The only sound was the slight noise the columns made as they shifted, like leaves rustling in the breeze.
But these were not leaves and Ishbel knew if she made a misstep then she would be dead.
Yet even knowing this, Ishbel was calm. She was being tracked through the dancing columns by the One as Ravenna had once tracked her down into the Weeper’s soul, but this time Ishbel was stronger. She had survived Ravenna’s attempt on her life. She had survived her worst nightmare trapped burning to death in her father’s house.
This was nothing.
The One was very, very close now. Ishbel imagined she could feel his warmth as he neared.
Was he warm? Yes, he was. Ishbel remembered that his hand had felt hot against the clammy skin of her ankle.
Now and again Ishbel saw his hand slink out from behind a column and snatch at her.
But always she glided out of his reach a moment before.
The One was not using his powers here; Ishbel suspected it was because it would be too dangerous. They were within the living heart of DarkGlass Mountain, and Ishbel thought the One must be so tied to the pyramid that to use his power would be to risk the entire structure.
She thought he must be panicking and wondered to what that panic might drive him.
The rat gripped tight to her shoulder, and Ishbel thought that if she ever emerged from this she would do so bruised and bloody both from the constant scrape of the columns and the claws of the rat.
The One’s fingers grazed her flesh, just for an instant. Ishbel moved too quickly, scraping her right shoulder and arm badly on a shifting column.
Courage, Ishbel, the rat said.
Ishbel wanted to swat the thing against the nearest column, but managed to quash the urge.
Courage be damned. All she wanted was that stone, now so tantalisingly close.
She shifted twice more, then a third time, and suddenly she was beside the stone and looking at the One standing on the other side of it.
“I hope you enjoy your unravelling,” Ishbel said, and she dropped to her knees before the stone, placing both hands flat upon it.
Ishbel heard the sound of distant laughter and knew it to be her ancient forbears, Boaz and Tirzah, and with that sound Ishbel remembered what knowledge it was that Tirzah’s baby had imbibed from the pyramid when Boaz had done his terrible battle with it.
Then she knew what she could do with that knowledge when combined with her training as the Archpriestess of the Coil.
Ishbel’s hand moved in a complex tangle of movements over the stone and the One cried out.
Black inky writing appeared on the stone — hundreds of strange numerals and symbols that began to move and then lift off the stone to float in the air between the One and Ishbel.
She moved her hand again, and the symbols whirled upward.
Then Ishbel spoke a word that she had never heard before, but which now seemed to her as familiar as her own name. “Numestos.”
The One cried out again, utterly panicked, and lunged across the stone toward Ishbel.
She evaded him easily, concentrating completely on the task at hand. “Numestos!”
The symbols flew about the chamber, a thick ribbon of black twisting characters that moved about the shifting columns.
“ Numestos!” Ishbel cried a third time, then ducked as the ribbon flowed over her head to spin upward through the pyramid.
Be careful, she heard Ta’uz’s voice say in her mind.
Maximilian was frantic. He’d decided he had to do something — that he could not leave it a moment longer — when suddenly the pyramid glowed with a soft green light.
He stopped dead, his mouth slightly agape as he stared. DarkGlass Mountain looked stunningly beautiful, illuminating the nearby landscape with its soft light.
Then, as suddenly as the appearance of the light, inky black numbers and symbols started to race across the glass surface of the pyramid, winding up from its base toward the golden capstone.
Maximilian took a step forward, moving from the river bank onto the glass of the Lhyl, then another, then stopped, stunned by what was happening.
The symbols continued to wind up, up, up around the entire pyramid, drawing ever closer to the capstone.
They reached it.
There was a heartbeat where nothing happened.
Then the capstone went black . . . another heartbeat . . .
It exploded into countless pieces of glass, and Maximilian instinctively ducked as deadly shards rained down over a wide area.
Chapter 24
Darkglass Mountain
Careful, Ta’uz whispered, and Ishbel ducked as a column four or five away from her began to crumble.
The One was shouting, incomprehensible words that made little sense to Ishbel. He was finally bringing the power of Infinity to bear against what Ishbel had worked, but it appeared to be making the situation worse rather than better.
More and more columns were crumbling.
Then Ishbel heard a tremendous explosion far above.
The One screamed.
Careful, said the rat.
A torrent of symbols continued to flow out of the stone, winding up in a never ending ribbon through the pyramid. Now Ishbel heard other voices, unknown voices, murmuring in excitement.
All those the pyramid had destroyed over the millennia.
Suddenly something grabbed at Ishbel’s hand. It was the One, staring at her maniacally.
His grip tightened into a vice, and Ishbel cried out and tried to pull away.
“Don’t think this is the end of it, bitch,” the One rasped.
Ishbel stared at him in fright. Black fault lines were spreading through his flesh — she could almost hear them spread, as if cloth were being ripped into shreds.
“Don’t think this is the end of it,” the One said again, and his words terrified Ishbel for all the malice had gone from his voice and instead there was only cold certainty.
Then, horribly, he started to break apart. The process was aided by the collapse of a column of stone next to him that sheared away half of his head.
For an instant Ishbel was staring at a single black eye that returned her gaze unblinkingly, then another column collapsed and the One shattered into a thousand pieces.
Ishbel fell backward as the One’s grip vanished. She felt herself caught between two crumbling columns, then everything went dark and unknowing.
Maximilian paced back and forth, back and forth on the glassy river staring at the disintegrating pyramid. He’d been cut by several shards of glass from the exploding capstone, but had escaped serious injury.
The pyramid collapsed into itself, sending a dust-and-debris cloud flying upward and outward, although it stopped short of the far river bank and didn’t threaten Maximilian.
Where was Ishbel? Maximilian did not know if she had escaped the pyramid but was hidden by the debris cloud, if she was still inside but was protected by her power, or if she was still inside and not protected.
Anything but the third, please gods, anything but the third.
The continuing destruction of the pyramid was now almost overwhelming. It had been a massive structure, virtually solid stone and glass and it made a thunderous roar as it came down.
Maximilian stood helpless, not knowing what to do. He wondered if Avaldamon, Serge and Doyle had come out from their hiding hole and were watching this from the safety of the great courtyard of the palace of Aqhat.
They had been caught within the pyramid for what seemed to them an eternity. Their bodies had long been disposed of, but their souls had remained trapped within the entity that had murdered them.
There had been nothing but bleakness and hopelessness for them.
But now, feel the bonds unravel!
Now! cried the one who had once been Ta’uz. Go now! And as one the thousands of the murdered stood and shook off their bonds and walked out of the pyramid.
Maximilian saw them in the debris cloud, walking toward the river. They were not solid, not flesh, just disturbances within the dust that appeared as human shapes. As they drew closer to the edge of the debris cloud, so they began to dissipate.
But one remained visible long enough to make it halfway across the river.
The dust shape smiled at Maximilian. Thank her for us, it said. And tell her that Druse is finally on his way home to his family.
With that, the dust fell apart and Maximilian stood alone in the centre of the glass river.
Isaiah sat at his campfire with Lamiah, Hereward and several of the senior captains within the force. The mood was subdued, only the occasional word being spoken. Everyone was on edge both with the arrival of the juit birds (not dangerous within themselves, but hardly a sign of confidence in what might be happening in Isembaard) and Isaiah’s belief that a horde of millions of Skraelings was headed their way.