The Second God (45 page)

For a night and the following sun and the night after that, we saw no sign of activity from within the town, apart from the usual patrols along the walls, and the gates remained closed. During the hours of sun, small bands of our own troops moved back and forth over the battlefield, collecting the injured left behind, and later the dead, and retrieving lost weapons and helmets. It wasn’t easy, because the mist pooled in hollows and lingered on, slowing everything down.

Yannassia fretted, sending a thousand messages from Kingswell. I had no reassurance to offer her. We had, with help, fought the golden army to a standstill, but we all knew they would be back, and next time there would be no respite, it would be a fight to the bitter end. We needed Ly and his lightning, but he was far, far away.

At night, when Arran was asleep, I talked to Ly. He never seemed to sleep, any more than I did, so we talked of everything in the world except the war. It was the greatest comfort to me, knowing that he was alive and safe out there somewhere in the wild parts of the Clanlands, and slowly making his way to me. Even if he arrived too late to save us, even if I never saw him again, his voice brought me inestimable pleasure.

“What happened at the blue pool? We thought you were dead. We lost the connection to you.”

“I am not really sure. Did you see what happened? That Dain pushed me? Then you know I went into the water. I have no idea how long I was in there. It was warm, and soothing, and I felt completely well. I just drifted. Once I saw someone else in there, a woman, but I did not recognise her. And once… I suppose I was dreaming, because I thought I saw Dain in there, too, but... unreachable, as if he were dead. There were voices, sometimes, but no words I understood. But I had all the memories, like an elder, and I knew how to work the lightning and mist. I just knew. And then I was lifted out of the water, and left beside the pool. I was not even wet. And you and Arran were there again, a part of me, and I was whole. Changed, though. I am still me, but also all my ancestors at the same time. What does that make me?”

“You are a god!”
I said.

He just laughed.
“No, I am still the foolish boy you saved, Princess.”

I didn’t ask where he was, or when he would reach us. I didn’t even look through his eyes, in case it depressed me too much. It was impossible for him to reach us in time, but there was a tiny corner of my mind that whispered – perhaps he might. I didn’t want to hear the brutal truth.

And then, on the second morning since the battle, my worst fears were confirmed. At dawn, the gates of Greenstone Ford opened, and the golden army streamed out. I had once tried to estimate how many soldiers were quartered in the town, and gave up. I could have counted them then, if I hadn’t been so horrified.

“Gods!” Hethryn muttered, over and over.

The Icthari were on their feet and charging forward almost before the gates were fully open. The golden army headed straight for them, not even breaking stride as they tore them to pieces. We watched in horror as the Icthari, for all their bravery, fell one by one and didn’t get up.

When every last one was slaughtered, the golden army split into two, one contingent heading north, the other south. And behind them, the golden stream issuing from the gates was continuous.

“Mist, Drina!”
Arran yelled at me.

I called to Ly, and pointed, but nothing happened.

“Ly? I need the mist.”

“No. I have another plan. Count to ten.”

“What?”

“Count to ten.”

“One… two…”
I couldn’t believe Ly was playing some childish game at a time like this, but his mind was relaxed and confident, and I trusted him.
“… nine… ten.”

“Perfect counting.”

The sky darkened above me, as vast wings blotted out the sun. Churning up dust and debris, Kalmander landed precariously on a rock. Sliding from his back, with a wide grin across his face, his eyes bright blue, was Ly.

“What the…?”

“No time. Hethryn, what do you want destroyed?”

“Um… the enemy?”

“They appear to be a bit mixed up with friends at present. I will start with the town wall.”

And raising one hand, with a crack that deafened us and echoed around the hills, he shot a bolt of vivid blue from his fingers. And a section of the wall exploded and slowly disintegrated.

“Around the gates!” Hethryn yelled. “And in front of them. Stop any more coming out.”

“Don’t hit anything inside the town,” I said urgently. “We don’t know where Arran is.”

Ly nodded and settled down to fire off bolt after bolt. The entire battlefield ground to an awed halt, and from the south I heard cheering. Arran was yelping in my head, but then he suddenly went quiet. Now what? My heart turned over. Was he close enough to the gate to be in danger? Or perhaps this was the time for Trimon to get rid of his useless prisoner. Just in Ly’s moment of triumph, Arran’s struggle for survival looked as if it was coming to an end.

I switched to Arran’s eyes just as his cell door opened, and a face appeared, lit by a torch. “If we’re quick, we can get you out of here in one piece,” the face said. The voice was familiar to me, but I couldn’t think how.

“What the—”

“No time! You have to come now, while they’re all busy. Come on.”

Arran didn’t need telling twice. He followed the face, a guard, by the uniform, out of the cell and down the corridor. In the guardroom, three guards were slumped over, two on the floor and one with his head on a table, but judging by the knife protruding from his back, he wasn’t drunk.

“No time to get you into full uniform, but if you take a jacket and helmet, and wrap yourself in a cloak, you’ll pass muster. Here, this is about your size.”

Arran scrambled to comply. “Who are you? Are you Bennamorian?”

“Don’t you recognise me?”

Arran shook his head.

I knew that face, though, now that I saw it in better light.
“Lathran! It’s Lathran!”

“Lathran? Gods, am I glad to see you! Thank you for this, I—”

“Wait until we’re free before you thank me. Long way to go yet. But it’s chaos up there, so we might have a chance. Come on.”

Lathran led the way, running up stairs, along passageways, as Arran puffed along behind, unfit from his long incarceration. From time to time, Lathran ducked into rooms to avoid groups of soldiers or guards moving about in haste. There was a lot of panicked shouting from the guards, and even the golden soldiers looked concerned. Every so often, a great boom sounded, followed by a loud rumble, as Ly steadily demolished the outer wall.

Eventually they emerged at a large open square. At one side, a half-demolished archway showed where the gates had once stood, but the entrance was blocked by great mounds of rubble now, with clouds of dust rising.

“This is no good,” Lathran said. “We can’t get out here without being seen. We’ll have to hide for a while. This way.”

He set off at a run again, through an archway, and into a small courtyard at the foot of one of the great towers. It was empty, and Lathran pelted across it and was almost at the far side before Arran had got even half way. And that was where his luck ran out. From a door emerged the last person Arran wanted to see – Trimon, surrounded by a gaggle of his guards.

“Hoy! You!” one of the guards shouted.

Arran ran on, trying to increase his speed, but it was no use. The guards caught him in a few strides, and pulled off his helmet, and his blond hair was unmistakable.

“Well, well, well. Not enjoying our hospitality, eh?” Trimon said, and then slapped him so hard that Arran’s defensive shell pinged into effect. Arran wisely said nothing. “What a troublesome guest you are, and your friends out there are not nice at all. They just don’t play fair. They’re trying to
kill
me, they’re destroying my nice town, and no question of negotiating or anything of the sort.”

“Do you want to negotiate? Call your troops back, and send an envoy out.”

“Never! They’re all savages out there, impossible to talk sense to. Not just lions, but Vahsi and some with so many feathers they look like birds. And
your
lot are no better. Liars and cheats, all of you. There’s no
honour
in any of you. What did I ever do that you dislike me so much, eh?
I
never knocked down walls, or killed people here, there and everywhere. I’ve treated you well, haven’t I?”

“On the whole.”

He cackled. “You’re funny, Arran of the minor nobility. I’ve treated you well,
on the whole
, I’ve kept you alive, and your witch is
still
trying to kill me. I thought you said she cared about you, eh?”

“It is true, she is unaccountably fond of me.”

“Well, let’s find out how fond of you she is, shall we? Let see which she wants most – me dead or you alive.”

I cried out then, knowing what he was going to do. They dragged Arran to the archway at the foot of the tower, and hauled him bodily up and up, stair after stair, winding round the inside. From time to time windows gave glimpses of the demolished wall, and then the battle, still going on sporadically here and there, and then the river and the hills beyond. My hill, in particular. They were on the tower directly opposite me, and as they emerged onto the platform, I saw Arran’s blond hair blowing free.

“I can see you,”
I whispered.

“I see you too, my darling.”

Trimon leaned over the parapet, holding Arran’s arm, shrieking at me, and his power over the wind blew the words towards me, echoing round the hills like thunder. “Here he is, witch. So now you get to choose – if you want to kill me, you have to kill him too.”

Ly looked at me, his mind filled with grief. “You understand what we need to do? We have to end this now.”

I couldn’t speak, but I nodded.

In my head, I heard his voice.
“Do what you must. Goodbye, my sweet love.”

Ly stretched out his hand to me, and, head bowed, I took it. Together we sent the tower and Trimon and Arran to oblivion.

The tower collapsed so, so slowly, sliding to earth straight downwards in a great rumble of stone. How many heartbeats did it take Arran to fall all that way? Too many. And then the gradual settling, with dust rising. I waited for his consciousness to vanish.

Nothing happened. He was still alive. Somehow, despite the power of Ly’s lightning that had brought down the whole tower, Arran still lived.

Ly’s eyes turned to me, filled with sudden hope.

And a voice, surprisingly strong.
“Drina? I… I seem to be buried.”

“We must be swift,” Ly said, spinning round. “Quickly, Drina.”

Kalmander was already settling nearby. Ly leapt onto his back, and they took off in a maelstrom of beating wings, so that Hethryn ducked.

“What is happening?”

“Arran is alive! We’re going to dig him out of the rubble.” I summoned Sunshine, and we glided over the battlefield, out of arrow range, but no longer concerned about windstorms. Arran may have survived, just, but Trimon must be dead.

Ly was already scrabbling frantically at the mountain of exploded stone. Kalmander’s great claws lifted the heaviest lumps, Sunshine helped too, and Ly and I tossed aside smaller pieces. We knew exactly where he was. The pulse of his mind drew us as surely as we knew the direction of the sun with closed eyes.

From all around us, and beyond the shattered gates, an unearthly keening arose. The golden soldiers were on their knees, wailing. They had watched their god die, and they mourned his passing with the same vehemence they applied to warcraft. I had no time to spare for their grief, for I had my own tragedy unfolding in front of me.

“Arran? We are here. We are coming for you.”

“So much dust.”
A long pause.
“Hard to breathe.”

Other hands were helping now, not soldiers, but the ordinary people of Greenstone Ford, creeping out of their cellars and safe places to celebrate the destruction of their enemy. Lathran was there, speaking their language, organising them, explaining who we were and what we were doing. So many willing hands, but it might not be enough.

“Arran? We are digging for you.”

But there was no reply.

Then a limp hand, freed from the rubble. “Here he is!” Ly yelled. Within moments we had the rest of the stones away from him, and there he was, his face dusty but unblemished, his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping.

“Arran? Darling?” I pushed the hair away from his face, the hair that was far longer than he liked. Still the beat in my mind told me that he was alive, but slipping into unconsciousness.

“Arran? Speak to me. Come back to me, my love.” I knelt in the rubble, heedless of the discomfort, and cradled his head in my lap. “Darling, I’m here. Wake up.”

A sudden gasp of breath, and his eyes opened, eyes of a much brighter blue now. I laughed out loud. “There you are! You’re safe now. I have you safe.”

He gave me a tiny smile. “Drina… I feel…”

“What is it? Are you in pain?”

“No. No pain. Cannot feel anything. I am not dead, am I? But something is not right. Am I still buried?”

“One leg, just a little. We will free you in a moment. Your arms are free.”

“I… not working. I want to touch you, but nothing is working. Something got broken inside, I think.”

“But you’re alive, you’re with me, we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

“Yes.” Another smile. “Will you kiss me, my love?”

So I lifted his head a little higher and bent down to kiss him, long and slow. He tasted of dust and wood and sweat and stone, but it was the finest kiss I’d ever had.

At the end of it, he lifted those bright blue eyes to mine, and smiled again. “Now Ly. I want a kiss from Ly.”

Ly laughed in delight, and scrambled over the rubble to kiss him too.

“There,” Arran said contentedly. “Now we are together.”

~~~~~

Someone fashioned a stretcher, and willing hands gently lifted Arran and carried him, slowly and carefully, through the largest hole in the wall. The golden army was gone, marching away to the north in orderly formation, six abreast. Ly ordered the war-beasts to let them pass. We’d all seen enough devastation recently not to want any more. If they went back to the Karningplain and we never saw them again, that would suit us very well.

The armies of Bennamore and the Port Holdings held all the land between the town and the river. Almost the first person we saw as our little group of stretcher-bearers emerged was Axandor, riding slowly through the carnage of the Icthari army, every brave warrior slaughtered. His face was grave, but he didn’t turn away from the horror. When he looked up and recognised us, he spurred his horse to meet us.

“This is the happiest news after so much death!” he said, picking up Arran’s hand where it lay limply by his side, and holding it in both his own. “We were all certain the fall must have killed you. I am delighted to be mistaken. Sister, you must take him to the mages’ tent. They will look after him. There will be a feast tonight. Be sure to come, Drina, and Ly too.”

He galloped off, his mind instantly busy with the next thing.

“A feast?” Ly said. “I have no mind for it.”

“Nor I. As if we would leave Arran alone.”

“I am not alone,” he said with a smile. “I shall never be alone, no matter where you two are.”

We carried Arran across the trampled and churned grass to the Bennamorian camp, and found the mages’ tent. Mother was there, of course, bustling about, helping where she could.

“But it’s mostly dealing with the pain,” she said, pulling a face. “So many limbs lost, and grievous injuries from arrows and spears. But Arran, what ails you? I am not used to seeing you laid low. May I see?”

He nodded, and she held his hand, eyes closed, for a long time. When she surfaced, she sighed and shook her head. “Your neck is broken, dear,” she said gently. “No wonder you can’t move. But I can’t heal it. The injury is too extensive. I can rejoin broken bones, but the connections that operate arms and legs are too delicate for me to do anything with. I’m so sorry.”

“It is all right,” Arran said. “I am alive, and I have Drina and Ly, and they are all I need.”

“You are very brave,” Mother said, blowing her nose fiercely. “I will find a private corner for you, and someone will come to clean up all that dust and dirt, and put you into fresh clothes, and watch over you.”

“I will watch over him,” Ly and I said in unison.

Mother smiled. “Of course you will. But none of that mist stuff in my tent, Drina, all right? And no lightning, Ly.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, Kyra.”

Arran was taken to an alcove screened by a curtain, and gently tended, while I sat at his head and Ly at his feet. We were filthy from our frantic dig through the rubble but neither of us wanted to leave Arran for a moment, even if we’d had clean clothes and hot water available. So I held Arran’s hand, and helped Ly feed him soup, and we talked over that sun’s events, just like any family would, as if they hadn’t been earth-shattering and war-ending and almost life-ending, too. And none of us talked about how Arran was going to manage in the future. We would deal with that when we got him back to Kingswell.

Ly had taken over all the control of the war-beasts, so I was free of responsibility for the first time in an age. I lay down beside Arran, his hand still in mine, and with Ly’s instructions to the war-beasts murmuring in my head, I slept.

~~~~~

It was mid-morning when I woke. Arran was lying on his side gazing at me. He smiled when he saw that I was awake. “Good morning, sleepy.”

“Oof. I was worn out. How are you?”

“Fine.” He grinned. “Look.” And he raised his hand to my face to cup my cheek.

I scrambled upright, holding his hand firmly. Ly was sitting cross-legged on the floor, laughing.

“What…? But how…? I don’t understand. Mother said…”

“Kyra does not know everything, Drina,” Ly said.

“If your healing power can regrow a finger, why not a broken neck?” Arran added.

“You mean I healed you? But I didn’t even know I was doing anything.”

“Have you learned nothing about your power –
our
power?” Ly said. “It is the will to do something that makes it happen. We do not need spellpages or arm-waving or anything of the sort. Physical contact helps. The amber pendant helps. The three of us combining our power helps. But ultimately Arran was healed because
you
wanted him healed.”

“You told me once that it would be very bad for me to be a healer.”

Ly chewed his lip. “I thought it would be. The only healers we have ever had were female
byan shar
and if you were a healer… I was afraid you would gain too much power, and not be able to control it, because you were not Blood Clan. But I think the blood-bonding helped to stabilise your power. I truly believe you are
byan shar
, Drina. You could not have healed Arran otherwise. He is not fully recovered yet, but a few more sun-crossings will see him back to normal. By then Diamond will be here, and we can go back to Kingswell.”

“Poor Diamond! You left him behind.”

“Just as well I did. Kalmander came to get me, and he is far, far faster than any normal eagle. He flew all the way without stopping. I could not have got here in time without him.”

Cal popped his head through the curtain. “Here, I’ve brought brew for you all. But why are you talking about my namesake?”

“We were talking about Arran’s eagle, not your namesake.”

“Well, no, I wasn’t named after an eagle. Nothing so mundane for me. The original Kalmander was a very famous mage from before the Catastrophe, perhaps the most powerful of all of them. When it was agreed that the mages had to die to save the world from disaster, he swore that he’d found a way to survive with his power intact. No one believed him, of course, and nothing was heard of him after, so…” He shrugged. “You can draw your own conclusions.”

“Are you listening to this, Kalmander, you old rogue? So are you really a mage who lived through the Catastrophe?”

But all I got was his usual burble of amusement.

~~~~~

Before we left Greenstone Ford, Hethryn, Ly and I went to talk to the Vahsi, to thank them for coming to our aid.

“Do you know the language?” Hethryn said dubiously. “We have never had dealings with them, so we have no interpreters.”

“I know the language,” Ly said with a smile. “The Clanfolk were Vahsi once, so our language is much the same as theirs.”

We rode lions to reach the Vahsi, for they were camped some distance out on the open plains. Most of their number had already left, melting away into the grasses, leaving little trace of their passage, but a few remained. They greeted us courteously, although I would not have said they were friendly, exactly, and they eyed the lions warily.

Ly gave the speech we had prepared, prompted by Hethryn, and one of the Vahsi responded politely enough, although their reserve was palpable. They were not at all used to dealing with others.

With the formalities out of the way, Hethryn said, “Ask them
why
. They have always kept to themselves, and not interfered with our affairs, so what is different about this war?”

When Ly translated this, their spokesman became voluble. “The golden warriors upset the balance of the sacred lands,” he said, eyes flashing. “For thousands of years we have followed the great herds, and moved across the grasslands, and between them they have provided all our needs. The world is in balance. Where there is imbalance, then we fight. When the farmers come and take from our herds, we take from theirs in return and that restores the balance. When they leave us alone, we leave them alone, too. But the golden warriors do not respect the sacred lands. They go where they will and take what they want, they offer nothing in return, and they kill wantonly. There was a summer camp about two sun-crossings to the east of here lying directly in the golden warriors’ path as they marched south. They could easily have deviated, but instead they marched through that camp, destroying and killing everything in their way. That cannot be allowed. We will have our revenge.”

“
Will
have your revenge?” Ly said. “They are defeated, is that not enough?”

“Too many of them still live,” the Vahsi said coldly. “We will follow, and kill as many as we can while they are out in the open.”

I shivered at the hard edge to his voice. An implacable people, indeed.

~~~~~

We were all heroes when we returned to Kingswell. Yannassia ordered an entire moon of celebrations, and there were feasts and entertainments and a whole array of dull festivities involving uncomfortable clothes and inedible food and immense boredom. Axandor and Hethryn were trailed around by adoring young women of the minor nobility, who sighed whenever they deigned to look their way. Ly and I were a bit more problematic for everyone to deal with. There was overwhelming gratitude towards Ly for ending the war almost single-handed, and to me for my small part in that, but there was also the not insignificant fact that Ly could produce lightning from his fingers. Naturally people tiptoed round him somewhat.