Hecate raised an eyebrow. Flames danced in her eyes. “I lied.”
What now? He felt so weak he probably couldn’t tap into enough of his Nola to even slow her down. Even if able, the danger of unraveling reality remained. Without knowing what to avoid, he might still mistakenly undermine the pillars that held time and space together.
Time. He needed a chance to use his link to Wren to warn them about the avatar. Unfortunately, he doubted Hecate would stand by while he closed his eyes and concentrated on mindspeaking. He needed to delay her somehow. Hecate obviously knew they were isolated. Otherwise, she wouldn’t waste time toying with them.
“What now?” he asked. “Are we simply going to stand and stare at one another?” His words unfroze Janai. She stepped back and looped an arm around his waist and squeezed until it hurt. She met his eyes and gave him a ‘don’t antagonize her’ look. He was glad for the extra support. He felt none too steady on his feet.
Hecate tossed her hair over one shoulder and folded her arms. She drummed the glowing nailed fingers of one hand on her biceps. “Good question. What shall I do with you?”
“You aren’t doing anything,” he replied. “I shredded one avatar. I can do it again.”
Janai looked up at him hope in her eyes. He tried to look confident, even though he doubted his ability to even put up a marginal resistance.
The corner of Hecate’s mouth quirked. “Perhaps. I learned from that encounter.”
Taking a breath, Bannor dropped his voice and stared through the pale woman. “Push me, and I’ll wish real hard you never existed. We’ll just see what happens.”
Hecate stopped drumming, and her chin rose. “You won’t destroy everything simply to spite me.” She started toward them. “You’re mine, Garmtur.”
He raised the axe he’d been gripping and pointed it at the avatar. “Don’t be so sure.” Praying he didn’t yank on some volatile thread, he focused on the axe’s mithril head. He willed filaments of air and stone to wrap around it. His efforts resulted in sparks and a bright blue light pulsing from the weapon.
The intensity of the glow surprised him. It surprised Hecate, too. She stopped and eyed the gleaming axe.
The weapon grew warm in his hand, the metal and wood humming as though alive. Bannor put everything into making his voice sound as if he’d gotten what he wanted. “I’ve learned a few things from Wren.”
If only he really had. The one thing he knew how to do for certain was far too dangerous. It required his going deep into the Garmtur, into that out-of-control on-the-verge-of-destruction feeling. In that state, cutting Nystruul’s link to Hecate had been as easy as snapping a twig. Hecate mentioned she’d learned from the experience. It wouldn’t be as easy a second time.
In his head, he wished over and over Wren and the others knew the danger facing he and Janai.
Hecate’s gaze followed his weapon. Obviously, she’d learned to be more cautious. Belief in his indestructibility was what had killed Nystruul.
Best to show the avatar it wasn’t an accident. He squeezed Janai’s shoulder and repeated the process on her sword. The elven steel flared into luminescence, this time in a bright green radiance. The added light showed how pale the chunky elf had become.
Hecate’s attention shifted to the new weapon.
Janai flicked the blade from side to side. The metal trailed sparks wherever the tip led. The princess’ jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed.
He couldn’t let her fight this monster alone. He needed his strength back. His gaze flickered from the two gleaming weapons to Hecate’s burning aura. Many of the same kinds of threads he tied to the weapons, fed the avatar. It must be part of how avatars acquired their strength. The god’s essence being in their bodies allowed them to tap into elemental energies. Those same threads must be what had held Nystruul together through that unbelievable battering on the beach.
He would get one chance at this. He gathered up several threads of stone and looped them around his legs the way he’d seen around Sarai. He prayed it worked for him the way it did her.
Where the lines of energy touched, his skin burned. The hairs on his arms stiffened as they did during a thunderstorm. The pain grew until it felt as if his whole body had caught on fire.
No strength—just pain. Golden flames licked across his arms. He yelled and pushed Janai away.
The princess stumbled a few steps. “Bannor? What’s—? Carellion!”
Hecate’s eyes widened. “What are you—? No!”
Bannor lost track of the avatar as his focus became nothing but trying to undo his mistake. He flailed for a grip on the threads of elemental energy, trying to unbind them. They wouldn’t come loose. He smelled something burning and saw smoke.
“You fool, you won’t rob me!” Cold hands gripped his shoulders.
He sensed Hecate’s essence surrounding him like a northern blizzard, lashing at the destructive magic invading his body. Chilling cold drilled into his arms and legs and he felt the stone power being extinguished by the goddess’ strength.
Through the agony, it was hard to distinguish between his threads and those of Hecate. He sensed the goddess’ entire concentration was on keeping his Garmtur from being burned out.
He’d created the needed distraction. With all his will, he mustered his strength and swung the axe and its massed threads up into the tangle representing Hecate’s magic. When the two collections of lines met, he felt reality flinch like a horse twitching away from a biting fly. All the light in the cavern to appeared to be sucked into the point of contact. Wind roared, followed by a brilliant, white light and ear-numbing blast that drove them apart. He collapsed on the cavern floor. Smoldering fragments of cloth, metal, and wood skittered across the rock leaving black trails. Hecate reeled backward gripping her head.
She screamed. The whole mountain trembled. All around the avatar, snapped force lines thrashed like beheaded snakes, spewing sparks of energy. Cursing, the woman swayed and writhed.
The bindings of stone tied to him had been shattered as well. His body tingled and his skin burned. Somehow during their struggle his strength had come back, whether from his doing or Hecate’s he didn’t know.
He scrambled on hands and knees to where Janai lay on her back gripping her head as though she’d been struck in the face. Hecate continued to howl. Her avatar was like a marionette with half its strings cut.
“Can’t see,” Janai moaned. “The light. I can’t see!”
“I’m here,” he said. He pulled her against him as the princess muttered curses in elvish. “You’ll be okay. Lay still. I hit her good, but she’s not dead.”
The avatar slowed and finally halted her gyrations, standing with hands clenched at her sides. Now that most of the goddess’ magic could no longer reach the host, she’d become Meliandri again. Burns and soot streaked the elf’s dusky skin, rivulets of blood leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“Damn you,” she gritted. A shudder went through her body.
Bannor glanced to Janai’s sword lying on the floor. It still glowed green with the combined air and stone power. He snatched the weapon up and put it between them.
Meliandri’s hands tightened, the knuckles white with tension. She stiffly took a fighting stance. Bannor felt in no hurry to rush in on her. Like a waterskin with a leak, power continued to trickle out of the avatar. She grew weaker by the moment.
He had to keep her defensive, prevent her from using any magic. Lunging forward, he swung at one of the intact conduits still empowering the avatar.
The sword and its massed threads tangled in the energy line and snapped it with a burst.
Meliandri screamed and flinched back gripping her head. After a moment, she composed herself again and snarled like an animal. She stepped forward, hands ahead, fingers spread like claws.
He kept his eye on the prime conduit, the main silver cord that tied Meliandri to Hecate. Break that line and all control over the host body was lost. He lunged in for another line
of power. Meliandri dodged. She lashed out, her fingers tangling in his hair. Pain shot through his scalp as she yanked him forward. He yelled as she slammed her free hand up into his groin. She jerked his head down and his vision exploded into a million pinpoints of a light as her knee met the bridge of his nose.
He felt himself slammed to the cavern floor. The sword clanged away. Dots whirled in his vision. Pain. Blood poured down his face. His world became a knot focused on the throbbing, gut-wrenching pain coming from his groin. He couldn’t even yell, only cough.
The avatar flipped him onto his back. She leaned close. Meliandri’s eyes were still Hecate’s obsidian black. Her lips twisted in the goddess’ evil grin. “I feel sooo much better,” she rasped. She took his face in her hand. “Pity, I need you alive—”
A loud thud punctuated the last of her words.
Meliandri’s eyes rolled up into her head. She was shoved to one side and he saw Sarai standing there with a mace in her hand. “Pity the witch that hurts my One,” she said. “Who said you could start the fight without us?”
* * *
Some of my servants say that they have never been more afraid than during the times I was angry. They don’t know the meaning of fear, because they have never seen me truly enraged…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Fifty-Three
« ^ »
Bannor felt pain. He saw it, and tasted it. His groans came out as coughs. Dots swam in his vision and the coppery flavor of blood filled his mouth. Like a fool, he’d let the avatar lure him close, she then gave him the worst drubbing of his life. Five summers ago, he’d dropped his guard and took a kick in the crotch. In that instance, quick reflexes saved him from serious injury. Regardless, he still hurt for days. This time, the avatar had hit him in the groin so hard he tasted her nail polish. He wanted to curl up and die.
“Bannor?” He realized Sarai was shaking him. He opened his eyes and saw her through a blur of tears. “Talk to me. Are you badly hurt?”
His response sounded like an old man’s wheeze. The words never reached his lips. He coughed, rolled over and retched. After the convulsions ceased, he fell on his back and rocked back and forth holding himself.
Sarai pulled him away from the mess of vomit and blood. She took his hand and held it. “Lay still,” she said. “I’ll fix you up.” She left and returned moments later, then started treating his wounds.
Nearby, he heard Laramis’ distinctive voice. “The witch struck the Goodman a foul blow. Aie—” The man sucked air through his teeth. Empathy rang in his voice. “Hurts to think of it.”
“Laramis, see to the dama,” the Queen ordered in her penetrating voice. “She is only stunned. Janai-mimi—I’m here.”
Janai sobbed and said something about her eyes.
“I knew we shouldn’t have left him,” Wren said. “He attracts trouble like steel to a lodestone. Ishtar, what has he been doing?” Footsteps approached. “This mithril axe, it’s nothing but slag now. The ether is scrambled up like grandmother’s holiday ambrosia.” Metal slid against rock. “How did he do that to Janai’s sword?”
“ ‘Tis a marvel for sure,” Laramis remarked. Bannor heard the bells that were on Meliandri’s robe jingle. After a few moments, Laramis grunted. “Poor woman, the da’succorund marks are fresh, not more than three tendays old. She was not a willing host for Hecate.”
Bannor moaned. He’d tried to kill Meliandri. Part of him felt relief that he hadn’t killed an innocent person. Another part wished her dead all the more. Her last attack and the sickening crunch of agony played repeatedly through his mind.
The Queen muttered some elvish curse. “They’ve known about Bannor longer than you thought, Wren. They must have anticipated he and Sarai seeking refuge in Malan.” Her voice became a snarl. “Three tendays ago Meliandri and I were in the capital! That means she was kidnapped from and returned to our own home! There must be traitors in the castle.” He heard the Queen’s rod smack rock. “Damnation. My eldest, Ryelle, is there. She’ll have to be warned.”
“Can anyone be made into an avatar?” Sarai asked from where she sat at his side. She continued tending to his wounds. “Ouch, these cuts may need to be sewn,” she muttered.
“To become a host for an avatar, a person must have been trained as a mage or priest,” Laramis said. “Otherwise, their body is quickly burned out by the god’s energies.”
“That’s why savants are so prized,” Wren said. “Being a savant of forces, Hecate’s priests knew I’d make an ideal avatar host. They kidnapped me before I turned six.” Her voice turned hard. “Every child by my mother and father have been savants. Hecate took them prisoner so she could force them to brood host bodies for her.”
“Glad I am, to have aided in foiling her plans,” Laramis said.
“I’m glad you were there to help,” Wren replied.
“Mother,” Sarai said. “We should leave now. After all the noise the avatar made, Father will be looking for you. If he suspects what you’re planning, he won’t let us go.”
“I’m aware, Sarai,” her mother answered. “Hold still, Janai.”
More moaning came from that part of the chamber.
“How do we immobilize Meliandri?” Wren asked.
“It’s said silver bands clasped about the neck, hands and feet prevent an avatar from assuming their god’s power,” Laramis said.
“Will any thickness of silver do?” Wren asked.
“Milady, the lore is a bit vague. My guess is more is better.”
“We’ll have to work with what we have. This bracelet is silver, so is this braid. Isn’t that belt of yours silver, Sarai?”
“Yes.” Metal clinked and jingled. Sarai’s voice dropped. “Are you certain about this, Laramis?”
“Certain as I can be.” His tone sounded cautious. “We don’t get many chances to test such knowledge.”
“I’ll cinch her feet with the belt,” Wren said. “That leaves us some short. Matradomma, perhaps some of your silver neck braids?”
“Yes? Oh.” Jewelry clinked.
“Thank you. I hope you’re right, Laramis. Bannor weakened her, but she still looked plenty dangerous.”
“Get me some water, Sarai,” the Queen ordered.
“Be right back,” Sarai said quietly. She patted his shoulder and left.
Janai yelped. “Hold still!” Kalindinai hissed. “Sarai, pour some water in my hand.” Janai made more agonized sounds. “Roll your eyes around, blink it away. There. Good. That should have removed all of it. Can you see?”
“Blurry,” Janai mumbled.
“Some soot and dirt hit you in the eyes,” she said. “No real damage that I can see.” She paused. “How is Bannor?”
“His nose looks broken,” Sarai answered. “She hit him—”
“I saw,” the Queen interrupted. “I shall be greatly annoyed if he can’t give me any grandchildren.”
“Mo-ther,” Sarai growled. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Robes fluttered. A hand pressed against his cheek. He winced as fingers probed his face. “This cut on his brow can be kept from scarring,” the Queen said. “The flesh is split to the bone, but it’s a clean separation. The nose can be straightened so it heals properly. The last, well,” The Queen’s voice took on a wistful tone. “Blood is a bad sign.”
“Matradomma, are there any magical healing potions here in the caves?” Wren asked.
“Yes, in my chambers. If I try to go get them, my husband is likely to see me, then we won’t be able to leave.”
“Do you have much guarding these potions?”
“Wards and locks mostly,” Kalindinai replied. “Why?”
Wren laughed. “Wards, locks, and stealth are my specialty, Matradomma. If I know where they are, I can get them.”
A long silence ensued. “All right, but if you’re making a special trip to my quarters I have a list of things we need.”
“A li
st is fine.” Wren clapped her hands together and rubbed them. “Just don’t forget any of the triggers on your wards. I want to keep my fingers.”
“Be sure you put your fingers only where I call for them to go.”
“Yes, Matradomma.”
“We must go,” Kalindinai said. “Wren, we will meet in two bells at the East exit. I showed you the way.” Hard boots took quick steps. “Laramis, you bring Bannor. Janai, Sarai carry our equipment. If you are satisfied with her bonds, I shall bear the dama myself.”
The paladin made a puttering sound with his lips. “Matradomma, to the extent that I know, those bonds are sufficient to keep her from hosting Hecate’s power again. However, she can still be possessed and controlled by other spirits.”
“Your cautions are noted.” She smacked her rod on something leather. “Everyone has their duties, any questions?”
No one said anything.
Sarai kissed Bannor. “I’ll be close, call if you need me.”
He nodded. Her image wavered in his vision. She patted his hand then rose. Laramis took her place.
“I will take it easy, my friend,” he rumbled. “A little at a time.” The blond man lifted Bannor to a sitting position, and then worked him to his feet. “You are in pain, but it shall pass. Ukko cares for the stoic.”
Bannor grimaced. His legs felt as though they’d been stretched. His vision cleared enough for him to watch the Queen hoist Meliandri onto her shoulder. The russet-haired healer looked a hand taller than Kalindinai, but the royal lady carted her along like a sack of grain.
“Tempered steel is the matriarch of Malan,” Laramis said with admiration. He grinned at Bannor. “A fine woman to have as a mother-in-law.”
Bannor closed his eyes. “Laramis, you frighten me.”
“My friend, have you no taste for spirited women? Rather you some simpering subservient maid? Nay, say it’s not true.”
Bannor pointed to the cavern opening. “Get me out of here.”
Ahead of them, the Queen held up her black rod like a torch. The high end flared and gave off light. She and Wren strode into the dark passage together. Laramis followed, taking most of Bannor’s weight on his shoulder.
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