The Boundless
Vasinidra didn’t stop. He used his momentum to leap forward. His Sky-legs bent with the force of the landing, as did his knees, then both straightened together, propelling him into the sky.
He landed on the top of the hill. As Mia and the other hunters tried to catch up, he took in his surroundings. A lonely silver birch sprouted to one side, and there were various spiky bushes dotting the hilltop, but the dominant feature was a dome of amber. The peak of it rose a couple of feet above ground level, visible from here but not from below. The rest of the structure was tucked away beneath the surface.
Just as Lady Pari described it.
But as he moved closer, he saw that wasn’t true for every detail. She had told him of an amber cocoon with the Corpseman just visible within. But there were no shadows lurking inside the structure. She’d not mentioned there being cracks in the surface either, dividing it into sections, nor the slight misalignment of those pieces.
As if someone had pushed it open from the inside and then put the pieces back … we’re too late, he thought.
Lady Pari had told him that there were other things buried within the hill too. That bodies stolen from Sorn had been subjected to the whims of the Corpseman. Like the dome, their amber coffins had been cracked open and the earth had then been packed back into place.
He called his family to him while the hunters waited at the bottom of the hill.
‘Where’s our fight?’ asked Yadva.
‘Out there somewhere,’ Vasinidra replied.
Umed sighed. ‘The Wild looks after its own. It must have warned the Corpseman that we were coming.’
Vasinidra sighed as well. The Wild had done more than warn its own, it had hidden them. His hunters had found no tracks, no clues. It was as if the Corpseman and all its victims had vanished.
He heard Gada clear his throat. ‘What would you have us do, High Lord?’
‘I would hear your counsel before I make my decision.’
Yadva was the first to speak. ‘Spread out in five of the seven directions. We still have hours of sunslight and the Corpseman can’t be far away. Once one of us finds it, they signal the others.’
‘While our Story-singers will lament if we return empty handed,’ said Umed. ‘We risk losing more than just time if we linger too long.’
Gada pursed his lips. ‘Even the Corpseman could not carry half a settlement’s worth of people. Either it has allies to move them or they moved themselves.’
Typical Gada. He’d rather offer facts than risk conflict with the others.
Vasinidra was aware that his family were watching him. Aware that the flights of hunters were waiting for his decision. This was it. His first real test as High Lord.
Should he push on as Yadva wanted and risk weakening the house further? Follow Umed’s advice and have his tenure as High Lord begin in failure? And what about his mother? How much longer could she last alone?
Vasinidra did not panic. He was in his armour, exalted and strong, and the answer was already there, obvious, just waiting to be seen.
He looked at them. ‘I know where the Corpseman is.’ Yadva punched her spears into the air with delight. ‘It’s gone to join the attack on House Ruby. Quiverhive has been sending demons at them for some time now, and I know it has been communicating with the Corpseman throughout, no doubt planning for this moment.’
Umed frowned. ‘Forgive me, High Lord, but the Wild reacts, it doesn’t plan.’
‘It didn’t react. It didn’t plan. Now it does. The Corpseman has changed the way the Wild is and we have to change too.’
‘Even if that is true, how can you be sure it has gone to the Ruby lands?’
‘The attacks there have been building to something. This is it. Besides, our lands have been quiet for years, while others have suffered. We can no longer afford to do nothing.’ He clapped his uncle on the shoulder. ‘Take our people to the Ruby High Lord’s castle. Be ready to fight. I’ll meet you there.’
‘But,’ Umed stammered, ‘where are you going?’
He prepared to launch himself from the hill. With a combination of height and his peerless skill in the air, he was confident he could take flight from a single jump. ‘To put right a very old wrong.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Sa-at and Tal stumbled into Roh’s room. Roh herself had fallen behind. The last time Sa-at had seen her, she’d been leaning against the wall, the sweat gleaming on her face.
It reminded him of a Dogkin he’d seen in the Wild once. It had been in the throes of birthing a difficult pup and it had panted just like that. The Dogkin had died in the end. He wondered if Roh were about to die too.
‘You have it?’ asked Rochant. He was still propped against the wall where they’d left him, mostly obscured by a sheet.
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Tal.
‘But?’
‘But the imposter saw us. I don’t think we’ve got long.’
‘He looked like me,’ said Sa-at. ‘Why does he look like me?’
Rochant ignored him. ‘You need to dress me in my armour immediately. Where’s Roh?’
‘Outside,’ said Sa-at. ‘She looks sick.’
There was no expression of concern on Rochant’s face, no flicker. He merely nodded. ‘Then it’s up to you two.’
‘But, my lord!’ Tal protested. ‘What about the sacred rites? Shouldn’t I get a Gardener-smith?’
‘Consider this your apprenticeship,’ answered Rochant coolly. ‘Traditions are there to serve us, not the other way around. Now, unwrap the pieces and lay them out on the cloth. Try not to touch them with your bare hands.’
They did as instructed. It was hard not to handle the plates. The sapphire looked so smooth it demanded to be touched. Sa-at had enjoyed how smooth the crystal lights on the walls were and he suspected the armour would be similar.
As they attached the greaves to his shins, Rochant said, ‘I need one of you to cut me and dab my blood on the armour.’
Sa-at looked up at him in surprise. ‘Like making a pact in the Wild?’
Tal gasped.
‘No,’ replied Rochant and Tal visibly relaxed. ‘It’s very different.’
But Sa-at suspected Rochant was saying one thing and meaning another again. He took Tal’s gathering knife and pricked Rochant’s palm, catching the blood on the side of the blade before applying it to the greave.
They quickly fell into a rhythm with Tal attaching the plates and Sa-at daubing them with Rochant’s blood. As Sa-at watched, the drops were absorbed into the crystal, leaving no stain behind.
It is like making a pact in the Wild!
‘Listen,’ said Rochant. And they did. People were coming, and quickly. ‘Sa-at, bar the door. Use anything you can find. Use your body if you have to.’
‘But—’
As the shouts and running footsteps grew louder. Sa-at moved some of the heavier jars and boxes in front of the door and went back to Rochant. They attached his winged back plate, his chest plate, and the vambraces. Tal’s hands shook constantly and he apologized every time he slipped or touched the armour or made some mistake that Sa-at did not understand.
‘Open this door,’ commanded a voice outside.
They ignored it and tried to put on Rochant’s gauntlets. This was harder than the other pieces because his fingers kept catching rather than slotting inside.
A hammering fist accompanied the voice this time. ‘In the name of Lord Rochant, open this door.’
Despite the situation, Sa-at saw Rochant’s lips curl into a smile.
At last, Tal managed to put the helmet on and Sa-at dabbed some blood on it. There was a sudden change in the armour, as if it had been sleeping before but was now awake.
‘Did it work, my lord?’
Rochant just stared at his feet, almost as if he were trying to peer through them.
It hasn’t worked yet. Maybe we haven’t done it properly. If Roh were here she’d know.
The hammering resumed, getting angrier.
‘Come on,’ he said to Tal, and ran to the door.
They arrived to see it shake in its frame, breaking the catch and scattering the boxes he’d placed there. Sa-at braced himself against the door and Tal did the same. It jolted against his back, hard enough to send him forward a pace. He threw himself back against it.
Three times they held the door, but on the fourth the guards managed to wedge something into the frame and then the door began to open very slowly, pushing Sa-at and Tal as it went.
‘I’m sorry, my lord!’ said Tal.
‘It’s all right,’ said Rochant. He nodded to himself. ‘Yes. All is well now.’ He stood up. And it seemed to Sa-at that in that motion he grew, becoming not just taller, but bigger. The room was suddenly full of Rochant’s presence, tinting the walls a dazzling blue.
With a final push from the outside, the door swung open, knocking both Tal and Sa-at to the floor.
Guards poured in but they drew to a halt beneath Rochant’s gaze.
‘M-my lord?’ asked one, dropping his spear in surprise.
The others were already on their knees.
Rochant took a single step over them, seeming to fly rather than walk, twisting his wings to dive through the doorway.
Nobody else moved. The guards were so still, Sa-at wasn’t even sure they were breathing. With some surprise, he realized he’d been holding his breath too. As if his body had been stunned by the proximity of the man and only now could he breathe again. Curiosity and excitement came back to him in a rush and he scrambled to his feet, leaped over the kneeling guards, and ran out of the room.
Rochant was in the corridor, crouching down by a crumpled Roh. One of her hands was twisted and tucked against her belly. The blood between her fingers glistened in the light of his armour.
A few whispered words were given, a secret goodbye, and then Rochant stood up. He summoned the guards from the room and looked at each one in turn. ‘You have hurt one dear to me. Believe that her suffering will be visited upon you ten-fold.’
The man bowed his head.
Then another guard spoke up. ‘Please, my lord. I don’t understand. It was you that attacked her. You were out here, with us. I …’
‘This was not done by my hand,’ corrected Rochant. ‘Come with me and I will show you exactly what you have been serving. Tal, help them tend to Roh. See that her remains are treated with the utmost dignity. Sa-at, come with me. You’ll want to see this.’
Satyendra was running. He’d watched the guards opening the door and then he’d felt the light on the other side, flaring into life. Some part of him recognized the danger, even before he’d seen the blue tinge in the air. That part of him had taken hold of his body and used his stolen strength to move. Now he was halfway back to his chamber.
Gradually, his heart slowed and his thoughts became intelligible again. Whatever that light was, he hoped very much that his guards had dealt with it.
He returned to his room and cleaned the blood from his face, changing into fresh silks.
Now that he had calmed down, he realized that his last orders to the guards had been out of character. It was understandable, given the fact he’d been dying at the time, but it was not acceptable. His charade would have to be perfect if he was to keep his position.
And how am I going to deal with Vasinidra? As soon as he gets back, he’ll be looking for a way to get rid of me. I’m not going to live out my days in some village somewhere, struggling for scraps. Not after everything I’ve gone through. But what choice do I have? The High Lord is too strong to face directly.
He is new to the role though and his hold on power is tenuous. Perhaps Yadva could be turned …
By now his guards should have reported back. He thought of the blue light in Roh’s room and shuddered. She’d been up to something. It occurred to him that it was too quiet outside his room, and he stepped out to investigate.
The corridor was empty. He walked a little further and was alarmed to find the whole floor deserted. Given that they were hosting huge numbers of guests, this was especially odd.
It didn’t take him long to work out that there was a gathering in the courtyard.
A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It seemed too soon for Vasinidra to have returned. Unless something has gone wrong with the hunt. Please let it have gone wrong.
He made sure his posture was straight, his step measured and his manner as much like Lord Rochant’s as he could manage. Then, he stepped out into the mid-afternoon sunslight.
The courtyard was full. People lined the walls three rows deep. They made way for him though, parting so that he could see through to the large circle kept clear in the middle. Win, his seneschal was there and beckoned for Satyendra to join him.
As he moved into the space, he felt that something was wrong. ‘What is all this?’ he asked Win.
Win mumbled something. He made out the words ‘my lord’ at the end but that was it. The man wasn’t meeting his eye. The man was afraid.
He’s afraid of me.
Even as the hunger stirred, even as a part of him could not help but revel, another part began to panic. He moved closer to Win so that he could pitch his voice low. ‘Look at me. Speak clearly, and answer my question: What is going on?’
‘I …’ Win began. His eyes flicked to Satyendra’s for the barest moment but they flicked away again immediately. Satyendra felt the fear spike in that moment. It was as if Win was facing an executioner rather than his lord.
‘I said look at me!’
Another flick to him and away. But not just away. Away and up.
A shadow passed over them. Normally, Satyendra liked shadows. They gave him a little respite from the burning light of the three suns. But this shadow brought no respite, stabbing at the skin on the back of his neck just as hatefully.
He looked round to see a Deathless landing barely five feet from where he stood. He’d not seen the man before but he recognized the armour. It looked like the set being grown for him. The set that Pik had modelled for him in secret. Except this set was larger. As he looked closer, he could see the man’s face. Could see a golden tattoo that matched his own.
‘You’re …’ He wanted to say the real Lord Rochant but didn’t dare in such a public space.
The crystal helmet nodded.
‘But … that’s impossible.’
‘I might say the same of you, Lord Rochant.’ There was no malice there, the words delivered with only the slightest hint of irony.
Satyendra tried to think of a suitable reply. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be! Even if he drew from Win’s fear he could not hope to stand up to a fully exalted Deathless. But Rochant hadn’t attacked. That said something. Perhaps there was still time to salvage the situation.
For once, his quick mind failed him.
Rochant beckoned him to step forward.
Satyendra took one look at the armoured figure and shook his head. Close proximity to any sapphire was painful. Rochant’s glowed with the strength of the suns and he knew it would burn.
There was no indication that Rochant was about to attack. One moment he was standing there like some great sapphire statue. The next he was flowing forward, a tidal wave of crystal crashing down on Satyendra, who turned and tried to run.
Fingers bored into the meat of his back as Rochant lifted him into the air one handed. Satyendra bucked like a Purefish on a hook but could not get free.
‘How can it be that I return to my castle to find another with my name?’ asked Rochant. ‘How can it be that this creature bears the face of my Honoured Vessel?’
The pain was indescribable. Satyendra could feel the flesh puckering where Rochant’s gauntlets touched it. He could feel that strange rippling sensation as if it wanted to peel itself off the bone to escape the searing crystal. It made him into an animal, a thing of pain alone. He screamed and wailed. He cried and wept. He changed.
‘Behold,’ said Rochant, ripping the silks away from his body. ‘The Wild is cunning. It can wear our shapes, speak with the voices of our loved ones. But it will always reveal itself to be false.’
Satyendra saw the faces of the crowd. The way they leaned back. The horror. Several turned away, unable to look upon him. Through the pain, he managed a simple panicked thought:
What am I?
A bare arm swept across his vision. It was his arm, though he didn’t recognize it. The brown skin had leeched to grey and then to nothing, showing bone and vein beneath. It was moving too, rippling like disturbed water.
What am I!
The pain was too much to bear. His mind fled from it, his vision tunnelling to a narrow point. The last thing he saw was his strange double, staring at him with an anger he recognized all too well.
What … am … I …?
But there was no answer to his question. Just hurt, hate and then, oblivion.
The immediate danger had passed but Pari didn’t feel ready to come out of her armour just yet. She and Arkav were still with the Bringers of Endless Order. They had led the two of them away from the chasm beneath Lord Rochant’s castle to a small cave tucked away from sight of the Godroad.
She had to duck and twist to fit her winged bulk through the entrance, but once inside there was plenty of room. One by one, the Bringers approached the shadows at the back of the cave and vanished. The last of the robed figures, the one that had been most eager to help Arkav, gestured for them to follow. She too was swallowed up by the darkness.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Pari, her curiosity piqued. As she stepped forward, the light from her armour pushed back the shadows, revealing a moss-covered wall of natural rock. It seemed as if the Bringers had vanished.
She reached out to the wall and her fingers passed through, the surface no more substantial than a cloud.
‘More tricks,’ said Arkav. ‘More lies.’ He sounded angry. For the last few lifecycles his anger had been unpredictable and violent, and she readied herself for trouble.
But Arkav seemed to be in control.
Furious. But in control.
‘I think it’s rather fun, myself,’ she said, and began to feel for a physical edge to the illusion. The actual entrance was wide enough for two people, or one Deathless, to walk comfortably side by side. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was higher than it looked too. ‘Come on, time to get some answers.’
The path sloped downwards leading them through a circular tunnel. The walls were perfectly smooth. It reminded Pari of the chasm walls, except that these were flawless. Not a single crack or scratch marred their surface. She resisted the urge to make one herself.
They hadn’t gone far when the tunnel brought them into a larger room. The Bringers blocked her view of most of it, but Pari saw curving walls behind them. These appeared equally perfect, but made of brass rather than stone. Some kind of slab dominated the middle of the space, not unlike the ones in the Rebirthing Chamber, save that this one did not sit above a pit, and it had a series of multi-jointed arms sprouting from the base. It was as if a brassy Spiderkin were on it’s back underneath the slab, and the slab were its prey.
The Bringer that had talked with them before stepped forward. Pari could tell them apart now. This one was shorter than most of the others, and a little heavier on her feet.
‘We will not be observed here.’
Pari wasn’t convinced they’d have been observed beneath the castle either, but she kept that to herself. ‘You seem awfully keen on hiding.’
The Bringer ignored her comment. ‘We have many questions.’
‘You have questions! Oh, my dear, I suspect I have at least as many as you, and mine are going to be much harder to answer, believe me.’
‘No, Lady Pari,’ the Bringer replied firmly. ‘Our assistance was offered and taken. Lord Arkav Tanzanite has been restored. Now you will answer our questions.’
Pari could feel Arkav’s anger rising next to her. She was fairly sure he wouldn’t do anything rash. But not so sure that she wanted to take any risks. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘We wish to know what you saw.’
‘We saw lots of things.’ She started to tell them about their descent, and the strange living gateway they encountered. ‘There was something else travelling down with us. I didn’t see it at first but the deeper we went, the brighter it became.’
‘It was a soul, wasn’t it,’ said Arkav. He had not phrased it as a question.
The Bringer paused then nodded. Some of the other Bringers shared a look at this. One shook their head, clearly frustrated.
Interesting.
‘I’m sorry to say,’ Pari continued, ‘that when we passed beyond, the soul came with us. There were demons on the other side. They ripped that poor thing to shreds.’
‘Continue,’ said the Bringer. ‘What else did you see?’
Before Pari could speak, Arkav put a hand on her arm. ‘Look, Pari. Look at them!’
‘I’m already looking at them.’
‘Don’t you see it?’
Pari frowned. She saw seven robed figures in black and white. All of them were masked and hard to read. She had the sense they were uneasy with the situation but other than that they seemed as inscrutable as ever. ‘What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?’
‘They’re not surprised. They know what happens to souls that pass through.’ He pointed an accusing finger at them. ‘And they don’t care.’
The Bringers did not acknowledge Arkav. Rather, they looked at Pari expectantly, waiting for her to continue. They’re not confirming or denying it but I suspect they care more than they let on. Silence is their tool. If I’m to learn more, I need to find a way to get them talking.
‘The thing that surprised me about the demons,’ she said, ‘was that they talked to us. They kept saying the word “prisoners”. What do you think they meant by that?’
The Bringer looked away. ‘We’re all prisoners here.’
The other Bringers suddenly broke formation. One shouted for the lead Bringer to stop. Several looked openly worried, while several more just seemed to slump, as if they could no longer be bothered to mask their despair.
Pari could feel it now. She suspected Arkav had noticed some time ago. They’re desperate. They need us!
She laughed, startling everyone in the room, which only made her laugh some more. Despite their air of misery, a part of Pari was excited. She felt she had several pieces of a puzzle that looked tantalizingly close to connecting to each other.
‘I saw other souls down there,’ she continued, ‘travelling through tunnels that reminded me very much of the circles you make with your wands during the rebirthing ceremony. Are they coming from other castles?’
‘No.’ There was a pause. ‘They are coming from other worlds.’
Pari sat with that for a moment. ‘I see. Well, that’s exciting. And these … tunnels the souls were travelling through, they keep them safe from the demons?’
‘Yes.’
Arkav stepped forward. ‘Why are there no tunnels here? Why are the souls of this place not protected?’
The Bringer sighed. ‘A long time ago, before you or I were born, our people discovered essence, an element that is made of the things that essentially make us what we are. Our soul if you will. We also discovered ways to interact with essence, to move it, or in the case of your wings or the castles, to enable it to move us.
‘Ultimately, we found a way to capture the soul, intact, from the body and implant it in another. From that day on we ceased to be bound by a single lifespan just as we ceased to be bound by the shapes that nature had given us.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Pari.
‘By combining special surgical techniques and essence manipulation we could alter the human form to suit our needs. But more than that, we found ways to cheat death in all but the most unfortunate cases.’