Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (95 page)

“They’re comin’, Tali,” moaned Rannilt, shaking her. “They’re comin’ for you. You gotta get out.”

The chancellor’s entourage had camped in a steep valley four days’ ride west of Garramide. Tali could not see Rannilt’s face; their tent was dark as the inside of a rock. The child’s warnings weren’t always reliable but Tali did not ask questions. She began heaving on her boots; they had all slept in their clothes. Down the other end she could hear Glynnie, who shared the tent with them, doing the same.

Belt, knife, journey-cake, fur-lined coat, and Tali was ready. “Which way, Rannilt?”

“Don’t know.” She let out a sob. “Stupid buttons! Can’t do ’em up in the dark.”

“Let me,” said Glynnie. Clothing rustled. “There you are. Got your knife, water bottle, food and kindling?”

There was a faint rustling as Glynnie checked her pockets. In this weather, going outside without food and a pocketful of dry kindling could mean the difference between death and survival.

Tali eased open the tent flap. Snow was driven into her eyes. She shielded them with her hand and looked around, but it was as dark outside as in. The wind howling through the tent ropes was a hedge witch crying out their doom.

“We’d better hold hands.”

Tali took Rannilt’s left hand and Glynnie her right. “Should we run and warn the others?”

“No time,” Rannilt said hoarsely.

“What are you seeing?”

“They’re comin’ over the ridges.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. Lots. They’re after you, Tali. They really hate you.”

That doesn’t narrow the list down much, Tali thought.

Further up the slope, a guard bellowed over the howling wind, “Chancellor! We’re attacked —” His voice ended in a scream.

Tali’s hair stood up and a jolt of sick fear rippled through her belly. How could she run when she didn’t know which way to run to?

The camp was set at the upper end of a windswept, U-shaped valley. There were steep ridges on either side and a cliff at the upper end.

Red flared up and out like a three-lobed leaf, some kind of mage-light at the top of the camp, and Tali saw a horde of shadows creeping upon the tents from either side of the valley. She crawled away for ten or fifteen yards, then pulled Rannilt and Glynnie close.

“There’s too many of them. We’ll never get out.”

“If we can get away from the camp,” said Glynnie, “they won’t know where to look.”

“If they’ve come all this way for me they won’t give up easily. Keep low.”

“Why don’t we head for the entrance to the valley —?”

“That’s what they’ll expect us to do. It’s the only way to get out.”

“Up,” said Rannilt in a cracked voice.

“If they know we’re up there, they’ll easily trap us.”

“Up!” Rannilt repeated. “No, wait. I can hear somethin’.”

“Get down!” Glynnie shoved them both into the snow.

Now Tali heard it too, a thundering roar that was shaking the hillside through the snow. What could it be? It did not sound right for a man on horseback.

She looked up as it came.
He
came. The Third Hero, Syrten. Massive, his monstrous hams pounding down the snow and driving that boulder-like body along relentlessly, the sandpaper thighs rasping together like grinding wheels. The opaline encrustations on his skin winked red and green and blue as they reflected the mage-light.

“It’s Grandys,” said Glynnie. “He’s come for you, Tali.”

One of the chancellor’s horses whinnied, another let out a scream of fear, then in a mass the horses broke through the side of their sapling corral and stampeded down the valley.

Syrten was driving down the slope directly towards them and it was too late to move. All they could do was lie still, half buried in snow, and pray that he missed them.

“Golem,” whispered Rannilt. “Golem gunna get us.”

“He’s just a man.” Tali gripped Rannilt’s hand and squeezed. The child was gasping as if she was about to scream, and if she gave way to it they were lost.

Syrten thumped closer. Judging by the way his footsteps shook the ground, he must weigh half a ton. If he ran over them he would crush their skulls or snap their bones. Then Grandys would finish the job.

Tali pulled herself into the tightest line she could manage. If Syrten caught them, she would have to use magery. Destructive magery, whatever the cost, though she did not think it would avail her against him. And it would instantly reveal her to Grandys.

The bursts of light from up the hill were more frequent now, and stronger, highlighting struggling groups of figures in many places. Battle was being done with magery up there and every blast sent needle pains through the top of her skull.

Syrten was hurtling down and it seemed impossible that he could miss them. Tali put her hands over the top of her head, scrunched herself further into the snow, and prayed.

A blast inside a tent, a hundred yards up the valley, lit the night sky – orange flame, human outlines wheeling through the air, a bellow of pain. Syrten propped, skidding sideways down the slope towards them and sending up a great deluge of snow. Was he going to skid right over them?

The golem feet broke through the snow, found purchase on rock beneath, then he shot away at right angles, directly for Tali’s tent.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We’ll go up in his tracks.”

Taking advantage of a momentary darkness, they scurried up the pounded snow to the ridge crest, which was tipped with slabs of slate like the plates running down the back of a land leviathan of olden times. The wind was howling up here, lifting the fallen snow and whirling it around in clouds.

“At least they won’t be able to track us,” said Tali, though she did not think anyone could have heard. “Glynnie, which way?”

No answer. “Glynnie?” said Tali. “Rannilt?”

“Right here,” said Rannilt after a pause. “But Glynnie ain’t.”

“What happened to her?”

“Don’t know.”

“She didn’t… get trampled?”

“Don’t think so. I thought she was comin’ behind. Couldn’t see nothin’, but.”

“We’ll have to go back for her.”

“Better wait,” said Rannilt. “They’re searchin’ below.”

“How many do you think there are?” said Tali. “I thought about a hundred.”

“Wasn’t countin’.”

“So it’s not his army, just a raiding party that can move quickly. Grandys, Syrten, and a bunch of experienced fighters.”

“Do you think Rix —?”

“Grandys would hardly take Rix on a raid against his friends.”

Another flash revealed a line of men moving across the snow below them. “They’re cuttin’ us off,” said Rannilt. “We can’t go back.”

They scrambled up the ridge, which rose ever steeper, groping their way through a darkness illuminated by flashes from the head of the valley.

“This isn’t right,” said Tali, clinging to a slab to catch her breath. “People are dying and I’m running away.”

“Dyin’ to protect ya,” said Rannilt. “Chief magian’s umbrella spell will stop them trackin’ ya, but it won’t hide ya if you’re seen.”

“I know, but my friends are down there. Tobry, Holm, Glynnie…” The catalogue of her friends was a short one.

“If they had to escape,” said Rannilt, “you’d be fightin’ so they could. Up there.” She was indicating the dark mass of the cliff where the ridge ran up into it.

“What’s up there?”

“Bit of a cave. Go in the back, and don’t look out. They can’t even get a glimpse of ya.”

They huddled in a broad, shallow space no bigger than the bed of a wagon, Tali facing away from the entrance.

“You’ll tell me if anything happens.”

“Don’t think they’re doin’ much killin’,” said Rannilt a while later. “They’re roundin’ people up. Settin’ up magery lights and searchin’ for ya.”

Tali desperately wanted to look around, to see for herself. “Can you tell who they’ve caught?”

“Too far away.”

The minutes passed.

“They’re still searchin’,” said Rannilt. “They’re brightenin’ up the mage-lights. Draggin’ someone out into the centre. Oh, don’t look —”

“Can you tell who?” Tali held her breath.

“A short, round little bloke.”

“Not the chief magian?”

Rannilt didn’t answer. She was breathing heavily. The blizzard squall passed and suddenly the night was ablaze with stars. Rannilt cried out, and at the same moment Tali felt a piercing pain pass through her from top to bottom. Suddenly she felt naked, exposed, vulnerable.

“They’ve killed him,” Tali said dully.

“Chopped his poor old head right off. How did you know?”

“The shield broke. They’ll be able to use magery to find me now.”

Who else were they going to kill? Grandys had already condemned Tobry, and if they had Glynnie, as Tali assumed, she would probably die as well. Grandys might put the whole camp to death. He had the reputation for it.

A tremendous flare of emerald green fire lit the night, bursting up and out in all directions and carrying what looked like dozens of people – or bodies – with it. Pain jagged through Tali’s skull.

“What was that?”

“Powerful magery,” said Rannilt. “Chief magian’s.”

“But he’s dead.”

“Must’ve left a booby trap behind. Killed dozens of them.” She paused. “They’re goin’.”

The raiders raced up the slope, over the ridge, and disappeared.

“Gone to their horses, I expect,” said Rannilt sagely.

“Do you think it’s a trick?” said Tali once they were gone. “Are they lurking nearby in case I go back?”

“Don’t know.”

Tali waited another ten minutes, then said, “I’m not game to go back, just in case. Come on.”

“Where are we goin’?”

“Down the ridge to the mouth of the valley. The horses stampeded that way, but I don’t think they’d go too far.”

“Are we leavin’ the wicked old chancellor?” said Rannilt. “Goody.”

“In a way. We’re going to Tirnan Twil.”

“I just heard about the chancellor,” said Tobry as he entered the healer’s tent at dawn. He was grey-faced and covered in snow. “How is he?”

“Rage doesn’t begin to describe his mood,” said Holm exhaustedly. It had been an eternal night and the day didn’t promise any better. “Grandys cut down his guards, stabbed the chancellor in the left arm with Maloch and left without saying a word.”

“Why?”

“A warning.
I could have killed you but this time I chose not to. But wherever you go, and no matter how many guards and magians you surround yourself with, you’re at my mercy
.”

“Bastard!”

“Did you find Tali, Rannilt or Glynnie?”

“Yes and no.”

“They’re not —?”

“No,” Tobry said quietly. He took Holm by the arm and led him outside where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Tali and Rannilt are gone.”

“What do you mean,
gone
?”

“I lost their tracks in the falling snow, so I went down to help round up the horses. There was one missing, the one Tali and Rannilt had been riding. And I found this, tied into my horse’s mane.”

He handed Holm a little twisted strip of paper, unsigned. It said,
You know where we’ve gone
.

“Tirnan Twil?” said Holm.

“Where else?”

“It’s about eight hours’ ride from here. They’d be halfway there by now. Is there any point —?”

“We’d never catch them,” said Tobry. “Besides, we can’t go after them without alerting the chancellor – and Tali’s search is something we definitely don’t want him to know about.”

“What about Glynnie?”

Tobry let out his breath in a rush. “I’m pretty sure Grandys has her.”

“Why would he take Glynnie?”

“To get at Rix,” Tobry replied. “Maybe he won’t do what Grandys wants. It’s no secret that Rix and Glynnie are close.”

“No chance of a rescue, I suppose?”

Tobry shook his head. “What a rotten, lousy night.” He turned back to the tent. “How’s his arm?

“Not good. When Grandys uses Maloch, it’s cursed, and with the chief magian dead, nothing can be done about the curse. It’s as though the arm is poisoned.”

They went into the tent, where the chancellor lay on a stretcher. Several healers were gathered around, applying one balm after another to the livid gash on his upper arm, but his twisted fingers had already gone black to the second joints and even as they watched the blackness inched up.

“Enough, dammit,” he said roughly. “You’re making it worse. Bandage it up and get out.”

“Bandaging such a wound can do no good,” said the first healer through pursed lips.

“Do you think I don’t know that? You’ll have to come back and cut the arm off. Get out!”

He looked up at Holm and Tobry. “What the hell do you want?”

“Tali and Rannilt have run off,” said Holm.

The chancellor cursed. “Take a squad and find her.”

“No tracks. The snow fills them in in minutes.”

“Wonderful! Have you got any other good news?”

“Grandys has taken Glynnie, presumably to get at Rix.”

The chancellor tried to shrug and gasped with the pain. “Nothing – I can do.”

“Why did he attack you?” said Tobry.

“He holds me in contempt.” The chancellor smiled through his pain. “It’s how I like to be held.”

“Why?”

“Contempt is a mind-addling emotion that obscures reason. The more contempt he feels for me, the more he’ll underestimate me – to his cost.”

“Then you have a plan,” said Tobry.

“I’ve always got a plan. Most of the time I have too many. Grandys is more dangerous than a wounded caitsthe.” The chancellor shot Tobry a sardonic glance. “Yet he commands fanatical loyalty.”

“But surely, after this —” said Holm.

“Don’t think it for a minute,” said the chancellor. “The common people, who have been suffering under the nobility for centuries —”

“And under the chancellors too,” said Tobry.

“You’ve no idea what a pleasure it’s going to be to see your blood spilled, shifter.”

“Death is like an old friend. I’m looking forward to opening the door to her.”

The chancellor scowled. “As I was saying, the common folk will be delighted to hear that Grandys strikes down and humiliates the mighty. They’ll forgive him anything.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He’s gone south, back to Gordion, I assume. We’re riding west with all possible speed, to meet my army near Nyrdly.”