The Fathomless Fire (36 page)

Read The Fathomless Fire Online

Authors: Thomas Wharton

“The assault has begun,” he said, and there was a new tone in his voice now, of excitement, even eagerness. “This discussion will have to wait. It’s best that all of you come with me now.”

… know that you have come to the end of all things,
and that those who dare tread here soon find
how many ways there are for the bold to die…

– The Kantar

W
ILL AND HIS COMPANIONS
followed Corr and the old dwarf through the corridors, several armed Stormriders falling into step behind them, to the observation chamber where they had first been taken to meet the Sky Lord. Torches on poles blazed along the rim of the archway that looked out onto the valley of fire. Outside in the dark, rain was falling at a slant in the wind. More of the valley was visible now, as the wind had sheared away the steam and smoke, and Will could see further than he had before. The faint glow of distant fires glimmered at the edge of sight, and he wondered if they marked the rim of the unseen city of Adamant.

Two Stormriders in dark red capes stood on the platform, one a tall, bearded man and the other a grey-haired mordog with one missing hand that was capped with an iron spike. Will guessed that they were two of Corr’s lieutenants. The tall man was peering into the darkness through a spyglass. When Corr arrived, he bowed his head and handed his commander the spyglass. Corr stepped onto the observation platform, into the streaming rain. He looked through the spyglass a moment then lowered it and continued to gaze out into the rain. Three of the skyships, their hulls just visible in the red torchlight, were launching from platforms further above in the fortress wall.

“Report, Alfric,” Corr said.

“Dragons,” the bearded lieutenant said, with a quick, curious glance at Will and his companions. “They’re motherworms, Lord. Two for certain, perhaps more. And something’s happening below. The scoutship sighted Nightbane marching in columns to the rim of the valley, on both sides of us. Hundreds of them. Some are hauling heavy wagons. We can’t tell what they’re carrying: the loads are covered.”

“Why two columns?” Corr murmured, leaning out over the platform edge. Will followed his gaze for a while, then looked up again to watch the ships fade into the darkness.

“Where are the ships going?” he asked.

“They’ll rain lightning down on those columns,” Corr said. “They’ll break and scatter them.”

“What about these motherworms, Corr,” Finn said. “Are they a danger to your ships?”

“If they get too close, yes. But the lightning should prevent that.”

They waited in silence. Before long Will could see flashes of orange light in the distance.

“The motherworms,” said the mordog lieutenant. “They’re circling the ships now. Moving in.”

Flickering tongues of fire spouted here and there, then scattered into sparks and faded away, like a burst of fireworks. As if in answer, a jagged blade of white light stabbed the dark. Moments later thunder cracked and boomed. The darkness throbbed with light again, then several bolts shot out all at once, from one ship or several, Will couldn’t tell. For an instant night became day and they could see the dark hull of a ship and a huge winged shape above it, descending through the cloud and smoke. All went dark again. Then another lightning bolt flashed at the same instant that a second burst of many writhing flames rained down on the ship.

“No,” the bearded lieutenant said, his voice hollow.

The ship erupted into a blazing ball of orange light, blooming in the dark like a hideous flower. Swiftly the fireball shrank and darkened, became a roiling mass of red flame and billowing steam that slowly tumbled out of the sky. Moments later they saw it erupt again as what was left of the ship struck the unseen earth. Gouts of flame shot up and fell in a shower, burned for a short time and flickered out.

“There were Bourne folk on that ship,” Alfric said, turning away from the platform.

“Send out more ships, then,” Nonn said. “Send all of the ships.”

“Never mind the men on them,” Alfric muttered.

“Signal the captains to keep going, and send the rest of your men out on foot,” Nonn said to Corr, in a peremptory tone that made Will wonder who was really in command here. “They can flank the Nightbane and crush them. This is our chance.”

Corr peered out into the rain, then shook his head.

“We’ll wait for now,” he said. “Your people have braced this fortress to withstand the shaking of the earth. It will withstand their assault. The Nightbane will break on it like waves against a cliff, and when they do we’ll come forth and scatter those that remain.”

“But the
gaal
is out there,” the old dwarf rasped, thrusting a pointing finger into the dark. “That is where we must take the battle, to
them
. We’ve hidden in these crumbling halls too long already. If we do not seize this chance, we will lose everything.”

Corr did not look at Nonn but gazed out into the dark, straining forward as if the dwarf’s words were like a goad he could barely resist. At last he straightened, and shook his head.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “It’s too soon. I won’t make that mistake again.”

The dwarf was about to reply when someone cried, “
Worm!

Through the rain and smoke Will had a brief vision of a vast black form rising like a dark planet from the smoke below, a gaping mouth brimming with fire.

“Everyone get back!” Corr shouted.

Balor pulled Will away from the platform’s rim just in time. With a roar the mouth vomited a ball of bright flame that flew apart into many smaller blazing snakelike shapes.
Dragons
, Will thought as the wildman’s huge arm came around him and pulled him to the floor. As he fell he saw one of these small fiery dragons scrambling up the wall, another scuttling across the ceiling, spitting gobbets of flame. Then black smoke seared his vision and a stench of burning tar filled his nostrils. When he could see again, through watering eyes, a few sullen scraps of flame were flickering here and there on the walls and floor, as if the small fire-dragons had quickly burnt themselves almost to nothing. One of Corr’s men, clutching his blackened tunic sleeve and gasping in pain, was being helped from the chamber by another. Will heard a hissing sound and turned to see one of the dragons writhing on the floor near his feet. One of Corr’s men kicked it over the edge of the platform and it fell, crackling, into the rain.

Corr was brushing at his singed cloak and already striding back out onto the platform. The old dwarf cowered against one wall, his sunken eyes bright with fear.

“Where did the motherworm go?” Corr said. “Did anyone see?”

“It dropped,” someone shouted. “To the base of the walls. And there was a second one. I saw it.”

Corr leaned forward and peered over the side of the platform.

“Can’t see anything,” he growled.

“They were carrying something in their claws,” Alfric said.

“Chain,” Finn said. “I saw a coiled length of thick chain. And there was a rider on the first worm, I’m sure of it. Or more than one.”

“The motherworms never come this close to the walls,” Alfric said. “What in all the hells are they up to?”

“The chains,” Corr said, snapping shut the spyglass and turning to face his men. “They’re bolting chains to the sides of the fortress. Those wagons that the Nightbane were hauling were carrying winches.”

“For what purpose?” the mordog lieutenant said.

“To bring the fortress down,” Corr said.

“Is that possible?”

“I don’t intend to find out. Send a ship down to the base of the walls. Nonn, some of your folk must go as well. Those chains must be cut and the worms driven off.”

The dwarf climbed unsteadily to his feet.

“But there are two worms, Lord,” the mordog lieutenant said. “The crew won’t have a chance.”

“Send a ship now!” Corr roared. “And send another to those columns with a full contingent of men, and the wolves, too. Tell the captains to find the winches and destroy them.”

“My Lord, the wolf-keepers say that the new one, the big wolf we just brought in, is causing trouble. He won’t obey the keepers, and the others are following his lead.”

“Has he been fed the
gaal
?”

“Yes, Lord, but there hasn’t been time to give him enough. He’s still resisting.”

“Then give him more.”

“But … it is too soon. The keepers say that more
gaal
now will burn him up too quickly.”

“We don’t need him to last long. Have him given twice the dose.”

“No!” Will shouted. Finn gripped his arm to hold him back.

Corr stared at Will, his eyes narrowing.

“You don’t want the big wolf harmed. Why not?”

“He’s my friend,” Will said desperately. “If you hurt him, I’ll…”

“Your friend,” Corr said, his eyebrows rising. “So that’s why you’re here. You came looking for him. That’s what this whole expedition of yours was about, Finn. Now I see. The wolf is very important to you.”

Nonn was studying Will now, too, with a look of interest.

“Tell me, boy,” the dwarf said, “does the wolf understand our speech?”

Will said nothing.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Corr said. “Then I think we’ve found a better way to ensure his cooperation. You will tell him that he will fight for us, if he wants his freedom, and yours.”

Will shook his head slowly.

“I won’t do it,” he said.

Corr gazed at Will for a long moment.

“No, you won’t, will you? Very well. Commander, you have your orders. Make sure the keepers double the wolf’s dose of
gaal
.”

Will tore his arm out of Finn’s grasp.

“No!” he cried. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

Corr signalled to two of his men. They came forward and held Will’s arms.

“Corr, this is wrong,” Finn said. “You can’t.”

Corr turned to his brother.

“If this fortress comes down, we will all die. The Nightbane will break through our defences and overrun the plains and then they will come to the Bourne. Make no mistake about that. You said you would stand by me if I let your friends go. I give you my oath that when this battle is over, I will let them all return to Fable. The wolf, too, if he’s still alive.”

“When this battle is over, there will be nothing left!” Balor roared. “We should get everyone on board the ships and head south while we still can.”

Corr glanced darkly at Balor, then gestured to one of the guards who had followed them to the observation platform.

“Escort the wildman and the boy back to their quarters, and make sure they stay there.”

“Finn!” Balor shouted, as he was surrounded by four tall guardsmen with lightning staves.

Finn turned to Balor. His face was stricken and pale.

“Stay with Will,” he said. “Keep him safe.”

The truth was proclaimed in a thousand tongues, it was heralded by blaring trumpets and written in fiery letters in the sky. But only when it came as a whisper in the darkness did I hear it and answer.

– The Great Forest Book

“I
KNEW WE WOULD MEET AGAIN
,” Maya said.

They were sitting together in the little cottage. Rowen was at the table, numbly sipping a cup of tea but barely tasting it. Her grandmother was working at her loom, slowly unwinding a skein of thread that was wrapped around a short, sword-like wooden stick. As if in a dream, Rowen watched her grandmother’s hands working. She knew there were terrible things she still had to do something about, but for the moment, while her grandmother’s hands moved back and forth across the threads, those things seemed to be far away.

“I wish I could remember,” Rowen said. “I mean, remember … you.”

“I’m not surprised you don’t,” Grandmother said with a quick, smiling glance. “You were so young when I left. There’s no reason to feel bad about that.”

When Rowen had first recovered from her faint, Grandmother had led her to a chair, made her some tea, then listened to her rushed, jumbled tale of everything that had happened that had brought her here. Rowen told her of the journey with Will, and the warning Freya had brought from Whitewing Stonegrinder, and the mage Ammon Brax. Rowen took out her grandfather’s spectacles. She gave them to her grandmother, who looked at them wonderingly, with fear growing in her eyes. Haltingly, Rowen told how Grandfather had been taken by the thrawl. Maya listened, holding the spectacles in shaking hands, and then she wept. Rowen wept with her, but she felt strange, sharing her grief and fear with someone she didn’t remember. And it pained her when the old woman took up her weaving while they talked, as if the tapestry mattered as much as everything they had to say to one another.

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