Euriel’s words vibrated his bones. You are the Garmtur. Flesh is nothing. Failure meant killing not only himself, but everything on Titaan.
Agony arcing through him, he staggered after Kalindinai, his arms moving in jerks. He felt the demon’s proximity and experienced the entire town bracing for impact.
You are the Garmtur. Three curves and another step. Kalindinai panted as though in labor, sweat streaming down her face. The Queen gnashed her teeth, the muscles in her neck cording with her efforts.
Flesh is nothing.
His reality narrowed to the dripping of his blood and the groove in the stone. Complete the circle; start to end. Nothing existed save the path and the goal. Flesh served only as the vessel. He was the power.
Overcome.
His anger over the slaughtered people and the terrible consequences of failure drove him down the line. Just as he summoned the strength to finish, it was Kalindinai who groaned to a stop, her face a mask of agony. Fighting him and this ritual had simply taken too much energy.
The roaring wind ripped at hair and clothing. Demons howled. The town cried out. Alpha and omega. His job, his responsibility. He switched roles, instead of following—he led. The Garmtur pulsing in his mind, he dragged Kalindinai into the remaining segments of the pattern.
A strident female voice boomed in Bannor’s mind. You are mine, Garmtur!
Hecate. Here. Now. Don’t count on it. One slash completed the blood circle. Searing pain and a sizzling came from his slit hand. A curtain of light flared from the grooved dais, shooting into the night like a beacon. Euriel grabbed their arms, pulling them into the circle. He and Kalindinai broke apart, falling to their knees at the elder Kergatha’s feet.
“Brace yourself,” Euriel told him, gripping his shoulders.
The Garmtur exploded. His pattern expanded, sending threads twining out in all directions. Where his essence touched someone, it was as if he’d gained another set of eyes. Within heartbeats, he was seeing and hearing from hundreds of vantages all over town.
All those viewpoints focused on the dark fog coalescing at the South wall. The cloud took on color and distinctness. Bannor felt five hundred gasps as Hecate manifested. Eyes glowing like fire and taller than the grandest scalebark, the voluptuous form of the goddess came into view, white-white hair and gauzy garments rippling in the gale.
His heart seized as he looked upon the ageless beauty of their foe. Foe. The word didn’t adequately describe her. Foes could be understood—escaped.
Her gaze probed the town like a search lantern. Studying his enemy, he realized they misjudged Hecate’s motives. With the Garmtur expanded five-hundred fold, he saw subtleties hidden to a single mind. He felt what drove this creature. Neither fear nor greed, or a desire for power, but something more powerful.
Need.
The goddess found him. Glowing eyes narrowed, red-red lips unsheathed to form a menacing grin. The wind halted, and all went quiet. She pointed a glowing fingernail the size of shield at him. Her voice rolled across the town like thunder, rattling doors and windows. “I see you.”
Bannor’s stomach turned to ice. “I see you as well,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
He did see her. He saw the goddess and her need. He saw himself and his desire to live. He also saw the Garmtur and its potential. It made him even more desperate for an answer. Why must they battle to the death? Drawing on the power of the intellects tied to him, he willed his Nola to give up the answer.
A ringing went through Bannor, and the Garmtur unfolded, shining its secrets into his psyche. It revealed the core of what he was, and the origins of all Nola power. New vistas opened in his mind, a race memory that explained the ties between savants and gods.
The Nolas, like all life, were diversifications of the unified forces that gave birth to the cosmos. Each savant served as host to one of the progeny of the mother force. A force that through eons of time had acquired sentience and bonded with people like himself.
In him, the Garmtur was an expression of the basic nature of the universe, the tendency toward spontaneous and cataclysmic change. He could trigger such changes and mold them at will. Others, like Wren, harnessed fundamental aspects such as the bindings of matter and energy.
Each savant was actually a fragment of a greater being. The gods were also fragments of those same beings, far more powerful, their bodies ageless and resilient. Despite their vast physical power, they were far more limited than the savants. Bannor had seen in himself as well as Wren, that the potential of their Nola was limitless; they simply lacked bodies sturdy enough to harness those mighty abilities. Bodies just like those possessed by the gods. If the proper fragments of a god and savant joined they would become something unimaginably powerful. That was what Hecate coveted. She wanted it so badly that Bannor could feel her humming with it.
Despite their mastery of the elements, their ability to create and destroy, Hecate and her peers all possessed one unassailable flaw.
They were incomplete. Worse, they couldn’t or wouldn’t recognize it. They preyed on savants, seeking to gain power from them. In their succorunding of the savants, they only destroyed the essence for which they sought.
In her own search, Hecate had discovered him. She was blind the same way as the others. She wanted the Garmtur to cheat the immutable laws of the cosmos. She wanted to join with the Garmtur even though they were not fragments of the same host. She wanted to force the merger—to become greater despite it.
The bitch Hecate simply didn’t know how to ask nicely, and obviously didn’t care who or what was destroyed. He’d teach Hecate to appreciate the value of his life, and the lives his friends.
Even if it killed them both.
Hecate’s voice rolled over the outpost again. “I’ve come for my prize, Garmtur.” She gestured and the thousands of demons that surrounded the town took wing and hovered within attacking distance. “Give it to me, or everything you value dies.”
“What you want, even the Garmtur cannot give you!”
“I shall be the judge of that.”
“She judges nothing!” Euriel burst out. “She is a vile thief and a butcher! She tore apart my family. She deserves nothing but death!”
Hecate made a dismissing gesture, waving a house-sized hand. “Ignore her. She raves. Proof that the pantheon lords and Territaani should not mix.”
Euriel let out a cry of rage. Bannor restrained the woman with a hard grip on her shoulder.
He drew a breath and let it out, he reached out to the dozens of minds linked to him, focusing their fragments of the Garmtur and drawing on the multiplied energy. His chest filled with flames and his arms throbbed with Nola energies. Strength ringing through him, he stood.
“I will not be extorted by you!”
Hecate scowled. The air turned cold and the wind gusted. In the distance, lightning flickered. A red glow flashed in the goddess’ eyes. He saw Kalindinai, Euriel and the others tense. He hoped his new insight into the Garmtur would be enough to stop her.
“As you wish,” Hecate growled. Thunder rumbled, and the winds gusted.
Bannor didn’t wait for her strike. Too many times he’d reacted rather than take action. He thrust his will into the men and women all sharing the Garmtur. What his fatigued body couldn’t do by itself could be distributed across five hundred villagers. As one unit, he directed them to spin a shield of threads over the town.
A blue radiance engulfed Hecate’s hands as she raised them. Bannor sensed her target. Not him, or the people on the walls, but the children around the dais. Simultaneously, demons attacked from all directions, a charging mass of scales, claws, and wings.
The goddess released her spell. A flashpowder burst that roared like a hundred claps of thunder. Through his surrogates, Bannor yanked the defensive threads taut. A green aura blossomed around the town, blocking the goddess’ attack. As the spell hit, a blinding flash made him clutch his eyes. His heart raced as he felt the backlash surge toward
his links. If that power hit those people they’d be shredded. Desperately, he yanked the Garmtur back, pulling it back into himself. His links all yelled as the shock of separation jolted through them.
As the Garmtur flooded into him, he felt the tremendous impetus of Hecate’s attack following behind it. If he absorbed that power he’d explode. He must send that potential where it wouldn’t cause harm—or where it harmed the right thing. He knew then what to do. Alpha and Omega. Turnabout. With a twist of will, he used the threads of the blood circle to relink himself—not to the villagers, but to the onrushing demons.
The passage of the Hecate’s magic felt like being hit with a bolt of lightning. Every limb went rigid as the goddess’ attack diverted through his body and Nola and out through the circle into the demons. Like an armful of needleleaf cones tossed into a bonfire, the goddess’ winged reptiles erupted with deafening cracks, sending trails of smoking remains shooting in all directions.
“Aka!” Kalindinai burst out in Elvish.
“Yes!” Euriel pounded a fist into her palm.
Bannor dropped to his knees, stunned by passage of Hecate’s power through his body. Across the plain, the explosive cracking continued as the backlash proceeded to destroy the demons connected to the rift. The goddess had struck hard enough to leave a crater where the town stood.
Hecate’s eyes became flames as she scanned the carnage caused to her forces by the attack.
Shaking with pain, Bannor fought back to his feet. He pushed the wind-swept hair from his eyes. He yelled against the gale. “This is pointless! The Garmtur cannot make you complete! There is only one being in the universe who could do that, but you or one of your stupid peers has probably destroyed her.”
“You lie!” She snarled and moved to attack again. Bannor sensed hundreds of elemental and magic threads being tapped. He knew then, the first assault had only been a test.
Hecate had summoned enough power to cleave a leagues deep canyon where the town now stood. Stars appeared to blink out as pitch-black funnels of elemental force hooked down and gathered around the goddess’ outstretched hands.
“Surrender,” she boomed. Spheres crackled around her giant hands. “Else you all die. As the Garmtur knows, it is uncertain what the shattering of his physical shell will do. Perhaps in destroying you pitiful heathens, I will annihilate the cosmos as well.”
Flesh is nothing. You are the power.
“Kill me, and you get nothing!” Bannor yelled.
“I have nothing now,” Hecate grimaced. “At least this way, I wipe out several annoying bugs.” Her smoldering eyes scanned everyone.
Bannor looked toward Sarai and found her looking back at him. She mouthed the words ‘I love you’ as if uttering them for the last time.
No one of his allies flinched, not even Janai. They refused to surrender to an evil such as Hecate.
The goddess’ eyes narrowed. “So be it.”
She struck.
* * *
Even for a goddess there are times to bluff, times for bait and switch, and times for a little misdirection. Most complex strategies all hinge on one shining moment of simplicity…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Sixty-Nine
« ^ »
Defiance.
Retaliation.
Oblivion.
A million thoughts flashed through Bannor’s mind in a heartbeat. The Garmtur sensed the danger before Bannor actually saw it. Time froze as the tidal wave of magic meant to annihilate, him, his friends and the entire town flashed from Hecate’s upraised hands.
The Garmtur also let him know that a manipulation of reality powerful enough to divert Hecate’s assault would cause greater havoc than the attack itself. Doing nothing meant letting himself and everyone get obliterated.
Bannor had no time to do anything but put up all the defense he could muster as Hecate’s spell blazed down…
***
Thunder rumbled.
Wind rushed.
Laughter echoed.
Bannor let go a breath. His tensed muscles went lax.
What in Hades? No strike. He glanced up. A cold gust blew against his face. Hecate had vanished. Children cried for their mothers. Lightning flicked in the distance. Around him, the Queen and the others looked around in surprise.
What happened? Why had Hecate—? His gaze instinctively searched for Sarai. A giant hand seemed to squeeze his chest. “Sarai!” He leaped off the dais stumbling and scrambling around startled children. Only a piece of her blouse lay in burned circle where she last stood. His Nola sight showed him the last vestiges of a tiny flux point now sealing—transport magic. “Sarai!”
The distant laughter continued.
“Odin. Oh, Odin, no!” The attack had been a feint; Hecate had used the immense power to disguise her real intentions-capturing Sarai.
Perhaps now, Hecate said in his mind. You will reconsider giving me the Garmtur. Come to the rift. Do not take overlong. Otherwise your ‘Little Star’ will—well, I shall let you imagine.
Bannor groaned. Behind him he heard the startled cries of the Queen and Janai as they realized Sarai had disappeared.
A roaring filled his ears. The sounds of the crowd, the cold night air, and the fatigue were blotted out by one thought—Sarai. Find her—now. Laramis’ knights came on flying horses. He could be there in less than a bell if he flew. Hecate wanted the Garmtur, she’d get it.
He headed for the market square where the flying animals had been tethered. He’d never ridden a flying horse before. Time to learn. Voices called to him, but they only sounded like a meaningless drone.
A body jumped in front of him and strong hands clamped on his arms. “Bannor, I said, no!” Euriel yelled, her lightning blue eyes flashing in torchlight. “Don’t do it, Bannor. It’s what Hecate wants! To make you desperate, to rattle you.”
Bannor tore away from her. “Oh, stow it! I took your damned advice and Wren’s and the Queen’s. Look what’s happened! I’m through taking orders. Get out of my way.” He stepped around the woman.
Euriel backed up and blocked him. “You have no right to take such a risk! This is bigger than you. This is the world!”
“Lady,” Bannor growled. The fury was like fire burning behind his eyes. He felt the Garmtur like electricity sizzling through his limbs. “Right now, I don’t care. Move.”
Wren’s mother scowled. Her eyes flashed. “Make me.”
With the Garmtur vibrating in his bones, he made her. Bannor grabbed the mage by the shoulders. His hands took hold not only of Euriel’s flesh, but the masses of elemental threads that charged her body. He threw the entire mess in the nearest fire barrel.
The daughter of Idun hit with a surprised curse and a crash, sending wood fragments, binding rings and water exploding in all directions.
Without pausing to take stock of his handiwork he sprinted toward the horses, Euriel’s angry sputters faded behind him. Laramis and Irodee called to him, but he blocked it out. Sarai, I’m coming. Hecate best watch out. Sometimes what we wish for isn’t really what we want.
The dozens of pearly white horses nickered and tossed their heads as he approached, seeming to sense his presence without even seeing him. He chose one out of the group, and reached for its lead strap.
The animal narrowed gold eyes and gnashed square white teeth. It stomped an ebony hoof on the cobbles sending sparks shooting across the ground. Steam curled from its flared nostrils.
“All I want is a ride to rescue my wife,” he whispered in a low voice. “Get me there, and you can have whatever you want.”
Its wings stirred. It brought its nose around sniffing. Its ears flicked as gold eyes studied him with more than animal intelligence. After a moment, it nickered and tossed its head.
He guessed that meant ‘yes’, because it didn’t threaten him when he reached for the lead. As he turned the huge, white animal, he found it seemed to have no weight. Its hooves made no sound on the cobb
les as if it floated above the ground. He also noted here amongst the forty-odd mounts it didn’t smell like horses, it reminded him more of the smell of dried flowers.
As Bannor led the horse toward the gate, Laramis and Irodee dashed into the square in front of him.
“Are you going to try to stop me, too?” he growled.
Laramis held up a hand. His rugged face looked stern, his dark eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. “No, my friend, we are with you. Besides, have you ever ridden a flying steed?”
Bannor glanced back at the powerfully muscled animal and the gleaming wings furled at its sides. He stroked its mane which was softer than the finest fur he’d ever touched. “This fellow agreed to teach me.”
“He is Bomarc,” Laramis said. “Bearer of Tymorn and Gundar, and seven generations of Asgard’s finest warriors. If you can hang on, he’ll get you to Sarai.”
“I’m already there,” Bannor replied. “My body just hasn’t caught up.” Before Laramis could say anything more, he swung up into the elaborate saddle, quickly cinching the strap around his waist as the animal sidestepped and ruffled its wings.
He couldn’t wait. Sarai needed him. He spurred toward the town gates. Bomarc trotted for a few paces, then launched forward as though fired from a catapult. Bannor leaned into the wind and clamped down with his legs, gripping the reins as the animal’s powerful wings unfurled with a booming sound. A few thrumming beats and Bannor felt his stomach lurch.
They rose from the ground, the cold night air a rush of speed. As he glanced back, the outpost, the lake and the surrounding hills were falling beneath him. Bomarc seemed to know his destination, his nose orienting on the shaft of darkness rising in the south.
Bannor felt its pull on him. Hecate had something dear to him. He had something the goddess wanted.
One life for ultimate power. It was a trade he was willing to make.
His own friends would try to stop him.
That was too bad.
Only one thing was important.
Sarai.
* * *
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