The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (21 page)

Could
fleshly
deprivation
be part of his trouble? The prune-mouthed aunts had often
spoken scornfully about men’s appetites, and Maelys wondered if doing that duty
with him might be the best way to get through to him.

Her heart began to race. Apart from the time when she’d
caught him staring at her bosom, he’d studiously avoided looking at her figure,
and it was clear he was never going to make any kind of approach.

The aunts had also sneered about how easily led men were,
through a woman’s wiles. Maelys wasn’t convinced; her father had been a strong
man who knew his own mind, but she couldn’t see any other option for herself.
Since Nish was never going to make the first move, she had to try and seduce
him.

The sun was low now. She went over what Aunt Haga had told
her as she searched the barren landscape for a safe camp site. The sides of the
valley sloped steeply here and were covered in grey scree with an occasional
spindly bush. She hadn’t seen a cave in days, and they couldn’t camp on the
windswept slope where there was neither water, shelter nor fuel for a fire.
Further ahead the river angled through a gorge that looked even more
inhospitable.

Rurr-shyve was labouring now and couldn’t go much further,
for it hadn’t fed well in days and was starting to eye her ever more pointedly.
It turned the corner, fighting the strengthening wind, and entered the gorge.
The sun disappeared.

Maelys pulled her coat more tightly about her, thinking that
they’d have to camp on the slope no matter what, which at least would put off
her seduction duty for another day, when the gorge opened out into a steep,
forested valley. To the left a series of caves extended along a band of white
rock.

Rurr-shyve put its long neck down and headed for the river.
After it had drunk and fed on a wiry water weed strung with float bladders that
crackled and popped as it chewed, Maelys tethered it in the shelter of some
rocks while Nish went up to the caves to set up camp, silent as usual.

She climbed up and inspected the caves. The left and middle
ones were just shallow niches that the wind eddied through, but the right-hand
cave was deeper, with a high, sloping roof that would convey the smoke out, and
it was dry and sheltered from the wind by a rock buttress shaped like the rear
half of a buffalo.

‘We’ll sleep warm tonight, for once,’ she said. And
protected from Rurr-shyve’s alien stares. She couldn’t possibly seduce Nish
with it looking on.

Nish was shivering fitfully. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be
warm again.’ He began carrying armloads of dry wood up and stacking them for
the fire.

While he got it going Maelys cut more wood with Hinneltyne’s
hatchet, extending the stack in a curve so their sleeping environment would be
as cosy as possible. She fetched water from the river and gathered a shirt-f
of mussels, twisting them off rocks just below the water’s edge. There were no
fruits, vegetables or nuts to be gathered at this time of year, though she did
find green herbs in a boggy patch by the water.

Then, as the sun set, black fish began to jump near the
shore and, accomplished gleaner that she was, on the fourth try she scooped one
out of the air with an improvised hand net. It was a handsome fish, large
enough for both of them, so she quickly gutted it, wrapped it in the herbs and
took it up with the other provender to cook in the coals.

It was the best she’d eaten in months, and Nish appreciated
it too; he didn’t leave a scrap and licked his fingers afterwards. She poured
him tea she’d made from one of the herbs, took a mug for herself and settled
back until he’d finished it. And then … No, first she needed to bathe. She’d
avoided doing so for the past few days because it had been so cold, but she
couldn’t bear to come to him unclean.

‘I’m going down to the river to wash,’ she said.

He continued staring into the fire, so she took the
fur-lined cloak and went down to the water, immersing herself in it for as long
as she could bear the cold. As she came out, Rurr-shyve lifted its head and
gave her a long stare. She hastily turned her back, dried herself on her
clothes, rinsed them and wrapped herself in the cloak.

It won’t work.

She spun around. Rurr-shyve was just an outline in the
starlight but it was still staring at her. ‘Go away!’

He’s not for you. You
know he isn’t.

‘Shut up and mind your own business.’

It
is
my business
. It was laughing at her
again.

She went up, heart thudding, jaw clenched, mouth dry. Nish
hadn’t moved. She gave him a tentative smile. He didn’t smile back and her
heart sank. She couldn’t do it; but she had to. After hanging her wet clothes
on a length of cord stretched between two rocks, she warmed her freezing hands
and feet at the fire. Her feet were blue and took ages to warm up, yet her face
felt hot, inflamed. It felt strange to be naked under the cloak, and dangerous,
like setting off on a journey to a foreign land without a guide.

No, Nish would be her guide. She knew from the stories she’d
read about him that he’d been a gentle, loving man, though she’d seen precious
little of it. She sat down beside him, though not too close.

How to begin? You must be subtle, Aunt Haga had said, though
not too subtle, for men can be slow on the uptake. Talk to him, show him you
like him, praise him. Haga had also explained the merits of wine in seduction,
for both parties. Maelys wished she had some now.

Talk to him, but what about? It had to be something
positive. After the way he’d reacted the other night she was reluctant to bring
up his failed rescue at the village.

‘I’ve read your tale many times,’ she said quietly, edging a
little closer and turning to face him. The cloak fell open from ankle to knee
and she hastily twitched it closed, though she needn’t have bothered. He kept
his eyes averted.

‘What tale?’ he said, turning to her in puzzlement.

‘
The Tale of Nish and
Irisis
. It’s famous …’

It was the worst thing she could have said, for at the
mention of Irisis’s name such pain racked him that she had to look away. He
doubled over and began rocking back and forth.

Tonight was not the night, though her relief was tinged by
guilt. After a while she edged closer, reached out and touched him on the
shoulder. ‘Nish, are you all right?’

He shuddered and straightened up. ‘Who wrote our tale?’

‘The teller, Mindelmy. It was the last tale he wrote; he was
beheaded for it. I first read it when I was a kid.’

From the look on his face, he still regarded her as one.
‘What does it say … about me, I mean?’ His eyes warned her not to mention
Irisis again. ‘If you can remember it.’

‘I’ve read it so many times I could recite it word for word.
It tells of your part in the last three years of the war. It’s a forbidden
tale; I could have been put to death for having it.’

‘Even as a child?’ he said wonderingly.

‘Even so.’

‘And yet you still read it; kept it?’

‘Yes.’

‘You must have been a brave little girl.’ The compliment
sounded condescending, though she didn’t think he intended it to be. ‘So Father
has forbidden anyone to talk about my life,’ Nish mused. ‘He can’t tolerate the
thought of a rival …’

‘You were a great hero of the war … and because of the way
the tale ends –’ Why had she mentioned that?

He didn’t react this time. ‘You mean the promise to
overthrow my father.’

‘Yes. But everyone knows it now. Would you like me to recite
some of the tale?’

‘How long is it?’

‘Five hundred and ninety-two pages.’

‘Another time,’ he said, less gruffly than before.

It gave her heart. Perhaps she might be able to go through
with her plan after all. Praise him. ‘You must have been brave too.’

‘I was terrified out of my wits most of the time. I’m not
naturally brave at all. I often had to force myself to go on.’

‘That’s what bravery means,’ she said quietly. ‘I have to
force myself too. Every minute of every day. And even now,’ she said, almost
inaudibly.

His ears were keen. ‘What do you mean?’

Maelys blushed. ‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘Everything is so very
hard. This journey; finding food; the future …’

‘Tell me about yourself, Maelys,’ he said kindly.

‘There isn’t anything new to tell. I told you everything
before.’

‘I don’t remember much; because of the brainstorm, I dare
say.’

She went back to the beginning, telling him about her clan,
though not its name or where Nifferlin was, just in case he was taken back to
his father. She described the manor, her happy childhood marred by the loss of
so many young men in the war, and the nightmare that followed after the
God-Emperor seized power.

She paused but he didn’t say anything, so she went on to
talk about her expectations once she was grown up – to marry well and run
her manor, farms and orchards, and how those dreams had gradually been crushed,
the clan name falling so low that all hope of a respectable liaison was lost.

‘I never gave up hope,’ she said, staring into the fire.
‘Not completely. But now …’

Suddenly Maelys felt overcome and began to weep for all
she’d grown up to expect as her right, but could never have; for ending up on
this dismal flight to nowhere that, realistically, could only end one way; and
most of all for being forced into this deceitful position with the man she’d so
admired, and even now was so far above her.

He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘Come on, it’s not
entirely hopeless. We’re free, you and I, and he hasn’t found us yet. Here, dry
your eyes.’

He pulled his hand up into the sleeve of his shirt and
dabbed at her face with the cuff. She wiped her eyes, pulled the sleeve up and
took hold of his wrist with her cold hand. His eyes softened, and for the first
time she knew he really cared about her.

Do it, an inner voice urged her. It’ll never be easier than
it is now. He wants you. She swayed towards him.

‘Maelys,’ he said, holding his arms out. She went to him in
a rush, raising her chin and tilting her head backwards so he could kiss her,
but he moved to one side. She saw the puzzled look in his eyes as his face went
past hers and he put his arms around her in a brotherly, comforting way.

It was going wrong, as she’d known it would. He didn’t
desire her at all. He was just being kind. Or had he failed to get the message?
He gave her a squeeze, began to draw away, and Maelys knew she had to send him
a signal he couldn’t possibly mistake. She held onto him, breathed into his ear
then licked it with the tip of her tongue as Aunt Haga had instructed her.

Nish recoiled so quickly that Maelys lost her balance, fell
backwards and the cloak came open all the way. He sprang to his feet, staring
down at her and breathing heavily.

‘Cover yourself!’ he said coldly. ‘What kind of a woman are
you – you know my heart is given to another. Don’t
ever
come near me again.’

It was the most mortifying moment of her life. Maelys sat
up, her treacherous face burning, jerked the cloak closed and nodded stiffly as
Nish stalked away into the darkness. She wanted to do the same. No, she wanted
to crawl into a hole and die.

She lay by the fire for ages, listening to his agonised
cries echoing back and forth between the steep walls of the canyon. She
couldn’t have slept if she’d wanted to, for she was too afraid it would bring
on another of those hallucinatory nightmares.

Finally silence fell, so complete that she began to feel
anxious about him. In this mood he might have done anything. She crept down to
the river bank to make sure he was all right. There he was, sitting on a rock
by the water, exposed to the biting wind, looking utterly desolate. His lips
were dark – with blood?

‘Nish,’ she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry –’

He turned to her, though his eyes showed no recognition. He was
too far gone. ‘Father still has Irisis,’ he rasped. ‘My beautiful Irisis,
perfectly preserved in a crystal coffin, as though she’s just sleeping. She
sacrificed herself to bring him down ... and I’ve got to help her complete her
destiny ... ’ He cried out, then, wrenchingly, ‘
I’ve got to have her back
.’

Maelys’s skin crawled. He was out of his mind. She backed
away but his eyes looked right through her.

FOURTEEN

Nish couldn’t think straight, for the blood was
pounding in his head like a drumbeat. How could Maelys have thought he’d be
interested in
her
? How dare she
insult Irisis’s memory so?

His head began to whirl and his lover’s face appeared to him
as if in a dream, but it dissolved into the recurring nightmare of the
execution, followed by the unbearable horror of her preserved body in the
crystal coffin. He closed his eyes but the vision grew stronger and clearer
until he could even see the thread-like scar where her head had been rejoined
to her neck. He screamed, over and over and over, and couldn’t stop until he
began to taste blood in the back of his mouth.

It was a long time before he realised that the vision was
gone. He sat down shakily, trying to focus on the reflections of starlight on
the water, but saw Maelys instead, weeping on her knees, then on her back with
the cloak fallen open like some cheap, perfumed strumpet.

But that didn’t fit either. The attempted seduction was so
clumsy that it was clear she’d never done it before and, from the awful look on
her face afterwards, she hadn’t wanted to. She didn’t care for him; she was
just doing what her aunts had told her, to doubly ensure his gratitude. It
would have worked in the olden days – before Irisis.

He blinked and Irisis was back, her live and dead faces
tumbling over each other and sending such waves of longing and despair through
him that he started screaming again, and couldn’t stop until another vision
abruptly cut off both his agony and his self-pity.