The Tree of Story (34 page)

The mordog marched off just as the Stormriders who had fled the flagship were returning to it, hurrying up the gangplank with buckets to douse the last of the fires.

Corr turned to Finn then, and the rage had gone from his face, replaced with his usual icy glare.

“You haven’t left yet, brother,” he said coldly. “My ships are damaged, but it’s possible one of them may still serve to get you home.”

“Corr, I—”

He didn’t finish. The doctor had appeared on the deck of the flagship with the Valkai prisoner. The warrior’s head was down and he was struggling to walk, his hands still bound. The doctor had one arm around the Valkai’s waist and one of the Valkai’s arms was over Alazar’s shoulder. In a flash Finn understood that the doctor had deliberately climbed aboard the burning ship to save the Nightbane prisoner.

Finn left Corr and dashed up the gangplank.

“They left him to die,” Alazar shouted. “Help me, Finn.”

Finn reached for the wounded Valkai’s other arm. The young warrior cried out as he was moved but was still able to hobble along.

“I’ve got him, Doctor,” Finn said. He felt the doctor’s hold slip away and he struggled down the gangplank with the wounded Valkai, fighting to keep him upright. When he reached the pier, the Valkai gave a groan and his legs buckled under him. Finn set him down as carefully as he could upon the stone, just as two of Corr’s Stormriders rushed up to take the prisoner from him.

“Should’ve let this one burn,” one of the Stormriders muttered.

Finn ignored them and looked back up the gangplank for the doctor, wondering why he hadn’t come with them. He saw Alazar sitting beneath the main mast, his shoulders slumped. The doctor’s spectacles had come off and he was groping about to find them, as if he had gone blind.

Finn climbed back up the gangplank. A burnt spar came loose and crashed to the deck a few feet from where he stood.

“Doctor, it’s not safe here,” Finn said, but the older man did not answer. His trembling hand was still feeling its way over the planks. Finn knelt beside him and finally saw the black-feathered shaft protruding from the small of his back.

“My spectacles, Finn,” Alazar said. His face was ashen and he was breathing in shallow gasps. “Can’t seem to find them.”

Finn picked up the spectacles and put them in Alazar’s hand. Shakily the doctor raised them to his face and slid them on. Then his hands dropped into his lap as if the effort had exhausted him.

“We’ll get you out of here, Doctor,” Finn said, and he shouted for help. “Corr’s men will know what to do about the arrow.”

He felt a presence near him and looked up to see that the golem had followed him onto the deck and was standing over him now, unmoved and unmoving as always.

“You’re no use here,” he muttered angrily at Ord. “Not now.”

“Don’t let them touch the arrow, Finn,” Alazar said. “I’ll just bleed out faster.”

“Tell me what to do, Doctor. There must be something I can do.”

He shouted again and the Stormriders on the deck turned at his voice.

“Bring Corr! The doctor needs help!”

One of the Stormriders ran for the gangplank. The doctor raised a hand and grasped Finn’s arm. His grip tightened.

“Finn, my bag … where is it?”

Finn glanced around the deck and saw the battered black leather bag lying at the top of the stairs into the hold. He ran over, picked it up and carried it back.

“I’ve got it, Doctor,” he said. “What do you need?”

“My journal,” Alazar said hoarsely. “Find it, please.”

Finn dug in the bag and brought out the journal.

“Is there something in it that will help?” he said. “A remedy or—”

“There’s no remedy for this, Finn. Not for any of it. I want you to take the journal. It was nearly full, anyhow. Take it with you when you leave.”

Finn understood at last and tears stung his eyes. “Doctor, the journal is yours. You’ll be writing in it later about all this, I’m sure of it.”

Alazar blinked up at him through his spectacles and smiled.

“You’re a good man, Finn. I wish there had been time for us to become better friends.”

“There will be time, Doctor.”

“Finn, please. You’re the only one I can trust. Keep the journal. Maybe one day you can visit the Sunlands. Give the journal to my king, if he still lives. Tell him I kept my word.”

“You’ll do that yourself, Doctor,” Finn said, and then he glanced over at a sound. Corr was striding toward him across the deck with the two Stormriders that Finn had sent to find him.

“Corr,” Finn said. “It’s a Nightbane arrow. Can you help him?”

Corr did not reply. He crouched beside Finn and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Corr, the arrow …” Finn began again, then he looked down at the doctor and saw that he was dead.

The ships had been saved and the Nightbane attack had drawn off, but the Stormrider encampment was still frantic with activity. Men were clambering over the ships, salvaging whatever they could of the sails and ropes that had burned or replacing them with spares. Other Stormriders were busy
setting up a system of winches and buckets on cables in case the ships were threatened again with fire. Still others had begun clearing the rubble that had cut the pier off from the rest of the upper parapet.

The doctor’s body had been placed with the Stormrider dead on a pyre of charred wood from the damaged ships. With Alazar’s journal tucked in a pocket of his cloak Finn summoned the golem to follow him back onto the pier. For a long time he stood with Ord like a silent tower beside him and watched the Stormriders going about their tasks. What had brought most of these men here he had no idea, but it seemed certain that many of them would never leave.

With all the urgent activity, no one took any notice of him. At last Finn gave the golem a final command and then went in search of Corr.

He found him with his lieutenants in his cabin on the flagship, planning a counterassault on the mines. The old dwarf and his son were there, too.

“Nonn’s Nightbane allies will likely have reported by now that the ships weren’t destroyed,” Corr was saying as Finn appeared. “He’ll be wondering how we got the dragon spouts working again. He may figure out it was you and your son, Tholl, who helped us.”

“Even if he does, my lord,” the old dwarf said, “there is much he doesn’t know about Adamant. Many secrets were built into this city as it was delved through the ages. Secret ways of dealing with enemies from both without and within. I am the last who knows of some of them.”

“There was a time, long ago, when the Ironwise nearly went to war with one another,” Nar added. “There was much distrust then, and one of our chieftains had secret traps and defences built in case of need. My father helped build them.”

“The secret defences were never used,” Tholl said. “Eventually they were forgotten. Only I remember.”

“Is there a way to get through those slabs?” Corr asked.

“There is no means to raise the slabs from this side, Sky Lord,” Nar said. “They were a last defence against invaders and were made so that the mechanism that lowers them would break once they were used. Even if the clay giant could raise the slabs, which my father says isn’t likely, Nonn will have set other traps and obstacles in your path. But—” He hesitated and glanced at his father apprehensively.

“In those long-ago days,” Tholl said, picking up the story, “I helped construct secret waterworks to flood the forges and mines if the other faction gained control of them. Nonn knows nothing of this.”

“You can flood the lower circles?” Corr asked.

With great care the old dwarf rolled back the sleeve of his tunic to expose a withered forearm that was covered with a web of old scars.

“As we built the secret traps and defences, I made a map of them, Sky Lord. A map that would survive the years and that no enemy would discover, not on a body that was already as scarred as mine. But I no longer need the map. I can see it all, every hidden passage and trap, with my eyes closed, and so can my son.”

“My father and I will rechannel the water, my lord, so that it will douse the forges and drive Nonn’s delvers out of the mines,” Nar said. “And then I can lead you by hidden passageways so that you may take Nonn unawares.”

“You would do this for me?” Corr asked doubtfully. “You would have someone who is not of your kind rule the city of the Eldersmiths?”

“Better an alliance with the Sky Lord than with Nightbane,” the old dwarf said, and for the first time Finn saw the
ghost of a smile crease his ancient face. “My son and I saved your ships, and we will help you seize the forges and the
gaal
for yourself. But in return I ask something of you.”

“What is it?”

“Nonn has been ruthless, and most of those who follow him do so only out of fear. Spare my people, Sky Lord, and they will serve you well. They will restore this city to what it once was, to the glory of the Adamant of old. We cannot do this without you and you cannot do it without us. We need each other so that what is almost lost can be preserved.”

Corr regarded the old dwarf impassively.

“Those who do not resist will be spared,” he said at last.

“You are gracious, my lord. And so I dare one further request: Should Nonn be captured alive, bring him before me and my son in chains. Let his punishment be for us to decide.”

“Very well. If he lives, Nonn will be yours to deal with as you please.”

“Swear to what you have promised, Sky Lord, on your life’s blood.”

Corr hesitated a moment, then he slid the knife from the sheath at his belt and drew the blade across his palm, as Nonn had done on the pier. He made a fist and the blood dripped through his fingers and onto the stones below.

“On my life’s blood,” Corr said.

The old dwarf bowed his head.

“I will show you how the water may be diverted, and Nar will lead your men through the secret passages.”

Corr gave orders to his lieutenants to prepare for a counterassault. Then he glanced up and saw Finn at the door.

“You’ll be leaving now, I gather,” he said coldly.

“I will,” Finn said.

“The ships won’t be skyworthy for some time yet, but if
you’re not willing to wait, you can use one of the undamaged skiffs. I can’t spare anyone to go with you, but Kern will supply you with the ore you’ll need and show you how to keep the thing aloft.”

“I’m not using one of your ships, Corr. Your men need them. The golem is yours, too. I’ve already given him the command you asked for. He will obey you again.”

Corr stared hard at his brother.

“Finn, what do you think you’re going to do?
Walk
out of here?”

“That’s right. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“You’ve come to …”

Corr shook his head in disbelief. Then he reached out and gripped Finn’s shoulders.

“We
have
him, brother,” he said. “An hour ago I thought we were finished and I would have agreed with you that leaving was our only choice. But now we have him and soon we’ll have all the fever iron we need. Don’t throw your life away, not when we’re so close to victory.”

Finn set the pouch of
gaal
powder down on the chart table. He looked up at his brother but found he was unable to speak.

“Even if you make it across the valley,” Corr said, “which no one ever has, not on foot, it would take you weeks to reach the Bourne. By then whatever’s going to happen will be over and done with.”

“Corr, you and the Nightbane were killing each other over this poison, and now you’re at war over it again, this time with your allies. If you defeat Nonn and the mines are yours, someone else will come hoping to take them from you. And even if you win that battle, one day the ore will run out and your Stormriders will be killing one another for the little that’s left.”

“You heard what the doctor said, didn’t you? Without the
gaal
you’ll be dead in a matter of days, Finn. If the beasts out there don’t get you first, that is. At least take the suit of fetch armour. It’ll give you a fighting chance.”

“I’m not putting on that armour, Corr. When I woke up in the infirmary, I thought I had a choice between joining you or dying, but I see now it was no choice at all. The fever iron is death, and death is all you and your men will ever find in this place. It will find me, too, soon enough. But it won’t find me here. Goodbye, brother. We won’t see each other again.”

Corr came around the table. He stood in front of Finn without speaking. Then he put his arms around him and embraced him.

“I love you, little brother,” Corr said under his breath. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I did—once.”

Finn left the flagship and went among the Stormriders on the pier, saying goodbye to the few he’d fought alongside. Then he strode across the pier to the great doors. He was carrying water, what little food the quartermaster could spare and the doctor’s journal, wrapped in a clean cloth. Before stowing it safely in his pack, he had turned the journal over in his hands, feeling the worn leather cover, the thin paper, soft at the edges with many thumbings. He knew the journal was not for him, but he could not keep himself from leafing through the pages and reading a few lines in the doctor’s neat, precise hand.
I have stayed in Fable much longer than I ever intended to
, the doctor had written on a day several years earlier.
The knights of Appleyard wish me to remain and join their ranks. They tell me they have need of my skills, such as they are. I’m not certain yet whether I will accept, though it’s true I have grown very fond of this peaceful city and its people
.

The sentries at the doors had already been informed Finn was leaving. They hurried to the winch and raised the small portcullis. As he was about to duck through the low, narrow doorway, Finn heard his name called. He turned to see Grath hurrying after him. He was wearing his battle mail and had a cloth pack slung over one shoulder.

“I hear you’re deserting,” the mordog said brusquely.

“If you want to put it that way.”

“You’re going to die out there, you know.”

“I wish you well, Grath. I hope one day you’ll find the freedom you’ve been searching for.”