The Crippled God (122 page)

Good
.

Even Sister Reverence does not understand: there is more than one path to justice
.

She set out.

Beneath her feet, the earth’s screaming now reached her senses – she could feel the tremors of the assault being inflicted upon it. The sudden blighting, the eruptions of dust, the vast fissures opening below Korabas.
Where she passes, there shall be no life. Where she passes, all that is living shall die
.

Eleint, find Korabas. Kill the Otataral Dragon. That is all I ask. And then we can bargain, for I shall have Icarium – I shall have a force of chaos to match your own. We can strike a perfect balance, in a world scoured empty of meddling gods … imagine what can be achieved!

We can give the inheritors true freedom, and by their each and every deed we can watch them hang themselves. No gods to blame, no excuses to build up, no lies to hide behind. Such a glorious world it will be! Such a righteous place – a place where justice never blinks
.

We can share such a world, Eleint
.

Climbing a slope to a ridgeline, she found two figures standing in her path.

T’lan Imass.

Ancient rage flared incandescent in Calm, and once more panic
rattled through her, just as quickly crushed down. ‘You would dare this?’

In answer they readied their stone weapons.

‘
He is mine!
’

‘He is no one’s, Forkrul Assail,’ said the female. ‘Turn back.’

Calm barked a laugh as she quested with her power. ‘I sense no others in this soil, nor on the winds – there are just the two of you. You must be fools to think you can stop me. I held the Stone Stairs against hundreds of your kind. I
ended
their war.’

The two T’lan Imass stepped out to the sides, the huge male hefting a flint-studded bone mace, the female shifting her grip on a stone spear.

Calm moved with stunning speed, lunging at the female, her torso writhing to evade the thrusting weapon. Her hands snapped out, one plunging into the undead warrior’s chest amidst shattering ribs, the other lashing at her face – catching the lower jaw and tearing it off.

She twisted past, evading the downward swing of the male’s weapon, and with one hand now gripping the spine, she spun the female round, lifting her off her feet and flinging her into the male’s path. Even as he stumbled, he swung the mace in a diagonal slash. The Forkrul Assail stepped inside the attack, blocking the bone shaft with her wrists, turned to face him and thrust upward with the heels of her hands, catching each side of the warrior’s lower jaw. The strength of the blow exploded the vertebrae of his neck, launching the skull into the air.

As the huge, headless warrior toppled, Calm closed once more on the female, who was feebly trying to regain her feet. Grasping her right arm, the Forkrul Assail tore it from the shoulder socket. Using the arm as a weapon, she swung it hard into the side of the female’s head. The ball of the humerus punched a hole in the warrior’s temple.

The T’lan Imass staggered to one side.

Calm struck again. Plates of the skull splintered, broke away. A third blow crushed the woman’s face. She fell. The Forkrul Assail stepped forward and with one booted foot rolled the T’lan Imass on to her back. Then she swung the arm down repeatedly on what was left of the face and skull. The ninth blow split the arm bone. Calm flung it away in disgust and used the heel of her boot.

Long after the wretched spirit of the female warrior had left the remains on the ground, Calm continued battering at that hated face.

Some time later, she resumed her journey.

Such a glorious world it will be
.

Kilmandaros fled. She could not even remember when she had begun running, or when she had breached her way into the first of innumerable warrens. The landscape she now crossed was bleak, colourless,
the ground underfoot hard uneven clay that had been chopped up by thousands of hoofs. Two small moons tracked the night sky.

Half a league ahead, she saw hills of red sand, rippling as they climbed to the horizon. No places in which to hide – no caves, no forests – she would have to leave this realm soon. And yet – Kilmandaros glanced back over one shoulder.

A storm of darkness, boiling to consume half the sky.

Close! Close!
Her breath tore at her throat. Her hearts pounded like the thunder of clashing stormclouds. She stumbled on torn, bloodied feet, her muscles burning like acid.

Where? Where to hide?

‘I’ve done a terrible thing. And now I will pay – it was all Errastas! All his fault, not mine! I did not want her freed – I swear it!’

The slope of the nearest hill loomed before her, a sweep of red sand – how she hated this place!

‘A terrible thing.
A terrible thing!
’

Darkness foamed up on either side. Crying out, Kilmandaros staggered to a halt, wheeled round, lifting her hands—

He struck from the sky.

Wings like flames of night. The blaze of argent reptilian eyes. Talons lunging down, impaling her shoulders, snatching her from the ground.

Kilmandaros shrieked, fists closing to smash upward into the dragon’s ridged chest. The sound the impacts made was thunder.

And then, trailing ropes of blood, she was falling.

His shadow passed over her, a wheeling, plummeting presence, looming huge – jaws snapping out from a head above a lashing neck. Fangs sank into one thigh and she was thrown upward once more. Spinning, she saw gleaming bone where the muscles of her left thigh had been – saw blood spraying out from her leg. Howling, she fell earthward once more.

This time, he left her to strike the ground. She landed on her feet with the sound of exploding trees. Bones snapped, splinters driving up into her pelvis and torso. The impact threw her forward. On to her chest, and then over. Lying stunned, helpless, Kilmandaros stared upward to see Draconus descending.

Not fair
.

A soft hand settled against her cheek. Blinking, she found herself looking up into her son’s face. ‘No! Leave here! Beloved son –
flee!
’

Instead, he straightened, drawing a sword.

Kilmandaros heard Draconus speak from only a few paces distant. ‘Where is Errastas, Sechul?’

‘Gone,’ her son replied.

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. Into hiding, of course. You won’t find him, not any
time soon. Shall I caution you against uttering any vows, Draconus, or would the sting of that prove too much?’

‘You always were chained to his ankle, Sechul Lath, but if you are determined to oppose me here, I will kill you.’

‘I will defend my mother.’

‘Then you will die with her.’

She saw his sad smile, his lopsided shrug. ‘Draconus, I have nothing left. No one but her. If you will kill her this day, then … there is no reason for me to go on. Do you understand?’

‘Pathetic,’ growled Draconus. ‘You would spend an eternity under your mother’s wing? Step away, find some light – some light of your own, Sechul.’

‘Ah, I see, so this is my opportunity, is it? This is what you are offering me, Draconus? You never did understand acts of generosity, did you?’

There was a long pause, and Kilmandaros knew that their gazes had locked, and then Draconus said, ‘Ready your weapon.’

She would have cried out then, would have begged for the life of her son – but when she opened her mouth her throat filled with blood, and she was suddenly drowning.

She heard the
whish
of a blade, a scuffling of boots on the hard scrabble, and then a terrible, grinding sound. A sword fell to the ground, and someone made a small, childish sound.

Footsteps, drawing closer.

She couldn’t breathe, felt herself dying. Her eyes, glaring upward – seeing those damned moons so puny in that vast night sky – and then that vision was blocked out and Draconus stared down on her.
He left you no choice, yes … but you do not say it. What need is there to say it?

His eyes shone like silvered pools at midnight, and there was, she realized with a start, such beauty in them –
with the darkness flowing round, falling like tears, but you can see how they could turn. You can see it. Such a terrible thing
…

Errastas, you have killed us
.

Was it mercy when he set the sharp tip of his sword into the hollow of her neck? She looked again into his eyes, but saw nothing.
Yes. Let us call it that. Mercy
.

When he thrust the blade through her throat, it was cold as ice and hot as fire, and all that she saw suddenly faded, from the inside out.

I – I’m leaving
.

My son. Even at the last, you disappoint me
.

Draconus pulled free the sword, and then turned. A knot of shadows, vaguely human in form, stood opposite him. To either side was a
Hound, and he caught a motion off to his right and then on his left – more of the beasts, encircling him.

Eyes narrowing on the apparition, Draconus leaned on his sword. ‘Usurper, does Tulas know you stole his dogs?’

The silver head of a walking cane flashed briefly before the shadows hid it again, like a fisherman’s lure in dark water. The apparition spoke in a thin, wavering voice, ‘There is little civility in you, Old One.’ A sudden giggle. ‘Your … inheritor … once stood before me, just as you are doing now. He too held an infernal sword – oh, was it yours? How careless of you.’

‘If you force me,’ Draconus said, ‘I will kill these Hounds.’

‘How goes the poem? “The child and his dog …”’

Draconus stepped forward, blade lifting. ‘Who in the name of the Azathanai are you?’

A frail, wispy hand gestured vaguely. ‘Your pardon, did I offend?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Only a question for you, Old One.’ The cane reappeared, bobbing in the direction of Kilmandaros’s corpse. ‘Where next? Or,’ and he giggled again, ‘
who next?
’

‘Why should it matter to you?’

‘Only this … leave Korabas. Leave the Forkrul Assail – in fact, leave that whole mess. Even the Eleint. If you show up, it’ll only complicate matters.’

‘You are the one, then,’ Draconus said, lowering the sword and stepping back.

‘I am? Why, yes, I am.’

‘The spider at the centre of this web. Hood. Rake—’

‘And they were true to their words – now
that
was a rarity. Perhaps of greater relevance is this. Anomander Rake spoke well of you, Draconus. Can you imagine such a thing? But it goes even beyond that, for he also said that you would be true to your word. Will you, Draconus? Be true to your word?’

‘I do not recall giving it to you on any matter here,’ Draconus replied.

The cane’s heel thumped on the ground. ‘Excellent! Now, as to that …’

A short time later, with Draconus gone, the Hounds drew closer to the corpses of Kilmandaros and Sechul Lath, sniffing with their hackles raised like spines. Shadowthrone watched their agitated circling, and then glanced across to find Cotillion standing nearby.

The patron god of assassins looked … shaken.

Shadowthrone sighed, not without sympathy. ‘The Elders are so
implacable
. Look upon these two tragic victims. How many ages have
they survived? To come to an end’ – he waved the cane – ‘here. Wherever
here
is. Even the Hounds were hard pressed to track them.’

‘You convinced him?’

Shadowthrone hissed, lifting the cane to examine the silver head. ‘He thought me … audacious.’

‘Just you?’

‘Us.’

‘We’ve lost her,’ Cotillion said. ‘Or so I fear. It was too much, friend, too much – they have not walked our path. They are mortals. That and nothing more. They have not
seen
. The necessity has not … not gnawed at their souls, the way it has with us.’

‘Paths? Gnawing? Souls? None of this means anything to me. We concluded that things had to change, that is all.’

‘They had to because our position was too perilous,’ Cotillion replied. ‘Everything that’s followed – this whole insane scheme – it all began with our need to secure our place in the pantheon.’

‘Precisely.’

‘But then it all
changed
.’

‘Maybe for you,’ Shadowthrone muttered.

‘Liar.’

‘Shadows never lie.’

They were both silent for a moment, and then Shadowthrone tilted his head back and let loose a wild laugh. Fighting a smile, Cotillion looked away.

‘Are you done with your moment of doubt?’ Shadowthrone asked. ‘Good. It ill-suited you. Listen, she’s a woman, and that alone makes her the most terrifying force in all the realms.’

‘Yes,’ Cotillion said, ‘I am well aware of your long-standing fear of the swaying sex.’

‘I blame my mother.’

‘Convenient.’

‘I don’t know which of us dreads more our visits.’