Unholy War (74 page)

*

The Keshi skiff skimmed through the air, losing height as it dropped to the earth about a hundred yards from where Seth Korion waited. Its sails fell and it lost momentum swiftly, coming to a stop near the forty Keshi cavalrymen waiting below.

Seth strained his eyes eagerly. A slender, upright figure rose from a seat in the hull and stepped to the ground. Immediately all the Keshi prostrated themselves.

‘Never hard to tell who’s boss with these Noories,’ Baltus remarked, leaning against his skiff. The Brevian looked quite at ease, trimming his nails with his dagger. ‘What with all that kneeling and dirt-kissing.’

Seth ignored him and peered at Salim of Kesh as he acknowledged his men, then turned his head to look up the slope towards him. Did he fancy that their eyes met across the distance?

‘Shall we grab him again?’ Baltus joked. ‘Wouldn’t that piss them off?’

Seth stiffened. ‘We will not. We must re-cultivate our honour, not taint it further.’

‘As you say, General. Just making the offer.’ He pointed towards the figures below. Two more men had disembarked. ‘Anyway, I’m betting that pair are Keshi magi, here to avoid a repeat show.’

Seth tore his eyes from Salim and noted the two.
Souldrinkers? Hadishah?
For a few seconds the old, nervous Seth trembled, then he got a grip on himself.
I am a Korion. I am a pure-blood descendant of the Blessed Three Hundred. I have led the charge and faced down the Inquisition. I refuse to show fear
. It helped, somehow. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Let’s go.’

It felt oddly unnerving not to have Ramon here, but the Keshi had been very specific about excluding him from the parley and Seth could hardly blame them. And it felt good to be properly in charge for once, not just a mouthpiece. But it also meant he had to get this right on his own.

The Keshi came to meet him: Salim – or an impersonator – and two protectors. As they drew closer, he could sense the wrongness in the aura of the two Keshi flanking Salim. Souldrinkers, then, God’s Rejects, and no doubt furious at the fate of their leaders. They’d know, of course: Latif would have told them. He girded himself for trouble.

Salim raised a hand in greeting. ‘Sal’Ahm, General Korion.’ The sultan looked majestic. His clothing was resplendent, with hundreds of gems glittering in the sun. He was dressed primarily in blue this time, with a white turban. His narrow, intelligent face was just like Latif’s, but it had been two weeks; he wasn’t sure …

‘Sal’Ahm,’ he replied, his voice catching a little.
I just wanted to see him
. ‘It is good to see you, Sultan,’ he added. ‘Or at least, one of you.’ It wasn’t Latif, he was almost certain.

‘Call me Salim,’ the sultan replied.

Who knows who I’m really speaking to?
‘Thank you, Sultan.’

‘No Master Sensini to spoil our conversation today, I trust?’ the Keshi ruler asked wryly. His Rondian was as smooth and cultured as Latif’s had been.

‘Not today.’

Salim indicated his companions. ‘These are Brennan and Tynbrook, of Brevis. But not of your gnostic persuasion, of course.’ The two Dokken flipped back hoods to reveal flame-red hair and beards, and pale northern Yuros skin. They exuded wariness and hostility.

‘I trust you do not wish to try and turn the tables upon us today?’ Seth enquired, not quite keeping the nervousness from his voice.

‘I would rather keep my honour intact,’ Salim replied evenly. He raised a hand and from the middle distance a servant hurried forward with a tray containing two goblets and a decanter of red wine. ‘You are still partial to the Javonesi merlo? It is hard to get currently, but this is seven years old, from a good year.’

It was the same wine he’d had with Latif on their last evening together. Seth’s mouth filled with saliva at the memory. He bowed. ‘You have an excellent memory, Sultan.’

Salim raised one eyebrow. ‘I was briefed fully.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘I trust we may speak as friends?’

‘Of course,’ Seth said, ‘though we have not met before.’
I don’t think.

‘In many ways, we have met; we know so much of each other.’ Salim filled a goblet and passed it to Seth. ‘Please – it is not tainted, but I will not be offended should you need to use your powers to verify this.’

Seth looked down at the goblet and then at Salim. He took a sip.

Salim looked pleased at the display of trust. ‘Praise be to Ahm, that enemies may drink as friends,’ he declared. It sounded like a quote from a holy book. He filled the second goblet and drank as well. ‘My friend, let us walk and talk.’ He indicated a goat-trail that ran about the base of the rise. ‘Shall we?’

Seth looked at Baltus; his eyes were locked on the two Brevian Dokken. ‘We can trust Salim,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We can trust his honour.’

‘I’m more worried about this pair.’ Baltus glanced at the goblet. ‘Do I get any of that merlo?’

Salim waved a hand. ‘Help yourself, Magister Prenton.’

Baltus chuckled. ‘Knows my name, and we’ve never been introduced. He’s sharp, that one.’ He threw Seth a warning look.

Sadly true.
Seth threw what he hoped was a warning look at the Dokken, then hurried to join the sultan. ‘How does Latif fare?’ he asked, trying to conceal his eagerness.

Salim smiled fondly. ‘You are as affable as Latif described. He sends his greetings. But you must understand, it is unlikely he will be allowed to see you again while this war continues. He has been compromised.’

‘But he will not be punished?’

‘Of course not!’ The sultan sounded shocked. ‘The problem is that you can now clearly identify him as not being me, and that is valuable information in some circles.’

‘I don’t move in those circles, Sultan.’

‘I suppose not, but nevertheless, we must be mindful. So, what is the need for this parley, Seth Korion? We both have places we must be: you across the Tigrates, and I in the north.’

‘We’ll be leaving your lands soon – we’re going to be crossing the river any day.’ Seth took another sip of wine, savouring it this time. It was inky-dark and velvet smooth.
Glorious
.

‘The other side of the Tigrates is still my lands, Seth Korion,’ Salim reminded him in a somewhat sterner voice. ‘You had better not stop there.’

‘We won’t. We’re going all the way to the Bridge and back across it.’

‘Then what is it you want? Do you think I can restrain my generals for ever? They are chafing for vengeance, especially after your man Sensini made fools of us all.’ He paused, raised a finger. ‘Bring him to me and they might be appeased.’

I wouldn’t take him up on that, even if I could. How odd.
‘I am obliged to protect my own,’ Seth replied dryly. ‘In fact, I’ve not come to ask for anything. I’m actually here to warn you of something.’ He outlined the situation ahead: two refugee camps, guarded by an Imperial legion and at least one Inquisition Fist. He didn’t talk about the khurnes and how they were made; Ramon had insisted on holding back that information in case Salim overreacted. He did report that the camps had been places of brutality and death, though, and that was enough to ensure Salim took the issue seriously.

‘What is it you wish us to do, General?’

‘Move against the camps, and let us cross the Tigrates safely,’ Seth replied.

Salim looked contemplative, and Seth thought he looked like a prophet-king straight out of one of his peoples’ tales. And achingly like Latif. ‘The Inquisition has an evil reputation among our people,’ the sultan said eventually. ‘They are the subject of a death-writ by the Godspeakers. Even the Ja’arathi condemn them.’

‘If you can take them, they’re yours, and good luck in it.’

Salim met Seth’s eyes. ‘Why do you tell us this? These are knights of your Church.’

‘Because I –
we
– believe that what they are doing is evil.’

‘Your own people will condemn you when you are back in Yuros.’

‘I can handle that,’ he said, not believing his own words for a second.
They’ll probably hang me
.

‘I admire your courage, Seth Korion,’ Salim said softly. ‘I myself have never been able to confront the Godspeakers as I have wished. They have too much power in my lands. Even I, Sultan of Sultans, must bend my knee to their wishes.’

‘Priests are our gateways to paradise,’ Seth replied piously.

‘Some are.’ Salim met Seth’s eyes and inclined his head. ‘Thank you for this news, my friend. Latif was right about you. “We can trust the younger Korion,” he said. I believe that now.’

‘Please convey my thanks and greetings,’ Seth said.

‘I think one day we will all meet again, in better days.’

‘I pray so,’ Seth replied fervently.

Salim inclined his head again. ‘Well, my friend. You have laid a great charge upon me. I will send cavalry north to these other camps and deal with this situation. However, I must warn you that when my soldiers see these camps, they will be enraged. Many will blame you and your men. If you are not across the river by the agreed date, I will not be able to hold them back.’

‘We’ll be across,’ Seth replied, sure on this point at least. ‘Before the Crusades the Ordo Costruo built a bridge there, a mile across. It’s like a small version of the Leviathan Bridge.’

‘I know of it,’ Salim replied. ‘My father stood beside Antonin Meiros when it was opened; he was the first to ride across. Those were happier times.’

‘We can make them come again,’ Seth said, at that moment believing it.

‘Then we have a deal, my friend.’

Salim kissed both his cheeks formally while the three Brevians watched each other for any late attempts at treachery. There were none.

With Salim’s scent lingering in his nostrils, Seth and Baltus flew west.

‘So was that the real Salim?’ Baltus shouted as they ascended.

‘Who would know?’ Seth replied, staring back across the rippling mirages to the faraway hills, stark and brown under the desert skies. ‘I don’t.’

34

The Tale of Xynos Halfswine

E
RVYN
N
AXIUS
, O
RDO
C
OSTRUO, IN A LETTER TO
M
ATER
-I
MPERIA
L
UCIA, 921

The first sense to return was feeling: warmth, around the core of the body, the prickle of a blanket against skin, heat, radiating against cheeks and nose, and itching skin, all over. Then scent: bodily smells, and warm wool, and roasting meat. Hearing next: the spit and crackle of a fire, the bubble of something cooking; distant, merry voices, and someone close by was rasping stone on a steel edge.

Elena opened her eyes.

She saw
him
.

‘Kaz,’ she croaked. Her heart pounded, quivered, burned.

‘Ella!’ He dropped his whetstone and scimitar – a new one, she noticed – and flew to her, gathered her in his arms, blankets and all. ‘Yes, yes, yes! I knew it would be today.’

For an immeasurable time he just held her, and nothing else mattered.

Sitting up proved too hard and she sagged lower in the blankets, panting slightly as she looked up at him, drinking in the sight. He looked …
normal
, his gnosis replete. That hungry look he got when he was low on energy was absent. She tentatively tried her gnostic sight and gave a small gasp.

Their auras were utterly entwined, wound about each other like the roots of two plants that had been potted together. She could see her gnosis pulsing in his; she could feel his in her – she could scarcely tell where she ended and he began. ‘Look at it,’ she said softly. ‘It’s like we’re the same being.’

He stroked her cheek. ‘I know. I don’t know how to make it stop.’

‘Have you … you know … fed on someone?’

‘No. No one … except you. But you keep replenishing yourself.’ Guilt coloured his face. ‘I think it’s why you’ve been unconscious so long.’

‘How long is that?’

‘A week.’

‘
A week!
’ she squawked, trying to sit up, but he caught her. ‘Great Kore!’ She looked about her. They were in a tent, and it was sunny outside, but that was all she could tell, except that she could hear the sea: the distant thunder of waves crashing against the shore. ‘Where are we?’

‘I don’t know the name. I call it the Valley of Nagas.’

‘Nagas? What’s that?’

‘You will not believe me, I swear. It is best you see.’

He wouldn’t tell her more until he’d made her eat some broth. She realised she was naked beneath her blanket, and that he had been tending her. It was a humiliating to think of herself so helpless – she’d always hated being a burden to others – but mostly, she just felt relief and gratitude. When she tried to thank him, he brushed it off. ‘You did the same for me, Ella, at the monastery. Twice.’

‘But—’

‘Say nothing more. And don’t leave me in this situation again. I am a warrior, not a nurse.’

She seized his hand, kissed it. ‘I don’t know any fighting man who would tend someone like that. It is normal for women, but men are not expected to do such things. You have done more than anyone else would have.’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘If there had been a maid around, I would have left her to it, believe me. I am glad I was born a man. I thank Ahm daily.’

‘Pah! I’m glad I’m a woman.’

‘Mmm. I am glad too.’ He winked with his usual mischievous lewdness, slid a hand over her left breast.

She swotted it away. ‘Hey, you randy beggar! Doesn’t take you long, does it?’

‘Please, Ella!’ He looked aggrieved. ‘I have lain beside you every night and had to endure the woman I love being near death. You must excuse my relief that you are better and my hope that our lives will return to normal.’

‘I can’t wait either, lover. Truly.’ She stroked his arm. ‘Kaz, do you understand: we are probably the first ever mage and Souldrinker to ever …’ her voice trailed off, she swallowed, went on, ‘to ever fall in love.’

Because that is what it is. I love him. I didn’t before, not fully. I mothered him, let him make love to me because I couldn’t resist. That was just the beginnings of love. But what I feel now is: real, utter, complete love.

And look what it’s done to us … Our auras have fused. We’ve completed each other.

She began to cry.

‘Hey, it’s not so bad,’ he said, wilfully misunderstanding her tears. ‘We can always argue again once you’re stronger.’

She laughed. ‘Yes, of course we can.’ She seized his face and let him kiss her tears away. ‘This is incredible … I can only suppose that once the last … barriers between us … came down, we’ve been feeding each other gnosis. It’s like we’re symbiotic. Do you know the word? Two creatures that can only exist together.’

The thought was heart-poundingly frightening – and beautiful.

‘And no mage or Souldrinker have ever loved before?’

‘Well, who knows about Nasette? Perhaps this was what happened to her?’ She shook her head. ‘No, this is a first. Not even magi in love experience this. It must be something about the nature of your gnosis and mine together – like the poles of a magnet, the alpha to the omega.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ He told her. ‘It is simply love.’

‘Yes. It is love. You know what else this means? You will never have to kill again to replenish your powers. You just need to be with me.’

‘I had been thinking this also,’ he said gravely. ‘It is a miracle! Thanks be to Ahm most high.’

‘I think you are the miracle!’
Love. Real love, after all these years …

For a time her mind drifted in a haze, then she recalled his earlier words. ‘Kazim, what did you say about “Nagas”?’

‘I will show you.’ He helped her to dress, supported her as she crawled outside, then pulled her upright. She emerged into the baking sun on a sandy strip of land between a wide riverbed filled with narrow, twisting streams winding around hummocks of stone and gathering in deeper pools. To the left and behind them rose mountains: sheer and white-tipped. To the right she could hear the tumult of the sea crashing against the cliffs, miles away but a constant presence. The earth nearby had been tended and crops were growing, but the farmers were nowhere to be seen. Then she heard laughter like squealing children, above and behind them and she turned, shielding her eyes against the fierce sunlight.

Her jaw dropped.

On the rock face above were dozens of impossible beings: human, from the head to the waist, or nearly so; it was hard to be sure at this distance. But from the waist down, they were snakes, with reptilian tails as wide as their human torsos, extending for a dozen feet, in myriad hues of dun and green.

‘What in Hel?’ she breathed. ‘What are they?’

‘Nagas,’ Kazim replied confidently. ‘There are many tales of Nagas in Lakh. Sivraman creates them when he ejaculates.’ He laughed. ‘That is one story anyway. They helped the gods to create Urte. They planted the trees, dug the rivers and filled the seas. I never really thought they were real, but look!’

Elena stared, utterly amazed. The creatures climbed the mountainside with ease, flowing up and down the slopes as if immune to gravity. They were all nude, and the males and females were clearly different. The males had one single trunk of snake-body from the waist, while the females had twinned, thinner snake ‘legs’. The women’s breasts were bare; from what she could see, the males’ genitals seemed to be retracted beneath a mound covered by a fleshy hood. Some had growth on their heads like human hair, but on others it was more akin to a turkey’s comb.

Kazim cupped hand around his mouth and called, ‘Kekro!’ and one of the males turned in their direction, waved, then began to slither down the slopes towards them. ‘They don’t speak Keshi or Lakh,’ he told her in a slightly puzzled voice, ‘so I’ve not been able to talk to them. Kekro told me his name, though. He’s the boss. He found us and told them to help us.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I think we’d have both died without him.’

She watched, awed by the fluid ease with which the creature descended to them, with easy wide sweeps of his trunk or tail, whichever it was. His torso remained upright throughout. His shoulders were strong, and his chest and belly deep and exquisitely muscled, without an ounce of fat. Unnervingly, his belly skin was scaled, as was his back right to the shoulders.

Elena had grown up begging her parents to tell her ‘just one more story’: Lantric legends and ghost stories of blood-sucking corpses from the north – tales most thought of as myths. But the magi had made some of those creatures real …

‘Hello,’ she said, in Rondian, sure this being would understand.

The ‘Naga’ cocked his head and his eyes – little pools of wisdom – blinked slowly. ‘Greetings, Lady,’ he replied in the same language. ‘We are pleased to see you on your feet.’

‘You know their tongue?’ Kazim confirmed with her in Keshi.

‘No, he knows mine.’ She tentatively tried out standing unaided and found she could. ‘My name is Elena, and I thank you for aiding us.’

‘Elena,’ the Naga repeated, testing the sound. His alien face was close to human but subtly reptilian. He nodded faintly. His tongue when he licked his lips was human-like but longer, and he used it like a reptile would, in swift flicks. ‘Welcome. I am Kekropius, elder of the lamiae.’

Ahhh
. The lamia was a creature of Lantric legend. ‘You’re constructs,’ she guessed, then realised how that must sound. To her relief, he didn’t take offence.

‘We are. An ugly word, but yes, we were made, not born – at least, the first generation were.’ He pointed to the younger ones. ‘As you can see, we were given the gift of reproduction.’ He eyed her steadily and she noticed that others had slithered into earshot and were watching her carefully. ‘But you are of the magi. Perhaps you already know all this?’

There was a test in his words. ‘I didn’t know, I guessed. Animagi are forbidden from making creatures with human intelligence – it is a sacred stricture. To be honest, I am shocked and appalled.’

He looked at her curiously. ‘Then perhaps you understand that we are somewhat at a loss over what to do with you. Would you tell the Inquisitors where we are, perhaps?’

‘No, not at all! Kore Above, you have the right to live.’ That might not be exactly what the ethics teachers at college had said, but she’d never believed those heartless bastards anyway. Life taught many lessons that professors in their protected little environments never learned.

‘That is not the view of your Inquisition,’ Kekropius said. ‘They have hunted us for years.’

I bet they have
. ‘They’re not
my
Inquisition,’ she replied. ‘They are evil bastards.’

The lamia shrugged expressively. ‘Nevertheless.’

‘You’ve let us live so far.’

‘So that you might give us your tale. Now that you are on your feet, we will set a date for your trial.’

She glanced at Kazim. ‘Have you told my …’ –
uh, what do I say?
– ‘man?’

‘We have not the words,’ Kekropius replied. ‘He does not speak our language.’

‘What will happen to us if we are guilty of whatever you think we might be guilty of?’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

‘That is for the Elder Council to describe,’ Kekropius replied. He pointed back towards the coast. ‘There are six men of your kind, living beside the sea and fishing the coastal pools. They helped sail us here, but that was under duress. We have not yet decided what to do with them either, but they are not an urgent case, not like a mage.’

She rubbed her face, feeling a little woozy, from standing, and the shock of meeting these creatures. ‘Thank you for telling me. I need to lie down.’ She clutched at Kazim, who caught her and kept her standing.

‘Are you okay, my love?’ he asked worriedly.

She nodded as Kekropius bowed from the waist and slithered backwards. The rest of the lamiae drew off.

‘What did you say to each other?’ Kazim asked softly, waving uncertainly to Kekropius. ‘It looked serious.’

She let him take her back into the tent, out of the crippling heat. Then she told him.

‘Then we have to run!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll get us out, I swear.’ He gripped his sword-hilt.

‘No, I don’t think they want to hurt us. But they might want to keep us here. They’re scared of the outside – and who can blame them?’ She yawned. ‘Let’s sleep on it.’

She could not manage much more than to sip a little more soup, then she fell into a deep and heavy sleep. When she woke again, it was still daylight, and she was alone. She managed to dress on her own this time, then, moving slowly and carefully, went to find Kazim, who was sitting on the riverbank, watching the young lamiae playing in the deeper pools. They were darting in and out of the water at alarming speeds, hoisting out fish and eating them whole. As she approached, one of the young males took Kazim a fish, like an offering to a priest. He made a gesture of thanks and the lamia sped away, crowing to his friends.