‘That stain became etched deep into the heart of First Clan; it moulded your ancestors as it moulded you. Indeed, the bitterness of Inthis, as well as the false pride and recklessness that so marked Pitlis in ancient times, and Tensor at the time the Forbidding was broken, and which has marked you, Vithis, all the time I’ve known you, arose from the failure of First Clan that day. You have never come to terms with the shame. I am sorry for the passing of Clan Inthis, and for all that was fine and noble in your people, and there was much. But it is for the good of the world. All things fail and decay, sooner or later. It is fitting that Inthis passes through the Well, as you came from it in the first place. If you did.’
‘You set out to destroy us!’ he roared. ‘From that day in Aachan, right down to this, Clan Elienor has done its best to undo us.’
‘There was no Clan Elienor in ancient times, and even after Elienor founded it, my house was always the poorest, the weakest and the least in numbers. We were always looking over our shoulders.’
‘Elienor wasn’t weak, nor the despised blending Karan when she helped you to bring noble Tensor down. Nor you, Malien, when you helped Tiaan in Tirthrax, and ever after.’
‘Then why has Inthis –’
‘No more, Malien. All things must fail – it is your time to go to the Well.’
He did not move the Well this time. Vithis wanted to wreak revenge with his own hands. He walked forward, deliberately, took Malien about the waist and lifted her high. And, oddly, Malien did not struggle – it was almost as if she had been waiting for it. The Aachim let out cries of horror, yet no one moved to stop him.
‘No,’ Tiaan said to herself. Then louder, so it rang out across the jagged ground, ‘No!’
Nish, who had been quivering beside her, threw himself at Vithis. Vithis didn’t move, but he roared a word and Nish was thrown sideways, landing on broken rock at the edge of the Well. Tiaan heard ribs crack.
Vithis waggled a finger in his direction and Nish was forced slowly backward. He clasped hands around a jagged spike of basalt but the force simply broke his grip. His head went over the edge of the Well; his shoulders; his chest.
Tiaan looked from him to Malien. If she tried to save Nish, Malien would surely be lost. Tiaan couldn’t see Irisis anywhere; she vaguely remembered her walking away a long time ago. What was she to do?
Malien was strong in the Art and ought to be able to defend herself, should she choose to. Nish had no chance and she saw sheer terror in his eyes. She caught hold of his belt and tried to haul him back, but the force pulling him into the Well was irresistible.
She heaved harder. It made no difference. ‘Help!’ she cried, but no one moved, and the Histories told her why. Sometimes, in the most desperate crises, the Aachim froze like deer staring into the eyes of the great cat about to devour them. They’d done it when the Charon had taken their world from them, and now they were doing it again.
Or did they want her and Nish, and Malien too, to die with Vithis? To make a cleansing of all those who’d played any part in the calamity, save themselves?
Now Nish’s whole upper body was over the edge. Tiaan braced her heels against the rock, but the force was too much for her knees to hold against. If she didn’t let go, she’d be pulled in with him. Was this an echo thrown up by the Well, an ironic reversal of the time in Tirthrax when she’d tried to throw herself down it, and Nish had struggled to save her? Was it meant to be?
Or was something even more sinister going on? What had Malien said earlier? Look to your own enemies, Lord Vithis. Were Malien and Nish, and she, taking the blame for the machinations of his clan enemies?
‘Look to your own enemies, Lord Vithis!’ she screamed. ‘That’s what Malien said and she was right. Once we’re dead, and you’ve gone to the Well, Inthis’s enemies will have achieved everything they’ve ever wanted. Isn’t that right, clan leaders?’
Her frantic stare passed over them one by one but no one broke. No one looked guilty either. ‘Vithis?’ she screeched, but he didn’t react. ‘Malien, why don’t you do something?’
Tiaan saw the look in Nish’s eyes, the terror that she would let him go. He jerked over a little further. Her knees buckled and their eyes met.
‘Let me go, Tiaan,’ he said, somehow finding calm beyond the terror. ‘You can’t save me.’
How could she look into those eyes and release him to oblivion? ‘I won’t let you go, Nish.’ She forced her knees to straighten through sheer will, but the force was pulling her fingers open.
‘Save yourself. It’s not worth it.’
‘You are worth it, Nish.’ She hung on.
Nish struck at her hand. ‘Let me go.’
Her knees collapsed, she was dragged to the edge and they went over.
SEVENTY-TWO
Time stood still. A million yellows whirled around them and Tiaan saw echoes of the past and the present: sights and sounds, scents and tastes all mixed together. The yellows exploded, the whole world became one brilliant colour, and the next she knew, she was lying on the rocks beside the Well.
Nish had been thrown out on the other side. Vithis was wheeling around and around on one foot, the other up in the air as if trying to step over a stile. He didn’t seem to know what had happened.
Malien stood across from him. Her hair was wild; she had bitten through her bottom lip and her clenched fists were jammed against her sides. She was breathing hard.
‘Before the Well I must speak the unadorned truth. You were right, Vithis. Clan Elienor has always worked to bring Inthis down. Not to destroy you, but to humble you and strip you of your unshakeable hubris. That has been our goal since the day, all those thousands of years ago, when Elienor stood in the great hall and saw Inthis render Aachan up to Rulke without a fight.’
Vithis rotated to face her and his upraised foot slapped to the ground. Malien was doomed, and she knew it. But she kept on.
‘Elienor swore an oath that day, that she would make up for the betrayal. We have renewed the oath, and followed her goal, unflinchingly since. Each time we faltered, another member of First Clan reminded us of that fatal flaw in the character, nay, the very germ-plasm, of Inthis. There was Pitlis, who betrayed Tar Gaarn, the most beautiful of all our works, to the enemy. There was Tensor, whose folly after folly saw us lose beloved Shazmak and the Mirror of Aachan, and caused countless other tragedies. And this paltry act against Nish, who could never do you harm, shows that you, Vithis, are of the same base stock.’
Vithis took a step towards her. He flung up one hand behind him and the Well surged and flared to an incandescent brilliance, as if preparing for an entirely different class of victim.
Malien went on, unmoving, her eyes on Vithis as he came towards her. ‘We set out to reduce Inthis from First Clan to last, not for ourselves but for the good of all Aachim. We continue to do so for the good of humanity. It has been a long struggle, as it must always be when the least opposes the greatest, and because we would not act contrary to our nature. We would not be corrupted by our quest.’