by Ash, Sarah
But there too was Chinua, tending a little fire, the source of the woodsmoke, with an iron pot suspended above. How would the shaman react when he saw him? If Taliahad was right and Chinua was working for Anagini, then he would use all his shamanic powers to prevent him interfering in her plan.
Distracted, Gavril lost concentration and began to spiral downward. As he tried to control his descent, he suddenly saw Kiukiu poke her head out of the back of the cart, looking up into the sky, as if she had sensed he was there.
“ Gavril ?”
And then he hit the ground, rather less gracefully then he had planned and fell headlong in a tangle of wings and limbs. When he extricated himself, winded and dizzy, she was standing over him, gazing at him aghast.
“What have they done to you?” She backed away, shaking her head. “No! What have you done to yourself?”
It took all his concentration to fold the cumbersome wings, tucking them away as Taliahad had taught him so that he could walk without overbalancing. As he struggled, he heard Kiukiu say, “Why? I thought you had more sense than to let yourself be seduced by . . . by one of them .” And even though her words burned with anger, he caught a glint of a very different emotion in her eyes: fear. And Kiukiu was one of the most fearless souls he had ever met.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He was not going to let her make him take all the blame. “About the pact the Serpent Woman forced you into?” The way she flinched as he asked the question only confirmed that Taliahad had not lied to him.
“You have to go, Gavril. The longer we’re here arguing, the easier it will be for the Guardians to track us down. Don’t you see? They’re using you.”
There it was again, that telltale glint of fear. Fear . . . and guilt. And the proof that she had been lying to him—and was almost certainly still doing so—was so painful that he felt as if a weight was pressing on his chest, slowly crushing him, making each breath an agony.
“What are you waiting for? Go.” Her voice trembled, belying the vehemence of her words. “If you love your daughter, use those cursed wings the Guardians have given you and lead him away from here. Far away.”
Taliahad had warned him that she would refute anything and everything he said.
“The Serpent Woman has bewitched your wife. Her poison has been working in her system for a long time. It will be very difficult to persuade her to believe you. But you must persist.”
“I can’t just abandon you.” Gavril was at a loss. He had never felt so useless before. Every instinct told him to stay with the woman he loved and their child—and yet she was still pushing him away, rejecting his help.
“ Go, Gavril!”
“At least tell me why you think Taliahad’s been lying to me. Why he wants to harm Larisa.”
“Taliahad?” she repeated in a low voice, freighted with loathing. “The blue-haired Guardian? He’s the one Galizur sent to destroy our daughter. I heard him accept the mission.”
“How?” Just as Taliahad had warned him, Kiukiu was reacting irrationally. “How did you hear? Through the machinations of this Serpent Woman? Did it never occur to you that she might be deceiving you, spinning lies to divide us and steal Larisa from us?”
Kiukiu opened her mouth to reply—but Gavril saw her hesitate. A flicker of hope lit his heart. Had she begun to doubt the Serpent Woman’s words at last?
“Is all well, Kiukiu?” Chinua appeared, carrying Larisa who was snuggled asleep against his shoulder, utterly oblivious to what was going on. The sight of the shaman cradling his daughter almost made Gavril lose control. He ached to snatch Risa from Chinua and hold her tight; she was his child, not some pawn to be haggled over.
“Gavril was just about to leave,” Kiukiu said, staring pointedly at Gavril as she spoke. “Weren’t you? It’s best for us all if you go.”
Gavril caught an enticing aroma wafting toward them from the cooking pot suspended over the fire as the evening breeze stirred the flames. He swayed on his feet, feeling the last of his strength draining away. The rigors of the flight and a long while without water or food since daybreak were taking their toll.“I haven’t eaten or drunk anything all day,” he explained, ashamed of this sudden weakness. “Krasa bolted with my supplies. If I could just—”
Kiukiu exchanged a look with Chinua. “And then you’ll go?”
Gavril was not going to acquiesce that easily. Stalling for time, he said, not untruthfully, “I can’t go anywhere until I’ve got my strength back.”
She went over to the fire and spooned broth into a mug. “Be careful; it’s scalding hot,” she said, handing it to him. He sniffed the savory steam and felt his empty stomach contract, reacting to the enticing smell of herbs and stewed dried meat. His first instinct was to gulp the soup down to appease the pangs in his gut but he blew on it, not wanting to burn his tongue.
“And what are you doing away from the kastel, anyway?” Kiukiu was still in scolding mode. “Didn’t you say there was trouble brewing at home with this Lord Ranozhir turning up? Shouldn’t you be there to make sure he doesn’t reawaken the old clan troubles?”
“He’s been abroad for over twenty years. I doubt he can do much harm in a few weeks.” Gavril risked a sip of the hot broth and then another; it tasted so good it almost brought tears to his eyes. Only then did he remember that she had drugged their tea in Fire Falcon Pass; he was so desperate for food that he had forgotten all caution. “You haven’t spiked this, have you?”
She glared at him. “When did I have time to do that? You saw me ladle the soup out yourself. If it’s drugged, then we’ll all—”
She broke off abruptly, gazing upward. At the same time, Gavril felt the same icy shiver he had experienced when Taliahad first appeared.
“Too late,” he heard her whisper.
A ragged rent appeared in the cloudy sky overhead, like silk ripped with a keen blade. Even as Kiukiu ran to snatch Larisa from Chinua, Taliahad appeared through the rift in the clouds. No longer unarmed, he was gripping a scythe-like weapon with a long, curved blade that glittered as if it was hewn from clear ice.
“It’s him!” Gavril heard Kiukiu hiss, retreating behind him. Larisa let out a sleepy growl of protest at being awoken so roughly.
“What are you doing here, Lord Taliahad?” Gavril stared up as the Winged Guardian descended in a rippling shimmer of watery light. “And why are you armed?”
“Give me your daughter so I can protect her, Gavril.” The young Guardian’s voice was hard and urgent, with no trace of his earlier compassionate manner.
“Protect her?” Gavril dug his heels into the rough ground. “From whom?” Behind him he heard Larisa say in tones of delighted surprise, “Da!” as one sticky fist reached out and thumped him in a friendly way on the back of the head. “Did she just call me ‘Da’?” he asked distractedly. The first time she had addressed him directly and it had to be now.
“You idiot, Gavril.”
“Da. Da!” Larisa caught hold of a strand of his hair and tugged it hard, giggling.
“She wants me to pay her some attention,” he said, wincing as she tugged harder.
“Let me take her,” Taliahad said, coming closer, his free hand extended.
“Take her where?” Kiukiu demanded.
“Away from here. Before—”
“Hesitating again, Tal?” A strong voice, seared with sarcasm, cut in.
“Look out!” Chinua flung himself in front of them as a bolt of fire sizzled from the sky to char the grass at his feet. The wolf shaman staggered and went down on one knee.
“Chinua?” Kiukiu whispered his name but he seemed not to hear her, slowly sliding forward onto the grass, his human body melting away to reveal his wolf form as he collapsed.
Gavril looked up to see a second winged figure descending through the rent in the clouds. In one hand it brandished a sword whose blade dripped gouts of flame. But it was the taunting tone that Gavril recognized with a feeling of loathing and dread.
How can it be
?
And as the newcomer approached, Gavril saw—not the noble features of one of Galizur’s Heavenly Guardians—but a face he remembered only too well. The last time he had seen that arrogant, mocking smile, furiously defiant even on the brink of annihilation, was on Ty Nagar at the fall of the Serpent Gate.
“Oskar Alvborg!” The human host of Sahariel, the headstrong rebel among Khezef’s brethren. But who had taken control of him this time? The fire-flecked wings and flame-bright eyes reminded Gavril of Sahariel but Oskar Alvborg’s transformed body had taken on a form more angelic than daemonic; there was nothing of the scarlet-scaled Drakhaoul about this new fusion.
“Ardarel?” Taliahad found his voice. “What have you done?” He was staring at his fellow Guardian, clearly as shocked as Gavril.
“I’m merely using this mortal to help me fulfill the mission.”
“You’re committing a sin. Galizur will punish you if he finds out.”
“Galizur only cares that we carry out his orders. You should do the same.”
Taliahad gave a curt shake of his watery locks.
“You’re fading already,” said Ardarel callously. “Haven’t you realized yet? The more time you spend in the mortal world, the weaker you become.”
“But I returned to the Second Heaven to replenish my strength. I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t work that way. No matter how many times we return home, our aethyric bodies can’t adapt to this atmosphere.”
As the Guardians argued, Gavril murmured to Kiukiu, “Now. While they’re distracted.” She nodded and thrust Larisa into Gavril’s arms.
The sudden movement caught Ardarel’s attention. Down he swooped, hand extended, to snatch Larisa. Gavril unfurled his wings with a flourish, creating a violent gust, powerful enough to knock the Winged Warrior back.
Larisa began to chuckle. She wasn’t frightened by Taliahad or Ardarel; she seemed to be enjoying herself hugely. With one flap of his wings that almost wrenched his shoulders from their sockets, Gavril was airborne. Risa gave a shriek of delight which almost drowned Kiukiu’s anguished cry from below.
“Wait!” Taliahad cried as Gavril rose above him. “You’ll never outfly Ardarel.”
Ardarel darted forward, flaming blade raised. Gavril felt the intense sizzle of heat even as he tried to dodge; it slashed close, too close to the baby’s head.
A cool glitter of ice sliced the air. Taliahad had placed himself in front of Gavril and Risa, blocking the sizzling blade with his scythe. Sparks exploded like a shower of sparkling frost flowers.
Gavril clutched his daughter tight even though she wriggled to get free, squawking her annoyance at being restrained.
“What’s this?” Ardarel, thrown back through the air by the strength of Taliahad’s parry, righted himself. “Are you defying me, Tal?” There was no hint of mocking laughter any longer.
“This is my mission.” Taliahad insisted. “I’ll do it my way.”
“Don’t trust them, Gavril!” Kiukiu’s desperate shout reached Gavril as he hesitated. “Just go .”
But now he was trapped, with Ardarel on one side, Taliahad on the other
It was only then that Gavril realized that Taliahad’s bright form was fading, just as Ardarel had predicted. His defiant words belied his stance. Even the watery shimmer of his hair had dulled.
Suddenly Taliahad hurled himself toward Gavril with such speed that Gavril had no chance to make any kind of evasive move. The white shadow of Taliahad’s wings enveloped him and his squirming daughter.
Caught off-guard, Gavril realized Taliahad’s intentions too late. This was how it had happened the first time the Drakhaoul had possessed him. And yet—as his consciousness fought to repel the intruder —it was also utterly different. Then it had felt as if he was drowning in swathes of shadow. Now his body was flooded with a cool sensation that tingled through every pore and vein until he was convinced his whole body must be gleaming, translucent as ice or snowmelt tumbling off a high cliff into a mountain lake.
The invasion happened so swiftly that it was done before he could blink. The protective cocoon of feathers melted away, absorbed into his body. His sight sharpened, his hearing too. He felt the strength of Taliahad’s aethyrial wings infuse and reinforce his own, keeping him effortlessly aloft.
“Lord Taliahad,” he managed to whisper. “ Don’t—hurt—Risa .” Taliahad might have taken control of his physical body but he still fought to keep his consciousness free for as long as it was possible.
“Down here! Gavril!”
Gavril became vaguely aware that Kiukiu was running along beneath them, reaching up, inviting him to toss Larisa to her. But since the moment Taliahad merged his aethyrial form with his body, he had lost control of his own actions. Yet all he could sense from the alien being within him was surprise—and utter confusion.
“What . . . should I do?”
A fiery sword-slash half-blinded him. Peering through flame-dazzled eyes, he saw Ardarel bearing down on them.
Chapter 55
“Don’t you dare harm Risa!”
Somewhere at the back of her mind Kiukiu wondered if it was a mother’s instinct: this passionate compulsion to defend her child, no matter what the cost. The intensity shocked her; she had cried out on impulse without thinking.
The fiery Winged Warrior turned and gazed down at her. Terrified, she found she could not move. He raised his sword.
“Get out of the way, Kiukiu!” Gavril’s warning shout penetrated her panicked mind. She heard the sizzle of the flames flickering along the length of the blade, felt their heat. She knew she should run.
Her own powerlessness, faced with two such formidable adversaries, shamed her.
I’m just a Spirit Singer. I’m no use to Risa. All I can do is sing the souls of the dead into the Ways Beyond. And now it’s my turn. But who will sing for me when I’m gone?
As the fiery blade came slicing down, she squeezed her eyes shut, making a last, stumbling attempt to dodge, waiting for the searing heat to envelop her. She tripped and fell, sprawling forward on the rough grass.
A harsh metallic clash shivered across the steppe. She dared to open one eye.
I’m still alive?
Her knees, chin and hands were scraped and smarting from the fall, but otherwise she was unharmed. Above her head, Gavril—or Taliahad, she could not be sure who was in control—had blocked Ardarel’s blow with his ice-crystal scythe. She heard him grunt with the effort as he not only deflected the blade but used his strength to push Ardarel back. The brightness of the flame-tipped feathers faded as Ardarel seemed about to fall from the sky.
Then Ardarel righted himself, laughing.
“You’ve improved, Gavril Nagarian. But I have the advantage.” His callously mocking tone made her shiver. “That scythe is frozen water, and fire melts ice.”
Kiukiu pushed herself up to her knees. Was Ardarel right? Was the scythe really an inferior weapon?
There must be something I can do.
“Are you sure, Alvborg?” Gavril’s retort, breathless but still defiant rang out above her head. “Water can also quench fire.”
I sing the souls of the dead into the Ways Beyond. Could I send these Bright Ones back with a Sending Song too? They’ve come from that selfsame place. Those ancient melodies can open a pathway between this world and the next.
She began to crawl toward the cart where her gusly lay wrapped in a cloth beneath the front seat, hoping that Gavril could distract the fiery angel from what she was about to attempt.
The Golden Scale. Malusha had used it when they trespassed far into the Second Heaven to speak with the Blessed Sergius. If only she could remember the complex sequence of notes correctly . . .
She drew out Malusha’s gusly, unwrapping it as she cowered in the cart, gently touching each string in turn to check the tuning, her ear close to the instrument. Fear made her fingers tremble so much she could hardly slide the metal plectra onto the tips.
But play she must, plucking one string after the other to create a pathway of sound.
“ Think of weaving a rainbow bridge—in which each of the seven colours is a different pitch.” Malusha had been a severe tutor but Kiukiu would never forget all the Guslyars’ ancient melodies her grandmother had dinned into her. “Spin out those filaments of sound, let them vibrate and create new pitches as they resonate and clash, one with the other, strengthening the pathway that links the mortal world with the Ways Beyond.”
—
“You blocked Ardarel.” Gavril’s last remaining tactic was to keep Taliahad distracted. “Why?”
A confusion of images and feelings swirled around his brain. Taliahad was struggling to assimilate, yet still failing to overmaster his human host.
“ Must destroy—no, protect—Risa .”
Gavril felt the Guardian’s conflict raging through him, wave after wave of contradictory messages keeping him hovering indecisively
“ Must—carry out—the mission .”
“Then just let go of the Drakhaoul’s child.” Ardarel’s order, barked out in Alvborg’s cynical tones sent a chill of revulsion through Gavril. “A fall from that height will kill it.”
“No.” Taliahad said aloud. “Prince Galizur told me to take her to him.”
So Galizur wanted Larisa? Somehow this information was even more alarming than Ardarel’s callous command. But before Gavril could react, a cascade of plucked notes rang out.
The gusly.
Surprised, Ardarel swung around, mid-air, searching for the direction the melody was coming from. Somberly dark, yet infused with a golden timbre, Kiukiu’s voice resonated across the grasslands in a song Gavril had never heard her sing before. There was no mistaking the power emanating from the singer and her instrument: Kiukiu was pouring all her skill as the last Guslyar into spinning a numinous chant, capable of opening a rift between the worlds.
The air seemed to glow with the richness of the sound until there was only the intense throb of each note, as warm as rays of evening sunlight, penetrating the clouds in a glory of bronze and gold.
