He closed his eyes. “If your people could remain free of the Stone God, would you return to them?”
She rolled over, turning her back. “We wouldn’t remain free. And the Ailuri are gone. The Free People can never be the same again.”
His fingers stroked over her shoulder, so lightly that she felt their heat more than their touch. “None of us can. But we must stay true to what we are, Rhenna. To each other.”
Mother-of-All. She tugged the blanket up to her neck. “I swore I wouldn’t leave you while our quest continues.”
He retreated, and for an instant she thought he had left the camp. She strained her ears for the sound of his breathing.
“I promise the same,” he said at last. “I won’t leave you, Rhenna, until the Stone God has fallen.”
And after? If there was any future to be had, it was far beyond Rhenna’s ability to imagine. Survival was by no means assured, not for any of them. The devas knew she would willingly give her life for Cian or Tahvo.
“Go to sleep, Cian,” she said wearily. “Surely Tahvo will sense if we’re in immediate danger.”
But Cian didn’t answer. He had gone, perhaps to prowl the night in a panther’s skin black as the night sky. Rhenna looked for Tahvo’s sleeping form, got up and spread her blanket closer to the healer. She laid her sword within easy reach of her hand.
Tahvo muttered something in a language Rhenna didn’t understand. “Heru-sa-Aset,” she whispered. She smiled tenderly and began to sing an unmistakable lullaby.
“She speaks of the gods,” Nyx said. She crouched beside Rhenna, lean hands dangling between her knees. “Heru. Horus, the Hellenes call him, child of Aset and Asar, Isis and Osiris.”
Rhenna sat up, tossing the blanket aside. “I’ve never pretended to know much of devas. Are these important?”
“They are revered in Khemet, and by some in lands beyond.” She peered at Tahvo. “That one knows much she cannot yet say.”
“She knows more than any of us can understand.”
“Then perhaps she would tell you what I am about to say, though you will not wish to hear it.”
Rhenna’s heart began to thump in her chest. “And just what is that?”
“You care greatly for the Watcher, do you not?”
“Of course I care for him.” Rhenna got to her feet. “We’ve been companions for many months. We’ve saved each other’s lives. I care for Tahvo—”
Nyx shook her head. “Do not pretend to misunderstand me, warrior. I may not be well acquainted with your past or your customs, but I recognize the gaze of lovers when I see it.”
Rhenna flushed. “Perhaps your sight is not as keen as you believe.”
“Then you deny that such a relationship exists?”
Relationship. Rhenna hated the sound of Cian’s name on Nyx’s lips, but this was a subject she had no wish to discuss with a virtual stranger. “What may exist between Cian and me is our business,” she said sharply.
“But it is not.” Nyx stood, her dark eyes clouding with anger. “It is the business of the world, of all who fight the Stone God. You have no comprehension of what lies ahead. Through Tahvo, the gods revealed only the smallest part of the battle to come. They revealed that you are one of the godborn Bearers. And Cian is to carry the Hammer.”
“You already made that clear enough,” Rhenna said. “If you think I’ll stand in his way…”
“Perhaps not deliberately. But the Watcher will have no time for ties such as those he believes bind you to him. He must be free.”
“He is free.” Rhenna turned away, fighting to still her trembling. “The Ailuri and the Free People have been allies for all our known histories. I would protect Cian even if I had met him yesterday, just as any of my Sisters would defend any of his kind. But I am a warrior, not one of the Chosen.”
“The Chosen,” Nyx repeated softly. “Chosen by the Watchers?”
“Chosen by our Earthspeakers to mate with the Ailuri.” Rhenna’s voice cracked, and she swallowed to bring it back under control. “I owe you no explanations, Nyx of the Unknown Lands, yet I will tell you this. Cian’s choices are his own, but he is not all-powerful. I would have come even if Tahvo’s spirits had declared me one of the deva-cursed godborn, because he is alone and needs guarding as much from himself as from those who would destroy him.”
“And you trust no one else to watch the Watcher.”
“I trust very little.”
“And yourself? Do you trust yourself, Rhenna of the Free People, who has mated with one who should have been forbidden to you?”
Rhenna reached for the knife at her waist but diverted the motion, clenching her fist on empty air. “You assume a great deal, Nyx,” she said. “You think me weak, like women of the Hellenes. Do not make that mistake.”
“Then you will give him up for the sake of our quest?”
Rhenna laughed. “Give him up? Is he a dog to wear a collar? Do I hold his leash?”
“It is not enough to deny your feelings. You must be prepared to push him away if he comes too near. If you refuse, you may bring about his death and the downfall of everything we hold dear.” She kicked a pebble with the toe of her boot. “One distraction, one misstep could prevent him from doing what he must to win and hold the Hammer. You could be that distraction, Rhenna.”
“Your opinion of Cian is as low as it is of me.”
“You are wrong. I have great respect for you, as a warrior and as one of the Bearers. I believe in the Watcher with all my heart. But what men and women call love can be a terrible force. It has no place among the godborn. Cian’s attention must be focused on victory. When your time comes to claim your Weapon, you, too, will be alone.”
Alone. As if she hadn’t been alone all her life. As if that one time with Cian hadn’t been born as much of accident as intention.
No accident. The devas themselves arranged it. We were meant to be together….
“No,” Rhenna said. “I will not be this ‘distraction’ you fear. Cian and I are not lovers. But I won’t abandon him.”
“That is not required.” Nyx’s shoulders sagged as if she had unexpectedly emerged alive from the heat of battle. “He will need your protection, and one day you will stand together as Bearers. But only as Bearers.”
“I thank you for making my position so clear.” Rhenna backed away before she could consider striking at this woman with her overweening arrogance. She grabbed her sword and climbed to the hill overlooking the village. Gusts of wind blew first from the North and then the South, sighing the warning that had become so familiar.
Danger.
Rhenna laughed.
Chapter Three
“I say we are wasting time,” Farkas said, his lips curling in a sneer. “They can’t be very far ahead now. We should attack while we’re close to the city.”
“When we still know so little about their powers?” Urho said, staring at his fellow male with undisguised contempt. “Can you make a great wind like the warrior female, Skudat? Or are you merely ruled by hatred of the one who helped give you birth?”
Farkas snapped the brittle stick he held between his hands and tossed the two pieces aside. “As you hate the healer? You wouldn’t exist without her. At least I—”
“Be silent,” Yseul hissed. The males looked up at her as if they were surprised she dared speak. Even after days of traveling together, they quarreled among themselves like infants…and infants these creatures were, only weeks old in the ways of the world.
Yseul was wiser. Baalshillek had brought her to life nearly a year ago, when he had taken flesh and blood from captured Ailuri and created a shapeshifter of his own. Female of a race where females were unknown. Driven by hungers she hardly understood, given new form on the day she met and seduced the Ailu named Cian.
Cian, her enemy. She grew hot and wet at the thought of having him at her mercy once more.
She rose from her seat on the rock above the others and stretched, bending and twisting until th
e stupid males gaped in mute lust. She had not bothered to clothe herself since her last change from panther to woman, but she wasn’t afraid of her companions’ frank desire. She wasn’t for them, and they knew it.
As for the Children of the Stone, the soldier escort Baalshillek had so generously provided for his creations, Yseul doubted they felt real emotion at all. They seemed no more than three dozen armored puppets. Yet among those warriors was at least one who had been sent to spy on her and her fellow simulacra, one who had been given the independence to judge the progress of their mission and report any failure to Baalshillek.
Sharp pain stabbed Yseul’s forehead, and she rubbed at the shard of red stone imbedded in her flesh. Even a mildly treasonous thought was enough to loose the crystal’s punishment.
“Farkas,” Yseul purred. “Urho.” She climbed down from the rock, finding her way easily by moonlight, and stopped before them. “You both know why we were sent to this gods-forsaken land. Our lord Baalshillek has given us but one purpose, and that is to stop the godborn—”
“And take the Weapons,” Farkas interrupted.
“If possible,” Yseul agreed. She stroked the barbarian’s chin with the tip of a long fingernail. “Urho is right. If we attack now, we do so in ignorance. Already Rhenna has proven herself stronger than we anticipated, and her powers may grow. She is to be one of the Bearers.”
“How can any female wield a weapon forged for heroes?” Farkas demanded.
Yseul smiled and ran her tongue along the edges of her sharp teeth. “You tell me how Rhenna’s people continue to hold the Skudat and other tribes at bay, mere women though they are?”
“I remember taking the bitch,” Farkas said, jerking away from Yseul. “She was helpless. I could have killed her any time.”
“You seem to forget, my impetuous friend, that it was not you who enjoyed her scarred body. You are but a shadow of that other Farkas…and he did not kill her.”
“I am Farkas,” he said, beating his chest with his fist. “I am more than he ever was or can be. I hold the power of Air.”
“Prove it.” She folded her arms beneath her full breasts, lifting them high. “Show me your skill, Skudat prince.”
He licked his lips as if he dreamed of suckling on her like the babe he was. “I have many skills, woman.”
“Then make a windstorm, like the female you conquered.”
Farkas snarled defiance and lifted his hands. His dark eyes squeezed shut. Drops of sweat stood out on his forehead. A fitful gust of air played around his feet and scattered dust over his boots.
Yseul laughed. Urho snickered. Farkas swung toward the shaman’s double, but Yseul stepped between them.
“You are not ready,” she said to Farkas. “And you, Urho…if you had been born to a human woman, you would have had Tahvo’s abilities. That birthright was denied you, but our master has given you power over the element of Water. How well can you use it?”
Urho scowled, his pale eyes reflecting light like twin silver pools. “I will learn.”
“And learning takes time.” She ran her hands over her flat belly and flung back her head. “Time we have, my fellow travelers. Our enemies have far to go. There will be many chances to hurt them and to make them realize the futility of their hopes.”
“You speak like a feeble enaree, woman,” Farkas said. “What will you do when it’s time to fight?”
She changed instantly, confronting him with a panther’s bared fangs and lashing tail. He flinched, in spite of all his bravado. She could kill him…and earn Baalshillek’s undying wrath. Proving her superiority would be far more satisfying, if she were patient. Patient as a cat waiting for a small rodent to emerge from its hole.
With a single thought, she was human again. “I have a power neither of you possesses,” she said, almost sweetly. “And I am Ailu. The Earth is mine as much as it is Cian’s.” She crouched and passed her hand over the dry dirt. A small crack opened at Farkas’s feet. He cursed and jumped back.
“Until one of you has a plan worth following, I will lead this party,” she said. “I suggest you practice to refine the skills your creator gave you. I would not like to see him disappointed.”
Farkas spun on his boot heel and strode away, shoving the Stone’s Children right and left out of his path. They closed ranks immediately and looked to Yseul for orders.
Which of you is Baalshillek’s spy? she asked them silently, ignoring the pain in her head. I will find you. I must.
“At dawn we continue our pursuit,” she said, addressing the commander of the phalanx. “You will send scouts ahead to question any villagers in the vicinity…discreetly. We want no dead in our wake. Not yet.”
The commander—nameless, just as he was faceless behind his slitted helmet—saluted. His men dispersed to their beds on the hard ground, long spears hugged to their bodies like lovers.
“You have won…this time,” Urho said. “Farkas will not be content to follow a female forever.”
“Farkas is a fool, and he had better gain wisdom quickly. There can be no failure if we wish to continue our existence.”
Urho eyed the Children. “They have been sent to watch, as well as serve us.”
Indeed. But perhaps a time will come when we no longer…require their services.
She noted Urho’s narrowed glance and smiled. “Do you also have ambition to lead, Urho?”
“Unlike Farkas, I do not hate all females,” he said. “But beware, Yseul. If you fail in your vigilance, it will be observed.”
“I take your warning,” she said. “We must be allies, but we are not burdened by love for one another, as are our enemies. Do you understand love, Urho?”
“I know it is a human weakness.”
Like fear, and greed. But not ambition. Not the desire for the power one had been created to wield. “We are not human, Urho.” But Baalshillek is. And if he sees us now, it will not be so forever. Eventually we must venture even beyond the limits of the Stone God’s influence.
And when that time comes…
“Do not worry, Urho. You are a most obedient servant. You will receive your reward.”
And so will I. Beware, Cian of the Ailuri. So will I.
Among many of the peoples Cian had known during his youthful wanderings in the North, it would have been unthinkable that two women should lead while the man obediently followed.
Cian did not find it strange. He had been born to a mother of the Free People, those the Hellenes called “Amazons,” and lived beside them in the Shield of the Sky until his sixth year sent him back to his sire’s race. He knew women could fight and ride with the best of men, and he never doubted their courage.
He had seldom been the only male among females. But he had felt alone many times, both more and less than human, and he had known what it was to be helpless. Now, as he and the band of seekers began the trek across the Great Desert, his only use was to trail behind Nyx and Rhenna, caring for Tahvo as best he could.
Tahvo herself was no weakling, but her blindness was still new. Her other senses were growing stronger, and Cian taught her how to listen and smell in the way of the Ailuri—how to catch the slightest shift in the wind or detect the faint rattle of a bird in a thorn tree. She could already find water in the least likely of places. Yet it was clear that something troubled her.
“What worries you, Tahvo?” he asked when their little group had left the last of the rocky hills and coastal valleys behind. “Do you sense our enemies?”
She shook her head. “It is the spirits. I had hoped to find them once we were far enough from Karchedon, but…” She paused, as if seeking the right words. “If they still exist, they hide deep under the ground or high in the air, where I cannot reach them.”
That was troubling news indeed. Tahvo was the travelers’ go-between with the devas. Through her, in Karchedon, the devas had explained that the coming war would require all the resources of free men and benevolent gods in every corner of the world. Even the most bar
ren places had their lesser devas…unless they had been destroyed or driven away.
Cian looked out on the flat pan of black rock and sand stretching before them as far as the eye could see. He followed the erratic flight of a small, shiny black beetle as it winged past his horse’s ear. The desert was hardly as lifeless as it seemed. Beyond the realm of plowed fields and livestock, where the gravel plain began, wild creatures filled every available living space, no matter how inhospitable to men. Lizards, scorpions, serpents, dust-colored birds, even the occasional big-eared fox, scuttled between larger rocks in search of shade by day and prey at night.
Nyx took her cue from the beasts. When they reached the open desert, she urged travel during the hours of darkness as long as the moon provided adequate light. She usually called a halt by mid-morning, when a haze of heat softened the harsh horizon with the illusion of moisture, and the travelers sought scraps of shade beneath nearly leafless thorn trees or clusters of boulders. Everyone slept, the horses dozing on their feet. As night approached, Nyx built small fires of whatever material was available and made flat cakes out of a paste of grain and water baked in the embers.
Every day was much the same. That first week, and the second and third and fourth passed with monotonous discomfort. The ground remained featureless save for colored swaths of pebbles and the isolated hillock. Only the light itself changed, brilliant ocher as the sun rose in the East and fading to a white-hot glare at noon. There was no rain, no rivers or streams; sometimes the pattern of rocks revealed where flash floods from some rare and ancient storm had scoured channels out of the desert floor.
Rhenna rationed the water carefully, saving the greater part of it for the game little horses. Nyx led them to wells painstakingly dug into the rocky earth where water rose nearest the surface; she, Cian and Rhenna took turns hauling up leather buckets of gritty liquid to refill skins and quench unrelenting thirst. Tahvo always listened for the spirits who should inhabit the realms of Water but found the wells as deserted as the arid plain.
Hammer of the Earth Page 4