5
Quell
Quell had never felt cold in a southern wind before but with damp skins, just thin boards keeping him from the ice, and a length of cold iron jammed into his side, there was a first time for everything.
Kao and Zeen shivered too as they flanked Erris, bowed against the wind. Erris, however, despite the flimsy nature of his garments, which were now stiff with ice, seemed unaffected. He pulled Quell along on his makeshift sled without complaint, his pace set by their slowest member, who was Zeen, generally the fastest of them all.
The Black Rock grew inexorably nearer and Quell, who had seen it several times though never closer than from the Pit of the Missing, marvelled at how much bigger it was than he had ever imagined. Vastly, impossibly huge.
The sun hung low in the sky, staring at them from above the western flanks of the mountain, which it had only recently crested. Their shadows trailed behind them as if reluctant to follow. On the east flanks thin trails of smoke escaped the rocks, streaming away at a sharp angle before being dispersed by the wind, these few signs of hidden industry being the only clue to the fact that the Black Rock was inhabited.
Quell shivered again and tried to imagine what welcome awaited them beneath the mountain. The priests were the guardians of the three tribes. The glue that kept the many clans together in their loose but enduring peace. True, the cage had been dropped. But perhaps that had merely been a very rapid descent. Kao and Zeen’s weakness was self-evident. Their exile to the undercaves was a merciful second chance, dictated by the harsh realities of life on the ice. Accepting those cruel truths was an essential part of becoming an adult, but that acceptance didn’t make you cruel. He loved Zeen, the younger brother he’d not had. But what life was there for him with his people now?
When it seemed they had perhaps a quarter of a mile to go before they met the rock rising through the ice, Erris came to a halt. “Where do you think the entrance is?”
“Should we just be walking up to it anyway?” Kao asked.
“We want to rescue Yaz, like she rescued us,” Zeen said. “We should try to find an entrance they’re not watching and—”
“If we don’t get inside soon and find Quell some help he is going to die.” Erris turned to look down at Quell. “Do you know the way in?”
Quell shook his head. “When we came out of the shaft we were already closer than I’ve ever been. If we’re heading in the same direction as the priests you chased off, then they’re going to find us. They’re going to be coming back, you know. These are the priests of the Black Rock. They run things. They don’t run away.”
“He’s right.” Kao had a hand raised to shield his eyes and was peering beneath it at the base of the mountain. “There’s someone coming.”
Someone turned out to be around twenty someones. Ten of them were armoured, iron plates secured over their furs, not unlike the armour worn by the Broken. They had spears in their gloved hands and swords at their hips. There were half a dozen in the black robes that Erris had described, younger men and women bearing iron staves. The last four wore the ribbon-edged capes that Quell associated with the travelling priests who visited the clans to dispense lore, conduct ceremonies, and trade iron for the best of what they had. Two were hard-faced women, one silver-haired and shrivelled by the years, the other a brutal-faced young woman with mismatched eyes. The other two were men, the younger one with skin as pale as the ice and blue veins mapping his face, and lastly Regulator Kazik, hands bundled inside his cape, wearing his usual sour expression.
Erris stepped aside as the priests approached, allowing them a clear view of Quell on the ground. “We have an injured man who needs treatment.”
The pale man leaned to mutter into Regulator Kazik’s ear. Kazik glanced at Quell and then returned his gaze to Erris. “I don’t recall giving you the push.”
Erris shrugged. “I fell a long time ago and I am much changed by the years.” He gestured to Quell with a bare hand. “You recall Quell, though. He’s been stabbed. The knife is still in him.”
Quell raised his voice, tired of being talked about, tired of watching from the ground with legs rising around him on every side. “What have you done with Yaz?”
The regulator ignored both Quell and his question. “You attacked my acolytes.”
“They attacked me,” Erris said. “I defended myself. Also, by that point they had tried to drop us back down the hole.”
“Perhaps you should have let them.” The regulator gave a small smile. Erris did not echo it. “Strangers are only brought to the Black Rock in chains. They remain in custody until they have been tested and identified.”
“You know me, Kazik,” Quell called. “I’m no stranger. You know Zeen and Kao too. You pushed them down the pit with Yaz.”
The regulator curled his lip. “Quell we will take. The rest of you have broken the covenant and may enter the Black Rock in chains or not at all.”
Erris cast a calculating look across the array of priests and their servants. Kazik raised a hand. “I hear you’re quite the brawler, man-I-don’t-remember, but you have friends both here and inside the mountain who may suffer for your actions, so think again.”
Erris pressed his lips into a flat line, still considering. “Here.” He raised his wrists.
Quell watched as two men came forward and set heavy chains about Erris, securing them with an iron device that closed around the links with a loud click. Two more pairs of guards took chains from around their waists and used them to secure first Kao then Zeen. Both boys flinched at the searing cold of the metal where it touched skin.
“Quell?” Zeen looked to him as the men bound him.
“It will be alright.” Quell didn’t know what else to say. He could have told Zeen to run, but where was there to go? The ice would kill him long before he found the Ictha, and the Ictha wouldn’t have him back in any case. The chains were not an unreasonable precaution for escapees from the pit. Their breed was as dangerous as wounded whales. Who knew what magic would burst from them from one moment to the next? Even so, he hoped they had not chained Yaz.
With the guards and priests on every side Quell and the others were taken to the mouth of a cave so large that it seemed impossible they had not seen it from a mile away. The dark rock and black interior probably explained their blindness.
Quell endured the pain and ignominy of being dragged across progressively rougher ice and then, with more effort, rather smoother rock. The cordon of bodies around them had already muzzled the wind but Quell still felt the difference as they moved into the maw of the cave. Within a few dozen yards the air was almost still, the wind reduced to yowling its frustration out on the ice. Given time, it promised, it would tear down the mountain.
Regulator Kazik set a hand to the pale man’s shoulder. “Bring the Ictha boy to me when you’re done with him, Valak.”
“Yes, regulator.” The man inclined his head. The dark veins spreading across his face seemed almost to lie above the skin and Quell was sure his own veins didn’t spread in such a manner, like encompassing fingers.
Some of the guards fell away as Kazik and the older of the two female priests took their leave. Quell was dragged into a side chamber, which was far smaller and lower-roofed than the entrance. Erris and the boys followed, prompted by their captors. On the ceiling a board not unlike the ones Quell lay on had been secured to the rock. A layer of stardust had somehow been applied to the board and provided a familiar glow. The air was warmer here and the boys unclenched their bodies.
Two priests accompanied them now: the pale man, Valak, and the woman with gerant features but normal height. She studied them with one brown eye and one blue, both of them cold. The cave had been furnished with table, chairs, and several chests, all made from material that must have been scavenged by the Broken from the city of the Missing.
Valak reached a white hand into one of the chests and brought out a box made of bone, which he set on the table. The others all backed off a pace or two as he lifted the lid and was immediately lit from below by a mix of bright colours, the upcast shadows making something sinister of him. “My name is Father Valak. This”—he gestured to the woman—“is Mother Krey. We expect your obedience in all things. Your gods remain outside this mountain. Within, there is only the Hidden God. And we are his voice.”
He passed his hand over the box and the glow dimmed to almost nothing. He took out the first star and held it between finger and thumb, the tentative hold of a man worried it might burn him. The star had that quiescent, sky-behind-clouds look to it that Quell had seen Yaz induce before, a silvery luminescence.
“You first, I think.” Valak brought the star close to Erris. Mother Krey moved behind Erris as if to catch him when he tried to flee, but he stood his ground, unflinching.
The priest frowned as if he had been expecting something, then moved on to Zeen, who pulled away. Even as Zeen tried to back into the guards the star in Valak’s grip began to shine brighter, the silver light becoming something sharp that needled Quell’s skin. Two guards held Zeen’s arms while trying to keep their own distance from the star. Krey, though, grasped his neck from behind in a cruel grip, unconcerned by the star’s aura.
“It’s hurting me!” Zeen gasped.
Krey tightened her grasp, sneering.
“Just a little longer . . .” And Valak set the stone to Zeen’s narrow chest, where it burned with the fiercest light yet. “Impressive.” Valak stepped away just as it looked as though Zeen would scream. “A fully woken hunska prime at least. Quite possibly a full-blood.”
The priest quieted the star again. He brought it towards Kao and then Quell, neither of whom sparked the slightest reaction in it. Krey moved behind both of them but kept her hands to herself. Valak replaced the star and selected another, this one a muted green. Zeen had no effect on it but as the priest drew it closer to Kao the gentle green became a deep and penetrating emerald. Four guards were needed to help Krey hold the boy in place until the star touched his skin.
“You have some growing to do yet, young man.” Valak replaced the star, not bothering with Erris or Quell. “Gerant prime.”
“W-what does that mean?”
“Just as he said. You’ll grow bigger. More than a half-blood, less than a full-blood.” Mother Krey walked around from behind, managing somehow to make a smile ugly. “You’ll be a valuable asset in the mines.”
“Mines?”
But Valak ignored Kao’s question and took a violet star from the box, the third of four. This one Quell guessed would measure the marjal talent. It remained unresponsive for all of them save for Erris, where it pulsed erratically, its glowing surface patterned in black with shifting geometries.
Valak seemed puzzled. “Some kind of unrealized marjal trait? Not a strong one in any case.”
“Worthless.” Krey dismissed the indication with a wave of her hand. “Another one for the mines.”
The final star was a touch larger than the other three and gave off a faint golden light, the stone looking as though it were a ball of liquid gold in slow but constant motion, with darker areas forming on the surface before being dragged inside by the circulation of hidden currents. A guard took this one from the box using long iron tongs, and whenever she allowed it to come near either of the priests it began to burn brighter. When pressed to the flesh of the prisoners, however, it produced nothing but a sense of profound discomfort. It made Quell feel as if his skin were not his own but was instead something parasitic that had engulfed him while he slept. The urge to scratch it off became nearly overwhelming before the star was withdrawn.
Valak shook his head and held out the box for the return of the final star. “Much as expected.” He pointed a long pale finger at Erris. “This one and the gerant to the mines.”
Erris made a slow shake of his head, a smile on his lips. “What are we to dig?”
“You’ll dig what you’re told to dig,” Krey said.
“Coal.” Valak waved the guards forward. “Take them.”
As Kao and Erris were led away, Kao protesting that he needed to go back to the Golin, Valak turned to Zeen. “Take this one to the holding cells. Level three. We don’t want him too near the sister.”
Krey returned her hand to Zeen’s neck and steered him roughly towards the exit before striding ahead of him. Zeen set off without a fight, rattling in his chains, making no objection. Quell was proud of the boy. The Ictha didn’t complain or waste their energy. They endured and acted decisively at the moment when their effort would yield greatest results.
“And finally . . .” Valak peered down at Quell, still lying on the boards he’d been dragged in on. “The regulator says you have performed the service required of you. So we will treat your wound.”
“And then send me back to the Ictha with Yaz and Zeen.” Quell wanted to face the man standing, or at least to sit, but he doubted he could do either and decided not to waste his energy in the name of pride.
“Whether you can be returned to your people will depend on the high priest’s judgment of your discretion. The girl and her brother will remain here.”
There are some truths that you know already but hearing them spoken is a punch to the gut. Quell had known there was no place for Zeen or Yaz on the ice but somehow having that fiction shredded still tore at him. “My discretion?”
Valak nodded. “What we do here is for the future of all the peoples of the ice. There is a greater good being served beneath this mountain. A long-awaited change is almost upon us but word of it must not spread until the time is right.”
Quell knew that if the priest gave him an answer to his next question it might anchor him to the Black Rock. They might never let him return to the Ictha. But Yaz was here and they weren’t letting her go either. “A change?”
The priest waved the guards forward and turned away. Quell felt a certain guilty relief in receiving no answer. He held his side and braced himself against the pain of being moved.
“War,” came Valak’s reply. “We’re going to war.”