World's End (26 page)

Eric had begun to think of himself as Shadow. Why not choose his own name? He was free. Had he really, truly mourned his nine-to-five life? His sitcom existence, making half-witted wisecracks as if expecting a laugh track to play in response? How much like slavery that life appeared, looking back on it from the skies aboard his drake. The lands and cities before him seemed a majestic sculpture, one he no longer had a desire to leave.

For now the wars had ended and a strange silent inertia replaced them. The roads seemed safe from brigandry, even though there were no roadblocks and patrols. People no longer moved about with secrecy – strangers on the road greeted each other, shared food with one another, and tales. Wherever Eric went people seemed to know him, and to love him. Hard men looked at him as if he were like them, as though he'd seen all the war they'd seen. He began to believe it too.

People asked him of Otherworld, along with many other questions. The sort of questions one might ask a god. He amused himself with creative answers for a time.

But soon the questions began to bother him, and he was unsure why. With time he discovered a kind of contempt for
these people. Most of them were wiser than he, more virtuous, harder working, braver. Yet in a moment they handed their trust to him, and pinned their hopes on him, someone no better than a stranger. They read wisdom he'd not intended in every remark he made.

The sky now and then sent shivers down through its far-flung walls to shake the ground. It spat down lightstone pieces: little pebbles or fist-sized rocks. With more pressing concerns at hand – food in bellies, roofs overhead, rebuilding – no one paid much heed to it.

One day Eric thought that the country beneath him, of cliffs and natural pillars, looked familiar. He'd seen before that line of strange, rib-like mountains and that shimmering river threading through them. He knew where they were – these were the same skies the war mage had carried him through. Elvury City was not far, the last place in Levaal still infested with Tormentors. Or so tavern talk claimed.

He spoke into the drake's ear. Case wheeled to the south.

Below them now was the pass, littered with broken skeletons in armour and castle colours. Birds still picked through the mess, their calls echoing up the sheer cliff walls. Eric remembered watching this slaughter, filled with numbing horror.

Case came to rest atop the city's high gate. Here he'd shot the war mage so eager to serve him. There below, sure enough, stood a widely scattered group of Tormentors, no more than a dozen of them. Now and then the occasional sweep of their spiked arms shifted them to a new pose of their strange slow dance. Many buildings were half burned down, the ash scattered, but there were no fires burning in the city now. Distantly through the buildings one or two huge Tormentors could be seen standing motionless along the river.

Case sighed as if deeply saddened by all this. He rested his head on his forelegs and slept. His snores softly growled like an idling motor. Eric patted his neck then gazed down at the dead city. Why did I come here? he thought, and it was something he couldn't answer. He felt a pang of peculiar nostalgia for those times when this world was so new and horrifying to him. How he wanted to reach a reassuring hand back through time and say,
It will be all right. It will be better than you'd ever guess.

Case needed rest, so Eric stayed awhile gazing out at the city which Shilen would have him believe he and Aziel now owned, or at least controlled. Silent tears filled his eyes. An hour or more passed, the day fading to evening, the stillness only broken by the shivering rumble of dragons in the skies pushing against their cage … a sound which could easily pass for distant thunder. Somewhere there would be a rain of broken lightstone; maybe great slabs of it were beginning to come down. But although pieces littered the city and valley, none fell here now.

Wheeling into Eric's line of sight across the eastern sky was a shape his eyes took at first to be a bird. But it was too large for a bird. A rider's silhouette could be made out against the grey-white sky behind.

Case stirred in his sleep. Eric knew then that what flew over Elvury was not another drake, but a dragon. Its tail fluttered like a streamer behind it; its wings were held still and at an angle. With suddenness Eric found alarming, the dragon swooped down to the city below, down and up again in a fast long arc. Many times it dived. Eric found his hand closing about Hauf's amulet.

Nearer the dragon swooped, till its rider's cries could be heard. And the voice was familiar. Why Eric should laugh to recognize
Kiown, he didn't know. But he
did
laugh, just as though he'd found an old friend.

Kiown and his mount were now close. They swept down to the area called the siege grounds, the dives so fast they were a blur. Each time the dragon came up from its arc, the falling pieces of a shattered Tormentor had not yet hit the pavement. Before long all those Tormentors visible below had been broken to pieces. All the while Kiown cried out and whooped in joy.

Eric called out to him. Shocked to hear a voice, Kiown stared around. When he recognised Eric, his laugh echoed and clattered through the city's emptiness. ‘Lord Eric!' he cried. Dyan swept a circle in the air above him.

‘My name is Shadow.'

‘Lord Eric, inn-finder. World-stumbler-inner. Um … drake-rider? What else can we call you? What other feats of great renown have you to your name now?'

‘Vous is a god now,' Eric called. ‘The change has happened.'

That got Kiown's attention. He landed Dyan on the gate some distance away, spoke quiet words to the dragon. It peered at Eric with curiosity and amusement, then went still as a statue, eyes closed. Case woke up, bounded over to it and fawned before it. The dragon opened one eye to peer at him then shut it again.

Kiown marched over, twirling a chained piece of jewellery on his finger. ‘Do you like my steed?' he said. ‘Never in history has a dragon like this been a man's steed or servant. They've banished him. He serves whoever holds this amulet. Dyan doesn't care, he was sure the big ones were going to eat him. A supply of human women and he's content. You're looking well, Eric. Not lordly by any measure. Fed, at least. Met any dragons yourself?'

‘I have. Just one, Shilen.'

‘Ah, yes, I know her.'

Eric was taken aback. ‘How? She said she was my advisor. Has she been going back and forth between us?'

‘Sure has. I doubt she thought we'd meet up and speak like this. She knew we were opponents in the past. She also knows how men usually behave when thrones are at stake. Dragons are sometimes surprised, Eric, by how much a human can break out of what they consider typical behaviour. We are not as predictable as they think us to be.'

‘So you're my rival lord of the south that she spoke about. The one who'll claim my throne, if he's more “worthy” of it. Have it, if you want. It's yours.'

‘If you're giving it away I don't want it,' said Kiown. He leaned his forearms on the wall and gazed down at the steep cliffs fencing in the valley filled with skeletons and carrion birds. ‘Since you're here, I've got to ask you something. Why did you spare me that day, on the tower top? You know, when you claimed Nightmare reached down to touch you.'

‘I've asked myself that too. I still don't know.'

‘Consider the favour returned here and now.'

Eric reached for his gun. ‘Don't be so sure of that.'

Kiown laughed. Then he moved, fast. Eric found he was upside down, the blood rushing to his head, the pavement directly beneath him. Case growled, but with a look the dragon held him there. ‘How about now? Am I sure yet?' said Kiown. ‘You spared me, I've spared you. Do you agree?'

‘Not yet.' Eric pressed the gun into his chest to keep it from falling, clutched tight to the charm in his other hand. Bits and pieces fell from his pockets.

‘We, my friend, are now even. And since I have your attention, let's negotiate. Dyan and I shall clean up this city. We slay
the Tormentors, even the big ones. Then I get to keep it. You and your squad of half-giants don't seem inclined to tromp over here to clean it up. So, Elvury's mine. It's my capital, my base of operations. Got it? In a few years I'll allow you to put agents here, but I say who comes and goes. No fighting over it. It's a trading centre. My house, my rules. Understood? The rest of the map we'll discuss another time.'

Eric could hardly think with the blood in his head. Kiown's grip on his shins was firm. ‘Talk to Aziel.'

‘Fuck Aziel. Assert yourself!'

‘Fine, take it.'

‘This city's not where I'll live, understand. The haiyens will build me a tower. They found a way to kill dragons. Even the big ones. Have you noticed the lightstone falling? The haiyens will help us with that minor problem. Say nothing to Shilen about it.'

‘Kiown, let me up, would you?'

‘Soon. You have something to say?'

‘We have a chance to make a new world. At least until the big dragons come down and probably kill us all.'

Kiown hefted him back up, set him on his backside. Eric allowed a minute for his spinning head to ease, then said, ‘Why do you want to play the part of villain, just because Shilen asked you to? They're using us both. We're doing a job for them.'

‘Here's the beautiful part.' Kiown crouched down beside him, made his voice a whisper to hide it from Dyan. ‘I
can't
do a job for them.' Kiown showed Eric his amulet. ‘Giving this to me was a big mistake. I am loyal to Vous. Even now. Even though I
know
it's mind-control. All my life I never knew it was mind-control. Now I know, but it hasn't changed things. You saw him? Is what's said about him true? Does he dance and toss flowers?'

‘Apparently. Loup said he may be the god of beauty.'

‘Whatever you call him, he's Vous. He is a god. I therefore work for the gods, not the dragons. Eric, here is the gist of it: Shilen wants us – humanity – divided into two competing empires. I can play along. She told me the same thing she probably told you, that this power is mine to use as I like, freely. What if I want to use it to help rid the world of dragons? There's a way to do it. The haiyens of the far south said so.'

Eric looked at him, startled. ‘I think we have the same idea. Shilen said I rule freely, but she told me to stop them from waking Inferno. I'm going to let them do it, if they haven't already. See how free we really are.'

Kiown winked. ‘Send word to your queen or lady or whatever you call her. This city's mine. I mean it. No one comes here until I'm ready, not unless they want to fight Dyan and the army I'll soon bring here. War benefits neither of us right now. Don't tell Shilen we spoke.'

‘Will Dyan keep your secrets to himself?'

‘He won't tell her. He's got no friends now among the dragons; they hate him. He came here to do a job for them but frolicked instead. Humans are all he has left. We'll talk later about the other cities, who gets what. And remember, don't ever take all this too seriously. Whatever messages I send you in the future, even if it's a declaration of war, always remember this: we play the game as co-operating opponents, with agreed rules.
Never
as true enemies.' Kiown stood, yawned, stretched.

‘I don't want any wars in the game,' Eric said. He pointed down at the valley full of skeletons. ‘We're not creating that. I don't want that on my head for any reason.'

‘So you just handed me your throne again.' Kiown sighed. ‘Listen. Blain's right about some things. Power
is
a game. Life
is too. Serious games. But there's no reason they can't be fun. Look at those skeletons down there. None of them were mind-controlled like I was. Every one of those men could have dropped his sword in the dirt, refused to fight. Had all of them done it: no war, no lords. A world instantly born without such things. This is what those dead men wanted. They marched into this valley because they wanted to, whether for money or loyalty to a lord or for their own glory. I can't promise you we won't ever war. If we do fight, it will be a show for Shilen's benefit, not mine or yours.

‘But that might not matter. Keep an eye on the dragons. There may be something we can do about them. Sooner or later they're coming down here, Eric. And it could be sooner.' As if to demonstrate, there was again a thunderous rumble, a faint shiver which they felt in their feet. Pieces of lightstone – no more than a few handfuls – rained down into the valley and into the city, clattering on rooftops and cobblestones.

Kiown went back to Dyan and climbed aboard. ‘Till next we meet, O Eric the Dangled. If ever. We never spoke today. We hate each other's guts, understood? You never quite know when
she's
watching either of us. She usually doesn't bother, but I think she checks in now and then. There are some advantages in being considered an insect and beneath notice. Am I right, Dyan?'

Dyan did not answer. His scales glittered. He leaped skywards then they dived so fast he was only a blur of colour.

It took another two days to find and slay the last of the smaller Tormentors. A few perhaps remained underground, though they seemed to prefer the extra stimulus of the surface world. There'd been no sign of people other than a small gang of treasure hunters who came through the south gate the previous day, perhaps former citizens of this place come to seek prized possessions, theirs and others'. The fight had been nothing special. They'd barely got their amazed gobs shut on sight of a dragon before Dyan had dealt with them. Their flesh would prove useful.

Dyan landed now on a luxury home's rooftop: the compound below was replete with gardens and fountains which still tossed trickles of water around. Someone important had lived here. They had a good view of the river and of the massive Tormentors standing motionless along its banks. Dyan wanted a rest before attempting combat with them. He sat with his neck arched back regally, long tail curled around him, gazing with narrowed eyes towards the river.

‘What's the difficulty?' Kiown asked him.

‘Their time play pulls at me,' the dragon replied. His voice held a hypnotic rumble. He'd lately fashioned it to sound like that of a cultured elderly man.

‘You've only fought the small ones so far. Was it the same with them?'

‘For them, it's easily overcome. The large ones will have more
pull.
It is unusual magic. More a mistake of reality than actual spell craft. You had better not fly with me for these battles. There is risk.' Dyan's scales bled through several colours as he eyed his prey, considering strategies.

Kiown sighed; the thrill of riding at those enormous spiked demon-things was something he'd long been anticipating. He said, ‘Do be careful.' Dyan was a priceless gift, perhaps the greatest gift any human had ever owned. For a so-called Minor personality his magic was versatile and potent; and he flew faster than any of the other dragons. His speed was the main reason they'd sent him down to do their work, as the first free dragon. Kiown said, ‘Do you dragons have a fondness for jokes?'

Dyan pondered his question at length. ‘No.'

‘What, never? You never laugh at one another?'

‘I have heard no laughter among the Eight, not with the kind of humour familiar to you.'

‘I just wondered. Because the dragons picked Eric to be my opponent in this system they're devising. It's a gift.'

‘Why did you not slay your rival?'

Kiown laughed. ‘You jest. Eric's a fool, an idiot. Sentimental for starters. Why would I kill a rival like that? May he live long and prosper. He
gave
me this city.'

‘Are his words binding?'

‘With a little help from us, they shall be.'

He twirled the precious amulet on its chain. Dyan enjoyed gazing at it as much as he did, conscious of its power over him but intrigued by it regardless. Most of the object's other powers Kiown was still discovering. Certain situations seemed to unlock
them: conversing with the haiyens in their high tower, for instance, his knowledge at times had elevated well beyond its norm. He'd understood at a glance the nuances of their body language, had known the meanings of the symbols adorning their homes and garments.

It had been quite a sight for them to see Dyan wheeling through their skies. Long generations had passed with no sign or hint of dragonkind. But landing there in their home city with no forewarning had been a mistake. Delicately the haiyen assigned to speak with him had made the point: Kiown had come
exceedingly
close to a quiet, uneventful death. Every haiyen he'd seen in those high levels could have slain him with a thought while he was still in the sky.

They had been named ‘the lost ones' by their kin. They had names for
them
in turn: the savage ones, the wild ones. The savage ones had befriended a god who did not belong in their reality at all. It was no more than the lost haiyens had done.

It was a long stroll from tower to tower, across miles-long thin bridges stretched so high that the land below would not have been visible with normal sight. Lesser towers, a multitude of them, were like spear tips to either side: a city of the lost ones. They had thrived, his guide told him in what seemed a completely impartial observation. They had adapted. The dragons would not have allowed this prosperity. It was true they could no longer live and build homes down on the surface … but with all they'd learned, there was no need.

Eventually their walk reached an end point, a kind of outpost. There they'd waited for a length of time Kiown had not been able to gauge. Time was so strange there it seemed his visit had been both recent and very long ago.

The rumbling sound carried to them on the bridge well before
he saw the thing, gazing down with eyes the charm had enhanced. A huge bloated mountainous rolling thing, bigger than anything living he'd ever seen. Its flesh was grey and brown, at times like molten rock, at times gelatinous. It left a residue behind. A peculiar swishing windy sound emanated from it. As they watched, it came to rest and spread its heaving mass across the ground. ‘They are not unintelligent, as the savage ones claim,' said the haiyen. ‘I shall not tell you this one's name. The sound you hear is its speech. Much meaning can be discerned by those sufficiently trained. Its wisdom is infinite. Listen for a short while and one's thoughts are not the same afterwards.'

‘Why is it they slay the dragons, but not Spirits?'

‘Spirits do not attack them. The dragons did. If this being came to your realm, it would probably be the same. It would leave your Spirits alone, perhaps become great friends to them.'

Kiown understood that these haiyens felt about the summoned ones similarly to the way he felt for Vous. He had understood completely.

‘That great one you saw has claimed this land,' said his guide as they strolled back towards the tower where Dyan waited. ‘No others of its kind come here. Each claims a large area. We summon them only when conditions allow it in their native reality. Their young venture away to claim new lands. If they stayed here the greater ones would incorporate them. Some of the new ones succeed in growing large, but most are hunted by the savage ones when they are small. We hunt the savage ones in turn. The war is old and slow. We capture their places of breeding one by one, while ours are safe here in these high towers. The savage ones will ask your lords for permission to build more breeding nests in your lands. You must not allow it.'

‘I'll help you, if you help me.'

‘We shall give you a presence. One at first, until you show you will nurture it. Grow it large. That is all you need – you do not need us.
They
will help you. Learn to understand their speech and song. Name them. Devote yourself to them. They know their benefactors. What we have learned from them enhances all our arts, enhances everything we do.'

Returning through their towers he saw this was so. Their artwork, their creations, their devices – nothing in the North compared to it, nothing but Vous himself.

Kiown's fingers drummed the glass case they'd given him. Within it was the real reason he wanted this city for his own, and it was nothing to do with the reasons he'd given Eric. The ‘presence' inside the case could not even be seen. It was no more than a tiny ball of invisible purpose. They had summoned it right there in the tower, over a thousand silent haiyens gathered to pool their minds. All that effort and power to open a gap between their world and wherever this had come from. They'd told him to guard the thing fiercely as it grew. When it had found enough matter to form its own shape, it was vulnerable and could be slain.

As far as the world knew, Elvury was still filled with Tormentors. Here, the presence would not likely be pestered.

Kiown hunted around in the rooftop's overgrown garden, found a cricket, squashed it between his fingers, then carefully slid it under the glass case's lid. For a minute or two nothing happened. Then something pulled at the dead insect. A leg separated from the body. Kiown laughed, delighted.

The air whooshed as Dyan took off and soared towards the river. The huge Tormentor he flew at slowly moved one arm
upwards as if in greeting. Dyan became a white light painful to look at. The light vanished. A splitting crack rang out, echoing through Elvury's dead streets. Slowly half the Tormentor's huge face slid free and fell.

Dyan reappeared in the sky some distance away. He landed back in the same spot he'd taken off from, taking deep breaths, heat wafting from his body.

‘Is it dead or just hurt?' said Kiown. While they watched the huge Tormentor leaned backwards, then fell with a great splash into the river. The others all turned, facing where it had stood. Their bodies erupted into motion: dancing, it seemed. The skeletons of slain men shook from their spikes and fell to the ground, into the river.

Dyan lay flat, head on his paws. ‘I rest, before slaying another. They are now roused and know me for a threat.'

‘They're not as smart as we assume. But fine, rest.' Kiown drummed his fingers again on the glass case lid. The dead insect was now a little mashed-up grey-green ball. One crooked leg still protruded, twitching. Kiown found more insects, stomped them to paste, fed them into the glass case. He told Dyan to fetch him a bird or a dog – one or two dogs had barked when they first arrived. Dyan left, soon to return with the requested dead animals in his mouth.

What need for ceremony was there? Kiown left the case's lid open. The little ball of matter seemed reluctant to leave. Kiown dragged over the bodies of those men Dyan had killed a day before. ‘Enjoy your meal,' he said to the presence. He stood, stretched. ‘Ready for a long flight?'

‘If it is your wish, I must be.'

‘Fine, we'll rest awhile. But it's time to check on Tauk. See if he's willing to be a general or not. I have a feeling he won't
be easily handled. May have to see if Blain can impersonate him.'

‘And those?' Dyan nodded to the distant huge Tormentors, still dancing on the riverbank.

‘Leave them for now. It's enough to know we
can
kill them. The presence won't be big enough for them to notice it, not for a while yet. The haiyens said it can use bones and Tormentor flesh. There's no shortage of either all over the place down there. It won't go hungry.'