“That is the army,” he heard Ella say. “They have made good time.”
Danjin felt a surge of excitement and relief. No storm. Just the Circlians.
“We should reach them tonight,” I-Portak replied. “Or sooner, if you wish.”
Turning back, Danjin was relieved to see Ella shake her head.
“Tonight will be sufficient. Let’s not tax ourselves until we need to.” Her shoulders rose and fell, betraying a sigh. Danjin suppressed a smile.
This was proving to be a boring journey. Though Ella had spent a good deal of the trip to the Pentadrian village with her attention on the fleeing servant’s mind, she had “surfaced” often enough to make conversation—or to watch Danjin and Gillen play counters. Even Yem had been a more interesting companion than I-Portak and his advisers.
Ella’s gaze shifted to his and he saw a small smile curve her mouth. She leaned forward.
“Have you packed that little travel set of counters, Danjin?”
He nodded.
“Let’s have a game to pass the time, then.”
Surprised, he pulled his pack out from under his seat and drew out the game box. Opening the drawer, he began to take the pieces out and slot them into their holes. I-Portak watched with interest.
So it was with some embarrassment that Danjin found he couldn’t get to the last piece. The drawer, as always, wouldn’t open fully. The piece was somewhere at the back, but he couldn’t tilt the box or shake it without dislodging the pieces already set up. Digging inside with a finger, he found that the piece had wedged itself between the back of the drawer and the inside of the box.
Sighing, he tipped the pieces into his lap and began to work on the one wedged in the drawer. When he closed the drawer and shook the box he could hear something rattling inside.
No, he thought suddenly. There are two things inside.
Opening the drawer again, he found that the game piece had moved to the front. He removed it, then reached inside again.
Something was still there. Something just a little too wide to allow the drawer to open. Something smooth.
Taking hold of it, he gently prised the top of the box upward. The object slipped through and the drawer fell out completely. Opening his hand, Danjin stared down at a white ring.
Ella leaned forward and took it from him. “That’s a priest’s ring.”
“Yes,” Danjin agreed. “But how did it come to be inside my counters game?
She shrugged, then frowned. “Unless…” Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him suspiciously. “What happened to Auraya’s link ring?”
Danjin felt a rush of realization followed by guilt. He felt his face warming.
“I, ah, well…”
“You didn’t return it, did you?”
He spread his hands. “Nobody asked for it. I put it aside and forgot about it.”
“You put it in here?” She pointed to the game box.
“No.” He looked at the box and frowned. “Someone must have. Someone who wanted me to find it, perhaps.”
She looked at the ring again. “Someone who wanted you to be able to contact Auraya?”
“I can hardly use it for any other purpose.”
To his surprise, she handed it back to him. “Put it on.”
“Now?”
“Yes. I want to see if it works.”
To speak to Auraya…he felt mingled eagerness and doubt. He looked up at Ella.
“What if she…?” He caught himself and managed not to look at I-Portak.
“You’re also wearing my ring,” she pointed out. “I should hear everything she says to you.”
Taking a deep breath, he slid the ring onto a finger. Nothing happened. Ella frowned.
“Call her,” she suggested.
He pictured Auraya in his mind.
:Auraya!
Silence followed. He called again and again, wondering if she was ignoring him, was asleep or—and he started to grow alarmed at the thought—was dead.
“Danjin.”
He looked up. Ella was staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Give it to me.”
He took off the ring and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She smiled, then slipped the ring under her circ.
“I had better keep this for now,” she said.
“Do you think…?”
:I don’t know what to think, she told him. I won’t speculate until Juran examines it.
Leaning forward, she looked meaningfully at the tile game.
“It’s been a while, but I used to play a mean game of counters.”
He managed a smile, then held up the box and started arranging the pieces again.
43
Diamyane was still the same dry and ugly place Emerahl remembered from her previous visit, on the way to the Red Caves. Panic had set in since the news of the advancing Circlian army had arrived. The previous day, Pentadrians had taken control of every ship in the area in order to prevent the Circlians using them. Now people were fleeing the city by any means—mostly on foot and carrying their possessions.
In their place came Dreamweavers. Today it seemed as if every third or fourth person she walked past was a Dreamweaver. Little wonder they were called harbingers of war, Emerahl thought. It was said when a battle was imminent Dreamweavers and carrion birds were sure to appear. The former healed the wounded, the latter dealt with the dead.
She had always kept away from battlefields in the past, until the previous battle between the Circlians and Pentadrians. Battles were dangerous places to be. Now she felt a strange reluctance to leave. Was it curiosity that tempted her to stay and witness the battle?
No, she decided. It is more than that. It is this nagging thought that an opportunity might present itself for us immortals to use the information in the diamond. No matter how unlikely that is, if we’re not here to take advantage of it we will wait a long time for another chance.
Where the Circlians and Pentadrians clashed, and the White and Voices fought, the gods were sure to be. All ten of them. In one place. That didn’t happen very often. In fact, it would probably only ever happen during a war.
We need six immortals. It all hinges on Auraya. If she were free, do I think she would help us kill them?
She shook her head. No, but if Mirar believes there is a chance maybe we should be here in case he is right.
She turned to regard her room. The furniture was old and there were few comforts, but it had a view of the main road into the town. The occupants had departed hastily, leaving most of their belongings behind. She felt only a little guilt at taking them as her own, since she had chased off looters every night. With the markets closed she had little choice but to start eating the small store of food. I suppose I could buy supplies from the Dreamweavers, but they’ll need all they have and what’s here will spoil if someone doesn’t eat it.
Looking back out of the window, she watched another pair of Dreamweavers passing. Her mind returned to the problem of how to kill the gods.
Six attackers, she thought. One above. One below. One on each side. How are we to do that?
Unlike gods, immortals were subject to gravity. They could take positions on all sides, but that relied upon the gods being near the ground. The places above and below still presented a problem.
Except to Auraya, she reminded herself. She can fly. The place above is obviously hers, if she decides to take it. So what of the one below?
Gods, as non-physical beings, could pass through solid objects. Immortals obviously couldn’t. Whoever took the place below would have to hope there was a handy cave or tunnel in the right position.
And where is the right position likely to be? She pursed her lips. The White and the Voices will probably face each other before the battle and exchange the usual threats and bluster. She smiled as she realized where this meeting would probably take place. On the Isthmus.
Thinking back to her last visit to Diamyane, she considered the tunnel she had
passed through with the family travelling north to hear the Wise Man of Karienne preach. It had been controlled by thieves, but that could be remedied.
They might have fled, along with the locals. Or more likely they’re looting houses, which is probably a more lucrative activity now. Her smile broadened as she recalled them fleeing from her magic as she melted the gate they had used to control travellers passing through the tunnel.
The only trouble with this tunnel was that it cut through the Isthmus, not along it. And it was positioned close to the Diamyane shore. That meant she and her fellow immortals had to hope the meeting would take place right on top of the tunnel, which was unlikely. More likely it would happen in the center.
Then she remembered what the father of the family had told her. He said there had been several tunnels through the Isthmus in the past, but they had been filled in. Perhaps some could be opened again.
But which ones? Ah, it’s all a nice daydream, she thought wryly. And it’ll probably stay that way. Standing up, she moved to the bed and lay down. I had better find out what Mirar is up to.
Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing and steered her mind toward sleep. When she reached the right state she called Mirar’s name. There was no answer, so she stretched out to skim the minds around her. Most were predictably involved in thoughts relating to the coming conflict. She reached toward the wharves and found a few Pentadrian spies. Then she followed the few traders, travellers and Pentadrians allowed on the Isthmus. Searching along it, she found no thoughts of men or women beneath the land bridge.
:Emerahl!
She let her awareness of the minds outside fade.
:Mirar. How are things in Glymma?
:The same. Where are you?
:Diamyane.
:When are you leaving?
:I…I don’t know, she admitted. I’m beginning to think we all ought to be here, just in case. If no opportunity comes to kill the gods we lose nothing, but if one does and we aren’t here….
:We’ll curse ourselves, he finished.
:Yes. She told him of her ideas about the positioning of the immortals around the gods, and the tunnel.
:It’s worth investigating. But you do realize that if we are to attack while the White and Pentadrians are meeting, those of us not underground will be in full view.
:Yes. If you agree to protect the Pentadrians, you’ll be there anyway. As for the rest of us, we’ll have to hope the gods’ attention will be on the meeting. I could disguise myself…actually, there’s an idea. Would you mind if I pretended to be a Dreamweaver?
She felt his amusement.
:Why ask me? You didn’t last time.
:I didn’t know you were around to ask, she retorted.
:Fair enough. You’re welcome to join my people. Perhaps if I can find some excuse for Dreamweavers to follow the White out onto the Isthmus, you could go out with them.
:Then Surim and Tamun will have to approach from the sides. In boats.
:Yes. I just have to free Auraya.
She caught a hint of desperation.
:No ideas yet?
:I’ve skimmed the minds of several Servants, but all I’ve learned is that it would be impossible to sneak in and free her. My plan so far was to insist that I get to tell Auraya of the White’s defeat. That will keep her alive until after the battle. I’ll slip back to Glymma while the Pentadrians celebrate their victory and free her then.
:A bold plan. She’ll hate you for helping kill the White.
:And blame herself for it, too. Still, I’d choose for her to live over the White any day. And I get the feeling she already blames the Circlian gods for her predicament. She seems to hate Huan, who she says arranged for the Siyee to be captured and is intent on killing her. Chaia has admitted he could free her only if the other gods would agree to it.
:So she’d kill Huan, but not the others. I don’t see how we can arrange that.
:No. And we still need to free her before the battle if your plan is to work.
:Yes. Hmm. Something just occurred to me. We need Auraya for more than just to be our sixth immortal. She’s the only one of us who can sense if the gods are actually where we need them to be.
:You really are taking this seriously, aren’t you?
:Just trying to work out how to make it work in case the opportunity comes.
:Then you ought to test the theory first. I want to be sure if I can draw enough magic to create a void before I put myself near both the White and the Voices and try to kill their gods.
:Yes, it would be sensible to confirm that it works. One of us needs to attempt to make a void. One of The Twins, maybe, since using that much magic would attract more attention than you or I need.
:Yes. So go chat to them. I’ll talk to Arleej. And see if I can find a way to free Auraya before the battle.
She felt a pang of concern.
:Be careful.
:I’m always careful. After all this time I’ve become rather fond of being alive.
After his presence had faded, Emerahl turned her thoughts to The Twins.
:Surim. Tamun.
They responded with their usual promptness.
:Greetings, Emerahl.
:I have a few ideas and suggestions for you.
:Oh?
:How long would it take for you two, and The Gull, to get to Diamyane?
:Now, Emerahl, Tamun said sternly. You agreed with us. You didn’t think Auraya would ever turn against the gods.
:I did. But if there’s a chance she will, I think you should be here. Listen, I have been thinking…
Since being doused with cold water, Auraya hadn’t been able to stop shivering. She longed for a blanket, or just a tiny bit of magic with which to heat the air around her. Mischief had curled himself around her neck. His breath smelled bad and she didn’t like to imagine what he had caught and eaten for it to be so foul. She was grateful for the little warmth he gave her, but he was too small to make much difference. Her chest hurt and her shoulder ached…
Think of something else, she told herself.
It was hard to think. She was tired and her mind seemed to work slower every day. But she had plenty of time. Puzzling over the “secrets” Mirar had told her kept her occupied from time to time. These secrets had apparently been told by a goddess who had killed herself. How did a god commit suicide? She frowned, sure the answer was important. It might be a clue as to how the gods had killed each other.
“Voids were created when a god was killed.”
That was another clue. A void was a place lacking in magic. The gods were beings of magic, which was why they couldn’t venture into a void. What would happen if they tried? Would they die? If so, then perhaps that was how this goddess had killed herself.
Could a god be forced into a void by other gods? Perhaps. But Mirar had said voids were created when a god was killed. That meant voids were made deliberately. Perhaps in order to kill.
So how was a void made? How did a god create a lack of magic? Well, that is obvious. Draw away all the magic in one place.
She blinked. Was it really that simple? Did a god draw all the magic away from where another was in order to kill him or her? What prevented the other god from doing the same in return? Why wouldn’t they simply dodge?
She shook her head. These questions made her head spin. She let her thoughts drift for a while, too tired to bother skimming minds. Her senses had become dull and she hadn’t the energy to concentrate.
Some time later she heard footsteps, but couldn’t be bothered opening her eyes to see who approached. Only when Mischief uncurled from her neck, letting cold air chill her, did she rouse herself.
“Auraya.”
A glowing figure stood at the edge of the dais. Sheyr.
“Chaia?” she croaked, surprised.
“Yes. I have come to offer you an escape, Auraya.”
“The other gods finally agreed, did they?” Speaking brought the need to cough. She resisted it. “How did you c
onvince Huan?”
He smiled. “I didn’t. They don’t know and wouldn’t approve of what I am about to offer you.”
She straightened and felt a surge of hope. Would he defy the others for her sake? Then a fit of coughing took hold of her. When it had passed she felt dizzy and her lungs burned.
“So what’s the offer?” she whispered.
“I can’t free you,” he said. “The others will not allow it. But they said nothing about teaching you. I could teach you something that would allow you to free yourself.”
She stared at him. He smiled.
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“It has been clear to me for some time that your Gifts surpass those of any sorcerer. You are immortal, but you are more powerful than immortals. You can read minds. You can sense the presence of gods. You can hear us speak to each other. It would take but a little instruction from me for you to join us.”
“Join…you?”
“Yes. To become a god yourself.”
He must be kidding me, she thought. But why would he? It would be a poor joke. Maybe this is Sheyr. He’s come to torment me.
From somewhere at the back of her mind she heard Mirar’s voice. “All of the gods were born mortal, became immortals like us, then transformed themselves into gods.”
A thrill of excitement rushed through her, painful in its intensity. I could be a god!
But Mirar’s voice continued in her memory. “The gods still feel human emotions and yet they can’t perceive or affect the physical world except through mortals.”
Well, there had to be a price, she thought. And it’s got to be better than being dead.
“The gods don’t take people’s souls.”
She frowned and shook her head. The movement made her dizzy. She drew a deep breath to steady herself but only ended up coughing again. When she had her breath back she looked up at Chaia.
“Why?”
He smiled.
“I don’t want to lose you, Auraya. You’re sick. Your body will die if you do not have a chance to heal it. If you were a god, you would never be sick again. We could be together always.”
[Age of the Five 03] - Voice of the Gods Page 46
