The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  He greeted me with a hug. “Sister! How good to see you. And Arran and Ly, of course. That is a very fine bird, Arran,” he added, eyeing Kalmander warily. The eagle tilted his head to see better, and again there was a thread of amusement in his mind. “I had heard much talk of his great size, but… well, for once the rumours were no exaggeration.”

  “He is a splendid fellow, it is true,” Arran said, with a smug grin.

  “Indeed. But perhaps he would like to perch a little further off? He is making the mules skittish.”

  Arran gestured at Kalmander, unnecessarily, since he commanded him purely through his mind. But the bird obligingly heaved himself into the air, and settled on a crag above the camp. The smaller eagles followed him.

  Hethryn sighed. “It must be amazing to fly such a magnificent creature. I envy you, Arran. You always wanted to fly, and now you can. Have you learned any other magical tricks from this blood-bonding?”

  “As it happens, I have,” Arran answered, and I didn’t have to see into his mind to read the smugness in his tone.

  “Ooh, tell me! Can you make fire?”

  Arran’s face fell. “Nothing so dramatic. But no one can harm me. Swords, arrows, spears – none of them injure me.” He chuckled. “Ah, you look disbelieving, but it is true. Here, stab me.” He whisked out a knife and offered the handle to Hethryn.

  “You are joking!”

  “Truly, you cannot hurt me. Look, try my arm.” He shrugged out of his flying coat and rolled up his shirt sleeve. “See? Just there. Even if you manage to draw blood, it would not be serious and you have a mage here, to heal me.”

  “Yes, Flenn is over there. Are you serious? Drina, will I hurt him doing this?” I shook my head, smiling. “Well, here goes then.”

  He took the knife, hefted it to get a good grip and then slashed downwards at Arran’s arm. At the last moment, he jerked away, then tutted at himself.

  “Sorry. Another try.”

  This time, he made contact, but the blade seemed to slide over the skin, causing no damage. Arran swayed momentarily as the defensive shield sprang to life, but then he recovered himself. To my surprise, I also felt the warmth as the magic took effect. Now that I’d experienced it myself, it was easy to recognise, and it meant I would always know if Arran or Ly were attacked.

  “That is amazing!” Hethryn yelled. “You are a god, Arran! Flenn, come and watch this.”

  And we got no more sense out of him, for he spent the rest of the afternoon trying, and failing, to injure Arran in a variety of increasingly inventive ways.

  ~~~~~

  The watch post itself was on a low hill about a mark or so away. Access to it involved a certain amount of crawling through heather and scrambling over bare rock, and Hethryn was very jumpy about it.

  “You must keep down, Drina! They have some really high towers in the town now, and if you are seen by anyone, the game will be over and no mistake. Then this post will have to be abandoned.”

  “I’m doing my best,” I muttered, getting a mouthful of spiky grass for my trouble. “Ly and Arran would have been better at this, you know.” But they were aloft on their eagles, watching the approach of a trading caravan from the east and preparing to launch the first attack by the war-beasts. My role was to watch the response from the town.

  As soon as we reached the highest point, I saw the reason for his anxiety. Right on the summit, a pair of boulders with a narrow gap between them created the perfect vantage position to observe the town while remaining hidden. No other hilltop was likely to be so well arranged. A large seeing tube was already in place, wedged into the gap between the rocks. A couple of juniors on watch duty slithered out of our way.

  “There,” Hethryn said. “Have a look at that.”

  I had to stretch a little to see through the tube, and then it needed adjusting, but when it sprang to clarity, I gasped. “Gods, what have they done to it!”

  “There has been a lot of building going on,” Hethryn said mildly.

  That was an understatement. The low barracks I remembered from my last visit were gone, replaced by a monstrous mountain of a building, with thousands of glittering windows in endless rows. It must be ten, or perhaps fifteen floors high now. And the modest watch towers were replaced by vast columns reaching for the sky. The largest was almost as high as the hill we were on. I could see builders still working on several of them. On others, and atop the perimeter walls, soldiers in shining armour patrolled.

  “What are they for, all those towers?” I whispered.

  “Well, I suppose they are watch towers,” Hethryn said. “Their height does give them a very clear view. The one nearest to us overlooks the entrance gate and the ford across the river. And the bridge, of course – that is almost finished now. To the north, there is one that looks to the road running along the river, and another watching the Karningplain road to the east. There is one to watch the southern road, too. Those all seem to be finished. But the others – I cannot guess. Perhaps they just like towers, these people.”

  “Have you had any more news of our people on the inside?” I asked.

  Hethryn looked rueful. “No, and it worries me. Lathran managed to get out just once to bring word to us, to say that everyone was safe, but in hiding. He said he would be back soon, but since then – nothing.”

  “Do you think they are still safe?” He hesitated, so I went on, “You need not sweeten the pot. If you think they are dead – or worse – I should like to know that. It makes a difference.”

  “Does it?”

  “Of course! If there is a chance that they are still alive, we must be more cautious and try not to endanger them…”

  Hethryn’s said nothing, but there was a sadness in his expression.

  Even as I spoke, I realised that we had to do whatever was necessary to keep the golden army in check. We could never alter our strategy for a small number of our own people. When Ly had kidnapped me in the war between Bennamore and the Blood Clans, he’d hoped that Yannassia would withdraw in order to keep me safe. I’d had to explain to him that she would never do that, not even for her own daughter.

  “Is there any chance of mounting a rescue?” I asked.

  “Not really.” Hethryn sighed. “I have thought and thought about this, as you can imagine, but I see no possibilities. There is only one gate now – all the others were closed off. There are no sewers or drainage pipes leading outside the walls. The only people allowed in or out are traders and messengers who have to be known to the authorities and marked with a special tattoo as well.”

  “The traders go in now? I thought they were being kept out.”

  “They were for a while, but it got too difficult to manage all the dealing on that narrow space between the river and the walls. Casual markets were springing up everywhere with a patch of open ground, so they reopened the main market square inside. Better control, I suspect. These people are all about control. They were part of the ruling system in the Karningplain, and it is a thousand pities they did not stay there.”

  I shifted position, trying to get comfortable. I was not one to mind the lack of comfort in a simple camp like this, but crawling around on hillsides was not my idea of entertainment. At least the autumn rains hadn’t started yet. The air was distinctly cooler in the mornings, but the skies stayed cloudless, which was a blessing.

  Resting my back against the rock, I said, “So the traders are getting in all right. That must be why Shallack Gurshmonta has not been complaining quite so loudly of late.”

  “We keep in close contact with the Gurshmontas,” Hethryn said, stretching out long legs to lean against the other rock. “They keep us informed of what they see on the inside, which is very little. They go in, they sell Bennamore goods, they buy what they want to bring back, they leave. Not much different from the old times, except for the golden soldiers everywhere, watching them.”

  “And the locals? Are they suffering much?”

  “Hard to tell. There’s plenty of f
ood going in, anyway, and the army keeps out of routine matters. But get up a rebellion or try to escape, and retribution will be swift and unpleasant. It cannot be comfortable for them.”

  “What about this god of theirs?”

  “He is a real person, and not particularly god-like to look at, by all accounts. A swordsman by trade, and a Karninger, like his army, although he is not one of them. He talks, for one thing. Quite old. Not seen much, but he definitely exists. The Dragon God, his followers call him, because he can tame a dragon in the air, whatever that means.”

  I laughed. “Probably just symbolic. Have there been any more sudden windstorms?”

  “Nothing like the one you described, but tales have filtered back from Rinnfarr Gap about a sandstorm that blew up at a crucial moment and allowed the golden army to get into position unhindered.”

  “Still, they surrendered, didn’t they? Just opened the gates and let them in.”

  “It was not much of a battle, true,” Hethryn said. “They have no defences to speak of, just some self-trained guards and walls low enough for ladders. They could not have held out for long. And Dellonar has no walls at all, I believe. I imagine that is where the Dragon God is now, admiring his new conquest.”

  “I wonder what—” I began, but Arran interrupted.

  “Drina! It is about to begin!”

  Even in thought, his voice carried all his excitement. I remembered how despondent he’d been to be left behind when Ly and I had first come to Greenstone Ford, and how much he’d wanted an eagle of his own. Now he was with us, and right in the thick of the action. Well, high above it, fortunately for my peace of mind.

  I looked through Arran’s eyes, and there below me was the eastern road from Greenstone Ford. Many marks from here, it met the northern road from Rinnfarr Gap and then turned north to the Karningplain, a long journey across the heart of the plains, prey to herds of kishorn, or plains lions, or wandering Vahsi. But the road was flat, and smooth with no towns demanding taxes, or river crossings with their tolls, and many merchants preferred it to the more tortuous route along the foothills of the Sky Mountains.

  On the road, the caravan toiled, a long line of crawling wagons, half hidden by the cloud of dust churned by the horses’ hooves. To either side of the road, armed outriders ambled along in small groups, chatting, reins loose, relaxed now that their destination was in sight. They would be thinking about their first ale of the night, no doubt, and perhaps the smiles of the tavern keeper’s daughter, or a night playing bones and hoping the gods would send them lucky throws.

  And there in the long grass, not a hundred paces away but quite invisible, twenty or so lions crouched, riderless but ready to spring. The guards saw nothing. One of the horses must have spotted something, for it shied and pranced until its rider brought it under control, but the rest were oblivious.

  I felt the call go out from Ly, and a great wave of exultation washed over me from all the connected riders and their beasts. Battle at last! This was what they had trained for, their purpose in life. It was all very well to stroll around the castle township and receive the deference of those less blessed, but this was their true calling and they entered into it with joy.

  The lions burst from their hiding places and then chaos broke out. People scrambled to hide in the wagons, the guards ran for their lives, urging their horses to speed, a wagon overturned in the panic and even from my hilltop perch I could hear the screams, high and thin in the distance.

  In the town, a bell began tolling, loud and urgent. I turned back to the seeing tube. Soldiers running about on the perimeter walls, yelling, pointing. From my hill, the caravan was hidden from view by the town’s eastern wall, but it would be clearly visible from some of the towers.

  “Second attack coming!” Arran said.

  The lions had done their work in scattering the guards. Now the moa, giant running birds, ran out from their hiding places further away. Each had a rider on its back, armed with a bow and flaming arrow. The birds’ long legs brought them within range of the wagons in a few heartbeats, and the riders released their fiery arrows. Smoke began to rise, first from one wagon, then another, and a stream of people ran this way and that, escaping the flames but terrified of the beasts.

  I described everything I saw to Hethryn, and he nodded in satisfaction, eyes gleaming. My mind was full of Arran’s glee, and the Clanfolk’s battle fever. Behind it all, Ly’s mind was more sober, concentrating, controlling everything. Their job done, the war-beasts were recalled and vanished from view into the high plains grass. One by one, the wagons burst into flames and were consumed.

  “Look!” Hethryn said, from his post at the seeing tube. He shuffled aside. “The army is responding.”

  From the open town gates, a golden stream issued forth, six abreast, marching in exact step. A hundred, two hundred, three hundred at least, armour shining, swords in their hands. The golden army was an awe-inspiring sight. Our own sturdy soldiers had never been so precise, even during a parade, and a certain laxness was expected when responding to an emergency. But these men displayed not the slightest laxness. Their self-control was formidable. I wondered if they were even human, inside all that gleaming armour. I thanked all the gods that we were not called upon to face them directly in battle, because we would certainly lose.

  Arran’s laughter bubbled through my mind. “That was such fun!”

  “Fun is over,” I thought back to him. “Get yourself out of sight.”

  “All right, all right. You do panic, Drina. Everything went off perfectly, just as we planned. We are heading north first, then we will double back. See you in an hour.”

  I tore my eyes away from the seeing tube, and the slow, relentless march of the golden army, and turned back to Hethryn. “The beasts are dispersing, and Ly and Arran are making a long detour. They will be back at the camp in an hour.”

  “Excellent! We can leave the soldiers to rescue the traders and put out the fires before the whole plains burn up. And the lions resisted the urge to eat anyone?”

  “They were completely under Ly’s control.”

  “Excellent!” he said again. “A perfect demonstration of his power. He will be very useful to us.”

  Perfect. That word again. Why was I the only one worried about this? We had taken the golden army by surprise, but next time they would not be unprepared. We would have to be very careful.

  ~~~~~

  For three moons, Ly’s war-beasts were unchallenged. They could move stealthily through the high plains grasses, and lie in wait ready to spring out anywhere. Afterwards, they melted away just as swiftly. And every time, he used a different combination of war-beasts, so the enemy never knew what to expect. It was an unusual kind of war, but we enjoyed success after success, with few losses.

  The golden army was powerless to do anything about it. They increased the armed guards, but Ly sent in larger attack groups. The army itself marched out to protect the eastern road, but Ly moved to the north or south. When they brought in larger crossbows capable of taking down a lion, Ly’s eagles bombarded them with rocks.

  The traders soon realised that they were not a target, and so long as they didn’t panic, they would be quite safe. They accepted the raids as philosophically as they accepted the weather, just something to be endured with resignation. But the golden army was relentless in its determination to fight back, and never acknowledged the impossibility of it.

  It couldn’t last, of course.

  Late in the autumn, in a welcome break between icy rainstorms, a long train of armour-clad soldiers was spotted marching on the road from Rinnfarr Gap, escorting a mounted man muffled in a voluminous cloak towards Greenstone Ford.

  The Dragon God had returned.

  27: The Dragon God

  “So their leader has returned.” Yannassia sipped her peach juice thoughtfully. “What do we know of him, this Dragon God?”

  It was one of our routine trips back to Kingswell, and as usual she called the three of us t
o her private quarters while she was taking morning board with Torthran.

  I told her all that was known of the man, which was not much. “But we must be careful now,” I said. “If he is the one with power over the wind, then he will not sit idly by while we continue to harass his supply trains. Hethryn feels that we should suspend the attacks until the spring. Our objective is not to starve the population over the winter, only to cause disruption and to distract attention away from the coast. Those objectives have now been achieved.”

  “You have always been cautious, Drina,” Yannassia said. “I remember you argued against the war of six years ago, and you were quite right about that.”

  “War is never the answer.”

  “But sometimes it is necessary to act. The last war could have been avoided, but this one… I do not know. We cannot escape our obligations to the Port Holdings.”

  “We cannot aid Dellonar directly,” I said. “Shannamar is still free, and we can help there if the golden army moves further west, but I don’t think they will.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Dellonar was easy to take – they just floated down the river from Rinnfarr Gap. But to move west they must either go by ship, which is not their natural environment, or else take the coast road, which is narrow and winding, with multiple pinch points that are easily defended.”

  “And they cannot get to Shannamar by river unless they pass through Bennamore first,” Torthran added. “That would be a very long way round.”

  Yannassia smiled and took his hand. “That is true, and Axandor says the same. Still, I do not like to abandon the harassment policy. It has been so successful thus far, and we would lose all the benefit of that.”

  “But we don’t want to risk a direct confrontation with this Dragon God,” I said. “I know only too well what that feels like.”

  “We do not know that he was responsible for the windstorm,” Yannassia said. “Besides, you can take the magic from it.”

  “Yes, but…” I tried a different approach. “What about the war-beasts? They have been undertaking these raids for several moons now. I’m sure they need some rest.”