The Perilous Tower: The Gates of Good & Evil Book 3

by Ian Irvine

  ‘Apparently I remind her of Rulke. In looks, and in daring.’

  The magiz’s stinking, brown-stained fingers clamped around an imaginary throat.

  ‘Besides, I have an idea,’ said Skald, ‘that could tilt the balance from risk to reward …’

  Durthix’s eyebrows rose. He rubbed his chin again and signed to Skald to continue.

  ‘General Chaxee believes Alcifer contains a Source, independent of nodes and fields. If we could steal it –’

  ‘Must we listen to the ravings of this disordered mind?’ exploded Dagog.

  ‘Enough of your negativity, Magiz!’ snapped Durthix. ‘Superintendent, how would you find this great Source in so vast a place?’

  ‘When Maigraith made her offer, I said neither yea nor nay. I had no authority. Neither did I state our price for undertaking so risky an endeavour on her behalf. But if you agree, High Commander, the price I would ask of Maigraith is the Source itself – where it lies and how it can be taken.’

  Durthix let out his breath in a great gust of air. He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and studied Skald, thoughtfully. ‘What do you say to that, Magiz?’

  The magiz wanted to tear the idea down. Skald could see the battle raging in him.

  But he surprised. ‘As much as any Merdrun, I want our True Purpose to be fulfilled. If this mad scheme offers hope of completing tower and tunnel in time, and powering the secret devices to be installed therein, then I say yes. The risk, as my most junior sus-magiz points out, is more than balanced by the reward.’

  ‘I say so too,’ said Durthix. ‘Skald, you may negotiate with Maigraith. If she agrees, what will you need? I’m mindful that you’re too weak to fight or use powerful Arts.’

  ‘Ten soldiers and a sus-magiz,’ said Skald, who had already thought it through. ‘And a senior sus-magiz with a field scanner capable of locating the Source – in case Maigraith tries a double-cross.’

  ‘That all?’ grunted Dagog. ‘I can hardly spare a junior sus-magiz.’

  ‘Plus a highly accomplished artisan, experienced in the making, use and repair of devices that draw on the field.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To safely remove this mighty and perilous Source. The mechanician, M’Lainte, would be ideal.’

  ‘Not a chance!’ Dagog’s voice rose. ‘High Commander, I cannot spare her.’

  ‘M’Lainte is required elsewhere,’ said Durthix. ‘Name another, Superintendent.’

  ‘The former geomancer, Tiaan,’ said Skald. She was the only other artisan whose name he remembered from Flydd’s Histories. ‘She created the first thapter, and she’s known to be sound in a crisis.’

  ‘All right,’ Dagog said grudgingly. ‘When will you speak to Maigraith?’

  ‘She usually contacts me after midnight. If she does, I’ll try –’

  ‘Don’t try,’ said Durthix. ‘Succeed! Your squad will be made ready. If Maigraith agrees, you can be gated to her within the hour.’

  50

  Another Weakness In His Plan

  To Skald’s surprise, Maigraith agreed to his terms. ‘You may have the Source, if you can find it. I know nothing about it. But …’

  ‘You have a price,’ said Skald.

  ‘Always. Rulke must not be harmed. I’ll make sure he’s out of the way.’

  Skald hid his relief. Taking Rulke on could not end well.

  ‘Is your squad ready?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re outside.’

  ‘Call them in.’

  ‘A gate is being prepared. What’s the precise destination?’

  ‘I will make the gate.’

  Skald had not expected this. What if Maigraith was in league with Rulke and planning to attack Skyrock through the gate? How could he tell? He could not read her.

  If she was, Skald would soon be dead. He called his team in: Pannilie, nine soldiers and a sergeant, then Tiaan, who was gagged and had her wrists bound, and Ghiv, the junior sus-magiz. The tent was cramped with fourteen people in it, and Pannilie was not happy.

  ‘This isn’t the plan, Skald,’ she hissed.

  ‘Maigraith gave me no choice.’

  ‘She can’t be trusted. I’m calling it off.’

  ‘No, I’m leader!’

  ‘Dagog instructed me to take charge if I deemed it necessary. And I do.’

  Skald hesitated. This was undermining his self-confidence and his authority, and any argument with her could only make it worse. They didn’t trust him.

  But as Pannilie turned to go out, Maigraith’s little voice portal transformed into a gate and he was jerked into it. Pain stabbed through his middle, he took a double blow to the head as if someone had slammed their palms against his ears, and he was disgorged into a circular pavilion in a dusty park, surrounded by crumbling stone buildings in what he assumed to be the abandoned city of Thurkad. Pannilie came through backwards, slammed into him and lost her footing, and the rest of the squad landed on top of them.

  The guards sprang up and assumed defensive positions, facing out, blades at the ready. Pannilie rose slowly, holding her left wrist, which was starting to swell.

  Maigraith stood by the pavilion. A stringy woman, a foot shorter than Skald and not half his weight, yet she was one of the most powerful people on Santhenar. He began on introductions, but she said abruptly, ‘Names are unnecessary.’

  She was staring at him. Was she thinking about Rulke, and the subtle ways that Skald resembled him?

  ‘You look bigger in the flesh,’ she said quietly.

  The left side of her face might have been carved from stone, for it was quite rigid, and the tip of her nose drooped, crone-like. How could she imagine that she could get Rulke back?

  She nodded to Tiaan. Skald supposed that they had met before. Tiaan appeared to have lost a lot of weight recently. Most of the slaves had. Mid-thirties, but with streaks of grey in her ragged dark hair. A determined jut to her neat jaw was contradicted by the desolate look in her eyes. No wonder – she had three children, the youngest only five, and had been abducted in front of them.

  Doubtless she feared for her children, and that she would never see them again. While drinking Tataste’s life, and afterwards, Skald had lived such emotions. He relived them almost every night now.

  Pannilie stalked past Skald and caught Maigraith by the arm. ‘This is not the plan.’

  A bright yellow nimbus formed around Maigraith and Pannilie was hurled backwards, off her feet.

  ‘I deal only with Skald,’ Maigraith said arrogantly. ‘Touch me again and you die.’

  Skald caught his breath. Pannilie was a powerful sus-magiz and not used to being treated with contempt. Could she accept it from an enemy, an inferior? She rose slowly, flexing her fingers. Surely she did not think to take Maigraith on? Or was that the magiz’s real plan?

  Skald caught Pannilie’s eye and shook his head. She fought inner demons, then her face set hard and she turned away, picking at the scab on her lower lip.

  ‘This way,’ said Maigraith indifferently. ‘The route is complex and you will be in darkness.’

  She led them to a small stone table on which a number of maps were held down by an fist-sized geode, one side broken open to reveal purple crystals inside. Skald quickly committed the maps to memory. It was part of the training of every Merdrun officer and he was good at it.

  Maigraith created her gate and it opened whisper-quiet; no boom, no popping, no discharges of lightning or gush of air. No Merdrun could have done it.

  ‘Go in,’ she said. ‘The gate takes you to the secret entrance. Once there, be quick to your destination. I’ve lured Rulke out of your way, but … no one can master him.’

  ‘And when we’re done?’ said Skald.

  ‘Return to the secret entrance with Lirriam, and the Source if you find it, and the gate will bring you back here.’

  But would it? He needed to trust her, just as she needed to trust him. She could not risk Rulke seeing her. But could he trust her
once she had Lirriam? He doubted it. He had to be ready for a double-cross, though he could not imagine what he would do if it happened.

  Skald took hold of Tiaan’s bound wrists and led them through the gate, which opened in the dark next to a yard-high drainage outlet. A cast iron cap, almost rusted through, lay to one side. He bent his head and went into Alcifer.

  The dark was as pitch, though from faint echoes made by their footsteps he sensed a large space. The air was stale. He dared not use a glowglobe or any form of the Art to make light here. If Rulke detected them the mission must fail.

  Tiaan gave off waves of terror, the slave’s lot. Her life was utterly dependent on his whim, and this was a very dangerous mission. They might all die here.

  Skald recalled the first map to mind and located himself on it. ‘Take hold, squad.’

  Behind him, as Senior Sus-magiz Pannilie caught hold of his belt, Skald sensed her fury and frustration. Did she think they were being led into a trap? Was she right? Her experience could not be ignored, but neither could they back out. If they returned without Lirriam, he did not think Maigraith’s gate would open, and Alcifer’s defences would not allow any Merdrun to make a gate here.

  The soldier behind Pannilie caught her belt and so on, down the line. Pannilie had the field scanner in her pack and would use it to locate the Source as soon as Lirriam was taken.

  Skald took Tiaan’s slender wrist with his left hand. She did not resist; she would have seen slaves killed for the slightest of reasons, or no reason at all. She whimpered; he was hurting her. He loosened his grip and moved forwards in the dark, free hand extended. The rest of his superbly trained squad matched him step for step.

  Maigraith’s route maps had shown the location of stairs and other key features, and the size and shape of rooms and passages, but not their function. Skald knew where they were but had no idea what each part of Alcifer was for.

  Their soft soles made no sound as they moved across the large empty room, along a narrow passage with a high ceiling, through a metal door that stood open, and up fourteen steps.

  Skald stopped at the top and everyone stopped with him. They were in the citadel of the Merdrun’s greatest enemy and there could be unseen defences anywhere. Unseen pits and traps, guard beasts, spells that could be set off at a touch, mechanisms to sever or crush or impale, poisons released from the walls.

  Pain touched him in the belly, low down, a warning not to do too much. He wasn’t a warrior anymore; he did not have the strength for it. It was hard to accept.

  ‘Anything, Pannilie?’ he said softly. She was highly adept at sensing the aura of mancery.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said curtly.

  Sweat ran down his nose. She was a danger too. Did her secret orders allow her to cut him down if things went wrong? That would be just like the magiz.

  Ahead, faint light came in through a small, rectangular window. Skald looked out and saw clusters of slender towers, red or black, in groups of three and seven and nine. Some were hundreds of feet high, others only a couple of levels.

  Beyond, starlight silvered a series of domes, the largest hundreds of yards across. Sweeping aerial walkways ran from one cluster of towers to another, and to the domes. There were bowl-shaped lakes and perfectly laid out gardens that surely must have maintained themselves while Rulke was in stasis. Alcifer was a beautiful, terrible place, powered by unknown magics, and no Merdrun could have designed so much as an outhouse here.

  Skald felt a shiver of fear. What would Rulke do to trespassers?

  They continued. Until they found Lirriam, they would speak as little as possible. Rulke might have sensing devices or protective wards, and servants and guards.

  The first task was to follow the route to Lirriam’s quarters, where Skald hoped to find her asleep. Pannilie would cast a paralysis on her, then bind and gag her. The guards would watch over Lirriam while Skald and Pannilie located and secured the Source, and then they would race back to the gate.

  A simple plan but it could go wrong in so many ways, Rulke being the most obvious. If he detected them, or realised that he had been lured away, the mission must fail.

  Skald would have liked to gate the Source directly to Skyrock, but only Rulke could make gates inside Alcifer and, the moment they emerged from the secret entrance, Maigraith’s gate would take them back to Thurkad. It was her means of ensuring there was no double-cross. And of getting her hands on her rival.

  The mission could also fail if Lirriam and Rulke were together. Maigraith was sure they were lovers and it was likely to be true – after so long under the stasis spell, a lusty man like Rulke would have a lot to make up.

  Taking a Source through a gate might also be dangerous. Had the magiz considered that? Perhaps he thought it was worth the risk.

  They were creeping along a tube-like passage now, so low that Skald, the soldiers and the tall junior sus-magiz had to bend their heads. The oily smell was stronger here and he wondered what mechanisms this incredible city held. It had been designed for Rulke in ancient times by the incomparable Aachim architect, Pitlis, and it was utterly unique.

  Skald wished he could see more of it, because Merdrun were not great builders. Their main structures were cramped communal houses, on the barren rock that was their home world, and temporary fortresses elsewhere.

  As they exited the passage his belly throbbed, more strongly than last time. In the olden days he had ignored pain; now it indicated trouble ahead. And he was already tiring. The warrior who had raced miles up the mountainside from the Sink of Despair a few weeks ago, and felt only exhilaration, was gone forever. Was he falling as quickly as he had risen?

  There was still a long way to go: five more passages totalling half a mile in length, and hundreds of feet of stairs. They had entered at the lowest point in Alcifer, and according to Maigraith’s maps Rulke’s living and working quarters were mostly high up.

  On they went, and on. Every so often the pain hacked at Skald’s belly, worse each time, and his legs were weakening. He wasn’t far from the point where he would have to will himself to take each step.

  He stopped and everyone stopped with him. Tiaan gave a little cry and he let go of her wrist; he had been crushing it again. Her terror washed over him in waves.

  He wished it had not been necessary to bring her, a slave who must hate him and all Merdrun. She was another weakness in his plan, but no Merdrun knew powered mechanisms the way she did, and he needed her to safely remove the Source.

  Would she? He had made it clear that her life depended on doing it faithfully; it was her only hope of seeing her children again. But what if she did not believe him?

  Tiaan, he knew from Flydd’s Histories, was clever, creative and unpredictable. At the end of the Lyrinx War, in despair at the ruin wrought by powered magical devices, she had destroyed all the nodes, and the fields with them. But her selfless act had backfired, gifting Santhenar to a monster, Jal-Nish Hlar, who with the power of his sorcerous Tears had become the invincible God-Emperor.

  If Tiaan thought she would be put to death once she was no longer needed, she might do anything. Another thing to worry about.

  Skald stopped at a closed door. ‘We’re close. Take a minute.’

  Behind him, he heard tiny movements in the darkness as the twelve Merdrun shifted their weight, scratched itches or made sure weapons were to hand. He closed his eyes. Even in pitch darkness it helped him to visualise his location: on Maigraith’s third map now, in the uppermost levels of the centre of Alcifer. He oriented himself and mentally traced the route she had marked to Lirriam’s room.

  ‘We go.’

  He eased the door open and they passed through into a hall, dimly lit by starlight filtering through high windows. He paused so everyone’s night sight could adjust, then went on, around a corner, and something hard struck him in the chest. A man, hurrying the other way, carrying a large jug.

  He let out a shocked cry and dropped the jug, which spilled icy water down Skald’s
front and shattered between his boots. Skald tried to grab the fellow but was too slow, too weak. The man threw himself backwards and ran.

  Pannilie cursed and tried to get past, but with Skald and Tiaan blocking the narrow passage there wasn’t room. She shook a glowstick to light.

  The man roared, ‘Rulke! Enemy intruders!’ and darted around the corner.

  51

  Put A Knife To Her Throat

  Pannilie blasted a paralysis spell at the running man but only caught his lower left leg. Skald heard him stumble, then hop away, roaring, ‘Rulke, Lirriam, intruders! Rulke, come quickly!’

  Pannilie knocked Tiaan aside, ran to the corner and blasted along the dark corridor.

  ‘Get him?’ said Skald.

  She turned and her contempt burned him. ‘Why didn’t you grab the oaf? If he’s roused Rulke, we fail!’ She ran and the soldiers raced after her.

  The least of Skald’s troops would have taken the man down in a second. Shamed, he grabbed Tiaan’s wrist. She resisted; the man’s escape must have given her hope.

  ‘Come!’ he hissed, and yanked her arm.

  She let out a small cry and lowered her head in submission. He dragged her after Pannilie and, a minute later, where the corridor ended in a T-junction with another corridor, saw Pannilie outside the door Maigraith had identified as Lirriam’s. Pannilie blasted the heavy metal door off its hinges, driving it halfway across the room, thud. A cry and the sound of someone falling.

  ‘Secure Lirriam!’ she snapped. ‘Troops, guard the corridors.’

  The sergeant lifted the door away. Lirriam, who was naked and must have risen from her bed, was unconscious on the floor with an oval bruise rising on her forehead and a trickle of blood coming from her left nostril. The nine soldiers took up their positions, well back along the corridors. Skald went in. The square, plain room was empty apart from a bed and a side table with a unlit lamp.

  He studied the woman in Pannilie’s light and caught his breath. Lirriam’s hair was astounding, unique, impossible, for it shimmered in reds and blues, greens and blacks, ever-changing as if it were made from strands of precious black opal. Her fingernails and toenails were also opaline, glistening, extraordinary. He had never seen anyone like her. Where had she come from?