The Fathomless Fire (40 page)

They all looked at Corr, who glowered at the doctor, then turned to Finn with a shrug.

“There is always a price to be paid,” he said.

“I saw it in the wounded,” Alazar went on. “They’re barely aware of their injuries. I asked them about returning to their homelands some day, and they no longer care about that. All they wanted to know was when they were getting their next ration of the
gaal
. Yates here is one of the few who fought against the craving that was killing him. That’s why he tried to get away. Nonn and his folk knew about this, they must have known, but they kept it secret from you and your men, didn’t they Corr, until it was too late and you needed the
gaal
as much as the dwarves needed your swords.”

“Are you … taking the
gaal
, Corr?” Finn asked.

“We all are, brother,” Corr said. “You are, too. It’s in the air here. There’s a fine, almost invisible dust from the smelting of the ore. It’s everywhere. You’re all gaining strength from it right now. Just think: you’ve all gone without sleep for hours, you’ve hardly eaten a thing, and yet none of you feel tired or weak, do you? You already see what the
gaal
can do. Think of that, and perhaps you will judge us less harshly.”

“We saw the armoured fetches marching below,” Will said. “They’re heading south, out of the valley. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them.”

“We’ve seen them,” Corr said. “We will respond when the time is right.”

“There is no time left,” Finn said. “Clearly, they’ve been building up their numbers and their strength for this day, while you thought you were keeping them boxed in. The dragons’ attack, the chains, it’s all a diversion to keep you busy, Corr, while their main force escapes the valley, probably to attack the lands to the south.”

“We don’t know that,” Corr said. “It may well be a feint of another kind, to draw our attention while they launch a greater assault on the fortress. These armoured fetches are just puppets. Their helmets have no visors, no eyeslits. They’re walking blind, mindlessly, where they’re bidden. Their purpose may only be to draw us out, so that the Nightbane can finish us.”

Helmets without visors
, Will thought, and then he remembered Rowen’s dream.

“I know where they’re going,” he cried. “They’re marching on the Bourne. Rowen saw it, in a dream she told me about. Armoured figures without faces. They were hollow inside. They had Fable surrounded. She saw this happening. They’re going to attack Fable.”

Corr turned to Will with a dubious look.

“Someone,
not you
, saw this in a dream?” he scoffed. “I will need more proof than that, boy, before I believe such an unlikely tale. Of what possible interest would Fable be to the Night King?”

“I don’t know, but Rowen is a loremaster, descended from the Stewards,” Will said. “She can see such things. Finn knows her, too.”

“It’s true, Corr,” Finn said. “Rowen is the granddaughter of Nicholas Pendrake. She has a gift of seeing into the weave of the Realm. I don’t pretend to understand it, but I wouldn’t dismiss anything she says.”

Corr smiled.

“Pendrake is a good man. One of the few in Fable I ever trusted. But Finn, if I had listened to all the prophets and soothsayers over the years who warned me to turn back, the Bourne probably would have been overrun long ago. Will here is desperate to get home. To see the girl again, no doubt.”

“I’m not lying,” Will cried. “You have to believe me!”

“You promised you’d let my friends go if I stayed with you, Corr,” Finn said. “Let them return to Fable now, to warn the Errantry about the host coming south. Even if Fable is not their destination, our people should know about this so they can prepare for the worst.”

Corr looked up into the dawn sky, then at his brother. For a terrible moment Will thought he was going to refuse. Then he sighed and put a hand on Finn’s shoulder.

“So be it,” he said. “I have no time for your friends and their foolishness. It’s better they were out of here than spreading their wild tales among my men. Yates, are you well enough to pilot a skyship?”

“I am, Corr. The doctor has helped me get back on my feet.”

“I questioned the dwarves’ healer,” Alazar said, “and he finally admitted to me that his people know of a herb that can be brewed into a medicinal drink. It helps the mind and body resist the fever caused by the
gaal
, and takes away some of the craving for it. The healer was reluctant but in the end he gave me a small amount of the dried herb. It has helped Yates already, and it can help the rest of your men, Corr. The healer wouldn’t tell me where to find more of the herb, but perhaps if you ask Nonn—”

“My men do not need medicine, doctor,” Corr broke in harshly. “They need victory. Yates, you may leave if that is what you wish. Take the boy, the wildman and their wolf friend back to the Bourne, or as close to it as you can. We’ve never flown the ships such a distance, and I don’t know for certain if they can even make it that far, but it’s the only way you’ll cross the plains in time to bring your empty warning to the Errantry.”

“Thank you, Corr,” Finn said.

“You’re staying here, Finn?” Will said sadly.

“I am, Will. You’ve saved Shade, and I know Balor will get you back to Fable safely.”

“All of us should leave,” Alazar said. “You and all your men, too, Corr. Give up this hopeless siege and bring all your ships south. If Will is right we will need your help to defend the Bourne.”

Corr smiled bitterly.

“I tried to defend the Bourne once before, doctor, if you remember. But the Errantry didn’t want my help. And you said it yourself, my men need the fever iron. Without it, we cannot help anyone, least of all ourselves. There is nowhere else for us to go, now. This is where we make our stand.”

“Then I’m staying too,” Alazar said. “I’m needed here. More of your men, Corr, are likely to die from the wretched state of your infirmary, than in battle.”

“Alazar, you can’t,” Finn cried. “You must go with Will and Balor. They need you too.”

“If ’Zar wants to stay, let him,” the wildman said, and they all turned in surprise to see that he had woken and was struggling to rise. “Someone needs to watch out for you, Finn, since clearly you’ve abandoned all sense. I will get Will home safely.”

“Balor, you’re in no condition—” the doctor began.

“I’m fine,” Balor rumbled, climbing stiffly to his feet. “It takes more than some walking mudball to put a crimp in my step.”

“Very good,” Corr said. “I’m glad to see you suffered no worse damage, wildman. You fought like no one I’ve ever seen, and I wish I could keep you here. You’d be of much use in this battle. But enough. Take a ship, Yates. One of the scouting skiffs. That’s all I can spare, and even that is more than we can easily do without now. Go, before I change my mind.”

“Wait,” Will said, stepping forward. “One more thing. The Horse Folk boy, Hawk. Let us take him back to his people.”

The Sky Lord turned to Will.

“Why do they matter to you?” he said. “You’re not even from this world, boy.”

“It matters because I’m like you,” Will said, refusing to back down from the Sky Lord’s steely glare. “The Dreamwalker, Hawk’s father, believes I’m a hero returned. He thinks I’m the one who will bring the rain back to his lands. He’s looking to me to make things right again for his people and I know I can’t do that, but maybe I can bring him back his son.”

Corr studied Will for a long moment, and Will saw something in his cold eyes change.

“Very well, Will Lightfoot,” he said. “Take the boy home to his father. And we shall see about the rain.”

Corr swept away with his men, and the golem turned and followed ponderously after him, as silent and impassive as always. The doctor stood apart, waiting for Finn, who watched his brother stride away.

When they were alone, the doctor took Finn’s arm and said to him in a low, urgent voice, “Nonn is using your brother for his own ends. He has some kind of power over him. Surely you can see that?”

“I’ve seen it,” Finn said sadly. “That’s why I have to stay.”

He turned to Will.” Take care of yourself. Once you warn the Errantry, don’t remain in Fable. Leave with the loremaster and Rowen. Find a refuge, or get back home if you can.”

“You don’t have to stay here, Finn,” Will said. “He would let you go, too, if you asked him. I’m sure of it.”

“Very likely,” Finn said. “But I lost him once, and I’m not going to abandon him now.” He turned to the wildman. “Get Will home, Balor. That’s all I ask of you, old friend.”

“And what do you want me to say when I return to Appleyard?” Balor asked him. “About Corr, about all of this?”

“You can tell Lord Caliburn that I still intend to fulfil my oath. I will bring my brother home. It just might take a while longer.”

“I think you’ve sniffed too much
gaal
already, ’Zar,” Balor said to the doctor. “But if you’re hellbent on tending to these madmen, just don’t try to be a hero. That’s my job.”

“I agree,” the doctor said with a thin smile. “And this way I won’t have to listen to your singing all the way home.”

He turned to Will and handed him a small cloth pouch.

“Take this, Will. It’s some of the dwarves’ herb. Brew it in boiling water when you get the chance and drink it. Make sure Balor does too. He has a habit of not listening to his doctor. Farewell for now.”

“Goodbye,” Will said.

Finn and the doctor turned away and followed Corr. Will watched them go. They disappeared into the haze of bitter smoke drifting along the walls.

A
S
R
OWAN STEPPED OUT
of the raincabinet with Riddle at her side, she heard raised voices coming from below. Edweth’s she recognized, arguing heatedly with someone. The mage, she guessed, had returned and was demanding entrance.

Rowen looked back into the darkness of the raincabinet. She thought for a moment of her grandmother, and the impossibly vast world that lay within that darkness. How had her grandfather hidden it? What had he done to make it look like an ordinary broom cupboard?

You take what is, and you nudge it a little, with what might be.

Rowen looked down at her feet. A small puddle of water from the endless rain had formed at the sill of the doorway. Just as it might in a cupboard with mops and buckets. She closed her eyes.

“Be hidden,” she whispered desperately. The voices below were getting louder.

The sound of the rain faded. Rowen opened her eyes. She was looking into a small cupboard with dark stone walls. A broom and mop stood in the corners. A bucket with a rag draped over its rim sat in the middle of the puddled floor.

Rowen took a step into the cupboard. She reached out a hand and touched the back wall. Her palm pressed up against cold, solid stone. She gave a push. The wall did not move.

“It will have to do,” she whispered. She turned from the raincabinet and hurried downstairs with Riddle at her heels.

She found Edweth and Freya in the front hall, facing three of Thorne’s guards. To Rowen’s dismay the mage Ammon Brax was there, too, standing to one side and smiling indulgently like someone waiting for a troublesome obstruction to be cleared out of his way. Edweth had a large iron frying pan in her hand that she had raised menacingly. Freya was not armed, but looked grim-faced and ready for a fight.

“You were telling me,” the mage said to Edweth when he caught sight of Rowen, “that Master Pendrake’s granddaugher had run away. Clearly she didn’t get far.”

Rowen looked at the housekeeper, who returned the silent urgency of her glance. She knew that Edweth wanted to hear what had happened to her in the Weaving, and Rowen wanted more than anything to tell her she’d found her grandmother, but this was not the time. Instead she summoned up all her outrage and strode forward.

“What are these men doing here?” she demanded.

“They think they’re going to throw us out,” Edweth cried. “Out of our home.”

“Our orders come from the Marshal himself,” one of the guards said. “You’re to come with us to Appleyard immediately. All of you.”

“What about Freya?” Rowen asked. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

“Those are my orders, miss.”

“I know who you are,” Edweth said to the guard who had spoken. “You’re Hutch Kenning, the miller’s son. I don’t think your father would approve of this sort of conduct.”

“My orders, ma’am,” the guard said with calm resolve.

“Lord Caliburn would never agree to this,” Edweth said. “He is a good friend of the Master.”

“But Master Pendrake is not here,” Brax said. “The city of Fable has lost its loremaster, and as unworthy as I am, the Marshal has appointed me to take his place, at least until he is found or returns on his own.”

“So you’re taking his place and his house as well?” Edweth snapped.

The mage took a deep breath, and Rowen saw with a kind of bitter gladness that the housekeeper had finally begun to fray his careful self-control.