by Lara Morgan
‘Have you discovered what it is I send you to seek?’ he said and there was a note of amusement in his voice, as though he spoke fondly to a naughty child.
Her breath caught and she was afraid to look up. She held her hand still and tense in his.
He laughed softly, a rich deep sound in his throat. ‘Did you think I would not know? I feel you, Shaan, you are in here.’ He put her hand up on his chest. His muscles were hard and smooth beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
The thought came to her that he would be beautiful naked. He chuckled and, dismayed, she tried to pull back, but he held her fast.
‘Shaan, Shaan,’ he said her name as a caress. ‘It is the way it should be. I know you feel it even before you do. We are one. Look at me.’ It was a command and she could not defy him.
His eyes caught hers in their dark violet gaze. The jungle around her disappeared. All she could see was him and the power that blazed from him. She felt his ancient heartbeat beneath her hand.
He smiled. ‘Others have told you things, but they do not know the truth of it all – the truth of us.’ He took a breath. ‘They didn’t tell how I was betrayed by those who should have loved me most.’ Pain flared brightly for an instant in his eyes. ‘My brothers and sisters, you call them the Four Lost Ones, banished me. But they did not destroy me. I suspected already what they might do; I had planned for it. It was something I should not have been able to do, but using the Birthstone I made a child,’ he said softly. ‘A child by a mortal. Your ancestor.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t you see?’ He let go her hand and ran one finger down her cheek and under her chin. ‘Oh, there have been many others, but they were half alive – not what I needed. But you . . . you are special. Perfect.’
She stared up at him. His eyes darkened and warmth spread through her. She couldn’t look away. He leaned closer and desire throbbed through her as he brought his lips down upon hers. He kissed her lightly and his touch made her head whirl. She clutched at him as the world spun away. She was nothing, he was everything. She pressed against him, parting her lips, wanting. There was only the feel of him, the steady beat of his heart under her hands and his fingers in her hair. She wanted his hands all over her, his flesh on her flesh. His kiss hardened and with a jolt she felt the tip of his tongue brush the inside of her lip.
The shock of it snapped her back to herself and she tore away. ‘No!’ She put shaking hand to her mouth.
His eyes were glinting and dangerous. ‘It was you who sought it.’
Had it been she who had clung to him, she who had pressed herself against him? Revulsion ran through her. Was he doing this to her?
He smiled a knowing smile, his eyes mocking. ‘The river is waiting my child.’ He held out his arm toward the dark waters.
‘No,’ she said, fear making her voice unsteady.
‘You cannot defy me.’
‘No,’ her voice was a whisper. ‘Please . . . I’m afraid.’
His look softened and, reaching out, he took her hand and pushed the ring gently onto her finger. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. As long as you cleave to me you will be safe. I won’t let you fall.’
He drew her into the river and she was unable to resist. The mud was thick under her bare feet, the water shallow and warm, and despair filled her as his hand circled about her wrist and all light disappeared.
39
‘If you want to go back for her, you go alone and on foot,’ Attar said angrily. ‘I must return to Salmut. I cannot help you.’ He threw the bone he’d been chewing into the fire, swatting at the insects buzzing around his neck.
They had made camp for the night in a small clearing among the tall grass of the swamplands. The earth was damp, the fire hard to light, and the food scarce, but Tallis cared little, he was filled with an urgent need to return to the village.
‘Then I will go alone,’ he said.
‘And you will die,’ Attar retorted. ‘Then what help will you be to her?’
‘I cannot sit here and do nothing!’ Tallis paced restlessly around the small space.
‘Do you even know who he is, the Fallen?’ Attar stared at him.
‘What does it matter?’
Attar exhaled and shook his head in disgust. ‘He will kill you. As easily as a candle is doused, he will take your life.’
‘I am not killed so easily.’
‘He is a god, clansman. Two thousand years ago he ruled all, we were all his slaves and now, if the serpents are right, he is back and all will fall under his heel or be crushed.’
‘The people of the clans were never anyone’s slaves,’ Tallis said.
‘The people of the clans were so few he probably thought you not worth pissing on, but you are many now and he will notice. We must go back and warn Rorc.’
‘I don’t care for any of that.’ Tallis brushed his arguments aside. ‘Shaan is my sister, my blood, and I will not leave her, or Jared.’ He set his jaw and stared hard at the older man. ‘There is nothing you can say that will stop me.’
Attar held his gaze, and then turning spat on the ground. ‘The honour of the clans.’ He shook his head. ‘Always it will be your downfall.’
‘Without honour what is there?’ Tallis said. ‘I will leave at sunrise.’
Attar snorted. ‘It will take days on foot.’
‘Then give me a serpent.’
‘Hah!’ Attar swept a hand out to the sky. ‘Go on and take one! See if they will let you.’ He looked at him across the fire. ‘You know they have their own minds. They are not muthu to be traded at will; they will not go with you if you cannot command them.’ His eyes glittered in the flickering light and Tallis sensed a challenge in his gaze.
‘Perhaps I will,’ he said quietly and Attar grinned. ‘Stubborn, aren’t you?’ He spread out his coat and lay on top of it on the ground. ‘Sleep well, clansman,’ he closed his eyes, ‘I’ll tell the Commander not to bother sending anyone to find your body.’
Tallis stared at the fire and didn’t bother answering. Insects buzzed around his face and he waved them away irritably. The air was warm and damp with the smell of rain and fetid earth, and the stars hid behind a blanket of cloud. They had been travelling without pause for two days; he should be tired, but he could not sleep. He kept thinking about what the woman of the Wild Lands had said. He had to learn how to control his power, but who would teach him? He didn’t have time to go back to Salmut and learn from the riders. Shaan was in danger; she needed him now. He would just have to teach himself. What was it Alterin had said about reining it in, building a shield around it?
Filled with determination, he waited until Attar had begun snoring and then walked some distance from the camp, pushing through the thigh-high grass, until the fire was only a faint glow. Then he turned his back and tilted his face to the sky, closing his eyes. He tried to imagine a boundary around his mind. He thought of a wall of stone, rooted deep in the earth, imagined it like a cave wrapping around him, then tentatively felt for the presence of the serpents. They were not far away. Marathin was hunting the grasslands a few miles west of him. He felt the steady rush of her in his blood and let it fill him. Haraka he could sense also, fainter but still there. The younger serpent pulsed with a hot quick fire, while Marathin throbbed steadily with a slow burn. He knew she was aware of him. It was like a head turning to look at him, her mind’s eye seeking him out.
Carefully, he tried to reach down to find the words. The mass of energy inside surged upward, and he tasted it, metallic on his tongue, but he could discern no words. The place they’d come from was deeper. He reached further and his mind buzzed. His head felt as though it were clamped in a vice. He gritted his teeth, pushing his will against an invisible resistance, struggling to maintain the boundary he’d created. Something fractured and pain arced through his skull as the well of his power opened. Blood, life, thundered through his veins. He felt the world – the earth – breathing. His skin felt on fire.
Come to me! He channelled
the power and threw a command to Marathin, jolting as it meshed with her mind. She stilled and turned and, for the briefest of moments, wavered; then a bolt of anger slammed back at him and he fell to his hands and knees on the damp earth, gasping as it hammered him. Nausea roiled in his stomach, and dimly he heard the flap of wing as the serpent came toward him. Retching, he shuddered as the smell of the fetid earth rose rank to his nostrils. His hands clenched into the mud as wind from the serpent’s wing swept over him, pushing back his hair. He craned his neck to see Marathin hovering above, her great green eye glinting at him in the dark.
Arak ferish, she hissed and settled to the earth, flattening the grass all around. She crouched barely two arms’ lengths away and looked down on him, her head tilted to one side, waiting. Tallis pulled himself out of the mud and rose unsteadily to his feet. He’d heard those words before. What did they mean?
His destruction, she hissed. The balance. His bane.
Tallis stared. He had felt her enter his mind, soft as the brush of a moth. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said quietly.
She dropped her head down until it was level with his and the heat of her breath pushed at him, redolent with ash and carrion. He swallowed, but stood his ground. You will not frighten me. He met her gaze. The serpent exhaled hard and pulled back slightly, and Tallis felt a trickle of amusement filter into his mind. Small azim, you are brave, it is fitting, she hissed.
Tallis took a breath, trying to control his frustration. His insides still felt as if someone had punched him but he was not going to let the serpent get the better of him. He had to find a way to control the beast.
No control! Marathin arched her neck and hissed at the sky, shuffling her wings, then lowered her head at him again. You must join, create the Hive, be master of it, the Crest. Become Arak ferish, we will follow.
Tallis stared at her. ‘What does that mean? I don’t understand!’
Ferish. You are his bane. The one made who can unmake him. She snaked her head down to him on her long neck, looking deep into his eyes. You are the balance. The female, beloved. The male, his bane. Two made from one.
Tallis’s heart thudded hard in his chest. She was talking about Shaan and the man Alterin had called the Fallen, the god Azoth. So they were his descendants. Why hadn’t Shaan told him? Was that why the black serpent had not killed him? Was it too afraid to kill one of its master’s blood?
Yess, Marathin hissed. Like others in the city, it is weak, afraid of him, but too ready to travel the old paths again, too ready to give up freedom to him.
Come, join I will show. Marathin dropped her head low, thrusting forward so her eye was level with his. Frozen, Tallis could hardly feel his breath as he stared back at her. Her head was half the length of his body, her green eye staring. It seemed to fill his vision: green flecked with gold. From inside came a strange unfurling, a recognition of something forgotten and, without knowing how, he reached toward her with his mind.
Time stopped. The world spun away. He felt the serpent around and within him and the well of his power springing up to meet her, the hard pounding of it running through his veins like cold fire. A fey smile split his face as he saw not the grasslands around him, but another place in another time. He saw a city surrounded by jungle. A serpent and a man cowered at the feet of the dark-haired man and, as he watched, the serpent and man merged, writhed and changed, shedding skin to become something else – a monster, a myth.
The beginning, Marathin whispered. Then suddenly, he was standing on a rocky ledge buffeted by wind and in the open air around him, a host of serpents hovered and he could feel them all interwoven within him. They were like a river of light in his mind. With one thought he could send them where he willed. The hive, Marathin hissed, A new hive. If you find the words.
And suddenly, he understood. A blink of his eye brought knowledge swift as a breath. Without hesitation, he dove down to the kernel of his being, hearing the satisfied hiss of the serpent like an echo, an afterthought. His kin.
Words rose to his tongue, sharp edged like knife blades, hot as earth fire. They were the words of Marathin’s birthing, the words of her kind, and they sang in her blood. Tallis flung back his head, feeling the immensity of his power shoot from him like the bursting of a star. The boundary he’d set flew apart. Pure energy sang through him and, looking up, he saw the dark shadow of the serpent, like a wraith against the cloud, and it seemed her hide was painted with flame.
When he woke it was still night. His mouth was dry and he was lying on his side and could see nothing. For a moment he thought he was in his family tent in the desert, but then he felt the earth under his cheek and smelled the dank scent of the swamplands and knew where he was.
Pushing himself up, he winced as his head throbbed. All around him the night was silent except for the buzzing of insects, and then he became aware of the deep push and draw of a serpent’s breath behind him. Turning slowly he saw Marathin, her hide glinting in the darkness. She crouched in the grass, her head lowered at him like an enormous cornered cat.
He got slowly to his feet. He felt different, lighter, and yet stronger.
Arak-ferish, Marathin whispered in his mind.
‘What did you do?’ Attar said from behind him and he swung around as the rider came closer, the planes of his face suddenly illuminated as a high wind tore a hole in the cloud.
‘She will no longer listen to me. She said she must go with you now. What did you do?’ he repeated.
He was angry and Tallis did not blame him. ‘I’m sorry, but I must go to my sister.’
Attar’s brows drew together.
‘I needed her,’ Tallis said.
‘You need her, do you?’ Attar repeated grimly and stepped forward, but then stopped short, staring at him. ‘You are changed clansman.’
Tallis looked away to the serpent. ‘I found the words to command her.’
‘So I see. And Haraka?’
‘I’ve let him be, you will need him to get home. He’s hovering out there beyond us.’ Tallis pointed west.
‘So,’ Attar nodded, ‘You still think you can face a god on your own, or do you think yourself a god now too?’ He slid his glance over him. ‘You are barely a man.’
‘I don’t know what I am,’ Tallis said. ‘And if I die, I will do it saving my sister. Would you not give your life for yours?’
‘I have none,’ Attar’s face was hard.
‘You could come with me.’
‘And die alongside you?’ He shook his head.’ You keep your honour, clansman.’
Tallis turned and went to Marathin. ‘Hunt well, wetlander,’ he said, but Attar did not reply. He hoisted himself into the space between the serpent’s wings and with a deep breath reached for the words, holding tight to his control. Fly semorphim, he said in the ancient tongue, and with a crouch, Marathin flung herself up into the sky and turned toward the Wild Lands.
40
It felt as though Alterin had gone to the ends of the earth. Two nights had gone past and none of the other villagers had spoken to Shaan. She stood on the riverbank staring at the swirling brown water, her eyes aching from lack of sleep.
The night before had been a battle of wills. She resisted as hard as she could, but Azoth was stronger and the thing, the Stone, was waking. She dreaded what would happen when it decided to reach back. It was like a great seething mass of water, which once released would wash her away.
Wandering away from the village, she found a small patch of sunlight among the shrubs near the bank and sat down on the damp grass. The river lapped the shore and tiny insects buzzed lazily around her head. Swatting at them she lay on her side, resting her head on her arm and bringing her knees up to her chest. She was desperate for sleep. To have a chance at getting away, she needed to be stronger. She had begun hoarding food and storing it in a bag she’d stolen that was hidden in a hollow tree outside the village. A soft root with a mild salty flavour, some dried fish and the large seedy oonunga fruit, which pained
her stomach but was better than nothing. Would it be enough to see her out of this jungle? Who knew?
Miserable, she curled in around herself and almost immediately sank into a restless sleep peppered with dreams in which Balkis shunned her and Azoth chased her. His hands brushed at her heels and she tripped and fell, tumbling into a black chasm that echoed with whispering voices. Terrified, she cried out, and suddenly something caught her and Tallis’s face came to her clearly, as though he were beside her. I’m coming, he said and she woke suddenly, the impression so vivid she almost expected to see him.
The sun shone down, drying her damp dress and skin, and she sat up slowly, feeling stiff and sore. Had that been him? It had felt so real, his voice so clear. She sat there for a moment, legs straight out in front of her and took several deep breaths. Since Alterin and Jared had gone, she had made a decision. She was going to run, no matter what the jungle woman said. It was madness to stay here. She’d seen a narrow path that wound south through the jungle alongside the river. That way would do for a start, it was in the right direction at least. She tried not to think about how far Salmut was or how she was going to find her way. It was simple – she must run if she were to survive. She would not keep playing Azoth’s game.
So she was his descendant; she could accept that, but he must accept she would never call him family. No matter how he might make her feel, or the hated connection that ran in their blood, it wasn’t real. She wasn’t his. Tallis was her family: Azoth was an abomination.
There was a rustling sound and with a start, she saw Alterin under the shadows of the trees. ‘You’re back,’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’ She slipped quietly out and sat beside her. Her face was closed, secretive. Jared came out of the jungle behind her.