by Shannah Jay
Unfortunately, no Hashite Guild Assassins were available, not for any price, and the job was bungled, so that everyone knew what had happened to the Lord Claimant, instead of presuming it a natural death. And when young Badrith took his great-uncle's place and sent out a decree ordering every able-bodied man to join the Salvators, every single man, no exceptions - a thing the previous Lord Claimant had not dared do - there were many who left Kelandrak secretly rather than obey the decree.
Enough people fled to surprise Badrith and make him worry that his new mentor, the Lord of Setheron, would be angry with him, even perhaps, depose him in favour of another candidate.
'Note down their names and stop fussing,' Sen-Sether told him sharply, impatient to be off. 'When we return, we'll see they pay dearly for this betrayal. And in the meantime, join me in the Inner Shrine of your temple this night. You, too, must pay proper homage to the Serpent before we leave.'
Badrith gulped. Rumours about what Sen-Sether did in Inner Shrines had reached even Kelandrak.
But if pain was the price of becoming Lord Claimant, then he would pay the price.
***
Fifteen days later Badrith reined in his showy white nerid. 'We're here. That grove marks the border between Kelandra and the High Alder, Lord Sen-Sether.'
'Ah!' Sen-Sether spurred forward. 'Stay where you are.' He raised his voice. 'Fetch the banner forward!'
The standard bearer came trotting to join him. 'Lord of my Claim?'
'Ready the banner to plant on the other side of that grove of trees, but first,' Sen-Sether looked around, 'someone fetch that prisoner we caught earlier.' He watched with pleasure as the man was killed and the banner dipped in his blood before being erected. 'So we go forward from now on,' he said, his voice harsh with excitement. 'In blood shall we defeat those hags. And it shall be soon.'
Below them the ground rumbled, and the rumble became a deep growl that twisted men's guts. A shape began to form ahead of them, sending men creeping backwards. It rose - up, up, rearing further each minute. A serpent shape, so black that it hurt the eyes to look at it, with eyes so baleful that even the most fervent worshipper looked away. But this time there was no transparency to it. This time it was a firm solid Manifestation, even without a mass offering of pain to support it.
Sen-Sether laughed aloud and flourished an obeisance. 'Dread my Lord, welcome to your new land!'
he called and the giant head swayed to and fro above him, the rumble so soft that it was almost a crooning sound.
Suddenly, the great head jerked and a growl of anger thrummed from the open mouth.
A noise like distant thunder came from the next hillside and the ground there shook, not as it did when the Serpent was rising, but more as if the ground itself were alive. Rocks clattered down, causing men to scatter and run for their lives - rocks big enough to crush a nerid, as was soon proved. Rocks
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big enough to kill a man and then roll on to do more damage, as if they had a life and will of their own.
As was also proved.
With a loud scream of rage, the Serpent began to sink back into the ground.
'What was that?' demanded Sen-Sether, staring towards the hill, which was still shaking and giving out ominous noises.
When no one answered, Sen-Sether repeated his question again. 'What was that?'
Seeing that everyone was looking at him, Badrith shook his head. 'I know not, Illustrious Lord.'
Sen-Sether studied the hill with a puzzled frown. 'There is no Sisterhood taint, but yet - ' He let his words trail away. Whatever had shaken the ground was inimical to his Dread Lord and the Serpent had chosen not to fight it at this stage. His Dread Lord was, he knew, conserving his energy. But he had, at last, manifested himself properly without assistance, wondrous in his dark writhing beauty.
When nothing more happened, Sen-Sether gave the signal to move on and the human tide began to pour across the border. He led it proudly, but every now and then he looked around, frowning.
But they saw no further sign of the presence that had disturbed his Dread Lord and he concluded that it was a local being, a thing of the underworld, one which had never had its power augmented as his Dread Lord had.
***
The Hapslith Terraces were filled with bustling figures, setting up shelters, distributing arrows, stones, anything that would serve as a weapon. And as they worked people sang, rhythmic songs that had co-ordinated group labours for as long as anyone could remember. But always they came back to the new song Herra's Joy, whose melody was so filled with happiness it made you feel good just to sing it. And when you’d finished it, a little twist in the final verse tricked you into starting it again, so that you had to break off consciously when you decided to stop.
The group of fighting deleff remained inside the natural amphitheatre of Therak Bowl. Erlic, standing with them, was very much aware of the tension radiating constantly from them. He understood better than anyone else how much even these special deleff hated violence.
He tried to explain Herra's main battle strategy to them, but it sounded so improbable that he trailed to a halt. He sometimes felt he knew nothing, torn as he was between two worlds, with such imperfect memories of his days as a deleff and such faltering skills as a human.
He turned as he heard footsteps and saw his twin approaching. They clasped hands without a word, then Erlic gestured to a rock on the pool's edge. They often dispensed with words, not needing them to understand each other's simple needs. But the need today wasn’t simple.
Alaran tossed a bit of twig into the pool. 'Do you feel anything about the coming battle?'
Erlic didn't immediately reply, then he sighed. 'Yes. Of course I do.'
'Which one of us?'
'I don't know. I think it could be either. Only,' he frowned, 'I'm not sure whether it's death or - or just a separation - a passing-on.'
Alaran sighed. 'Whatever it is, it'll break Mother's heart.'
'And separate us.' Erlic stared into the pool. What could you say? He thought it would be him, he hoped he would be the one to move on. It would be more fitting. Here he was a mule, neither man nor deleff. He’d been created for two main purposes, and both would be at an end, one way or another, after the battle.
He’d come here not only to help fight against the Serpent, but to help his fellow deleff understand what was happening in the Twelve Claims. And he’d done that, too, done it better than anyone had ever expected, because of the love his parents and his twin bore him. When he moved on from this life, the deleff would be the richer for this understanding. Love had formed a very strong bridge between the two species.
'Where are they now?' Alaran asked. No need to explain who 'they' were.
'The deleff report that Sen-Sether has reached the lower ranges. He'll be here in two days, Quedras thinks. Our people have removed all the signposts and they've let him see our scouts in the distance.
He's turned the way they want him to go now. He’ll be here.'
They said nothing more, but when they rose, they hugged one another.
'You are my brother, in every way that counts,' Alaran said softly.
'And you are the brother of my soul. More than a sibmate.' The only kind of relationship the deleff knew.
***
The next morning dawned bright and clear. It seemed obscene, somehow, that with Sen-Sether so close, with a battle in the offing, the sun could shine brightly and birds sing sweetly.
Seeing the long faces everywhere, Herra made a point of touring the lines, cheering people up.
'Look at the sun. Did you ever see such a beautiful day?'
'Yes, lady.'
' Sunrise shall awake with joy, ' she urged. 'Can you not find joy in our task?'
She was indefatigable that day, and when she’d passed, people looked at one another and smiled.
How could they not fight, with a lady like Herra of Tenebrak to lead them?
The ironworkers arrived
at the Terraces mid-morning. 'We decided to join you for the battle, lady,'
their leader said gruffly. 'No use doing anything more in our line of work till the Serpent is defeated.'
The miners arrived soon after, having come to the same decision. They looked very different from the people Herra had rescued from the Serpent. Health shone in every face, though they’d never have the ruddy complexion of people who spent their lives out of doors.
Purvlin hurried to greet his father and Daranna recognised a cousin of whom she was fond. When some of the miners who’d started a mine further out asked after Jiran, they shook their heads, tears in their eyes, as they whispered, 'He died saving the Lady Herra's life.'
'May he find a gentler path in his next life!'
The people of Danak, Katia's old home town, had chosen to fight together. Kensin and Quinna had joined them.
By mid-afternoon, Benjan was looking furious, for there had been no sign of his colleagues from the Hashite Guild. Somehow he’d been counting on them and their fighting skills to stiffen the backbone of people who’d trained dutifully, but who didn’t have a taste for aggression.
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Only as the first signs of dusk were softening the outlines of the hills did a lookout pass the message that a large group was on its way through the foothills.
'Friend or foe?' Benjan queried.
No one knew.
'I'll go and see who it is,' said Carryn.
Benjan scowled, but didn’t dare give his wife preferential treatment. And it was true that she was at home in the woods and high reaches. Her skills were now second only to those of Kensin and Katia.
She took Aderon with her, a strong young man nowadays, who’d make a worthy Lord Claimant for Kelandra once the Serpent was defeated.
Carryn came back looking worried. 'It's your friends from the Hashite Guild. But Benjan, they've been in a fight already.'
When Lerrian limped into the headquarters of the large straggling camp, she was in a foul mood.
'Ambushed,' she admitted to Benjan, when a Sister Healer had repaired the long gash on her thigh.
'You'd think we of all people would be able to guard against that.'
'How did it happen?'
'Betrayal. Must have been. We had scouts out, but they never came back. Suddenly the camp was attacked.' She shuddered and lifted her eyes to Benjan. 'For the first time in my life, I was afraid,' she confessed, too shocked to maintain her usual confident air. 'They sent,' she frowned as she tried to find words to explain it, 'they sent out terror like a wind. It swept through our camp. We were disoriented.
And then,' she took a gulp of hotbrew, clinging to the comfort of the warm mug between her trembling hands, 'then the ground began to shudder and shake. We thought it was an earthquake at first.'
By now a crowd had gathered around her, a crowd so eager to hear what she was saying that no one noticed Herra join them.
'Go on,' urged Benjan as she paused.
'Well, the noise seemed to lodge itself in our bellies - like the fear you've always hidden, the pain you don't want to betray. And then we felt so weary and dispirited that it was all we could do to lift our swords or heft our throwing knives. The first wave of attackers hit us hard while we were still hesitating. That shocked us into action, I can tell you. Luckily old habits took over until we could get our brains working properly again.'
She managed a lopsided grin. 'Nothing like death staring you in the face to make you concentrate on your swordplay, is there? And then - suddenly they were gone again.'
'What do you mean, gone?' Quedras demanded.
'What I said. They retreated. They were giving a good account of themselves, but they just retreated.
We were left standing there like a bunch of fools.' She breathed deeply once or twice, as if reluctant to say more, then she visibly forced herself to continue. 'But after they left, the noise came again. The ground rumbled and thundered. It was hard to stand upright. And this time, the fear in our bellies was worse. It was like all the nightmares you've ever had rolled into one.' She gave Benjan a shamefaced glance. 'I've never told anyone about my nightmares before, but I've had a few. And this - this was like the whole lot of them hitting you all at once.'
'Clever,' said Herra's cool voice. 'We must think how to counteract that. Go on, Lerrian.' She patted the mercenary on the arm and noted with satisfaction that Lerrian's colour improved and her hands stopped trembling at the Healer's touch.
'We thought they were preparing to hit us in another wave, but they didn't. Instead,' she shuddered,
'instead, the ground began to rise right up, so that we tumbled about, and out of the ground came -
ugh, it makes me shudder even to remember it - out of it rose a serpent's head. Huge, it was. As big as -
as the rocky top of that hill over there.'
They all turned round to stare at the nobbly hilltop. 'Are you sure?' Benjan asked. 'Are you sure it was that big?'
Lerrian gave a shaky laugh. 'Oh, I'm sure. I was standing right next to it. The thing was a serpent shape and it had red eyes, burning like coals. But worst of all,' another pause, 'worst of all, was the emptiness of it. Dark and empty. It sucked at your eyes. You couldn't move. If anyone had attacked me then, they'd have killed me easy as butchering a meat nerid.'
'So what saved you?' Quedras prompted.
'I don't know.'
'What do you mean, you don't know?' he roared. 'Of course you know, you rrockbrain! And we need to know, too.'
'I know what it seemed like,' she said defensively, 'but you'll - you'll not believe me.'
'If we can believe in snakes rrising up out of the ground,' he shouted, 'then we can believe in whatever else you saw. Get on with the tale. We don't want to spend all night listening to you.'
It was the right approach. She shot him an angry glance and pulled herself together.
'The earth shook again. Not the same sort of shaking, though. And the ground above us began to heave. A voice seemed to be calling, "Come to me!" So we ran up the hill. And - and behind us the ground rippled. Huge trees were tossed about like throwing daggers, streams slipped down into new crevices, boulders skittered about. You've never seen anything like it. And there we were, like a bunch of naughty children hiding from their parents, huddling together on top of that hill. Whatever it was below tossed us to and fro a bit, but the ground didn't split and the trees stayed put where we were, at least.'
'Hah!' Quedras smacked one fist into the other. 'It was Quequere. I know it was! Only Quequere could have done that.'
Lerrian shot him an unfriendly glance. 'What in the name of every wriggling demon is Quequere?'
'It's our - ' it was his turn to frown as he tried to describe Quequere. 'He's not a god, he's as real as you and me, but he looks after us. He lives in the rocks. He's different from us, different from the deleff, too. But he's Quequere and we of the Sandrims are his people.'
'And he lives in the rock?'
'Yes.' Quedras saw the mingled shame and bewilderment in her eyes, and felt a deep compassion.
She must be a cursed good fighter if she was a Hashite mercenary. Gruffly, he offered her his hand.
'You did well to resist the Serpent at all. Let's hope the rest of us can all do as well tomorrow.'
She shook his hand and nodded, relief creeping into her face that they’d believed her. 'We'll fight with you tomorrow, Ben. Don't worry. We won't run out on you.'
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He gave her a buffet on the shoulder. 'I'm not worrying. We're in the same guild and we have the same enemy.'
But he couldn’t help wondering whether the Serpent had really been held back by Quequere, or whether it had withdrawn for some reason of its own. Maybe it had just been testing them out or . . .
sowing the seeds of fear.
***
Jonner was trying to talk sense to Narla. 'Yes, but if I do get killed tomorrow - '
'You won't.'
'But if I do - '
'Stop saying that, Jonner, or you'll make it happen.' Suddenly she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. 'Oh, my dear, I couldn't bear it without you now.'
'I'm trying to tell you the arrangements I've made. There's money in a few places and if the worst comes to the worst, I thought you could try to make for - '
Narla shook her head. 'I'll be standing right next to you tomorrow, Jonner love. If you die, so do I.'
'But you're a useless fighter.' For once he was brutally honest. 'And once my slingstones and throwing knives are used up, so am I. I won't be able to protect you.'
'You won't change my mind.' She set her lips in a way he knew all too well and he groaned, then pulled her to him and buried his face in the softness of her breast. 'I do love you, Narla.' His voice came out muffled and she stroked the soft thinning hair on his neat little head.
After a while, he sat up. 'Well, then, if that's how it is to be, we'd better gather some more pebbles.
I'm not too bad with a sling, and if we work as a team, you can feed me the stones and - '
'I think Herra wants us to concentrate on singing.'
He sucked in air ready to tell her how stupid it would be to sing in the face of an enemy armed to the teeth and ready to kill you as soon as look at you, then something stopped him.
It was a voice singing, a clear tenor voice, the most beautiful voice you could ever think of hearing.
Herra's Joy rang out and Alaran walked along the lines singing it. One by one people joined in, till the whole mountain side was ringing with sound, till joy really did seem to brighten the air around them.
And when the song ended, the people whom it had comforted lay down, to sleep peacefully until the sun gilded the mountain tops.
CHAPTER 27 FIRST ENGAGEMENT
When the advance groups of Sen-Sether's army started to gather on the flat ground of the valley bottom, Quedras didn’t waste his time attacking them. He’d already divided the terraces into sectors, giving each a leader who had some understanding of fighting - though no one in the Twelve Claims had any real experience of warfare on this scale, not the Kindred, not the Hashites and not even Those of the Serpent.