Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

  By Quyloc’s estimate roughly two-thirds of the remaining population of Qarath had made it in. Thousands more still choked the streets. Screams echoed up from below. None of the Children had yet made it to the palace, but he could see two of them a half dozen blocks away down one of the main streets.

  There was still no sign of Rome.

  A shout came from one of the soldiers on the wall to Quyloc’s right. Quyloc hurried over there. From the northwest came Tairus, leading the remaining pikemen. Shorn was close behind them, still carrying the massive club.

  While Quyloc was looking down at them, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see one of the Children come running out of an alley and fall on a small group of citizens. They cried out and scattered as he fed on one of them. Quyloc shouted an order and one of the squads of pikemen moved to engage the man. Quyloc scanned the area. There was still only the one, but down several other streets he could now see more Children rapidly converging on the palace. Soldiers on the wall also saw the Children coming and they cast nervous glances at Quyloc, wondering when the order to close the gates would come.

  “Where are you, Rome?” Quyloc whispered.

  He feared for his old friend, but also he feared the order that he would have to give if Rome didn’t show up in time. At some point he would have to close the gates, dooming those still left in the city. He would have to stand there, watching, listening, as those poor people died. More than anything he didn’t want to be the one to give that order.

  Tairus entered the palace grounds and climbed up on the wall to stand with Quyloc. He looked down over the stricken city, his face grim under the sweat and the blood.

  “Rome’s still out there?”

  Quyloc nodded, his eyes fixed on the distance.

  “We’re going to have to close the gates soon,” Tairus said. “They’re getting too strong. Even the pikes aren’t really working anymore.”

  The lone Child in the street below had already killed two of the pikemen facing him. One body lay at his feet, the other hung limply in his hands. Finishing that one off, he dropped the body. His eyes closed and he shuddered as the stolen Song coursed through him. Seconds later he opened his eyes and charged at the remaining pikemen. Another one went down.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Quyloc snarled.

  Tairus did not reply. The minutes dragged by. Two more Children made it onto the broad boulevard encircling the palace. The remaining squads of pikemen moved to intercept them. More of them died.

  “We will need time to set the stones in place,” Tairus said.

  Quyloc sagged against the battlements. “I know.”

  “Now?” Tairus asked.

  “Now,” he whispered.

  Tairus yelled an order and the pikemen began to withdraw, Shorn bringing up the rear. They made it through just before the gates swung shut. A moment later the first of the Children following them hit the gates, which shuddered under the force of the impact. From the sound of it, had he continued beating on the gates, they would have collapsed pretty quickly. But he gave up on them after a couple more blows and turned on the easier prey that was still streaming toward the palace, unaware that escape was now closed to them.

  The teams of horses pulled, the ropes tightened and the first of the huge stones lifted into the air and was swung into place.

  “Get those rope ladders over the edge! We may still be able to save a few of them!” Tairus called. Rope ladders were dropped over the edge of the wall.

  More people entered the wide boulevard. A small group, two men and three women, bolted for the palace gates. One of the Children, an elderly man with a strange, limping gait, caught wind of them and gave chase. They reached the gates and began pounding on them, screaming for them to be opened. Quyloc winced at their cries, each one a poisoned blade digging deep into his heart. Soldiers on the wall yelled down to them, telling them to run to the rope ladders, but in their panic they didn’t hear.

  The elderly man reached them and fell on one of the women. She went down and was dead in moments. The other four people went crazy, tearing and scratching at the gates until their fingers bled. The elderly man got up off the woman’s lifeless body. Ripples ran over him and for a few seconds he just stood there, shaking, as his limbs filled out with new flesh. His abdomen swelled so much that the skin split and gray, withered intestines spilled out. He screamed once, then jumped on one of the men.

  Finally, the soldiers’ yells got through to the surviving woman. She turned, saw one of the rope ladders and ran for it, the other two men following her. She had just started up the rope ladder when one of the men grabbed her around the waist. She screamed and swung back at him with her elbow, catching him hard in the jaw. He lost his hold and she scurried up the ladder. The other man climbed up after her, but the one she had hit wasn’t fast enough and was grabbed by one of the Children.

  Similar scenes were happening all over the boulevard. A few people stayed clearheaded enough to realize the gates were closed and run for the rope ladders. But many panicked. They ran this way and that, screaming, pursued by wild-eyed Children. The carnage was awful and Quyloc wanted nothing more than to run away from it. He knew this was a memory he would never escape. But he forced himself to stand there, showing nothing, watching.

  All at once a shout went up from the soldiers on the wall. Men pointed off to the left. Quyloc turned his head and saw Rome, on horseback, galloping toward the gates. He had two small children on the saddle in front of him and the black axe in his free hand.

  One of the Children, a short woman with odd tufts of hair sprouting irregularly from her head, sprang at him. He swung the axe, nearly severing her head. She went down with a yelp, but as she fell she grabbed onto one of the horse’s hindquarters.

  The horse whinnied and lurched to the side as the strength left that leg. Another one of the Children closed in and got a hand on the animal’s flank. With a cry of terror, the horse collapsed. As it went down, Rome wrapped the two children in his left arm and rolled, shielding them from the ground with his body. He came back to his feet in an instant, the crying children pressed to him, the axe already swinging at a leaping attacker. The axe bit deep into the man and he screamed. Rome struck him again and then ran past him.

  Quyloc’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails had bitten into his palms. Over and over he whispered, “Come on, Rome. Come on.”

  Two more Children closed on Rome. Rome chopped off a hand that was thrust at him, spun and hacked the other one in the chest. In a heartbeat he was off and running again.

  He ran for the nearest rope ladder. The two Children he had just attacked recovered and came after him. He reached the ladder several seconds ahead of his pursuers. He put the children he was carrying on the ladder, waited until they took hold of it, then tilted his head back and yelled at the soldiers on top of the wall to pull the ladder up. Then he turned to face his attackers.

  They charged him mindlessly, their hunger overwhelming all reason. His face contorted, Rome waded into them, swinging the axe two-handed.

  He cut the head clean off the first one and the body toppled over. He caught the next one on the shoulder and cleaved him down into the chest cavity.

  By then the soldiers had pulled up the ladder, retrieved the children, then lowered it again. Men shouted for Rome to grab the ladder, but instead he stepped away from the wall, screaming something at the rampaging Children, waving the axe around his head.

  Four of them moved toward him. All had clearly fed several times already. They were taller than Rome, their bodies weirdly distorted by new muscle. They came on cautiously, clearly not as maddened by the need to feed as the others had been. They spread out in a half circle.

  For an awful moment Quyloc was sure Rome was going to charge them. He saw it in the way the big man leaned forward on the balls of his feet, the axe held up before his chest.

  “No, Rome!” he yelled.

  Rome settled bac
k on his heels, glanced quickly around the boulevard, then leapt for the ladder. Soldiers were drawing it up the instant he caught hold of it and though the four Children ran for the wall and jumped at him, they got nothing but air.

  A minute later Rome was standing beside Quyloc and Tairus, his face ashen as he looked down on the carnage below.

  “How many didn’t make it?”

  Quyloc swallowed. More than anything he didn’t want to say the words. “Maybe two or three thousand.”

  Rome let out a long, shuddering sigh. He slumped against the battlements. “I failed them. I got those people killed.”

  “I don’t see what else you could have done,” Tairus said sharply. “Gods, you nearly got yourself killed just now!”

  Rome whirled on him. “I could have evacuated them yesterday! I had a feeling the barrier was going to fail. I should have acted on it.”

  Tairus stared back at him without flinching. “Worrying about what you could have done is just tormenting yourself. What matters is now. You don’t have time for this.”

  Rome looked down at the masons, setting the huge blocks of stone into place. The horses were skittish and hard to control. One tried to bolt and the stone it was attached to, already in the air, swung dangerously.

  “I shouldn’t have tried to defend Qarath. We should have run away. I’ve killed everyone here.” He looked back at Tairus. “You were a fool to come back. You should have run while you had the chance.”

  “I came back for the same reason all these people stayed. This is my home. I’ll die to defend it,” Tairus said, his eyes blazing. “They knew the risks, just like I did. You didn’t lie to them. They wanted to defend their homes. Don’t take that away from them. Don’t you dare. It’s their sacrifice, their choice, and you won’t take it away.”

  Rome stared at him for a long moment, his face twitching with suppressed emotion, then he scrubbed his face with his hands. “All right,” he said. “I hear you.” He straightened himself, then turned to some soldiers standing nearby. “You men go down and help them control those horses. Get those stones in place and do it fast.” The soldiers saluted and ran down the stairs.

  “Come on,” he said to Quyloc and Tairus. “Let’s go find Ricarn and the FirstMother and plan our next step.”

  Thirty-six

  They had just gotten down off the wall and Rome was still gripping the black axe in his left hand when suddenly it began to vibrate. It surprised him so much he almost dropped it.

  “What is it?” Quyloc asked.

  “It just moved.” He looked it over closely. The eyes carved into the sides looked…wet. He turned the axe slightly, looking at it from different angles and, as he did so, he saw that the eyes moved, tracking him.

  Quyloc saw it too. “It’s nearly awake.”

  Rome swore. “Not now,” he growled. Then, in his mind, he heard:

  Free me.

  “It just spoke to me,” Rome said, and relayed the words to the other two men.

  “This is bad,” Tairus said. “I hate to say it, but we need that thing.”

  “Hold it up where I can see it,” Quyloc said. He slipped back the leather covering on his spear and gripped the haft in his hand. His eyes took on an unfocused look. A moment later he shook his head, his eyes coming back to normal. “There’s nothing I can tell that way.”

  “Something I hate to say,” Tairus put in, “but has anyone considered what that thing might do once it’s awake? What if it’s pissed off?”

  The three men looked at each other. Then Rome said, “One problem at a time. Let’s worry about the Children first.”

  They found the FirstMother sitting on the steps of the palace. Bronwyn was crouched beside her, holding a cup of water to her lips. The FirstMother looked up, saw the three of them approaching and pushed the cup away. She struggled to get to her feet, refusing the young Tender’s offered hand. She faced the three men defiantly.

  “How long until you can get a new barrier up?” Rome asked her. The sulbit on her shoulder looked to be unconscious and she was weaving slightly.

  “Can’t you see she needs to rest?” Bronwyn snapped.

  Rome ignored her, staring at the FirstMother.

  Nalene made as if to speak, closed her mouth, then looked away. In a low voice she said, “I can’t do it. Not yet. I’m too weak. I wouldn’t be able to control it.”

  “When?”

  She gave him a dark look. “What difference does it make? They broke the barrier before. They’re stronger now and we’re weaker.”

  Opus walked out of the front doors then and came down the steps to them. He bowed slightly to Rome, then turned to Nalene. “FirstMother,” Opus said, his manner every bit as decorous and proper as ever. “I have a room ready for you. If you will follow me?” She seemed about to refuse him, then her shoulders sagged and she followed him up the steps and inside.

  To Bronwyn, Rome said, “Can you do it, make a barrier?”

  “I could try. But I’m not nearly as strong as the FirstMother. My control isn’t nearly as good. If I make a mistake, people will die.”

  “We’ll all die without the barrier.”

  “I’ll need to prepare.”

  “Do it.” She walked away and he turned to Quyloc and Tairus. “Better hope the wall holds.”

  Thirty-seven

  At sunset, Rome, Quyloc and Tairus stood on top of the wall and looked out over the city.

  “It’s awful quiet,” Tairus said. The screams of dying people had gradually subsided over the past few hours and finally disappeared entirely. The last of Children who’d been in the boulevard below had wandered away a few minutes ago, weaving drunkenly, gorged on stolen Song.

  “They’re resting,” Quyloc said. “Digesting their food.”

  Tairus made a disgusted noise. Below them, Bronwyn was standing near the gates with a dozen Tenders, waiting for Rome’s orders. “Want me to tell them to start on the barrier?” Tairus asked.

  Rome looked at Quyloc, who shook his head. “As long as it’s this quiet, there’s no need to risk it. I have a feeling we’re not going to face another attack again until morning.”

  “I wonder where Heram is,” Rome said. “As strong as he was before, I can’t imagine what he’s like now. He may be able to just punch right through the wall.”

  “If he does that, we’re finished,” Tairus replied.

  “We’re finished anyway,” Rome said gloomily. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  Tairus and Quyloc exchanged looks. Neither tried to argue with him. There was nothing to say.

  “There’s one. Gods, look at that thing.” Ralf elbowed Lery and pointed and both men squinted in the uneven light from the torches.

  From a side street a lone figure approached, a man, though twice the size of any ordinary man. He was naked and completely hairless, his skin a dull yellow color. As he came closer, they could see that there was what looked like a vestigial arm growing out of his side, underneath his left arm. His face was misshapen, his skull bulging out on one side.

  It was the first time Lery had seen one of the Children and he paled at the sight. “He’s huge,” he finally managed to say. “Are they all that big?”

  Ralf had been on the outer wall and he shrugged. “There was a red-skinned one who was that big, but the rest were no bigger than you or me, and most of them skinny, pathetic-looking things.” He leaned on the battlements to get a better look. “They’re growing. All those people left in the city, they’ve been feeding on them, getting stronger, getting bigger.”

  They both stared, entranced, as the man shambled closer. He staggered more than walked, like a man who’s been out drinking late. He walked up to the gates and pounded on them a few times. Even from on top of the wall they could feel the vibrations, the blows were so strong.

  “There’s no way we can hold them off with pikes now,” Ralf said. “They’ll snap them like twigs.”

  Though Ralf spoke in a low voice, the man must have heard him
because he looked up suddenly, backing up a few steps until he could see them, standing there frozen at the battlements. His eyes were bright and fever-intense and as he stared at them Lery felt sweat start to run down his spine, though the night was cold.

  A whine started in the Child’s throat, an eager, wordless sound, like a dog makes when it sees something it badly wants to eat.

  Then he jumped at them.

  They both jerked back in alarm. He only made it about halfway up the wall, but then for one long, hideous second, he clung there, scrabbling for a purchase on the stone and they feared he would make it up.

  Then he lost his precarious hold and slid back down the wall, thumping heavily to the ground.

  Ralf slapped Lery on the shoulder. “Run get the sergeant!” he said in a harsh whisper. “Hurry!”

  Lery ran for the sergeant as another one of the Children emerged from the shadows of a street and approached the palace wall. Then another.

  Thirty-eight

  Netra and Cara were sitting on the low stone wall behind the palace, looking out over the sea. The cliff stretched hundreds of feet below them to the crashing surf far below. Shorn was a silhouette a short distance away, standing motionless with his arms crossed.

  “Ricarn thinks that the Children have to be brought back into the Circle. She thinks the only way to stop them is to undo Melekath’s Gift.”

  Cara turned her head to look at her. “That makes sense,” she said. “The Gift makes them immortal. Undoing the Gift would make them mortal again. Then they could die. Did she say anything about how she thinks that could be done?”

  Netra rubbed her face and continued in a smaller voice. “She thinks I have to do it.”