The Fate of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  The high priestess spun on me. “You dare try to take my creatures for yours! I will—” She paused, brow furrowed, then she burst out laughing. “Oh you fool! Really, Andromeda, you make things too easy. Your soft heart will be your undoing. You don’t have what it takes to fight me. Just admit it and give up.”

  Ignoring her, I tested her reaction by reaching to cut the cords on the team battering the gate. Making a knife of my will, I sliced and—there. She flexed that muscle, and my blade met with nothing.

  “Tsk.” The high priestess frowned prettily. “I’m wise to you now. You won’t be interfering that way anymore. And look!” She pretended to shade her eyes, turning to point at a ship coming into view, followed by a dozen more. “Here we come. I’ll see you in the flesh momentarily. This will be such fun. I love winning!” She gave me a saucy wink and a salaciously blown kiss, then vanished, never guessing I had the key to her trick now, and would save it for the perfect moment. Another thing I’d learned from her.

  I surveyed the approaching ships with a sinking heart, then resolutely turned back to assess our status. Too many of our people fought on the beach still—at least half of our remaining fighters. Whole groups had been cut off from access to the cliff roads. Those able to take avian forms had retreated to the higher levels. They dove and soared in fighting formations, neatly ducking Kiraka’s flame, but unable to help the Tala below.

  The sight gave me an idea, though. I could set aside restoring the barrier as the less immediate problem. And, if I could stop paying attention to the gate, and not reveal my secret weapon to the high priestess by blasting the creatures there that she’d only replace, I could help with the battle on the beach.

  “Kiraka. There’s a group attacking the gate to the road out of Annfwn—can you go fry them?”

  “No.”

  “I can remove the high priestess’s shielding. They’ll be vulnerable.”

  “No.”

  I paused, not at all ready for such a firm refusal. “You mean, you can’t?”

  “I mean I won’t. What care I for gates and roads when my Daughter and my Daughter’s Daughter’s lives are at stake?”

  “If we fall to Deyrr, your human companions won’t be worth anything to you!” I shot back in frustration.

  “If the gate falls and Deyrr invades your other kingdoms, they might leave here. If I abandon my defense, I might lose them. On balance, my chances are better staying. Leave me be, sorceress.”

  A snarl worthy of Rayfe rose in my throat as Kiraka broke contact. I looked again, and the situation had only worsened. More ships appeared from downcoast, moving swiftly towards us in shallow water, clearly intending to land on the beach. I couldn’t stop them from landing, but I could try to clear a path for our people to get out of the way. If our troops were caught between the Deyrr army blockading them from the cliff access and the arriving attackers, they’d be decimated.

  I left the gate to its fate. In some ways Kiraka was right—if the gate went, that would relieve the pressure on Annfwn. I thrust aside the images—all too real and seen far too many times—of the endless Deyrr army of foul undead creatures descending on the peaceful farms and villages of Mohraya. For it was my birthplace that lay at the other end of that road, full of people who’d never be able to comprehend the dark magic unleashed upon them.

  But I couldn’t do everything.

  Concentrating on the scene on the beach, I flung my mind outwards, hopping from eyes to eyes to assess the worst threats. The high priestess couldn’t divide her attention so much as to shield each individual, and with the increased flow of magic from the Heart, I seemed to have plenty of ability to cut the attachments to Deyrr. I barely felt the impact anymore as, ruthlessly and selectively, I pulled the cords on one Deyrr creature after another. The large and the fierce fell as I found them. Their souls howled in agony as I severed them, shrieking in terror as they snapped back into the god’s greedy maw.

  Part of me longed to take the reins of their will for myself. Moranu’s silver black presence flowed in me, reaching for that control, drawn to it. It was the nature of the goddess to want to reclaim Her children, for even these abominations of shapeshifters were Hers.

  And it would be easier. Tempting, even, to justify it as at least wresting those souls from Deyrr.

  But then they’d be mine, and that was a bridge too far for me. Just as the high priestess had scorned me for flinching from doing it, I couldn’t let myself take control of another’s will, not even for Moranu. What I’d done to Rayfe had been bad enough, and even though he’d forgiven me, one more step over that line and I’d become a monster. I couldn’t let that happen, if only for the sake of my unborn child, who deserved to be born to a mother with at least a shred of humanity.

  Even if that means your child won’t be born at all? The small voice whispered its insidious doubts. It was true, I thought, as I cut another soul from its mortal tether, destroying lest I be destroyed. If I died, my son would die with me, and he’d never have a chance at anything at all. Death ended possibility. Only life held hope. Maybe better to become a monster and allow my child a chance at life.

  Or was that the high priestess influencing my thoughts? I don’t know what’s real anymore.

  I found a trio of Deyrr jackals harrying a small group of Tala wizards who’d been reinforcing the spells on the stone gates to the tunnels below, and blew through them like the icy winds of winter at Ordnung, leaving decaying bodies behind. Maybe if I took the reins of their wills instead, I could find a way to later free them, save all this destructive waste…

  Or was that her again, tempting me to throw in with Deyrr’s corrupting power?

  The ships had reached the beach, extending gangplanks into the shallows to unload more Deyrr creatures to crush our own. I couldn’t move fast enough to free our people in time. Would wresting control of Deyrr’s slaves be any faster? And where had Ursula gone? In all my scanning and hopping, I hadn’t glimpsed her.

  Of course, I’d been focusing on the beach and maybe she and Harlan had already begun climbing.

  The sails of the new ships snapped, the sound carrying over the water and the raucous sounds of battle. Dark figures scrambled in the rigging to tighten the ropes and steady the vessels being thrown about in close quarters. Odd that they’d come in so fast, at full sail, into such shallow water, especially with the battle so clearly going their way. These ships must have far shallower draft than ours, but even so—

  A scream of fury wrested my attention away. It echoed through my bones and blood, and I frantically scanned for the source. A dragon dove from the sky, ruby red and glittering like fresh blood, blazing with fire.

  Not one of our dragons.

  Kiraka roared at it again, a sound I’d never heard any of our dragons make before, a cry of anger and despair. A friend of hers, perhaps, taken by Deyrr. It flew directly at Kiraka and I reached to sever its ties—

  “Don’t you dare!” Kiraka screamed it so loud in my head that I physically reeled, nearly pitching into the sea when I set my foot down on patch of gravel. “I’ll handle this.”

  With that she took wing, bronze form the color of the sun just as it sinks into the sea, and she hurled herself at the red dragon, meeting it midair and engaging it in a tumble of wings, lashing tails, and wayward spires of fire and smoke. The two pitched in the sky, an impossible tangle, then dropped like stones. Time seemed to spin endlessly as they fell… Until they hit the water with a boom and massive splash that sent water and steam mushrooming into the sky.

  The wave of reaction rippled out, boats—theirs and ours—rising and falling, some capsizing. The wave rolled huge toward my outpost and I braced myself, slipping the Star deep into a pocket, and using my connection to the Heart to anchor myself to the rocks. Saltwater, surprisingly cold for Annfwn’s gentle sea, pounded and poured over me. It left me drenched, shivering, and dazed—and it took me a moment to clear my eyes to survey the aftermath.

  Sadly, the new ships ha
dn’t been budged. They sat unnaturally stable in the water, all with gangplanks out to the shore. And, to my astonishment, elephants galloped down those ramps—way too fast for even Deyrr creatures being directly puppeteered by the high priestess or her minions.

  Also, these glittered with armor strapped on to protect their vulnerable joints and other soft spots, the sort of rigging a Tala shapeshifter would scorn to use. People rode the elephants, war cries harmonizing with their mounts’ trumpeting. These were decidedly not any of our human/shapeshifter fighting pairs. The people bristled with foreign weapons, like ours and not. Some employed long spears and javelins, decorated—or ballasted—with exotically colored feathers. Others standing on deck had bows as tall as a Dasnarian, using them to hurtle huge arrows to clear the way, while their elephant-mounted brethren galloped headlong onto the beach, hanging on to the harness with acrobatic daring, scything with long swords.

  And they were killing the Deyrr creatures.

  I blinked, focusing my physical eyes and zoomed in with metaphysical sight. A huge elephant led the charge, a lithe man on its back, a long queue of hair flying behind him. Right behind them a woman whose ivory hair shone in the light rode a smaller elephant with white scars on its gray hide. The vision tunneled through me, coring my heart and leaving me gasping and empty.

  Could this be Harlan’s lost sister? It must be and yet… how could they have come to Annfwn?

  Then I saw Danu’s warrior, her flying braid as silver as her sword. Kaedrin the wanderer. She cleaved through the walls of Deyrr fighters with like tornado of steel. The elephant-mounted warriors charged and spun in tight formation, superbly trained and clearly well-accustomed to working together. They did what we’d been unable to do, sending the surging masses of Deyrr creatures into chaotic disarray.

  Gathering my scattered concentration, I gratefully pulled my attention back from the battle of Annfwn’s beach to our surprise rescuers, taking a moment to check the gate. Not much had changed there except that several of the attackers had dropped to the ground, having apparently battered themselves brainless against the immovable barrier. More unfortunate creatures had taken their place, however, renewing their assault.

  Worse, additional Deyrr forces had begun working on the barrier on either side of the gate. The high priestess was no fool and she’d no doubt correctly surmised that I had devoted most of my effort to reinforcing the gateway itself. Farther along on the one side, the forest became too dense, and the hills too steep for easy passage. On the other, of course the cliffs rose sheer and difficult to scale.

  But for several lengths on either side of the massive gateway, the barrier could be breached—with considerable effort, but still possible—and the wide road to Ordnung was relatively accessible beyond. I reinforced those sides, also, throwing more magical energy into the gate itself, and then extended the reach of it all farther into the ground, as some of the Deyrr creatures had begun to tunnel. If that didn’t work, I’d have to blast them all and risk the high priestess being on to me and changing her tactics.

  A flash of pain brought me back to my body. A Deyrr-controlled octopus had crawled onto the rocks and wrapped several arms around my legs, dragging me toward the water. I’d reflexively gripped the rocks, and the pain of my nails breaking and fingertips shredding had alerted me. My staymach guard divebombed it with beaks and talons, but the bulk of the creature lay safely below water, glaring at me with a mad, violet eye.

  I blasted the tentacle gripping me most tightly—and was completely unsurprised when that bounced off. I wouldn’t kill the shielding yet, not until I’d exhausted my other tools. I reached to cut the creature’s tethers to Deyrr instead—and shockingly enough, I found another consciousness inside. Not the high priestess. This was an even younger woman, one who looked to be about fifteen, with the round full cheeks and creamy skin of barely blossoming womanhood, looked back at me. Ringlets of rose-gold hair bounced prettily around a face that would’ve been the portrait of lovely innocence—if not for her cruel smirk and dead dark eyes.

  She must be one of the junior priestesses Karyn had mentioned. How short-sighted of me not to realize she’d have her minions operating some of the key attackers. The red dragon must be similarly piloted. And this one had been specifically targeted to capture me.

  Unlike her mistress, this one spent no time taunting me. Instead her expression sharpened with vicious triumph as she batted away my attempt to cut the octopus’s body off from Deyrr’s animating force—and renewed her puppet’s grip on my leg, snaking out several more tentacles to fasten on my other leg and increase the leverage. My body slid, and I released my hold on the rocks, for fear I’d break my fingers. A bad idea, as I now skidded and bumped over the rough rocks, bruising and skinning the front of my body.

  Including my belly and my precious passenger.

  Incensed and panicked, I hacked at the octopus with magical blows, desperately trying to sever its hold—or Deyrr’s hold on it. To no avail. Throwing caution away, I circumvented the shielding and blasted—only to have my magic bounce off again. Clearly an individual thing. Just wonderful.

  One of my staymachs had taken the form of a flying reptile, landing on one tentacle and digging in scaled claws, its scissoring beak sawing at the purple-gray fresh, sending the oily black blood of Deyrr spattering. Another tentacle seized my stalwart guard from behind, wrapping around the staymach’s throat, lifting it away and tossing it into the water.

  With a final yank, it pulled me off my clawhold, and pulled me down into the drowning deeps.

  ~ 22 ~

  Water burned up my sinuses and swamped my brain, the heavy red velvet gown dragging me down. Forgetting in my instinctive panic that I wasn’t a fish, I gasped for oxygen, only making things worse. A shapeshifter raised in Annfwn would’ve instinctively shifted the moment she hit water.

  Not me. I had to think it through. Not easy with a giant octopus swimming out to sea faster than a galloping horse and dragging me along behind it. Besides which, it still had me by the legs, pulling me feet first, which meant the skirt of my gown billowed up and over my head, tangling me in the heavy folds, making it even more difficult to get my bearings. I needed to shift—and soon—or I’d drown. Or I’d shift so far out to sea that it would take hours to return, and there might not be anyone left alive—or mentally free—by the time I got there.

  I shook my chattering thoughts into sense. The octopus wasn’t taking me out to sea—we were likely headed straight for the high priestess’s flagship. I could only guess at why she’d gone to the trouble to physically grab me, but I knew for certain that was a place I decidedly didn’t want to be. Better go for porpoise form. I wasn’t sure what octopuses ate, but probably any aquatic form smaller than it would be fair game. I could do this.

  Concentrate. Focus.

  Nothing.

  Something—no, someone—had blocked my shift. An impression of a girlish laugh filled my head, the rose-gold ringlets bouncing. Of course. The priests and priestesses of Deyrr could force shapeshifting. Or block it.

  And my vision was going crimson black. Maybe Deyrr didn’t want to abduct me. They might just want me dead. They’d killed my mother, a far more powerful and experienced sorceress. Now I’d die, too, and without a fight.

  Silvery moonlight edged out the crimson black of impending death. The pounding panic faded, replaced with the comforting shrouds of night shadows. An impression of many faces whirled around me. Feline, fox, ursine, avian, aquatic, insectile, fabulous, prosaic—the many forms of the wildlife of all the world whirled through my mind.

  Moranu, goddess of night, walked through me in serene beauty. And offered me Her hand. I knew what the price would be.

  Moranu goes with you, Ami whispered in my memories. She is yours and you are Hers. There is nothing for you to fear in letting Her will fill you. You have been Marked by Her from the beginning. Don’t refuse Her will now, when all hangs in the balance.

  All certainly hung in the balan
ce. Even if I didn’t die immediately, I’d lose consciousness soon. If the high priestess laid hold of me in this vulnerable condition… It didn’t matter so much what happened to me, but for the sake of my child, for Rayfe, for everyone depending on me, for the entire world, I had to do it.

  I took Moranu’s hand, braced for what she’d ask of me, of my son.

  She swept into me and my illusions broke like glass before the onslaught of the deity’s presence. I became like one of the dolls Salena left for us, a limp collection of rags and dead hair, tossed about. This wasn’t like Zynda’s vision, where she’d seen Moranu and spoke with the goddess. I’d become a vessel for the goddess—emptied of everything that I was to make room for Her.

  But I couldn’t be that, couldn’t be like Shaman, with no connections to the world of people. I had a husband, a child coming, sisters, friends. I wouldn’t be like my mother, giving myself for the cause and abandoning the ones who loved and needed me most. I would never be invisible again. Neither would I be an unthinking tool of the goddess.

  So you do have spirit, Daughter. I’d begun to wonder. Moranu’s voice shimmered around me, wordless and timeless, and yet I understood her meaning and her infinite amusement and compassion. Maybe “amusement” was the wrong word, but there was a joyfulness in her, a core-deep love that I would’ve ascribed to Glorianna.

  We are three and We are one. Individual faces of one being. Just as all of Our children spring from one source, though you wear different faces. You are all Ours, all one.

  “Even the high priestess? Even Deyrr?” I didn’t precisely think the question, but she understood my doubt.

  Even so. And now the joyfulness became subdued. Not sorrow exactly, but a tolerant impatience. Just as you have flaws in yourself that you seek to excise, Deyrr is an aspect of Us that We lost control of and need to correct.

  “And here I thought the gods and goddesses were perfect.”

  Perfection is a human ideal that does not exist. How can it? Perfection is static by definition and the universe is in a state of constant change.