by Neil Beynon
Montu went to the wooden chair that acted as substitute for his throne, placed the small gold circlet that was sitting upon the cushion on his head, and sat down. The king’s bodyguard poked his head through the flaps of the tent.
‘Milord, the scout Kiln seeks an audience.’
Montu nodded.
Kiln came in looking as if he had not slept in a month.
‘What news of Vikrain?’
Kiln bowed low. ‘They are out of the city.’
Montu leant forward.
‘They are heading for the coast,’ continued the scout, his head still bent.
‘She is running?’ asked his wife from the bed. ‘Surely not.’
Montu did not let his feelings show. ‘Why would she run? She heard what happened to her elderly scout?’
‘Yes, milord. The spy made it back to the city as you planned, but our people in the Shaanti say that someone escaped from the Del.’
‘Who?’ He was conscious his wife had gone quiet and was listening as if hearing of the mythical city of light for the first time.
‘Gor-Iven, he was the commander of the king’s archers.’
‘Do you know him?’ Montu asked his wife.
The queen looked lost in her own reverie at the name. Montu wasn’t sure he liked the look. He knew she had opposed the match when her father had proposed the marriage as a way to stop Kurah aggression and prevent another war. However, she had done her duty as a good daughter of Delgasia, and Montu thought he had tamed her. The expression on her face suggested she wasn’t quite as defeated as he had believed. Did she just play a part for me?
The queen caught Montu looking at her. She regained her composure.
‘I know of him,’ she said. ‘A minor underling. I fail to see—’
‘He had the ring,’ said the scout.
Montu gripped the arms of the chair. ‘He was there when the Del king was killed.’
Montu’s mind went back to what had been said in the corridor and how much the man could have heard between himself and Cernubus. ‘How much do they know?’
The scout sounded a little relieved as he responded. ‘Not much, milord. It was the size of our force and the news of the god that sent the thain into the field. The Shaanti forces are smaller than they were. I believe she knows she would lose.’
‘Do not discount the Shaanti. How many days until they reach the coast?’
‘It depends on if they can maintain the pace they set out of the city,’ answered Kiln. ‘They could take a week, but I imagine people will die if they do that. Say two to be sure.’
There is still time, thought Montu. ‘Send a runner to the tenth division to move up through the plains and take the hidden road. They are to move the Shaanti towards the forest, cutting them off from Vikrain and making the Barrens their only chance.’
‘That may not be enough,’ said Kiln. The man sounded weary enough that he was willing to risk death to avoid another ride that might end in the same.
Montu lifted the man to his feet by his shoulders. ‘You have done well, Kiln. Do not spoil it now by making me kill you.’
Kiln nodded. Montu dismissed him.
‘Beden,’ called Montu to his bodyguard. The man appeared through the tent flaps.
‘Yes, milord,’ said Beden.
‘Bring me the mage Zoren,’ Montu ordered. ‘I think he can help us.’
Beden nodded and vanished back through the flaps and into the camp beyond.
Montu moved out of his chair and to the table that was about five feet from the bed and that held a map of the terrain, laid out under rocks to stop the parchment from blowing away as people went in and out. He felt rather than saw his wife unfold from the bed.
‘Remind me again why we did not simply take Vikrain as you crushed the Del?’
Montu sighed. ‘The terrain in the Shaanti lands is different. If they wanted to, even under siege, the clans can harass and attack us from the hills with impunity. Meanwhile, we cannot, even with our resources, keep our supply lines intact all the way to Vikrain, and so a smart thain – and this one is – would attack there.’
‘Why did we not wait until summer?’
‘There is no good time,’ replied Montu, irritated. ‘There is no way to guarantee the weather. We must be ready for the attack that will come from across the sea.’
‘Sire,’ said Beden, rushing into the tent. ‘The god is back.’
Montu had his sword out as he entered the god’s tent.
The king had only been in there a handful of times since they arrived. The god had left strict instructions for no one to enter and, even when absent from the camp, seemed to know when anyone had passed close to the tent. He would comment every time, marking the moment for emphasis. Cernubus had not used a tent at all until they’d arrived at the Barrens. Montu would have attempted to uncover what the god was hiding if the danger of being caught had not been so high. Inside was dark, with only a single lit candle to see by. Cernubus used no groundsheet, and Montu was walking on bare, uneven earth that was pockmarked with small, ragged holes.
Montu moved with care until he could see the god. Cernubus was closing a wooden chest covered in the same maelstrom of runes and letters that covered his body. The god looked dusty and weary, but there was no sign of any harm to him. The god threw back a drink from a flask within the chest.
‘Tough day?’ asked the king.
‘You don’t need that pig tickler,’ said Cernubus. ‘Sit down.’
Montu lowered his sword but did not sit. ‘Was that fireworks show over the forest you?’
‘I was cleaning up your mess,’ said Cernubus, ‘making sure the Shaanti get no aid from the forest.’
‘I thought you had already controlled matters,’ said Montu, his grip tightening again.
‘Worry about your side of the deal,’ Cernubus replied.
‘You must have seen the pyres on the way in.’
The god nodded. ‘But you have already killed one prisoner to see if your plan to control me would work, and other prisoners may try to escape. Especially if they work out they are only going to die if they stay.’
‘You will have your sacrifice, demon,’ he replied.
Cernubus laughed himself hoarse. ‘There are no demons. Just me.’
‘Why are you back?’
‘Why did it take you so long to move your troops back in to launch the attack on the Shaanti?’
Montu sheathed his sword. ‘We did not hear until an hour ago that the Shaanti were out of Vikrain.’
‘What of the communication mirror I gave your man on the ground?’
‘Too dangerous for him to use while they are on the move. One of my spies has already been lost.’
‘Lost?’
‘He was foolish,’ said Montu. ‘He provoked the thain into a challenge and was killed. My other spy is more cautious. She believes her an ally.’
‘The fat one is the fool?’
Montu smiled. ‘Yes, Master Golan was a little too well fed.’
‘You’d make a good diplomat if you weren’t so busy invading everyone,’ said Cernubus.
‘War is diplomacy on a deadline,’ said Montu. ‘I have men set to bring the Shaanti here – are you in control of the forest?’
Cernubus looked at him. ‘Yes.’
‘What’s in the trunk?’
Montu moved forward a little, straining to see what the god was preoccupied with. Cernubus placed a cloth bag down by his right leg and closed the chest before the king could see what was within. He shook his head.
‘My secrets are my own,’ said Cernubus. ‘Until they become your problem.’
Montu flushed at this. He recalled his words to the god when he had uncovered what the mages were up to, throwing his own words back at him. The god was reminding him more and more of the priest that had forced his grandfather into destroying the old religion.
‘Will you stay and fight the Shaanti?’
Cernubus smiled. ‘I will, but they will not be here for a while.
I have unfinished business in the forest this evening, and I will be gone as soon as the magic I use has renewed me.’
Montu went cold. ‘How many will you kill for your magic?’
Cernubus laughed. ‘At least four.’
‘Shaanti?’
Cernubus raised an eyebrow. ‘Why not? It will be more effective in binding the men’s belief to me.’
Montu left the tent.
‘You will tell me if and when the god leaves his tent and to where he is headed,’ whispered the king to the man guarding Cernubus’s tent. ‘Do not let him strike up a conversation with you, or answer any of his questions.’
‘Sire!’ called out Zoren, the only mage who had survived the encounter with Cernubus.
The poor man was looking all around to ensure no one was following him.
‘Zoren,’ said Montu. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘How can I help, milord?’
‘I have a mission for you,’ said the king. ‘It is a dangerous mission, I’m afraid, and may leave you worse for wear or dead.’
Zoren bent low. Montu was amused by the mage’s grovelling nature, and thought, not for the first time, that it was good that this man had not led the mages. You must never back down, said Montu in his head.
‘You are to use your magic to put more of my guard with the tenth division as they attack the Shaanti,’ said Montu.
The mage looked frightened as he replied. ‘I can create a spell called a join to bridge the distance between here and there. Would that suffice?’
Montu nodded. ‘Keep the join open as long as possible, in case we need more.’
Zoren looked pale.
Montu enjoyed the man’s discomfort. The mages were his best hope to contain the threat of the god. However, they had encouraged him to form the alliance, and they had failed him at the most crucial of times. The pact with Cernubus had been dangerous … was dangerous … and so Montu had been forced to send a few of his best men away to scour the coast. Again, it was the mages who claimed the witch-warrior held the key, though the search was to no avail – and they had not even managed to keep their efforts from the god. None should have left the tent alive. Montu did not understand why the god had spared this one.
‘Sire,’ said Zoren, ‘the magic involved is almost beyond a man’s power and will certainly leave that individual very old if not dead.’
Montu put his hands on the man’s shoulders. ‘And should you perish, we will honour your sacrifice.’
Zoren looked down. He nodded.
‘What do you need?’
‘For what, sire?’
‘The spell.’
‘Oh,’ said Zoren. ‘It is already in hand. I do not require anything. Please assemble the reinforcements up on the hill in three hours.’
‘Zoren,’ said the king.
‘Yes, sire?’
‘The trunk in the god’s room,’ he said. ‘Did you open it?’
Zoren nodded.
‘What was in it?’
Zoren looked really pale now.
‘Out with it, man.’
‘Heads,’ said Zoren in a rush. ‘It was full of heads on a bed of earth and a shard of tree as sharp as any needle.’
‘All human?’
Zoren shook his head. ‘Maybe they were once, but they aren’t now.’
‘You’ve seen worse in war.’
‘These still spoke.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Danu slept and Danu dreamt.
In the dream, she saw her sister fight Cernubus in a maelstrom of magic, felt the upwelling of rage that her kin directed at the hunter for his betrayal. She wished her sister well for the first time in a millennium, but that was all she could do. When her sister retreated, bloody and beaten, seeking refuge in the depths of Golgotha, Danu woke.
The goddess rose softly from the ground that had been her only bed since she had been captured, and looked out of the bars of her prison at the blackened thing the glade had become. Her eyes were drawn inevitably to the scattered remains of the lesser gods who had lived with her in the glade. The sight had ceased to make her sick. Now it just made her sad and – when she had the energy – angry. The bars of her cell vibrated with raw magic, dampening her awareness and stopping her seeing the events in the wider forest.
When she had first been caught, she had tried to use the power of the forest, clutching her hands into the restorative earth, but Cernubus had pre-empted her, and the bars that held her extended into the ground. She was totally caged.
Still, she could feel Cernubus return, exultant in his victory over her sister. The moment he set foot on the glade’s island, the feeling punched her in the stomach, a fist of nausea at the sheer wrongness of him. His victory had made him stronger. Humans had witnessed some of his deeds from afar, would make up stories, and Cernubus had harnessed the Kurah’s nascent belief in him for future use.
Danu fixed her eyes on the sky. The moon hung low. It was not hard for her to tell that the alignment was only one more night away. Time was short. The sound of footsteps did not pull her gaze from the sky.
‘I see you’re awake,’ said Cernubus.
Danu glanced at him. Her view of him wavered in the light, distorted by the heat of the cell, but even so, she could make out the runes he had carved into himself. Cernubus … he hardly had the right to the name any more … He was no longer a god … The bastard creation of a thousand faiths, cults and superstitions.
Yet, weren’t they all that? The decayed remains of beliefs so ancient that only a handful of them had any idea where they had come from. Cernubus was virtually impossible to recognise from the being that had once hunted the forest with her. Tall as ever, his scarred skin was red raw from walking in lands hotter than Kurah for millennia. His hair – always a wild tangle – now had a greasy limpness to it. And the robes he had clothed himself in were slack modifications of Kurah religious clothing. All his beauty had been cut away.
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘The alignment is not for another night. I am a prisoner. Why return?’
‘I think you know,’ said Cernubus. ‘Or did you sleep through that?’
‘I know, and your addict’s return to the Kurah to soak up their belief. But why come to me to gloat?’
‘I do not gloat. You have a purpose.’
‘Vedic will come for me,’ Danu smiled.
‘What can a forestal – a made thing – do to me?’
‘But he still lives?’
‘Not if he sets foot here.’
‘He will come,’ said Danu, sitting back – her expression a picture of serenity.
‘Well, that does rather seem to be the question, doesn’t it? Will he throw away the life he hoards so carefully to try to save you? I want to know where he is.’
‘You’re afraid of him?’
Cernubus drew closer to the cage, his eyes crawling over her skin as if memorising every inch of her. Danu turned her back on him, casting her gaze over at the trees.
‘Why do you seek him if you are not afraid? He is just a forestal, barely magical at all.’
‘You know damned well why,’ said Cernubus, his voice low. ‘You see the same patterns I do. You know the girl is with him, and you know what I am trying to achieve. We never settled our argument all those years ago. The disaster can be averted if one of us wields all the power.’
‘As long as that is you,’ she said, with a thin smile.
Danu could sense he was wound tight and ready to snap – he was beginning to make mistakes. She needed a collection of them to have any chance at all of getting free.
‘Your days on this world are drawing to a close, Danu. Provoking me will only make those that remain painful. Tell me where you have hidden them.’
‘You still intend to go ahead with the sacrifice?’
‘I do.’
‘There hasn’t been a human sacrifice to us in nearly a thousand years. They are starting to find their own way again. Why encourage them to go back? You know our ti
me is limited, so what can this achieve?’
‘They are savage, spiteful and foolish creatures. Look what they have done to the forest that birthed us. They need gods, whether they realise it or not; a strong, powerful and beneficent god can show them the way. I have what they do not – thousands of years spent thinking about the coming time – and I know what we must do to survive.’
‘All you care about is your own survival. None of us can prevent what is coming. The universe is bigger than humanity or gods.’
‘Blood can. It is the old magic that helped make us strong. We were elevated for a reason.’
‘Your memory is failing. We were elevated by accident.’
‘Is that so? Look at you now – the mother goddess, the earth goddess, brought low by the Kurah and a smattering of magic. I remember the time when half the known world worshipped your every word. You are the one who has lost your way.’
‘Times change.’
‘They do. And where once your followers numbered in the millions, now they run in the thousands.’
‘Because you have killed them, harangued them and bullied them to the point where they believe in nothing,’ she hissed, turning back to him.
‘They believe in the terror lurking in the dark. They believe in me.’
‘You will fail,’ said Danu, ‘for you do not understand me or my reasons for doing anything, and in that you have wrought your own doom.’
Danu smiled as Cernubus blinked under her calm gaze. Briefly she felt his consciousness flicker past her, back to the imperial camp, presumably to see if his plan was unfolding as he had hoped. She had needled him. The god’s soul returned as fast as it had departed, satisfied – it seemed to Danu – that nothing was awry in the preparations for the sacrifice. She knew herself there were no gods in the immediate area. She’d thought that she sensed Pan, but it had been a fleeting echo over the noise of the small cell that had become her prison. Wishful thinking.
‘Everything is nearly ready,’ he said. ‘Once the alignment is underway, I will control the forest.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Danu.
Cernubus faltered. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re bleeding,’ said Danu, her fingers outstretched.