The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1)

by Ian Irvine

  It was a nylatl, or something horrifyingly like it – a creature he’d fought in ages past and one that had very nearly defeated him. Nylatl had been flesh-formed by the enemy during the war for one purpose alone – to kill as quickly, brutally and terrifyingly as possible. Near the end of the war, once it had been discovered that flesh-formed creatures gave forth an unmistakeable aura which was identifiable from a distance with the Seeking Art, all such beasts had been hunted down and exterminated.

  All save this one. He could smell its hot carrion stink, like rotten meat thrown on a hotplate, but Nish couldn’t move. The new healer had bound his left arm to his side and strapped him to the bed so he couldn’t burst the stitches again.

  ‘Help!’ Nish yelled, but he couldn’t shout loudly enough. After the first attack, his tent had been set up on its own with twenty paces of open space in every direction, and if his guards were dead he’d have to roar to wake anyone. ‘Help!’

  The guards burst through the door and froze, staring at this creature out of the Histories. It was the length of a dog, though lower to the ground, with a long fanged mouth, vicious claws on all four feet, and all but the underside was covered in needle-tipped spines which were already oozing venom.

  The leading guard, a stocky, scarred, red-faced fellow who looked like a blacksmith, drew his sword and lunged. The nylatl was quicker.

  Arching its back like a cat, it squirted a third of a cup of milky green venom at his eyes. He let out a thin wail, not loud enough to be heard at the nearest tent, staggered sideways and collapsed, clawing at his face, which began to blister like pastry rising in an overly hot oven. The blisters burst to reveal raw red flesh beneath.

  The second guard, who was small, wiry and fleet of foot, shielded his eyes with his left arm as he hacked and slashed but, as Nish knew painfully well, nylatl never attacked in the same way twice.

  It lost a couple of spines to the guard’s blade, then its haunches bunched and it propelled itself at him as if fired from a catapult. He tried to weave out of the way but the nylatl rolled in mid-air, opened its massive jaws and, as it landed on his upper chest, closed them around his throat. Blood fountained across the room.

  The nylatl tore through the guard’s throat as he went down, exposing veins, sinews and windpipe, then threw its head back and swallowed the chunk of his living flesh. Blood slicked back along its neck as if blown by a high wind. It stood on his chest for a moment but, instead of turning its head, it gave a little jump-jump, rotating in the air, and came down facing Nish. Its glittering eyes fixed on him and he felt its presence in his mind, compelling him as the first one had tried to do, long ago.

  Come to me. Come. Come.

  Had he not been strapped to the bed, Nish would have gone, for in his weakened state he lacked the strength to resist it. He stared at the beast, knowing it was going to eat his face.

  It sprang again, arcing high over the first writhing guard before landing on its four feet and tail. It had halved the distance between it and him. Its gory mouth opened and it appeared to smile, then it propelled itself through the air and thumped onto the wooden bedhead. It teetered back and forth like a child’s toy, and on every swing its yawning mouth came so close that he could smell blood and carrion on its breath, and see the ruddy glare in its mesmerising eyes.

  As it rocked back the third time, a strand of reeking red saliva oozed from its mouth to drape itself across Nish’s forehead, burning like a red-hot wire. His free hand swung up involuntarily, to wipe it away. The nylatl lunged and for a second he thought it was going to tear his fingers off, but it drew back, going pant-pant in a way which suggested laughter. It seemed even more malicious than the ones he’d encountered previously, and more intelligent. Was it toying with him?

  He heard feet thumping on the hard ground outside. ‘Nylatl!’ he croaked, ‘Look out.’

  The nylatl arched its spiny tail up over its head like the sting of a scorpion, then snapped it down as if trying to get him in the throat. Nish tried desperately to get out of its way but the straps held him and one of its spines plunged deep into the muscle of his upper chest, just below the right collarbone.

  It hurt far worse than the arrow wound or the burst stitches. The spine must have gone in half the length of a finger and he could feel venom squirting into his flesh, eating into him like hot acid.

  ‘Deliverer?’ a man cried hoarsely.

  Only Zham could have wielded the huge sword advancing through the flap. A hairy fist, the size of a small melon, followed it. ‘Look out,’ Nish gasped.

  Nish didn’t doubt the big man’s courage but Zham seemed the last person who could tackle a creature with the lightning reflexes and malicious cunning of a nylatl. Its head swayed back and forth between Nish and Zham as if it couldn’t decide whom it most wanted to savage, then it sprang low and fast towards Nish’s belly and twisted around to face him, claws ripping through his shirt. It was either going to tear his face off or eat his entrails while he was still alive.

  But it didn’t. It just crouched there, watching him. Zham lunged and the point of his sword shot out, flicking back and forth too quickly to see. The nylatl tried to swerve away, evidently decided there wasn’t time, sprang and landed on the flat of the blade, its scaly feet scrabbling for a purchase. The sword dipped under its weight and Zham swung it away from Nish.

  The nylatl clung to the moving sword for a couple of seconds before streaking up the blade towards Zham’s unprotected hand. He was going to die the way the two guards had.

  Zham spun the sword in mid-air in the centre of the tent, so hard that it blurred like the spinning rotor of an air-dreadnought, with a streaked-out red and black clump clinging to the end. The nylatl lost its grip, shot up and struck the ridgepole. It tried to flip over to cling there but missed and hit the floor on its back, where it lay for a second as if dazed.

  ‘It’s pretending!’ Nish cried as Zham leapt.

  As it rolled over, Zham’s gigantic boot came down on it as if squashing a cockroach. Putting all his weight on it, he twisted left and right, flattening it against the hard ground. Yellow froth boiled out of its mouth. He kept his weight there while it vainly tried to claw through his boot. Zham ground it into the dirt then sprang backwards.

  The sword thudded into the ground, point first. Zham reached out without looking, heaved it free with his left hand, danced backwards and with two quick cuts quartered the dazed and damaged beast. It didn’t move again.

  Nor did Nish’s guards. Both were dead.

  Zham’s eyes met Nish’s. He was breathing heavily, though not as heavily as Nish was. ‘Deliverer, I –’

  Nish swallowed, then rubbed his burning, throbbing shoulder. ‘Don’t apologise for not being on duty, Zham. You just saved my life.’

  ‘Surr, I don’t think –’

  ‘Lucky you moved into the nearest tent.’

  ‘I swore to protect you,’ Zham said simply. He unfastened Nish’s straps and pulled back his shirt, though the nylatl’s puncture had left only a little circular spot of blood.

  ‘So you did, and I thank you. Would you be so good as to take the bodies out? Then wash your sword. That venom lasts for a long time.’ Nish knuckled his shoulder, which made it hurt the more. He’d never felt such pain – it was as if boiling lye had been injected into him – but it did have one benefit. His mind was absolutely clear and he knew what he had to do.

  ‘I’ll go and rouse out –’

  ‘Don’t go anywhere, Zham. Someone sent that thing after me and I don’t know who I can trust, apart from you. Unfasten the strap; help me up. I can’t bear to be so helpless.’

  Zham did so, then began to drag the bodies out. Nish took up the writing tablet he’d drafted his orations on and began to write a letter to his Defiance. For once the words came quickly and were right the first time.

  When it was done he set the tablet on the table beside his bed, dressed and made sure his pack contained everything he needed. Zham returned with a shovel and
scooped up the remains of the nylatl.

  ‘Leave it outside, with the bodies. I want everyone to know what happened.’

  ‘Surr?’ said Zham.

  Nish waved him away, levered his feet to the floor and stood up. The room revolved. He made a grab for the bedside table.

  ‘What are you doing, Deliverer?’ said Zham from the flap. ‘You can’t –’

  Nish forced a smile, though it wasn’t as carefree as he would have liked. ‘How long until the guard changes?’

  ‘Two hours.’

  ‘Then we’ve got two hours to cover our tracks, assuming Monkshart doesn’t decide to check on me in the middle of the night. Get your gear ready. We’ll need food and coin.’ Nish scooped a pot of salve and a roll of bandage into his pack. ‘Take me to the tent where the war chest is held and talk to the guards while I burgle it.’ Nish chuckled. ‘I feel better already. Let’s get moving.’

  It was a dark, misty night, and the scattered lanterns were ringed with haloes as Zham led Nish to the treasure tent. Zham stood out the front, chatting to the guards as he often did, though they snapped to attention when they saw Nish.

  He shook their hands and spoke briefly to them until the guards at the back of the tent were called around to meet him too, as Nish had known they would be. He exchanged pleasantries with them, then said he was just going to have a leak and walked into the darkness.

  He slipped around to the rear of the tent, eased up the canvas and rolled under. The pain of the sting had eased, fortunately. The large war chest and the smaller were locked, of course, but Nish had been an artificer during the war and understood the workings of such mechanical devices. He had the larger chest open in a minute.

  He felt around with a stick in case of traps, uncanny or mechanical, then silently scooped a small amount of gold and silver into one of the leather pouches lying nearby. He tied the drawstrings tightly so it wouldn’t chink and fastened it to his belt.

  The guards were still talking at the front. As he rolled out, more painfully, again Nish felt a momentary dizziness. Moving off into the darkness he coughed twice, as agreed, and shortly Zham appeared. He retrieved their packs from where he’d hidden them, and ten minutes later they were beyond the outer ring of guards and walking as quickly as Nish could manage, due north. Zham could see in the dark almost as well as a cat, evidently, for he wove through the grass and trees without ever tripping or losing his footing.

  ‘Monkshart will come after us, won’t he, surr?’

  ‘I left a letter to the Defiance, telling them of an urgent mission that I must carry out alone. Monkshart will have to show it to them to explain my disappearance, else the Defiance will fall apart. But once that’s done, I’m sure he’ll follow us. We’ve got two hours to cover our tracks. Can you do that, Zham?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, surr. I’m a good woodsman.’

  Nish felt sure that was an understatement, for Zham’s every accomplishment had exceeded his expectations. He followed him into the night, doing exactly as Zham told him.

  Nish’s mind was on more important matters. Who could have brought the nylatl here, and why did that person want Nish dead? No agent of his father would order such a thing, no matter their ambitions, for if Nish died, Jal-Nish’s wrath would be both terrible, widespread and indiscriminate.

  It left but one other person, though Nish couldn’t bear to think about that.

  PART THREE – MISTMURK MOUNTAIN

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  ‘Who would want to kill Nish?’ Maelys rubbed her goose-pimpled arms, shivering despite the warm morning, and reached into her pack for a cold leg of hare. They’d had a good breakfast an hour ago but she was starving again. ‘How would his death benefit anyone?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m betting he does.’ Thommel walked away, making figure-eights around the camp fire and through the trees, then came back. ‘Monkshart read out Nish’s address to the Defiance. He’s gone on a secret mission that he must do alone, after which he will return to lead the Defiance to victory.’

  ‘A secret mission,’ she repeated, looking away.

  She didn’t know much about Nish’s vision in the Pit of Possibilities, for they’d been separated before there had been time to discuss it in detail. He had to find a tall but narrow plateau, like a cut-off needle rising out of the rainforest, and climb it to discover whatever was waiting for him at the top. Nish had been transformed by the vision.

  Maelys hadn’t thought much about it at the time but now it bothered her, for the Pit of Possibilities seemed to have been under Monkshart’s control, at least while he was there, and she didn’t trust anything he’d had a hand in, or anything that had come out of it. The plateau could be a trap by whoever wanted to kill Nish, though that seemed unlikely, since it was so far away and difficult to get to. But why else would someone lure him there? To hold the son of the God-Emperor hostage? Again, why so far – unless the plateau was home to powerful forces that could be found nowhere else.

  ‘Maelys?’ said Thommel. ‘You know where he’s gone, don’t you?’

  ‘Why should I tell you anything,’ she snapped, frustrated that she couldn’t work out what was going on, ‘since you don’t see fit to tell me anything about yourself? Or what you want from my friend Nish.’

  ‘You haven’t told me what you really want from him either,’ he observed. ‘Though it conflicts with what I see shining in your eyes. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ She looked down, flushing again. She had such trouble reading other people, yet her face was an open book to them, and she hated it.

  She cursed her sheltered upbringing, her youth and inexperience, and couldn’t bear to be dependent on this close-mouthed and alarmingly perceptive fellow. Without food, money and supplies she’d never find the plateau, for as soon as she asked about it she’d come to the notice of the God-Emperor’s spies. She had to trust someone and it might as well be him, but she resented it.

  ‘All right!’ she muttered. ‘But you’ve got to tell me something about yourself, first.’

  He made another figure-eight around the camp fire, his agitation evident in every jerking movement, then sat down and said, ‘Very well. I – I met Nish a long time ago, during the war. I helped him and he made me a promise which he never kept.’

  ‘I’m sure there was a good reason.’

  He gave her a cynical look, and she knew why. Nish had repeatedly tried to get out of his promise to become the Deliverer, and now he’d fled. Was he totally untrustworthy? She couldn’t allow herself to believe it, and yet …

  ‘I don’t know what his secret mission is, and neither would Nish want me to talk about his affairs to a stranger. But I do know where he’s going.’ She described the plateau as Nish had seen it in the Pit. ‘He was all aglow after he had the vision. He said it was a lucky place for him.’

  Thommel started. ‘I know that plateau!’ he cried, smiling for the first time. ‘I saw it when I was a timber cutter in the rainforest. It’s called Thuntunnimoe – Mistmurk Mountain – and it’s not that far from here. We could reach it in a fortnight of hard walking.’

  ‘Mistmurk Mountain?’ The coincidence of names had to mean something, if it was a coincidence, and she didn’t like the sound of it.

  Assuming that Nish and Zham would have hidden their tracks, Thommel didn’t try to find out which way they’d gone. He set off to the nearest town to buy boy’s clothes and an extra pair of boots for Maelys, plus a small sack of flour, a round of cheese and a string of onions. Everything else he planned to get by hunting with his short bow, or by trapping.

  Maelys remained at the camp, since the town was in the opposite direction to their destination and she didn’t want to take the risk of being recognised again.

  After eating she felt vaguely ill, as she had last night. She was sitting by the fire, drinking cup after cup of bitter tea made from a local herb that helped to settle her stomach, when it occurred to her that if she didn’t
try to get her taphloid back now there was little chance she would ever see it again. The thought of losing it forever to Phrune was too much to bear, and she began to wonder if there might be a way to recover it.

  She still had her robes and it would be a simple matter to get back into the camp wearing them, since there were plenty of other healers, though she would have to act right away. Once Monkshart and Phrune set out after Nish, she’d lose the chance.

  I’ll just go into the camp and see, she thought. And if it looks impossible, nothing has been lost. It also allowed her to put off the decision for as long as possible. Tulitine was right. She did lack courage.

  Within the hour she was in the camp. The Defiance showed no sign of moving on today. The people looked dazed, uncomprehending, milling about in groups which were constantly breaking up and reforming, and everyone who entered the camp was accosted in case they had news of the Deliverer. Maelys was asked three times before she reached the centre of the camp, to which she replied each time with a shake of the head.

  She wandered towards Monkshart’s large tent. No one took the slightest notice. She circled it twice, feeling her chest tightening at the thought of trying to get inside. If Phrune looked out he would recognise her at once, despite her all-enveloping robes. What if he’d spotted her already?

  Maelys followed that thought through, imagining Phrune kneeling over her with his blade, taking the living skin off her in one piece so he could make the perfect body-glove for his master – No! She turned away and plunged back into the crowd, allowing it to carry her along and around the camp like a leaf in a whirlpool.

  A disturbance began at the other side of the camp and the crowd surged that way, desperate for news or any kind of diversion. Maelys went with it for a while, until it occurred to her that this might be her chance to get inside Monkshart’s tent, if Phrune and his master came out to see what was going on.