Ian Irvine - Chimaera

‘Irisis Stirm,’ said Jal-Nish, allowing the barrier to fade away. ‘Two years I’ve waited for this day.’

‘I’ll bet you have – I know your kind all too well,’ she said with an arrogant lift of her chin.

‘And I know yours. The world was a better place when women knew their place in it. Cryl-Nish’s mother taught me that lesson. She only wanted me for what I had, and once I became this maimed monster, in the service of my world, she cast me out.’

‘You were a monster long before Ryll put his claws in you,’ said Irisis.

‘And you were a liar, a cheat and a fraud, as the record of your trial at the manufactory shows only too well. For fifteen years you’ve been an artisan under false pretences, an offence punishable by death.’

‘I recovered my powers long ago. Besides, the war is over, Jal-Nish. It doesn’t matter any more.’

‘The war is only just beginning, and the first stage is to rid the world of those who betrayed it: you and Tiaan most of all. You destroyed my life, though that matters not. You conspired to save the debauched, depraved, flesh-forming lyrinx, the greatest abominations this world has ever seen. You cozened and coddled and yes, maybe even mated with them –’

‘You’re sick, Jal-Nish. You’re mad.’

‘You set the lyrinx free!’ he screamed. ‘You gave them a world of their own, and one day they’ll be back . For that alone you must die. Beg and grovel all you like –’

Smoke was rising from Irisis’s boots but she did not flinch. ‘Then die I will,’ she said calmly, ‘but it won’t make a jot of difference.’

‘Oh, I think it will,’ he hissed.

‘I go to my death knowing that I’ve fought for what was right and good,’ she said. ‘Whereas you, Jal-Nish, if you live to be a hundred, will always know that you gambled with the lives of your soldiers, lost, then ran like a cur from the battlefield. That’s the kind of man you are, and the Histories will tell of it long after my name is forgotten.’

How Irisis had grown from the petty, mean-spirited woman Nish had once known. She was entirely selfless and noble now, and it threw Jal-Nish’s character into sharp relief.

He knew it, too. He could not meet her eyes for the moment, but then he said, ‘The means is justification enough. I’ve won the world, and he who owns the world writes the Histories.’

‘May you have joy of your victory, you craven dog! I’d sooner die than live in a world of your shaping.’

‘And die you will. The greatest pleasure of victory is revenge, and mine will be unending. Guards!’

The guards dragged Irisis to her knees. Her yellow hair hung over her face, but she tossed her head and looked Jal-Nish in the eye, defiant to the last. To Nish she was the most beautiful sight in the world.

‘You’ll never break me,’ she said, ‘though you torture me for a thousand years.’

‘There’s more than one way to break a person,’ Jal-Nish said, testing the blade of a soldier’s outstretched sword with his thumb. ‘I have no need to torture you. Guards, let it be done.’

Nish broke free of his guards. ‘Father, no,’ he screamed. ‘Please, no!’

‘Nothing you say can change her fate,’ said Jal-Nish, with a look so hideous that it made Nish’s flesh creep.

‘No. Take me instead.’ He threw out his arms in entreaty, weeping so hard that he could barely see.

‘You?’ said Jal-Nish. ‘But you are my beloved son.’

‘That’s not what you said when you condemned me to death at Snizort.’

‘I was wrong about you, my son. Since then, you have proven yourself. I am well pleased with you, Cryl-Nish, for without you I would not have her .’

‘Then grant me one small favour. Please, Father. Give her life into my custody.’

‘A favour?’ Jal-Nish pretended to consider it. ‘And what will you give me in return?’

‘Anything, Father. Just name it.’

‘Then serve me, Cryl-Nish. I could force you, with the compulsion I laid on you at Gumby Marth, but I’d rather you aided me willingly. Be my son and heir as you have never been. Stand at my right hand and help me tame this unruly world.’

Out of the corner of his eye Nish saw the nose of the air-dreadnought peeping from behind the trees. Flydd and Yggur must have armed themselves. If they’d found enough power to overcome his greatly weakened father, it might be all right after all.

Nish felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Yes, Father. I will serve you.’

‘Splendid. And in return, I give her life into your custody.’

‘Thank you,’ said Nish, surprised that it had been so easy. ‘What would you have me do with Irisis?’

‘Guard,’ said Jal-Nish, inclining his head towards Nish.

The guard handed Nish his sword.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Nish, clenching the hilt so tightly that his arm shook.

‘Take her head from her shoulders, Nish, if you truly would serve me.’

‘But …’ Nish looked from Jal-Nish to Irisis, then back to Jal-Nish. ‘You promised to save her life.’

‘I did not; only to give it into your custody. And so I shall, for you to give me what you promised in return. Anything I want, I believe you said. I want her head.’

‘And if I do not?’

‘The guard does it for you. You have rather a dilemma, Cryl-Nish.’

Nish felt as if his eyes were boiling out of his face. Then he snapped and leapt at his father, swinging the sword in a wild arc.

‘You made the wrong decision, Son,’ said Jal-Nish, placing his hand into the left-most tear, and Nish’s blade glanced harmlessly off the renewed shield. Jal-Nish raised his hand and one of the bags of the air-dreadnought burst with a boom. It turned sharply and wobbled across the sky, out of sight.

All hope was lost. Irisis, his beautiful Irisis, was on her knees, her slender neck laid bare. She gazed lovingly up at him and, strangely, Irisis was smiling.

‘I always knew it would come to this,’ she whispered. ‘Farewell, Nish. You’ve been the best friend any woman could hope for.’

This was what Minis had been talking about, long ago in his construct, when he’d foreseen the death of one of Nish’s friends. Nish ran at the guard but he was always going to be too late. The man swung his sword high and, even as Nish wailed, ‘No!’ he brought it down. The blade was keen and it made barely a sound, doing the business.

Too late. It was done. There was nothing anyone could do for Irisis now. Nish fell to his knees and screamed until blood ran from his mouth.

‘Take Cryl-Nish Hlar to the deepest cell in Santhenar and lock him in,’ said Jal-Nish. ‘After you have served your term – ten years, my son – I will make the offer again. Be my right hand and I will set you free. Refuse and you’ll get another ten.’

‘I will never serve you,’ Nish said numbly. ‘Never!’ he roared at the empty sky.

‘We’ll see,’ Jal-Nish said indifferently.

Nish’s rage built up until he felt that his head would explode. He fought it down, forcing himself to become as hard and cold as his father, for that was the only way he could survive. And then he saw a way – the only way to bring something good out of this most evil of all days. He ran halfway across the square and threw out his arms to the silent gathering.

‘The greatest hero of the war has sacrificed herself that I should live. Without Irisis Stirm, none of us would be here today.’ Nish could feel his tears welling and fought them all the way. No time for mourning now. He must get it out before the guards took him. ‘Irisis is the one person who never compromised, no matter who she faced. There has to be a purpose behind her sacrifice, and I will make it my own. I will survive whatever this monster does to me. I will endure, and you must endure with me, for the coming years are going to be the cruellest in all memory.’