World's End (13 page)

This thing Kiown now possessed would not reveal its secrets in any hurry. The greater the artefact, the longer it usually took to solve the puzzle of its power. Kiown's hand was in his pocket yet again, stroking the thing. Already dearer to him than his own cock. I have a feeling this one
was
intended as a gift, whatever I said to him, Blain thought, fingering his beard irritably. Could he possibly have been chosen to keep the thing? Could the Invia have indeed been sent for him? No! Surely not …

He paused his reflections. That Minor dragon was nearby again. He could feel it as clearly as if feeling heat from breathed fire. Nearer the dragon came, then it shot away again. He quickly lost all sense of it.

Kiown, he noticed, stirred and looked off to the east. Interesting, Blain thought. He knew the dragon was nearby too.

The stallion put uneventful miles behind Siel through the night. A brief rain shower washed the last of her own blood from her hair. There was just enough light to show the road before them, but her head was turned constantly to the south, eager for a glimpse of the beings who'd healed her. The night showed little of Levaal South save the odd hint of luminous fog. Not even a sound seemed to come from that place, which poured its stillness and silence across World's End and into the north, just as it had poured its poisoned airs. Nonetheless, the temptation to turn her mount south and ride into that strange land began to grow in her.

There had been no sight of either Tormentors or Shadow across a landscape like a dark sea beyond the path. How slowly the hours crept by till at last the sky turned white again. About her here and there were ruins from wagons. It looked as if a marauding army had come through this place. But none of the spiked tracks in the ground looked fresh, and the only Tormentors she saw were dead ones.

With no warning the stallion reared up, whinnied in panic, and very nearly threw her off. She held on for life. Trained for battle, the stallion recovered quickly from what had shocked it
and veered off the road. She did not at first see what had bothered the horse, but now there stood a man on horseback. Except he was too large to be a man – his horse too was enormous. They blocked off the road, standing motionless and facing the southern world. His plate armour shone with its own light.

Siel was reminded of stories of the god Valour, who so many said did not exist at all. Indeed she had doubted it. Yet what else could this be? Drawing level as she passed him, and meeting his eyes, he spoke one word: ‘Caution.'

Once past him she looked back over her shoulder. Valour's steed – if Valour it was – stepped off the road gracefully, slowly, proudly. She knew it had been no happenstance vision – her horse had seen it too.

Caution.
Of what? She was indeed newly alert for the next mile or two, but the road was again hers alone. She began to doubt her own memories, until a high whinnying sound came from directly overhead; it was not unlike laughter. A shape ducked through the clouds' lowest layer, long and dark, seeming to ripple as it moved. Wings spread wide to either side of its long body. Siel's heart sank. Now she understood the reason for the warning.

Dyan the dragon descended, landing off the road some way ahead of her, feet pressing heavily down in knee-high grass. Siel's horse pulled to an uneasy halt despite her urging it on faster. The dragon's scales were a range of colours from creamy white to glittering blue. Upon its back were Stranger and a woman Siel did not at first recognise. Now she remembered – it was the Hunter who'd accosted her in the woods near the tower.

Dyan's eyes peered into Siel's, sparkling with light, his mouth curved up at the sides in its permanent grin. The two women
climbed down from him. Stranger's face wore clearly her profound misery. The Hunter stretched like a cat, pushing out her huge bust as if it were a weapon aimed at Siel. ‘Good morning,' she said, smiling. ‘Care for a ride?'

‘Valour is near,' Siel said, ignoring the women and looking into Dyan's eyes.

‘That cannot be, for I would sense him,' the dragon answered, belatedly adding, ‘Great Beauty.' This drew a laugh from Evelle. Stranger buried her face in her hands. ‘It is no less true to say to her, than to you both,' said the dragon. ‘You are
all
beautiful. Why must one be the greatest?'

‘Exactly,' said Evelle. ‘Why can't he love us all? Don't be greedy.'

‘Dragons' hearts are larger than those of men,' said Dyan. ‘There is more in them to share.' He shook himself like a dog, leathery ridges slapping against his hide, tail lashing around then settling in the grass.

‘What do you want with me?' said Siel, hoping she sounded bolder than she felt.

‘Many things, Great Beauty,' said Dyan.

‘Then why not take
her
with us too?' Stranger said bitterly.

‘No room.' Evelle smiled. ‘Unless we cast off some luggage. The luggage that always complains. Dyan, let's fly again. Show me these haiyens you speak of. I must see them! They sound interesting.'

‘They are not as special as you might think,' the dragon said ponderously, his tail lashing around the grass. ‘Their arts were taught them by a god who is not native to this plane at all, not native even to the South world. When you marvel at them, remember that. They are really not so different from you.' He nodded his head at Siel. ‘Ask her. She has seen them. I see signs of their arts upon her.'

‘O!' Evelle came nearer to Siel, peering at her with renewed curiosity. ‘Where are they? Where can we find them? What did they do to you?'

Siel put a hand on the curved blade in her waistband. Dyan said, ‘Go no closer to her, Evelle. She may hurt you.'

Evelle scoffed, then went on. ‘Where are the haiyens? Tell me. Then we'll leave you alone. Speak up. I like to cut people. Mostly men but sometimes women too.'

‘You will find them across the World's End boundary, I'm sure,' said Siel.

‘Aw. Dyan won't take us over there.'

‘Not yet,' said Dyan. His mouth opened, shockingly wide and red as he yawned, teeth brilliant white. ‘A time comes when I may cross, if I wish. I am undecided. It depends on whether the other dragons descend.'

Siel supposed the dragon would spot lies, if she told any; but the new people were probably no longer where she'd last seen them. So she pointed back the way she'd come and described the glen. Evelle smiled sweetly. ‘Good girl! No cutting for you. Come, Dyan. It sounds a quick flight.'

‘Do you wish to join me?' said Siel to Stranger.

Stranger looked at her sadly. ‘I accept that I must be tormented for a time. The novelty of his new interest will wear off. Soon, I believe.'

Evelle rolled her eyes. ‘O hush. Dyan saved your life.'

‘He saved me from
your
employer!'

Dyan's voice came louder and silenced them both. He spoke to Siel: ‘You and I shall meet again. If you go to the tower, beware the human casters there. Two or three, there are. For humans, they are strong. I shall hide myself from them next time – they will not sense my approach. Tell those who matter
enough to hear it that your land has a new lord and lady, king and queen, first among the Favoured peoples. Whatever titles you wish to give them. Their names are Aziel, daughter of the man-god Vous. And Eric, the Pilgrim of Otherworld. Soon they shall claim the castle from the mage who dwells there. A new Spirit has joined the others. Vous, humans have called him. Of Vous, we know little. Shall he be loyal to the power which made him possible? It was we, the dragons. But he is not what we envisioned. As a god, he has nothing like the personality he displayed as a human.'

Siel felt suddenly dizzy, as sick as she had after this creature had lured her to the woods. Dyan's wings fanned wide behind him. ‘Spread this news,' he said. ‘The cities shall do the new rulers' bidding, or they shall fall. The dragons shall be with the first Favoured peoples, in spirit and thought for a time, and in flesh soon enough. Blades raised against the Firstborn Favoured shall be deflected by hides of scale. Our eyes miss nothing. Be well, girl. It is a time of joy for my kind, and yours. Fear not.'

‘Ohh, interesting!' said Evelle, clapping her hands. She and Stranger climbed back onto Dyan's withers. The dragon launched itself again among the clouds.

Siel had lost track of time during the exchange. Head spinning, she urged the horse onwards.

Eric is lord? The idea was absurd! Dragons were capable of lies, jokes and errors, surely just as people were. But the words kept bounding through her mind:
Otherworld prince. Otherworld prince.

As the lightstone went dark Kiown stirred, jolting Blain out of a journey through his memories. ‘What is it, sapling?' he said. Kiown didn't answer, but for the first time in many hours put the dragon-made amulet back in his pocket and clutched his sword hilt.

Blain followed his gaze. There were people at the water's edge. Four of them. Women, Blain thought at first – slight of build, wearing hoods. Blain got up more nimbly than usual, the effects of the Invia blood he'd drunk not quite out of him yet.

One of the newcomers crouched at the tower moat's waves, tentatively poking a finger into the water. Another of them paused by Thaun's body and did something with her hands. Blain did not understand the gesture – some kind of spell? Why bother? Men did not get more convincingly dead than Thaun. Blain squinted for evidence of casting in the airs and saw none. The being removed from her clothing what was apparently a musical instrument, for she blew into it and there came a high reedy sound. For a good while the others watched her blow a few long notes. Nothing else happened. She put the instrument away and all of them stepped into the water.

‘Madness,' said Blain. ‘Nightmare cultists, must be.'

‘Their hands,' said Kiown. ‘Look at their hands.'

‘You tell
me
about their hands, shithead. You've got the pretty night-vision charm we gave you, not me.'

‘Two fingers, a thumb. Larger fingers than they should be. The fingers also seem to be double jointed.'

‘Eh? Spell it out for me, turd. And speak sense!'

Kiown turned to him, a flicker of violet-white in his eyes, lip curled. ‘They aren't human, Strategist.'

Domudess's bald head was at the window again. The wizard called something down. The four in the water were halfway across. The hems of their gowns floated to the water's surface. The fish – darting light flashes – seemed drawn to them from elsewhere in the water. Domudess watched them come, then his head withdrew from the window. Withdrew with – Blain suspected, though he could not be sure – a glance directly at him and Kiown. ‘Not human,' Blain mused. ‘Then what do you suppose they were?'

If Kiown knew, he kept the answer to himself. Blain fingered the crusty dried Invia blood on his robe-front. Maybe it's time he parted with that dragon charm, he thought. Far too silent and brooding, he's become. Not sharing his thoughts. Two more days watching him. Then I'll slay him and take it, while there's still some pop in this dried Invia blood. Bury that charm with the Invia body, perhaps. Ugh! If the others could see me now. Me, Strategist Blain, digging holes in the woods and plotting against shithead. Ah, how I miss my chamber in the castle … The people with strange hands disappeared under the arch below the tower. ‘Were you jesting, whelp? They looked human enough to me.' He turned, but Kiown was no longer beside him.

*

Blain waited the night out, tugging anxiously at his beard. His eyes never for a moment left the tower windows, each aglow with soft amber light. The wizard's head did not reappear. Blain sensed him moving about in there, though just barely. The tower did much to hide him.

It was not until the first of the morning's light that Blain discovered the wizard's visitors had come down from the tower. To his immense shock he saw they'd been silently building something on the grass beyond the water. They had stepped away from it to appraise it: some sort of pole, with a bulbous head that might have been a glass orb. It stood easily twice a tall man's height. A faint light glowed within the orb.

Domudess came to the window again. He called out words in a tongue Blain had never heard – troubling, for he'd heard them all, even many varieties of groundman babble. The visitors went back through the tower's waters and under its archway.

Blain tugged his beard until a good chunk had come away in his hand. When full daylight came his mage eyes saw what the thing they'd built was for: threads of reddish darkness from the airs were pulled down into the orb. In fact, it appeared the thing was drawing out the foreign airs, such as those Avridis had caught in his airships when the Wall fell. In a thin steady stream, the foreign magic was pulled into the glass and did not flow out again. The orb did not disturb the winding ribbon of power which threaded as always through the tower's upper window and out through the one on its further side.

‘Little shit,' Blain grumbled, meaning Kiown. Had the Hunter stayed, he'd have seen with his night vision how the device had been built.

The little shit himself dropped to the ground behind him
from a tree branch. Blain wheeled about, immediately splitting into a copy of himself, flinging his real self out of sword range.

‘Morning, Strategist,' said Kiown with a most respectful bow. Blain knew full well the ‘joke' had been a test of his defences and reflexes – killing him just now would have been perfectly easy. He kept his anger within, also his deep disquiet.

‘Where've you been?' he said peevishly. ‘I've had need of your eyes.'

‘The mayor of Tanton comes.'

‘Good! From where? How far?'

‘He's an hour or two away.'

‘You spotted them? If they're an hour or two away, how'd you get back here before them? Eh?'

Kiown shrugged. ‘I'm more useful than you supposed, Strategist Blain.' He looked over at the visitors' construction, rubbed his chin. One hand went to his pocket where presumably the amulet sat. ‘Do you mean to persuade the mayor to join your cause?'

‘
Our
cause, I hope you mean. If he's still a mayor, why not?' Blain eased himself to the ground. ‘His city was meant to be attacked. Could have lost the battle by now. Could be why he's fled. Why'd he come here? Is our friend Domudess in league with him too? Curse this all! I'm like a household pet trying to fathom its masters' sport.'

Kiown did not answer, for he was again no longer there. Little bastard! Blain thought, lashing the ground with his stick. Biding his time. An attack's coming, I know it, and he'll have me. Ah, but I've played more games than he ever will, the turd. I said two days till his heart stops; let's make it one. Nervously he fingered the dried Invia blood on his robe and looked back to the spot where its shedder was buried.