He fought the nausea.
Ardonyx staggered as his leg was still weak. Tobazim steadied him, and the pair of them almost fell to their knees on the planks.
Tobazim was disoriented, but the thing that hurt most was the three slashes across his face. They burned in the still, damp air. The fog was so heavy he could barely see his hand in front of his face.
Perhaps this was why their supporters weren’t cheering.
He could not believe they’d survived. Ardonyx’s eyes held the same mixture of amazement and relief.
‘Trust you.’ Ardonyx gestured to his face. ‘Your challenge scars will be the envy of the other all-fathers.’
Tobazim laughed and it stung, bringing tears to his eyes.
They were free of Kyredeon.
He hugged Ardonyx, fighting the urge to weep with relief.
‘Sound the end of the challenge,’ Ardonyx urged.
It was only as he released Ardonyx and set off for the chime that Tobazim realised how exhausted he was. Everything looked flat and dull. Sounds echoed in his head, and his gift…
His gift was drained, leaving him with an empty ache; an absence that begged to be filled.
He felt disgustingly vulnerable.
Until his gift revived, he was helpless. All a mid-rank initiate had to do to steal the leadership was strike him down and claim victory.
No one must suspect.
Bluff was all he had left.
His knees wavered as he headed over to sound the chime. The deck seemed to rise and fall with each step.
His foot caught on something and he tripped, falling on a body. The man groaned.
‘Eryx?’
The other’s eyes flickered open. ‘You won? You’re safe?’
‘What happened?’
‘One of Oriemn’s men went to throw a knife at you during the challenge. Valendia tried to stop him and Graelen went to her aid. Kyredeon’s people attacked us, but we held them off.’
Now that he was on his hands and knees, Tobazim could see other bodies in the mist. Horror gripped him. Was everyone dead? He felt Ardonyx’s shock as he made the same discovery.
Tobazim staggered to his feet, picked his way through the bodies and, lifting impossibly heavy arms, struck the chime. A single clear note sliced the air, signifying the end of the leadership challenge.
It should have been a moment of triumph. The cheering should have rung out from the ship, letting all the other brotherhoods know that there was a new all-father.
Instead he heard moaning and pleas for help.
‘Tobazim?’
‘Here, Ardonyx. Can you find Ceyne? We’re going to need him.’
‘I’m here. And I’m glad it’s your voices I’m hearing. I sent Haromyr to get my bag.’
Other voices spoke up now, as the scholarly initiates and adepts gravitated towards Tobazim. A large figure loomed out of the mist and, for a moment, Tobazim almost thought it was his choice-brother Learon.
‘Ionnyn!’ He caught the sailor and hugged him.
The warrior bled from a number of small wounds, but he was on his feet and able to function.
‘Find all those who can still stand,’ Tobazim told him. ‘Help Ceyne treat the wounded.’
He nodded and moved off, taking the others with him. Ardonyx reached Tobazim, limping through the fog. Tobazim swung his arm around Ardonyx’s shoulders and together they made their way across the deck to the bodies of the old brotherhood leaders and the inner circle. Oriemn, Farodytor and Kyredeon lay together.
Tobazim knelt to study them. A sheen of white hoar frost covered all three. Oriemn had shrunk and curled in on himself until he was no bigger than a child, his gift and life force sucked from him by that empyrean predator. When Tobazim touched him, he crumbled to dust.
Kyredeon and Farodytor were frozen solid. From their contorted poses, it was clear that they had fought to the very end. At his touch, they shattered and melted clean away.
The rest of the inner circle lay nearby; they had been drained while trying to sustain their all-father and his seconds. Their bodies were cold and lifeless, but had not been devoured by the higher plane.
‘They should be honoured with a proper burial, but we have no crypts and we cannot burn them,’ Ardonyx said. ‘Their bodies will have to be weighted and dropped into the sea.’
Satisfied that none of Kyredeon’s inner circle presented a threat, Tobazim concentrated on his supporters. He and Ardonyx went from group to group, speaking to the injured as they waited for treatment, and calling for help if their wounds were life-threatening. Meanwhile, Ionnyn and the others collected the dead and laid them out, dividing them into his supporters and Kyredeon’s supporters.
So many dead.
Tears burned Tobazim’s eyes. ‘If Kyredeon were alive, I would kill him all over again. He’s decimated our brotherhood. How can an all-father do that to his own brotherhood?’
Ardonyx hugged him. ‘You’ll restore us.’
He nodded and struggled to compose himself.
They moved on, coming across Ceyne, who was packing and binding a gift-warrior’s wound. When he tied off the bandage and came to his feet, he swayed.
Tobazim steadied him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Kyredeon’s supporters came for Deimosh and me,’ Ceyne said. ‘He was always a vindictive fiant!’
What would the brotherhood do without a gift-tutor? ‘Is Deimosh –’
‘Alive. He took a blow to his head, but he’ll recover. What do you want me to do with Kyredeon’s injured supporters?’
Tobazim glanced to Ardonyx.
‘They attacked us, breaking the sacred trust of the challenge, but it could be argued they were only following Kyredeon’s orders,’ Ardonyx said, fulfilling his role as the voice-of-reason.
‘In my brotherhood there is no place for men who follow those kind of orders,’ Tobazim said. He wanted to cut out the rot and throw them overboard, but something Ceyne had said came back to him. ‘This brotherhood has been ruled by fear for over forty years. I’m not going to be that kind of all-father. Treat them. Give them a second chance.’
Ceyne surprised him by dropping to his knees and kissing the sixth finger of his left hand. ‘All-father.’
Touched and disconcerted, Tobazim drew him to his feet.
As Ceyne went back to work, Haromyr came out of the fog and threw his arms around Tobazim and Ardonyx.
Tobazim pulled back. ‘Do you know where Athlyn is?’
‘I think he went to help Graelen.’ Haromyr grimaced. ‘It was a close thing. Without Valendia’s warning…’ He shook his head, suddenly sober.
‘Valendia…’ Tobazim crossed the deck at a clumsy half run; everything ached. Ardonyx limped along behind him.
Up on the rear-deck, he found Athlyn crouched next to Graelen, who held Valendia in his arms. Blood covered her stomach and thighs. Her lips were colourless and she was barely breathing.
Tobazim dropped to his knees beside them.
‘You’re here.’ Pale and shaken, Athlyn was relieved to see them. ‘I’ve been trying to help him. He’s holding onto her life force with his gift.’
Tobazim reached out to Graelen, but he had no power left to give; all he could offer was the comfort of touch.
The man who had been Kyredeon’s greatest assassin opened his eyes. ‘Send for the causare. She promised. She’ll bring the healer.’
‘I’ll go,’ Ardonyx offered, slipping away.
Tobazim watched Valendia, willing her to hold on.
EXHAUSTED, IMOSHEN WAS about to climb into her bunk when Kiane came to her.
‘Ardonyx is here to speak with you,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know why these brothers think they can come to you at all hours of the night.’
‘If I’m their causare, they can call on me whenever they need me.’ Her hand-of-force still saw the T’En divided into brotherhood and sisterhood.
As Imoshen threw on her cloak and boots, she projected a calm she did not f
eel. She hurried out to the deck. ‘Ardonyx?’
‘Causare.’ Ardonyx gave the obeisance of supplication. He was pale and he moved with a limp.
‘Valendia needs a healer, desperately. Can you –’
‘Of course.’ Imoshen gestured to Kiane. ‘Run down to All-mother Reoden. Tell her I need her help urgently.’
As soon as Kiane left them, Imoshen reached out to Ardonyx. Trusting to the fog to hide them, she cupped his face in her hands, kissing his bruised cheek and split lip. She could tell both of them had drained their gifts, but it was a relief to hold him.
‘What happened?’
‘Kyredeon’s supporters broke the sanctity of the challenge.’ Ardonyx’s voice caught and she could feel his whole body trembling. ‘Half the brotherhood is dead. It was carnage.’
Imoshen’s mind raced. ‘If the T’En contingent of your brotherhood has been halved, it throws out the balance between the all-fathers. Dretsun is already too cocky and Saskeyne burns with ambition.’ Her mind raced. ‘You sheltered All-father Tamaron’s people on your ship?’
‘Yes. Kyredeon cursed us for burdening him with more mouths to feed.’
‘Tamaron is dead. You’ve housed his people, fed them and protected them. They’re yours. Have Tobazim take their vows of fealty.’
‘Imoshen…’ He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. Her heart turned over. She loved him so much, yet she hardly ever saw him. ‘This is internal brotherhood business. The decision should go to an all-father-council.’
‘So they can argue over who gets the survivors and stir up dissent?’ She shook her head. ‘If Tobazim swears them in, your brotherhood remains in the ranks of the great brotherhoods. The balance is preserved. Paragian and Hueryx are not fools. They’ll see the benefit of keeping Dretsun’s wings clipped.’ She tilted her head. ‘That’s Ree’s voice. Come on.’
By the time they reached the brotherhood ship, the fog was beginning to lift. When Imoshen climbed aboard, she’d thought she was prepared, but the sight of Malaunje mopping the blood from the deck and the T’En bodies laid out in rows still shocked her.
Kiane shook her head. ‘This is why you needed an escort.’
Her hand-of-force had insisted that she and two gift-warriors accompany the causare and the healer. They followed Reoden and Ardonyx up the steps to the rear-deck, where Tobazim knelt next to Graelen and his devotee, holding a blood-soaked cloth over Valendia’s wound. A young initiate supported Graelen.
The brotherhood’s saw-bones met Imoshen and the healer. ‘Tobazim’s gift is drained from the challenge.’ He gestured to the young initiate. ‘Athlyn’s been sustaining Graelen and Valendia. Grae can’t hold on much longer. The moment he dies, Valendia will die with him unless a powerful T’En can impose their gift on her.’
‘And she’s pregnant?’ Reoden asked.
‘Not for long, with a wound like that.’
‘We’ll see.’ Reoden bustled forward. ‘I’ll need someone to sustain Grae.’
‘Athlyn’s already doing it,’ Ceyne said. ‘We can’t risk changing over.’
Imoshen knelt next to Tobazim. There was nothing she could do. Reoden rubbed her hands together; focusing her gift, she nodded to Tobazim. ‘Take the cloth away.’
As he did, he told Valendia. ‘Don’t leave us, you hear me?’
Imoshen opened up her empyrean sight. Despite Athlyn’s best efforts, Imoshen could see Graelen slipping away. ‘Are you nearly ready, Ree? He won’t last much longer.’
‘Nearly. I just need to –’
Too late. Imoshen saw Graelen’s life force flicker and fade. As the breath left his body, Valendia’s back arched.
Reoden swore. ‘She’ll tear the wound open.’
Athlyn threw himself across her upper body. Between them, he and Reoden restrained the girl until the spasms passed.
Then she lay still.
‘Dia?’ Athlyn clasped her hand to his chest and sobbed.
Ceyne dropped to his knees weeping. Tobazim sank his head into his hands and Ardonyx slid an arm around his shoulders.
Imoshen looked up to see about a dozen T’En watching them, some weeping, others beyond tears.
Reoden felt Valendia’s throat. ‘Wait…’
The silence stretched.
‘She lives.’
‘How is that possible?’ Tobazim whispered, then looked to Reoden. ‘Did you imprint your gift on her?’
‘No,’ Reoden said. ‘But…’ She looked to Imoshen, who shook her head. Her gaze went to Athlyn.
‘Me?’
‘You.’
‘Athlyn?’ Tobazim shook his head.
‘He linked with Graelen to sustain him, and when Grae died the link went through to Valendia.’
Athlyn looked stunned.
‘Eryx, help Athlyn carry Valendia into the infirmary,’ Ceyne said. He caught the young initiate’s arm. ‘You’ll need to stay near her, lad. Skin on skin, until she’s stable.’
He nodded and, between them, they carried Valendia inside.
Ceyne closed Graelen’s eyes. ‘Ah, lad…’ Tears slid down his cheeks.
‘He died in defence of the brotherhood,’ Haromyr said.
‘He died because Kyredeon was bloody-minded,’ Ceyne ground out. ‘No one will mourn the all-father’s passing.’
Tobazim said nothing as he helped straighten Graelen’s limbs.
Reoden stood, swayed, then collapsed. Imoshen tried to support her.
Ardonyx came to her aid. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘She’s drained her gift to save Valendia and the baby,’ Imoshen said. She brushed Reoden’s hair from her face and kissed her cheek. ‘Typical Ree.’
‘We’ll look after her.’ Kiane directed the two gift-warriors to take Reoden from Ardonyx and carry her down to the mid-deck.
Ardonyx followed and told his sailors to set up the sling to lower the unconscious healer into the rowboat.
‘If there is ever anything I can do…’ Tobazim said to Imoshen, bowing low in obeisance.
Her gift surged and she read him. She’d first read him when she’d gift-infused him. He was still pure of heart, but his gift was different now. Of course, he’d formed the shield-brother bond with Ardonyx.
A spasm of jealousy ripped through her. The bond of shield-brothers was almost as profound as the deep-bonding she shared with Ardonyx. From now on, Ardonyx’s life would be entwined with Tobazim’s. They would spend every day together, while she…
She gave herself a mental shake. She’d known this was necessary if they were to win the brotherhood. Tobazim would make a good all-father, and he would take her choice-son into his brotherhood.
‘Imoshen?’ Tobazim was concerned.
She shook her head as Ardonyx joined them, going to Tobazim’s side.
He could never stand at her side, not unless she eradicated the brotherhood-sisterhood divide. But how could she overcome a distrust that went back beyond recorded history? It always came back to this…
‘Imoshen?’ Ardonyx sensed her distress.
Before Imoshen could speak, Gift-tutor Deimosh came over to Tobazim. ‘Forgive the interruption, all-father, but those who killed their own brothers this night fear being dragged onto the higher plane.’
‘You’re busy. I should go,’ Imoshen said and slipped away.
Ardonyx escorted her to the mid-deck.
‘He’s a good man,’ she said.
‘He’s also smart. We’ll have to be careful, or he’ll realise what you and I share. He once likened the deep-bonding to betraying the brotherhood, and now that he’s the all-father, his instinct will be to protect the brotherhood at all cost.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE MORE JARAILE observed her tired army, the more she worried they would crumple when confronted with Eskarnor’s forces.
Her army would reach port by dusk tomorrow night. They’d had little rest, eaten cold meals, and were wary of Sorne. They’d been uneasy ever since the T’En warriors had killed Baron I
kor in her defence. It didn’t matter that Sorne had sent the three T’En warriors away. She’d seen the looks they cast him and heard them muttering about halfbloods belonging with their own kind. Baron Ramonal took every opportunity to lecture her.
Fools, didn’t they realise she needed him to plan the attack? How Eskarnor would laugh, if he knew.
And something the baron had once said came back to her.
She edged her tired mount closer to Sorne. ‘I’ve been thinking. It was a mistake bringing you along. I should send you back to the Wyrds.’
She saw his face grow guarded, and realised she’d phrased this badly.
‘As a ploy. You said we need to convince Eskarnor to send his army into a trap. Now that Charald is in his dotage, Eskarnor believes you’re the only man in Chalcedonia who can outwit him on the battlefield. He thinks the rest are fools. If he hears I’ve sent you into exile, he’ll be much more likely to believe my army is retreating and fall for the pincer move you showed me.’
‘Jaraile…’ A slow smile split Sorne’s face.
It made her stomach feel funny.
‘Do it,’ Sorne urged. ‘Banish me tonight, in front of all your barons and captains. I’ll ride off as if I’m heading for Shifting-sands Bay, then double back and ride for port, slip in and seek out Kerminzto. I’ll tell him what you’re planning. He can slip out of port to meet you and you can claim the pair of you came up with the battle strategy together. Ramanol and the rest are more likely to accept the plan if they think I had nothing to do with it.’
‘You don’t mind?’
He shrugged. ‘Give Aingeru command of your centre. It will infuriate Eskarnor and entice his men to follow them when they retreat.’
She nodded.
‘I ask only one thing. I want to be in the middle of the front ranks, disguised as a common man-at-arms. I want to judge when the centre should crumple and signal Aingeru.’
‘You could be killed.’
‘That’s always true in battle.’ He laughed softly. ‘But I plan to live.’
They rode on in silence for a while.
‘The shift happened the moment Graelen killed Baron Ikor,’ Sorne said. ‘Before that, they didn’t like me, but they tolerated me.’
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