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

crawling by the caduceus, Klarm pulled Nish’s
last knot tight and sprang off the air-sled, frowning. Its frame was twisted,
the prow buried in mud where it had crashed to the ground.
    Maelys passed a tangle of bodies, all Imperial troops. That
they were the enemy did not make her feel any better. She was about twenty
paces from the air-sled now, and there wasn’t much cover between her and it.
Klarm hacked away some of the mud with a knife, clambered on and extended his
right hand towards Reaper, but drew it back. Turning away, he paced in a tight
circle.
    ‘You must,’ he said to himself, and touched the surface of
Reaper with a quick, nervous flutter of the fingers. The air-sled shuddered and
tried to lift itself out of the mud; the stern rose but the prow did not; it
was stuck fast. He jumped off again, carrying a spade, and began to excavate mud
from the front and sides.
    Maelys tried to look like a corpse until he went aboard and
tried Reaper again. The air-sled began to shake and shudder; mud flew through
the air and plopped down all around but the prow would not come free.
    The shuddering stopped and Klarm went down the back,
rummaging in the metal box that had held the tears. She crawled forwards, a
little ball of mud, never taking her eyes off him. If he got down now he must
see her.
    Nish was watching her. His hands were bound behind him and
another rope had been pulled tightly around his chest, fixing him to the
pennant pole. He inclined his head to the right, then again. Did he mean her to
go around the right side?
    Maelys was crawling that way when Klarm slammed the lid of
the metal box and went to the right side. She hastily wriggled under the prow
where he’d dug the mud away, knowing that it did not overhang enough to hide
her if he came up the front. Clinging to the heavy sabre, she tried to think of
a way to attack the most powerful man on Santhenar.
    Nothing came to her. She could not see onto the air-sled
from here, nor hear anything but the rain pounding on the metal deck, and Klarm
could be anywhere. She fought the urge to crawl away and save herself. She had
no idea how to free Nish, only that she must. He had been a hero of the war
when she was just a little girl; he was the only one who could save the militia
now.
    ‘You’re making a bad enemy, dwarf,’ Nish said loudly.
    Maelys did not hear any reply, but once more the air-sled
began to shudder.
    ‘What if Father never comes back?’ said Nish.
    It sounded as if he were trying to distract Klarm. Did that
mean he was coming to the prow? She pressed herself deeper into the mud.
    ‘I’m his only heir,’ Nish went on. ‘The Imperial throne
comes to me, and the first thing I’m going to do is purge my enemies.’ Nish
paused, then added, ‘But there’s still time for you.’
    ‘Save your breath,’ said Klarm from close by. ‘I’m not going
to break my oath.’
    Reaper sang, a shriller note, and the mud heaved and began
to steam. The prow of the air-sled lifted fractionally but fell back, cracking
her on the top of the head.
    Maelys slumped into the mud and for a few seconds she could
not move. The air-sled lifted again, further this time, and she heard the
suction breaking, the mud beginning to slide underneath and carry her with it.
If the craft dropped now she would be crushed to death.
    Fighting a splitting headache, she dug the sabre into the
mud and dragged herself out as the air-sled splatted down again. Maelys fell
flat in the mud, shaking.
    ‘– and you’re going to be my very first victim
–’ Nish cried, sounding panicky. What was the matter with him?
    ‘Aha!’ cried Klarm, and before Maelys realised that he’d
seen her a fiery noose twisted around her waist, another around her ankles, and
she was lifted from the mud and dropped onto the air-sled. The sabre rang on
the metal deck as it slipped from her hand.
    Klarm was several strides away, his fingers just above the
surface of Reaper. He’d won, and how he was