The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (27 page)

‘Nish?’ Maelys said, as Phrune took her by the arm with plump,
slippery fingers. His shiny face looked as though it had been rubbed with lard.
She tried to shake him off but he locked his fingers around her arm until the
long, manicured nails dug in.

Nish stood his ground. ‘Maelys is my friend. I owe
everything to her.’

‘Of course you do,’ Monkshart said smoothly. ‘Do you think I
can’t see her qualities? But for her sake as well as the Deliverer’s, some
matters are best kept private. Rest assured, Acolyte Phrune will take very good
care of her. Won’t you, Phrune?’

‘Indeed, Master,’ said Phrune, bowing deeply to Monkshart,
then almost as deeply to Nish. His slippery fingers slid back and forth on
Maelys’s arm like the caress of an eel. ‘I’ll give her my most special
attention and take care of
all
her
needs.’

Jerking on her arm, he hauled her through the circular
opening. Maelys looked back despairingly. Monkshart was afraid Nish would form
an attachment with her and be diverted from the cause, and suddenly Maelys knew
that she’d never be safe here. She would have to be on her guard night and day.

If only Monkshart knew, she thought bitterly. He’s got
nothing whatsoever to worry about.

NINETEEN

‘The girl is a danger to the Deliverer,’ said Monkshart
after Phrune had taken Maelys away.

‘Nonsense,’ said Nish. ‘She and her family saved my life and
I’m in their debt.’

‘She’s unworthy of you, Cryl-Nish. And she wants something
from you.’

Nish yawned involuntarily. ‘So does everyone who believes in
the Deliverer. Including you, Monkshart.’

‘I admit it. I can’t bear to see my world and my people
suffering under this brutal monster – I beg your pardon, Deliverer. He is
still your father.’

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ Nish said stiffly.

‘How dare he call himself “God-Emperor”!? For any man to set
himself up as a god is blasphemy!’ he cried, his bark-like face dark with
passion. ‘There is only one god –’

Nish stirred uneasily. Like most people on Santhenar he had
little time for gods, whose dogma always seemed to reflect the mores of the
societies that created them, and he was suspicious of anyone who tried to
convince him otherwise. He kept silent, though. Monkshart had given him
shelter, after all, and he was a powerful, dangerous man. Let’s find out what
he really wanted, and if they could work together.

‘You must agree with me, Cryl-Nish?’ Monkshart’s hot eyes
seemed to be trying to peer inside his skull.

‘I have no truck with emperors,’ said Nish. ‘Especially not
self-declared ones. But for a man to declare himself a god is an abomination.’

Monkshart smiled thinly. If he’d noted Nish’s careful
answer, he chose to overlook it. ‘And you
will
become the Deliverer?’

‘Until I’m satisfied that I know who you are and what you
really want, I won’t commit myself to anything.’

‘Very wise. Santhenar is full of liars, cheats, charlatans
and false prophets.’ Monkshart sat back in his seat. ‘Ask of me what you will.’

‘Who are you, Monkshart, and how did you come by such
power?’

‘I was a mancer in the war. Not one of any great
distinction, let me assure you, though I’d worked harder than most to master my
craft. I was just one among many warrior-mages in your father’s army, until it
was destroyed.’

‘At Gumby Marth.’

‘Quite so. We were both hurt in that battle, your father
badly. He carried the tears away, and I carried him.’

‘Despite all he’d done?’

‘I wasn’t pleased to be running away but I’d sworn an oath
to him and I do not break my word lightly.’

Nish gave him a thoughtful glance. ‘Yet you no longer serve
him.’

Monkshart ignored that. ‘Your father and I went into hiding
and I nursed him back to health, over many months and three relapses. The last
nearly killed him. He lay between life and death for seven weeks and I stood by
him all that time, watching over him night and day.’

‘Why didn’t you let him die?’ said Nish. ‘The world would
have been better off if you had.’ To hear the words from his own mouth shocked
him, despite everything his father had done since.

‘I had to remain true to my oath, for if men are foresworn
the whole world must come to chaos. Besides, humanity was losing the war and I
saw a strength in Jal-Nish that I’ve not seen in anyone before, or since. For
all I knew, that strength might have meant the difference between survival and
enslavement for humanity. I believed it did.’

‘Yet you now oppose everything he stands for, so why should
I trust you? Any man who turns his coat once is liable to do so again.’

‘I turned no coat. I served your father all the while that
he was consolidating his power, and until he declared himself God-Emperor,
seven years ago. At that moment I told him to his face that he had broken the
terms of my oath, and therefore the bond between us was void. I had sworn to a
man, not a false god.’

‘But he let you live?’ Nish wondered if it was the truth.
Perhaps Monkshart still served his father and this was another of his elaborate
traps. How could he, Nish, tell?

‘After I saved your father’s life, he swore to never harm me
save in self-defence, nor to take my Arts from me. He wasn’t happy with my
going, but he held to his word.’

‘So how did you come by all this?’ Nish indicated the crater
with a sweep of his arm. ‘Surely you didn’t just happen upon it by some lucky
coincidence?’

Monkshart ignored the sarcasm. ‘Of course not. After all the
nodes failed, your father had me search out every one of them and make sure.’

‘That they had actually gone dead?’

‘Yes, but more importantly, to check each dead node in case
something had formed there at the moment of its destruction. You’ll understand
why.’

The tears, Gatherer and Reaper, had been formed when the
Snizort node was deliberately destroyed in a particular and very special way,
and Jal-Nish would have been desperate to make sure that no more tears, or
other arcane objects which could threaten his power, had formed at any other
node. ‘And had there?’

‘Oh no,’ said Monkshart. ‘No tears, at any rate, nor any
other device of power. The tears are unique.’

‘Then why are you here? Why hasn’t my father driven you out,
and your fledgling Defiance?’ That was what Nish didn’t understand.

‘Until you came, he didn’t know I was here.’

Nish’s eyes narrowed. A while ago Monkshart had boasted
about his fame spreading, but since Jal-Nish knew everything, how could that be
true? ‘Why not? Surely flappeters would have detected the strange … er,
field
here before.’

‘There is no field, and besides, my protection halo wasn’t
activated until I saw your flappeter being pursued so desperately. Anyone who
flew over Tifferfyte would have seen no more than an impoverished village, not
worth bothering about.’

‘Why didn’t Father’s troops follow us? Can your halo really
keep them all out?’

‘Possibly not, but remember Jal-Nish has had three terrible
shocks at once. His long-lost former ally has just reappeared, and at a site of
power like nothing Jal-Nish has ever seen before; his renegade son has joined
that ally. What are the implications? Your father will think them through
thoroughly before taking any action that might fail and damage his dread
reputation.’

‘What is the source of power at Tifferfyte?’

Monkshart shrugged. ‘I don’t need to tell you yet. All I’ll
say is that
Nothing goes to nothing
.
No object nor device of power can ever be completely destroyed. All force has
to go somewhere, and the former Tifferfyte node has been transformed into a
place where the Secret Art, at least as your father understands it, no longer
holds.’

‘Ahh!’ sighed Nish. ‘And you plan to form it into a shield
against him.’

‘If only that were possible. The power of Tifferfyte doesn’t
reside in an object that can be carried around, like the tears. It’s an
essence
, if you like, intrinsically
associated with Tifferfyte. It only holds here.’

‘Then what’s the use of it?’

‘It provides a refuge where I can help you to build your
strength, as the Deliverer, unmolested.’

‘What use is strength in the middle of nowhere? My father
can only be overthrown in the heart of his empire.’

Monkshart hesitated, then looked deep into Nish’s eyes,
before nodding as if satisfied at what he’d seen there. ‘Tifferfyte isn’t a
solitary outpost. The Defiance is strong and growing every day. People are
flocking to our bastions in their hundreds, simply on the rumour that
Jal-Nish’s son has escaped. Already your father trembles in Morrelune Palace.’

‘With derisory laughter,’ Nish said sourly.

‘He knows!’ said Monkshart, bright-eyed. ‘The whole world
hates Jal-Nish and questions his legitimacy, and it burns him. He might be the
most powerful man in the world –’

‘He is!’ Nish said fiercely.

‘But he understands how quickly power can be lost. He’s
afraid of you, Cryl-Nish, for you’re all he’s got left and he can’t injure you
in any way.’

‘He tormented me in prison without a qualm.’

‘But never really harmed you. This is your chance, but you
must seize it without delay. As long as you move swiftly and decisively, you’ll
always be one step ahead of him.’

‘I’ll need to see evidence to support your claims.’

‘I would expect no less.’ Monkshart drew a folded map from
inside his cloak. ‘The Defiance has nine secret fortresses in the east; these
are their locations. We keep in touch by skeet. It’s the safest way these
days.’

Skeets were large raptors, used for centuries to carry
messages because they were fleet and vicious. Nothing attacked them, save man,
though they were a menace to train and use. ‘How come my father, with all his
spies and watchers, doesn’t know where your refuges are?’

‘They’re well hidden in remote places, difficult to attack
and easily defended.’ He handed Nish the map.

It was just a sketch on rice paper, so it could be eaten in
an emergency, presumably, but there were nine small marks on it with names
beside them, and some were places Nish knew. One was Hulipont.

‘Hulipont was Maelys’s initial destination,’ said Nish. ‘Is
it still in Defiance hands?’

‘I had a skeet from there yesterday.’

Then Cathim must have died without revealing its name, so
Maelys’s family might also be safe.

While Nish was studying the map, Monkshart added, ‘And we
have other bastions in the east and north, not marked on that map.’

Nish handed it back, thinking furiously. Could he become the
Deliverer? And could he trust Monkshart? He didn’t see that he had a choice,
for he knew too much to be allowed to leave, and if he didn’t agree, would he
and Maelys be allowed to live? He tried to see into the zealot with his
clear-sight, but it felt blocked here. That wasn’t surprising, since Nish’s
tiny talent had come from the touch of the tears.

‘I know what worries you,’ said Monkshart. ‘It’s all very
well for the Defiance to have secret outposts, but what’s the good of them if
they never strike at the enemy? I have hundreds of agents in the west,
spreading subversion against the “God-Emperor”.’ His lips twisted as he said
the title, as if it were bile to him. ‘Even now we’re preparing for a strike
against him. Within days we’ll be ready to attack his citadel of Rancidore,
which lies behind the range in the west. Perhaps you saw it on the way.’

‘We passed by a town with a horned tower at its heart.
That’s where the flappeters found us again. And Seneschal Vomix.’

Monkshart frowned. ‘Why has Vomix followed you all this way?
He should have handed over to the Seneschal of Rancidore.’

‘I don’t know,’ Nish mused. ‘But he said he recognised
Maelys –’ As soon as the words left his lips he regretted them.

‘Indeed?’ Monkshart gave him a keen glance. ‘How curious.’

‘How do you plan to attack Rancidore with a few hundred
hungry villagers? This place is so shabbily constructed, a flappeter’s fart
would blow it down.’

Monkshart allowed himself a superior smile; he’d expected
the question. ‘My chief Art is illusion – the only Art which has grown
stronger since the nodes were destroyed. You saw what I wanted you to see, as
does every flappeter and rider who passes overhead. Jal-Nish now knows there
are rebels at Tifferfyte, and that they’ve assembled at the one place his power
cannot reach. But he’s not aware of how my illusionist’s Art has been
strengthened here. We have weapons enough to attack Rancidore, well hidden, and
veterans of the wars to wield them.

‘And whether Rancidore falls, or the attack is beaten off,
or even if our forces are wiped out, the shockwaves will reverberate around
Santhenar, growing ever stronger, especially when we announce that Cryl-Nish
Hlar stands at the head of the Defiance, ready to fulfil his promise. Cities
will fall to us on the strength of your name; peasants will rally in their
thousands. Will you join us, Cryl-Nish, and help to tear down the
abomination
of the God-Emperor? Will you
fulfil your promise, or will you betray the faith of your suffering people?’

Listening to the zealot’s stirring words, and thinking about
the array of other Defiance outposts, even Nish saw a glimmer of hope.

‘Your father can’t touch you here,’ said Monkshart. ‘Vomix
has already withdrawn his forces to Rancidore.’

Nish looked up at Monkshart, feeling his despair lifting for
the first time in years. A surge of fury went through him at all his father had
done, and suddenly all his doubts disappeared and the resolve was there, almost
as strong as when he had made the promise. ‘I will!’ he cried. ‘Together we’ll
tear down the tyrant and restore freedom to Santhenar.’