by Ian Irvine
‘But you planned to?’
‘I thought I’d found a new way,’ said Flydd, ‘but I wasn’t strong enough. The power was constrained by the builders of the obelisk, deliberately, and it was built to last, well, not forever, but for a very long time.’
‘But it’s broken. How did that happen?’
‘I don’t know, but the break hasn’t freed the power of the flame. I don’t think anything can.’
‘You were saying about the updraughts?’
‘Oh yes. They gust so wildly that no air-dreadnought could survive them, and they only stop when it’s blowing a gale, as now.’
‘Do we have a hope of escape, Xervish?’ Maelys asked softly. ‘Any at all?’
‘I’m sorry. There’s no way out now.’
‘Then what about the ancient Arts you’ve been studying?’ she persisted. ‘You must have had a plan to use them.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Flydd asked mildly.
‘I – I devoured the Histories and the tales of the war, from when I was a little girl. Clan Nifferlin had them all in its library, once. I know a lot about you.’
‘Do you now?’ He bestowed a fond smile on her. ‘Then you’ll also know that most heroic tales are lies written by rogues for the entertainment of fools.’
‘I know no such thing!’ she cried hotly. ‘Not everything in the tales is truth, for what is truth anyway, when everyone sees a tale differently? But I know you were a great and honourable man –’
‘Were?’ His smile broadened. ‘Have you judged me and found me wanting?’
She looked mortified. ‘No, of course not, Xervish. I’m sorry.’
He chuckled. ‘I’m indulging myself in my last hours by teasing you. But you’re right. I chose this plateau carefully, from dozens of possible refuges, because there was an ancient power here which predated the nodes. The broken obelisk is, in part, a monument to the tragic failure of those who died trying to master that power, in days long past.’
‘Then what made you think you could do better?’
‘Ah, that would be telling. I’ll say only that, as my mastery of the old Arts grew, I hoped to draw upon it. But it turned out that the power of Thuntunnimoe had been greatly weakened by the destruction of the nodes, and the old Arts took longer to master than I’d expected. By the time I’d done so I was an old, feeble man, without the strength to draw what I needed. You can’t imagine how frustrating it’s been to feel the power just beyond my fingertips, yet be too decrepit to use it.
‘I also chose Mistmurk Mountain because it offered an escape route, but without power I can’t use it. Not only is great power required to open that way, but more is needed to hold it open for the hours it will take to traverse it. All I’ve got left is the power for one last desperate burst of mancery, to take as many of my enemies as possible with me. Though alas, not the God-Emperor. He knows what a cunning old scoundrel I am and won’t risk himself until he’s seen my decapitated and quartered body, with the pieces well separated.’
‘So we’re doomed,’ said Nish.
‘No, we’re doomed,’ said Thommel, again with that hint of bitterness. ‘The God-Emperor will make sure his beloved son is safe. He’ll take you back to a life of unimaginable luxury, power and pleasure.’
‘I’m not going back.’ Nish could feel the temptation tugging at him but had no trouble resisting it now. His father had used him once too often.
‘Really?’ said Thommel, as if he could read Nish’s mind.
‘What’s that?’ said Maelys, cupping her ear. ‘It sounds like someone shrieking.’
Fiery pain ran down the length of the nylatl wound, then Nish ran for the door. Zham and Thommel beat him to it and forced their way outside. He followed. The wind was so strong that it lifted him up on tiptoes. The moon was out now, mostly showing its red- and black-blotched face, which touched the bogs and pools with red-tinged reflections. The sky was clear, not a trace of fog or cloud anywhere.
‘Stay close by the hut,’ hissed Flydd. ‘The amber-wood will conceal you here, but not out in the open. If you must go further, put this in your pocket.’ He tossed a small chunk of amber-wood to each of them.
Nish sniffed his and thrust it into his pocket. High above, silhouetted against the moon, were a wheeling flock of flappeters.
‘Are they spying?’ said Maelys.
‘Undoubtedly. But something else is going on. I can feel it.’
‘What, surr?’ said Zham.
One of the flappeters dipped suddenly, shuddered violently then shot away and climbed back towards its fellows. ‘It looks as though someone’s trying to call it down,’ said Flydd.
‘What, down here?’ said Nish.
‘I don’t know,’ said Flydd. ‘There it goes again.’
The flappeter dipped sharply this time, then plunged down at a steep angle towards the centre of the plateau.
‘I thought you said they couldn’t descend from above the plateau?’ said Maelys.
Flydd didn’t answer. The flappeter’s dive steepened; its rider was standing up in the saddle. It was now hurtling down, the feather-rotors driving it ever faster.
Nish expected it to pull out and come racing towards them but it continued in a straight line and crashed at full speed into the mire, sending gouts of mud flying spans into the air. High above, the remaining flappeters wailed in unison.
Everyone looked shocked. ‘I guess that means we’re safe for a while,’ said Nish.
‘He hasn’t finished yet, whoever he is,’ said Flydd, looking up. ‘He’s trying again.’
A second beast was now bucking as it, and its rider, tried to fight whatever was attempting to take control of them.
‘The call is too strong,’ said Flydd. ‘Whoever it is, they’re determined to prevail.’
‘Who could it be?’ Maelys said faintly. She was shaking. Instinctively she moved closer to Thommel, who put his arm around her.
Nish looked away. It was none of his business, but he felt a pang for the times they’d shared together and the friendship they might have developed if he hadn’t kept her at bay. Despite everything, she’d got under his skin.
The flappeter suddenly dived towards the edge of the plateau, was buffeted perilously close to the cliffs by the updraught then corkscrewed down out of sight. Nish ran to the rim and peered over. The beast was hurtling towards an eroded rock stack jutting up from the side of the pinnacle, halfway to the bottom.
‘It seems to be settling,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘It’s in shadow now; I can’t see it.’
The others came up behind him. ‘It’s rising again,’ said Zham, whose eyes were keener than Nish’s.
Nish made it out now, slowly beating its way up. ‘It looks bulkier …’
‘Carrying two riders,’ said Zham.
The flappeter moved out, caught the updraught and shot upwards. ‘That’s the way to do it,’ Maelys said with a professional eye.
‘He won’t find it easy to get out of the airstream, though,’ said Flydd. ‘Whoever he is …’
As the flappeter neared the top of the cliffs it began to buck and swerve wildly. It was thrown side-on and barely avoided smashing against an overhang, going so close that the rear rider reached out with a long spear to fend the cliff off. The flappeter spun in a circle, then back the other way, the feather-rotors roaring.
‘Crash!’ said Maelys, standing rigidly erect, unblinking.
The rear rider fended the cliff off again. The flappeter was close now though neither rider showed any sign of seeing them.
‘There’s a mighty turbulence when the updraught meets the cross-wind,’ said Thommel. ‘With any luck –’
The front rider thrust his fist through the loop-controller and raw power redly illuminated a banner of mist clinging to the underside of the beast. It let out a screaming wail, caught the updraught and shot up into the clear air above the plateau. Nish heard a shout, ‘Down, down!’
It turned around, flutter-flapped inland, flying
low where the wind was weakest, then hovered out over the mire. The rear rider slipped over the side, dropped to ground and headed into the swamp.
‘What’s he doing?’ said Nish.
‘Heading for the broken obelisk,’ Flydd said harshly.
‘But he can’t do anything there … can he?’
‘I don’t – I hope not.’
The flappeter turned in a sweeping circle and began to fly around the edge of the plateau, safely inland from the rim. ‘He’s searching,’ said Zham. ‘He knows we’re here.’
‘He knows all right!’ Flydd scowled at Nish, who looked away.
The flappeter was surrounded by a thin yellow nimbus, and Nish could see its open maw and hear its fearful squeals. It was terrified but couldn’t break the power controlling it.
The remaining rider now wore a long, funnel-shaped helmet. No, it must have been an Art-enhanced speaking tube, for his voice boomed out and the words were clear, as was the glutinous hiss of his voice.
‘Come out, wherever you are! Surrender yourselves to the mercy of the God-Emperor and it will go well with you.’
Behind Nish, Maelys gasped, ‘No, it can’t be. He’s dead.’
It was Seneschal Vomix. The flappeter was thrown upwards and sideways so violently that a gap opened up between Vomix and the saddle. He let out a cry and snatched desperately at the straps with his one hand. The speaking funnel went flying as the flappeter jerked the other way, turned upside down and its feather-rotors missed a couple of beats, but it righted itself and began to climb away, Vomix clinging on with one hand and his legs.
‘Should I shoot him?’ said Nish, who had his bow in his hands.
‘Not unless you know you can kill him,’ said Flydd, ‘otherwise he’ll know where to look for us.’
Nish put an arrow to the string, drew it back and aimed at the wildly bobbing figure. But he lowered the bow. Once he would have been sure he could do it, though it was a difficult shot in the moonlight and he was out of practice. ‘Zham’s a better shot than I am.’
‘I wouldn’t risk it either,’ said Zham. ‘But I don’t think we’ll need to …’
‘Go back!’ Nish heard Vomix roar, but the beast ignored him.
It was buffeted this way and that across the sky, flung upside down again then plunged sideways over the edge of the plateau, feather-rotors beating furiously to avoid the cliff. It spiralled down, out of control, before slamming hard into the top of a rock stack hundreds of spans below them. The rider fell off and lay beside the flappeter, which kicked feebly then went still.
‘Is he alive?’ said Maelys.
‘I think so,’ said Zham. ‘But the flappeter isn’t.’
‘He’s hunting me. And he won’t give up until he gets me.’
‘He hasn’t come all this way just for you,’ said Nish.
‘Vomix must be in disgrace,’ mused Flydd. ‘He’s desperate to make up for his previous blunders and recover his position, else he would never have risked his precious skin. He’ll have to climb all the way up from that rock stack now, and he won’t be quick. It would take immense power to seize control of a flappeter from so far away, and aftersickness must be crippling him. He’ll never force another flappeter down. He won’t have the strength.
‘What difference does it make to us?’ said Thommel, giving Nish another black look. ‘Nish led the enemy here, yet he’s the only one who’s going to survive.’
‘We can’t be taken,’ said Flydd. ‘That would give Jal-Nish the victory he so desperately craves. Come inside. We’ve got to make plans.’ They went in to the fire and he continued, ‘Since we have no hope of escape, I propose we make a pact – to fight to the death, but if we’re going to be captured, we jump. That’s my plan, anyway, but I have nothing to lose. What say you?’
‘I’ll not give the God-Emperor the satisfaction of tormenting me,’ Thommel said bleakly. ‘But first, Nish, you’ll hear what I have to say!’
Nish blinked. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The fact that you don’t remember makes it even worse. But then, after breaking your solemn undertaking to the world, any word you’d given to a child would be meaningless.’
‘If you’ve got a grievance, man, spit the damn thing out!’ snapped Flydd.
‘My clan was robbed of their heritage by the enemy when I was little,’ said Thommel. ‘Even my parents gave up and walked away, for they didn’t have the courage to fight and die for what was theirs.’
‘If they had, you wouldn’t have lived to be here now,’ said Flydd, pulling the bung of a flask with a satisfying pop.
‘In the circumstances that’s no consolation,’ Thommel said dryly. ‘And since the war ended, the brutal favourites of the God-Emperor have been given my heritage. All my life I’ve slaved to gather enough coin to fight them for what was mine, yet every time I’ve been knocked down again. And all my troubles began with him.’ He prodded Nish in the chest.
‘With me?’ said Nish.
‘A few years before the war ended, you fell from the collapsed bag of an air-floater into a teeming work camp near Nilkerrand, on the other side of Lauralin. It was a brutal place. You would have been slain within minutes had not a boy looked after you, and his family taken you in at the risk of their own lives. And in return, you promised the boy that one day you would help him regain his heritage.’
‘You’re Colm!’ Nish cried, memories of that terrible time flooding back. ‘The first time I met you I thought you looked familiar.’
‘Day after day, month after month, I waited for you. I kept hearing great tales about your heroic deeds and your valour. People queued up to say what a noble and honourable man you were. I believed in you. I hero-worshipped you, and I knew you’d come back one day to honour your word. But you never did.’
‘I’m very sorry, but there was a war on,’ said Nish, feeling hot in the face. ‘And the moment it ended, I was sent to prison.’
‘I know and I understand,’ said Colm, and it was as if the apology, or the confrontation, had lifted the weight from his shoulders. ‘I know everything about you, Nish. But that’s not the real reason, is it?’
Nish didn’t know what to say. He wanted to make an excuse but Maelys was looking at him and only the naked truth would do. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘No it’s not. The truth is, I’d forgotten the boy and the promise. I – I’m really sorry, Colm.’
Colm acknowledged it with the faintest of smiles, though Nish didn’t think the obligation had been wiped away. ‘The boy couldn’t understand, for it was his dream and his faith that were broken. But I’m a grown man. I know you couldn’t come back, Nish, and there was nothing you could have done if you had, not while the enemy occupied the lands of my heritage.’
‘Then why put me through all this?’
‘For the boy. The dreamer. He had to hear you say it.’
‘I do keep my promises, Colm. I –’
‘In the circumstances,’ Colm said soberly, ‘I won’t hold you to it, though if we should survive …’ He offered Nish his hand and Nish took it.
Now he turned to Maelys, who was staring at him as if she knew just what he was going to say. Colm’s smile faded. He reached out to her. ‘I’m really sorry, Maelys. The past few weeks with you, they’ve been the best I can remember. You’re a true friend and I even dared to think – well, never mind. There’s no future for us, and no way out. When it comes to the end, and if we are going to be taken, I – I – I’m jumping with Flydd.’
He lowered his head. He was shaking. Maelys moved in beside him and took his arm but it didn’t seem to help.
‘I’ll follow the Deliverer wherever he leads,’ said Zham after a long pause, though his fists were knotted at his sides and he was very rigid.
Nish felt for him; for all of them. ‘I’ve sent men into battle, knowing they were going to die, but I can’t order any man to take his own life. Zham, at the end it’s every man for himself and you must do what’s best for you, not me. My folly b
rought Father here, after all.’
‘I’ll go with you all the way, surr,’ Zham said gruffly.
Everyone was looking at Nish expectantly. Jumping with Flydd was the one blow he could strike at the God-Emperor, though surely it would be a futile one. Would it weaken his father’s grip on the world, or make it harsher?
As he stood there, he could almost feel Jal-Nish trying to influence him, using Gatherer to wake the long-buried compulsion he’d put on Nish many years ago.
Come to me, Cryl-Nish, and all will be forgiven. I swore never to bend, but things have changed and I must bend with them. Do you think I achieved all this for myself? I did it for you, Son. You’re all I have left, so come, bend the knee and I’ll raise you up to sit at my right hand. You’ll have everything you could ever want. Even the deepest desire of your heart can be yours, if you will come.
How he wanted to. Nish didn’t want to die either, and what if his father could give him the deepest desire of his heart? What if Jal-Nish could replace that loss which still burned Nish every day? He wanted it so desperately.
Nish looked up. Everyone was staring at him. He’d let them down, unwittingly betrayed them, and he had to make up for it.
‘I’m with you, Xervish,’ Nish said, without knowing if he was. Could he really take the ultimate step and plunge over the cliff when his deepest desire was on offer? Or would he see his friends die one after another, then betray their memory?
FORTY-FOUR
They were all looking at Maelys now and she didn’t know what to say. Their situation was hopeless, and falling into Vomix’s hands was unthinkable, but Flydd’s path wasn’t one she could follow. She’d considered that way out months ago, and rejected it.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said quietly. ‘Not even if the alternative is to be taken, tortured or even …’ She shivered, closed her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered. ‘No! Life is precious and it’s wrong to take your own –’