The Boundless

THE BOUNDLESS

Peter Newman

Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Copyright © Peter Newman 2020

Cover illustration © Chris Tulloch McCabe

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Peter Newman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008229085

Ebook Edition © May 2020 ISBN: 9780008229108

Version: 2019-05-21

Dedication

To Phil

For not letting go

Contents

Cover

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Also by Peter Newman

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Beneath Lord Rochant’s floating castle was a great chasm in the earth. It was said that it had no end. From it, tendrils of misty essence rose, sometimes in thick belches, sometimes in finger-thin strands, but constant. Every castle of the Deathless was built above a crack in the earth such as this one, for only in these places was the updraught of essence strong enough to hold them in place in the sky.

In the past, a few people had tried exploring them, along with a couple of unfortunates who had fallen in by accident. None returned. And so, for a thousand years, all sensible souls gave the chasm a wide berth.

Lady Pari Tanzanite could be said to be many things, but sensible was not one of them.

She and her brother, Lord Arkav Tanzanite, dived down together, like twin stars in their glowing armour. Though it protected them and provided light to see, it also presented a problem: The tanzanite plates had been fitted to their bodies and given fine, curving wings designed to catch the currents and ride them. The armour wanted to fly, not fall. In fact, it was a common trick of the Deathless to use the strong currents around their castles to gain height for a hunt.

To compensate for this, both Pari and Arkav each held onto a length of chain that had been wrapped several times around a heavy chunk of stone. Unlike the tanzanite, the stone did not interact with the otherworldly currents, it fell as surely as if they weren’t there, dragged down by gravity.

The stone had been provided by the Bringers of Endless Order, who had their own reasons for supporting the venture. Their theory had been sound, the stone more than heavy enough to pull Pari and Arkav along with it.

What they hadn’t considered was how it might feel to inhabit the fragile flesh being acted upon by two opposing forces.

Pari had a good mind to educate the Bringers if they got back.

When, thought Pari. When we get back. Oh yes, then I’ll tell those masked fools a thing or two.

Luckily her armour mitigated the worst of the aches in her arm. It was not so much that she didn’t feel it, more that she was above the petty demands of her current body, able to note them but not be enslaved by them. Of more concern was the strain being placed on her wings. She turned her head to look at them, then at Arkav’s. Though both sets trembled in a way she hadn’t seen before, they seemed to be holding. She made a mental note to buy something extravagant for their Gardener-smiths if they made it back.

When we make it back. Stay optimistic, Pari!

The bravado had been easy when she’d been standing on the chasm’s edge. Exalted in her armour, emboldened by it, she had decided that she would be strong for her brother. A petty part of her had enjoyed showing off to the Bringers as well. It was rare to see the mysterious figures outside of the context of rebirth, and informative too. When not united by the rules of ritual, they were as divided and flawed as everyone else.

Now though, reality was sinking in.

At some point, several lifecycles ago, Arkav’s soul had journeyed where they were heading, as all their souls did when between lives. Somewhere down there, in that unknown oblivion, a demon had snared him and bitten off a piece of his soul, leaving a hole behind. And though most of Arkav continued to be reborn, life after life, there had been something missing since then. An absence that had become a kind of abscess, festering and damaging him from within.

They were going to get that piece of his soul back, to restore her brother to the brilliant, smiling man he’d once been. Either that, or die in the attempt.

And they could die here. Not just these bodies either. If their souls fell too far from the world, it was even possible that their Godpieces would not be able to bring them back. It was also possible that the demons waiting down below could steal their souls or tear them to shreds or …

Pari rolled her eyes. She was damned if she was going to let any of those things happen.

The walls of the chasm were smooth, pale grey and mostly featureless. It disguised how fast they were moving, and created the lie that, perhaps, they weren’t really moving at all. She was grateful for the odd crack as it flashed past, as it provided evidence of their progress.

With effort, she looked back over her shoulder, and was shocked to find she could no longer see the sky. There was only a distant blackness above, pinpricked by tiny points of golden light.

‘Watch for our lights,’ the lead Bringer had said. ‘There will be seven, no more, no less. Only they will guide you home.’

She’d been mustering her courage at the time and had taken their words at face value. But now she thought about it, there was some subtext here she wished she’d explored. Were the Bringers suggesting there might be other lights down in the depths? Tricks to lure the unwary? And if so, how did they know? Supposedly nobody had ever come back.

No, thought Pari. The Bringers didn’t say that. They said the last attempt to retrieve a piece of soul from the demons and rejoin it had failed. That isn’t the same thing. I’ll bet somebody did come back, and I’d also bet that the Bringers know more than they’ve told us.

On they went, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, with no end to the chasm in sight. There were changes though. The colours of the essence strands were richer here, and she fancied that she could see the remains of shapes, as if, below them, someone were making fine pieces of essence art that slowly distorted as they rose.

Another realization: The chasm walls were getting further apart. She’d been worried about the opposite, of getting stuck or crushed or smashed to pieces if the chasm narrowed. But this was alarming in its own way. As the walls receded, so too did her sense of scale, of space.

They were falling through the mists now. It reminded her of flying through low clouds, except the ones here were more vividly coloured – purples and greens and yellows, rather than greys and whites – and that they seemed to slide round each other rather than mix together.

She looked across to Arkav, worried about how he would be faring, but her brother’s face was turned away from her, his expression hidden behind the crystal helmet. He’d noticed something she hadn’t: A silvery thread of essence, bright but small, travelling in the same direction as them.

What is that? she thought and as if in answer heard her brother say in wonder:

‘It’s a soul.’

It too was getting easier to see with the naked eye.

A soul? A human soul? A shiver went through her. Is it aware of us? When did it die? Has it been falling alongside us since the start, invisible?

The walls had gone from sight, and she didn’t risk looking up again, for fear that even the dark above would be gone, and the Bringer’s lights with them.

And things felt … different. Her instincts told her this, but she couldn’t rationalize them at first. They were still moving just as fast, the rock punching a hole through the essence clouds as they plunged after it. But there, just visible through the mists, was a …

Pari had no idea what it was.

She wanted to say it was a wall but it was too thin to be a wall, and shadowy things were visible through it, thrashing about. She wanted to say it was a window, but its surface was in motion. She wanted it to be something fixed, solid, but she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t.

It’s like the surface of a lake. It’s like the outer skin of a bubble. It’s … And some old part of her soul knew exactly what it was because she’d been here before, many times, between lives.

It’s a gateway.

And we’re coming towards it awfully fast …

Pari wondered what would happen if they hit it. Would it catch them? Would they break on its surface or go through? She had no way of knowing what the right thing to do was. They were in uncharted territory. However, there were really only two options: Keep hold of the chain or let it go.

The Bringers had said that Arkav’s presence would draw out the demon with the stolen piece of his soul, and so far, they had seen no demons. Given that neither of them was about to go back empty handed, that meant there was little to do but grip the chain tightly, and hope.

In the last seconds before impact, she thought she could hear something, hard to make out over the rushing of the wind in her ears, but definitely there: Voices speaking from the other side. Their whisperings were muffled by the gateway but not entirely blocked. Pari had just enough time to feel curious and then she was bracing herself.

The stone passed through the surface of the gateway without even a ripple. The chain just as smoothly. A second later Pari’s gauntlet made contact. It felt as if she’d struck a flag being held at each corner by a group of servants. It formed around her fist like a second skin, then her arm, her shoulder, the surface of the gateway continuing to give, bending around her and Arkav, smothering, stretching, thinning. Tight.

There was a flash of light, followed by a tearing that she felt as much as heard, and then they were through.

Much of their momentum had been stolen by the gateway, leaving them to drift on the other side. The stone no longer pulled at her arm, rather, it hung horizontally from the end of the chain, aimless. No currents of essence moved them here, no gravity. There were no colourful clouds. Nothing at all. She was neither flying nor falling, but floating, in a place without up or down, without rules.

Though her arm was a little stiff, she was otherwise unharmed. Arkav was still next to her, a blue-violet glow in the shape of a man. She raised her hand to him and gave a little wave.

There was the slightest bit of resistance in the air and, when she squinted, she could make out some weak essence vapours. Not enough to fly with, but perhaps enough to navigate in some way. They boiled away at her touch, giving her a shimmering aura.

She saw the same thing around Arkav when he waved back but his attention wasn’t on her, it was on the gateway. Following his gaze, she realized that after they’d come through, the gateway had snapped back to its original shape, wobbling back and forth as it slowly shrugged off the violence of their arrival, settling. She couldn’t see any cracks or tears. Whatever hole they’d made to come through had been sealed tight.

The silvery soul slipped through to join them. Though the gateway did not react visibly, she heard a noise, like the ringing of a large, dolorous bell.

On their side of the gateway, dark shapes clustered around the point of entry. She found them hard to classify. Like clouds crossed with Snakekin, crossed with Spiderkin, crossed with shadows. They varied in size. The smallest no larger than her leg, the biggest several times her size. As she looked around, she saw more of them, more than she could count. They fell upon the little piece of silver, snaring it, ripping it, fighting over the scraps.

Slivers of light slipped down many throats, each one squirming, alive with anguish. There was a last moment of fractured agony. Then it was gone.

Pari’s heart wrenched at the sight.

The poor bastard didn’t have a chance.

As soon as the creatures had finished devouring every last wisp, they began to gather around the edges of the light cast by her and her brother’s armour. Their close proximity both repulsed and intrigued her.

And I know I’ve seen them before. Many times. And they’ve seen me …

They were the source of the whispers she used to hear between lives. On this side of the gateway they were louder but remained hard to make out. The creatures all spoke at once, muddying each other’s words.

Nevertheless, they were using words. Normal, recognizable words. And after a while she could see that on their dark hides, there were many slits. Some like flapping gills, others like embryonic lips, struggling to open. For now, none of the creatures were coming closer. Most simply hung there, watching, while others circled the perimeter of her aura, as if looking for a way in.

She motioned for Arkav to let go of the chain. There was no need to say anything, her brother had always been able to read her intent. When he’d done so, she gently wound her chain around her arm, making a loop from hand to elbow as she winched in the stone. It came back easily, lighter than a kite.

Meanwhile, more of the creatures gathered, their whispering growing in intensity.

‘Arkav, do you feel anything? Do you think your soul is being held by one of these …’ she gestured to the dark shapes all around them. ‘Demons?’

He shook his head. ‘Not close by, but I do feel a tugging in my chest.’

‘Which way is it tugging you?’

‘I don’t know.’

She experimentally opened her hand and waved it from left to right in front of her, like a paddle. There was resistance again, less than if she’d run it through a pool of water, but enough to make her body turn a little.

‘Having fun?’ asked Arkav.

‘Of course. I always love going to new places.’ She pulled her hand back again, and was gratified to find herself rotating to her original position. ‘It would be slow-going, but I think we could swim through this place if we had to.’

He held up a hand for quiet. She soon realized why. The whisperings had ceased, and the creatures had stopped circling. The only movement, a rippling of fissures on their skin. They hadn’t been prowling around her as she’d first thought, they had been filling in the gaps, arranging themselves around them to form an imperfect bubble of flesh, with her and Arkav in the middle. She had the horrible sense that something bad was about to happen.

Arkav must have felt the same because he’d shifted into a battle-ready stance. He wasn’t armed. Priyamvada, High Lord of the Tanzanite, had forbidden him weapons until his condition had improved. Admittedly, when she’d given the order, she’d been sending Arkav on a diplomatic mission, rather than a dangerous foray into the unknown.

Pari readied the great chunk of stone, unsure whether to use it as a shield or to throw it at any creatures that got too close.

‘It’s coming,’ said Arkav.

He didn’t need to elaborate. She was very good at reading him too. He means the missing piece of his soul is coming. And that means that whatever has it is coming too.

Surrounded as they were by a writhing sphere of shadow-skinned monstrosities, they couldn’t see anything approaching. Pari opted for cautious readiness, she and Arkav gathered for action, but neither of them moved. The creatures seemed to be taking the same approach.

Unified in tension, they all waited.

She felt it in her stomach first. As if she’d ingested some great and heavy meal that was sitting uncomfortably within. Then she noted the thin vapours around her shifting. It was slow, very slow, but she was moving. Not just her either, but Arkav too, and the living sphere of monsters, all of them were travelling at exactly the same speed, drawn along by some invisible force.

‘Pari, I feel like we’re in a trap.’

She adopted her sweetest, most sarcastic voice. ‘Really? Such insight, brother. Whatever revelations will you come up with next?’

‘We need to take control of the situation.’

‘Can you be any more specific?’

‘… No. I just … I need to get out of here! Now!’

And by that he means I need to do something brilliant.

She decided to experiment with the stone first. She threw it towards the demons directly in front of her, keeping hold of one end of the chain so that she could pull it back if need be. Just as it had with the gateway, the stone passed through them without resistance. The demons neither moved nor reacted to the stone.

She let go of the chain, and that too passed through them and out of sight.

Fine. Let’s try something else.

With a single stroke of her arms, she swam forwards, closing the gap between her and the demons. She’d noticed that they’d left a uniform space around her and Arkav, and wanted to see what would happen if she changed it. As the light of her aura intensified, she saw the bodies of the nearest demons begin to smoke. They writhed and wriggled, like a Purefish that had been pulled from a river, but they did not break formation.

Interesting. Our armour is poison to these demons just as it is to the ones in the Wild above.

She uncoiled the whip at her side and flicked it out so that the barb of sharpened tanzanite on the end would make contact. After many lifecycles’ practice, her aim was perfect and the barb embedded in the demon’s hide.

This time there was a reaction.

At the point of contact, she saw a section of the demon simply evaporate. Lines of light scorched outward from the initial wound, searing across its body, dividing it into separate chunks that burned and burned until there was nothing left. Beyond it she saw another piece of living dark, another demon, settling in to fill the gap.

She also heard whispers, quieter than before, but she was very close now and able to pick up the odd word.

‘… Fixed …’

‘… Pain …’

‘… Prisoners …’

‘Arkav,’ she said. ‘Come closer.’

He paddled awkwardly to her side. ‘What is it?’

‘Listen. Can you hear them?’

He edged still closer, and she saw the demons squirm even more. Time passed and Arkav said nothing. She knew he was attending to the demons and she dearly wished for his insight. However, she also knew they were still moving.

‘Arkav?’

‘I think something else is holding them here against their will.’

‘I heard them say prisoners before. Do you think they’re talking about themselves?’

‘No. That’s not right … I think that’s how they refer to us.’

She looked at the nearest demon. ‘I am Lady Pari, child of the Tanzanite Everlasting. If you can understand me, say something.’

‘… Burning …’

‘Sorry about that. If you let us out, we’ll stop burning you.’

‘… Fixed …’

Arkav shook his head. ‘They can’t let us out. They don’t have a choice.’

‘Don’t make me feel sorry for these demons, Arkav. Things are bad enough as it is.’

His head jerked down and to the left. ‘We’re too late. It’s here.’

Vasinidra had ordered the hunt but the castle was eerily quiet. No drums played. The castle did not sing. It was a liminal time, caught between mourning the death of the old High Lord and celebrating the rise of the new one: Him. Yesterday he had been Vasin, a lord of the Sapphire Deathless. Now he was head of the house, with a new name to go with his new title: High Lord Vasinidra Sapphire. Nobody knew quite how to behave, nor how to act on a hunting day without the ancient traditions to guide them. For all that, Vasinidra felt oddly calm. Usually, he was a bundle of nerves on the morning of a hunt, the anticipation growing until the release of flight and action. Today was different. He was different.

Long ago, the village of Sorn had made a sacrifice and it had gone unanswered. Because of that, many had died or been dragged into the Wild, and the Scuttling Corpseman roamed their land unchecked.

So many things to set right: Mother. The threat of the Scuttling Corpseman. Aiding House Ruby before it crumbles. Clearing up the mess Yadavendra left behind. What to do about the false Lord Rochant? For that matter, what to do about the real one when he emerges again? And do I truly trust Gada or Yadva to support me?

He paused for a moment. Without the drums, it was hard to know when he should leave. Then, his face split into a grin and he laughed aloud.

Whatever time I choose will be the right one. They will all keep pace with me now.

He was just about to go when he heard a familiar voice singing for entrance; his brother, Gada. Vasinidra waved him inside, and noted Gada was dressed as he was, in tight silks that would fit under their armour. His hair was pulled into a topknot, making the long face seem even longer.

‘I won’t keep you, High Lord. I merely wished to offer my congratulations again, and speak privately on a matter close to both our hearts.’

It was odd seeing Gada be so deferent but Vasinidra could not bring himself to direct his brother to do otherwise. This was one perk he would happily get used to. ‘Thank you for your support, though in future, if you could act before Yadva hits me, I’d appreciate it.’