The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) by Ian Irvine Page B

only covered the lowest third of this
clearing, and most of the bodies remained where they had been cut down. The winged
shaft of the caduceus was gone, and Nish assumed that Klarm had taken it,
though the two iron serpents that had entwined it lay on the baked earth. There
was no sign of Yggur, Tulitine or Maelys, and the rain, which was still
falling, had washed out all tracks.
    Nish was cursing himself for leaving her behind when he
remembered their disturbing foreseeings at the Pit of Possibilities, months
ago. Maelys had not appeared in any of the possible futures, and at the time
she’d been afraid that it meant she was going to die. Had her life been snuffed
out, like Gi’s, in an instant, or had she suffered a lingering death? Or could
she still be alive? He could not find any reason to think so, but he had to
cling to hope.
    Leaving Flydd studying the iron serpents, Nish plodded down
towards the river through a sea of mud and debris. The river path had
disappeared and the forest near the bank was gone apart from the shattered
stumps of the largest trees. Numb with grief, he trudged back.
    ‘What a stinking, lousy day,’ he said. ‘This has been one of
the worst I can ever remember.’ But not the worst. The worst day of all time
was forever fixed in his memory and no other tragedy, no matter how awful,
could erase it.
    ‘It’s not over yet,’ said Flydd, holding the iron serpent
with the forked tongue that had seemed to stare at him earlier. The older man
had some colour back in his cheeks at last.
    ‘What are you doing with that?’ said Nish. Flydd’s choice of
that serpent felt a trifle ominous, given Nish’s worries about him.
    ‘There’s power in it, and I’m sure it wasn’t left here by
accident.’
    ‘No, Stilkeen left it to trap us,’ said Nish.
    ‘Perhaps, but Klarm isn’t having it, nor the other one. Take
it.’
    ‘What?’ said Nish.
    ‘Take the serpent with the bared fangs.’
    ‘Why? Even if it does have power, I can’t use it.’
    ‘We can’t leave it here for some scoundrel to find. Besides,
our situation can’t get much worse, can it?’
    ‘I suppose not,’ Nish said grudgingly.
    ‘In that case, it might get better. Take it.’
    Nish gingerly touched the iron serpent, which was like a
sinuous staff. He was afraid that it would come to life and sink those fangs
into him, but nothing happened save that he sensed a surging heat within it.
    ‘I felt sure it would be hot, but it’s only blood warm.’
    ‘It’s hot inside. And there may be a time when you need that
heat,’ said Flydd.
    ‘Not being a mancer, I’ll never know how to liberate it.’
    ‘You don’t necessarily have to be a mancer to use an
enchanted object. Some devices can be used by anyone, when the time is right.’
    Not by me, Nish thought, but he hefted the serpent staff,
which was his own height and rather heavy. It was one more thing to carry, and
he was already worn out and feeling more hopeless every minute. Had they
survived only to be trapped up here and starve? He followed Flydd back to the
forest and the waiting militia.
    ‘Where do we go from here?’ said Flydd.
    ‘With no food and the really wet season on the way there’s
only one thing we can do,’ said Nish bitterly. ‘Rot standing up, then die in
this festering hell-hole.’
    ‘I didn’t go through the agony of renewal only to give up,’
Flydd said coldly. ‘Come with me, Nish. Flangers, you too.’
    They followed Flydd and, when they were well away from the
militia, he pulled Nish close and snarled, ‘What the blazes were you thinking,
talking defeat in front of your troops? Their morale is already shaky and it
won’t take much to shatter it. They look up to you, Nish, even though you led
them into this nightmare. I’d go so far as to say that they love you,’ Flydd’s lips quirked at this
astonishing thought, ‘and you can’t let them down.’
    ‘Sorry,’ Nish muttered, ashamed of his minor breakdown. ‘But
it’s at