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

by Ian Irvine

The three of them turned together, and Tulitine said, with a dry little cough, ‘Now that sight is worth any amount of pain.’

  Maelys looked up, and up. Stassor was more astonishing than she could have imagined, for it was set on a mountain-top that had been planed off save for four upthrusting peaks framing the bottom corners of a vast white cube, the city itself.

  They were standing outside one of its lower corners and its walls reflected the surrounding peaks; from a distance Stassor must have blended into the snowy mountainscape. On closer inspection, the walls shimmered like oil on water, while colours and patterns within a deeper layer were like the play of colours in precious opal.

  ‘This way,’ said Yggur, walking to his left along the platform, which appeared to be made of compressed ice and extended all along the base of the city.

  They proceeded to the middle of the wall, where the lower part of the cube’s face was marked with a grid. As they approached, a dark line divided the grid vertically into two halves, then each grid square separated and rotated, revealing that they were the front faces of an array of cubes. The glassy cubes drifted upwards and inwards, creating an opening through which gushed a current of warm air.

  Inside the opening stood a woman, rather taller than Maelys, with several lingering touches of flame in her thick, silvery hair. Her eyes were grey-green and her cheeks lined, though she had an air of wisdom about her, of having lived long and seen much, that Maelys had not encountered previously.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, when neither Yggur nor Tulitine spoke. ‘My name is Maelys, but you would never have heard of me. Are you Malien, by any chance?’

  ‘I am,’ said Malien, extending her hand. Despite her age, her grip was almost as firm as Yggur’s and her extraordinarily long fingers wrapped right around the back of Maelys’s hand. ‘And I know of you.’

  ‘H-how could you?’ said Maelys.

  ‘Stassor isn’t at the end of the world. We hear the news regularly, via skeet. How is my old friend, Nish?’

  The pit of Maelys’s stomach dropped sharply. ‘He – he fell on the Range of Ruin. And Flydd. At least – we’re afraid they were swept away by a flood …’ With those intense grey-green eyes on her, Maelys couldn’t think straight.

  ‘And you sighted their bodies?’ Malien said sharply.

  Maelys saw in her mind’s eye the smashed and battered corpses in the lower clearing, and felt ill all over again. ‘No; we couldn’t get through the gorge. But I’m sure … how could they –?’

  ‘I won’t count Nish among the fallen until I have good evidence that he is. I’ve known him too long for that. And as for Flydd –’ Malien looked past Maelys towards Yggur and Tulitine. ‘But I am discourteous, and if my fellow Aachim were here they would justly rebuke me.’

  ‘Hello, my lady,’ she said to Tulitine. ‘I am Malien, Matah of the Aachim. The title is an honorary one,’ she explained, ‘but being Matah frees me from the oppressive rituals and obligations of my people.’

  ‘Tulitine is my chosen name,’ she said, shivering despite the mild breeze flowing from within, ‘yet if I were to tell you that my true name is Liel and my father was Illiel –’

  ‘I saw Illiel within days of his birth, and held him in my arms, though not his twin brother. Illiel was a fine scholar, as indeed was his mother –’ Malien broke off.

  ‘The Numinator and I are estranged,’ said Tulitine bleakly.

  ‘The Numinator?’ Malien turned to Yggur. ‘No! Yggur, you knew Maigraith. Tell me it is not so.’

  ‘It is so,’ he said heavily. ‘I saw her just weeks ago, at the Tower of a Thousand Steps. For nearly two hundred years Maigraith has been the Numinator, and I fear that her obsession has driven her insane. If we might go in – Tulitine is unwell.’

  ‘Come, come,’ said Malien, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry. Lady, take my hand.’

  ‘I can manage, thank you,’ said Tulitine.

  The moment they passed through the entrance, the cubular door reassembled itself; Malien led them into a reception area to the right and sat them down. From there they could see, through the glass walls, the majestic eastern and southern mountains.

  ‘I’m sorry for keeping you waiting on the doorstep, Yggur,’ Malien said. ‘The old grow forgetful and neglect their manners.’

  ‘Since I am far older than you,’ said Yggur, shaking her hand with both of his, ‘am I to take that as a reference to my own sad decline?’

  ‘Not today. Have you come far? Are you hungry?’

  ‘Starving. We’ve come across the known world in space, but only a blink in time. We have been at the Great Library. Lilis sends her best wishes and hopes to see you when she retires.’

  ‘Dear Lilis,’ said Malien. ‘I still think of her as that little waif I met back in the Time of the Mirror.’

  ‘Do you really?’ said Yggur. ‘I can’t say that I do.’

  ‘I’ll bring food and drink, if you will excuse me.’

  ‘You have no people here at all?’ Yggur looked surprised.

  ‘They’ve all gone to Faranda for another of their interminable conclaves. We Aachim, or, rather, they, can debate a vital matter for years without ever coming to a decision,’ she said to Maelys, and went out.

  After they had dined, and admired the beauties of the sunset, Malien said, ‘But the Matah is not like her fellow Aachim. To business! You have come about Stilkeen’s proclamation.’

  ‘You saw it here, too?’

  ‘I believe the whole world did so.’

  ‘We also came to ask if you know anything about chthonic fire, for Lilis did not,’ said Yggur.

  ‘Nor I,’ said Malien. ‘Not a whisper, though some of my kin might.’

  He told her about going to Noom and Mistmurk Mountain, and showed her the two fire samples in the dimensionless boxes.

  Malien stared at the fire and said solemnly, ‘Yalkara kept that secret very well hidden, and little wonder. I cannot but see the grim irony in her crime, and its outcome. As a mother who has also lost her children, I feel for her.’

  She glanced at the window, which, now darkness had fallen, reflected the room, and added savagely, ‘But as an Aachim whose world was stolen and whose ancestors were reduced to slavery, whose beloved Aachan was destroyed because of the chthonic fire she stole and carelessly set free, I wish her all the misery in the Three Worlds – and may Stilkeen consume her after she sees the failure of all her hopes!’

  Maelys gasped and shrank back in her seat, clutching at her taphloid.

  ‘I have shocked you,’ said Malien, the fierceness fading. ‘But why should we not be bitter? We did nothing to offend the Charon before they stole our world, and after thousands of years of slavery and suffering at their hands, to hear that Yalkara’s criminal folly destroyed Aachan is more than I can bear.’ She turned to Maelys. ‘I know something of your life; you too have been stripped of all you held dear because of the greed or malice of another. You must understand.’

  ‘I would not have when I left home, but half a year has changed me immeasurably.’ The taphloid was hot now, and vibrating gently against her chest; Maelys opened her hands to look at it.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ hissed Malien, rising to her feet.

  ‘My father gave it to me,’ said Malien, closing her hands around it protectively.

  ‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. May I see it?’

  Maelys did not want to let go of it, but she could hardly refuse.

  Malien studied it carefully, opening and closing its compartment, running her fingers over its smoothly curved surface and holding it against her ear. Finally she laid it down on the table between them.

  ‘Did you know it was of Charon make?’ she said frostily.

  ‘C-Charon? No!’

  ‘Then how did you come by it?’

  Maelys explained, and added, ‘How can you tell a Charon made it?’

  ‘I have the gift of knowing,’ Malien said, but did not elaborate. ‘And I also know where it came fr
om. It was made by Kandor, the least of the three Charon who dwelt on Santhenar.’

  ‘Kandor!’ Yggur cried, pushing himself to his feet.

  ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘I recognised the taphloid the moment I held it in my hand – yet I would swear I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘When you held it in your hand?’ said Malien in a curious voice.

  Yggur told her what he’d heard and felt that day in the clearing below the Range of Ruin, when he’d taken the taphloid towards the caduceus. ‘And yet, when I looked down at it, I was surprised to discover how small it was. I thought it was made by an Aachim.’

  ‘No, I’m sure Kandor built it, though I cannot say what for.’

  ‘It’s surprising Yalkara did not recognise it,’ said Yggur.

  ‘She would have known it was Charon made but, after all this time, perhaps it was of no interest to her.’

  ‘Could any of your people tell me about it?’

  ‘I expect so, but you’ll have to take it to Faranda. My Stassor kin are there at the moment, at the city of Blemph, in the mountains behind Nys.’

  ‘Then let us go to Blemph,’ said Yggur. ‘We can ask your kin about chthonic fire at the same time.’ Getting up wearily, he raised the caduceus.

  ‘You’ll have to use that outside,’ said Malien. ‘My people would not want you to employ an unknown Art in their principal city. Besides, I’m not sure it would work, given all the protections bound around this place.’

  They returned to the platform of compressed ice, which lay outside the protections. Malien showed Yggur where Blemph lay on a map, and described the city to him, and they took hold of the caduceus.

  No portal opened, and there was no sensation of movement at all, though Yggur groaned and slipped to his knees. ‘It’s not working, though it hurts as much as if I had made a portal. Malien …?’

  ‘Perhaps the caduceus doesn’t want to take me,’ she said, releasing it and stepping back towards the cubular door.

  Yggur tried again, but the result was the same: no portal formed, yet it was as painful and draining as if one had carried them across the world.

  ‘It’s not going to take us to Blemph,’ said Maelys.

  ‘No,’ said Yggur. ‘Let’s make a try for Havissard, Yalkara’s stronghold that she abandoned long ago.’

  The caduceus would not take them to Havissard either, and after the final failure Yggur was on his knees.

  ‘Each attempt is more painful,’ he wheezed. ‘I can feel the life draining out of me.’

  They helped him inside and put him to bed; any further attempts would have to wait until the morning.

  Maelys went to her own bunk, which was rather cold, since the Aachim did not heat their sleeping chambers. Six days had passed since Stilkeen’s proclamation, and all they had to show for their efforts were the two dimensionless boxes of white fire which Yggur felt sure had been corrupted. Time was running out.

  ‘What about trying Katazza, in the once-dry sea?’ said Tulitine in the morning, after they had gone to check on Yggur and found him to be deep in a coma-like sleep. ‘Since Kandor lived there, there could be some clue …’

  ‘Katazza collapsed long ago. It’s just a pile of rubble.’

  ‘Rulke’s tower of Carcharon?’

  ‘Even more unlikely,’ said Malien, ‘for I searched it after his death. And I can’t think of anywhere else that pure chthonic fire might exist on Santhenar.’

  ‘Then we’ve failed,’ said Maelys. ‘We’ve lost.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Tulitine. ‘You said, “On Santhenar”. What about Aachan?’

  ‘My home world is a boiling, sulphurous hell,’ said Malien stiffly.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The Aachim who fled here told me so, after they came through their portal to my secret refuge inside Mount Tirthrax.’

  ‘But that was, what, thirteen years ago? The eruptions could have stopped. And time passes differently in the Three Worlds, so more years may have passed on Aachan. Surely it’s worth having a look.’

  Malien’s eyes gleamed. ‘We can certainly look – if Yggur is up to it.’

  Maelys visited Yggur later that day. He had finally woken, though his breathing had a clotted rasp and his eyes were yellow-tinged. Tulitine was asleep in a large chair beside him, one transparent hand dangling over the side.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Maelys said brightly. ‘Are you feeling better?’

  ‘I wish I could say I was,’ said Yggur, ‘but I won’t be going anywhere today.’ He closed his eyes.

  When she went out she found Malien standing outside the cubular entrance, watching the shifting colours wash across the snowfields and glaciers.

  Malien turned and her old eyes shone with captured sunset. ‘I love this time of day.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful sight,’ Maelys agreed.

  ‘I never tire of it,’ said Malien.

  Maelys pulled her furs around her. ‘It’s a little too cold for my liking, though.’

  ‘How is Yggur?’

  ‘He looks worse than yesterday.’

  ‘I was afraid he might,’ said Malien. ‘I’ve known him for more than two centuries, and he’s scarcely aged in that time, but now he looks worn and withered; eaten away from within.’

  ‘Is it the caduceus?’

  ‘I think so. How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Several weeks – since we arrived at the Range of Ruin and Stilkeen appeared. From the moment Yggur tried to use his Art near the caduceus, he said that it was feeding on him. But I’m worried that his troubles go back much further.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Malien curiously.

  ‘Seven years ago the Numinator put silver shackles on his wrists to stop him from using his power, and they drew it from him constantly to maintain her tower and her dreadful work.’

  Maelys rubbed her arms and backed closer to the cubular door, where it wasn’t quite so cold. Its smaller cubes split and stirred; she could see them moving from the corner of an eye. Her teeth chattered.

  ‘And you’re afraid that, after being drained over and over, Yggur has nothing left?’ Malien came over to Maelys.

  Maelys nodded stiffly, intimidated by Malien, whom she knew from the pages of the Histories and from a Great Tale. ‘If he can’t make another portal, what are we going to do?’

  ‘Let’s see how we go. He has a strong constitution. He may be better in an hour or two.’

  The day passed but Yggur grew worse and by dinner time he was too weak to sit up. Maelys could not imagine how the strong man who had heaved those enormous blocks of frozen ground aside just weeks ago had fallen so low.

  ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ he said after they had come to visit him for the third time, late that night. Tulitine had been sitting at his bedside all afternoon but was now in bed with him, trying to warm him up. ‘I’m cold and there’s no strength in my legs. No strength anywhere.’

  ‘Maelys said it was like aftersickness,’ said Malien.

  ‘I don’t recall ever having aftersickness this bad. I’ve scarcely used mancery since we left the Range of Ruin, but I’m as exhausted as if I’ve been doing it non-stop.’

  ‘Get some rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.’

  After they were out of earshot, Malien said, ‘I’m going to take a look at the caduceus later on. You can help me.’

  ‘Are you a mancer too?’ said Maelys.

  ‘You might say that,’ Malien replied drily.

  By the frozen light of a ringed moon, Maelys carried the caduceus out onto the ice platform and stood by while Malien attempted to make a portal. Nothing happened; she might as well have been holding an iron bar.

  ‘Clearly, Stilkeen doesn’t want us to use it,’ said Maelys.

  Malien gave Yggur various Aachim medicines but the following day he was no better, nor the five days after that, and only on the succeeding morning – the fourteenth day after Stilkeen’s proclamation – cou
ld he find the strength to get out of bed.

  ‘You’re not ready,’ said Tulitine, wincing as she took his weight on her fragile bones.

  ‘And if our positions were reversed?’ he said wryly.

  ‘I’d tell you to mind your own damn business,’ she chuckled, ‘but it has to be done, and I’d do it too, no matter how much it hurt.’ She added, more soberly, ‘We’re out of time, my friend, but we don’t have to try for Aachan. We could go straight to Morrelune with the fire we have.’

  ‘Of course we must go to Aachan,’ said Yggur, ‘and right away, before I fall down. Pure chthonic fire is our only bargaining chip; we have to have it.’

  ‘Bargaining chip?’ said Maelys. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘In the frozen south, corrupted fire is consuming the ice and spreading ever faster, as fire does when it has plenty of fuel. If the great southern icecap melts, Santhenar will drown, and we may not have long to stop it. Indeed, we have no way of stopping it, but I’m sure Stilkeen can; and it might be convinced to do so in exchange for pure fire.’

  From what she had seen of Stilkeen, Maelys thought that was doubtful, but she did not say so.

  ‘I would not have this world lost,’ said Malien, ‘as my own has been.’

  ‘What if Aachan is still uninhabitable?’ said Maelys. ‘We might end up in the middle of a volcano or something.’

  ‘I’ll hold the portal until we’re sure it’s safe,’ said Yggur.

  ‘What if it isn’t?’

  ‘We’ll come straight back –’

  ‘Assuming we can,’ she muttered.

  ‘And while we’re there,’ said Yggur, steadfastly ignoring Maelys, ‘keep your eyes open for a weapon – anything at all – that we might be able to use against Stilkeen. Is everything ready?’

  ‘It’s ready,’ said Malien. She wiped her eyes. ‘Beloved Aachan, you cannot imagine what this means to me. This way.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  The air-sled had just passed over the outskirts of Roros, and Persia’s eyes were already red and watering from the wind. Being both watcher and bodyguard, she had to stay close to Nish wherever he was. He was already regretting the way he had spoken to her, but he felt so manipulated that he could not bring himself to apologise.