The mirror chronicles th.., p.42
The Mirror Chronicles: The Last Night, page 42
THE VALLEY WAS EERILY quiet. The battle drums had long since ceased their bullying chorus, and Thoth’s forces had paused their offensive. Their dreadful work was almost done and they seemed to be resting before the final assault, which would almost certainly come before nightfall. Smoke rose from a thousand campfires all around the valley, and a heavy grey blanket was slowly forming above the lake, mixing with the mists to form a thickening, acrid fog. For now, at least, Isia could still be seen near the centre of the still waters, standing alone in her tiny boat. She seemed almost to be at prayer, with her head raised and her hands upturned at her sides, as though asking a question.
As the sun began to set, the last few hundred Suhl fighters started to emerge from the Hollow and their makeshift shelters beneath rocks and roots. It was clear from the time they took to assemble that none of them relished the task ahead, and yet they had a brightness and confidence that had not been there just a few hours earlier, before they had gathered with Isia – before that strange but familiar voice had whispered at their ear. The strength they had felt then was evident now in the way they talked, and joked, and cajoled. And it was a gift that only grew as they shared it one with the other.
But there was something else that raised their spirits. There was a new freshness in the dewy air: a scent of rising sap, and fertile earth, and sweet, unfurling leaves. Over the past hours the broken, beleaguered valley seemed to have been revived, as though new life and vigour had settled upon her forested slopes. It was nothing that the assembled fighters could see, but they could smell it and feel it, and they knew that it was Isia’s doing. It was that same vitality that earlier, on the lakeshore, they had felt coursing through their veins, and now, as they gathered beneath their tattered ensigns, it thrummed in them again.
Filimaya walked the lakeshore, sharing a word here, particularly where spirits seemed to be wavering. She looked quite magnificent dressed in her finest ceremonial robes and with the customary braid in her hair, laced with dazzling new strands of silvery gold. She was no general, but the very sight of her quickened hearts and boosted morale, and Filimaya made sure that every man and woman in that ragged army knew that she was at their side.
As everyone finally joined the assembly and they fell silent, she made her way to a promontory at the edge of the water to address them. But just as she opened her mouth to speak she was surprised to see the entire gathering turning away towards a disturbance in the rear ranks. She followed their gaze to where a formation of Leaflikes was beginning to part, stepping back to leave a way open to the lake. When the last of them moved aside, she saw three figures walking hand in hand.
Filimaya knew the one at the centre at once, though she had never seen Faysa’s young face so radiant with a broad, beautiful smile. Then she recognised the tall, lithe figure at Faysa’s side. She had only come to know Takk in the Hollow, injured and ailing but, to her astonishment, now he walked upright and proud, and showed little sign of weakness. But it took Filimaya several moments longer to recognise the last of the three companions because his face was shaded by a grand helmet crested with vivid red leaves. But there was something familiar about the way he carried his powerful build, even clad as he was in splendid armour of vines and bark.
Filimaya narrowed her eyes and took a step forward.
“Espasian?” she murmured.
As he drew closer and raised his hand in greeting, there was no doubting it.
“Espasian!” she exclaimed, breaking into a wide smile.
Sure enough, Espasian’s familiar white grin spread beneath the shade of his helm.
Hearing Filimaya call his name, the troops looked at this strange figure with new reverence and began to cheer, reaching out to touch his armoured shoulder as he passed.
“Espasian!” they bellowed. “Espasian! Espasian!”
Such was the noise that when the three finally reached Filimaya she had to raise her voice to be heard.
“You’re … well?” she said, hardly believing the miracle before her eyes.
The Magruman gave a slight bow by way of answer. “I had a fine nurse,” he said, looking down at Faysa, who visibly swelled with pride. “And I think Isia may also have had her part to play. I had … an unusual dream full of places and things I have only ever seen in the Other, and a voice I sometimes thought was my own saying things I could not fathom. It seemed at times that I had escaped myself, and at others … well, that I had only just found myself.”
Filimaya smiled. “I believe that had a lot to do with Isia,” she said, glancing across the lake.
For a moment Espasian’s eyes searched the fog. “Well, what I know is that I woke feeling so strong and well that I wondered why I was in the Hollow until Faysa here explained everything that’s happened.”
Filimaya looked at Faysa. “You could not have been in better hands. She never left your side.” She turned to Takk. “You should be very proud.”
Takk grinned. “I know,” he said, hoisting Faysa into his arms and holding her close. “I know.”
Filimaya embraced Espasian. “You gave me quite a scare!” she said in his ear. Then she added: “I had no idea what I was going to do without you.”
Espasian smiled and held her for a moment. “You would have done as you always do, Filimaya,” he said, kissing her on the cheek, “and we would all have been the better for it.”
He drew away then and cast his eyes across the meagre assembly of troops. His smile faltered for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we had better get things underway. I’m not sure I quite have the voice for a rousing speech. But perhaps there is something better.” He glanced at Faysa, his smile returning. “It wasn’t just voices I heard in my sleep. I heard a brave song that I had almost forgotten.”
Faysa’s eyes widened.
The Magruman winked, then raised his arms to his army, calling for silence. In moments, the troops fell so quiet that the lake could be heard lapping against the shore. Espasian stepped forward, took a deep breath, and then, in a deep baritone, he sang:
“With the wind, we breathe; with the earth, we sleep.”
He paused, rocking a little on his heels and letting out a slight wheeze. Filimaya seized his arm excitedly, her eyes bright. “Yes, of course!” she exclaimed.
Then the army sang their reply:
“With the dawn, we sing; with the stag, we leap.
We are the roots of the ancient trees,
We are the hills, we are the seas!
Suhl! we cry. Suhl! Suhl!”
Espasian smiled proudly at his army and at Faysa. Then he pointed to the hills on either side of the valley and instantly cries went up from the captains on the lakeside, giving orders to their regiments. The Suhl army quickly divided in two, each beginning its march to flank the valley.
Again, Espasian filled his lungs and, taking Faysa’s hand, they sang together:
“With the hare, we run; with the gull we cry.”
And this time, the army was waiting.
“With the wolf, we hunt; with the hawk, we fly!
We are the Nile, deep and wide,
We are the rapids, we are the tide!
Suhl! we cry. Suhl! Suhl”
Espasian gave Faysa’s hand to her father and kissed her head. Then he turned and began to march, joining the rear of the nearest column. From here he raised his voice again:
“With the sun, we rise with blaze and wonder.”
And watching from her father’s side, tears in her eyes, Faysa sang with him.
Then came the army’s reply:
“With the storm, we come with fire and thunder!
We are gossamer, light as air,
We are the lion, we are the bear.
Suhl! we cry. Suhl! Suhl!
Suhl! we cry. Suhl! Suhl!”
And, as they sang, they passed into the trees and began their climb towards the crests of the hills. The skies had grown dark, and a red glow over the western reaches of the plain marked the end of day. As if in response to the song, the Imperial battle drums once again began to pound out their dreadful rhythm, rumbling round the valley like a sudden storm.
But out on the lake there was an eerie calm. The mist had begun to thin, and near the very centre of the waters the silhouette of a tiny boat was revealed, captained by a lone, slender figure. As the Suhl continued to sing, Isia raised her arms and, in that very instant, all round the valley giant birds spread their beautiful wings like regal cloaks and launched themselves into the air. They flapped three or four times, then hung on the breeze, drifting in circles over the two armies and calling to one another, as though sharing all they saw. Then, as Isia lowered her arms, the great eagles drew in their wings, stretched out their talons and dived screaming from the sky.
“As I watched sundown on that hardest of days and all seemed lost, I reminded myself that in another world, right there in that very place, the sun was rising.”
SYLAS SAT IN THE bow with his feet dangling over the side, gazing at the waters ahead. The sun was low on the starboard side and had swollen into a deep red orb, which tinged the Nile and everything around it with an ember-like fire. The river was so tranquil that it was hard to believe that just hours before they had passed beneath the giant trees and their journey had almost come to such an abrupt and violent end.
It had taken the crew of the Windrush some time to dare to raise their heads above deck, so fearful had they been of another deluge of rock. Triste had emerged first, holding the hatch open just a crack to check that they were clear of the trees but, as soon as he had seen the bright sunshine, he had thrown the cover wide and clattered up the steps, casting his eyes about for Sylas and Naeo. When he had seen them by the mainmast, still holding one another tight, he had let out a great cry of relief and – in a manner quite uncharacteristic of him – rushed over and wrapped them in his long arms, hugging them fiercely. In moments, Amelie and Simia had formed a great huddle, laughing and sobbing together.
For some reason Ash had held himself apart, staring back at the trees, and Sylas had noticed him turning that black, shiny shell between his fingers. But before long he had rejoined the crew and set them to clearing the decks of the shards of rock and broken casks and chests. This was done soon enough, and presently the surfaces shone with such a polish that, excepting a few dents in the railings, it was as though nothing had happened. With the trees now far behind them and no sign of any further pyramids to carry the signal ahead, everyone had begun to relax. The routines of the ship had quickly resumed, and Naeo, who had been complaining of the pains in her shoulders and back that had come on as they had been passing the trees, had taken the opportunity to go below with Amelie. As soon as she had gone, Sylas asked Ash to take over at the helm so that he could rest.
Simia had joined him in the bow, keen to talk about everything that had happened back at the trees, and they had chatted for a while about the strange town made of Quintessence, and the Black, and the Hamajaks. When Sylas had lain back and closed his eyes, keen to try to rest, Simia had unfolded the maps before her and pored over them, making measurements with her fingers and muttering under her breath. Try as he might, Sylas could not sleep, and he gave up all hope of it when Simia suddenly sat bolt upright and declared excitedly that if they kept up this pace they would almost certainly reach the Academy of Souls just after sundown. As Simia rushed off to tell Ash and everyone else, Sylas had leaned his elbows and chin on the railing and gazed ahead of the ship, mulling over everything that had happened and everything to come.
But now, sitting there in the hot breeze, with the sun dipping towards the dusty horizon, he still felt utterly unprepared. Somewhere out there the Academy of Souls was waiting for them in the half-light, and he still had no idea what they would do when they got there.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
His mother had walked up quietly and was standing above him, her lined face bright in the sunset. Sylas nodded and smiled, and she sat beside him, threading her legs beneath the railing. She looked out at the giant sun, and the fields of young flax and barley spread out beneath it.
“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would never have believed it,” said Amelie. “The pyramids, the Nile, those trees and now this!” She glanced at Sylas with sparkling eyes and smiled her wide, beautiful smile. “I can’t say I’m glad to be here, but this is quite something, isn’t it?”
They sat silently for a few moments, listening to the waters of the Nile, watching the sun dipping behind the pyramids, then she turned and looked at him, and put her hand on his.
“I know you must be frightened, Sylas,” she said.
Sylas was not sure why, but he pulled his hand away.
“I can only imagine how you must feel,” she continued, undeterred. She paused. “You know, when we spoke last night, I didn’t say something I should have.”
He turned and met her eyes.
“I believe in you,” she said, her eyes gleaming in the twilight. “I believe in you with all my heart. You, Sylas, and Naeo.” She reached out again and pulled his hand on to her lap. “And I’ll tell you what I also believe. I believe that you can do things none of us has ever imagined. I’ve been blind, my love. I understand that now. Blind because I worry about you, but also because I struggle with the fact that there’s more to you than I can ever know.” She squeezed his hand. “But there is more. So much more.”
Sylas looked away and was about to mumble a reply when suddenly Amelie gripped his hand tight, and his eyes snapped back to her.
“Now more than ever, Sylas, you need to believe it. Forget what I said last night. Forget my doubts and worries; they came from a good place, but perhaps not the right place.” She looked back at the sun, now almost lost behind the distant hills. “One thing’s for certain in this strange, broken world. This is where you’re meant to be. Here. With Naeo. Doing just this.” She looked back at him, her eyes glazed. “Don’t you doubt it a moment longer. Just find that strength we all know you have, and do what needs to be done.”
Naeo lay on her front as Amelie had instructed, waiting for the poultice to take effect. She was glad to rest in her hammock, and in the past hour the pain in her back had indeed started to subside. But even as it had left her, something else had begun to gnaw at her, and this she could not escape. It was a single insistent thought: here they were, drawing ever closer to the Academy of Souls, and she still had no idea what they would do when they got there. And what was worse – what truly terrified her – was that Sylas had no more idea than she did.
Naeo decided that all she could do was read a little more of the Samarok. That, at least, would make her feel that she was preparing for what was to come. She was unsure where to begin so she began where she had left off, with Ammut’s Pit – the catacombs below the Academy of Souls – and from there the Ravel Runes naturally took her to another entry about Ammut the beast of judgement, the so-called ‘soul-eater’.
She read the ancient legend that those journeying into the afterlife passed first into the ‘Hall of Two Truths’. Here the god of the afterlife, the jackal-headed Anubis, would weigh their heart to judge its worthiness. The heart would be placed on one side of a set of scales, and on the other lay a feather, known as the Ma’at feather: the feather of truth. If the heart weighed more than the feather, Ammut would devour it; if it was lighter, the soul would be saved and pass on into paradise.
The mention of the Ma’at feather made Naeo think of the Suhl feather, and when she read that the scales were called the Scales of Ma’at, she became more and more intrigued. She started to read about Ma’at herself, the goddess of truth, justice and harmony. She learned how the ancients believed that she had worn the feather of truth as her emblem, that she had prevented the world descending into chaos, and that it was she who had held the world in balance.
Naeo read entry after entry about Ma’at, and then, by some trick of the Ravel Runes, she was taken to an entry about Merimaat:
… soon she was named in the manner of the Priests of Souls. As a reward for service to the academy, Ramesses had decreed that the priests were to be known as ‘Beloved of the Gods’, making them greater than any priests of ritual that came before. And so the priest of Su became Meri-Su ‘Beloved of Su’, the priest of Bes was Meri-Bes, and the priest of Ma’at was named Meri-maat.
But one of the priests did not take up his decreed name. Emboldened by his unrivalled place in the Academy of Souls, Zamon, priest of the Temple of Thoth in Khemenu, began calling himself simply Thoth. Some of the priests considered this a blasphemy, but as scribe to the academy and master of the only official record Zamon could not be challenged. So it was that, as years passed, Zamon, Priest of Thoth became simply Thoth – a new, self-appointed and living god.
Naeo raised her eyes from the page and gazed out of the porthole at the setting sun. So that was how it had all happened – how he had happened.
She closed the Samarok and rested her chin in her hands, staring out. Perhaps it was the darkness of her readings about the catacombs and Thoth, but she found herself dreading the close of day. She had the strangest feeling that she did not want the sun to set; that for whatever reason this last glimpse of it was precious. She watched the dipping orb of fire until it started to drop behind some distant hills, slipping slowly into the underworld.
Then, quite suddenly, she pushed herself upright.
How could she have forgotten? Now, of all times!
Her father!
She fixed her eyes on the dying sun and already her mind was ranging back to the forests of Salsimaine, to the treehouse in their favourite tree, to her father and his outstretched hands.
She let out a sigh of relief.
He was there.
Of course he was there.
He smiled back at her, opening his arms. And then, to her surprise, he spoke.
“I believe in you, my Nay-no,” he said, pulling her into the treehouse. “I believe in you more than anything else in this world.”
