“And everyone always says I have the bad ideas,” Protaxes said sardonically.
“An eternal prison,” Khanewal mused. She was smiling as she said it, clearly liking the idea.
“It had better work,” Tu Sinar said, speaking for the first time. “If he ever gets free, he will show us no mercy.”
“We can agree on that,” Gorim said grimly.
Golgath had turned dark, tremors crossing his form like waves. In a voice that was surf and seagulls he said, “There is nothing else we could possibly shape that would hold one of the First Ring.”
“It’s risky—” Protaxes began.
“Do you ponder the risks to rising from your slumbers in the morning?” Khanewal asked sarcastically. “Do you shiver there, wondering whether to start with one foot or the other?”
“Enough!” Xochitl snapped before the argument could proceed, and Sententu added a warning growl. Both knew how fragile this coalition was. The First Ring had feuded for countless millennia. They could easily stand here for a hundred years trading barbs and not realize it. When life is endless, time means little. Yet Melekath would not waste that time. He would plan and he would act and they might not pin him again.
“It would solve many problems,” Sententu conceded.
In the end they agreed because there were no better ideas. The lesser Shapers and the humans were ordered to cease their assault on the city, move back, and make ready to share their power. The rest lined up in front of the city, only a few dozen paces from the edge of the shield that protected it. Lowellin stood next to Xochitl.
“You are not beginning to doubt now, I hope,” he said as the rest were moving into place. “You know there is no other way. What he has done threatens Life itself, and even the Spheres. If Life is allowed to spread unchecked, it will eventually consume everything.”
“I know, I know,” Xochitl said tiredly. It was a conversation they had had many times during the siege. “You are right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I only want to be sure you will not waver,” Lowellin said.
“Your only concern is for them, right?” Xochitl said, gesturing to the humans. “This has nothing to do with your hatred toward Melekath?”
Lowellin stiffened. “If you think that my decision is—”
“Stop,” Xochitl said, placing her hand on his arm. “I am sorry. I only want this to be over.” She looked at the city. Sensing something different coming, a number of Melekath’s Children had gathered near the shield and were watching intently. Something passed over her features and she turned her face away, not wanting to look at them.
Sententu stood in the middle of the line. At his signal, they bent and reached into the stone underfoot. It yielded before them as if it was only mud. Then they pulled back. A long crack opened, quickly growing deeper and wider while the earth groaned as it was torn apart. Down and down they went, opening a chasm around the city, its bottom far beyond the reach of sunlight. By then the inhabitants of the city had all gathered at the shield, staring on in fear and awe. Cries arose from some and Xochitl shuddered when she heard them, keeping her eyes averted.
The chasm deepened. Inside the city, the cries grew louder. A figure had appeared among the inhabitants. They beseeched him, some going so far as to pull on his robe, but he was staring fixedly at Xochitl. “Do not do this, Xochitl,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “I implore you.”
Xochitl faltered and looked up into his gaze.
At that moment they broke through into the abyss. There was a shriek, followed by a whistling sound, and the ground tilted crazily beneath them.
“It’s coming!” Protaxes yelled. The whistling noise was drawing closer fast.
It almost got away. Distracted by Melekath, Xochitl missed the first time she grabbed at the chaotic energy. It slipped through her grasp and surged upwards. At the last moment she was able to get a hold of it—drawing heavily on the Shapers and humans gathered behind her—and wrest it under control. Even as she fought to get it under control, she knew that some had gotten away, but there was no time to think of it now. Nor could she think of the people in the city who were screaming in terror, falling back as a wave of purple blackness boiled up out of the chasm.
The Shapers threw everything they were and everything they could get from the army behind them into hanging on. It was like trying to hold onto a flood. But somehow they did. Somehow they bent it to their combined will, just enough to divert the flood over the doomed city.
“Xochitl! Gorim! Help me seal the abyss!” Sententu roared.
As the others fought to hold back the flood of chaotic energy, the three Nipashanti jumped down into the chasm. For long moments they could not seal the abyss and the Nipashanti up above cursed and screamed, but at last they were able to close the crack they had made.
The whistling shriek died away and the Nipashanti fell back from the chasm. Xochitl had a long burn along one arm. Protaxes was unable to stand. Gorim was on one knee. For once Khanewal had nothing to say.
The purple blackness was spreading rapidly over the shield protecting the city. The people in the city were panicking, trying to flee. But it was too late. In moments the blackness covered everything, thinly at first, then thickening and hardening. In the last moments Xochitl looked up and saw Melekath staring at her. Then he was gone, the city of Durag’otal and its inhabitants sealed in blackness.
“It is flawed,” Sententu said, pointing.
There was a hole, high up on one side.
“It was you,” Lowellin said, turning on Xochitl. “He distracted you and you lost hold. Some got away and now the prison is incomplete.” Xochitl lowered her head. “You did it on purpose,” he whispered, his features twisted with rage.
“I will seal it,” Sententu announced. The rest turned to him, surprised.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Xochitl said. She was cradling her injured arm, but the pain in her eyes was not from that. “It is forever.”
The massive Nipashanti shrugged. “I tire of this world. There is nothing left for me. It is decided.”
“The Guardians escaped before the prison was complete,” Gorim observed, looking off into the distance.
“It does not matter,” Sententu replied. “They cannot help their master now.” He walked to the prison wall and began to climb the side. Each time he touched the wall, his skin sizzled and he seemed to melt away, as if the wall was dissolving him. When he reached the opening, he paused for a moment, looking around at the world he had known for countless millennia. Then he began to lose shape, as if he was melting. He flowed into the hole, filling it.
“We need to sink this cursed place underground,” Gorim growled. “I do not like to look upon it.”
The Shapers spread out and encircled the city. They peeled the stone back and the prison began to sink out of sight. Only Lowellin was watching the opening that Sententu had filled. Only Lowellin saw something slip up the side of the prison and sink into Sententu’s now-formless shape. He said nothing, a thoughtful look on his face.
Fifty
“There it is,” Rome said. It was about an hour after sunrise and the army, or at least part of it, had finally reached Guardians Watch. Most of the army was still strung out down the hill behind him. They’d marched through the night, stopping only for an hour around midnight, and the men were exhausted. Rome’s horse stood with its head down. Quyloc’s and Tairus’ horses didn’t look any better. There was an ache in Rome’s lower back, courtesy of a spear he’d caught a few years back, and he wondered when he’d gotten so old. He felt like he could topple over and be asleep before he hit the ground.
To Rome’s left was the long, high ridge of broken granite that sloped down from the Firkath Mountains, blue in the distance. To his right loomed the bulk of the Landsend Plateau. A mostly-intact stone wall stretched across the pass, which was about a hundred yards wide. On the left end of the pass stood a crumbling tower. The right end was a massive
tangle of broken stone, with one huge stone about sixty feet across lying on the edge of it. That stone would be what Tu Sinar dropped on the fortress, once he decided his followers were betraying him. The rest of the stone was the remains of the fortress itself.
Enemy soldiers were visible on top of the stone wall. Not a large force, but enough to put up a fight.
“Looks like the brothers were right,” Tairus said, his gaze taking in the enemy position. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as if he was having trouble focusing.
The brothers had reported back to Rome the day before near dusk. One minute Rome was riding along beside a double column of marching soldiers, thinking of Bonnie, and the next there was one of the brothers beside him, seemingly rising up out of the ground. It was the scarred one with the long beard. Was his name Clem? Rome was pretty sure he’d heard one of the brothers call him that a couple days ago. Sem, Rem, Tem, Clem and Lem. Those were the names he’d heard so far, though it wasn’t always clear who was being referred to by what name. When Rome had remarked that all their names were pretty much the same, the gray-haired one—he thought it was Tem—told him their pa wasn’t interested in wasting his time on names and ma was too busy being pregnant to care.
“You’re slow,” the scarred one drawled, spitting on the ground. “But it could be you’d make it before Kasai’s army if you didn’t sleep so much.” He hitched his pants up and scratched an armpit. He, Rome and Tairus stood off to the side of the trail as the line of exhausted, footsore soldiers marched by. Three more brothers drifted up right then. There were a couple of small bushes nearby—the only things the brothers could have been hiding behind—but they sure didn’t seem big enough. Whatever else they were, the brothers were good.
“What?” Tairus said, disbelieving. He turned on the scout. “We haven’t stopped for more than four hours in three days!”
“Easy, Tairus,” Rome said, putting a hand on his arm. Clem had not looked up at Tairus’ outburst and looked, to all outward appearances, as if he hadn’t even heard him. But Rome knew that looks could be deceiving. He remembered the long knife the man kept in his boot and how quickly he could draw it out.
“So the main forces haven’t reached the pass yet?”
Clem was digging around in one filthy ear with a finger and appeared at first not to have heard him. He pulled something out of his ear and looked at it with interest before flicking it away. Rome heard Tairus curse under his breath and tightened his grip on the shorter man’s arm. The brothers were impossible to work with, but they were very good at what they did. Their information had been spot on so far.
“No,” Clem said. “They ain’t there yet, but they’re close. Probably get there about the middle of the day tomorrow. The ones who are there are holding the wall, waiting for you.”
“I thought you were going to take care of them,” Tairus said.
Clem finally looked at him. “Said we’d try. And we did. But they brought up more men. Built some big fires for light at night. We didn’t sign on for soldiering, signed on for drink.” He gave Rome a meaningful look.
Rome nodded. “I’ll have some brought up.” He turned to call for an aide but T’sim was already there, two clay jugs in his hands. The brothers perked up at that.
“What else can you tell me? Any sign of the Takare?” Rome asked.
Clem shook his head. “They gone to ground.”
“Does Kasai have any scouts on this side of the pass?”
Clem gave him a flinty look. “I thought you said to kill them if they came through.”
“I did.”
“Well, then there ain’t any.” He looked at his brothers and hand signals flew. Rome had a feeling if he knew what they were saying about him he’d have to kill a couple of them.
“How about on that high ridge?” The high ridge Rome spoke of was the one that jutted north from the Firkath Mountains. It was already visible far ahead on the left. “Have any more tried to position themselves up there? They could see a long way from up there.”
The youngest brother with the twin braids shook his head. “They found out it’s too dangerous. Seems they kept falling off.”
“Stay close,” Rome said, as T’sim handed over the liquor. “I’ll need you some more.”
“We’ll be by,” Clem said laconically.
“Give a coyote call when you need us,” twin braids—Rem?—put in. “That works.”
“Idiot,” another one said, poking him in the ribs. “Not a coyote. A hoot owl. That’s our call.”
“No it ain’t. We voted and it’s a coyote.” They were still arguing as they moved off. Rome hadn’t seen them since.
“If we don’t take that position fast,” Tairus said, “we’ve come a long way for nothing.”
“We’ll take it,” Rome replied confidently. Privately he was somewhat concerned. Charging uphill, after marching so hard? It was a lot to expect from the soldiers. “Form up the men.”
The FirstMother rode up then. “They won’t be necessary.”
Rome turned to her. “Who won’t be necessary?”
“Your soldiers. My Tenders will handle this.”
Rome looked at Tairus, who shook his head and frowned. Then he turned to look at Quyloc, sitting his horse on the other side of him. “What do you think?”
“We need to know what they can do. This could be a good chance for that.”
“I know you think us helpless women,” the FirstMother said stiffly.
“I’ve heard the reports,” Rome said. “I have some idea what you’re capable of. But practicing on a target is far different from real soldiers with real weapons.”
“We killed the monster that rose out of the sea.”
“I know you did. I hope you do as well here, I really do,” Rome told her. “My men are tired and if we have to charge that wall, some of them will die, maybe a lot of them. I’d like to avoid that.”
She stared at him as if gauging his sincerity, then nodded. “We will take care of this for you. Just give us a few minutes to feed our sulbits.” She turned her horse and rode away, calling orders as she went.
“I almost feel sorry for those men,” Tairus said, looking up at the wall.
“I don’t,” Quyloc said.
“I feel sorry for those shatren too. I hate watching them do that.”
“I try not to,” Rome said.
“Is this what the world is coming to?” Tairus asked. There was no answer to that.
A few minutes later Nalene and the other Tenders approached, their guards trailing them. By then Rome had all the soldiers who had made it this far formed up, facing the wall. Nalene looked at them and then gave Rome a sour look.
“You don’t need them.”
“I hope not. Better to have them and not need them, don’t you think?”
When the order came from the FirstMother to line up, Larin turned to Haris.
“I can’t do it,” he said. “I’m too scared.”
“Sure you can do it,” Haris replied. “Just don’t think about it too much. You ought to be good at that.”
Larin shook his head. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“C’mon,” Haris said, grabbing him by the elbow and propelling him forward to where the rest of the guards were starting to line up. “It won’t be that bad. It’s not gonna kill you.”
“But I’ve seen what they do to the shatren,” Larin moaned.
“They’ll stop before that. The FirstMother said so.”
Larin was still complaining when Haris pushed him into line. The Tender he’d been assigned to was named Donae. When he’d first been assigned to her, he’d thought that she was a fine looking woman, even with all her hair shaved off. Then she’d looked up, caught him staring and gave him a cold look that changed his opinion forever. He hadn’t looked at her above her knees since then.
The FirstMother ordered them to advance and Larin and the other guards shuffled forward holding the shields up. Right behind him came Donae, so close she
stepped on his heel. More than anything Larin wished she was far away. No, that wasn’t right. More than anything he wished he was far away. He was so scared he was shaking.
It wasn’t fair. No one told him when he signed up that some horrifying little beady-eyed creature was going to eat him. He wanted to bolt and run right then, but he was afraid to do that too. Probably the FirstMother would use her sulbit on him and he’d end up like all those poor, dead shatren.
It didn’t make him feel better that the FirstMother had told them they would be all right. They’d just feel a little weak, she said. But it wouldn’t hurt and they’d be in no danger.
He didn’t believe her. There was something mean in her eyes and he’d seen firsthand how ruthless she was. If taking a little bit of his LifeSong—he had no idea what that was, just that he needed it to live—wasn’t enough to kill the enemy, he had no doubt she’d order them all bled dry if that was what it took.
“Easy,” Haris whispered, from his spot to Larin’s left. “Just keep your shield up and hold fast. That’s all you have to do.”
Larin swallowed and tried to nod. It didn’t sound all that easy to him. At least the men on the wall weren’t shooting arrows at them. That had to count for something.
“Closer,” the FirstMother called from her spot in the center of the line. “We’re still too far away. And close up this line.”
Larin shuffled forward, his heart pounding. He was sure he could feel Donae’s sulbit staring at his back, probably licking its lips. Did it know it was about to eat him? Why had he ever left the farm?
“Stop. Meld with your sulbits,” the FirstMother called.
Larin stopped and held his shield steady. He was sweating profusely. His vision had gone funny and he thought he might be about to pass out.
“Find your guard’s flow and take hold of it.”
Larin shot Haris a desperate glance. Haris tried to give him a reassuring smile but it was sickly and weak. He was afraid too.
Guardians Watch Page 41