Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (89 page)

He swam slowly, conserving his strength. He had to burst out of the water and scramble up the greasy slope in seconds or they would shoot him dead. The water was murky and he could not see a thing. He swam ten yards to his left, so the archers could not predict his exit point, and shot out.

Syrten was immediately ahead, driving upwards, his great weight forcing his square boots deep into the slippery slope and giving him purchase. Rix scrambled up behind him, crouched low to avoid the arrows, then in a moment of inspiration, thrust his fingers through Syrten’s opaline belt.

Syrten did not appear to notice. Could he feel anything through that heavily encrusted skin? The driving thighs towed Rix up, and at the top he rolled away and ran to the shelter of the wall. Lirriam was walking calmly towards the wall, fifty yards to Rix’s left. A dozen archers were shooting at her but she must have been protecting herself with magery, for the arrows were shattering in mid-air before they reached her.

“Get the bridge down, Ricinus,” yelled Grandys, who was so close to the gate that the archers struggled to bear on him. “Syrten, here.”

Syrten ran across, gave Grandys the two bombasts, then lurched, more golem-like than ever, across to the raised moat bridge. Lirriam was on its far side. The bridge stood vertically against the wall, held there by its lifting chains. They ran from the upper end of the bridge, fifty feet above him, across the wall and down to a treadmill-driven winch on the other side. There was no way to lower the bridge from outside.

“It can’t be done,” Rix said, cursing.

Without the bridge, the troops could not cross the moat, and when they stopped on the other side they would be cut down in minutes. The archers on the walls could then pick Rix and Grandys off at their leisure, and drop a bombast on Syrten’s head if he could not be killed any other way.

“Get it down!” bellowed Grandys.

Rix ran across to the gates. Grandys was packing the bombasts against them.

“We can’t release it,” Rix panted. “The chains are out of reach.”

Grandys clouted Rix out of the way, took the red fuses from a pocket, poked one end deep into a bombast and ran towards the vertical bridge, carrying it.

Where was Syrten? Rix could not see him until the timbers of the bridge began to creak and groan, when he caught an opaline flash from the gap between the bridge and the wall. Syrten had forced his way into the gap and was pushing with his massive legs, his back against the stone wall, trying to force the gate down.

The chains clanked and tightened; from the top of the wall Rix heard someone shout a warning. Syrten let out a wrenching groan. It sounded as though the strain was tearing him apart. One of his armoured feet burst through the boards of the bridge, then the other.

“That’s not the way,” said Grandys. “Out!”

He ran back to the gate, set down the bombast, struck sparks off his armoured chest with Maloch and ignited the three red fuses. Picking up one of the bombasts, he took careful aim and hurled it high above the wall. For a few seconds Rix thought it was going to fall back on them, but it plunged down, grazed the other side of the wall and struck something inside. A monumental explosion shook stones down around them and cleared the guards off the wall for fifty yards.

It must have destroyed the winch, for suddenly the chains were running. The bridge fell outwards with Syrten, a foolish expression on his swart face, still embedded through the planking to the knees. The bridge slammed down on the other side of the moat, driving him into the planking until he was stopped by his groin. He bellowed in agony.

“Down!” roared Grandys.

Rix threw himself behind a projection of the wall and wrapped his arms around his head as the remaining two bombasts exploded, sending earth, rocks, splinters and multi-coloured fire in all directions.

“Charge!” said Grandys.

His troops charged across the bridge, swerving around Syrten, who was trying to heave himself out of the planking.

“You!” said Grandys to Rix. “Time to earn your keep. With me.”

They charged the breach together. Most of the gate was gone, just a few splintered timbers still hanging from the left-hand side, and there were no live guards to be seen. Grandys and Rix scrambled through, leaping over rubble and stone, logs and bodies. Then they were faced with a dozen of the enemy – more. They were coming from everywhere.

A guard came at Rix from the left. He cut him down with a wild sweep to the neck and kept swinging to take down the fellow next to him. On his right, Grandys was wreaking havoc with Maloch. Rix had never seen such sword work, or such bloody death at close quarters. Lirriam was directly behind, killing gleefully, protected by magery that deflected both arrows and sword blows.

They cut and hacked their way for several dozen yards until they were surrounded by enemy. Rix’s sword arm was already tiring. The butchery was horrific but if he stopped for a second he would die.

“On!” said Grandys, his eyes wild with exhilaration. “Ah, this is living!”

As if to prove the point, he hacked an enemy soldier down, then another.

The enemy counterattacked, forming an impenetrable wall ahead of them. Suddenly Grandys, struck by many weapons at once, faltered. His blows were failing to make impact; the enemy were closing in around, a dozen of them attacking him at once. Not even he could survive that.

Then Syrten was behind them, pushing between them, driving forwards on his own, bursting through the enemy’s shield wall and trampling them underfoot. Yulia came after, stone-faced, striking her opponents down with precise thrusts of a small black rapier. Rix followed Syrten, and between the four of them the enemy gave.

Grandys’ army came surging through the gap, and though few of them were a match for Rochlis’s experienced men, the Cythonians were so demoralised by the swift destruction of their unbreachable gate, by the appearance of the Five Heroes who had brought Cythe down in the first place, and their forbidden magery, that they turned and ran.

“To me,” bellowed a heavyset, broad-faced fellow in the uniform of a Cythonian general. “Drive them out the gates and into the ditch.”

“That’s Rochlis,” said Grandys. “I want him alive.”

He hurtled through the ranks of the enemy, knocking them down to right and left, and up the slope to where General Rochlis stood. Rochlis fought as bravely as any man, but he was outmatched, and Rix’s heart went out to the fellow. He’d seen enough bloodshed today, and caused enough, to last him a lifetime.

A blow from Syrten’s armoured fist brought Rochlis down. Grandys heaved the general above his head and shook him like a dog with a rat.

“It’s over! Castle Rebroff is mine.”

He dropped the general on his face and turned to Rix. “I always get what I want, Rixium. Remember that and you’ll come to no harm.”

And you don’t give a damn about Hightspall, Rix thought. You’re the most dangerous man in the world and someone has to stop you.

If any man can.

Tali rounded a corner of the fortress wall and stopped dead. Tobry and Holm were strolling along the wall, chatting as though they weren’t condemned traitors with a reward for their severed heads. She ran down to them, throwing her arms out to embrace Tobry, then froze.

“Tobry, Holm? What are you doing here? The chancellor will kill you.”

She had taken to walking along the top of the escarpment wall, because walking helped her to think. And she had much to think about; not least, what Lyf was up to. There had been no news of him since he fled Glimmering, which allowed her worries free rein. Three times she had tried to spy on him, and three times she had failed. Was he blocking her?

Tobry sidestepped her, took her right hand in his and released it at once. He had not forgiven her for using her healing blood on him. She, in turn, had felt her love die when he had attacked her as a caitsthe. Tobry would always be a friend but there could be no more.

“Not when he hears my plan,” said Tobry, answering her previous question.

“What plan? What’s going on?”

Tobry and Holm exchanged glances.

“Can’t talk about it yet,” said Tobry.

“Why did you come back? What if there’s another mutiny?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Holm. “All the plotters are dead.”

“Besides,” said Tobry, “the chancellor has two hundred guards and servants, and if there’s anyone who knows how to control a fortress, he does. If there was one whisper of a plot his spies would tell him about it, and the plotters’ bodies would be dangling from the battle tower within the hour.”

Tali felt foolish for having asked. “Well, there’s still a price on your head – both your heads.”

“I
really
think you should tell her,” Holm murmured. “Tali has a right to know.”

“If it involves you,” said Tali, hands on her hips, “I damn well do.”

“I can’t,” said Tobry.

“Is it dangerous?”

Again that exchange of glances.

“There are certain risks,” said Tobry.

“
Certain risks!
You sound like one of the chancellor’s war advisors. This is me you’re talking to. The woman who —” She couldn’t say it; it wasn’t true any more.

“Loved you?” Holm said helpfully.

“Who asked you to interfere?” she snapped. “Go away.”

Holm spread his hands as if to say,
I did my best
. He gave Tobry another of those enigmatic looks and continued along the wall.

“What kind of risks?” said Tali.

“I can’t talk about it yet. Sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.”

“Why?” he said wryly. “Are you going to cut me open again?”

“I wouldn’t waste my healing blood on you! Now clear out. I’ve got important things to think about.
Things that matter
.”

“Don’t be like that,” said Tobry. “I’ve had a hard time of it on the run.”

“And I haven’t?” said Tali, not disposed to forgive him that easily. “The chancellor could decide to hack the pearl out any day now. Lyf is also after me, and back at Glimmering I revealed myself to Grandys —”

His tanned face went white. “You did what?”

She related the incident. Tobry gripped her by the shoulders. “This is bad, bad. I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“And then there’s Rix.”

“What’s happened to him? I assumed he’d be here.”

“But… how could you not know?”

“Know
what
?”

“Grandys used a command spell at Glimmering and ordered Rix follow him. Surely you knew that?”

No – Tobry had dived off the cliff to escape,
before
Grandys took Rix. And Holm hadn’t been there either – he had been keeping out of sight of the chancellor.

“Holm heard that the chancellor had put a price on our heads,” said Tobry, “but we haven’t heard any other news. What’s going on?”

“Grandys has brought back the other four Heroes, and he’s like a ravening wolf. He killed the lord of Swire, formed an army of villagers then took Castle Rebroff in a couple of hours and put everyone to the sword. He’s called —”

“He captured Castle Rebroff with
an army of villagers
?” said Tobry. “But… it’s supposed to be impregnable.” He stared over the wall, shivering. “This is bad.”

“Grandys has put out a call for every Herovian in the land to rise in rebellion and flock to his banner,” said Tali. “And according to the chancellor’s spies, thousands have come out of hiding already, bearing their ancient house arms.”

“Martial training is part of Herovian culture, for both girls and boys, from the time they can walk. They’re formidable fighters.”

“The chancellor sent envoys to Grandys. He sent their severed heads back in a bag. What does he want, Tobry?”

“What the Herovians ever wanted. Their Promised Realm, all to themselves.”

“They’re greatly outnumbered by Hightspallers, and Cythonians,” said Tali.

“Maybe Grandys believes a Herovian uprising can destroy both enemies,” said Tobry. “And take the prize for himself.”

“You’re shivering. Here, take my coat.”

“It would hardly fit. I’m all right. I’ve suffered worse. Let’s walk.”

She went to slip her arm through his, then remembered that they didn’t do that any more. They turned the corner and headed down the high wall that ran along the escarpment.

“Grandys built this place for his daughter,” said Tali. “He must have known it well, and maybe it’s important to him, too. Do you think he’ll come here?”

“Yes. Sooner or later.”

“If Lyf’s best general couldn’t defend Castle Rebroff, how can we defend Garramide?”

“Maybe we can’t.”

She looked down the escarpment, at the snow on the leaves of the forest trees. From this angle she could see nothing but forest and mountains. There was not a sign that humanity existed.

Tali wished they’d all go away and take their stupid fights with them. Damn the Herovians, and damn the Five Heroes. They had cheated and lied to start the first war, and two thousand years later innocent people were still dying. It had to be stopped.

“I’ve been thinking about Grandys and Maloch,” she said. “I’m starting to think this business was set in motion a long time ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Maloch was ever Rix’s. Nor do I think it was ever protecting him.”

“I’ve heard it said that the sword contained an enchantment to protect Grandys,
and his direct descendants
.”

“But he had no descendants. He was sterile.”

“What are you getting at?”

“The enchantment was designed to protect one man, Grandys himself.”

“And from the moment Rix took up Maloch,” said Tobry, “it was leading him: to the Crag, to the wrythen, to Garramide, to the Abysm.”

“So what happens if he wins?”

“Hightspall is finished.”

“And what happens if Lyf wins?”

“Hightspall is finished. Which is why I’m going ahead with my plan.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to die, Tali, and it won’t be long.The shifter madness is creeping nearer; I can see it from the corner of my eye. I’m not going through what my grandfather suffered, and I’m not inflicting it on anyone else either.”

Before Tali could reply, a trio of guards advanced towards them along the wall from the left, and another pair appeared on the right.

“Then why did you come back?” said Tali.