When the Goddess Wakes

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Rylin’s elation had been entirely eclipsed by alarm verging on terror. “Get me down by the mages!” he shouted to Lelanc. “Hurry!” He was fighting to unbuckle even before the ko’aye reached the earth, so that he was out of the saddle the moment his friend had finished her landing run. In real time, the descent must only have taken three or four bell tolls, but it felt an eternity, especially because the winds swirled more and more forcefully, tearing at his khalat. Rylin shouted for Lelanc to get out and clear.

  Rialla still called for everyone to hurry, and Rylin joined their efforts, shutting down a glittering red stone near his feet. Elenai and Varama worked with three of the aspirants on one large, brilliant hunk of what had been the statue’s left calf. He joined Thelar, only to see the nearest stones fade to gray before the entire leg disintegrated into black powder.

  Elenai had always struck Rylin as demure and poised, but at sight of this she swore colorfully.

  He knew how she felt. He scanned the rest of the grounds and saw the remains of the statue crumbling even as its energies streamed into the sky, shaping a great dark female form. Like the queen had been, she was suspended above the earth, limbs hanging slack, eyes closed. A gossamer ebon gown billowed in the air, which churned more and more swiftly. The queen’s winds were as nothing to the hurricane that gathered around this behemoth. The dust from the hearthstones swirled, half obscuring their surroundings, and nearby trees shed their leaves in the lashing. With the sun almost down and the hearthstones dimmed, the darkness summoned with the winds was near complete.

  A bank of Naor spearmen charged in to hurl their weapons, but the javelins fell into white ash a few paces out from the whirling energies, and swept up and away.

  “Fall back!” Rialla wailed. “Retreat!”

  She herself, though, advanced, yanking an immense band of energies away from the motionless figure in the sky. Meria reached forward to assist as Rialla directed the threads ground-ward.

  The giant woman, eyes still closed, lifted one hand and tugged on the energies, pulling them back toward her. With the other she made a brushing motion toward Meria and Rialla.

  Meria disintegrated into white flakes; Rialla blinked out of existence.

  Vannek turned to flee and was blown from his feet as the wind rose into a full-throated storm. Rylin saw him slam into the ground, leg bent at a terrible angle. He did not rise; he did not move. The wind swirled up in an obscuring shroud and Vannek was lost to sight.

  “Retreat!” N’lahr shouted. There was a desperate urgency in his voice. “Pull back!”

  Above them, the dark figure opened enormous black eyes, and gazed down upon them.

  The Goddess had awakened.

  12

  Beyond the Walls

  Elenai did not heed Rialla’s call to retreat, racing instead to assist her, Thelar and Rylin at her side. But then Rialla vanished and Meria died in front of her. Elenai stumbled to a horrified halt, her feet kicking up the ashes of crumbled hearthstones. N’lahr called to retreat and she backed away.

  A portal winked into existence a hundred feet to their left, where Kyrkenall supported N’lahr. Of course; Rialla had disappeared to arrange their retreat. So long as she still existed, they had a chance.

  “Fall back!” Kyrkenall shouted, and waved for them. “Over here!”

  The Goddess descended toward the earth and great blasts of wind sent dust and dirt spinning. Elenai lost sight of everyone but those closest to her.

  Too overwhelmed to think of much else, she ran for the shimmering violet portal, Kyrkenall and N’lahr before her and a trio of squires after. She couldn’t see Thelar and Rylin. Someone screamed in defiance, and she thought it might have been M’vai.

  Supported by Kyrkenall, N’lahr reached the portal and as Elenai hesitated, looking back at the shifting curtain of dust that had spun up behind them, the commander pointed her through. His arm trembled as if with palsy. “Go!” he cried.

  Rather than remaining fixed, the mouth of this portal pulsated between oval and circle. Belatedly she searched to right and left for her horse, but could not spot him. As Elenai raced inside, the walls contracted and expanded around her at uneven intervals. She feared it was about to collapse, and had no idea what would happen to anyone inside if the magic failed. Elenai ran for the light at the far end, impossibly distant until it raced toward her and she pitched clear outside the high wall of Cerai’s fortress, upon a grassy sward in afternoon light.

  Cerai stood to one side of the portal, warded by a quartet of muscular spear-bearing men in leather breastplates. The sorceress wore her Altenerai khalat. Her beautifully coiffed dark head was bent, her arms outthrust toward the portal, her brow creased.

  Elenai had assumed too quickly that her hopes were real. Cerai had opened this portal, not Rialla. So where had Rialla gone? Could the Goddess have truly annihilated her? Or had her spirit gone somewhere else?

  She searched the grounds, finding three wide-eyed squires who’d retreated behind her. Cerai’s soldiers waited both upon the walls and in three separate ranks of ten nearby. Beyond the fortress and the portal the ground sloped down toward the orderly rows of identical single-story, thatched roof homes and tilled fields.

  Struggling to catch her breath, Elenai turned back toward the portal just as Drusa soared out, legs close to her chest so they wouldn’t strike the ground. Elenai threw herself flat and felt the brush of air from the close passage. She looked up as Lelanc emerged and followed the same path, beating her wings furiously to climb above the fortress wall. She cawed in rage and despair.

  After them a pair of squires ran through, one after the other, and then Thelar, and Kyrkenall, supporting N’lahr by the arm. The commander appeared to have trouble moving his legs, and Elenai searched him for sign of a wound, finding nothing.

  A small band of Naor emerged next, led by Anzat, Vannek’s burly second-in-command. He searched to right and left. “Where are we?” he roared at the commander.

  But N’lahr, still held steady by Kyrkenall, didn’t answer, and the archer, peering at his friend, didn’t pay the Naor any heed.

  So many had yet to evacuate. The mouth of the tunnel whirled, violet light fluctuating along its edges. All four aspirants ran free, followed a moment later by Rylin, shepherding a small band of frightened squires. Elenai still hadn’t seen Elik, Varama, M’vai, Vannek, or Muragan, let alone a dozen or more squires, foot soldiers, prisoners, and horses.

  “Have you seen M’vai?” Thelar called.

  “I couldn’t find anyone else,” Rylin answered. “Varama’s holding the portal on the far end—it’s starting to collapse!”

  The tunnel mouth narrowed. Cerai gritted perfect white teeth, her arms shaking. It didn’t look as though she’d be able to hold it much longer.

  Elenai cursed. Though she mentally recoiled at the thought, she hurried to Cerai’s assistance. Better an uncertain fate in the lands of a smooth-tongued traitor than certain death at the foot of the hearthstone Goddess. Two of the renegade alten’s blank-faced, smooth-skinned warriors blocked her progress with leveled spears.

  “I’m here to help,” she told them, but they would not stand down.

  She was being stupid. Proximity didn’t matter. Elenai opened herself to the inner world. She’d already sensed the hearthstone energy pouring through Cerai; now she perceived that it blazed from the wooden chest near the woman’s feet, tracing through her and wrapping vine-like about the portal, as though the colorful tendrils pulled open the hole in reality. Excess energy streamed from the opening into the soil itself.

  Cerai’s spell work was far less refined and more energy consumptive than Rialla’s portals, fueled less by finesse than brute force.

  Elenai reached for the stones with her own threads and funneled power toward Cerai, whose head rose as though the aid had allowed her a deeper breath.

  A blast of gold light flared from within the tunnel and a dozen squires straggled out in the brilliant blaze, Elik at their rear. He was a we
lcome sight. With him came a dark-haired female exalt Elenai didn’t recognize, one of the queen’s people. A moment later M’vai wandered clear, her face pale and bloodless, helmet missing, red hair hanging wild. Her bright green eyes roved over her surroundings without seeming to see them.

  Cerai shouted to Elenai: “She’s fighting me!”

  The portal narrowed even farther, some of its energy flowing into the ground nearby. She wondered if Cerai was fighting not to keep it open, but to close it.

  Twenty or so Naor warriors fell through at almost the same time, stumbling over one another. Their eyes were wide in fear and they stared over their shoulders.

  The opening swelled both in size and brightness. Elenai sensed something of immense power latch hold of it. She paled in fear, knowing with certainty that the Goddess was widening the way.

  Cerai fought the transformation, blue-white energy glowing all along her arms and out in streamers toward the portal. Elenai yanked more threads from the stones and fed them to her. The renegade alten wove them with her work, and twisted, tugged, and pulled until, with a final wrench, the portal snapped closed.

  Nothing of it remained, and the air above the courtyard grasses looked completely ordinary.

  Cerai leaned heavily against one of her soldiers.

  “Varama’s still back there!” Rylin cried. “Open the portal!”

  Elenai found him at her side, his eyes fierce slits. His bared sword was leveled at Cerai. Her ring of guards lowered their spears at him.

  Elenai interposed herself, one palm toward Rylin, one toward the guards.

  “Varama’s still back there!” Rylin repeated, as though he hadn’t been heard the first time.

  Cerai pulled herself fully erect. She said nothing as she pushed coal-black hair from her damp forehead. Even disheveled the woman was supremely, almost impossibly beautiful, slim, tall, her long-lashed blue eyes bright with arrogant intellect. If not for a handful of facial lines, her age would have been impossible to guess. Elenai knew she had sorcerously modified herself, and supposed Cerai had retained some signs to physically communicate wisdom.

  Cerai smiled sadly at Rylin, but it was hard to tell if she empathized or merely pitied his stupidity. “She’s dead, Rylin. I felt her ring wink out just before the Goddess got hold of the tunnel.”

  At some level, Elenai had feared that, but hadn’t permitted herself to draw the conclusion. She shook her head impotently.

  Cerai raised her voice to address them all. “Anyone back there is gone,” she said. “The Goddess is reducing them and the land they occupied to component parts.”

  Gasps and shocked cries followed this blunt announcement. Rylin turned away, sucking in a huge breath as he did. He sheathed his sword, looking at his hands as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

  He wasn’t the only one mourning. M’vai stood with balled fists, face tear-streaked while Thelar spoke gently to her ear, hand on her shoulder.

  Elenai looked numbly over their assembly, confirming that neither Vannek nor the blood mage had gotten free, either. So much for the future of the Naor alliance.

  The two ko’aye called back and forth as they circled overhead. They spoke in their own birdlike language, and though Elenai didn’t know a word of it, Lelanc’s agitation was obvious. Probably she had no wish to be here again, in the clutches of Cerai. Elenai didn’t blame her.

  At least N’lahr looked better. He stood unsupported, if unsteadily, wiping his bloody blade on a scrap of cloth while Kyrkenall watched.

  Elik arranged the squires in a wedge around the commander, weapons sheathed but ready for action. Anzat, the Naor officer, had loosely organized his own force. More than thirty of Cerai’s identical soldiers calmly leveled spears at both groups.

  Cerai took in the situation with amused indifference. “Well. We’re all on the same side here. There’s no need for unpleasantness. N’lahr, tell your squires and those Naor to stand down before someone gets hurt, and then we must chat. We’ve much to do, and little time.”

  “We thank you for your assistance,” N’lahr said levelly. “My troops need shelter. And some require medical aid.”

  “That can be provided.” Cerai turned her head to her troops. “Sorak?”

  The blank-faced assistant who had waited on them during the previous visit stepped out from the ranks of soldiers.

  “Yes, Goddess?” he asked.

  Elenai groaned inwardly to hear that manner of address again.

  Cerai waved vaguely at the squires and Naor troops. “Arrange quarters for these guests. See that they’re given anything they require. Have the men relax.”

  “As you command,” Sorak said with a head bow. He barked at Cerai’s soldiers to lower their weapons, and they quickly obeyed.

  “Elik,” N’lahr said, “Anzat, see that your soldiers are cared for and I’ll be by for your report within the hour.”

  Elik saluted and turned to the squires. Anzat looked confused and mutinous. Elenai expected him to object, but when Cerai strode off, calling for N’lahr to follow, the bearded man frowned irresolutely and remained with his men. Elenai hoped he’d be smart enough to do as N’lahr bade. She looked to the cloudless sky, but the ko’aye had flown out of sight.

  It was a small band who trailed after the renegade alten. N’lahr, Kyrkenall, still at his friend’s elbow, Rylin, torn somewhere between fury and grief, Thelar, and M’vai, clearly given over to the latter, hands to her face, though she fought to control herself. The dark-haired exalt from Leonara’s side had an arm about her and spoke soothingly as they walked.

  This time Elenai noted the seamless stone walls without wonder as they passed through the immense black iron gates. She was too heartsick to be impressed again.

  In moments they had left the vast, parklike courtyard beyond the gates and passed into the cool depths of the fortress.

  They eventually reached a silk-lined chamber with a long, elegant rectangular table. A throne-like chair with flared arms sat at its far end, and benches flanked it. Light filtered in through wide windows overlooking a small inner courtyard in which tiny yellow songbirds flitted. Their cheerful chirps seemed an unwelcome and discordant intrusion.

  Cerai reached the head of the table but did not yet seat herself, gesturing magnanimously for her guests to take their places. When they had done so, Cerai assumed the chair with such easy grace Elenai was envious.

  “Welcome,” Cerai said. “I didn’t expect to get quite so many, and the Naor were, shall I say, an unexpected bonus?” She smiled as if the matter were a trifle. “But any who wish to aid are welcome in this time of trouble. We’ll only get through this if we work together.”

  Rylin’s voice was caustic. “You didn’t want to work together before. Why now?”

  “This isn’t the time to waste on recriminations, or emotional outbursts. That thing the queen released will be hammering at these gates soon enough. She surely sensed my hearthstones, as their energy powered my magics with the portal. And she’ll want every part of her that’s missing.”

  Her statement didn’t cow Rylin. “If you knew where we were, you could have helped sooner.”

  It was an excellent point.

  Cerai sighed lightly. “I’m not omnipotent, dear Rylin. I do keep an eye on the hearthstones, but I wasn’t alerted to your battle until I sensed all of them activate. You really ought to be more grateful.”

  Rylin looked as though he might spring up and throttle her.

  N’lahr had taken the position on Cerai’s right, with Kyrkenall beside him. Elenai noted that the height of the benches put even the commander’s head below that of the realm’s ruler. He addressed their host. “How long before she arrives?”

  “It depends on how she prioritizes remaking the world versus completing her own rebirth.”

  “Has anyone seen Rialla?” Kyrkenall asked.

  “She disappeared before my eyes,” Elenai answered. “Either the Goddess destroyed her, or she blinked away; I don’t know how to
tell.”

  Kyrkenall was uncharacteristically speechless.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Cerai said calmly. “Do you have any way to contact her?”

  “No,” Elenai answered bitterly. Why hadn’t she thought to ask for a way to do so before the battle?

  “That’s too bad then,” Cerai said, sounding no more troubled than a dinner guest informed dessert wouldn’t immediately follow the main course. “Although there are any number of issues we could discuss, why don’t we get to the problem at hand. Namely, that Leonara’s ridiculous plan actually worked, and now her ‘goddess’ is alive and coming to destroy everything.”

  An unfamiliar voice spoke from Elenai’s side of the table. After Thelar, on Elenai’s left, was M’vai, and then the dark-haired exalt, whose voice was soft, deferential. “We don’t know that last for certain.”

  Kyrkenall spoke sharply. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “This is Tesra.” Thelar swept a hand toward her. “She wasn’t trying to fight us.”

  The archer’s mouth twisted in disgust. “So that gets her a say? She was working with the queen.”

  N’lahr held up a hand. “Let her speak.”

  Tesra hesitated, as if uncertain the rest of them would really obey. Elenai saw her meet Rylin’s eyes across the table, though she didn’t fully understand the look that passed between them. Finally, she spoke. “Queen Leonara said that the Goddess would restore the realms. We don’t know that she’s going to destroy anything.”

  Thelar’s mouth opened in disbelief. “Tesra, that Goddess’ first act was to sweep our friends, her so-called followers, into nothing.” His voice was more strained than Elenai had ever heard, even during a battle. He turned from Tesra to address the rest of them. “I saw a group of the queen’s exalts running toward the Goddess while attacking squires with spells. She waved a hand and they all just … disintegrated.”