The Crippled God

  The white face took on an almost human hue, bathed as it was in the firelight. But those red eyes were as unnerving as ever. ‘I thought I knew all the weapons forged by the Hust. Even the obscure ones.’

  ‘That one does not look obscure, Silchas,’ said Ryadd. ‘It looks like a hero’s weapon. A famous weapon. One with a name.’

  ‘As you say,’ Silchas agreed. ‘And I am not so old as to forget the ancient warning about trusting shadows. No, the one who gave me this sword is playing a game.’

  ‘Someone gave it to you? In return for what?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  Ryadd smiled. ‘Never bargain knowing only the value of one side of the deal. Onrack said that to me once. Or maybe it was Ulshun Pral.’

  Silchas shot him a look.

  Ryadd shrugged, lifting himself to his feet. ‘Do we now resume our journey?’

  Sheathing the sword, Silchas straightened as well. ‘We have gone far enough, I think.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I needed to take you away from Starvald Demelain, and now I have done so.’ He faced Ryadd. ‘This is what you must learn. The Eleint blood within you is a poison. I share it, of course. My brother and I chose it for ourselves – we perceived a necessity, but that is the fatal lure of power, isn’t it? With the blood of T’iam within our veins, we could bring peace to Kurald Galain. Of course, that meant crushing every House opposing us. Regrettable, but that sentiment was as far as the poison would permit us to go in our thoughts. The thousands who died could not make us hesitate, could not stop us from continuing. Killing thousands more.’

  ‘I am not you, Silchas Ruin.’

  ‘Nor will you ever be, if I can help it.’

  Ryadd walked to the cave’s edge, looked out on bleak, jagged rock and blinding sweeps of snow where the sun’s light marched down into the valley below. Elsewhere, in shadow, the snow was as blue as the sky. ‘What have you done, Silchas?’

  Behind him, the Tiste Andii replied, ‘What I deemed … necessary. I have no doubt that Kilava succeeded in forcing your people out of that realm – they won’t die, not there, not then. Udinaas is a clever man. In his life, he has come to understand the pragmatism of survival. He will have led the Imass away from there. And he will find them a home, somewhere to hide from humans—’

  ‘How?’ Ryadd demanded. ‘It’s not even possible.’

  ‘He will seek help.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Seren Pedac,’ Silchas replied. ‘Her old profession makes her a good choice.’

  ‘Her child must have been born by now.’

  ‘Yes. A child she knows she must protect. When Udinaas comes to her, she will see how her need and his can be resolved together. She will guide the Imass to a hidden place, and in that place she too will hide, with her child. Protected by Onrack, protected by the Imass.’

  ‘Why can’t we be just left alone?’ Ryadd heard the anguish in his own voice and closed his eyes against the outside glare.

  ‘Ryadd Eleis, there is a kind of fish, living in rivers, that when in small numbers – two or perhaps three – is peaceful enough. But when the school grows, when a certain threshold is reached, these fish go mad. They tear things apart. They can devour the life in a river for a league’s length, and only when their bellies start bursting do they finally scatter.’

  ‘What has that to do with anything?’ Ryadd turned to glare at Silchas Ruin.

  The Tiste Andii sighed. ‘When the gate of Starvald Demelain opens, the Eleint will come through in vast numbers. Most will be young, by themselves little threat, but among them there will be the last of the Ancients. Leviathans of appalling power – but they are incomplete. They will arrive hunting their kin. Ryadd, if you and I had remained, seeking to oppose the opening of that gate, we would lose our minds. We would in mindless desire join the Storm of the Eleint. We would follow the Ancients – have you never wondered why, in all the realms but Starvald Demelain itself, one will never find more than five or six dragons in one place? Even that many demands the mastery of at least one Ancient. Indeed, to be safe, Eleint tend to travel in threes.’ Silchas Ruin walked up to stand beside Ryadd, and stared out at the vista. ‘We are the blood of chaos, Ryadd Eleis, and when too many of us gather in one place, the blood boils.’

  ‘Then,’ Ryadd whispered, ‘the Eleint are coming, and there’s no stopping them.’

  ‘What you say is true. But here you are safe.’

  ‘Me? What of you?’

  Silchas Ruin’s hand found the grip of his scabbarded sword. ‘I must leave you now, I think. I did not plan it, and I am not pleased at the thought of abandoning you—’

  ‘And all that we spoke of before was a lie,’ cut in Ryadd. ‘Our perilous mission – all of it, a lie.’

  ‘Your father understood. I promised him that I would save you, and I have done so.’

  ‘Why did you bother?’

  ‘Because you are dangerous enough alone, Ryadd. In a Storm … no, I could not risk that.’

  ‘Then you intend to fight them after all!’

  ‘I will defend my freedom, Ryadd—’

  ‘What makes you think you can? With what you said of the Ancients—’

  ‘Because I am one, Ryadd. An Ancient.’

  Ryadd stared at the tall, white-skinned warrior. ‘Could you compel me, Silchas Ruin?’

  ‘I have no desire to even so much as attempt it, Ryadd. Chaos seduces – you have felt it. And soon you may witness the fullest expression of that curse. But I have learned to resist the seduction.’ He smiled suddenly, and in an ironic tone added, ‘We Tiste Andii are skilled at denying ourselves. We have had a long time to get it right, after all.’

  Ryadd drew his furs close about himself. His breath plumed in the bitter cold. He concentrated a moment, was answered by a billowing of the hearth’s flames behind him. Heat roiled past.

  Silchas glanced back at the sudden inferno. ‘You are indeed your mother’s son, Ryadd.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was tired of being chilled.’ He then looked across at Silchas. ‘Was she an Ancient Eleint?’

  ‘The first few generations of Soletaken count among the Ancients, yes. T’iam’s blood was at its purest then, but that purity is short-lived.’

  ‘Are there others like you, Silchas? In this world?’

  ‘Ancients?’ He hesitated, and then nodded. ‘A few.’

  ‘When the Storm arrives, what will they do?’

  ‘I don’t know. But we who were not trapped within Starvald Demelain all share our desire for independence, for our freedom.’

  ‘So they will fight, like you.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Then why can I not fight beside you?’

  ‘If I must defend you while defending myself – well, it is likely that I would fail on both counts.’

  ‘But I am Menandore’s son—’

  ‘And formidable, yes, but you lack control. An Ancient will see you – will see all that you are – and it will take you, tearing out your mind and enslaving what remains.’

  ‘If you did the same – to me – imagine how powerful you would then be, Silchas.’

  ‘Now you know why dragons so often betray one another in the heat of battle. It is our fear that makes us strike at our allies – before they can strike at us. Even in the Storm, the Ancients will trust not one of their equals, and each will possess scores of lesser slaves, as protection against betrayal.’

  ‘It seems a terrible way to live.’

  ‘You don’t understand. It is not simply that we are the blood of chaos, it is that we are eager to boil. The Eleint revel in anarchy, in toppling regimes among the Towers, in unmitigated slaughter of the vanquished and the innocent. To see flames on the horizon, to see the enkar’l vultures descending upon a corpse-strewn plain – this charges our heart as does nothing else.’

  ‘The Storm will unleash all that? On this world?’

  Silchas Ruin nodded.

  ‘But who can stop them?’ br />
  ‘My other swords are beside your pallet, Ryadd Eleis. They are honourable weapons, if somewhat irritating on occasion.’

  ‘Who can stop them?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘How long must I wait here?’

  Silchas Ruin met his eyes with a steady, reptilian stare. ‘Until the moment you realize that it’s time to leave. Be well, Ryadd. Perhaps we will meet again. When next you see your father, do tell him I did what I promised.’ He hesitated, and then added, ‘Tell him, too, that with Kettle, I believe now that I acted … hastily. And for that I am sorry.’

  ‘Is it Olar Ethil?’

  Silchas Ruin frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Is she the one you’re going to kill, Silchas Ruin?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘For what she said.’

  ‘She spoke the truth, Ryadd.’

  ‘She hurt you. On purpose.’

  He shrugged. ‘What of it? Only words, Ryadd. Only words.’

  The Tiste Andii leaned forward then, over the cliff’s edge, and slipped out of sight. A moment later he lifted back into view, a bone-white dragon, white as the snow below, where his winged shadow slipped in pursuit.

  Ryadd stood a moment longer, and then turned away from the cave mouth. The fire blazed until the swords started singing in the heat.

  ‘Look at you, squatting in your own filth like that. What happened to Fenn’s great pride – wasn’t that his name? Fenn? That Teblor war-king? So he died, friend – doesn’t mean you have to fall so low. It’s disgusting is what it is. Head back into the mountains – oh, hold on a moment there. Let’s see that mace – take the sheath off, will you?’

  He licked chapped, stinging lips. His whole mouth felt swollen on the inside. He needed a drink, but the post’s gate had been locked. He’d slept against it through the night, listening to the singing in the tavern.

  ‘Show it to me, Teblor – could be we can make us a deal here.’

  He straightened up as best he could. ‘I cannot yield this,’ he said. ‘It is an Eleint’aral K’eth. With a secret name – I walked the Roads of the Dead to win this weapon. With my own hands I broke the neck of a Forkrul Assail—’

  But the guard was laughing. ‘Meaning it’s worth four crowns, not two, right? Harrower’s breath, you people can spin ’em, can’t you? Been through Death’s Gate, have ya? And back out again? Quite a feat for a drunk Teblor stinking of pigshit.’

  ‘I was not always this way—’

  ‘Of course not, friend, but here you are now. Desperate for drink, with just me standing between you and the tavern. This could be Death’s Gate all over again, come to think of it, hey? ’Cause if I let you through, why, the next time you leave it’ll probably be by the heels. You want through, Teblor? Gotta pay the Harrower’s coin. That mace – hand it over then.’

  ‘I cannot. You don’t understand. When I came back … you cannot imagine. I had seen where we all ended up, you see? When I came back, the drink called me. Helps me forget. Helps me hide. What I saw broke me, that’s all. Please, you can see that – how it broke me. I’m begging—’

  ‘Factor don’t take to beggars, not here. Y’got nothing to pay your way in, be off – back into the woods, dry as a hag’s cubbyhole, true enough. Now, for that mace, well, I’ll give ya three crowns. Even you couldn’t drink three crowns’ worth in a single night. Three. See, got ’em right here. What do you say?’

  ‘Father.’

  ‘Get lost, lad, me and your da’s working out a business transaction here.’

  ‘No deal, Guard, not for that weapon—’

  ‘It’s your da’s to do with as he pleases—’

  ‘You can’t even lift it.’

  ‘Wasn’t planning on lifting it. But up on the wall of my brother’s tavern, well, that’d make quite a sight, don’t you think? Pride of place for you Teblor, right over the hearth.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. I’m taking him back to the village now.’

  ‘Until tomorrow night – or next week – listen, lad, you can’t save them that won’t be saved.’

  ‘I know. But the dragon-killer, that I can save.’

  ‘Dragon-killer? Bold name. Too bad dragons don’t exist.’

  ‘Son, I wasn’t going to sell it. I swear that—’

  ‘I heard, Father.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘The Elders have agreed, Father. The Resting Stone waits.’

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Hey now, you two! Boy, did you say Resting Stone?’

  ‘Best you pretend you never heard that, sir.’

  ‘That vicious shit’s outlawed – king’s command! You – Da – your son says the Elders are going to murder you. Under a big fucking boulder. You can claim sanctuary—’

  ‘Sir, if you take him inside the fort, we will have no choice.’

  ‘No choice? No choice but to do what?’

  ‘It’s better if none of this ever happened, sir.’

  ‘I’m calling the captain—’

  ‘If you do that, this will all come out. Sir, do you want to start the Teblor on the path to war? Do you want us to burn your fledgling colony to the ground? Do you want us to hunt down and kill every one of you? Children, mothers, the old and wise? What will the First Empire think of a colony gone silent? Will they cross the ocean to investigate? And the next time your people come to our shore, will we meet you not as friends, but as enemies?’

  ‘Son – bury the weapon with me. And the armour – please …’

  The youth nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘This time when I die, I shall not return.’

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘Live long, son, as long as you can.’

  ‘I shall try. Guard?’

  ‘Get out of my sight, both of you.’

  On to the forest trail. Away from the trading post, the place where Teblor came down to surrender everything, beginning with dignity. He held his son’s hand and did not look back. ‘There is nowhere to drink in the realm of the dead.’

  ‘I am sorry, Father …’

  ‘I’m not, my son. I’m not.’

  Ublala sat up, wiping at his eyes. ‘They killed me! Again!’

  Ralata stirred beside him, twisting to lift her head and study him with bleary eyes. A moment later her head disappeared again beneath the furs.

  Ublala looked round, found Draconus standing nearby, but the warrior’s attention remained fixed on the eastern horizon, where the sun’s newborn light slowly revealed a rocky, glittering desert. Rubbing at his face, the giant stood. ‘I’m hungry, Draconus. I’m chilled, my feet hurt, I got dirt under my nails and there’s things living in my hair. But the sexing was great.’

  Draconus glanced over. ‘I had begun to doubt she would relent, Toblakai.’

  ‘She was bored, you see. Boredom’s a good reason, don’t you think? I think so. I’ll do more of that from now on, with women I want to sex.’

  One brow arched. ‘You will bore them into submission, Ublala?’

  ‘I will. Soon as we find more women. I’ll bore them right to the ground. Was that a dragon you turned into? It was hard to see, you were all blurry and black like smoke. Can you do that whenever you like? You gods got it good, I think, being able to do things like that. Hey, where did that fire come from?’

  ‘Best begin cooking your breakfasts, Ublala, we have far to walk today. And it will be through a warren, for I like not the look of that desert ahead.’

  Ublala scratched his itchy scalp. ‘If you can fly, why don’t you just go where you’re going? Me and my wife, we can find someplace else to go. And I can bury the mace and the armour. Right here. I don’t like them. I don’t like the dreams they give me—’

  ‘I will indeed leave you, Ublala, but not quite yet. As for the weapons, I fear you will need them soon. You will have to trust me in this, friend.’

  ‘All right. I’ll make breakfast now – is that half a pig? Where’s the other half? I always wonder that, you know
, when I’m in the market and I see half a pig. Where’s the other half? Did it run away? Haha – Ralata? Did you hear me make a joke? Haha. As if half-pigs can run! No, they’d have to kind of hop, wouldn’t they? Hop hop hop.’

  From under the furs, Ralata groaned.

  ‘Ublala.’

  ‘Yes, Draconus?’

  ‘Do you believe in justice?’

  ‘What? Did I do something wrong? What did I do? I won’t make jokes no more, I promise.’

  ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. Do you know when something is unfair?’

  Ublala looked round desperately.

  ‘Not at this moment, friend. I mean, in general. When you see something that is unjust, that is unfair, do you do something about it? Or do you just turn away? I think I know the answer, but I need to make certain.’

  ‘I don’t like bad things, Draconus,’ Ublala muttered. ‘I tried telling that to the Toblakai gods, when they were coming up out of the ground, but they didn’t listen, so me and Iron Bars, we had to kill them.’

  Draconus studied him for some time, and then he said, ‘I believe I have just done something similar. Don’t bury your weapons, Ublala.’

  He had left his tent well before dusk, to walk the length of the column, among the restless soldiers. They slept badly or not at all, and more than one set of red-shot, bleary eyes tracked Ruthan Gudd as he made his way to the rear. Thirst was a spreading plague, and it grew in the mind like a fever. It pushed away normal thoughts, stretching out time until it snapped. Of all the tortures devised to break people, not one came close to thirst.

  Among the wagons now, where heaps of dried, smoked meats remained wrapped in hides, stacked in the beds. The long knotted ropes with rigged harnesses were coiled up in front of each wagon. The oxen were gone. Muscle came from humans now. Carrying food no one wanted to eat. Food that knotted solid in the gut, food that gripped hard with vicious cramps and drove strong men to their knees.

  Next on the trail were the ambulance wagons, burdened with the broken, the ones driven half-mad by sun and dehydration. He saw the knots of fully armed guards standing over the water barrels used by the healers, and the sight distressed him. Discipline was fraying and he well understood what he was seeing. Simple need had the power to crush entire civilizations, to bring down all order in human affairs. To reduce us to mindless beasts. And now it stalks this camp, these soldiers.