The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) Read Online Free

Maelys beside him. ‘What the blazes are
you doing out here – you’re unarmed .
Get into the centre of the circle.’
    She ducked through a gap in the line, towards the little
rise where the healers were getting ready to work on the brutal fruits of
battle.
    Nish faced the enemy and tried to prepare himself for what
was going to be a massacre.
     
     

      TWO

 
 
    Nish drew the black sabre which he’d taken from
Vivimord’s tent after the zealot’s disappearance in the Maelstrom. The sabre
was a magnificent weapon with an edge that never needed sharpening, though it
was a trifle long for him. Whenever he held it, the pain in his left hand eased,
which was curious.
    ‘I don’t like you using that weapon,’ Flydd said to Nish
dyspeptically.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘It’s an enchanted blade.’
    Nish nearly dropped the sabre. ‘Really? What kind of
enchantment?’
    ‘I don’t know, but I’d be very careful with it. Go behind
the lines. If they take you, they can butcher us at their leisure.’
    The keening of the caduceus rose half a note, as if
mimicking the song of the tears, and again the black eyes of the fanged serpent
seemed to be on Nish. He rubbed his throbbing temples, then said coldly, ‘I’m
not cowering behind my friends while they die for nothing.’
    ‘If the enemy takes you, their deaths will be for nothing.’
    ‘You’re talking like a manipulative scrutator, Flydd.’
    ‘You’ve got to start acting like one if you hope to bring
down your father. You have to do whatever it takes.’
    It was a side of Flydd that had bothered Nish as far back as
the time of the lyrinx war, but it had been more evident since his renewal. He
seemed harder and more ruthless now and Nish rarely saw the kindly,
warm-hearted side of him.
    ‘I tried that once,’ said Nish, ‘and look where it got me.
I’m going to defeat my father my way, or die trying, in which case my troubles
will be over.’
    ‘You have a higher duty –’
    ‘How dare you lecture me!’ Nish cried, for his headache was
blinding now and there wasn’t time for this. ‘If you can’t help me, get out of
my way.’
    Tightening his jaw, Flydd stalked back through the lines.
Nish turned to face the top of the clearing and swished his sabre through the
air. Though he was skilled with a blade, he was a small man and would be at a
disadvantage fighting the tall Imperial troops. On the other hand, they could
not afford to harm him.
    They did not wear armour, for no man could have endured it
in the heat of the tropical lowlands, and neither had they carried their huge,
cumbersome war shields up the precipitous mountain paths. It gave Nish’s
archers the advantage, though they would only have ten arrows each to
capitalise on it.
    The enemy were armed with short lances and long swords; they
wore iron helms and carried small oval shields that only covered their torsos.
They stood silently around the edge of the clearing, at least eight hundred of
them, awaiting Klarm’s orders. The remainder held the ridges to either side, to
cut down anyone trying to escape and, even if they lost hundreds to Nish’s
archers, the end could be in no doubt.
    ‘Why don’t they attack?’ said Gi, trembling. She had never
been in a battle before – hardly any of the militia had seen warfare.
    Nish put a steadying hand on her shoulder and she looked at
him gratefully.
    ‘They’re trying to unnerve us,’ said Tulitine. ‘They’re
succeeding,’ said Nish, though he was icily calm now, for during the war he’d
been in dozens of battles. There were only two possible outcomes for anyone
– you lived, or you died – and, ultimately, anyone’s survival came
down to chance.
    In Tulitine’s serene and beautiful face it was hard to see
the old woman she’d been before. How long did she have before the failing
Regression Spell took its savage toll? ‘I wish you’d go inside the circle,’ he
said.
    ‘But you’re not game to order me about,’ she said,