The Second God (28 page)

“Look!” Hethryn said, from his post at the seeing tube. He shuffled aside. “The army is responding.”

From the open town gates, a golden stream issued forth, six abreast, marching in exact step. A hundred, two hundred, three hundred at least, armour shining, swords in their hands. The golden army was an awe-inspiring sight. Our own sturdy soldiers had never been so precise, even during a parade, and a certain laxness was expected when responding to an emergency. But these men displayed not the slightest laxness. Their self-control was formidable. I wondered if they were even human, inside all that gleaming armour. I thanked all the gods that we were not called upon to face them directly in battle, because we would certainly lose.

Arran’s laughter bubbled through my mind.
“That was such fun!”

“Fun is over,”
I thought back to him.
“Get yourself out of sight.”

“All right, all right. You do panic, Drina. Everything went off perfectly, just as we planned. We are heading north first, then we will double back. See you in an hour.”

I tore my eyes away from the seeing tube, and the slow, relentless march of the golden army, and turned back to Hethryn. “The beasts are dispersing, and Ly and Arran are making a long detour. They will be back at the camp in an hour.”

“Excellent! We can leave the soldiers to rescue the traders and put out the fires before the whole plains burn up. And the lions resisted the urge to eat anyone?”

“They were completely under Ly’s control.”

“Excellent!” he said again. “A perfect demonstration of his power. He will be very useful to us.”

Perfect. That word again. Why was I the only one worried about this? We had taken the golden army by surprise, but next time they would not be unprepared. We would have to be very careful.

~~~~~

For three moons, Ly’s war-beasts were unchallenged. They could move stealthily through the high plains grasses, and lie in wait ready to spring out anywhere. Afterwards, they melted away just as swiftly. And every time, he used a different combination of war-beasts, so the enemy never knew what to expect. It was an unusual kind of war, but we enjoyed success after success, with few losses.

The golden army was powerless to do anything about it. They increased the armed guards, but Ly sent in larger attack groups. The army itself marched out to protect the eastern road, but Ly moved to the north or south. When they brought in larger crossbows capable of taking down a lion, Ly’s eagles bombarded them with rocks.

The traders soon realised that they were not a target, and so long as they didn’t panic, they would be quite safe. They accepted the raids as philosophically as they accepted the weather, just something to be endured with resignation. But the golden army was relentless in its determination to fight back, and never acknowledged the impossibility of it.

It couldn’t last, of course.

Late in the autumn, in a welcome break between icy rainstorms, a long train of armour-clad soldiers was spotted marching on the road from Rinnfarr Gap, escorting a mounted man muffled in a voluminous cloak towards Greenstone Ford.

The Dragon God had returned.

“So their leader has returned.” Yannassia sipped her peach juice thoughtfully. “What do we know of him, this Dragon God?”

It was one of our routine trips back to Kingswell, and as usual she called the three of us to her private quarters while she was taking morning board with Torthran.

I told her all that was known of the man, which was not much. “But we must be careful now,” I said. “If he is the one with power over the wind, then he will not sit idly by while we continue to harass his supply trains. Hethryn feels that we should suspend the attacks until the spring. Our objective is not to starve the population over the winter, only to cause disruption and to distract attention away from the coast. Those objectives have now been achieved.”

“You have always been cautious, Drina,” Yannassia said. “I remember you argued against the war of six years ago, and you were quite right about that.”

“War is never the answer.”

“But sometimes it is necessary to act. The last war could have been avoided, but this one… I do not know. We cannot escape our obligations to the Port Holdings.”

“We cannot aid Dellonar directly,” I said. “Shannamar is still free, and we can help there if the golden army moves further west, but I don’t think they will.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Dellonar was easy to take – they just floated down the river from Rinnfarr Gap. But to move west they must either go by ship, which is not their natural environment, or else take the coast road, which is narrow and winding, with multiple pinch points that are easily defended.”

“And they cannot get to Shannamar by river unless they pass through Bennamore first,” Torthran added. “That would be a very long way round.”

Yannassia smiled and took his hand. “That is true, and Axandor says the same. Still, I do not like to abandon the harassment policy. It has been so successful thus far, and we would lose all the benefit of that.”

“But we don’t want to risk a direct confrontation with this Dragon God,” I said. “I know only too well what that feels like.”

“We do not
know
that he was responsible for the windstorm,” Yannassia said. “Besides, you can take the magic from it.”

“Yes, but…” I tried a different approach. “What about the war-beasts? They have been undertaking these raids for several moons now. I’m sure they need some rest.”

“They are still enjoying themselves,” Ly said. “I have already switched a few groups around – sent some home, and brought fresh people in. There is no need to worry about them.”

“I thought you were on my side?”
I thought to him.

“Always, but this is for Yannassia to decide.”
He reached across the table and took my hand, giving me that little fizz of magic. “You worry too much, sometimes, Drina.”

I couldn’t be cross with him, feeling the affection in his mind, and he knew that as well as I did. There were disadvantages to being constantly mentally connected. Nothing could be hidden, and my innermost feelings and wishes were exposed for both my men to see.

“There you are, then,” Yannassia said. “No reason not to continue, at least as long as the weather holds. Ly may be the judge of whether his people need to rest or not.”

“Drina has a point, though,” Torthran said. “Undoubtedly this man-god has returned to Greenstone Ford to deal with the attacks on the supply trains. If we continue the raids, we give him the opening he needs, and we do not yet know the full extent of his capabilities. However, if we keep out of his way for a while, he may go back to Dellonar again.”

Yannassia looked thoughtful. “That is very true. You are growing wise, Torthran, my love. I like to hear you express your opinions on these matters. You were too reticent for a long time. Now you are truly becoming my equal in all things, which is exactly as it should be. If only I had met you earlier, how different my life would have been.”

Torthran flushed with pleasure, leaning closer to her. “I should have liked that, too, darling, but I was barely an adult when you first married, remember? I was only just learning my trade. You would never have looked at me in those times, when you were Bai-Drashonor and I was a very junior trainee member of the Elite.”

For a moment, I wondered if they’d forgotten we were there altogether, but with the faintest hint of a blush, Yannassia turned back to the three of us, Ly spooning porridge, Arran stolidly working through a plate of fruit and me sipping my brew.

“Very well, then. Suspend operations for now, but perhaps you can maintain a small number of your people nearby, Ly, so that we can resume quickly if need be?”

“I will do that.”

“Good. And Hethryn can come home for a while. I miss him. He is quite the cleverest of my own children.”

“I think Torthrina will rival him when she grows up, but perhaps that is just a father’s fondness,” Torthran said, eyes twinkling. “But that reminds me, I am to take her to the temple this morning. I had better go. Later, my love.”

He kissed Yannassia soundly, and then, as she blushed and giggled, kissed her a second time before disappearing.

“He is such a treasure,” she said, with a sigh. “I am so thankful I met him. But how are you three getting on? You seem very well settled.”

“We are,” I said. Arran nodded, and Ly smiled at us both.

“It is a strange arrangement, but it seems to work.” Yannassia’s tone was questioning, but I couldn’t begin to explain it.

“It works very well,” was all I could find to say.

“Hmm. Let us hope it continues so.”

I said no more. Yannassia couldn’t imagine what we shared, and it was impossible to describe what it felt like, the intimacy, the oneness of the three of us. It might vary in nature, but would never be broken. Only death could tear us apart.

~~~~~

Most of the war-beasts were dispersed, Hethryn came home and Kingswell drifted back into its usual slumber. The only significant change to my life was that the Nobles’ Council approved Hethryn as Yannassia’s heir. He became Drashonor, and I, to my intense delight, was demoted to the rank of second heir, Bai-Drashonor. In time, I hoped even that title would be passed elsewhere.

The social round went on as usual, Yannassia held assemblies and welcomed new ambassadors and resolved disputes, and no one would know that the golden army controlled the whole of the southern Plains of Kallanash, from the Karningplain to the sea. Messages flew back and forth between Bennamore and the remaining Port Holdings, but although they were braced for invasion, the golden army stayed at Dellonar, and nothing untoward happened. We all watched and waited and hoped.

And then, the disaster.

We were attending a formal banquet to honour the new Speaker of the Port Holdings. He had been appointed two years before, but a visit to Bennamore had not been high on his priorities then. Now it was, so he had come in state to be paraded before the nobles and wealthy residents, and fed more bizarre dishes than he could have imagined, no doubt. Although the coastal folk ate some very strange sea creatures, it is said, so perhaps our food was not so outlandish to him. Of course, the real reason for his visit was hidden away behind closed doors – the secret meetings with Yannassia and her advisors to try to find something, anything, that could be done to halt the advance of the golden army.

As we sat through the interminable speeches and elaborate dishes and entertainments, Ly popped into my mind.
“I am feeling some distress from Flenn’s eagle. Have you noticed it too?”

I stretched out my mind, trying to spot Flenn’s eagle in particular out of all the other eagles my mind could detect. There it was! And yes, definite signs of distress – not pain, but extreme anxiety, and exhaustion. Even as I was assessing him, I was aware of Ly soothing the beast, encouraging it onward. For it was heading right towards us, to Kingswell.

“He is almost here,”
Ly thought.

We made some excuse to leave the feast, and ran for the stairs to the Keep roof, Arran leading the way, Ly not far behind and me puffing in the rear. We emerged into the observation room, and Arran grabbed cloaks from the array hanging near the outer door. Then we tore out onto the roof.

Gods, but it was beautiful! My breath steamed into clouds, and above us a million stars shimmered. I pulled the cloak around me to cover my silk azai, an elegant outfit for a formal occasion but not warm. Yet the cold was not as penetrating as I’d feared, and I let the cloak slide open. Our own eagles were restless, no doubt having picked up the distress from their fellow. Kalmander glided silently above us, to land on the observation room roof, his favoured perch. A guard enjoying a quiet break from duty behind a set of chimneys sprang to attention, relaxing again when he saw who it was.

Then we waited. I paced about restlessly, but Ly and Arran stood immobile. Ly concentrated, eyes closed, guiding the eagle in so that he would land near us, and still encouraging it, for the poor beast was close to collapse. There was no way to communicate with the rider, for Flenn was a mage who flew his eagle using his magic to compel the beast, rather than the Clan way of bonding. So although the eagle’s mind was open to us, Flenn’s was not.

The eagle came closer and closer, and then he was there, almost on top of us, in a storm of beating wings and claws. We jumped, but the bird was too big to evade, and he was so exhausted he had no energy left to avoid crashing into us. Arran hurled me to the ground, shielding me with his body. At the last minute, Ly’s mind control forced the bird aside, so that he landed almost sideways, and slithered along the roof. Flenn rolled clear, then scrambled up and raced across to where we crouched.

“Gods, are you hurt?” he yelled. “So sorry, I did not see you until the very last moment.”

“It’s quite all right,” I said, jumping up and dusting myself down. “You couldn’t harm us anyway, so all our leaping about was quite unnecessary.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Arran muttered. “Instinct took over.”

“So sorry,” Flenn said again. “I did not expect—”

I waved my hands in his face. “Yes, yes, but what is it? What news do you bring?”

His face fell. “Very bad news. The Gurshmontas… not sure what happened, exactly. I need to tell the Drashona.”

“Let’s do that, then,” I said crisply.

We left Ly tending the eagle, and went to drag Yannassia out of the feast. “And Honoured Shallack Gurshmonta,” I told the steward. “This concerns him, too.”

Yannassia’s face was grave when she joined us in a small ante-room away from the celebrations. “This must be serious,” she said. “Tell me all.”

“We will wait for Shallack Gurshmonta,” I said.

Her eyebrows rose, but she made no comment. Torthran pulled forward a chair for her. The room was a waiting area for important guests, decorated in elaborate style with expensive ornamentation, so the chair was heavy, gilt-painted and carved on every available space with fruits and ivy leaves. It looked rather like a throne. The rest of us stood, Arran and I with the patched cloaks from the observation room over our arms, while Flenn dripped mud onto the pastel-coloured rug.

Shallack Gurshmonta crept round the door, his face ashen. I guessed that even for him, an urgent summons to attend the Drashona in the midst of a formal occasion was something to worry about. He saw me and sneered, but then his eye fell on Flenn, and the shock that crossed his face was unmistakable.

“Now, Lord Mage Flenn, please tell us what this is about.” Yannassia was outwardly as calm as if she were asking what would be served at the next meal, but I knew her well enough to recognise the tremor in her voice.

“I do not quite know where to start,” Flenn said.

“Take your time,” she said. “Tell us every detail, however insignificant it might seem.”

He took a deep breath. “Very well, Most Powerful. The trouble started this morning. There has been nothing untoward at Greenstone Ford for moons now, everything goes on as usual, so we had no intimation of anything wrong. There was a market due, and the caravans started collecting outside the gate shortly after dawn. The gates opened, the wagons were inspected and let in, one at a time. Everything was checked very carefully, as always. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

He threw a glance at Shallack Gurshmonta, then looked down at his feet for a moment, as if gathering his courage.

Lifting his head, he went on, “There was a House Gurshmonta caravan amongst those entering. Eight wagons, I believe.” Shallack nodded. “Yes, eight. They were checked, they went in. Everyone was checked, a few wagons were turned away, but most were allowed in. An hour or two passed. And then…”

He paused, heaving a breath.

“We do not know what happened inside, since we cannot see the market square from the watch point. But
something
happened. We heard shouts, first of all, and then the alarm bells started, and there was a lot of commotion amongst the soldiers. And then it went quiet. For an hour, two hours, nothing else happened, except that the soldiers who had left their posts never went back to them. Then, a little before noon, all the wagons began to stream out, and that was all wrong, because usually they stayed until dusk, to take advantage of all the trading hours they could get. They poured out, and dispersed quickly, no lingering. But not the Gurshmonta wagons.”