Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (69 page)

“He is screaming.”

“Not in agony, Rix. He’s screaming in rage.”

“What does it matter, after all this time?”

Tali went forwards again, studying the face. “It reminds me of something I’ve seen before.”

“You’re an infuriating woman. You must have driven hundreds of men into a rage.”

Rix’s joke fell flat. “I’ve seen that expression somewhere –’ She broke off, clutching at her heart. “Tirnan Twil.”

Rix and Tobry stared at her. “What about it?” said Rix.

“That’s where I saw his face – in my mind’s eye.”

“What were you doing at Tirnan Twil?”

She related the story of the destruction of Tirnan Twil, briefly, baldly.

Rix ground his teeth. Even Tobry looked shocked.

“Why are you only telling me this now?” said Rix in a frighteningly soft voice.

“The night we came, you weren’t interested in my story —”

“Nor did you volunteer it.”

“I was planning to tell you both, until I discovered Tobry was an incurable shifter. After that, everything’s been such a disaster that I didn’t get time to tell you.”

“I assume that’s where you found Lyf’s self-portrait,” said Rix.

“Um, yes.”

“You didn’t tell me then, either.”

“I would have done, if you hadn’t been so busy. But it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“Oh, Tali,” said Tobry. “How could you be such a fool?”

“It changes
everything
!” said Rix.

“How?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”

“Not only am I harbouring a shifter in my house, and not only are you, according to rumour, debasing the whole fortress by sleeping with him —”

“I’m not!” cried Tali. “He wouldn’t have me.”

“I’m glad one of you showed some sense.” Rix scowled at Tali. “Tirnan Twil was built by the Five Herovians. It contained many of their most precious books and relics, vital objects that can never be replaced.”

“And it survived, never seriously threatened, for two thousand years —” said Tobry.

“Yet now you tell me,” Rix continued, speaking over Tobry, “that within
hours
of your arrival it was aflame from top to bottom.”

“It was attacked by renegade gauntlings, hunting me because —”

“And everything there, and everyone except you and Holm, perished,” Rix went on, talking over her. “Can’t you see what the Herovians in this house, and every other Herovian house throughout Hightspall, will think when they hear of it?”

“They’ll blame you, Tali,” said Tobry, looking as though he had aged twenty more years. “You and Holm, but mostly you, because you’re the Pale slave who escaped from Cython, and it doesn’t take much for Hightspallers to think of the Pale as traitors.”

“We’re not! We’re not!” Tali sank to the icy flagstones.

“They’ll say you made a pact with Lyf himself, long ago. And say you’ve been working for him, spying for him and committing acts of sabotage for him all this time. They’ll remember that House Ricinus, the wealthiest and most powerful house in all Hightspall, fell within days of your arrival. And Caulderon only days after that.”

“Now you’ve come to this ancient Herovian house,” said Rix. “The moment my people hear about Tirnan Twil they’ll draw the inescapable conclusion. That you’re here to destroy Garramide as well.”

“I won’t do you any more damage, Rix,” said Tobry early the following morning. “I’ll be gone within the hour.”

Rix shook his head. “No, you won’t. Swelt had a carrier hawk come in at dawn and I need your counsel more than ever,
now
. I need every fighting man I’ve got, too.”

“What’s happened?”

“There’s an enemy army marching our way. A small army, but —”

“How small?”

“Fifteen hundred men.”

Tobry whistled. “Are you a praying man these days?”

“I’ve worn all the skin off my knees this morning.”

“How far away are they?”

“Five or six days. Depends on the weather.”

“And if they do a forced march, like last time?”

“The only point to a forced march is to take your enemy by surprise. It doesn’t apply here. They know we’re expecting them.”

“Let’s say four days, to be safe.”

“Four days or forty, it’s not going to make any difference, Tobe. Even a thousand trained soldiers would be too many for us. Fifteen hundred just makes it quicker.”

“What’s happened to your fighting spirit? The other day —”

“After the battle on the wall, there were times when I truly felt we could take on Lyf. That we could even save Hightspall…”

“So did I. But…”

“But the relentless bad news – your doom as a shifter, the talk of mutiny, the destruction of Tirnan Twil – it’s shaken my confidence, Tobe.”

“You’re making Garramide stronger every day. And every day, a few more people turn up at the gates, wanting to fight on your side.”

“Not enough to make a difference. It’ll take a miracle for us to survive this time.”

“You knew that when you decided to take Lyf on. We all did.”

“But when I left Caulderon I didn’t have anything to lose. Now the lives of hundreds of people depend on me; people I’ve fought beside; people who’d give everything for me. I’m scared, Tobe. What if I’m not up to the job?”

“You won’t let people down. You always do your best.”

“If Lyf takes Garramide, he’ll put everyone to the sword.”

Tobry did not reply.

“I – I need a sign, Tobe. A symbol to rally behind.”

“Is that why you painted the Grandys mural? And why you keep going up there to commune with it?”

“He’s the most famous name in Hightspall. He was such a brilliant leader – and my ancestor.”

“He wasn’t a nice fellow, though.”

“I know, but he won every battle he fought. Even when his forces were desperately outnumbered, he could turn the tide through sheer, ferocious determination. That’s what it’s going to take for us to win this battle, Tobe. Nothing else will do.”

“Well,” Tobry said reluctantly, “if he’s the kind of symbol you need, then by all means use him. But be careful.”

“I will… but I’m worried.”

“What about?”

“Maloch, for starters.”

“What about it?”

“Remember how you warned me about it, the night you came?”

Tobry nodded.

“I think you’re right,” said Rix. “I sometimes feel it’s developing a life of its own.”

“What kind of a life?” Tobry seemed to be holding his breath.

“I don’t know, but when I draw it I feel strong. Ruthless. Driven.”

“Go on.”

“Like a drunk who can’t stop thinking about his next bottle, the sword is constantly on my mind.”

“Perhaps that’s the enchantment. Put it away and only use it when you have to fight.”

“I need it, Tobe. I’ve never needed to believe in myself more.”

“You looked like a born leader when we fought on the wall.”

“I was using Maloch. Perhaps that’s why I’m called to the sword, and to Grandys. Because he had the strength I lack. Can the mural divine
my
future, do you think?”

“One or two of your divinations have been right in the past. Though,” Tobry mused, “I think it just reflects your own desperate need.”

After he had gone down to the black hole, Rix soon found himself standing face to face with the twisted figure again. Tali was right. The expression on Grandys’ face was rage, and it made him seem all the stronger.

Help me, Rix thought. Show me how I can win the coming battle.

The problem was twofold: a few weeks’ training wasn’t enough to make his force of yeomen and farm labourers into professional soldiers, and he simply did not have enough of them to defend the walls against fifteen hundred enemy. Days ago he had sent envoys to all the manors within twenty miles, but few had offered help. Perhaps they’d heard that he harboured a shifter here.

It brought him back to the rumoured mutiny. Further enquiries had told him that there were half a dozen ringleaders and another twenty or thirty sympathisers. But for a mutiny to succeed, they’d need far more sympathisers than that – at least a third of the population of the fortress. It was some way off, then, as Swelt had said. How could he prevent it,
and
strengthen his hand for the coming battle?

Rix was studying the painting, thinking about the opalised Grandys trapped in the Abysm, when an outlandish idea struck him. It would take a miracle to survive the coming battle. A miracle –
or some supernatural aid
– the one way to raise morale in the fortress from the depths to the heights in a moment. The one way to dismay his enemies, even Lyf.

Especially Lyf.

By invoking the memory of the one man everyone in the north-east revered. The one foe Lyf feared more than all the others put together.

Rix took another look at the mural. Was it the right thing to do, or would he be challenging fate? The figure wasn’t just a lump of opal – it was a mighty symbol. And if Lyf’s victories were largely due to his use of the supernatural force of magery, why not use another supernatural force against him?

Could it be done in time? An hour’s study in the library told him that it could. He would need helpers, half a dozen at least. And it would take a day and a half. Plenty of time to go and return before the enemy arrived. If he could bring this symbol back, it could stop any mutiny in its tracks. The plotters wouldn’t dare continue then. Yes, he thought, it’s the answer to all my problems.

But he wasn’t going to tell Tobry in advance. He had a feeling Tobry would disapprove.

Rix would send a select band of men out in the morning, to a rendezvous halfway to the destination. An hour later he would simply say that he was going hunting. No one would query that – in winter, fresh meat was always welcome.

Rix did not know this country and took many wrong turnings before finally locating the rendezvous, hours later than he had planned. By that time the sky had gone the colour of brass, and both men and horses were nervous. Rix did not blame them. A mountain ridge was not the place to be when a storm struck.

“We’ll take cover down under that ledge ’til it passes,” he said, pointing with Maloch. “Ride!”

His band of ne’er-do-wells roared, raised their fists in the air and pounded down the slope at speeds likely to break their necks, or their horses’. Rix followed more steadily, going over his plan. A forgotten detail niggled at him, but he could not dredge it up.

“The hunt was a cover story,” he said once they were under the ledge and the rain was streaming down all around. “I’ve got a bold and audacious plan that, if we pull it off, will make all our names.”

“Bugger our names,” said Yudi, a big, foul-mouthed fellow with a pink face and yellow, curling hair. “Can’t eat a name, can I?”

“Once you have the name,” said Rix, “it’s not hard to trade on it for gold, if that’s the most important thing in your life.”

“It’s the second most important thing,” Yudi said, nudging his neighbour and sniggering.

“A name will help with that, too,” Rix said coldly. “Shut up and listen. A few miles across yonder ridge there’s a great sinkhole, sacred to the enemy before Hightspall was founded. Some people say it’s one of the co-existing branches of the Abysm —”

“What the hell’s an abysm?” said Yudi. “Sounds like a —”

Rix cut him off. “It’s the conduit down which the Cythonians’ souls pass from life to death. At least, that’s what
they
believe.” He paused for a full minute. “But it’s also the place where their wrythen king, Lyf, hurled Axil Grandys after he killed him –
and turned him to stone
.”

He had their attention now. Every child in Hightspall knew about the Five Heroes’ mysterious disappearance, though no one knew what had happened to them until Lyf had admitted it to Rix and Tali almost six weeks ago.

“Co-existing?” said Legz, a slender, black-haired fellow with a hungry eye. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s only one Abysm, but it exists in a number of places at the same time.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nor to me,” said Rix. “But it’s so.”

“What good’s a bloody bit o’ stone anyway?” said Yudi disgustedly.

“Actually, Lyf turned Grandys to precious black opal,” said Rix. “But the body, not being Cythonian, couldn’t pass through the Abysm. It’s still floating there, deep down.”

Someone whistled, and a small, black-haired fellow said, “All that opal must be worth a chancellor’s ransom. And we’re going to get it out, right? Then break it to bits and share out the opal?”

“Certainly not! We’re going to take it back to Garramide, in one piece.”

“What’s the use of some crappy old statue?” said Yudi.

“It’s not a statue,” Rix said. “I just told you, it’s Grandys’ petrified body.
And it could win the war
.”

They stared at him. No one spoke.

“How?” said a grizzled old fellow with a dingy, stringy beard and ears that stuck out like butterfly wings.

“I’m going to mount his body on top of the main tower at Garramide, behind the gates. Anyone who comes within a mile will see Grandys perched there, watching over the fortress.”

“How’s that gonna help?”

“The enemy are very superstitious. They wouldn’t dare attack while looking their destroyer in the face, even if Lyf himself led them.”

“Why not?” said Yudi.

“Because Grandys betrayed Lyf in the first place, then hacked his feet off with this very sword – Maloch.”

Rix raised it with a flourish, and felt a surge of strength and certainty burn through him.

“Lyf’s terrified of this sword, because it contains one of Grandys’ greatest spells.” Rix didn’t know that, but the deception was justifiable. “I’ve fought Lyf with Maloch, twice, and I know how it terrifies him. Ready?”

“Yes!” they roared.

“Then let’s go and get Grandys.”

As he led them back up the ridge, Rix heard Yudi muttering to the man next to him.

“Black opal is priceless, ain’t it?”

“A man-size piece would be worth buckets of gold,” said the other man. “Maybe barrels.”

“And there’s no saying Grandys has got to be complete. Bits could have cracked off him at any time, with all those dead souls whizzin’ past. Don’t reckon old Grandys would miss a finger now. Just snap one off, slip it in your pocket and when we get back home, we’re made.”

“Reckon I’ll snap off something a bit bigger than a finger,” said the second man, and they laughed like blocked drains.