The column of water lingered in the air another moment as if saying a muted farewell. The Lady bowed low to something that no other ears could hear, and the blood of God once again became a sprinkling well of water touched by light.
“When I give you my word, step forward quickly. I cannot hold this gate for long without losing the power we will require later.”
Gate? Erin’s brow creased, but she didn’t ask.
The Lady lifted her arms in an arch that ended with the tips of her fingers. For the second time that evening she called upon her line-power, and white light—visible even to normal vision—flooded the clearing. Erin shaded her eyes and, squinting, caught a glimpse of the haloed statue the Lady made as she focused her magic outward.
Then the ground seemed to give way in the clearing, shifting rapidly between orvas flowers and cracked stone over dirt. A mist of beaded light took the air, surrounding them all in a halo of the Bright Heart’s power. Erin held her breath, waiting shakily for the Lady’s command. Only the very greatest of powers had the ability to affect the physical world so obviously.
The mist grew dense, obscuring the sight of Lernan’s Gifting. And then, as if it were glass, it shattered, and Erin found herself gazing at the remains of a wall; shattered stone and rubble lay all around. In the moonlight, the temple spire could be seen; a dark ghost of Karana.
“Now.” The Lady’s voice came, softer than usual, but much more urgent. “Step forward quickly.”
Erin swiveled around, searching for Belfas. She couldn’t see him. After that tiny hesitation, she took a firm step forward. Belfas appeared, as if magically, at one side. The Grandfather caught her arm at the other.
In silence she looked around at the ruined wall of Karana. She had never been to the city, but the extent of the destruction was obvious. She could barely imagine what the dim outline of ruined buildings might once have looked like. Nowhere was any movement evident. How had so much been destroyed so quickly? Shadows, completely hidden from moonlight or starlight, grew at the base of the wall, devouring rubble and grass alike.
“Be at ready.”
All faces turned to see the Lady of Elliath‚ hovering a foot above the ground. Her hair was shot through with brilliance. A breeze blew through the open sky, but it was not the same as the one that touched her. Her garments swirled about her bare feet in an eddy of light.
This, Erin realized, is what she must have looked like in the days before Gallin. Beautiful.
Beautiful and terrible.
For the first time in centuries, the warriors of Line Elliath saw the unveiled glory of their founder upon the field of battle that she had chosen to take. Even Telvar’s face was touched by awe at the wild beauty, the cold grace of the Lady.
“They are here still; they know that I have come.” She called upon her power yet again, and a grim, harsh daylight destroyed the darkness. “And they will not touch the Dark Heart this night.
“Be prepared now, warriors of Lernan. The Light has sounded its call to the Darkness.” So saying, she lifted her arms, fingers pointing outward. Thus had she fought her enemies before the birth of the world.
White-fire flared in the darkness, tracing its path across Erin’s vision. She unsheathed her sword and followed its flight across the empty field.
After a moment, a deep ugly red flared to life, not far from where they stood. The remains of the wall provided little cover against the red-fire that must surely follow.
“Break away from the Lady!” Telvar barked, and began to run to the west along the periphery of the wall.
The Sarillar nodded and began to run in the opposite direction. Dannen followed him, as did Evanyiri, Dorse, and Anders.
After a moment, Erin followed her teacher, pausing only long enough to grab the front of Belfas’s tunic. Telvar ducked into an open section of the wall, motioning for his line-mates to do the same. The stone was rough and unevenly broken, and even the standing wall was cracked.
“Belfas.” Belfas nodded in silence, amazed that Telvar could find words after all that had transpired. “Watch with me.”
Erin started forward as well, and Telvar shook his head sharply.
“We’ll not be here long.” His own sword he kept parallel to the matted sheen of his armor. “Let the Lady draw them out if they dare to come.”
Clamping her jaw in frustration, Erin stepped aside. But she kept as close to Belfas as she could, just in case she had to yank him back into the cover of the wall.
Belfas knelt carefully by one side of the ruins and craned his head forward to catch sight of the Lady of Elliath. She still stood above the ground, as if her feet, immortal and eternal, would find no purchase there. From this distance, he swore that he could clearly see the emerald brilliance of her gaze.
Then he heard it, a sound that no one alive save the Servants could boast of hearing; the battle cry of the Servants of the Dark Heart. The white brilliance of sky was split by bands of crimson, the bitter blood of the Dark Heart. Darkness grayed the edge of the Lady’s day and began to push it inward, reasserting natural order.
Red-fire flared like a javelin thrown unerringly toward its target: the Lady herself.
Only her hand moved, but white-fire spread outward to meet the enemy charge. A thunderclap split the air.
If the Gods ever fought, this is what it must have been like.
Belfas’s eyes scanned the area he could see, trying to make out the three that he knew were in waiting. There, he thought. One. He glanced up at Telvar.
“I see him,” the weaponsmaster said. “Keep watching.”
Belfas nodded, but he could only make out the one.
“Belf!”
Erin’s voice caught his attention, and he turned, as did Telvar. The weaponsmaster’s frown faded as he followed the direction of Erin’s shaking finger.
She had found the second of the three.
Like the Lady, he hovered—but this time many feet above the ground.
“Bright Heart,” Telvar swore softly. “He dares.” For the second of the Servants stood atop the smoldering wreckage of the Temple of Lernan’s highest spire. His arms were spread wide, limbs of shadow around which brilliant red entwined like serpents.
“The third must be beyond the walls, closer to Andin,” Telvar said quietly. “A triangle around the Lady’s center. I do not believe they notice us.” He frowned and corrected himself. “Or that they think us a threat.” He began to move forward, leaving the wall for the blackened buildings of the inner city. “Their mistake, then. Come. Let the Lady hold their attention a while longer.” He picked Belfas up by the shoulder. “Are you prepared to remain here?”
Belfas nodded, his eyes transfixed by the Lady. She was a sight given to few to see, and of these few, he alone would truly be able to remember the glory of it.
“Erin, come.”
Erin stared at Belfas’s bent back and hesitated.
“Erin.”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “Keep safe.”
If Belfas heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it, and she turned to follow Telvar.
He moved with the grace and confidence of a cat stalking its small, helpless prey. Erin followed directly behind, trying to mimic the fluidity and speed of his movements. Her training held sway; she was silent, her feet barely disturbing the rubble, dirt, and timber that they passed over. Behind her came the Grandfather, but she didn’t take the time to see in what order the others ran. It was hard enough to keep her eyes upon the ground; everything in her screamed a silent warning as the ruins of the Temple of Lernan came ever closer and the creature on the smoldering spire loomed ever higher.
There was little grass on the route they took; the ground was hard and felt uneven. Stones, flattened, carried the sound of her feet. What remained of the buildings was a chaos that she could not understand; they were packed too close together, and there were so many of them. They were tall, most at least twice the height of her home.
She was looking up when
she ran into Telvar’s outstretched arm. It took her by surprise, and she gasped before she could quiet herself.
Without speaking, Telvar pointed.
A large, dark chasm ran across the breadth of the city streets. This, then, was what had destroyed so much. Erin shuddered.
“Telvar.” The Grandfather spoke above her head. She turned, caught Kredan’s astonished stare, and heard Carla’s single syllable.
Telvar looked back at the Grandfather, shaking his head. “Too wide to cross.” His face was grim. “The three have done their work.”
The Grandfather looked up at the sudden flare of red across the gray sky.
“Serdon?”
The Grandfather looked back at Telvar. “Only three of us now,” he muttered. “It will have to be me, I think. I am not so fast as either you or Carla.”
Telvar looked at Carla, who nodded her assent.
Erin glanced at Kredan, but the significance of the exchange had apparently bypassed him as well, though not for long.
The Grandfather raised his arms, a shadow of the Lady’s movement, and spread them wide. His hands traced twin circles in the air, and he spoke three words; words that Erin would not later recall no matter how hard she tried.
Light flared around him, light pale but pure—the Gifting of God’s blood. It flowed outward in a rush to the ground, taking sluggish root there.
The Grandfather closed his eyes, bowed his head, but continued to force power outward.
And the ground began to move.
Erin had heard all the teaching stories about the Gifting of God, but never before had she understood it so completely. None of the Lernari alone, past or present, could have achieved this miracle; even the strongest could only affect the living. In awe she watched as the Lady’s meaning became clear: No one untrained could possibly hope to contain this much of the living light and survive.
The rock struggled outward, swaying and leaning as it reached for the other edge of the chasm. When it connected, it made its purchase, and the light ebbed away from it.
Telvar caught the Grandfather as he fell to one knee.
“Serdon?”
“I am . . . fine.”
The weaponsmaster nodded and ran lightly across the new bridge. Erin hesitated for a moment before she felt the Grandfather’s hand upon her back.
“Look at Telvar,” he said softly, “and only at Telvar. The bridge is solid rock; it will carry you and hold you if you follow it quickly.”
She inhaled, forcing her eyes away from the yawning darkness.
“Erin, please.”
Nodding, she bit her lip and stared at Telvar’s retreating back. She put one foot upon the uneven stone and followed it quickly, trying not to look down. Only when she reached the far side did she breathe again; she could not even imagine having to go back.
The temple pulled at her attention; the temple and the darkness that defiled it. She stared upward as her feet began their steady pace across the rubble once again. They were almost upon it when red-fire launched outward, traveling high above their upturned faces. If the Servant was aware of them, he still did not condescend to notice their existence.
Telvar reached the base of the tower and looked up, shaking his head. In the pale, unnatural light, Erin could see that only the shell of the spire remained intact. Large, gaping holes darkened its sides.
Carla cursed again, and Telvar touched her shoulder.
“Serdon?”
The Grandfather shook his head. “I’ve nothing left.”
The weaponsmaster nodded in grim agreement. “Let us hope that Andin is not in the same straits.” He took a deep breath and readied his weapon. “We will have to call it down, then. We cannot afford to go upward to greet it.
“Erin, Kredan, stay with the Grandfather until the nightwalker touches ground.”
“If,” Carla added darkly. She looked at Telvar.
“On my count,” the older man whispered.
The Grandfather touched Erin and Kredan, pulling them into the cover of the tower’s base. Two bodies lay there, naked and broken.
“Not now, Erin.” The Grandfather’s voice was sharp.
She swallowed and turned away from the corpses.
“Watch.”
She nodded; she still couldn’t speak.
Carla and Telvar stared up for a moment. Then each in turn slid the edges of their blades deftly across their left palms. They lifted their arms, mirroring each other’s gestures almost precisely. But for all that their movements were graceful and fluid, neither relinquished weapons. Flashing steel formed the periphery of two small circles; battle circles, if one could see it.
And Erin could see it clearly. They seemed consumed in the same radiance that had touched the Grandfather at the chasm. But instead of pulsing outward, the light remained contained by their bodies, growing stronger and more brilliant as the seconds passed.
The Grandfather’s hand tightened upon Erin’s shoulder as she tensed. She watched as the impossible happened; the light grew stronger still. Her eyes narrowed, but she could not look away.
Telvar nodded once, briefly, at Carla. Then the Bright Heart’s power exploded up from the ground, crossing the length of the tower in an eye blink. White-fire cut the sky.
Erin didn’t have time to watch it connect, but she heard the sudden chill scream that seemed to come from everywhere.
“Now!” the Grandfather said.
Erin’s sword was already in the air.
Kredan paused for only a moment, and Erin saw the now-familiar, painful sight of blade against skin. He closed his eyes briefly and then started toward Carla and Telvar.
The light had gone out of them completely.
Erin and the Grandfather watched, tense and ready, as the shadow began to descend. The red lines that coursed through it were much weaker, but no Lernari could doubt they were there.
Remember this, Erin heard Telvar say from the distance of years. You cannot hope to defeat a nightwalker; it can ward easily and quickly against anything you can attack it with.
Not anything, she thought, as she followed on Kredan’s heels. We may not have destroyed it, but we have weakened it.
Carla and Telvar were already gesturing as red-fire flashed in the air to collide sharply with the sudden periphery of the True Ward’s circle. Kredan joined it with his own ward, and the red-fire crackled against the sudden barrier. Even the Grandfather, weakened as he was, added his blood to theirs.
Only Erin, not truly adult, was unable to come to their aid, at least not that way.
The red-fire held, but it gained ground slowly through the barrier as Erin breathed a sigh of relief. It was true; the power of the Servant had indeed been drained by whatever damage Telvar and Carla had done.
But not enough; the red-fire moved slowly, but it moved nonetheless—moved toward the nonhuman blood of Line Elliath, to consume it, to destroy it.
Four against one, they waged their motionless battle, with one lone person on the periphery of their tableau.
She noted the straining, pale faces of her line-mates, but the face of the enemy was obscured by darkness, the same darkness that had shrouded the face and form of the one other Servant of Darkness she had ever seen.
She froze for a moment, her grip on her sword so tight that it hurt. Was it you? Was it you?
She knew that she couldn’t afford to let the sudden rage that she felt take her completely. Knew it, but couldn’t stop it. Nor could her companions, too caught in the battle for their lives to notice her fleeting form as it circumvented them in the shadows.
Fear? She felt none.
She saw only the darkness, felt only the black, bitter anger that had come to replace her.
I’m warrior trained. I know how to die.
I know how to kill.
She raised her double-edged sword as she approached the shadow. Raised it high above her head, as she had done one other time, in defiance of the darkness, in the wake of the dead.
; If she could not have the True Ward, she would have the Greater. One hand danced a stilted jitter across the air. If she could not have God’s power, she would have her own. Light—pale green, but nonetheless bright—cascaded up her sword. And Bright Heart, if she could not have her mother, she would have this, the arc of her glowing blade, its whistle keening through the suddenly stifling air.
Not from this quarter did the enemy perceive a threat. But still a claw of darkness, much like a badly burned hand, shot through the air, flying upward to meet the solid steel of Erin’s sword.
For a moment she was twelve again, but this time there was no Kandor, no warrior-priests with the strength of their True Wards, no rescue. There was a death here, a better death than her mother had died.
The truth of Telvar’s many words was proven as the nightwalker’s hand slashed the blade down to one side and rose for Erin’s throat. But even the touch of the meager light she had summoned seemed to anger it.
“Your blood, half-breed,” it demanded.
Erin only smiled. “Take it.” She wrenched back, using the distance as the only leverage she had. “Take it, then!” She raised her sword.
And then Telvar’s keening blade also came in. The hand that had reached for Erin swung round to fend off Telvar. The darkness that shrouded the face glowed suddenly red, and the weaponsmaster bit back a cry and stumbled, gesturing.
But it had been only a flicker; the Servant had not the time for much more, and the cost of his fire was high.
Carla danced in, her speed the equal of Erin’s, but her strength the greater. No green fire touched her blade, but rather a white one; the purity of the power of adulthood. The Bright Heart, weakened by his Gifting, had nonetheless come to her call.
And this strike found its mark even as the Servant’s eyes flared in shadow again. Carla felt the red-power that swirled around her like a whip, but she held herself in, her hand not leaving the blade that was buried in the nightwalker’s dark side.
Erin struck, also, as she had been denied the chance to do once before. She felt her sword connect and nearly dropped it as darkness crawled up to meet her hands.
Into the Dark Lands Page 12