The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (7 page)

‘Hey!’ called a sentry from well down the path. ‘What’s going
on down at Morrelune?’

‘Sentry?’ called the sergeant. ‘All the lanterns of the
God-Emperor’s palace have gone out. And at Mazurhize too.’

The sergeant cursed as if afraid he’d be blamed for it, then
took off down the path, skidding on the grit in his haste. One of the men let
out a muffled groan. ‘Come on!’ the sergeant roared. ‘Weapons out and eyes
peeled.’

Maelys followed their footsteps all the way down and out
onto the parade ground before silence resumed and she found the courage to get
up, breathing heavily. She flicked the centipede out of her shirt and moved
well away from the path in case someone came back to investigate.

Something had gone wrong, and if Fyllis hadn’t been caught
already she soon would be, with the sentries running around and raising the
alarm. The attempted rescue was a disaster; a fiasco.

She rubbed her stinging breast and grimaced. Maelys couldn’t
even feel good about her narrow escape, for she’d done nothing clever nor
brave. She’d panicked at the first crisis and showed no resourcefulness
whatsoever. The best that could be said was that she hadn’t given up. Only
blind luck had saved her, but it wasn’t going to help her next time.

Still no sign of Nish. Maelys’s fingers crept to the
taphloid, her only defence if she were taken. It was driven by a small crystal
at its core, and if that were forced to implode in a certain way, which Aunt
Haga had explained, the reverberations should disrupt the linkage between
Jal-Nish and any spies, watchers and devices close by, long enough for her to
escape. Both crystal and taphloid were forbidden objects and meant her death if
she were caught with them, though in the circumstances that hardly mattered.

Aunt Haga had cautioned Maelys not to implode the crystal
except as a last resort, for the taphloid would help to shield her from the
eyes of the enemy, at least from a distance. But more importantly, it contained
a secret that would be vital when she got to Hulipont. Maelys hadn’t been told
how to unlock that secret; evidently it was too risky for her to know before
she’d reached safety.

She fingered her purse, which was empty apart from a golden
bracelet, the only thing of value her mother had been able to give her. Its
links would buy food for the long journey ahead, if she were frugal. She felt
dreadfully unprepared.

The lanterns of Morrelune were still out, though Maelys
could hear shouting in the distance. Her gut tightened painfully. This was
madness. Her mother and aunts must have been out of their wits to think of such
a plan, and she and Fyllis were going to pay for it.

Something scraped on rock, not far below. Could Fyllis have
got through after all? Maelys whirled, her eyes searching the darkness, but
couldn’t see a thing. She eased the small pack on her back and took a tentative
step down the track. The sound came again. She moved towards it, trying to stay
calm, though her palms were sweaty. The homespun trousers were already chafing
the insides of her thighs. Generally she wore a gown but her mother had
insisted she dress as a boy. Maelys could see the sense in that, though even
with her breasts bound and her plaited hair coiled and fastened under a
broad-brimmed hat, she didn’t look like one. Her figure was too womanly. She
wasn’t comfortable, either; her chest hurt.

‘Fyllis?’ she said softly, though Maelys didn’t expect her
sister to answer, for she wasn’t supposed to come this far. The plan had been
for Fyllis to leave Nish at the edge of the paved area, then scurry the other
way to meet Lyma and the aunts and escape in a different direction while Nish
climbed the track to meet Maelys.

Straining her eyes, Maelys thought she could make out
something pale bobbing below: Fyllis’s hair? It was just an adventure to her.
Oh, to be so young and innocent again. That faint image might be the last she’d
ever see of her little sister.

Maelys hesitated. She’d been ordered to stick to the plan
but it had already gone wrong. Should she go down? Suddenly the lamps of
distant Morrelune flickered on, surrounded by haloes from the ground mist, then
swelled enormously, lighting up the God-Emperor’s palace like a golden wedding
cake. If Jal-Nish had been hurt by the brainstorm, he was over it and the hunt
was on.

Fyllis could be in trouble. Maelys began to creep down the
winding path, trying not to make a sound, though that was impossible on the
dry, gritty ground. She reached the bottom of the ridge and it was Fyllis,
lurching along supporting a larger shape on her shoulder.

Maelys’s heart jumped. ‘What are you doing here?’ she
hissed. ‘You were supposed to leave him –’

As Fyllis turned, Nish slipped off her shoulder and fell to
the ground.

‘The spell hurt him, Maelys. I tried to shield him the way
Aunt Haga showed me but it didn’t work. I couldn’t think of anything else to
do,’ she said anxiously. ‘I couldn’t leave him there, could I?’

Maelys’s stomach knotted. It had all been for nothing and
they’d be found within minutes. ‘No, of course not,’ she murmured, putting an
arm around her sister. Fyllis should never have been put in such a position.
‘Let me think.’ She heard an uproar in the distance. The guards of Mazurhize
must be recovering from the brainstorm; there was no time left. ‘Go to Mother,
quick! Leave him with me.’

As Fyllis turned away, another pang struck Maelys. ‘Wait!’

She took Fyllis in her arms, sure she’d never see her again,
sure that this was the end of everything.

‘What’s the matter?’ Fyllis had begun to squirm in her tight
embrace. ‘Are you crying, Maelys?’

‘No,’ she lied. ‘I’m just sorry to see you go.’

‘But we’ll be together again once it’s all over … won’t we?’

‘Of course we will.’ Maelys couldn’t afford to upset her
sister’s innocent belief that everything was going to be all right. ‘Off you go
now – and be careful.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Fyllis said casually. ‘Bye.’

Maelys watched her go with such a lump in her throat that
she could hardly draw breath. Fyllis’s pale hair appeared and disappeared as
she darted along the ragged base of the ridge towards its end, then blurred
into the night and she was gone.

Nish’s foot rustled in the gravel. Maelys wiped her eyes and
bent down. He was moaning and a faint bubbling sound came from his throat. She
couldn’t see him clearly but his smell was unpleasantly strong and she felt let
down. Surely this helpless, filthy wretch couldn’t be the hero of the lyrinx
wars, and the world’s Deliverer?

She made allowances. He’d been starved and beaten in prison,
and was still suffering from the brainstorm. It wasn’t his fault. A prisoner
had no control over his life.

Lights bobbed in the distance. ‘Nish?’ she said softly,
going to her knees beside him. Should she even call such an important man by a
nickname? No – no time for such silliness. ‘Nish, come on.’

He came upright, eyes reflecting the lights of Morrelune
glassily. ‘Who – you?’

‘Shh!’ She lifted him to his feet.

He thrust her backwards, breathing in ragged gasps. ‘Go
away, Father – take her – with you. Can’t be tempted –
by her
!’

Had he so lost contact with reality that he couldn’t tell a
flesh-and-blood person from a phantom? And what did he mean by
her
? It sounded like an insult, as if he
thought her ugly. ‘Nish –’

He bent, felt on the ground and came up with a rock in his
fist, swinging it at her. Maelys ducked then, afraid he’d brain her, hit him on
the jaw. It wasn’t a hard blow but he went down and began to twitch.

Horrified at what she’d done, she bent over him. ‘Nish, I’m
sorry –’

‘Where – am – I?’ he said weakly.

‘Nish, you’re safe. You’re with me now. I’m Maelys.’ Safe
– if only he knew!

He moaned and tried to crawl away. ‘Leave me alone, Father.’

The poor man was quite deluded. ‘Nish, I’m Fyllis’s sister.’

The name calmed him, thankfully, but it was taking too long
and they were making too much noise. ‘Take my hand. I’ll help you up.’

He tried to get up but fell down again. ‘Legs – don’t
work.’

The paved area around Mazurhize was suddenly lit with an
unpleasant greenish light, while an eerie humming set her teeth on edge. The
huge, tower-mounted wisp-watchers were talking to the tears again. Jal-Nish
must have racked them up to their highest setting and they would soon begin to
scan the darkness all around. Not even a fieldmouse would be able to move
undetected then.

But she couldn’t be the one who gave up. Maelys crouched
down, took Nish under the arms and lifted him to his feet. He was half a head
taller than her yet didn’t weigh much more than Fyllis. The poor man had been
starved; no wonder he couldn’t resist the brainstorm. She gave him her shoulder
and set off up the winding, gritty path again, knowing they’d never make it.

‘Where – taking?’ he said listlessly.

‘Up through the rice terraces to Cousin Cathim. He’ll help
us get away.’ But all the delays had cost too much time. They should have been
nearly there by now.

At the top of the ridge she looked up the dark mountain
slope. The moon hadn’t yet risen and the stars shed barely enough light for her
to see where to put her feet. She mentally traced her route up through the
terraced paddy fields. Aunt Bugi had made her rehearse it on a rough map until
she’d known it perfectly, but attempting the real thing in darkness was another
matter entirely.

Maelys was used to climbing, for she’d lived in the
mountains all her life, but Nish was an awkward burden to support and already
her arm and back were aching. She kept moving, performing her duty to her
family. More than that, it was an honour to rescue the God-Emperor’s son, the
man who was to become the Deliverer, and she would not shirk it.

On she went, and up, swapping a silent, stumbling Nish from
one shoulder to another as she wound through the maze of terraces cunningly
built to catch what little moisture fell on these arid slopes in the rain
shadow of the mountains.

After an hour or so, while taking a brief rest, she saw
three trails of lights moving steadily up the slope to her left. The troops
were after her and climbing a lot faster than she could. Panic made her choke
until she realised that they weren’t following her at all. They didn’t know she
was here. It took a while to calculate where they were heading. They were
converging inexorably on Cathim’s hut and they were going to get there first.

‘Quickly, Nish!’

He pushed her away, weakly. ‘Leave me alone, Father.’ He’d
relapsed into delusion.

‘Nish, I’m Fyllis’s sister, remember?’

Again her name calmed him and he made an effort for a minute
or two, though by that time he was panting so heavily that she was afraid the
distant loop-listeners would pick it up. She couldn’t take the risk –
she’d have to carry him.

She was used to carrying heavy loads, too, but not this
heavy. Maelys managed to heave him over her shoulders and continued, staggering
under his weight and trying not to make a sound. The troops were only a few
hundred paces away now, almost level with her. Cathim’s hut was further across,
along the dry-stone wall between the terraces to her left, though she couldn’t
see it in the dark.

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Nish was
squirming on her shoulders but she daren’t put him down for fear she’d never
lift him again. Her calves were burning and her knees felt alarmingly rubbery.

He let out another muffled groan. ‘Hush!’ she said softly,
putting her hand to his lips. He went still and she wondered if that had been a
liberty.

Something passed across the sky to her right, making a
rasping flutter that raised her hackles. Could it be a
flappeter
, one of the God-Emperor’s legendary flesh-formed horrors?
Hunters in the air would make escape impossible. Maelys couldn’t think what to
do. She wasn’t considered an adult yet; she wasn’t used to taking command, or
being responsible for everything. It was beyond her.

The soldiers were gaining and she was beginning to feel
really panicky. She prayed that Cathim had a Secret Art of his own or all was
lost. She had to put Nish, and herself, in his capable adult hands.

Putting on an extra burst, she thump-thumped along the
embankment, making too much noise. Might she get there first after all? She
dared to think so, until a squad of soldiers swarmed up over the terrace wall
to her left, starlight making pinpoints on their polished, horned armour, which
was individually formed to fit each soldier by Jal-Nish’s uncanny Arts.

They were only fifty paces from the hut, a few hundred from
her. Cathim was finished. She was on her own now. Maelys began to back around
the corner of the terrace wall, scanning the night in every direction, and
upwards as well. She couldn’t hear the flapping now. Was that good or bad?

Suddenly a bellow of rage echoed across the terrace, and
Cathim’s hut was lit up from half a dozen points at once as the surrounding
troops unshuttered powerful storm lanterns. She saw an open doorway, the door
torn off its hinges, and a great bull of a man struggling with an armoured
trooper.

The trooper was hurled into the front rank of soldiers,
knocking two down, and Cathim surged forth swinging a double-bladed
woodcutter’s axe in scything blows that cut down a fourth trooper, then a
fifth. For an instant Maelys thought that he might win through but three
troopers converged on him, thrusting out long, three-pointed tridents. They
pinned him, he shimmered mauve for a second and, with a ringing roar, he fell.

Maelys turned away, feeling sick. Her cousin was going to
suffer a terrible death and she couldn’t help him. But before he died, under
the brain-searing torment of Reaper he was bound to reveal Nish’s destination,
Hulipont. All was lost.