The Second God (34 page)

“Exactly,” Ly said. “But if he is in the scribery, we have a much more effective way of managing the lions.”

“We do?”

He smiled and nodded towards my mother. “You must recall what Kyra did to my lion?”

Cal laughed, and waggled his fingers. “Poof! And he was gone.”

“Oh, I see, you’re depending on my mother to obliterate the lions? So she has to go over there and clear the way, is that it? You aren’t powerful enough, so you send my mother to do your work for you.”

“Really, Drina, it’s a very sensible idea,” Mother said, in that tone she had that made me feel I was six again. “What a fuss you make.”

“But Ly and I have this protective shell, and you have nothing but your own magic.”

“Which is more than adequate,” she said. “I’m not afraid of a few lions.”

“Nor am I,” Cal said. “Kyra can turn them to ash and I can flame them.” He waggled his fingers again, and a burst of fire shot out and disappeared into hazy smoke. “We will all go and root out this Sho-heest. And then we will be safe.”

“And then we will have all the summoned war-beasts roaming round unchecked,” Ly said grimly. “But we will deal with that when we get to it. At least the Kellon and his guards have solid stone walls to hide behind.”

“When will you begin?” the Kellon said. “It is not for me to pressure you, Most Powerful, but really, the sooner the better.”

“I agree,” Ly said crisply. “I am ready. Drina? Kyra? Cal?”

We all nodded.

“I will come, too,” Krant said.

“And me,” said Harbrondia. “I can burn up lions, too.” She produced an impressive spurt of flames from her fingers with a grin.

The other mages shook their heads. “I have no power over fire,” one said sadly. “Not without a spellpage to generate it.”

“Six of us should be enough,” Ly said. “But we will not flame anyone unless our lives are threatened. If I can talk our way into the scribery, such measures may not be necessary.”

“And we will especially not flame each other,” Cal said. “Kyra would survive that, but not the rest of us. Ly? Drina? Does your protection extend to fire?”

“No idea,” I said. “I’d rather not put it to the test, if it’s all the same to you.”

“So we form a circle, facing outwards, as kishorn do. That way, no one can approach unseen from any direction.”

“Ly and I will know what beasts are nearby,” I said.

“But I may be busy,” Ly said. “I shall be trying to control the beasts, and talking to the riders. I do not want to break concentration to warn the mages of new threats.”

“Then that will be my job,” I said. “I can also take the riders’ magic, if need be. That will sever their bond with the beasts, won’t it?”

“Yes,” Ly said. “I had forgotten that. It might be useful, although an unbonded beast is also dangerous. But with four mages and the two of us, we should have enough power to get into the scribery and find Sho-heest.”

We walked through the deserted streets of the town, with its shuttered windows, half built houses and empty plots, still heaped with wood or stone or brick, and through the gate nearest to the island. The clouds were low, a sharply cold wind ruffling our cloaks. High above, Kalmander glided lazily, watching us. The guards at the bridge straightened and saluted smartly as we went past, but I wondered how long they would last if the lions came. A bridge made it easy for us to reach the island, but it also made it easy for the Clanfolk to reach Lakeside, if they were so minded.

Our boots clunked on the wooden boards as we crossed. In my head, Arran’s voice was anxious.
“There are a lot of war-beasts about. Take great care.”

“I know. I see them.”

They were everywhere, all over the island. Some had the familiar tone of lions, but there were others I couldn’t identify. All of them had a strong undercurrent of aggression. War-beasts summoned to fulfil their original function.

There was a wide track leading up to the scribery. It wound through dense forest, and I was aware of beasts within twenty paces of us. Sometimes a rustling in the undergrowth or the crack of a snapping branch told us that they were moving about, but none came near us. Even so, Cal and Krant walked backwards to protect the rear. I took hold of Ly’s hand, and he threw me a little smile.

“No need to be nervous, Princess. I am here to protect you.”

I didn’t answer, but truthfully I had more faith in my mother, walking calmly on the other side of me. I’d never seen her out-matched, magically. The only person who’d ever had power to equal her was my father, and he was long dead.

We came to the outer wall with its oddly-shaped stone blocks that fitted together so perfectly. The track followed for some distance as it curved round before turning under an archway, carved with unreadable symbols. We stepped through, and Sho-heest’s magic hit me with such force that I swayed, and Ly had to steady me. So much power! And yet so different from Ly’s. Sho’s was pale and fluctuating by comparison, a candle guttering and flickering in a draft. Ly’s was a strong, steadfast glow, like a lamp.

I took a couple of breaths to calm myself. Yes, it was manageable. Sho’s magic was not overwhelming, as Ly’s had been. I could deal with it. But he was inside the scribery, and I couldn’t reach through those magical walls to take his magic. I needed to get inside.

We were in the gardens, filled with their mage-driven trickery – flowers and fruits outside their proper season, sweetly perfumed bowers, fountains that played tinkling music and warm sunshine that owed nothing to the real weather. It was always summer here. No living mage could produce such effects, not even Mother.

“Drina?” Ly said quietly. “Are you ready?”

A quick nod. I was as ready as I’d ever be. He squeezed my hand and we carried on. My mind was aware of the many war-beasts not far away, but we couldn’t see them, and none came close enough to trouble us.

The gardens ended with a wide grassy ring, dotted with marble blocks. Some were smoothly flat, like tables, but one had a shallow indentation on its top, like a basin. This was where the Blood Ceremony was played out, as the elders spilled their blood into the basin, and the children cut their own hands and dipped them into the mingled blood of the elders’, to strengthen their own blood and make them adult. I had no idea how I knew that, because Ly had never told me. I had a vivid image of it in my mind, the sky black, only one flickering torch for light. Around the basin, ghostly faces gathered in a circle, the elders solemn, the children serious or excited or terrified, according to their natures. Perhaps I had the Clan memories in me now, giving me odd flashes of remembrance and then I would just know something I hadn’t known before.

But it was not dark now, and the mages’ warm, golden sunshine was gone. Overhead, the clouds scudded, and the wind whipped round us again.

“That was weird,”
Arran said. I’d forgotten he’d never seen the island before.

We came to the grassy space in front of the scribery and stopped dead. There before us was an army of war-beasts, and these were not the lions or moa or bears or tapran we were used to, larger than their wild counterparts but manageable. These were the giant versions bonded to Ly’s own children, who were five times bigger at least, towering over their bonded humans.

As one they turned and roared at us, in hundreds of different voices. And all of them wanting our blood.

“Oh, ancestors!” Ly whispered, his face chalk white. “The children responded to the summoning. I did not expect that.”

“They don’t seem very friendly,” Mother said. She sounded calm enough, but her hands were held in front of her, ready to wield her magic.

“More of them coming up behind us,” I said. “Do you have an idea for dealing with this, Ly, or should we let the mages loose?”

“I… do not know…”

Arran, in my head.
“Drina, these riders do not feel so threatening, to me.”

“They are moving towards us, roaring.”

“I see that, but they feel different. The beasts feel different, too. Sho’s lion was so hostile, so angry. These feel more human.”

“Tell Ly.”

“He has shut me out again. I think he is panicking.”

I was still holding Ly’s hand, so I tugged on his arm. He jumped as if stung.

“Arran says they feel different, more human. Does that make sense?”

“I… do not know.” He couldn’t tear his eyes from them. They were gradually drawing nearer, step by slow step, and the roaring was making it hard to shape a sensible thought.

“Ly, they’re your children. Can’t you do anything?” I said in desperation.

His eyes widened, and I felt a surge of exultation race through him. Suddenly he was calmer, in control again. “Of course,” he murmured. “That is what it is.”

He raised his free hand, and his eyes lost focus as he concentrated. For an instant, his magic flared up like a great bonfire in my mind.

Silence fell. All the beasts and their riders stopped moving.

“Well, that’s better,” Mother said. “I couldn’t hear myself think.”

“Now we can enter the scribery,” Ly said.

We walked slowly across the grass towards the scribery entrance, weaving past the beasts. They watched us go by, heads swivelling to follow us, eyes huge and shining like little moons. The children – for that was all they were, really – stood as still as statues beside their beasts, heads lowered. Ly kept his hand raised, his concentration intense, his other hand gripping mine painfully tight. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be working. I could feel Arran’s anxiety mirroring my own. He said nothing, but it was an immeasurable comfort to me, knowing he was with me in spirit even if his body was locked away in some foul hole.

We came to the scribery entrance. The door was firmly shut, but that was no hindrance to us. I was the only one unable to open the door by magic. But we couldn’t enter. Arrayed either side of the steps were lions of the regular type, and in front of the door itself, a line of well-muscled men, their minds filled with the animal aggression of their bonded beasts. As we approached, they drew long curved blades, and their beasts rose from their haunches and bared those fearsome teeth I remembered so well.

My steps faltered, but Ly didn’t hesitate. Letting go of my hand, he marched straight up the steps.

“Stand aside!” he said.

The lion guard glared at him under their brows, and the beasts began a low growl, like a distant rumble of thunder.

Ly lifted his chin. “I am
byan shar
and I command you to stand aside!”

There was some shuffling of feet, but the line remained firm.

Ly raised both hands. I’m not sure that he needed to, but it made an impressive effect. I’d just seen him tame the monsters, and he’d dealt with the lion guard – possibly some of the same men as here – at the castle, and his power had forced them aside. I had no doubt that he could do the same this time.

For what seemed an interminable time, they glared at each other, Ly the imperious
byan shar
, power emanating from him like the heat of an oven, and the immobile line of men with their blades pointed at Ly’s throat. Then, inch by inch, the line parted as Ly imposed his will on them.

As soon as the gap was wide enough, he strode through, slammed his hand against the door to light the symbol, and then pushed it open. Turning to us, he said, “Come. We may enter.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, my mind searching for the slightest movement from any of the beasts or men, I climbed the steps. I didn’t look back, but I knew the others were following. I recognised Cal, Krant and Harbrondia in my mind by the distinctive belts they wore, with magically-fuelled jade stones set into them, and Mother’s magic was always as bright as the sun to me.

The lions were still growling, low in their throats, but now one of the men began to growl, too. At first, it was no louder than the lions, but it gradually grew and grew until it was a shriek of pure hatred. And his lion answered, springing into the air as if fired from a bow, with a roar like a gale. I saw it all in my mind, as clearly as if it were in front of me.

I spun round, horrified. “
Mother!
” I screamed, as the lion fell on her in a slavering fury of claws and teeth.

Three bolts of flame engulfed the lion, and Mother too. Then there was nothing but a cloud of ash gently drifting to earth, and in the midst of it, flat on her back, a small, plump, very irate woman.

“I did
not
need any help,” she said crossly. “Really, I can manage a lion by myself.”

Laughing, Cal pulled her to her feet, and they scuttled up the steps and through the door.

But Ly turned to face the shocked lion guard. The one who’d shrieked had collapsed to his knees, head in hands, his blade clattering onto the stone steps.

“You should not defy me,” he said coldly. “I am
byan shar
, you are instructed by the gods and the ancestors to obey me. Your power is forfeit.” He turned to me. “Take his magic.”

I stared at him, torn. Mother’s narrow escape had left me still shaking, but I was full of Ly’s cold anger, too, against this man who had dared to defy him. The strength in Ly, the overwhelming power that poured out of him, left me in awe, just as I was in awe of Mother’s magic. Yet there was a hardness to Ly that I’d never seen in my mother, and it terrified me. I’d seen him close to being consumed by his magic, as rage ate away at him. Now I wondered if his new-found dominance would consume him, in its turn. Strength of mind was essential in a leader, but, as with Yannassia, it needed to be tempered with compassion.

The man whose lion had attacked knelt before Ly, sobbing gently. He’d lost his lion, but he still had the ability to bond again, if he wished. It might not be such a strong bond, and perhaps he would always grieve for his lost friend, but still it would comfort him. If I took his magic, he would never be able to bond with another beast. Like Ly’s mother, he would be an outcast amongst his own people, disrespected and unregarded, and there would always be an emptiness in him that could never be filled. I pitied him. A lion was not a lover and soulmate, as Arran was, but I could imagine how lost the poor man must feel.

“Take it!” Ly commanded.

I couldn’t shame him in front of the lion guard by refusing. There was no gentle way to do it, so I reached out mentally to the weeping man and took all his magic into me. He lifted his head and howled.

But there was no time to linger. Ly took my hand and led me up the steps. We left the shocked faces of the lion guard behind us and passed into the scribery, as Ly shut the door behind us.

For an instant, I could see nothing. Then four glow balls popped into existence, filling the entrance hall with soft yellow light. I could detect nothing inside except Sho-heest, his magic burning into my mind. But the summoning…

“It’s stopped,” I said. “The summoning has stopped.”

“We have disrupted him, but he still controls all those war-beasts out there,” Ly said. “Not
mine
, not my children, for they will always be bound to me, but the others. The lion guard. You still need to take his magic, Drina.”

“Did you know your children would be bound to you?” I said. “Because you seemed a bit startled by them at first.”

“I did not realise they would answer a summoning. That was a shock, yes. But then you said something and I remembered what I needed to do to control them.”

He remembered. Such a useful skill, to remember at just the right moment what you needed to know. And perhaps I had that now, too.

“Are we safe in here?” Krant asked, looking around, as if he expected lions to leap out of the mages’ sitting room or the kitchens.

“Yes,” Ly said. “There are no war-beasts inside, and I can only detect Sho-heest’s mother. I assume
he
is here, Drina?”

“Upstairs,” I said. “I can’t see Pay-hoom… ah, there she is.” There was strong fear in her mind. “He’s moving. That way.” I pointed.

“Is he being drawn to you already?” Ly said. “The attraction is very strong, if so. Or he chooses not to resist. I always felt it strongly, but it would not draw me so quickly.”

“Do you still feel it?” Cal said.

“Always, but I am not compelled by it now.”

“He’s moving faster,” I said. “Running. Coming down the stairs. He is almost here.”

“Do not let him touch you!” Ly hissed urgently.

There was no time to say more, for Sho-heest came tearing round a corner and barrelled straight into us.

“You came,” he shrieked, knocking into me so hard that my defensive shell activated. For an instant, all I was aware of was Ly’s anger close to me, and Arran screaming in my head, his terror palpable.

When I was myself enough to see again, I was on the ground, Ly and the mages frozen in shock above me, and Sho kneeling beside me, gripping my wrist hard enough to hurt.

“Drina?” Ly said, his voice level. “What are you feeling?”

His calmness soothed my jangled nerves. What was I feeling? With Ly, a single touch had sucked me into that maelstrom of horror. I still shuddered when I thought of that terrifying sensation of falling, and my utter inability to resist. We’d ended up coupling where we stood, in despair and dread, but compelled to do it.

But now? I felt the pull, and it was strong, but I wasn’t being drawn against my will. I could resist! “It’s all right!” I said, elated. “I’m all right. If he’d just let go of me…”

I prised his fingers from my wrist, and Cal and Krant hauled him away from me. His eyes were wide, his gaze fixed on me, but he didn’t fight them. Ly helped me rise and took my hand.

“Shall I take his magic now?” I asked.

“Yes,” Ly said. “Take it all.”

I reached out with my mind and it came to me without effort. It should have been a lot of magic, enough to make me euphoric and giggly, but although I felt extraordinarily well, I was not in the least giggly. Nor was it having the other effect that a large infusion of magic generated – an overwhelming desire for sex.

“How are you feeling?” Ly said again.

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “I feel – perfectly normal. Isn’t that strange? Or is that your blood changing everything again?”

“Perhaps it is,” he said gravely. “It makes everything to do with magic more stable, somehow, and you— Ah, Pay-hoom is here.”

She was peering anxiously round the corner.

“Come forward, elder,” Ly said, and the tone was one I recognised from Yannassia – it was a command, perhaps, but tempered with kindness.

She licked her lips, her eyes flicking anxiously from Sho-heest to Ly and back again. Her mind was still terrified, but there was an element of resignation to it.

“You need not fear us,” Ly said, more gently. “We won’t harm you or your son.”

“He is – himself again?”

“They’ve taken it, my mother,” Sho said sadly. “It’s all gone. All my power is gone. I can’t even control my lion guard any more.”

“
My
lion guard,” Ly said, eyes narrowed.

“It will grow again,” Pay-hoom said. “It will always grow again.”

“Ah, no,” Ly said. “I have no intention of allowing Sho-heest’s magic to regenerate. He is my wife’s prisoner now, and she will ensure that his magic never troubles me again.”

In my head, Arran said,
“Wait, was that part of the plan?”

“Not that I knew anything about.”

My mind spun through the possibilities. Take Sho-heest to Kingswell, as I had Ly? But Ly had been content to be captured, and to be a prisoner. He’d seen the evil that he’d wrought as
byan shar
and was deeply sorry for it. In addition, he had an affection for me that kept him at my side. Sho-heest was a different matter. If he was hostile towards me, I would have to keep him imprisoned, a horrible thought. Yet we could hardly turn him loose, perhaps to do exactly the same all over again.

“We will take him to Lakeside,” Ly said, switching to Bennamorian for the mages’ benefit. “The Kellon will have cells where we can keep him secure, for now. Later, we can devise some accommodation more appropriate.” He repeated it in his own language, then went on, “Elder, you may go with him, if you wish. You’ll be treated with honour, you have my word on that.”

“A prisoner?” she said. “I understand why you’d want to do that, but still, it rankles. Sho? Why don’t you say something?”

He looked bewildered, but he merely shook his head as if everything was too much for him.