"Ylon!" cried one of the two male Ysandir remaining. Fire roared up outside the Wall, reaching with eager fingers for the one who cried out. He screamed and disappeared, the fire vanishing with him.
Only two remained of the Ysandir: Ylon and Ylanda. Alanna gulped. These two had joined hands, and power gathered to them.
"Ak-hofi!" Ylon cried. The Wall vanished as if it had never been.
"The others were weak and greedy," Ylon said with a sneer. "We are not."
"We are the First," Ylanda added. "We were here before all the others. We shall remain."
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked, trying to catch his breath. Alanna wiped her sweat-beaded face on her sleeve. She was tired, so tired her bones ached.
"We are gods and the children of gods," the woman said. "We were here before your Old Ones, and we laughed when their cities fell."
Alanna felt a return of her old spirit. "A likely story," she said with a sniff. "Gods don't die. You do."
"You think you know all, mortal. You know nothing. Even immortals die when they weaken. Ylanda and I are the strongest. You will not weaken us."
"You give out a lot of big talk," Alanna retorted. "I believe in deeds, not words."
Jonathan's voice was even and strong. "Your time is past. You no longer belong here."
Ylon and Ylanda raised their linked hands, chanting in a language that made the two humans shudder. Outside thunder crashed. The weird glow that lighted the temple vanished. The only light now came from their magics.
"Jonathan?" Alanna whispered.
He looked down at her. "We're not beaten yet. Alanna—can you become what you were the night you saved me from the fever? When you brought me back from death?"
"I don't know," she whispered, eying the Ysandir.
"You have to—and you must take me with you. Otherwise—"
Jonathan didn't have to elaborate. The light of the immortals' magic was getting stronger.
Alanna looked at their linked hands, shining with the blue-violet of their combined Gifts. Already she was falling out of herself into that light. She could feel Jonathan with her. Her eyes burned as their magic grew brighter and formed a globe around them.
"Goddess," she whispered in her woman's voice. "Great Mother—"
"Dark Lady," a man added softly, "open the Way for us." Did she really hear Jonathan the man? She wasn't sure.
Needle-sharp bolts of magic were lancing into their interlocked hands. Pain shot through their physical shells. Ylon and Ylanda stood before them in a wheel of yellow-green power. Fire streamed from them and broke on the newly formed globe of magic that held the bodies of Jon and Alanna.
For the second time in her life Alanna heard that female voice, the one that made her scream with pain. This time she didn't scream. She was too busy concentrating on keeping their globe of power in one piece.
The voice echoed in her mind. Place your trust in the sword—and fight.
Alanna had dropped Lightning during the earlier fight. Now the sword jumped into her free hand, the crystal blazing. She could feel it trembling as she gripped the hilt.
"Just don't let go of me," Jonathan cautioned.
"I won't." Holding Jonathan fast, she stepped forward. Lightning sang in her hand.
A black, two-edged blade appeared in Ylon's free hand. Like Jonathan, Ylanda did not let go of her companion. She stayed close, keeping step behind him.
Ylon brought his sword down in a ferocious arc. Alanna blocked it swiftly, her arm muscles screaming as she stopped the down-sweeping blade. Lightning blazed and—miraculously—did not break. The dark sword drank in Lightning's fire as Ylon backed away. His big chest was heaving, and there was sweat on his face. Alanna circled him, her eyes never leaving his sword. Jonathan squeezed her hand reassuringly.
She felt better now. This was what she had trained for. She turned all her attention to the swords, letting Jonathan control their sorcery. Ylon, suddenly wary of her, lanced at her in a series of rapid thrusts. Alanna stopped each of them, feeling her confidence grow each time she stopped the Ysandir. Immortal he might be—swordsman he was not.
Jonathan was speaking softly, uttering words she paid no attention to. The fire surrounding him and Alanna blazed, and the girl yelled with triumph. She swung Lightning up and around in a complex move that brought the swords together, hilt to hilt. Ylon's sword shattered with the impact. Alanna slashed at the immortal's linked hands. The globe of yellow-green light exploded, and the two Ysandir screamed with rage and fear. Jonathan uttered one word of command, throwing the last reserves of their Gift into the spell. Blue-violet light flooded over the immortals. They flared up like a giant torch as everything went black.
ALANNA and Jonathan awoke on the floor of the chamber. The Ysandir had vanished. Only a scorch mark in the perfect floor remained of Ylon and Ylanda. Near Alanna was Lightning, the sword's tip blackened.
"Are you all right?" Jonathan asked wearily. He pulled himself to his feet.
Alanna couldn't swallow a tiny moan. Every muscle screamed with pain. "I'm smarting a little," she admitted. "How about you?"
"‘Smarting' is an understatement. Come on. I want to get away from here before we try to rest." Jonathan stumbled over to her sword and picked it up. "It's still warm," he said with awe.
Alanna rose, somehow. She felt as if someone had pounded her with hammers. "Think there are any more of them?" She accepted her sword and sheathed it carefully.
The Prince shook his head. "I'd say we've seen the last of the Ysandir. Come. We'll lean on each other."
They made it somehow to the city walls, where Moonlight and Darkness waited patiently for them. Jonathan felt his saddle, then the saddle blanket. "They're wet," he said. "It's been raining out here."
Alanna pulled herself onto her mare's back with her last bit of strength. She had no wish to comment.
Jonathan headed east, to a small oasis they knew was nearer the Black City than Persopolis. Alanna wasn't about to argue that they were going the wrong way. The oasis was closer than home, and all she wanted to do was lie down.
The horses contentedly cropped grass while their owners bathed their aching faces and hands in the cool water. Jonathan finally leaned back against a palm tree. "I wish I'd thought to bring food."
Alanna lay flat on the grass nearby. "I'm happy just to be alive."
They rested in silence for a while, breathing the fresh desert air deeply. They watched the sun set in pools of rose and orange, thinking they had never seen a lovelier sunset. Darkness came, and thousands of stars.
"Moonrise soon," Alanna said at last. "We could try for Persopolis then."
"We'd never make it." Jonathan's quiet voice came from the shadows. "We're in trouble as it is. Spending the night won't make it any worse."
There was a long silence once again. Finally Alanna said, "I suppose you'd like an explanation."
"Yes."
She sighed. "It's a long story."
"We have time," he said comfortably. "I don't intend to move till I hear it. You must admit, I've had a shock."
"I'm sorry," she said humbly. "I haven't wanted to lie to you."
"I should hope so. You're the worst liar I've ever met." He thought about this a moment, then added, "—or the best. Now I'm all confused. What about your twin?"
"He didn't want to be a knight," she replied simply. "He wants to be a great sorcerer." She sighed. "Today was more Thom's sort of thing than mine. Father was going to send me to the convent and Thom to the palace. And I didn't want to learn to be a lady." Jonathan's chuckle gave her courage. "Old Maude knew. She said it was right. And—well, I talked Coram around."
Jonathan knew Coram well. "How?" he asked curiously.
"I threatened to make him see things that were not there. He doesn't like that."
Jon chuckled again, imagining Coram seeing visions. "And your father?"
"He doesn't care about Thom or me," she said flatly. "I want to be a warrior maiden and do great deeds. Tho
m likes sorcery, and Father hates it. The only way we could get what we wanted was—was to lie. I had to pretend to be a boy. I was always better at the fighting arts than Thom anyway."
"Whose idea was it to make the switch?"
"Mine," she admitted ruefully. "Thom might have thought of it, but he's the careful one. I knew what I wanted, and I didn't mind taking a risk or two." She sighed. "I enjoyed the life."
"You could've been caught at any time. You could've been a weakling; Roger could've found out."
"There've been warrior maids before. They weren't weak. And—well, I think my Gift protects me from Duke Roger. I'm not sure, but I think so. And you can't say I haven't proved myself."
"Of course you have, often. You do better than most of us."
She picked at the grass. "I had to."
"Alanna. It's a pretty name," he said thoughtfully. "Thom. Maude. Coram. Who else knows?"
"George, and his mother."
"You trusted George?"
"He can be trusted!" she said hotly. "Besides—I needed help once, and I knew he'd never give me away. He's my friend, Jon."
"You called me 'Jon.' "
"You saved my life, back there."
"You saved mine. We wouldn't have made it without each other. I knew I was right to take you."
She lay silent for a while, listening to the sounds in the night. At last she gathered her courage. "What're you going to do about me?"
His voice was surprised. "Do? I'm not doing anything. As far as I'm concerned, you earned the right to try for your shield a long time ago." She heard him moving. "No one will learn your secret from me, Alanna."
Her chin trembled. Tears stung her eyes. "Thank you, your Highness."
He knelt beside her. "I thought you were calling me Jon. Alanna, you're crying."
"It's been such an awful day," she sobbed.
Hesitantly the young man put his arms around her and drew her against him. "And now you're being so kind." She wept into his shirt.
"Not kind," he told her. "Grateful. Admiring. You're getting my shirt wet."
She laughed and straightened, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jon. I haven't done that for a long time."
"I believe it," he said, sitting back on his heels. "I don't think you cried even when Ralon was beating on you, and you were just a little boy—girl. Mithros, I'm confused!" He whistled. "Gods, that's why you never went swimming! All the times you've seen us naked—me naked!"
She gripped his arm. "Jon, you start to act like that, and I'm finished. You've got to go on treating me like any other boy, or I'm through!"
He sat beside her. "What insanity! But you're right." She could feel his eyes on her face although it was too dark to see him clearly. "How do you plan to be a warrior maiden if no one knows you're a girl?"
"I'm going to tell everyone, on my eighteenth birthday."
"What will you do after that?" She could see him grin. "Mithros, Uncle will have fits."
She relaxed. "I'm going to travel and do great deeds."
He ruffled her hair. "I believe you. Don't forget your friends when you're a legend."
She laughed. "You'll be more famous than me! You'll be king one day!"
"And I'll need all my friends. Will you still serve me when you're away doing great deeds?"
"I'm your vassal," she said seriously. "I'll never forget that."
"Excellent." He rose with a slight moan. "I want to keep one of the best fencers at Court on my side. I'm going to bathe. Don't watch."
She grinned. "I never watch." She turned her back as he walked down to the water. Dreamily she stared at the sky, listening to Jon yelp as he splashed chilly water over his aching body.
His voice startled her when he spoke. "You're only that quiet when you're worrying about something. What's bothering you now?"
"Two things," she admitted. "The Ysandir—we have no way of knowing they're gone for good or that we got all of them."
"I know that we did," Jonathan replied. "Sometimes a man has to rely on his instincts. The Ysandir are gone forever."
"Doesn't it seem—well, strange—that a boy and a girl were able to destroy the Bazhir demons?"
"You're forgetting," he reminded her gently,
"We had help. Even the Bazhir demons couldn't stand against the gods."
"I suppose so," she said dubiously.
"I know so." Jonathan climbed from the pool and hurried into his clothes. "Your turn. And keep talking—it'll frighten any animals away."
"Don't you watch," she warned as she stripped and plunged into the chilly water.
Jonathan chuckled. "Not me. You're too skinny—and too good with a sword. You said two things were bothering you. What's the other one?"
Alanna shook soggy hair from her eyes, trying to decide how she could best say what she was thinking. She was about to tread on very dangerous ground. "Doesn't it strike you as odd—the way Duke Roger warned us to stay away from the Black City?" She climbed out of the oasis and pulled on the over-large tunic once more.
"You mean the way he practically dared us—well, me—to come here."
Alanna sat beside him, trying to see her friend's face in the desert night. "You knew?" she whispered, horrified. "You knew Duke Roger was sending you to almost certain death?"
His grip on her arm was painful. "Now that I do not believe," he said sternly. "Roger is my only cousin and one of my best friends. He taught me to ride! He would never—never—do the thing you're suggesting, Alanna. Never. He sent me here because he thought I might have a chance to rid Tortall of a scourge, and I did, with your help. He must have known I'd take you with me; I'm sure by now he has the whole story of what happened the night I had the Sweating Fever. He did Tortall a favor, and he did me a favor. People will think twice before they take on a prince—or a king—who can defeat demons."
"Why didn't he do it himself?" she asked. "Why risk the only heir to the throne?"
"Perhaps he doesn't have the—the other powers helping him, as they seem to be helping us. And that's enough for this discussion. I would trust Roger with my life, and with yours. If he had ever wanted the throne, he could have had it any time all these years past. So let's change the subject, all right?"
There are too many perhapses in all that, Alanna thought rebelliously, but she did as she was told. After all, Jon was older, wiser and far better acquainted with Duke Roger. But she still thought the Duke of Conte never expected them to return from the Black City.
They both found comfortable spots beneath the same tree, stretching out for a night's sleep. Alanna was gazing at the distant outline of the Black City when Jon said, "Alan. Alanna. Perhaps you'll help me with a decision I have to make."
Relief made her smile. At least he wasn't angry because she had said what she had about his cousin. "I can try."
"What with Gary and Alex and Raoul becoming knights at the same time I do, it makes competition for the squires pretty fierce."
"So I've noticed," she said drily.
He chuckled. "Who do you think I should pick?"
Alanna sat up on her elbows. A week ago she would have told him to pick Geoffrey or Douglass. But she had not been to the Black City then. She had not proved to the Ysandir that a girl could be one of the worst enemies they would ever face.
But what if she had not gone to the Black City? Duke Gareth had mentioned that, with a deal more practice, she could become one of the finest swordsmen at Court. In archery she hit the target every time. The masters who taught her tactics and logic said she was sometimes brilliant—Myles said she was far more intelligent than many adults. She had bested Ralon of Malven, and in some strange way she had won her sword.
All at once she felt different inside her own skin.
"Me," she said at last. "You should pick me."
"But you're a girl." It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
"So?" she demanded. "Even Captain Sklaw says I'll be a swordsman yet. I'm as good an archer as Alex, and he's a boy and
a squire. I'm a better tracker than Raoul. And have I ever failed you? Back there, or when you had the Fever—"
"I'm glad you agree with my reasons," he interrupted calmly. "I told Father you'd probably accept." Alanna swallowed hard. "Before we left, I told him I wanted you for my squire. He didn't seem very surprised." Jonathan wriggled, trying to find a softer spot on the ground.
"B-but," Alanna stuttered, "isn't it different? Now that you know—"
"That you're a girl? No; not in the way you mean. Girl, boy or dancing bear, you're the finest page—the finest squire-to-be—at Court." He chuckled. "I almost had to fight Gary for you. He said it wasn't fair, me getting the best because I'm the prince." He took her hand. "Alanna of Trebond—I will be honored if you will serve as my squire."
Alanna kissed his hand, blinking back tears. "My life and sword are yours, Highness."
He spoiled the dignity of the moment by ruffling her hair. "Now, get some sleep." He settled back and closed his eyes. "You know," he murmured, "I'd almost rather face old Ylon again than Lord Martin in a temper."
"I'll blame it all on you," she replied sleepily. "See if I don't."
He dozed off quickly. Alanna lay awake a little while longer, watching the dark towers of the Black City in the distance. If there were any more Ysandir about, she was too tired to care. She wished she had Jon's faith in Duke Roger, but knew she wasn't going to get it. Still she could figure out the Duke of Conte later. As Jon said, there was morning and Lord Martin to face, and it was time at last to sleep.
THE BEGINNING
The Song Of The Lioness Quartet #1 - Alanna - The First Adventure Page 15