Ever since they had begun to rise, Roberto had been praying they would move off. The black mat of the Work had long since faded. He felt sure the ground would be safe. But right now, to drop there would be to die. Every dead man or woman had sword and shield in hand.
And there was an order to what they did. They were forming up at the base of the crag where the ground was clear.
So far they hadn't thought to climb the rope up the crag path. Perhaps the dead could only be given a single, simple instruction. Either the whole force would attempt the climb or none of them would. Roberto didn't think Gorian would waste his time. Thousands of dead were gathering along the line of the crag, silent but for the sporadic chink of metal on metal. They waited. Roberto was worried about why. He feared one of the living coming to move among them. While the dead had not looked above the horizontal, no living man could fail to see the helpless few Conquord citizens trapped on the crag.
Julius was speaking again. Roberto looked at him and his heart fell. The Speaker was leaning out from the wall, looking down at the dead mustering there. What Roberto had first heard was a muttered prayer but now his voice was rising. Roberto didn't like the way it was going.
'Turn away from the path of evil. Lie back down. Feel the embrace of God again. This is not your cycle renewed. Join me in praying for those who walk with you. Let me walk among you and show you the way to the Omniscient's bosom. He who commands you is not God but man. Set your will against him. Stop him. I will help you. I will come down to you.'
'Julius. Don't even think about it.'
'They have to listen to me, Ambassador.' Julius's voice was choked. 'Look at them. Confused. Alone even though they stand in a crowd. I cannot save myself while so many are abandoned.'
'Julius, look at me. Please.'
The Speaker turned his head. His eyes were gone, unfocused. They darted everywhere. His breathing was furious and his face held an expression that burned with righteous action.
'No one will save those who do not try to save another,' said Julius.
'You don't understand. They will not hear you. They will try to kill you. Make you one of them.'
'I have to try.'
'Save it for those who can hear you.' 'They will hear me,' said Julius. He let go his hands. 'No!'
Julius Barias dropped to the ground, landing lightly and rolling to avoid hurting his legs. He was no more than three feet from the nearest dead man. Above Roberto, Dahnishev and his medics were shouting, urging the Speaker back to the crag path, and their cries were joined by echoes from above. Roberto clung on and watched.
The dead ignored him and initially, Julius ignored them too. His eye had been caught by something else away to the left. Gorian's army continued to muster and at last, began to march away down the slope towards the road. They were clearing from below Roberto. It was as ordered as it was repulsive. And it least it gave Julius a ghost of a chance of survival.
The Speaker was kneeling near the freshly filled graves. Roberto strained to look. There was a shimmer in the air over them. Either that or Roberto had some tick in his eye because it looked like the earth was moving. Julius spread his arms wide and spoke words that Roberto didn't quite catch. A hand sprang from the earth, grasping at the air, and Roberto all but lost his grip. He felt a wave of nausea roll over him. Julius cried out too and began to shout.
'O God, the Omniscient, let your people rest. Blessed by your servant, they should be safe in your embrace and yet still they move. Do not punish them further for their misfortune. They come to you damaged of body but whole in will. God the Omniscient, I beseech you.'
The whole grave was rippling now as if the dead below responded directly to Julius. Headless corpses but still Gorian had given them life again. They were useless to him and yet he tormented them. Though surely they could feel nothing, the violation of their rest was enraging Julius. Roberto felt the same way.
Adranis ...
Roberto began to move down the crag face. Dahnishev was shouting at him to stop but he wouldn't hear. The dead had moved from below him and even had they not it would have made no difference.
'Roberto. Stay where you are.'
'My brother!' he shouted, voice catching in his throat. 'That bastard has brought my brother back.'
'No, Roberto,' called Dahnishev. 'It is not. It is just flesh made to move. Your brother is gone. Hear your own words. Please.'
'My brother,' he repeated and dropped the last few feet to the ground.
He ran towards the graves. Julius was praying now. Roberto slid down next to him, making the Omniscient symbol at his chest. Across this grave and the others further right, the fresh piled soil vibrated. Roberto could see a dozen arms and parts of torsos that had broken through the shallow layer covering them.
'Keep going, Julius,' he said. 'Please give them rest. Give my brother rest.'
'They can't hear me, Ambassador. I have begged them to lie still and seek our Lord but they won't. I don't understand.' He looked at Roberto. Tears stained his face. 'What are you doing down here?'
There was renewed shouting. Dahnishev again. Roberto saw him waving and pointing away in the direction of the road.
'Saving you, I think. The dead are coming back.'
'I can help them. They will listen because they can see.'
'You will do no such thing.'
But Julius was already up and moving. Back along the base of the crag. Roberto strode after him. He drew his gladius and felt totally vulnerable. Armour but no shield. Moving back up the rise, Roberto could see thirty or more of the dead heading towards them. They would reach the crag path before the dead but Julius was not interested in a climb. A small unit of dead, acting independently of the mass.
Roberto frowned. 'How is that possible?'
'Faithful of the Omniscient. Come to me.' Julius had his arms outstretched. 'Pray with me. Turn back from your path.' 'Julius, stop,' said Roberto. 'This is madness.'
And it was. Dahnishev was bawling at him from his ledge above the action. The rest of his medics wanted Roberto to climb the crag path. The dead were ten yards beyond it. Julius was marching towards them, blind to the risk, lost in his belief.
'They will kill you. You can't help them.'
'The Omniscient's arms will always be open to you. I know you believe. The voice in your head is not your God.' 'Julius!' roared Roberto.
He stopped. Julius was not listening. Roberto stood at the base of the crag path. The Speaker was a few paces ahead and a few more from the advancing dead. The sight of them did not deter him. Within his madness he had courage at least. The dead were focused on Julius while others still moved across the slope to join the mass heading for the road.
Roberto found the scene surreal. In this lifeless landscape, standing on the sludge of rotten grass among the debris of trees destroyed, he watched dead people, blistered and green-hued, stride towards a man who wanted to save them. They might even be aware of that but a compulsion within them took the compassion from their eyes. Each had a sword. Many had shields. Conquord men were at the head but in the group, Tsardon walked too. Roberto's mind screamed at him to get up the path while he still could but a stronger force forbade him move.
Julius had stopped walking now. His head was held high and he spoke directly to them. He was praying for them, speaking the names of those he recognised, willing them to stop and see. But they just kept walking. A blade slashed out. Julius leapt backwards, the edge missing his stomach by a hair. His voice did not falter. Indeed it strengthened. The dead began to close around him in an arc. They would surround him. Cut him down.
'Back off, Julius. Don't throw your life away,' said Roberto, moving towards him once more, meaning to grab him and pull him bodily from his own demise.
Another blade stabbed at Julius, and another. One caught his arm, cutting through cloth and into flesh. The other whistled just above his head. Julius stumbled backwards, slipped and fell. Roberto ran the few paces to him. The dead were on them. He hacke
d at the nearest leg, chopping deep into flesh. The legionary fell sideways, catching another and bringing her down. The march was disrupted for a heartbeat. Roberto grabbed Julius's uninjured arm and hauled him backwards towards the crag path.
'Julius, get up, get up.'
Julius turned his head to Roberto, displaying a face from which the veil of confusion had been lifted. Now he was blank with fear, ‘I don't—' 'Up!'
Robetto was still dragging him over the slick ground. The dead advanced at their even pace. The man whom Roberto had chopped down could not walk but dragged himself across the ground, still intent on his perverse duty. Julius was trying to get to his feet but couldn't get them under him.
'Up, Speaker Barias.' Roberto wrapped an arm around his chest and hauled him to his feet, half choking him as his arm slipped up to the Speaker's neck. 'And climb. Don't look back.'
Roberto pushed him towards the path and stepped up to face the dead. He ducked a slash and kicked the feet from under his attacker. Keeping himself moving forwards, he stayed in a crouch and turned his body in hard, shoulder impacting with a second dead. The woman overbalanced, fell backwards. Roberto threw himself to the right. A sword struck the ground next to his left foot. He rolled further. The dead turned to face him. An idea spawned.
He got to his feet and backed away, heading down the slope towards the castle. Slowly.
'That's it,' he said. 'This way. Come this way. Just a few paces.'
Julius had made it to the cliff path and was watching. Roberto could see that not all the dead had taken his bait. If this really meant independent thought, the Conquord was in even more trouble than Roberto had feared.
'Climb, Julius.'
Roberto couldn't afford to draw the dead away very far. Down the slope he could see hundreds more had gathered. All were Tsardon. And on the road, yet more. From this distance he couldn't see if they were living or dead but the fact that there was no noise coming from them; no rank and file chatter, no songs and no shouted orders left him in little doubt. He shook his head, unable to fully conceive the magnitude of Gorian's crime.
He began to circle back towards the crag. He'd only strayed ten yards from it. He glanced at the path. Julius wasn't climbing. He was backing away towards the writhing graves.
'No! Idiot. Go up, it's your only chance.'
Roberto broke into a run. The dead tracked his movement. But from the back of their party, others broke off to close the gap to the crag path. Julius had stopped again. His head turned this way and that.
'Up! Climb the bloody path. God-surround-me, climb.'
It was too late. Roberto slid to a stop by Julius. The first of the dead had reached the path. Others were joining him. Those that Roberto had led away were coming back. Still more were heading back up from the road. And as Roberto looked on, his heart fell. They dead began to climb. He rammed his sword back into its scabbard.
'Congratulations, Julius, I think you've killed us both.'
'They wouldn't listen,' he said. 'They couldn't hear me.'
Roberto grabbed his shoulders. The dead closed in on them.
‘I told you. I tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen. They are lost to you, don't you get it?' He shook Julius, got some reaction at least. 'Come on. Only one way to go now.'
He turned Julius and began to run him down the crag towards the river, not sure quite what he'd do when they got there. Dahnishev was still shouting at him. The surgeon and his team were trapped now. No way down, no way up. Roberto stopped and turned.
'Then you're like me, Dahnishev! You'll have to wait until they're gone. Pray, old friend, that we see each other again.'
Roberto shoved Julius in the back and made him move again.
'That I should be stuck with you of all people,' he said. 'You'd better make yourself useful or so help me, I will leave you behind.'
'Where are we going?' asked Julius, breathing hard as they ran.
'Back to Estorr. What else is there? And don't worry about your damned lost flock. Because I can promise you that you'll see them all again at the gates of the Hill. Now run. Can you swim?'
‘I ... yes, I can.'
'Good, because I doubt anyone left a boat moored down at the river bank and I am not about to knock on the castle gates and ask for one.'
Trying not to think too hard about his predicament, Roberto ran ·from the dead, ran from the legion, ran for his life.
Chapter Thirty-Four
859th cycle of God, 36th day of Genasrise
Gorian fell back on the bed and his hand came away from Kessian's shoulder. The Gor-Karkulas relaxed.
'Keep the path closed to them. And the road. They won't get far.'
'I think we lost them,' said Kessian.
'But we learned so much,' said Gorian. 'Just look what we can make our people do.'
'But it costs a lot of energy to split them so small,' said Kessian.
'Yes it does. Yet there are times it might be necessary.'
'It makes them weak, the ones we split away.'
'But we can return them to the mass and there be strong again.' Gorian rubbed his face and sat up. He stared at Kessian. 'You felt this all by yourself?'
Kessian nodded.
'You learn fast.' Gorian fell back on the bed again. 'I'm exhausted and I still have to contact Atreska and Gestern. Kessian, go out with the Karkulas and my Lords Tydiol and Runok. We have to track the enemy.'
'What about that man you want?'
'We have him trapped,' said Gorian. 'Now go on. Our people need their leaders. I'll join you later. Don't go far. I don't think our trapped enemy has plans to run. They'll want to watch us, so keep out of sight.'
Silence grew as their footsteps died away. Gorian felt he could sleep for three days but his work was not yet done. The excitement of raising six thousand, and the realisation of the power they gained from being among so many of their kind was still with him. The ability to split their tasks if only temporarily. And the thrill of the brief chase for Del Aglios who had revealed himself through the eyes of one of
his own legionaries so recently taken to stand by Gorian. 'And I will get you, Del Aglios.'
If Gorian was honest with himself, he felt quite ill, not just exhausted. A consequence of the dark energies he had sent up the slope. Another wonderful result, another successful experiment harvesting so many undamaged dead. But there was residue in him that he was fighting off. He laughed to himself, wishing just for a moment that he was Ossacer and could dismiss disease on an instant. He would work it out. Later. Other matters were more pressing.
Gorian settled himself and let the energy maps coalesce in his mind's eye. Thousands upon thousands of gossamer threads emanated from his body and fled away to every point of the compass. Thick knots of slowly pulsing energies led to Kessian and through him to the two Gor-Karkulas. Here rested the structures that were the Works keeping the dead animated. They were intense orbs of incandescent blue from which the individual strands that linked to each dead writhed away.
Those energy lines that tracked away through earth and under sea to more distant places were those that interested Gorian now. These were barely visible filaments but still one existed between Gorian and each one of the dead walking and fighting for him in Atreska and Gestern. The Gor-Karkulas merely boosted his own strength. He could feel them, his dead, and if he concentrated, he could channel his thoughts. His greatest discovery had been the ability to maintain these links without conscious, constant thought. It was the beauty of the earth; the greatest rumbling circuit of them all.
Gorian breathed deep and pushed out along these distance lines. Fed by the slumbering muscle of the earth itself, those extraordinary powers that fed earthquake and volcano; using amplification points along the way where the energy concentrated and leading to the lights that represented the Gor-Karkulas travelling with the Tsardon, the Dead Lords and his people.
Without Kessian by him, he was too tired to go further than his chosen Karkulas but he could at lea
st use the Karku priest.
‘I am here,' he said.
Gorian felt a ripple back through the lifelines. It was a reflexive defence. The Karkulas couldn't know how to respond proactively but he was uncomfortable with Gorian's intrusion into his life map nonetheless. They had been quelled very quickly, these Karku. Having promised resistance to all Gorian and King Khuran desired, they understood almost immediately that Gorian could use them whether or not they gave consent.
They had threatened to starve themselves but the Tsardon had demonstrated a willingness to force-feed and Gorian had been happy to call their bluff. The Karkulas feared him, he knew that. They could sense the power within the Ascendant even if they did not fully understand it. And he let them know he understood the implications of their deaths on the whole of Karku society. In return for their compliance he had promised them their safety and ultimate return to the Heart Shrine.
For the moment the Karkulas were acquiescent. They hated Gorian but he could live with that. He was used to it.
The Karkulas couldn't respond directly through the energy map but he could speak. Gorian heard the words (or those of the people speaking to the priest) through the Karku's ears. Again, the understanding had been so simple to come by in the end. In the same way that Ossacer used life energies against the blankness of stone to draw a mind map of the world to counter his blindness, so it was possible to interpret the modulations of energy in the ear and reproduce them as sound in his own. It was the same with his remote sight.
'What do you want?' said the Karkulas.
It would always give Gorian a thrill. It had to be five hundred miles as the crow flew to the army of Tsardon and dead marching through Atreska. More than fifteen hundred miles between him and the devastation in Gestern that was quickly approaching the capital city of Skiona and the principal port of Portbrial. That was for later.
'I will speak with Lord Hasheth,' said Gorian. 'And you will open your eyes. Don't forget that though I am a long way from you, I can still hurt you.'
A Shout for the Dead Page 34