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

‘I’m not surprised. My son is entitled to princesses; he could see nothing in such a plain little minx as you.’

  Maelys was used to insults, she’d had a lifetime of them from her mother and aunts, yet she winced. ‘And so,’ she went on haltingly, ‘on the second night of nursing him, while Nish groaned in his lusty delirium, I gathered up his seed and inserted it within myself, and now I’m pregnant by him. And still a virgin; it can only be his child.’

  There was a shattering silence. Maelys lowered her head, trying to see Nish out of the corner of her eye, but he had turned away. Not Colm, though. He was staring at her in appalled, contemptuous disgust. He was not a forgiving man: in his eyes their time together, and their friendship, had been a lie and a stain on his own honour. No matter what happened next, he would never forgive her.

  ‘The chances of becoming pregnant –’ began Jal-Nish.

  ‘My clan are very fertile,’ she said truthfully. ‘And it was the right time of the month.’

  ‘Well, Son?’ said Jal-Nish. ‘What do you have to say?’

  Nish wore a faint smile. He was not displeased to be described as a lusty man. Boor, she thought. Oaf! Yet he met her eye and, surprisingly, she saw no censure there – indeed, a trace of admiration that she’d been game to take his father on. Despite his flaws, Nish possessed qualities that Colm would never have.

  ‘I am, as we discussed earlier, a man of strong appetites,’ Nish said. ‘What Maelys says could be true. I lay in a fever for days, so how would I know what she got up to?’

  Jal-Nish turned back to her. ‘Why?’ he said simply.

  She’d scraped over the first hurdle but Maelys couldn’t relax yet. Now was time for the plain truth. ‘Ever since I was a little girl, and first heard the tale of Nish’s heroism and nobility in the lyrinx wars, I’ve looked up to him. I admired … admire him above all men.’

  ‘So you had to have him, any sordid way you could, to further your absurd fantasy.’ His lip curled.

  ‘I did not,’ she said with dignity, ‘for I knew Nish was far above me and out of reach. I come from a good family, yet I’m a simple country girl and the ways and doings of the mighty are beyond me.’

  ‘Indeed they are!’ said Jal-Nish. ‘I would not have chosen you for my son; not for anything. Then why?’

  ‘My mother and aunts knew how I admired Nish and required me to commit this dreadful wickedness, for it was the only way to save our clan – Clan Nifferlin.’

  ‘Clan Nifferlin,’ Jal-Nish said thoughtfully. ‘An old clan, once troublesome, but no more. All resistance failed with the death of the last male – your father, Rudigo – a week ago.’

  That shook her, though her beloved father had been on the run since she was twelve, and had been captured long ago. She’d been expecting his death for a year, but even so, tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘Father is dead? Please, did he suffer at the end?’

  ‘Oh, I made him suffer,’ said Jal-Nish with vengeful relish. ‘Once I discovered your role in Cryl-Nish’s escape, I kept Rudigo alive so he could suffer all the more.’

  Maelys lowered her head. She couldn’t speak; could not bear to think of her father in torment because of what her mother and aunts had forced her to do.

  ‘Your aunts put you up to this,’ Jal-Nish said, ‘and somehow you, a simple country girl, succeeded against all the odds. You have saved your family, for the moment at least, for until proven otherwise your clan is bound to mine with indissoluble ties of blood. There’s more to you than meets the eye, girl. Perhaps you aren’t such a bad choice after all – if you’re telling the truth. But I’ll soon discover that, and if you have been truthful, you will have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.’ He studied her, then Nish, then Maelys again. ‘And if you’ve lied – well, I’ll leave that to your fertile imagination.’

  Maelys couldn’t relax, for she’d merely won her family a tiny reprieve. It could be as little as an hour, once he took her onto the sky palace and tested her with Gatherer, or as much as a few weeks if she held out, and Jal-Nish had to wait until she had her next monthly courses. But the moment she did, Maelys would be revealed as a liar and a cheat, and both she and her family would be doomed. Claiming that she’d miscarried would not save her. Only Nish’s child could.

  Unless she could get away before he tested her. That was the second impossibility, though having achieved the first, however fleetingly, she felt bolder now.

  Jal-Nish beckoned the sky palace forwards, impatient to get moving, but there came a terrific crack from below the cave. Gigantic lumps of rock flew in all directions and the mooring cable tore free and hurtled upwards, smashing the gangplank to metal splinters.

  Jal-Nish teetered on the rim of the entrance as the cable flailed across the sky like a writhing worm, the massive anchor clanking on its end. The sky palace tilted and the tension of the remaining cables jerked it up out of sight. He cursed, then began shouting orders to his helmsman, via Reaper.

  Maelys met Colm’s eyes. He gave her a look of deepest contempt and turned away, and she knew she’d lost a friend forever. It hurt, but she put it to one side. Clan first – always clan first.

  ‘Xervish,’ she said softly. ‘Try the crystal again. This is the only chance we’ll get.’

  He was on his feet now, holding the diamond-clear, thumbnail-sized crystal out on his shaking palm and staring at the fire burning within it – the power it had absorbed from the cursed flame below the obelisk standing in the centre of the marshy plateau. Flame reflected in his brown eyes. ‘Can’t,’ Flydd said dully. ‘Nothing left.’

  ‘You’ve got to find it again. You’ve got to remember.’

  ‘Art is gone. Body – renewed, but Art – didn’t survive. Lost them. Hollowed out; empty; useless.’

  Maelys had never heard such bitterness from Flydd before; and without his Arts, how could they hope to escape through the shadow realm to safety? It was a dangerous place where they needed all the protection they could get, and he had long ago woven such protections into his crystals, especially the fifth, the only one left. But no matter how dangerous the shadow realm might be, they had to go through it, for Jal-Nish had covered every other escape route.

  ‘Xervish,’ said Nish uneasily, ‘please try again. Open the hidden door and get us out of here.’

  ‘Arts – lost!’ Flydd said through his teeth. ‘She – must have taken them.’

  ‘Who? Maelys?’ Nish’s eyes probed her.

  ‘No!’ Flydd gasped, retching again. ‘Woman – in red.’

  ‘What woman in red?’ said Nish quietly, with an anxious look at his father’s back.

  ‘Was in my mind – during renewal. Thought she was me.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense, Xervish.’

  Flydd looked up blankly. ‘Don’t know. Memory in pieces.’

  ‘It’ll come back. You recognised us, so you’ve still got some memories. Use them!’

  ‘Can’t.’ Flydd began to retch, spitting bloody muck onto the floor.

  ‘The crystal is charged,’ said Maelys, staring at it, though without Flydd’s Art it was as useless as a lump of coal. ‘Jal-Nish said it has power to open any barrier. Tell us how, Xervish. Hurry!’ If renewal had gone wrong, internally, Flydd might be dying. All the more reason for her to act quickly.

  Jal-Nish stepped inside. He’d overheard. ‘For one who can use it, I said. None of you can, no matter how you try. But try, by all means.’ He smiled maliciously, then turned away and plunged his hand into Reaper again. The sky palace reappeared, listing steeply to starboard in the fierce updraught, and objects began to slide off its decks. Maelys felt her slim hope fading. With Reaper he would soon set the sky palace to rights. What could the God-Emperor not do with the tears?

  However the sky palace listed further and Jal-Nish cursed. ‘Pathway!’

  With a metallic zing, a copper-coloured plank fizzed into existence between the cavern and the sky palace. Withdrawing his hand from Reaper, he began to stride up the plank. Col
oured pressure patterns swirled across its coppery surface with every step, and it shortened behind him so that he was always walking upon its quivering outer end. Without turning, he thrust his arm backwards and a brown wall formed at the cavern entrance, then slowly solidified like baked clay until the light was blocked out. They were trapped.

  ‘A lucky accident that the anchor tore out,’ said Zham. ‘Can we make something of it?’

  ‘No accident,’ slurred Flydd. ‘Monkshart – Vivimord – determined – bring down – blasphemous God-Emperor.’

  ‘And he wants Nish,’ Maelys reminded them. ‘You’d be better off with your father, Nish. Vivimord is insane.’

  ‘But while Father has Reaper,’ said Nish, ‘Vivimord can’t touch him. Which means –’

  ‘Jal-Nish – playing with us,’ said Flydd.

  ‘He loves his little games,’ Nish said bitterly. ‘And more than anything Father loves to allow his victims to hope, so he can have the pleasure of crushing it. He wants us to dream that there’s a way out –’

  ‘Which means there’s none,’ said Flydd. ‘He’s set us up.’

  Absolute silence fell, for no sound penetrated the seal at the entrance. The cavern was dark, save for the faint light from Flydd’s crystal.

  ‘He’s not a god; just a pretender,’ said Maelys. ‘He didn’t expect Vivimord to come through the hidden door at the back of the cave; nor did he know what choice Nish was going to make, or what I was going to say. And he can’t know what we’re going to do next. We’ve still got a chance. Teach us to use the crystal.’

  ‘Secret Art – years to master. No novice can use – crystal – no matter how much – power it contains.’

  His voice was cold; nothing remained of the charming, friendly Flydd she’d met just days ago. Why was he so bitter? Renewal had been a terrible ordeal for him, but he was alive and had a healthy and vigorous body. Couldn’t he be thankful for that?

  Nish snatched the fiery crystal out of Flydd’s hand and thrust it into Maelys’s. ‘You’ve got a small gift for the Art. Try it – Father could be back any minute.’

  ‘He could be waiting outside right now, laughing his head off,’ said Colm grimly. ‘We should have jumped off the cliff when we had the chance.’

  ‘My family needs me,’ Maelys hissed.

  ‘And it’s abundantly clear that you’ll stoop to any depths for them.’

  His words were another slap in the face. She wanted to do the same to him; felt an urge to hurt him, but Maelys turned away and clenched her slender fingers around the crystal, trying to think her way into its heart. Its light came pinkly through her flesh, flaring and fading; a pulse was beating in one of the veins of her wrist. Think! There’s got to be a way.

  She couldn’t think of one; Maelys didn’t know anything about her little gift, which had been suppressed too long, and now was stunted. Training in the Arts needed to begin in youth and, at nineteen, she was too old to ever achieve mastery.

  Could there be a simpler way? She touched the crystal to the columns carved into the rear wall, left and right, high and low, and to the flat section in between, where the secret door had opened. Nothing happened. Maelys imagined Jal-Nish’s mocking laughter.

  She rubbed the crystal against her forehead and touched it to the taphloid hanging on its chain around her neck, again to no effect. Nish was frowning at her. Did he think their peril was her fault? In a way, it was, but surely it was better than the alternative? If she’d refused her aunts’ demand in the first place, he would still be in his father’s prison, going mad, and she and her family would be hiding in the mountains, slowly starving to death.

  ‘You try it.’ She passed the crystal to him. ‘You’re the one with the clearsight.’

  ‘My gift is puny,’ he reminded her. ‘Totally insignificant.’

  ‘But linked – to God-Emperor,’ said Flydd. ‘Gift came from – touch of tears, Nish.’

  ‘I’ll never forget it.’ Nish was clutching the crystal in both hands, one clasped around the other. ‘During the war, Father thrust my hands right into the tears in an effort to bend me to his will. Fighting his compulsion almost broke me.’

  ‘But you got free – single-handedly saved what was left of – mighty army,’ said Flydd, sounding more coherent now. ‘Fighting him strengthened you – Nish. Strength you can draw on now.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you still have your hands,’ rumbled Zham. ‘The touch of Reaper crisped Vivimord’s belly like a roast pig, and he’s a great mancer.’

  ‘Father protected me, I suppose,’ said Nish.

  ‘Power of – tears has grown mightily since – beware!’ said Flydd. ‘Anything coming to you?’

  ‘Not a thing.’

  Maelys’s eyes met Zham’s. He was standing between the columns, holding his enormous sword. He gave her an encouraging smile, and it warmed her. She still had one friend left. Colm was grimly practising strokes with his notched blade; was he mentally using it on her?

  ‘Nish,’ she said, ‘what if you used your clearsight to see what’s happened to Xervish’s Art?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ There was a long silence while Nish strained until a muscle began to jump in his jaw. ‘I can’t see anything.’

  Panic was creeping over Maelys, suffocating her, but she couldn’t give in to it. Whenever she wavered, the thought of Fyllis in the hands of Jal-Nish’s torturers stiffened her spine for one last try.

  ‘What about using me?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Nish.

  ‘I’m not sure I do, either, but something strange happened to Flydd during renewal last night. After he’d used the fourth crystal, he had to draw on me. He took my hand and I could feel the heat running up my arm to my heart … the strength being drawn out of me …’

  ‘How does that help?’

  ‘What if he didn’t just take from me? What if he gave as well?’

  Nish frowned, the flickering crystal lighting the furrows across his forehead. ‘Xervish? Could Maelys be the woman in red you were raving about?’

  ‘She isn’t wearing red.’

  ‘Perhaps, in the fever, she seemed to be.’

  Flydd shook his head vigorously, then winced. ‘The woman in red looked nothing like Maelys. She wasn’t beautiful; her face was stern and arrogant; and she was bigger, taller, and older.’

  Maelys stared at Flydd. He thought she was beautiful? No one had ever said that before.

  ‘Did you give anything to Maelys?’ Nish persisted.

  ‘Can’t remember what happened during renewal,’ Flydd said hoarsely. ‘Few mancers ever do.’

  ‘Is it the kind of thing you might have done?’

  ‘Not unless I was desperate. What mancer would willingly give away the least fraction of his Art, knowing he might never get it back?’

  ‘But you were desperate, Xervish,’ Maelys said softly, glancing over her shoulder at the barrier. Jal-Nish could return at any second. ‘Nish, use your clearsight on me, quickly.’

  He put his hands around her skull, above her ears, and Maelys shivered at his touch. Nish didn’t press hard, nor hold his hands there long, and when he drew away there was an odd look in his eyes.

  ‘Xervish, I think you did pass something to Maelys, and yet …’

  ‘My Art?’ Flydd said hoarsely. ‘My precious Art?’

  Maelys hadn’t realised that it meant so much to him, though when she thought about it, to have been a great mancer for so long, and then to lose it in a moment, must be like losing a limb. No, worse, for a man with no legs can walk with crutches, but losing one’s Art would be like going back to the helplessness of infancy.

  ‘There’s something not right, though.’ Nish swallowed.

  ‘I’ve lost my Art!’ Flydd cried. ‘The one thing that has sustained me all my life. I’m naked without it.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Nish was staring alternately at Flydd, then Maelys. ‘My clearsight tells me that there’s more of
you now, Xervish.’

  ‘That’s absurd. If I’ve passed my gift to her, there should be less of me.’

  ‘Can you remember doing that?’

  ‘I can’t remember anything save the woman coming into me. She had strange eyes – a reddish purple … now what does that remind me of?’

  ‘Can you take your talent back from me?’ said Maelys.

  ‘Not without the Art … though there may be a way to use it where it lies,’ said Flydd. ‘Look deeper, quick.’

  Nish put his hands on Maelys again, and shook his head. ‘I can’t tell. My clearsight is too feeble.’

  ‘If only there were a way to strengthen it,’ said Maelys, musing on what had been said. And how could there be more of Flydd when he’d lost his Art? That didn’t make sense.

  ‘If we could eat rock, we could chew our way to freedom!’ sneered Colm.

  ‘There is a way,’ said Nish, ignoring him, ‘though I’m not sure I’ve got the courage to try it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Flydd. ‘Your father won’t save you this time, Nish.’

  Maelys didn’t know what they were talking about. ‘I’ll try anything if it helps to save my family.’

  ‘Not this way,’ said Nish. ‘I won’t let you.’

  Flydd’s eyes were on Maelys. ‘I do believe she would, Nish. She’s braver than any of us.’

  ‘Just tell me what to do,’ snapped Maelys.

  Thump. Something struck the barrier from the outside and it cracked like an ancient bowl. Nish was staring at it, his fists clenched rigidly at his sides and his jaw muscles standing out. He turned to her, and something shone in his eyes. Admiration? Surely not from Nish? Now he let out a long breath, but the fine hairs stirred on the back of Maelys’s neck – what was he going to do?

  He eased himself into the deep shadows to the left of the opening, crouched and pulled up great handfuls of dead moss until he was covered in it.

  ‘Nish?’ said Maelys.

  ‘There’s only one hope left,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s do or die this time and I don’t care which.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Stay back; distract Father so he thinks I’ve escaped. As soon as he breaks through, scream my name and leave the rest to me.’