9: The Iron Temple (16 page)

“No.” Saimura shook his head. He turned one of Ji’s red message stones over in his hand. “He and Fenn would have reached Amura’hyym’ir when the fighting broke out there. The Bousim ambushed a group of kahlirash’im in the town. Common people were caught up in the fight. The man we talked to said it was a bloodbath.”

“Lafi’shir is tough,” Tai’yu said. “He’ll be all right.”

Saimura nodded, but he didn’t seem reassured. John realized that Tai’yu hadn’t mentioned Fenn.

“Tell them about the Warren,” Tai’yu said to Saimura.

“The Warren?” Pirr’tu looked alarmed and John felt as if his own heart had skipped a beat.

“It hasn’t been breached, not yet at least,” Saimura assured them. “But Ji has evacuated the entire thing.”

“What? Why?” Pirr’tu demanded.

“It’s not safe…” Saimura gazed down at the message stone and then briefly glanced to John. “That’s all she said about it. She doesn’t want us going near the Warren until she sends word that it’s secured.”

“So what do we do?” Pirr’tu asked.

“Wait here for Lafi’shir and Fenn,” Saimura said.

Pirr’tu slumped on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

“I hate waiting,” he grumbled.

“You like the serving girl here well enough. I’m sure you’ll manage,” Saimura replied.

“But there’s fighting going on. We should be on the southern roads. We should ride to Amura’hyym’ir and find Lafi’shir,” Pirr’tu replied.

“We wait for Lafi’shir here.” Saimura’s tone was hard. “If he doesn’t come by the end of the week, then we’ll ride to Amura’hyym’ir to find him and Fenn.”

“Saimura’s right,” Tai’yu said. “If Lafi’shir tries to get a message to us, he’ll send it here.”

Tai’yu proffered a thick slice of bread to John. John accepted it and ate, but he was so tired that he didn’t really taste much. He hoped Fenn and Lafi’shir were safe. He felt deeply worried that they weren’t.

All four of them sat in silence for several minutes.

“Do you know when the Bousim rashan’im are going to breach the Warren? We should be there to help Ji.” Pirr’tu sounded both frustrated and worried. “We could be there in four days, if we rode hard—”

“Ji specifically ordered us not to go anywhere near the Warren,” Saimura cut Pirr’tu off. “She has it under control.”

Pirr’tu scowled at the ceiling and again all four of them lapsed into silence. John understood Pirr’tu’s frustration. It was agonizing to know that people you cared for were in danger and you could do nothing to help them. For the last day his own thoughts had been haunted by the image of Ravishan standing alone against an army of rashan’im. He wanted to reach Ravishan and protect him, not wait here in Gisa. And at the same time he knew that acting on his desire would be pointless. He didn’t even know where Ravishan was, much less where he would be in an hour. John could spend weeks riding from place to place and never once arrive before Ravishan was gone.

“I think I’m going to visit my family tomorrow,” Tai’yu said quietly. “I’ll bring back some decent food. Maybe some soft cheese.”

“That would be nice,” Saimura replied.

“I could use a little wine,” Pirr’tu said. “The last I had tasted like old bathwater.”

“Anything for you, Jath’ibaye?” Tai’yu asked.

“Just a good night’s sleep,” John said.

“That you can get right now,” Saimura said. “In fact, we should all get some rest.”

“I’ll put out the lamps.” John got up and snuffed the lamps. He returned to his bed but didn’t sleep. His entire body ached with fatigue. He desperately craved rest, but his thoughts were still filled with the images of the rashan’im’s army and Ravishan’s bloodied face.

John lay in the dark as the other men steadily drifted into sleep. He listened to them breathe and shift in their beds. The fifth morning bell sounded from Gisa. The sun would rise soon. John pressed his face down into the pillow. The smell of his own hair lingered there.

Then he felt the cold hiss of the Gray Space and he sat up at once. Ravishan stood beside his bed and for the briefest instant John thought that he might have fallen asleep after all and now he was dreaming. But the cold feel of Ravishan’s hand against his shoulder assured John that he was awake. John curled his own hand over Ravishan’s, warming his fingers. Ravishan knelt beside his bed. The gash across his forehead had healed to a dark scab.

“I don’t have much time,” Ravishan whispered. “Is there somewhere where we can be alone?”

“Lafi’shir rented a private room. I’ll take you there.” John got out of bed and quickly pulled on his pants. He led Ravishan to the locked door of Lafi’shir’s private room. Ravishan disappeared into the Gray Space and then an instant later opened the door from inside. John stepped in and pushed the door closed behind him.

He pulled Ravishan into his arms and kissed him deeply. His lips were cold, but the inside of his mouth burned. Ravishan returned John’s embrace with almost painful intensity. He gripped John’s back, pulling him closer, so that their bodies pressed together tightly. The icy cold of Ravishan’s flesh warmed under John’s touch. Ravishan seemed to almost melt against John, his hands relaxing and slowly sliding down from John’s back to his hips. Then he opened the front of John’s pants.

The contact of Ravishan’s hand against the bare flesh of his groin sent a thrill through John’s entire body.

“You can’t know how much I’ve missed you,” Ravishan whispered.

“I do,” John assured him. “I’ve missed you too.”

John drew Ravishan to the bed. They fell back together, kissing and caressing each other as if they were starved men and this mounting ecstasy was their only sustenance.

Then, all too soon, they were both spent. John relaxed back against the mattress. There had been a pillow on the bed, but he thought they’d knocked it to the floor at some point. It didn’t matter; for the first time in what felt like months John thought he might sleep deeply and well. He kissed Ravishan’s brow lightly.    

Then Ravishan pulled back from him and sat up. He began straightening the mess John had made of his clothes.

“I have to go,” Ravishan said breathlessly. “I only came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? No, don’t go.” Just the thought of it alarmed John. He sat up beside Ravishan.

“The kahlirash’im have rebelled against the Payshmura—”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you need to go.” John pulled Ravishan into his arms and for a moment he relaxed against John.

“By morning, the ushiri’im will breach the wards of Vundomu. If they aren’t stopped, the entire fortress will be defeated.” Ravishan’s voice was firm. John felt him tensing against his embrace. “Their battle is our battle. I have to go.”

“There are too many ushiri’im,” John whispered. “You’ll be killed.”

Ravishan reached up and gently touched John’s cheek. He gazed through the darkness into John’s face.

“I won’t be killed. My god will protect me.”

“No! He won’t—he can’t—” John’s voice broke, and he realized that there were tears in his eyes. “He can’t protect you.”

“Jahn,” Ravishan said quietly, “I know that you don’t want to accept this, but you must. You have more strength than you realize and Basawar needs you. We don’t have time to wait any longer.”

“What?” John was so confused that he relaxed his hold on Ravishan.

“You have come from across the worlds for this,” Ravishan said gently. He stood and stepped back from the bed. “I should have realized sooner. I should have told you and made you ready for this battle. I’ve been so in love with the man that you are that I failed to see how much more you really are. But when I heard of all that you’ve done, in Yah’hali and here in Gisa, I couldn’t ignore the truth. Jahn, you were brought to me not just as a lover but as Parfir’s incarnation. You are the Rifter.”

John didn’t know how he’d expected this conversation to proceed, but it hadn’t been like this. He struggled to gather his thoughts.

“I know this must be hard to accept,” Ravishan said softly. “I should have told you sooner—”

“No, it’s not that,” John said. “I know you’re right. I guessed as much…But that isn’t the point. Even if I am the Rifter, you still shouldn’t go to Vundomu.”

“Your temple is there and so are your most devoted priests,” Ravishan replied. “As your Kahlil I must be there. I must defend them.”

“It’s suicide.” John bounded up and stepped close to Ravishan. “I saw you fighting the rashan’im. You nearly died. You can’t take them on as well as the ushiri’im.”

“I have faith in you, Jahn.”

“I don’t have the power that you think—” John began to protest, but Ravishan cut him off.

“Whether you were the Rifter or not, I would have to do this, Jahn. The kahlirash’im are fighting for everything I believe in. I have to go to them. I know it’s unfair of me to expect you to protect Vundomu, but I want you to know that I believe in you. I love you.” Ravishan returned the gentle kiss John had given him as they had lain in bed. Then he turned, slicing the Gray Space open with a swift motion of his hand, and was gone.

 John felt as though he might crumple to the ground. His legs buckled. A terrible sickness washed through him. Between the guns of the rashan’im and the Silence Knives of the ushiri’im, Ravishan would be torn to pieces.

“You idiot!” John shouted. But he knew Ravishan was already miles away, risking his life like some kind of imbecile, like it didn’t matter if he died. As if he didn’t know that nothing mattered to John more.

John’s exhaustion evaporated in the face of his frustration, anger, and fear. He threw the door aside and charged down the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. A furious wind snapped and whirled around him. He would go to Vundomu and nothing would stop him.

Chapter Ninety-Seven

John sprinted despite cramps and aching, burning lungs. He pushed himself harder and faster. Muscle fibers in his calves and thighs ripped as he threw himself forward. Crippling pain wrenched through his legs and John drank it in. Strength surged up from his pain. He ran and his body burned, snow melting to vapor beneath his feet. He tore through miles of open road, passing lone riders and weary travelers like a streak of light in a sweeping storm.

 A searing wind whirled out from his passage. It ripped branches from trees and hurled earth and snow aside. John leaped and the wind lifted him and sent him soaring. Where he struck the ground, stones ignited to glass. Overhead, black clouds gathered. Lightning crashed through the darkness.

 John moved faster than muscle and bone could endure, and yet it was not fast enough. The sun rose, illuminating the charred remains of a farmhouse. Behind him, the city Amura’hyym’ir stood like an abandoned ruin and in the distance ahead John saw black plumes of smoke rising from Vundomu.

The huge fortress rose though a haze of smoke like a burning mountain. Its seven levels of terraced walls were studded with watchtowers and guns. Many of those on the three lowest levels were burning. Higher up, the dark banners with the scarlet moons of the kahlirash’im still waved.

At the foot of Vundomu thousands of soldiers massed. They filled the valley and moved like waves, washing up against the black walls, falling back and surging over. At this distance, the screams and shouts were faint. The roar of godhammers sounded like tiny bottle rockets. John felt the disturbing shudders of the Gray Space tearing open again and again.

John charged forward, praying that somewhere in the midst of those struggling masses Ravishan was still alive. He took the first ranks of soldiers by surprise, racing through their midst with a black storm crashing down in his wake. But the valley was thick with men and tahldi, and in seconds, the pike men turned their assault on John.

They closed their ranks around him and charged with long iron pikes. The metal shafts rent into John’s body. He choked on a cry of pain as a wild power surged through him. Suddenly the pikes cracked and burned to ash. John threw the men aside. He needed to get to Vundomu. It was all he could think of now.

Bullets punched into his back as he continued into the ranks of the army. Rashan’im broke off from their assault on Vundomu and charged John. All he could see were masses of bodies, tahldi, and soldiers in their green Bousim uniforms. A huge tahldi reared and brought its hooves down into John’s chest. His bones cracked and a wave of agony exploded through him. Blind fury surged through John.

He punched into the tahldi’s chest and its body split open. Hot blood washed over John. A foot soldier drove a pike into John’s side and he roared with rage. Lightning struck in fast bolts, rending through men and animals. The wind surged around John, hurling bodies aside.

And still there were miles of men between him and Vundomu. John screamed in frustration and the sound broke like thunder. The ground shuddered as John sprinted forward and then huge chasms split open, swallowing men, cannons, and animals. The deafening groans of the earth engulfed the shrieks and explosions of powder kegs. John raced onward.

The valley floor collapsed in John’s wake, leaving only small islands of stone where John had briefly stood. He threw himself forward and the storm lifted him. Lightning illuminated him, striking out from his furious glances. Thunder crashed through the skies. Where he struck ground, the earth crumbled and swallowed riders and soldiers by the hundreds.

John hardly noticed. He needed to reach Vundomu. He could feel the ushiri’im tearing the Gray Space much more intensely now. Even in the stench of blood and gunpowder, he smelled the sharp scent of searing ozone. He heard the scream of the Gray Space opening. The ushiri’im were high up inside Vundomu. John had only reached the fortress walls.

Desperately, the Bousim forces already inside Vundomu closed the fortress gates. Godhammers from the breached walls fired on John. John swung his hands up and the shells cracked and burned apart in midair. Flaming shrapnel pounded the men below.