The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  They approached the open and unguarded doors of the Sakti's hall. Sevika had not gone to Ravan. She headed straight to Krura.

  Sevika's queen sat as if she had not moved all day. She rolled a small mote of light across her fingers, letting it dance on the tips. Then it vanished as they stepped towards her.

  Dregan was motionless now, either asleep or dead.

  Artificial light from the torches around the room now lit the queen. She stared out of the window that had previously bathed her in sunlight. Now she looked upon the dark orb that polluted the sky. Her face was emotionless. Her perfect skin hid what lay beneath. Sevika knelt and bowed her head, but she neglected her duty with Aviti, and left her standing.

  'Sakti, Light of the World, hear me now,' said Sevika.

  'Ravan,' said Krura, the Sakti of the Intoli. 'Ravan, why does this Gau speak to me?'

  Aviti wondered if she knew that she said those same words the last time they had spoken. But Ravan did not appear.

  'Ravan,' she called again, but her word echoed around the hall, along with the clamour from outside which carried in through the open doors.

  'Sakti,' said Sevika. 'In the name of the Source, hear me.' There was no nervousness in her voice this time. There was respect, bordering on awe, but she did not quaver.

  Aviti could taste the tension in the air, but she was a spectator. Her father would not have felt this hopeless. He would have known how to use this to his advantage. Without access to her new found power, she was lost.

  'Sakti, I have seen lights – lights in the sky far to the west.'

  Krura swung her gaze around to Sevika, sharp and focussed. 'Lights, you say child?'

  Sevika lowered her head. 'Yes Sakti. They rose from the ground, two shafts of light; one red and one blue.'

  'Sakti, they were headed north.'

  The Queen of the Intoli roared at this. It was a terrible, incongruous sound – forlorn and yet avaricious. It held pain in it and it held hatred.

  'The Darkness,' she shouted. 'The Darkness calls its children to it. The polluted light. The time is now. There is nothing left we can do but go. There is no more time.'

  Aviti looked at Dregan as the Sakti's madness spiralled. She could have used this chance to grab the bar from Sevika and rid herself of the lot of them, but instead she took the few steps over to stand beside her friend, the mage. With Sevika averting her gaze from the frantic Queen, she bent down beside her broken friend and kissed him on the cheek.

  Then she put her hand upon his ruined mouth and clamped her fingers tight upon his nose, sealing Dregan's tomb. Instead of struggling, she felt his head jerk forward, as if he urged her on. As if he begged her for death.

  Tears poured from Aviti's eyes, silent and pure, as the Sakti roared on. Aviti never heard a word. She was focused on Dregan and she could feel the tension rise in his body, but the mage did not fight her.

  And the tears fell and then it was done. Dregan's body went limp and she embraced him, as rooted to him as he was to the stone. Krura screamed in pain as she felt her bond to the mage severed. Sevika flayed her with pain as never before. Not even when Tilden had abused her, had she felt such horrific, all-consuming agony. But she refused to cry out, even when she slumped to the ground. She cried in silence, her lips pressed against the stone floor of the hall, her teeth clenched and her body rigid.

  Then the pain stopped and she could breathe again. Sevika stood over her, with rage in her thin eyes and her right hand outstretched

  'No, Gau,' said the Sakti. For an instant, Aviti thought – hoped - that Sevika would disobey, but there was power in the Queen's words; a direction that Sevika could not ignore or countermand. The Intoli trembled with the effort it took her to withhold a killing blow.

  Krura's face returned to passive tranquillity. Then she said. 'Her action was futile. The human was all but consumed. We must leave this place now '

  'This is the signal we have been waiting for. We must have the Arkasona. With it we may destroy the Waren. Then the Source shall cloak us all and light undimmed shall return to the world. And Vigopa may live again. We shall all abide in the source once more. We shall bathe in the light eternal, unblemished by the Waren.'

  This was sophistry of the worst kind, but Aviti had not the energy to argue. As she was lifted from the floor, she looked at the bent form of Dregan for a last time. His head was bowed, hiding his mutilated features.

  Then she was moved from the hall. Aviti heard a final few words as they left. 'We are past and we are the future.' It was the same words that the lights, the apparitions had told her. But why had the Queen of the Intoli said the same thing?

  Aviti caught a glimpse through a broken section of the northern keep wall as they went through the courtyard. Through the ragged gap in the stonework she saw what looked like a mass of writhing bodies. The meagre light of the moon made it difficult to understand the pulsating scene. She thought it was some kind of huge beast at first - one which had denuded the forest to give itself space in which to grow.

  Then she caught a familiar scent of decay on the air. It was a mixture of rotting flesh and putrescence. As she was dragged away from the wall, she realised what it was; the Damned. Poor, lost souls condemned to wander the world forever. This must be where the Damned of this place were imprisoned.

  Sevika's voice filtered through to her then; not her spoken voice, but the inner one that Aviti had heard once before when they sat around the fire at the lake. Again, it was in the form of a discordant song – all frayed edges and bitter intent.

  I want them to know,

  On my head.

  Point the finger at me,

  On my head.

  Give it all to you,

  Then I am closer.

  I see you.

  I let you shout no more

  On my head

  I pick you up from the floor

  On my head

  I let you even the score

  On my head

  Give it all to you

  Then I am closer

  Smiling with the World

  And I hold to you with the arms of the Source

  I see you

  Give the same to me

  Then I am closer, closer

  Give the same to me.

  Sevika managed to shout a few words aloud to passing Intoli. By the time they came to the steps that lead down to the cells, the castle was in motion. There was no chaotic rush of people. The only noise was from the movement of Intoli and their enslaved men and Giants, there was no talking. As if they executed a well-rehearsed plan, the figures in the scattered light of the torches and the moon crossed each other's paths in an elaborate dance.

  Aviti's Intoli master did not stop at the stairs down to the cells; she walked out through the main gates. Thousands upon thousands of Intoli were there waiting and they saluted Sevika, whilst their unwilling human companions looked on dispassionately.

  As one, the gathered Intoli called Sevika's name. It was not shouted or yelled. This was no battle cry or call to arms, used to gird the faltering courage of a city militia. It was a simple acknowledgement of their part in the upcoming task; an acceptance of their fate.

  They waited in silence until the castle had emptied and then they marched.

  Torches flickered amongst them, casting shafts of light through the massed Intoli. It reflected off the white robes that most of them wore and it revealed the different colour of trim that many of them wore; red and green, yellow and blue. And here and there she caught a glimpse of black. It was so incongruous that Aviti doubted her eyes, but she saw it again; strips of flowing black in amongst the white, like poison in blood. Just like the metal in her body, it looked foreign - forced – alien.

  But she did not care. Her tears ceased at last and she remained proud of herself. Proud that she had helped a friend to die. A year ago she could not have pictured herself leaving her family's farm on Mashesh, let alone taking the decisions she had in the past few weeks. She smiled rueful
ly at herself for that white lie. Many, many times she had imagined leaving, running off with a mysterious travelling merchant, or even being kidnapped by the Lyrats. And so her thoughts turned to Tyla and when they did she felt a wave of relief through the bond. The unexpected emotion forced her to hold back fresh, joyful tears. It was a miracle to feel his presence and to know that she was not alone. The strong, definite emotion caught her off balance.

  She had once been protective of her bond with Tyla, worried that she would reveal his presence to the Intoli, but they were not interested in him – they were not interested in anything but themselves and the lightless Waren.

  The sense of relief stayed with her as they set out on their moonlit march. But then she grew concerned. Why relief? She had not felt a threat or danger through the bond. She had been too absorbed in the reflections of her own fate. Where was Wist and Nikka the dark-skinned Cerni? After witnessing the fate of Dregan, the powerful mage, she feared for her friends. If Tilden still sought to control her, then it followed that Wist was alive. Nikka, on the other hand... At least Nikka could take care of himself and, whatever life threw at him, he would cope as best he could. And if it surpassed him, then it would have defeated any of them.

  So she let herself relax and tried to pass something back to Tyla as she walked. She no longer felt regret at forcing this union upon the Lyrat. In some respects, her crime was no better than the Intoli's, but she knew that her intrusion into Tyla's spirit had been an instinctive reaction to her own defilement; a way to survive the pain.

  She passed her hope and faith to Tyla as she thought of him. She even admitted to herself that she loved the strange denizen of the desert. She would never see him to tell him. So she poured herself into the ethereal bond, opening herself to him, letting him see her as she had exposed herself to no-one else.

  He would know her heartache over the loss of her parents and the pain at the loss of her brother. He would know her desperate hopes for them both. He would see her bottomless appetite for the magic and her fears that it would devour her.

  He could reject her, she knew that. He could spurn her love and dash her hopes, but what were those now? Embers that danced around a guttering fire. But it was hers, perhaps the last thing she would ever have, and so she would give it to whom she chose. And she chose him, for how could she not?

  She heard her father's laughter then – teasing her for taking so long to acknowledge what would have been obvious to him and everyone else.

  Then she saw the lights again. Like stars that had fallen from the heavens, the lights danced among the trees around them. And she could hear the voices; calling to her, pleading with her.

  Only you can release us. Only you can make us whole.

  None of the Intoli acknowledged the presence of the spectres. None of them looked away from their destination - none, except Sevika.

  Sevika stopped in the muddy track whilst her troops marched by. Then she stood and stared at the lights. They had told the Intoli of their peril. They had warned Sevika of the folly of her people, but she ignored their warnings. She had not even told her Queen of the lights.

  Only you can release us. Only you can make us whole.

  She stood alongside Aviti. She knew that Sevika could hear the chant, but the Intoli turned from them and moved alongside her army. And the lights stayed and called to them all, trying to sway them from their course. The spectres remained in the shadow of the trees, refusing to come out under the menacing light of the Kalsurja. Then a few of the Damned who had escaped from their unguarded prison began to shuffle past and the lights faded away.

  -*-

  They stopped by a river before dawn to allow the humans and enslaved Giants to take some water and food. The Intoli stood apart from them. A few of them spoke, but most of them remained silent.

  Aviti went to the bank of the stream and pushed her head beneath the surface. It felt like an eternity since she had washed. She tried to wash out the top layer of dirt and grime, but it was futile. Her hair, which was still braided, was so matted that she doubted she would ever be able to disentangle it.

  'Give me your knife,' she said to Sevika. Sevika withdrew it and offered it to Aviti without a pause, without even blinking. She could end it all here. She could cut along her arms. It would be sore – it would be agony - but it would be transitory. But she would not do it. Not now. Her father needed her. Somehow he had reached out to her. He needed her, and so she would go on.

  She lifted the knife to her matted hair and cut through it. She had never cut it. Not once. As a child, her father had threatened to chop it off when she was disobedient. But now she hacked at it. Dead and useless, it fell to the muddy banks of the river.

  Aviti felt a hand close around hers. She thought that Sevika sought to stop her, but the Intoli took the blade and continued what Aviti had begun. The Intoli's touch was delicate, but firm.

  When it was done, Aviti looked at the masses of black hair that floated away on the water, carried out towards the ocean. Years of her life cut away in a few moments. She ran her hands over her scalp. There was only about an inch or so of hair left. A boy's haircut as her mother would have called it. It would have broken her mother's heart to see her now. She had loved to braid and unbraid Aviti's hair. She would spend hours combing the tangles and knots out, then longer still carefully weaving it back into one of the many patterns she held in her head. Her mother would berate her for the state of her locks, which would be tangled due to the hours she had spent riding horses or with her friends exploring the parts of the city to which they would dare each other to go.

  She tried to see herself in the water, but the current was too fast here. Something tried to coalesce in her mind, but the cold drove it from her thoughts. Then Sevika moved away from the bank and Aviti followed.

  A call came down the line of Intoli - the Sakti moved. They must be away; and so on they went again, tramping through the mud, marching in lines; all the Intoli and human pairs. Sevika marched hard, making her way to the head of them all. Her Queen had charged her with moving this army and so she focused on her responsibility.

  The bitter wind swept down with grey clouds from the north. They robbed the land of colour and masked everything in a simple blanket of malign discontent. Aviti missed the heat of the Great Desert. The Intoli robe that clothed her, kept the cold from touching her, but it provided no real warmth. It felt artificial against her skin and the duplicitous touch of the material jarred her nerves.

  But it was not just the heat of the desert sun that she missed. She missed the warm pallet of colours that it provided: the ochre glow of the evening Sun, the beautiful crepuscular light of early morning and even the brutal harsh white of midday. She even missed the sand between her teeth and the burnt taste on her tongue. For a moment she imagined she could smell her Mother's kitchen – her own kitchen as it had become when her mother died. Then the blandness of this autumnal waste stole her memories and dragged her back to the present.

  Then it came to her - what she should have done at the river bank. She should have thrown herself into the river. She cursed herself for her short-sightedness. The Intoli could have battered her with internal pain, but the current would have carried her away, just like her hair. And this bond, this forced link between them must have a limit. Then something else occurred to her, whilst her mind raced with possibilities.

  'You see him as you think he should be,' Aviti said to Sevika. Sevika did not stop from walking, but her stride faltered for a second.

  'Ravan. You and Krura, and everyone else. All the other Intoli at least. You see him as you think he should be, not as your senses tell you. But that is the real problem is it not? That is how you see the world. Always looking at way it should be and not seeing the way it is.'

  19 - A Fragile King

  Haumea and Nikka sat on a wooden bench in the antechamber of the Grand Hall. The stonework that made up this building was grandiose. Massive rocks had been quarried from somewhere close by, an
d then masons had cut these to a uniform size. Then they dragged them here and dumped them, one upon another until they made this tomb of a building.

  Nikka stood and walked over to the wall opposite him. He ran his fingers along the sizeable cracks, feeling the discontinuity between one piece of stone to the next. How could anyone be so careless? The stone itself was magnificent. Its delicate lines, centuries in the making, thoughtlessly hacked through. These severed veins cried out to Nikka like fractures in time.

  Haumea was quiet now. The previous night, when they had forced their way into Durach's private quarters, she had been more forthright. But that was the intention of this place, to inspire awe. This office of state was where the power of the Giant's was invested in their King. This was why he had chosen to meet them here. It was why he had kept the waiting most of this day.

  And Nikka knew that he was correct, for they awaited the King. Not Durach the Giant, but Durach, the King of the Giants. He had brought them here to make them tremble before the might of the Giants and him, in his guise as King.

  Over and over, he traced the lines of stone. The two Giants who stood sentry at the door watched him with amusement. They must have thought he admired the craftsmanship. In truth, he fought the urge to meld the stone, to repair the damage done. It was an incongruous idea. One block of stone held no kinship with the one that sat alongside it. If he were to meld these stone in such a fashion he would be creating a hybrid; enforcing his own story over the aeons etched in the grain of the stone. Then he looked from the walls to staff he had made for Haumea and smiled at his own duplicity.

  The doors swung open and a third Giant joined them. This one wore ceremonial armour. Brass, copper and gold adorned his jacket, patterned to match the filigree detail on his sword. Haumea rose and went to stand with Nikka. The guard said nothing, but stood aside to let them enter. So they walked through the doorway together and into the presence of the King of the Giants.