'We shouldn’t have left him behind.’
It was the first time any of them had ever heard Trypp Elan raise his voice. They understood why – he had every right to be upset – but to see his face display anything other than peacefulness was unsettling.
‘Trypp, we had no choice,’ Pylos responded in a soft voice. ‘The Ghul were upon us in numbers that we could not hope to defeat. We had to leave.’
‘We should go back now. Mulupo might be alive.’
‘He must have fallen hundreds of feet. There’s no way he could have survived.’
Trypp shook his head. ‘He survived spending a year with a needleback spine buried in his stomach. Spriggans are not as fragile as they look.’
Remiel looked sorrowfully at Trypp. ‘I understand that you would cling to such hope, but it would be pointless returning to the Marid. The Ghul would be waiting for us. We are close to Caliban’s End now. We cannot go back.’
‘We have turned our back on so many, Morgai. What about the people of El Khadir? You have the power to heal – you healed Pylos – but you turned your back on the Kheperans.’
‘Trypp, even I have my limits. I could not heal so many. I was able to save Pylos because the poison had not taken over his body. But the Kheperans were beyond my help.’
‘You shouldn’t have left them like that.’
‘I’m afraid I had to. And we had to leave Mulupo. We must march on, clinging to the hope that we will bring about that day when the evils that have been done to the world are redressed. If I could bring Mulupo back, I would, but…’ His voice faded and his eyes turned away. ‘I’m sorry Trypp.’
Trypp did not push the point further. He knew Remiel was probably right – Mulupo couldn’t have survived the fall.
And so it was with great misgivings that he continued walking the stony road to El Silat.
The hammer of the sun crashed down upon the fervid anvil beneath their feet. Gerriod’s feet felt numb which surprised him – he expected to feel the soles of his feet burning on the hot, dusty ground.
Eventually they came across a small, muddy oasis that provided little shade and even less water. Gerriod sat down on a rock and inspected his feet. He scratched at the sole of his foot with a sharp rock. Although the skin showed a long red mark where he had dragged the stone over it, Gerriod felt nothing. ‘Oh dear,’ he quietly said to himself. ‘That can’t be good.’
‘What can’t be good?’ inquired a soft voice from behind him. It was Trypp.
‘Ah nothing,’ Gerriod said hurriedly as he pulled his boot back over his foot and quickly changed the topic of conversation. ‘Have you ever been to El Silat before?’
‘No, but I’ve seen it – from a ledge halfway up the Skyfall.’
‘How much further do you think it is?’
‘It cannot be far away. Our journey is slowly coming to an end.’
‘Too slowly, I’m afraid.’ Gerriod stood up and shouldered his pack. ‘Let us finish this.’
When they arrived at the outskirts of the town, they knew something was wrong. Although El Silat was significantly smaller than El Khadir, the city was reputed to be a bustling, thriving metropolis but nothing moved on the streets before them. No sounds could be heard though it was midday and the city should have been at its busiest.
The company walked through the city gates. There was a large, dark pile in the middle of the street that ran from the entrance of the city to its centre.
‘What is it?’ asked Remiel.
‘The Ghul have been here,’ Pylos answered. The glare of the sun shining off El Silat’s shining white buildings made it hard to see but Pylos’ nose explained what the pile was in no uncertain terms. Death. The dead bodies of countless Kheperans had been dumped in the city’s main street and left to rot in the sun.
Gerriod grabbed the top of his tunic and pulled it up to cover his face. Trypp also turned away and attempted to compose himself in the face of so much death.
Pylos stared ahead, his jaw tightening. ‘Why do they hate us so?’
‘It is our nature,’ said a voice behind them. A hollow voice. Sibilant and shallow.
They all swung around to see a tall, white-haired Ghul soldier standing before them. It was Drabella. There was nothing in her demeanour that suggested she had anything to fear. She stood proudly before them in the shadow of the doorway, only a few feet away from the sunlight that would immolate her in seconds. In her hand she held the pommel of her whip. It seemed a rather poor choice of weapon when facing with one of Helyas’ greatest soldiers and a Morgai of incredible power.
Pylos’ hand went to the hilt of his sword.
‘You don’t want to do that!’ warned Drabella.
Pylos rested his hand on the pommel of his weapon but did not draw the blade. ‘Give me one good reason not to,’ he hissed.
‘Very well,’ she said nonchalantly. Drabella pulled at her whip’s handle and a small body lying at her feet jerked up with a sickening groan. It was Mulupo. The whip was wrapped tightly around his neck. He was still alive.
Remiel’s eyes burned. The sight of Mulupo lying in the dirt at Drabella’s feet filled him with such rage, his hands shook. This did not escape Drabella’s attention.
‘Don’t think of doing anything, Morgai. I could snap this Spriggan’s neck through before you could perform one of your tricks.’
‘So sure of that are you?’
‘Yes. I am. I must say your concern for him surprises me. After all, you did abandon him back at the cliffs overlooking the Marid.’
Remiel’s stomach churned. He felt angry but he also felt weak. Leaving Mulupo behind had been another error of judgement in a succession of terrible mistakes. He had convinced Pylos not to kill Maeldune and now Sefar was dead and Mulupo was not far from it. There was also Jolon Bligh. And Cate Audrey – Remiel knew that somehow Maeldune had a hand in her death as well.
He stepped forward to address Drabella. ‘What do you want? Why are you here?’
‘Firstly to commend your companions on their progress. They have come much further than any of us thought they would.’
Remiel’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you know of our progress?’
‘Much more than you realise,’ Drabella hissed with grim satisfaction. ‘We have been watching this squad since it left Cessair.’
‘We? You mean Caliban?’
‘Yes, I do mean Caliban. He has monitored everything. He watched the Sapphyrran as he climbed up the Skyfall on the day the Morrigu attacked Skyfall. He watched Gerriod Blake’s touching reunion with his father in the Endless. He watched Pylos drinking with the late Bannick Landen on the night the great hero was killed. He watched your valiant efforts in the Stone Forest of Tethra and your battle with Argas in the Scarlet Rock Theatre. And he was most impressed when the Helyan ran you through with his sword, Remiel Grayson. He has seen much of you these past months. He has enjoyed your triumphs and revelled in your failures.’
Pylos turned to Remiel. ‘What? Is your brother now a god? How can he see and hear these things?’
‘He is now a god,’ Drabella taunted.
Trypp considered Drabella’s descriptions of all that had transpired. He looked for a pattern that would explain Caliban’s knowledge. And he found it. ‘It’s the shatterbugs.’
Before anyone could respond, a desperate voice rang out in the still air of El Silat. ‘Help me!’ Mulupo had lifted his head.
Drabella shoved a foot down on the back of the Spriggan’s head, burying his face in the dirt. ‘Silence whelp!’ she spat and she tugged quickly at the whip coiled around his throat. A long, gurgling sound cascaded out of Mulupo’s mouth.
Pylos stepped forward his hand twitching above the pommel of his sword. ‘Let him go.’
‘In good time, General. Step carefully now.’
Gerriod looked up into the air around them. A small cloud of shatterbugs had gathered overhead and he eyed them suspiciously. ‘Could it be true, Remiel? About the shatterbugs?’
‘I… I don’t know Gerriod,’ he replied. His confidence seemed shattered.
‘We have a message for you, Remiel Grayson. Whilst your brother has delighted in following your adventures, he now wants bring matters to a conclusion. He will meet with you now and enter into a discussion.’
‘Discussion?’ spat Pylos. ‘We do not seek a discussion, you vermin. We plan to kill your master.’
‘What you intend and what you are permitted to do are two entirely different things, brash Helyan.’
‘He must pay for his crimes.’
‘You are confused. Caliban is the victim here. He has suffered much.’
‘Suffered!’ Pylos yelled. ‘Suffered like Bannick Landen? Suffered like Sefar Hadith? ‘
‘There is always a price General. Did you think Caliban would just hold open the door for your band of assassins.’
‘Enough,’ said Remiel quietly. ‘We have nothing more to say to you. Release the Spriggan.’
‘I have more to say to you. To you in particular, Remiel Grayson. You will listen because I demand it.’
Remiel’s anger was stirred but it was overshadowed by his concern for Mulupo. He had to do what he could to safeguard the Spriggan and for the moment, that meant indulging the wretched Ghul female before him.
‘Say what you must.’
‘Firstly, we must thank give you our thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For supplying us with the means to subdue the people of El Khadir.’
Remiel frowned, unsure of what Drabella meant and nervous about where she was going.
Gerriod’s gaze fell upon Remiel. ‘What does she mean by that?’
Drabella caught the look. ‘Surely you have some sense of what your companion is capable of, Gerriod Blake? You of all people have seen what a treacherous piece of work he is.’
‘Explain yourself, Ghul!’ Remiel snarled. ‘I have given you nothing. I am responsible for many terrible things but what has befallen the people of El Khadir can not be attributed to me.’
‘Really?’ remarked Drabella arrogantly. ‘Can you be so sure of that? I am amazed that someone with your flair for guile is not canny enough to recognise his own handiwork. The people of El Khadir did not fall victim to an outbreak of leprosy. Their skin was corrupted by the very potion you poured down your brother’s throat thirty years ago.’
Remiel staggered back to hear this. It was as if he had been punched in the stomach. ‘How can this be?’ he said drunkenly to Drabella who did nothing to disguise the thrill she was experiencing watching his confidence crumble even further.
‘The potion that damned Caliban to the leper colony of Sanctuary was created by a Pelinese apothecary by the name of Garnett Shaw. We were able to track him down to the town of Marshmead deep inside the swamp of Mag Mel. Unfortunately when we entered the town, we were disappointed to find that Shaw had killed himself hours before our arrival, but we were more than compensated to find his notes and samples of his work. We killed many Myrrans on the day we arrived in Marshmead but luckily we found a few who were willing to help us recreate the poison you had used to infect your brother.’
Remiel was aghast. ‘Recreated?’
‘Yes. We poisoned all the wells of the city and now the people of Khepera suffer just as your brother does.’
‘It is agony, Sefar. Our skin burns every day.’
‘Then why did you send the Morrigu to drop the corpses of the lepers of Sanctuary upon El Khadir?’ gasped Trypp, astounded by Drabella’s revelation.
‘Ah, that was Caliban’s master touch. He has been toying with you. He knew that fear of contagion would turn you away from El Khadir. It delighted him to see you running for your lives across the Marid. And yes… he is watching you now, watching your faces drop as you realise that your journey across the burning plains was needless.’
‘Is he truly that petty?’ Remiel said exasperatedly.
‘Caliban has taught us that it is not enough to defeat an opponent,’ sneered Drabella. ‘An enemy is only truly vanquished when he is humiliated. When he is broken.’
‘But the people of El Khadir were not his enemy.’
‘It is only you he seeks to break Remiel Grayson. Everyone else is…’ – she looked down at Mulupo – ‘collateral.’
‘Has he no pity?’ Pylos screamed. ‘The lepers of Sanctuary have suffered enough. To send the Morrigu to slaughter them and desecrate their bodies – it is the stuff of madness.’
‘There is no madness in Caliban. His mind is a sharp as your sword, Helyan. He despises the lepers almost as much as he despises his brother. He won’t be compared to them.’
‘So he disposes of them?’ Remiel spat, amazed by what he was hearing.
‘Is that not what you did to him?’ Drabella retorted.
Remiel was trembling. The shock of the news had overwhelmed him. ‘But… but they were innocent,’ he murmured to himself.
‘You seem to struggle with the fact that everything you have ever done has consequences. Are you a child Remiel Grayson? How can you be so blind to the trail of destruction that has followed your decisions.’
‘Caliban had you infect an entire town to make a point? To get at me?’
‘It seems to have had the desired effect. But it has not just been done for your benefit. It is for ours too. Take El Silat for example. This city was merely a reward to the Ghul for all we have done. Caliban is a most generous master.’
Remiel sank to his knees. The population of El Khadir exceeded fifty thousand. El Silat numbered almost thirty thousand. All of them dying or dead. It was a crime on such a large scale, his mind struggled to accept it.
Drabella grinned as Remiel brought his hands up to his face and wept. ‘There you have it,’ she said insouciantly. ‘You have been presented with an offer to be taken directly to Caliban. There lies a breach not far to the south of this city. If you accept this offer, you can be reunited with your brother in no time at all.’
Pylos had heard enough. For all Drabella’s comments regarding Remiel Grayson, he still knew who his enemy was. ‘We will not enter into contracts with the Ghul.’
From behind them, a rough, contemptuous voice was heard. ‘How like a Helyan – stubborn to the last!’ In the shadows of a deep veranda lining a tavern on the other side of the street two figures had appeared. Pylos could see one of the pair was Ghul; the other was a member of the Pryderi.
‘You!’
Although he had only see her once before, Pylos recognised Defecious immediately. She was even more hideous than he had remembered her. Her skin was still torn, a result of the volley of arrows he had sent her way on the night the Ghul attacked Sulis. Her limbs were crooked, the result of the bones she had broken that night, but she was still alive and desirous of revenge. ‘You were lucky last time we met, Helyan, but it means little. Your days are numbered, Pylos Castalia.’
Gerriod turned to Pylos and said, ‘So you two know one another?’
‘We have some unfinished business. Back in Sulis I had a friend by the name of Quintinius. This thing killed him.’
‘Yes. I remember how he tasted. Perhaps I will dine on your bones before this day is done.’
‘My sword will carve a different ending,’ Pylos snarled.
Defecious took one look at the blade and blanched. She recognised the metal at once and like all Ghul, feared it. Shatterstone. It would kill her. She attempted to regain her composure. ‘You think I fear you? My Pryderi pet here not allow you to touch me.’
Defecious edged forward, careful not to step into the sunlight that carved a shadow as sharp as a knife across the veranda. ‘You will find that she is as powerful as Caliban’s traitorous brother. Witch, if the Helyan moves, kill him.’
Meggan Galley closed her eyes and began a soft incantation. It was a delicate spell, full of whispers and breathy syllables. Unsure of where this was headed, Pylos slowly raised his sword, his eyes fixed on the squat figure of Defecious.
‘He moved!’ Defecious shouted. ‘Meggan!’
‘En Terragravis!’ the Pryderi woman cried and suddenly the earth around Pylos feet rose up like wave and crashed down upon him, burying him under three feet of orange clay.
‘I believe that brings our meeting to a close,’ said Remiel sardonically. In a blur of movement he lifted his right arm high into the air and the roof above Drabella’s head flew up into the sky. The harsh midday sun poured in through the empty space and embraced Drabella. Smoke rose off her body instantly and a chilling scream followed as her body erupted into flames. A burning hand fumbled with a needleback spike she had slung around her waist. Despite the agonies her flesh was wracked in, Drabella’s hatred of her enemy was greater and she threw the spike with all her remaining strength at the robed figure before her. The spike speared into Remiel’s shoulder and he teetered back, but did not fall. Refusing to cooperate with the paralysis shooting through his veins, Remiel lifted his left arm and Drabella flew up through the rafters into the blue sky above El Silat. He held her there, writhing in the honest light of day. Her body shook crazily as mortality was thrust upon her. In a violent shudder, she exploded. Pieces of burning flesh and brittle bone shot out in all directions.
Remiel dropped to the red dirt of the street and did not move.
Gerriod whirled around to face Defecious, whipping out a knife as he did so. It was the same knife Maeldune had used to slit Sefar’s throat. Gerriod had taken it with the grim resolve to use it to avenge Sefar’s death. Now he had his opportunity.
He threw the weapon with all his strength. Six months ago, the only use he had for knives was scaling fish, but a lot had happened in that time. Despite the weariness in his bones, Gerriod moved more like a Helyan warrior than a Tuathan mariner. His aim was good and the knife buried itself in Defecious’ fat neck. Her eyes bulged as she realised what had happened.
She gasped to Meggan, ‘Protect me witch! Caliban watches you still.’
Defecious collapsed to the ground as the pain from her neck flooded through her body. With some difficulty she extracted the knife from her throat. She groaned as burning air rushed in through the hole in her trachea bringing with it blood and dust.
The dull murmurs of another incantation could be heard above the sound of Defecious’ gagging. Gerriod looked over at Trypp who had rushed to Mulupo’s side as soon as the threat of Drabella had been removed. He had his hands full. Remiel lay still in the middle of the street with a needleback spine sticking out his shoulder. Pylos as twisting around under a blanket of dry clay, trying to free himself before his lungs gave out. The mariner knew that while Defecious remained alive, no-one was safe. She was down but not defeated. She had crawled inside the tavern, a trail of green blood indicating which way she had gone.
Gerriod sprinted across to the tavern veranda and shoved past the Moraen whose voice was increasing in pitch and volume as she neared the end of her incantation.
Gerriod did not have to look far for the Ghul. Curled up in a ball under a table, the squat woman was clutching at her throat, trying to stem the flow of blood from the large gash Gerriod had made in her neck. So absorbed in her injury was she that she failed to notice him, failed to hear him pick up her knife she had pulled from her throat, failed to see him lift it high as he prepared to ram it into her skull. Gerriod figured that if he stabbed her enough, even a knife made out of common steel would kill her.
But he never got a chance to find out. Half a second before he was about to plunge his blade into his enemy, she vanished. Before his eyes, she disappeared and the shock of it was such that he momentarily forgot what he was doing. The knife just hung there in the dull light of the empty tavern, his outstretched arm ready to fall, but without a target to strike.
A shuffling sound at his feet brought him to his senses. Defecious was still there. Although she had vanished from sight, she had not vanished altogether. The witch’s spell had made her invisible.
Gerriod’s foot brushed something and he knew at once that Defecious was not incorporeal. If she had a body, she could be hurt – he just had to find her.
Gerriod swiped at the space before him, but connected with nothing. Defecious had rolled away and in that simple movement, Gerriod felt the odds shift from his favour to hers. She was alive. She could see him.
He swiped again and failed to hit anything. His heart rate increased. Again he thrust out his knife and again was met with disappointment. He bit his lip as he tried to think of a way out of his predicament. Defecious had stopped moving and was silent. All he could hear was his heart’s pounding. He felt disoriented, scared to move and scared to stay put.
‘You’ve wasted your opportunity,’ a sneering voice breathed into his ear as sharp, invisible fingers wrapped around his throat. ‘Now you will see what it’s like to have a hole carved in your throat.’
Invisible fingernails pushed into Gerriod’s neck. ‘I apologise but I’ll have to use my hands,’ Defecious snarled and he felt his skin pop as her nails burst through into the soft tissue surrounding his larynx.
Gerriod howled as the fingers squeezed through the various tendons and muscles lining his neck. It was more painful than anything he could remember. Defecious delighted in his pain and whispered, ‘I remember the times I spent with your father. He screamed much like you. Right up to the moment of his death.’
Gerriod stiffened. Defecious’ comment sliced into him, wreaking more damage than her bloodied nails ever could. His head clouded and the world tilted. He was falling to the floor, only vaguely away that he had been released. He had heard a dull thudding sound and footsteps on the wooden boards he was lying on.
He opened his eyes to see Pylos, covered in red dirt, dragging him away across the floor. In the middle of the tavern, Defecious clutched furiously at the shatterstone sword in her stomach and then exploded.
‘That’s the end of her,’ Pylos send proudly as he wiped the dirt from his legs and arms.
‘That was a her?’ Gerriod said groggily as the Helyan helped him to his feet.
‘I think so,’ Pylos replied.
When they exited into the bright street outside, Trypp was pouring water from his flask into Mulupo’s parched mouth. The Spriggan had not opened his eyes, but he was gulping down the water. His dehydrated body looked so frail that Trypp was afraid to move him into the shade.
Gerriod and Pylos ignored the Moraen witch who was now coiled up in a corner of the veranda with her head cast down, clearly unwilling to continue the conflict. They ran to the middle of the dusty street where Remiel lay as still as a corpse.
Leaning over his body, Pylos could see that Remiel was not dead. In fact, his eyelids fluttered and his mouth grimaced as he used his Morgai talents to heal himself. The needleback poison was powerful, but not enough to keep him down.
Within minutes he was on his feet. He staggered as he tried to walk over to Trypp and Mulupo. Suddenly his legs buckled underneath him and he fell to the ground for the second time that day.
‘Take it easy, Remiel. You’re spent,’ Gerriod said as he bent over the Morgai. ‘You need to rest a minute.’
Suddenly a groan from the tavern’s veranda reminded them that not all their enemies had been dispatched. With one hand on his sword, Pylos approached the Moraen huddled up in the shadowy corner of the veranda.
She was in an anxious state, talking to herself in disjointed sentences as she fumbled around with her blouse. Pylos stopped. He had wanted to rub the witch’s face in the dirt she had encased him in, but as he watched her frantically loosening the cords of her blouse, any animosity he felt was replaced by pity.
Her long fingers moved feverishly, tearing at the cords. ‘No, no, no – wouldn’t dare – I did what he said – Aggie – come here baby, come to me.’
Her words spluttered out her mouth as anxiety consumed her body. Frustrated by her inability to easily untie her blouse, she yanked savagely at the material, ripping it to reveal the pale grey scales of her chest. The Birthstone had faded. Meggan Galley’s connection to her daughter Agatha was severed. Down in the Endless, the poor child had been killed.
Meggan sank to her knees and let loose a tortured howl.
‘What is it?’ Pylos said rushing to her and dropping by her side. ‘Are you hurt?’
Tears exploded from her eyes and her body heaved forward wracked by sorrow. She toppled over onto the red dust that covered the veranda. Her hands rose up to the sides of her head and pounded her temples. Pylos had never seen anyone so overcome with emotion. ‘Please tell me what is wrong,’ he urged her, but his request fell on deaf ears. He recalled the name Defecious had mentioned earlier and used it in the hope she would respond. ‘Meggan?’
Her sobbing increased in its intensity. Her tail shuddered and her fragile hands continued to strike her face. ‘I am betrayed.’
Caliban leant in close to her, deliberately making her uncomfortable by his nearness. ‘You have served me well these past months Meggan. Your soothing magicks have done much to ease my pain.’
Meggan nodded respectfully. She acted as if the comment pleased her, but they both knew that the only reason Meggan did anything for her captor was for the welfare of the child he had stolen from her. ‘I am glad I please you, my lord. May I be so bold as to ask to see Agatha again? It has been three weeks since I last saw her.’
Caliban smiled. Yellow teeth sticking out at awkward angles did little to reassure Meggan that he would agree to her request. ‘It is a fair request,’ he said with the benevolence of a priest, ‘but I am considering a new arrangement. Something more… permanent.’
‘Permanent?’ she asked nervously. The word filled her with dread.
‘How would you like to return to the world above? Return for good, with Agatha in your arms, left to live a life free of the Ghul, left alone as you were before all this began?’
Suspicion reared up in her eyes. She had not dared to dream such a thing in all her dark days in the Endless. She had resolved herself to a life of captivity, brightened only by the rare hours Caliban let her spend with her child. And now he, who had taken away all hope, was handing it back to her. She looked quizzically at him, failing to find the words he needed to hear.
He nodded, as if her silence were a reply. ‘I understand your hesitation Meggan, but I have no quarrel with you. I would not see you suffer unnecessarily after all you have done for me.’
She swallowed. ‘So I can just leave? With Agatha?’
‘Not yet. There is one more thing I require you to do. One task you must perform and then you and Agatha will be free to return to the Myr, free to go where you will.’
As every second passed, the hope of a new life took form in the back of her mind, and as this new reality was realised in her imaginings, the likelihood of her denying Caliban in his request faded away.
‘I will do whatever you require of me.’
‘Well done, my dear.’ He patted her on the arm, like a father pleased with the behaviour of his child. ‘Excellent choice.’
As she exited Caliban’s cottage, she caught sight of another witch approaching the house, slithering across the rock accompanied by two Ghul soldiers. This was hardly unusual. The numbers of Pryderi captive in the Endless had swelled over recent months. But the Moraen approaching the house was the last one Meggan expected to see in Caliban’s realm.
‘Arinna?’ Meggan gasped.
‘Remiel? What’s wrong with her?’ Pylos called as his companion made his way over to the veranda. ‘She’s won’t respond to me. She keeps hitting herself and speaking nonsense.’
‘It is not nonsense that she speaks,’ said Trypp who had left Mulupo in Gerriod’s care. ‘Akampa Lodd told me about the Pryderi on our journey to Cessair. It is not common knowledge but the bond they share with their young manifests itself in a soft blue light that radiates from a stone above mother’s heart.’
Pylos instinctively gazed at the forlorn witch’s chest. ‘But I don’t see –’
He realised as soon as he said it. The bond had been broken. Her skin was pale. She had just discovered her child had been slain.
Remiel’s face was frozen in horror, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed in a manic stare.
Pylos placed a hand on Meggan’s shoulder but she was oblivious to all around her. The Helyan rose and turned to Remiel. They were both thinking of Caliban. ‘How could he do such a thing?’ Pylos said incredulously.
‘Lord Caliban, your brother and the others will not go with Drabella. They will kill her and Defecious without hesitation.’
‘Yes, Lucetious. I believe you are correct.’ Caliban leant forward on his throne of bone and stared into his lieutenant’s hollow face. ‘You do not see how this serves our interests?’
‘Regretfully, I do not.’
‘Lucetious, this action achieves two things. Firstly, Drabella and Defecious have both let me down. Drabella’s bungling efforts to kill the Sapphyrran Trypp Elan at Madron’s Pass cannot be tolerated. Similarly, Defecious’ sacking of the city of Sulis should have been achieved with ease but instead she retreated her forces and let the Helyans kill Anaresis. This mission will be a punitive display to all other Ghul as to what happens when my expectations are not reached.’
Lucetious nodded but said nothing.
‘Furthermore, the Spriggan must now be cast back among the Myrrans. This must be done before they depart from El Silat.’
‘I begin to see,’ Lucetious said with great humility. He bowed before Caliban. ‘What would you ask of me? What are your orders?’
‘Once Drabella and Defecious have been defeated, I want you to kill Meggan’s child. I want to see my brother’s face when he realises the child was killed for his… edification.’
Remiel’s jaw unlocked and an agonised response rumbled out. ‘He did it for me.’
‘What? He would kill a child to spite you?’
Remiel continued to stare at the pathetic figure coiled up in the corner of the veranda. ‘He has shed all humanity.’
The Moraen continued to pound her head. Strange sounds spilled out her mouth – the final components to an incantation that had not been heard for hundreds of years. Meggan’s voice grew and her hands continued to strike her head and then suddenly a sharp snapping sound filled the air. She froze, and for a brief second, she resembled an intricately carved sculpture. All colour fled her body which momentarily took on the quality of glass. Before Remiel, Pylos or Trypp could move, the translucent body before them shattered into countless pieces which spilled across the veranda and out onto the street.
Remiel bellowed in rage. His Morgai power blended with his voice and the walls of the houses shook as his agonised scream filled the air. ‘A child, Caliban!’ he roared at the sky. ‘A child!’ His hands radiated with cold, blue light. A crackling sound drowned out all other noises on the street and the air was filled with lightning. The tiny bodies of a cloud of dead shatterbugs fell to the earth
Remiel sank to his knees in the middle of the street and broke down crying.
Pylos gazed over his shoulder at the tavern veranda where thousands of glass shards glittered in the sunlight. ‘Why would she kill herself?’
‘She lost her child Pylos,’ Trypp said distantly. ‘I imagine she could not live without her.’
‘But she is not the first mother to outlive her offspring.’
It was difficult for the Helyan. In his culture, suicide was not an option. It was considered the end to all options. To give oneself to suicide was considered an action of cowardice. He could not understand why someone would nullify their own existence when faced with the death of others.
‘Not all races are as stoic as the Helyans, Pylos,’ Gerriod snapped. ‘Not everyone can look death in the face with a steely gaze. You could be more compassionate.’
Pylos was surprised by Gerriod’s tone but not offended by it. In a way, he was impressed that the Tuathan spoken his mind. He smiled softly in response. ‘Compassion doesn’t come easily to a people like us.’ He didn’t say it defensively; it was almost like a confession.
‘Perhaps centuries of celebrating death in festivals such as the Forging has inured you to the struggles other people have with their mortality,’ suggested Trypp.
Gerriod nodded. ‘I imagine, in the Endless, under the tyranny of Caliban, the witch had to cling to something – perhaps hope that one day she would be reunited with her daughter. It is likely that her daughter was her strength, the thing that kept her going when everything else was lost. Once that hope was destroyed, she had nothing left to live for.’
As Gerriod spoke Pylos noticed his voice begin to shake. Something had rattled the mariner. It wasn’t just the death of the Moraen. There was something else.
‘What is it Gerriod?’
At first Pylos thought that Gerriod had not heard him, but the mariner was trying to get control over his fraying emotions before replying. ‘The Ghul in the tavern,’ he said as he waved a hand towards the building across the street. ‘She said something. Something bad.’
‘What Gerriod? She said what?’
‘She told me that she had tortured my father before he –’
Pylos cut him off. ‘Gerriod, these creatures are not to be trusted. Your father is not dead.’
‘Pylos, he is held captive by the very man who murdered that woman’s child. How would you know that?’
‘Because,’ Pylos said softly, ‘I cannot believe we live in an age where a son as dutiful and courageous as you can journey the lengths of two worlds and face dangers that would send most men scurrying and not find what he seeks at the end of it. Your father is alive and I will make sure that every hour he has spent in the Endless is paid for by his tormentors.’
Gerriod fell down in a heap beside Mulupo. Although the argument Pylos put forward had holes large enough to stick a sword into them, it was exactly what he needed to hear in light of Defecious’ sneering claim. Gerriod had to trust one of them – he picked Pylos’ story over the Ghul’s.
Trypp smiled. Pylos’ sentiments shouldn’t have come as a surprise to any of them. It made perfect sense that the Helyan admired Gerriod in the way he did. The Tuathan had fought on. He had persevered despite being surrounded by younger, fitter men who had been trained for such a quest as they were on. Gerriod had no Birthstone to tell him that his father was still alive and yet he had not faltered in his commitment to finishing the mission. His courage was uncommon.
Remiel returned to the group. His dirty face displayed two patches of clean skin where he had wiped away his tears. ‘I am sorry,’ he said disconsolately. ‘I forgot myself.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Trypp said, ‘but we need your aid here. Mulupo is in a bad way.’
The Spriggan’s breathing was shallow and although he was still conscious, there was nothing about him that indicated he was aware of the group that crouched around him.
Remiel placed a hand upon Mulupo’s forehead.
‘Will he live?’ Trypp asked with an uncharacteristic note of nervousness in his voice.
‘He will if I have anything to do with it,’ said Remiel resolutely. ‘Heal.’ It was more an exhalation than speech but it had the desired effect. Mulupo opened his eyes.
‘Why do you gaze upon me with sepulchral faces. You look as though you have just concluded a requiescat! Be joyous for I have escaped the vituperation and objurgation of my unsavoury tellurian hosts.’
Pylos laughed and observed, ‘Yes – things are back to normal. I can’t understand a word he is saying.’
Mulupo ignored this comment as he ran his tongue across his cry, cracked lips. ‘My mouth’s xeric environment is much like a desert. Does anyone have any of Nessa’s vineous delights?’
Trypp passed his water flask to Mulupo who sniffed and pulled a face. ‘My good Trypp, let me speak plainly. I desire wine, not water. How thirsty do you think I am?’
Trypp’s face broke out in a broad smile. It was good to have the Spriggan back with them. Pylos, Gerriod and Trypp laughed loudly, unable to hide the joy they felt in being reunited with their garrulous companion.
If Remiel was pleased by Mulupo’s presence, he did not show it. He was looking at the Spriggan with a strange expression on his face. He was staring, almost as if he didn’t recognise him.
Half an hour later, when they had patched up all their wounds and bruises, the party picked up their belongings and headed off through the city. Gerriod, already limping from his crossing of the Marid, carried Mulupo with Trypp hovering nearby attending to the Spriggan’s every wish – food, shade, conversation. Pylos used the opportunity to sidle up to Remiel. ‘What is wrong?’ he said cutting to the heart of the matter. ‘Back there, after healing Mulupo you –’
‘He’s different,’ Remiel whispered quickly, cutting Pylos off for fear of being overheard. ‘I don’t know what it is, Pylos, but something had changed about the Spriggan.’
‘Yes, he’s been taken to an inch of his life,’ Pylos whispered back louder than Remiel would have liked.
Remiel stopped and looked Pylos in the face. His eyes were rimmed with tears. ‘I tell you truly Pylos, I have no idea how we can win this fight.’ He quickly turned from the Helyan and headed off down the street at a pace that the rest of the group could not match.
To assist Gerriod, Pylos took Mulupo from him. The Spriggan wasted no time in engaging Pylos in conversation. The whole time Pylos searched for some indication of the changes Remiel had mentioned and finding none, concluded that the stress of the mission was finally taking its toll upon Remiel Grayson. For all the vaunted power of the Morgai, Remiel was now struggling.
They moved through the city quickly. A shatterbug flew by and Pylos reached out in a blur of motion and squashed it in his fist. He looked at the stain the bug had left on his hand and pondered. ‘Trypp, explain your theory on the shatterbugs. How can a bug be… be whatever it is you think they are.’
‘They appeared just before chaos spread across our world,’ Trypp replied. ‘They must be connected to Caliban somehow. I don’t know how but they must communicate what they see to him.’
Mulupo cocked his head up excitedly. ‘Of course! How did I forget such a thing?’
‘Forget what?’ asked Pylos
‘The night Caliban appeared in Sarras, he released the arachna. In my addled state brought on by my year in stasis, I had forgotten this detail.’
Gerriod frowned. ‘Arachna?’
‘Shatterbugs. They are native to the Endless.’
Pylos frowned. ‘How could the shatterbugs provide Caliban with information? They’re just insects! And even if they could communicate with him somehow and provide him with information, surely it would take them weeks to fly back to him.’
‘Perhaps that their crystalline bodies act as a conduit to him,’ Trypp suggested.
‘A what?’ Gerriod sighed. ‘Trypp, you’re sounding like Mulupo.’
‘The mariner compliments you,’ Mulupo quipped.
‘A conduit,’ Trypp explained. ‘Somehow they send what they see, like a reflection of sort.’
‘Now you’ve really lost me.’
‘Pylos, think of the Moraen Meggan. Although she was separated from her child, by many leagues, their bond was such that she knew when her child was slain. Perhaps the shatterbugs have a similar connection and that Caliban has found the means to exploit it.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
Remiel shook his head. ‘No. It’s not. It makes sense. He has seen and heard almost everything we have done these past months. The shatterbugs may be the lens through which he focuses upon all we do.’
‘Then why did he do so much to draw you out? If he had known where you were, why did he not go to you directly?’
‘Garlot Abbey is famous for the families of churchwrens its steeples attract. They are fairly ordinary birds except for one unique aspect. They eat shatterbugs. They love them. If what Trypp is suggesting is true, that somehow the shatterbugs provided Caliban with sight, then the absence of them around Garlot kept me hidden from him.’
‘And now he watches your every step.’
‘No. Not anymore.’ Remiel glanced up at a number of shatterbugs that were hovering aimlessly a little further down the path. He held out a hand, his fingers stretching out wide. Suddenly he clenched his fist and the shatterbugs all exploded in mid-air, as if each of them had been squeezed by an invisible hand.
‘He still knows we’re coming’ noted Gerriod.
‘Does this change anything?’ Pylos said bluntly. ‘Does this alter the course?’ Although he presented his thoughts as questions, it was clear to everyone that Pylos would not consider deviating from their course. For him, the point of no return was always one step after the start of a mission. He would see the task through. The fact that Caliban was prepared for them only tempered the steel of his heart.
All eyes turned to Remiel. ‘Not a jot,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘We will end this, one way or another.’
‘How did we fail to notice?’ Pylos thought aloud. ‘Why did we not question the appearance of the shatterbugs?’
‘Perhaps because they are such beautiful, benign creatures,’ Trypp said softly. ‘They literally brought light into our world. They gave us no reason to fear them.’
‘Well put, Master Trypp,’ Mulupo said with a laugh. ‘The Sapphyrro would make excellent Spriggans!’
It was a light-hearted comment, but Mulupo looked anything but carefree. Dried skin lay across his lips like curled up autumn leaves. His once ruddy complexion had faded and his eyes were bloodshot. Though he was no longer of the verge of death, he was struggling under the Kheperan heat. Pylos was beginning to doubt whether the Spriggan could continue on in his present state.
‘Let’s stop for a bit,’ Pylos said suddenly. ‘I could use a drink.’
They stepped off the road and sat on a large flat rock under one of the bomb-blossom trees that lined the route down to El Silat’s docks. It formed a rudimentary table around which they all sat. Pylos took the top off his water flask and handed it over to Mulupo.
‘I think I can make it a bit more palatable,’ said Remiel, who waved his hand over the flask Pylos had given to the Spriggan.
Suddenly a rich bouquet of Nessan grapes wafted out of the bottle and Mulupo’s face shone. He quickly tool a swig and his eyes almost popped out of his head as the taste of Nessa’s best wine coated a tongue that had previously been covered in dust.
After three long gulps, Mulupo lifted his head and beamed at Remiel. ‘Prelate, you have kept your best skill hidden until now. How long have you possessed the talent to transmogrify humble water into wine.’
Remiel shook his head. ‘It’s still water, but I have made you think that it’s wine. It is the power of suggestion.’
‘Well sir, it is a rare skill indeed. I wish that you had revealed it earlier.’
Gerriod looked harshly at Remiel. He quickly tuned away but not before Remiel had noticed his glance.
‘Gerriod you wish to say something to me?’
‘I do but I fear I will regret what comes out my mouth.’
‘Soon we shall be sailing towards Caliban’s End and the time for speech will be ended. Please speak your mind. I would have no enmity between us before the confrontation that awaits us all.’
The tension in Gerriod’s body was obvious to all of them. They could feel his anger rising to the surface. ‘So you can alter our minds now can you? It’s not enough that you can wipe them altogether?’
‘Gerriod, I do not blame you for your hostility. I should never have taken from you your memories of what happened that day on Lake Erras but I thought it was the merciful thing to do. I thought that you should live your life unencumbered by the terrible events of that day.’
‘So you just used your talents to wipe it all away? Perhaps you could use them to give back to me my memory of that day.’
‘I neither have the ability to change minds or erase them. Mulupo’s imagination is what created the taste of wine. I merely made his mind more susceptible to what he most desired. I was not even Morgai when I sent your father and Caliban into the Worldpool. I was just a man. To make you forget, I had to use an apothecary’s potion, a complex potable called Nepenthes.’
‘So you can give us what we most desire, can you? I want my father! Can you give me that?’
Gerriod stood up and walked away. It seemed the closer they got to Caliban’s End, the place where it all began, the harder it was for him to let go of what Remiel Grayson had done to him.
An uncomfortable silence settled on the group sitting around the flat boulder. Everyone looked down, rummaging through their minds for something that would change the mood.
Mulupo had another swig from the flask, burped loudly and smiled contentedly to indicate his thirst was quenched.
‘I lost my temper, Remiel.’ Gerriod’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and contrition. ‘I apologise.’
‘You are that last person who should ever apologise to me.’
Out of the corner of his eyes, Gerriod saw something move behind Remiel, something small. Seconds later, a shatterbug flew over the his shoulder and landed on the boulder in the centre of the group. They all looked at it as one and slammed their hands down upon it. In the centre of the boulder, their hands met. It was a unifying gesture and its symbolism was not lost on any of them, except perhaps for Gerriod whose hand at the bottom of the pile was coated in the incredibly sticky, phosphorescent goo that constituted most of the shatterbug’s body.
‘Let’s go,’ said Pylos, trying hard to stifle a laugh as he watched Gerriod trying to pull his hand from the boulder. The shatterbug goo eventually gave way and Gerriod fell backwards into Trypp.
Pylos picked up Mulupo who curled up like a child in the Helyan’s muscled arms and closed his eyes in preparation for sleep. The wine not only tasted like wine, but it also seemed to have all the properties of alcohol. The Spriggan could think of nothing better than a nap.
They made their way through the rest of the city in silence and within the hour found themselves at the docks. A number of boats had been destroyed in the Ghul’s assault upon the town. The flotsam and jetsam of these sunken ships bumped against the stone wall of the docks as gentle waves pushed and pulled along the lake’s edge. This debris also including a number of dead bodies, bloated and pale in their watery grave.
The dock consisted of a number of stone jetties that jutted out into the lake. Gathered around the westernmost jetty were three small skiffs that seemed more or less intact.
‘Look,’ said Pylos, gazing at the skiffs. ‘It seems the Ghul overlooked a few boats!’
Gerriod’s face dropped when he realised the significance of Pylos’ comment. ‘You can’t be serious! You’re not suggesting that we head into the Worldpool in those, are you?’
‘Have you got a better idea?’
‘You’ve never seen the Worldpool Pylos. I have. If you think we can head into the maw in those, well, we may as well kill ourselves now and save ourselves the trip.’
‘Gerriod’ said Remiel as he casually crushed another couple of shatterbugs that had flown too near, ‘you’ve survived the Worldpool before, Trypp fell from atop the Skyfall and lived, and Pylos, well I doubt there’s anything that can kill him.’
‘What about Mulupo?’
‘We won’t be taking him. He’s done enough.’
Pylos was still carrying the Spriggan, cradling him in his arms. Despite the blazing sun and their hurried march through the city, Mulupo slept soundly. Though Remiel had repaired the trauma done to his body, he still needed to rest. There was little chance he would survive the battering the Worldpool would dish out.
‘We can’t leave him here,’ Gerriod said softly, not wanting to wake the Spriggan.
‘No. We’ll put him in a boat, give him what’s left of our provisions and set him on a course for Skyfall Town.’‘
'Oh, that’s safe! As far as we know, Skyfall Town is still under attack from the Morrigu.’
‘It’s safer than where we’re going. I’ll put a protective barrier around his boat and guide it to safety. He will remain untouched.’
They made their way over to the skiffs. The boats were tiny with barely enough room for two men, but they were in sound condition. Remiel took off his outer robe and lay it inside the closest skiff. He then took Mulupo from Pylos and placed him tenderly into the boat, as if he were putting an infant to bed. Mulupo rolled on to his side, curling up into a ball, seemingly oblivious to where he was and where he was going.
‘Wait a second,’ said Gerriod in a hoarse whisper. ‘What is that?’
Pylos shrugged. ‘What is what?’
Gerriod leaned over the side of the skiff into which Remiel had just placed Mulupo. He pulled up the back of the Spriggan’s waistcoat to reveal a large purple bruise. It lay in the small of Mulupo’s back and looked like it would have caused him extreme discomfort. But he had not mentioned it, nor did he give any indication that he had been hurt in such a way.
‘That has to be incredibly painfully,’ Gerriod muttered, voicing the obvious. He looked up at Remiel and said, ‘I thought you healed him.’
‘I thought I had,’ replied Remiel, baffled by the existence of the bruise.
Pylos leaned closer and inspected the purple mark. ‘It looks as if his back has been punctured!’ he said incredulously.
‘Punctured?’ said Gerriod as the colour ran out of his face. A sense of dread and déjà vu settled on him simultaneously. There was something terrifying in Pylos’ observation, something that sat on the edge of his memory, teasing him from afar.
‘Gerriod?’ asked Pylos, turning around to face Gerriod. ‘What is it?’
Gerriod shook his head. Whatever it was, it had gone.
Trypp leant between Pylos and Gerriod and pulled down the Spriggan’s waistcoat to cover the bruise. ‘The Ghul are sadistic creatures. I imagine that bruise is but one of many tortures inflicted upon Mulupo.’
‘He seems okay now,’ Pylos said, trying to sound reassuring. He stood up, picked up the last of their provisions and placed them in the skiff at Mulupo’s feet. ‘He’ll be fine but we should send him on his way before more Ghul arrive.’
‘Agreed,’ said Remiel as he cast his eyes over the skiff. ‘It is time to bid another companion goodbye.’ He placed his hands upon the sides of the boat, gave a gentle push and whispered, ‘Skyfall Town.’ As if it had heard him, the boat swivelled around until its bow faced a north-easterly direction. It pulled away from the jetty and drifted off across the water, watched by Remiel, Trypp, Gerriod and Pylos, until it was but a speck upon the rippling veil of the lake.