Betrayal

by Lara Morgan

  ‘Thank you.’ She hadn’t decided if the woman thought her a threat or just disliked her, but either way she didn’t think she’d say anything to Azoth. She hated him more than anyone. Picking up the skirt of her dress so it wouldn’t impede her feet she walked down to him. It was practically backless and the heat of the sun touched her skin as she reached his side.

  ‘What do you want?’ She made no attempt to hide her annoyance.

  He smiled. ‘You are beautiful in that.’ His skin glowed golden brown and his eyes looked even more violet than usual. He raised a hand to touch her but she jerked away. His smile became dangerous.

  ‘Don’t defy me in front of my army,’ he said softly, and deliberately slid his arm around her shoulders, drawing her toward him. She stiffened as he lowered his head to graze her cheek with his and whispered into her mind.

  Cara merak, Arak-si. Come to me, my beloved. The words spoken in the ancient language had a deeper effect than the common tongue; they sang in her blood, drew on her will. It infuriated her and the pressure beneath her breastbone surged.

  ‘Don’t!’ she hissed from between her gritted teeth, and grasped his wrist.

  He laughed softly. ‘Try to unleash it,’ he said. And she felt the sudden cold fire of his power spread like tendrils from his hand. She froze, wanting to seek the beating of his heart and squeeze, but knowing he would hurt her if she did. His lips brushed her cheek and then he released her, stepping back.

  ‘It will only be a short time after all,’ he said. ‘Soon all who defy me will either surrender or perish. I can wait.’ He watched as she struggled to regain her composure. The itch to strike him was so strong she had to clench her hands into fists.

  ‘We will see,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ His smile fell away. ‘We will.’

  The Alhanti were organising the Scanorians into squadrons of thirty or forty and the air was filled with the sound of raised voices and weapons being sharpened. Some of the Scanorians were busily uprooting any shrubs they could find and were building an enormous bonfire. Overhead serpents wheeled in flight while others rested as near to Azoth’s pavilion as they could, their bodies stretching away on either side of them until she could barely discern wing from crest. Nuathin was the closest, sleeping no more than a few strides from the hide walls.

  ‘The fire will light the battle lust in their hearts tonight,’ Azoth said softly.

  ‘They don’t need a fire for that,’ Shaan said.

  He smiled. ‘Jared,’ he called, ‘where is my seer?’

  ‘In your tent.’ The Alhanti’s reply came coarse and hard from behind her.

  ‘See to her.’ Azoth looked at Shaan as he spoke. ‘Make sure her binds are not loose.’

  Without answering Jared turned and walked back up to the pavilion.

  ‘You don’t like what I have done to her?’ Azoth said.

  ‘She is not an animal,’ Shaan replied. ‘You don’t need to tie her down.’

  ‘If I don’t she may run away.’

  ‘How would she get past all your Alhanti and Scanorians?’

  He only smiled. ‘You may go to her as well if you wish — if she will talk to you.’

  He knew Alterin considered her a traitor now. She would not even look at her. It pained her profoundly to see what Azoth had done to the seer; he’d abused her, taken her family and now trussed her up. He knew she did not need to be restrained. He knew that with Jared as her guard she could not escape — and perhaps now did not even have the strength to.

  ‘Perhaps I will go and see her,’ she said.

  ‘If you wish, my love,’ he answered mildly. ‘And have some of the women clean her up. I may have need of her tonight.’

  Shaan’s stomach turned and she shot a furious look at his back which made him laugh quietly.

  ‘If you will not come to me, what choice do I have?’ he said. ‘It is in your power to save her from my … attentions.’

  Struggling to curb her anger, Shaan went back to the tent.

  Jared was standing guard at the entrance and Shaan glanced at him as she walked past, but he paid her no attention, staring straight ahead at the army or the land, she couldn’t tell. He seemed nothing but a shell of muscle and flesh, his stare vacant of any hint of the man he had been — and yet whenever she was near him she sensed something and that did not happen with any other. She couldn’t help but think the Guides had done this, had reached out and protected some part of him, but why, she couldn’t understand. Maybe it was simply because he was of the Clans, the Guides’ first people. Maybe he had some immunity to the change. Maybe he could be turned back.

  Puzzling over it, she entered the large circular tent. Inside, thick carpets had been laid down to cover the earth and there were two piles of fat cushions for sleeping — one for her and one for Azoth — on either side of the tent. Alterin was still tied to the central pole with a length of rope around her neck, but her hands were no longer bound. She sat cross-legged on the carpets, leaning back against the pole. She didn’t look up as Shaan came in. In front of her sat the box that contained the Birthstone. It hummed in the back of Shaan’s mind like an insect trapped in her skull. It was tempting to think she should just spring on it now, try to split it. It was rare that Azoth left it in its box. But if she did it now, what of the Four? What if they needed it to defeat him? It was too big a risk. Especially as Azoth was so close outside and might merely stop her before she could start. She fetched a cup of water and took it to Alterin.

  ‘Here.’ She knelt down, offering it to her, but the jungle woman made no move to take it.

  ‘Alterin.’ Shaan put a hand on her arm. ‘You need to drink.’

  The seer shook her head. ‘I have no needs.’

  Shaan frowned and put the cup down, then began to untie the rope. In an instant Jared was there, his powerful hands around her wrists.

  ‘Stop!’ he growled.

  Shaan flinched. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘She must remain tied.’ His dark brown eyes were tormented and his hands squeezed too hard, threatening to crush her bones. Pressure flared behind Shaan’s breastbone and, seizing her chance, she flung it out against him.

  ‘Jared!’ she called as her senses raced through his body, searching, hoping. She felt the raging flow of his new blood hot with strength, and tasted the bitter taint of the serpent in it, coppery and ancient. The memories it carried, the fear, the hate, were strong. It was the essence of the black serpent that had been melded with him and it raged against a barrier of Clan that was still there.

  Arak-si! The dry whisper of the serpent’s ancient voice penetrated her, recognised her. She saw the swirling darkness of it and heard the echo of a voice screaming in pain. Jared. Her will to heal reared up, bursting from her, and she threw the bright energy against the power of the serpent. It recoiled, roaring in pain, and she felt its hold weaken. But then something happened. She hit an invisible wall. Someone screamed, a cry of terrible agony, and a hand grabbed her and flung her away. She hit the carpets, the hardness of the ground beneath winding her. Gasping, she opened her eyes. The screaming had stopped and Jared was kneeling on the floor taking huddering breaths while Alterin, tears streaming from her eyes, was trying to reach him, the rope around her neck pulled taut. Azoth stood over them both.

  ‘Go,’ he said to Jared. Jared rose to his feet and left the tent, not looking at Alterin as she stared after him, still crying. Azoth turned to Shaan and the fury in his gaze made her flinch. He was pale with it, his eyes blazing indigo. Without a word he strode over and struck her hard across the face. Her head snapped back, pain a fire across her cheekbone. With a shriek she kicked out at him, but he caught her foot and hit her again so hard that her vision blurred. Furious she struggled to get up, but he suddenly had his hands about her throat, kneeling over her, his face close to her own. He squeezed and she scrabbled at his hands, staring up into his face, trying to reach for the energy inside, but it had all drained away.

  ‘Azoth!’ s
he choked. He was cutting off her windpipe. For a moment she thought he would kill her, but then he seemed to realise what he was doing and the blind violence faded from his eyes as he stopped squeezing. Shaking, she dragged in a breath.

  ‘Why?’ His hands were still around her neck but no longer applying any pressure. ‘Why do you make me hurt you?’ Remorse and something like love entered his eyes. My Arak-si, he whispered in her mind as he stroked her hair back from her face. Why? With shock she saw tears in his eyes as he held her face between his hands. Why do you resist me? His question was a faint whisper in her mind, full of sadness and loss, but it did nothing but stir her disgust. She struggled out of his embrace, pushing him back, and crawling away from him.

  ‘You cannot reverse what has been done,’ he said, his tone brief, emotionless, ‘and to try only brings him pain. Do not touch him again. For both your sakes.’ He stood and left the two of them alone in the tent.

  Shaan tentatively touched the side of her face, feeling the bruise, tasting the blood in her mouth.

  ‘Only the Four can fight him, Shaan; I told you before.’ Alterin’s voice was low and filled with a dull despair. ‘You cannot win,’ she whispered.

  Shaan looked at the box that contained the Stone, still humming to itself.

  ‘So he thinks,’ she said, but Alterin only shook her head sadly.

  ‘Without the Stone the Four cannot beat him; we have already lost,’ she said.

  It hurt her that Alterin had given up, but she could not blame her. She had suffered so much. If Azoth had done to Balkis what he had done to Jared she did not know if she would have become any different from Alterin, but she could not afford to give up hope.

  ‘You said the Four are coming,’ Shaan said, ‘you’ve seen them. They are awake and aware of Azoth and the Birthstone.’

  ‘Yes,’ Alterin answered listlessly. ‘I watch them for him so they cannot enter his mind, so they cannot see him. But he has the Stone.’

  ‘Yes.’ Shaan stared at the box. ‘It is very powerful …’

  ‘What is it?’ Alterin frowned at her tone and Shaan longed to confide in her, but it was safer she was kept ignorant.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ***

  Azoth did not come to the tent that night as he had threatened and despite her fear Shaan slept, waking before dawn to the sound of serpents calling and the rumble of many feet. Pushing herself up from the cushions she looked at Alterin, still tethered to the pole. The seer’s eyes were dull with resignation, devoid of hope.

  Shaan walked on bare feet to the tent opening and pushed back the hide. Torches, hundreds of them, lit the camp and sent acrid smoke on the breeze, rising up above the swaying mass of the army. They were moving into rank formation under the guttural shouts of the Alhanti. Above, the dark sky was filled with the winged shadows of serpents hovering, crying to each other. Azoth was a few steps from the tent, overseeing, Jared at his side. He turned as she stepped out, torchlight painting shadows across his face, and smiled, his eyes ferocious and full of triumph. His army was on the move.

  Chapter 50

  A rush of fear from the serpents woke him. Sharper than before, it had Tallis springing to his feet before his eyes were fully open.

  Marathin? He took a few steps from his bedroll.

  It was still dark, but many were awake and gathered around campfires.

  We see him, Marathin whispered. She meant Azoth.

  Now wide awake, Tallis ran through the camp, the serpents’ fear a tightness in his chest. Fighters rose to their feet as he passed, uneasiness spreading behind him like a ship’s wake. He overtook the man who had been on lookout sprinting and sliding down the path as he made his way up.

  ‘They’re coming!’ the man breathed at him as he went by, but Tallis didn’t stop.

  Marathin was waiting for him, crouched near the edge of the plateau, her wings half spread.

  Arak-ferish, she hissed as he reached her. He seeks you.

  No doubt, Tallis thought. He saw the torches glimmering across the horizon, the flickering herald of the army on its way. The points of orange light spread in a long line, breaking the darkness. Azoth had to be west of Split by now. Breath shuddering through his lungs, he called up his power and pushed it outward. She was with him, surely now she would answer.

  Shaan! He flung out the call, reaching for her. Arak-si!

  There was a heartbeat, a breath and then a reply came back.

  Arak-ferish. It was faint and tinged with power, a whisper in his mind. But it was not Shaan. Patience, son. Azoth’s voice slipped along the questing tendril he had sent.

  Your death comes soon enough.

  Tallis recoiled, drawing his power back, but he wasn’t quick enough and a sharp lance of pain struck at him as he pulled the dark energy around his mind like a shield.

  You can’t hide forever. Azoth’s parting words found him as the god withdrew and Tallis was left panting, unable to reply.

  ‘Tallis?’ Balkis was running toward him.

  ‘The army is on the march,’ Tallis said, and pointed to the horizon.

  ‘Gods.’ Balkis stared into the shadowed land. ‘Look at them all.’

  ‘We have to see Rorc.’ Tallis turned back to the camp and they half jogged, half slid down the steep path.

  ‘Azoth is on the horizon,’ Tallis said as soon as they’d entered the command tent.

  Rorc was already dressed in his battle vest and his long sword lay freshly polished on the table.

  ‘I know, the lookout just left. Can you contact Haraka?’ he asked Tallis. ‘Find out how far Attar and the Clans are from here.’

  Tallis closed his eyes, reaching out for the young serpent. He was closer than he’d thought. ‘They’re camped north of some low hills.’ He went to the table and looked at the map. ‘Here.’ He pointed to the place.

  ‘That’s barely an hour’s march,’ Balkis said.

  ‘But far enough for them to be hidden.’ Rorc looked at them with a clear, steady gaze. ‘So it begins,’ he said. ‘Balkis, go and assemble the captains; tell them the Clans are in position.’

  He turned to Tallis as Balkis left the tent. ‘We’ve heard nothing from Veila, so we must assume the Guardian has failed to convince the army to join us. We’re on our own.’

  ‘I didn’t expect anything else,’ Tallis said.

  ‘No.’ Rorc adjusted a knife on his leg. ‘I need you to get the serpents ready for the riders.’

  ‘Right.’ Tallis turned to leave.

  ‘Wait.’ Rorc’s tone was quieter. ‘Are you prepared for this, Tallis? Are you ready for this fight?’

  He didn’t answer right away. ‘I can’t promise anything,’ he said, ‘but I am strong, strong enough to defeat any Alhanti, to command the serpents — I just don’t know how long I can control my power. It’s still new.’

  Rorc nodded. ‘That is a risk we will have to take — but that’s not all I meant. This is war and war is chaos and blood and death. Faced with it men either confront the madness or are consumed by it.’ His look was searching. ‘Are you ready for that?’

  Tallis met his gaze. ‘I will not falter; I can’t.’

  ‘I hope for our sakes you don’t. Just remember you will not be able to save everyone. People will die.’

  ‘People have already died — or worse.’

  ‘And worse will come,’ Rorc said quietly.

  Tallis knew he was thinking of what would happen should they lose. ‘Do you think we have any chance?’ he said.

  Rorc picked up his sword, watching the lamplight sliding along the blade, and smiled slightly. ‘There never was much hope of our defeating a god, Tallis.’ In his eyes was the calm acceptance of fate, the knowledge of what they faced. ‘We fight because we must. We cannot just let him take again what we fought so hard for. We fight to give others the hope to live. And that is where you and your sister come in — and the Four if they do come. You are our hope, Tallis, you and Shaan. The rest of us —’ his mouth c
urved in a self-mocking smile, ‘— are mere mortals, we are the distraction, and I think that is all we ever were. This battle is between you and your maker. It is you and Shaan who will decide our fate. The Guides play the long game, Tallis. You know that.’ He sheathed the sword, then checked the knife strapped to his leg and short blade on his left arm. Tallis had no words of reply. He knew his father was right and he hated it.

  ‘Come,’ Rorc said, ‘we have an army to organise.’ He put his hand briefly on Tallis’s shoulder as he passed him. ‘Survive this, for your mother’s sake, son,’ he said softly. ‘Hunt well.’ Then he was gone.

  Tallis hesitated, a strange feeling in his gut. It was the first time Rorc had called him son. An emotion like acceptance, or perhaps relief, came over him, but there was no time to consider it and he followed Rorc out to the assembling army.

  Balkis had already roused the captains. All ten of them were awake and ordering the fighters into squads. Balkis and Rorc would be leading them and would attack at an angle to Azoth’s front, forcing Azoth to concentrate his attack to one side. It was a bold plan and Tallis hoped that Hashmael and his clan warriors would arrive in time to take advantage of the slow wheel of Azoth’s army, and take his right flank before they were decimated. He and Attar would lead the serpents and their riders in the air, trying to prevent Azoth’s serpents — all one hundred and fifty or so of them — from picking their warriors off from the sky.

  Tallis watched the men and small number of women fighters assembling. The odds were against them — they were barely five hundred and only eleven serpents — but the despair he thought he should be feeling would not come. There was only the sense of his power alive inside him as if eager for the fight. He went toward Balkis, reaching him as one of his captains did.

  ‘Marshall,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve sent a few runners to the smithy to bring all remaining weapons.’

  ‘Good.’ Balkis glanced at Tallis over her shoulder. The younger boys who had come with the recruits, nine in total and all under fifteen, had been forced unwillingly to act as battle runners.

  ‘Make sure all of them are armed with a short blade, but don’t let them think they can join the squads,’ he said.