We hadn’t brought tents with us, just blankets and cloaks. “You can sleep over there,” I told him. “I’ll sleep here. And don’t you dare come near me, understood?”
“I understand,” he said, speaking aloud. “I will not touch you. Princess—”
“Don’t call me that!”
He put his hands up placatingly. “I apologise. Drina – may I call you by your name? Drina, I know why you are concerned, but you do not need to be. Ever since Ly gave you the amber pendant, I have not been drawn to you as strongly. I still feel it – I daresay I will always feel it – but it is controllable now. You are blood-bonded to him, and… that makes a difference.”
“You had better be right, because if you so much as touch me, I shall feed you to the lions!”
He winced.
I was instantly contrite. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Sho. I didn’t mean…”
“No, it’s all right. Now that Jes is… is gone, it’s almost as if everything was a dream. The memories of her, of knowing her, are fading so quickly.”
“I suppose your magic is helping to counteract her influence,” I said.
“Yes! That must be it. But I feel… not normal, because nothing is normal any more, but better. My mind is clearer, less muddled. She made me so confused. She would tell me to do something, and it seemed exactly the right thing, but afterwards I’d feel wrong about it. So in many ways, I’m glad she’s gone.”
“Well, that’s good, I suppose. But I shall still try not to mention lions again.”
“Don’t worry about it. I miss my lion,” he added sadly.
“Well, when you summon the war-beasts, perhaps you can find another one for yourself.”
His face lit up. “I should like that. Shall we sleep now? It’s almost dark.” He took himself off to the spot I’d pointed out for him, and his breathing gradually slowed and settled into a deeper rhythm.
I lingered by the fire, mulling over all he’d said. A strange conversation, for I was sure Sho was speaking his own language, and I was speaking mine, yet between us the mental connection was strong enough for us to understand each other.
Eventually, when I was sure he was asleep, I lay down, wrapping myself in a blanket and cloak, with another blanket as a pillow and reached out in my mind for Arran.
Almost simultaneously, he was reaching for me. “Drina? Are you there? They are taking me somewhere. Oh, chains. They must know about Dellonar.”
“How can they know? Only an eagle could have got word to them so soon.”
The guards surrounding him were grim-faced. No, not guards, these were men of the golden army, only partly armoured, but still distinctive. And they were binding Arran’s hands and feet with chains. Then they blindfolded him.
It was oddly disorienting to look through his eyes and see nothing. Occasionally he passed a lamp so that a ghostly brown light filtered through the rough sacking covering his eyes, but otherwise it was dark, and he stumbled often. His arms were held so that he couldn’t fall, but he had trouble with some stairs and bumped his shins more than once. It wasn’t painful, for his protective shell activated itself, but there was a sudden pressure each time, and wondered whether I’d have bruises later, too.
Then he stopped moving, and the blindfold was removed. Just a handspan away, a cluster of ordinary guards in brown. From the centre of them, Trimon’s face loomed, puce with rage.
“Your fucking queen!” he yelled, spittle hitting Arran’s cheek. “And the fucking boat people! They’ve invaded Dellonar, after all that was agreed! There’s no honour in you people, no integrity. We had an agreement!”
“The Drashona has agreed to nothing,” Arran said, without the slightest tremor in his voice. Only Ly and I were aware of the fear coursing through him. “You cannot expect her to sit idly by, while you go wherever you want. She was bound to fight back.”
“You knew this would happen!”
“I knew she would retaliate sooner or later, yes.”
“Yet you gave yourself into my hands, knowing that?” He eyed Arran more calmly. “And what was to be the penalty, if she made a move against me, eh?”
Arran only hesitated for a heartbeat. “Removal of body parts.”
“Very well. We keep our bargains, even if your queen doesn’t. Lukan, you have a small axe. Chop something off him.”
“Anything in particular, Sublime One?” Lukan was one of the regular guards. I wondered why he used them so much when he had an entire army in golden armour.
Trimon actually laughed. “Oh, let me see… we will start with something trivial, and work up to the important parts. Take a finger off.”
Lukan grabbed hold of Arran’s left hand, and pushed it down onto the edge of a table, so that only the index finger rested on the top. Arran didn’t resist, and even though he knew that no axe could harm him, his fear level shot up. I pushed myself upright, and even though I had my hand over my mouth, I let loose a little squeak of terror.
“Hush, sweetheart,” Arran said gently. “They cannot hurt me.”
But still I held my breath as the axe swung and came down… then everything went dark and silent, as Arran’s protective shell activated. A heartbeat later, awareness returned with several men yelling, and Lukan bleeding everywhere. The axe must have bounced off Arran and the butt hit Lukan in the face.
“I am so sorry,” Arran said. “There was no time to warn you, but you cannot injure me that way.”
Trimon howled in rage, grabbed the discarded axe and started chopping at Arran’s finger with increasingly wild strokes. Then, with a growl of frustration, he hurled the axe away. Several guards ducked, and it lodged itself, quivering, in the wall.
“A clever trick! So that is why you were so willing to exchange yourself. One invincible warrior for twenty-four people who could have been sliced up nice and slow. So what are we to do with you now, eh? Toss you off the highest tower? Drown you in the river? How about a funeral pyre, only we won’t be able to kill you first.”
Arran swallowed. “I am sure any of those would be unpleasantly effective. But I do not wish to appear uncooperative. If you want a finger, there is a way.”
Trimon’s eyes gleamed. “Yes?”
“I can cut it off myself. That would probably work.”
“You would cut off your own finger? Someone retrieve the axe. Let’s see him try.”
“No! Don’t do this!” I yelled at him.
“Better than being burned alive,” came the gentle response.
Then he gripped the axe in his right hand, took a deep breath and made a single slashing movement.
Pain speared through me like lightning. My hand was on fire, the stump of the severed finger sending a waterfall of agony up my arm, and through my whole body. I screamed and screamed, holding my left hand aloft, and even though I could see and count all my fingers, I also felt the searing pain of the missing one.
I screamed again, the sound echoing round the rocky valley. The eagles screeched too, lifting off in a flurry of wings from their perch on the rocks above the camp.
And then the pain overwhelmed me and I passed out.
41: Dragon Mountain
I came to in Sho’s arms. He was gently rocking me, murmuring, “Hush now. Ssh. It’s all right. I have you safe. Hush, hush.”
The pain was still there, but duller, more bearable. Arran was sitting at the table, breathing fast, while one of the golden soldiers slapped some kind of orange paste on the stump of his finger, and began to bandage it.
“That is good stuff,” Arran said, his voice slightly wobbly. “What is it?”
“Feels better, does it?” Trimon said. He made some hand movements towards the soldier doing the bandaging, who replied the same way, fingers moving rapidly. Trimon nodded. “He says it’s a plant called Starburst. You dry the stem and then grind it to powder. It dulls pain and helps with healing. You see, we’re not savages, Arran. Take those shackles off him, will you, and see that he has some wine in his room when you take him
back, to help him sleep.” Then he chuckled, a sound which chilled my heart. “And tomorrow we’ll have a finger from the other hand. Can’t have you unsymmetrical, can we?”
~~~~~
I must have slept a little that night, but my strongest memories are of twisting restlessly this way and that, cradling my hand gently as I moved. Even though it was undamaged, my mind told me a different story. Each time I woke, Sho was there, bending over me with a beaker of water, or straightening my tangled blanket. As the hours passed, the pain gradually diminished, and the wine had put Arran to sleep, but Ly was as wakeful as I was.
“Will they really make him cut off another finger?” I said. “That would be his sword hand.”
“And he would have to do the cutting with his left hand,” Ly whispered. His mind was filled with grief, and regret, too. “I should have been there with you,” he said more than once. But he was on his way to Dragon Mountain, and too far away to help.
By the time the horizon began to hint at the approaching dawn, the pain was almost gone, no more than a dull ache. I’d expected the effects of the orange paste to wear off and the pain return, but it must have been more potent than I’d realised.
Arran had slept quite well, and was feeling more cheerful. “That was not so bad,” he said. “I know what to expect now, so the next time will be easier.”
The next time. The next finger. And after that, what? More fingers, a few toes, or would they start on ears or hands? I paced about restlessly until it was light enough to break camp and move on. I was kicking dirt over the remains of the fire when I was aware of alarm in Arran’s mind.
Two of the golden soldiers were in his room, beckoning him to the table. They had fresh bandages and a small pot, perhaps more of the orange paste, although the wound wasn’t painful enough to need it any more. It would probably prevent infection, though, so I was glad they’d thought of it.
Arran sat at the table, offering the bandaged hand. The soldiers sat either side of him, and one began to unwind the bandage. And then their eyes widened and they both jumped up. What was the expression on their faces? Shock, perhaps, or maybe fear. Or horror. One signalled fast to the other with his hands, who replied the same way. In unison, they turned to gaze at Arran with that strange expression. Then, wordlessly, they collected their things and left.
“What was that all about?” I said.
Arran’s voice wavered, but his mind was puzzled. “Something weird has happened. Something unbelievable. Look.” He held up his left hand, free of its bandage.
Every finger was there.
~~~~~
Ly was as mystified as the rest of us by the reappearing finger. “I have never heard of such a thing,” he said. “My grandfather has no memories of it. Healing is most unusual. Very occasionally, a female byan shar will have the ability, but it is very rare, and it has never been known to regrow flesh. Perhaps it is the result of Arran’s protective shell?”
I thought it unlikely, but it was the only explanation we could think of.
It was an hour before Trimon arrived. I imagined he’d been still in his bed, but he was dressed in his usual combat gear, freshly shaved and tidy.
He picked up Arran’s hand, then dropped it back on the table in disgust. Then, from a pocket, wrapped in blood-stained cloth, the severed finger, which he slammed onto the table. “What trickery is this? How have you done this?”
“I have no idea.” Arran hadn’t even moved from the table, he was so shocked, and I heard the edge of hysteria in his voice. “I have never seen anything like this before. I cannot account for it.”
“You are a wizard of some sort?”
“No. No! I have never had magic power. Just… that business that no one can harm me. But I can harm myself. I did – you saw me! I cut off that finger, it was gone and here it is again as if nothing ever happened and I do not understand it, not in the slightest.”
“So every time I cut off a finger, it will regrow, is that it?” Trimon said. “What if I cut off your prick? Will that grow back, as well?”
“I do not know, but I would not wish to put it to the test.”
Trimon stared at him. Then he began to laugh, first a low rumble and then erupting into something less restrained. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Arran of the minor nobility. By the Nine, but I’ve never met anyone quite like you. Stranger than a horse with three tails, yet I like you anyway.”
“Thank you. I am grateful for your forbearance. I am trying very hard to comply with all your requests, but…” He waved his left hand helplessly.
“But your body is not cooperating, eh? Interesting. I must decide what to do with you, Arran. Maybe I will just let you live, since you play quite a good game of jumping stones. Maybe your queen will be satisfied with Dellonar and go back to her castle, eh? And we can all live in harmony together. That would be pleasant, don’t you think?”
“Yes, very pleasant.”
Another rumble of laughter. “Well, we shall see. Your life is in her hands now, my friend. You must hope her bloodlust is satisfied.”
~~~~~
As soon as he was left alone, Arran went back to bed. Sho and I packed up and flew on into the north. The hills either side of the river grew wilder and more jagged, compressing the river into a narrow channel, and ending in a pair of stony peaks, steep enough to suggest the twin tusks of the rinnfarr which gave the town beyond its name.
Rinnfarr Gap lay in sunshine, but the roofs and streets sparkled with the remains of a rainstorm. Right in the centre of the town, a huge square was filled with people, and even from high above, we could hear cheers. On a small tower above the riverside wharves, a flag was being raised.
“What do you think that’s all about?” I said to Sho.
“No idea, but I don’t see any golden armour patrolling the walls.”
We spiralled down for a closer look, but Sho was right. The golden army was gone. However they’d managed to communicate over such distances, they’d obviously learned about the defeat at Dellonar, just as Trimon had at Greenstone Ford, and had decided to abandon Rinnfarr Gap as well. My spirits lurched upwards. Was it possible that they were in full retreat? Perhaps we wouldn’t need to fight any more, and the golden army had taken itself back to the Karningplain without any effort on our part.
As we flew on, I noticed wooden structures every few marks, like a primitive watchtower, but the platform on top was fitted with odd-looking poles with arms arranged at angles.
“What do you think those are?” I said to Sho, but even as I spoke, I knew – they must be signalling towers, a means for messages to be passed speedily up and down the line. The mystery of Trimon’s early knowledge of Dellonar’s fall was solved. It was clever, and I made a mental note to tell Hethryn of it. Perhaps we could use something of the sort in Bennamore to communicate with the more remote towns that had no mirrors.
Late in the afternoon, we caught up with the tail end of the retreat, marching in good order steadily northwards on the road that paralleled the river. I didn’t want to be spotted, so we veered aside and found a sheltered spot to camp on the other side of the river. We built a fire, cooked a couple of moundrats and settled down to sleep. Tomorrow we would reach Greenstone Ford and Sho would begin the summoning. Ly was getting close to Dragon Mountain, ready to go to the blue pool. And Arran was alive and whole, for now.
~~~~~
“I think we have been discovered again,” Hethryn said gloomily, when we reached the watch camp at Greenstone Ford. “Two men came out at first light and nailed something to the remains of the burnt-out wagons, and then waved towards the watch post. They know exactly where we are.”
“That’s inevitable,” I said. “Those high towers give them a perfect view of these hills. It hardly matters now. This place will be crawling with soldiers and war-beasts in a few suns. We won’t need to hide.”
“Is it a message, do you think, whatever they nailed to the wagon? Will you have to go to retrieve it?”
�
��A message of sorts. It’s Arran’s finger.”
“Gods, Drina! That’s barbaric!”
“It’s what they said they would do, after all.”
“Are they looking after the wound? The risk of infection…” I couldn’t help laughing, and Hethryn looked pained. “Really, Drina, you are the last person I would expect to find that funny!”
So I explained to him all that had happened, and he nodded sagely. “Well, your healing powers are impressive, sister.”
“My… what? This is nothing to do with me. I can only assume it’s because of Arran’s protective whatever-it-is.”
“But I remember you saying that your hand healed overnight after the blood sharing ceremony, and you fixed Cal, you know. When Sho-heest’s wife took a pop at you and hit him instead. I was at Lakeside not long after that, and he was convinced it was you that healed him. So I expect you healed Arran, too.”
And a voice in my head said, “I think so too, sweetheart. We are so connected now, the three of us, so it makes sense.”
It made no sense to me, but so much that had happened was strange that just then I could believe almost anything. And if it were true, how wonderful that I could make Arran whole again, for a little while.
The new camp was set in a steep-sided valley well hidden from view, while the watch post itself was a full mark away, atop a hill very close to the river, with an even longer, and boggier, crawl to reach it. Just opposite, at the northernmost corner of the town, one of the very tall towers kept guard over the roads to north and east. Nothing seemed to have changed since I was last there, except that the towers looked complete now, all of the same monstrous height. Along the walls, men in golden armour patrolled ceaselessly, and below us on the river, a group was working on the bridge.
“What are they doing down there?” I said. “It looks to me like they’re removing stone.”
“Yes, the stone cladding was virtually finished, but we suspect they are planning to partly demolish it. So that Bennamore’s army cannot use it to cross the river.”
“And the ford is impassable because of the spring snowmelt. Very clever, except that the army is already on the other side of the river.”
The Second God Page 38
