The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (49 page)

‘Perhaps the caduceus doesn’t want to take me,’ she said,
releasing it and stepping back towards the cubular door.

Yggur tried again, but the result was the same: no portal
formed, yet it was as painful and draining as if one had carried them across
the world.

‘It’s not going to take us to Blemph,’ said Maelys.

‘No,’ said Yggur. ‘Let’s make a try for Havissard, Yalkara’s
stronghold that she abandoned long ago.’

The caduceus would not take them to Havissard either, and
after the final failure Yggur was on his knees.

‘Each attempt is more painful,’ he wheezed. ‘I can feel the
life draining out of me.’

They helped him inside and put him to bed; any further
attempts would have to wait until the morning.

Maelys went to her own bunk, which was rather cold, since
the Aachim did not heat their sleeping chambers. Six days had passed since
Stilkeen’s proclamation, and all they had to show for their efforts were the
two dimensionless boxes of white fire which Yggur felt sure had been corrupted.
Time was running out.

‘What about trying Katazza, in the once-dry sea?’ said
Tulitine in the morning, after they had gone to check on Yggur and found him to
be deep in a coma-like sleep. ‘Since Kandor lived there, there could be some
clue …’

‘Katazza collapsed long ago. It’s just a pile of rubble.’

‘Rulke’s tower of Carcharon?’

‘Even more unlikely,’ said Malien, ‘for I searched it after
his death. And I can’t think of anywhere else that pure chthonic fire might
exist on Santhenar.’

‘Then we’ve failed,’ said Maelys. ‘We’ve lost.’

‘Hold on,’ said Tulitine. ‘You said, “On Santhenar”. What
about Aachan?’

‘My home world is a boiling, sulphurous hell,’ said Malien
stiffly.

‘How do you know?’

‘The Aachim who fled here told me so, after they came
through their portal to my secret refuge inside Mount Tirthrax.’

‘But that was, what,
thirteen
years ago? The eruptions could have stopped. And time passes differently in the
Three Worlds, so more years may have passed on Aachan. Surely it’s worth having
a look.’

Malien’s eyes gleamed. ‘We can certainly look – if
Yggur is up to it.’

Maelys visited Yggur later that day. He had finally
woken, though his breathing had a clotted rasp and his eyes were yellow-tinged.
Tulitine was asleep in a large chair beside him, one transparent hand dangling
over the side.

‘Good afternoon,’ Maelys said brightly. ‘Are you feeling
better?’

‘I wish I could say I was,’ said Yggur, ‘but I won’t be
going anywhere today.’ He closed his eyes.

When she went out she found Malien standing outside the
cubular entrance, watching the shifting colours wash across the snowfields and
glaciers.

Malien turned and her old eyes shone with captured sunset.
‘I love this time of day.’

‘It’s a beautiful sight,’ Maelys agreed.

‘I never tire of it,’ said Malien.

Maelys pulled her furs around her. ‘It’s a little too cold
for my liking, though.’

‘How is Yggur?’

‘He looks worse than yesterday.’

‘I was afraid he might,’ said Malien. ‘I’ve known him for
more than two centuries, and he’s scarcely aged in that time, but now he looks
worn and withered; eaten away from within.’

‘Is it the caduceus?’

‘I think so. How long has this been going on?’

‘Several weeks – since we arrived at the Range of Ruin
and Stilkeen appeared. From the moment Yggur tried to use his Art near the
caduceus, he said that it was feeding on him. But I’m worried that his troubles
go back much further.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Malien curiously.

‘Seven years ago the Numinator put silver shackles on his
wrists to stop him from using his power, and they drew it from him constantly
to maintain her tower and her dreadful work.’

Maelys rubbed her arms and backed closer to the cubular
door, where it wasn’t quite so cold. Its smaller cubes split and stirred; she
could see them moving from the corner of an eye. Her teeth chattered.

‘And you’re afraid that, after being drained over and over,
Yggur has nothing left?’ Malien came over to Maelys.

Maelys nodded stiffly, intimidated by Malien, whom she knew
from the pages of the Histories and from a Great Tale. ‘If he can’t make
another portal, what are we going to do?’

‘Let’s see how we go. He has a strong constitution. He may
be better in an hour or two.’

The day passed but Yggur grew worse and by dinner time he
was too weak to sit up. Maelys could not imagine how the strong man who had
heaved those enormous blocks of frozen ground aside just weeks ago had fallen
so low.

‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ he said after they
had come to visit him for the third time, late that night. Tulitine had been
sitting at his bedside all afternoon but was now in bed with him, trying to
warm him up. ‘I’m cold and there’s no strength in my legs. No strength
anywhere.’

‘Maelys said it was like aftersickness,’ said Malien.

‘I don’t recall ever having aftersickness this bad. I’ve
scarcely used mancery since we left the Range of Ruin, but I’m as exhausted as
if I’ve been doing it non-stop.’

‘Get some rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.’

After they were out of earshot, Malien said, ‘I’m going to
take a look at the caduceus later on. You can help me.’

‘Are you a mancer too?’ said Maelys.

‘You might say that,’ Malien replied drily.

By the frozen light of a ringed moon, Maelys carried the
caduceus out onto the ice platform and stood by while Malien attempted to make
a portal. Nothing happened; she might as well have been holding an iron bar.

‘Clearly, Stilkeen doesn’t want us to use it,’ said Maelys.

Malien gave Yggur various Aachim medicines but the
following day he was no better, nor the five days after that, and only on the
succeeding morning – the fourteenth day after Stilkeen’s proclamation
– could he find the strength to get out of bed.

‘You’re not ready,’ said Tulitine, wincing as she took his
weight on her fragile bones.

‘And if our positions were reversed?’ he said wryly.

‘I’d tell you to mind your own damn business,’ she chuckled,
‘but it has to be done, and I’d do it too, no matter how much it hurt.’ She
added, more soberly, ‘We’re out of time, my friend, but we don’t have to try
for Aachan. We could go straight to Morrelune with the fire we have.’

‘Of course we must go to Aachan,’ said Yggur, ‘and right
away, before I fall down. Pure chthonic fire is our only bargaining chip; we
have to have it.’

‘Bargaining chip?’ said Maelys. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘In the frozen south, corrupted fire is consuming the ice
and spreading ever faster, as fire does when it has plenty of fuel. If the
great southern icecap melts, Santhenar will drown, and we may not have long to
stop it. Indeed, we have no way of stopping it, but I’m sure Stilkeen can; and
it might be convinced to do so in exchange for pure fire.’

From what she had seen of Stilkeen, Maelys thought that was
doubtful, but she did not say so.

‘I would not have this world lost,’ said Malien, ‘as my own
has been.’

‘What if Aachan is still uninhabitable?’ said Maelys. ‘We
might end up in the middle of a volcano or something.’

‘I’ll hold the portal until we’re sure it’s safe,’ said
Yggur.

‘What if it isn’t?’

‘We’ll come straight back –’

‘Assuming we can,’ she muttered.

‘And while we’re there,’ said Yggur, steadfastly ignoring
Maelys, ‘keep your eyes open for a weapon – anything at all – that
we might be able to use against Stilkeen. Is everything ready?’

‘It’s ready,’ said Malien. She wiped her eyes. ‘Beloved
Aachan, you cannot imagine what this means to me. This way.’

 
THIRTY-THREE

The air-sled had just passed over the outskirts of
Roros, and Persia’s eyes were already red and watering from the wind. Being
both watcher and bodyguard, she had to stay close to Nish wherever he was. He
was already regretting the way he had spoken to her, but he felt so manipulated
that he could not bring himself to apologise.

‘Hey!’ said Chissmoul. ‘That looks like a small army below
us.’

Nish peered over the side and saw a long column of horsemen
riding west at a fast pace. ‘Surely that can’t be Vomix’s force already?’

‘It is,’ said Persia stiffly. ‘We passed over the barracks a
few minutes ago. They’re heading for the monastery and the rest of the army
won’t be far behind.’

He looked back and saw what was, unmistakably, a walled army
barracks and parade ground. A considerable army – some thousands of men
– was forming into ranks and the leaders were marching out the gates.
Vomix was taking no chances.

‘How can he have reacted so quickly?’ Nish said.

He knew how long it took to mobilise an army, for he’d done it
many times, and for Vomix to get his cavalry armed and on the road this
quickly, surely meant he had been fore-warned. Could there be a spy in their
midst –
or a traitor
? He
glanced back at Persia, who was still staring over the side. Nish could not believe
it of her, though almost anyone could be bought if the price was high enough
– or coerced if they would not betray willingly. But if not her, who?

‘Vomix has had them on full alert for days,’ said M’lainte.
‘This could get a little awkward.’

‘But those riders are
ahead
of us. They must have known where we were going.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said M’lainte. ‘Once the scriers in the
market square told him our direction, Vomix would have plotted it on a map and
seen that we were flying directly for the monastery.’

‘How far away is it?’ he said, not at all mollified.
Betrayal still seemed the most likely explanation.

‘A few leagues in a direct line.’ M’lainte did not consult
her map. ‘Five at most, the way Vomix must go.’

‘Then his cavalry will be there in under three hours.’ It
was far too soon. ‘After we reach the monastery, we’ll have less than two hours
to subdue a host of furious monks and search the place from top to bottom. It’s
not enough time; not nearly. Can you go faster, Chissmoul?’

‘Not without tearing the cabin off.’

Within an hour the air-sled had reached the valley, which
proved to be as beautiful as it had been described. The monastery was set on
the flat crest of a gentle hill between two small rivers. There were cultivated
fields to the left, separated by low hedges, while open pasture lay to the
right, streaked with outcroppings of grey rock.

Trees shaded the northern and western sides of the monastery
but were not big enough to conceal their approach. There were no walls,
ditches, palisades or defensive structures of any kind – it looked
undefended and was certainly undefendable.

‘Go up a bit,’ he said to Chissmoul. ‘I need to get a better
picture of the place.’

The air-sled lifted, and shortly he was looking down on the
monastery as if it were a plan drawing. For the first time Nish understood the
perfection and symbolism of its design: a perfect wheel with the temple at its
hub, joining sky and earth, sacred and profane,
celestial and chthonic
.

The monastery is like a sign, or a pointer, he thought in a
blinding flash of realisation. It’s got to be. Is it intended as a sign to the
being
whose chthonic fire was stolen? Is
that who the monks really worship – Stilkeen? How could he find out?

‘They’re coming fast,’ called Flangers.

Nish looked back east, and in the distance saw a cloud of
dust made by Vomix’s racing cavalry. His stomach spasmed. ‘They’re making
incredible time over such rough country.’

‘We haven’t got much more than an hour,’ said Flangers. ‘Not
the way they’re riding.’

There was no time to find out about the monks and who they
worshipped; all he could do was snatch some white fire in the special container
Flydd had left with Persia, and run. But if it was the true fire, and he felt
sure now that it must be, what a victory it would be. With it, suddenly
anything seemed possible. Nish’s mind was racing as he ran through his
strategy.

‘Chissmoul, land next to the temple – we don’t have
time to search the other buildings – then go up and hover so the monks
can’t attack you, and keep watch for Vomix. Persia and I will go inside, along
with four militiamen. Flangers, you’ll seal the entrances to the temple so we
can search it without being attacked by the monks. Keep me informed, and call
us out if there’s a danger you can’t handle.’

‘Surr!’ said Flangers.

‘Don’t take any risks. We have to get away the moment
Vomix’s cavalry comes into view. We’re not here to fight him, and we certainly
don’t want to hurt any of the monks.’

‘What if they attack us?’

‘Everyone has staves and cord. Knock the monks down if you
must, knock them out if there’s no alternative, and tie them up. Ready?’

‘Yes,’ Flangers said, looking dubious.

‘It might be useful if I came with you,’ said M’lainte.

‘Er,’ said Nish.

He liked M’lainte, and was awed by her utter mastery of the
artificer’s trade at which he, despite all that hard work in his youth, had
never been more than mediocre. He did not want to offend her, but she was old
and slow, and would be a liability if they got into trouble.

‘If chthonic fire
is
hidden in the temple,’ M’lainte said, ‘I rather think I can find it.’

‘Is that so?’ said Nish. ‘How?’

‘My gift allows me to see beneath the surface of physical
things, and I’ve trained it to a high order. I can spot traps, hidden drawers,
false walls and most other hiding places merely by looking.’

‘What about objects concealed by the Art?’