The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Drina, he couldn’t have come to any real harm,” Cal said. “He wore an armoured jerkin, so even if this outer shell hadn’t appeared, the arrow wouldn’t have done any damage.”

  “Except that you are the world’s worst shot,” I snapped. “Everyone knows that. You could have hit him in the head. Why not get one of the guards to do it? At least they can shoot straight.”

  “None of them would have agreed to it,” Cal said patiently. “No one in his right mind would pop an arrow directly at the Drashonor’s drusse.”

  “There we agree,” I said acidly.

  “Well – no guard, anyway. But I can do it, and if anything had gone wrong, I could have healed him. You see? We thought of everything.”

  I tutted with annoyance. Such foolishness! What would I have done if anything had happened to Arran? We hadn’t gone through the trials of the blood-bonding for him to die at Cal’s hands, in such an unnecessary way. Inexplicably, my eyes were full of tears. I thumped Arran on the arm to show that I was still displeased, then buried my head in his chest.

  He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. “Hush, sweetheart, hush. No tears. I came to no harm in the end, and now I know how to get back to myself. I can do it whenever I want.”

  “Could we all do that, do you think?” Ly asked.

  “No!” I cried. “No, no, no! Don’t let Cal shoot at you, by all the gods!”

  Ly laughed. “I thought Arran might be a better shot to practise with. If I get myself rigged up with one of these jerkins, he will not be able to do me any serious damage. You should do this, too, Princess. This protective mechanism is very powerful, but no use if we are immobilised for hours.”

  For a while I argued about it, but I could see the point, too. So in the end, we all went up to the roof, and Arran fired arrows at Ly until he’d worked out the trick of not falling over and losing all feeling. That same excitement exploded into his mind when he realised he could do it. Then the three men all fell about with whoops of laughter, and clapped each other on the shoulder, and danced about with glee. Even the eagles picked up their elation, and hopped about nearby with chirps of enthusiasm. Except Kalmander, who perched precariously on top of the domed roof of the observation room, watching with avuncular amusement.

  I leaned against the observation room wall watching them, not excited, not laughing. Even though I knew Ly was well protected with armoured leather, and Arran was an excellent shot, able to hit his preferred target with precision, fear gripped my belly and refused to let go. For as soon as Ly had satisfied himself that he could do it, I knew they would turn to me, and expect me to stand still and be shot at. By Arran! Arran who loved me and would willingly die for me was going to shoot at me, just to see what would happen.

  So when they calmed down a little and turned expectantly to me, I said, “No. Not me, no. I can’t do it.”

  Arran put his bow carefully on the ground and walked across the roof to me. “Sweetheart, we have discussed this. It is no use if any attack leaves you lying helpless on the ground. All it takes is a bit of experimenting, so you learn to recognise the signs and train yourself to relax. It is very easy. Ly only took a few tries to get the hang of it.”

  “No.”

  “Why ever not? You will not be hurt at all, I promise. I would never harm you.”

  “I don’t want you to shoot me!” I blurted. “To watch you lift your bow and fire an arrow straight at me? No, I couldn’t.”

  “Oh. Well, Ly, then?”

  I shook my head, with a choking sound in my throat, half laugh and half sob. “That’s no better. And not Cal, either.”

  “You could turn your back so you wouldn’t see it coming,” Ly said.

  “No,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry, but maybe we can think of some other way.”

  “How about if you try to injure yourself?” That was Cal, ever inventive. “I mean, if you don’t want Arran or Ly shooting at you, and you certainly don’t want me, I quite understand that, then take a knife and try to stab yourself.”

  “Would that work?” I said.

  “Of course,” Cal said. “The protection is an automatic mechanism, it will operate against any threat, even from yourself. It even worked when I shot Arran in the back.”

  “You shot—? Of course you did. Why am I surprised? Very well, I will attempt to stab myself. Should I take the jerkin off and stab my chest?”

  “No, just aim for your hand,” Cal said airily. “Arran, do you have a decent knife? Mine’s too blunt to be any use.”

  Arran pulled a wicked looking curved blade from a sheath at his waist. I took it gingerly, and shuffled it around to get a good grip. Then, with one fast slashing motion, I drove it into my hand.

  Searing pain lanced through me. Pain, and blood everywhere. I screamed and then screamed again. I let go of the knife but it didn’t fall. It was buried almost to the hilt in my palm, the blade protruding from the back of my hand.

  I dropped to my knees, and screamed over and over.

  There was shouting, both outside and in my head, and the eagles were screeching. Arran’s terror mingled with my own in my mind. Then blessed magic flooded into me, easing the pain. Cal was touching my face, his jade vessels filling me with magic. I closed my eyes, feeling gentle hands withdraw the knife, then someone with a cloth mopping up blood.

  Ly’s voice in my head. “You are fine, Princess. Cal is healing you. There – the knife is gone. How does that feel? Better?”

  “Yes.” And it was. I wasn’t in the best shape ever, but the pain was no more than a dull ache now.

  I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was Arran kneeling beside me, tears streaming down his face. “I’m all right,” I said, but my voice was weak. “Darling, I’ll be fine. Just need a bit more magic.”

  He nodded. “Sorry. So sorry. Should have tried it on myself first. Stupid, so stupid of me.”

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Cal said. “I really thought it would work. It should have worked.”

  He sounded so affronted that I couldn’t help laughing, and then we were all laughing. Maybe it was the magic thrumming inside me, but all my fears and objections seemed silly to me now. How foolish I’d been, and yet it had somehow worked out for the best, for now we knew something new about the defensive ability – it wouldn’t protect us from ourselves.

  The roof guards appeared at a run, swords drawn and bows primed. No doubt they’d heard my screams from the far side of the Keep, where they were watching at this hour. It was fortunate that they found us all in the grip of merriment, all the excitement over. Ly sent them swiftly back to their posts, then turned back to bandaging my hand. The wound was no more than a low throb now, and I guessed that by the morning there would be nothing to see except a fine scar on either side of my hand.

  “Well,” I said, leaning on Arran to get to my feet. “I suppose I should learn how to manage this whatever-it-is. You’d better pop a few arrows at me.”

  “If you have no objection, I think Ly should do it. He seems calmer than I am just now. Look – my hands are still shaking.”

  I took his point. So I let him fuss round adjusting my jerkin to his satisfaction, and then he turned his back so he didn’t have to watch while Ly primed his bow and took aim.

  “I shall hit your left shoulder,” he said. “Just in case of… any unexpected events.”

  “Fine. Fire away.”

  He didn’t hesitate. I saw the arrow fly, had an instant of terror when I truly believed this wouldn’t work and I would die, and then… nothing.

  Before I had time to panic, Ly’s calm tones were in my head. “Now relax, Princess. You are perfectly—”

  Without any detectable sign, I found myself flat on my back looking up at a cloudless sky.

  “—safe.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, rolling over and scrambling to my feet. “Not even a bump on the head. But I don’t want to fall over every time.”

  “That is the force of the arrow,” Arr
an said, turning round and dusting me down. “You will always be pushed by it, or by a sword or pike or whatever is aimed at you. But if you snap back quickly enough, you can learn to roll with it and fight back.”

  “Or run away,” Cal said. “I find that to be a viable option too, sometimes. Another try, Drina?”

  This time I was calmer, and I felt a distinct warmth when the arrow triggered the protection. Even so, it took me several attempts before I learned to respond to it quickly enough to avoid ending up sprawled on the ground.

  And all the time Kalmander watched me, head tilted to allow his great golden eye to gaze down at us from his perch.

  ~~~~~

  It took five suns for the army commanders to convince Axandor to allow Ly to summon his war-beasts. Even then he wouldn’t leave it to Ly to determine the best options. He called him to a meeting to explain the various war-beasts at his disposal. Arran and I went along too, out of curiosity. We’d encountered them more than once, and we were both interested to know more about them.

  “We had sketches made during the war,” Axandor said, spilling several large sheets of paper from a tube, and uncurling them. “You can tell us about each one – what they might be useful for, the dangers, and so on.”

  He spread the papers over the polished table and laid paperweights on the corners.

  “Oh, these are clever,” Ly said. “Just marks on paper, yet they have the very likeness. The rinnfarr is not quite right, but the rest are very accurate.”

  “You do not have art in the Clanlands?” Axandor said. “No drawing or painting?”

  “Nothing like this. We have many beautiful things – rugs and blankets, or carving in wood or bone, but we do not paint, as you do, or weave wall hangings. But I have not seen anything like this on your walls.”

  “Well, these are just rough drawings,” Axandor said. “The pictures on the walls – we like colours, you know? Proper pictures. These pencil drawings would be very dull to look at all the time.”

  “I cannot agree,” Ly said. “I think these are beautiful. Look at this fur on the tapran’s neck. And the way the feathers are drawn on this eagle. I should like to have these on a wall.”

  “I’ll get them framed, if you like,” I said. “Or copied if the army wants to keep the originals. Or we can send an artist to the Clanlands, if that would be allowed, to look at them close up and get the details right. Which is the one that’s wrong?”

  “This one, the rinnfarr.” He tapped the paper.

  “As in the Rinnfarr Gap? Same word?”

  “Yes. I imagine the Rinnfarr Gap has sharp stone columns on either side, like tusks. But we will not need the rinnfarr to harass the supply lines. The armoured plates and tusks make it formidable in battle, but it is too slow-moving. Now the lions and wolves, and the tapran and moa… all those could be used. They are very fast.”

  “And how soon can you have them in place?” Axandor said.

  “The summoning will take a few sun-crossings, and then they must gather for the march. Then a few more sun-crossings to reach Greenstone Ford. But you will have to tell me what you want them to do, whether destroying the supply lines entirely or merely making life difficult.”

  “I will talk to the commanders, but…”

  Once they got into the detail, I lost interest and made an excuse to leave. Arran followed me outside, where my bodyguard sprang to attention.

  “Are you all right?” Arran said. “The room was very stuffy.”

  “Oh, I’m fine, but all this war talk… it’s depressing.”

  “The golden army started it, and I like seeing Ly as part of things here. He always seemed a bit detached before, but now he is truly Bennamorian, I believe.”

  “Is he? I’m not so sure whether it isn’t the other way round – he’s turning us into Clanfolk.”

  Arran chuckled. “Both, I suspect, and nothing wrong with that. I like being Clan, so far, and I think he likes being Bennamorian. He is certainly a great asset. These war-beasts will make all the difference.”

  But I couldn’t quite forget Axandor’s words – could Ly control them? “So long as Ly is on our side,” I said.

  Arran looked at me in surprise. “Of course he is! How could you doubt it? Really, Drina, sometimes you just look for trouble under every stone. Relax. Ly is one of us now.”

  ~~~~~

  The numbers and types of war-beasts were agreed, and Ly was given authority to summon them.

  “How does that work, exactly?” Arran said. “You just… sort of think about all these beasts, and they come to wherever you are?”

  “Well…” Ly hesitated, with a sideways glance at me. We were getting ready for bed, but he was still fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on the little balcony that led off the bedroom.

  “Don’t tell me, it’s not quite like that,” I said.

  Ly laughed. “It really is not quite like that. I have to create a… a sort of mental thread to connect me to each war-beast rider I want to summon. Then, when I have enough, I send out a summoning.”

  “Can we watch you do all this?” Arran said.

  “We will know when it happens,” I said. “We will be summoned, too. I heard the last one.” It was very compelling, as I recalled. The first call had happened while I was asleep, and I was up out of bed and halfway dressed before I stopped to work out what was happening. My link to Ly had been too tenuous then to force me to go to him, but for the war-beasts it must have been irresistible.

  “Ah, no, not exactly,” Ly said. “You will not be summoned because you will be doing the summoning this time.”

  “What? How does that work?”

  “We are one now, Drina,” he said gently. “Everything I do, you and Arran are a part of, too. Everything you do, I am a part of. That is what a clavaia’an byanna’vyor is.”

  “So we can help with it?” Arran said. “That is wonderful!”

  “Yes!” Ly said. “You two will increase the power of the summoning, so it will take less effort.”

  We started on the roof, finding a quiet spot well away from the patrolling guards. Ly had brought a rug, and we sat on that in a circle, holding hands. The familiar fizz of magic flowed into me from Ly’s touch, and Arran giggled, feeling it too. But somehow, I never had to think about magic any more. I still had the need for it, that emptiness inside me that only magic could fill, but my body took whatever it needed from Ly, and he had no power to prevent it any more. We were so much one person that his magic was mine.

  “Now I am going to connect to the war-beast riders,” Ly said.

  He closed his eyes and sent his consciousness outwards, westwards to the Clanlands, searching, searching. I’d done that often enough myself, looking for the eagles or other, smaller beasts. When I’d first discovered I could connect to beasts, it had been the rats living in the Keep walls that my mind found, snuffling about looking for crumbs. During the war, I’d even mustered a small army of rats to create a diversion at one point. They were not the most intelligent of creatures, but I’d found them biddable.

  Ly’s skills at finding minds to connect to were far greater than mine, so to me it seemed effortless. He stretched his mind, and there was one beast and its rider – snap! And the connection was made. And then another, and another, as quick as winking. It was as if we held the threads in our hands, gossamer-fine and yet real and solid.

  We sat for an hour, until we had perhaps a hundred riders connected. Then an hour’s break, and back to work. Although it didn’t feel in the least like work. Sometimes I watched Ly, his face serious as he concentrated, eyes closed, lost in that strange world that joined all the Clanfolk together. At his throat, the amber pendant glowed, and each time a connection was made – snap! – it flared brighter for an instant.

  And Kalmander watched everything we did.

  After three suns, Ly had all the riders he needed. “Now the summoning,” he said, grinning at me.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said. “Both of
you – you think it’s exciting, calling up your warriors, and sending them into battle.”

  “Hardly a battle,” Arran said. “Just a few light skirmishes.”

  “Light skirmishes? People will die, and we have no idea what the consequences might be. This god the golden army follows might be displeased by our interference.”

  “Ah, Drina, you are kind-hearted,” Ly said, cupping my face in his hands. “But the golden army started this trouble when it invaded Dellonar. It would be wrong to turn our backs and leave them to their fate. Besides, after Dellonar, who knows where the enemy may look to next? Shannamar? Or Bennamore? We must do what we can to help.”

  I knew he was right. I’d never shied away from difficult choices, and this one was easier than most. A little harassment of the supply trains, nothing too dramatic. Not exactly a war, not yet. We were still not fully committed.

  That night, Ly began the summoning. “Come to me! Come now!” It was just as I remembered it, except that this time the call was not reaching into my head, but flowing outwards. I was part of the summoning.

  All that night at regular intervals the calls went out, and on through the hours of sun, and into the night again, relentlessly. I would half-wake, to see Ly sitting motionless on the balcony, his amber pendant glowing brighter and then fading.

  “Come to me! Come now!”

  And they came.

  26: The Watch Camp

  The watch post for Greenstone Ford was well hidden. From the road below, where trading caravans crawled to and from Bennamore, no one would suspect that thirty people were camped in the hills above. It must have been a long, tedious trek to reach on foot, but we had no such problems. Our eagles sailed majestically over the last rise to find the main camp laid out in a hollow beneath us.

  Hethryn was in charge of the watch operation and mighty pleased with himself because of it. He had a couple of experienced commanders to guide his steps, since it was his first post with real authority, but he wore the responsibility as easily as he slipped on his cloak in the mornings.