The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (32 page)

She wasn’t convinced about Nish’s envisioned future, either.
He’d told her about it the afternoon after it had happened, while Monkshart and
Phrune were up in the village. She hadn’t said anything, for Nish looked a
decade younger. There was colour in his cheeks for the first time, and a spring
in his step she’d not seen before.

Maelys had intended to question him about that night, and
how he’d ended up at the Pit in the first place, but she could never get him
alone. Night or day, Monkshart and Phrune were always with him, deep in
discussion over the coming campaign. They stopped talking as she entered the
pavilion, glaring at her as if she were an interloper.

Her questions were answered with polite nothings, even by
Nish. The afternoon after his vision in the Pit he’d been as excited as a
child; he’d even hugged her, but since then he’d become progressively
withdrawn, as if she had no more part to play in his life and they were going
their separate ways like the most casual of acquaintances. It hurt, after all
they’d been through together, and she began to wonder if Monkshart had cast an
enthralment over Nish to make him forget her.

Monkshart had made his feelings clear from the beginning
– Maelys was unworthy of Nish, would distract him from his great quest
and must be separated from him at any cost. Once that happened, she surmised,
Monkshart’s lies would destroy her in Nish’s eyes, and even if his quest did
succeed, her family would get nothing out of it. Indeed, they would be in as
much danger as if Nish failed, and everything she’d done since leaving home
would have been for nothing.

That couldn’t be borne. She had to find a way to rescue the
situation, though how could she possibly outwit such a cunning foe? She sat in
her room for hour after hour with nothing to do but brood. Monkshart’s sudden
transformation to Nish’s humble servant wasn’t credible. He was up to
something. She needed to know more about the Pit of Possibilities, and whether
he could manipulate what was seen there. Perhaps he planned to betray Nish for
the reward, or the God-Emperor’s favour.

Or, most chilling of all, what if Monkshart had lied about
his parting with Jal-Nish, and still remained loyal to him? Monkshart might
have been put here to establish the Defiance, so as to lure all the malcontents
and rebels on Santhenar into the God-Emperor’s web. Everything he’d done might
have been part of a long-range plan. How could anyone truly know?

However, two things were perfectly clear. First and most
importantly, if she didn’t act now, her family was lost. Secondly, and despite
everything Monkshart had said, she felt sure that Nish’s life was also in
danger. He was being used and, once Monkshart gained what he was after, Nish
would be disposed of – or given up to his father.

Wait – Monkshart’s agony on hearing of the loss of the
other Defiance outposts had seemed genuine, so unless he was the most
consummate actor of all time, he couldn’t be secretly serving Jal-Nish, could
he? Yet since returning from the Pit of Possibilities, he’d looked like the cat
lapping at the bowl of cream. How could that be, when he was trapped here with
Jal-Nish’s net closing on him? Two explanations came to mind. Either he was
Jal-Nish’s man, or he had a plan to escape. But if Monkshart did, he wouldn’t
be taking her.

Jal-Nish’s attack could come at any time, so Monkshart must
have a secret escape route. She had to get to Nish before they fled, and she
could only do that when everyone was asleep, but each night Phrune locked her
chamber.

‘Jil?’ Maelys said as the girl brought her dinner that
evening, ‘can you do something for me?’

‘Of course, Lady Maelys.’ She stood waiting.

‘It’s – it’s my lover, Nish,’ Maelys lied, colouring.
She wasn’t practiced in deception and had never spoken about such intimacies
before, but was hoping that Jil’s romantic nature would make her sympathetic.

‘He’s so handsome, Lady Maelys,’ said Jil.

That wasn’t how Maelys would have described Nish. Attractive
was the best that could be said for him. ‘And I’m a lucky woman. At least
–’ She put her hand over her heart and sighed heavily. ‘Oh, Jil, they
won’t let me see him. Phrune says I’ve got to wait, and I do understand. Nish
has to become the Deliverer. It’s more important than anything I want, but …’
Another sigh.

‘Do you miss him, Lady Maelys?’

‘More than I can ever say.’ She took Jil’s hand. ‘If I could
be with Nish tonight, just for a little while, I
hope
I’ll be able to bear the terrible separation to come, when
Monkshart takes him away to begin the Great Defiance and tear down the false
God-Emperor. But what if … what if …?’ Maelys choked, and it wasn’t feigned.
‘What if they fail and he never comes back?’

Jil’s soft heart was touched, then a look of scandalised awe
crossed her face. ‘Do you wish to go to your lover’s room? To – to
lie with him
, unwed?’

Maelys’s face grew hot. It was always giving her away. ‘I
do,’ she lied, though it wasn’t really a lie. ‘It might be the very last time I
see him. Do you think I’m wicked?’

‘I – no – he’s the Deliverer, Lady Maelys!’ Jil
flushed, looked confused, then lowered her head. ‘It’s not my place to judge
the doings of the mighty, but how could it be wrong, the night before he goes
off to war?’

So tonight
was
the
last night. ‘I think so too, Jil.’ Maelys lowered her voice. ‘I hate to ask but
… can you help me?’

Jil didn’t answer straight away, but stared at the floor,
shuffling her bare feet. Maelys could imagine what she was thinking. Jil’s
punishment would be dire if her mistress was found outside her room.

‘I –’ Jil began.

‘I quite understand – it’s too much to ask …’

‘I will do it,’ said Jil, looking hurt at Maelys’s
assumption. ‘For the Deliverer, and for love. I’ll come at the first hour after
midnight, and again at the third hour. You must be back by then or it will go
very ill for me.’

Maelys could imagine how ill. She embraced the thin girl.
‘Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.’

Something mischievous flashed in the girl’s eyes. She
grinned, then bowed and went out.

Maelys was exhausted, for she’d not slept well since
she came here, but she was afraid to nap in case she missed the subtle sound of
the key in the lock. The minutes passed like hours, and every one raised
another problem. What if Jil didn’t come? What if Phrune heard her, or
Monkshart had already fled with Nish?

The key turned so quietly that she barely heard it. Maelys
slipped off the bed and opened the door. The walls of the corridor were touched
by slivers of reflected moonlight from the pavilion.

‘You look beautiful, Lady Maelys,’ said Jil.

In this light, at least. Maelys touched the girl’s hand in
thanks then tiptoed barefoot to Nish’s room. She looked back: Jil was staring
at her, though Maelys couldn’t read her expression. She opened Nish’s door and
slipped inside.

His room was pitch dark. She could hear steady breathing, so
unlike his tortured sleep on the way to Tifferfyte. She took a step towards him
then stopped, realising what she was about to do to him. To win Nish back to
her side she must convince him that the future he’d seen was a lie, but that
would destroy the only peace of mind he’d had in ten years. And what if she
were wrong? What if that future truly was his destiny, and she prevented him
from achieving it?

Maelys hesitated, one foot frozen in mid-step. If only she
had her own map of the future. Then it hit her. She must take Nish back to the
Pit of Possibilities and let him see for himself, without Monkshart’s
interference. If Nish saw the same vision, he could be sure it was the true
one. But what if he saw something completely different?

Nish’s steady breathing changed; the bedclothes rustled and
he sat up. She caught a whiff of his masculine scent and her nerves tingled.

‘Who’s there? Is that you, Maelys?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly, wondering how he could tell. ‘It’s
me.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I had to talk to you. I’m so afraid. They won’t let me near
you, Nish. They’re isolating you from me so you’ll have to rely on them
–’

‘I don’t
have
to
rely on anyone!’ he said sharply.

She’d touched on a sensitive issue, evidently. ‘I meant …
Oh, Nish, they lock me in my room at night, and I’m terrified what they’re
going to do to me once you’re gone.’

‘They wouldn’t dare harm you –’ he began.

‘How do you know? Monkshart has looked down on me from the
beginning. I’m not worthy of you; I can’t be allowed to distract you, and you
know how ruthless he is. He’ll order me thrown into the pit or –’

He drew a sharp breath. He’d been so caught up in
Monkshart’s plans that he’d not given her a thought, and that hurt after all
they’d been through together.

‘Or give me up to Vomix. Once you’re gone they’ll be rid of
me, one way or the other.’

He didn’t reply, but he was breathing heavily now.

‘You’re the only friend I’ve got, Nish, and if you can’t
help me, I’m dead.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

She felt her way forwards until her knees encountered the
edge of the bed, then crouched beside it. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I
want you to come down to the Pit of Possibilities with me, and look again.’

A long silence, then he ground out, ‘Why are you trying to
bring me down?’

He always took things the wrong way. ‘Nish, please.’ She
reached out, but at her touch he jerked his arm away. ‘I’m not trying to bring
you down. I care about you more than anyone, save only my little sister.’

‘You’re trying to rob me of the one good thing that’s
happened for me since Irisis was murdered.’

It was too much. ‘Oh, stop whining!’ she hissed. ‘I think
Monkshart sent you a false future in the Pit – the one he knew you wanted
to see. Don’t you want to know the truth? Or do you find his lies more
comfortable?’

The bed shook and for an awful moment she thought he was
going to strike her, then he drew back, in the grip of such powerful emotions
that he was nearly choking. Maelys, appalled at what she’d done, said softly,
‘Nish, I’m so sorry.’

‘You mistake me,’ he said eventually, fighting to control
his voice. ‘For an instant, you reminded me of my beloved. She wouldn’t put up
with my self-pity either.’ She heard a rustle as he wiped his face on the
sheet, and the bedsprings creaked. ‘But Maelys, I’ve never before experienced
such … serenity as I’ve felt since I came up from the Pit knowing where my true
path lies. If I lose that, what will I have left?’

‘If you lose it, all you’ve really lost was a lie,’ she
said. ‘Yet if you go down to the Pit again you may come up with the truth.
There’s a comfort in truth, no matter how hard it may be, that you can never
find in the most beautiful of lies. Will you come down now? I don’t have much
time.’

He got up, silently, and went out. She followed him down the
dark path, but at the rope ladder that dangled into the Pit Nish hesitated, his
face ominously lit by the glow from below. ‘Go first.’

‘Me?’ Her heart lurched. ‘Why?’

‘I want to know what the Pit of Possibilities says about
your future. And so, I’m sure, do you.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Surely you’re not afraid?’ he said gently.

She was; terrified to see something she wouldn’t be able to
face. Maelys felt sure the future was going to be short and tragic, for herself
as well as her family, but as long as it was unclear she could cling to hope
like the optimist she was. ‘You’re just trying to delay going in yourself,’ she
said desperately.

‘I neglected you and I’m trying to make up for it. Off you
go.’

There was no choice; she couldn’t bear for him to think of
her as a coward. ‘What do I do when I get there?’

He told her, reciting Monkshart’s warnings about the
Mistmurk, and sleeping in the pit. Maelys swallowed, then slowly climbed down
the rope ladder, inspected her surroundings uneasily, and settled herself
against the wall.

‘It takes a while,’ Nish called down.

It didn’t. She closed her eyes, and choked. She was looking
down on the crater of Tifferfyte, where a gigantic army was advancing towards
the foot of the mountain from all sides, in the moonlight. This future could be
happening right now. Flappeters were circling not far out, while beyond them
hovered three air-dreadnoughts, including a red and black monstrosity that she
felt sure was the God-Emperor’s personal craft.

Her viewpoint shifted; the image blurred and reformed. It
was dawn now but the sky had clouded over and she couldn’t see either
flappeters or air-dreadnoughts through the misty rain. She could see the army,
though, advancing up the mountain in an eerie silence.

The view shifted again, now extending down the slope as if
seen by one of the defenders behind the rude stone wall surrounding the
village, now looking left then right at the other guards. They were armed only
with scythes, mattocks and hammers, and an occasional pitted sword or rustic
bow. They wouldn’t last ten minutes against this army.

And she was to die with them. Was it her looking out? It
wasn’t – the hands holding the mattock were brawny man’s hands, with
coarse black hair on their backs. She scanned the village but saw neither
Monkshart, Phrune or Nish, and they weren’t at the crest of the crater either.
Monkshart must have fled with them, leaving everyone else to die.

The army raised their swords and pikes and, with a massed
roar that Maelys could almost hear, charged. She wrenched her eyes open. The
vision vanished and there was nothing in the chamber but the greenish miasma
rising from the Mistmurk.

‘Are you all right?’ Nish called.

She was panting, but Maelys willed herself to stay calm.
‘Yes.
I’m
all right; for now.’