The Fathomless Fire

by Thomas Wharton

  – The Cabinet of Mysteries

  “CORR,” FINN SAID, STEPPING FORWARD. “Corr, it’s really you…”

  “That name has not been spoken for a long time,” said the one-eyed man, setting the mask aside on the table beside him. “But yes, it’s me, Finn. Your brother. Or what’s left of him.”

  “Corr…” Finn said again, his voice breaking.

  The brothers embraced, then Corr held Finn at arm’s length and shook his head slowly.

  “Look at you,” he said, breaking into a smile. “My little brother, a man now. And a knight of the Errantry. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You never did listen to anything I told you.”

  “Corr, how can this be?”

  “You expected to find me dead?”

  “No, I never believed that. Never. But all of this… ”

  “All of this,” Corr echoed, nodding. “It’s not what anyone would have expected when we set out from Fable all those years ago, least of all me. But tell me, Finn, when did you join the Errantry?”

  “Not long after you went away,” Finn said, and for a moment he sounded like an eager boy instead of the serious young man Will knew him to be. “I ran away from the farm and came to Fable. When the Errantry took me in I trained hard, then I looked for you. Everywhere they sent me, I looked for you.”

  “And what of Mother? Is she well?”

  “She … died three years ago, Corr,” Finn said.

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Before she died, I promised her I would find you.”

  Corr looked away for a moment. Then he nodded slowly and put a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry you won’t be able to bring her the news. It shouldn’t have been that way.”

  “I also made a promise to the Errantry, Corr. I came looking for you to bring you home. And all of the Bourne folk with you.”

  To Will’s surprise, Corr broke into a laugh.

  “Bring us home,” he said. “That will never happen, Finn. This is our home now.”

  “When I took the oath of the Errantry, I swore I would find you, and bring you back to Fable, to judgement.”

  “I wonder who made you swear such an oath?”

  “Lord Caliburn.”

  “Of course. To his judgement, then. Not difficult to imagine what that will be. And the sentence carried out by his faithful dog Thorne. Did you know it was Thorne who decided I wasn’t fit for the Errantry all those years ago? But never mind that. Tell me, what were your orders if I refused to return to Fable? What then, I wonder. Were you to bring the Marshal my head?”

  “No, Corr. I knew it would never come to that. I knew that if I found you and asked you to come back with me, you would.”

  Corr gazed at Finn for a long time.

  “I’m afraid you were wrong, brother. Much has changed since I rode from home that day. Nothing will undo what I’ve done, or bring back the boy I killed. But here … Here I can do some good. For all of us. For the Bourne as well. Going back to Fable would only mean abandoning our mission.”

  “And what is that mission?” the doctor asked. “Beyond terrorizing the folk of the plains?”

  “You’re the doctor?” Corr said to Alazar with obvious interest.

  “I am,” Alazar said, in a cold voice.

  Corr turned to Will. His eyes narrowed.

  “You’re not long from the Untold, are you, lad?”

  Will shook his head. Something in Corr’s voice, as friendly seeming as it was now, held a threat. He wondered how Corr could tell he was not from the Realm.

  “I have to wonder what you’re doing with this search party,” Corr said to him. “But that tale can wait until there’s more time.”

  Balor stepped forward again.

  “What about Hawk, the Horse Folk boy? Where did your Nightbane friends drag him off to?”

  “He has not been harmed. Forgive me, I should have told you. There are other Horse Folk among our company, so I had the boy sent to them. I thought it would help to lessen his fear if he saw that his own people are with us.”

  “Did you kidnap them as well?” Balor growled.

  Corr took a deep breath and his face darkened. It was clear to Will that Balor was close to pushing Corr’s patience to its limit.

  “How can all of this be, Corr?” Finn said. “Nightbane as allies, the flying ships… What happened to you?”

  Corr smiled and for a moment Will saw a much younger man appear in that scarred, weathered face.

  “So much has happened, my brother,” Corr said. “But it is a long story and I must meet with my lieutenants now. A place has been prepared for you and your friends to rest and refresh themselves. You are my welcome guests. We’ll meet again soon and all will be explained. And I promise you, there will be no more manacles.”

  Will and his companions were escorted, this time by unarmed attendants, to a room deep within the fortress, without windows, but with beds, a coal brazier for warmth, and a bath. Like everything else here, the walls had been carved or shaped out of the rock itself after the fortress had been damaged, because the ceiling still sloped at one end. The wooden beds were narrow with no pillows and only one thin woollen blanket each.

  Balor surveyed the room with a scowl.

  “You’ll notice they haven’t given us our weapons back,” he said.

  They took off their travel-stained clothes and changed into fresh clothing that had been set out for them.

  Balor tore the tunic he was struggling to put on.

  “They don’t seem to have my size,” he said, tugging at the too-short sleeves. “Which suits me fine. I have no intention of fitting in here.”

  “Have you noticed the colours?” the doctor said. “Black and silver. Errantry colours.”

  Balor nodded.

  “I guess he’s not above borrowing a few ideas from us.”

  Will washed his face in the basin and dried it on a rough cloth, then sat on the edge of the bed he had been assigned. He studied Finn, who had withdrawn into his own thoughts. His eyes were shining and it was clear he was overjoyed to have found his brother at last, but he was troubled, too, and avoided looking at anyone. Will, Balor and the doctor exchanged glances but they said nothing to Finn.

  A chill grew in the room that suggested evening had fallen in the world outside. Will shivered and drew closer to the brazier to warm his hands. He gazed into the glowing coals, wondering if Shade was all right, and thinking about Rowen, too. Shade was still in danger, after all that Will had tried to do, and the same was probably true of Rowen. The shadow of things to come had brought him a warning in time, but it had been in vain, as far as he could tell. And the Dreamwalker must have been wrong. There was no way he could get back to Rowen now.

  The door opened suddenly and three Stormriders came in, two men and one mordog. As far as Will could see they were not armed. One of the men announced that the Sky Lord had invited them to dinner, and Will thought quickly: if he stayed behind, maybe he could slip out later and search for Shade. He considered trying the excuse that he felt sick, but he hesitated too long and the Stormriders began herding them all out of the room. It was clear that the invitation was one they were not meant to turn down.

  They were led along the same corridor by which they’d come, then up a flight of stairs to a circular chamber with a lofty domed ceiling. There were heavy wooden chairs here, arranged in a semi-circle in front of a huge round stone table that looked as if it had grown out of the floor like a giant flat-topped mushroom.

  Corr was there already, seated in a chair, speaking in low tones with someone sitting near him, an old man, white-bearded and very small, who Will realized after a second glance must be a dwarf. With his gaunt, narrow face and sunken eyes he did not look much like Mimling Hammersong. He wore an iron band around his forehead, a coat of dark mail, and had many unornamented iron rings on his long, bony fingers. Grath, the mordog, stood to one side of the table, impassive.

  There was meat and fruit and bread alr
eady laid out on the table, along with decanters of water and wine. Corr had clearly touched none of it, nor had the dwarf. When Finn and the others came in, Corr stood and greeted them, then invited them to sit. The old dwarf did not rise from his chair.

  “This is Nonn,” Corr said, gesturing to the dwarf, who surveyed the new arrivals with a cold, unwelcoming look. “He and his brethren are my allies in the battle we wage here. Now, please, sit and eat. You all look a little thin.”

  “Not much to eat on the plains these days,” Balor muttered. If Corr heard him, he made no sign.

  As they approached the table, Will remembered the food they had been served in the cell, and he looked at the doctor.

  “It’s perfectly good,” Corr said, noticing Will’s glance and clearly realizing what it meant. “I’ll join you if that will help.”

  He poured everyone a goblet of red wine and raised his own.

  “To the downfall of the enemy,” he said.

  “And the recovery of what has been stolen,” the dwarf said, his voice low and rattling, like chains being dragged across a stone floor.

  “We were served food on the ship,” Finn said, not touching his goblet. “The doctor seemed to think there was something—”

  Corr raised his hand.

  “My apologies. The mordog’s fare is not to everyone’s taste, is it, Grath?”

  The mordog grinned.

  “It’s gaal, isn’t it, Corr?” Finn said. “Fever iron. That’s what’s in your Stormriders’ food and drink.”

  Corr stared at Finn and slowly set down his goblet.

  “It is. We salvage what little we can from the rocks around the fortress. The metal has properties no one in Fable ever guessed, Finn. Nonn and his artificers have put it to incredible uses. It’s gaal that keeps our skyships in the air.”

  “It’s also a poison,” Alazar said. “It drives men mad.”

  “Men it may, if they use it recklessly,” said Nonn sharply. “Not dwarves.”

  “Our mordog allies grind it into a powder that they ingest with their meals,” Corr said. “It makes them fiercer warriors, nearly impervious to pain.”

  “And your own men, too, I imagine,” Alazar said. “Do they also take this powder?”

  “Those who wish it.”

  “But it must be killing them slowly. Surely you see that. Like that poor wretch—”

  He broke off and glanced quickly at Finn.

  “Whom are you speaking of, doctor?” Corr asked.

  “The … Horse Folk told us of a man wandering the plain,” Finn said quickly. “He was sick and delirious, but he told the Horse Folk he had news of you, for the Errantry.”

  “Ah, Brannon Yates,” Corr said. “That was unfortunate. Yes, he took too much of the gaal, and it … affected his mind. After all we had been through together. He disappeared, but we found him, fortunately, and brought him back to the fortress. He is in a bad way. Perhaps, doctor, you could look in on him later.”

  Alazar was about to speak, but he pursed his lips and only nodded.

  “Now, please,” Corr said, raising his hands, “help yourselves. I assure you there is no fever iron at this table.”

  They sat down and ate and drank sparingly. Corr joined them, taking a small amount of food for himself. Will noticed that he hardly ate any of it. The dwarf ate nothing.

  “How can you have fare like this, Corr, in such a place?” Finn asked.

  “The Horse Folk supply our provisions, in return for the protection we give them,” Corr said, and Will wondered if Finn would challenge this statement, which must be a lie if the Dreamwalker had been telling the truth. But Finn said nothing.

  “They would have fled long ago, or become slaves to the Nightbane,” Corr said, “if we had not been here. The people bring us what they can, and often their young men and women join our cause.”

  “The plains are dying from lack of rain,” Alazar said. “The animals have fled and the people are hungry. It doesn’t seem right to ask them to supply your needs.”

  “Without us, they would have nothing at all.”

  “But what about the drought? Is that somehow your doing?”

  “The gaal gives us power even over the weather. You must have seen the rods on the rooftops of the fortress when you were brought here. With those rods Nonn’s folk have bottled the clouds up here in the ghostlands, to harness the lightning. Regrettable, but necessary.”

  “Regrettable?” Balor muttered.

  “When the clay giant came to us,” Corr went on, “I knew it must have been you who had sent him, Finn. I didn’t know how you’d done it. But I hoped some day you would follow.”

  “Ord the golem found you, then,” Finn said. “I was right about where he was going.”

  Corr took out a green stone from his pocket and set it on the table.

  “This is yours,” he said to Finn. Will remembered the ring with the green stone that Finn had worn on their first journey together. How Finn had set the stone into the forehead of the golem to save them from the storyshard they were trapped in.

  “So you call him Ord, do you?” Corr said. “He came striding out of the south one morning. Ploughed through a throng of our strongest mordog like a pile of dead leaves. Didn’t hurt any of them, not badly anyway, but they couldn’t stop him. He broke through the gates and just kept going, up through the corridors, no matter what we threw at him. Nothing, not even the lightning, slowed him down. He tore through a door of solid iron to get into my chamber. I thought I was finished, but then he just stopped. Just stood there, like he’d turned to solid rock. Then I saw the green stone in his forehead, and I remembered the ring I had given my brother…”

  He slid the stone across the table to Finn, who caught it and picked it up.

  “That belongs to you, brother,” Corr said, “but if you have no objection, I will keep the golem. He has his uses.”

  Finn closed his fist around the stone. No one spoke.

  The doctor finally broke the silence.

  “I don’t understand how all of this happened. The fortress, the army of Stormriders, the flying ships … you left Fable with only a small band of men.”

  Corr picked up his goblet.

  “There were only fifty of us,” he said with a nod. “But we acted with one thought, one goal: to find the beasts that had slaughtered our people, and rid the Realm of them.

  “We rode for days and days, following the trail of the Nightbane west and north from Fable,” he continued. “After many weeks we caught up with a band of mordog, part of the larger force that had raided the Bourne. That night we encircled their camp under cover of darkness and attacked. We killed them all, except one. He became our unwilling guide, but he led us true, many leagues north into wild, dangerous lands, by little-known paths. We found the rest of the raiding party and finished them. And then … well, we kept on. Battle after battle, year after year. Other men joined us, outlaws and exiles, soldiers, mages, warriors, men with no homes, no kingdoms left to defend.”

  “Some of the Bourne folk in your army must have wanted to return to Fable, to their families,” the doctor said.

  “Whoever wished to leave us was free to go. A few did, but clearly none found their way home. I am sorry for that. Most of the men who left Fable with me stayed, though, gladly. There was much for us to do. We learned that well-armoured companies of Nightbane were coming and going from these ghostlands, as the Horse Folk call them. So we tracked the Nightbane here and discovered their stronghold in the valley below.”

  He paused, and smiled bitterly.

  “Our victories had made us reckless,” he said. “We attacked too soon and the Nightbane came forth in greater numbers than we had suspected and scattered us easily. Many men died. I lost my eye in that battle, and took a blade of fever iron in the chest. The Nightbane hung me from a dead tree over a stinking hole in the earth and left me to rot.”

  Will looked at Corr’s hand, gripping his goblet. The knuckles had gone white.

&n
bsp; “Nonn’s people found me,” he said. “I was nearly dead, but they brought me to the fortress and healed me. In time my men gathered together again and rejoined me. We learned that Nonn’s folk had taken refuge in the ruins of this fortress many years ago, after the Nightbane drove them from their home in the valley of fire. Ages ago the dwarves built a city in that valley, delving into a crater left by a great iron stone that fell from the sky. It was a city of many levels descending in concentric rings into the depths of the earth, and they called it Adamant. The dwarves had lived there for longer than even their own tales could reach back. They mined ores and precious metals, refined them, shaped them into beautiful things, ingenious things.”

  “The Sky Folk dwelt here, too, in the kingdom above the clouds,” the old dwarf said. They looked at him in surprise. He had said nothing for a long time, and now his guttural voice broke harshly on their ears. “This land was peaceful then. The valley of fire was green with growing things. We traded with the Sky Folk, crafted many treasures for them. Jewels, weapons. And when we discovered the properties of fever iron, as you call it, we built flying ships for the Sky Folk, so that they could travel from the heavens to the earth more quickly.”

  Will suddenly remembered Mimling’s tale.

  “You’re the Elders. The Ironwise. Someone … another dwarf … told me about you. He always wondered if you were only a legend.”

  “So some still remember us,” Nonn said, fixing Will with his cold gaze. Will noticed that the dwarf’s skin had a pale blue tinge and was pocked and pitted with many tiny scars, as if some burning thing had once exploded into fragments in front of him. Which, Will considered, was very likely for someone who worked with fire and metal.

  “We are not what we once were,” the dwarf added. “The war against the Night King brought much ruin. The kingdoms in the sky fell, and the earth was broken and heaved up so that rivers of molten rock burst forth and engulfed our city. Most of our people were swept away like dry leaves in a fire. The valley was burned and blackened, and has gone on burning ever since. Those of us who survived hid in the deepest tunnels beneath our city, taking refuge from the Nightbane and from the ghosts that wandered these wastes, the shades of the dead that the Night King had once enslaved. That is why the Horse Folk call these the ghostlands and do not come here.”