A single image flicks through her—through his—brain. She and Keppia, sullen and defeated both, stare at each other across a sandy space, while between them stands a figure of light. A throne behind him, barely discernible. The House of the Gods, Deorc realises; though, he supposes, at that time more appropriately called the House of the God. He is seeing the truce between the two armies of creation. Not only humankind: other creatures fought in each army, according to kinship and disposition. The cause of the conflict has long been forgotten. Ancient history—though Deorc suspects Umu knows exactly what lies behind it. The war was prosecuted for a thousand years and more, and the world bled because of it.
So the Most High had despaired of his creation. He presented Umu and Keppia with a stark future. He was, he told them, prepared to wipe the world clean of life. There were other worlds, he said, where sentients lived together cooperatively. He would start anew here, with two people, and rebuild. Keppia and Umu were the chosen people.
In Umu’s memory, Keppia was the one to plead for mercy. It was Keppia’s plan to anoint himself and Umu as gods, truce-keepers, forsaking earthly life for a role in the heavens. Umu went along with this reluctantly, keeping her reservations to herself. So she remembers.
It happened so long ago that she now completely believes her memory. But Deorc can see the stamp of self-deception all over it. It was Umu who pleaded for the lives of her family and friends, for all of creation. Begging, persuading, promising, until the Most High assented to the plan. Thus, he said, I give you more power over your own futures. He was well satisfied.
Deorc wonders if this hasn’t been the god’s plan all along.
The Most High raised up two large thrones, one either side of his, and vested great power in them. He seated Umu and Keppia on those thrones and, as he spoke to them of statecraft, the power began to work in them, beginning the long transformation from human to god.
Deorc tries to project a thought towards Umu, desperate to exploit this knowledge. To unsettle her at the least. You are a fool, he shouts at her. You have been manipulated from the very start!
She hears nothing more, perhaps, than a faint whisper. Perhaps she hears nothing at all. Whichever, it does nothing to interrupt her endeavours: she is fashioning a spear of light, drawn directly from the magic of the void. A spear imbued with a magical tip, spell-shaped to cut through anything in its path.
“If I am safe from your hands,” she says in Deorc’s voice, addressing the Most High, “then I shall make an end of these tools of yours. And then we shall agree to a new pact, in which I assume your role and power while you fade away. I see your mind. It is what you want, what every part of you cries out for. You want to rest from your labours. I can grant your wish.”
She hefts the spear, holding it in an invisible hand. The sort of hand Deorc desired for himself.
The door opens.
The door opened and in came her friends.
Noetos first, sword in one hand, huanu stone in the other. Lenares beside him, her head barely reaching his shoulder, her large eyes open in what looked like fascination. The remainder of Stella’s former companions shuffled in with various degrees of reluctance, spreading to the left and right of the cosmographer and the fisherman, fighting the wish of their bodies to shelter behind those in front. For all the world like a choir of nervous children on the first night of Midwinter celebrations.
Stella almost laughed, and the god inside her chuckled at the image.
Kannwar stiffened. Ah, he’d obviously written her friends out of this drama. Set traps below, no doubt, which would explain the smoke billowing into the room through the half-open door. The traps had worked too, Stella observed: Bregor and Consina were missing, as was Cylene. The fisherman will be devastated. Yet there he stood, his eyes burning, obviously having elected to continue.
And now it comes, the Most High said, his voice sorrowful.
I have lived long enough, she muttered to him. I have seen all my closest friends into the grave. I am prepared for an ending.
I am sorry, Stella, but there is something else I must tell you. There is a chance that the manner of your death may rip you entirely from the world and the void between.
I will cease to exist? Her chest began to burn.
Silent assent.
Can you tell me… What can I… She gave up. To be told details of the future would be to shape it, to potentially change the desired outcome. You needn’t have told me, she whispered. I am having enough trouble being brave.
So, said the voice, am I.
“Can’t keep you away,” the Destroyer said, nodding to Noetos. “Are you here for me or for Umu?”
“Both,” said the fisherman, and strode forward brandishing the huanu stone.
* * *
Umu can barely contain her delight. The spear remains unthrown, and as the god’s thoughts cascade through his brain, Deorc can see why.
To become anchored in the world she needs a body. Deorc’s will not do: it is sustained entirely by magic, and is unpleasant both to look upon and live within. Umu intends to move out as soon as she can.
When Stella entered the room, the Daughter rejoiced—she was perfect. Immortal, beautiful, powerful. Umu desired her with an intensity that made his own desire seem trivial, until the presence of the Most High burgeoned within the woman.
Now other bodies line the wall, each one a possible candidate for possession. Arathé would be the easiest to take, having an already-open channel to Deorc’s mind. Moderately gifted, yet badly blemished. Unattractive. By no means a worthy vessel, but might do as a transitional place to gather strength for her next leap.
Duon is equally problematic. Umu desires a woman’s body, and Duon is most emphatically a man and too old. She sets him aside in her thoughts.
With that dreadful thing in his hand, Noetos is untouchable. She moves on quickly with a shudder.
His son, though, is another matter. Young, handsome, talented, yet to come into his full strength. Rightful heir to a dukedom. She built her earthly power base all those years ago from far less.
Ah, but there stands Lenares. One of twins. Her sister is likely beyond Umu’s grasp, unless she can be freed from Keppia’s accursed conduit without it killing her anew. Lenares, though, is exquisite. Such a mind! God-touched. And the prospect of a very intimate revenge for those days of humiliating captivity cannot be discounted. A close second to Stella perhaps.
But at that moment the presence of the Most High that has been glowing hotly within Stella vanishes. Frightened of the huanu stone, no doubt. Umu thrusts her debate aside and pounces.
She takes an instant to flick through Deorc’s dying brain and retrieve the memory she is looking for: how to fashion a spike. The making that had taken him days takes her seconds. She drops the spear, lifts the spike and slams it into Stella’s mind.
The Falthan queen stumbles at the impact.
Umu sees Noetos coming at her and forces the channel between her and Stella wide open.
Deorc sees his doom approaching. Umu is going to let him back into his broken body and mind just in time to be struck by the huanu stone. He tries to ready himself for vigorous movement, tries to assemble some sort of defence, but knows he will be too late.
Umu cackles in triumph as she pours herself out of his mind and into that of the Falthan queen. Full possession.
Deorc of Jasweyah hauls himself back into the wreckage of his mind, pausing for the merest moment to grab the tattered outliers of his thoughts. He is too late. The stone is coming.
The Most High disappeared.
A pain like the bite of a scorpion took her in the back of her head. A moment later her mind exploded in fire as something black and hot forced its way through the channel and into her brain.
She retreated to the place he had prepared for her, sobbing in fear and regret—how could she not?—as the brutal Daughter took her mind in taloned fingers, tore it apart—gone forever—and reshaped it, like a vulture invading a nest
.
The impact was fearsome and irrevocable. Stella did not have to feign her stagger. Into the path of Noetos and his stone.
Stella seized control of her body back from Umu, the Most High’s strength underlining her own. At the same time the Most High seared the channel back to Deorc, closing it. The goddess screamed, dimly aware she had been out-thought. Trapped by her own desires. Stella hooked a foot around Noetos’s leg and brought him crashing down on top of her. Two bodies, four minds, falling to the floor.
Three deaths to come.
She took his arm firmly in her own and guided the huanu stone down onto her chest, between her breasts. The sudden pain was intolerable, worse than a sword through the heart. Welcome.
Someone, somewhere in the room, began screaming.
In full possession of her bleeding brain, Stella looked into the eyes of the frightened man atop her, the huanu stone wedged between them. He clearly believed he had failed. That he was killing the wrong person.
“Don’t be alarmed,” she whispered as the magic began to drain out of her. White water-magic, black, corrupted throne-magic and gold creator-magic, vanishing into the void in three distinct but intertwined streams. “This is right. This is what the stone is for.”
* * *
Lenares and Arathé had kept up a constant whisper in his ear, alerting him as to the build-up of power and the intentions of those in the room. Then Lenares had hissed on an indrawn breath. “Umu is attacking Stella,” she said.
As he lunged for the grotesque body in which, against all reason, Lenares claimed Umu was housed, he realised that he was likely wasting his last chance at revenge. The huanu stone absorbed magic, but at a cost to itself: each use rendered part of the stone inert, the size of the blemish proportional to the power absorbed. Striking at Umu now would probably use the stone up, robbing him of any chance of retribution against the Undying Man. Nevertheless, he struck.
He was halfway across the room, hand raised high, when Stella stumbled into his path. Stumbled deliberately. He tried to avoid her, but she snared his leg and pulled him down to the floor with her. Trapping the huanu stone between them.
Knowing the thing would drain her magic, he grabbed at it, trying to pull it away. But her hand held his arm motionless. He was a strong man, his muscles developed from years of hauling boats and nets, but he could not move the slim woman’s hand even by a fraction of a finger-width.
“Don’t be alarmed,” she said. “This is right. This is what the stone is for.” As she spoke, blood began to flow from her nose, her ears and her eyes.
In that moment Noetos knew no right or wrong, was shown no clear path, had no one to ask for help. Had no wisdom to fall back on. Knew only that he was hurting a woman he’d come to respect; was stripping her of her immortality, maybe even killing her.
He turned his head to his left, afraid to look any longer into the tortured face beneath his own. The Undying Man had made it to his feet and was launching himself at the figure on the seat by the window. With every fibre of his being Noetos wanted to leap up and chase the selfish bastard who had done for his daughter and who had brought this vulnerable woman to this place.
But he did not. He could do nothing but trust Stella. For her sake, because she asked him to, he held the huanu stone to her chest and prayed most fervently that she knew what she was doing.
Lenares had no power of her own. She could do nothing but watch as the trap was set and sprung. She had seen it develop and knew it for what it was, which made her smarter than Umu. She derived a great deal of satisfaction from that.
Even as their power faded, Stella and the Most High held fast to Umu, containing her increasingly frantic attempts to withdraw from Stella’s body.
“Lenares!” Torve cried. “What is happening?”
To the non-magical onlookers this climactic moment must appear odd, a simple skirmish on the floor not even involving any of their enemies. So it seemed.
“No time to explain,” Lenares said, as Stella started to convulse in Noetos’s arms.
He tried to pull away then; she could see the effort he applied to lifting himself free of her embrace.
“It’s all right,” she said lamely to the others. Despite appearances.
We will plug the hole ourselves, Stella, the Most High said to her. After we allow Umu to pass through.
Is there no other way? she asked wistfully.
Yes, he said, always scrupulous with the truth. I could let you trickle back into your body. Sadly, your mind has been damaged beyond repair by Umu’s intrusion. I hoped she would be more careful, but she has never known the meaning of restraint. You would live the rest of your life—ten years perhaps, or more—in a madhouse. They would feed you with a spoon and wipe you when you messed yourself. You would be much honoured, but you would never know it. In the meantime, I would try to hold the gap alone, and most likely fail.
But if I want, she said, you’d let me back?
I cannot stop you, he replied. Nor would I want to. As always, this is your choice, freely made.
I would have the last seventy years over again, she said.
He smiled. What if I could offer you better?
She formed a question in her mind, but he answered before she could ask it.
I have in mind a tutor’s appointment for you. A couple of youngsters need training into a new position of responsibility.
I thought I was to be employed plugging a hole?
That will heal itself over in time, after which you can devote yourself to your pupils.
I don’t mind what task you have for me, she said, as long as I have something useful to do.
He smiled. I think this is a task you will enjoy.
Together they continued to hold steady, sharing the searing pain with the stoicism of veterans as the increasingly attenuated spirit of the former Daughter spun away towards the void. After a time the stream of black throne-magic died away, along with the shrieks, curses and pleading, and silence descended upon them.
A peace such as Stella had never known, had never imagined could exist, stole over her. She sighed.
Don’t get used to it, said the Most High. It won’t last long. Remember, I have new tasks for you soon.
I wish I could bid my friends farewell, she said. They have been so brave.
You are blessed that they are all here, gathered around you, to give you their goodbyes. You may linger a while longer, but already the majority of your strength I have woven into the Wall of Time. I, too, will remain for a moment.
Stella died in his arms.
The horror of her death, of his killing her, overwhelmed Noetos. He realised that now she was dead, he had no one to speak up for him. He knew how this must have looked to the observers and feared the anger about to descend upon him.
He eased himself off the corpse of the Falthan queen, picked up the now inert stone and looked around wearily. The only movement in the room was over by the window, where the Undying Man hacked at the body of Husk with a sword. Thud, thud, thud went the blade, spattering gore on the walls and floor.
The Lord of Bhrudwo looked up from his work, his face bleak. “Is she dead?”
“Yes.”
Noetos prepared himself for an outburst. A bolt of magic perhaps, or a blow with the sword. He knew he had nothing with which to protect himself from the former, and doubted his ability to defend himself against a blade. Not with his limbs shaking so fiercely.
The Undying Man sighed, and said, “There were other ways of doing this.”
Noetos could not answer him. His family, friends and travelling companions stared at him in shock.
Finally someone dared to break the silence.
“What in the Most High’s name have you done, fisherman?” Sauxa bellowed. “You’ve killed her! You killed my queen!”
“Yes,” he responded, hardly trusting himself to speak even that monosyllable. “I killed her.”
“She’ll come back to life again, won’t she?” Moralye
said, but Noetos could hear the hope against reason in the scholar’s voice.
“No, the stone has burned the magic out of her,” he said in a monotone. “And because her immortality was magical, she lost her life as well as her power.”
“Why, my friend?” Sauxa asked. “Why kill her? What had she done to you?”
Sautea spread his arms. “Isn’t the immediate question still what we do to defeat the Daughter? Isn’t she holed up in that… body?”
“You’re diverting attention away from the fisherman because you are his friend!” Sauxa challenged, his voice a roar.
Lenares pushed her way to Noetos’s shoulder. “Please! Stop, everyone. Listen to me. Umu is gone, driven back beyond the hole in the world, which is being repaired as I speak. I will explain what you didn’t see.”
Noetos nodded to her. Say what you wished about her, the girl had a presence that gained people’s attention. He was safe at least until she finished her explanation.
“The Most High set a trap for Umu,” Lenares explained. “He seemed to abandon Stella during the confrontation, and Umu decided to leave Husk and jump to Stella. She most likely thought the Most High’s presence had moved to the Undying Man, so she set a spike in Stella’s mind and made the leap. Stella and the Most High trapped her there.”
“We saw none of this,” Sauxa said mulishly. “How do we know it is true?”
“You don’t,” snapped Lenares. “All you can do is judge the source. Do I often get it wrong? If not, you might want to consider believing what I say. Anyway, I told Noetos that Umu was about to attack Stella. He acted rather precipitately and sought to assault Umu in Husk’s body with the huanu stone. I can tell from his numbers that he attacked Husk hoping to destroy Husk and Umu both. Noetos wanted to use the huanu stone on Husk because he was angry at how the magician had spiked and abused his daughter. But his primary target was the Undying Man. Am I right?”
She smiled at him, her head cocked, waiting for a reply.
Noetos nodded his head slowly.
“It wouldn’t have worked,” she said cheerfully. “Had you tried to drain Umu’s magic, she would have fled to the nearest person she had a connection with—probably your son or daughter. Once there she could have used them as a hostage, demanding you lay down the huanu stone or throw it out of the window.”
Beyond the Wall of Time Page 51
