Bones of the Empire (31 page)

“Insanity,” she said, shaking her head. “It is like a pack with no leader. Arella is beyond incompetent.”

“This city isn’t hers. Only the priests are.”

“Then the priests need to take charge, with her guiding them. They can easily enforce some proper order among these people.”

Estin tugged at her sleeve as they approached the steps, drawing her attention away from a group of humans she was eyeing a little too warily for his taste. “That’s how some cities work, with a king or other noble. The king is the pack-leader, the knights and other lesser nobility are his enforcers, and the people are supposed to follow their lead.”

“Then there is hope for humans after all,” she answered, following close to him up the steps. “I do not appreciate being so outnumbered, though.”

They reached the top of the steps, where Arella and Rishad waited patiently for them. Behind them, Turess walked about farther back in the temple, his white underrobe replaced with one that had no bloodstains. While the two priests kept their hoods down, Turess had his up. He roamed from one sculpture or engraved wall to the next, studying the artwork. The man grinned when he saw something that amused him. He looked to have entirely forgotten about everyone else nearby.

“I had worried you might have fled the city again,” Rishad called out. With the din from the hundreds of people in the streets, he had to practically yell, even though he was no more than ten feet away. “Turess had more faith in you. He claimed that you would never let us down, which is saying quite a bit for your kind.”

Arella jabbed Rishad in the ribs with her elbow hard enough that he almost lost his balance, but he covered it well, nearly managing to keep his smile through it.

“Why are all these people out in the streets?” Feanne asked, hurrying into the quieter area inside the temple walls. “I was told this was simply to discuss the priests coming to our aid.”

“That’s what they told me,” added Estin, giving Rishad a glare. The man seemed to not notice or chose to pretend. “No one mentioned an audience.”

Stepping closer Arella explained, “Nothing is ever quite that simple. The priests defend their city…their den, one might say. If the city does not go to war, the priests do not go to war. Politicians control the rest of the army, though we can influence their decisions. Today, we need to do just that if you wish to have your army.”

Estin stopped near the entrance to the temple walls to look back over the city. The streets had completely filled. Thousands of faces watched the temple, and hundreds more could be seen leaning out windows of homes and shops as far as Estin could see. They had even filled the walls, crowding the battlements. It appeared as though every last person in Jnodin was trying to get close enough to watch.

“What did you tell them?” he asked, backing into the temple and putting a wall between himself and the population. The change in volume was startling.

Arella walked up to Feanne, who watched her warily, clearly expecting an attack. “The transformation you went through yesterday…can you do that at will?”

“I can. It will be weaker each time I do, unless I have had weeks to rest. Why?” Feanne sounded concerned about giving away too much information. Estin also knew she was downplaying the difficulties of the change—the strain of the change could kill her if she tried again too soon. About once a month was all she had ever tried without severely hurting herself in the process.

“Because I will need you to do it. Your strength will not matter. No harm will come to you. I swear it, Feanne.”

Looking back at Estin, Feanne seemed to be questioning whether she should. It struck him as odd when she did that, but when it came to cities and humans, she often trusted his judgment far more than her own. Reluctantly, he nodded.

“A good choice,” whispered a woman behind Estin.

Spinning, Estin found Mairlee had managed to sneak up on him, as though she had appeared from thin air between him and the wall of the temple. As soon as she spoke, he saw Turess back quickly away, putting the stone altar between himself and the old woman.

“Turess, come here,” Mairlee called, and he cautiously came back around the altar and walked over. “You did the enchanting of the walls of this temple, correct?”

“I did,” he replied, glancing up at the line of runes at the top of the wall. “Pictures and altar are new. The words at top are mine, but are very old now.”

“You will do your part, then,” she said, poking him in the chest hard enough that Turess winced and rubbed at that spot. “Refresh their energies when the time is right. Faith is as much about a message as seeing something that reminds you that you made the right choice. We will show these people that their choice was correct.”

“What is signal?” Turess asked, but Mairlee only cackled in reply.

“And you,” she said to Estin, pointing an accusing finger his way. “You we need to fix, and Turess’s way is too slow. You’re a useless soft-skinned rodent until we deal with that, whereas I need you strong for what is to come. Do not let me forget once I’ve shown you what we’re up against tomorrow or the next day. Today is Feanne’s day, though.”

Estin opened his mouth to reply, but Mairlee turned her back on him, effectively ending any conversation.

Reluctantly hand-led by Arella, Feanne was taken to the top of the steps, where they were visible to the entire population of Jnodin. Feanne struggled to keep from shrinking away from the attention of so many furless people. The tension all through her body was evident and made Estin wonder if she was about to panic, as though cornered. She was as afraid of showing weakness as she was of being surrounded, creating a difficult situation for her.

“Now would be the time,” Arella said as she turned and took a knee in front of Feanne. “You must change. Show them the new leader of their priests.”

Feanne trembled, looking between Arella and the thousands of people outside the temple. She was terrified…not of changing, but of losing control. Estin knew that look all too well. She was watching the people—especially the children—wondering if she would kill all of them. Feanne had been clear in her concerns: she did not know if the control she had gained over her transformation in years past had come back from death with her.

“Feanne,” Estin whispered, now that the city had gone nearly silent, “I trust you. You can do this. I’ll be right here. I won’t let anything happen.”

Closing her eyes and slowly calming herself, Feanne’s tension gradually eased. After several seconds, the bones in her legs snapped and shifted, first indications of the transformation. Within seconds, she fell forward, her spine breaking and reshaping. What little noise had continued beyond the temple walls died as Feanne’s choked cries of pain echoed through the place.

“That would be the signal,” Mairlee said, slapping Turess on the arm and nearly knocking him over. “Get to work, human.”

Rubbing his arm, Turess stepped out of the woman’s reach and pointed up at the runes carved into the walls, making slight motions with his fingers as he cast some form of spell Estin could not follow. It almost looked as though he were writing, tracing the runes on the walls high overhead. To Estin’s surprise, the silver bracelet Turess wore glowed faintly, as though flames were dancing across its etchings.

Returning his attention to Feanne, Estin watched her stand and straighten to her full height over Arella, who remained kneeling. Feanne lifted her head and surveyed the crowd outside the temple as though seeing them for the first time, her glowing eyes narrowing as she judged them. Her toes spread slowly as she adjusted her footing, appearing ready to charge or run.

Drawing both Estin and Feanne’s attention from the crowds, Rishad also stepped forward and dropped to his knees before her.

“Now it gets interesting,” Mairlee said to Estin, giggling to herself. “I doubt any city’s actors will be able to outdo this for some time. I have come to enjoy the performers in cities, and today I intend to put them all to shame.”

A rumble passed through the walls and floor of the temple as the etching far above lit with a blue flame, illuminating the area despite the already-bright sunlight. Every picture carved into the walls lit a moment later in the same magical flame, creating large glowing images that burned into Estin’s eyes. One in particular, an image of Kerrelin as he had seen it in the book the night before, faced the crowds, appearing eerily similar to Feanne. There was no mistake in Estin’s mind that they had chosen Feanne’s position such that she would be easily compared with the image.

Mairlee made a slight motion of her hand, concentrating on something. A second later, Feanne let out a roar that made Estin’s ears ring as she changed yet again. This time the change took only a couple seconds, her bones elongating and her muscles growing. When it finished, she towered over the temple the same way the creature in the paintings towered over the woods, her paws breaking the stones under her. The already-bright glow from her eyes was blinding, casting green illumination across sections of the crowd as she swept her gaze across the city. Slowly, the entire population of Jnodin dropped to their knees, and Feanne lifted her head and howled.

The cries of wolves and other animals came in reply from somewhere nearby, likely just outside the walls by the sound of them. Overhead, a group of giant bats raced past despite the bright skies above them, shrieking their own reply to Feanne.

“That, my boy, is how we convince humans that some made-up god has come back,” Mairlee said, still giggling as Feanne let out another howl that shattered several windows near the temple. “Bet you didn’t think you married a god.”

“I’ll never live that down if you tell her that,” he said, leaning against the wall and shaking his head in stunned amazement as dozens of werewolves came up the steps of the temple and knelt in front of Feanne. “She’s going to expect this every time she goes into a human city now.”

“If we must, we’ll put on the show at each city until we have the forces we need. I doubt most mortals would question this display.”

“What if Kerrelin isn’t made up?”

Mairlee laughed. “Kerrelin was not its original name. The Miharon fostered belief in itself as a god of the wilderness, back before its power became lessened. Over time, the humans of this city adapted a name that Turessians used for a dark force of nature to create the legend of Kerrelin. I knew the one who that name is based on, and I assure you, the original was no god. Not that the Miharon was either. I’ve always tended to put my faith in the dragons, if one were to worship old gods. The Miharon tended to chide me for that bit of egotistical nonsense.”

“You knew the Miharon?”

Mairlee tilted her head to look at Estin from the corner of her eyes. “I did. That creature taught me a few things in my youth. For one thing, never to bargain with the fae. I still owe it a debt, should it find a way to come back and collect.”

Turning to look for Turess, Estin found he had nearly finished his work on the runes atop the walls, though he was sweating badly and shaking. Whatever Turess was doing, it was far more than creating a glowing script along the walls. When he finished, he quickly hurried to the shadows near the altar to escape anyone else’s attention, gasping for breath. He kept his arm with the bracelet far from his body, as it steamed ominously.

Looking back to Mairlee, Estin asked, “Can we do this? Can we win?”

“That depends on many things, wildling. I’ve called to my kin. We will see if they join us. Regardless, you have your army now. Lead them wisely. I will fetch you when it’s time for our little trip. In the meantime, see what you can do to get these people thinking on worshipping some properly scaled old gods.”

Estin opened his mouth to thank Mairlee, but when he blinked, she was gone.

He returned his attention to Feanne, but she was surrounded by bowing humans, who cut Estin off from her. His next thought was to retreat into the temple with Turess, far from the noise of the crowds, but upon looking for him, Estin found he had moved over to another carving along one wall. What appeared to be a cat wildling was depicted, leading armies of creatures Estin could not make out.

Turess stood before the carving, his gloved fingers tracing the face of the wildling. An expression of both fury and sadness drifted across his features, dismissing any desire Estin had to interrupt him. Whatever was bothering him would wait until another day.