Fall of Light (121 page)

K’rul’s smile faded. ‘No,’ he said, ‘best not. Ah, here returns my winged companion, with only a modest tuft of black hide in his talons.’

Scabandari nodded again. ‘I thought I heard a distant yelp.’

‘That Jheleck brave will dine well on his story.’

‘He was a she,’ the Tiste replied. ‘But, as you say, K’rul. Tell me if you will, what lies ahead?’

‘Well, if this Osserc survived the walk, we shall no doubt find him. Beyond that, it is hard to know for certain. Excepting one thing.’

‘And that is?’

‘We will have a conversation or two with a dragon, and if you can imagine my frustration with Skillen Droe, it is nothing compared to what I anticipate. Now, we are three again,’ he added as Skillen Droe landed nearby with a heavy thump. ‘And the place we all seek is not far now.’

  *   *   *

‘My apologies, Ardata,’ said Kanyn Thrall. The agony from his shattered leg rose in waves, and the puncture wounds in his chest ached with every strained breath he managed. ‘I failed you.’

She stood looking down on him. ‘Are you chilled? You shiver and tremble. Has fever come upon you?’

‘I believe so,’ he replied. ‘Your ministrations may have failed as well. I hear voices. Women arguing and moaning in pleasure – this seems a strange union to me.’

‘They abuse Osserc,’ Ardata replied distractedly.

He frowned up at her, even as he drew the furs tighter about himself. ‘Who?’

‘The dragons have assumed Tiste forms. They are Soletaken, it seems, and possess, I now suspect, ancient blood of the First Tiste. It explains their singular obsession with thrones, and power.’

‘Your thoughts are elsewhere, Ardata. I weary you—’

‘Oh, shut up, Kanyn Thrall. Self-pity is most unattractive. Yes, my mind is on other things. Specifically, should I endeavour to kill two dragons? Osserc’s soul will seal the gate, and then I must leave here, journeying south. I fear those bitches will simply pluck him free the moment I depart. The only reason they might not is fear of yet more Draconic rivals in this realm. Do you see my dilemma?’

He studied her, jaws clenching as another wave of agony rippled through him. ‘My failing compounds it, then, and that, Ardata, is simple fact, not self-pity.’

She crouched down beside him and set a cool hand upon his forehead. ‘You are afire, Thel Akai. Against this I can do nothing.’

‘Then leave me here and be on your way, Ardata.’

‘My wife has returned from the Vitr,’ she said. ‘Her memory is lost. I must find her. I must return her to me.’

He nodded.

After another moment, Ardata straightened. ‘It is a curious mercy,’ she said, ‘that I must now drag Osserc from the clutches of two insatiable women.’

‘Given what awaits him, yes, most curious.’

‘Fare well, Kanyn Thrall.’

‘And you, Ardata.’

Even after she left the dusty chamber, he felt her presence. His fever had hatched a thousand spider eggs beneath his skin, and the creatures now swarmed.
Let us not call this love, then. But still, woman, it seems your touch is eternal. Ah, bless me.

  *   *   *

They heard the shrieking before they came within sight of the ruined temple. Scabandari glanced at K’rul. ‘Is this expected? Are we about to come upon some dread sacrifice to a long-dead god?’

Ahead, wild firelight flared and flickered, limning in light the ragged lines of the temple. Above this, something vast and ominous hovered in the air, dull and throbbing crimson.

In answer to Scabandari’s questions, K’rul sighed. ‘She hesitates. Not because her victim shrieks his terror at the fate awaiting him, but because she senses me and Skillen Droe.’

In that moment two huge winged shapes lifted into the air, rising up to flank the suspended wound.

Skillen Droe clacked his jaws and opened his own wings, but K’rul turned to his companion, one hand lifting. ‘A moment, assassin, if you please. Yes, they scented you, and know you for who you are.’

If the demonic reptile made reply, Scabandari could not hear it, but he saw K’rul shrug.

They continued on, approaching the temple grounds. Scabandari stared up at the dragons. Skillen Droe was not as large as they, and yet he sensed their fear and alarm. K’rul had named the creature
assassin
, after all.
Yes, I can see that. In the southlands of the Forkassail there dwells a wasp that preys on spiders the size of my hand. Size means less than the venom of the sting, and I think now that Skillen Droe is a most venomous foe.
‘K’rul, you spoke of conversation with dragons, not battle.’

‘I did.’

‘Yet you bring this … companion.’

‘Yes. I need those dragons to listen to me.’

‘They are more likely to flee!’

K’rul gestured again at Skillen Droe, as if dismissing a silent complaint. ‘No, that is not likely, Scabandari. Dragons have little comprehension of retreat. They tend to stand and fight, even when death is inevitable. A sound measure of their arrogance.’

‘More sound the measure of their stupidity!’

‘Yes, that too.’

Something in that shrieking voice gnawed at Scabandari, and when it abruptly stopped he involuntarily quickened his pace. Reaching the first of the toppled columns, he saw before him a large bonfire. Beside it was a tall woman, her hair fiery red, her skin the hue of alabaster. At her feet was a huddled, weeping form.

Scabandari flinched as Skillen Droe sailed past him to land heavily close to the woman.

Breathing hard, K’rul came up behind Scabandari. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘unfortunate.’

‘That man at her feet,’ said Scabandari, ‘is the man I came to find.’

‘I surmised as much. Alas, my friend, his soul is destined to seal the gate of Starvald Demelain.’

Baring his teeth, Scabandari drew his sword. ‘I think not.’

‘You cannot stand against this,’ K’rul said. ‘If the gate is not sealed, more Eleint shall come, not by the score, but by the thousands. This realm shall be destroyed in their senseless fury, for those dragons will war one upon the other. And should the Storm of the Mother manifest—’

‘Enough dire prophecy,’ Scabandari snapped. ‘That is the only son of Lord Urusander. His father needs him, if only to be reminded of the world to come. But more than that, Kurald Galain needs him.’ He moved forward, directly towards the red-haired woman, who had at last turned to face the newcomers. Something avid in her gaze made him stop in his tracks.

She offered him little more than a flicker of attention before unveiling a glare at K’rul. ‘You! Ah, now I see. This sorcery is your doing. Idiot. How does it defy me?’

‘You are Azathanai,’ K’rul replied. ‘My blood is not for you.’

‘You have interrupted me,’ she said then, with a momentary glance directed at Skillen Droe. ‘And you! I told you I never wanted to see you again!’

The look the reptilian assassin sent back at K’rul seemed somehow plaintive.

K’rul shook his head and then spoke again to the woman. ‘Ardata, tell the dragons to return. Skillen Droe is not here to shed blood. We have bargains to make, with you all.’

‘Bargains?’ Ardata’s smile was not particularly pleasant. ‘Oh, those two will enjoy that.’

Scabandari pointed the tip of his sword at Ardata. ‘Osserc is under my protection,’ he said. ‘Find another sacrifice.’

The woman scowled, and then shrugged before stepping back. ‘It seems our options have expanded. Come ahead then and wipe his nose, but should I decide that indeed Osserc remains the best choice, I will kill you to get to him, if necessary.’ She gestured down at the huddled form. ‘Is he worth that?’

Osserc looked up suddenly, eyes wide and red. They fixed upon Scabandari and he shrieked, ‘Take him instead!’

The dragons no longer hovered, though Scabandari could not recall seeing them depart, but now two Tiste women emerged from the gloom.

‘Look, Curdle, another warrior! One for each of us!’

K’rul cleared his throat. The sound was modest and yet it drew everyone’s attention. ‘We face a quandary to be sure,’ he said. ‘Ardata, neither Osserc nor Scabandari here is suitable for sealing Starvald Demelain.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that the surviving Tiste of this world all carry the blood of the Eleint. It is the chaos at the core of their souls. If you send Osserc’s soul into the gate, he will seal nothing. Indeed, he will act as a clarion call to your kin. The same for Scabandari.’

Ardata whirled on the two Tiste women. ‘And did you know this?’ she demanded.

The one named Curdle shrugged. ‘Possibly.’

‘Possibly not,’ the other added.

‘Then you bargained falsely!’

Curdle’s brows lifted and she turned to her companion. ‘Did we, Telorast? I can’t recall.’

‘You asked for the pup and … what else? Oh yes, that thing about Kilmandaros. That was all of it, I’m sure, Curdle. So, no, we did not bargain falsely.’

‘Just as I thought,’ Curdle replied. She turned to Ardata. ‘The decision to use Osserc was yours, Ardata. It had nothing to do with us. But I might have hinted, being naturally generous, at the risk of
aspected
gates.’

‘She failed in taking the hint,’ Telorast observed, with a look of stern reproach at Ardata. ‘The Azathanai think themselves so clever.’

‘Eleint,’ said K’rul, ‘Skillen Droe is here seeking redemption. He has offered, in just this moment, to seal the gate with his soul.’

Scabandari caught faint motion from the entrance to the temple, and he turned to see a huge figure hobbling into the firelight. He backed up to stand before Osserc, who still kneeled, and risked a glance down. ‘Milord? I think it is time to return home, do you not agree?’

Wiping at his face, Osserc nodded. ‘I have been … Scabandari, I have been sorely abused.’

‘Indeed, milord.’ A moment later, Scabandari’s attention was drawn back to the two Tiste women, both of whom now strode closer.

‘Most generous,’ Curdle said in a faintly awed whisper. ‘The Slaughterer of Dragons seeks redemption. Did not honour die long ago? It seems not. Well then, on behalf of my kin, living and slain, I accept your offer, Skillen Droe. Seal Starvald Demelain.’

‘There is a catch,’ K’rul said.

Both women snapped their attention to him. ‘Ah, hear this, Curdle?’ crooned Telorast. ‘It could never be so easy, could it?’

‘I have need of you two,’ said K’rul. ‘In fact, I have need of all the Eleint who have come into this realm.’

‘What manner of need?’ Curdle demanded.

‘Guardianship.’

There was a long pause, and then Telorast hissed. ‘The Gates of Sorcery!’

‘My Warrens, yes. In return, you can feed upon your chosen aspect.’

‘Warrens,’ said Telorast. ‘Well named, Azathanai.’

‘But you are not to resist those mortals who would draw upon my sorcery,’ added K’rul.

‘Then against whom do we guard?’

‘Azathanai, for one. Your fellow Eleint, for another.’

Ardata suddenly cut in, ‘These two will defy you, K’rul. They seek the Throne of Shadow, upon the rise of the Grey Shore. It is their singular obsession.’

K’rul shrugged. ‘They need only convey my offer to their kin. What will come of the Grey Shore is not yet known.’ He returned his attention upon the Tiste women. ‘Well?’

Curdle scowled. ‘It seems too generous. All in the manner of gifts. Where is the loss for us? The sacrifice? K’rul is devious, the most devious of all the Azathanai. I am suspicious.’

‘I am indeed being overly generous,’ K’rul replied. ‘And this is my reason: another Azathanai seeks to usurp my Warrens, to corrupt them utterly. Should he succeed, even the Eleint of this realm will suffer a harsh fate. Control over the gates of my Warrens is essential, and so I turn to the only beings capable of becoming guardians – indeed, wards – of my sorcery.’

‘Now he flatters us,’ Telorast said.

‘He asks only that we voice the offer to our kin,’ Curdle pointed out. ‘You and me, love, we yield nothing.’

‘True.’

K’rul shrugged. ‘The only thing you two yield is your choice of Warrens. In fact, given your obsession, it seems that you will surrender them entirely in favour of a throne that may never appear. That of course is your choice.’

Telorast turned to her companion. ‘I see no reason to remain here, Curdle. Do you?’

‘None at all!’ Curdle replied. ‘K’rul, we accept your bargain! Where then are these unclaimed gates?’

‘Here and there. Follow the scent of magic and you will find them.’

Scabandari gasped as the two Tiste women seemed to blur, vanishing inside twin burgeoning clouds that moments later manifested as a pair of dragons. Wings hammering the air, scattering sparks from the bonfire, they lunged upward into the darkness.

In their sudden absence, no one spoke.

Then Scabandari gestured with his sword. ‘Who is this giant?’

As attention fixed upon the huge stranger, the man straightened, leaning against a column. ‘I am Kanyn Thrall. Fever has taken me and I shall soon be dead. Yet within, I feel the power of my soul. Sufficient, I should think, for one last service to you, Ardata—’

He got no further, as Skillen Droe leapt forward, wings wide, one clawed hand reaching out to grasp him. The bones of the wings seemed to crackle as the assassin carried Kanyn Thrall upward.

Ardata shrieked.

The winged assassin plunged into the maw of the gate of Starvald Demelain. Both vanished. An instant later, so too did the gate itself, like an iris closing until swallowed by the night.

Uncomprehending, Scabandari stared first at K’rul, and then at Ardata. ‘What just happened?’ he asked.

‘The gate is sealed,’ replied K’rul.

Ardata turned on him. ‘Deceit! You planned this!’

‘Don’t be a fool!’ snapped K’rul. ‘We knew nothing about that Thel Akai!’

‘And Skillen?’

‘Has a mind of his own. And really, should that surprise either of us, Ardata?’

‘Then – he has gone into the Draconean realm? Has he lost his mind! They will tear him to pieces!’

‘Well, they tried that last time, didn’t they?’

Ardata turned on Scabandari. ‘Look what you’ve done, Tiste!’

‘I merely pointed at the man, milady!’