The World Weavers (18 page)

Alannah answered, “Just having the empty statues won't call the deities strongly enough. Ava will use the mandala to connect each statue with the element the deity is affiliated with—­Voras to fire, Ivanha to earth, Parasu to water, Aryn to wind. That should make the trap stronger and irresistible to each deity, drawing them out of their Voices' bodies.”

“As for why all at once,” Amon said, “the final spells are ones of destruction—­destroying the shells so the deities are reabsorbed. All have to be destroyed with one spell. When the last of the deities' energy is pulled into the One, the Altar of the One will be destroyed.”

Lasha looked between him and Alannah. “Who will recite the destruction spells?” she asked.

“Alannah will recite the words of power to draw the deities to the One, and then I will speak the destructive spells,” Amon said.

Ava was staring at Parasu's cordoned-­off statue, looking lost. Dani put an arm around her and whispered something and she smiled up at him.

“Dani does well with her now,” Lasha murmured to Sulis.

Sulis nodded and watched as Sanuri took Ava's hand and led her to the center of the circle, by the Altar of the One. The girls sat beside the altar, holding hands and connecting energetically. The statue of Ivanha and the statue of Voras were at opposite ends, so the altar would be in the center of whatever mandala Ava created with the energy lines. It would be a very long oblong, danced between two statues of Parasu and Aryn that were cordoned off because they were traps. Sulis shivered, and Grandmother looked over at her.

“It scares me a little, dancing between the trapped statues,” Sulis told her. “How are you going to weave your way among them?”

“I won't. I'll dance around the whole circle, as I would if we were doing all four.” Grandmother gestured to the circle. “I'm worried about you and Anchee. Be careful, my girl. I don't want to send you on with Clay.”

“I will,” Sulis promised as Ava stood and circled the altar.

Sulis could feel the colors of energy being drawn. Red earth energy as well as green heart energy for Ivanha. Yellow power energy, mingled with orange and red for Voras. Sulis found it interesting that the chakras were all the lower ones—­all very close to humanity and far away from the energy of spirituality, intuition, and mind arts. She wondered if that was why Ivanha and Voras rejected the One so strongly—­they were very much tied to humanity and the earth. As Ava drew, both were tied together in as intricate a mandala as Sulis had ever danced.

Master Anchee came up beside her and they talked through the poses of the mandala while it was being drawn with Ava's energy.

“Lasha and I will be on alert,” Ashraf told Sulis. “If it looks like one of you is about to get too close to the empty statues, we will intervene.”

Sulis was startled. “I don't think you should break the mandala once we are dancing it,” she said.

Amon piped up. “They should. There could be a slight backlash of energy, but you are more important than completing the dance. We can always try again another day. But if we lose one of you, the battle is already lost. Clay knew that, which is why he sacrificed himself.”

Sulis eyed Ashraf. “Don't you sacrifice yourself,” she muttered to him. “Amon may think you're expendable, but I can't continue without you.”

Ashraf simply looked at her, not saying anything. Sulis knew he'd sacrifice himself in an instant for her, as she would for him. She would be very careful while dancing.

Sulis was a bundle of nerves as she stepped over the energy lines, trying not to blur them. Anchee made them do a calming ritual, and then it was time to dance. Sulis danced more slowly this time, which taxed her energy, but was more precise. She thought the dance would seem endless, because twice as many energy lines needed to be filled, but soon she was prostrated by Ivanha's statue, panting and sweating as though she'd run a race.

She could feel the energy around her, and it resisted being woven in a way Aryn's and Parasu's had not. Grandmother danced, smoothing the energy to feed to Sanuri, who knotted and reknitted it as it resisted being woven. There was a pulling, a tearing apart when Alannah spoke the words of power. But both Ivanha's and Voras's energies were finally pulled into the Altar of the One, reabsorbed by the One.

Sulis sat still, uncertain she could get up and terrified she'd fall into Ivanha's statue and be sucked in. She could feel it calling to her and wanted to reach out.

Djinn blocked her reach and flopped down on her lap with a sigh. She sank her hands into his fur and buried her head in his ruff, absorbing energy from him. Ashraf's hands on her shoulders sent her even more energy and he massaged her stiff neck until she was revived enough to stand. Master Anchee received a similar treatment with Lasha's Alta on his lap.

Alannah and Palou bent over Grandmother, who had her head between her knees, her skin ashen. Sulis stumbled forward in alarm.

“She will be fine,” Alannah said quietly. “This was a very difficult weaving.”

“But next time we will have the full powers of the deities fighting us, and all four at once,” Sulis said.

Grandmother lifted her head. “I must practice more, then. I have not had to move so much energy since I was young. I will need to find more sources to draw on besides poor Palou.”

Sulis glanced sharply at Palou, who looked as exhausted as Grandmother. Age was making them wearier, she realized. Palou didn't have the resilience the other Guardians did. Master Anchee was of age with them, but Lasha was much younger than her Chosen.

“I wonder if we Shuttles can share energy,” Sulis mused. “Once Master Anchee and I are finished, we might be able to send you energy from our Guardians and
feli
to help you complete your dance.”

Grandmother nodded, considering the idea.

Amon spoke from beside Sulis. “This is why we needed to do both vessels at once. Having four deities, with full power, will stretch us to the limits of our strength. The time until the war comes to us must be spent practicing.”

Ava nodded. “I will need to draw the final mandala with energy and ground it in the stone,” she said. “I have to create something for each deity, and Sanuri will be able to tell me if it is enough to trap them. And then I'll need to weave it all together in the center, with the One. I hope I can do it. It's really complicated.”

“The One will guide us,” Alannah said quietly. “She longs for completion.”

J
onas waited beside his horse for the other Voices to arrive, the Magistrate fidgeting beside him, fussing with saddlebags. Jonas wasn't fond of horses, so he was staying off his as long as possible awaiting the rest of their party. He gazed at the Temple, wondering if he would ever see it and Illian again.

They were riding off to war. Jonas was a scholar, a man of laws and books, and preferred the cool indoors of stone corridors to being outside in the dust and heat. He was not a great rider, not a great swordsman.

You will have protectors riding with you,
Parasu said.
They are swordsmen. Your skills are far more valuable than those of a sword-­for-­hire.

Jonas wished that comforted him as the Herald and her Ranger rode up, looking as at home on their mounts as they did striding around the courtyard. They had bows slung on their backs and slender swords hung across the pommels of their saddles.

Jonas climbed awkwardly onto his mount, blessing the stableman for picking a placid older beast. He hadn't been near a horse in over a year, since his lessons as an acolyte ended and he'd been assigned to Illian. He knew he sat like a sack on the animal's back, but he'd never felt graceful in the saddle.

“Sit a little farther forward,” the Ranger advised quietly, seeing Jonas's discomfort. “Tilt your tailbone up more so your body doesn't slouch. Those stirrups are a little long.”

Jonas gratefully smiled at the aide who adjusted his stirrups. He was sitting more naturally, feeling more comfortable when the Templar and his Knight galloped up, dramatically pulling their big-­boned horses to a sliding stop. The Crone rode in after him, on a dainty mare that stamped restlessly when reined in. Her Mother Superior rode a calmer horse, similar to Jonas's, and looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Are we ready?” the Crone asked.

Jonas looked around. It was a large crowd. The Herald and Aryn supplied the largest party, with close to a hundred healers riding out to boost those already stationed with the army. Besides the healers, each Voice, and his or her second, each party had five to ten men at arms guarding them.
Feli
wove between the mounts and hissed at each other restlessly, following their acolytes to war. In the center of this chaos were three dark faces—­Southern caravan leaders who had been forced into the ser­vice of Voras. Jonas didn't ask if they'd been
geased
or if Voras had broken their minds somehow. They stared dully off into the distance, guarded by the soldiers the Templar was bringing. They would lead the army to the western desert town of Shpeth, which the army would conquer to find guides for the journey into the Sands.

“I have left five hundred men in the city at the viceroy's request, to protect it against the Descendants,” the Templar said. “They say they are friends, but I don't fully trust them. We will head south, camp this evening and reach the outpost where the army has been stationed the next day.” He glanced over at Jonas. “We also have wagons loaded with supplies and medicines. Anyone who tires of being on horseback can ride in the wagons.”

Jonas inclined his head graciously, seething that the Templar would single him out.

He does not matter,
Parasu consoled Jonas.
He is nothing compared to you. A flawed vessel for his deity. Your worth is beyond measure and has nothing to do with pathetic things like riding horses or swinging weapons as any commoner can do.

Pride surged through Jonas and he held his head high. His was a regal figure as they wove their way through the crowds to exit the city. And he kept his head high when he chose to ride in the wagon after a half day in the saddle rubbed his thighs raw. The Templar could posture all he wanted. Only Jonas could share himself with his deity. Only Jonas was truly beloved by his deity, as more than a vessel to be used and tossed away.

A
bram gasped and sat down suddenly, his hand on his chest. He closed his eyes as he recognized the feeling from his father's death. A connection severed. Master Tull was gone.

“Abram? What's wrong?” Casia asked. She poured a glass of water and handed it to him. Abram looked up to find Master Gursh gazing intently at him. Abram slowly nodded to him, and the man closed his eyes and looked away. Abram drank the water and stood.

“Sorry,” he told Casia. “Must be the heat. Where were we again?”

 

CHAPTER 15

K
adar huddled with Onyeka and their band of warriors at the northern edge of the army encampment, two hours before dawn.

Kadar was controlling twenty-­five horses with his talent—­forcing them to lie in the desert sand and keeping them unnaturally still and quiet. Onyeka and one of the other Tigus focused on the desert magic, creating the illusion that they were a part of the sand and life around them. There were four other teams like theirs spread along the south side of the camp, helping the sixty assassins from the tribes sneak into camp to kill the Knights controlling the Forsaken. Those other groups did not have horses to control and keep quiet. The returning assassins from those teams would simply melt back into the desert when they finished their tasks and meet at a set point where their mounts would be waiting to carry them south, to the Sands. Kadar and Onyeka's group was on the northern side of the camp and would need the extra speed a horse could give to escape the fighters and retribution.

They watched as two assassins crept behind the idling guards. Kadar flinched as the Tigus knifed the men and dragged their bodies farther out into the desert, behind a large cactus. The two assassins scouted the area, making certain no guards remained, and then motioned for the others to enter the camp.

Onyeka's tribe had stolen enough uniforms for all the assassins entering the camp. In the predawn dark, they would hopefully not be noticed as they walked the edges of the camp with army-­issued hats and scarves covering most of their faces.

Kadar unslung his bow off his back to prepare for any trouble that might block the assassins' fast escape after they'd killed the Knights.

Onyeka took his bow from him. “You will not linger to fight. You promised the elders. At the first commotion, you release the spell on the horses and race to the camp. Leave the fighting to us.”

Kadar frowned but let her have the bow. There'd been a fight about Kadar's involvement. He was the only one who could keep the horses lying down and quiet, but they did not want to risk him getting injured this close to the army. Onyeka had come to his defense and vowed to guard him. Kadar suspected it was because Onyeka wanted action. She'd been disappointed that she would not be one of assassins. This way she could direct the action and be useful protecting Kadar.

“No noise so far,” Kadar said. “Do you think that means the other teams made it in without being discovered?”

Onyeka nodded without moving her gaze from where the Tigu assassins had entered the camp. It was maddening not having a way of communicating between the groups. The elders had considered using hoots or other animal noises, but in the end they decided such noises would attract too much notice. Instead, the cue for the assassins to kill the Knights was the complete set of the moon, when the cat star was directly overhead. It seemed too imprecise to Kadar.

There was no convenient hill or ledge from which to watch the progress of the assassins. Kadar had no way of telling where the twenty Tigus of their team were as they split again into groups of four and sought out the Forsaken cohorts they'd been assigned to. The warriors of the One had assured Kadar that when the Knights were killed, the Forsaken would wake immediately with the freeing of their
geas
. Kadar hoped they would have enough sense to recognize their chance to flee and take it.

Kadar glanced at the moon, which was now only a sliver above the horizon.

“Did we give them enough time to get in place?” he asked.

She looked over at him, a small smile on her lips. “Shhh.” She put a hand on his arm, and he realized he'd been fidgeting. He hated waiting.

The moon disappeared and Kadar held his breath, knowing it was the moment. The warriors who had taken out the army sentinels returned. Minutes passed, and no uproar came from the camp.

“How long should we wait?” one of the other Tigus asked Onyeka.

“Until the camp rouses and we know something of our comrades' fate,” she said grimly.

“Do we attempt rescue?” a warrior wanted to know.

“No. They knew the risks. They have been given poison capsules. We would only be recovering bodies.”

Their first hint of success was when men trickled quietly out of the camp, fleeing north. At first Kadar thought it was their assassins returning, and allowed the horses to rise to their feet. But these men looked bemused, shocked as they stumbled out. Once they reached the edge of the encampment, where the Tigus were, they realized they were clear of the army and ran north. One tried to grab a horse, but Kadar stopped him. The Forsaken man jerked back with a gasp as Kadar materialized in front of him.

“These go south, with the men who freed you,” he said gently, pushing the man away. “Go north, blessed by the One.”

The Forsaken man stumbled, and then ran north with his fellows. It was a strangely quiet exodus from the camp. Kadar was shocked an alarm had not yet sounded and said so to Onyeka.

“Our assassins killed as many guards as they could, going through camp,” Onyeka said. “I thought the Forsaken themselves would be noisy, like Northerners usually are, but I guess they have learned quiet in their captivity. This cannot hold.”

Onyeka was correct. A great shout went up in camp. As they watched, smoke rose over the camp. It was clear that tents had been set on fire and the fire was spreading through the camp. Kadar slung himself up on Asfar's back as the camp was suddenly boiling with fighters roused from their sleep, coughing in the smoke and wanting to know what the commotion was about.

The other Tigu guards mounted as well, bows at the ready, but all attention was focused inside the camp at the choking smoke that now covered the area and masked the torches.

“There's Jein,” Onyeka said, as one of their Tigu assassins sped out of camp in the middle of fleeing Forsaken. Other assassins quickly followed her and flung themselves up on the horses.

“Move out. The rest are lost,” Jein shouted.

Onyeka covered their fleeing group with arrows as fighters pursued the escaping Forsaken.

“Go,” she yelled.

Kadar urged Asfar to a gallop, leading their team. The army troops were not organized enough to follow.

When they were well out of range, Kadar circled their group around to the south and their meeting point with the other Tigu teams.

Onyeka caught up with them quickly.

“They were too busy trying to keep Forsaken in and too worried about the fires spreading to pursue us,” she said. “I think we've caused chaos in the group. How many assassins returned to us?”

Jein reined in beside Onyeka. “We lost three in one group,” she reported. “A soldier caught them escaping after their strike. Kana and Dray each lost two to guards, but the rest were able to kill the Knights to finish their missions. All succeeded in killing their targets. All killed or died by their own hands. No captives.”

Onyeka nodded approvingly. “You have honored the Sepacu tribe,” she said, and Jein beamed with pride. “You all have served the One well and will be rewarded.”

The sun was rising when they met up with three of the other groups. Battle leader Jaiden was speaking with the returning groups.

Kadar watched the other Tigus as Onyeka reported. The assassins were stripping off the army gear, changing to robes, and laughing among themselves. None seemed disturbed that they'd killed men who were sleeping in their beds.

“Who set the fires?” Onyeka asked.

“When the camp roused, several Forsaken men used torches to set fire to the canvas tents. The smoke masked their exit and the fires, rather than the fleeing Forsaken, got the attention of the fighters. When we fled south, the Forsaken were lighting up every tent as they ran.”

They rode well east of the army before finding and digging up a small spring to water themselves and the horses and stop for a quick rest. Jaiden sent a messenger ahead to the elders. It would be a two-­day ride to the camp, which had moved south into the Sands in anticipation of army retaliation.

Onyeka was ebullient about the battle but saw Kadar's reticence.

“Why do you not celebrate?” she asked. “We freed thousands of slaves in one blow.”

“But how many will actually stay free?” he asked. He'd wanted to escort the Forsaken to a safer location, but the elders had overruled him. There weren't enough Tigus to protect the Forsaken they had freed. “And how will they be punished if they're retaken?”

“Jaiden said most of the Forsaken were smart and took their weapons when they escaped. If Voras wants to recover them he will have a fight on his hands. We will know for certain how many stayed and how many the deities recovered when our scouts report back. Jaiden says we were very fortunate. The Voices will arrive late today. Tomorrow night the camp will be more closely guarded. Their presence could have meant total failure.”

He and Onyeka slept side by side in the chilly night. He knew they'd probably be separated again soon if her tribe was assigned to follow the army and he stayed with the elders. He treasured the feel of her in his arms under the starry sky.

When they rode into camp, Amber was waiting to climb onto his shoulder.

“We knew you'd be returning soon thanks to that little one,” Turo told him. “She is better than a watchdog.”

The elders wanted Kadar to report the assassins' success to the warriors of the One, so he settled on his mat and reached out for his cousin.

Abram's sending was shaky and he seemed upset. Kadar relayed his messages from the elder, and then asked,
What is it Abram? Has something gone wrong?

Abram hesitated, speaking with someone on his side.
They say I can tell you. Kadar, they're dead.

Who is dead?
Kadar asked, alarmed, thinking of his family in Shpeth and his daughter in Tsangia. Had the deities reached them already?

Master Tull, Master Ursa, and the rest of their party,
Abram sent.
They said they were going on a mission to protect Shpeth and the towns in the path of the army, but . . . they never intended to come back.

“By the One!” Kadar exclaimed, and then he realized he'd spoken out loud. “Abram says Masters Tull and Ursa dead,” he told the surprised elders.

Were they attacked?
Kadar asked.

No,
Abram said.
They sacrificed themselves. They learned how to change the waymarkers at the oases, but they had to kill themselves to do so. They changed three of the markers leading to Shpeth. They were my mentors, my friends
.
But they died to protect our families.

“They sacrificed themselves,” Kadar told the elders. “They changed the waymarkers with blood magic so the deities will not be able to attack Shpeth.”

The elders murmured among themselves.

“We will honor them, along with our fallen warriors,” Talin said gravely. “Who has the new words of power for the waymarkers at those oases?”

Three warriors of the One,
Abram told Kadar, after he'd relayed Talin's query.
It will take some time for the new words to be shared among all our ­people. The warriors of the One travel to the caravan route that enters the Sands on the west side. Have the Tigu army meet us so we can plan the next step together.

“But how will the army of the deities proceed through the desert?” Talin asked. “Without a guide through the Sands, they will be forced to turn back. The Chosen still need them to arrive at the Obsidian Temple—­who will lead them there?”

Abram said,
The warriors of the One will choose someone who knows the route and let the deities “capture” him or her.

The elders nodded in resignation as Kadar relayed this.

“Tell them we will meet them on the western edge of the Sands,” Talin said.

Be safe, Kadar,
Abram said.
Have you spoken to cousin Sulis recently? She is worse than a mother, nagging to learn more about you. Please talk to her. The Chosen at the temple have been through a great deal. She asked me to tell you to contact her when you can.

I will, thank you,
Kadar sent.
You stay safe as well.

Kadar was too exhausted from the ride and his
farspeaking
to get in touch with Sulis, so he and Amber found the Sepacu cook fire instead.

Onyeka met him with a plate of sliced meat and a mug of ale. “We will honor our fallen this evening,” she told him. “Jaiden just told me the Sepacus will shadow the army and report their position and numbers while the rest of the tribes travel to meet up with the warriors of the One. So it looks like we will part again.”

“We honor more than only our warriors,” Kadar said, and he filled her in on the masters' sacrifices.

She was silent as Kadar ate, lost in her own thoughts. When he'd finished and set his plate down, she took his hands.

“There's something else bothering you, isn't there?” she asked.

“The warriors of the One will need someone to guide the deities to the Obsidian Temple now that the path to Shpeth is closed to them and they cannot find a guide there. They will need someone who knows the caravan routes, the Northern language, and the words for the waymarkers.”

Onyeka gazed into his eyes a moment. “You will volunteer,” she said.

Kadar nodded. “I will no longer be necessary as the go-­between because the elders will be with the warriors of the One. My cousin can continue to speak with the Chosen. I know the routes. I even know one of the Voices, the Voice of Parasu, and have taken classes with him. I have a plan that differs from that of the warriors of the One. Rather than having the deities capture me, I believe that with some mind blocks I can convince the deities that I have defected and get them to trust me.”

“Why would the deities believe this?” Onyeka asked. “If this Voice of Parasu knows you at all, he will know your loyalty to the South.”