“IN THE BACK room,” Kadar heard Uncle Tarik say, then Alannah swept in. Her hair was elaborately piled on her head, and her golden robes were silken rather than the usual cotton.
“Kadar, what?” Alannah gasped, out of breath as though she’d been running. “I heard you, somehow, through Yaslin. I left a ceremony for the Tribune because it was clear the One wanted me to come if she allowed Yaslin to communicate your voice. What is it?”
Sanuri launched herself at Alannah and began babbling before Kadar could say anything.
“Easy, little one,” Alannah said soothingly. She knelt, and Sanuri leaned against her. Alannah put her hands on either side of the girl’s temple. “Quiet. Don’t speak, just think at me.”
They went completely silent, statues leaning against each other. Alannah let out her breath. “The Templar has told Voras he knows where the children are. He followed the viceroy’s son to the hiding spot. Voras has given the Templar orders to kill everyone there,” she whispered, her eyes closed, still focused on Sanuri.
“Where? Where are they?” Kadar asked urgently.
“A cellar, in a vacant first-circle home,” Alannah said. “Voras doesn’t care if the children live. He wants to teach Ivanha a lesson.”
“When?” Kadar asked.
Alannah opened her eyes. “Dusk. Now,” she said, and stood. “We may already be too late.”
“Tell me where,” Kadar said.
“I’ll lead,” Alannah said. “Stay here, Sanuri.”
Kadar grabbed his sword as they dashed out the back door, Yaslin joining them as they ran through the streets.
Kadar was grateful that the largest crowds were at the Tribune’s ceremony. The remaining people on the street stepped out of their way when they saw Alannah’s golden robes. They entered the first-circle street west of the Temple walls. There were no guards around to stop them as they ran down the road and through the iron gates of a small, elegant home. No light shone in the windows, but Alannah ran through the front door, through the darkness to the flickering light that was coming from the open cellar door. They heard the piercing screams of terrified children.
Kadar followed Alannah as they pounded down the stairs and into a scene from a nightmare. A man was standing in the doorway, facing inward with his sword unsheathed as though to cut down any who tried to flee. Kadar slammed into him, knocking him down, and smashed his head into the floor. Kadar paused to make certain he was unconscious and realized the man wore the Templar insignia.
“You just took out the Templar,” Alannah confirmed. “We must stop this. The soldiers are killing everyone.”
Kadar saw that she was right. The children wore brown Forsaken robes. Forsaken men and women were trying to shield the children. Bodies were strewn on the floor as Forsaken tried to match knives against swords and were cut down. To the right of the doorway Severin was struggling to escape two soldiers who had his arms pinned behind his back.
The Forsaken battled with knives and threw chairs at the armed fighters. Kadar started forward as a soldier swiped at a small blond girl across the room, but a Forsaken woman shoved the girl behind her. The sword struck the woman’s arm instead, and she screamed. Severin howled behind Kadar as the woman fell and rolled, trying to escape the soldier. Kadar had a moment to realize it was Farrah, to see that he could not reach her, before the sword came down again. Terror flashed on Farrah’s face before the sword bit into her neck.
He wasn’t aware that he’d yelled until his cry echoed in the suddenly silent room.
Everything froze. The soldier froze in the act of pulling his sword out of Farrah’s body. Another soldier froze in midswing, inches from killing a little boy. Alannah stood in the doorway, eyes blazing, hands raised. Yaslin, pressed against her side, squalled in anger.
Kadar ignored the other Forsaken, ignored the children and Severin. He ran to Farrah, knelt by her side.
Farrah’s blue eyes were open, but they were blank; she saw nothing. She bled freely, her breath gasping and shallow. He put his hands on the cut at her neck, trying vainly to staunch the flow of blood. He looked around at the frozen people, desperate for help, then at Alannah.
“Help her!” he cried. “Like you did Sulis. Save her!”
Alannah moved slowly, as though carrying a great burden, sweat trickling down her forehead from the effort of keeping everyone still. She put a hand on Farrah’s brow and bent her head, closing her eyes.
Farrah took a last, shuddering breath, released it, then was still.
Alannah opened her eyes, misery brimming in them. “Healing was not granted,” she whispered.
Kadar shook his head.
“No,” he whispered, but he knew it was true, she was gone. He closed Farrah’s sky-blue eyes and bent over her, kissing her forehead. “I’ll take care of them all for you,” he promised. “Your sisters, Datura. I’ll keep them safe.”
“NO!” Severin screamed. Alannah shuddered as he surged forward. “You have to heal her,” he begged Alannah, as he shoved Kadar aside. Kadar sat back on his heels, numbly watching as Severin put his hands on Farrah’s cheeks, patted them as though to bring her back. “Farrah, come back, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone. Help her!”
“She has gone beyond the One’s help now,” Alannah said. “The One has set you free to take the remaining Forsaken from the city. Go now, in peace.”
“No, this is wrong,” Severin said, tears coursing down his face as he stroked Farrah’s cheek. “The One owes her life. We’re on the right side. He has to bring her back. He owes us this.”
Alannah’s eyes turned cold, even as her hands shook with effort. Yaslin hissed by her side, feeling her mistress’s anger. “You disobeyed the One, all of you. You killed feli, you shed innocent blood. This may be the right side, but you used the wrong actions. The One is merciful to let you leave. She will not let children be used as pawns.”
“Farrah will be avenged,” Severin said, tears streaming down his face as he gathered Farrah’s body, holding her close with one hand as he drew his knife with the other. “I’ll kill the Templar for this. I’ll pull the Temple down around his ears.”
“Not now, not here,” Alannah ordered. “The One will allow no more violence today. What you do after this is your own business. Take your living people and get out of the city. If you do not obey the One, we will leave you for the soldiers. You will be tried for treason and hung.”
Severin slanted a look of hatred at Alannah as he put away his knife and hoisted Farrah into his arms, standing. The remaining Forsaken stumbled as they were released from Alannah’s hold.
“You’ve made an enemy of me today,” Severin hissed at Alannah. He followed the Forsaken out the door, trampling the Templar as he left.
“FARRAH!” AVA SCREAMED, distracting Sulis for a moment. She looked back and saw Ava hunched on the floor between the statues, sobbing. Clay had his hands on her shoulders. Ashraf roared defiantly as Voras pressed at his mind, trying to force him to let down the shields, and Sulis focused again, dancing the energy and sending it to him. She felt first one flare of energy, then another at the doorway as Grandmother and Anchee tried to break the ward. Sulis twisted a yellow line of energy and flung it toward them. Grandmother caught the energy and spun it, breaking the wards that blocked the door. The wards shattered, and Raen paused in his progress toward Ashraf.
Distantly, Sulis heard the clashing of swords and looked past the patterns to see warriors fighting warriors, the doorway shield breached. Raen still fought to get to Ashraf, inching closer though their shields, his sword raised. Sulis spun onto the yellow strand of energy again and it forced him back a step.
“She’s dead,” Ava screamed shrilly. Sulis looked over in time to see Ava slash her own hand open with a dagger. She stood straight, her face twisted in anger, eyes blazing as she stared at Raen. Sulis did not recognize the darkness that possessed her. “Voras killed my sister. You killed her. You will be consumed!”
Ava turned and smeared her blood on the statue of Voras. She started painting a bloody pattern on the statue, and Sulis gasped as dark energy rolled forth from Ava. She turned back to Raen, who had gained a few more steps because of Sulis’s distraction. His eyes widened, and he clutched at his chest as though it were hard to breathe.
“Dance the dark energy, Sulis,” Grandmother ordered, suddenly beside her. “Draw it into you and send it to Anchee, so I can send it into the earth. If left unchained, it will destroy everyone here.”
“Ava, no,” Sulis heard Clay cry. Ava didn’t listen, and the dark waves rushed toward the warriors who were subduing Raen’s followers, rushed toward innocents as well as invaders.
Sulis felt the energy, felt a pattern emerging, and began a calming chakra series, drawing the dark energy into herself before it could overcome the warriors. She created good energy with her flow, mixing it in with the dark waves, then throwing the energy to Anchee, who was just a step behind, mirroring her and following her lead. It was painful, drawing the dark energy into herself to tame it. It felt as though she were dragging a sword along her spine, but she continued to move, to dance the energy. Sulis tasted blood on her lips and wondered if she’d bitten them or if she was bleeding inside. It didn’t matter, as she drew the energy, sending it to Anchee, who sent it to Grandmother. Grandmother sent it into the Obsidian floor, which glowed red under her feet.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Raen moving slowly toward the statues through Ashraf’s shield now that Sulis was no longer feeding it. He was gasping as though each breath hurt, but Voras forced Raen’s body forward. He no longer focused on Ashraf, only on Ava and the patterns she was drawing with her blood. Ashraf moved as well, inching closer to Raen, sword raised, struggling against the dark energies.
Sulis whirled, crouched, and held the pose of the seeker, desperately looking over at Ava, not knowing how much longer she could channel the darkness.
Clay rose behind Ava, holding her dagger. He struck her on the side of the head with the hilt, and Ava collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Sulis sank to the ground as well, blood running from her nose as the dark energies ebbed and finally ceased.
Raen gave a cry of triumph and surged forward, sword aimed at Clay. Djinn darted in from the side, squalling and slashing behind the man’s knees. Raen screamed and wildly stabbed at the feli. Ashraf was faster. The deadly arc of his sword took off Raen’s head.
Sulis levered herself up to an elbow as Ashraf rushed over to her. He clasped her near as he searched her over for injuries, wiping blood off her face with his sleeve. Djinn came and flopped across her lap, purring loudly. Sulis stared stupidly at Ashraf, then over at Raen’s body.
“You’re really hard on Voras’s mouthpieces, aren’t you?” she asked.
He stared at her a moment, then snickered. She laughed with him and grasped his cloak with dizziness. Djinn bumped his head under her chin, and she felt a swell of energy from him. It revived her enough to climb to her feet.
“You must not be too injured if you can still make jokes,” Ashraf muttered.
“I feel terrible, but not as bad as the last time Voras tried to kill me. What happened to Ava?”
They turned to see her form crumpled beside Voras’s statue. Clay, Grandmother, and Anchee knelt by her side.
“She’s alive,” Clay said. “Her energy is depleted, but she’s alive.”
“The battle is over,” Ashraf said, helping Sulis stand. “The healers should be here soon.”
Sulis looked around and realized it was true. Sari was already shouting orders to the Obsidian guards, who surrounded the remaining warriors Voras had geased. Those warriors knelt, their expressions confused.
Sulis tripped and almost fell as she staggered toward Ava’s fallen form. She looked down and realized the obsidian floor was pitted and warped where Grandmother had been grounding the dark energy. Ashraf grabbed her elbow, steadying her.
“Will she die?” Sulis asked, her voice cracking as she knelt beside Ava. Nuisance curled up by the girl’s side, only the rise and fall of his chest showing that he lived. Djinn bumped the kitten with his head, then lay down beside them.
Clay shook his head. “She is merely unconscious. She used up much of her life energy. I think she would be dead without her little feli giving her strength. She should recover, in time.”
“What was that?” Ashraf asked. “That black mist.”
“Blood magic,” Anchee said. “She directed it at Raen, trying to destroy his life force. If Clay hadn’t knocked her out, it would have destroyed everyone in the room, including Ava.”
“If our Shuttles had not protected us, you mean,” Clay said. “Everyone here owes you their lives.”
“How did she learn it?” Grandmother asked, examining the bloodstains on Voras’s statue. “These are complicated patterns. No texts exist for that kind of magic.”
“It is usually transmitted from deity to Voice,” Clay said, looking thoughtful. “Ava first collapsed against the statue of Aryn. When she stood, she was already in motion, slicing her hand to work the magic.”
“You think Aryn showed her?” Sulis asked, looking uneasily at the statues surrounding them. “I didn’t think the statues were the deities, just their trapped power.”
“I have always thought there was more trapped here than the scholars believed,” Clay murmured as Sari, the temple master, flanked by several Obsidian guards, came to join them. “Perhaps there are memories there, drawn out by need. I must think on this.”
“All the traitors have been dispatched,” Sari reported. “The two door guards are dead. They have no marks on them though they bled from the nose and mouth. We believe Voras attempted to force a bonding on them, and they resisted.”
“We need to get Ava to the infirmary,” Anchee said.
“The healers are tending the wounded,” Sari said. “We are fetching a stretcher. I will post a guard on her in the infirmary.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sulis protested. “She helped us. She isn’t the enemy.”
Grandmother put a hand on Sulis’s shoulder. “We don’t know what damage the dark energy might have done,” she said. “We don’t know what it will awaken in Ava’s body.”
Sulis shook her head stubbornly. “I’ll stay with her,” she said. “So she won’t be frightened when she wakes up.”
Sari looked her up and down. “Good. You look like you need to be in the infirmary. The healers can watch you as well.”
Sulis scooped up the sleeping Nuisance and stepped away as a stretcher arrived. Clay was looking around the temple, his face thoughtful.
“What is it?” Sulis asked.
“I was supposed to die,” Clay said. “All the visions showed it. Ava and I were alone. I protected her until she was rescued, but I did not live. Not in any vision.”
Ashraf grinned. “The visions didn’t count on Sulis’s stubbornness then.”
Sulis slugged him in the shoulder as Clay gave a delighted laugh.
“No, they did not. And it shows me there is more hope for our future than I ever believed.”
“TAKE THE CHILDREN,” Alannah whispered to Kadar after Severin was gone. “Take them to the Children’s Home. Elida will meet you there.”
“What about you?” Kadar asked.
“I will hold the soldiers until you have gone.” She shook her head. “It is good you knocked out the Templar. Voras would have come, called by his Templar’s distress if you had not. But the Templar will wake, and I can’t hold against him, so you must flee.”
Alannah’s body was tense, and she closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Kadar shook away his shock, rousing himself. Farrah’s blood was on his hands, and he helplessly wiped his hand on his pants before turning to the pale, shocked children who still lived. He gathered the crying children, trying not to look at the still bodies on the floor as he herded them up the stairs. He kept his emotions in, not allowing his pain to bubble out as they stumbled down the street toward the Temple. Elida met them halfway, with the Mother Superior and several of Ivanha’s maidens in tow. The maidens gathered the children to them as Elida greeted Kadar.
“Go home, Kadar,” Elida ordered, sweeping by him. “I’ll go to Alannah and deal with the Templar and the mess he created.”
Kadar walked through the darkened streets. People moved out of his path when they saw his bloodstained clothes and the lines of anger around his mouth. He walked directly to his uncle’s house rather than the merchant hall, not wanting to answer the questions of his uncle and cousin.
Kadar entered the house and leaned against a wall, sliding down it. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them. Images of Farrah raced through his mind, and he gave way to grief.
He pictured her as he saw her first: blond hair, startling blue eyes glancing curiously at him over a pitcher of mead at the table. More images: the determined jut to her chin as they spoke of the Forsaken, the beautiful softness of her body when they made love. Her soft gaze as she cradled Datura, humming as their little girl cooed with delight. Kadar let the tears come.
He didn’t lift his head until he felt a strong arm around his shoulders. He looked up into Uncle Tarik’s sympathetic face.
“What happened Kadar?” Uncle Tarik asked. “Dono came running, said you were covered with blood and wouldn’t answer when he called to you. Are you injured?”
“I’m not hurt. But Farrah is dead. Soldiers found her and the Forsaken. She was killed defending the children she’d kidnapped.” Kadar told him. “Severin took her body and escaped with the rest of the Forsaken.”
“So she became a martyr,” Uncle Tarik said, shaking his head.
Kadar nodded and tried to pull himself together. Uncle Tarik helped him to his feet, and he realized that his robe and sleeves were still wet with Farrah’s blood. He felt Uncle Tarik’s eyes on the stains.
“It was a hard death,” Kadar said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t agree with what she choose to do, but she didn’t deserve to die like that.” He bowed his head as tears came again. He choked out what he saw of the attack, stopping with the maidens taking the remaining children.
Uncle Tarik pulled him close, letting him cry himself out on his shoulder. Kadar heard boot steps and pulled back as Simon returned from the sales hall, not wanting his cousin and Sanuri to see him.
“Go get cleaned up,” Uncle Tarik said. “We’ll decide what you need to do, later, after you’ve rested.”
“The Counselors might come by,” Kadar said.
Uncle Tarik nodded. “I’ll fetch you if they do. With the mess they’re cleaning up, and the rites for the Tribune, I doubt they’ll be by.”
Kadar paused at the stairs, feeling eyes on him. Sanuri stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes wide as she took in the blood on his clothing.
“It all went wrong,” she whispered. “It all went wrong.”
“IT ALL WENT wrong,” the Templar told the Crone. He was leaning against the doorway to the cellar. The Crone had fled up the stairs after seeing the bodies of her children lying so still on the packed dirt floor. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as she listened to the Templar’s excuses. He held a hand to his head, a bruise beginning to form on his temple. “The Forsaken began slaughtering the children when they heard us coming. There was nothing we could do.”
“Liar,” the Crone hissed. The Counselors had left already, Elida supporting an exhausted Alannah back to their house. The only living people who remained in the house were her and the Templar. “The Counselor told me your soldiers were killing the children. The Forsaken were dying trying to protect them. From you.”
“I gave no such orders,” the Templar said. “I don’t know what happened. I was attacked from behind and knocked out. My soldiers must have thought the children were Forsaken.”
The Crone shook her head, furious. “Unarmed children?”
“I told them to kill all the Forsaken,” the Templar replied. “Unfortunately, the children were dressed like the outcasts.”
“What were you doing there?” The Crone demanded. “Ivanha said to ransom the children, to give the kidnappers what they wanted. Not to attack them.” And kill my children, she didn’t add. Her heart bled. So many little bodies, still on the floor. Children she’d read to, she’d nurtured, insensibly cut down.
The Templar’s feli pressed against him, and he stiffened suddenly. The Crone took a step back as his eyes widened and turned red. Voras, possessing the Templar, turned his gaze on the Crone.
“Ivanha, attend,” he snarled.
The Crone braced herself as her feli bumped his head under her hand. At that contact, Ivanha flooded into her, taking over control of her body. The Crone felt herself pushed to the corner of her mind, and almost lost her connection to her body as Ivanha turned her attention to Voras.
“You were a bad boy,” Ivanha purred, and the Crone felt her waves of anger beat at the thread the Crone held on to. “These were my children, under my protection. You will make concessions for what I have lost.”
Voras snorted. “A load of brats. The humans will replace them before the decade ends.”
“My brats!” Ivanha shrieked. “I promised my Voice.”
“Shut up and listen,” Voras snarled. “This is nothing, a few human lives. I’ve found the secret of the desert.”
The Crone felt Ivanha’s rage dissolving into curiosity. “The desert? Your man down there saw something?”
“He found our essence,” Voras said. “He found our missing power, where it is trapped.”
Ivanha waved dismissively at him. “Your man was dreaming. Or he heard wrong. We are missing nothing.”
“Then why do we have to use the feli?” Voras asked, grabbing the Crone’s shoulders. “Our independence was chained, frozen by a spell into the mortal bodies we took, and we never knew how. I tell you, I saw them. I was able to take over my man, to see through his eyes and control him. We have greater powers, trapped in statues, chained by physical form as well as a powerful shield.”
The Crone felt Ivanha’s sudden understanding, then her surge of desire to regain her autonomy. “You saw this? Where?” she breathed.
“Where our last defeat was. They’ve built a temple in the middle of the waste. We need to go there, reclaim it. Then we can destroy the One.”
The Crone listened in horror. The One was an annoyance, a frustration with the limitations she put on the deities. But she was also their mother and father. This was like hearing someone plot to murder his own parents. She felt despair as Ivanha’s elation rushed through her body.
“Our own temples again,” Ivanha said. “Our own will, ruling the people. But how do we reclaim it? Is your man still there?”
Voras snarled in frustration, the Templar’s handsome face twisted with anger. “He was killed. I was close to my powers, close to regaining what I had. They were powerful, the Guardians. One of them was the desert pledge. I knew she was a spy. “
Ivanha snarled in frustration. “They are alerted, then. They know you’ve found their secret. It will be impossible to slip a second person in.”
Voras shook her once. “We don’t need a second person. We need to go in and reclaim what was ours. This is it, Ivanha. This is what we’ve been building toward. We will mobilize our troops. We will go to war with the desert and reclaim what they’ve stolen from us!”
The Crone was sickened as Ivanha flooded her mind with images of the last war, with human bodies strewn over great battlefields. “But the troops will die in the desert,” Ivanha said. “Only the merchants know the routes.”
“They will give the routes to us when we have their families,” Voras said. “We will put down this Forsaken uprising, using the murderers of the children to sway people against them. We will show that the desert merchants helped the Forsaken. The people will support us when we arrest the merchants for collusion.”
The Crone protested in the back of her mind. It was the Templar who had killed the children. The Crone felt her thread to her body slip even more, as weakness and depression set in. Ivanha did not seem to notice.
“Yes,” Ivanha said, stepping back and breaking Voras’s hold on her shoulders. “I will support this. You will build dissent first and give me time to pick a stronger Voice before we take action. What about Parasu and Aryn?”
“They will not be told,” Voras said. “If we regain our powers, we can subordinate them, make them lesser deities.”
“Oh, yes,” Ivanha agreed. Visions swam through the Crone’s head. Ivanha building huge temples, dedicated only to her. Sacrifices made to her. Aryn serving her. The Crone felt ill, and her grasp slid more. The idea of a quiet retirement to a mountain retreat seemed like just a dream now. Everything would be torn down in her deity’s quest for idolization.
The Crone wondered how she would feel watching the goddess she adored destroy the things she loved, even if she no longer served as Ivanha’s Voice. It was beyond bearing. The Crone considered the darkness she’d resisted since becoming Ivanha’s Voice. All she had to do was let go.
The Crone felt her body’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Ivanha realized her Crone was letting go of the thread connecting her to her body. She saw Ivanha reaching out a hand as she drifted away into darkness. All she had to do was grasp it, and Ivanha would bring her back.
The Crone turned away from the hand, turned away from Ivanha. She felt her body slump toward the floor. Then the darkness claimed her, and she knew no more.