The Fate of the Fallen (The Song of the Tears Book 1) (79 page)

‘It’s a wonder you still have your hands,’ rumbled Zham.
‘The touch of Reaper crisped Vivimord’s belly like a roast pig, and he’s a
great mancer.’

‘Father protected me, I suppose,’ said Nish.

‘Power of – tears has grown mightily since –
beware!’ said Flydd. ‘Anything coming to you?’

‘Not a thing.’

Maelys’s eyes met Zham’s. He was standing between the
columns, holding his enormous sword. He gave her an encouraging smile, and it
warmed her. She still had one friend left. Colm was grimly practising strokes
with his notched blade; was he mentally using it on her?

‘Nish,’ she said, ‘what if you used your clearsight to see
what’s happened to Xervish’s Art?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ There was a long silence while
Nish strained until a muscle began to jump in his jaw. ‘I can’t see anything.’

Panic was creeping over Maelys, suffocating her, but she
couldn’t give in to it. Whenever she wavered, the thought of Fyllis in the
hands of Jal-Nish’s torturers stiffened her spine for one last try.

‘What about using
me
?’
she said.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Nish.

‘I’m not sure I do, either, but something strange happened
to Flydd during renewal last night. After he’d used the fourth crystal, he had
to draw on me. He took my hand and I could feel the heat running up my arm to
my heart … the strength being drawn out of me …’

‘How does that help?’

‘What if he didn’t just take from me? What if he gave as
well?’

Nish frowned, the flickering crystal lighting the furrows
across his forehead. ‘Xervish? Could Maelys be the woman in red you were raving
about?’

‘She isn’t wearing red.’

‘Perhaps, in the fever, she seemed to be.’

Flydd shook his head vigorously, then winced. ‘The woman in
red looked nothing like Maelys. She wasn’t beautiful; her face was stern and
arrogant; and she was bigger, taller, and older.’

Maelys stared at Flydd. He thought she was beautiful? No one
had ever said that before.

‘Did you give anything to Maelys?’ Nish persisted.

‘Can’t remember what happened during renewal,’ Flydd said
hoarsely. ‘Few mancers ever do.’

‘Is it the kind of thing you might have done?’

‘Not unless I was desperate. What mancer would willingly
give away the least fraction of his Art, knowing he might never get it back?’

‘But you were desperate, Xervish,’ Maelys said softly,
glancing over her shoulder at the barrier. Jal-Nish could return at any second.
‘Nish, use your clearsight on me,
quickly
.’

He put his hands around her skull, above her ears, and
Maelys shivered at his touch. Nish didn’t press hard, nor hold his hands there
long, and when he drew away there was an odd look in his eyes.

‘Xervish, I think you did pass something to Maelys, and yet
…’

‘My Art?’ Flydd said hoarsely. ‘My precious Art?’

Maelys hadn’t realised that it meant so much to him, though
when she thought about it, to have been a great mancer for so long, and then to
lose it in a moment, must be like losing a limb. No, worse, for a man with no
legs can walk with crutches, but losing one’s Art would be like going back to
the helplessness of infancy.

‘There’s something not right, though.’ Nish swallowed.

‘I’ve lost my Art!’ Flydd cried. ‘The one thing that has
sustained me all my life. I’m naked without it.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Nish was staring alternately at
Flydd, then Maelys. ‘My clearsight tells me that there’s
more
of you now, Xervish.’

‘That’s absurd. If I’ve passed my gift to her, there should
be less of me.’

‘Can you remember doing that?’

‘I can’t remember anything save the woman coming into me.
She had strange eyes – a reddish purple … now what does that remind me
of?’

‘Can you take your talent back from me?’ said Maelys.

‘Not without the Art … though there may be a way to use it
where it lies,’ said Flydd. ‘Look deeper, quick.’

Nish put his hands on Maelys again, and shook his head. ‘I
can’t tell. My clearsight is too feeble.’

‘If only there were a way to strengthen it,’ said Maelys,
musing on what had been said. And how could there be
more
of Flydd when he’d lost his Art? That didn’t make sense.

‘If we could eat rock, we could chew our way to freedom!’
sneered Colm.

‘There is a way,’ said Nish, ignoring him, ‘though I’m not
sure I’ve got the courage to try it.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ said Flydd. ‘Your father won’t save you this
time, Nish.’

Maelys didn’t know what they were talking about. ‘I’ll try
anything if it helps to save my family.’

‘Not this way,’ said Nish. ‘I won’t let you.’

Flydd’s eyes were on Maelys. ‘I do believe she would, Nish.
She’s braver than any of us.’

‘Just tell me what to do,’ snapped Maelys.

Thump
. Something
struck the barrier from the outside and it cracked like an ancient bowl. Nish
was staring at it, his fists clenched rigidly at his sides and his jaw muscles
standing out. He turned to her, and something shone in his eyes. Admiration?
Surely not from Nish? Now he let out a long breath, but the fine hairs stirred
on the back of Maelys’s neck – what was he going to do?

He eased himself into the deep shadows to the left of the opening,
crouched and pulled up great handfuls of dead moss until he was covered in it.

‘Nish?’ said Maelys.

‘There’s only one hope left,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s do or
die this time and I don’t care which.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Stay back; distract Father so he thinks I’ve escaped. As
soon as he breaks through, scream my name and leave the rest to me.’

‘To the wall,’ hissed Zham, sweeping them together in his
long arms and thrusting them backwards as the clay seal began to crack and fall
out. ‘Pretend Nish has gone through the hidden door. When Jal-Nish comes in, we
all attack him at once.’

Fragments crashed to the floor and misty light flooded in.
Maelys reached out towards the wall and yelled, ‘Nish?’ as shrilly as she
could.

‘What the –?’ cried Jal-Nish, then leapt to the floor
of the cave.

Maelys spun around, trying to maintain the pretence that
Nish had disappeared. Jal-Nish came forwards, staring at the closed door. ‘How
did he get away?’

‘Get him!’ roared Zham, hurling himself at Jal-Nish.

Nish propelled himself to his feet. Jal-Nish spun around,
sure he was under attack, but Nish wasn’t going for him. He dived and thrust
his left hand deep into Reaper.

And shrieked.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ian Irvine was born in Bathurst in 1950, and educated
at Chevalier College and the University of Sydney, where he took a PhD in
marine science.

 
After working as
an environmental project manager, Ian set up his own consulting firm in 1986,
carrying out studies for clients in Australia and overseas. He has worked in
many countries in the Asia-Pacific region. An expert in marine pollution, Ian
has developed some of Australia’s national guidelines for the protection of the
oceanic environment and continues to work in this field.

 
Ian lives with
his family in northern New South Wales. His 11-book epic fantasy series,
comprising
The View from the Mirror
,
The Well of Echoes
and
The Song of the Tears
, has been
published Australia, the UK, the US and in many translations, and has sold over
a million copies. He is currently working on the long-awaited sequel to
The View from the Mirror
.

 
Ian can be
contacted at
https://www.facebook.com/ianirvine.author

 
His web site is
http://www.ian-irvine.com

 
Goodreads page:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/153703.Ian_Irvine

OTHER BOOKS BY IAN IRVINE

Epic fantasy

THE THREE
WORLDS SEQUENCE

THE VIEW FROM THE MIRROR QUARTET

 
A Shadow on the Glass

 
The Tower on the Rift

 
Dark is the Moon

 
The Way Between the Worlds

 
THE WELL
OF ECHOES QUARTET

 
Geomancer

 
Tetrarch

 
Scrutator

 
Chimaera

 
SONG OF
THE TEARS TRILOGY

 
Torments of the Traitor

 
The Curse on the Chosen

 
The Destiny of the Dead

Other Epic
Fantasy

THE TAINTED REALM TRILOGY

 
Vengeance

 
Rebellion

 
Justice

 
Thrillers about catastrophic climate change

 
THE HUMAN RITES TRILOGY

 
The Last Albatross

 
Terminator Gene

 
The Life Lottery

For younger readers

 
THE RUNCIBLE JONES QUARTET

 
Runcible Jones, The Gate to Nowhere

 
Runcible Jones and The Buried City

 
Runcible Jones and the Frozen Compass

 
Runcible Jones and the Backwards
Hourglass

 
THE GRIM
AND GRIMMER QUARTET

 
The Headless Highwayman

 
The Grasping Goblin

 
The Desperate Dwarf

 
The Calamitous Queen

 
For primary readers

 
THE SORCERER’S TOWER

 
Thorn Castle

 
Giant’s Lair

 
Black Crypt

 
Wizardry Crag

NOTES

The Calendar
:
Santhenar’s year is about 395.7 days (adjusted to 396) and contains twelve
months, each of them thirty-three days.

Ell
: An ell
is a small (and approximate) measure of distance, about the length of a finger
joint.

League
: A
league is about five thousand paces.

Span
: A span
is the distance spanned by the stretched arms of a tall man, roughly two paces
or six feet.