The Tower of Living and Dying

by Anna Smith Spark

  I said “kind of,” didn’t I? Stop bloody looking at me like that.

  Maggots on a corpse, thought Tobias. That’s what people are. Maggots on a corpse. Life really is a pile of shit. Life’s shit and unfair and pointless and hurts.

  But it’s better … He looked at the piles of bodies heaped up around him. Life’s better than death.

  So maybe you shouldn’t have killed so many of them, he thought. Maybe?

  A horseman ran past them, screaming. Both the man and the horse were on fire. A woman ran past them, screaming. Three men ran past them after her. The woman tripped and fell over someone’s body part. The three men jumped on top of her. Swords went up. The woman shrieked. The men laughed. Started … doing things.

  Tobias bent down and ripped a dark red badge off a dead soldier of Amrath. Tied it on himself.

  I think it’s fair to say we’ve lost.

  Began to skirt towards the ruins. Find Raeta. Find Landra. Find … it. There’s nothing left here, thought Tobias. Just the last desperate attempt to destroy him. Lie to myself that what’s been unleashed here can be stopped if he dies.

  If I hadn’t … If Landra hadn’t … If I’d …

  If, if, if.

  Any semblance of order was collapsing. The Army of Amrath, triumphant in its victory, dancing across the killing ground. A knot of Illyian prisoners rounded up and hacked to pieces. A knot of Illyians still fighting. A knot of Whites cavalry charging into them, still excitedly trying to trample them all to bits. Most of the Army of Amrath had given up fighting now, even. Running around drinking celebrating shouting “Victory! Victory! Ruin! Death! Death! Death!” Even more low aspiration than the Sorlostians’ “Hooray, we survived past sunset!” as something to celebrate, really. Whoop whoop, look, some people were alive and now they’re dead! Amazing achievement, hey, isn’t it?

  Some blokes rolled a big barrel of something past him, cheering. Trumpets sounding, drums beating out a victory chant. In the pockets where people were still fighting, quick glances: they’ve stopped fighting? They’ve started drinking already? Damnit, they could have waited for us! But wait, on the other hand, we’re still killing people and they’re not. Their loss.

  Another explosion rocked the battlefield, almost knocked Tobias over. Winged clawed shadows flew off south over the line of the river. A troop of cavalry thundered in their wake.

  Tobias began to steer round towards the walls of Ethalden. Passed a knot of White Isles soldiers looting a corpse. “It’s young Lory from Red Fields!” a man shouted as he turned over the body. “Bastard diddled my cousin out of some money once over a pig. No idea he’d even joined up. Never ran into him out here when he was alive, and now here he is. Funny old world, isn’t it?”

  Passed a knot of White Isles soldier wailing over some big nob’s battered body. Seemed genuinely upset big nob was dead. “Lord Erith is going to fucking disembowel me,” a man shouted as he turned over the body. “One perfectly understandable little mistake and his son’s dead.”

  Another man brought down his sword hard on the corpse’s face. Up down up down up down. “I know it was a mistake. Could have happened to anybody. So Lord Erith doesn’t have to know the ins and outs of it, does he?”

  Came to the walls of the fortress. Stopped. Maybe, thought Tobias, maybe I should just go up to those soldiers back there and ask them to kill me?

  Gold walls. Huge. Solid gold. Studded with rubies. Winked and flashed and laughed and mocked and boiled with hate. Blank cold hard metal, and it looked like the most evil thing Tobias had ever seen. This is death. This is power. This is the house of the one true god. This is life and death.

  Made the bronze walls of Sorlost look like the epitome of restrained good taste.

  The walls were gold and rubies. And the gatehouse was human skulls. Each one had diamonds set where its eyes had been.

  The blokes he’d fought beside today, they were going to look pretty good up there.

  Soldiers were busy beside the ruins of the gateway, piling up a huge bonfire. Bodies writhing screaming shrieking as they burned. Men dancing naked and blood covered around it. Reek of drink and vomit and piss. Joyful shouts of “Amrath! Amrath!” “Avenged!” “Victory! Victory!” “Death and all demons!” “Death! Death! Death!” A man dancing wrapped in what Tobias thought at first must be blood-red clothing. “Amrath’s banners!” he was shouting. “Ben’s banners, too!” A man dancing with a man’s torso in his arms for a partner. A man dancing around a living man impaled on a sarriss. “Victory! Victory!” “Death and all demons!” “Death! Death! Death!”

  One of the soldiers noticed them looking. He had blood around his mouth. Tobias shouted, “Victory to the Ansikanderakesis! Victory! Ruin and death!” Crossed his fingers desperately in the hope he wasn’t about to die himself.

  “Victory and death!” a maelstrom of voices shouted back. The diamonds winked in the firelight. All those shiny bald heads.

  A woman ran up to him singing, hugging and kissing every man she met. She threw her arms around Tobias. “Tobias! Hurrah! Glorious!”

  Sweet Face. She kissed him. Ran off. Her amber necklace flashed in the firelight. Tobias walked through the ruins of the gates.

  “This way. This way.”

  Landra and Raeta walked in and out of the ruins. Throne rooms. Feasting chambers. Armouries. Dungeons. Tombs.

  A wall of obsidian, higher than tree tops, wider than a man is tall. Cracked top to bottom like a sword blade. The edges of the crack still sharp as knives. A pool of blood at its base. A wall of mage glass, silver and shimmering, flickering with iridescent light. A doorway of green marble, with vast broken doors of green jade. The shattered pillars of a banqueting hall, column lintels carved in the shape of dragons’ heads.

  The whole place was an orgy of celebration. Drums beating, alcohol, roast meat. Bonfires of human bodies. Roaring choruses of Why We March.

  “Never gets stale, does it, that ditty?” Raeta said. “I swear, soon I’ll be humming it in my sleep.”

  Two men staggered towards them out of the ruined banqueting hall. Both already dead drunk from the look of them. One having to hold the other up.

  Oh, gods. Landra and Raeta ducked behind a column. Froze. Landra’s hands shook.

  Osen Fiolt’s voice: “There you go, then … Oh, come on! You can’t expect me to do that …? Yes, but I really don’t care what Carin did … Okay! Okay. There you go.”

  Landra’s hands went to her knife hilt. Raeta touched her arm. Shook her head.

  Osen Fiolt’s voice: “‘Death’s Lieutenant,’ I heard some of the men calling me earlier, you know? ‘Death’s Lieutenant,’ standing here holding King Ruin King of Dust and Shadows Ansikanderakesis Amrakane King of All Irlast’s dick out so he can have a piss …”

  Landra moved towards them. Raeta grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  Osen Fiolt’s voice: “Gods, watch it, you’re pissing on your boot! That’s better … Come on, then … No, look out! Gods, Marith … maybe you ought to think about stopping soon …? Okay, okay. Just try not to throw up on me again.”

  Disappeared back into the forest of pillars, King Ruin King of Dust and Shadows Ansikanderakesis Amrakane King of All Irlast mumbling something about needing another drink.

  But … but …

  All Raeta’s rotting animal faces sighed at Landra. “It wouldn’t work, Landra. Not bronze or iron. You know that. Come on. This way.”

  They crept on through the ruins. Landra’s heart pounding. But … but … They crept past soldiers drinking and celebrating. Piled up towers of Illyian corpses. Illyian prisoners tied up and tortured and still half alive. Soldiers decking the walls with banners of human skin.

  Here and there a man stood staring at it. Perhaps amazed and astonished. Perhaps, some desperate lying hope whispered to Landra, perhaps horrified at what it was his companions did.

  They crept on. On. On. On.

  They stopped.

  A shattered rib cage. A shatte
red skull case. The bones of an arm. The bones of a hand.

  It was just lying there, in a jumble of fallen stonework. Just yellow old dry bare cold bone. Blind eye holes. Hole where the nose had been. White pearly teeth. Missing its lower jaw. A bronze helmet was lying beside it, red horse-hair plume still attached. It was still wearing the remains of battered, corroded bronze armour, marked with claw marks and the smoke of vast flames.

  Just lying there.

  Just a man who died and lay dead and unburied. A man who had no one left at the end to mourn for him.

  It stank of hatred.

  Landra fell to her knees.

  “Amrath. My god. My Lord. My ancestor. World Conqueror. Demon Born. Dragon Kin. Greatest of all who ever lived.”

  Thalia was standing over the skeleton, looking down at it. All the grief and guilt in the world on her beautiful face.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Tobias saw them. Came round the corner and saw. Landra. Raeta. Thalia. Amrath’s bones.

  Landra looked up and saw Tobias. His face, when he saw Thalia. His face, when he saw the bones.

  “Thalia, girl …” Tobias said uncertainly. “Thalia, girl …”

  “You should just have left me alone,” said Thalia. Her voice cracked on the word “alone.” She looked thinner. Older. The bones stood out on her neck and her wrists. A heavy necklace of diamonds tight around her throat. Like a collar, Landra thought. A collar for a slave. Or a dog. Thalia’s hand moved to her stomach, her left arm, her stomach again.

  “You’re a fool, girl,” said Tobias. “Endless number of times, I told you that.”

  “I am the Queen of the White Isles and Ith and Illyr and Immier and the Wastes and the Bitter Sea. The Queen of All Irlast.”

  “Worth it, is it?” said Tobias. “All those lives, just so as you can say that? Really that good in bed, is he, your pretty faced King Vomit? Give you that necklace, did he, and that fancy shiny dress? I did warn you, Thalia, girl.”

  “I am the Queen of the White Isles and Ith and Illyr and Immier and the Wastes and the Bitter Sea. The Queen of All Irlast. My life is filled with wonders. Wonders and pleasures and power and love. The price of that … Why should I care?” Thalia’s hand moving from her arm to her stomach to her necklace. “You’d sell the world for far less than I have, Tobias. A handful of coins. A moment to pretend your life is worth living. That was your price.”

  Tobias opened his mouth, and closed it, and made a dry croaking sound.

  “Why must you still think,” said Thalia, “that I am merely blinded by love for him?”

  Raeta screamed something. Scream of hatred beyond human words. All her faces contorted with hatred. All her body lashing out, teeth, wings, horns, claws. Threw herself at Thalia. Knocked her crashing to the ground.

  Men came running with their swords out. Thalia’s guards? They charged at Raeta fighting with Thalia. Tobias was there meeting them. Four against one. Tobias was up against a pillar. Sword in one hand, sword in the other, defensive, just fighting fighting hopelessly to stay alive.

  Golden light burst out from Thalia. Golden light swallowing up Raeta. Drowning her. Golden light warm and soft and comforting as the morning sun. Golden light like forge fires, wildfires, blazing parching sun in the desert, light with no shadows showing up every flaw and failure of a life.

  Raeta shrieked. Pain in her voice beyond human language. Throwing out leaves and branches and claws and wings. The air smelled of fruit and flowers. Golden light ripping her burning her apart. Tobias up against a pillar fighting desperately defensively.

  Her god’s bones, lying in front of her. His empty staring skull. His ribs crushed where the dragon His brother had fought Him. A silver ring on the bones of His hand.

  Landra bent forwards. Began to crawl.

  Tobias was fighting, not even trying to injure them, not even trying to attack, just ward them off, just keep alive for one moment longer, just keep alive. Life’s a pile of shit. Life’s unfair and pointless and hurts. Life’s a long slow painful way of dying. But I don’t, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. A stab wound in his shoulder. A gash opening on his arm. Swords in both hands, and he’s shaking so that the sword blades shake useless. Just stay alive. Just stay alive. Just stay alive. A gash opening on his face. His knees buckling. I don’t want to die. I’m dying. I don’t want to die. I want to stay alive.

  Landra’s hand closing over bone fragments. Dead and dry beneath her fingers. Her hands dried and mummified. Poisoned. Sucking the life out of her. She feels as though she is blinded. Clawing at them, unable to see, unable to feel. Blasphemy. Violation. This is god.

  Raeta is dying. Tobias is dying. Tobias is trying to ward off sword blows with his raised arms.

  The dry bones crumble beneath her fingers.

  The ring slides off easily into her hand.

  Tobias is fighting dying fighting dying fighting dying fighting dying fighting.

  And then everything stops. The men killing him. Thalia killing Raeta. Everything.

  Landra is standing there in front of them. Landra is holding a ring with a demon in it. The one thing Amrath Himself feared. The one thing that can destroy him.

  Landra is holding a ring with a demon in it. And she can feel it. The hatred. The raging hunger. A thing of vengeance. A thing that seeks only and forever to kill.

  Don’t go looking for revenge, Ru had said.

  Thalia is too beautiful to look at. Raeta is as huge as the stars. Tobias is dying. Landra is standing holding a ring with a demon in it in the dust of her god’s burned dead bones.

  Landra holds out the ring to Raeta.

  “But it’s worse,” Landra whispers. “It’s worse than he is.”

  Raeta pulls the ring out of Landra’s fingers. Tobias sees her face for a moment and she’s so, so afraid.

  “It’s worse than he is,” Landra whispers.

  “Yes,” said Raeta. “But he has to be destroyed. No matter what. His death. That is all that matters here now. His death.”

  Raeta burns up huge and bright and glowing, flowers and fruits and leaves and sweet fresh summer earth. The air roars like thunder.

  The gabeleth breaks free.

  White pale, like wood smoke. River mist. Strong and solid, the way mist is before the eyes. A man’s shape, twisting. Man’s long arms. Man’s face.

  Huge.

  Shouts across the battle ground. Screams. Even cheers? But of course the Army of Amrath has seen demons and dragons. Whatever this is, it cannot be something to fear. White twisting thing rising, mouth opening, long arms reaching out. Blood marking its features. Eyes and mouth open wounds. Hands reaching out grasping. Maggot crawling fingers tracing over Landra’s skin.

  Huge. Towering over them. Raeta the life god lying broken at its feet.

  Tobias screaming. Pissed himself in terror. He sees it. Knows it. Vengeance thing. Summoned up by the shedding of blood.

  Landra crouches cowering. Maggot crawling fingers tracing over her. Pushing her downwards. Pain as it rips itself inside. My father’s dead. My mother’s dead. My sister’s dead. My brother’s dead.

  No.

  No. No. No.

  Ah, gods, she thinks, what have I unleashed? What have I done?

  Soldiers coming running. Blood-soaked armour. Blood-soaked faces. Blood-soaked minds. Drawing swords on it, shouting. Fall before it, grovelling in the soil, eyes pressed down. Vengeance. Bloodshed. It consumes them. Destroys them. Vengeance thing.

  What have I done? What have I done?

  Soldiers coming running. Dressed in flayed human skin. Feasting and cheering victory. “Death and ruin! Death and all demons! Death! Death! Death!” They do not know what they have been saying. Now they see the truth of it. Death. It destroys them. Tears them, rends them in agony, drags their hearts from their bodies, rips out eyes and tongues. Nothing, it makes them. Lumps of meat. Meat and blood and muck.

  Always, for someone, the world is being ended. And this is vengeance. Ruin
and death. Mindless dead despairing hate. Burn the world. Piss on the ashes. Life’s an illusion. Life’s filth and dying. Just death and death and death.

  Marith coming stumbling towards it. Holding up his sword. Thinks he can kill it. Thinks it’s the same as him.

  Marith tries to hit it. His sword swings wide. White smoke mist fingers claw at him. Long blood scratch running down his arm.

  Marith’s sword bounces off it. Hacking, hacking. Marith swaying on his feet. Stabbing. Hitting. Staring in confusion. Helpless. White smoke mist body hits back at him.

  Marith stumbling. Falling. Shouting out wordlessly. Still trying to swing his sword.

  White smoke mist fingers close round him. Sinewed arm choking his throat.

  All so silent. No sound. No smell. No feel. Thing that isn’t a real thing. Smoke mist nothing. Crushing him.

  He’s dying! Landra’s mind screaming. He’s dying! He’s almost dead!

  Marith jerking, thrashing, down on the burned ground, smoke mist covering him.

  Teeth opening through wound mouth. Teeth biting down.

  Marith screams.

  Shadows in the air, shrieking. Circling round and round. Shapeless. No wings, no hands, no face. Blind shadow clots hating the world. Plunge at it. Tear at it. Black shadows white smoke. Lightning crashing between them. Blast of black fire. Marith rolling screaming bloody on the ground. Marith’s rolling around dying. Smoke mist hands crushing his beautiful white throat.

  Crushing Marith. Destroying his soldiers. Bringing the stones of his fortress crashing down.

  Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance for the dead!

  Kill him! Kill him!

  Warm white light. Lightbeams like the sunrise.

  Brighter than anything. Brighter than living. Brighter than the sun.

  Thalia raises her arms to the heavens.

  Light pouring off her face.

  The gabeleth shivers. Weak before her. Mist and cobwebs. Thing of hate and vengeance. Blood thing. Death thing.