The Silver Lake (14 page)

“God of Battles, I pledge you my blood!”

The waters of Gol-Beyaz began to swirl as each company, each garrison, and each tower took up the call, channeling their power through Kemal to their God, struggling to break the constraints of another Deity’s territorial hold on the physical realm. His body shaking with the force of their combined strength, he gripped his weapon by the hilt, sweeping it upward to point toward the domed ceiling high above his head.

“God of Battles, I pledge you my worship!”

“Spar, get under there!”

Swinging his own knife in a tight arc, Brax kept Drove at bay as Spar threw himself against the boat. It shifted slightly, but then he was tugging his own knife free as Graize darted around Brax’s flank.

Shifting his blade from one hand to another, the pale-eyed boy smiled coldly.

“Hey, Spar, you wanna move or you wanna die?” he asked conversationally.

Spar’s own eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as Graize leaped forward, only to come face-to-face with Brax as the other boy jumped between them. Graize showed his teeth at him as Drove edged closer.

“You can’t hold us both off forever, Brax. Better run now while you still can,” he sneered.

Squinting into the growing darkness, Brax snapped his head from side to side, trying to keep both opponents in view. A spattering of hail scored across his cheek and, as he flinched back, Drove swept in under his guard to slice through his sleeve, leaving a thin, red line along his arm.

Beyond the ancient wall of stone and power the spirits reared up, alert to the sudden call of blood and pain. As Brax took a staggered step backward, they threw themselves at the barrier and, as Drove brought his knife slashing down again, they broke through en masse for the first time in a millennium.

The streets of Anavatan filled with a broiling, blood-flecked mist. Within it, driven along by the wind, the spirits sucked up whatever power they could snatch from the tiny creatures in their path, then turned toward the dockyards.

“God of Battles I pledge you my will!”

In Estavia’s shrine, the power of ten thousand warriors surging through him flung Kemal to his feet. He felt as if he’d been thrust onto a great wheel, arms and legs stretched out along the spokes and held immobile by the force of their worship. As his sense of self slowly shredded under the onslaught, Estavia rent Havo’s prerogative and burst from the waters of Gol-Beyaz.

Kemal’s vision went red. Jerking like a puppet, his teeth scored across his lower lip and, as the Battle God’s presence flowed into his mouth to catch up each and every tiny drop of blood for Her own, he found his voice again.

“God of Battles I pledge you my service for as long as I have breath in my body!”

As the force of Her power took control of his mind, Kemal felt Estavia shoot into the air like a behemoth, then, twirling Her flashing blades in the air, She turned and streaked toward the western streets of Anavatan.

Lightning skipped across the sky as Drove leaped forward, jabbing his blade at Brax’s face. Brax fell back, then swept his own knife up, slicing through Drove’s jacket but missing the arm. Behind him, Spar caught up a rock and threw it at Graize with all his strength. Graize avoided it easily. Waggling his knife at the smaller boy, he stepped forward, then froze.

A fine, white mist had gathered around them while they fought, clinging to their feet and legs like strands of sticky spider webbing. As Graize looked down, he saw the faint outline of a thousand wraithlike creatures racing toward them. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to Drove, but as the thunder cracked above their heads, the spirits attacked.

They lunged forward, knifelike teeth and claws outstretched in raging hunger. Graize stumbled backward, screaming in terror and, as Drove turned, the spirits caught him up in a deadly enveloping shroud. Flinging him about like a rag doll, more and more of them leaping upon his back and neck with every turn, they sucked greedily at his body like huge, misty lampreys, then flung his corpse into the street. Strengthened now to a terrible degree, they swept toward the other boys, nearly corporeal hands reaching out with blood-covered claws, while hundreds more poured into the street behind them. Dozens clamped themselves onto Brax’s injured arm, the rest made for Graize and Spar.

Almost hysterical with fear, Graize stumbled back against the younger boy, then, catching him by the back of the jacket, spun him into the street. Spar skidded on the slippery cobblestones and fell and, as the spirits raced toward him, Graize jerked the boat upright.

Spar screamed.

The world seemed to slow as Brax turned toward the sound. He saw Spar snap into a fetal position, arms wrapped about his head to protect his face from the hundreds of horrible creatures tearing at his hair and clothes, saw Graize duck under the upturned boat, and then he was running, his own face drawn into a grimace of rage and denial. Catching the pale-eyed boy around the middle, he lifted him into the air and, with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he flung him headfirst into the arms of the attacking spirits. Graize’s knife scored across his cheek before he was snatched up, struggling and screaming, and then he was gone. Brax had barely enough time to react before the remaining spirits swarmed toward him.

Dozens made for the blood pouring down his face while a hundred more streaked toward Spar. Throwing himself over the younger boy, he wrapped his arms around him, trying to shield him with his own body. The spirits latched onto his back, driving their razor-sharp teeth into his head and neck. A numbing pain swept over him. He cried out, and as his body slowly grew cold, he thought he saw a reddish glow build all around them. Something silver flashed above his head; the midnight silhouette of a huge, ruby-eyed figure wavered in and out of the darkness and, as it reached for him, he realized what it must be. Almost incoherent with pain and fear, he threw one arm out toward it.

“Help us!”

In the shrine, Kemal lurched forward as Estavia suddenly sucked in a great gout of power. His chin cracked against the altar and, as the room flipped sideways, his sword went flying to clatter off the far wall. The Battle God slammed against the unfinished Invocation, knocking Kemal off his feet, and sending sprays of power shooting through the room like a thousand wicked little knives. As one, Cyan Company dove for cover.

The figure disappeared in a gust of wind, and Brax cried out in frustration. Holding Spar tightly against his chest, he struggled to his knees, his mouth and nose already coated with spirits. Calling up every ounce of strength he possessed, he flung his own words into the night like a challenge.

“I know who you are! I know what you want! Save us and you can have it!”

Blood pouring from a dozen tiny cuts on his face and neck, Kemal scrambled to find his weapon as Estavia fought to manifest in the physical world. She sucked in another great gout of power and Kemal nearly blacked out from the force of it, then his sword was stuffed into his hand and a pair of strong arms locked about his chest, hauling him to his feet. Yashar’s familiar voice shouted in his ear.

“Finish the Invocation, Kem!”

Raising the blade with both hands, Kemal spat a gob of blood from his mouth and gasped out the final words.

“God of Battles, I pledge you my life! Come into this world and use me as you will!”