The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) Page 2

  After an interval he lowered his voice and said, ‘And are you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she muttered, meeting his eyes. Hers were the colour of dark chocolate and showed nothing, though a pink flush spread across her pale cheeks. Maelys blushed easily, and rather prettily, despite the mud on her face. ‘I made that story up to save our lives.’

  She had told his father that she had gathered Nish’s nocturnal seed months ago, while nursing him, and placed it inside herself so as to become pregnant. And Jal-Nish, desperate for a grandchild, had believed her.

  ‘You did save our lives,’ said Nish, ‘so it was worth it.’

  ‘It cost me my friendship with Colm. Afterwards, he looked on me as no better than a – a whore!’ Her flush deepened.

  ‘You can’t be a virgin and a whore.’

  ‘In Colm’s eyes I was,’ she said plaintively. ‘I really liked him, Nish. He was good to me, in the early days.’

  Nish restrained the urge to tell her just what he thought of Colm, who had lost his clan’s estate in the war and would forever be bitter about it, as he was about a number of other injustices. Colm also resented the stain on his clan’s name left by his distant relatives Karan and Llian, once heroes of the Time of the Mirror, who were now known as Karan Kin-Slayer and Llian the Liar.

  Nonetheless, Colm had treated Maelys better than Nish had in the first month they had travelled together. But Colm was gone. He had accepted Klarm’s offer of amnesty and was now their enemy; he and Nish could be fighting each other in minutes.

  It was time to make amends. He put an arm across Maelys’s mud-covered shoulders and drew her closer. ‘I’m sorry it’s come to this. And sorry for the way I treated you, after all you’d done for me. Can … can you forgive me?’

  She looked up at him and her dark eyes were shining. How little it took. ‘Of course, Nish. I – I wasn’t honest with you in the early days; I should never –’

  ‘They’ll be through the forest any minute!’ cried Flydd. ‘Yggur, are you ready?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Yggur was walking in a spiral around the caduceus with his right hand upraised, the fingers hooked as if he were clinging onto a bar.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ whispered Maelys, pulling away and turning to stare at Yggur.

  Nish knew that she was fascinated by mancery. Maelys had been told that she had a gift for it, but she had never been trained and now she might be too old to learn.

  ‘He’s trying to find a point where Gatherer can’t penetrate the field surrounding the caduceus,’ said Flydd in grudging admiration. ‘Yggur is taking an awful risk, but if he can find that point, he may be able to use his fog spell there without Gatherer instantly cancelling it.’

  ‘Assuming that the caduceus doesn’t cancel him,’ muttered Maelys. ‘I can feel the power radiating out from it. It’s a horrible, alien thing and we shouldn’t go near it.’

  ‘Tulitine was right,’ said Flydd. ‘By its very nature, or the nature of the being that created it, the caduceus affects all spells done nearby.’

  Nish was also afraid of it, but Yggur was their only hope now. Nish headed towards him and she followed but, as they approached, Yggur’s hooked fingers clenched and the caduceus flared white hot.

  Momentarily, Nish felt a throbbing pain behind his temples. One of the iron serpents around the shaft was displaying its forked tongue, while the other had its mouth wide open, baring two pairs of fangs. The upper ones were huge, the lower pair smaller and curved backwards to hold its prey, and in a flash of clearsight he noted that the serpent with the fangs had something burning at its core.

  ‘Stilkeen is in pain,’ said Maelys, wrapping her arms around her chest and squeezing hard. ‘Terrible pain, just from being in our world.’

  ‘Tell it to bugger off, then.’ Nish turned away, for there was no more time.

  He called his signallers and his four lieutenants – Hoshi and Gi, Clech the giant fisherman, and the dapper joker, Forzel – and they agreed on signal codes, both flags and horn blasts, in case Yggur succeeded and there came an opportunity to retreat.

  ‘Chief Signaller Midge,’ Nish said to the fuzzy-haired young woman whose size belied her name, for she was tall and solidly built, ‘stay close to me. If Yggur manages a fog, we’ll need to retreat at once.’

  ‘How will we find our way?’ asked Midge, wiping her muddy face on a yellow flag and turning it brown.

  ‘Not on the signal flags, Midge, please.’ Nish scraped the mud off with his sabre and handed the flag back. In some respects they were like children, his loyal Gendrigoreans; he didn’t think he’d ever turn them into soldiers. ‘If we get a chance to retreat, we’ll head downslope and gather at the lowest edge of the clearing. We can tell we’re going down-slope even in fog.’

  ‘What then?’ said Hoshi.

  ‘How would I know?’ Nish snapped. He thought for a moment. ‘We’ll go through the rainforest to the lower clearing and try to get out via the gorge.’ There was still no sign of the enemy. He raised his voice. ‘Lancers, ready your spears. Archers, fire the moment they come out of the forest, and again as they rush us. Keep firing until they’re twenty paces away, then draw back so the lancers can meet their attack.’

  The clearing, which was shaped like an egg, was about four hundred paces by three hundred. Running soldiers, even on this boggy ground, would not take long to reach the centre.

  ‘How’s Yggur going?’ Nish said to Flydd.

  ‘Do you see any fog?’ Flydd snapped. He’d been really cranky of late.

  ‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’

  ‘I’ve already tried. Curse this body. Why did I let Maelys talk me into taking renewal?’ Flydd scowled at her.

  ‘If I hadn’t, you’d probably be dead by now,’ she said quietly.

  ‘At times like this, I wish I was,’ Flydd muttered. ‘I feel as though my new body is fighting me all the way; after all this time, it still doesn’t fit.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll get used to it,’ said Nish.

  ‘If I survive, you mean. And if I don’t, good riddance.’

  ‘Where are they?’ said Maelys, standing on tiptoes and scanning the forest all around. ‘Why are they taking so long?’

  ‘They know we’ve no way of escape,’ said Sergeant Flangers, cleaning his purloined Whelm jag-sword with a clump of grass. His friend, protector and constant shadow, Chissmoul, was at his side. ‘They’re taking their time to make us sweat.’

  ‘Still, it’s wonderful to have you here,’ said Nish.

  Flangers, apart from being an old friend, was their only other experienced soldier, and a master of battlefield tactics, but he’d lost weight in his seven years of captivity and Nish wasn’t sure he was ready for the rigours of warfare.

  ‘It’s good to have the old team back together, surr,’ said Flangers. ‘We showed the enemy a thing or two in the past, and we can do it again.’

  ‘Of course we will,’ Nish said unconvincingly. ‘Archers, get ready –’

  Maelys gasped, and all around, people were crying out and pointing.

  Feeling the radiance beating upon the back of his head, Nish whirled; his head spun sickeningly and the pain behind his temples grew worse. The caduceus was keening, the note rising and falling, and it had brightened to white-hot again. The iron serpent with the fangs appeared to be staring at Nish, while the other snake was looking at Flydd, and Nish imagined, for one mad moment, that he saw its tongue flicking in and out.

  ‘What’s it doing?’ Nish cried.

  Maelys caught at her taphloid. Yggur threw himself backwards away from the caduceus, tripped and fell, sending out a spray of muddy water. Fog wisped up around him but disappeared at once.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, scrambling out of the way, his frosty eyes wide. ‘But we meddle with it at our peril.’

  ‘At Santhenar’s peril,’ said Flydd. ‘Do you recall the volcanic ruin wrought upon the world of Aachan not so many years ago? Fifty thousand Aachim fled through a
portal to Santhenar, and surely all those who remained behind on Aachan perished.’

  ‘What of it?’ said Yggur.

  ‘Chthonic fire caused Aachan’s ruin; the very fire Yalkara stole from Stilkeen in ancient times so her people could escape from the void. What dreadful forces might the caduceus contain?’

  ‘Then why did Stilkeen leave it here?’ said Yggur, scooping up handfuls of muddy water from a puddle and rubbing it all over his face, which was coming up in hundreds of little blisters. He winced, but turned back.

  ‘Stay away from it,’ said Tulitine. ‘I think it’s a trap.’

  ‘I’m sure it is, but with Klarm using Gatherer to block my powers, the one place I can use my Art is next to the caduceus.’

  In an open space, Nish noticed the three healers setting up their station. Closest was lanky Dulya, her chin marred by a large strawberry mark, and behind her, plump and palely pretty Scandey, one of the sisters of poor Tildy, the milkmaid who had been murdered by Vivimord in Gendrigore. After Scandey had seen Vivimord tried by ordeal above the Maelstrom of Justice and Retribution, and found guilty, she had been one of the first to join Nish’s militia.

  The third healer was Ghosh, a stocky youth with an exceptionally long body and short, thick legs. Unlike the other Gendrigoreans, he never smiled. He found his healer’s duties too overwhelming.

  Pulling his collar up to protect the back of his neck, Yggur backed towards the caduceus until his clothes began to steam, then stopped and raised his hands to try the spell again.

  Nish’s gut tightened. What if Tulitine was right? Was Yggur doing just what Stilkeen wanted?

  ‘They’re coming out,’ Gi shrilled.

  Nish ran out through the lines as the first of the Imperial troops appeared. Within minutes they had formed an oval ring around the edge of the clearing, surrounding the militia.

  ‘Archers, pick your targets,’ said Nish. ‘Lancers, get into line; don’t you remember anything you’ve been taught?’ He turned, his head throbbing worse than ever, and noticed Maelys beside him. ‘What the blazes are you doing out here – you’re unarmed. Get into the centre of the circle.’

  She ducked through a gap in the line, towards the little rise where the healers were getting ready to work on the brutal fruits of battle.

  Nish faced the enemy and tried to prepare himself for what was going to be a massacre.

  TWO

  Nish drew the black sabre which he’d taken from Vivimord’s tent after the zealot’s disappearance in the Maelstrom. The sabre was a magnificent weapon with an edge that never needed sharpening, though it was a trifle long for him. Whenever he held it, the pain in his left hand eased, which was curious.

  ‘I don’t like you using that weapon,’ Flydd said to Nish dyspeptically.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s an enchanted blade.’

  Nish nearly dropped the sabre. ‘Really? What kind of enchantment?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’d be very careful with it. Go behind the lines. If they take you, they can butcher us at their leisure.’

  The keening of the caduceus rose half a note, as if mimicking the song of the tears, and again the black eyes of the fanged serpent seemed to be on Nish. He rubbed his throbbing temples, then said coldly, ‘I’m not cowering behind my friends while they die for nothing.’

  ‘If the enemy takes you, their deaths will be for nothing.’

  ‘You’re talking like a manipulative scrutator, Flydd.’

  ‘You’ve got to start acting like one if you hope to bring down your father. You have to do whatever it takes.’

  It was a side of Flydd that had bothered Nish as far back as the time of the lyrinx war, but it had been more evident since his renewal. He seemed harder and more ruthless now and Nish rarely saw the kindly, warm-hearted side of him.

  ‘I tried that once,’ said Nish, ‘and look where it got me. I’m going to defeat my father my way, or die trying, in which case my troubles will be over.’

  ‘You have a higher duty –’

  ‘How dare you lecture me!’ Nish cried, for his headache was blinding now and there wasn’t time for this. ‘If you can’t help me, get out of my way.’

  Tightening his jaw, Flydd stalked back through the lines. Nish turned to face the top of the clearing and swished his sabre through the air. Though he was skilled with a blade, he was a small man and would be at a disadvantage fighting the tall Imperial troops. On the other hand, they could not afford to harm him.

  They did not wear armour, for no man could have endured it in the heat of the tropical lowlands, and neither had they carried their huge, cumbersome war shields up the precipitous mountain paths. It gave Nish’s archers the advantage, though they would only have ten arrows each to capitalise on it.

  The enemy were armed with short lances and long swords; they wore iron helms and carried small oval shields that only covered their torsos. They stood silently around the edge of the clearing, at least eight hundred of them, awaiting Klarm’s orders. The remainder held the ridges to either side, to cut down anyone trying to escape and, even if they lost hundreds to Nish’s archers, the end could be in no doubt.

  ‘Why don’t they attack?’ said Gi, trembling. She had never been in a battle before – hardly any of the militia had seen warfare.

  Nish put a steadying hand on her shoulder and she looked at him gratefully.

  ‘They’re trying to unnerve us,’ said Tulitine. ‘They’re succeeding,’ said Nish, though he was icily calm now, for during the war he’d been in dozens of battles. There were only two possible outcomes for anyone – you lived, or you died – and, ultimately, anyone’s survival came down to chance.

  In Tulitine’s serene and beautiful face it was hard to see the old woman she’d been before. How long did she have before the failing Regression Spell took its savage toll? ‘I wish you’d go inside the circle,’ he said.

  ‘But you’re not game to order me about,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m standing with you, Nish, and if it comes to it I’ll fall with you. I’ve had a good life – for the most part – and a long one, and it would be a blessing to die while I still have my health and my looks.’

  ‘I never thought of you as vain,’ he said absently, waiting for the enemy to move.

  ‘I’m human. Who would be old and feeble when vigorous youth and beauty were on offer, even for a few days – ah, here he comes.’

  The air-sled came zooming down the ridge, then lifted and shot above the tops of the trees before curving in an elegant arc around the clearing. General Klarm stood mid-centre, legs spread and cloak flapping.

  ‘He appears to be enjoying the ride,’ said Nish.

  ‘Klarm has command of the marvel of flight. And with the tears, he has only to wish for something and he can have it. Who would not enjoy that?’

  The question sounded like a test, and Nish did not reply. The air-sled side-slipped towards the troops at the pointy end of the clearing and hovered soundlessly in the heavy air. Klarm raised his hand and the teeming rain stopped.

  ‘Can he even control the weather?’ said Gi breathlessly. Few Gendrigoreans knew anything about mancery and they were superstitious about it.

  ‘For a moment, evidently,’ said Tulitine, ‘though if he holds back the rain now, later it must fall all the harder. Weather is driven by forces beyond our understanding, and if one changes it there is always a consequence. And a cost.’

  ‘Come back into the line where we can defend you, Nish,’ called Hoshi, the apprentice potter. ‘Don’t make it easy for them.’

  His Gendrigorean troops never called him surr, only Nish. He’d been irritated by their lack of discipline at first, until he appreciated that it was just the way they were. He moved back through the archers and the wavering line of spears, eyeing the enemy. ‘They’re covering their bodies well with those oval shields. We’re not going to take many down.’

  ‘We could aim for their heads,’ said Gi, raising her bow.

  ‘Not at thi
s range.’

  ‘The legs, then. It’s a tough man who can fight with an arrow through the leg.’

  ‘They’re tough,’ said Nish. ‘Archers, take aim.’

  His hundred and fifty archers drew back their bowstrings. The enemy army lifted their spears.

  ‘Advance,’ Klarm said softly, yet his amplified voice came clearly to every part of the clearing. ‘Cut Cryl-Nish Hlar and Maelys Nifferlin out. Leave no …’ His voice faltered; he had been a decent man, at heart, and clearly still had trouble with his orders, but Klarm had sworn to the God-Emperor and would follow orders to the letter. ‘Leave no one else standing.’

  A shaft of sunlight broke through the churning clouds, illuminating the caduceus and the mud-caked militia surrounding it, and the sodden ground steamed. Nish scratched his backside. He hadn’t washed since Boobelar’s treacherous attack several days ago, and he itched all over.

  The Imperial troops took a step, then another. No one spoke; the clearing was silent save for the keening of the caduceus. The hairs on the back of Nish’s neck lifted, then fell.

  ‘Nish!’ said Gi. ‘I’ve had an idea.’ She put her mouth to his ear.

  Nish studied the line of the enemy, then nodded. ‘Well done! Why didn’t I think of that?’ He lowered his voice, ‘Archers, turn halfway to your right and take aim at the body of the enemy you are then facing. Pass the word around.’

  The archers turned and, instead of aiming at the soldier directly opposite, each took a bead on a man forty-five degrees around the oval ring, for the soldiers’ small shields did not protect them from arrows slanting in from the side. It was a fundamental weakness of Klarm’s encircling position. He should have formed two lines and crushed the militia between them.

  ‘Fire!’

  The archers let loose a ragged volley, smoothly reached for their second arrows and nocked them as Nish counted five seconds. ‘Fire!’ He watched the arrows to their targets, counting under his breath, and a good number of the enemy fell, more than he had expected. But not near enough; not even all those who had been hit. He squinted at the soldiers, wondering if they were protected by sorcery.