“But you are not expendable either, my lady!” Serge said.
“No,” Maximilian said very quietly, taking Ishbel’s hand. “She is not.”
“I am slightly more expendable,” said Ishbel. “And this needs to be done.”
“There is a book .” Doyle said. “Someone mentioned a book of power.”
“The Book of the Soulenai,” said Avaldamon. “It is an ancient Elcho Falling treasure. It has been sitting inside Elcho Falling for these past months, together with its special guardian —”
Ishbel and Maximilian looked oddly at Avaldamon at that.
“— who will serve to show Ishbel the way.”
“Guardian?” Ishbel said.
“You will know more,” said Avaldamon, “when you meet him.”
Ishbel gave him an irritated look, but questioned him no more.
“When?” said Maximilian.
“Tonight,” said Avaldamon. “Until then we wait.”
They sat in silence, eating the last of their breakfast. Serge eventually rose, pacing about the room until he halted before the room’s single window and looked toward the now rapidly rising sun.
“Maximilian!” Serge said. “Look! Look at this great foulness!”
Everyone leapt to their feet and came to the window. It faced east, yet they could see a triangular shadow moving over the courtyard . . . eastward, toward the sun.
DarkGlass Mountain.
Probing.
It moved across to the far side of the courtyard, then began to fall backward, closer and closer to the window.
Everyone reflexively stepped away.
The shadow crept to the wall, then they could feel it rising up the wall toward the windowsill.
Maximilian stepped forward and slammed shut the interior shutters, bolting them securely.
“It knows we are here,” he said.
Chapter 18
Elcho Falling
Axis met with Georgdi, Egalion, Insharah, StarHeaven, StarDrifter and the Isembaardian general, Ezekiel. Garth Baxtor and Zeboath, the two senior physicians, were in attendance as well. Ezekiel had positioned himself slightly apart from the others and looked unhappy. A few months ago he had been the most senior general in the Tyrant Isaiah’s massive invading army. Now here he was, largely irrelevant, under the command of the Tencendorian StarMan, Axis SunSoar. Invited to this gathering, he believed, only as a courtesy.
Everyone looked tired, if not completely exhausted.
“Garth, Zeboath,” Axis said, not even bothering to welcome everyone or make any kind of statement, “a report?”
“Everyone who was likely to die has done so,” Garth said. “We have —” he looked at Zeboath for confirmation “— perhaps some forty wounded Strike Force members in conditions ranging from the bothersome to the severe, but none now likely to succumb from their injuries, and .” He trailed off, trying to recall the numbers from his fatigued mind.
“Another hundred and fifty or so,” said Zeboath. “Mostly Isembaardians caught by Lealfast arrows on their escape into Elcho Falling. A few Outlanders injured when the Lealfast had attacked within Elcho Falling. Again, their injuries range from the least to the severe, but again, no more are likely to die.”
Axis nodded his thanks, then looked at StarHeaven. “The condition of the Strike Force?”
“We have two hundred and three left available and fit to fight, StarMan.”
Axis repressed a wince. The Lealfast had been deadly, indeed. “But on the other hand,” he said, “we have . . . scores of thousands of Outlanders, several thousands of the Emerald Guard,” Axis glanced at Egalion as he said this, remembering with admiration what the Emerald Guardsmen had achieved the night of the Lealfast attack, “and at least two hundred thousand Isembaardians. A not inconsiderable force.”
“And yet not one of which dares leaves Elcho Falling for fear of attack by the Lealfast,” Insharah said.
This time Axis could not repress a wince. That was just too painful a truth. “And our threats?” he said.
“The Lealfast,” said StarHeaven.
“A few million Skraelings headed our way,” said Georgdi.
“And the Dark Spire, eating its cancerous way through the only thing keeping us safe,” said Axis’ father, StarDrifter.
“Have you had time to study it?” Axis asked StarDrifter.
His father nodded. “But for little enlightenment. It is dark and it is powerful and I cannot understand it, Axis. Every Enchanter within Elcho Falling has studied it . . . to no avail. It is of Infinity, not the stars, and beyond our comprehension. It was a bad day, Axis, when the Lealfast were admitted into Elcho Falling.”
“And for that I take responsibility,” Axis said, his voice soft. It had been a long and exhausting night and day, even more emotionally than physically, and he had no strength left to prevaricate.
He sighed, leaning a little over the table to look at the others. “I hope that Maxel and Ishbel can do something for us. I hope that if they manage to destroy DarkGlass Mountain then suddenly, miraculously, good times shall arrive for us. But, in the meantime . . . thoughts?”
“Isaiah is headed our way,” Insharah said. “We need to think about aiding him.”
Axis nodded. “I know. But we can come back to this, for there are closer problems. What else?”
“Kezial is also out there,” Insharah said, referring to another renegade Isembaardian general who had fled Isaiah’s army and then gathered a rebellious army about him. They knew where the other renegade generals were: the witless Armat was now within Elcho Falling, and of no danger, and Lamiah was with Isaiah.
“And Ravenna,” Insharah continued. “Both of them are unknowns.”
“I take your point regarding Kezial,” said Axis, “but I doubt he has enough men to threaten Elcho Falling. And he’d also have to contend with the Lealfast, unless, of course, he decides to join them. But for the moment he is the least of my concerns. Ravenna? Did not Ishbel strip Ravenna of her power and banish her?”
“Don’t underestimate Ravenna,” Garth said. “Maybe she will be no problem . . . but don’t underestimate her. She has surprised us before.”
“Until she becomes a problem,” Axis said, “I will set worry about her aside. I —”
“Isn’t that what you did with the Lealfast?” Ezekiel said.
Axis had to fight to restrain his temper, which he did only by reminding himself that Ezekiel was right.
“Which is what I said about the Lealfast,” Axis said. “Garth, I want you and Insharah to tackle the problem of Ravenna. You both know her, probably best among us. You are the only ones likely to be able to forecast any threat from her. If you can think of any way she may be a danger, then let me know.”
Both men nodded.
“We need to do something about the Dark Spire,” StarDrifter said.
“I know that, StarDrifter!” Axis said. “Look, unless we can understand it, we can do nothing about it.”
“Can we try force?” Georgdi said. “I mean, has anyone actually tried taking an axe to it? Set a torch to it?”
“Not a torch!” several people said at once.
“We can’t risk the thing going up like a bonfire and setting Elcho Falling ablaze,” Axis added. “But force . . . I doubt it will make a difference, but . . . Ezekiel, perhaps you might like to take a squad of men down there and try it?”
It was not a request and Ezekiel gave a nod, rose, and left the room.
Axis watched him go, only speaking once the general had left the room. “I doubt it will make much difference,” Axis said. “The Dark Spire is a thing of power . . . I do not think either wishes or axes shall make it shatter.”
“There is someone,” Georgdi said, and Axis’ face hardened, “who can help us.”
Everyone save Axis looked at the Outlander general.
“Inardle,” Georgdi said. “She spoke with Axis earlier. She said that she could bring us the Skraelings as allies.”
“W
hat?” StarDrifter said. “You cannot trust her! The Skraelings as allies? That is the stuff of nightmares.”
Thank the stars, Axis thought, that I will have one ally in this, at least.
“How can she bring us the Skraelings?” said Insharah. He looked at Axis for a reply, but it was Georgdi who answered.
“She is half Skraeling,” he said. “She, as all the Lealfast, have lived among them for millennia. There must be some sense of kinship there.”
“The Lealfast loathe the Skraelings, and the Skraelings loathe them,” Axis said. “I cannot think how she can ’bring us‘ the Skraelings.”
“You cannot sit there,” Georgdi said, “and refuse to consider Inardle. Elcho Falling did not brand her a traitor, she has stayed when she could easily have left, she —”
“She could have saved the Strike Force,” Axis said, “but she did not!”
“And you know full well why she did not dare to approach you, Axis!” Georgdi said.
“ What? Now the decimation of the Strike Force is my fault?”
“Cease this!” Insharah said, striking the table with the flat of his hand. “We do not need to rest all our trust in Inardle, but we do need to consider her, the knowledge she can offer us, and what she has said about the Skraelings.”
The mood about the table now was tense. Eyes shifted carefully, and each individual wondered if the alliance within Elcho Falling was about to crumble into disarray.
“I apologise,” Axis said. “My reaction to Inardle is skewed by the fact that I had —” loved “— trusted her intimately.” He paused. “Yes, we should talk to her and see precisely what it is she has to offer. But maybe not me, not right now. There is too much bad feeling between us and that will skew anything that is said or decided. Insharah, will you and Georgdi talk with her? You have level heads and,” Axis’ mouth quirked, “no personal history with her to bias your decisions.”
Both men nodded, and the mood about the room relaxed a little, although StarDrifter looked unhappy at the thought of trusting Inardle again.
“Isaiah,” Axis said. “I worry about him. His knowledge and skills are invaluable, yet he is so exposed. We need to talk about what we can do to help Isaiah.”
“Maybe Inardle will know something,” Georgdi said.
Ezekiel ordered his men back from the Dark Spire, his voice harsh with frustration. They had tried axes and spades, and whatever other weapon came to hand, against it, but any blade or implement touching the spire would burst into flames, making the man who held it drop its handle and flinch back in shock.
There was nothing he, nor any man, could raise against it.
A half hour’s flight away, Eleanon sat on a patch of grassland, wrapped in wings and power and invisibility and a broad smile.
He had been communing with the Dark Spire, and it with him, when Ezekiel’s men had attacked it.
Their frustrated efforts had barely intruded upon the Dark Spire’s consciousness, which had given Eleanon his day’s smile.
He rose, stretching his wings, still grinning.
There was nothing Axis nor any who stood with him could do against the Dark Spire.
Just as there would be nothing Axis could do against Eleanon.
Chapter 19
The Outlands
The soldiers were striking camp, readying for the day’s ride northward.
Isaiah paced impatiently at the edge of the camp, looking at the sea of juit birds beyond. They were generally quiet save for a few squabbles, most contenting themselves with stretching and pruning.
None looked particularly discomforted to be here.
Isaiah knew relatively little about the birds. He had spent aeons as the god of the river, but the birds of Lake Juit? A mystery not even he could plumb. They simply existed, but had inhabited the reed beds of Lake Juit for so long, that Isaiah could not help but wonder if they had absorbed the mystery and magic of those borderlands into their very blood.
“What are they doing here, Isaiah?”
Isaiah turned, startled by Hereward’s appearance. He had seen little of his former palace kitchen steward, and reluctant companion, in the weeks since he’d joined up with Lamiah. She’d dined with himself and Lamiah on one or two occasions, but both men felt a little uncomfortable in her presence and she’d known it. Isaiah and Hereward’s companionship had never been easy, and both had grabbed the chance to go their separate ways the moment the opportunity arose.
Thinking about it, Isaiah realised this was the first time he’d seen her in two weeks, at least.
She looked well, far better than at any period since he’d met up with her on the banks of the Lhyl. She’d changed from her previous gauntness to a far more pleasant slimness, her hair was carefully dressed and the lines of pain around her eyes had all but vanished.
Isaiah glanced at her neck, where a Skraeling had sunk its claw under the One’s direction. The coin-shaped scar was still there, but it was fading, and soon would barely be noticeable at all.
“They have a purpose,” Isaiah said, “and I cannot help but think that purpose shall be good for us, but as to what it is .” He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Have you heard any news from Elcho Falling?”
“No, and it worries me.”
“No news from any of the forward scouts?”
“Where did you learn to interrogate so forcefully?”
“Any news?”
He sighed. “No. Hereward, surely you should be packing?”
“I am packed already, thank you. I am sorry to have taken up your time.”
Isaiah repressed another sigh. Always their relationship was fraught with so much tension and simmering dislike.
He wondered if Elcho Falling had any kitchens where Hereward would feel at home, then berated himself for the ungenerous thought.
“Isaiah?”
“Hmm?” Isaiah had been so lost in his thoughts it took him a moment to refocus on Hereward.
“What is that bird doing?”
Isaiah turned to look.
One of the juit birds had walked away from the vast pack toward Isaiah. There was an open space of some ten paces between the birds and the border of the camp, and the bird crossed to within two paces of Isaiah.
There it stopped.
It turned its head, very deliberately, and looked south.
Then, as deliberately, it turned its head and looked north.
Then it looked directly at Isaiah as if he should by now be getting the message.
Isaiah frowned.
“It is trying to tell you something,” Hereward said.
“I know that,” Isaiah snapped.
The bird went through the procedure again, looking south, then north, then at Isaiah.
Isaiah’s frown deepened.
Then suddenly the bird’s form blurred, and Isaiah thought he was looking at . . . at .
“Oh no!” Hereward wailed, and it was the fear in her voice that snapped Isaiah into full alert.
“Shetzah!” he said. “The Skraelings are moving north!”
They must be seething up from Isembaard toward Elcho Falling, and his army would be standing in their way.
Isaiah turned on his heel and ran back through the camp, shouting orders as he went.
The juit bird fluffed out its feathers, gave Hereward a cool look, then stalked back to the company of its fellows.
They rode through the day as hard as they could. Isaiah spent half his time reining in his horse at the rear of the column to stare south, and half the time spurring his horse forward to urge the men onward.
The force was mounted, for which Isaiah was unendingly grateful, for it meant they could push north fast, but that positive was countered by the fact that feeding for the horses was poor at this time of the year and if he pushed too hard the animals would begin to founder in exhaustion.
How far to Elcho Falling? Too far. Isaiah knew the Skraelings would catch them and that they would need to battle it out.
&nb
sp; How many men did he have? A little under one hundred thousand. Not enough to counter the millions of wraiths he knew must be surging northward.
Oh, and a flock of several million juit birds.
Isaiah had no idea what they would do, what they could do, but he feared it might not be enough against the sheer weight of the Skraeling numbers.
On those occasions when Isaiah stopped his horse to stare south, he thought he could just distinguish a brown haze at the limits of his vision.
Dust thrown up by the racing feet of the Skraelings?
It was tempting to march through the night. Isaiah knew he could not do that, but they camped late, resting uneasily, and Isaiah meant to push on well before dawn the next day.
That night, he quadrupled the sentries, and bade all who slept to keep their swords unsheathed at their sides.
To the south the Skraelings surged forward, intent on their purpose. They were to get to Elcho Falling and they were to eat everything in their path.
The One had instructed them, and they were as one with the One. They could feel his presence, strong and powerful, and they knew what they had to do.
Get to Elcho Falling. Eat anything in their way.
The instructions were simple enough, even for Skraelings.
There was something up ahead, they could smell it. A mass of men, trying to flee. They could smell the stink of fear.
The Skraelings smiled as they ran.
They would catch this great mass of men soon, and then life would be good.
Chapter 20
Isembaard
Ishbel and Maximilian sat alone among the reeds on the eastern side of what had once been the River Lhyl. It was dusk. They had moved here in the late afternoon, not caring that DarkGlass Mountain’s shadow tracked them the entire way.
The pyramid knew they were here. There was no point in hiding.
For a long time they had been silent. They had held hands, leaned close to each other, occasionally kissed.
“Ishbel —”
“Don’t say it, Maxel.”
“Ishbel, you found the unwinding of the Weeper difficult. What you face here is so infinitely worse.”