The Curse on the Chosen (The Song of the Tears Book 2)

by Ian Irvine

  Flangers grabbed his wrist and tried to hold him, but Yggur couldn’t get a grip on the ice and his fingers were slowly slipping free, and Flangers was being pulled outwards as well.

  Chissmoul ran and caught hold of Flangers with both hands but couldn’t hold him either, and finally in desperation she stood on Yggur’s hand with both feet. It held him just long enough for Colm to catch his other hand, take his weight, and together they heaved him up.

  ‘Thanks,’ Yggur said, shaking his squashed fingers and scowling at Chissmoul. ‘For such a little thing, you certainly weigh a lot.’

  Demure little Chissmoul put her hands in the middle of his chest, and alarm shivered across Yggur’s face, for he was standing on the brink. Flydd chuckled.

  ‘Thank you, Chissmoul,’ Yggur said, more gracefully. ‘I thought my end had come.’

  She walked backwards and he followed her to safety. ‘But you’ve lived more than a thousand years, surr. How could you die?’

  ‘I don’t age as other men do, but I can be killed like anyone else.’ He looked down at the prisoners who had fallen out of the portal and were thrashing in the water. ‘Poor devils.’

  ‘It could have been us,’ said Colm.

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ said Flydd, eyeing the Whelm, who were scrambling into an opening in the wall behind Zofloc’s still. ‘We’ve been spared so we can die a different but equally horrible death.’

  ‘Where do we go now?’

  ‘They must be heading for the Thousand Steps.’

  ‘They’re trying to cut us off from reaching the Numinator’s eyrie,’ said Yggur. ‘How do we reach the Thousand Steps?’

  ‘They can’t be hard to find,’ said Flydd. ‘The tower isn’t very wide up here. Follow me.’

  He darted into the oval hall and ran down to another hall, then glanced left and right. To the right he saw steps. ‘Ah! This way.’

  He hurried to the Thousand Steps and began to climb. ‘Should be called the Tower of a Million Steps,’ he muttered, feeling his age before he’d gone two flights.

  Below, he could hear the racket made by the Whelms’ wooden sandals, hundreds of pairs of them, coming up in dreadful haste. Flydd felt sure they would catch the stragglers before the top, but didn’t dare put on an extra burst of speed. That would leave nothing for the end, and the end was not far away.

  He was labouring now, gasping with every step, and many of the prisoners had passed him already. Colm went by, his long legs moving tirelessly. He did not glance at Flydd as he passed, and Flydd knew that nothing had been forgiven.

  On he struggled, ever upwards. Only Flangers was below him now, with Chissmoul supporting him, but they weren’t going to make it. The Whelm were only two flights below, and as Flydd turned, a brutally scarred male aimed a short spear at Flangers’s back.

  Flydd wrenched off a piece of fire-riven ice and hurled it down at the Whelm. It burst in his face and he fell backwards, crashing into the two Whelm below him and carrying them down as well. Zofloc, directly below them, ducked aside and allowed them to fall. He held something glassy in his left hand, swirling with luminosity – the flask containing the distilled fire.

  A chill crept down Flydd’s back. If those few wisps of chthonic flame he’d brought here could do all this damage, what ruin might a whole flask of concentrated chthonic flame wreak?

  They staggered up the last few flights together. The prisoners, under Yggur’s direction, were building a wall of ice blocks across the top of the stair into the Numinator’s eyrie.

  Flydd was so weary he had to crawl over the wall. There was no sign of Yalkara. ‘Where’s the portal to the Nightland?’

  ‘Yalkara must have hidden it after she went through. Get us out of here, Flydd. Anywhere.’

  Flydd slumped beside the fire bowl. ‘At the moment I couldn’t make a portal from one pocket to the other.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to fight on until you’re better; or until it doesn’t matter any more.’

  ‘Or the Numinator comes back through her portal to finish us off.’

  FORTY-FIVE

  Maelys slid blindly across the black floor of the Nightland and came to a stop against a fluted column whose upper end soared beyond sight. She was stinging all over from the chthonic flame, even inside her furs and boots, and her eyes were watering so badly that she could barely see. She wiped them on the inside of her coat, noted the tiny white flickers die there, and looked around.

  The Nightland was the same impenetrable gloom as before, however she had the impression that her arrival had made a loud cracking noise, which surely the Numinator must have heard, so where was she? Maelys crawled around the buttress and made out a glimmer in the distance. Could that be her?

  The light seemed to be growing and spreading, and Maelys felt a spasm of panic, for her column was too obvious a hiding place. Which way to go? Away from the approaching light was too predictable so she turned right.

  Maelys’s innards were knotted again, but at least the effect of the flame had faded to a peculiarly sensual tingling all over; it felt as though all her senses had been heightened. The floor had such a creamy silkiness that every movement was like having the soles of her feet stroked. Her ears were hot inside and she could hear sounds she’d never heard before: a faint breathy sigh, as though the Nightland was breathing, and a distant thumping like a slowly beating heart.

  No – that was the Numinator’s metronomically regular footsteps and she was heading this way. Maelys could see her clearly now, for she was shimmering all over with chthonic fire, and she held the ice stiletto in her right hand. Its poison-yellow churning core looked deadly.

  You fool, Maelys told herself. You should not have followed her. The Numinator was fanatical about her privacy and would not tolerate any intrusion on it. But if Maelys had not come here, she would never see Emberr again; if she had not come, Emberr would have been killed.

  Where to hide? Maelys noticed that her hands were still covered with a faint tracery of chthonic fire – not nearly as bright as the fire lapping the Numinator, but enough to give her away in the Nightland.

  Pulling her sleeves down, and her hood low over her face, she crawled away, worrying she might even be leaving a fiery trail. She looked back. Tiny worms of light glimmered at the base of the column, and the Numinator could hardly miss them if she looked that way, but Maelys couldn’t see any on the floor.

  She had just set off again, head down, when she felt a slow surge of air, as from a large door being slammed, and made out a hiss, as of a sharply indrawn breath. The Numinator was looking around in alarm.

  Maelys lay flat on the floor, watching her from the corner of her eye. Was the Numinator afraid that prisoners were held here, or beasts from the void? It was an uncomfortable thought, but even if there were, Maelys had to get to Emberr and warn him. She’d broken her word and betrayed his trust, and she had to make up for it.

  The Numinator shook her head and continued, following a series of zigzagging curves sweeping out to left and right. If she kept to that pattern, the next time she headed right she would see Maelys.

  As soon as she turned away on the other arm of the zigzag, Maelys changed course and scuttled into the deepest darkness she could find. Since she had no idea where she was, it made no difference which way she went.

  The Numinator turned sharply and headed directly for her, the poisoned stiletto jerking up and stabbing down with every stride. She must have seen her. Maelys was unarmed, for she had lost her club on the Thousand Steps; she dared not let the Numinator get close. She sprang to her feet, slipping on the smooth surface, and ran for her life.

  ‘Stop, Maelys Nifferlin,’ cried the Numinator, ‘or it will go worse for you.’

  The stiletto was upraised, ready to throw. Maelys swerved from side to side, to make herself a more difficult target, then raced on, expecting to feel the blade sear into her flesh. It did not, and after a minute she glanced back. The Numinator was jogging after her, but she was not a young woman
and was being left behind. Maelys’s boots were making a racket, though.

  She took them off and stuffed her socks into them. Her bare feet glistened faintly but the Numinator might not see them from a distance. Veering to her left, Maelys ran silently and randomly until she could no longer see the faintest glimmer of her enemy. She slowed to a fast walk, fretting. Would the Numinator continue after her, or go for Emberr?

  She would go after him, of course, and the stiletto was not a defensive weapon. Maelys tried to remember what the Numinator had said after learning about Emberr. Not much, though it was clear she knew who he was. Emberr had never been out of the Nightland, though, so why had the Numinator come after him in such haste? Only two reasons came to mind: to revenge herself on his mother by killing him, or to eliminate him because he posed some threat to her.

  She stopped, shivering and rubbing her arms; the soles of her feet were tingling on the cold floor; she felt exquisitely sensitive all over, and she remembered every detail of his face and figure as clearly as if he stood before her now.

  Emberr was in deadly danger, but how was she to find him? Previously he had scented her; he had spoken into her mind, then she had answered and he had heard her voice. Could she open herself to him the same way?

  Emberr? she said softly.

  There was no answer. Perhaps he was asleep. It could be the middle of the night here; there was no way of telling. Or she might be too far away.

  Emberr?

  What if the Numinator could also pick up her call? Maelys couldn’t allow herself to think about that. She had to find him first and hope that, together, they could get him out of here. What had he said – that he couldn’t leave unless a woman took his place.

  Maelys had a wicked thought; so shocking that she immediately shied away from it. No, she had to consider it, for Emberr would never be safe while the Numinator was free. Could she trap her here forever and allow Emberr to go free in her place?

  It was a terrible thing to do to anyone but, Maelys reminded herself, the Numinator was a monster who had ruined thousands of lives through her failed bloodline project. And she had come here to kill Emberr. It was a fitting exchange. It would be justice.

  Emberr? She put all her passion, her loneliness and desperation into the call.

  Maelys? Have you really come back?

  The tingling washed across her body again, and Maelys felt her nipples harden. I had to see you again.

  Where are you? I can’t smell your scent at all. Walk about; wave your arms in the air.

  She did so, feeling flushed and faint at the thought of him finding her by her scent. Her knees were trembling; she wanted to lie down, but she had to warn him, protect him, free him.

  I don’t know where I am. Emberr, you’re in terrible danger. You’re being hunted by the Numinator, and she’s a powerful mancer.

  Is she the woman who has come to free me and take my place?

  I think she’s your mother’s enemy. She carries a poisoned stiletto and I’m scared she wants to kill you.

  The Numinator? he said thoughtfully, not sounding concerned at all. Does that mean ‘The Numinous One’?

  ‘I don’t know what numinous means,’ Maelys said aloud, frustrated that he was ignoring the danger. Yet after spending his entire life in the Nightland, all alone, how could he understand the evils of the real world? How could he understand the malice, bitterness and rage that drove some people until they became inhuman monsters, incapable of feeling for their fellow men and women?

  It’s to do with a divine power or spirit …

  ‘Not another one!’ Maelys exclaimed, thinking about the God-Emperor.

  Does she act like a divinity?

  ‘No. She dwells in the frozen south and talks to no one save her faithful Whelm.’

  Perhaps the title is meant to inspire fear and keep people at a distance. Ah, I’m picking up your scent. He sighed dreamily. Maelys, Maelys. I know where you are. Would you turn to your right?

  She did so.

  A little further.

  She complied, and Emberr said, Come to me, my love. Quiet now, and he was gone.

  My love! He called me his love. Maelys’s eyes flooded; she swayed on her feet, quite overcome.

  Again she felt that rush of air and was reminded that the Nightland could have a myriad of unknown dangers. She wiped her eyes and told herself to stop being a stupid romantic girl. To save Emberr, she had to keep all her wits about her; she had to be as tough as the Numinator herself. But not as hard. Never as hard.

  She went forwards as she had done last time, walking blindly into the darkest recesses of the Nightland but this time trusting Emberr completely. She knew instinctively that he would never deceive or trick her. Knew with absolute surety that he was the one.

  That shocked her, and Maelys had to stop for a moment to rub her hands on the cold floor and press them to her inflamed face. Her girlish passion for Nish, and her brief affection for Colm, she now knew to be mere infatuations born out of the romantic daydreams she’d indulged herself with through all the terrible years after Nifferlin Manor had been torn down and her clan lost. With Nish and Colm, though, she’d always had doubts; now she had none. This was the real thing – Emberr would be the love of her life.

  Her face was still burning. Cooling her hands again, she rubbed them over her cheeks and throat, trying to regain some semblance of self-control. She felt as though she was boiling inside, and her tingling skin had become so sensitive that every movement was exquisite torment.

  On Maelys went, step by slow step, in such a fever that she had no idea how far she had gone, or how long she had been walking. It must have been hours, though, for her empty stomach was grumbling and she felt faint from hunger before she finally saw the yellow lights of Emberr’s cottage windows in the distance, then the door opening and the silhouette of a tall man blocking out the light shining from within.

  Her self-control vanished and, letting out a glad cry of ‘Emberr!’, she ran to him, able to think of nothing but flinging herself into his arms. She did not think for an instant that he might have tricked her or laid some enchantment on her, to trap her here so he could go free. She trusted him utterly.

  He was at the gate when she reached it, and he was dressed, as before, in just a knee-length kilt.

  He swung open the gate of weathered grey wood. ‘Maelys, my love, I have never stopped thinking about you. Every moment you were gone I prayed that you would come back, though I never expected you would manage it where my own mother, with all her mighty Arts, could not.’

  She looked up at him and hesitated, suddenly feeling shy. She had no idea what to say or do. ‘I – I –’

  ‘I don’t know the words either,’ Emberr said, smiling down at her, ‘but sometimes, words aren’t needed.’ He frowned at a private thought, quivered as if going through some internal struggle, then dismissed it and opened his arms.

  She did not hesitate now. Maelys threw her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his bare chest, and he felt so right, so safe, that for a few seconds the Numinator went completely out of her mind.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ said Emberr. ‘Are you cold, my love?’

  ‘I’m not cold … but I am hungry.’

  ‘Come inside.’

  Taking her by the hand, he led her up the steps and closed the door behind her. He took her through a small entrance hall into a room with thick rugs on the floor and a fire flickering in a grate. The Nightland flames gave forth little heat, but they were very cheery.

  ‘There is something the matter, though, isn’t there, Maelys?’

  It came flooding back and she had to tell him, had to reveal that she’d betrayed his trust, no matter what happened once she had. ‘The Numinator,’ she gasped. ‘It’s my fault, Emberr. She forced me to tell; she used some spell. I couldn’t resist it.’

  ‘Then how can you be blamed?’

  ‘But I’ve betrayed you to your mother’s enemy. She’s coming to kill you.’


  ‘I don’t think so, Maelys.’

  Why wouldn’t he listen? ‘Emberr, please.’

  ‘She cannot harm me here. I’m well protected.’

  ‘Are you sure? I’m really afraid …’

  ‘I’m very sure. My cottage cannot be found unless I will it; it was made that way. You’re perfectly safe.’

  Maelys felt it too – the moment the door had closed behind her, the threat of the Numinator had faded away. She sat on a cushion and watched him go back and forth, preparing titbits for her. He handed her the platter and sat opposite, watching her while she ate. Maelys had no idea what she was eating, and after taking several morsels she laid the platter aside and went to his arms again, letting out a little sigh.

  ‘I feel all hot and inflamed inside.’ She’d never felt this way before. ‘And ever since I came through the portal, my skin has been tingling so much that I can hardly bear the way my clothes rub against me.’

  ‘Then you must take your clothes off, Maelys.’

  She did not hesitate, though she did feel rather shy at revealing herself. When they were piled on a chair he looked her up and down, at the white chthonic flames still shimmering faintly all over her, and gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘You truly are the woman who will free me. Come.’

  And she went to him.

  Maelys lay in a daze afterwards, then drifted into a blissful sleep, cradled in his arms. She had never felt so warm, so safe, so fulfilled.

  She woke slowly, not knowing whether mere minutes had passed, or hours, but with a feeling that something wasn’t right. She felt chilly, and alone again, though Emberr was still with her, sound asleep. The fire in the grate had gone out and the room was cold. She disengaged herself, careful not to wake him, stood up, and the back of her neck prickled. The Numinator was out there somewhere – how could she have been so bewitched as to put her out of mind just because Emberr said they were safe? How could he be sure his cottage was hidden from her? He’d never met her; never left the Nightland, while her mighty Arts had once controlled a whole world.