Whether they cried out it was impossible to say. All sound was drowned out by the thunder of the waterfall. I glanced down and saw the bodies of Tyron and Jacanda strike the rocks; there was a brief spatter of red before they were borne swiftly away into the darkness.
THE BREATH OF THE WOLF
It is little wonder that the djinn hated and feared the gramagandar. Little wonder too that humans deployed it without mercy.
If a weapon exists, it will be used.
But there are always consequences.
The History of the Conflict by Eitel the Pessimist
LEIF
I was shocked to my core. My mind in a whirl, I sat down on the damp rocks and buried my face in my hands while the roar of the cascade filled my ears.
A crazy thought whirled through my head even faster than the vortex of water swirling in the rocky basin at the foot of the waterfall: Tyron might still be alive!
I leaped to my feet, about to dive into the maelstrom and rescue him. I even opened my mouth to shout out for help, but then I remembered the long fall and the splash of red blood on the rocks, and knew that Tyron was gone for ever.
It had happened so quickly. If only I’d stepped between him and the woman. Now it was too late, and I could only rock back and forth on my heels, seeing that terrible image over and over again. I sat down again, and at one point someone came and shouted into my left ear, but I pushed them away.
I became aware that the others were setting down their burdens and squatting on the ground some distance away, but it seemed unimportant. Whatever happened now, it no longer mattered. Nothing could change what had taken place. I was filled with a terrible grief and sense of loss.
Tyron had been my trainer and my friend. Long ago I had lost my father, Math; this was like losing a father all over again. Tyron had guided and advised me; he had helped to make me what I was. Now poor Teena had lost her husband, father and mother to Hob. How would her frail mind be able to cope with the grief? How could I ever tell her the truth of what had just happened? And Kwin … Despite their arguments, she had loved her father deeply.
For a long time I lingered beside the waterfall, my mind numb. Then I looked up and saw Thrym standing silently at my side, with Konnit close by.
‘We need to press on now,’ Konnit said.
But before I could reply, Thrym spoke. ‘What is your will, Leif?’ he asked.
‘My will …’ I mused, shaking my head, still in shock. ‘For so long now my will has been the will of Tyron – I can’t believe he’s gone. I just want to complete what he started.’
‘Then listen to me,’ Thrym said. ‘Listen well. You know what must be done. We must take the weapon to the place where the mothers of Hob still dwell. We must find and destroy those shateks – though many of our enemies stand between us and that place. In order to breach their defence, we must use the gramagandar again.’
I nodded grimly. ‘Whatever it takes. We can’t turn back now.’
Now Konnit came to kneel at my side. ‘Once we have reached the place of the shateks, a second thing must be done,’ he said grimly. ‘The gramagandar is a weapon that works in two ways. The first you have already seen. In the second, the Breath of the Wolf is released slowly, in expanding waves of death. It slowly exhales three times, each breath reaching out further than the last. A shatek and all born of her flesh will die at its touch.’
‘Then you too will die,’ I said, gazing directly into Thrym’s eyes.
‘All born of a shatek must die here,’ he replied. ‘There will be a long pause between each breath, but the third will reach up to the world above. It will pass through rock and cleanse both the underworld and the towers and spires and extend to the edge of the city. If I am able to, I’ll leave before this last lethal breath.’
‘Why can’t Thrym leave us immediately so that we can start this here and now?’ I demanded of Konnit. ‘We must be close to the shateks. Couldn’t the gramagandar destroy them from here?’
‘Perhaps, but there would be no certainty of success,’ he told me. ‘We must reach their lair, their birthing chambers. Only by placing the gramagandar there can we be truly certain of destroying them.’
‘Then we’ve no choice. We must go on,’ I said, getting to my feet and retrieving my sword and shield.
At last we entered a cavern so vast that it might have accommodated the Wheel itself.
Here the light was faint and we’d only a few torches remaining, so there was much that might lie hidden in the shadows. Then, far ahead, across the cavern, lit from behind by an arc of light, I saw our enemies arrayed against us: a band of Hob’s selves, several score strong. This time there was no bright light to turn them into silhouettes and obscure their faces. And I saw that their faces were all the same!
Each large hairless head had a hooked nose and strange, terrifying eyes, the small dark iris lost within the expanse of white eyeball. And every one of those faces that glared at us, emanating power and hatred, was the face of Hob.
Beyond these, glowing and shimmering in the darkness, stood a bridge that curved in a great iridescent arc over a black chasm, as if linking two shores. But the further shore was lost in mist, and at first I took that bridge to be a trick of the light, an ethereal projection upon which no creature of substance could ever safely step.
But Thrym pointed directly at it. ‘I suspect that the shateks sleep beyond that bridge. We must cross to the far side and search for them.’
I looked again at our foe. A few of the warriors that looked like Hob were dressed as if for Arena 13, in the leather shorts and short-sleeved jerkins that left their flesh bare for the blade. Others wore dark armour, with helmets that obscured their faces, and wielded longswords or great axes; some even carried spears.
They might not all be selves of Hob, I reflected. Were some of these the dead, or those who, through fear, obeyed a terrible master? I thought again of Jacanda, who had taken Tyron to his death; the husband she had professed to love even as she prepared to end his life.
Why? Was it because Hob had promised to leave their daughters alone? Was it to save Teena and Kwin from the torments of this underworld?
Then another terrible thought slid into my mind. Tyron had fallen – almost certainly to his death. But what if Hob managed to retrieve his head and animate it, thus adding it to those tormented souls we had already seen? That must not be allowed to happen. That was one more reason to obliterate Hob entirely.
We needed to slay all these who opposed us. Some might indeed be poor suffering beings who were also victims … But we had no choice.
‘Stand aside!’ cried Konnit, calling to our enemies. ‘Stand aside and let us pass! Stand aside or feel the wrath of the Genthai!’
But his words sounded empty; they echoed back off the walls and were distorted, falling away into nothingness. For death in this place had no meaning for the followers of Hob. A djinni did not die as humans died. Those selves didn’t fear us. They only sought to protect the shateks, which promised immortality. Their individual deaths meant nothing.
As for the others who served Hob here, why should they care for our threats? The only certainty they knew was the torment their dark lord inflicted on them; his will was all.
The assembled ranks quickly gave their answer: laughter rippled out across the cavern – a laughter that grew and grew into a thunder of contempt. Then, as it faded, they clanged swords against shields or struck boots or weapons on the ground – metal, wood or leather upon stone – so that the cavern rang and boomed with the tumult of their challenge.
And then they charged.
Even before he spoke Konnit had nodded to Thrym: the gramagandar was already in position. With a cough and a deep roar, the Breath of the Wolf spread out to sear our enemies. Many fell immediately, licked into swift dissolution by that purple tongue of fire; others ran on a little way before they too staggered and fell.
A few avoided those pulses of fire and came at us from the side. But we formed a d
efensive circle around the weapon and, even as they attacked, Konnit began to lead us towards the bridge, moving forward as rapidly as the lacs who carried the weapon could manage.
Very few of our enemies reached that defensive ring, but those that did were cut down by Genthai blades and arrows; and, under the direction of Thrym, the four lacs turned slowly clockwise so that the gramagandar pulsed fire in a great circle. And I felt the vibration in my teeth as that fire passed through me. I remembered Konnit’s words:
We are warriors and need not fear old age.
But now we had reached the bridge and, with the gramagandar pointing backwards to destroy any pursuers, Thrym took the lead and began the long climb to its apex, which soared over a deep, dark chasm.
I followed him, but no sooner had I set foot upon the bridge than a warm wind blasted upwards from the darkness below; a gale that roared about my ears and stank of rotting seaweed cast up onto a mudflat. It was the stench of stagnant seawater into which flesh had decayed, the putrefaction of a dead womb.
Despite this, I did not falter, and moments later the air was still again, and I could hear footsteps echoing back from the stony vault far above. I looked behind and saw Konnit and Kalasar following in my wake and, further back, the four lacs struggling with their heavy burden. Behind them came Tundar and the five Genthai archers, who were still firing at our pursuers.
The bridge under my feet was translucent, like crystal, but felt abrasive and coarse. The incline became steeper and, as we approached the apex, it suddenly became slippery underfoot; I stumbled and almost fell. Fear of that great chasm beneath me made me slow my pace.
And the thought came to me that, with one wrong step, the four lacs carrying the gramagandar could send all hope plunging into the abyss. Yet the bridge was wider than it had looked, and keeping to its centre we hoped that we were safe.
It was then that I saw three dark armoured figures waiting right at the centre of the bridge. Were these the last selves of Hob? I wondered.
Thrym turned and spoke. ‘Leave them to me, Leif,’ he said in a voice that was more command than request. He drew his blades.
‘No,’ Konnit said. ‘Why take a risk when there is a far easier way?’
At that Thrym smiled grimly and the gramagandar was brought forward. Its flame quickly cleared the bridge of opposition.
Was that almost the end of Hob? Surely all that remained now were the shateks, the mothers who might yet regenerate his selves?
The wind came again from the pit, filling my nostrils with its stench, this time almost extinguishing our remaining torches.
Thrym and I reached the top of the bridge and began the descent, walking side by side. We saw that this side extended right down into what appeared to be a roughly circular crater. The high inner walls of this vast pit were dimly lit, the light that radiated from the rainbow bridge itself brighter by far. But as we descended, both sources of light began to wane, and after another two dozen paces we slowed and, in the deepening gloom, waited for the gramagandar, and then Konnit and Kalasar. Immediately behind them were two of the archers, but Tundar and the others had remained in the centre of the bridge to guard our rear.
Konnit was carrying a torch, so he moved into the lead with Thrym, while I followed behind them with the others. At last we reached the end of the bridge; around us was darkness, and our torches cast huge distorted shadows onto the circular wall that enclosed us. Now we could see caverns at the base of this wall – thirteen dark, hungry mouths, each of which could be home to a shatek. However, we had to be sure.
Suddenly I heard a sound – a series of light clicks like the flexing of ancient bones, coming from the mouth of the nearest tunnel. Then a head slowly emerged into the light – a bestial head, a travesty of the human female, smooth and devoid of hair, with eyes that were large, luminous and green.
Yes, this was indeed the lair of the shateks!
Already the lacs had set the weapon down on the ground; two were positioning it while two had pulled the double-bladed axes from their backs and stood facing the shatek.
I studied the creature more carefully: its nose was large and its mouth was open, the voluptuous lips pulled back to reveal double rows of teeth, sharp and curving back towards the dark throat like the poisonous fangs of a serpent. But any resemblance to a human female ended there, for the body that scuttled into the flickering torchlight was similar to that of the shatek Ada had bought from the Trader; similar also to the shatek of Shalatan. Its glistening black body was like that of an insect, but it had eight legs and was twice the size of an ox – far bigger than either of the two I’d seen previously.
Now it darted out of the cave, running straight towards us. But the two lacs raised their axes high and brought them down on its head. The first blow was deflected, as if by armour, but the second bit deep into the shatek’s left eye. It screamed in agony and retreated back towards the tunnel, shaking its head and splattering its attackers with gore. Then, suddenly, it turned, raised its head and vomited, projecting towards its attackers a long silver arc of fluid.
Now it was the turn of the lacs to scream: both fell to their knees, clutching their faces. Steam rose from their unprotected heads and I realized that the fluid was burning their skin and eyes.
The shatek was rushing towards us again, but an arrow had buried itself in the remaining eye and it came to a halt, shaking its head from side to side, as if to dislodge it. From a cave to our left emerged another shatek, and this one too was stopped by an arrow. More shateks were appearing, but Konnit shouted at the three archers on the bridge, who came running to help their comrades. They now proved their worth, for again and again they fired with deadly accuracy, their arrows finding their targets: the shateks were hit or forced to withdraw back into the safety of their lairs.
The immediate danger seemed to be over.
‘How long will it take? How long before the first breath is released?’ I asked Konnit.
‘In less than a minute it will be ready,’ he replied.
‘And the second?’
‘An hour. And the third a further hour after that.’
‘Then run, Thrym. Run for your life!’ I commanded. ‘Return to the surface.’
‘But there is still danger here,’ he protested.
‘Listen, Thrym. One day we may face a greater enemy even than Hob. Run swiftly, I command you. Save yourself for that.’
He turned obediently, ran past the gramagandar and was soon lost to sight over the bridge. Some of our enemies had pursued us to the other side, but how many and whether they could halt Thrym was difficult to say. I worried that he wouldn’t have time to escape the first exhalation of the Wolf.
And, indeed, the Wolf soon breathed out. The first warning was a tingling in my teeth; a discomfort that quickly became a pain; and immediately the gramagandar began to glow with a soft orange light.
For a moment I felt dizzy; then I felt weak – and then came a brief flash of light so intense that I was temporarily blinded.
When I could see again, I hurried past the gramagandar, averting my eyes from the lacs who’d collapsed across it; lacs who had laboured hard to bring to this place the instrument of their own destruction. In the tunnels, Hob’s shateks must also be dead, I knew.
We had won. Surely Hob was no more. My vengeance was complete, and the people of Midgard were finally safe from that cruel predator. It was good to taste victory after so long, but now we needed to escape from Hob’s lair. There might still be bands of tassels untouched by the gramagandar.
Konnit gestured towards the bridge, and we made our way carefully across that slippery surface, speeding up as the going grew easier on the other side. On our way out of the citadel we might encounter tassels, but there was no desperate need for haste, and we proceeded through the tunnels and caverns at a steady pace. At the beginning of the second hour, the Wolf, now left behind us, breathed out for a second time, and the few enemies we saw had already started to dissolve.
; At last we reached the place where the human heads had swayed on stalks, silently pleading to us. There we halted briefly, amazed by the change wrought by the breath of the gramagandar.
The heads were intact, but now they lay on the ground, their open eyes unseeing in death. It was the stems formed of false flesh that had melted or withered, denying sustenance to those poor tortured humans. It was a merciful release from what Hob had inflicted upon them.
We continued on towards the surface. Despite our victory I felt strangely uneasy; gradually this grew into a strong sense of foreboding.
What if beyond the citadel, out of reach of the final breath of the gramagandar, one of Hob’s selves had escaped destruction? Wode and his men were guarding the Wheel and the area around it, but they couldn’t watch everything. One of his selves might have been out there spying – perhaps even working within the Wheel itself. If this was the case, it would exact a terrible revenge for what had been done here.
I began to walk faster. I wanted to be sure that Kwin was safe, but my heart was heavy with the burden I carried towards her.
I would have to tell her of the death of her father.
MY NAME IS KWIN
Look into a mirror and speak. If you recognize your reflection, you are sentient.
But where does your consciousness reside? Within your head or within its reflection?
The Manual of Nym
KWIN
I’d stayed in the admin building longer than usual. As the start of the season approached, there was much more to do and I had to keep on top of the paperwork.
It was a good excuse too. I didn’t want to be around while my father and Leif made their preparations to attack Hob. It would only have made me more anxious. So I had said my farewells at breakfast and spent the day working hard to keep my fears at bay.
Thrym was going to be part of the attack, so I had a substitute guard, a young Genthai warrior who’d forgotten how to smile. Sternly, and with his back ramrod straight, he escorted me home through the gloomy city streets. When I approached the house, it was already dark. I thanked him, and he nodded in return and left me at the entrance to the yard.
The Warrior Page 17