The God-Touched Man

by Melissa McShane

  “The ascetics I knew would say Cath teaches them not to fear death no matter what form it comes in,” Ayane said, but her voice sounded choked, and Piercy carefully didn’t comment on her tears. “I’m sure it’s all some Godlike plan. I just wish Hodestis hadn’t made us part of it.”

  Piercy looked down at the sleeping magician. “I wish we could have saved them,” he said.

  “I tried. I told them almost immediately that invaders were coming to overrun the monastery and kill them all. They were convinced I had some other doom for them.”

  “As if that one wasn’t enough.”

  “No, that was the funny thing. They accepted it would happen and they even believed it would happen soon. They just didn’t find it important. They were so sure…Piercy, I hope we did the right thing. Please tell me you got the necklace.”

  “I did,” Piercy said, and dug in his shirt for it, feeling briefly panicked when his hand didn’t fall on it immediately. Finally he drew it out and shook it so the metal caught the moonlight. “I don’t know what metal it’s made of, which I find remarkable considering I am quite the connoisseur of ladies’ jewelry.”

  “You would be,” Ayane said, but without rancor. “It’s pretty enough, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting it when they could have gold or silver instead.”

  “That was my thought. I only wish I could have saved more than this.”

  “Didn’t you? Where did the sword come from, then?”

  Piercy’s hand dropped to the hilt of the sword. He’d forgotten he had it. “I suppose I did save something,” he said. “And what a beautiful thing to save.” The guard caught the moonlight as the necklace had; he guessed if he unwrapped the hilt, he would discover the grip was made from the same metal.

  “I wonder what it does. Assuming all the things they kept in their treasure room were artifacts like the necklace.”

  “I should probably take it to Cath’s temple. It belongs to them, after all.” He felt somewhat downcast at the thought of giving the sword up. Well, it would take time to return to Belicath, and he could experiment until then. Surely they would encounter bandits on the way? And there was no sense letting a perfectly good sword go unused when one could turn it to one’s defense and that of one’s companions.

  He gripped the hilt and was again thrilled by how perfectly it fit his hand. That, and how easy it was to wield, and how he hadn’t tired—those things were surely evidence this was a magic sword. If Cath hadn’t yet struck him down for impiety, it surely meant he was allowed to wield it.

  They rode for a few hours until the moon set and it was too dark to continue, then stopped to rest in the shelter of a twisted, ancient tree that clung to its last few leaves like a miser hoards gold. They had no tents, no food, nothing but their personal possessions and the horses, and Piercy sat with his back against the tree and reflected on how exhausted but content he was. Ayane sat next to him, rummaging through her bag. “I’m going to change,” she declared. “And I’ll knife you if you so much as think about looking.” She was smiling, though, and Piercy was sure she was joking. Mostly sure.

  “As I am a gentleman, I would of course never dream of watching a lady change her clothes,” he said. “I think it a pity, however, that you need lose the dress. It suits you very well despite the mutilation you inflicted on it.”

  Ayane was silent. Piercy mentally replayed what he’d said and cursed himself. Was he completely incapable of speaking to a woman without turning it into some kind of comment on her appearance? “That is,” he began.

  “Thank you,” Ayane said, and went behind the horses to change. It stunned Piercy so much he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. That he admired her as a fighter and a companion? That she was beautiful whatever she wore? That he was glad she’d tumbled into this time with him? Nothing seemed to fit.

  Back in the monastery, she hadn’t been a Santerran resistance fighter or the daughter of a legend or a shy noblewoman; she’d been a partner, and he remembered his utter certainty that she would be at Hodestis’s room and thought I wonder if she feels the same. It was so unlike any relationship he’d ever imagined having with a woman he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, or what to say to her. It didn’t really matter, though, because in less than a day, or however long it took Hodestis to finally wake up, they’d be back in their own time and could return to their proper lives. The thought left him once again downcast. They might not even be able to stay friends, if that’s what they were.

  “I don’t suppose our snoring friend has shown any signs of waking,” Ayane said. She was back in her own clothes and had the shimmering dress wadded up in her hands. She shoved it into her bag and added, “I hope he’s right that he can open the portal anywhere. We won’t be able to outrun the Welkennish whether we try to find Kemelen or head west to Rainoth.”

  “He seemed quite certain of his ability,” Piercy said. “Do you think you can sleep? I don’t mind sitting a watch. Though sitting may be all I’m capable of.”

  “I’m not tired. I wish we had a fire, though.”

  “So do I, except I think it would make us a target.”

  “I’m afraid we’re going to be an excellent target in about four hours when the sun comes up. I’m almost anxious enough to suggest we ride on, except if the horses get injured, we’re truly stuck.”

  “Agreed.” Piercy yawned. “I think I will sleep, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t. I’ll wake you if I feel tired.”

  Piercy scooted back to get away from the knot of the trunk digging into his spine. “We worked well together back there,” he said, offhandedly, hoping…he wasn’t sure what to hope for, from her.

  “We did,” Ayane said. “I’m glad you’re not the self-absorbed flirt I thought you were.”

  “I’m glad you are not a shy maiden who has never been closer to a blade than at the dinner table.”

  She laughed. “Sleep well, Piercy.”

  He was asleep almost before her laughter died away.

  He woke to the sun in his eyes and a weight on his shoulder. Ayane had fallen asleep on him. Her mouth was slightly ajar and her breath whistled in through her nostrils and out through her open mouth, making an intermittent sound like air blowing across the top of a bottle. He shifted, felt her begin to slide, and put his arm around her to keep her steady. She stirred and lifted her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at him with those golden-brown eyes that caught the sunlight and seemed to glow. He let out the breath he was holding, slowly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “Had we been slaughtered by Welkennish marauders last night, I have no doubt I would have spoken to you sharply about it,” he said, “but as we are still alive, I find myself reluctant to scold you.”

  He gently removed his arm from around her shoulders, and she sat up, turning away from him. She really was beautiful, and ten days ago he would have turned her moment of incautiousness into an avenue for flirtatious remarks, but now all he could think of was how comfortable it was to sit so close to her, how much he wished it could go on longer.

  “I can’t believe it. Mr. Hodestis is still asleep,” she said, standing stiffly and going to check on the little man.

  “We should move on regardless,” Piercy said. “He will wake when he wakes, and we will return to our own time, and at some point after that I intend to have a large, elaborate breakfast I hope you will share with me.”

  Ayane helped him haul Hodestis over the bay’s back. “I’m counting on it,” she said, mounting her own horse. “But I hope it’s soon, because there are people coming, and if they’re bandits, I want to avoid them.”

  “You are destroying your reputation as Santerre’s most bloodthirsty daughter.”

  “I only said those things so you’d take me seriously. I can be sensible.”

  “Fortunate for all of us. Let’s ride, then, and take a route well out of those riders’ path.”

  T
en minutes later, Hodestis began to stir. “What am I doing on this horse?” he mumbled. “Why are we here?”

  “In the most general sense, we are here because you allowed love to overcome your rationality,” Piercy said, “but to answer what is no doubt your specific question, we have acquired the necklace and are riding away from the monastery’s destruction. You have slept the sleep of a rather large infant and now we hope you can work your spell and return us to our own time.”

  “I feel sick. Could I get down, please?”

  “Those riders have changed direction and are coming this way,” Ayane said. “I don’t like how intent they seem on catching us.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That we are about to entertain guests who may or may not be interested in killing us for the meager contents of our bags.” Piercy helped Hodestis down; he staggered, bent over, and began coughing. “Are you quite recovered, Mr. Hodestis?”

  “From the sickness, yes. I think there was something funny in the medicine, though. I’ll need a few minutes to be ready to cast the spell.”

  “We have nearly ten minutes before the riders reach us,” Ayane said, this time speaking Dalanese. “I suggest you recover quickly.”

  “It takes a few minutes for the spell to work, too,” Hodestis said. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Ayane drew her blade. “Not for us,” she said.

  Piercy loosened the sword in its sheath. “Just take your time, Mr. Hodestis. I think we would all prefer to fight off bandits for a minute than to be trapped here permanently.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Hodestis said, though he had his head between his knees again.

  The riders continued to approach. Piercy paced between Ayane and the horses until Ayane said, “If you do not settle down, the bandits will think we are easy prey.”

  “Or they will believe I am eager to shed their blood.”

  “That is not a thing that ever happens.”

  “Mr. Hodestis, can I inquire after your readiness?”

  “I’m casting the spell now.”

  The air did feel different, greasy and warm compared to the brisk chill of the autumn morning. Piercy cast a swift glance at Hodestis, but the spell wasn’t visible; there was only the colored stone he’d seen the man take from the first portal and a wavering in the air like heat haze. He turned back toward the riders, who were only a few hundred feet away now. They wore strange dark clothes, and downturned hats like—

  “Oh, no,” Piercy muttered.

  “I thought we had escaped them,” Ayane said.

  The rider in the lead pulled his horse up a few feet from where they stood. “You should not have fled, princess,” the raspy-voiced Santerran said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Despite your pugnacity and complete refusal to believe the truth, I must admire your persistence,” Piercy said.

  “As if we would leave a fellow Santerran in your hands, noble or not,” the burly man said. “Your foul magic destroyed the inn as well as turning the princess’s mind against her family. I regret not killing you when you were my captive.”

  “I’m afraid I do not share that regret.” Piercy shifted right to give Ayane more room to maneuver. “I realize this is probably pointless, but I must reiterate this is not Princess Fahari.”

  The Santerran dismounted, gesturing, and his companions followed suit, spreading out loosely to surround them. Piercy stepped backward, keeping his eyes on their leader, and felt Ayane move with him until they were almost back to back. “Mr. Hodestis, a little alacrity on your part would not go amiss right now,” he said.

  “Please don’t talk to me,” Hodestis said in a tight voice.

  “No more of your sorcerous tongue,” the Santerran said, drawing his sword. “Kill him.”

  “I command you to stand down,” Ayane said. “You must obey me.”

  “Your Highness, your judgment has been corrupted by this evil man. We have to disobey you for your own good.” The Santerrans continued to spread out until Piercy couldn’t see all of them at once without turning his head. He closed his hand more tightly on the grip of the sword.

  “I’ll see you executed for disobedience,” Ayane said.

  “You will thank us when you are restored, your Highness.” The leader glanced to either side and brought his sword to the ready. “Stand aside. We would not want you to be hurt.”

  Piercy kept his eyes on the leader, but all his other senses were straining to perceive where the other Santerrans were. At least one of them was in a position to strike Hodestis down, and that terrified him more than his completely reasonable fears for his and Ayane’s safety. The two of them against five…it was possible they might win against those odds, but add to that the necessity of defending Hodestis, and the likelihood that one or all of them might be traveling to Cath’s Death-Lands seemed unpleasantly realistic.

  “Wait!” he said just as the leader took another step closer. His companions seemed less eager to draw blood; the ones he could easily see had their eyes fixed on a point beyond his right shoulder, probably Hodestis. The magician was chanting the same words repeatedly now, not that Piercy understood more than the occasional epiria, “reveal,” and reperto, “find.” The Gods alone knew what the spell looked like now. “Strike us down now, and the spell will rebound on you,” he lied. “Although if you wish to spend what remains of your life as a toad, by all means continue on your merry path of destruction.”

  The man to Piercy’s right took a step backward. “I will gut you where you stand if you fail me, coward,” the Santerran leader growled at him. “I say you lie, sorcerer,” he said to Piercy.

  Piercy shrugged. “Try my words. I am prepared to face the Death-Lands.” The greasy feeling in the air had grown to a palpable oiliness that made him feel as if he were breathing through a layer of warm, liquid fat. He inhaled as shallowly as he could and added, “You know how…generously…Cath looks upon attempted murder. How certain are you of your welcome in his realm?”

  The uncertain man took another step backward. “I said stay where you are!” the leader said, turning on him with his sword raised. “He is lying. Kill him now!”

  A flash of movement to one side alerted Piercy to dodge the attack of the giant, who was armed with his meaty fists and an enormous cudgel. He ducked out of the way of another swing, wild and undisciplined, and brought the sword around to slash at the giant’s belly, making him stumble backward. Then he had to take a few backward steps himself to avoid a new attack from one of the other Santerrans, whose curved sword had a much-notched blade and might as well have been a cudgel itself, as dull as the blade was.

  Now would be an excellent time to manifest your magical powers, he thought at his sword, then had no time to spare for thinking in fighting off two attackers at once. The blade sang through the air more rapidly than Piercy had thought himself capable of, parrying and thrusting and shoving the Santerran’s sword away in time to catch the cudgel and push the giant back. His breathing came more easily now and he felt, not tired, but invigorated, as if every blow filled him with new strength.

  Then the Santerran got in a lucky strike with his sword that would have sliced his arm open had the weapon not been so dull; as it was, Piercy’s left arm briefly went numb and he faltered, leaving himself open to the cudgel’s strike. The heavy blow knocked the wind out of him and sent him staggering backwards into Hodestis, who cried out and took a few stumbling steps. Instantly the air went hot and wet and choked Piercy, who began coughing just as his assailants did. “Don’t do that!” Hodestis shrieked.

  “Sorry,” Piercy said, gagging. The giant was crouched nearby with his head between his knees and the cudgel lying on the ground in front of him. Piercy aimed a blow at the giant’s throat, and to his shock something forced his fingers open so the sword fell to the ground, rolling a short distance away. The giant began to move, and Piercy snatched up the nearest weapon, the cudgel, and smashed it into the side of the giant’s head; he let out
a deep groan and toppled.

  The other Santerran came upright, weaving, and struck at Piercy. Piercy dodged, groped around for the sword, and brought it up to block the blow. The man staggered again with the force of Piercy’s attack, leaving himself open, and Piercy moved in to strike him through the heart. An unseen force grabbed his arm, knocking it aside, and instead of going through the man’s chest, the blade’s tip went through his arm, making him cry out in pain and fall back.

  “We have to go now!” Hodestis shouted, and Piercy turned to see a colorful haze of blue and green and yellow in streaks radiating from a single point about head-high, wavering like heat radiating off a summer pavement. Hodestis was already halfway through it; his form was elongated, as if he were being stretched out like hot taffy. Ayane was still fiercely engaged in battle with her opponent and didn’t respond to Hodestis’s cry. Piercy ran to her side and caught the man’s sword on his.

  “We have to go,” he said, “and Hodestis is not waiting for us.”

  Ayane took a step back, pivoted on one heel, and kicked the Santerran hard in a strategic location. The man’s eyes bulged, and he fell to his knees. “Then let’s go,” she said.

  Piercy sheathed his blade and followed her at a run. After only two steps, however, he was caught by the same sensation of thick, treacly air he’d encountered the first time Hodestis had cast this spell. Ayane was having the same difficulty; her head was lowered as if she were trying to make headway against a fierce wind. Ahead, the moving haze of color was rippling more rapidly, looking like a flag caught in the same wind.

  Piercy put his hand on Ayane’s shoulder, then linked arms with her and pulled her along as she did the same for him. Slowly, like swimmers making scant headway against the current, they neared their goal.

  They were within touching distance of it when the rippling became so pronounced the spell’s effect brushed their faces. “Jump!” Ayane said, and they flung themselves into the portal. Blackness streaked Piercy’s vision, spreading across his eyes like a film of ink that blinded him, flooded his tear ducts and ran up his nostrils until he wanted to sneeze, but couldn’t. Some force took them, stretched them out, and Piercy screamed in pain and heard Ayane’s higher voice harmonize with his. Then the portal expelled them, spat them out with force, and Piercy grunted as he hit the ground.