Then he stopped.
“Tell me now,” he said softly. “Tell me now what you are planning to do.”
“Just what I said,” Peri said grimly. “Give you what your prophecy promised.”
“But—” Atheris said uncertainly.
“You can’t make rain out of raw magic, especially healing magic,” Peri said. “Rain doesn’t magically appear in the sky from nowhere; it rises up into the air from rivers and lakes or it blows in from other places. Even dedicated water mages don’t create it from nothing; they just move it in from someplace else.”
“Rises up into the air?” Atheris said doubtfully.
“Never mind. Take my word for it,” Peri said, shaking her head. “So to make rain you need a good supply of magical energy, which you had, but you needed three more things—a mage with at least some trace of water affinity, a source of water, and the skill to know what to do with those things. You only had one out of four. Now you have three.”
Peri drew a deep breath.
“I have the water affinity; you have the magical ability to use it. Under this temple is not only a power node, but a huge subterranean reservoir.” She gestured at the font behind the altar. “At one time it must have fed the ceremonial font. Maybe the channel became blocked, I don’t know. Maybe rock shifted underground and sealed it off. But it’s there, all that ancient water, fairly bubbling with magic. My bet is that’s what your prophecy referred to. Bring that water up—awaken it, if you like—and you have an almost limitless source of water so laden with magic that any two-copper apprentice could manipulate it. It wouldn’t take much to flood Sarkond with rain, if that’s what you want. Break that water loose and you’ve got everything you were promised—water, magic, life.”
“But the priests here,” Atheris protested. “Why have they not found this reservoir, used it as you say?”
“It’s hard for me to believe none of these priests has even a little water sensitivity, and it wouldn’t take much to feel that water,” Peri said, shaking her head. “But if that sensitivity wasn’t trained, if they didn’t know what it was they were feeling, they might feel only the power, not necessarily the water itself. Or maybe they believed they were feeling the presence of your god, and didn’t have the temerity to mess with it.” She shrugged. “The other possibility is that Seba just didn’t want it found. The prophecy worked to her benefit. She’s not here to save Sarkond. She’s here to have her revenge on Bregond, and the prophecy—and my grandfather’s capture—gave her the perfect revenge. But none of that matters now. The water’s there, just waiting for you to set it free.”
“But how?” Atheris asked softly.
“How did you and your cousin try to combine your power?” Peri asked. “You coupled, didn’t you?”
Atheris flushed but nodded.
“But we failed,” he said.
Peri nodded, too.
“Neither of you knew what you were doing,” she said, sighing. “I know Bregondish mages learn that, too, joining their power as they join their bodies, but—”
“But you have not learned that either,” Atheris said, very softly.
“No.” Peri shook her head, meeting his gaze. “So that leaves your way. Blood.”
“NO!” Atheris’s eyes widened. “Peri, no. Surely there must be another way. At least we can try. Even though I failed before, still it is a chance—”
Peri closed her eyes briefly.
“All right,” she said, forcing her tone to lightness. “You’re the expert. If you think that’s best. But one thing first.”
She drew her sword, loving the heft of it, the timeless perfect balance, the slivers of torchlight that flickered off it like jewels. When had the flawlessly honed edge ever shone so beautifully? When had the hilt ever fit her hand so perfectly, with such welcome, as it did in this moment when she knew—
“Peri?” Atheris murmured.
She turned to him.
“Waterdance,” she said softly. “Dance it with me this once. Let me be a warrior just a little longer before I have to try to be a mage.”
Atheris hesitated just a moment, and Peri thought she saw a flicker of doubt, almost mistrust in his eyes. Good. That would serve her well, if only—
Then Atheris drew his sword slowly, stepping back to the proper distance.
“Very well,” he said.
He thinks I’m going to kill him, Peri thought with grim amusement. Good.
No easy transition this time, no courteous testing of skill; Peri went straight into Mahdha’s Fury and attacked full out, no hesitation. Atheris barely countered, astonished by the sudden ferocity of her attack, and Peri came close enough to beating her way past his guard that she saw that doubt in his eyes again—perhaps even a flash of true fear.
Good. Can’t give him time to think—
Peri held forth her attack just long enough to see that uncertainty in Atheris’s eyes start to shift to true suspicion, rejoicing in the sweet ring of blade on blade, the swish of steel-cut air. When had the hard, fierce beat of her heart, the sweat slickening her skin, the smooth flow of her muscles ever felt so good? When had she ever felt so strong, so free?
So alive?
Atheris tried to take the offensive and Peri beat his attempt back almost effortlessly. Her feet were married to the stone beneath them in unshakable balance. The very air rushing into her lungs was sweet and full of power. Her sword had melded seamlessly into her skin, her muscles, her nerves, her blood, become an extension of her body, her self, and she of it, which pleased her even more. She deflected another pitiful attack, glad to see true fear now, fear that would turn to feed anger.
Atheris pressed his attack more strongly now, a hint of desperation creeping into his qivashim. Peri flowed into Stalking Cat, knowing he would—
Yes, Leaping Flame—
The maneuver had taken her by surprise before and she faltered slightly now, ever so briefly, just enough to let Atheris press his initiative and—
She fell into Waterdance as effortlessly as sliding into her oldest boots, worn and stretched in all the right spots, so they’d molded themselves to every contour of her feet.
I am Perian. I am warrior.
And Waterdance accepted her, welcomed her, answered her, flowing like the river, rich and smooth and powerful but mutable, changeable, meeting Atheris’s Charging Boar and flowing around it, buffeting Diving Hawk aside with her currents, unstirred by Mahdha’s Fury.
I am earth, deep-rooted and strong, mother of steel.
And she drew him in like the arms of a lover, every move subtly guiding him deeper into her currents; flowing around his thrusts but then inexorably back onto her course.
I am wind, swift and light.
Subtlety and patience had never numbered among Peri’s virtues, but it was easy now, easy as the breath that swelled her lungs, the kiss of blade on blade, touch and touch guiding rather than countering.
I am fire, steel’s father, dancing, all-consuming.
Involuntarily, almost obliviously he was moving to her rhythms now, yes, like a lover, his movements answering to hers now. They moved together in the dance, ebb and flow, advance and retreat, again, almost ready—
I am—
And now he was hers, every thrust and cut of his sword guided by the lightest touch of hers, his balance answering to the rhythm of her dance. And the strength flowed through her, strong and deep and alive, alive, and she strove to prolong the moment just a little longer, just a little—
I am—
And taking one last deep breath, Peri dropped her defenses just so, leaving one single opening just—
And her lover entered with a single deep, strong thrust, cold and hot at the same time, sweet sharp pain that promised release but not yet, not yet—
I am—
Peri fell to her knees and one hand, her other hand clutching stubbornly at the hilt of her sword, not touching the shining blade that pierced her through. She barely heard Atheris’s cry of horr
or, although she heard another sound now, a pounding she thought at first was her heart.
I am—
No, the pounding was at the door, the hard thud of metal against wood. Guards pounding on the door, trying to break the heavy wooden bar. No matter. Not long now.
I am—
She slumped back against the base of the altar, biting back a cry of pain as the tip of the sword transfixing her jarred and grated against the stone.
I am—
“Peri,” Atheris groaned, reaching for his sword. “Oh, Eregis have mercy, Peri—”
“Don’t,” Peri rasped, her free hand intercepting his. “If you pull it out, I’ll start bleeding heavily and die fast. Too fast.”
To her surprise the pain was not so bad, fading even. She breathed shallowly, but still blood welled into her mouth. She turned her head, spat it out weakly. The pounding at the door changed tone. A ram of some sort.
“What can I do?” Atheris asked helplessly. To Peri’s surprise, there were tears trickling down his cheeks.
“It’s all right,” she said. She had to stop and spit again before she could continue. “You did what I wanted. With the geas, I knew I couldn’t”—cough, spit—”do it myself.”
I am—
“Peri—”
Pounding at the door. So close. She could feel it easily now, the ancient might of it, so much power locked in its stone prison, waiting, sleeping.
“Hurry,” Peri said, surprised at the clarity of her voice. She touched Atheris’s hair, wrapped her fingers firmly in it. “What you need—it’s yours. But you have to hurry. They’re coming, and I’ll fly with Mahdha soon. It’s time.”
Her voice was fading, and Atheris leaned close to catch her words.
“Peri—” he said again, his eyes pleading.
“No. Listen to me.” She swallowed, gulped down breath, forced herself to meet his eyes. “Listen to me. It wasn’t just battle heat with us. It was more.”
Atheris touched her cheek very gently.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “It was more.”
I am water, cool and deep and flowing.
And it was there beneath her, waiting, old and cold and timeless—
“It’s time,” she whispered. “Take what you need.”
And the grief in Atheris’s eyes was close now, very close, and his lips were hot against hers, and the pounding was growing more distant, remote, like the beat of Peri’s heart.
And she drew him down with her as the cold power pulled her down, pulled her in. And it was no longer beneath her now; it was around her, within her, the cold and ancient life of it, throbbing with sleeping power, pushing lazily against the stone of its prison.
Pushing harder now, stirring under the touch of power, hers, his, theirs—testing the walls of its prison for faults, seeking out that inevitable weakness that could not resist.
I am warrior.
And Peri was steel, sharp and shining, a finely balanced sword that struck there, right into the heart of that one weak point, so precise and perfect in their stroke, Atheris the hand and Peri the deadly sharp point, Atheris the skill and Peri the aim in a single perfect strike, a killing blow that brought life gushing forth in a violent eruption from its confinement.
And somehow, remotely in her own body, Peri felt the rumbling both below and above her as the power was freed, heard the bones of the earth groaning as they yielded before a force that could no longer be contained, the grinding of stone on stone, but even that sound seemed to grow fainter, for she could hear the sweet whisper of Mahdha calling her name, calling her home.
I am—
“Peri!”
Peri groaned in protest at returning consciousness. Then sensation returned and she cried out hoarsely as pain jarred rhythmically through her body, unbelievable hot agony ripping through her vitals. Dimly she realized Atheris had at some point pulled the sword out of her and was now carrying her, trotting along as fast as he could—but why was he stumbling in that way, crashing against one side of the corridor, making the agony flare again in her guts, then crashing against the other side so that she nearly fainted again from the pain? Why was he staggering, barely keeping his feet under him? Surely the shaking, the rumbling was only inside her—
And the screams—
“Hold on,” Atheris gasped over the rumbling, over strange dull explosions. “Hold on a little longer. Do you hear me?” He leaned against the wall and shook her, or perhaps it was the wall that shook. “Do you hear me? Answer me!”
“All right,” Peri said weakly, annoyed. “All right, I hear you.”
Stumbling through darkness, through light, falling to his knees—AGONY!—and pushing himself up again, but Peri’s consciousness faltered.
Then the night breeze was soft on her face, and the sound of horses whickering nearby was sweet and familiar. And heavy clouds blocked her view of the stars, but that was all right because there was still the open air and the horses, honest earth under her back, and, yes, the sweetness of the wind in her hair. She saw Atheris only dimly in the darkness, but she felt his cold tears falling on her face, and she was grateful, so grateful he’d given her this one last gift.
“Thank you,” she whispered, wishing she could say more. But it was hard to breathe, so hard.
“Oh no, Peri,” Atheris said, right in her face, his breath fanning her cheeks. “You have not yet given me all that I need.”
Then his lips met hers and she tasted her own blood, and fierce hot pain exploded in her vitals as Atheris took what he wanted from her—
And gave her darkness at last.
Chapter Nine
Cold. So cold. So very, very cold. Peri opened her eyes and saw only darkness, heard a strange roaring hiss around her, and for a moment sheer terror gripped her soul. Had she somehow failed to restore her honor? Had her death on Sarkondish soil, in a Sarkondish temple, denied her the freedom of flight in Mahdha’s embrace? Had she—
She sucked in a deep breath and pain made her expel it again immediately in a groan.
Pain. Cold. Darkness. I’m not dead. Nothing hurts this badly but life.
“Awake at last,” Atheris murmured, bending over her. She could barely see him, but she heard the relief in his voice. “I would say ‘Thank Eregis,’ but I fear He had nothing to do with it.”
“It’s so dark,” Peri whispered.
“We are under an overhang,” he said. “And I made a lean-to against it with a blanket for shelter. I dared not move you far.”
Peri shivered, then could not stop shivering.
“So cold,” she said, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. “I’m so cold.”
Atheris chuckled, and then the warmth of his body against her side was the sweetest, most luxurious sensation she’d ever felt.
“You are cold,” he said, “because your hair, your clothes, our blankets, everything we own is soaked through. And that, my Bregondish warrior lady, is why there is no fire, because there is no dry tinder to be had.”
No dry—for a moment Peri had the absurd notion that Atheris’s tears had somehow drenched everything they owned. Then her mind finally fumbled the pieces together—cold, wet, that sound around her.
“Rain?” she whispered disbelievingly. “Is it rain?”
Atheris chuckled again, and a flash of lightning, followed by a resounding clap of thunder, answered her before he could.
“My lady, it is rain the likes of which my land has not seen in decades,” he said. “You and I can count ourselves fortunate if we are not flooded out of our poor hiding place within the hour. But I dared not move you far before, and now the storm has grown so strong that I think it would be more dangerous to go than to stay.”
Peri took a deep breath, which aborted in a fit of coughing. A dull pain seemed to echo off the walls inside her chest, but she knew, and wondered at the knowing, that it was only the ache and sensitivity of newly healed flesh.
“I’m alive,” she murmured. “I can’t possibly be alive. I c
an’t.” The realization came with a confusing mélange of emotions—wonder, relief, apprehension, dread. She couldn’t be alive. Atheris’s stroke had been true. She’d felt Mahdha’s breath all around her. She had died. How could she be alive again? Had Atheris’s magic included necromancy, pulled her back from her flight into her dead flesh? What kind of monstrous thing did that make her?
Atheris leaned over her, and a flash of lightning lit the sky—even through the blanket there was enough light to show her the reassurance in his eyes.
“You gave me the use of your water sensitivity,” he said. “At the moment when life was leaving you there was nothing to prevent me from touching your healing magic as well. There was power aplenty around us, more than enough for even so great a healing, and you had the skill I needed to guide it.” Another flash of lightning showed Peri his smile. “Besides, as you know, I have some acquaintance with death. I denied her successfully once before. Tonight I dared do so again.”
He chuckled.
“That effrontery will cost me, no doubt, someday when I meet Lady Death again and can no longer refuse her embrace.”
“Lady Death?” Peri asked dubiously.
Atheris’s fingers touched her cheek.
“Perian, after dancing the Ithuara with you, there is no doubt in my mind that death is a woman.” His lips brushed hers ever so lightly. “And a lady of quality.”
Peri raised her hand, surprised to find herself tired, but not as weak as she would have expected. The front of her tunic was torn open—by Atheris, no doubt—but she felt no embarrassment, only wonder and consternation as her fingertips found the scar just under her sternum.
“You have another on your back,” Atheris said, touching her hand. “And I have no doubt it will give you pain in bad weather such as this.” He chuckled again. “Unfortunately you were attended by a healer of considerable power but no experience or skill of his own whatsoever.”
Waterdance Page 24
