CHAPTER 54
Clay
This is not my body . . . He repeated the thought, over and over, jerking as he fought the pain. My body is whole. There is no pain. This is not my body, my body is whole, there is no pain. This is not my body my body is whole there is no pain!
He let out a shout as the pain vanished, his shattered spine fusing back together, reforged by sheer effort of will. But though he could exert control over his own mental image, the prison that held him rested in the mind of Catheline Dewsmine, who at this juncture seemed unlikely to return.
Clay got to his feet, eyes roving the featureless iron cube of his cell. Clever or not, he thought, she’s still crazy. There has to be a crack somewhere.
He scoured the walls, hands tracing over the rough metal, looking for some small fissure in the surface, something he could pry apart. Several minutes of searching produced nothing but, as he retreated from the walls, grunting in frustration, something scraped beneath his boot. Looking down he saw it was one of the pictures that had fallen from the mantelpiece above the fire when it transformed. The fire-place was gone now but this picture remained. Crouching, he picked it up, expecting to find an image of Catheline in her younger days, or a photostat of her unfortunate parents. Instead it was a Spoiled wearing a military uniform. The same one from the hill-top, Clay realised, recalling Lizanne’s shared memories from recent trances. Sirus. Guess she must like you to keep your image in her favourite memory.
As the thought rose, rich in self-recrimination at allowing himself to be trapped, he saw the image shift in the frame. The deformed face of Sirus turned, looking out at him in clear recognition. Clay stared back, watching Sirus’s lips move. He brought the picture closer, straining to hear the words.
I’m dying, Sirus told him in a strangely matter-of-fact tone. It struck Clay as the voice of a man entirely accepting of his fate, free of fear or desperation. He almost envied him. She kept something of me, Sirus went on. I suppose she wanted to be able to talk sometimes. I suspect she gets very lonely.
Yeah, Clay said. That’s too bad. You got anything useful to share?
I don’t think so. I had a plan, you see? A grand scheme to free us all, set the Spoiled to rebellion and bring down the White. But it was just a childish folly. She knew. The Spoiled cannot be freed. Once it takes us, it binds us forever.
No, Clay told him. That ain’t right. There were free Spoiled once. They helped bring it down before.
The picture-frame suddenly became hot in Clay’s hand, the image of Sirus emitting a soft glow. How?
Ain’t something to be said. More something to be felt. It was the gift of the Black drakes, they showed me. And I can show you.
The frame grew hotter, the glow brighter. Clay felt Sirus’s thoughts lose their reflective apathy, replaced by a fierce, rage-fuelled need. Do you have it? he demanded.
Clay found the required memory quickly enough, but as this was not his mind the ability to form it into something he could share was limited. In his own mindscape he could have refashioned Nelphia’s surface, here all he had was what he carried with him. He drew his revolver, remoulding it into a ball of gun-metal the size of his fist. Concentrating hard, he brought to mind the crystals he had seen in the Enclave, and the Black crystal Kriz retrieved from Krystaline Lake. The ball of grey metal began to change, growing spines and the hard dull surface turning to glass. With the crystal complete, Clay summoned the memory Lutharon’s ancestors had shared with him. The crystal began to take on a soft glow as Clay poured in the memory.
Here, Clay told Sirus, extending the picture towards the floating crystal. The picture-frame suddenly became white-hot. He dropped it, yelping in pain. Focusing on his singed fingers, he banished the pain and returned the charred tips to their previous state. When he looked again Sirus’s picture was glowing bright enough to dazzle him. Squinting, he watched as it began to melt the iron floor of the cell, the metal glowing red then white before dropping away, creating a wide hole. The picture disappeared into the hole, quickly followed by the crystal, leaving Clay standing over it in indecision.
Well, he thought, preparing to jump. Can’t see any other way out of here.
The waking world returned with a jolt, Clay gasping in shock as a heavy buffeting wind came close to dislodging him from Lutharon’s back. He grabbed hold of a spine and held on, ears filled with the challenging roar of a drake, but this time it wasn’t a Red.
The White streaked towards them, the roar swallowed by the flames jetting from its mouth. Lutharon banked hard, Clay gripping the spine with both hands as the Black stood on a wing-tip, deftly avoiding the flames before flaring his wings and pivoting about. The White spread its own wings, wheeling around to hover some twenty yards away, Lutharon following suit. Clay saw that the White was not alone. Catheline was perched atop its back, staring at him in evident puzzlement. Thought she’d locked me away for good, Clay surmised, reaching into his satchel and drawing out a grenade, but the White attacked before he had a chance to arm it.
Lutharon folded his wings and dived as the White surged forward, Clay hearing the snap of its jaws above his head. Lutharon extended his wings and went into a tight turn, opening his jaws to blast out a stream of fire at the White, catching the larger animal in mid-turn. It let out an enraged roar, lashing out with its tail as Lutharon swept closer, the spear-point leaving an ugly red scar on the Black’s neck. Lutharon coughed flame directly into the White’s face, momentarily blinding it before rearing back to lash out with his talons, tearing into the scaled flesh of its opponent. Clay could only hold on as Lutharon pressed his advantage, head stabbing forward to clamp his jaws on the White’s neck, blood welling as he bit deep.
The White screamed in pain and rage, its own talons slashing at the Black, their blood mingling as they tumbled about the sky, Lutharon holding on despite the wounds scoring his hide. There was a sound like a miniature thunderclap, Lutharon’s teeth tearing clear of the White’s neck as he was propelled backwards. As they were pushed away Clay caught sight of Catheline, staring at them in intense concentration as she unleashed a powerful wave of Black. The force wave continued, pushing them down towards the earth. Clay glanced over his shoulder to see the plain rushing towards them and, realising he had somehow managed to keep hold of the grenade, tugged the arming pin free and used the last vestiges of his Black to propel it at Catheline.
The White moved in a blur, tail whipping to intercept the grenade before it could strike its target. The explosion broke Catheline’s concentration, cutting off her stream of Black and leaving the White minus the spear-point at the end of its tail. The severed tip leaked blood as the White whirled about and went into a steep dive. Lutharon twisted and spread his wings wide, stalling their fall then sweeping back up into the sky. Clay looked down to see a fire erupting on the plain as the White chased them with its flames.
Clay armed another grenade and tossed it over his shoulder, quickly followed by two more, reasoning gravity would provide the required distance. He was rewarded with the sound of three rapid explosions, but a backwards glance revealed the dispiriting sight of the White still labouring in pursuit, albeit with one side of its face blackened and leaking blood. He could feel Lutharon’s strength fading, seeing the blood streaming in thick torrents from his many wounds, but still he turned to fight.
Drawing in his wings, Lutharon turned over and streaked down to meet the White head-on. Clay met Catheline’s eyes as the drakes sped towards one another, finding them full of hate but also something more. She’s afraid, he realised, seeing how her eyes widened as the massive Black plummeted towards her. Even the mad can learn to fear.
He quickly drew his revolver and began to fire, managing four shots before a wave of Black blasted it out of his hand, Clay hearing the snap of breaking bones as it spun away. He ignored the flare of agony and unleashed all his remaining Red in a rapid stream. He had the satisfaction of seeing Catheline’s hair take light before the two drakes collided.
The impact jarred him loose of Lutharon’s back, and the surrounding air turned briefly into fire before he fell clear, trailing smoke as he tumbled towards the ground. The impact came sooner than expected, Clay careening across the earth in a cloud of raised sod before sliding to a halt, stunned and winded. He lay there, dragging air into his lungs and trying to force animation into his limbs, hearing the sweep of very large wings drawing closer.