The Destroyer Goddess (68 page)

"It's the Beckoner."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dar demands worship, 

but the sea demands respect.

                  —Proverb of the Sea-Born Folk

Tansen had traveled the world, met extraordinary people, seen unimaginable places, witnessed strange customs and bizarre rites, and encountered truly bewildering events. 

But he had never come across anything like
this
.

"They
are
insane," Faradar said with certainty, shouting into his ear to be heard above the hysterical trilling and ululating all around them. "All of them. They will be of no use to us."

Dar had been Calling these people here, to Darshon, from all over Sileria, and no one knew why. Now Tansen understood the confusion. These people were all clearly too incoherent to explain what drew them here. He'd be surprised to find one who could answer a simple question, never mind clarify what was happening here.

Most of them were filthy and wearing only tattered rags, as if they'd been here a long time. Others were better groomed, but their behavior was just as strange. Men and women reeled in maniacal dancing, shaking their heads madly, waving their arms, spinning around and around until they fell down—or else entered some kind of fevered state which enabled them to touch the lava flows without being burned. Tansen and his companion stared in disbelief as some of these enraptured praise-singers walked on the lava—even danced on it.

Faradar asked, "Have you ever seen—"

"Never." 

"Are they Guardians?"

"No." The Firebringer's loyalists relied too much on Guardians to lose them without complaint. Tansen would know if they'd been deserting in such great numbers.

"They're just... ordinary people, then?" Faradar asked.

"I think so."

"Favored by Dar."

"Yes..."

In addition to the dancing, screeching worshippers who seemed to be
everywhere
on Mount Darshon, there was also—mercifully—water. He and Faradar drank, then filled their waterskins. He'd been to Darshon in the past but had never before seen so much water here. The intense activity of the caldera and the increasing number of lava flows were melting the snow at Darshon's summit and swelling the water supplies lower down on its slopes. 

Dar was ensuring that Her most devout worshippers had water in a land tormented by the enduring dry season and the war against the Society.

"
Siran!
" 

Tansen looked at Faradar, then followed the direction of her horrified gaze, hearing the screaming even as his eyes found its source. He took a reflexive step forward, then stopped himself. There was nothing he could do for the pilgrim whose ecstatic dance on the nearby lava flow was ending in agonizing death as Tansen watched.

"These people cannot help us find the
torena
," Faradar said. "They are beyond helping even themselves."

He looked around, trying to decide what to do. By now, Mirabar could be any—

"
Tansen!"

Stunned to hear his name called under these circumstances, he peered through the glowing, mist-filled, ash-thick air. "Yes! Who's that?"

"Jalan!"

"Jalan?" Well, yes, if anyone was bound to be part of this religious madness, it was surely Jalan the
zanar
. "Where are you?"

"Here!" An absolutely filthy man jumped up and down, waving at him from the other side of the lava flow.

Tansen scarcely recognized him, he was so ragged and sooty. "Jalan, I need your—"

"She sent me to find you!"

He froze. "Who sent you?"

"The
sirana!
"

"Mirabar?" he shouted in mingled hope and relief.

"Yes! She said you would be looking for her, and I was to go as far as Gamalan if I had to, to find you and lead you to her."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes! She's with the
torena
and her son!"

"Her
son?
" he repeated incredulously.

"She's had a baby boy!" 
      "Elelar?" 

"Yes!"

"The baby's been born
already?
" Tansen asked.

"
Siran
," said Faradar, "the
torena
was definitely not—"

"The promised one has come!" Jalan shrieked. "Dar's chosen ruler is among us! The child—"

"And Cheylan?" Tansen prodded, wondering if the women and the baby were in immediate danger. 

"The
sirana
said to tell you he is dead!"

"By all the gods above and below," he murmured. "She did it. Mirabar succeeded."

"But
siran
," Faradar said. "How is it possible that the
torena
has already—"

"I don't know." His head was reeling. "I'm sure they'll tell us when we find them." He shouted to Jalan, "Where are they?"

Above the roar of the mountain, Jalan shouted, "Back that way!" He pointed vaguely behind him. Then he gestured to the lava flow separating them. "This flow wasn't here yesterday! What do we do?"

Tansen stared hard at the flow, his mind working. It was too broad to jump, even if he could find a good vantage point. He could scarcely believe what he was thinking of doing. Dar had spared him once before on this mountain, when he had come here to stop Josarian from jumping into the caldera. She could have killed him then—and nearly did—but She had wanted him to live, and so She had shown him mercy.

"Let's hope She still wants me to live," he muttered.

"
Siran?
"

"Go back down to the Sanctuary we found earlier," he advised Faradar. It had been abandoned and had a dry well, but it was the best place he could think of right now. "I'll bring them there. It may take some time, depending on Elelar's condition, and on... these lava flows."

"But
siran
, how will you..." She must have seen it in his face. "No! You can't!"

"If they can," he said, nodding to the chanting lava dancers, "maybe I can."

"And if you can't, you'll die—"

"If Mirabar is the shield and I am the sword," Tansen said, watching the river of fire ooze down the mountain, "then Dar will want me to go to that baby now. The Society has already murdered a pregnant woman in Sanctuary to keep this child from finding his place in the world, and right now he's got no protection except Mirabar—who sent Jalan to bring me here, so she must want help."

"You can't... What if..." Faradar made an awful sound. "I can't watch this."

Tansen's heart was pounding with fear, because no matter how clear his reasoning... Nonetheless, he went to the edge of the lava flow, stared into its liquid fire for a dizzying moment, then shifted his weight to—

"
No!"

He paused and turned to find Faradar staring at him in appalled horror.

"You said you weren't going to watch," he reminded her.

"I can't look away."

He shook his head and turned his back on her again. Right in front of him, a lava dancer was suddenly swallowed by the flow and sank screaming into its glowing embrace.

Tansen clenched his teeth and gently placed one boot on the flow. It moved, nearly startling him into losing his balance—Faradar shrieked behind him—but... it didn't burn. He shifted his weight onto that foot and didn't sink. The heat was intense, so overwhelming it blurred his vision, but several more steps carried him into the center of the flow without mishap. 

He'd never felt anything like it. He was walking on liquid fire! It gave gently beneath his feet, then sprang back, as if lifting him, urging him to take each new step. The slow downhill movement threatened his balance, and he felt like a child just learning to walk; but he no longer felt afraid. Whatever quarrels existed between him and Dar, She nonetheless welcomed him now as he sought to protect the ruler foretold in prophecy.

When he reached solid ground again, the ash-strewn rocky surface on the far side of the flow, Jalan embraced him and started chanting his name. Tansen looked over his shoulder at Faradar, who stood open-mouthed on the far side of the flow. He made a gesture urging her to go back to the abandoned Sanctuary they'd found earlier and wait there.

"Take me to the
sirana
," he said to Jalan.

Elelar wore smelly, filthy clothing that a pilgrim had given her. She felt as if someone had tried to break every bone in her body before setting her on fire and then splitting her in half. Which, she reflected, was more or less what had happened to her recently. However, the humiliation of lying naked and bearing a child in front of hundreds upon hundreds of strangers was fading in the glow of exultation she felt as her child—
my child!
—slept in her arms.

Mirabar was sitting nearby, looking haggard, exhausted, and battered. Her fiery red hair was a mass of tangles, her clothes were singed, her skin was streaked with soot and ash, her glowing eyes looked almost eerily yellow, and she seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Did you sleep?" Elelar asked her.

Mirabar lifted her head and frowned, obviously not having heard her clearly.

Elelar raised her voice to be heard above the cacophony of the pilgrims singing her praises, Dar's praises, the baby's praises, Mirabar's praises... "
Did you sleep?"

Mirabar looked around her in disgust. "Who could possibly sleep through this?" she shouted.

"I did. But then, I just gave birth." No matter how many times she repeated this in her mind, it still astounded her.

"What?" Mirabar shouted.

"Never mind."

My child
.

Elelar had never known it was possible to feel this way. To love this fiercely. Just looking at him brought tears of protective love and motherly pride to her eyes.

He was not just any child, of course. Although he now seemed mere flesh, rather than fire and water, he possessed extraordinary power which she would have to teach him to use wisely. She'd need help, of course, since she didn't even understand his power. 

Fire and water, water and fire...

She'd never even suspected it was possible. Nor had Mirabar, it seemed. And as for Cheylan... She shuddered and gave thanks that he was dead, even as she silently thanked him for giving her this child as his parting gift.  

Because although this baby was a ruler foretold in prophecy, favored by Dar, and brought into this world through divine forces, he was, above all,
her
child.

My son...
 

She had always wanted a daughter, actually, but now she found that it didn't matter. He was
hers
, and her love for him was already overwhelming and unshakable.

"Are you hungry?" Mirabar shouted.

Elelar glanced up from her red-haired, fire-eyed baby and saw people presenting offerings of food and drink to Mirabar. Under normal circumstances, Elelar would have refused the frankly unappealing fare, but her circumstances hadn't been normal ever since leaving her estate.

"I'm starved!" she suddenly realized.

Mirabar helped her shift her position so she could reach for the food which the pilgrims placed between them. Then the two of them attacked the hard cheese, shriveled fruit, and bitter olives with graceless hunger.

Every so often, Mirabar rubbed her head as if it ached from all the noise. 

The plan was to remain here, where they were surrounded by worshippers who would die to defend the child, until Jalan found Tansen and brought him here. Elelar supposed it could take days, and she wondered if she could restrain Mirabar from murdering some of the praise-singers before then. The famous
sirana
was starting to look very cranky.

"The volcano has been quiet since... since this happened," Elelar commented, leaning close so she didn't have to shout so loudly. "Do you think... I mean, could Dar's rages finally be over?"

Mirabar's weary gaze sought the snowline high overhead. "I don't know. The dancing lights, the colored clouds..." She met Elelar's gaze. "They're still there. I don't understand it. If She was preparing for the baby's birth..."