The Fathomless Fire (35 page)

He slid the stone across the table to Finn, who caught it and picked it up.

“That belongs to you, brother,” Corr said, “but if you have no objection, I will keep the golem. He has his uses.”

Finn closed his fist around the stone. No one spoke.

The doctor finally broke the silence.

“I don’t understand how all of this happened. The fortress, the army of Stormriders, the flying ships … you left Fable with only a small band of men.”

Corr picked up his goblet.

“There were only fifty of us,” he said with a nod. “But we acted with one thought, one goal: to find the beasts that had slaughtered our people, and rid the Realm of them.

“We rode for days and days, following the trail of the Nightbane west and north from Fable,” he continued. “After many weeks we caught up with a band of mordog, part of the larger force that had raided the Bourne. That night we encircled their camp under cover of darkness and attacked. We killed them all, except one. He became our unwilling guide, but he led us true, many leagues north into wild, dangerous lands, by little-known paths. We found the rest of the raiding party and finished them. And then … well, we kept on. Battle after battle, year after year. Other men joined us, outlaws and exiles, soldiers, mages, warriors, men with no homes, no kingdoms left to defend.”

“Some of the Bourne folk in your army must have wanted to return to Fable, to their families,” the doctor said.

“Whoever wished to leave us was free to go. A few did, but clearly none found their way home. I am sorry for that. Most of the men who left Fable with me stayed, though, gladly. There was much for us to do. We learned that well-armoured companies of Nightbane were coming and going from these ghostlands, as the Horse Folk call them. So we tracked the Nightbane here and discovered their stronghold in the valley below.”

He paused, and smiled bitterly.

“Our victories had made us reckless,” he said. “We attacked too soon and the Nightbane came forth in greater numbers than we had suspected and scattered us easily. Many men died. I lost my eye in that battle, and took a blade of fever iron in the chest. The Nightbane hung me from a dead tree over a stinking hole in the earth and left me to rot.”

Will looked at Corr’s hand, gripping his goblet. The knuckles had gone white.

“Nonn’s people found me,” he said. “I was nearly dead, but they brought me to the fortress and healed me. In time my men gathered together again and rejoined me. We learned that Nonn’s folk had taken refuge in the ruins of this fortress many years ago, after the Nightbane drove them from their home in the valley of fire. Ages ago the dwarves built a city in that valley, delving into a crater left by a great iron stone that fell from the sky. It was a city of many levels descending in concentric rings into the depths of the earth, and they called it Adamant. The dwarves had lived there for longer than even their own tales could reach back. They mined ores and precious metals, refined them, shaped them into beautiful things, ingenious things.”

“The Sky Folk dwelt here, too, in the kingdom above the clouds,” the old dwarf said. They looked at him in surprise. He had said nothing for a long time, and now his guttural voice broke harshly on their ears. “This land was peaceful then. The valley of fire was green with growing things. We traded with the Sky Folk, crafted many treasures for them. Jewels, weapons. And when we discovered the properties of fever iron, as you call it, we built flying ships for the Sky Folk, so that they could travel from the heavens to the earth more quickly.”

Will suddenly remembered Mimling’s tale.

“You’re the Elders. The Ironwise. Someone … another dwarf … told me about you. He always wondered if you were only a legend.”

“So some still remember us,” Nonn said, fixing Will with his cold gaze. Will noticed that the dwarf’s skin had a pale blue tinge and was pocked and pitted with many tiny scars, as if some burning thing had once exploded into fragments in front of him. Which, Will considered, was very likely for someone who worked with fire and metal.

“We are not what we once were,” the dwarf added. “The war against the Night King brought much ruin. The kingdoms in the sky fell, and the earth was broken and heaved up so that rivers of molten rock burst forth and engulfed our city. Most of our people were swept away like dry leaves in a fire. The valley was burned and blackened, and has gone on burning ever since. Those of us who survived hid in the deepest tunnels beneath our city, taking refuge from the Nightbane and from the ghosts that wandered these wastes, the shades of the dead that the Night King had once enslaved. That is why the Horse Folk call these the ghostlands and do not come here.”

“Fetches,” Corr said. “They have no will of their own. After Malabron was defeated they were like puppets whose strings had been cut.”

“Yes, and we discovered we could make them serve us,” the dwarf said. “The ghosts were drawn to the
gaal
, like shivering wretches drawn to a fire in the cold. We found that we could seal them inside armour made of an alloy of
gaal
and ordinary iron, and they would do our bidding. Much as the golem serves the Sky Lord. Without the armour they were mindless, weak, insubstantial as mist. Sealed in the armour they could carry, and lift, and tunnel as we bade them. And unlike men or dwarves, they would never tire, or rebel against their masters.”

“You made slaves of the fetches?” Finn asked.

The dwarf scowled and shook his head.

“How can one enslave that which has no mind, no will of its own? With their ceaseless labour, we began to rebuild our ruined city, and our fortunes. But it did not last. The fetches, as you call them, began to refuse our commands. Soon we realized they served the will of another, but it was too late. Before we could destroy their armour and render them helpless, they took up weapons and drove us from our mines and foundries. Then the Nightbane returned in great numbers, with fell beasts and the flying worms. They guarded the city while the forges were relit and the great hammers rang once more. We believe the fetches are making more armour, to capture and hold more shades of the dead. The
things
we created are making more of themselves.”

“They’re forging an unstoppable army for the Night King,” Corr said. “Malabron’s strength is not yet great enough to control thousands of fetches by his will alone, but with the armour he can do it. The
gaal
in the metal binds the fetches to him and they move as one.”

“Those of us who were not killed by the armoured fetches took refuge here,” Nonn said, “in the ruins of what had once been a shining citadel of the Sky Folk, before the kingdoms above the clouds crumbled and fell. And here we waited, doubting we would ever take back what is ours. Until Corr Madoc came to these lands and it seemed to us that the Sky Lord had returned.”

“When I hung on that dead tree, over the pit,” Corr said, “something happened to me. The
gaal
seemed to sharpen my vision and I saw … more deeply than I ever had before. I saw what had once been. I saw the lost sky kingdoms as they had once been, glorious and powerful. I saw the skyships that were rotting now like bones on the valley floor … I saw them soaring through the clouds, lightning flickering along their masts, and I knew they could soar once again. And I saw that a great lode of ore lies beneath the ruins of Adamant. Enough of the
gaal
to raise a fleet of hundreds of skyships. If we can take the city back from the Nightbane and the fetches…”

He paused, and lifted the black metal spearhead that hung around his neck.

“This is the shard of
gaal
that cut away my old life and gave me a new one. You see, doctor, I wear the fever iron around my neck and it has not poisoned me. The truth is, it has given me greater strength and deeper sight than I ever had before. I have brought the people of these lands together in a great cause, and we will not fail.”

“But you have Nightbane – mordog – for allies, Corr,” Finn said. “How can that be?”

“They have thrown off the yoke of the Shadow Realm. When we first came to the ghostlands we found Grath and his companions hiding in the hills, hunted by their own kind. They had rebelled against their master, but there was nowhere else they could go where they would not be hated and feared. They renounce the name we’ve given their folk, Nightbane, but that is how they would be seen anywhere else in the Realm. So they have stayed here, in the hope of one day driving out Malabron’s forces and making a homeland for themselves.”

“We saw that the armoured fetches had risen up against their masters,” Grath said with an unexpected fierceness. “Then we knew we no longer had to be slaves, either. We will not be the enemy in someone else’s story. We are free folk. We are Stormriders.”

“But none of this explains why everyone calls you the Sky Lord,” Balor said.

“He
is
the Sky Lord,” Grath rumbled.

“I died,” Corr said simply. “I died with a shard of fever iron in my chest, and the Sky Lord was reborn.”

Balor snorted.

“I don’t ask you to believe it,” Corr said. “But you can see for yourselves what we have accomplished here. Without our ships and our lightning, the lands to the south would have been overrun long ago.”

“Your brother wields the lightning,” the dwarf said to Finn. “As the Sky Lord once did.”

“The Horse Folk fear you, Corr,” Finn said. “They flee from your Stormriders. And the wisent herds have been driven away. The people are hungry.”

Corr smiled bitterly.

“They owe us what peace they have, yet some are ungrateful. That is always the way of it. The defenders, the ones who get blood on their hands, are scorned and feared. And we need more defenders. We always need more defenders. It is what commanders in time of war have always done. If they will not send us their young and strong willingly, we are forced to take them.”

“Like you took us,” Balor muttered.

“The ship’s crew had no idea who you were. They were only doing their duty. We take the young and we train them to defend themselves. They become strong, protectors of their own people. Most come in time to thank us for it.”

He turned to Alazar.

“You have skills we need, doctor, and I must repeat my request. Will you go to the infirmary, to look at Yates and some of the newly wounded? Nonn’s healers are overwhelmed.”

The doctor took a deep breath.

“Where is the infirmary?” he said quietly.

“Grath will show you the way. You have my thanks.”

Alazar followed the mordog out of the room. There was a long silence. Corr took a drink of wine and set the goblet down heavily. Will noticed that Balor had been quietly fuming since the doctor left. Finally he could no longer contain himself.

“When ’Zar is done, we’re leaving, Finn,” the wildman said. “Unless you’d like to join the fun here. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you.”

“Would I be pleased to have my brother fighting at my side?” Corr said, with a look at Finn. “Of course. But that is his choice.”

They all looked at Finn, who gazed down at the table without speaking.

“I don’t see that you are defending anything here, Corr,” Finn said slowly.

The Sky Lord gave a soft laugh of surprise.

“Are you sure you know what you’re talking about, little brother?”

“This is a siege,” Finn said. “Nonn’s folk want their mines and forges back. You want that precious, deadly ore because it keeps your skyships in the air, and there’s almost none left, is there? Except in the deeps where Nonn’s people lived.”

“Of course we want the
gaal
,” Corr said with a shrug. “Without the power it gives us, the command of the air and the lightning, there is no way we can hold these lands against the Night King’s forces. You don’t understand yet, Finn. You don’t see the greater purpose in what we do, and how much we have sacrificed … the men who have died.” His voice grew hoarse as he spoke the last few words.

“Well, I think
I
understand,” Balor said, rising from his chair. “I hope you’re giving us the same choice you’re giving your brother, Corr Madoc, because if it’s all the same to you I choose to leave.”

Corr and the dwarf exchanged a quick glance.

“I cannot allow that,” Corr said. “My lieutenants have informed me that the Nightbane are massing in the valley of fire, beneath the outer walls of the dwarves’ city. The watchtowers have reported dragon sightings. We believe they are preparing an assault by air and land, and our ships cannot be spared to return you to the plains. You will have to remain here, for your own safety, for the time being.”

“For our safety?” Balor thundered. “We’re prisoners here. You have no intention of letting any of us leave. Alazar’s too useful to you, and Finn and I, we’ll make handy fighters, won’t we, in your quest for fever iron? That’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

“
Balor
,” Finn said warningly, also rising from his chair.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,
Sky Lord
, but your fortress isn’t exactly up in the sky, is it?”

“It will be,” Corr said. “When we have enough
gaal
to raise it again. Nonn’s people are building a forge like those on board our skyships. When it is ready—”

“Oh, yes, the
gaal
,” Balor boomed. “That wonderful harmless stuff that’s clearly driven you mad. How much fever iron have you been sprinkling on your morning porridge, Corr Madoc? This is sheer lunacy.”

Corr’s scarred face shook with fury. He slammed a fist down on the table.

“
Enough
,” he roared. “You are not going anywhere, wildman, and if you cannot govern your tongue, you will be locked up.”

Balor turned to Finn, his own face darker than Will had ever seen it.

“It looks like you won’t be bringing anyone back to Fable, my friend,” he said.

Finn lowered his head, then looked up at his brother.

“Corr, listen to me,” he said. “Let my friends and the Horse Folk boy leave, and I will stay here. I will join you.”

“Finn,
no
,” Balor said.

At that moment a horn sounded. Corr sprang to his feet.