by Lara Morgan
‘Kill me!’ Jared said again as he came at him, forcing him back with each blow. He was stronger. Tallis knew he could not defeat him with only the sword, but to use his power on his earth brother … His soul howled at the thought.
‘Pretender!’ the serpent in Jared roared, then the voice became more human again. ‘Kill me, Tallis! Take it away — no one else can!’
‘No!’ Tallis parried Jared’s blows again and again, growing weaker each time. The killing power in him filled his veins, aching to be used. Jared delivered an enormous, powerful blow and Tallis stumbled, falling to his knees. He tried to hold his blade up but Jared swiped, knocking it from his hands, and lifted his sword above his head, the serpent glittering triumphant in his eyes.
‘Death comes!’ he hissed, and turned the blade to cut off his head.
In despair, Tallis reached for his power, pulling it up, filling himself with it so that it exploded through his limbs. Bitterness coated his tongue, blood roared through his skull and his vision faded to a tunnel as he leaped to his feet and crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. He felt blood pounding, breath expanding the Alhanti’s lungs and the screaming hatred of the serpent inside, black and ancient. It roared at him as he held Jared’s sword arm down with one hand, the power giving him tremendous strength, and with the other drew the short knife from his leg sheath.
‘Do it.’ It was a broken, grateful whisper. Tallis looked into Jared’s eyes and saw the fury of the serpent but also the pleading of his clansman.
‘I can’t.’ He hesitated, tears running down his face.
‘Please.’ Jared’s hand curled around his own on the knife, his muscles shuddering with effort. ‘Now!’
Tallis remembered Jared’s laughing smile, hunting with him, the sight of him coming from the darkness of the desert to save his life. He remembered him as he had been — a clansman, a warrior. He knew even with his power he could not give that back, but he could give him peace. With an agonised scream Tallis buried the blade in his earth brother’s chest.
‘No!’ Irissa shrieked, and she clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him off. He looked into Jared’s eyes and saw the life of the serpent go out. His body convulsed and Jared stared up at him with sorrow and relief.
‘Earth brother,’ he whispered. ‘I knew you would save me.’
Tears almost blinded him. ‘Find shade, brother,’ Tallis said, and Jared smiled, briefly, faintly.
‘Hunt …’ His words faded and the life fled from his eyes. Tallis could not move. Behind him Irissa was shrieking, howling as she kneeled beside her brother, tugging at his shirt, his hair. Slowly Tallis rose to standing and picked up his sword. A Scanorian ran at him and Tallis dispatched it without emotion, cutting it down and opening its insides without noticing the blood that sprayed him. Azoth had done this. Azoth had forced him to kill his own earth brother. Emptiness had hold of him as he stared up at the sky, seeing the serpents screeching, seeking the one that carried the god. He was up there. The power filled him, flowing like fire through his veins and he drew on it then shot it up to the sky, like a beacon, a searching skein. Scanorians came at him as he stood there, but he killed them all without effort, the power filling him like a god, like death. Then he felt him and knew Azoth sensed him also.
You seek me? Tallis could almost see the cold smile in his mind, the violet eyes. Come and meet your death, Azoth sent, and Tallis felt him sinking lower, heading toward the edge of the battle. Tallis turned to Irissa.
‘Protect yourself,’ he said, and forced her knife into her hand. She took the blade, staring at him with loathing, but he couldn’t help her now. Turning, he began to run through the chaos of the fighting. Several times Scanorians and Alhanti tried to engage him, to step in his way, but they were barely a hindrance. Power flowed through him like water in the springs, running fast and hot, and he struck through all of them, his blade flying like a razored feather in the air, slicing flesh and bone, his pace never slowing.
Chapter 52
As suddenly as he had started, Epherin stopped, bringing them all to a halt on a low rise near a few twisted, stunted trees.
The day was hot and the sounds of battle rang in the air: the distant rumble of feet, serpent shrieks and the screams of the injured.
Below them the plain surged with thousands killing and dying, the ground splashed red, the bodies of a dozen serpents lying like discarded rags out on the outskirts of the seething mass while others fought still in the sky above.
‘War,’ Epherin breathed, and took a step forward, his eyes bright. ‘Let’s go down.’
‘Wait,’ Paretim said.
‘I feel the Stone.’ Fortuse gripped his arm, her cold fingers clawing at his skin.
‘We all feel it.’ Paretim looked at Vail. They were his creatures down there, fighting, being slaughtered, and his brother’s dark face was tight with anger.
‘But he will know we are here. We must be careful; there is no slave to help us this time. We summon ourselves.’
‘Feel it,’ Fortuse whined, pressing against him.
‘I saw a Void walker, a slave, before I found you,’ Vail said. ‘She asked for our help in defeating our brother. Perhaps she is here.’
‘What did you tell her?’ Paretim said.
‘That we come for the Stone,’ Vail said. ‘We always come for it, brother, don’t we? It’s our curse.’
Paretim contemplated the battle. ‘A human cannot help us,’ he said.
‘Nor can they hinder us,’ said Epherin eagerly. ‘Let’s go down to the battle; we can find him there. He will come to us. Together we will defeat him.’
‘And what of the marked one, the progeny he made with the Stone?’
‘A mortal.’ Epherin waved a hand. ‘Easily overcome.’
‘Perhaps.’
It was plain that Azoth’s army, while not as ordered, or well governed, would win through sheer numbers and because of the serpents. He could not understand what the humans had hoped to achieve by fighting, but he had often failed to understand their strange motivations.
‘Come,’ he sighed, peeling Fortuse’s hand from his arm, ‘this war must end so we can retrieve the Stone.’
‘Battle!’ Epherin ran ahead of them down the hill.
***
Tallis! Shaan tried to reach him but the fury of his power was overwhelming.
‘You can’t do this!’ She turned on Azoth as Nuathin settled away from the edge of the battle, red dust swirling in the air.
Azoth pushed her off Nuathin’s back. ‘It is his will, my love.’ He jumped down and drew a long, narrow sword from a sheath strapped to the serpent’s back.
‘He can’t fight you!’ Shaan shouted, but he only looked at her.
‘He has chosen his path.’
Shaan felt Tallis coming then and she saw him burst from among the screaming mass of Scanorians and men.
No! she shouted to his mind, but felt only fury in response. His face was empty of any emotion but hate. As he hurtled toward them she realised that this was the opportunity she needed. Turning to Azoth with a scream she attacked him. It took him unawares and for a brief moment he faltered, stumbling backward, but then recovered and threw her from him. She landed on her stomach in the dirt, winded, but with the small bag containing the Stone in her hand. She had always been a good thief.
Azoth didn’t realise what she’d done as Tallis reached him and without slowing his pace swung his sword at the god’s head. Shaan knew her brother’s attack was futile. Having channelled the Stone so many times already, Azoth’s power was beyond what Tallis could contain.
She watched, horrified, as her brother was thrown backward before his sword even came close. She felt Tallis’s use of his power, knew he was able to get closer to Azoth than any other could do, but it was not enough. Again and again, Azoth parried his sword blows easily and sent him sprawling in the dirt, and again and again Tallis rose to keep fighting. He attacked as if he had no care for the life he might los
e. Shaan curled up in the dirt as if in pain, as if she could not stand to watch and, using her body as a shield, took off Balkis’s pendant. Opening the small bag she tipped the Stone out onto the sand and replaced it with the pendant. It lay in the dirt like a small, insignificant thing, black as the darkest night, seeming to absorb the light around it but still look as if it were an ordinary stone, and she wondered if she just covered it with dirt and left it there, would it be lost? The humming in her mind made her doubt it.
‘Is that the best you can do, son?’ Azoth said, and with a flick of his hand sent Tallis stumbling back again. ‘You will have —’ He stopped, the sword raised in his hand. Shaan felt a strange sensation, a constricting of everything, like her heartbeat slowing as he suddenly stared out away from the battle to the west. Following his stare she saw four figures coming toward them, one running ahead of the others.
Tallis groaned softly and struggled to his feet, but Azoth ignored him.
‘They are here,’ he said, and felt at his waist for the Stone. The look of confusion and then fury that dawned in his eyes jolted Shaan into action.
‘Tallis, stay down!’ she shouted as Azoth turned to her.
‘Give it to me!’ he said, and the power in his voice was frightening.
He strode toward her. Her breath sharp, her insides tight with fear, she lifted the bag up to him as he towered over her.
‘Here.’ She flinched back as he snatched it, holding it tight in his hand. His fist caught her across the cheek, knocking her backward and on top of the Stone. Tallis roared with anger, but she barely heard him as the pain of Azoth’s strike paled to insignificance next to the feel of the Stone. The essence of it screamed into her mind as her side touched it. She gasped, her chest freezing, her left side suddenly alive with sparks of pain. It was just a moment as she rolled on then off it, but it left her panting and light-headed, her vision blurring. Grunts of a fight sounded and all she could think of was what she had felt from the Stone, the Four are here, the Four are coming. Rising to her knees she saw Tallis had struck at Azoth and they were face to face, swords crossed. The power emanating from Tallis was tremendous. His eyes were so dark now they were almost black as he glared at the god. They strained against each other as Azoth said, through gritted teeth, ‘Don’t make me use it, son.’
Tallis did not answer and Shaan looked beyond them to see the first of the Four was nearly upon them. Slim and white haired, beautiful as a bird of prey, he ran as if the earth was not beneath his feet. Behind him came a taller man, dark haired, holding the hand of a red-haired woman who cast a glow about her and next to them, a little apart, a dark-skinned one with a powerful build, his massive thighs striding through the sand as if it were a sea churning about him. Their power was tremendous, terrifying, and she should be glad they were here but there was something wrong. The light in their eyes was not benevolent; Shaan saw in an instant that they were not their saviours.
She knew she could not give them the Stone. There was power in them — there was knowledge, but there was no pity, no compassion. They saw a battle raging before them, so many dying and so much fear, and yet they could have been looking at nothing. The misery being played out here, the lives being lost, were not real to them.
A strange sound came, a bellowing that was soft like a sigh but carried across the sand like a boom within the earth. It reverberated in Shaan’s chest, thundering through her bones.
‘Vail!’ Azoth shouted.
The sound was coming from the dark-skinned god and something was happening in the battle. The fighting was stopping. Thousands of Scanorians cried out in a unified screeching cry and suddenly stopped fighting. They began to bow down to the ground. In the air above the serpents shrieked and Nuathin cowered away low to the earth.
‘Tallis!’ Shaan called out, but he would not give in to Azoth. Their battle of power, of wills, was like a droning in her mind. But Azoth did not have the Stone; he was more vulnerable than he thought. And she felt Tallis’s strength growing. Sabut’s words came back to her. If he dies, you will die, as will all you love. The Stone is the key.
‘Brother!’ A deep voice filled with a new power, an unfamiliar power, rippled through the air, and Azoth flinched. It was the opportunity Tallis needed. With a shout of fury he shoved the god away and Azoth fell back to the earth. Tallis pulled a short knife from his boot and Shaan did the only thing she could think of.
‘No!’ Reaching into the sand with her left hand Shaan picked up the Birthstone.
Everything faded. Her world shrunk briefly to blackness as the power ripped through her, a coursing river of pain. It babbled in her mind, a buzzing incoherence, a bursting of memory, of song, of fear. She felt it alive, a sentience linked to the gods, but also to her as it recognised the mark it had left on her flesh. It allowed her to live, to touch it and live.
She stretched the hand holding it out toward Azoth and her brother and a bolt of energy flew from it and through her hand. The force of it knocked her backward and when she opened her eyes she saw Tallis lying on the sand, gazing at her in shock, his knife a smoking slice of twisted metal. Had she done that with the Stone? Azoth, tossed to his knees, was staring at her in disbelief.
Shaan? Tallis’s voice in her mind was pained, betrayed.
He must live, she answered, but he did not understand. He looked at her as if he didn’t recognise her.
‘Drop it!’ Azoth got to his feet, furious. Beyond him the Four approached. The face of the white-haired one in the lead was alight with fascination. She felt suddenly the souls they had already gathered. Their intention to have more. She was supposed to give this shard of power to them, these bringers of death? It could not be this way — none of them could have the Stone. Sabut must be wrong. The Prophet must be right.
‘No,’ she whispered, and knew Tallis saw what she was planning to do.
She put the Stone on the sand in front of her and drew the knife from her belt.
Don’t! Tallis’s voice was a horrified cry in her mind.
I must, she answered and, clenching her left hand around the hilt, she called on the dark pressure inside and drove it into the Stone.
Azoth leaped forward, his hand outstretched as her power hammered into the Stone. The spark that came from it was the brightest she would ever see. As her knife burrowed deep a shaft of black light shot up and she saw in its strange glow the screaming face of the goddess and the fury of the gods at what she had done, but it was nothing compared to the fury of the Stone. There was a roaring sound, a strange keening wail, and the air ripped around her, a pit of nothingness opening at her back. She felt Azoth’s hand on her shoulder, saw her brother’s horrified, anguished face, but could not hear his scream. Something was dragging her backward. Azoth’s fingers dug into her shoulder and then everything went white.
Chapter 53
Tallis sat staring at the earth where Shaan and Azoth had been. She was gone. But the Stone was still there, sitting small and black on the earth with her blade embedded in it, a light dusting of red earth on its shining surface.
The taller god stepped forward and bent down to close his large hand around the Stone, careful not to disturb the knife. He looked at Tallis as he picked it up, his eyes bluer than the sky, and Tallis knew if he reached for his weapon he would be dead before he touched it.
‘I am Paretim.’ The blue-eyed god straightened. ‘You are our brother’s forbidden progeny, the other half of the two.’
Tallis didn’t answer. He had no words left. Everything was gone. Azoth had lost but he had also won. Beyond the god he saw the confusion as those left found Azoth’s army abandoning the battle. The strange, rumbling breath the dark god was making hung in the air, and the Scanorians were all bowed to the earth. The serpents’ fear was a dull scream in his mind, and he saw an Alhanti running away, the dust billowing behind its feet. Those left of the Clans and Rorc’s army stood among the kneeling Scanorians, exhausted and confused.
‘He should not have made yo
u,’ Paretim said. ‘You have no place here now.’
‘The Stone, the Stone!’ the red-haired goddess whispered as she stared at the black fragment in his hand. ‘Ours.’ Her fingers reached toward it, stopping before their hands touched. Her eyes were alight with obsession, with insanity. No wonder Shaan had not wanted them to have it.
Tallis got slowly to his feet. The premonition that had been haunting him for weeks rose up into his throat as Paretim smiled at him, then turned to the white-haired one. ‘Epherin.’ He held the hand with the Stone out to him and the slim god stepped forward, his face eager, his hand already outstretched as the darker one came to them also. Tallis knew then he had to go, he had to get to his mother and his father, if they were still alive, and get away. Not bothering to retrieve his sword, he began to run, sprinting past the four of them as they joined their hands over the Stone. The skin on his back tightened, prickling, as he ploughed through the sand back toward the battle ground.
‘Run!’ he shouted as he neared the clansmen still standing. ‘Get back to the desert, go!’ They stared at him, then he felt a strange heat on his back and a brightness flared all around him and across the sky.
‘Go!’ he screamed, and saw fear dawning on the faces of those closest. Everyone but the Scanorians began to move. He didn’t dare look back to see what the gods were doing, but he could feel the change in the air, the gathering of power. Leaping over and dodging around the dead, he ran through the panicking clansmen, searching for his father.
‘Rorc!’ he shouted, but there was chaos now as those surviving struggled to flee, tripping over the Scanorians who knelt as if frozen. He saw a blond head, Balkis lying on the ground among a number of bodies.
‘Balkis!’ He made for him, stumbling as he went. The rider lay face down, his leather vest ripped and blood coming from his side, but he moved as Tallis crouched next to him. ‘Can you stand?’ He gripped his arm as Balkis rolled over with a groan, his face contorted in pain.
