by Ian Irvine
‘I don’t think you’re going to need that, little one,’ said Clech, catching her in an arm as muscled as Nish’s thigh.
‘I’m making sure!’ Aimee snapped.
She smeared fire across both edges of the gap and, as the enemy lunged with a wall of spear points, Clech punched out the prop. The gap snapped closed and vanished as though it had never been.
And let’s hope Stilkeen can’t make another one, Nish thought as he rotated on the line to look for the sky-galleon.
FORTY-EIGHT
‘You were close to Kandor once,’ said Yggur, ‘were you not?’
Yalkara looked haggard now, and defeated. Clearly, after losing everything, life had become unbearable for her and she wanted it to end. Maelys felt a trace of pity for her; though only a trace.
‘Before we escaped from the void we were the best of friends,’ said Yalkara, ‘but on Santhenar Kandor changed, and we became ever more estranged.’
‘Could he have seen you find the chthonic fire?’
‘It’s possible. That was thousands of years ago, in the dark days when we were trying to survive in the void, and failing. Clever, powerful and tenacious as we Charon are, our competitors were more cunning and more ruthless, and our numbers were dwindling. The best and most brilliant among us sought a way out of the void, and – despite what the tales say – I was the first to do so.
‘I saw Stilkeen hide its chthonic fire in the core of a burnt-out comet and, while it prepared to move to another set of dimensions, I snatched the fire and fled. Fire is a marvellous and subtle force, capable of opening the passage between dimensions for us just as easily as it makes a humble portal, if we know how to use it. I found a way out of the void and we took Aachan.’
‘And Kandor?’ pressed Yggur.
‘He might have seen me take it. Or,’ Yalkara mused, ‘he might have discovered chthonic fire much later, after it had begun to work its evil on us. It rendered most of us sterile, and then drew molten magma up from deep in Aachan’s core to ruin the planet in ten thousand eruptions.’
‘Could he have taken the true fire and hidden it during the Clysm, leaving you with the corrupt version?’
‘He might have,’ said Yalkara. ‘Despite all that has been said about him, Kandor was more principled than I, and always looking to make amends.’
‘Did you know he was my father?’ said Yggur, who still seemed bemused by this revelation.
‘I did not, though it does not astonish me to hear it. Clearly, he protected the secret of your identity with his life.’
‘Kandor made the taphloid for you,’ said Maelys, looking at Yggur and thinking aloud. ‘He put the lost lessons into it and fashioned a shield to protect you. The taphloid has to be the key. And it … it’s always been a mystery to me.’
‘How so?’ said Yggur.
‘I’ve never understood how it works. Even after we took Father’s little crystal out, the taphloid still concealed my aura. How could it do that without a source of power?’
‘There may be another crystal inside it,’ said Yggur, ‘hidden there long ago.’
No one spoke for ages. Maelys thought about that, but for some reason she could not fathom, she was sure there wasn’t another crystal inside the taphloid. Yet if that was the case, what did power it?
‘What if it isn’t a crystal?’ she said suddenly. ‘Could chthonic fire be its hidden power? What if Kandor hid fire inside a corundite compartment so it would be ready for Yggur once he’d learned his lessons?’
‘That would be ironic indeed,’ said Yggur thoughtfully. ‘Yet, many people have checked the taphloid, I among them, and no hidden compartment has been found.’
Yalkara stood up straight. ‘Ah, but you don’t know how Charon think, nor the cunning way we design our most precious devices. And for such a vital purpose, Kandor would have designed the taphloid most cunningly.’
She held out her hand and Maelys gave her the taphloid.
Yalkara clenched her hands around it, shook it, then held its ends and curves to her ear, and her brow. ‘Kandor was a clever maker of such devices, but I was a brilliant one, and I think I see what he has done.’
She passed her hands over the smooth, shining metal, tapped, twisted, and pulled, and it separated into two halves. Inside the smaller half, where there should have been solid metal, sat a tiny bottle made of sapphire-coloured crystal.
Maelys let out a great sigh. ‘Is that –?’
‘Corundite,’ said Yalkara. ‘And there’s fire inside; I can see it.’ She held up the bottle. ‘It has died to the tiniest flicker, incapable of growing by itself, but I can tell from its glistening platinum whiteness, jewel-like and perfect, that this is the true fire I found in the core of the comet.’
‘Now I understand,’ said Yggur, his craggy features lit up as though by a newly risen sun. ‘This tiny fire must have been the source of my great and mysterious power all along. That’s why my power did not fade when the nodes were destroyed and almost everyone else lost their Arts. That’s why I’ve lived so long, my life force protected by the everlasting fire. And that’s how I came to do the impossible and shoot that blast across the Way between the Worlds long ago, to save Maigraith. Pure chthonic fire dissolves the barriers between the worlds and nothing can stand in its way, save corundite; it’s how Stilkeen could roam the eleven dimensions of space and time for half an eternity.’
‘And will do again after it destroys Santhenar,’ said Flydd, ‘if we can’t stop it. So how do we stop it?’
‘The fire is almost dead,’ said Yalkara. ‘It must be fed before it can be used, by Stilkeen or anyone else.’
‘We … we wouldn’t want to use it,’ said Maelys. ‘Not after what happened when Flydd had it.’
‘I’ve a feeling you might have to use it,’ said Yalkara.
‘But if it’s fed in our world it’ll become corrupt like all the other fire, won’t it?’ said Maelys.
‘It will if you feed it like any normal fire, with material fuel.’
‘How else can it be fed?’
‘Pure fire was the binding force between the physical and spirit aspects of Stilkeen,’ said Yalkara, ‘and it can only remain pure if it’s fed on another spirit – someone’s life force.’
Her eye was fixed on Maelys as if planning to feed the fire on her. Maelys edged away.
Yalkara smiled thinly. ‘Have no fear, little one. I wouldn’t feed it on your spirit.’
Whose, then? Maelys thought. Flydd’s? Yggur’s?
‘I was meant to keep watch for Stilkeen,’ said Yggur. ‘It’s the only connection I have with my father, and you can’t imagine how much that matters after all this time. I’ve lived long enough for any man; I’m prepared to make the sacrifice, if it’s the only way.’
‘We don’t know that it is,’ said Flydd, who had been unaccountably quiet, ‘and we can’t take the risk. If Stilkeen gets the true fire and rejoins with its revenants, it’ll be a hundred times as powerful and no longer in pain. It will be invincible, and Santhenar will be doomed.’
‘If we do need to use the true fire, as Yalkara has hinted,’ said Yggur, extending his hand, ‘first we have to feed it.’
After a momentary hesitation, Yalkara held out the corundite bottle.
‘No,’ said Tulitine, struggling to her feet. ‘I’m dying, and the pain is unendurable. I’ll gladly feed the fire with my spirit.’
‘Stilkeen, here!’ shouted a woman from high above Yalkara.
Maelys, recognising the voice, looked up. It was the Numinator and she was standing at the edge of the third level of Morrelune, pointing down at them.
‘There she is, Stilkeen!’ cried the Numinator. ‘It’s Yalkara, the Charon who stole your chthonic fire. She knows where the true fire lies, and she’s kept it from you just to torment you.’
Claws scraped on marble, then Stilkeen came lurching out between the flame-covered columns onto the open edge of the tower’s third level, and looked down. It was shaking and shudd
ering with pain, moving forwards then jerking back as if being so exposed to the real world was more than it could bear, but it had to have the fire.
As Tulitine’s fingers touched the corundite bottle, Yalkara whipped it away from her. Was she planning to betray them all? Maelys groped for her knife, but did not draw it, for that was not what Yalkara was up to. On the contrary.
‘There must be a reckoning,’ she said. ‘The time is long overdue.’
Flicking out the stopper with her thumb, Yalkara tilted the bottle, allowed the little tongues of fire to slide into her mouth, and swallowed. Within seconds, platinum fire exploded out from her middle and grew into a conflagration all around her as it began to feed on her life force.
‘This –’ Yalkara gasped, bent double but forced herself upright, clearly determined to meet her end with dignity, ‘this will be my atonement,’ she said over the brittle hiss of the flames, ‘for all that my folly has cost the Three Worlds, and my own, Charon, kind. I will have peace at last.’
Taking a small flat package from her gown, she passed it back and forth through the true fire enveloping her. She groaned, stifled it and hid the pain, then tossed the package to Maelys. ‘A gift for – the grandchild I will – will never see. We Charon, once so great, are finally – extinct.’
‘What is it?’ said Maelys, catching the package absently and stuffing it in her pocket.
‘A little treasure made long ago – now cleansed by pure fire.’
Yalkara fell to the floor, writhing, and the chthonic fire rose ever higher as it consumed her fleeing life force. Maelys walked away, unable to watch her death agonies.
High above, Stilkeen had wrapped itself in webs of flame, the only protection it could make against the pain of exposure to the material world, and was staring down at the white fire, hungering for it. Why didn’t it jump? Was it waiting for the true fire to reach up to the third level, while enduring the pain as best it could?
Maelys kept walking, and was facing the main entrance to Morrelune when the gateway to the shadow realm reappeared halfway down the broad hall, and Vivimord was standing just inside the black gate, enchanted sabre in hand. To one side, the revenants were drifting in a red-and black-streaked circle.
Had Vivimord decided that remaining in the shadow realm was too great a price, even to save the world he loved? He must have – he must be planning to come back from death.
Maelys ran for the gate, knowing that there was but a minute to lure the revenants out, and after that it would be too late. Once Stilkeen held the fire, it could rejoin with them at its leisure and they could not be harmed. But how were the revenants to be attacked?
Again she had that flash of memory – the rain, the caduceus steaming on the hillside, and Yggur falling down – but now she remembered what had happened next. Skidding to a stop outside the gate, hidden by a pillar where Vivimord could see her but the revenants could not, she hissed his name.
He approached the gate. ‘You’re too late, Maelys. I’m coming back from death.’
‘The true fire has been found,’ she said softly. ‘It’s just outside. You must convince them to come out now, else Stilkeen will take the fire and Santhenar will be no more.’
Vivimord looked over her head and his eyes widened.
‘But I can be the only dead man ever to return from the shadow realm, to life,’ he said softly, yearningly. ‘How can I give that up? How can I give up life?’
‘What would be the point?’ she said. ‘If Stilkeen isn’t stopped, there won’t be anything to come back to.’
He knew it, too. Vivimord stalked back and forth; he groaned, he clawed at his hair and rubbed the egg-shaped excrescence on his cheek, but nothing could rearrange the facts. It was a choice between his life and the fate of the world.
Finally, the tension eased in him, and he seemed to come to a resolution that must have offered him some sense of inner peace, for the lines on his face smoothed and he let out a small sigh.
Vivimord bowed to Maelys. ‘I salute you, for you have beaten me, over and again.’
Thrusting out his right arm, sabre extended, he cried the spell he’d made long ago to cut open the black gate. The sabre blazed blue and brilliant, the lock sagged, the gate swung open and he spoke, using all his rhetorical Art.
‘The way is clear, revenants. The true fire you have been seeking all this time lies within reach, and now Stilkeen comes. Fly, fly to Stilkeen. Complete yourselves at last!’
Maelys glanced the other way. Outside, the white fire was raging upon Yalkara’s dying body, calling to the revenants across all the dimensions of space and time, and such was the voice in his words that they burst forth, so desperate for the ecstasy of rejoining with Stilkeen that they were blinded by it.
Maelys ducked aside as they rushed the gateway, passed through, and hurtled towards the fire. Vivimord ran after them, raising the sabre to hold open the gate so he could return from death, but the sabre flowed like water in his hands and vanished.
The gate slammed and she saw his anguished face as he understood that his choice was irrevocable, then the shadow realm disappeared. He too had atoned for his crimes, but unlike Yalkara he regretted it bitterly.
Maelys ran after the revenants, unheeded. They had no interest in consuming spirits now, living or dead. But she did, for Maelys thought she knew the one way to destroy them.
Like red-streaked moths around a fire, they began to circle the conflagration feeding on Yalkara’s spirit.
Maelys ran up to Flydd and Yggur. ‘… and burn them to nothingness!’ she panted.
‘What?’ cried Flydd.
‘It’s the one phrase we recovered from Kandor’s lessons in the taphloid.’
‘But what does it mean?’ said Yggur.
‘Burn the revenants with chthonic fire,’ Maelys guessed. ‘Stilkeen ordered them to stay in the shadow realm until it called them, because outside they were in peril.’
‘Then why don’t they rejoin with it?’
‘Chthonic fire is the force that binds flesh and spirit together. Until Stilkeen holds the fire, the revenants can’t rejoin with it.’
He looked up at the trembling, flame-shrouded being. ‘All it has to do is jump down onto the fire, snatch it up, and call them to it. So why doesn’t it?’
‘It can’t bear the pain, I suppose,’ said Maelys.
‘It’ll soon find a way to protect itself,’ said Flydd.
‘Nadiril said there was one single way the revenants could be destroyed, and it must have to do with pure fire – Yalkara said we’d have to use it, remember? If Stilkeen doesn’t personally hold the pure fire, it must burn unbound revenants to nothingness.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Flydd said ruefully. ‘But how do we use it? They aren’t going near it.’
‘Go back to the shadow realm! Fly!’ choked Stilkeen from the third level, but the revenants did not look up. It was as if they hadn’t heard. They continued to circle, hungrily eyeing the pure fire, yet wary of it.
Maelys whispered, ‘Yggur, I think you’re the key. You’ve got to use the fire.’
‘I don’t know how,’ he said.
‘Nadiril said revenants are blind in the real world,’ Maelys remembered. ‘And they can barely hear. He said we might be able to fool them.’
‘How?’ cried Yggur.
Stilkeen shot inside, then reappeared, wrapping layer upon layer of its ragged shadow webs about it. It was twitching and shuddering with pain, but it must have been bearable now, for it began to clamber onto the rail of the third level.
‘It’s going to jump,’ hissed Maelys, and suddenly she knew there was only one way. ‘They can’t see you, Yggur. Act as though you’re Stilkeen.’
Without a word, Yggur leapt into the pure white fire roaring up from Yalkara’s body, wrapped it around himself and it flared even higher. Cloaked in white fire, he looked enormous, powerful, eternal. Yggur looked like a being, and he extended his long arms to the revenants as if to envelop th
em.
‘Come, my spirits, it is time.’
Letting out ecstatic cries, they whirled around him like black and red dervishes, spiralling ever closer.
Stilkeen was on the rail now, teetering there in agony. And it jumped.
The revenants circled Yggur, closer, faster, until they were no more than streaks – and then they touched. Yggur enfolded them in his arms and drew them within the fire.
Too late, as Stilkeen came hurtling down, they realised that they had been tricked. The revenants tried desperately to burst free but Yggur crushed them to him and ran with them. White fire exploded out for many spans in all directions as it fed on their pure, spirit selves and seared them into annihilation.
As Maelys scrambled out of the way, a tongue of fire touched the back of her left hand and a sizzling pain shot across it; her hand blistered, went numb, and she fell down.
Stilkeen was screaming as it hit the promenade beside Yalkara’s smoking remains, enormously lengthening its arms towards Yggur and the last fading wisps of its revenants, but they burned away just as it touched the fire.
Yggur collapsed and Stilkeen let out a shriek of uttermost agony, a shrill, ululating scream that went on and on as if it were trying to split Santhenar apart, down to its very core.
Maelys blocked her ears but the sound gouged through her head until it boiled and the backs of her eyeballs throbbed. Flydd’s nose was bleeding; a trickle of blood had started from Tulitine’s right ear; and even the men and atatusk fighting on the paved plain had clapped their hands over their ears, but no one could keep out the dreadful sound.
It cut off as suddenly as it had begun, for the severing of Stilkeen’s physical and spirit aspects was now permanent, and it was forever lost, forever abandoned, never to be free of the agony of separation.
It tore the last wisps of the dying fire from Yalkara and Yggur, wrapped them around itself like a shroud, and whirled up and up, and the fire grew until it formed a twisting column more than a league high.
Other tongues of white fire were drawn to it, including a vast streak that came from the Antarctic south, the fire that had been eating the ice there. All formed into a prodigious white javelin racing up towards the celestial sphere. At its very apex the fire burst apart, punched a white-starred hole through into unknown dimensions, and then the hole healed itself without a trace.