The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  After Yannassia had explained the problem to them, Rythmarri said to me, “What exactly do the Gurshmontas know?”

  Straight to the point. I liked that. “That we have people in place at one of the Karningers’ walled settlements on the southern plains, that they are hidden but would be in grave danger if discovered. That we would be in grave danger if they are discovered.”

  “They do not know which settlement?”

  “Not explicitly, but it’s not hard to guess, is it? There’s only one it could be.”

  “Greenstone Ford,” Hethryn put in eagerly.

  “Precisely.” I smiled at him. Hethryn said little, but he was observant and clever. Good-looking, too, in the same blond-haired way as Yannassia. He would make an admirable Drashon, in time.

  Rythmarri turned her penetrating gaze on him. “Tell me all you know of it,” she said.

  He didn’t hesitate. “First settled about twenty years ago in the aftermath of the political upheaval in the Karningplain, as a farming and craft community, trading with others upriver. About seven years ago, when a temple was built there, it expanded very quickly and there was an influx of newcomers, including large numbers of soldiers. But I do not know why,” he added, flashing the smile that had turned many a young lady to quivering incoherence.

  He received no answering smile. “No one knows why,” Rythmarri said. “There are thousands of them, these soldiers. They wear golden armour, and they never speak – not in public, at any rate. They are a ferociously disciplined force, established originally to guard the Karningers’ temples, and at first, as they spread into the plains settlements, that was all they did – build a temple, and guard it. Nothing else. Move on to the next settlement, build, guard. But something about Greenstone Ford stopped them. They made half-hearted approaches to the south – Rinnfarr Gap, a long-settled town – but the council there wanted no Karningplain temple, and the soldiers abandoned the idea. They stayed at Greenstone Ford, and after they built their temple, they started building – well, army barracks, I suppose you would call them, but huge. And more and more of them poured in.”

  “So they are setting up an army there?” Hethryn said in alarm. “An invasion force?”

  “They certainly have the capability to invade, if they wish to,” Yannassia said. “If we give them reason to. And if they find out that there are Bennamore spies in their midst…”

  “Our army is strong,” Hethryn said. “We have recovered well from the war against the Blood Clans, and we are at peace with all our neighbours. Defending ourselves would not be a problem, surely?”

  “That is the question we are wrestling with at the moment,” Rythmarri said, with a grimace. “Lathran, you have just come from Greenstone Ford, what is your opinion?”

  They talked back and forth for some time, without coming to any conclusions. These golden-armoured soldiers were so secretive that estimates of their numbers varied from five thousand to fifty, and no one had the least idea what they planned to do with so many.

  “Well, this is not very satisfactory,” Yannassia said. “So many trained soldiers just round the tip of the Sky Mountains from us, yet we have no idea why. We do not even know if they have any hostile intent, or are simply following some plan of their own which has nothing to do with us.”

  “Perhaps we should ask them,” I said.

  They stared at me in bemusement, but then Hethryn laughed. “You mean, send a diplomatic mission?”

  “Well, why not?” I said. “They are only a few suns’ march from our closest border, and they sit directly on our main trading route to the Karningplain. It is not unreasonable to extend the hand of friendship to our new neighbours.”

  “What a splendid idea!” Hethryn said. “I should love to be part of that! But I suppose you will say I am too young again.”

  “And so you are,” Yannassia said.

  “I am older than Drina was when she went to see the Blood Clans.”

  “And look how badly that turned out,” I murmured.

  “Phooey. You fixed everything nicely.” He grinned at me mischievously.

  “Idiot boy,” I said, ruffling his hair.

  “You and Ly could fly over there to have a look,” he added.

  “I don’t think—”

  “An excellent idea,” Yannassia said crisply. “You would only be gone a few suns. It would give us a different view of the place.”

  “A bird’s eye view,” Hethryn giggled.

  Everyone else laughed, but I sighed. When you can fly aback a giant eagle, everyone thinks you have nothing better to do than to shoot about the countryside. It was surprising how often there was a message or package too urgent for the roads. It was not that I minded, but sometimes I wished there were more people able to fly. The mages could do it, if they chose, using their magic to connect to the birds but mages were too important to be spared for running airborne errands. I liked to think I was important, but as the Drashona’s heir, and soon to be supplanted by Hethryn, I was clearly not essential to the running of the realm.

  Arran hated the idea, as usual. “I wish I could fly on an eagle,” he lamented. “You two have all the fun, and I always get left behind.”

  He looked so woebegone that I stretched up to kiss him. “We will only be gone for – oh, four suns, maybe five.”

  “We could do it in less time,” Ly said. “A sun-crossing there, a sun-crossing to look around and a sun-crossing back. Arran would not have time to miss you.”

  “I always miss Drina when she is away from me,” Arran said, glowering at Ly. “Even for an hour.”

  “And I miss you, too,” I said hastily. “But really, I think it would be best if we don’t try to rush this operation. I should like to check the roads as we go, to see if there is anything amiss along the way, and we should keep an eye out for Vahsi movements as well. So I think we will take two suns to get there. Then we can take our first look at this settlement at dawn, when the gates open. A sun looking around, and then, if the eagles are up to it, we can fly back in one sun.”

  The following morning, Ly and I donned our flying gear. Mine consisted of fur-lined boots and jacket, my thickest trousers and a hat with ear-flaps. Ly wore his usual indoor clothes, with a lightweight coat on top. Like all his people, he never seemed to feel the cold when he flew. Perhaps the magic in his blood kept him warm.

  On the roof of the Keep, the eagles were waiting for us, summoned by our mental connections with them. Not just our own eagles, either. Almost a score of the great beasts lived around Kingswell now, left behind after the war against the Blood Clans. They came and went as they pleased, hunting wild deer from the mountain behind the Imperial City and kishorn from further afield, and roosting on top of the Keep. Only a few were bonded with human riders, but they showed no desire to return to their Clanlands home.

  Even after five years, I was still awestruck by the size of these birds, far larger than any wild eagle, their size enhanced by the magic in their Blood Clan riders. My own was one of the smallest, but she still towered over me as I approached her. I could feel the excitement in her mind, knowing that we would be flying far afield this sun. She had been bonded first to Ly’s mother, who had given her the name Sunshine, which I still used although it was a ridiculous name for such a magnificent beast.

  Arran came to see us off. “Take care of her,” he said to Ly. “Keep her safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Come back soon,” Arran said to me. He sounded so despondent that I wrapped my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his shoulder. “My little flower,” he murmured, hugging me tightly.

  I kissed him and unentangled myself. Behind him, my bodyguard stood silently. Sunshine clicked her beak at me, wanting to be away. Lowering her great head for me to mount, I scrambled onto her back, fitting my feet into the stirrups. Blood Clan saddles were simpler than the horse version, with only a small strap to hold on to, and my first flying efforts had been terrifying. Now, all I felt was excitement. I gr
inned at Ly, and he grinned back.

  At a thought, Sunshine crouched and then launched herself into the air, her massive wings pumping to gain height. Below me, Ly’s eagle did the same. Dust swirled around us as we rose, slowly it seemed, but the Keep fell away rapidly beneath us. We circled once, twice, before turning to the east.

  My last sight was of Arran’s pale face, one arm uplifted in farewell.

  3: Greenstone Ford

  The thrill of flying never deserted me. The height, the speed, the swooping down and round, the sheer power of the beautiful creature beneath me – I loved it all. And in my mind, I could touch the thoughts and feelings of my eagle. Since Ly could connect to her too, that meant that my mind and his were also joined.

  There was something overwhelmingly intimate about being so attuned to another human being. I could stretch a mental thread towards him as we flew, and know that he was just as excited to be airborne as I was. And when our eagles were side by side, Ly would look across at me and I could feel the burst of affection in his mind. His ability for such mental connections was far stronger than mine, and he could control it better, having inherited it from his Blood Clan ancestors.

  He had accidentally transmitted it to me the first time his magic had driven us together. I wasn’t supposed to have blood magic, since I was an outsider – ‘unblooded’, as the Clanfolk called anyone not their own kin – but within a moon of that first terrifying coupling, I’d discovered I could jump into the minds of certain creatures. Rats were the first, with their snufflings and acute sense of smell in their dark world in the Keep walls and cellars. Then a bear, brought to entertain the jaded appetites of the nobility. And then the eagles. Even sitting in my apartment, I found myself simultaneously with Sunshine as she flew far above me, looking down through her eyes to the town far below.

  This sun there was no need to look through the eagle’s eyes, for my view was the same as hers – the solid red stone of the octagonal Keep, the magically glowing walls and elegant golden palaces of the Imperial City, tucked into the arms of Candle Mountain, and around their feet, the brown sprawl of Kingswell with its busy streets and squat buildings. We soon left the town behind, following the eastern road until it curved to avoid a series of lakes, and after that making straight for the border. This northern end of Bennamore was the earliest to be settled, and its land was a patchwork of small farms, orchards, open grazing land and small settlements, with a scattering of larger towns. But as we flew on, the fields gave way to rougher ground, with hills and winding rivers and dark patches of untouched forest.

  And then the border, a fortress with flags fluttering bravely, defended by a ditch and earth bank. Beyond it, the open plains, with their rolling grasslands. At this time of year, the grasses were brown, still awaiting the greening of spring, and the wind tossed them about like a darkly churning ocean. This was Icthari territory, home of my father’s people, but lately the barbaric Vahsi tribes had driven them west, so although we saw two or three small settlements below us, they were abandoned. We saw no sign of the Vahsi, however.

  Another hour or so brought us to the Taysil River. We were still beyond the borders of Bennamore, but by looking through Sunshine’s keen eyes, I could just make out the dark stain of the river bank that was Zendronia. My home. Not my birthplace, but the nondescript little town where I’d grown up. I still remembered it fondly, and there were moments in the grandeur of Kingswell and the Drashona’s court when I wished I’d never left it, that I could have lived a simpler life. But then I would never have met Arran, or had my two children, so there were compensations. And I would never have flown on an eagle’s back.

  We flew lower now to follow the trading road more closely, but I saw nothing untoward. Only the occasional train of wagons heading for the Karningplain, or returning from it, in groups of eight or ten, with armed outriders. The plains were never entirely safe. Every few marks, a cluster of buildings beside the road, walled and with a watchtower. An inn, a smithy, a small farm, perhaps a brewery, to supply the needs of travellers. Again, all looked peaceful.

  At noon, we found a hidden spot in the foothills to the north of the road. Ly dug out a firepit while I gathered wood, and I huddled over the fire, trying to get some heat in my bones. If I could just stay warm, these excursions would be perfect. No bodyguard, no waiting women, no meetings, no one demanding my attention or seeking my patronage. Just me, Ly and the eagles. Freedom.

  “Did you see anything amiss as we flew?” Ly asked.

  “No, nothing. I’ve never travelled this way before, so I don’t really know what’s normal, but the wagons are moving, the inns look – well, like regular inns.”

  “What does a regular inn look like?”

  I laughed, but he was serious. “There were people moving about in the yard, smoke from the chimneys, sheep and cattle in the field at the back, that sort of thing. I could see the smith working at his forge at one of them. And all the buildings were still standing. That’s usually a good sign.”

  He nodded, but his face was solemn. He often didn’t get my attempts at humour.

  “As we get onto the plains proper, we may see groups of Vahsi. Will you let me know if you see anything?”

  “My people were Vahsi, once,” he said conversationally. “Before our blood was changed.”

  “Oh, you didn’t always have blood magic, then?”

  “No. There was a legend amongst the Vahsi ancestors that if you travelled far enough north or south or east or west, you would come to the sea. Endless water. One man went to find it. He went to the north, and he was gone for many, many years. His journeying brought him to a great city, where he became a ruler, living there for thirty years. But then someone else became ruler and so he came back to the plains, and brought his sons with him. Four sons. And he and all his sons had blood magic.”

  “So it came from the city? The blood magic?”

  “Yes. But he fell out with the other Vahsi over it, and there was a war – the Vahsi like to make war – and the man was killed. His sons fled west with a small group of friends until they found another sea, and there they stayed. But they could not ride horses, like the Vahsi do, because the blood magic spooks them. That is why the name we have for ourselves – de’haa vyoran – means ‘people who walk’. In time, they learned to ride other beasts instead, but for a while the ancestors had to walk everywhere.”

  “I guessed there was a connection,” I said, “because you both have the same type of skin tent – clava. And the lack of horses explains why your people settled, and became farmers and fishers, instead of following the herds, like the Vahsi. This is so interesting. I wish you will tell me more of these stories, Ly.”

  “Stories?”

  “Histories, if you prefer. None of this is in any books I’ve read about your people. Do your elders tell the children all this?”

  “Tell the children?” His face was puzzled. “No, why would they do that?”

  “Because it’s important for them to know how the Clans originated. You don’t have writing or books, so someone has to tell each new generation what happened in the past.”

  “No one has to tell them. They remember.”

  “What?”

  “All our history is in our blood. We all remember everything, from the times of the First Ancestor onwards.”

  ~~~~~

  All afternoon, as we flew above the road, skirting the southern reaches of the Sky Mountains, one part of my mind was watching and recording what I saw, but another part was thinking over Ly’s words. It accounted for so much that I’d found bizarre about him and his people. To inherit memories! How strange that must be, to remember not just your own actions, but those of your mother and father as well, and your grandmother and grandfather, stretching back who knows how many generations. I had a thousand questions about it, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to be distracted from the job we had to do. There was time enough to find out more. Ly wasn’t about to disappear.

  Late in the a
fternoon we crossed a range of low hills. Behind us, the rivers fed into Bennamore’s fast-flowing Taysil River; ahead of us was the broad, meandering Dellonar River and Greenstone Ford. The eagles spiralled upwards, feathers riffling, their minds full of contentment as they enjoyed the rising currents from the plains. The river shimmered in the lowering sun, and even from this height I could see the sprawl of the town beyond it. Not a town – it was almost a city, a vast expanse of grey stone smearing the brown of the grasslands.

  But Greenstone Ford could wait until tomorrow. For now, I was cold and tired and hungry, and all I could think about was a blazing fire and something hot to eat. We turned towards the Sky Mountains. Further north, so the books said, the peaks rose up into the clouds, a monstrous range that men had never crossed. Even here at the southernmost extremity, the tops were white all year round. But in the foothills, amongst the jagged crevasses and tumbled boulders, were numerous small, sheltered valleys with icy rushing streams, scrubby bushes for windbreaks and enough flat space for the eagles to land.

  Ly flew low to the ground, leaning forwards to scan the rocky terrain. I followed behind, leaving him to choose a site for us to make camp for the night. All our previous journeys together had involved staying in the local ruler’s hall, or a comfortable inn, so this was the first time we’d had to camp. I was used to my comforts and wasn’t looking forward to it, but I trusted Ly to make it as easy as possible. His people were skilled at moving lightly through the landscape, and he was completely at home out in the open.