“What have you seen?” he asked.
“The city is quiet,” she said. “A handful of villages and scattered huts, oxen and goats in the fields, no sign of warriors.” She snorted. “These keepers of prophecies rely too heavily on magic alone if they so greatly fear discovery.”
“Maybe they have no other defenses,” Farkas said.
“Perhaps.” She snapped a blade of grass, chewed on it thoughtfully and spat it out again, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Perhaps they truly believed that no agent of the Stone would ever find them.”
“And perhaps their magic is sufficient for their purpose,” Urho said. “You have sensed its effectiveness already, though we have yet to approach the city walls.”
“Well you might worry, little man,” Farkas said. “Your sorcery couldn’t stop our god-cursed enemies in the swamp, even though you boasted of your power over the waters.”
Urho set down his needle. “The cat-man used the Hammer. There was no more I could have—”
“We knew he would use it eventually. You are feeble, Urho. Baalshillek erred when he made you.”
“And what have you achieved?” Urho asked. “You did no more than I in compelling the forest people to guide us, and since then your supposed skills have been of little benefit. The Hammer protects them….”
“They are still behind us.” Farkas swung on Yseul. “This land is filled with opportunities for ambush.”
She stared him down. “You will have to kill the Bearer instantly if you wish to survive such a trap yourself. He has grown a hundred times in power. Rhenna can counter your Air magic, and if Tahvo is not yet a match for Urho, it is only because she is bound by her healer’s compassion.”
“Then let us strike silently and take the female Nyx,” Farkas said. “We can force her to reveal all she knows of the prophecies and how to obtain them.”
“You underestimate her,” Yseul said softly. “Her abilities may seem modest, but Ge chose her when she mated with Cian. There is a pattern in these things….”
“A pattern of stupidity and weakness.”
“I have said since we left Ge’s stronghold that we should send the Children back to Karchedon while some remain alive,” Urho said. “Now that we know New Meroe’s location, there is no reason to keep them with us. Surely one of them will complete the journey, and Baalshillek will send priests to raze the city and take the Hammer.”
“Would you so loudly proclaim your impotence?” Farkas demanded. “Why should Baalshillek keep you alive when he sees how you have failed?”
Yseul got up and strolled away as if she had no part in the males’ bickering. Urho was growing more insistent about contacting Baalshillek. That must not happen. Eshu’s words had not left her for a single step of the journey through his stinking forests.
“What are you, creatures of the Stone? No more than made things…spawned to serve your maker as slaves, with not even a single soul amongst you. Your Baalshillek cares nothing for your survival once you have stopped his enemies. You will die even if you obtain the Weapons and deliver them to your master.
“But if you take the Hammer and the other Weapons for yourselves, you may yet become whole.”
She had learned much since Eshu had offered his warning. She knew how to alter the very substance of the earth so that it flowed like liquid and could swallow a man in a heartbeat. She knew how to use the soil to drain that man of his essence, how to transform that essence and absorb it into her own body.
Two Children of the Stone had died of mishaps in the forest and swampland, but the other four had given their lives to strengthen Yseul in a way neither Urho or Farkas suspected. As the Stone God’s altars consumed the bodies and psyches of the priest’s victims, so she could reduce a man to the elements that made up his flesh and bones, mind and soul. And those elements became a part of her forever.
Soon, very soon, the last five Children would meet their unfortunate fates.
Yseul climbed up the hill, lay on her belly and kept watch until the sun set. The males finished their argument and settled into a restless sleep. By the thin light of a crescent moon, Yseul took panther shape and loped across the fields, her legs tireless and her senses honed to dagger sharpness. The farmers had retreated into their huts. No soldiers patrolled the cleared land before the city walls.
But the walls radiated power, and Yseul knew she could not pierce their defenses without great care. The magic extended above and below the fortifications, high into the air and under the earth. She crept as near as she dared, searching not for an opening but for the area of weakness that must surely exist.
The section she found looked no different than any other, but its protection was subtly flawed. She pressed her body to the ground, closed her eyes and let herself sink into the soil. She burrowed deep, feeling her way past the wall’s foundation.
She emerged in a space between the first wall and a second, lower one. Before she could get her bearings, a shout sounded from the inner wall. Wind whistled past her ear as a spearhead plunged into the bare, firmly packed soil. She dived into the earth, tunneled to the margin of the cleared land and reached the surface in the dubious shelter of a thorny shrub. Then she ran, her ears cocked back to catch the cry of pursuit.
Whoever had seen her was slow to organize the hunt. She returned to camp and changed as Urho and Farkas clambered to their feet.
“You would never have succeeded in entering the city,” she gasped, forestalling Farkas’s questions. “They are well defended with two walls and strong enchantment.”
Urho looked past her shoulder. “Were you seen?”
“Yes.”
Farkas charged her, fist raised. “Stupid bitch—”
She snarled and leaped out of his path. “You would have been caught.” She glanced at Urho. “We must find a more defensible position and consider another approach. There are cliffs behind the city. If we combine our powers—”
“No more talk,” Farkas said. “I will get inside and find these cursed prophecies…and then I’ll come back for the Hammer.”
“You’ll die, Farkas.”
He strode past her and up the hill. Yseul drove her nails into her palms. “Speak to him, Urho. Make him understand.”
Urho was silent. Yseul turned to confront him, but he, too, was gone.
Yseul dropped to a crouch and clawed at the earth. She could stop them if she chose, but she preferred to let them discover their own folly. And if they died of their obstinate masculine stupidity…
So be it. The Hammer would be hers.
She pivoted to face the huddled Children and grinned.
Nyx returned to the hidden camp just before dawn. Rhenna noted the tightness of her expression and helped her down beneath the overhang of rock in the ravine, where the others waited for her report.
“Something has disturbed the city,” Nyx said, accepting a waterskin from Tahvo as she caught her breath. “Mounted patrols are scouring the countryside for several leagues beyond the walls.”
“Yseul?” Rhenna asked.
Nyx stared at the waterskin as if the mere act of drinking was beyond her strength. “I found the bodies of two soldiers of the Stone God,” she said. “Both had been drained of life, and the crystals in their foreheads were black. This was not the work of the city priests.”
“Why would our enemies turn against their own?”
“I do not know.”
“Surely this is a good thing,” Khaleme said. “If the evil ones are divided, they will pose less threat to the holy city.”
“My father told me that none marked by the Stone can enter the city undetected,” Nyx said, “but even we must take great care in approaching the gates.”
Khaleme nodded. “Strangers are not welcomed here even in times of peace. Our warriors would sooner kill than risk permitting an enemy to pass within the walls, but the king must be warned. I will go.”
“I may be a stranger, but this is my father’s homeland,” Nyx said. “We will
go together.” She glanced at the cairn of rock where Cian stood alone, staring north toward New Meroe. “Since he took the Hammer, Cian has been impatient to reach the city. It is not wise for him to leave this shelter until we know it is safe.”
“Safe for him, or for your city?” Rhenna asked bitterly.
“Cian will do no harm to those who would aid him.”
No harm, Rhenna thought, remembering how Cian had kissed Nyx with such cruel indifference. “You warned him that some in the city might try to take the Hammer.”
Nyx avoided her gaze. “That is why Khaleme and I must speak to the king and his councillors, so that they can prepare.”
And what are you hiding, Nyx? Rhenna thought. What have you not told us? “Cian—or whatever possesses him—is driven by more than the desire to find the prophecies. What does he want?”
“That I do not know, but surely the priests will see what we cannot. They will reach him.”
“I trust your priests are nothing like the ones in Karchedon.”
“They are wise, holy men who speak to the gods.”
“And of course the gods can always be trusted.” Rhenna pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the burning behind her eyes. “Did you foresee this, Nyx? Did you know how much he would change?”
“I am no prophet,” Nyx protested, but her voice was thin. “The Hammer was created to fight the Exalted, and Cian accepted that burden.” She raised her head. “You must keep him here until we return.”
Rhenna laughed. “You once warned me not to become a distraction to him. Well, I have no influence over him now. I doubt my small skills can stop him if he chooses to leave.”
“I also told you he would need your protection. Do what you can.” She nodded to Khaleme, and together they climbed to the top of the ravine.
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when Cian set out after them.
Rhenna ordered Tahvo to remain under cover while she followed him, bending low as she ran into the open fields. Cian strode at an unrelenting pace, seemingly indifferent of both pursuit and the dangers that might lie ahead. He hardly glanced at Rhenna when she caught up with him.
She knew better than to try to reason with the arrogant being who walked in Cian’s body. She planted herself in his path and called up the wind. It came in fitful gusts, swirling about her head as if the native spirits of Air feared to obey her summons. Cian paused to lift the Hammer, his face set in contemptuous amusement. He struck the ground. A jagged crack split the earth from his feet to Rhenna’s boots. Soil and pebbles rattled into the cavity, and Rhenna lost control of the wind as she fought for balance. Cian shouldered the Hammer and walked past her.
There was nothing more she could do to stop him. She gripped the hilt of the knife at her belt and scanned the green plateau. Huts and low fences of scattered villages dotted the boundaries between well-tended pastures. New Meroe was just visible to her eyes as a pattern of planes and angles set against the natural crags and spires of the mountains at its back; Nyx and Khaleme had vanished behind the gently rolling hills. If warriors rode out to intercept the intruders, she could not yet see them.
As she had expected, Tahvo came to join her before she could return to the ravine. Rhenna smiled without humor. “Nyx should have known it was pointless to go ahead,” she said. “I told her I couldn’t control him.”
“What you said to Ge was true,” Tahvo said softly. “You share Cian’s fate, whatever that may be.”
“If the man I know still exists.”
Tahvo felt for Rhenna’s hand. “He will come back. Do we go to the city?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“The danger will not go away. It is best to meet it.”
Rhenna squeezed Tahvo’s shoulder and turned her toward the city. By the time they arrived within the shadow of the high city walls, Cian was surrounded by a dozen dark-skinned men mounted on small, sleek horses, every warrior armed with an iron-tipped spear aimed to strike him down. Archers with drawn bows ranged along the top of the wall, and the immense wooden gates were guarded by four ranks of tall foot soldiers. Rhenna thought she saw Nyx at the center of her own knot of warriors.
A group of riders broke off from the others and rode for Rhenna and Tahvo. Rhenna lifted her open hands. One of the warriors, dressed like the others in a short cloth kilt, brightly painted belts crossed over his chest and a plumed headband, challenged Rhenna in a deep, harsh voice.
“He demands to know our purpose in coming to the holy city,” Tahvo said, “and if we are companions to the one who claims to bear the Hammer.”
“Tell him the truth, Tahvo,” Rhenna said, holding the rider’s gaze. “Tell him—”
The warriors’ horses reared and squealed in terror, drowning her words. The city walls shook, throwing off a fine cloud of reddish dust. Rhenna knew what had happened before she saw Cian with the Hammer’s head lodged in the earth at his feet.
Rhenna dodged trampling hooves and raced to his side. She reached him just as he lifted the Hammer for another strike. She grabbed his arm, fingers digging into rigid muscle, and braced herself against his pull.
The earth stilled. Horses sucked air through flared nostrils. Warriors half fell from their mounts’ backs and dropped to their knees. The hard-faced man who had confronted Rhenna kicked his horse in a wide circle around his stricken troops, exhorting them with sweeps of his bared sword.
Cian shoved Rhenna aside and held the Hammer high above his head. He spoke to the warriors in their own tongue as if he had known it all his life. Rhenna was hardly surprised when Nyx pushed her way through the kneeling men and addressed the soldiers’ leader with the authority of undisputed command.
Her words shattered the spell that lay over her father’s countrymen. They got to their feet and gathered around her, keeping well away from Cian. Their leader sheathed his sword with a sharp exclamation that sounded very much like a curse. One of his men relieved Rhenna and Tahvo of their knives and gestured them toward the city gates.
The kilted guards stood at attention as the high doors swung open with a groan of heavy iron hinges. Nyx was lost amid the taller warriors, and Rhenna saw no sign of Khaleme. She kept Tahvo close, well aware that she understood little of the forces that seethed around them. Cian marched through the gates in his own bubble of godly isolation.
The city of New Meroe was utterly unlike those in the North. Beyond the inner and outer walls lay narrow unpaved streets between neat brick and stone buildings, most only a single story. There were no indications of poverty or neglect, even in the smallest and plainest structures that Rhenna guessed must serve as dwellings of the city’s humblest inhabitants. Donkeys, horses and cattle stood quietly, enduring the day’s heat in their well-swept pens. Dogs panted in open courtyards, and flowering vines spilled over trellises fashioned from braided branches, as lovingly tended as treasured children.
Simply dressed brown-skinned people peered from doorways to observe the cavalcade, their faces reserved and their manner solemn but unafraid. Everything in New Meroe bespoke the assurance of ancient dignity, power and sober duty. Yet the sense of order bore nothing in common with the rigid control that marked Karchedon and its conquered territories in Hellas. The very air held an unmistakable sense of waiting.
As the procession wound deeper into the city the streets widened, some bordered with monumental sculptures of crouching beasts with lions’ bodies and curved-horned rams’ heads. Columned edifices of many stories, lavishly decorated with shallow reliefs painted in vivid colors—warriors and kings and gods striding over the prone bodies of their enemies—were guarded by towering crowned figures who bore shepherd’s crooks and farmer’s flails in their limestone hands. Shaven-headed men in long white robes and animal skins stood on the wide steps watching Cian with dark eyes.
“The spirits of this city are very near,” Tahvo said.
“I think these are the temples of their gods,” Rhenna said. “Nyx’s people choose strange creatures to w
orship. Men and women with the heads of hawks and serpents and cattle…” She stopped, transfixed by the image of one creature that stood alone upon its own pedestal: a male form from bare feet to shoulders, topped by the head of some beast Rhenna had never seen. Its snout was long and curved downward, and the pricked ears were squared at the tips. Its flesh was painted vivid red, and in its hands it bore a perfect replica of Cian’s Hammer.
“Sutekh,” Tahvo whispered.
Rhenna had no chance to ask what she meant, for the riders and foot soldiers turned up another broad avenue leading to a complex of buildings and pylons that captured the sun’s radiance with facades of gold. A gated wall surrounded the compound, defended like the outer ramparts by warriors armed with spears, swords and shields.
The leader of the horsemen dismounted, spoke to the guards and signaled to his troops. Gold-chased doors opened, and Nyx was carried along on a tide of gleaming brown skin and waving spear-tips. Cian followed, looking neither to the left nor right. The cavalry drew aside, while soldiers urged Rhenna and Tahvo after him.
An extensive garden of potted frond-leaved trees and crystal pools lay just inside the gates, and a tiled path led through yet another pillared portal. Cool shadow picked out reliefs and engravings on the smooth inner walls, scenes of domestic life abounding with men and women at their ease while servants brought trays of food and drink and children played at their feet.
Rhenna soon lost count of the rooms through which they passed. Hallways opened into compartments clearly intended as meeting places or private chambers; intricately woven mats and handsome skins stretched over floors of green and blue tiles, and carved wooden chairs were arranged about low tables bearing trays of wine jars and golden cups. But the inhabitants of the palace—for surely no one but a great ruler would live in such a place—remained hidden.
At last the soldiers stopped at a sparsely furnished, windowless chamber with painted murals of fish leaping from a churning river. “My lord,” one of the guards addressed Cian in Hellenish. “If you will rest here, all you require will be brought to you.”
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