The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3)

by Ian Irvine

  ‘What do you mean, antithesis?’ said Tulitine, shivering violently despite her purloined army cloak.

  ‘The one single object or power or force that can break the power of the Profane Tears and bring down the God-Emperor.’

  ‘How do you know there is one?’

  ‘I learned about it at the Pit of Possibilities. It’s one of the reasons why Flydd agreed to take renewal. He thought the Numinator would know about the antithesis, but she said that she did not. I don’t suppose you do?’

  ‘No,’ said Tulitine. ‘This must be –’

  ‘The Island of Noom,’ said Yggur, taking off his own cloak and wrapping it around her as well. ‘But the ice is gone and even the Kara Agel, the Frozen Sea, is thawing. The distilled chthonic fire that the Numinator blasted out in all directions as we fled her tower is eating the ice away.’

  ‘And even now must be spreading across the steppes,’ said Tulitine softly. ‘What if it never stops?’

  Yggur shrugged. ‘The meltwater may freeze again; Noom is a cold, miserable place. But if it does not, and the icecaps and glaciers melt, the ocean must rise and flood the land. Chthonic fire caused the volcanic death of the world of Aachan, it’s said. Will rising seas be the ruin of ours?’

  Maelys shivered and stamped her feet, for she had discarded her furs when she ended up on the Range of Ruin, and under the cloak her clothes were still damp. ‘We came here for chthonic fire. Let’s get on with it before we freeze to death.’ She peered around. ‘I don’t see the tower.’

  ‘It was blown to pieces as we fled,’ said Yggur.

  ‘Everything looks different with the ice gone. How are we going to find the place?’

  ‘The ancient stone arch should still be standing. If we head up to the top of that ridge we might see it.’

  Only days ago, Noom had been covered in snow and ice, but there was water everywhere now, trickling around each boulder in a braided network of icy rills. They trekked up the slope, and soon Maelys’s feet were so cold that she could barely feel her toes.

  ‘I don’t suppose you could do something about warm clothes or dry boots?’ she said.

  ‘How, exactly?’ said Yggur, scowling.

  ‘With your Art of mancery.’

  ‘You have an exaggerated notion of what can be done with the Art.’

  ‘Maybe that’s because no one will tell me about my own gift!’ she snapped.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, looking down his nose at her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said hastily, shocked that she had spoken so rudely to such a great and powerful man, for Maelys had been brought up to be polite and demure, and to show respect for her betters. ‘But Flydd –’

  ‘Just because Flydd conjured furs out of nothing with the mimemule, substantially aided by whatever talent Yalkara imprinted in him during renewal, it doesn’t mean I can do the same. Besides …’ Yggur looked away, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

  ‘What is it?’ said Tulitine, whose face was pinched and the tip of her nose red. Despite two cloaks, she was still shivering fitfully. ‘Yggur, are you in pain?’

  ‘Nothing compared to yours,’ he said, putting an arm around her and drawing her to him. ‘I’m afraid …’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m afraid that my Art is failing,’ he said quietly, ‘and it’s everything to me.’

  Maelys felt for him, for Yggur was as old as the ages, and to lose such a gift, after wielding it all that time, must be like going blind. Suddenly ashamed of her ill-temper, she said, ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Why is your Art failing?’ said Tulitine. ‘Can it be the caduceus?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Yggur. He looked away, his brow furrowed. ‘The Numinator drained all my power for seven years, and then Reaper blocked me from using my Art, save right next to the caduceus. Perhaps I’ve lost more than my body could bear.’

  ‘But you made the portal,’ said Maelys.

  ‘No, the caduceus made the portal. I only visualised where I wanted it to go.’ He strode off, his long legs covering twice the distance of her steps.

  From the top of the ridge the view was vaguely familiar, though the distant, rounded ranges appeared much the same in every direction. ‘I don’t know if we’re close to the tower, or on the other side of the Island of Noom,’ Maelys said, her thick black hair fluttering in the icy wind.

  Tulitine, who was still struggling up the slope, seemed to be in greater pain than before. Maelys went back and gave her an arm.

  ‘I’ve never been to Noom,’ Tulitine said faintly as they reached the top. ‘As you know, the Numinator is my grandmother, but she wanted nothing to do with me.’ She shook her head as if, even after all this time, she could not come to terms with that.

  ‘From what I know of her, you’ve had a lucky escape!’ Maelys muttered.

  ‘I dare say, but still it hurts.’

  ‘I think we’re close,’ said Yggur, marching down the other side.

  Maelys scurried after him, up the following ridge, and shortly she made out the old stone arch – at least, part of it – at the top. The right-hand pillar and half of the arch had collapsed, though the rest still stood. She went through the arch and looked down on the valley below.

  The Tower of a Thousand Steps had been set on an icy island in the middle of a lake, protected from intruders by constantly shifting patterns of water and berg, but the lake had been reduced to a narrow ring of shallow water and mud around a mound of broken rock and debris. The ice was gone, and there was no sign that the tower had ever existed.

  ‘I can’t see any chthonic fire,’ said Maelys, crouching beside the pillar where there was shelter from the wind. She’d hoped to gain a little warmth from the stone, which faced the sun, but its feeble light had not warmed the pillar at all.

  ‘There may still be some, deep in the foundations,’ said Yggur. ‘But how are we to reach them?’

  ‘If you think I’m wading through that water –’

  ‘Be quiet. I’m trying to think.’

  ‘What about?’ she said automatically. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorting through my memories of the tower. The foundations came out past the edges of the lake, below ground, and there might be a way in.’

  ‘Won’t it be flooded?’ said Maelys.

  ‘The lake is practically gone. The collapse must have cracked the ground below the tower, and the water has drained away.’

  They went down and began to circumnavigate the ring of shallow water and half-frozen mud, which was littered with broken furniture and timbers, and many, many bodies, the fruits of the Numinator’s dreadful and ultimately failed breeding program. The exposed parts of many of the bodies had been eaten by scavengers, down to the bones, though the corpses further out in the mud and shallow water were still whole. Even in this climate, the smell was gaggingly offensive.

  Maelys was stumbling along, so cold that she began to fear that her blood would freeze, when the ground ahead of her rose in irregularly-shaped slabs, like a layer of frozen earth that had been forced up from below until it shattered.

  ‘That’s odd,’ she muttered. ‘Yggur, what do you think this is?’

  He peered underneath the slabs. ‘I can see a hollow in there; no, a hole. Something has broken the frozen ground from below.’

  He walked around the slabs, frowning. ‘I think I see what’s happened. The explosion blew the top of the ice tower to bits but the rest remained intact until it hit the ground, and part of the frozen foundations must have been forced up through the earth here, as the buried roots of a tree break through the soil when it falls. There might still be some white fire deep down. Maelys –’

  ‘I’m not going down there,’ said Maelys, who’d had her fill of underground passages within Mistmurk Mountain.

  Yggur tried to raise a slab but it proved too heavy. ‘You’re a little thing. Squeeze under here, would you, and see how deep that hole goes.’

  ‘You’re a little t
hing! That’s just what Flydd and Nish said when they sent me down that chimney infested with swamp creepers!’ she muttered. ‘Why is it always me?’

  ‘It isn’t always you,’ said Tulitine. ‘We’ve all got strengths and weaknesses, and we each have to do what is required with them.’

  Maelys felt like a small child being lectured by a stern teacher, but Tulitine certainly couldn’t go in. ‘All right,’ she said quietly, trying to conceal her unease. ‘Can you at least make me a light, Yggur?’

  It sounded like a criticism, though she had not intended it to be, and her mortification deepened when, after several minutes of straining, Yggur had not produced a glimmer of light. He turned away, shoulders slumped.

  After an uncomfortable interval, Tulitine reached into an inside pocket and drew out a small object like a miniature dumbbell, which she tapped three times on the end. It began to shine brightly.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Maelys.

  ‘A seer’s light – also called a twinklestone. It won’t hurt you.’

  Nonetheless, Maelys flinched as the twinklestone was laid on the centre of her palm. It looked searingly hot, yet had the cool, damp feeling of a pair of soap bubbles, and weighed little more. She blew on it and it wobbled but did not blow away; it was stuck to her skin, though she lifted it off easily enough.

  ‘It doesn’t twinkle and it’s not stone, so why is it called a twinklestone?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Tulitine. ‘You can stick it to your forehead if you need to use your hands, but make sure your skin is dry.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If it touches anything wet, it sticks so tightly you’ll have to tear the skin to get it off. You can also pull it apart, if you need two lights for a while. If you need more light, carefully stretch the twinklestone and it will expand and shine more brightly.’

  ‘What if I just want a little light?’

  ‘Squeeze it in your fist and it’ll go back to this size, or even smaller.’

  ‘Thanks. All right; what if I find some chthonic fire? How do I bring it back?’

  ‘In this.’ Yggur held out a midnight black circle, about the diameter of his hand and fingers.

  ‘And this is …?’ said Maelys, drawing away. The circle made her scalp crawl, for it was far blacker than black, she could not tell what it was made from and, looked at side-on, it disappeared completely.

  ‘It’s a dimensionless box,’ said Yggur, who was holding it by the very edge. ‘I stole it from the Numinator. If you find any fire, push the dimensionless box onto it and the fire will be sucked inside and preserved.’

  ‘How do you get it out again?’

  ‘You turn the dimensionless box inside out and eject the fire into a suitable container.’

  ‘Er,’ said Maelys, ‘is the box dangerous?’

  ‘Extremely,’ said Yggur cheerfully.

  His sudden good humour seemed a trifle macabre. ‘What if it accidentally sucks me inside?’

  ‘It won’t unless you’re foolish enough to press it flat against you. If you do, you will be drawn inside and will become a singularity within the dimensionless box.’

  ‘And then what?’ said Maelys, afraid to go near it.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Yggur.

  ‘What do you mean, nothing?’

  ‘You would cease to exist. When the box was turned inside out again, there would be nothing recognisable left of you. No living thing can survive the dimensionless box – and few things that aren’t living.’

  It got worse and worse. ‘Then how do I carry it safely?’ she cried.

  ‘Just screw it up and stuff it into your pocket, and it’s harmless,’ he said, as if that were obvious. ‘The box only works when it’s perfectly flat.’

  ‘What if it unfolds?’

  He sighed. ‘If you put it in a small pocket it won’t be able to.’

  Maelys took the dimensionless box, which was eerily weightless, gingerly screwed it up and stuffed it into her shirt pocket, buttoning down the flap to be sure it was safe. She would sooner have carried a live scorpion there.

  ‘Off you go,’ said Yggur.

  She pressed the twinklestone against her brow and it stuck – it felt slightly itchy – then she tested the slab in case it was loose. When it did not move she wriggled in under it. The light from the twinklestone had a bluish tinge which made her surroundings appear even bleaker and colder.

  The space underneath was broad but low and she had to flatten her bosom against the icy ground to get through; even so, her prominent bottom scraped painfully on the underside of the slab. To her right the cavity continued towards a wedge-shaped patch of darkness.

  ‘What do you see?’ said Yggur.

  ‘I think it does go down, though I don’t see how you’re going to get through. I can barely fit.’

  ‘Keep going.’

  She squirmed to the wedge-shaped darkness, which turned out to be a hole, leading down. Maelys put her head over the edge. ‘It’s like a shaft. It goes down further than I can see, and it’s pretty steep.’

  ‘Can you climb down, and more importantly, back up?’

  ‘You could if you could get in,’ said Maelys, persisting with the fiction that she was just having a look around up top, and he was going to do the dirty work. ‘The sides are like frozen, fractured soil –’

  ‘Broken permafrost,’ said Yggur. ‘Let’s hope it goes all the way down. Keep going, as far as you can.’

  ‘It … it doesn’t look very safe.’

  ‘Keep a close eye on the sides and you’ll be all right – the permafrost won’t fall in. If you come to running water or thawed ground, don’t go any further or you could set off a collapse. Ready?’

  ‘I was also thinking of other kinds of dangers,’ said Maelys in a tiny voice. ‘What if the Numinator buried some of her experiments down below?’

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Yggur muttered.

  ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘It’s no picnic up here in the freezing wind, and we’re in more danger than you are, should any of those re-animated corpses still be around.’ His voice faded; he must have turned away. ‘Keep a weather eye on the water, Tulitine. They could be lurking under the surface, waiting for us to turn our backs.’

  Maelys wished he hadn’t spoken. She had not seen the bodies that Zofloc, the Whelm sorcerer, had reanimated with darts full of distilled chthonic fire, but she had heard all about them.

  Shuddering, she plucked the twinklestone from her forehead, attached it to the middle finger of her right hand and reached down. The shaft was a good span wide and sloped down steeply, though it was climbable as long as she did not encounter any smooth ice.

  She put her feet in, began to go down backwards, then her feet slipped on an icy patch and she caught frantically at the top edge while she scrabbled for a solid footing. The icy patch proved to be small, and below it was solid permafrost again, but she checked carefully with the twinklestone before she continued. It would be easy to fall, and if she did, she would go all the way.

  ‘I’m halfway down,’ she called a few minutes later, after she’d descended some twenty spans. ‘I can see the bottom.’

  Her voice echoed oddly, and shortly came a reply so garbled and echoing that she could not make out a word. Had Yggur and Tulitine heard what she had said, or merely the sound of her voice? Again she hesitated; if she got into trouble further down there would be little point calling for help. Not that they could get in to save her, anyhow.

  It reminded her of other unpleasant expeditions she’d made below ground, though thankfully this place appeared free of life; animal or vegetable.

  She continued to the bottom of the shaft, over piles of broken rock and permafrost into a tunnel that was several spans across and equally high; it extended in both directions further than the light reached.

  Ahead of her, the walls and floor were as smooth as polished stone. She must be inside the former ice foundations of the fallen tower. Maelys assumed that the ice had been
consumed by chthonic fire and the meltwater had seeped away.

  Sticking the twinklestone to her forehead, she proceeded slowly in its bleak light, checking each wall for traces of white fire. She found none, though the floor contained scattered pools of water, now freezing again. Evidently, after consuming all the ice, the fire had gone out. Every so often, narrower tunnels ran off to her left, presumably the remains of cross-foundations. She passed them by.

  Further on, the tunnel turned left, then continued. She was trudging along it when a distorted, unidentifiable roar echoed down. Maelys pressed herself against the wall, her heart fluttering. It might have been Yggur shouting, but she dared not reply in case it was someone – or something – else. Such as the reanimated corpses of those poor people on whom the Numinator had done her dreadful breeding experiments.

  On she went, around another left-hand corner, and after that two more, which meant that this tunnel formed a square many hundreds of paces on each side. She could see, distantly, the fractured shaft she had climbed down; she was heading back to her starting point.

  Not far away, another of those narrow tunnels ran off to her left and she stood at its entrance, uncertainly. She had seen no solid ice so far, and not a trace of white fire. Was there any point going that way?

  Maelys thought it unlikely, but since she had come this far there was no point leaving the job half done. She dragged her weary body sideways down the narrow conduit, eventually emerging in a huge open space, three spans high and further across than the light of the twinklestone could reach. She struggled to work out what it had been, for she was not good at imagining shapes in her head.

  She guessed that it had once contained the solid ice foundations supporting the inner tower, the smaller one that Flydd and poor Colm had climbed after they had rescued Yggur, Flangers, Chissmoul and the other prisoners. Maelys had been in the Nightland at the time but she had heard all about it. In the Nightland, lying with Emberr … it had been the most romantic time of her life; and then the most tragic.

  So much had happened since that she had not even begun to grieve for him. Wiping her eyes, with an effort she put him out of her mind; she could not afford to be distracted now.