Betrayal

by Lara Morgan

‘Come on.’ He pushed aside the door covering. ‘They’re waiting.’

  Four warriors met them in the great cavern, empty now, the people all outside. The drums had stopped and Tallis’s insides roiled as if he’d eaten something rotten. He followed Thadin outside, the other warriors falling back to flank them.

  Clan men, women and children formed lines on either side of the entrance, creating a path to the space in the sand where Karnit and the other leaders waited. Solemn gazes followed them as they walked. Children were quiet and wide-eyed, and somewhere at the back of the crowd a baby cried and was quickly silenced.

  The sky was cloudless and still coloured pale by the dawn. A group of young Jalwalah men watched Tallis walk by, their faces hard and closed. He knew all their names but they reacted as if he were an outsider. He passed Irissa, standing to one side with her mother and father. She was frowning hard and biting her lip, her arms crossed tight around her chest, and he had to look away before he saw the fear in her eyes. He could afford no distractions. Instead he concentrated on Shaan’s bright, steady presence and the hot ball of uneasy power waiting in his core. Show them who you are. Was she right?

  He was filled with a desperate uneasiness. He wanted to fight this like a clansman, win like a clansman, but he didn’t know if he could. If he would be able to stop himself using his power.

  Karnit stood shirtless in the centre of the large circle formed by the audience. The four leaders of the other clans stood at the back, a warrior on their left and the six members of the Jalwalah Guides Circle on the right. Miram was in their midst, her expression stoic.

  Tallis stepped forward, leaving Shaan and his mother and father at the edge. Deep inside, a beat pounded in his blood.

  ‘Tallis,’ Miram said, speaking for the Circle, ‘once of this clan, an accusation has been made. Are you here to defend it?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice sounded hoarse, weak, and Karnit’s lip lifted in a sneer. Tallis cleared his throat and spoke again, louder this time. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said.

  Miram nodded, her expression stern, then faced the crowd and repeated the story Karnit had told the clan on his return from the Gathering; that it was Tallis who had attacked his men and tried to kill them. Then she listed the accusation Tallis had made against Karnit.

  He barely heard the words — all his concentration was on Karnit watching him with hate-filled eyes. He was reminded briefly of facing the Seducer in the training ring in Salmut and what had happened there. But that had been training and this was real. Karnit wanted him dead.

  The crowd murmured and he realised Miram had finished speaking. Thadin approached him with a long spear in his grip and a sheathed knife attached to a belt.

  ‘Remove your shirt and take your weapons,’ he said.

  Tallis stripped off his shirt and took the knife and spear.

  ‘Fight well,’ Thadin said, but his tone was mocking. Tallis kept his face expressionless and the warrior smirked and went to deliver weapons to Karnit.

  Miram said, ‘This is a warriors’ challenge. The fight will end when one man bests the other — let the Guides choose their favourite son.’ She stepped back to stand again among the other clan leaders.

  Tallis strapped the knife to his waist, and felt the wood of the spear shaft warm and rough in his hand. He turned to face Karnit in the middle of the circle. No sound came from the crowd, anticipation heavy in the air. The spears were tipped with steel and caught the sun as Karnit shifted his weight, watching Tallis.

  ‘Fight!’

  Karnit grinned and for a moment neither of them moved; the only sound Tallis heard was the drawing of his own breath. Then Karnit thrust forward with his spear and everything fell away. Their spear heads met, metal rasping, the force of it shuddering down Tallis’s arms, and he had to retreat fast as Karnit beat him back across the circle, the spear’s blade whipping through the air, one swing just missing his head. The crowd roared and he frantically blocked as Karnit came at him ceaselessly, driving him backward. The leader was like a whipwind carrying a blade. Too fast. Sweat coated Tallis’s chest and ran into his eyes as he tried to turn the attack, but steel flashed toward him again. He wasn’t quick enough and a hot trail of pain streaked his chest. The crowd shouted. Karnit’s spear had opened a wound across his ribs. Tallis thrust his own spear, turning Karnit’s blade aside just in time as he sought to cut again.

  ‘What’s the matter, boy? Does it hurt?’

  Infuriated, Tallis thrust forward, driving the spear at Karnit’s chest. The tip went wide as the older man bent backward with unexpected agility then smashed up with the hilt of his own weapon. Tallis lost his grip and the spear flew from his hands. Immediately Karnit swept his spear back at Tallis’s neck. He twisted to the side and punched him hard in the ribs. The leader roared, more in anger than pain, and Tallis pulled out his knife, but Karnit jumped back and began twirling his spear between his hands, creating a whirling barrier.

  They circled each other, Tallis with his knife and Karnit with the spear. Adrenalin ran fast through Tallis’s veins, anger pulsed in his blood and his limbs throbbed with that terrible dark fury. It ached to be released, an urge to kill.

  Karnit raced toward him, spear spinning. Tallis waited, saw every turn of the wood and, as Karnit came closer, he reached out with incredible speed and grabbed hold of the shaft, just below the head, and ripped it from his grasp. Karnit roared and leaped at him and Tallis’s knife flew from his hand as he landed heavily on his back, Karnit on top of him. There was a sudden fierce pressure in his side and he heard his mother’s scream. Karnit’s face above him was twisted with furious satisfaction. He felt no pain but realised a knife must be buried in his gut.

  Karnit reached for the knife Tallis had dropped, lying on the sand only a hand span away. ‘The Guides choose me, boy,’ he said and he brought the blade down. Tallis let his fury loose, a sudden ferocious energy rising up through him. He grabbed hold of Karnit’s wrist, stopping it dead above his neck. Karnit’s eyes bulged with anger and he put both hands on the knife, pressing the weight of his body on it, but Tallis held it still with one hand.

  ‘No,’ he said, and saw fear in Karnit’s eye. He slowly turned Karnit’s wrist until the blade pointed at the older man’s own chest. He had no feelings left — not fear, not horror at what he must do — there was only the knowledge that this must be done. With one thrust he embedded the knife in Karnit’s heart. The old man’s hands clasped the hilt and he shuddered, trying to speak, but then there was no strength even for that.

  Tallis pushed him off and struggled to his knees, breathing, staring, reeling the power back in. Beside him Karnit was dead. Something was dull and throbbing in his side. He saw blood running from the knife protruding from below his rib cage. Someone was sobbing and calling his name. Everyone seemed to move at once. He staggered to his feet but a great roaring came into his head and sudden tremendous pain ripped at his side.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted, holding out a hand, but the word that came out was not his people’s language. Serpent tongue. Marathin? He looked up, feeling her coming. People froze as a dark shadow fell over them and the sound of wings split the air, which was suddenly scented with burnt things. Arak-ferish. Marathin dropped, sending people scattering in panic as she settled, her wings stirring sand and dust. She crouched like a cat, like a snake, a great serpent in the sand, her tail furled around her body. People cowered away from her.

  ‘Tallis!’ Shaan was at his side, her face white. A few steps away Rorc was holding on to Mailun as she wept and tried to get to him. He shook his head. Keep her back.

  ‘Take it out,’ he rasped. The pain was becoming unbearable. He was shaking and his vision blurred.

  ‘Lie down.’ Shaan sounded almost annoyed, and it would have made him laugh if he hadn’t been trying so hard not to pass out. He fell to the sand near Marathin’s foreleg.

  ‘This will hurt,’ Shaan said unnecessarily as she grasped the knife handle. Then she pulled and all knowledge of time a
nd place disappeared as the pain blinded him. He screamed as her energy coursed into him.

  ‘Leave the scar, Shaan, a scar,’ he gasped. He needed to remember this, to know he was still human.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered, and he had to close his eyes as the knitting together of his organs scorched agony through him.

  ***

  Shaan tried not to think about the people watching as she concentrated on Tallis’s wound. When the serpent had come down, many had fled back to the Well, but many also had stayed. She ignored them. Tallis’s wound was deep, and as she touched him she saw the soft tissue, the streaming blood and, deeper in, felt the white heat of his power. He was not like Rorc, not like the man in the temple in Salmut. He would heal faster, better. Her breath came quickly, matching Tallis’s own, and she felt a burning in her own side as she struggled to send her energy into him. His pain was drifting into her. She tried to close off the connection between them but didn’t know how, and cried out as she forced her healing power to work faster, stemming the blood, rebuilding the veins and sealing the punctured organs. Tears ran down her cheeks and numbly she felt Tallis’s hand gripping hers over his wound as she drew her light out of her own body and thrust it into his. She rendered tissue and vein whole in her wake, but the knitting of his skin was almost more than she could manage and she could not have avoided leaving a scar even if she had wanted to. At the end, as she lifted her hand away, a puckered ugly line was seared across his gut, the skin melded together roughly, an angry dark red.

  Shaan collapsed back, shaking, her vision blurred. Rorc let Mailun go and she ran to them, putting shaking hands on Tallis’s wound, his face, crying as Rorc caught hold of Shaan as she stood then almost fell over.

  ‘Easy,’ he murmured.

  ‘Son?’ Mailun whispered, and Tallis opened his eyes, dark indigo and glittering.

  ‘Mother,’ he rasped, ‘I’m fine.’ He took her hand and slowly sat, then got to his feet.

  All around people were talking. Hashmael stepped forward as Tallis staggered a few steps toward him. Between them lay Karnit’s body.

  ‘Silence!’ Hashmael held up a hand and the crowd’s murmuring ceased.

  Tallis stood, swaying slightly, then said, ‘The Guides have spoken.’

  Hashmael’s face was grave. ‘So they have,’ he said.

  Shaan shivered. She suddenly felt as if Sabut were looking over her shoulder. His plans were starting to come to fruition. Behind them the serpent shifted, blowing out a hot breath, disturbing the sand and sending people scuttling backward. Unable to stand on her own, Shaan leaned on Rorc as Hashmael and Tallis faced each other.

  ‘This clan will need a new leader,’ Hashmael said.

  From the corner of her eye, Shaan saw a sudden movement in the crowd as Thadin almost stepped forward, his face fierce with anger, stopped only by Shila’s hand on his arm.

  ‘I am not the one to lead them,’ Tallis said, ‘I am not Jalwalah anymore.’ His voice was even, weary. ‘The clan must choose for themselves.’

  ‘Son,’ Mailun’s whisper was heartbroken, and there were tears in her eyes. Shaan looked up at Rorc.

  ‘Let me go to him,’ she said.

  ‘Can you?’

  She nodded. Some feeling had come back into her limbs now.

  He released her and she walked unsteadily to Tallis’s side, taking his hand so they stood together, facing the Clan Circle.

  Hashmael gazed at her. ‘Second great-daughter,’ he said, ‘you have the Guides’ touch.’

  She flinched at that. He had no idea how right he was. ‘Yes. And it is their wish that we fight together. The Clans must join us against Azoth,’ she said. ‘It is the only way any can hope to survive.’

  The broad planes of his face were forbidding. ‘It is not my decision alone,’ he said.

  ‘We were made to fight against the Fallen god,’ Tallis said. ‘You see we have the strength to do it. Join with us, follow our father’s leadership. If we win, the Clans will make good trade out of it.’

  ‘A promise of a dream,’ Hashmael said. ‘A war leaves little to trade.’

  ‘War is coming regardless,’ Tallis said.

  Hashmael looked at him in silence, looking over their heads to Rorc and Mailun standing near the serpent.

  ‘The Circle will consider it.’

  Tallis nodded but it was obvious both men already knew what the other clan leaders would say. Tallis had bested Karnit and he had called down a serpent, and Shaan had healed a mortal wound. What other sign from the Guides did they need?

  ‘Go,’ Hashmael said. ‘Although you say you are not of the Jalwalah there are some who may consider you so, especially now, and you have a leader to send to Kaa.’ He stepped back and turned to address the crowd.

  ‘The fight is done. Go and deal with this as you will, and elect another to represent the Jalwalah in the Circle.’ He turned away and walked back to the other clan leaders as the remaining members of the Jalwalah Circle came forward to claim Karnit’s body.

  Chapter 34

  ‘We are achieving nothing being here,’ Nilah complained. ‘I might as well have stayed in Salmut.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t,’ Tuon murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Tuon shook her head. They were sitting in the small courtyard of the house in the forest, putting off going to bed. The evening meal had been a huge affair. Fathrin, the owner of the house, had insisted on preparing them a banquet as a welcome, and Tuon’s stomach was still uncomfortably full. They had arrived late the day before and had done nothing but collapse exhausted into the beds prepared for them, but this evening they had had to suffer the attentions of their host, who seemed determined to prove his loyalty by providing more food than they could eat.

  ‘I can hardly believe what Fathrin told us,’ Nilah mused. ‘Do you think Lorgon really believes he can get away with claiming I’m ill for long?’

  ‘Since the army has started their march to war, yes, he probably can for a while,’ Tuon said. ‘People tend to be distracted by the possible death of loved ones.’

  ‘Aren’t I a loved one?’ Nilah raised an eyebrow, but Tuon didn’t bother to reply.

  Fathrin had also told them Lorgon had led people to believe the serpents’ attack on the city had been organised by Rorc and the Faithful in league with the Free Lands. It was news they had been expecting, but Tuon had hoped that their taking the Guardian from the city and the departure of the Faithful might shake some sense into Lorgon — obviously not.

  Nilah rolled her head as if her neck pained her. ‘He’ll be sorry,’ she said. ‘What do you think of those Faithful with us?’ she said. ‘One of them has quite a walk on him, don’t you agree?’

  Tuon knew the men of the Faithful who had accompanied them were standing guard in the dark corners of the courtyard. Even though they could not see them, it was likely they heard every word.

  ‘If you want to bed one, why not just ask?’ she said.

  Nilah smiled. ‘Where’s the fun in that? You know about these things, Tuon; what would you do? Have you ever had one of the Faithful?’

  Tuon’s insides lurched. ‘I suggest you don’t play games with the men who protect your life, Nilah,’ she said. ‘Besides, the Faithful would never swim in the pond they guard.’

  ‘Touchy.’ Nilah’s smile didn’t waver. ‘But I’m not sure that’s an appropriate comparison. I think a better one would be …’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘The Faithful would never ride the mountain cat they guard.’

  ‘If you want to think of yourself that way.’

  ‘Perhaps the Isles’ man would be worth pursuing,’ Nilah mused. ‘Ivar does have a certain charm.’

  Tuon took a long breath. ‘Try him if you like, but remember, he was not raised to revere the Guardian. Technically I don’t think the Serpent Isles are even governed by you.’

  ‘Technically you’re right.’ Nilah sent her an appraising look. ‘But I’m surprised you’re so casual in
giving away Ivar’s affections.’

  ‘They’re not mine to give. We are friends, Nilah, nothing more.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Nilah smiled and leaned back on the padded seat. ‘I must have misunderstood.’

  ‘You did.’ The girl’s insinuation annoyed her. Ivar had become a friend — a good friend — a rare thing in Tuon’s world. She stood. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Fine. I’m going to sit here awhile.’ Nilah’s eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Don’t tell Morfessa where I am if you see him, I want to be alone.’

  ‘All right,’ Tuon agreed, but as she was turning to go Nilah called her back.

  ‘Wait —’ She leaned forward. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do you think it’s possible to change a man’s perceptions? To convince him you are one thing when he is certain you are something else?’

  Tuon hesitated. ‘I don’t know if I’m the right person to ask.’

  Nilah made an impatient gesture with her hand. ‘Of course you are. Surely you have known more men than most. What do you think?’

  Tuon felt a headache coming on. ‘I think a man sees what he wants to see, regardless of what you may hope,’ she said. ‘But then it depends on the man. Some are better than others, some worse. Mostly once you have been marked as one thing, it is rare to find someone who will look beyond that.’

  Nilah sat back. ‘I was hoping you knew some trick, some way of changing a man’s mind, manipulating him.’

  ‘I never dealt much with men’s minds, Nilah,’ Tuon said. What had she expected her to say?

  ‘I suppose not. Forget I asked. Don’t worry about it.’

  Tuon looked at her, feeling she’d missed something she should have picked up on.

  ‘Go to bed.’ Nilah frowned, flicking a hand at her. ‘You said you were tired.’

  Tuon didn’t move. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Sit here as long as I feel like it.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I know. But if I tell you, you might tell Veila, and I can’t have that. Not yet, anyway.’