Kian looked at his hands. There were no blue sparks flying off them, and no sign that they ever had, but he remembered them. He also recalled that he had sensed a shared bond with Varis, and how that thought had sickened him. Now there was no question.
“Even if this is all true,” Kian said, “it doesn’t matter. With all the western fortresses and outposts destroyed, there is no one to warn about demons haunting Aradan.”
Azuri frowned. “There are other ways, and other places we can go.”
Kian snorted. “The only place I’m going is Izutar. I leave within the hour. Anyone who wants to join me, can do so. Anyone who wants to go racing across this land on some goodwill mission, be my guest.”
“Is your heart so callous,” Ellonlef said, “or does fear drive you?”
“Fear lives in all men,” Kian growled, “but I’ve never let it rule me. As to a callous heart, I owe nothing to this wretched kingdom. I have given them a sword and blood when needed, and they have returned my service with gold. There is no outstanding debt.”
“Perhaps not,” Ellonlef said dryly. “But with your gift, this ability to resist Varis and Mahk’lar, does that not obligate you to help?”
“No,” Kian said. He did not like the way she was looking at him. It made him feel as if he were a heartless coward.
“Very well,” Ellonlef said. “But understand that Varis will not stop at the Ivory Throne. In due course, Izutar will fall as well.”
“How do you know that?” Kian demanded.
“As with all of Varis’s lies, he gave himself away when he claimed you would seek to rule all kingdoms.”
“Then let those kingdoms stand together against him.”
“Varis is moving too quickly,” Ellonlef said. “He must never be allowed to grow strong enough to attack other kingdoms, let alone the Ivory Throne. He must be stopped. From what I’ve seen and heard, you are the only man who can stand against him.”
“I might have stood against him,” Kian said, and went on to tell how the blue sparks that had leaped from his hands had faded when he fought under the Black Keep. “These Powers of Creation,” he finished, “seem to have left me.”
“What if your loss is temporary?” Ellonlef asked.
“What if it isn’t, and I end up dying for nothing?” Kian countered.
Ellonlef tossed aside her blankets. Despite her wounds, she got to her feet with no help, and hobbled to the picketed horses.
“What are you doing” Kian demanded. “Running off to find some other witless champion? Save yourself the effort, for there are few enough of those in Aradan.”
Ellonlef turned slowly. “There may be few champions in Aradan, but there are fewer still upon the Kaliayth. That leaves me to bring warning to Ammathor.”
“We will accompany you,” Azuri and Hazad said in unison. For once they did not fall to hurling snide comments back and forth, but merely shared a determined look.
Kian felt like a mule had kicked him in the gut. “You two are going to throw away your lives for a pack of highborn, Aradaner fools?”
“I do not go for the highborn of Aradan, or their gold,” Azuri said. “I go for the small folk of Aradan, who are like the lowborn of all realms, men and women who want nothing more than to live in what peace can be found. I cannot believe that you, a man close to me as a brother, would condemn a people because of the wretchedness of their rulers.”
Kian bit back an oath. Azuri went on.
“Varis has proven he is a demon—if not in truth, then in his heart. Like the Falsethian invaders who ravaged our homelands, he will destroy peace where he finds it. I don’t want to find myself in Izutar a year from now, watching his armies butchering their way through our homelands, all while knowing that I threw aside the one chance to stop him.”
“And if you fail to stop him here?”
Hazad stepped forward. “Then the spirits of our fathers will be pleased that we died standing against a tyrant and a monster, instead of selling our honor for the price of our lives.”
Each word icier than the last, Kian said, “To speak of danger and death, honor and duty, is easy enough when you are safe. But you were there when Varis created fires that turned men to ash in a blink. You heard how he killed the people of Krevar from afar, then raised them back from the very bowels of the Thousand Hells. Varis is no common tyrant, but a creature with the power of gods.”
Azuri and Hazad stood motionless, unblinking.
Kian jabbed a finger at Ellonlef. “She claims I hold some of these Powers of Creation. Maybe so, but I have no understanding of them. If we stand against Varis, none of us will survive. Our deaths will earn honor, but no one will ever sing of that honor. Is this what you want?”
“Death after a life lived good and well,” Azuri said, “is never a vain life. Even if we only please Pa’amadin, and any other watching gods, that is enough. All that aside, my friend, you have not considered a key point.”
“What is that?” Kian asked dismissively.
“The demon within Fenahk called you by name,” Azuri said. “As well, the demon within Bresado was expecting your arrival to El’hadar. Perhaps you can explain that away, but I believe Varis has already sent his hounds after you. It’s only a matter of time before they find you, no matter where you go. You either face him, or be hunted down.”
Kian’s mouth went dry. He tried to deny what his friend had said, but he had already sensed that he was hunted. That feeling had been on him from the moment Varis strode out of the temple.
“So be it,” he said. “But I do not fight for the rulers of Aradan, or even her people. I fight against Varis for myself alone.”
“Then that will have to be enough,” Ellonlef said, looking at him with relief and something very much like disappointment.
Kian turned away. “Break camp! We make for Ammathor!”
Chapter 16
As the company finished saddling the horses and packing their few supplies, a booming clap of thunder rolled overhead. Ellonlef, wondering if she should bother thanking Kian for his decision, ducked like everyone else.
A second boom followed the first. Then several together shivered the air and rattled the ground. The horses fought against their ropes. Hazad pointed skyward, his jaw slack. A flight of massive fireballs, each burning with the brilliance of the sun, roared toward the eastern horizon and out of sight. Seconds later, the smoke-hazed sky lit up. The ground began to shake in earnest.
“Peropis’s poisoned teats,” Hazad shouted, “what was that?"
“Tears of Pa’amadin,” Ellonlef said, recalling when she had first seen the stars falling from the sky over Krevar. But when she had seen them before, they had been far away.
Kian had turned toward her when another explosion rippled the air, and made the pebbles at her feet began to bounce. All eyes searched the reddish sky. At first Ellonlef thought she had lost track of time, for directly overhead she saw the hazed glow of the sun. That’s not the sun!
“To the rocks!” Her warning scream sounded small and far away, and then an explosion of light and sound flung her and the others to the ground.
Terror stole away the pain of her wounds. She bounded up, and then froze.
A flaming pillar was rising skyward a quarter mile away, its top expanding like a dusty red mushroom. At the column’s base, a wave of flame, sand, and dust was spreading outward. Several more bursts of light proceeded claps of thunder, and then more of those terrible burning pillars sprouted into malignant toadstools. Each was closer than the last.
Ellonlef whirled and ran. As she reached the base of the outcrop, a thudding succession of brilliant flares left her blinking and dazed. The hammering booms that followed slammed against her chest and left her gasping.
Immobilized by an emotion far beyond fear, she watched the reddish day turn to night. The scent of burning rock stuck in her throat, burned her eyes, but she could not look away from the awesome destruction all around. Buffeting winds, coming first one directi
on then another, pelted her with stinging grit, and also brought a roasting heat.
Another brilliant flash, brighter and closer than ever, knocked her off balance, and a scorching cushion of air flung her to her back. Stunned, she lay looking straight up. The sky boiled like a cauldron of ash and blood. Jagged forks of silver lightning crawled everywhere.
Kian’s face suddenly blocked her view. His dark hair was wild and dirty, but his blue eyes were calm. He shouted, but his words were buried under a sound akin to mountains dying. When she didn’t answer, he looked her over, his hands following his eyes. His touch, rough and gentle at the same time, brought a queer tingle to her skin, and she could not help but smile. He stopped what he was doing, and peered at her as if she had lost her mind.
Maybe I have? The thought didn’t frighten her half as much as it should have.
Shaking his head in dismay, Kian lifted her up and cradled her to his chest. As if she were light as a feather, he began leaping through the tumbled boulders. Despite the grinding rumbles that filled the world, Ellonlef thought sure she could hear the strong beat of his heart. She pressed closer and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was surrounded by absolute darkness. Cool air washed over her skin. Everything was still shaking, but the sounds of breaking stone had diminished. “Where are we?”
“This heap of stones is riddled with hollows,” Kian said. “Hopefully the others found places to hide from whatever this is.” When he spoke again, his words were hesitant. “Your order is different than that of the Magi Order, but the Sisters of Najihar are said to have great knowledge of many things. Sister—”
“Ellonlef,” she interrupted, sitting up straighter. Wherever they were, there wasn’t much room.
He hesitated. “Ellonlef, do you know what’s happening? Is this the end of life, what begging brothers are always talking about?”
“The Madi’yin are many things,” she allowed, “but in the end, they are mostly swatarin fiends who see doom in every eclipse, comet, storm, or earthquake.”
“But this is none of those things. Best I can tell, it seems like it really is the end.”
She heard his concern, guarded though it was, and reached out—
The darkness exploded, and something crashed against her head. She felt the wash of hot blood streaking over her face, and then a huge weight landed on her, crushing her against the sandy floor. Blackness returned, bringing with it a cold, unfeeling peace.
~ ~ ~
Ellonlef opened her eyes on a world gone to the hue of old blood. The air reeked of char and smelted ore. A dense blanket of smoke and dust blocked sight of everything behind a hundred paces. Men were shouting, and someone was howling in pain. Gray snow was falling from the sky. Not snow. Ash.
“Rest easy,” Hazad said, settling her on a folded saddle blanket. The big man’s face was covered in sweat and grime. Where he usually seemed quick to smile, now he was quick to leave.
Ellonlef cautiously sat up, but felt no pain.
“Ellonlef?” Kian said, looking out of sorts, not at all like the man who had carried her to safety.
“I’m fine,” she said, wondering how that was possible.
“One of my men is dying,” Kian said. “If it’s not too much, perhaps you could help him.”
“Of course!” She stood up. “Where is he?”
Kian pointed toward an Asra a’Shah laid out on the ground nearby. Blood was pooling around the mangled stump of one leg. Azuri and Hazad were standing over him.
“Get me hot water and bandages,” she ordered Kian. “Also wine and swatarin.” She eased herself down, waiting for the pain in her knee that never came.
“What do you need us to do?” Azuri asked.
“Hold him down.”
The Izutarian obliged without a word, and Ellonlef pushed up the hem of the Geldainian’s robes. She sat back with a grimace. What was left of the warrior’s leg was mass of meat, shattered bone, and pouring blood.
“Wasn’t much we could do but yank him free,” Hazad said regretfully. “Rest of his leg is still under the boulder.”
Ellonlef quickly unbuckled the man’s sword belt, cast aside his scimitar, and then cinched the belt above the stump. She tightened it until the flow of blood became a weeping trickle. The mercenary never made a sound.
It was then that Ellonlef noticed Kian had not collected what she needed. “Is it beneath you to fetch and carry?”
He eyed her, jaw flexing. “We have jagdah, some water, and little else.”
“That will have to be enough.”
Kian glanced at the Geldainian, and his expression softened. He handed over his waterskin and a soiled rag pulled from a pocket. It was the tunic she had used earlier to dry herself. “Do what you can,” he said, “but this man will soon be dead.”
“Start a fire,” she commanded, unwilling to lose hope so easily. “After I remove what cannot be saved of his leg, I will use flame to seal the wound.”
She drew her dagger and leaned over the ruined appendage. Before she could make the first cut, the mercenary began shaking, and his breath came quick and frantic. And then he went still. A bit of ash drifted down, landing in one of his glazed eyes. He never blinked.
Azuri said, “He is gone.”
The sound of Kian’s boots crunching away sounded his retreat. She almost called him back, but decided she did not want him near. He was a brutish man, born of a brutish land, and could be nothing more. What else would you have him be? a small voice asked. Surely he is nothing to you, save a tool to be used against Varis.
After a time, Azuri and Hazad left to find other survivors.
Ellonlef sat with the Geldainian, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, listening to the hushed quiet that had fallen over the world. It was all too easy to imagine that the end had come. Yet, somehow, she was alive. But why?
This idea startled her, but she remembered the blow to her head, and being crushed, and then the feeling of cool darkness that she had known was death coming for her.
She stretched out her hurt leg, but there was no pain. When she touched it, the swelling was gone. She blinked in surprise. Thoughts awhirl, she pushed a hand into her robes and touched the bandage over the arrow wound. No soreness there, either. Not sure if she was afraid or elated, she glanced around, saw that she was alone, then opened her robes and lifted the bandage. Her skin had a pinkish tinge from old blood, but there was no wound, not even a scar. What happened to me?
She looked up and saw Kian standing near the base of the outcrop, his back to her. He had done something to her. She didn’t know what, but she had a good idea how. “The Powers of Creation,” she murmured.
Chapter 17
Prince Varis Kilvar sat motionless astride his horse, while an unnaturally cool breeze pushed back his long white hair. He wasn’t exactly sure how that hair had grown, other than that he had dreamed it so some nights past. When he came awake, the dream and reality had become one. At the moment, having a full head of hair was not his concern, but rather crossing the wide chasm before him.
The gorge ran from the southern horizon to the northern, its sheer sides of freshly broken rock plunging hundreds of paces to crashing waves. The waters smelled of a salty sea, but had the color of mud. As he was a hundred leagues from the closest sea, it should have surprised him to find salt water here. But this was not the first sign he had seen of the disasters that had ravaged the world. How many lands simply fell into the sea? How many new lands have been raised up?
“Master,” Uzzret said, reining in at Varis’s side. “General Huraun claims that none of his scouts have found any sign of either the traitor Kian Valara or the heretic. If you ask me, that is hard to believe. It may be prudent to put his men to the question, even Haruan himself, just to ensure they are not in league with our enemies.”
“There is no need for torture just yet, Uzzret,” Varis said, smiling at the word he had used for Sister Ellonlef. Heretic, he calls her now, but what will the
old buzzard say when I name her my wife?
“As you wish, Master,” Uzzret said.
Although Peropis had claimed she would destroy Kian herself, Varis had continually sent riders hunting for him. To Varis’s mind, it didn’t matter who killed the mercenary, if he was ever killed. In truth, he doubted that he would ever see Kian again. The man was an ignorant Izutarian mercenary, much like all his kindred. Without gold to sway him, the man held no allegiance to Aradan. As for the Sister of Najihar, Varis had sent riders ahead of the company to search her out as well, ordering them to range far to the east. Somehow, she had eluded them.
“Master, if I might beg a question?”
Varis glanced at Uzzret in irritation, and the magus ducked his head in a hasty bow. “Speak your mind,” Varis commanded.
“How do you mean to cross this obstacle?”
Instead of answering, Varis dismounted and strode to the edge of the chasm. He kicked a wilted bush out of the way, then followed its plummet into the gorge with his eyes. The new sea swept over that lump of vegetation and dragged it under. Nearer to his feet, a mass of tough old roots dangled.
Spinning on his heel, he looked out over his arrayed forces, nearly ten thousand strong, all gazing raptly in his direction. Men, women, and children, all who had seen the horrors of Geh’shinnom’atar, all who would give their lives for him without thought or hesitation. His Chosen. Under clouds of oppressive smoke and ash, their strange half-life shone to his eyes like a sea of dull silver threads.
He reached out to that life and began drawing it into himself, then slowly releasing it. The ground shifted and rose, groaning and popping as rock broke apart. Varis closed his eyes in concentration, working with his mind the way a sculptor worked stone with hammer and chisel. He sensed his followers growing weaker as their life drained away, but he did not cease his harvest. He felt more alive than he ever had before.
Behind him came a vigorous rustling that grew louder by the moment, like a forest in a gale.
The God King (Book 1) (Heirs of the Fallen) Page 12
