Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (41 page)

“I’m done, Deadhand. Save yourself,” groaned Nuddell.

“I don’t leave my men behind.”

“Then you’re a bloody fool, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Three of the enemy attacked. Rix dropped Nuddell and cut down the first with a sword blow to the neck and the second with a steel-fisted punch that broke his jaw. The third was a huge man who, like Leatherhead, fought with a sword in each hand.

Rix matched him blow for blow, standing over Nuddell so the enemy could not strike him dead, then snapped the enemy’s right-hand sword with a sideways blow of his mailed fist and slid Maloch through the gap into the fellow’s lung. Air hissed out; the man slumped sideways and Rix ran him through.

He hefted Nuddell and ran with him towards the hidden horses, though before he was halfway the enemy had another flare up and the archers were firing. Ahead of him, several men fell. Arrows whizzed past on all sides, one sticking in the heel of Nuddell’s left boot, two more shattering on the hardened steel of Rix’s back-plate.

He heaved Nuddell over an empty saddle – there were plenty to choose from – bound him on, and checked on his men. Half the survivors had fled, not looking back to see if their fellows were all right, but there were twenty riderless horses. Horses Garramide could not do without.

“Get going, Deadhand,” said Nuddell. “They’re after us.”

Rix slashed the tie ropes, roared at the horses and they bolted. He dragged himself into the saddle, only now realising that he was wounded in half a dozen places, and followed them.

From the top of the hill he looked back. The remains of the black powder wagon were blazing fiercely, and part of the palisade wall nearby. At least a dozen bodies were scattered around, the men who had been pushing the wagon when it went off. The closer ones must have been blown to bits. Another dozen had been taken prisoner and, knowing how the enemy treated prisoners, were bound for a cruel death.

Rix spurred his horse and raced after Nuddell, reckoning up the toll as he rode. Twenty of his men dead, plus at least fifteen of Yestin’s, almost certainly including the lord himself. Another dozen taken prisoner and soon to be executed. An unknown number injured.

Bedderlees had not shown up, and clearly the knife men waiting at the gate had known the details of the attack. He must be a traitor.

And what had been gained? Neither the walls nor the gate had been breached, and the barracks and armoury were unharmed. They had killed at least ten of the enemy but the attack he had invested his credibility in had been a failure.

No, Yestin’s incompetence had turned it into a fiasco.

To make matters worse, the snow had stopped and now the moon came out. Rix rode wearily home, knowing they were leaving tracks that a child could have followed. They led directly to the escarpment track, and Garramide.

He should have listened to Swelt.

When Holm finally reappeared in the middle of the night, carrying a string of cleaned fish, Tali reached out to him.

“You said I should trust more, and I’m going to. Will you help me?”

“Depends what you’re asking,” he said gruffly. “I’m good with my hands, and I can add two facts together and get a third, but I’m no warrior.”

She sat up on her covers. “I’m not asking you to fight.”

“Yet I’ve been fighting ever since you landed in my lap.”

“You came after me.”

“Are you complaining?”

It silenced her for a while. “Of course not… Holm, I need to get control of my magery and I don’t know how.”

“You’re asking the wrong man. Magery isn’t one of my gifts, thankfully.”

“Why thankfully?”

“If I’d had it when I was young, I would have done even more damage.”

“I’m not asking you to use magery.”

“What are you asking?”

“You understand how things work…”

“Some things.” He pursed his weathered lips, puffed his cheeks in and out. “All right – a lot of things. So?”

“Can you tell me where I’m going wrong?”

“I doubt it.”

“Will you try?”

“All I can do is listen and see if I notice something you’ve missed.”

Holm made yet another pot of tea and offered her the first cup. She shook her head.

“Begin,” he said.

She wasn’t sure how to start. Or where. “Magery is forbidden in Cython.”

“It always has been,” said Holm. “Even in old Cythe, before the First Fleet came, magery was forbidden to the people. Using it was an insult to the king.”

“But in Cython, any Pale with the gift are killed out of hand.”

“What, even if they don’t use it?” he said in a deceptively mild voice.

“Yes. Even little children.”

His eye glinted. “Go on.”

She told him about her own developing gift, and how her mother had warned her never to use it. Yet several times, when she was a little girl, it had exploded out of her, wreaking havoc, then it disappeared for years.

“It only happened when I was furiously angry, but I never had any control of it. Then, the night I turned eighteen and came of age —”

“When was that?”

“Um, I suppose it was five or six weeks ago.”

“So young,” Holm said to himself. “I can hardly remember that far back.”

“That night I started getting dreadful, grinding headaches. I think they’ve got to do with the master pearl maturing.”

She told him how the imploding sunstone in the shaft had seemed to release a block on her magery, temporarily at least. Next, when Banj had attacked, that a golden radiance had streamed out from Rannilt and touched her. Something seemed to burst inside Tali, then the white blizzard had burst from her fingertips to shear Banj’s head off.

“He wasn’t a bad man. Of all the Cythonians I knew, I liked Banj best.” Tali hugged her arms around herself, staring into nothingness. “It was horrible. The sight will live with me all my days.” She rubbed her fingertips. “But I still couldn’t control my gift, or even call it at will
.”

She looked hopefully at Holm, hoping he could make sense of it.

He said, “Continue.”

“Later on, I had a theory that breaking a heatstone could release my gift.”

“Did it work?”

“The chancellor gave me a little heatstone to break, when he sent me to the wrythen’s caverns.”

“And?”

“It released a lot of power, but Lyf stole most of it. Then he robbed Rannilt of her gift and after that he was ten times as strong. We were lucky to escape.”

Holm indicated that she should continue.

“In the Abysm I saw power swirling around in vast, complex patterns, too strong for anyone to use.”

“Really? Where did it come from?”

“It was spiralling up from deep in the earth. I also saw little coloured loops and whorls of power in the pattern. I thought they were the key to using my gift – if only I knew how to see them in the real world.

“In the three-way battle in the cellar, Lyf held a loop of power up in front of me,” she concluded, “and I took power from it to defeat Deroe. I thought it was what Mimoy had meant – my enemy teaching me to use magery —”

“Maybe it was,” said Holm.

“But I haven’t seen those patterns again. I could only see them with the chancellor’s spectible, and it was lost when the palace was attacked.”

“That all?” said Holm.

“Yes.”

She expected him to say something, or question her further, but he merely leaned back and closed his eyes. Occasionally he opened them to take another sip of tea, or replenish his mug. Tali lay down and closed her eyes. Time passed, at least half an hour, and her faint hope began to fade. When it came to her magery, every hope had turned to ashes.

“Heatstone,” he said at last.

Assuming he was referring to the stove, she said nothing. Why had she imagined that Holm could help her?

“What about it?” said Tali.

“Where does it come from?”

“The heatstone mine.”

“How did heatstone get there?”

“I assume it was always there.”

“I don’t think it was there when Cython was established.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve talked to a lot of people about heatstone,” said Holm. “Such as the Vicini traders who buy and sell it. It was unknown to either side during the first war, so how did it suddenly appear?”

Tali did not reply. It was a good question.

“I think something
turned
the rock there to heatstone,” Holm continued, “some time after Cython was founded. And later on, the first ebony pearls began to form in the women of your family.”

“Why are you so focused on heatstone, anyway?”

“I think it’s the key to your magery.”

“How can it be? It hurts every time I go near a piece.”

“And so does your magery, and the pearl you host. Doesn’t that tell you that they’re linked in some way?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“So! If heatstone is the key, to unlock the lock we have to know how it formed.” He looked up at Tali. “But right now, the important thing is your master pearl –
and how heatstone created it
.”

Tali jerked upright. “The pearls were
created
by heatstone?”

“By emanations from heatstone, I’d guess.”

“Then why do pearls only form in my family?”

“Why does a gift for music, or dance, or magery run in some families and not in others?”

“All right, I’ll clutch at the straw. Supposing you’re right, how does it help me?”

“If your magery is blocked in some way, heatstone might liberate it.”

“Are you planning to break one over my head?”

“Not unless you’re more irritating than usual,” he said, smiling.

“If heatstone can liberate my magery, what’s that going to do to me?”

“That would depend on how you use it.”

“Deroe said that ebony pearls were too strong for any host to use safely.”

“He might have been lying; he might have been wrong. It’s a risk
you
have to take. I can’t advise you.”

“I think I’ll have a cup after all,” said Tali.

He made a fresh pot. She pulled her coat around her and warmed her hands around the mug. It didn’t feel as though they were getting anywhere.

“You might also ask yourself why this matters so much,” said Holm.

“I swore a blood oath to save my people.”

“You mean the Pale?” said Holm.

“Yes.”

“How?”

She might as well tell him. “I’m afraid Lyf wants to get rid of them.”

“Cast them out of Cython, you mean?”

“No – they know too much to be set free.”

“About what?”

“How the enemy think, how Cython’s defences work, where their water and air supplies come from and how they operate, how they grow food underground – the lot!”

“If the chancellor knew all that,” mused Holm, “he’d identify Cython’s weaknesses and find a way to attack it – poison the water supply, for instance. You’re right, Lyf can’t cast them out.”

“And with the place nearly emptied of Cythonians, the Pale are a much greater threat than before. I’m worried, Holm.”

“Why?”

“I think he’ll order them to be put down.”

“He’s got the best of Hightspall already. Why would he care about protecting Cython?”

“The enemy were almost wiped out in the first war. They were driven out of their homelands and herded into filthy
degrado
camps, and they swore they’d never allow that to happen again.”

“You mean —?”

“They’ll
never
give up Cython. And I’ve often heard them threatening to get rid of the Pale. ‘Come the day when we don’t need your kind any more,’ Orlyk used to say, and I think that day’s nearly here. I think it’s the ending Lyf plans to write in
The Consolation of Vengeance
.”

“You may be right,” said Holm, “but I don’t see —”

“If the Pale are facing genocide, I have to fulfil my blood oath. I have to rescue them.”

When Holm finally reappeared in the middle of the night, carrying a string of cleaned fish, Tali reached out to him.

“You said I should trust more, and I’m going to. Will you help me?”

“Depends what you’re asking,” he said gruffly. “I’m good with my hands, and I can add two facts together and get a third, but I’m no warrior.”

She sat up on her covers. “I’m not asking you to fight.”

“Yet I’ve been fighting ever since you landed in my lap.”

“You came after me.”

“Are you complaining?”

It silenced her for a while. “Of course not… Holm, I need to get control of my magery and I don’t know how.”

“You’re asking the wrong man. Magery isn’t one of my gifts, thankfully.”

“Why thankfully?”

“If I’d had it when I was young, I would have done even more damage.”

“I’m not asking you to use magery.”

“What are you asking?”

“You understand how things work…”

“Some things.” He pursed his weathered lips, puffed his cheeks in and out. “All right – a lot of things. So?”

“Can you tell me where I’m going wrong?”

“I doubt it.”

“Will you try?”

“All I can do is listen and see if I notice something you’ve missed.”

Holm made yet another pot of tea and offered her the first cup. She shook her head.

“Begin,” he said.

She wasn’t sure how to start. Or where. “Magery is forbidden in Cython.”

“It always has been,” said Holm. “Even in old Cythe, before the First Fleet came, magery was forbidden to the people. Using it was an insult to the king.”

“But in Cython, any Pale with the gift are killed out of hand.”

“What, even if they don’t use it?” he said in a deceptively mild voice.

“Yes. Even little children.”

His eye glinted. “Go on.”

She told him about her own developing gift, and how her mother had warned her never to use it. Yet several times, when she was a little girl, it had exploded out of her, wreaking havoc, then it disappeared for years.

“It only happened when I was furiously angry, but I never had any control of it. Then, the night I turned eighteen and came of age —”

“When was that?”

“Um, I suppose it was five or six weeks ago.”

“So young,” Holm said to himself. “I can hardly remember that far back.”

“That night I started getting dreadful, grinding headaches. I think they’ve got to do with the master pearl maturing.”

She told him how the imploding sunstone in the shaft had seemed to release a block on her magery, temporarily at least. Next, when Banj had attacked, that a golden radiance had streamed out from Rannilt and touched her. Something seemed to burst inside Tali, then the white blizzard had burst from her fingertips to shear Banj’s head off.

“He wasn’t a bad man. Of all the Cythonians I knew, I liked Banj best.” Tali hugged her arms around herself, staring into nothingness. “It was horrible. The sight will live with me all my days.” She rubbed her fingertips. “But I still couldn’t control my gift, or even call it at will
.”

She looked hopefully at Holm, hoping he could make sense of it.

He said, “Continue.”

“Later on, I had a theory that breaking a heatstone could release my gift.”

“Did it work?”

“The chancellor gave me a little heatstone to break, when he sent me to the wrythen’s caverns.”

“And?”

“It released a lot of power, but Lyf stole most of it. Then he robbed Rannilt of her gift and after that he was ten times as strong. We were lucky to escape.”

Holm indicated that she should continue.

“In the Abysm I saw power swirling around in vast, complex patterns, too strong for anyone to use.”

“Really? Where did it come from?”

“It was spiralling up from deep in the earth. I also saw little coloured loops and whorls of power in the pattern. I thought they were the key to using my gift – if only I knew how to see them in the real world.

“In the three-way battle in the cellar, Lyf held a loop of power up in front of me,” she concluded, “and I took power from it to defeat Deroe. I thought it was what Mimoy had meant – my enemy teaching me to use magery —”

“Maybe it was,” said Holm.

“But I haven’t seen those patterns again. I could only see them with the chancellor’s spectible, and it was lost when the palace was attacked.”

“That all?” said Holm.

“Yes.”

She expected him to say something, or question her further, but he merely leaned back and closed his eyes. Occasionally he opened them to take another sip of tea, or replenish his mug. Tali lay down and closed her eyes. Time passed, at least half an hour, and her faint hope began to fade. When it came to her magery, every hope had turned to ashes.

“Heatstone,” he said at last.

Assuming he was referring to the stove, she said nothing. Why had she imagined that Holm could help her?

“What about it?” said Tali.

“Where does it come from?”

“The heatstone mine.”

“How did heatstone get there?”

“I assume it was always there.”

“I don’t think it was there when Cython was established.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve talked to a lot of people about heatstone,” said Holm. “Such as the Vicini traders who buy and sell it. It was unknown to either side during the first war, so how did it suddenly appear?”

Tali did not reply. It was a good question.

“I think something
turned
the rock there to heatstone,” Holm continued, “some time after Cython was founded. And later on, the first ebony pearls began to form in the women of your family.”

“Why are you so focused on heatstone, anyway?”

“I think it’s the key to your magery.”

“How can it be? It hurts every time I go near a piece.”

“And so does your magery, and the pearl you host. Doesn’t that tell you that they’re linked in some way?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“So! If heatstone is the key, to unlock the lock we have to know how it formed.” He looked up at Tali. “But right now, the important thing is your master pearl –
and how heatstone created it
.”

Tali jerked upright. “The pearls were
created
by heatstone?”

“By emanations from heatstone, I’d guess.”

“Then why do pearls only form in my family?”

“Why does a gift for music, or dance, or magery run in some families and not in others?”

“All right, I’ll clutch at the straw. Supposing you’re right, how does it help me?”

“If your magery is blocked in some way, heatstone might liberate it.”

“Are you planning to break one over my head?”

“Not unless you’re more irritating than usual,” he said, smiling.

“If heatstone can liberate my magery, what’s that going to do to me?”

“That would depend on how you use it.”

“Deroe said that ebony pearls were too strong for any host to use safely.”

“He might have been lying; he might have been wrong. It’s a risk
you
have to take. I can’t advise you.”

“I think I’ll have a cup after all,” said Tali.

He made a fresh pot. She pulled her coat around her and warmed her hands around the mug. It didn’t feel as though they were getting anywhere.

“You might also ask yourself why this matters so much,” said Holm.

“I swore a blood oath to save my people.”

“You mean the Pale?” said Holm.

“Yes.”

“How?”

She might as well tell him. “I’m afraid Lyf wants to get rid of them.”

“Cast them out of Cython, you mean?”

“No – they know too much to be set free.”

“About what?”

“How the enemy think, how Cython’s defences work, where their water and air supplies come from and how they operate, how they grow food underground – the lot!”

“If the chancellor knew all that,” mused Holm, “he’d identify Cython’s weaknesses and find a way to attack it – poison the water supply, for instance. You’re right, Lyf can’t cast them out.”

“And with the place nearly emptied of Cythonians, the Pale are a much greater threat than before. I’m worried, Holm.”

“Why?”

“I think he’ll order them to be put down.”

“He’s got the best of Hightspall already. Why would he care about protecting Cython?”

“The enemy were almost wiped out in the first war. They were driven out of their homelands and herded into filthy
degrado
camps, and they swore they’d never allow that to happen again.”

“You mean —?”

“They’ll
never
give up Cython. And I’ve often heard them threatening to get rid of the Pale. ‘Come the day when we don’t need your kind any more,’ Orlyk used to say, and I think that day’s nearly here. I think it’s the ending Lyf plans to write in
The Consolation of Vengeance
.”

“You may be right,” said Holm, “but I don’t see —”

“If the Pale are facing genocide, I have to fulfil my blood oath. I have to rescue them.”