, keeping his voice low and to her ear. ‘These demons are trying to snare you up in their schemes.’

  ‘I promise you, we’ll make something good out of this.’ Privately, she had started to plan. To think about ways to live within the Wild, to change it even. She suspected Varg just wanted them to have a quiet life in the woods somewhere. Is that what I want though? Is that enough? Certainly, the futures she envisioned were all broader in scope.

  Sometimes, the pack diverted off to hunt. Pickings were slim, a few Ratkin, and some nuts scavenged from a dying bush, just enough to remind them of their bellies but not enough to satisfy them.

  By late afternoon, they arrived at the edge of the forest to find a field of tall grass. Each stalk was pale yellow, with ear-shaped buds at its tip. An old dirt road ran along by the far side of the field.

  Chandni gasped. ‘I know this place!’ She looked up and was rewarded with the distant sight of Lord Rochant’s castle hanging in the sky, black against the pale red of Wrath’s Tear.

  ‘Yeah. This is where I took you after we first met.’ Varg pulled at his beard. ‘Funny to think how much has happened since then.’

  They moved back between the trees but didn’t go deep, following the lines of fields until they came upon a strange sight. In the middle of the last field was a circle where no grass grew. The circle was fifty feet across and so perfectly round, it could have been created by a Sapphire artisan. The soil was thick and moist and black, with a rich, fertile smell. She saw shapes sliding through it, hundreds of them, the smallest Wormkin she’d ever seen. Each was no longer than her little finger, and they lacked eyes and claws. She didn’t for an instant consider them harmless, but she wondered if they had stumbled across a group of newborns, and if the mother was nearby.

  A flock of young Birdkin came swooping down, just old enough to fly but not yet full grown. They swept some unlucky Wormkin from the soil and banked away towards the forest. Crowflies gave an approving chirp and gave chase.

  These Birdkin won’t be far from a nest. We’re close to Murderkind’s domain. ‘Follow them,’ said Chandni, and the Dogkin broke into a loping run, plunging into the welcoming trees.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Satyendra squinted up through the canopy. The suns had risen, but down here their light did not jab at him the way it did in the castle’s courtyard. He still didn’t like them, but they were much easier to ignore. The trees helped too, shielding him from the worst of the heat.

  There are no walls here.

  He turned on the spot, appreciating for the first time the sheer amount of space there was. He could w
alk through the forest in any direction, and not reach the end of it. Only the mountain at his back formed a true barrier, and he had no intention of returning there.

  Breathing was easier too. Perhaps it came with the sense of freedom, but he suspected it had as much to do with being out of the castle. It had always constrained him somehow, the sapphires in the walls and floor were like little needles, stabbing at his mind.

  The high from the previous night had worn off, leaving him with a clear head. The burns inflicted by Rochant’s gauntlet still plagued him whenever he bent forward or twisted his body, and his hands stung terribly from where he’d had to grip Sa-at’s bracers. It was hard to be grateful for the fact that his other injuries – the ones sustained when they had landed – had all miraculously healed.

  Since their landing he’d said little. To speak meant working his jaw, and that felt dangerous. He was worried that his face might move in other ways. He was worried he might not be able to move it back. That wasn’t the only way he’d changed. The knobby bone on the end of his wrist poked out from the end of his sleeve and his trousers kept untucking themselves from the top of his boots.

  My limbs are longer. I am longer.

  When he clenched his fists – which made his palms burn – the skin stretched painfully tight over his knuckles. It was as if his bones were growing too fast for the rest of him to keep up. Using the last of the strips from the cloak Sa-at had given him, he bound his wrists and the space where the cuffs of his trousers met his boots. There was nothing to do about the physical changes, but he could at least stop the cold from getting in through the gaps in his clothes.

  At least, that was his intention. Tying his legs was possible, if painful, but tying his wrists one-handed with bound palms was beyond him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sa-at watching him, an expression of pity on his face.

  ‘Do you want me to help?’

  ‘No, but …’ Satyendra forced the words out. ‘It would be quicker, and we need to get moving before Rochant comes for us.’

  He watched as Sa-at set to work. Side by side, their hands were quite different. His skin was no longer as dark as Sa-at’s, and it wasn’t as rough. He had all his fingers too. Sa-at was missing the little finger on his right hand, and there was a pale circle of smooth burnt flesh in the middle of his palm.