The Fathomless Fire

by Thomas Wharton

  “Fetches,” Corr said. “They have no will of their own. After Malabron was defeated they were like puppets whose strings had been cut.”

  “Yes, and we discovered we could make them serve us,” the dwarf said. “The ghosts were drawn to the gaal, like shivering wretches drawn to a fire in the cold. We found that we could seal them inside armour made of an alloy of gaal and ordinary iron, and they would do our bidding. Much as the golem serves the Sky Lord. Without the armour they were mindless, weak, insubstantial as mist. Sealed in the armour they could carry, and lift, and tunnel as we bade them. And unlike men or dwarves, they would never tire, or rebel against their masters.”

  “You made slaves of the fetches?” Finn asked.

  The dwarf scowled and shook his head.

  “How can one enslave that which has no mind, no will of its own? With their ceaseless labour, we began to rebuild our ruined city, and our fortunes. But it did not last. The fetches, as you call them, began to refuse our commands. Soon we realized they served the will of another, but it was too late. Before we could destroy their armour and render them helpless, they took up weapons and drove us from our mines and foundries. Then the Nightbane returned in great numbers, with fell beasts and the flying worms. They guarded the city while the forges were relit and the great hammers rang once more. We believe the fetches are making more armour, to capture and hold more shades of the dead. The things we created are making more of themselves.”

  “They’re forging an unstoppable army for the Night King,” Corr said. “Malabron’s strength is not yet great enough to control thousands of fetches by his will alone, but with the armour he can do it. The gaal in the metal binds the fetches to him and they move as one.”

  “Those of us who were not killed by the armoured fetches took refuge here,” Nonn said, “in the ruins of what had once been a shining citadel of the Sky Folk, before the kingdoms above the clouds crumbled and fell. And here we waited, doubting we would ever take back what is ours. Until Corr Madoc came to these lands and it seemed to us that the Sky Lord had returned.”

  “When I hung on that dead tree, over the pit,” Corr said, “something happened to me. The gaal seemed to sharpen my vision and I saw … more deeply than I ever had before. I saw what had once been. I saw the lost sky kingdoms as they had once been, glorious and powerful. I saw the skyships that were rotting now like bones on the valley floor … I saw them soaring through the clouds, lightning flickering along their masts, and I knew they could soar once again. And I saw that a great lode of ore lies beneath the ruins of Adamant. Enough of the gaal to raise a fleet of hundreds of skyships. If we can take the city back from the Nightbane and the fetches…”

  He paused, and lifted the black metal spearhead that hung around his neck.

  “This is the shard of gaal that cut away my old life and gave me a new one. You see, doctor, I wear the fever iron around my neck and it has not poisoned me. The truth is, it has given me greater strength and deeper sight than I ever had before. I have brought the people of these lands together in a great cause, and we will not fail.”

  “But you have Nightbane – mordog – for allies, Corr,” Finn said. “How can that be?”

  “They have thrown off the yoke of the Shadow Realm. When we first came to the ghostlands we found Grath and his companions hiding in the hills, hunted by their own kind. They had rebelled against their master, but there was nowhere else they could go where they would not be hated and feared. They renounce the name we’ve given their folk, Nightbane, but that is how they would be seen anywhere else in the Realm. So they have stayed here, in the hope of one day driving out Malabron’s forces and making a homeland for themselves.”

  “We saw that the armoured fetches had risen up against their masters,” Grath said with an unexpected fierceness. “Then we knew we no longer had to be slaves, either. We will not be the enemy in someone else’s story. We are free folk. We are Stormriders.”

  “But none of this explains why everyone calls you the Sky Lord,” Balor said.

  “He is the Sky Lord,” Grath rumbled.

  “I died,” Corr said simply. “I died with a shard of fever iron in my chest, and the Sky Lord was reborn.”

  Balor snorted.

  “I don’t ask you to believe it,” Corr said. “But you can see for yourselves what we have accomplished here. Without our ships and our lightning, the lands to the south would have been overrun long ago.”

  “Your brother wields the lightning,” the dwarf said to Finn. “As the Sky Lord once did.”

  “The Horse Folk fear you, Corr,” Finn said. “They flee from your Stormriders. And the wisent herds have been driven away. The people are hungry.”

  Corr smiled bitterly.

  “They owe us what peace they have, yet some are ungrateful. That is always the way of it. The defenders, the ones who get blood on their hands, are scorned and feared. And we need more defenders. We always need more defenders. It is what commanders in time of war have always done. If they will not send us their young and strong willingly, we are forced to take them.”

  “Like you took us,” Balor muttered.

  “The ship’s crew had no idea who you were. They were only doing their duty. We take the young and we train them to defend themselves. They become strong, protectors of their own people. Most come in time to thank us for it.”

  He turned to Alazar.

  “You have skills we need, doctor, and I must repeat my request. Will you go to the infirmary, to look at Yates and some of the newly wounded? Nonn’s healers are overwhelmed.”

  The doctor took a deep breath.

  “Where is the infirmary?” he said quietly.

  “Grath will show you the way. You have my thanks.”

  Alazar followed the mordog out of the room. There was a long silence. Corr took a drink of wine and set the goblet down heavily. Will noticed that Balor had been quietly fuming since the doctor left. Finally he could no longer contain himself.

  “When ’Zar is done, we’re leaving, Finn,” the wildman said. “Unless you’d like to join the fun here. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you.”

  “Would I be pleased to have my brother fighting at my side?” Corr said, with a look at Finn. “Of course. But that is his choice.”

  They all looked at Finn, who gazed down at the table without speaking.

  “I don’t see that you are defending anything here, Corr,” Finn said slowly.

  The Sky Lord gave a soft laugh of surprise.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about, little brother?”

  “This is a siege,” Finn said. “Nonn’s folk want their mines and forges back. You want that precious, deadly ore because it keeps your skyships in the air, and there’s almost none left, is there? Except in the deeps where Nonn’s people lived.”

  “Of course we want the gaal,” Corr said with a shrug. “Without the power it gives us, the command of the air and the lightning, there is no way we can hold these lands against the Night King’s forces. You don’t understand yet, Finn. You don’t see the greater purpose in what we do, and how much we have sacrificed … the men who have died.” His voice grew hoarse as he spoke the last few words.

  “Well, I think I understand,” Balor said, rising from his chair. “I hope you’re giving us the same choice you’re giving your brother, Corr Madoc, because if it’s all the same to you I choose to leave.”

  Corr and the dwarf exchanged a quick glance.

  “I cannot allow that,” Corr said. “My lieutenants have informed me that the Nightbane are massing in the valley of fire, beneath the outer walls of the dwarves’ city. The watchtowers have reported dragon sightings. We believe they are preparing an assault by air and land, and our ships cannot be spared to return you to the plains. You will have to remain here, for your own safety, for the time being.”

  “For our safety?” Balor thundered. “We’re prisoners here. You have no intention of letting any of us leave. Alazar’s too useful to y
ou, and Finn and I, we’ll make handy fighters, won’t we, in your quest for fever iron? That’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

  “Balor,” Finn said warningly, also rising from his chair.

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sky Lord, but your fortress isn’t exactly up in the sky, is it?”

  “It will be,” Corr said. “When we have enough gaal to raise it again. Nonn’s people are building a forge like those on board our skyships. When it is ready—”

  “Oh, yes, the gaal,” Balor boomed. “That wonderful harmless stuff that’s clearly driven you mad. How much fever iron have you been sprinkling on your morning porridge, Corr Madoc? This is sheer lunacy.”

  Corr’s scarred face shook with fury. He slammed a fist down on the table.

  “Enough,” he roared. “You are not going anywhere, wildman, and if you cannot govern your tongue, you will be locked up.”

  Balor turned to Finn, his own face darker than Will had ever seen it.

  “It looks like you won’t be bringing anyone back to Fable, my friend,” he said.

  Finn lowered his head, then looked up at his brother.

  “Corr, listen to me,” he said. “Let my friends and the Horse Folk boy leave, and I will stay here. I will join you.”

  “Finn, no,” Balor said.

  At that moment a horn sounded. Corr sprang to his feet.

  “The assault has begun,” he said, and there was a new tone in his voice now, of excitement, even eagerness. “This discussion will have to wait. It’s best that all of you come with me now.”

  … know that you have come to the end of all things,

  and that those who dare tread here soon find

  how many ways there are for the bold to die…

  – The Kantar

  WILL AND HIS COMPANIONS followed Corr and the old dwarf through the corridors, several armed Stormriders falling into step behind them, to the observation chamber where they had first been taken to meet the Sky Lord. Torches on poles blazed along the rim of the archway that looked out onto the valley of fire. Outside in the dark, rain was falling at a slant in the wind. More of the valley was visible now, as the wind had sheared away the steam and smoke, and Will could see further than he had before. The faint glow of distant fires glimmered at the edge of sight, and he wondered if they marked the rim of the unseen city of Adamant.

  Two Stormriders in dark red capes stood on the platform, one a tall, bearded man and the other a grey-haired mordog with one missing hand that was capped with an iron spike. Will guessed that they were two of Corr’s lieutenants. The tall man was peering into the darkness through a spyglass. When Corr arrived, he bowed his head and handed his commander the spyglass. Corr stepped onto the observation platform, into the streaming rain. He looked through the spyglass a moment then lowered it and continued to gaze out into the rain. Three of the skyships, their hulls just visible in the red torchlight, were launching from platforms further above in the fortress wall.

  “Report, Alfric,” Corr said.

  “Dragons,” the bearded lieutenant said, with a quick, curious glance at Will and his companions. “They’re motherworms, Lord. Two for certain, perhaps more. And something’s happening below. The scoutship sighted Nightbane marching in columns to the rim of the valley, on both sides of us. Hundreds of them. Some are hauling heavy wagons. We can’t tell what they’re carrying: the loads are covered.”

  “Why two columns?” Corr murmured, leaning out over the platform edge. Will followed his gaze for a while, then looked up again to watch the ships fade into the darkness.

  “Where are the ships going?” he asked.

  “They’ll rain lightning down on those columns,” Corr said. “They’ll break and scatter them.”

  “What about these motherworms, Corr,” Finn said. “Are they a danger to your ships?”

  “If they get too close, yes. But the lightning should prevent that.”

  They waited in silence. Before long Will could see flashes of orange light in the distance.

  “The motherworms,” said the mordog lieutenant. “They’re circling the ships now. Moving in.”

  Flickering tongues of fire spouted here and there, then scattered into sparks and faded away, like a burst of fireworks. As if in answer, a jagged blade of white light stabbed the dark. Moments later thunder cracked and boomed. The darkness throbbed with light again, then several bolts shot out all at once, from one ship or several, Will couldn’t tell. For an instant night became day and they could see the dark hull of a ship and a huge winged shape above it, descending through the cloud and smoke. All went dark again. Then another lightning bolt flashed at the same instant that a second burst of many writhing flames rained down on the ship.

  “No,” the bearded lieutenant said, his voice hollow.

  The ship erupted into a blazing ball of orange light, blooming in the dark like a hideous flower. Swiftly the fireball shrank and darkened, became a roiling mass of red flame and billowing steam that slowly tumbled out of the sky. Moments later they saw it erupt again as what was left of the ship struck the unseen earth. Gouts of flame shot up and fell in a shower, burned for a short time and flickered out.

  “There were Bourne folk on that ship,” Alfric said, turning away from the platform.

  “Send out more ships, then,” Nonn said. “Send all of the ships.”

  “Never mind the men on them,” Alfric muttered.

  “Signal the captains to keep going, and send the rest of your men out on foot,” Nonn said to Corr, in a peremptory tone that made Will wonder who was really in command here. “They can flank the Nightbane and crush them. This is our chance.”

  Corr peered out into the rain, then shook his head.

  “We’ll wait for now,” he said. “Your people have braced this fortress to withstand the shaking of the earth. It will withstand their assault. The Nightbane will break on it like waves against a cliff, and when they do we’ll come forth and scatter those that remain.”

  “But the gaal is out there,” the old dwarf rasped, thrusting a pointing finger into the dark. “That is where we must take the battle, to them. We’ve hidden in these crumbling halls too long already. If we do not seize this chance, we will lose everything.”

  Corr did not look at Nonn but gazed out into the dark, straining forward as if the dwarf’s words were like a goad he could barely resist. At last he straightened, and shook his head.

  “No,” he said hoarsely. “It’s too soon. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  The dwarf was about to reply when someone cried, “Worm!”

  Through the rain and smoke Will had a brief vision of a vast black form rising like a dark planet from the smoke below, a gaping mouth brimming with fire.

  “Everyone get back!” Corr shouted.

  Balor pulled Will away from the platform’s rim just in time. With a roar the mouth vomited a ball of bright flame that flew apart into many smaller blazing snakelike shapes. Dragons, Will thought as the wildman’s huge arm came around him and pulled him to the floor. As he fell he saw one of these small fiery dragons scrambling up the wall, another scuttling across the ceiling, spitting gobbets of flame. Then black smoke seared his vision and a stench of burning tar filled his nostrils. When he could see again, through watering eyes, a few sullen scraps of flame were flickering here and there on the walls and floor, as if the small fire-dragons had quickly burnt themselves almost to nothing. One of Corr’s men, clutching his blackened tunic sleeve and gasping in pain, was being helped from the chamber by another. Will heard a hissing sound and turned to see one of the dragons writhing on the floor near his feet. One of Corr’s men kicked it over the edge of the platform and it fell, crackling, into the rain.

  Corr was brushing at his singed cloak and already striding back out onto the platform. The old dwarf cowered against one wall, his sunken eyes bright with fear.

  “Where did the motherworm go?” Corr said. “Did anyone see?”

  “It dropped,” someon
e shouted. “To the base of the walls. And there was a second one. I saw it.”

  Corr leaned forward and peered over the side of the platform.

  “Can’t see anything,” he growled.

  “They were carrying something in their claws,” Alfric said.

  “Chain,” Finn said. “I saw a coiled length of thick chain. And there was a rider on the first worm, I’m sure of it. Or more than one.”

  “The motherworms never come this close to the walls,” Alfric said. “What in all the hells are they up to?”

  “The chains,” Corr said, snapping shut the spyglass and turning to face his men. “They’re bolting chains to the sides of the fortress. Those wagons that the Nightbane were hauling were carrying winches.”

  “For what purpose?” the mordog lieutenant said.

  “To bring the fortress down,” Corr said.

  “Is that possible?”

  “I don’t intend to find out. Send a ship down to the base of the walls. Nonn, some of your folk must go as well. Those chains must be cut and the worms driven off.”

  The dwarf climbed unsteadily to his feet.

  “But there are two worms, Lord,” the mordog lieutenant said. “The crew won’t have a chance.”

  “Send a ship now!” Corr roared. “And send another to those columns with a full contingent of men, and the wolves, too. Tell the captains to find the winches and destroy them.”

  “My Lord, the wolf-keepers say that the new one, the big wolf we just brought in, is causing trouble. He won’t obey the keepers, and the others are following his lead.”

  “Has he been fed the gaal?”

  “Yes, Lord, but there hasn’t been time to give him enough. He’s still resisting.”

  “Then give him more.”

  “But … it is too soon. The keepers say that more gaal now will burn him up too quickly.”

  “We don’t need him to last long. Have him given twice the dose.”

  “No!” Will shouted. Finn gripped his arm to hold him back.