The Silver Lake (65 page)

The corridors between the infantry quarters and the refectory were crowded with warriors from every company. Each one slapped Brax on the back or shoulders, called out well wishes, or shouted unnecessary advice. By the time they reached their own dining hall, Brax was reeling and Spar’s hands were locked, white-knuckled, on Jaq’s collar. Even knowing the dining room would be full to bursting, the roar which greeted them as they walked into the room almost caused both boys to make a run for it, but with Kemal and Yashar blocking their escape they had no choice but to move forward. The crowds parted at once for Kaptin Julide and Birin-Kaptin Arjion who led them to the center table like an honor guard and, distracted as always by food, Spar grabbed for a plate while Brax looked around with an open mouth.

“The entire Company must be here,” he said in astonishment.

“The final few arrived from Anahtar-Hisar last night,” Kaptin Julide agreed.

“But who’s guarding the southern strait?”

“The militia garrison at Satos-Koy.”

Yashar sputtered with laughter as he caught sight of Brax’s expression. “Why, Delin? Don’t you think they’re up to the task?”

Brax scowled at him. “Well, sure, but ... it’s just... Never mind.” He fell silent as the older man stuffed a plate into his hands.

“Don’t fret,” his abayos said gently. “Eat. There’ll be plenty of time for worrying about the future later. Just remember, the sun will rise and set as quickly as it always does today, but
this
day,
your
day, will never come again. Try to enjoy it if you can.”

Glancing over at Spar who was already carrying a mountain of food toward their usual table, Brax nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.” Eyes tracking to the heavy storm clouds gathering beyond the dining room’s latticed windows, he shivered. “Later.”

Beside him, Kemal followed his gaze with a concerned expression. First Oaths were a serious matter, but they were also a time for celebration, and as Yashar had said, this day would never come again no matter how many ceremonies, oath-takings or triumphs he might observe in the future. He hoped this worry over Spar’s nightmare wasn’t going to cloud the day for Brax. Elif and Sable Company had gone into vision every day since and had seen no more than the usual spring danger building over the Berbat-Dunya. But they had agreed; Brax was vulnerable because of his experiences on Liman-Caddesi and at Serin-Koy and just as Spar had predicted, Elif had seen that this day’s oath-taking would take care of that. Kaptin Liel also believed that Brax’s link with Estavia’s first Champion would further protect him so he and Spar were to spend all three nights of Havo’s Dance in Kaptin Haldin’s shrine while the rest of the Battle God’s warriors stood ready to send their combined strength to the God of Battles as they had a year ago. They were prepared. Brax had nothing more to fear than any other delinkos had on his or her First Oath Day.

Reaching for the coffee urn, Kemal shook his head with an embarrassed smile, remembering his own.

Chian had rolled him out of bed long before dawn. Still six years away from the battle that would rob him of his mind and his body, his older kardos had towered over him like a giant. He’d caught Kemal up in his arms and carried him, struggling and protesting, into the bathing room and tossed him into the scented water with a great roar of laughter.

Badahir had pounced on him when they’d emerged. After she’d satisfied herself that he was armed and armored to her exacting standards, she’d handed him over to the rest of his kardon. Zondar had draped a huge garland of flowers around his neck while Radiard and Nathu had grilled him over the details of the oath-taking. Ever the most demonstrative of the family, Bayard had taken him in a huge bear hug, declaring in a voice loud enough for half the village to hear that their abayon would have been proud of him. Kemal would have run from embarrassment if he’d had any breath left, but he’d been too busy trying to pry his cuirass out of his rib cage.

The memory was enough to make him flush even now. But now, as then, it caused a lump to grow in his throat. He hadn’t wanted to admit to Bayard that he couldn’t remember their abayon anymore; that his huge, loud, balding kardos and his gentle and quiet arkados had been the only abayon he knew. But somehow the older man had seen it in his face and his own eyes had grown damp before he’d stepped aside to allow Maydir, the infant Aptulli on her hip and their three older delon crowding around her, to come forward with his cloak pin. Kemal hoped he and Yashar had made Brax feel as loved as he had when’d she’d pinned it to his throat. Laying his fingers over it gently, he smiled at the memory before catching up a mince borek and following the boy to their table.

The single note of preparation a few moments later caused a general stampede toward the central parade square. By the time they reached their positions it was already filled to bursting. Brax started to take his usual place in the rear with the other delinkon but Kemal quickly caught him by the shoulder.

“Not today, Delin,” he said. “Today, you stand with us.”

Spar shot them a dark look before leading Jaq to their usual seat beside Elif, but as one gnarled hand reached out from her blankets to take hold of his, Kemal was relieved to see the younger boy’s face relax. He hoped that was a good sign. Resisting the urge to glance up at the cloudy sky, he straightened as an anticipatory hush fell over the courtyard, the occasional creak of armor the only sound above the rising wind. As the final note of Usara’s Invocations faded, a thrill of anticipation rippled through the ranks. Standing between himself and Yashar, he felt Brax tense, one hand straying to the pommel of his sword to grip it convulsively.

Kemal smiled in sympathy. He’d felt the same eight years ago. Standing between Chian and Badahir, his palms damp with sweat, he’d locked his knees, afraid that everyone would be able to see his legs shaking and stared out at the morning sun rising bright and red above the Degisken-Dag Mountains, their slopes black with fallen pine nuts. The first stirring of Estavia drawn up from deep within him as Militia-Kaptin Davak had begun to sing had made him feel dizzy with relief.

Now, the heavy clop, clop of Marshal Brayazi’s huge mount sounding overloud in the hushed square brought him back to the present. Releasing a breath he’d hadn’t known he was holding, Kemal gripped the pommel of his own sword. As the marshal swept her weapon from its scabbard, he felt the familiar buzz of the God’s lien within him begin to rise.

His own words to Brax last week overlaid the memory of Badahir’s. words to him eight years ago.

As Brax’s words overlaid the memory of his own.

As the marshal sang the first note of Estavia’s Invocation, Kemal glanced down to see Brax, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, begin to move his lips silently.

“So, how do
I
know if it takes?”

New questions he’d never thought to ask.

New questions but same ancient and familiar fear: what if She won’t accept me? What if I’m not really worthy?

As the marshal’s first note was picked up and repeated from Anavatan’s three Hisars, to the ships on the Bogazi-Isik Strait, to each and every village along the shores of Gol-Beyaz, Kemal could feel Estavia’s presence rising in response; feral, eager, and greedy for worship and for power.

Deep within him, he felt the Battle God’s exultant agreement. It caught him up as it always did, snapping his head back, and drawing his lips off his teeth in a snarling grimace. As he swept his sword into the air to channel the streams of crimson fire that streaked down the blade, he felt the minds and oaths of every warrior in Her service join to call the God of Battles into the physical world. Beside him, the intensity of Brax’s newly sworn oaths blazed across his inner vision like a field of stars, so bright and hot it hurt his mind to look at them, and when Estavia burst into being above the courtyard, he felt Brax’s own power take flight to meet Her. The boy’s arms flung wide as She caught him up in a violent, ebony embrace that nearly blotted out the sun, and Kemal felt his own oaths explode into the sudden maelstrom that was their greeting. As the power of each of Her followers was sucked up beside him, he felt himself shredded and re-formed over and over until he could no longer tell where he ended and the God began.

The return to earthly mortality was almost painful.

Silence echoed across the parade square for one endless moment, and then, one by one, the Warriors of Estavia broke ranks to collapse against each other. Holding a nearly unconscious Brax up with one arm, Yashar glanced over at his arkados with a dazed expression but, his body feeling as flayed as his mind, Kemal could only shake his head. Finally, Marshal Brayazi pushed herself up from where she had fallen over her horse’s neck, to give the boy an awestruck look.

“I swear, Delin, if this is how Her Invocations are going to go from now on, we’re all going to die happy.”

The responding flush across Brax’s face brought the gathered back to their feet and suddenly he was swarmed by rejuvenated warriors.

Across the square, Spar watched them with a somber expression, but when Brax finally broke free of the press to catch his eye, he nodded.