A Shout for the Dead (99 page)

The wailing ceased. In front of Iliev's nose, the hand of the dead man dropped to his side. Iliev stared at him. He was an Estorean citizen. Middle-aged and through the mould, appeared to have been well-dressed. The dead man stared back. It was a deeply unsettling feeling. He blinked and opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came.

Iliev reached out to him. The dead man closed his lids on a mind full of fear and confusion, exhaled a breath that sounded like relief and fell into Iliev's arms.

'It's all over,' said Iliev. 'You can rest now, my friend. Rest now.'

The sound of the dead dropping to the ground across the city and throughout the palace courtyard reverberated for what seemed an age. Some stayed on their feet longer than others. A few even took a few tentative steps before the Omniscient reached out to them and took them back to his embrace.

The silence in the palace courtyard was complete but for the trickling of the fountain at Iliev's back. He laid the dead man down and turned, rising as he did so. He laid a hand on Kashilli's shoulder.

'Come on, Trierarch. On your feet.' Iliev looked at the three Ascendants, Vasselis and Hesther Naravny. Yola was lying flat on her back, floating in the pool. 'What happened?'

Vasselis shrugged. 'Yola?'

'I don't know,' she said. 'I can't explain it.'

'So why were you screaming, little one?' asked Kashilli. 'Had me worried there for a moment.' 'Well
...'

'I think you're being too modest,' said Hesther. 'Look at what you've done.'

Yola sat up in the fountain and wiped her hands through her hair. 'You don't understand. I didn't do anything. I wasn't ready to release the Work when I felt something coming at us from everywhere. It was through the ground and went through all the dead. I thought it was going to be the end of us all. So I screamed.'

Iliev laughed. 'A sensible reaction, young Yola.'

'But possibly the best news of all,' said Vasselis. 'Because if these dead have fallen and something came through the trails under the ground to do it, Gorian might have been beaten. Our Ascendants, the true Ascendants have surely defeated him.'

'Dead?' asked Hesther.

'We can only hope,' said Vasselis. 'We can only hope.'

Kashilli was massaging his chin and staring out over the dead and through the gates.

'Tell you something though. Dead or not, he's left one bastard of a mess to clear up.'

Roberto and Davarov embraced one another long and hard. Weapons were dropped from hands. Breath could be taken and screaming muscles could relax. All around them, the few survivors on the roof of the fort were congratulating each other on their survival. But there was no triumph here. There could only ever be relief. 'They did it, then,' said Davarov.

'If you really want something done, make sure Paul Jhered is in charge,' said Roberto, stepping back. 'Not just him, though,' said Davarov.

'Well, I'll believe that when I hear about it. All I know is that an Ascendant has caused all the pain and death you see around you. If other Ascendants have killed him, all well and good. Don't expect me to shower them with gifts.'

Roberto walked to the stairway and looked down to the ground.

'Harban? Still conscious down there?'

Harban raised the hand that clutched the flask. 'But it hurts, Ambassador.'

'It would have hurt more if you'd bashed that thing against the concrete,' said Davarov. 'Stay where you are, we'll get you away from there. Patch you up somehow.'

'With what?' asked Roberto. 'There's nothing here but us for mile upon mile.'

Davarov gazed over the fort's crenellations and into Atreska.

‘I
wonder how far the wave went,' he said. 'How much of my country has he ruined?'

'We'll measure it as we walk across it,' said Roberto. 'What a fucking mess. Are you coming with us, Julius?'

He sighed and began to walk down the steps. He jumped the space to the bottom half, stepped around the dead and continued down to the causeway.

'You never used to swear,' said Davarov.

'Julius changed all that. Wants me burned, you know.'

'Does he?' Davarov looked over at Julius.

Julius spread his hands. 'There was a difference of opinion. I think I understand the ambassador's point of view now. I don't agree with it, but I understand it.'

Roberto smiled at him. 'Thanks for standing with us. You made a difference, Julius. Kept the faithful believing.'

But it was hardly enough. Roberto pushed a hand through his hair and could feel nothing but a swelling of grief. He was wading through the flotsam of friend and enemy, none of whom should have died today. The number was uncountable. Unthinkable. But it would be a number they would one day know.

He felt sick. Flanked by Davarov and Barias, with the handful of other survivors trailing in their wake, they picked their way slowly towards Harban-Qvist. None of them could find any more words. Down here, the sheer scale of the crime was brought into sharp focus.

Away across the compound and out towards the camp, bodies lay, carpeting the rotted earth. A haze rose from the scene. Surrounding them more closely, thousand upon thousand of Tsardon dead. Every one of them covered in mire. Every one of them at peace at last. Roberto started to count. He couldn't help it. Twelve thousand Tsardon. Fifty thousand refugees. Something like four legions of Conquord troops, administrators and engineers.

And that was just here at Neratharn. How much further had Gorian's influence spread?

'Your God have mercy on you all,' said Roberto.

Davarov spat on a Tsardon corpse.

'Don't pity them. They brought this on themselves. My people had to stand here.' He kicked at the body. 'These bastards were uninvited.'

Roberto saw the hatred burning within Davarov and chose not to rebuke the big Atreskan. But there had to be a different view here. All were the victims of the crime perpetrated by Gorian Westfallen, the Ascendant. Roberto followed Julius over to Harban. They made a space among the bodies and Julius checked over his wounds.

'They're only serious if they get infected,' he said. 'Leg is superficial, back is a bit nasty.'

'Infection is all the rage here,' said Roberto. 'Come on, let's get him into what passes for open ground and wash these cuts out. Someone must have some clean water on their back.'

Davarov and Roberto chaired Harban out of the compound and into the camp areas which were a little clearer of dead. There was nowhere clean to lay him down so Roberto spread his cloak in the slime. They used another as a pillow. Harban was placed on his side.

'Thank you,' said the Karku.

'Least we can do,' said Roberto. 'Julius? All yours.' 'Hey Roberto, look.'

Davarov was pointing away to the west. Figures were moving in the haze, resolving slowly. There were six of them. No, eight. Two were being carried, apparently dead or unconscious. They moved terribly slowly. Two hung on to one another and it was unclear who was in the worse condition. Ossacer and Arducius. Arducius was wearing nothing but a cloak. There was a child who had his hand on the body of one of those being carried by a man who had to be Paul Jhered. He didn't work out who the other two were until they were much closer. One of them carried Gorian's body.

'Well, there's some good news for you at least, Harban.'

The Karku winced as Julius patted at the wound in his back. 'The mountain still stands. That is enough.'

'And two of your priests have been saved by Paul Jhered.' Harban smiled. 'If you want something done
...'
'So it would seem.'

Roberto walked a few paces towards Jhered and his charges. The Exchequer held Mirron in his arms. He had no need to speak.

'I am so sorry, Paul. I know how much she meant to you.'

Jhered nodded. 'She made the ultimate sacrifice, Roberto. Whatever you might think about the Ascendants, remember that. She saved us. All of us.'

'All we have done is stop a mass slaughter, perhaps a genocide, that should never have been allowed to begin. And we all standing here carry blame for that,' said Roberto.

'No one could know what Gorian would do,' said Arducius.

Roberto shrugged.

'Mirron was our sister. And she died to stop this. Sacrificed herself so that we could all live,' said Ossacer.

Ossacer looked terrible. His hair was lank and his face crumpled with old age that was the result of a Work and choked with the pain of his loss.

'And you expect me to be grateful?' Roberto gestured around him, feeling a rising frustration. 'Take a look, Arducius, Ossacer. Take a long look. Seventy-five thousand and more were breathing the border air as the day dawned. Twenty of us will see the sun go down. Count us, count us.'

'I understand how you feel, believe me,' said Arducius. His face was white with pain. His breath came in anguished gasps. 'And yes, I do expect you to be grateful. Not because she stopped the devastation, for which we all carry blame as you say. But because she, Mirron Westfallen, laid down her life to save all that she could. Including you.'

'The problem is that this whole catastrophe was so eminently avoidable,' said Roberto. 'An Ascendant caused all this. It is the least I expected that an Ascendant should finish it.'

'Mirron died,' said Ossacer.

'And so did my brother.' Roberto forced himself to unclench his fists. 'We all lost people we love. This is a result. It is not a happy ending, if indeed it is an ending at all. After all, Ascendants still live and with that comes risk. Particularly from the progeny of Gorian, I would say.'

'This will never be allowed to happen again,' said Arducius. 'On that you have my word.'

'Damn right, it won't,' said Roberto. 'But how that is guaranteed will be up to my mother and me. Not you.'

Roberto stared at Arducius and Ossacer, expecting a response but it was plain they were both too exhausted and, in Arducius's case, too injured to argue further. Roberto looked at Gorian in the arms of the Karku priest.

'You can drop him in the filth he created now. I've seen all I need to see.'

'Hark's Arrow's
in the bay at the Gaws,' said Jhered.

His voice was small and quiet. His face was lined, etched with all he had seen. Roberto thought he looked old for the first time.

'Assuming she survived the earth wave,' said Davarov.

‘I
have no doubt she did. I ordered her anchored in the bay. She'll have ridden it like an ocean swell.'

'There's so much to do here, Paul,' said Roberto. 'How can we leave it like this?'

'What can we few really achieve if we stay?' countered Jhered. 'This place is dead. It's gone. We need legions to clear it and rebuild. And who knows if anything will ever grow here again. You need to get home. See your mother. Give her the news she must hear from you and you alone.'

Roberto's shoulders sagged. His emotions boiled within him. The grief was back as keen as ever.

'Duty. There's always some damned duty to perform. Dear God-surround-me, Paul, how do you tell your mother that her youngest son is dead? Poor Adranis. So much greatness snuffed out.' Roberto snapped his fingers and turned his gaze on Arducius and Ossacer. 'How do I do that?'

They didn't answer him. And that was probably as well.

‘I
think it is time we all left this place to the peace of God,' said Julius Barias quietly. 'We can do no more good here. Only deepen our anger and our hate. And we must not do that.'

Roberto stared at the Speaker. He nodded.

'Come on,' said Jhered. 'Let's get Harban up and get going. I need to put my back to this place.'

The flames still gorged on the flesh of the innocent. The fire spat from the sky tearing bodies asunder. And Mirron still sucked the sickness of the earth through her dying flesh to end the misery.

Arducius could not dismiss the images just as he could not dismiss his guilt. So vast were the crimes committed in the name of the Ascendancy that no act of contrition would ever suffice. He, like Ossacer, spent much time in prayer and contemplation. But no answers were to be found there. The Omniscient would not turn their way.

And out there on the dark quiet deck, Roberto Del Aglios stared at the black smoke billowing from every beacon they passed. Another death to set at the feet of the Ascendancy.

'You're awake, aren't you?'