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

by Ian Irvine

  ‘The future is out of my realm, child,’ said Lilis. ‘That is a question better put to Tulitine; she is the seer among us.’

  Tulitine sat up, painfully. ‘Not even the greatest seer can read the future that clearly. However, judging by Stilkeen’s demeanour in the two times I’ve seen it, I doubt that it will go away.’

  ‘Perhaps your question, Maelys, should have focussed on what I know of beings,’ said Lilis. ‘The answer is, not much, though they are never humble, and Stilkeen has suffered terribly from what Yalkara did to it. Did she steal its binding fire out of malice, I wonder, or come upon it by accident and take it, thinking it was a treasure beyond price, only to discover that there was no way of using it safely?’

  ‘I understand that chthonic fire gave the Charon their way out of the void,’ said Yggur. ‘It has a unique ability to dissolve the walls that separate the eleven dimensions of space and time.’

  ‘But once she stole the fire,’ Lilis went on, ‘Yalkara must have discovered that there was no way to return it. Whatever she did with it would leave a trail leading straight back to her. Furthermore, immortal beings have a powerful sense of their own importance and cannot suffer an injury meekly.’

  ‘You have confirmed my own thoughts on the matter,’ said Yggur. ‘Stilkeen will want to make humanity pay for the monstrous sacrilege done to its sacred person by Yalkara and, by extension, all humanity. It won’t let us go unharmed, even if we give it the true fire.’

  ‘What is your final question?’ said Lilis.

  ‘I have no other,’ said Yggur, frowning as if trying to locate an elusive memory.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There’s nothing else that comes to mind.’

  ‘I have another. Do you know anything about taphloids?’ said Maelys, clutching at it through her shirt.

  ‘There was only ever one device of that name, to my knowledge,’ said Lilis.

  ‘Was it this one?’ Maelys pulled the chain over her head and handed the taphloid to Lilis.

  She studied it carefully. ‘Yes, this is it. I never thought I’d see it again, but such things have a way of returning to the place they came from.’ She was looking at Yggur, head to one side. ‘The Library obtained it four hundred years ago, from a private collection Nadiril had acquired.’

  ‘Who sold it?’ said Yggur.

  ‘That does not matter,’ said Lilis. ‘If the seller does not want their name revealed, we do not reveal it.’

  ‘Even after four hundred years!’ cried Yggur.

  ‘Even so. Our confidentiality is absolute and enduring. In any case, the owner did not know where the taphloid had come from originally; it had been sold and resold many times, for it is a beautiful thing. Neither did anyone know what it was for.’

  ‘It protects me by concealing my aura,’ said Maelys. ‘And I was told that it contained information that would be vital, later on.’

  ‘It contained a series of lessons,’ said Lilis. ‘Nadiril learned that much, but not even his vast Arts and experience could recover them, though he did discover that the taphloid had first been sold in the Clysm. That was a series of terrible wars between the three Charon who dwelt on Santhenar, and the Aachim,’ she explained to Maelys, though Maelys, who had been taught the Histories by her father, already knew it.

  ‘Santhenar was devastated by those wars and it took hundreds of years to recover from them,’ Lilis continued. ‘And apparently the original owner of the taphloid was left destitute and sold it. That was all Nadiril could discover. It was just another inexplicable curio from the past, and there are many of them in the Library.’

  ‘Then how did Father end up with it?’ said Maelys.

  ‘That’s another story, though it comes from the most recent era. The Library was not greatly troubled by the lyrinx during the great war, for they had a reverence for the Histories, and for knowledge generally. They seldom came near the Library, save for information.’

  ‘Do you mean to say that you even provided information to the enemy?’ growled Yggur.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Lilis, unperturbed, ‘though they were not my enemy, since the Great Library has from its beginnings, under an ancient charter, always been an independent entity. I found the lyrinx to be entirely courteous, well-mannered and prompt in paying their accounts, unlike some old humans I could name. But won’t,’ she added hastily.

  ‘In fact, I found them to be rather more human than many humans I’ve dealt with. Over the hundred and fifty years of the war the protection was only broken three times, each time by lyrinx who were outcast from their communities. They gave us no great trouble, though the last time, twenty years ago, three broke through our defences and stole a number of valuable items, including this taphloid.

  ‘I tried to get it back, but in war things become lost and sometimes no one knows what happened to them. I can only assume that your father must have taken it from a dead lyrinx on a battlefield and, having a strong gift for the Art, he recognised its potential. Even recognised that it contained lessons.’

  Lilis pressed the taphloid against her forehead and closed her eyes.

  ‘With my Librarian’s Art I can read an intention in the device, one I don’t believe was here when I last held the taphloid, a long time ago. Wait a moment; I’ll have to search my memories of that time. So many years, so many memories,’ she mused. ‘An old Librarian’s mind is like the Library itself – rather dusty, a trifle battered and decayed, some memories mislaid, others put on the wrong shelves, and yet others gone forever. But I’m sure I can find this one. Ah!’

  She lowered the taphloid to the bench.

  ‘Yes, I have it. Maelys, your father must have recognised that it was a teaching and shielding device, and attempted to put a number of lessons into it, to teach you about your gift for the Art when you were old enough; and when it was safe to do so.’

  ‘I knew it,’ said Maelys. ‘Ever since I was told that I had a gift, I’ve been trying to find someone who could teach me to use it, and yet my teacher was hanging from my neck the whole time. Can you unlock the lessons for me?’

  ‘No,’ said Lilis, and Maelys’s face fell.

  Lilis took up the taphloid and again pressed it to her forehead. ‘I can read that your father worked hard at your lessons. It must have taken him many months, and he thought he had put them into the taphloid correctly, keyed in such a way that no one could ever recover them save you. He would have done so for your protection since, under the God-Emperor’s rule, it is illegal for private citizens to possess enchanted objects.’

  ‘Then what went wrong?’ said Yggur. ‘I assume something has gone wrong.’

  ‘The original lessons must have been put into the taphloid by a master, probably the one who made it, so they could only be read by the person for whom they were intended. Unfortunately, Maelys, two such sets of instructions could not occupy the same place and, I believe, your father’s lessons corrupted the earlier ones. In the Library we are adept at recovering information from the most fragmentary of sources, but I can tell at a touch that I can’t get anything out of your taphloid. I’m sorry.’

  ‘A voice spoke from the taphloid, twice,’ Maelys remembered, ‘when Yggur first approached the caduceus with it, before we left the Range of Ruin.’

  ‘Twice?’ said Yggur.

  ‘Yes. Surely you remember?’

  ‘I remember it telling me to keep watch, but that’s all.’ Yggur was looking at Maelys as if she were mad.

  ‘The first time it spoke was before that,’ said Maelys. ‘Just before you fell down against the caduceus and we had to drag you away. Your hair was smoking.’

  He put his hand to the top of his head, feeling the frizzy patch there. ‘I believe you, though I don’t remember that either.’

  ‘I heard it too,’ said Tulitine. ‘It was the same voice, a deep, reverberating man’s voice, speaking in an accent I did not recognise. It said, ‘… and burn them to nothingness.’

  ‘… and burn them to nothin
gness?’ repeated Yggur, frowning. ‘That could mean anything.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Lilis. ‘The taphloid is one of the more enigmatic devices I’ve had to deal with. Now if you’re quite finished …’

  They took the hint.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The air-sled made its stuttering way east towards the mighty mountains of Crandor, and when they were winding their way up the valleys and over the lowest passes, Flydd said, ‘We’re not far from Roros now – only fifty leagues in a direct line, I’d guess. Do you think you can get us that far, Chissmoul?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, surr.’

  Her best lasted a day and a half, until the following evening, though her stops to tinker with the mechanism became more frequent, until she was spending half an hour on the ground for every hour in the air. They had made it over the mountains and across the rainforest on the eastern side, almost to Roros, keeping away from cleared land and any evidence of habitation, so there would be no warning of their coming.

  On a hot, steamy tropical evening, the air-sled was creeping along the coast half a league offshore, so as not to be seen, for Crandor was a fertile and heavily populated land. They were flying so low that waves were thumping against the keel, when an unpleasant sound of metal grinding against metal came from the mechanism and it began to rattle and shake violently.

  Chissmoul hastily turned towards the distant shore. ‘I was afraid that was going to happen,’ she said to Flydd. ‘It’s finished this time, surr.’

  ‘Can you get us to land?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Hardly any of my militia can swim,’ said Nish. ‘And the wounded will certainly drown if we come down in deep water. Get everyone ready, Lieutenant.’

  While Flangers organised the troops, Nish made sure that the stretcher lashings were unfastened and slung the serpent staff loosely over his back so he could drop it if he got into trouble. The food and drink were packed on the far right corner of the air-sled though, unless they made it to solid ground, it would have to be abandoned.

  It became increasingly evident that they would not reach the shore, for the air-sled dropped lower and began to crash into the waves, dashing salty spray in their faces, and none of Chissmoul’s increasingly frantic movements with her controller were making any difference.

  ‘What if you set down on the water and give the mechanism another tweak?’ said Flydd.

  ‘Can’t!’ she wailed, in despair now that her precious craft was failing. ‘Something’s broken and I’ve no way of fixing it. Besides, she won’t float with that whacking great spear hole through the bottom.’

  ‘What if we plugged it with something?’

  ‘Would you crawl inside the deck in the dark,’ said Chissmoul, ‘and try to find a spear hole by feel, when the craft could sink and carry you with it?’

  Nish’s heart sank, for he knew what was going to happen next.

  ‘If we don’t,’ said Flydd, ‘everyone who can’t swim will die.’

  ‘I’ll have a go,’ said Flangers.

  ‘Can you swim, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Not much more than a dog paddle.’

  ‘Stay here,’ said Nish, ‘and get the troops off the instant we reach shore. I’ll go – I’ve been inside the deck already.’

  The air-sled, moving slowly now, crashed through another swell. The coast was a dark shadow not far ahead, but waves were bursting on a steep and rocky shore. ‘I can’t lift her at all,’ said Chissmoul dismally.

  ‘As long as you can keep going forwards,’ said Flydd, ‘we’ll be all right.’

  ‘We can’t land there – we’d be smashed to pieces on the rocks.’

  ‘I think there’s a little cove further south. Head that way and beach the air-sled on the sand.’

  ‘If I can get her that far,’ said Chissmoul grimly.

  ‘What are you going to plug the hole with, Nish?’ said Flangers. ‘It’ll need to be jammed in tight or the water will force it straight out again.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Flangers hacked a length off the pennant pole with his broadsword. ‘This is about the same width as a javelard spear.’ He rummaged among the gear purloined from the army at Blisterbone Pass and brought out a hammer.

  Nish took them. ‘I’d better take a knife in case I have to whittle it down to size. How far are we from shore?’

  He could not tell from here, for it was a cloudy night and the dark rocks were almost indistinguishable from the sea and the sky.

  ‘Couple of hundred spans,’ said Aimee from behind. ‘But the cove is three times that.’

  It might as well be a hundred leagues, Nish thought. The air-sled isn’t going to make it.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ he said, taking off his sabre and staff and handing them to Flangers. He crawled down the hole into the deck.

  ‘Good luck,’ they said, with feeling.

  The floor was already awash, though at least the water was warm, which was a novelty in Nish’s experience. Inside it was totally dark and he crouched there for a few moments, getting his bearings. The mechanism must be a few paces ahead of him. Yes, he could hear its grinding. The spear hole would be diagonally some four spans to his right, near the prow, since it had come through under the pennant pole.

  He crawled that way, holding the wooden plug in his right hand, the knife and hammer thrust through his belt. The water was deeper at the front and came up to his elbows. People were moving around on the deck above his head; below him the hull was thumped regularly by the swell. The air was hot, the humidity stifling, and in the darkness Nish felt the first stirrings of claustrophobia. He fought them down and continued until his head struck the inside of the prow.

  He could not find any hole in the keel, though the water definitely seemed to be rising. The hole should be directly below the pennant pole socket, he reasoned, and he must be able to see that as a slightly lighter circle.

  He crawled back and forth, feeling the floor with the palms of his hands, but could not feel or see a thing. He must have crawled too far to the right. Nish turned around and, distantly, could just make out the pale circle of his entry hole. He oriented himself again and headed for the point where the socket should be.

  The sound of the mechanism stopped abruptly and the air-sled thumped onto the water. Chissmoul cursed, loudly and volubly, and shortly it lifted again, with a series of wrenching shudders.

  ‘How are you getting on down there?’ said Flydd, his head down the hole. ‘Nearly done?’

  ‘I can’t find the bloody spear hole.’

  ‘It’s below the pole socket,’ Flydd said tersely.

  ‘I can’t find that either.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It’s darker than a lyrinx’s appendix down here.’

  ‘But you must be able to see –’

  Flydd broke off and Nish heard him striding across the deck, then the scrape of wood on metal, and he came back.

  ‘Some fool put a crate on top of it. That better?’

  When he looked the other way, Nish could see the pale dot of the socket. ‘Thanks. How far are we from shore?’

  ‘A good way. Clech has been taking soundings and the water is still eleven spans deep, so get a move on.’

  ‘I’m not down here for my health!’ Nish said irritably.

  The spear hole wasn’t directly beneath the socket when he got to it, for the spear had come through the floor at a shallow angle and struck the base of the pole slantwise, however after feeling around in increasing circles for another minute he tore his palm open on the ragged metal edge of the hole in the keel.

  Nish cursed, then felt the hole carefully. It seemed smaller than his plug, and even after he’d tapped all the ragged edges down flat it still would not fit.

  He was settling back on his haunches to whittle the plug to size when the mechanism stopped again, the air-sled dropped sharply and water gushed through the spear hole, right into his face. He fell backwards, struck his head, and knife and plu
g went flying.

  As he was feeling for them Flydd called again, rather more sharply, ‘Are you done now? We seem to be taking in a lot of water.’

  ‘The cursed plug is too big,’ Nish snapped. ‘I’ve got to cut it to size. Tell Chissmoul to fly prow-down so some of the water can run out.’

  ‘I don’t think she can.’

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘So is your job, and if it takes much longer there won’t be any point.’

  Nish restrained the urge to insert the plug into Flydd, sideways, and felt for his knife. The air-sled lifted even more reluctantly than before and some water dribbled out.

  He whittled the end of the plug, which was extremely hard wood, and tried it again, but it was still too big. Outside he could hear crashing waves; they must have drifted closer to the rocks, and with such big seas there would be little chance of anyone getting off onto the steep shore. He tried the plug and this time it just fitted.

  He tapped it in. The plug felt tight, but the air-sled dropped again, hit the water and the pressure blew it out, whacking him in the mouth. He rubbed his bruised lips and replaced the plug.

  ‘Nearly done?’ said Flydd. ‘We’re awfully low in the water.’

  ‘Impact keeps pushing it out. Chissmoul has to stay up longer.’

  ‘Flying this heap is hard enough without lifting all that extra water.’

  However the air-sled did lift, went prow down, and the water began to gurgle out the spear hole.

  ‘Where are we now?’ Nish yelled.

  ‘Nearing the entrance to the cove, but the water is still deep. If we go down I can swim to shore … but I don’t think anyone else could.’

  ‘Well, I certainly can’t from here!’

  Nish jammed in the plug and hammered it down until his arm was aching. He could feel the air-sled moving now.

  ‘Done it!’ he yelled. ‘I’m coming out.’

  ‘We’re in the cove,’ Flydd said. ‘I don’t think we can get as far as the beach but there’s a little rock platform to our right; Chissmoul is going to try and beach the air-sled on it.’

  ‘Gather your packs and weapons,’ ordered Flangers, ‘and get ready to jump. Stretcher-bearers, stand by.’