The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  Now that I could access the minds surrounding us, I could see the very mixed emotions in his people. Some showed outright hostility, but most were more complicated – a mixture of unease and fear and, strangely, hope. They were uniformly afraid of me, and well they might be, since I could reach out and take their magic whenever I wished. Some of them no doubt also remembered me being brought here as Ly’s prisoner, and now I was his wife. In Clan culture, a man’s mother and, later, his wife, were important advisors whose advice he was supposed to follow. It gave me a position of great influence over him. They eyed Arran with suspicion, too. But for the first time I noticed signs of respect for Ly himself, undoubtedly due to his growing maturity and greater power.

  After the meal, he said, “Come. I want to show you something.”

  Arran and I followed him through the town. Not many people were about, but there was a haze of smoke, and cooking smells, and occasionally, in one clava or another, a burst of laughter, or a voice raised in song. It felt very homely, and superficially not much different from anywhere in Bennamore. Yet I was also aware of other minds, not human. Lions, wolves, something weaselly, and quite a few eagles, apart from our own. These people were fundamentally different from Bennamorians, and I was an outsider here who would never be one of them.

  As we walked, we passed a group of young men and women – or perhaps children, for they couldn’t have been much more than twelve or thirteen. They were teasing each other, and laughing, as children of that age everywhere do. Yet they were nothing like Bennamorian children. Behind them, like watchful guardians, walked the most terrifying collection of beasts I’d yet seen. They were the familiar species of lions, a pig-like creature, a couple of tusked horses and a wolf, but they towered over the children, far larger than their wild counterparts. I stared at them as they went by, but Ly put his head down, not looking at them, and strode on.

  “What were those?” I gasped, turning to watch them go. “I’ve never seen anything so monstrous.”

  Ly stopped abruptly. “Monstrous,” he whispered. “Yes, that is a good word for them. Those, Princess, are some of my children, sired by me when I first became byan shar and knew no better. They inherited a strong bond from birth, and their beasts have grown and grown, and now they are monsters indeed. And the children, too, for they have been trained for war ever since they could walk.”

  “Poor things!” I said. “That’s no life for a child.”

  “They are the lucky ones,” Ly said, his face bleak. “They survived unscathed. Come, we are nearly there.” He set off again at a brisk pace.

  My footsteps slowed as I realised where Ly was taking us. “The castle?” I whispered. “I really don’t want to go there.”

  Ly stopped, turning to me with a smile. “I know – bad memories for both of us. But it is time to set those memories to rest. Besides…”

  “Yes?”

  “I have to do this,” he said quietly. “The castle is the home – the residence, no, the palace of the byan shar. It belongs to me, and I have no intention of surrendering it to Sho-heest. I may allow him to share it, perhaps. I should like you both to be there when I reclaim what is mine.”

  “Do I need my sword?” Arran said. “I left it in the sleeping alcove, but I can go back for it.”

  “I hope it will not come to that!”

  The plaza was empty now, since our eagles were aloft again. Crossing it briskly, Ly led the way onto a broad path that led through the town directly to the castle entrance, a broad sweep of steps with pedestals at the sides, each topped with a carved lion. On the steps lounged the real thing, who sat up and watched us approach. One yawned, revealing its massive teeth, while another made a threatening rumble deep in his throat. In a group on the top step, several men were sitting huddled over some kind of game, but they saw us and jumped to their feet. A couple drew long, curved knives.

  Arran slowed, his hand reaching instinctively for the sword he’d left under the bed in the elders’ clava. Ly didn’t hesitate, striding confidently towards the steps. As soon as he set foot on the bottom one, the lions all rose from their haunches. One growled at him, but he said, “Hush, my beauty,” holding out a hand towards it, and it lifted its tail and went quiet.

  We followed warily, but the lions merely watched us. Their minds showed aggression, but also, surprisingly, pleasure. Perhaps they recognised Ly. I doubted they would remember me, and they’d never seen Arran before, so we stepped cautiously past them. Gods, but they were huge! Their heads towered over us, and I felt terribly small and insignificant. And fragile. One snap of those great jaws and I would be gone.

  The men awaiting us were a surly bunch, big and well-muscled, looking at us with unfriendly expressions. Inside, though, some showed the same pleasure as the lions, and all were excited. I wondered why.

  “What do you make of them?” I whispered to Arran.

  “Spoiling for a fight,” Arran muttered to me. “Let Ly deal with this little lot.”

  I had a vivid memory of being dragged bodily up the steps by these men, and even though I was positive Ly could deal with them, my heart thumped like a drum as we ascended.

  The lion guard spread out to form a line blocking our route to the open door. “What is your business here?” one said. The two men with knives raised them a little higher, taking up positions either side of the speaker.

  “I am byan shar, and I do not explain myself to you. Stand aside.”

  For a long moment they glared at each other. I was sweating from sheer terror, a hot trickle running down my back, as I tried to remember to breathe. But being privy to Ly’s thoughts was wonderfully reassuring. There was no corner of doubt in him at all, and when nobody moved he took a deep breath and power rolled off him in waves. For an instant his magic glowed brighter than the sun in my mind. I had no idea what he was doing, but it was effective. The knives lowered, the lion guard inched aside and we walked into the castle.

  It was cool and airy in there, the thick stone walls shielding the interior from the sun. High ceilings arched far above us so that our footsteps echoed as we crossed the marble floor of the entrance lobby which led to a wide hallway. Doors stood open on either side, and little patters of conversation spilled out from several rooms. Ly passed most of them by, but paused outside one at the furthest end, then turned and strode in. A cluster of young women, heads down in a huddle of excited whispers, broke off mid-word and stared at us, blank-faced. Then, as one, they rose and retreated without haste through an inner door. It clicked shut behind them, and we were alone.

  “This is where the women gather for the byan shar to choose from,” Ly said.

  “You mean…?” Arran said. “Gods!” His eyes were huge.

  It was a big room, full of soft chairs and sofas in pale colours, with pretty paintings on the walls of pastoral scenes, and embroidered screens dividing the room into smaller spaces. High windows with painted glass cast splashes of vivid colour across the stone floor. If I’d had no idea of its purpose, this would have seemed a pleasant enough room, homely and restful. But knowing that women were sent here from all over the Clanlands to be impregnated by the byan shar, to breed his warriors for the coming war, made it a threatening place. Not all the women were willing either. This was a dainty and elegant prison.

  I shivered.

  “You are upset,” Ly said. “Come, let us go upstairs.”

  “Must we?” I knew what was on the next floor.

  Ly took my hand and kissed it, giving me a warming burst of magic. “Memories cannot hurt you. Better to face them – or so my people say, anyway, and we have a great many memories to deal with.”

  Reluctantly I nodded, and let him lead me out into the hallway and up the wide stair at the far end. The first room at the top was the one I remembered, with its huge covered bed, the posts carved with hideously distorted faces. All the furniture was in the same ugly style, heavy and ornate. The bars across the windows completed the depressing effect.

  “I rem
ember there being masses of vases and mirrors and… well, ornaments, I suppose,” I said. Looking round the room, every surface had been cleared.

  “You broke most of them,” Ly said, grinning at me, and in his mind was a burst of affection.

  Arran laughed. “Really? Deliberately?”

  “Oh, yes,” Ly said. “She was throwing them at me. There was broken stuff all over the floor.” Then, more quietly, “Ancestors, that was a bad time.” He was silent for a minute, his expression pensive.

  “Better not to remember the bad things in the past,” Arran said softly. “We all have memories we would rather forget. Best to look to the future.”

  “Yes. The future,” Ly said, huffing out a breath. “Now that I have seen it again, I am happy to leave this place to Sho-heest. Let us go.”

  I was more than happy to agree.

  20: Sho-heest

  Outside the room with the bed, my prison when I’d been kidnapped, I took a deep breath. I was still holding Ly’s hand, and that little point of contact warmed my heart. So many times I’d wanted to do just this, but held back in case his magic was too strong, driving us together whether we wanted to or not. Now, his magic was changed, a steady glow rather than a raging ball of energy, and he had full control of it.

  Smiling up at him, I squeezed his hand. “I like being able to do this,” I said.

  He smiled back, and again lifted my hand to his lips for a kiss. “So do I, Princess. You and Arran are always holding hands, kissing, touching, and it broke my heart that I dared not do the same. Even when you first came to my bed, I was terrified of losing control, of doing things you disliked. It took me a long time to be sure of myself. But now… this is wonderful. Although…” His smile instantly melted. “I do not wish to keep you away from Arran.”

  “You carry on,” Arran said. “I can see that it makes you happy.” And he tapped his head with a wide grin. He was right about that – we were truly united, with no secrets from each other.

  “Shall we go down?” Ly said. “Or would you like to go up to the roof? The view is very fine. We can watch the sun setting.”

  It seemed like a good plan. For myself, I was in no hurry to go back to the elders’ clava, or to mingle much with these people at all. I had never felt so alien as I did then.

  We went through twisting passageways and up narrow stairs, our boots slapping on the stone steps, to emerge on the roof of one of the crenellated towers. The stonework showed damage in places, as if the castle had once seen battle, and in one corner the wall showed indentations where spears had been rested. There was no one around, but several low pallets in dark corners suggested that this might be a popular spot for a little night-time recreation.

  Ly was right, the view was superb. To the west, the sun dipped its golden head towards the gently rolling hills, setting the water of the lake afire. My eyes strayed to the southeast, towards Bennamore. I was so far from my home, yet I hadn’t thought much about it for a while. The political manoeuvrings of Rinnfarr Gap and Greenstone Ford seemed very remote, problems for someone else to deal with now. Although I felt a sharp pang of worry for Lathran. I would give a great deal to know that he was safe.

  “May I ask something?” Arran said to Ly.

  “Of course.”

  “Is there any way to know who is an elder? Because I should like to address them correctly.”

  “That is easy – an elder has bright blue eyes.”

  “Oh – that is all? How does that work? Are they born elders, then? Or do the eyes turn that colour?”

  Ly laughed. “This is one of those matters I should have explained to you. There is a mountain far to the west of here. Dragon Mountain, we call it, because once there were dragons living in it. Inside the mountain is a magical blue pool. When a person wishes to become an elder, they go there and drink the blue water, then they come back… changed. If they come back,” he added in a low voice.

  “Changed, how?” I said. “Apart from the blue eyes, I mean.”

  “They have access to Clan memories,” Ly said. “In all of us, the memories are there, but we cannot call upon them. They are just… impressions, feelings that arise. You have seen how that works. But the elders can see the memories clearly, whenever they need to.”

  “So that’s why you asked Brey and Gan-wheen about Arran,” I said. “You thought they might remember something.”

  “Yes. But what we are doing… it is very unusual. Few byan shar have ever blood-bonded with non-Clan, so it is not surprising there are no memories of anything similar to Arran’s illness. I will ask the elders here, but I am not hopeful.”

  “At least he’s better again,” I said. “No ill-effects, either.”

  And none of us mentioned the looming concern – that Arran could collapse again at any moment, and another time he might not escape so easily.

  ~~~~~

  Ly spent the following morning talking to all the local elders. There were not many of them, but even so, it took many hours of formality to discover that not one had any memories that could help Arran. It was not a surprise, but it was still disappointing.

  Arran and I wandered about the town, watching the fish being unloaded at the small pier, or admiring the skills of the many craftsfolk living there. During working hours, a whole wall of a clava would be folded back and the occupants would sit at their weaving or shoe-making or pottery at the side of the street, so that passers-by would stop to chat or, occasionally, to buy goods. Many clava had stalls selling fruit or smoked fish or hot meat dripping with sauce wrapped in a round of flat bread. I wished I could buy some, but the only currency seemed to be the glass beads that the women all wore.

  Late in the morning, when Ly had finished with the elders, he organised some food to take with us for our noon meal, and we went to the plaza to summon the eagles.

  Ly looked sideways at Arran. “A sword? You will not need that this sun-crossing.”

  “Oh, I know. But when we walked past those lions outside the fortress place, I felt naked without it. So from now on, I will always have it with me.”

  “The lions may look intimidating, but they answer to me,” Ly said. “I control them.”

  “I know, and I am very glad you are on our side now,” Arran said, slapping him on one shoulder. “I have seen you controlling them before, and it was a terrifying sight.”

  “I know…I am so sorry,” Ly whispered.

  “No need for any more apologies,” Arran said. “The war is over, thank the gods, and what is past is past. Ah!” He pointed to the sky. “What a magnificent spectacle.”

  Kalmander swooped down to the plaza, his great wings raised, churning the air. Behind him, Diamond and Sunshine looked like chicks in comparison. We mounted, and in a swirl of dust lifted off. There was no escort of eagles this time, as Ly had told them to stay away. Looking down, I saw scores of upturned faces as the Clanfolk watched us go. We hadn’t told them our plans but they must have guessed our intention to search for Sho-heest.

  “My island first,” Ly said in my head. “I should like Arran to see it. We can eat our noon meal there.”

  Ly’s island was my most vivid memory of my kidnapping. After one night in the room with the big bed, he’d brought me to his own island to rest and recuperate. All adult men could claim an island, a place to retreat and hide away from the world, but judging by the signs, few bothered. Here and there, as we flew low over the water, smoke rose or a boat was tied up at a small jetty, and once we saw a man rowing steadily, a lion sitting in the boat with him. But most of the myriad islands we passed looked deserted.

  Ly curved smoothly downwards to land on a little beach. And there was the house, just as I remembered it, with its odd curving walls, with hardly a straight line anywhere. It jutted upwards in oddly shaped protuberances, and in one of those towers, I recalled, were the paintings of two mages on the walls, long dead but their images preserved for later generations to wonder at.

  To one side of the house was the covered te
rrace which Ly had called home, if a roof and one wall can be a home. He’d had a small cook-fire, and he’d foraged for food in the woods that covered most of the island. Bizarrely, I still remembered my time on the island as a happy one, alone with Ly, with no demands on me, no responsibilities, no pressures. I’d been thrust into Yannassia’s world of high politics before I was ready, I think, for such a strange break in routine to seem pleasant.

  We left the eagles at the beach and I showed Arran round the house, while Ly tidied the terrace of the windblown debris which had accumulated in the years since he’d last been there. Then we ate our food, sitting side by side on the low terrace wall, looking out at the water. All of us, I think, felt the restful nature of the place, although whether that was the residual magic from the long-gone mages, or just the escape from the crowds of Clanfolk I couldn’t say.

  “Now,” said Ly after a while. “Let us find Sho-heest.”

  The eagles rose from the beach in a great turmoil of gravel and water. To be honest, I was sure that Kalmander deliberately made as much disturbance as possible when he took off or landed, and the others followed his example. Sunshine used to be far more delicate.

  Then we headed further away from the shore, following my sense of where Sho-heest’s magic was. I couldn’t be certain of the distance, however. All I could tell was that he was some way away from us still. I led the way, but the two men flew almost alongside me, so that I only had to turn my head a little to see one or other of them. The afternoon was warm, with a hint of stormclouds on the horizon, but for us the air was pleasantly refreshing.

  “This is fun, isn’t it?” I thought to Arran.

  “Yes!” he shot back, and as I glanced across at him, there was a huge grin on his face. Flying was still a new enough experience to thrill him every time.

  The islands became more erratic as we left the mainland behind. Some were no more than bare rock, others were tiny but filled with trees, yet others were huge, too big to see the ends as we flew across them. Even away out here there were occasional fires with smoke rising, and once or twice I caught glimpses of buildings tucked in amongst the trees or a simple clava on a beach. For an eagle rider, even the furthest island was accessible, and several times a bird rose to greet us as we passed by.