Читать книгу The Ruthless - Peter Newman, Peter Newman - Страница 10

Lord Vasin Sapphire arced swiftly across the sky. Below him, the Godroad glinted red as the sunslight of Vexation and Wrath’s Tear played across its surface, the gold of the first sun, Fortune’s Eye, dulled and bloodied. As he crossed over it, the energies of the Godroad sparkled against his crystal wings, lifting him, like the hands of a parent, gentle, taking him to new heights.

And he was ready to rise. Ready to act.

It is finally time.

The lands of House Ruby were among the least hospitable he’d visited. A vast forested swamp, punctuated by little islands that, often as not, turned out to be the shells of some Wildborn monstrosity. The Godroad provided the only thread of sanity in the landscape, and House Ruby’s settlements clung alongside, standing proud on long wooden stilts.

Lately, the swamp had begun to rise. Nobody knew the cause but Vasin suspected his own house’s failings were to blame. Attacks from the Wild had become bolder and more frequent. It felt as if an unseen hand were manipulating the demons in some way. Not like a commander with an army, but a shepherd, driving their demonic flock in the same direction.

Away from us. Each of our borders and beyond, but never in our own lands. First they pressed the Tanzanite, then the Spinel, and now the Rubies. It cannot be coincidence.

An odd movement in the water caught his eye, and he banished his worries for another time. Movements in the water were common, but not in the middle of the day, for the greater a thing of the Wild was, the less it liked the glare of the suns. He circled slowly, always coming back over the Godroad to regain height for the next pass. The swamp water was too cloudy to see shadows in, but whatever it was swam close to the surface, its ridged spine making a mountain range of ripples.

Vasin wore his sapphire armour, his second skin of living crystal, and he had his spear, but that was all. He was alone in the sky, without his hunters in a land he did not know.

Though he loved to fly alone, Vasin hated to hunt that way. Without spear sisters and spear brothers, a hunter soon becomes the prey. A memory surfaced of his encounter with the Scuttling Corpseman, of his flight through the trees, and how close it had come to destroying him.

Mindful of past mistakes, Vasin continued to circle, gliding lower but keeping a healthy amount of air between himself and the water. There was definitely something there. It too was being cautious, roving up and down alongside a short stretch of Godroad. This gets stranger and stranger. It comes in the day, it comes close to the Godroad, and it comes to a place where there are no people.

It briefly occurred to Vasin that perhaps that last fact was not true. After all, he was there. Perhaps it was looking for a chance to snare a Deathless. He dismissed the idea as nonsense, but levelled off just the same and adjusted his grip on his spear, sliding a thumb over the trigger in readiness.

As he watched, more details of the thing were revealed. It was long, a kind of Lizardkin, with pronounced ridges running from nose to tail. At first he thought it had branching limbs, like a living, writhing tree, but he soon realized it was carrying other creatures that bucked and kicked in its grasp.

The Lizardkin lifted its body from the water, revealing a wide snout, circular, covered in scales that glittered. Vasin could not help but drop a little closer, and realized that each scale was an eyelid, and that the glittering was actually the thing blinking, blinking, blinking, hundreds of times with its whole body. He knew that beneath the surface its body went on, the great belly brushing the silt at the very bottom of the swamp. For he’d recognized it now, the Story-singers had told him of this creature and it was dangerous, a true power of the deep Wild: Quiverhive. But what is it doing here?

Quiverhive stuffed the squirming thing it was carrying into its mouth, but instead of feeding, it tilted its head backwards, and spat.

For a horrible moment Vasin thought he was the target, and banked away, diving to gain speed before pulling up on the far side of the Godroad.

He was safe.

But he had never been in danger.

He recognized the spat creature as a Murker, one of the lesser perils of the Ruby lands. One legend had it that Murkers were created from the reflections of vain people. That those who looked too long into the Wild’s waters left a piece of themselves behind. Another legend had it that when an unwanted baby was drowned in the swamp, its body would turn into a Murker when it touched the bottom.

This one was typical of its kind. Like a short and rubbery child, with grey-white skin and webs of gauzy flesh lidding nostrils, ears, eyes, and flapping in the spaces between fingers and toes.

It wailed as its arc took it onto the Godroad, circling its arms as if trying to arrest its motion and reverse away. With a wet smack, it landed, and immediately, there was the smell of burning. For nothing of the Wild could endure the Godroad for long. All demons feared it with good reason, and this Murker was no exception.

It flailed and tried to roll itself clear, but Quiverhive had pitched it into the centre of the Godroad, and within seconds it was too blind with pain to think. Each movement only enhanced its suffering, and so it rolled back and forth, disintegrating before Vasin’s eyes.

He wondered if he were witnessing some kind of execution. Though he did not understand the intricacies or the factions, he knew that the powers of the Wild often fought amongst themselves.

Quiverhive stuffed a second Murker into its mouth and spat it after the first. To Vasin’s amazement he saw it follow the exact same arc and land on the other Murker’s still twitching corpse.

Before this one had a chance to die, Quiverhive spat a third Murker, to make a stack on the first two. Vasin watched and Quiverhive watched, the scales flipping open and staying that way, as if it strained to see the details.

The first Murker had been reduced to a few chunks of ash that were already being dispersed by the wind. The second was dying, its struggles enfeebled, its skin aflame. The third was also dying but slower, partially shielded by the bodies of its fellows.

With a full body convulsion, Quiverhive propelled itself forward and up, forcing half of its bulk out of the water. Until its snout came to rest on top of the third Murker.

The creature grunted and squirmed as it was crushed beneath Quiverhive’s weight, but Quiverhive kept still, as if holding its breath.

Vasin found he was holding his. He was witnessing the impossible. Since the end of the Unbroken Age, the Godroads had been a safe haven for humanity and had formed an impassable barrier, hemming the demons within.

No more.

It is on the Godroad! How is it not burning?

He was sure he’d been noticed, but Quiverhive seemed unconcerned by his presence. When the Murkers began to crumble, it slithered back into the swamp, the myriad scales rippling, flipping over, the eyes tucked away once more. Mouth closed, it turned and drifted off, sinking slowly back beneath the surface.

I must tell the Rubies, he thought, wheeling back to his original course. I must tell everyone.

The trees had thinned out then vanished entirely, leaving a vast swampy lake that stretched out in all directions. Or rather it left two, as the great mass was split down the middle by the Godroad, a shining red path that cut through the yellow-brown. Vasin raced along it, diving again and again to keep his speed up. Each time, the energies of the Godroad would gather under his wings, growing brighter before exploding outward, catapulting him onwards and upwards.

Ahead, the castle of the Ruby High Lord sat heavy on the horizon, the crystals glowing bloody in its base and lower walls, like a tooth fresh-plucked from a giant’s jaw and set in the sky.

He was unsettled by what he’d just witnessed, and glad for the warming caress of the suns on his back. Unlike his own castle, the Godroad did not work its way up towards the entrance. Instead, the Godroad came to a stop beneath it, and chains had been run from its edge to the castle, allowing cages to be winched up and down.

Vasin let himself drop lower, until he was skimming only a few feet above the Godroad, then, as the guard station rushed towards him, he tilted his body so that his wings were vertical, turning them into brakes. Still going at some speed, he touched his Sky-legs to the road in a single bounding step, letting them absorb more of his momentum. The long curved blades of his Sky-legs flexed and flicked him up again, but not as high as before. As he came down he took another step, shorter this time, then another, until he came to a bouncing stop before two of House Ruby’s guardians.

Where he was covered from head to toe in armour, they were dressed in simple tunics that came to the knees, no doubt imported from his own lands or those of House Opal.

He held out one hand, palm up and open, and rested his spear on the ground, the crystals embedded in the base chiming softly as they clinked against the Godroad. ‘I am Lord Vasin of the Sapphire Everlasting. I come as a friend to share your burdens, and I come as a hunter to share your enemies.’

The two guardians saluted him, but slower than they would have in previous years, and a wary look passed between them. Vasin waited for the proper response, saddened at the cool reception, but not surprised. This is what we get for turning our backs on our neighbours.

‘Be welcome, friend,’ they said at last, their tone bitter. ‘Be welcome, hunter.’

He watched as one of the cages was lowered down, swaying from side to side.

‘Is your High Lord in residence?’

Another look passed between them and Vasin’s heart sank along with their expressions. Then, the older of the two women replied. ‘High Lord Anirika was sent between lives two days ago.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘The Toothsack came with the higher water and attacked Raften. Even though she was injured, our High Lord flew out to meet it.’ There was pride as well as sadness in the woman’s voice. ‘The Toothsack was banished back to the swamp and Raften is safe again. But …’

She trailed off and the two women became sullen, accusing. If he had only come sooner. If House Sapphire had acted in accordance with the traditions, this could have been avoided.

‘Again, I am sorry. Is anyone in residence? I have urgent news.’

‘Lady Anuja sits on the throne during the High Lord’s absence. She led a hunt this morning. They have yet to return.’

‘I am sorry to have missed it.’ His statement was genuine enough that he saw them soften a little. ‘And another hunt in the High Lord’s lands so soon? Can you tell me the details?’

‘Fourboards sent out the call for aid. They made the sacrifice last night and set loose their tributes at sunsrise.’ The guardian shook her head. ‘Six tributes they sent, Lord Vasin. Not three. Not four. Six. Can you believe such a thing?’

Every hunt required tributes. They were the bait used to lure the things of the Wild out of hiding. Each would bear a light so the hunters could find them, and a fresh cut, so the demons could too. Many tributes did not survive, but those that did were elevated among their peers, any past crimes or failings forgotten. It was one of the ways road-born could come to the attention of the Deathless, and be taken to one of the floating castles as servant or hunter. Alternatively, tributes could enjoy positions of power or influence among their peers.

Six tributes will be impossible to manage, thought Vasin grimly. They’ll be spread too far, and that much blood will bring every demon from miles around.

‘These are strange times,’ he replied.

‘Strange indeed!’

‘I wonder what they will do if all six survive.’

‘Little danger of that I fear, Lord Vasin. The Wild is bold these days.’ Her voice cracked, betraying the fear lurking beneath the words. ‘Never known nothing like it, nor has me mother, nor hers. Have you in your many lives seen this before?’

He thought about Quiverhive and the Murkers being spat onto the Godroad. He thought of the Scuttling Corpseman sparing his mother, even allowing her to sever its arm and take it as a trophy. They all think she sold us out to the Wild when all along it was Lord Rochant. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Not like this.’

‘Aye,’ she agreed. ‘These are dark days. Six! It’s just not right.’

The two guardians grabbed the bottom of the cage as it came down and guided it in. It was a simple design: one edge of the square base had a bench carved into it, another had a set of posts for tying animals to. Vasin stepped inside and the guardians closed the door behind him.

A signal was given, and the cage began to ascend in slow rhythmic jerks.

He liked the Rubies. They were direct but in a warm, honest fashion. It was refreshing not to be constantly worrying about how he was coming across, or what it was the other person was really saying. He realized he was looking forward to seeing Lady Anuja again. She was the youngest of her house, like he was, and that gave them a certain understanding. And we both know what it’s like to be out of our depth.

As the cage got higher, he could see the way the currents became more violent further out. Directly beneath the floating castle was a whirlpool, and he knew that at the bottom there was a crack that led deep into the earth and beyond. From it, alien mists rose, like ethereal hands of purple, yellow and green. Something of the whirlpool’s frenzy caught them, swirling them together, blending the colours briefly before they faded. The further away from the crack they rose, the harder they were to see, and by the time they reached above the level of the swamp, only slight distortions in the air were discernible to the naked eye. It was the essence in the mists that caught the crystals in the base of the castle and kept it buoyant, like a boat, bobbing on invisible waves.

Because of the interaction between essence mist and whirlpool, the currents spiralled rather than floating straight up. Were it not for the chains that held it in place, the Ruby High Lord’s Castle would be forever spinning. As it was, the castle made a slight twist to the left until the chains tightened, pulling it right again, making it seem to Vasin as if the whole structure were a huge head, subtly shaking in disapproval.

Servants met him at the top, escorting him to the Chrysalis Chamber, where he could remove his armour. It was always odd to enter the chamber of another Deathless. They were sacred places, where the crystals that made their weapons were grown and shaped. Each chamber had a bond with the Deathless that used it, deepened by time and blood. The Ruby High Lord’s Gardener-smiths muttered to themselves when he arrived, clearly unhappy. It wasn’t ideal for him either, but as he had come alone, without entourage, he had no choice but to endure their moaning.

Half of the outer walls were made of glass, capturing and focusing the sunslight into the chamber, the other half was studded with rubies that the Gardener-smiths would harvest when ready. A section of the chamber had been hastily curtained off, no doubt to stop him from seeing the new armour they would be growing for the High Lord’s next lifecycle.

They fear that a glance from a Sapphire might taint the crystals somehow. Gardener-smiths are all the same, so fussy and superstitious. He knew that his own would be most unhappy that his armour was going to be touched by foreign hands.

For all that, when he stood in the ritual position, they moved quickly enough, and in a way that he recognized, taking each piece of his armour in turn, checking it for damage, before cleaning it and placing it carefully on a stand. Vasin never liked coming out of his armour, or, as he thought of it, coming down. The crystals had his blood in them, and were grown and regrown over the years just as his bodies were. When he wore it, he felt connected to his deeper self, and drew confidence and strength from it. He was elevated literally and spiritually.

Out of the armour, he felt a lesser being, like he was half-asleep. And when they unstrapped his Sky-legs, he immediately missed the sense of potency in his stride.

A bath followed, then food, drink and a sleep on scented cushions. Long flights were as exhilarating as they were exhausting. He awoke to a servant singing for permission to bring biscuits and water, and he stayed conscious just long enough to consume them before drifting back to sleep. By the time the message reached him that Lady Anuja had returned and awaited his company, the suns had set, and he felt refreshed.

He touched the ruby embedded in the nearby wall. It was warm under his fingertips, having bathed in the suns through the day. At his command it began to release the stored sunslight, illuminating the room and giving it a vermillion tint.

A servant sang for entry and was waved inside, Vasin taking an instant dislike to the way the man’s eyes darted over his things. A slightly irreverent tone of voice, too, no outright rudeness, but unmistakably souring, like a tiny piece of grit buried in a hunk of bread. The servant helped him dress, wrapping the silk tight on his arms, legs and body, before covering him with the long gown of deep blue that he’d brought. He hated that he did not know the servant. It made him feel vulnerable. What if this one is spying? They may just be displaying a fashionable dislike of the Sapphire, but what if they wish me ill? The thought was impossible to shake, particularly when the servant was touching his face with paint, and highlighting his eyes and lips in gold. It would be so simple to kill me. Poison on the face paint. A thrust of their brush into my eyesocket. I wonder if High Lord Yadavendra would be cruel enough to add such a death to my legend? I wonder if he would deign to bring me back at all?

Sixteen years ago he had been shocked to realize his own staff had been subverted and swapped for those loyal to his brother. The problem was sorted out, now, but it had left him suspicious of anyone he didn’t know. Unconsciously, the index and middle fingers of his right hand curled into a hook, ready to strike the servant at the first sign of anything threatening.

‘Does Lord Vasin wish me to do his cheeks?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘We have many visitors to the castle at present, all with different needs. Our Tanzanite guests have been dusting the cheeks, while the Opal favour bold dots. One of the Peridot Lords likes several small dots that give an angular rather than circular impression. It’s a new thing, so I’m told. I have not had the honour of serving any of the Sapphire. Would Lord Vasin be kind enough to direct me as to his fashions?’

‘The Peridot may have fashions, but Sapphire ways do not change.’ It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. The minor houses could be so strange, sometimes.

‘I see. Our own lords and ladies are the same. They only ever ask for the lightest brush upon their cheeks. What might the Sapphire way be, Lord Vasin?’

Having never been asked the question before it took him a moment to formulate an answer. ‘You know, accentuate the cheekbones, in a way that’s striking but elegant.’

‘The cheekbones. Yes, my lord. Anything else?’

‘Yes, of course there is.’ Though in that moment he couldn’t remember what it was. He was a Deathless, he shouldn’t have to think about things like this. ‘But that will do for now.’

‘Very good, Lord Vasin. Are we to be expecting any more of your noble house? Or any of your esteemed servants?’

He wants to know if it’s just me or if we’re sending more aid. Either the Ruby have become even more informal than I remember or this one is asking for a beating. ‘If any more of my kin are coming, you will be informed.’

Vasin put just enough disapproval into his tone that the servant carried out the rest of his preparations in silence. In another lifecycle I’d have struck him for his insolence. He took a moment to appreciate how his self-control had developed and ordered the servant to escort him to Lady Anuja. Not only did I not raise my hand, I didn’t even raise my voice. Mother would be proud.