Nightfall

by Den Patrick

  ‘Damn you, Tsen!’ She pressed her palm to the stinging pain and winced bitterly. The Xhan retrieved his sword and pressed one hand to the back of his head where Kimi had struck him.

  ‘No, Kimi, damn you. Our father never loved us, never loved me. I doubt if he even loved our mother. He sent you away to that wretched island and I had to stay here, withering under his disapproving glances. No longer! I am the Xhan now and you can take the knee or die.’

  Chulu-Agakh made a tutting noise and the officials all shook their heads with expressions of disgust and despair.

  ‘So you admit that she is your sister,’ said the Darga of Bestam quietly. Tsen glowered at the old man but said nothing.

  ‘You shouldn’t have poisoned him,’ replied Kimi, changing her grip on the staff.

  ‘Poison?’ Tsen’s face contorted with anger. ‘The old man was poison incarnate. Why do you care what method I used?’

  ‘There’s no honour in poison, Tsen.’ Kimi circled him, never dropping her guard. ‘That was never our way. The Yamal do not stoop to poisoning.’

  ‘Honour?’ For a moment Tsen resembled nothing so much as her little brother, close to tears after receiving yet another cruel rebuke from their father years earlier. ‘There’s no honour any more, Kimi. Not for the likes of us.’

  ‘Tsen-Baina Jet, you by your own words admit you killed a sitting Xhan, not by honourable challenge, but by the low ways of poison. You are no longer fit to be Xhan and I exile you from these lands.’

  ‘On whose authority?’ Tsen broke into a mocking smile. ‘Yours?’

  Kimi threw the staff like a javelin and the heavy wood slammed into Tsen’s forehead, knocking him off his feet. Kimi was on him before his eyes fluttered open.

  ‘Kimi, I—’ But anything else he said was knocked from his mouth by the furious fists of his sister. Blow after bloody blow.

  ‘Shut up, Tsen. Shut up!’ Kimi stood up, her knuckles stinging from the beating she had doled out. ‘It’s over. You’re done here.’

  Why did you spare him? asked Flodvind three nights later as they sat on the southern bank of the river Bestnulim. A procession of fishermen had offered portions of their catch that day, but Kimi knew the azure dragon was still hungry; the sound of her rumbling stomach was testament to that.

  ‘Because there are worse things than death.’

  How so? Surely death is the ultimate insult. A way to silence one’s enemies completely.

  ‘The spirits of the dead did not pass on at Vladibogdan. They were bound by the Ashen Torment, forced to work in servitude for eternity. At least until Steiner released them.’

  But there is no Ashen Torment to bind your brother.

  ‘No, but being cast out from one’s homeland, that’s a cruel punishment. Knowing you may never see your people again, or feel the weight of familiar coins, is a torture. Missing a particular turn of phrase or hearing your mother tongue spoken all around you, that’s worse. A daily grief, a sadness without end.’

  Vladibogdan appears to have had a profound effect on you.

  ‘It has.’ Kimi looked north, across the river to Izhoria.

  What will you do now?

  ‘The tribal Xhans are already squabbling among themselves, deciding who will take power. Many are saying that the role of High Xhan is not for a woman.’

  ‘But not everyone feels the same way,’ said Chulu-Agakh from over her shoulder.

  ‘You move quietly, old man.’ Kimi smiled. ‘You might even have killed me if your intentions were different.’

  ‘May I remind you that you’re in conversation with a dragon? Such an assassination attempt would be short-lived.’ Chulu-Agakh leaned on his staff and looked out across the river.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to rule,’ said Kimi after a pause. ‘Not here. There are too many painful memories.’

  ‘And if you do not rule here?’ Chulu-Agakh looked down at his feet. ‘Then where?’

  Kimi’s mind drifted to the misty hill in Izhoria, where she had fashioned a sarcophagus for Marozvolk from the stones of an old shrine. ‘I think I know the place,’ she replied with a deep calmness. ‘But there’s no one there to rule.’

  ‘Perhaps you should make it known you are leaving Yamal.’ Chulu-Agakh turned to leave. ‘You may be surprised who comes with you.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Steiner

  In time they pulled down the old Imperial Palace. Half the stone had been given to the poorer districts of the city to build new housing, though Steiner had had to argue long and hard to make it so. The other half of the stone was sent south on a series of caravans. It would provide foundations for the ever-growing city of Volknulim in Izhoria.

  ‘You’d think I was pulling the teeth from the councillors’ mouths and throwing them into the sea,’ said Steiner. ‘It’s my own fault. I should never have asked for elected officials. Democracy is a pain in my arse.’ He revealed a long-suffering smile to make it clear he was joking. ‘I could have made myself Emperor and ruled without committee.’

  ‘I’ve heard it said committees are where good ideas go to die,’ replied Kimi with the same long-suffering smile. They sat on a stone bench that overlooked the gardens at the rear of his town house, a town house that had seen children grow up into adults and have children of their own. Cries of delight and breathless laughter could be heard from the hedge maze, which nestled among the trees beyond the long and lush lawn. The summer sun had yet to dip beneath the horizon and Port Kjellrunn was alive with the sounds of merrymaking and people taking the evening air.

  ‘And to think, I used to hate cities.’ Kimi had arrived on horseback without an entourage the day before. At some point over the many years she had simply tired of pomp and ceremony, keen to make her own way in the world. ‘I am grateful for the stone.’ She smiled and sipped her tea before crossing her legs neatly. ‘You’ve helped make a ramshackle town of tents and stilt houses into something that might actually be mistaken for a city.’

  Xhan Enkhtuya had always been the most serious-minded and stoic of souls, but a wry edge of humour had insisted itself upon her down the long decades. Steiner suspected it was the only way to keep one’s self from despair.

  ‘It’s good to see you again,’ replied Steiner. ‘Though unexpected. The cynic in me is curious if all is well in Izhoria?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she replied, but the sigh that followed those words signalled anything but. Steiner waited. Once he would have pressed for an answer, but he’d learned that the truth usually emerged in good time if one has the patience to wait. Presently it did. ‘I suppose I’m lonely, if you can believe such a thing. I have children and grandchildren just like you.’

  ‘Except our children are now in their sixties and seventies,’ added Steiner.

  ‘I had forty-seven glorious years with Sanakh-oi and I treasured every one of them. She was was the most incredible, kind, patient woman I have ever met.

  ‘She’d need to be being married to you,’ said Steiner.

  ‘Shut up.’ Kimi frowned. ‘Where was I? But you and I . .’ Another long sigh. ‘You barely look older than forty.’

  ‘I’m not sure you’ve changed that much at all,’ replied Steiner. ‘You carry your years in your eyes.’

  ‘I turned one hundred in the spring,’ said Kimi, all trace of humour drained from her face. ‘I didn’t celebrate, I drank a bottle of the best wine I could find and remembered all the funerals I’ve been to recently. Everyone I knew from back then has gone to their rest.’

  ‘Funerals.’ Steiner sipped his tea and stared into the distance where his great-grandchildren were emerging from the hedge maze covered in grass stains and mud. They marched up the garden, giggling and bickering, barely paying attention to the statue nearby. ‘I had a pang of sympathy for Volkan Karlov the other day,’ he added, rising to his feet.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know, hear me out.’ Steiner gestured Kimi follow him down the garden. ‘Walk with me.’ The old Xhan did as she was
asked and they began a leisurely stroll towards the statue. ‘Before the Emperor died he told me that death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a person. I assumed at the time he meant the Ashen Torment and the power it had over cinderwraiths. All those lost souls bound in eternal service. Now I’ve had time to think on it …’

  ‘Eighty years’ worth of thinking,’ said Kimi.

  ‘I realize that a long life isn’t always a blessing.’ Steiner felt the familiar tug of grief as Kimi took a moment to study the statue.

  ‘Is this new?’

  ‘It’s been here thirty years, but you’ve not seen the garden for a while.’

  ‘Thirty years. Has it been so long?’

  ‘Very much so,’ replied Steiner.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘And so was she. Inside and out.’ Steiner brushed the statue of Kristofine with his fingertips.

  ‘You’ll be with her again one day,’ said Kimi. Steiner wanted to smile, but he’d heard the sentiment too often.

  ‘I know. But I keep asking myself when?’

  ‘How about tonight?’

  It was close to midnight as the old friends wended their way through the former city of Khlystburg. The roads were good and wide and mostly clean. Teams of young people hurried along the streets, lighting lanterns at the street corners.

  ‘Hard to believe this was once the capital of the Empire,’ said Kimi.

  ‘There are people alive now that will never know of the suffering caused by Volkan Karlov,’ replied Steiner. ‘That’s what I try and hold on to when I feel bleak. That and the treaty with the dragons.’

  ‘And new temples in every province,’ added Kimi.

  ‘We did well, didn’t we?’

  ‘Anything was going to be better than Volkan Karlov.’

  ‘Even so, I could never have imagined living in such a place after growing up in Cinderfell.’

  The former Khlystburg had shrugged off its name and grim history and adopted the name Port Kjellrunn with a deep fervour. The city’s namesake, while not officially recognized as a goddess, was revered all the same, and in some cases more vocally, especially by sailors.

  ‘Where are you taking me, Kimi?’

  ‘To the docks, of course.’

  They walked in silence and nodded amiably to the sailors and dockers who stumbled home, cheerful with drink. No one recognized them; no one in Port Kjellrunn expected to see living legends in their midst. Finally they arrived at the pier where Romola had finally repaired her masts all those years ago.

  ‘The shrine,’ said Steiner with the hint of a smile.

  ‘Let’s pray to her.’

  ‘What?’ Steiner stared after Kimi as she walked to the end of the pier, where a single-storey but very ornate stone building had been erected in honour of the Stormtide Prophet. ‘Kimi? I’m not going to pray to my sister.’

  He caught up with her a moment later, just as she was passing over the threshold of the shrine. Two statues waited inside: a young woman looking defiantly into the distance, attended by another woman kneeling at her feet.

  ‘I don’t think I saw Trine kneel once,’ said Kimi, ‘but I still remember the terrible language she used.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ asked Steiner.

  ‘I don’t know. Your sister ascended without telling us.’

  Scenes from the Stormtide Prophet’s conquest of Khlystburg had been engraved on one wall. Steiner was shown on another, locked in combat with the Emperor, while Kimi was depicted riding a dragon holding a simple knife above her head.

  ‘I’d forgotten about all of this.’ Steiner gestured around. ‘All this history.’

  ‘I think it’s time I too passed into history,’ said Kimi, her expression gentle, resigned but at peace.

  ‘I’m not taking my own life,’ said Steiner. ‘To have fought so hard just to end up killing myself makes no sense.’

  ‘There would be no shame in it for ones like us, but it would be difficult to explain to others.’ Kimi knelt down and produced a candle, a single fish, and a hare from a small bag she’d carried. ‘But I propose a different way.’

  ‘I’m ready.’ Steiner knelt down beside her.

  ‘To Kjellrunn, goddess of the Ashen Gulf and all the seas beyond, I make this offering.’ Kimi placed the fish at the foot of the statue. ‘To Frøya, goddess of life and fertility and love in all of Vinterkveld, I offer this hare. And to Frejna, goddess of winter, wisdom, and death in this and all realms, I light this candle so you may in turn light our way into the world beyond.’

  Steiner wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to do so, but he tilted his head back until he was looking straight up. The shrine had been designed with an aperture in the roof and the stars above looked down through the opening at Kimi’s improvised ceremony, her simple plea.

  ‘We have lived long and loved long and fought long, but now we wish to take our places with those who have gone before,’ continued Kimi. ‘We invoke Frøya and Frejna and Kjellrunn to make this so.’

  Steiner reached out and took Kimi’s hand, surprised to find that his cheeks were wet with tears. Kimi caught his eye and nodded. For a moment they knelt in the shrine and Steiner imagined the candlelight somehow grew brighter and warmer.

  ‘It’s working,’ whispered Kimi, looking upwards. Steiner followed her gaze. The starlight that shone through the aperture was now a column of silver, bright as any sunbeam. A figure drifted down to them, radiating light, one hand outstretched.

  Steiner, Kimi, it’s time to go.

  ‘Silverdust?’ Steiner could hardly believe it but there was no mistaking that voice.

  ‘It’s time to go,’ repeated Kimi, smiling through her tears. The silver light grew brighter and brighter still.

  In years to come many sailors and dockers would recount to anyone who would listen how they had seen Steiner, Father of the Twelve Provinces, and Kimi, Xhan of Izhoria and Dragonmother. They would say how the two friends had gone to the shrine, the very same shrine at the end of the pier in Port Kjellrunn. And though, despite speculation, no one could say for sure what happened, none could deny the pillar of silver light that had reached down from the heavens to take Steiner and Kimi to the afterlife. Nothing was found in the shrine following that holy night, but it is said the statue of Kristofine in Steiner’s gardens appeared to smile more than she had before.

  Acknowledgements

  So here we are at the end of another trilogy. Thank you for following Steiner and Kjellrunn through the highs and lows of bringing the Solmindre Empire to its end.

  Many thanks first and foremost to Vicky Leech, my editor, and to Natasha Bardon, publisher at Harper Voyager.

  I’m very grateful to Julie Crisp, my agent. She has provided invaluable support over the last three-and-a-half-years.

  As ever, thanks to my faithful friends and fellow authors, Jen Williams and Andrew Reid.

  And last, but certainly not least, thanks to my lovely wife, and to Neville and Luna (who can’t actually read the acknowledgements on account of being cats). While they certainly didn’t speed up the process, the journey would have been a dour one without such good companions.

  Also by Den Patrick

  Witchsign

  Stormtide

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