Yaioni’s head jerked back as a third zombie grabbed her hair. She screamed again. Nora flung a Loedan counterhex, and watched it sink to the ground.
The other corpse, a young woman, was still occupied with Goatfoot, busily dislocating his shoulder. Nora was in the process of hitting it with the Loedan when another figure lurched into sight, bent almost double.
It was Lemoes, with a zombie on his back, its thick arms dangling over Lemoes’s shoulders. Nora cried out a useless reassurance—damn, she’d forgotten again—and sent the counterhex at the piggybacking corpse. It slid downward, cracking its skull on the pavement.
Yaioni got shakily to her feet. “I told you we shouldn’t have come back here!” she cried at Lemoes, who shook his head. “And what about those?” she added, pointing.
Nora’s gaze followed her finger. More of the dead were coming. They crept out of the shadows, advancing in a sullen, motley mass. At least fifty, Nora guessed. Maybe more. It was the rest of Olenan’s body count.
Am I going to be able to keep up? she wondered. She could only work the Loedan counterhex on one zombie at a time. I need more power, Nora thought.
Yaioni suddenly ran forward and kicked the foremost of the advancing cadavers right in the face. A pilgrim from Pernia. Nora had treated him for kidney stones. The corpse toppled sideways, then tried to right itself with spasmodic motions. Before it succeeded, two other dead men scuttled closer and began a tug-of-war with the Pernian’s neck. Nora used the counterhex to neutralize them both before one of them won.
This piecemeal spellcasting wasn’t fast enough. If she could only wipe them out all at once—
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
But we’re underground, Nora thought. Still, somewhere near she could hear what sounded like the patter of rain. She glanced upward at the dim, coffered ceiling of the sanctuary, and saw the tinsel flash of dripping water.
All the magic she was doing—it was water magic still, coming from the underground streams and trickles that had begun listening to her as she passed through the caves and had kept up a skittish trust in her all this time. But there was even more magic nearby, in the swollen river flowing overhead and down the waterfall outside. She had a sudden intuition that it was looking for her.
As she thought this, a small area of the ceiling between two of the columns began to bulge.
Control, control, Nora told herself desperately.
Too late.
The ceiling ballooned, then ripped. Down poured a sludge of roiling water and debris, splashing thunderously against the pavement and sending dark waves surging through the temple.
Nora clung to a column, water swirling furiously around her ankles, and she let the Loedan counterhex flood outward, too.
As the water surrounded the moving dead, they seemed to relax into its embrace. The arms and legs of the corpses stopped their spastic agitation and fell into the rhythms of the spreading current. Water puddled in their open eyes and mouths. They let themselves be tumbled between the columns, dashed against the sanctuary walls, even swept into the great crack in the floor.
Slowly the torrent subsided, draining away through the sanctuary entrance or into the broken floor. Nora looked around to see Yaioni disentangling the now-slack corpse of a red-haired pilgrim—treated for an infected arrow wound, prognosis formerly good—from its grip on Lemoes’s ankle. On the other side of the crevice, Olenan was perched on the deserted pedestal of the stone goddess, looking up at the hole in the ceiling with a rueful expression. The Kavareen shook itself, hissing.
The statue itself was no longer moving. Aruendiel’s spell had eroded it to an almost shapeless lump. And Aruendiel himself—
Nora ran over to where he curled against the wall. His arms were cocked at an odd angle, pressing against a spot on the left side of his torso. Then she saw the handle of the stone knife squirming through his fingers as the blade dug into his flesh.
A diaphanous red cloud was unfolding in the puddled water around his boots.
Grim and pale, Aruendiel wrenched the knife out of the wound. It twisted wildly in his grip, then melted into dust. He sat down heavily.
“No,” Nora moaned. Red bubbles appeared in the ragged gash in his side. The blade must have reached the lung. Not his heart, she prayed.
As quickly as she could, she did the spell to stanch bleeding. Was it strong enough? She pressed her hands over the wound, but they couldn’t seem to find a grip. Aruendiel frowned, his gaze searching, then coughed up a gobbet of blood. “Nora?” he whispered.
Someone clucked next to her ear, and she found herself being pushed aside. “It is his lung,” Yaioni said.
“I know—” Nora said. The sound of tearing cloth. “Here,” Lemoes said from behind, passing a long strip of his robe to Yaioni. She folded it over the wound and held it down tightly. Almost instantly the gray cloth turned red.
Aruendiel brought up more blood. His lips were blue.
“He needs air,” Yaioni said, shaking her head.
“I don’t know any air magic,” Nora said. She found that she was trembling. What had happened to the calm that usually settled over her when she treated a pilgrim?
“That’s too bad,” Olenan said. Yaioni looked over her shoulder; Nora saw her cringe. “Get away, I want to see him,” Olenan said.
“Your Holiness, he is badly injured—” Yaioni began.
“I know that,” Olenan said impatiently. “Out of the way.”
Yaioni hesitated, her hands still applying pressure to the wound. Nora tried again to take hold of the makeshift bandage. Turning his head, Aruendiel put his hand on the cloth to keep it in place. “As she says,” he said softly. Yaioni drew back.
“I didn’t mean for you to die, Aruendiel,” Olenan said.
“Funny way of showing it,” Nora said. She laid her hand directly on top of Aruendiel’s, but she could feel it only distantly. Once again, she went through the spell to stop the bleeding.
Aruendiel’s smile was like a slash of ink on crumpled paper. “I would not—have chosen to kill—you, Olenan,” he gasped.
“I almost believe you.” Olenan’s voice was subdued. “You know, all those years, I never missed you, not so much. I suppose I knew I’d see you again.”
“You could save him,” Nora said. “With all your goddamned power.”
She spoke only to relieve her own feelings, but to her surprise, Olenan looked directly at her.
“I could save him.” Olenan frowned. “But I think it’s better if I don’t. It is not fitting that I should—that is, I am stronger than whatever pang this will cost—”
“Pang? Is that all you’ll feel? If he dies, it will tear my heart out.”
“Good,” Olenan said, with a bob of her head. “You should be punished, Nora. You betrayed me.”
“Leave her out of this,” Aruendiel said, more crisply than Nora would have expected.
It was the wrong thing to say. Olenan’s pale face was suddenly as brittle as eggshell. “I will do as I please! I will punish her—and you—and your death will mean nothing to me and my divinity.”
“I don’t believe you,” Nora said. “You can’t escape your own pain by pretending to be a goddess. Maybe even by being one.” She was less angry at Olenan now than at herself for having been distracted from Aruendiel for even a moment. His gray eyes looked upward so fixedly that she felt hope draining away; then she saw the quick rise and fall of his chest. Her turn to exhale.
“Aruendiel, tell me what I need to do. Don’t just die. I need to talk to you. I need you to stay. No one else, no one—” Her voice felt strangled in her throat.
He closed his eyes. Nora thought, I will never see them open again.
Behind her, voices were volleying maddeningly. She tried to tune them out.
Olenan sounded tart: “Don’t mock me, little boy.”
“She’ll forgive you all of your crimes, if you ask her.” It was Lemoes, almost mumbling, but resolute. Of all the times to start proselytizing, Nora thought. Shut up, both of you, but especially you, Lemoes. For your own good. She’ll strike you dead on the spot.
“How dare you say that to me?” Olenan said.
“The true goddess is greater than you,” Lemoes said, and then yelped with pain.
Aruendiel stirred, moving his shoulders as though trying to sit up. That was encouraging, but shouldn’t he be resting quietly? Nora made a movement as though to push him back gently. Again, her hands slipped numbly from his shoulder.
“That’s enough, from all of you,” Olenan said. “Beast! Take them now.”
Surprisingly, thankfully—Aruendiel’s eyes were open again. Nora leaned toward him. “Aruendiel, can you breathe? Are you still bleeding?”
His gaze slid frustratingly past her to focus on a point above her head. The back of her neck prickled with deep cold.
Nora turned her head. She was not entirely surprised to find the Kavareen’s muzzle inches from her face. What struck her was that for the first time she thought she saw some trace of feeling—a quizzical, undefended look—in the Kavareen’s lantern eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” Nora said, although she was not entirely sure whether she was speaking to the Kavareen or Hirizjahkinis. “Are you going to eat us?”
Chapter 33
“Yes, that’s right. Eat them, Beast,” said Olenan. “They’re yours. The one you can’t see is right under your nose,” she added helpfully.
The blue flames encircling the Kavareen’s neck flared with a hot, whistling sound, like a whip. The Kavareen shuddered, rolling its head uneasily, and then squatted, tail twitching. Under the faded leopard skin, its powerful forelimbs and haunches tensed. The golden eyes narrowed. Its growl seemed to come from all directions at once.
With a muttered expletive, Aruendiel hiked himself to his elbows.
“No, wait,” Nora said. She was more afraid for him than for Hirizjahkinis—the bandage he’d been pressing to his chest fell to the wet pavement—but she said: “Remember, it’s Hirizjahkinis. It is.”
Even if he could hear her, she wondered, would he pay any attention?
Aruendiel’s eyes narrowed in concentration. Nora felt the queasy internal agitation that meant that a rip current of powerful magic was passing nearby, and the Kavareen tumbled backward, paws splayed, twisting and yowling as it tried to right itself. It crumpled against the far wall of the temple.
Olenan made an impatient noise. “Come, Beast,” she said. “Time for your dinner.”
The Kavareen rolled to its feet. Glaring across the length of the temple, ears back, it stalked toward the small group of humans.
Just then Nora noticed that the restraining collar of blue fire was gone.
Olenan saw the same thing. She put up her hands, forefinger and thumb pinched together, and jerked the invisible thread tight. The Kavareen screamed, convulsed, and then gathered itself into a stiff but purposeful crouch.
It gave the pavement a few quick, anticipatory kneads with its fore claws, as though it could not wait to sink them into something. Olenan pivoted, and her gaze fell on Nora. She stepped toward Nora, yanking her to her feet with a grip that was preternaturally strong, and thrust her toward the Kavareen as the giant beast pounced.
Nora felt the black gate of its descending jaws, deep cold raking her exposed skin. She had the sensation that she was falling, falling, with the ghosts of a million voices rising to meet her.
“Hirizjahkinis?” she called urgently. “Spit me out right now.”
For good measure, she worked the vomiting spell.
Nora landed sprawling on the stone floor, with a thud and a groan that she felt must be audible to everyone, invisibility spell or no invisibility spell. She rolled away from the Kavareen. It was still gagging, head bent. The big cat swiped at its mouth with a paw, then heaved again. A long black tongue slipped out of its open jaws.
Not a tongue, Nora corrected herself. The shining jet curves reached the pavement in a slow, meditative shimmy.
A snake. The snake from the caves. It looked as big and muscular as a river. Its reddish eyes found Nora. The black head reared up, swaying gently from side to side, its forked ribbon of a tongue darting almost playfully between its fangs.
Nora shoved herself backward, but the snake moved so quickly that all she registered was a dark flash of motion, a sharp jab just above her heart. She gasped. Her pulse rattled, unnaturally loud.
This is the end, she thought clearly. There were spells for snakebite; she knew none of them.
The snake looked down at her with what seemed like an intolerably smug expression. Nora took deep breaths, wondering how many she had left. Her body felt numb. The sting of the bite had already faded.
She looked over at Aruendiel, struggling to sit up. His eyes were intent, fixed on the spot where she lay. For a relieved moment she thought that the invisibility spell had lifted, and then she realized that he was only trying to see what the snake saw. He had seen it strike, probably.
She thought that she felt his healing spell pass nearby, soft as smoke, just as useless against the venom in her veins. He should save it for himself, she thought painfully.
“Faugh! That’s better,” someone said. “I have not been so sick since that Daovestian idiot tried to poison me.”
It was Hirizjahkinis, adjusting the Kavareen’s hide around her neck with shaky hands. Nora wished that she could tell Hirizjahkinis how good it was to see her again instead of the Kavareen. There were a lot of things she would like to say, actually. How could it be that she would never talk to Aruendiel again? Or feel his arms around her, or find the tiny lines of tenderness in his face that he thought were so well hidden? Her parents, her sisters—they would never know—
Physically, though, dying was not so bad. She felt remarkably comfortable, warm, and relaxed. The place on her side where she’d hit the floor didn’t hurt at all.
To her right, the snake was moving, rippling past her. An instant later, the flat black head reappeared to her left and stretched to meet the curving wall of its own tail. Its body made a ring, and Nora was in the center.
As the snake curled to face Nora again, its stare was like cracked stone, infinitely old. Now she could see that there were markings on its skin, deep black on black. Curling lines that shifted and recombined. The flowing script of an unknown language.
It came to Nora slowly that her own name was written there.
“Another monster!” Olenan’s voice startled Nora. Glancing back, Nora saw that the other woman also stood within the circle of the snake’s body. “Suddenly this place is teeming with them,” Olenan said, sounding bitterly amused.
“It’s from the caves,” Nora said dreamily. “You never saw it before?”
“Of course not.”
Nora almost laughed, but only managed a kind of hacking gasp. “Did you ever go down into the caves? I mean—deep, deep?” Olenan didn’t answer. “You of all people should know what this is, this snake,” Nora said. “Who sent it.”
“Aruendiel’s joke. A poor—”
“No, no.” Nora still felt blissfully warm. Almost sleepy, but she kept her eyes open. The snake watched her, unblinking. “There’s a special cave down there. A sacred place. I went into it, and—well, the snake followed me later. Where’s Aruendiel?” she added, as a sudden fearful thought made her glance around; Olenan made a derisive noise. “Oh, I see him,” Nora said.
He was still half sitting, half lying on the wet stone floor. Hirizjahkinis squatted next to him, examining the wound in his chest. They seemed to be addressing each other with some intensity.
That was good, better than she’d hoped. Hirizjahkinis would look after him, even if he didn’t want her to.
“This s
nake is your monster, then?” Olenan prodded.
“No, it’s hers. Sisoaneer’s. Or maybe—” Nora paused to consider the snake’s sleek black immensity, its sinuous patience. Had it grown even larger? Its bulk seemed to fence out the world. “Maybe it’s really her.”
“That—? No!”
“I’m not sure it matters. But it’s kind of funny,” Nora went on, “that you’re finally getting to meet Sisoaneer, or her snake.”
“Funny, funny?” Olenan repeated the word as though she did not understand what it meant. “Why is it here? After all this time, why?”
“What do you think, Olenan? Do you think she’s happy that you tried to take her place? Lied to her worshippers, co-opted her temple?”
“It bit you,” Olenan said. “You must be dying now.”
“Not at this exact instant,” Nora said.
“Those worshippers came for my sake—I brought them here.” Olenan said. Nora gave an involuntary start as Olenan pressed a cool finger against the side of her neck. “It was my power that healed them. She should thank me for bringing more pilgrims, more tribute, to a temple that was dying, filled with corruption. All this time, she never harmed me, or sent a single evil omen.”
Nora felt obliged to point out the obvious: “Until now.”
“Your pulse is still strong,” Olenan said with an air of dissatisfaction. “How do you feel?”
“Not so bad,” Nora said, after a moment’s consideration. “All things taken into account.” She touched the spot on her chest where the snake had struck, then looked at her fingertips. No blood. That seemed strange. She frowned.
“The venom must be numbing the pain,” Olenan said. “You’re right, there was no sign from her until now. But is that so odd? She should be pleased with everything I did to glorify her.
“And now, is this visit really an evil omen? Look at how the serpent is watching me.” The snake’s blunt nose undulated from side to side with a quiet, lulling rhythm. “It’s here for me. It’s a message,” Olenan said. “She sent her sacred monster to me. To recognize my divine nature. To do me honor.”
How to Talk to a Goddess and Other Lessons in Real Magic Page 43