The Fire Mages' Daughter (43 page)

We walked for some distance downhill, but then, abruptly, an archway and we were into some kind of living space, with furnishings in soft shapes and warmly coloured draperies. Another turn, another archway and—

A vast, high-ceilinged room, with fires and cooking pots at one end, and low sofas at the other end. The walls glowed almost as brightly as summer, and instead of carvings on the walls, there were painted pictures, beautiful seascapes or mountains. As I gazed at them, thinking how lifelike they were, they moved – grasses blown by the wind, clouds shifting, the endlessly moving sea. Just a trick by the long-dead mages who built this place.

From the kitchen end of the room, the smell of roasting meat wafted. The middle of the room was filled with tables. And people.

The murmur of conversation died away as a hundred or more faces turned to us, open mouthed. Hard to say who was more astonished, us or them.

Behind me, Cal hissed with displeasure, grabbing one of Ly’s arms and pulling him round to face him. “And you never thought to mention that half your army was here with you?” He gave Ly a shake. “Well?
Well
?”

“Not my army,” Ly whispered. “My people. My
children
.”

Before we could absorb this odd statement, a figure emerged from the throng and sped towards us. “Little-Ly! What are you doing here? What is that sodomising
whore
doing here? Why are you—”

She stopped, noticing the manacles for the first time. Her eyes narrowed, flicking to me then back to Ly. “You sodomising
stupid
boy! You’ve been fucking her again, haven’t you? You’ve destroyed everything, don’t you realise that? You—”

There was more, but no sound emerged from her throat. Her mouth continued to flap for some time before her brain caught on. Then she just stared at us, her jaw slack.

“Kyra?” Cal said, but his voice quivered with amusement. “Did you put a silencing spell on her?”

She shrugged. “Well, that was very tedious. It will wear off in an hour or two.”

“And such language from a lady,” I said in an undertone.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Cal said to Ly-haam.

“She is my mother,” he said, and the resignation in his voice almost made me laugh.

I tapped him on the shoulder. “I like my mother better.”

He looked puzzled, so I tipped my head towards her. “Oh!” He looked at her, then back at me, then at Mother again. “Oh, but—”

I smiled. He was quite right. No one would look at my mother’s pale skin and red-blonde hair and imagine that I grew from that stock. I was rounded like her, and perhaps I had some of her stubbornness, but little else. “I take after my father.”

Then Ly looked round at Cal, who smiled and shook his head.

“No,” I said. “My father was Icthari.”

Ly looked at Mother again, and then at his own, red-faced and mute, and his lips twitched. “I like your mother better, too, Princess.”

Cal gave a bark of laughter. “It’s unanimous, then.”

Mother tutted at us. “By the Moon God, who
are
all these people?”

Ly hung his head. “My children,” he said again, his voice so low I could barely make out the words.

Children? Now that I looked, there were a lot of children there, from babes in their mothers’ arms to those about five. His children? Had Ly sired all these babes to found his future army?

Yet… there was something wrong with them. Almost at my feet, a tiny child crawled, pulling herself along by her arms. My stomach turned over as I realised the reason why – her legs were no more than stumps. A baby gazed at me with one beautiful blue eye and one empty socket. Another child looked perfect, but his mother held him with her one remaining arm. A man holding a cooking pot had a livid red scar running right across his face.

Fully a third of those in the room had suffered terrible injuries. I turned a shocked face to Ly.

He nodded. “My children.” And his face crumpled in distress.

“Oh, poor things!” Mother said. “Let’s see what we can do. Who is the worst?” She strode forward, pulled out an unused chair and plumped herself down. “Come along, now. I can fix some of this.”

They looked at her blankly, not understanding.

“She is a kindly mage,” Ly-haam said, in a louder voice. “She can heal your hurts with her magic. She will not harm you.”

He must have spoken in his own language, for his words triggered a buzz of discussion. Gradually, they stepped forward, first one or two, then more and more, until I couldn’t see Mother at all. With a cluck of annoyance, Cal dived into the throng, although whether to help out or to keep order, I couldn’t tell.

“Whatever happened here?” I said to Ly.

“Come,” he said, waving both manacled hands towards an unoccupied table near the wall. “Sit with me and I will explain.”

His mother had been standing in silent outrage the whole time, petrified into immobility, but now she rushed forward and grabbed Ly’s sleeve, mouthing angrily at him. He pulled out of her grasp and, ignoring her, walked away, holding a chair for me.

“Sit, Princess.”

A boy of fifteen or so limped across with food and drink for us. It was only bread and fruit, but it was fresh and wholesome. The drink was cloudy and yellow, yet served in a crystal decanter with matching glasses.

“Isn’t there meat?” Ly said to the boy, who shook his head and scuttled away.

“I am sorry the meat is not quite ready yet. Or the fish,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes. He picked up a pear and began to slice it. “Here – will you have some of this? It is very sweet.”

I nibbled a piece to please him, and drank a little – it was sweet, too – but his magic still sustained me and suppressed my appetite.

He sat with his back to the room, and it struck me again that he always seemed so alone. Only his mother, still silently impotent, had followed us to our quiet spot. The rest of his people ignored him, going about their chores or waiting for the meal as if their leader – their god – wasn’t even there. But perhaps they didn’t see him that way. Was he just a boy to them, who would grow to manhood and be worthy of respect in time? Or was he a failure now, a god reduced to mortality by foreign magic?

“All the children here are mine,” he said, with such desolation in his voice that I could have wept. “My blood. My power in them. They are born with their full capability, so they do not have to wait until they reach fifteen, and undergo the ceremony. And for those that bond with a blood-spirit, there is twenty years of growth, not the five that follow when I give my blood to an adult. The animals they create – they are a marvel, Princess! You think the ones you have seen are abnormally large, but the creatures these children create will be bigger by far.”

Dreadful thought. We would have no chance against such monsters.

“When I first became
byan shar
,” he went on, “I thought it was a wonderful idea. All I had to do was to give my seed to any woman who wished for it. And… you know the effect of it, it kept the power in my blood at manageable levels. I felt normal, like myself. And I had all the women in my bed I could dream of. I was so happy! At fifteen, I thought the gods had smiled on me indeed.”

I smiled, too. No wonder he was happy! What boy of that age wouldn’t be?

“But then as soon as the children were born, there were problems. They have full power at birth, but they are still babies, with no understanding. They began to bond with blood-spirits, but without any control over their own emotions. When they grow angry, their blood-spirit is angry also. If they want to kill, so does the blood-spirit. Many people died or were grievously injured.”

“But this must be well known to your people,” I said, appalled. “You must have developed ways to deal with it, surely?”

He sighed. “The mothers are sent to a special
clava-dorn—”
He frowned, lips pursed. “A protected village, I suppose you would call it. It has a high wall all round it, to keep the blood-spirits out. They all live there, the babies are born there, it is remote enough that perhaps the blood-spirits will not find it, not until the babies are old enough to control them. But they find it anyway, and prowl all round the walls. And the eagles and white-wings…” He shrugged. “There are… accidents. And some of the mothers are foolish. They think their babies have no blood-spirit connection, so they go home to their clan…”

He paused, lifting his head to look directly into my eyes. His face, usually so expressive, was filled with something I couldn’t interpret at all. For once, I was the first to look away.

“We brought them here,” he went on. “There is something wholesome about this place. The beasts are manageable here, and the injured – they do not get better, but they do not sicken and die. But I began to have concerns about what I was doing. And then I learned that not all the women who came to me for my seed did so willingly. Their clans sent them, for the honour of bearing the
byan shar
’s child. But even when they are unhappy about it, they are drawn to me, and…” His face twisted in anguish. “It is not
right
. Such things should be a matter of pleasure not duty. So what had always been a delight to me became a burden, a great wrong I was inflicting on my people. And then there was
you
, Princess. That first time, I realised that… my blood is corrupt. Evil. I determined not to pass my seed any more, even if the woman was willing. But then…”

He hung his head, and I stroked his hand, helpless to give him any greater comfort. It was clear what had happened. Without any outlet, his magic had built up to intolerable levels and tipped him into war. Poor Ly. Perhaps he truly was an abomination. But no… he was just a man, with powers he couldn’t fully master, no different from these children with their blood-spirits.

“I could not prevent myself from summoning the war clans. I tried, but… And then I thought, perhaps if we have a little war now, when my power is still weak, and the war clans are small, perhaps it will not be so bad and… and the anger will be all used up and we could start again. But it grew too much, Princess. It was terrible, terrible, and I never meant it to happen, never.”

He was shaking, rocking from side to side, and his voice wavered. What could I say to him? It’s all right, don’t worry about it, it wasn’t your fault? But it wasn’t all right, because however little he’d intended it, he’d caused immense devastation to Bennamore. Countless good men and women had died, on both sides, because of Ly. Whatever his motives, he’d done great evil.

He clung to my hand as if he’d never let it go. In all this mess, I was the one good factor for him, someone who could take away his blood magic so that he could be whole and himself for a little while. And truly, as I gazed at his thin, pale face, it struck me how young he was to be burdened with such responsibility. Where were the wise elders to guide him to maturity safely?

I knew where one of them was. She watched me now in silent hatred.

“Your mother advised you very badly,” I said loudly, looking her straight in the eye so that she must know I was talking about her.

Startled, Ly glanced at her, then back at me. “She advised me to do my duty, in the traditional way. The injuries, the deaths – that is how it is supposed to be. Only the strongest survive, and so the
byan shar
breeds an army which has no weakness. She thinks I should let them fight, that I should do my duty and breed my army and in time be a great war leader, because I am
byan shar
, and the gods have selected me for this task. It is my destiny. I do not know how she could have advised me differently.”

“Oh, Ly. It’s for you to make your own destiny. You don’t have to be a war leader if you don’t want to be. You know how to keep your blood magic levels low. Your mother should have helped you find a nice young woman who would take your seed and
not
get pregnant.”

“Oh… but she would never do that. She would think it quite wrong.”

“And you have to do what she says.” I grunted in disgust. “She has a lot to answer for.”

~~~~~

At dawn I summoned Sunshine and prepared to fly to the fortress. I couldn’t even wait to eat morning board, I was so avid to be gone. I had paced all night, so desperate was I to know if Arran was well or injured or – the gods forbid! – dead.

Ly gazed at me with huge eyes, but said nothing. I’d said nothing of Arran to him – it was too complicated to explain, and I had no time to spare. Mother had chained Ly to the wall again, or rather, to a large pillar, for in this strange glowing place nothing would embed in the wall itself. None of us thought it was necessary to restrain him. It was symbolic, and effective, for his people went about their morning rituals with eyes averted. Even his mother, speechless no longer, had abandoned him.

Mother and Cal tried to persuade me to wait, protesting that it wasn’t safe yet. But I had another reason for urgency. I was still over-full of Ly’s magic. I needed to relieve that pressure, but it had to be Arran this time. I was determined not to succumb again to my previous weakness.

“I’ll send a troop of soldiers to escort you and Ly,” I said. “We’ll all be safe inside the fortress before noon.”

“Not me,” Mother said firmly. “I still have scores of injuries to examine. I couldn’t possibly leave yet.”

“Kyra, you can’t,” Cal said. “It’s not allowed, and it’s not safe.” But she had that mulish look on her face, and he knew better than to argue any more. “Well…” A heavy sigh. “If you must, then I’ll stay, too. But you should get
him
out of here as soon as you can, Drina.” We were agreed on that. “What exactly are you going to do with him?”

“Do with him?”

“Yes. He’s your prisoner, a conquest of war. It is for you to determine his fate.”

I hadn’t thought much beyond finding Ly and taking his magic. If I’d considered the matter at all, I expect I would have envisaged him going home to his island on the great lake where his people lived. But of course that would never do, because his magic would regenerate. I’d refused to kill him, but what was to be done with him now? What was the best punishment? But I didn’t have to decide that. I could let other, wiser minds, more learned than I, decide his fate.

“I shall take him to Kingswell and put him on trial so that he may answer for his crimes against us.”

Ly smiled.

Outside, I scanned the skies carefully, but saw no sign of other birds. Even so, once aloft I circled the island once, twice, to check again. Near the black-bark forest, a small group of beasts – blood-spirits, as Ly called them – were clustered at the water’s edge, drinking. Their riders huddled nearby, talking calmly together. If their mounts had been horses, there would have been nothing remarkable about them at all. No sign now of the violent aggression that had driven them in war. As I watched, they mounted up and rode into the black-bark forest. The trees would part for them, even with their small magic, it seemed.

The skies were empty, so I directed Sunshine to the fortress. Even from a distance, the blackened stripes of firestones were visible on the lower walls. No one from inside had ventured beyond the gates yet, and many huge carcases still littered the base of the walls. Amongst the larger bodies, many smaller ones, crumpled and immobile, the tragedy of war. I saw no one moving. I hoped the Clans had carried away their own injured.

Inside, all was bustle, the yards a swirl of horses, riders, wagons and soldiers moving here and there, and the battlements still lined with archers. The watchguards were paying attention, though, for the welcome bell clanged from its tower as I swooped in to land. Scores of figures running towards my landing place. Commanders’ uniforms, soldiers, low-level workers – where was he? He wasn’t there! My heart dipped in sudden fear.

No, there he was! Running, running, his face alight with joy. I could barely scramble off the eagle’s back in my eagerness to be with him. Then he was there, and I was safe in his arms, crying from fear and relief, and all was well again.

“Thank all the gods!” he said into my hair a dozen times. “I have been so worried for you, my love, out there in the centre of this terrible war. But you are so brave, so good, so…
wonderful!
And the gods have protected you, and brought you back safe to me.”

The commanders stood in a wide circle, waiting politely until I was done weeping and exclaiming with delight and kissing. But I had no time to waste.

“It’s over,” I told them. “Their boy god is in chains on the island. Send a troop or two across to escort him here.”

I grabbed Arran’s hand, and would have run off, but the Acting High Commander coughed. “The island, Most Powerful?”

“Yes, the island in the lake. The tower in the middle. He’s there, with Lady Mage Kyra and Lord Mage Cal. Off you go.”

“Is there a boat?”

Ah. Demons, I’d forgotten about that. “Oh. Bother. All the boats are on the island.”

“No matter. We will build a raft.”

I laughed delightedly. “Excellent. Do that, High Commander. I will hold a full planning meeting in… shall we say three hours? I need to bathe and change and… erm, rest.”

“Of course, Most Powerful.” He bowed – they all bowed or saluted – and finally I could skip away with Arran to our room.