Songs of the Earth (64 page)

‘The count is correct. Elder Tercel confirmed it for me. Under the fourth amendment to the Curial Code as established at the Grand Rede, in times of emergency the Lord Provost assumes the rights and responsibilities of a full Elder of the Suvaeon Order.’ Brother Chronicler’s voice dropped to a whisper that rang loud as a shout in the sudden stillness of the hall. ‘Twenty-eight to fifty-four means you have no quorum.’

A heartbeat’s silence, then the Rede Hall exploded into uproar.

Alderan embraced the Song and merged his mind into the weaving. Gair was correct; something was very wrong. The taut fabric en-folding him was pulled askew, creating a point of weakness. One of the Masters anchoring it was failing. Dear Goddess. Quickly he searched along the web of minds and counted the patterns one by one. To his right Masen’s colours appeared and the strain eased a little, but even with his old friend in the weave, the shield continued to weaken.

Not enough
, Masen said.
What’s happening
?

I wish I knew. Everyone’s here, but I can feel the weave being torn
.

Where’s the Leahn?

I sent him down off the wall. He could feel it happening, Masen, even shielded. I’ve never known a talent like his
.

Except one
.

Except for one
.

In front of him the demons chattered furiously, redoubling their efforts to claw through the shield. Purplish smears suffused the weave now, and each discharge was palpably weaker. Scaly forms piled on top of one another, as if sheer weight of numbers would prevail. Or as if they knew something that the defenders did not.

Masen, there’s going to be a breach, right here! Get every Master you can find to reinforce the weaving!

Feet clattered on the parapet stairs and new colours appeared along the shield. Strength washed into him, fresh water into a stagnant pool, and Alderan drew deeply on the Song and flung it out into the weave.

What the hell is happening inside?
he demanded of anyone who could hear.

Donata’s voice floated back, as calm as ever.
One of the adepts is coming, I’ll ask. Did you hear it too?

I heard it
.

The weaving lurched and pain stabbed Alderan’s brain. Colours along the shield flickered then flared as their owners threw themselves back into it. Another stab. The demonic chittering increased in pitch and the creatures poured towards a point on his left. A surge of power charged the shield, but instead of the incandescent flash he expected, a line appeared down the curve of the weave as if drawn by the hand of the Goddess herself. Then it opened up.

Breach!
Alderan yelled. The Song came eagerly to his call and spilled into the weave. Masen, Barin and a dozen others did the same, but it was not enough to stop the spiny limbs clutching at the edges of the breach, allowing misshapen bodies to spill through. Almost at once a silvery veil appeared above the adepts in the yard below as someone had the presence of mind to erect a shield over them. Alderan thanked the saints for whoever it was who’d kept their wits about them, then recoiled in horror when the demons turned on the unprotected Masters instead.

A pattern of colours winked out over by the stables. Alderan felt the wrench, but the weaving held. How much of the Song could he spare to defend himself? Behind him he heard the distinctive sound of steel on leather. Gair touched his arm briefly, then the Leahn was off, longsword swinging into the approaching swarm. Elsewhere on the parapet lightning arced across the stones and the air filled with the stench of char.

We must close this, Alderan!
Masen cried.
We can deal with the ones under the shield, as long as no more get in
.

It’ll take more power than we’ve got
.

There’s no one left, my friend, unless you want to start using the children
.

Alderan swore foully.
Damn you, Savin, you bastard!

Already the adepts’ shield had begun to bulge and discolour. They didn’t have much time. From across the yard an unfamiliar voice barked orders and Alderan spared a handful of seconds to glance round. A young man with a rapier was directing parties of apprentices to wherever the imps were thickest, and they set to with whatever could be wielded as a weapon: spears, quarter-staves, even rakes and hoes from the kitchen garden. Those who had swords were paired with those who hadn’t; in twos and threes they set about the demons with the dedication of veterans.

Alderan offered up a prayer. Some of those voices yelling defiance were alarmingly treble.

Still more demons pushed through the breach, and another set of colours winked out. Pain flickered back and forth across the weaving like scarlet lightning.

Someone’s holding it open!
Masen sounded strained.

Who?

Donata!

That’s impossible!

There’s something not right about her colours, Alderan. She’s not entirely in the weaving
.

Alderan made himself look along the roof-walk towards Donata’s station. Through the smoke he saw a figure standing at the wall, head tipped back. It couldn’t be her weaving, surely. His mind refused to accept treachery from her. He skimmed a thought out along the shield towards the breach. A gateway, being held open to admit the demons, and Donata’s colours were threaded through it. Impossible. He probed the weave; the colours shimmered and settled, but Masen was right, they were odd somehow.

Then he saw a dark shape on the pale stone. Watercolours spilled around it, bright as broken butterflies. He moved in closer. Donata’s face was ashen, and her scalp and temples were criss-crossed with scratches. Dark hair was tangled in her hooked, bloody fingers. In her place stood Darin. His body twitched with the forces that raced through it, and his sunny features had slumped into a horrified mask. Alderan heard the Song in him, wild and skirling and utterly mad.

Now he could see what Masen had sensed. The colours were Donata’s, but apart from the illusion of her presence, Donata was gone, and only a fragment of Darin remained, just enough to focus the shield weaving until such time as Savin chose to tear a hole in it. Somehow he had managed to suborn the Belisthan’s mind and use it to pierce the shield from within.

He is nothing but a tool to you – not a person, not one of the Goddess’ creatures, as worthy of life as any other, but a tool. A means to an end
. Alderan trembled with a rage he had thought he would never feel again.

It’s not Donata
, he told Masen.
Her colours, yes, but it’s not her underneath them
.

We must close that gateway
.

I know. I’ll call the adepts
.

Gair saw Tanith at the end of the walkway by the stables. She knelt with a fallen Master’s head in her lap, struggling to work a Healing on him while maintaining a small defensive shield around them both. He hefted his longsword and chopped his way through. Scales and talons pattered down onto the walk, Chapterhouse’s snowy stone stained now with yellow and black. The Astolan flashed him a grateful look, then let her shield go and bent over the fallen Master. Brendan, Gair saw, grey-faced and horribly wounded in the abdomen. Wielding his sword, he kept the demons at bay whilst she worked to staunch the bleeding.

‘Thank you.’ She was breathless.

‘Is he going to be all right?’

A rust-coloured imp darted along the walk and he cleaved its head in two then kicked the body off the parapet.

‘I’ve done all I can up here. He’s stable for the moment.’

Gair looked back at her. Her hands and gown were bloody and there was a streak of soot on her brow.

‘We can’t hold for long against this, Tanith. For every five I kill there’re another ten coming through. You’ve got to let me help Alderan close the breach.’

‘It would put you in harm’s way, and that’s a violation of my oath.’

‘There’s no choice.’ Another yammering creature met the edge of his blade. ‘Take down the shield.’

She chewed her lip. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to find behind it. You might not even be able to reach the Song.’

‘Do it,
please
. You know how strong I am – they
need
me.’

Golden hands reached up, seized his head, and her presence swept through him like an avenging angel, then the shield was gone and Gair’s brain filled with nightmares.

Darkness and pain washed over him. He dropped the sword, crashed to his knees as fragments of memories, things buried and long forgotten, were dragged back out into the light, the sweetest of memories torn and commingled with childhood horrors. Nausea clawed up from his guts and he vomited.

When the violent cramping receded, Gair reached for the Song, which thrummed underneath the dissonance in his thoughts. It was so close – but every time he tried to grasp it, he missed. Gritting his teeth, he willed it to come to him.

Astonishing music filled him, clean as mountain air. The nightmares were pushed back and masked by the joyful power he now held. Above him, he saw the weave anchored on the sobbing minds either side of him. Without quite knowing how he did it, he touched the intricate fabric and slid into it.

Colours streamed around him. Some he recognised, some he did not. Some flickered through garish parodies of their usual shades as incredible pressures were brought to bear upon them; others were so dimmed they were close to being extinguished. The Song rose up and flowed out along his awareness, and anchor by anchor, he stretched out his arms and gathered them up.

Who is that?
demanded an unfamiliar voice.

It’s Gair, Masen
. Alderan.
Are you all right, lad?

Not really, but I can hold it long enough for you to close the breach
.

Someone’s weaving a Gateway. I’ll need all the strength you can give me
.

I’ve a better idea
, Masen interrupted.
Drop the shield altogether and re-weave it without Donata’s colours. If we force it closed, we might not have anyone to question afterwards
.

Alderan paused for only a second.
Agreed. Stay with me as long as you can, Gair
.

What had happened to Donata? No time to ask. The Song poured through Gair in a river, though he couldn’t help but dread the cacophony he knew awaited him when he eventually let it go. But that was then, not now, and in the now he rode it as a ship rides on the wings of the wind.

Ready?
asked Masen.

I’m ready
.

The shield winked out. Demons surged forward – and with the chime of a tapped wine glass, the transparent dome snapped back into being, catching Savin’s creatures as it closed and slicing them into pieces. Fragments tumbled down, showering the defenders with filth. Outside, the horde yowled in frustration.

Charge the shield!
Alderan’s voice rang out.
Now!

For an instant, every shred of Gair’s being flashed white-hot. The flow of the Song did not diminish one iota, but he had less control now. The other Masters were holding him; he was merely a conduit. That was all he could be, at the moment. It took everything he had to resist being swept away.