The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (65 page)

‘Are you prepared to pay that price?’ she said, so softly
that the shrieking wind carried her words away and she had to repeat herself.

He looked every way but at her. ‘It’s so very tempting. You
can’t imagine how much I’ve always wanted to be an important man, a leader,
someone people looked up to. I know it’s weak of me but –’

‘Can’t I?’ she said, deliberately softly this time.

He didn’t hear, or ignored her. ‘I can resist those
temptations, just. But –’

Her inner chill deepened and she fought the urge to block
her ears, for she knew what he was going to say and couldn’t bear to hear it.
Horror spread though her veins like her blood crystallising to ice.

‘Father has offered me the deepest desire of my heart,’ he
whispered.

Don’t say a thing. Don’t ask what he means – just turn
away and run as fast as you can. But she didn’t. ‘What is the deepest desire of
your heart, Nish?’ His eyes were like pools of despair, or longing. She
couldn’t tell which, in the dim light.

‘To have the love of my life back again. And I don’t know
what to do.’

She wanted to smack him until he came to his senses. His
obsession had driven him over the edge. She took him by the arms and shook him,
unable to contain her anger any longer. ‘Why are you telling me this, Nish?
What do you expect me to say – that it could actually happen? It can’t,
and we both know it.’

He didn’t answer, though she thought his cheeks grew a
trifle darker. No, no, no! Surely he wasn’t asking for her approval? ‘And you’d
betray everything you’ve ever fought for, as well as the faith of all those
people who’ve suffered and died for the Deliverer,
for a dead woman
?’ she hissed.

‘You don’t understand. You can’t understand.’

Maelys lost it. ‘How would you know what I understand?
You’ve never taken the time to bother with me. And what’s so special about you?
What makes your feelings so unique, so elevated, so
noble
?’ She spat the words out. ‘You’re sick, Nish, and I’m not
listening to another word of it. Go to your precious father, or stay, but stop
whining and begging us to sanction your choices. What kind of a man are you
anyway? You’re no better than Monkshart, or … or
Vomix
!’

She turned to stalk away before she lost what little
remained of her dignity, until out of the corner of her eye she saw Nish
squeezing his skull between the heels of his hands and reeling about,
dangerously close to the edge. Momentarily she thought he was putting on an act,
but the pain on his face was unmistakable. She caught him by the arm and
dragged him away.

‘He’s back,’ Nish mumbled through a locked jaw. ‘He’s back
and I can’t get rid of him. It hurts; it hurts.’ His eyes were staring into
infinity. ‘Oh, Irisis,’ he whispered. ‘Irisis, Irisis, Irisis.’

Maelys shook him, but couldn’t break the trance, or
possession. She slapped his face; it made no difference. Taking his head
between her hands, she roared, ‘Get out of his head, Jal-Nish,’ right in his
face.

Nish’s head jerked. She let go; his eyes focussed on her and
he slowly took his hands away. ‘I don’t know what you did, but he’s gone. I
feel like a normal man again.’ He put his arms around her and hugged her
tightly; like a brother would.

It didn’t mean he cared for her, nor did it erase what she’d
just seen. It was too late, anyway, and it no longer mattered, since she’d
never be doing her duty with him now. She felt only relief, and pulled away
before he did. ‘Come on.’

They walked a third of the way around the cloverleaf-shaped
rim in silence. Maelys saw army camp fires all the way. Once a flappeter shot
up over the cliff not far ahead, bucking wildly as it rode the updraughts. Its
rider seemed to be scanning the centre of the plateau with night glasses, but shortly
it banked, curving away and down again without showing signs of seeing them.

After watching it out of sight, Nish said, ‘Please don’t say
anything to Flydd, or the others. It’s my private torment. I’d die if they
knew.’

‘Do you mean about Irisis, or your father tempting you?’

‘Both. But mainly Irisis.’

After a long hesitation she said reluctantly, ‘All right.’
It didn’t matter now. Let him take it to the grave, if that’s what he really
planned to do. ‘Irisis is dead, Nish. You do understand that.’

‘Of course I do! I saw her slain.’

‘And the dead can’t come back to life. No power can restore
a life once it’s been lost. So this obsession of yours –’ At the
expression on his face she hastily rephrased. ‘What I meant was, your father
can’t give Irisis back to you, so how can he have any hold over you?’

‘I know that, but when he’s in my head I can’t see it.
Father is the very prince of deceivers … No, wait! I’ve just seen the way.’

Maelys clenched her fists. He was further gone than she’d
thought; totally delusional. ‘Nish, Irisis is dead –’

‘I’m not talking about Irisis,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m
talking about Xervish. It’s the answer – the one way out of here. Come
on!’ He raced off.

She ran after him, catching him as they reached the hut.
Nish thrust the door wide. Flydd, who was warming a goblet by the peat fire,
looked up sharply. Zham lay on the floor in the shadows, asleep, while Colm was
sitting at the table, shaving a length of red amber-wood into curls. He glanced
at Nish, then her, and must have read the gulf between them for he gave Maelys
a sympathetic smile.

She went across and sat beside him, saying quietly, ‘It’s
over, Colm. I’m done with him. I’m free – until Jal-Nish comes.’

Colm began to say something but was drowned out by Nish who,
after standing uncertainly for a while, said, ‘Surr! I’ve found the answer
–
renewal
.’

‘What are you talking about,
boy
?’ growled Flydd, sniffing his goblet.

Nish flushed. ‘Rejuvenation of a mancer’s ageing body by the
Secret Art. It would give you the strength to use the escape –’

‘I know what renewal is,’ Flydd snapped. ‘And what it does.
It’s one of the most degrading Arts of all. All mancers who cast the renewal
spell upon themselves were either corrupt beforehand or corrupted by taking it,
and long ago I swore a solemn oath that I would never resort to it. When a man
grows old, he dies, thus making room for the young. That’s been the way of the
world since time began.’

‘People have accused me of offering hope to the world,
Xervish,’ Nish said quietly, though with a determination he’d lacked
previously, ‘then breaking my word. And they were right. I did make that solemn
declaration ten years ago, in memory of Irisis, yet I was going to repudiate my
oath because I was too afraid. Afraid to hope and have hope dashed. Afraid to
try. Rather, I chose to slink away like a craven cur, until others, better than
me, forced me to
remember my duty
.’

Flydd’s scarred and death-like face grew black as he
listened, and at the end he exploded. ‘You miserable little worm! You
snivelling, puling wretch! You dare to lecture me, a former scrutator, on my
duty? I’m not so feeble that I can’t flog you until you beg for mercy like the
whining little turd you are. I damn well might.’

Colm and Zham came to their feet. Nish took a step backwards
and Maelys could see his resolve weakening under his old friend’s fury. To her
own surprise she moved in beside Nish and, standing shoulder to shoulder, took
a deep breath. Her knees were shaking. She’d been taught to respect legitimate
authority and she’d never met anyone with as much natural authority as Flydd,
but he was wrong. If renewal was the only hope left, he had to be convinced to
take it, for the whole world was at stake.

‘I know a thing about duty, Xervish, and I say Nish is
right. If you flog him, you’ll have to flog me too.’ Her voice cracked. She’d
seen men, and once a woman, flogged by Vomix’s troops in the market square, and
still flinched when she thought about it.

‘Go and check the clefts!’ snarled Flydd, with such ferocity
that even Zham and Colm took involuntary steps backwards. ‘Now!’ They went out,
most reluctantly. When they were gone Flydd went on, ‘I’ll flog you too,
Maelys, if that’s what it takes to convince him.
I will not take renewal!
’

Maelys screwed her eyes shut. She couldn’t believe he was
serious, not at such a time as this, and after her demure upbringing it was
unthinkable to defy such a great and powerful figure, but she had to find a
way. After lecturing Flydd as she had, backing down would make a hypocrite out
of her. She must persist, no matter the consequences.

She straightened her back, tilted up her chin and looked him
fair in the eye. ‘Do what you will, Xervish, for I cannot turn my back on what
I know to be right.’

They went eye to eye for a minute or two, which was even
harder, for Flydd was a master of that game who had broken scrutators at it,
and his cloudy eyes gave nothing away. But Maelys could not give in either, and
though her knees were wobbling like clock pendulums, and her belly felt as
though a full-grown slurchie was gnawing through it, she had to hold her nerve.
Only Flydd could save them now, so he must take renewal.

Eventually he gave a mocking laugh, as though the
camaraderie they’d shared earlier had been coldly calculated; meaningless.
‘Surely you don’t think you can best
me
at this mind game, you silly little girl?’

Nish’s teeth were chattering. He’d seen Flydd at the height
of his powers and doubtless knew just what he could do, but Maelys put Nish’s
fears out of mind. Why would Flydd resort to taunts unless his own resolve was
weakening? She chose to think so, anyway. Hers was, too. The pressure was too
much and she was going to crack. She had to take the assault to him now, while
she could.

She tightened her will another notch and stepped forwards
until she was standing breast to chest, staring up into his eyes and willing
him to look away. They held that pose for several minutes, the longest of her
life. Flydd grinned crookedly, but it looked a trifle forced and that gave her
hope.

‘Maybe I am a silly little girl, but I’m not going to give
up, Xervish.’

His cloudy eyes drifted fractionally so that his gaze
circled around hers. He
was
weakening. She went up on her toes and his eyes were slow to follow hers. Flydd
was no longer staring directly into her eyes, but rather in the vicinity of her
lower lashes. She chose to interpret that as a weakening, that he’d lowered his
eyes, and peered directly into them.

Again his gaze slid almost imperceptibly down, and she knew she
had him. ‘You broke,’ she said softly, not crowing, for it was not that kind of
victory.

After a draining eternity he said, ‘I broke.’ He bowed his
head, panting. ‘And you, my dear, sweet Maelys, belong with the very bravest
foes I’ve ever encountered. You’re a formidable gir– young woman, and
such strength deserves its audience. Do you realise what you’re asking, when
you ask me to take renewal?’

‘No, Xervish, I have no idea.’

‘If you did, you’d be less eager to put me through it. The
renewal spell is ancient, yet little used by even the most greedy mancers, for
it kills as many as survive it, and some who do survive wish they hadn’t.
Self-harm and suicide are common among those to survive renewal, while many
have been crippled or driven out of their wits by it.’

He was right. How little she knew or understood.

Flydd went on. ‘It’s one of the most excruciatingly painful
spells ever used upon a human being. So painful that I who, as you see written
upon my body, suffered brutal tortures as a young man, have nightmares thinking
about it.

‘And even if I could summon the power to work such a
desperate and dangerous spell,
and it
succeeded
, I’d still be trapped on this pinnacle without allies, for
Jal-Nish will fall upon the Defiance any day now and wipe them out to the last
woman and the last child. So what’s the point of putting myself through the
agony?’

No one spoke. Maelys was quelled. How could she require him
to suffer such pain for such a slim chance of success? Their cause was lost,
and she’d made her choice, but what right did she have to impose her will on
him? Why not let the old man end his life with whatever dignity he had left?
Because that would mean letting Jal-Nish win, and she could not.

‘Because your giving up would put out the lights forever,
Xervish. There’s no hope for the world unless we create it, here and now. Think
of the young people who will one day take your place; think of the children.
Would you have them grow up in a world without hope, if we had the means, or
even the slenderest chance, of offering hope to them? We must try, Xervish.’
She reached out her small hand to his scarred one, and he took it. ‘We can do
no less.’

‘Is there hope, though? Is there any at all?’

‘Just a grain, surr,’ said Nish. ‘It’s the tiniest flicker,
but it does exist. Maelys saw it in the Pit of Possibilities and I believe
her.’

‘I’d like to believe,’ said Flydd. He turned to Maelys.
‘Well?’

‘I saw into the God-Emperor’s mind when he was looking into
the tears.’

‘Are you sure he didn’t
let
you in?’

‘I – Yes, I’m sure. He does have a weakness, and he’s
afraid. He hasn’t robbed the world of all its Arts. Most, but not all. He
hasn’t crushed all his enemies yet. And as Monkshart told Nish, nothing goes to
nothing.’

‘Nothing goes to nothing,’ Flydd mused. ‘Indeed not. And
everything has its antithesis.’

Maelys started, for it reminded her of her speculations
after escaping from Monkshart’s tent.

‘That’s right,’ she cried. ‘Monkshart and Phrune talked
about it but they never followed the idea through.’

‘And you did?’ said Flydd, looking puzzled.

‘Yes, and if that’s true, then somewhere in the world
– hidden, transmuted perhaps – there must lie the antithesis to the
tears, something that can be used to nullify their power.’