Heights of the Depths (7 page)

“Tragically, I can believe it all too readily. I know you of old, Clarinda. You always had nothing but contempt for your own people. And every Piri male and female knew that, and tolerated it because you were daughter of the Mistress and heiress to the title. That is not going to continue to be the case, however, and I assure you of this, Clarinda: As much as I journey this land, I will take time to return and be there for when you are finally made to pay for your arrogance and smugness. Once you have pushed that child out through your nethers, then there shall be a reckoning. The hybrid freak will be destroyed, and as for you—”

Clarinda did not wait to hear. Instead she abruptly lunged forward, hoping to catch him unawares. Perhaps sink her teeth into the tendons behind his ankles, rip them out, hamstring him, render him helpless.

She had no chance. Bartolemayne yanked his legs clear, deftly stepping out of her way. He grabbed her by the nape of the neck, yanked her to her feet and twisted her around so that she was facing away from him. He was handling her so effortlessly that one would have thought her a child having her parent’s will forced upon her. She tried to drive a foot back at him, but he caught it and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. He started to bend her backwards and she cried out.

“Have you had enough?” he said patiently. “Are you through fighting?”

Seizing bravado as her only option, she grunted through her pain, “You have absolutely no idea how much trouble you’re in. All I have to do is cry out and my army will descend upon you.”

The other Piri, having sated themselves on the bir, were moving toward her and chuckling to each other.

“Very well,” Bartolemayne challenged her. “Summon them. Let us tremble in fear at your army.”

He could have throttled her, preventing her from drawing breath. He did not do so. That was how confident he was that she was bluffing, which of course she was.

Nevertheless she filled her lungs and cried out as loudly as she was able, “To me! To me, my followers!”

Nothing. Dead silence, save for the snickering of the Piri and a soft, almost disappointed sigh from Bartolemayne.

“All right, Clarinda. Now it’s time to—” Suddenly Bartolemayne’s head snapped around. He looked bewildered. “What the hell—?”

He had detected the scent first, but even if he had possessed no nose at all, the steady trembling of the ground that made it seem as if an earthquake was approaching would have alerted him. The Piri were looking at each other in concern as trees were heard crashing in the near distance.

I’ll be damned,
thought Clarinda.

With a roar of pure fury, Turkin smashed out of the underbrush.

He had a bir in either hand. The birs were smaller than the one that Clarinda had attacked, but they were still wild and furious and looking for someone or something to attack.

Turkin was perfectly happy to accommodate them. He hurled the animals at the Piri, first one and then the other. The first of the birs landed atop two of the Piri, crushing them beneath its paws and roaring so loudly and furiously that the other Piri immediately backpedalled. The second bir had not been quite as well aimed, thudding to the ground and spinning toward the nearest of the Piri. It opened its mouth and roared so loudly that the Piri were falling over each other to get out of its way.

Bartolemayne looked annoyed. “A child, Clarinda? Your army consists of one Ocular child? Do you seriously…?”

Then he heard them. More thundering of huge feet stampeding their way, and the noise of the approaching Ocular was combined with the bellowing of the birs and the terrified cries of the Piri. Piri were perfectly capable of bravery when they significantly outnumbered their prey and could overrun it with minimal risk to themselves. This was not the situation they were being faced with now, and they had little taste for it.

Clarinda saw the concern in their faces, and cried out over the oncoming thundering, “And that is simply the first wave! Call them children if you wish, but how do you plan to stand up to a hundred of them!”

“You are bluffing,” said Bartolemayne.

“Try me.”

Bartolemayne hesitated and then, with an angry snarl, threw her down. The Piri were busy trying to keep away from the two angry birs, both of whom were doing their best to take down whatever Piri they could get their teeth on.

“If you fancy yourself the head of an army, Clarinda, know that I will raise up an army against you,” said Bartolemayne. He did not sound the least put out by this reversal of fortune. If anything, he seemed pleased, even excited by the prospect of having to rise to a challenge. “And we will take you and your children down, and feast on their carcasses for many months.”

He called out a brisk command to the remaining Piri, who would happily have fled earlier if anyone save Bartolemayne had been leading them. But they were relieved to have the opportunity to vacate the area, and they did so without any further urging.

As a result, more of the Ocular hunters came pouring into the clearing just as the Piri vanished into the shadows. Bellowing their anger over the disappearance of their intended victims, and wanting to have nothing to do with the Ocular if they could help it, the younger birs charged away into the shadows of the trees.

Berola came running up behind Turkin, with several more Ocular behind her. “You’re letting them get away! Those birs were our dinner!”

“They’re serving us well enough sending the Piri scattering,” said Clarinda firmly. “Let’s take advantage of it. Gather the others. We need to leave.”

“But we haven’t eaten—”

“Better that than being eaten!” Clarinda shouted at him, having no intention of discussing the matter at length. “We haven’t gotten far enough from my people!” She didn’t add that she wasn’t sure it was possible to get far enough. The reach of the Piri seemed very long indeed. “If you value your lives, then we need to distance ourselves!”

“We were being trained to fight them,” said Turkin heatedly. “We’re not afraid.”

“Nor are you ready. And you’re going to need time to get ready, and that’s what I need to provide you now. Not another word! We go or you die! Make your choice and be prepared to live with it, or not!”

iv.

Her voice had been sharp
enough and her attitude clearly brooking no argument from them, so Turkin, Berola and the others fell into behind her. When they had returned to Kerda and the others, there had been questioning looks and attempts to discern what had just happened. Clarinda had shut it all down and led them away from the immediate area.

They continued to move through the darkness, and it seemed to Clarinda that every shadow from every outstretched tree hid an enemy. Every branch was like a giant outstretched hand with long, wooden fingers, threatening to grab them and hold them.

The Ocular continued to run as quickly as their huge legs would carry them. Hour passed into hour, and darkness continued to hold sway as was typical for the land of Feend. They were, however, heading steadily south, and Clarinda knew that sooner or later they would leave the land of perpetual darkness behind them. When that happened, travel would become more problematic. Ocular were damned near blind during the day, and Clarinda would likewise require shelter from the sun’s rays lest it threatened to burn the skin from her body. Meanwhile Bartolemayne, less daunted by the sun than average Piri, would not be likewise constrained. He would no doubt lead the Piri in continued search of her, finding passages, caves and the like in which they could hide while they mounted their continued pursuit. There would be no place to rest. She had told the Ocular she would train them, mold them into a fighting force. The truth was that she had little concept of how to do such a thing, and no time in which to do it. The Piri had them on the run and there was no end in sight, unless one considered the Piri falling upon them during an unguarded moment, killing all the Ocular and stealing Clarinda back into the depths of Subterror to be an end.
I suppose it is. It simply isn’t an end that I would welcome.

Yet that was very likely the end that awaited them, unless they could find sanctuary.

Sanctuary.

“I know where we have to go,” she said abruptly. “I know where we will be safe from the Piri.”

This brought the entire squad of Ocular to a halt. They grouped around Clarinda in a manner that could only be considered protective. She found it honestly to be somewhat sweet. It surprised her that she was thinking of Ocular in that manner. These brainless children who had only been a means to an end, to be used and disposed of when it was convenient. Yet now she thought it almost charming the way they were clustering around her as if to shield her from any harm.

“Where?” said Kerda with hope in her voice that she almost seemed afraid to acknowledge was there.

“Perriz.”

The Ocular looked at each other, their single eyes blinking rapidly in both awe and amazement. “The home of the Firedraques? Really?” said Berola.

“Yes. Really. The Firedraques are the great peacemakers. They always have been. If they agree to take us under their wing, we will be safe.”

“And if they don’t?” said Turkin.

“They will,” Clarinda said with a firmness that she did not feel, but at least was able to sound convincing over when she said it. “I know it. And if I know it, then you can know it, too.”

“My mother always wanted to see Perriz!” said Berola. “Apparently she read about it a great deal in her youth! She told me all kinds of stories about it! But isn’t it far?”

“Very,” said Clarinda. “But we will move as much as we can without resting, and find food along the way, and we will make the journey faster than any others possibly could. And we will find safety there, and sanctuary, and a home.”

“Home,” the children whispered to each other, and that was all the incentive they required to keep going.

She just prayed that she wasn’t leading them astray.

firedraque hall, Perriz

I.

Arren Kinklash did not enter
Firedraque Hall so much as he was propelled into it. The infuriated Mandraque, his skin even greener than usual and his forked tongue flashing out, yanked his arms away from the trio of armed guards who were escorting him, if forcing someone to go somewhere that they were not remotely interested in going could be defined as “escorting.”

“Keep the hell away from me!” he snarled at them, and the guards backed off.

One of them stepped forward, looking nervous and fidgeting slightly. “Lord Kinklash, please understand. We are Mandraques, as are you, but we are in service of the Firedraques and had no choice. We were merely following orders—”

“You were ordered to treat me as if I were nothing more than an enslaved Mort?”

“We were ordered to return you here, whether you wished to come or not.”

Arren had a leather carrying bag slung over his back. It contained all of the supplies he could quickly gather and collect on short notice. He unslung it now and dropped it to the ground. “Whether I wished to come or not? How is that even an issue? Of course I did not wish to come! That should be obvious considering that,” and he indicated the leathers he was wearing, “I am dressed for the road and am carrying supplies for a journey! What did you think was going to happen when you caught up with me and dragged me off the road to return here?”

And a sharp female voice broke in. “They were not required to think. They were required to do as their duty commanded them.”

A tall, imperious female Firedraque strode in, her head held high, her maw outthrust, her long and elegant tail twitching in anger. “For that matter, they did as I commanded them. At least some around here understand that which is required of them. And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, Kinklash, these good soldiers are concerned that, as head of the Clans, you are going to seek some manner of retribution against them. Or worse, against their family.”

Arren looked at them. “Is that true? Is that a concern to you?” When he saw them glance at one another, each of them clearly hoping the other would say something, he rolled his slitted eyes. “You and your families need not worry. You did as Evanna, daughter of Nicrominus, instructed you to do. There will be no retribution taken against you, now or ever. You have my word.”

“Satisfied?” said Evanna. When they nodded, appearing distinctly relieved, she gave them a leisurely gesture and said, “You may go.” They backed out of Firedraque Hall, bowing and scraping as they did.

Arren waited until they were gone, the huge doors of the cavernous hall shut behind them, and then said angrily, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Kinklash—”

“What the hell did—? Damn it all, Evanna, what gave you the right—?”

“Nothing, Arren! Nothing gave me the right! Are you happy? Nothing gave me the right, and so I took it. And the reason I took it was because you were tossing it aside because you wanted nothing to do with it! Except I didn’t feel like giving you that option!” When he did not respond immediately, Evanna made an angry growling noise and turned from him. She strode away, heading toward the cavernous inner hallway. Sunlight beamed through the vast multicolored windows. It was as if a rainbow had taken up residence within the building.

Arren’s impulse was to turn around and bolt from the hall. He knew that would do him no good, however. She would simply dispatch guards to haul him in and return him to Perriz, and it would be even more humiliating than it had just been. And that had been pretty damned humiliating. Arren Kinklash, leader of the Clans, being escorted shouting and frothing like a lunatic through the streets of Perriz while other Firedraques looked on in amazement and perhaps even pity. He was not particularly anxious for a replay of that mortification.

So instead of going with his instinct, Arren reluctantly followed Evanna into the main hall. She stood there, bathed in the prismatic light, staring up at one of the large decorations left from the days when Morts ruled over the Damned World.

Arren stood next to Evanna and glanced sidelong at her. “Are you taller?”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You seem taller. A couple of inches.”

“Oh. Yes. That. I’ve gotten into the habit of slouching. When I’m with Xeri, when I’m with my father. I slouch. Otherwise I tower over them and they have to look up at me to make eye contact, and they find that disconcerting. So I compress my spine a bit. Salves their egos and it is no consequence to me. But when they’re not around—or when I’m yelling at idiots,” and she looked pointedly at him, “I tend to stand upright.”

“Ah.” He switched his gaze to the large monument mounted at the far end of the hall. Carved from some sort of wood, it was a representation of a scantily clad human male who was resting with his arms outstretched upon a cross.

“What do you think he represents?” said Evanna. “Xeri and I debated about it at length. My father believed it to be religious iconography of some sort.”

“It’s possible. On the other hand, it could also be agricultural.”

“Agricultural?”

He nodded. “Morts used to mount similar constructions made of straw or such like materials in their fields. They were designed to keep scavenging birds away from crops by making them think that a human sentinel was standing guard.”

“Did it work?”

Arren shrugged. “The birds likely ignored it and the humans felt they were being proactive, so I suppose everyone benefited.”

“So that statue,” and she indicated the one in the hall, “is intended to keep birds away from here?”

“Are there, in fact, any birds here?”

“No.”

“Then obviously it’s working.”

Evanna smiled at that and then slowly shook her head.

He regarded her for a moment and then said softly, “How are you holding up, Evanna?”

“How do I look like I’m holding up?”

“You look terrible.”

“That’s your answer then.”

“Evanna—”

“Everyone is looking to me for solutions, Arren! My father was kidnapped by a Zeffer! The bell tower has been shattered! There was rubble and debris everywhere! We have no spiritual leader, Xeri has crawled over to a corner and curled up into a ball…”

“Literally?”

“Metaphorically, but the principle is the same. And everyone is looking to me for solutions! Me! I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell them. I’ve no clue when, or even if, Nicrominus will be restored to us. The only ones who might know are the Travelers, and they are long gone, and even if they were standing right in front of me they would still tell me nothing. With all of that happening—with all of them hanging upon me—you go running off!” She swung a hand around and cuffed him on the side of the head.

Arren let out a cry of pain and clutched at his earhole. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Apparently I did! Apparently you have to be reminded of your responsibilities! No one forced you to become head of the five clans, Arren,” and she waggled a finger in his face. “You maneuvered yourself into that position of power all by yourself. And you did it by dropping a gods damned giant bell on your closest competitor for the title. You have no one to blame but yourself for having responsibilities here.”

“I have responsibilities to my sister as well!” he said. “In case you’ve forgotten, the same Zeffer that made off with your father also took Norda with it!”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. Except if I know that addled sister of yours, the Zeffer didn’t take her. She doubtless grabbed on thinking it would be entertaining to—”

Arren’s hand clenched into a fist and he brought it snapping around toward her head. But he was slow and Evanna caught it before he could connect. They stood frozen there for a moment, glowering at each other, but then Evanna slowly released her hold on him. “I beg your pardon,” she said formally. “I should not have disparaged Norda in that way. Whatever else she may be, she is also your sister and worthy of respect.”

“Thank you,” he said, still offended but otherwise opting not to push the issue. “And frankly, knowing Norda, if she did grab onto the dangling tentacles of a Zeffer, it wasn’t out of whim or caprice. She was quite fond of your father. She spoke of him often. If she saw him being threatened and being carried off, that would have been more than enough motivation for her to grab on.”

“If that’s the case…” Her voice trailed off.

“What? What were you going to say? If you have a thought, finish it.”

“If that’s the case—if she thrust herself onto the Zeffer—then there’s every possibility that she is beyond saving. Your impulsive rescue mission, for which you would have abandoned your responsibilities as head of the Clans, would be for nothing. The Zeffer would be taking care to transport my father safely to wherever it is that the Travelers wanted him taken. But it would have had no such responsibility for Norda’s well being. She could have lost her grip—”

“No.”

“—fallen asleep, perhaps, or—”

He shook his head and repeated firmly, “No. Norda did not lose her grip. Not ever. You never saw her bounding around the rafters of this place. Heights are her second home. There is no one more confident, more sure footed. Norda does not lose her grip. I have come upon her up in the bell tower…when there was a bell tower,” he added ruefully, “and found her sound asleep hanging upside down, dangling from her tail curled around a beam. I admit that Norda can be flighty. Difficult to understand. Bizarre, even. But if she did indeed grab a ride on the Zeffer in order to accompany Nicrominus—and I have no reason to believe that is not the case—then wherever he is, she is.”

“And perhaps, upon her arrival, the Travelers or even the Overseer dispatched her since she was not supposed to be there. Or do you think that Norda would be capable of surviving the wrath of the Overseer as well?”

“I think Norda can survive anything she…” Then his voice tapered off and he looked downward. “No. Unlikely.”

“Very unlikely.”

“But we can pray to the gods. Pray for both your father and my sister.”

“And we can agree,” said Evanna, “that you will not be embarking on any more foolhardy rescue missions? The five Clans, given the slightest opportunity, would go to war with each other in a heartbeat. The Firedraque treaties seem to mean nothing to them. And with Nicrominus gone, they will doubtless consider our people to be at a low ebb, and would not be far wrong to do so. The only thing keeping the Clans in line is you, and if you are gone—”

“All right. You have made your point.”

“Have I? I have not heard you foreswearing any further rescue attempts.”

“When would I have done so? You have not ceased your yammering.”

“Very well,” she said. She folded her arms and waited.

“If I may ask: how did you know about this one? Soldiers were waiting for me when I was on the road, before I’d even left the city limits of Perriz. How did you dispatch them?”

“You were hardly subtle about it. You stormed about your keep, yelling that you were going to go after your sister. And the Firedraques have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So my mistake was in my own yammering.”

“Yes. Which means that there is naught to stop you from trying to go off on another such fool endeavor and this time eluding detection through the simple method of keeping your big Mandraque mouth shut. Nothing save your word of honor, which I am still awaiting.”

He growled. “I will not,” he said, “go running off on my own to try and save Norda.”

“Good,” said Evanna with visible relief. “That is what I needed to hear.”

“And that is what you have heard.”

“It was a stupid idea to begin with. Where did you think you were going to go, anyway? How were you going to find her? You had no means of trailing her. She was airborne and long gone.”

“Well,” said Arren calmly, “I was figuring I would find a Traveler and beat the information out of him.”

“Brilliant plan.”

“Thank you.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know. But I know that you have disdain for most Mandraques, and so will take my compliments wherever and whenever I can get them.”

“As you wish. And by the way, Kinklash,” and she stepped in close to him and further straightened her spine so that she was practically a head taller than he. “If you ever raise a fist to me again, I will shove it up your bung hole. Is that clear?”

He inclined his head slightly. “Abundantly.”

He bowed deeply to her and took his leave, knowing all the while that his word of honor be damned, and the rest of the Clans be damned, he was going to go after Norda. If all the Mandraques left in the Damned World embarked upon a great war to end all wars and annihilated each other, leaving nothing behind but scorched ground, then Arren Kinklash—who had spent so many years manipulating situations to gain the amount of power he currently enjoyed—would not have cared.

Norda was all that mattered.

All that mattered.