The Boundless

by Peter Newman

  ‘Gada! Stop!’ she shouted. ‘That’s just what the Corpseman wants!’

  But it was no use. She was too far away and the swarm’s drone drowned out her words.

  Long before Gada got within range, and just after he had committed to a leap, the Corpseman threw the ruby-tipped spear it had stolen from Arkav. It flew so fast Pari could barely track it in the air. Gada didn’t even see it until after it had hit.

  One moment, Gada was mid-bound, readying his own spear. The next, he was on his back, nailed to the earth by one wing. The Corpseman doesn’t care about hunters, it wants to destroy us! Not just kill us. Remove us entirely. She remembered the other High Lords, trapped in their bodies between life and death and knew it planned the same for Lord Gada.

  As if to agree with her, the Corpseman dived down towards the prone Deathless.

  ‘Catch up,’ said Pari, letting go of Arkav. ‘I’ll need you.’

  Freed of the encumbrance of her brother, Pari shot forward, doing everything she could to reach Gada before the Corpseman did. However, several of the swarm saw her coming and moved to intercept. Despite their alien appearance, she noticed that they flew together in the manner of trained hunters, only these ones could fly as well as glide.

  Interesting. The Corpseman has imparted some of its knowledge to these … children, but they remain predictable.

  She couldn’t read much in their faces nor their posture, but the pattern of flight, the way one demon mirrored the movements of the other, told her that they were using a modified version of a classic Sapphire attack pattern. Pari was careful not to let anything show on her face as she approached, lest they be as good at reading opponents as the Corpseman itself.

  They came in fast, one slightly to her left, one to the right, accelerating rapidly in the moments before impact.

  Keeping her eyes ahead, she flicked out her whip to the right, lodging the barb into an old knotted stump in the ground. The whip went tight and wrenched her round, out of their path. The two flew past with a frustrated buzz and she made a fast turn, releasing the whip as she came full circle to continue towards Gada unimpeded.

  Still, she had been too slow.

  The Corpseman landed in front of her, completely obscuring Gada’s body. It raised its four arms in what Pari considered to be a most ominous manner. Mercifully, the back of its wings were less hypnotic than the insides were and she could still focus.

  Before she had time to react, and before the Corpseman had time to strike, another figure took action. Nidra had been close by, and when her son had fallen, she’d moved from her hiding place to get to his side. Now she stood before the Corpseman, a living barrier. Her eyes were squeezed shut and one hand was held up beseechingly.

  Very gently, the Corpseman reached out and began to slide her out of its path. Nidra touched its arm, the human one that looked fresh, unarmoured, and then pulled her sapphire-bladed knife from behind her back and lodged it deep in the meat of the shoulder.

  The Corpseman reared away, twisting its body to protect itself from further assault, and Pari took advantage, flicking out her whip at the back of its head.

  The two thick antennae flicked vertical in alarm and the Corpseman whirled round to face her, forcing her to turn her head away to avoid being mesmerized.

  ‘Hello again,’ she said, doing her best to sound like she had happened across an old friend on the road. ‘So sorry to interrupt but I really can’t let you do that. Lord Gada isn’t my favourite Sapphire, not even my second favourite, but we must maintain some standards.’

  She was babbling, saying anything to stall it. As she talked the Corpseman’s antennae drifted down until they were at a slight downward angle. Pointing at her.

  ‘You know, on reflection, I think you could do with a new name, don’t you? Scuttling isn’t exactly your preferred method of transport any more and I—’

  Perhaps a heartbeat before it moved, Pari’s instincts told her to jump back.

  She did, using her wings to glide away, but the Corpseman had also leapt, further and faster, closing the gap.

  She spun in the air so that she could flee more effectively, aware that she would buy herself seconds at the most.

  One jump, and its shadows were at her back. Two and its hands reached out for her.

  But now Arkav was in sight, leaping for her as she leapt for him.

  ‘Close your eyes!’ she shouted, and whether he heard her or not, he complied, extending both fists. She watched her own fractured reflection in his chest plate grow, and the Corpseman’s, larger, behind it, and gave her brother a nudge in the right direction as they crossed paths.

  There was the beginning of a screech as sharp fingers ran down the plates on the back of her shoulder, then a thud as Arkav’s fists connected.

  The Corpseman landed on one knee. Arkav in front of it.

  She stepped up behind her brother and grabbed his arm. ‘Jump back.’

  As he did so, she swung him round, keeping her own gaze on the floor so as to avoid the patterns that tugged at her eyes. Arkav’s momentum combined with her exalted strength and he hit the Corpseman full in the face with both feet.

  There was a crack of bone breaking but she didn’t dare look up to see the effects.

  Arkav was standing now, facing her, his back to the Corpseman. ‘We fight together,’ he said.

  ‘Always.’ She took his hands in hers, and they started to swing each other round, using their armour as a set of mirrors, whirling faster and faster. Erratically, chaotically, they lashed out. Not planning, not thinking, relying on lifecycles of training and trust. Some of their blows went wide, but more made contact, forcing the Corpseman to give ground.

  No other Tanzanite fought like Pari and her brother, and certainly no Sapphires did. Neither Rochant’s nor Samarku’s stolen memories would help the demon here. Her fingers clawed at a leathery wing, the blade of her Sky-leg chipped at its face. She knew Arkav was landing hits too.

  But none were enough to put it down. Around her, she became aware of the swarm breaking off its attack on the hunters to encircle them. Meanwhile, the Corpseman began to slap their attacks away, and with increasing confidence.

  Are we getting tired or is it getting wise to us?

  Pari wasn’t sure, but either way, they would need a new approach, and soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Chandni had needed to see its face with her own eyes. It was a Whispercage, but not the Whispercage, the one that had taken her baby. This one was different. It was scared of her.

  Though the body was warped almost beyond recognition, the tatters of blue clothing and the eyes gave it away. Satyendra. The thing that I raised. She had seen the seeds in the face she’d glimpsed many years ago as she’d carried her baby across the Godroad. Now they had bloomed into a terrible, monstrous thing.

  By the time she’d crawled into the chamber, Satyendra had fled up the other tunnel with supernatural speed, leaving her with only the memory of his eyes, wide and haunted. She didn’t follow. As she waited for Varg and Glider to join her, she tapped the ground and, after a moment, Crowflies hopped down from her shoulder to await instruction.

  She stroked the soft feathers of its head with her hand. ‘Find my son,’ she said. ‘Protect him and bring him to me.’

  Crowflies nodded once and took wing, going the same way Satyendra had gone. Varg emerged and was quickly forced against the wall by Glider’s bulk as it rushed forward, snarling, to where Rochant lay.

  Chandni raised a hand and the Dogkin paused, teeth bared on either side of Rochant’s head. She removed her hood prompting Varg to do the same as she shook out her long hair. It was hard to be imperious on all fours but she did her best as she turned her attention to Rochant. ‘Where is my son?’

  Rochant said nothing and gave away nothing. His face was as unreadable as the empty sky. Given the state of him, it impressed her he was even awake. His body seemed to have undergone horrific changes at the hands of the Scuttling Corpseman,
and more recent brutalities at Satyendra’s hands. Two legs and one arm were broken, and the other twitched uncontrollably at his side.

  ‘Tell me what the Corpseman has done with my son.’

  Again, Rochant was silent. The stillness of his face contrasting with the skittering of his alien arm.

  It was tempting to follow Crowflies but they had come here for two reasons, and Sa-at was but one of them. Every second that she was here, the flock were fighting for their lives, as were Lord Gada, Lord Arkav, Lady Pari, and two flights of hunters. She could not simply abandon them all. ‘Glider, I want you to search the hill for the Corpseman’s brood. Kill everything you find until you hear the fighting stop.’

  The Dogkin all barked obediently and vanished back the way she’d come.

  She heard a soft tut from Rochant. ‘The best you’ll do is get its attention, and believe me when I say you do not want that.’

  ‘The Scuttling Corpseman will think twice when it learns I have you.’

  ‘You think threatening me will allow you to control it? Try it if you want and see what happens. You don’t know the Corpseman. Nobody does except me. That’s why I’m the only one who can stop it and I’m the only one who can guarantee your son’s safety.’

  She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not. ‘What is your price?’

  ‘Your help. I want to live but not like this. I need a new body to inhabit.’

  ‘You cannot have my son.’

  ‘I confess that I am very impressed with Sa-at. He shows admirable qualities.’

  ‘If he is such a good vessel, why is he back in the Wild? I’d heard he’d been taken to the castle.’

  ‘Ah,’ Rochant replied, ‘when he learned what his duties would entail, he fled. But you see, that proves what a good match he is. Sa-at is adaptable, bright, resourceful, and has a strong instinct for self-preservation. I could not ask for better.’

  A reply came to her lips that was both hers and not hers. ‘He is under my protection and you cannot have him.’

  ‘I too am nothing if not adaptable. Should Sa-at be too much for you to sacrifice I’ll accept any of his offspring along with a guarantee that you’ll do everything in your power to assist the facilitation of my rebirth.’

  She stared hard at the floor, thinking, as Varg shuffled over.

  ‘You can’t make a deal with him, Chand. He’s worse than the bloody demons.’

  ‘This is bigger than my wants and feelings. It’s bigger than us. It’s even bigger than Rochant’s crimes. I have to weigh up what is best for everyone, not just today, but for the future.’

  ‘But—’

  She held up a hand. ‘I know. Trust me. Whatever we do here, it won’t be done lightly. It’s time for us to go. I agree that we don’t want to be here when the Corpseman returns. Varg, can you carry Rochant up the tunnel?’

  Varg crawled over to it and looked upwards. His face immediately fell. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  ‘So,’ said Rochant, still on his back. ‘Do we have an accord?’

  This time, it was Chandni’s turn to give nothing away.

  Satyendra moved so quickly he seemed to fly. In moments he was bursting from the top of the hill, driven by the need to escape his mother’s gaze and an unearthly strength. A broken amber dome surrounded him. There was a ready-made hole for him to climb through but a single sweep of his arm was enough to blast a new exit.

  Out here, the buzz of the swarm was louder, but still muted by the roar of blood and emotion in his ears. He could see fighting going on all around him, in the air, on the ground, between human and demon, and demon and demon.

  A familiar form lay in the soft grass. It was rolling back and forth in clear distress. Sa-at.

  He moved towards it, gliding as much as walking. Something about the way his legs were working had changed but it felt so natural he couldn’t tell what it was without looking, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Sa-at.

  A need for a friendly face had brought him here, but now that he could see that face, actually see it, a primal urge rose in him. To destroy. He’d had the same reaction the very first time they’d met, but this was stronger. His body was ready for it now. Needed it on some level.

  I don’t want to destroy my only friend. Do I?

  His hands began to shake, trapped between opposing needs.

  Sa-at’s pain and fear wafted towards him, enticing, and he carried on, his legs moving independently to his thoughts. He might not know what he wanted, but his limbs did.

  Other people’s emotions were no longer a taste or smell to him, he could see them like clouds of freshly sprayed perfume dappling the air. And like a well-crafted scent, they spoke to him, made him want to sample them.

  His face began to open in four places. His tongue, adapted now for things other than aiding speech, prepared to unfurl.

  I do want it. So help me, I do!

  Sa-at’s name slipped from his mind. His human needs faded too, suppressed at least for the moment. All that mattered was that he do this one thing, and then …

  And then? A little spurt of fear, also swiftly suppressed. Also forgotten.

  He was the hunger now. And he would sate it. He would destroy.

  And then? That voice again. He could push it away but not quite ignore it.

  What will I do afterwards? What will be left of me: Satyendra?

  Somehow, he stopped himself. His body was like a giant Dogkin straining at the leash. He fought it. Himself. There were many ways to sate hunger, but only one Sa-at.

  He rooted himself to the spot, quivering with effort, forcing his body to wait, pulling his long tongue back inside and folding his face back into place.

  I will go to Sa-at, but as myself.

  A few more seconds went by as he tested his will against the lure of Sa-at’s suffering and found it adequate, just.

  Vasinidra and Mother and all the others used me. I was nothing but a vessel to them, but Sa-at helped me when he didn’t have to. He saved me from Rochant’s prison. I will save him now.

  Resolved, he moved forward again. It was just a few more feet. His arms reached out, eager, and—

  Something dark shot past his shoulder, landing between him and Sa-at. A Birdkin with white beak and talons. It spread its wings wide, screeched at him. He raised a hand to knock it aside but found himself unable to attack. In its voice lay the echo of his mother’s, and in that the echo of ancient authority.

  Whatever control he’d mustered shattered at the sound. Even his hunger wilted before it.

  Unable to sate himself and unable to stand before those glaring, compound eyes, Satyendra turned and fled. A gliding shadow fleeing the light. Down the hill, away from the fighting. Away from it all.

  When he reached the dark of the trees, they welcomed him with open arms.

  Pari swung on the end of Arkav’s arm, aiming a kick for the Corpseman’s head. It wasn’t easy to do given that she couldn’t look directly at the demon. Instead, she was using a combination of its three shadows and the reflection in Arkav’s armour. She hoped Chandni would get to Rochant before the Corpseman fully adapted to them, and before the swarm could finish closing them in.

  Or maybe we can beat it ourselves. We’ve hit it so many times. It must be more hurt than it’s letting on. Perhaps one more strike – this strike – will be enough to drop it.

  Her foot swept through empty air, missing by several inches.

  Damn!

  She landed, braced herself, and was about to swing Arkav when the Corpseman made its move.

  Faster than she would have liked, it grabbed them. One hand on her arm, another on Arkav’s, two more on his shoulder. Realizing what it was about to do, she let go of her brother.

  It didn’t make any difference.

  Abruptly, they were moving in different directions, Arkav one way, Pari and her brother’s arm in the other.

  A shoulder plate shattered.

  A bone popp
ed from its joint.

  Skin tore.

  Blood spurted.

  Pari was thrown aside. She quickly adjusted, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arkav’s arm hit the ground between them. Many different emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but she ignored her thoughts, letting instinct guide her body. In a blur of motion, she had her whip in hand and was leaping forwards – only to find herself coming to a halt.

  The Corpseman held her unconscious brother in three hands. Its fourth was clamped on his head, ready to twist. Slowly the antennae protruding from skull and hands moved to point at her, like an army of curious fingers.

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Don’t kill him.’

  In her last lifecycle, she had been forced to watch as the Corpseman killed an innocent young man. It had shown no mercy then, why would it now?

  Suddenly, the noise of the swarm around her altered, from battle drone to a high-pitched whine of alarm. The Corpseman’s antennae flicked away from her towards the hill. When she looked that way, she could see white shapes moving swiftly across the hillside, digging and tearing at the things buried there.

  Arkav was dropped, forgotten, as the Corpseman leapt high into the air, and sped in the direction of the Dogkin. Some of the swarm followed though the majority continued to fight.

  I hope that’s your doing, Chandni.

  She took a step towards the hill, bracing herself for another meeting with Rochant and the demon, then she looked at her brother and the blood pouring rapidly from his body.

  Arkav would want me leave him here and go after the Corpseman. After all, I’m the only one it won’t kill. She shook her head. But I’m not saving a world that doesn’t have him in it, and I’m not confident there’s going to be any rebirths for a while.

  She let the Corpseman go and went to her brother’s side. ‘I’m here,’ she said as she began to try to staunch the bleeding. ‘Don’t even think about dying.’

  Sa-at became aware of a song, gentle, soft, the one that Crowflies used to sing to him when he was very small. The more he focused on it, the more the noises of the swarm and the fighting faded away.

  The chaotic jumble of his thoughts began to settle, the pain in his ears vanished, and he became aware that he was on his back on top of a hill. Crowflies stood by his head, one wing shielding off the view to his left.