Vergence (58 page)

A cluster of shapes flew from behind him, over his head, and Ebryn looked up involuntarily, expecting to see a flight of leatherwings, or perhaps Leth rejoining them. Shapes of clotted darkness — tangles of impossibly black cord — whipped past and plunged into the three young men who'd been sitting on the walkway above the stall, except now they knelt, and each held a crossbow pointing towards him.

Elouphe squealed, and someone shoved Ebryn from behind, almost pushing him over.

He turned to find the courtyard filled with running people. The monks were gone, replaced by armoured men carrying short swords. More vaulted down from the walkways, and from the corner of his eye he saw smaller groups charging through the upper entrances on either side.

Sash stood directly in front of him, facing away, and just below her, a broad shouldered armoured man. At the bottom of the stairs, Addae moved with the speed and precision of dancer, men falling in front of him, while near the fountain Elouphe reared up and flailed with four limbs, screeching as he tried to fend off another swordsman.

A short figure stood under the lower entrance archway, twenty yards away, hunched over a wooden staff at the centre of an explosion of smoky purple-black tendrils. Ebryn recognised him from the library — the one called Fla.

Sash staggered sideways and folded, reaching out an arm to grasp a stone urn at the side of the steps for support, and Ebryn lunged to catch her as a blade erupted through the neck of the soldier on the steps in front of them. The soldier spun away, showering red into the air, and Addae leapt past Ebryn to block those approaching from behind.

He felt his heart jump inside his chest, his arms felt loose and disconnected — useless. But years of training with Master Yale took over, and without conscious thought he started summoning a ward.

It felt like trying to lift a slippery ice-covered boulder many times his own weight, his efforts slid away from an impossibly vast obstacle. He'd forgotten about the nearby spike — double the height of a man, and made entirely of sevyric iron.

Even as he struggled, part of his mind seemed to detach, watching the unfolding fight dispassionately, as if from behind his own shoulder. Malign tentacles spiralled outwards from Fla, sweeping up soldiers and bystanders indiscriminately.

He saw Elouphe scramble towards the fountain, and fall in a mass of limbs, and Teblin heave his bulk over the balustrade into concealing shrubbery on the far side of the steps.

A half-dozen crossbowmen lining the top of the side wall trained their weapons on him and Addae. He could see a few of the soldiers had fallen, but the number of attackers increased as more entered the courtyard behind them.

It took him less than a heartbeat to realise they had no chance without their craft. Even with Addae, he could see no other hope against the odds they faced. He ducked down over Sash, turning his body to shield her, remembering the first time he'd vanquished a large chunk of sevyric iron — finding a way to encompass its boundaries.

He forced himself at the resistance, reaching out to find the limits of the sevyric block, using everything he'd learnt from Ben-gan to extend his reach. Instantly drenched in sweat, he felt as if his head would break open, dimly aware of burning golden threads bursting from the air around him. He cried out with the strain, and something shifted — like an avalanche precariously balanced. He slid to his knees, still holding Sash, as a wave of pain swept over him, throwing everything he had at the spike.

With a deafening crack, like the sound of a rock splitting, the resistance vanished.

The ground heaved violently, throwing nearly everybody off their feet, and his ward appeared abruptly to protect the space around the stairs.

Sash felt like a dead weight in his arms, a sticky wetness penetrated the front of his shirt. His body shook as he lowered her to the ground. There seemed to be blood everywhere, drenching the front of her top. He found it hard drawing breath, a new fear lodging inside him, like something hard caught in the centre of his chest.

“Addae, help,” he called hoarsely. “Sash is hurt—”

Addae was by his side before he'd finished speaking, pushing his hands aside, lifting her tunic. Blood flowed from a single narrow stab wound in her side, just below her ribs.

“How can it be like this?” Addae said.

“What do you mean?” Ebryn asked.

“Sashael should not be like this. The wound is slight, there are no vitals to pierce here—”

Fla let out a sound like a injured animal. He clutched his staff before him as if warding off a blow, and hobbled forward shaking violently, the single eye visible under the fold of his cloak focused on Sash.

All around them men, clambered back to their feet. A crossbow bolt brushed Fla's hood, but he seemed oblivious.

Ebryn found his eyes drawn involuntarily from Sash to Fla. He sensed something terribly wrong. Fla seemed to be going into some kind of convulsion, but Ebryn felt something else — as if a vast chthonic force had uncoiled in the ground beneath them, and was forcing its way upwards, sucking light and warmth from the air. Fla groaned as a swirl of glistening ebony motes erupted into the space between them, and, all at once the world skin ruptured.

The shock rippled along the membrane separating the reality of Vergence from the between, and struck with numbing force. Addae's head rocked as if bludgeoned, and prepared as he was, Ebryn's ward rippled, and nearly fractured. The cloud of fragments burst outwards, and in a heartbeat formed a vast dark corona around the middle of the square, sweeping over and around Ebryn's ward.

The armoured men halted as the darkening wave caught them, some in impossible postures, held in place by some powerful, but invisible, force. All movement outside the ward stopped, and a deadening silence replaced the confused noise of the fight.

Nothing happened for a long moment as Fla sank slowly to his knees, leaning heavily on his staff. Then the motes nearest men and plants grew, and Teblin screamed like a man on fire. The finest of jagged threads, as black as pitch, spread from each point, creating a host of tiny fractures in the air, each arcing towards the nearest living thing.

Ebryn held his breath as thousands of midnight cilia pushed downwards, like black lightning, towards his ward. But as he watched, the motes across the courtyard faded, and nearly everyone in sight collapsed. Only Addae remained on his feet.

A bird fell from the sky — a bundle of splayed wings and feathers, and Teblin rolled out of the concealing shrubbery sobbing. Ebryn knew with a choking certainty that every other living thing around them had died.

Addae recovered first, wheeling quickly to take in the entire courtyard.

“Addae, why is Sash like this?” Ebryn asked urgently.

Addae scooped up the nearest soldier's weapon and examined the edge of the blade, turning it in the light. He sniffed at the weapon, looked at Sash, then Ebryn, the lines in his face rigid.

“This blade has a venom on it,” Addae said, his tone grim. “I am sorry, my friend, there is no help for one who has this poison inside them.”

“There
must
be something,” Ebryn said, hearing the disbelief and fear in his own voice as if it belonged to somebody else.

“It is a poison of my homeland, nothing can be done.”

An iron resolution formed inside Ebryn, a determination not to give up, his mind racing to think of something, someone who might be able to help. “How long does she have?”

“The strongest will live half a day. No more.”

“No, she's strong,” Ebryn said. “She'll live, I'll make her live.”

Addae put out a hand, but Ebryn shook him off. “Ben-gan will know how to help Sash. See about the others — see about Elouphe.”

Help

E
BRYN STRUGGLED
up the last flight of stairs to the inner library, taking them two at a time, carrying Sash in his arms. His shirt stuck to his back, and the front soaked through where she'd been pressed against him.

At the top, the doors were inexplicably shut. He leant against them expecting them to give way, but they wouldn't budge. He could still feel Sash breathing, but the movements were rapid, and shallow.

He pressed his face against her cheek. She felt cold against his skin.

“Please don't die, were nearly there,” he whispered.

He stepped away, muscles shaking. He'd carried her hundreds of yards, and for most of it nearly at a run. To find the door blocked was almost too much to bear. It hadn't moved at all when he'd pressed on it, which it would have, if simply locked or barred.

Ebryn tried extending his awareness through the door, only to encounter the familiar damping effect of sevyric iron. He nearly started to fold it away, before he remembered it must be the manacles on Hoi and Sevoi.

The double doors were constructed from heavy metal-bound wood, and must have been sealed physically, he realised. Any casting holding it shut would have failed with so much sevyric iron nearby. Whatever had been done must have permanently cemented them in place. He'd need a battering ram to breach them.

Ebryn cast about desperately for another way through. He ran back down the stairs, beyond the range of the sevyric iron, extending his far-sensing left and right, feeling through the heavy stonework of the building to find another set of stairs. He strained, reaching out for any suggestion of a gap.

And he remembered the churlwood in Alobria, pushing aside the huge stone slabs covering their underground lairs, gathering around him, and watching from within shadowy pits. He didn't know the words to summon them, but in his need he reached out, and found the points of contact.

He knelt to free a hand, while supporting Sash, and a hard grip closed around his outstretched fingers. He imagined looking into those dark sunken eyes, the rich humus smell of something which looked like a living knot of tree roots, until a heavy mass grew before him, and a sour smell filled the stairway.

Where his fingers touched it, the churlwood's stone-hard skin glowed gold. As with all creatures of the wild, and of the green, no words were necessary. His need lent it urgency, and their purpose became one.

It stepped past him with heavy, deliberate footfalls, and when it reached the nearest door it leant forward to push. The door groaned under the strain but held fast.

Undeterred, the churlwood spread out against the door, half a dozen strong fingers exploring sideways, forcing their way through gaps in the stonework around the frame. With a loud splitting noise, the centre of the staircase cracked, almost down as far as Ebryn's feet, and the door burst. Sections of masonry fell, bouncing off the churlwood, and crashing to the floor. As the last fragment came to a rest, Ebryn release the churlwood to clear the way.

Gasping for breath, Ebryn staggered through the wreckage, and slid Sash onto the nearest table. Hoi stood clutching the back of a chair, looking wide-eyed at him. Sevoi sat, leaning back, narrowed eyes flicking between Ebryn and Sash, and back to the remnants of the door. At the far end of the room Suru stood next to Tuk-myrr, on the far side of the last table. She looked as if she'd been about to run.

“I need Ben-gan … where is he?”

“He's gone,” Hoi said.

“What do you mean — gone?” Ebryn asked.

Sevoi reached out a leisurely arm and waved it towards a far table. “He means Ben-gan has departed … left … vanished … gone.”

On the table Sevoi pointed at, Ebryn could see a solitary glow-globe, and a pair of manacles.

Ebryn thought he heard a distant commotion behind him, but ignored it. “Gone — how?”

“Well,” Sevoi said, clacking his own manacles together for emphasis. “It would seem the great Ben-gan never really had need of these after all. He put his there, sealed the door and wished us good luck, and I don't think he meant good luck dealing with you.”

Sevoi looked him over from head to foot and Ebryn took a deep breath to calm himself. Beyond the room the noises were louder — sounds of shouting and smashing wood, but he remained focused on Sash.

“She's poisoned. I need him. Do you know where he went?”

Sevoi go to his feet in a leisurely fashion, sauntered to the other side of the table, and looked down at Sash.

“Oh, dear, she doesn't look like she's going to last much longer, does she? And so pretty. Such a waste.”

Ebryn felt a sudden hatred for the man, unlike anything he'd ever felt for anyone in his life. He felt helpless, unsure what to do. He'd been so certain Ben-gan would know how to help.

“Fortunately, I know another way to save the girl.” Sevoi's lips curled as he looked at Ebryn. He raised both arms, allowing the sleeves of his robes to drop, showing his manacles. “There's just the small matter of these.”

“How do I know you'll tell me, if I remove them?” Ebryn asked.

“You'll just have to trust me,” Sevoi said. “I wouldn't wait too long. My ears tell me whatever Ben-gan shut the door against will be with us very soon.”

He could hear something scrabbling at the bottom of the stairs — Sevoi was right. Some chance was better than none and he knew, even without Sevoi telling him, Sash was in dire danger if he did nothing.