OrbSoul (Book 6) (27 page)

   Iklar glanced up and scowled at her, but remained remote.

   'Do you know what has happened, Iklar? Do you know what has become of the True Sept? Grey Venger is dead, do you know that?'

   A quiver passed over Iklar's body, and he murmured, 'I have seen nothing.'

   'I do not believe you. You have learned, if not actually seen. You know that it is over now. Still, if you require further confirmation . . .' Issul twisted on the stool and indicated the two prisoners. 'These two are known to you?'

   Iklar glanced their way and glowered, then nodded. Issul stood and motioned forward the two. 'Tell him everything you have witnessed, everything you have learned today.'

   She moved away, leaving them alone, and leaned upon the bar beside Pader. She watched as the two seated themselves and began to pour out their story to Iklar. She studied Iklar's face, saw the sullenness and inflexibility gradually replaced, first by anger, then disbelief. Then she saw his head begin to sag, his eyes lose focus, grow glazed.

   'He is almost there,' she whispered to Pader.

   Finally she saw acceptance and grim resignation on Iklar's face. The three men sat for a short time in silence, then one of the prisoners turned, found her and gave a nod. She motioned them away and sat down with Iklar again. 'It’s over, Iklar. A few of you may remain, but you are without power or organization. You have been deserted, by your allies, by your so-called god. Your leaders are dead or imprisoned. The dreams and aspirations of the True Sept have come to nothing.'

   Iklar eyed her contemptuously. 'You know nothing.'

   'I know of the second Soul.'

   That surprised him, and it pleased her that it did.

   'Another flame which burns most brightly,' she added.   

   Iklar pushed his body back in his seat, gritting his teeth. His gaze flickered, unable to rest on hers.

   'And let me tell you now that I know the identity of the second Soul, the true Legendary Child. And I know that she is here, probably shielded by you and what remains of your faction. But she flounders; she is a feeble thing now, lost as you are. The so-called god who spawned and empowered her no longer aids her, is itself disempowered. And I am going to find her, and you are going to help me.'

   'Why would I do that?'

   'Because you are not a fool, Iklar. At least, I had never taken you to be so. You know that it is over. There is nothing left for you - except life. I know you are not a leading Sept member. Your crimes are relatively minor. But you know codes or passwords that will gain me access beyond this point. I can go without them; it will take a little longer, that is all, and men will lose their lives. I would prefer that it was not that way.'

   Iklar stared at the table top. 'I have nothing to say.'

   'Very well. The rats that remain will be flushed from their burrows by force. No mercy will be shown.' Issul stood and spoke to his guards. 'Take him outside and kill him.'

   'No!'

   'What, Iklar? Death suddenly is without appeal?'

   A sly look had appeared in his eye. 'You wish the code words only?'

   'And for you to guide me beyond this point.'

   He nodded. 'It can do no harm.'

   'Then tell me now, and do not delay. Your life is not worth much to me, but I will let you keep it providing you give me what I want.'

*

   They left the Veiled Light and began to penetrate deeper into Overlip's warren. There were fewer intersections here, and no inhabitants - at least, none that could be seen. The passageways were dimmer, often narrower and more roughly hewn. At first they bored downwards, steeply in places, then they began to ascend. Issul could only hazard a guess as to their exact position, but was almost certain they must now be climbing towards Orbia Palace. Her soldiers kept close. A squad went some paces ahead of her, escorting Iklar. Larger numbers brought up the rear. She paused from time to time, allowing the rear guard to mark and secure the route behind. This was an unknown deep, and she was aware that, if the True Sept still had forces here in any number, it could be a relatively effortless task to isolate an unwary company and pick its members off one by one. Taking short rests also provided an opportunity for her and her men to regain their breath. Rest was particularly important for Pader Luminis, who had the most difficulty maintaining a marching pace in the uneven tunnels and close, stale, dusty air.

   The route they were following became rougher. At times they had to clamber over heaps of rubble. Issul began to wonder whether it was a natural passage running deep, deep within the scarp. But she saw collapsed and damaged cribbing and made out the scores left by heavy pick-axes and boring tools in the rock, and recognized that the way had in fact been hewn by men, if not smoothly, and had later been blocked by rockfalls, then cleared.

   There came a shout from somewhere ahead. Iklar halted and called back, a codeword that he had confided to Issul before they left the Tavern of the Veiled Light. A short exchange was conducted with someone unseen. Issul moved up to stand behind Iklar, who turned and smiled coldly. 'Did you hear?'

   She shook her head.

   'He has asked that a soldier go ahead to speak.'

   A Palace Guard stepped forward. 'Your Majesty, I will go, if you will permit me.'

   Issul gave a nod. The man took a torch and moved off along the narrow, rubble-strewn passage. They watched, saw the flame flicker and dim, then vanish. Moments passed and Issul grew concerned, then the flame was seen again, growing brighter as the man returned.

    His face when he arrived before her was flushed and slick with perspiration, his hair glued to his forehead and his expression strained.  'Majesty, it is the Lord High Invigilate.'

   Issul's heart kicked. 'Fectur?'

   'He is ahead, Majesty. He requests that you go forward and speak to him. He insists you must be alone.'

   'And if I refuse?'

   'He declares that at a word from him traps will be sprung. The roof of the passage will be brought down upon our heads.'

vi

   Issul took hasty consultation.

   It was unclear in the dim torchlight of the tunnel whether Fectur's threat was realizable or not. The roof had the appearance of stability, though cracks and fissures were visible. Did Fectur truly have the knowledge and influence here in the depths of Overlip, the True Sept's hidden sanctuary, to carry out such a threat? How could that be? Yet the stark fact was that he was here, exerting command. And there was the evidence of the rockfalls they had passed. He could not wisely be disregarded.

   Giving commands to Pader and Sir Grenyard, Issul took a torch and went ahead. There was no other light. The air was dry and thin. Shadows leapt erratically over the walls and roof. The passage twisted sharply to the left, and after about ten more paces narrowed to little more than a cleft in the rock. She squeezed through, and was in a high-roofed grotto from the ceiling of which thousands of stalactites descended. A pale, soft light seemed to be emitted from the rock walls. Away to one side was a thick iron door, part-open, set into the rock. Standing a little way in front of this was Fectur.

   More than once in recent days Issul had found herself thrown off-guard at the sight of the Lord High Invigilate. Still, so unusual was it to see him in a state of disarray that yet again she found herself unprepared. Fectur's clothing was scuffed and torn, his silvery hair wildly adrift. He was taut, grimacing: a travesty of a smile that spoke more of the turbulence and rancour behind it than of the expression of gloating, acid triumph he was trying to convey. His face shone, a mass of crimson blotches and
a sheen of perspiration - and something else. Perhaps it was the strange glow from the surrounding rock; he seemed almost illuminated, but in a harsh and unforgiving light.

   It unsettled Issul to see him like this, in ways she could not wholly define.
Fectur, the master of iron self-control, gripped by inner demons more powerful than he. Her loathing and anger were scarcely diminished, and she feared him still, but she sensed that she was witnessing another dimension to the man, one perhaps equally as malevolent, but still a dimension she had not been aware of before.

  
Is he in control?

   No matter her thoughts, she did not for a moment allow herself to be distracted from the knowledge of what this man was capable of. She felt the tension in her limbs; her heart beat hard. If he should attack . . . He was a foe like no other. He had taught Issul much, but still only a fraction of what he knew. There was no one to compare to Fectur, and she feared him, yes, she feared him, and knew that in combat she could not, under any ordinary circumstance, hope to beat him.

   'Fectur, what do you do? What have you
done
?'

   'Do? Done?' Fectur was quivering. He made no attempt to approach.

   Issul steadied herself, unclear of what to make of this. She sensed a ragged, evil quality emanating towards her. She consciously relaxed her muscles, keeping her body loose, ready to move on the instant. 'What is happening, Fectur? How are you here?'

   'I
came. . . seeking . . . the Truth.'

   'And what did you find?'

   Suddenly Fectur was four steps closer. Issul leapt back, unnerved. He had moved with such fluidity, such speed. She had not even seen until it was done.

   She edged away, to the side. She had not drawn her sword. To do so would have been too overt an expression of intent. Fectur's hands were also empty, but to him, she knew, that was no handicap.

   'Something of what I expected; something of what I did not. Are you afraid, Issul?'

  
'Fectur, why? Why all this? What could you possibly hope to gain?'

   Fectur moved again. She darted aside. His foot whistled past her head, leaving a breath upon her cheek. She shifted away.

   'Fectur, stop! We should talk.'

   Fectur was grinning. He was enjoying this. It was a game, a deadly, lunatic game. He could take her with little effort whenever he chose.

   Now he was behind her. She spun around, drawing her shortsword. Fectur emitted a harsh bark of laughter. He flashed by her; a harsh pain exploded at her wrist. The sword flew from her grip and spun across the cavern.

   'What was the first rule I taught you, Issul? Do you recall?'

   She gritted her teeth, nursing the wrist. 'Seek always to know your enemy. Know his methods; know his ways. Know his intent. Know his weaknesses. Know his mind, better than you know your own.'

   'And have you done that, Issul?'

   'I have sought to know you, Fectur, but I did not consider you my enemy. Not until very recent days.'

   'If that is so, then you have failed from the outset! You are an unworthy student, for I have despised you from the day you were born.'

   He came in a blur. Something hammered into her chest, lifting her off her feet and throwing her across the cavern. She landed hard on her back.

   Fectur strutted across, his eyes ablaze. In his right hand was a needle-sharp stiletto. 'I have but one penalty for failure.'

   He raised his hand to stab down at her. Something fluttered. A green movement - a tiny bird, then another. He glanced up. Another came, flitting around his head.

  
'Use surprise!
' They were Fectur's own words, from long ago.
'Use it as a friend, an ally, a weapon. Use it to seize your enemy by the throat and hold him rigid for that brief moment it takes to drive your blade into his heart and spill forth his life. Surprise is a good but fickle friend. It demands nothing less than your full and absolute devotion upon the instant it gives itself to you. Ignore it, disregard the instant, and it will desert you. Surprise gives no second chance. You will be lost.'

   In the instant that Fectur drew back Issul reached for the dagger at her belt. There were more little birds now, a cloud before her enemy's eyes. Issul's dagger thrust up, hard, deep beneath his ribs. Again,

   and again,

  
and again.

   The tiny green birds faded, as if they had never been. Fectur sagged to one knee,
then toppled into an awkward sitting position, a queer sigh issuing from his lungs. His glazed eyes found Issul's. He seemed surprised. With effort his gaze shifted to Pader Luminis who had arrived at Issul's side.

   'I knew you, Fectur,' Issul said, breathing hard and grimacing against the pain of his blows. 'And I knew above all that I could not beat you alone.'

   Fectur sagged lower, then slowly rolled onto his back. A bubble of dark blood burst at his lips, then another.

   'I . . . am . . . proud,' he breathed.

   'Why, Fectur? Why?' Issul cried. 'Why all this?'