It’s not enough, she thought, and he understood. They didn’t have the strength to unleash a torrent of killing flame, especially if the alligaunt barrier interfered with the magic going outward, too, and they wouldn’t be able to hold the power they’d gathered for much longer. The best they could do would be to injure the creature, not kill it.
Then Tejohn, who had spent his adult life killing with the tip of a spear, thought, The eye.
Yes. Cazia altered her hand motions, focusing all her will into a space narrower than her little finger.
/We can not reach you. What are you doing?
The flame shot forward with a hiss like an angry serpent, and the alligaunt barrier barely affected it at all. The white-hot light burned right through the alligaunt’s eye into its skull.
/Stop! Please! You are destroying us! Stop!
But nothing could stop the fire spell they had cast, nor the shared fury that powered it. Together they drilled the flame into the creature’s head, destroying its brain and killing it.
The golden light rushed at them suddenly, striking the alligaunt barrier hard enough to rattle it. Tejohn braced the bars with his shield as a second rush came at them, marveling that Cazia could keep her concentration even under the threat of the gods. The second rush expended itself without much effect.
The alligaunt turned gray. Dead. Tejohn raised his voice. “You felt that, didn’t you?”
The gods did not respond with words this time, only a low, miserable cry of horror. That’s the sound I wanted to hear, Tejohn thought, and Cazia joined him. The arrogance of power. The thrill of taking lives and property.
“That was fun,” Cazia said, glancing around at the ghostly figures nearby. Every living thing, both near and far, had turned to look at her. They recognized her and Tejohn, and knew what they had become. Every creature, human or not, stared at her in terror.
They experienced that death, too. Cazia felt a twist of remorse. Hide it. Don’t falter. This thing unleashed The Blessing on us.
Tejohn was right. His urge to kill was still sharp and inevitable, because the battle was not done.
/You have killed us.
“No, we did not!” Tejohn said angrily.
/Time passed for him and he has been taken from us. We felt his pain as he died. We felt his horror when he realized what was happening. We felt his helpless despair, his loss, his--
“You may have felt it with him,” Tejohn said, “but you haven’t been killed. Dead people don’t get to linger on afterward and complain. You were just part of the audience!”
“I don’t think it’s learned its lesson yet,” Cazia said, moving her hands into position to start the spell again. In truth, she felt woozy and sick--casting that Gift had taken so much out of her that she’d nearly blacked out, but she was ready to continue if she had to. Her anger had grown too large for her, and she could barely keep it in check.
/Stop. Please. You diminish us. You bring us grief and pain.
Cazia couldn’t stand it any longer. “Oh, you poor little lamb! You simply can’t bear to suffer! What about those killed in the invasions you allowed? What about those killed or tortured by hollowed-out scholars? What about my brother? How many deaths do you think you owe us?”
/Mercy. Please, show us mercy.
“Mercy!” Cazia couldn’t help but shout. “Mercy!”
Tejohn felt her lose control of her anger as she pulled out her mace. A rush of remembered bullies and abuse flooded through them both, and Tejohn was startled by the endless stream of it.
“You want mercy?” she called. “What if I destroy--”
Her anger seemed to blossom. Tejohn knew she intended to expose the kinzchu stone inside the alligaunt barrier, where time could progress. She intended to kill The Great Way.
“Our enemy,” Tejohn said, “has sued for mercy. We must show it. We must.”
For a moment, her rage turned against him, but it faltered in the face of his understanding. He knew what she was feeling and knew what her instinct for defiance might lead to.
Cazia looked around. Every eye was on them, human or not. Every expression was terrified. The gods could not reach them, but they were wise enough to be terrified.
“We must come to an agreement,” Cazia said, drawing on Tejohn’s more composed anger. To avoid all of those accusing stares, she looked down at her feet and marveled at the granite below her. It seemed so real.
/What do you ask of us?
“We can’t decide that,” she said, finding clear thought in the aftermath of her wild anger. “We can’t decide what to do on our own.”
/We are. If you destroy us, here in this not-space-not-moment, we will never have existed. We will vanish not only from the future but from the past as well. No living or unliving thing will be connected--
“We understand,” Tejohn said. “You will vanish from all of eternity, and our forebearers will never come to Kal-Maddum, and we will no longer exist. We understand.”
Cazia took a deep breath. “We have to speak with others on Kal-Maddum. Can you shut down your portals in our land?”
/All but one. One is pinned open.
“We saw it,” Tejohn said. “I believe it is buried now. I don’t think we can unpin it soon.”
/We can close the others.
“Do that after we leave,” Cazia said. “And leave them closed until the next time the portal in Peradain would open. Do you know what time I’m referring to?”
/We do. We can do that if we must. You can leave at any time.
“The delay will work in your favor,” Cazia said. “In twenty-three years, we’ll be less angry.”
/When you know where you want to go, you need only will it. We will deliver you there.
“We’ll leave when we choose,” Tejohn snapped. “Not when you do. That’s what it means to be conquered.”
Was there any reason to linger here? Cazia and Tejohn tried to think of one more thing they might want, but everything they wanted was out in the real world.
Tejohn knew where he wanted to go, and before Cazia had a chance to share his thought, the promenade vanished, then the other figures, then the golden lights. Then they fell out of the void back into the world.
Chapter 39
Cazia caught the end of the alligaunt rope at the last moment. It was still wrapped around the bars, but she willed it to hold on and to catch hold of Tejohn’s wrist.
In the darkness, something threw her downward with tremendous force, then lifted her up, turned her over, and forced her downward again. She gasped as the rope around her wrist jerked her arm, hard. Soon, she had no idea which way was down. All she knew was that she was tumbling in pitch blackness.
Water. This is water. As that realization came to her, she was suddenly flung upward into daylight. The air chilled her wet skin and she tried to look along the rope to see if Tejohn was there, but it led down into the churning green water that revealed nothing.
She was thrown upward again, then slid downward in a great rush. Slowly, the water grew thin and Cazia found herself skidding down a mud slope.
She turned over and over, sloshing through the nasty black mud. Her hiking skirts tangled with her legs, and when she flopped onto her back, it was hard to get up again. The mud sucked at her limbs and stole the heat from her body.
And she was so tired.
The sky above them was bright blue. Daytime. But where were they?
“Cazia, are you hurt?”
It was Tejohn. He had already gained his feet, struggling in his heavy armor to approach her across the slope. He’d even kept hold of his spear.
“I’m fine,” she answered, rolling onto her side. An ugly gray fish flopped in the mud nearby, stranded by the unexpected disappearance of the water. Great Way, her clothes--
No. She was going to have to break that habit. She could not continue to swear by the gods. Not while they were Enemies.
But where were they? They had been dropped onto a steep riverbe
d. That much she could work out. The water had vanished, leaving behind a few stranded fish and hundreds of feet of mud in every--
“I know where we are!” Cazia exclaimed. “This is…was the Straim. When we came south out of a Toal holdfast, we passed this long slope. But the river is gone. What happened to the river?”
“It must have been fed by a portal,” Tejohn said. “When you demanded they be closed, the flow of water ceased.”
“Oh.” That might be a problem. The Indregai depended on the wide, fast-moving river to help defend their borders. “I didn’t realize.”
Tejohn moved his spear into his shield hand and helped her up. It took some doing, because she couldn’t balance as easily as he could. “I’m afraid that I’m the one who put us here,” Tejohn said. “I wanted to be near my family.”
The mud gave way under Cazia’s feet and she sat down hard in the slimy black silt. Then she burst out laughing. She didn’t know why, except that it felt good to be alive, even if her butt was soaking wet and shockingly cold, and her clothes were ruined.
Tejohn laughed as he helped her up again, but it only lasted a short while. The western bank looked slightly farther away, but that’s the direction they went. Toward Indrega.
In truth, Cazia felt a little lonely. Sharing every thought and feeling with another person had been a startling, overwhelming experience, so much different from the one-sided intrusions of the Tilkilit queen. There ought to be a song about it, maybe. She glanced at Tejohn; no one would have picked the two of them to sing about.
Old Stoneface had started out as an Enemy. Then, in the presence of the gods, he had saved her. Cazia had been about to lose control of her grief and anger, and he had stayed her hand. He’d stopped her before she could commit a terrible crime. His rage had been so much more controlled than hers… She’d never even imagined such a thing was possible.
“Thank you,” she said as they struggled along. “What you did inside there…” She had no idea what to say. “It was…impressive.
He let out a bark of laughter. “I impressed you?” For a moment, he did not look grim and angry, but whatever he was about to say next was interrupted.
“Ho! Who approaches the border?”
It was a pair of archers in Indregai white. Cazia assumed they were Toal. “Friends of the Toal and Ergoll people, companion to Vilavivianna of Goldgrass Hill, and the source of the kinzchu spears she delivered to your soldiers. We’re near Fort Whune, aren’t we?”
They were. The archers led them to a patrol, who escorted them to the fort itself. Inside the walls, Cazia created two blocks’ worth of kinzchu stones, to the tremendous delight of the commander. If he remembered her as the same girl he’d imprisoned and stolen the iron crown from--the girl who wanted to whip him before his dinner guests--he didn’t show it.
Instead, they were given kinzchu stones to touch, then they feasted, shared their news, and were given a comfortable place to sleep. Apparently, they had been awake inside the alligaunt city for nearly a day and a night.
When they awoke, they were taken to break their fast with Alisimbo, who had journeyed north to them. What’s more, he wasn’t alone. One of the Evening People stood beside the king, and he glowed with the same golden light they’d seen inside the portal. As they entered the commander’s hall, the Evening Person strode forward and, ignoring Cazia completely, stared Tejohn in the eyes.
“Tejohn Treygar? Is that you?”
“It is.” Tejohn’s tone was chilly.
“I had hoped to meet you again under better circumstances.” The Evening Person’s golden eyes did not blink and his gaze did not wander. “Do you remember me?”
“I do, Co. I have changed much more than you have.”
Co nodded. “On the outside, perhaps. My spirit feels much changed.”
“Your aspect certainly seems altered.”
Co smiled at that. Cazia noticed a number of others smiled with him. There was a tremendous tension in the room, from the visiting king to the commander, all the way down to the boys setting out roasted fish. It was clear that Co was an important figure among the Indrega.
“I have learned humility, I think you mean,” Co said. “It’s true. I have experienced a kind of horror I could not have imagined twenty-three years ago. Back then, I would have scoffed at the idea. Now… Now I feel that I understand your song better than I once did, even as I realize that I will never truly understand. Is my meaning clear?”
“I think so.” Tejohn was no longer so chilly. “I suspect you could sing a song of your own now.”
“Perhaps, although the idea of creating one makes me brim with sorrow. Even that song you sang at the Festival, the one I wanted to hear over and over… I do not think I could bear it now.”
“Perhaps instead,” Tejohn said, “we might be friends. I could introduce you to my wife and children and you would see that my story has a happy ending.”
“I would like that,” Co agreed. “It would give me hope that I might have one as well.”
At this point, Alisimbo stepped forward. “Our new friends”--he bowed to Co--“have provided us with many treasures, including sleepstones, flying carts, and communication mirrors. As such, we have already sent a message to have your family moved into the safety of Goldgrass Hill.”
Tejohn thanked him, and the way he spoke made it clear he did not know who Alisimbo was. Cazia tapped his elbow and explained that this was Ivy’s father, at which point there was a great deal of embarrassment and apology.
To his credit, the king brushed aside all talk of protocol and got down to business. Everyone ate, Tejohn and Cazia shared their news in the briefest way they could--the role of the alligaunts, the attack on the Evening People, the collapse of the hidden city, the journey into the portal itself, the closing of the portals--and apologized for the effect on the Straim.
The Indregai were deeply concerned; the river was the basis of their defense. They did not have enough warriors or weapons to guard the entire bank. Cazia suggested signal fires in the day and bells or horns at night; the grunts were seeking humans and could be drawn toward fortified locations and kinzchu weapons.
Immediately after that, they were escorted to an extraordinary flying cart. It had not been assembled from boards; it had been grown from a single tree trunk by Co himself, then endowed with flight. With barely a thank-you to their hosts for the meals and bed, they were loaded aboard and lifted into the sky. Soon after, night fell.
Their first stop had to be Kelvijinian’s temple. Then it was the Toal capitol city. In both places, Co summoned up four granite blocks, Cazia cast the spell-disruptor on them--something they were assured the Evening People could not do--and Co split them apart. Cazia was glad to surrender part of the spellcasting to someone else.
Tejohn was less impressed with the Toal capitol than with Kelvijinian himself, and rightly so. Cazia told him that she’d asked the earth god to seek Tejohn out in the west and deliver a message. Tejohn confessed quietly that he’d seen a face rise out of the soil but had punched it and fled before it could talk. Cazia had to make a great effort not to burst out laughing in the temple.
Then it was time to return to Goldgrass Hill. After they’d lifted off, Tejohn asked the king if they might use the communication mirror.
Cazia was startled. She hadn’t even realized there was one. Tejohn went to the front of the cart and drew back a cloth, revealing a sheet of polished bronze.
“Commander Lowtower,” he said. Cazia came near to hear the conversation, and Tejohn did not ask her to move away.
It took some time, but a squarish face appeared in the mirror. He looked startled to see Tejohn. “My tyr! I did not expect… Where are you?”
“Far,” Tejohn answered. “How go things?”
The commander sighed. “Difficult. The people have declared that one of the captured Evening People should be steward in place of the council you created. This fellow…he knows nothing about governing and less about us. Anyway, he has a
ppointed the council to be his advisors, and he simply does whatever we recommend. So, Bluepetal, Redegg, and I still rule, but by proxy. I think the Evening Person would rather live in a cell than the throne.”
“They’re a solitary people. Are the Twofin heirs safe?”
“Safe enough to have moved back into the holdfast.” Lowtower suddenly looked uncomfortable. “My tyr, there are grumblings here. I do not think it would be safe for you to return. Many still remember what you have done for us, but…”
“… But there are those anxious to put a knife into my back. I’m not surprised.”
“Even Nin has begun to denounce you.”
“Granny Nin speaks against me? Then the tide must have truly turned. Shall I keep Doctor Twofin away as well?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Lowtower said quickly. “He has no friends here.”
“Very well, commander. Beware the alligaunts; they created and unleashed The Blessing on all Kal-Maddum. And do not hunker behind your walls.”
“What?”
“And remember: the Twofin people must venture beyond their walls if they are to survive. May we meet again in happier times.”
Lowtower looked completely flummoxed. “I… Yes, happier times.”
Tejohn threw the cloth over the surface, breaking the contact. “Your turn,” he said.
“Thank you.” For a moment, she drew a blank. Did she know the names of anyone in the Freewell holdfast? Then she remembered. “Doctor Twofin.”
His face appeared within moments. He must have been close by. “My dear, where are you? The Twofins refuse to tell us what happened to you, and your people are terrified.”
The old scholar looked better than he had on the morning he’d arrived at the Freewell holdfast, but he still looked like he’d aged fifteen years since the Festival. “I’m fine. I’m helping to fortify the east. When I’m done, I’ll come straight back home.” Home, she’d said. And that was right. The Freewell lands were her home. “I think I’ll be bringing some new students for you to tutor. The Evening People can do miracles, but they can’t make kinzchu stones. We’ll have to spread that skill ourselves.”
The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way Page 42
