by Ian Irvine
She ran across. His eyes were tightly closed but tears were leaking out of them.
‘What can I do?’ she said, taking his hand. ‘Tell me what to do.’ He was no longer her enemy, just a little man in agony.
‘Get my knoblaggie,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘And a length of wood or metal.’
The tapestries were suspended from metal rods. She tore one down, wrenched the rod out and gave it to him. Using the power of the knoblaggie, he bent the rod double and fused its ends to form a blob, flattened on the base, which he bound to his lower leg to form a crude foot. The gruesomely cauterised wound began to drip a straw-coloured fluid.
‘Help me up,’ he gritted.
She did so.
‘Where’s Jal-Nish?’ As he took an awkward step, pain shivered across his handsome face.
‘He’s dead.’
‘Dead! Are you sure?’
‘We all saw his rotting body, and he looked as though he’d been dead for weeks. It wasn’t pleasant.’
‘Where was he?’
‘In the top level of the palace.’
‘I swore an oath to him, and I’ve come all this way,’ Klarm said. ‘I’ll see him laid to rest. You’d better get out of the palace; it isn’t safe.’ He turned aside.
‘Wait!’ said Maelys. ‘Stilkeen has cut a hole in the void and they’re coming through.’
He froze, turned painfully. ‘What’s coming through?’
‘Beasts I have no name for – savage, terrible creatures. It offered Santhenar to them; it told them to get rid of humanity and find the white fire.’
Klarm stumped back, caught her arm and pulled her down to his level. ‘And who’s to hold them off?’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’ve had no news since I left Blisterbone and went into the shadow realm, and in there I can’t even tell how time is passing.’
‘You left Blisterbone nearly four weeks ago.’ She told him about the armies gathered outside, and Nish’s allies.
‘Extraordinary,’ said Klarm, stumping away past his amputated foot, and back. ‘I hadn’t thought any of you would survive.’
‘And Vomix has an army as well. Maybe six thousand men.’
‘Seneschal Vomix? What’s he doing here?’
‘Trying to take the empire for himself.’
‘Like hell!’ Klarm thought for a moment. ‘You’d better come with me.’
‘I’m looking for a way to attack Stilkeen.’
‘I’ve been trying to think of one ever since I left Blisterbone Pass –’
There came a barking bellowing from outside, as though a great beast was raging into battle. Weapons clashed and a thin, squealing scream echoed down the steps, but was cut off. Someone had just been slain.
‘My friends are dying out there and I can’t fight beside them,’ said Maelys. ‘But I’ve got to do something.’
‘You helped me.’ Dispassionately, Klarm studied the crusted, seeping mess on the end of his leg. ‘And I’ll do what I can for you. I can only think of one man who might know Stilkeen’s weakness. Unfortunately …’ He looked her up and down as if weighing her resolve.
‘I’ll do anything,’ said Maelys.
‘Unfortunately, he’s been dead for two hundred years. But if you truly are brave enough to do anything, that need not stop you.’
Her toes curled. ‘What do you mean? You don’t mean …’
‘The one man who might know is Old Nadiril, the greatest librarian of all. I saw him in the shadow realm as I came though, but I don’t see how you could possibly survive in that place, Maelys, doughty though you are.’
Neither did she. She definitely did not want to go there, but she had to do something.
‘My taphloid conceals me from Stilkeen, and also hides my aura,’ said Maelys. She hastily explained about Kandor’s protection, and Yggur. ‘Kandor made the taphloid to give Yggur a warning when Stilkeen drew near; and to help conceal him.’
Klarm rubbed his beard, thinking. ‘The taphloid must suppress its wearer’s aura on all the planes, and it might conceal you from Stilkeen’s revenants, too, but it won’t hide you from the normal spirits in that place. Your old friends Vivimord and Phrune are among them – Phrune asked after you the moment I entered the shadow realm.’ His face twisted in disgust.
The thought of meeting Phrune again made Maelys physically ill, but she could not back out now. ‘What choice do I have?’
‘No more and no less than I do,’ he said quietly. ‘We are each prisoners of our given word, yet our oaths may also serve us, in dark times. Take this.’
With his fingertips Klarm tapped a beat on the knoblaggie, which was like three brass balls fused together, and handed it to her.
The knoblaggie felt as heavy as solid brass. ‘How will you defend yourself?’ she said, amazed that he would offer her something so precious to him.
‘I have the tears,’ Klarm reminded her. With exquisite care, he picked them up and put them around his neck; their song rose and fell.
Maelys stepped away hastily. ‘How do I use the knoblaggie? Can I use it, without any Art?’
‘Yes, I’ve allowed you to. If you’re in danger, you must will a physical shield around yourself, matching the concealment the taphloid gives you. It may save your life – once.’
‘What if I get attacked a second time?’
Klarm closed his eyes, smoothed his hand over the surface of Gatherer, not quite touching it, and turned his head from side to side. ‘There’s a blade lying on the floor above here. Get it.’
She did not move. ‘What good can it do in the shadow realm?’
‘You never know,’ said Klarm. ‘If you escape, leave my knoblaggie here – I’ll need it afterwards.’
She did not ask what he meant, but ran up the stairs. The blade turned out to be the sabre M’lainte had returned to Nish – Vivimord’s sabre – which he’d left on the side of the sky-galleon. It must have fallen off. The sabre was way too long for her, but better than nothing, so she took it and went back to Klarm.
He started when he recognised it. ‘I’ve a fancy Vivimord would be glad to see that.’
‘Why?’ said Maelys.
‘It’s been enchanted for a special purpose, but don’t reveal it unless you have to. It might be worth something to you down there.’
She wrapped the sabre in the length of silk carpet and tied it firmly in place. ‘How do I get into the shadow realm? Is it far from here?’
Klarm slid his hand above the surface of Gatherer again and a pit appeared in the floor between them.
‘The shadow realm lies everywhere, Maelys, and touches all places equally. Jump in.’
She did not move; she wasn’t ready. ‘I thought it would be harder than that. When Flydd was trying to get into the shadow realm, once –’
‘Normally it’s very hard to get in,’ said Klarm. ‘But with Stilkeen so near to us, the barriers between the dimensions have thinned.’
She looked down, but couldn’t see anything save vague flittings and scurryings in the darkness. She was sick of darkness and flame; Maelys wished she was outside, and that the sun was still shining. But there was no point to wishing; the job had to be done.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and jumped. ‘Waaaaiiit!’ she called as she was falling. ‘How will I recognise Nadiril, among millions of spirits? And how do I get out again?’
There was no answer. The pit had already closed over.
She drifted down, almost weightless, though she could still feel the heaviness of the knoblaggie and the warmth of the taphloid between her breasts, vibrating ever so slightly. The carpet-wrapped sabre was tucked under her left arm.
Mist wreathed across the space she was falling through, and the air sparkled here and there. Rays of light streaked above and below her, illuminating rods of sky like a searchlight shining through rain. Another ray went right through her as though she had a glass belly.
A transparent woman in a green gown shot by, head forward, arms clasped behind her, gliding thr
ough empty air like a skater across a frozen pond. A pair of children whirled and danced the other way, as excited as puppies chasing a leaf.
Maelys was smiling after them when she sensed something behind her, turned and came face to face with a chubby, malevolent spirit whose pale skin shone as if painted with oil. His head was shaven, apart from a gleaming queue, and his cheeks were so plump that his eyes were mere slits. However his ears had been cut off and the tip of his nose was split, revealing its revolting insides.
‘Phrune!’ she gasped, backing away through the air and groping for the knoblaggie. She did not go for her taphloid, since it’d had no effect on Phrune’s reanimated body after he had died.
‘One of me,’ he said in a treacly voice. ‘But the other four Phrune spirits aren’t far away, as distances run in the shadow realm. We’ve been watching the entrances for you, little Maelys. Vivimord said you’d join us before too long.’
There was no sign of the injuries Phrune had suffered when she’d stuffed her taphloid into his open mouth, apart from his swollen, torn and blistered lips. Nor, thankfully, of the intestines that had been hanging out for most of the time that dead Phrune had hunted her.
‘Where’s Vivimord?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder.
Her voice sounded higher in the shadow realm, almost shrill. The other Phrunes were not in sight, though she could see spirits everywhere now; the levels below her were thick with them, all flitting and fluttering as only the dis-embodied could.
‘Around,’ said Phrune vaguely. ‘Don’t you worry about him. I’m going to look after you.’
If she used the knoblaggie, it would probably shield her from this Phrune, but would there be anything left for the other four? No, Klarm had said it would only work once, and she hadn’t yet gained what she came for.
‘I need to talk to Vivimord. It’s urgent.’
Phrune let out one of those incongruous giggles that had always set her teeth on edge. ‘My master is a busy man.’
‘Here?’ she cried. ‘How can he be?’
‘Vivimord wants out,’ Phrune said sourly, ‘and he knows there must be a way.’ His red lips snapped shut as if he’d said more than his master would have liked. ‘I won’t be bothering him, Maelys. As if I’d do you any favours.’
He drifted towards her, and from the corners of her eyes Maelys saw that the other four Phrunes were also converging on her. She gripped the knoblaggie hard; she didn’t know if spirits could be harmed in the shadow realm, but live people could – Flydd had talked about the dangers during their attempts to escape from Mistmurk Mountain. And if he had been afraid, there was much to be afraid of.
‘Vivimord?’ she shouted. ‘Where are you? The Phrunes won’t let me talk to you.’
The Phrunes clapped their hands over their ears, grimacing. When Phrune had been alive, she remembered, shrill sounds had hurt his ears, and her voice was much higher here than in the real world …
‘I’ll scream,’ said Maelys, taking a deep breath and leaning towards him. ‘Right in your ears!’
‘Oh, very well!’ the first Phrune snapped. ‘It’ll be nearly as much fun watching the master deal with you.’
Could Phrune be trusted? Certainly not. Was he planning an ambush? Undoubtedly, if he thought he could get away with it, so she had to be on her guard. She followed after his flitting spirit forms, finding it hard to keep up; the five Phrunes had to keep stopping for her. Eventually they spiralled through a cloud and emerged above an amphitheatre where Vivimord stood on the stage addressing an audience.
He was a very tall spirit with long black hair, black eyes and a thin, hooked nose, and every eye was drawn to him, for he was a charismatic zealot who could sway multitudes with his oratory.
At sight of the flying Phrunes, Vivimord’s hard mouth curved down in annoyance, until they all pointed at Maelys. He nodded, concluded his address, bowed to his audience and drifted up towards her, showing his teeth.
‘I hoped to see you here before too long,’ he said, ‘though I did not expect the added pleasure that you would still be alive.’
‘I need your help,’ said Maelys.
‘The only assistance you’ll be getting from me will be to join us permanently.’ Vivimord’s hand slipped to the knife on his belt.
‘Wait!’ said Maelys desperately. ‘Do you know what’s going on at Morrelune?’
He drew the knife and tested it by cutting his thumb off. The spirit matter hardly bled at all, and when he stuck it back onto the stump, his thumb wiggled just as naturally as his fingers. ‘A little. I can’t see clearly into the material planes yet.’
‘Stilkeen has opened the void and, if it can’t soon be closed, it will be the end of the world. You once said how much you loved Santhenar, so what matters most to you – revenge on me, or the world’s fate?’
‘I care less about it now than I did while I was alive,’ Vivimord said. ‘But you’re right; I do love my world and would not see it harmed – especially as I still hope to return to it. What do you want from me, Maelys, and why should I help you?’
‘I’ve got to find Nadiril the Librarian.’
‘What for?’
She looked over her shoulder, instinctively, then lowered her voice. ‘Because I’m told that he may know Stilkeen’s weakness. We don’t believe it will go away quietly, even if it does get the pure chthonic fire it needs to bind its physical and spirit aspects together. We’re looking for a way to drive it away, or even kill it.’
His dark eyes weighed her; he thrust the point of his knife into his tenebrous thigh again and again, until an ectoplasmic fluid spurted out. He caught it in a chalice and swallowed it again.
‘I don’t think a being can be killed,’ said Vivimord. ‘But Nadiril knows more than I do. Come this way.’
He took hold of her arm with fingers that had a tight, chilly clasp, like a frozen tourniquet. This time they did not float or fly, but appeared to skip in and out of existence. Maelys felt as though they were covering great distances, if distance had any meaning in the shadow realm.
Vivimord stopped suddenly, dropped into a multi-coloured layer of mist then through it into a space shaped like an enormous stone box, where a tremendously ancient spirit sat perched on a stool rather like the one Lilis had used in the Great Library, perusing a scroll.
He resembled a dying stork, Maelys thought, for he was long-limbed and had a thin and sharply arching nose. His limbs were no more than bone and sinew though his skin wasn’t saggy, but rather was stretched tightly across the angular cheek-and jaw-bones. His skull was a high, bald dome, the skin there blotchy and flaking. A few wisps of white hair clung to the sides of his head and his eyes were clouded as if blind – and yet he had been reading. Did he read via the Art?
The old man looked up at Maelys and smiled. ‘Hello, a beautiful, live young woman.’ His voice was faint and whispery. ‘Have you come to visit me? Goody.’
‘Hello,’ said Maelys. ‘You must be Nadiril. I’m Maelys. I was at the Great Library recently, consulting Lilis.’
Nadiril smiled fondly. ‘My little protégée, and the finest librarian I ever taught. How is she?’
‘Very well. She has recently retired.’ Maelys told him the tale, briefly, and how Lilis, Yulla and M’lainte had turned up just in time with the sky-galleon.
‘Three Reckless Old Ladies?’ Nadiril said delightedly. ‘Capital, capital! One should always retire before it’s time; I went on far too long. But live people don’t risk the shadow realm for idle conversation. You’ve come to consult me about some weighty matter.’
Maelys explained their situation and what she was looking for.
The clouded eyes never left her face and she gained the impression that he could see her clearly. ‘So old Yggur is still going, two centuries after my death?’ said Nadiril. ‘Who would have thought it? And Kandor was his father? Why did that never occur to me?
‘Ah yes, your question,’ he added as Maelys stirred. ‘Time is pressing and you’re
rightly impatient with an old man’s meandering mind.’
‘Er …’ said Maelys. He seemed such a nice old fellow and she did not want to trouble him.
‘Get on with it,’ snapped Vivimord. ‘She has a date.’ He tested the knife blade on his other thumb.
Nadiril ignored him. ‘I could not have answered your question before I came to the shadow realm, Maelys, but since I’ve been here I’ve kept my eyes and ears open … in a manner of speaking.’ He laughed wispily. ‘Stilkeen’s revenants are silly, heedless creatures, all pleasure and no prudence. They give no thought to the future; it’s no wonder Stilkeen keeps them here.’
‘I didn’t know they were kept here,’ said Vivimord, suddenly attentive.
‘Of course they are,’ said Nadiril. ‘In Stilkeen’s proper state it is almost invulnerable, because it can shift quickly to other aspects and planes where few if any enemies can follow.
‘And besides, being a being,’ he smiled at the little word-play, ‘it can’t be killed save by another higher power. However, severed from its revenants as it is now, it has a weakness. It is almost invulnerable to the most powerful mortals, but its revenants are only safe in the shadow realm, or when they are united with Stilkeen by chthonic fire. If they leave this realm, unbound, there is one single way that they can be harmed – indeed, destroyed completely.’
‘How?’ said Maelys, finding it hard to breathe. This was the answer everyone had been searching for. Dare she try to destroy even part of a being?
‘Unfortunately, I haven’t learned that,’ said Nadiril with a wry smile.
‘But … have you got any idea?’
‘I’m afraid not. You’ll have to work it out yourself.’ His clouded eyes closed, his head nodded, and he appeared to doze for a few seconds, before opening his eyes again.
‘However, out in the real world, their senses fail them; the revenants are blind and they can barely hear, so you may be able to trick them. And if you should succeed, and they are destroyed, I believe that Stilkeen would be so hurt by their destruction that it would not be seen again in the physical worlds for a goodly fraction of eternity.’