In the far distant remains of the Blasted Lands the ground shivered in a thousand places. At the heart of the place once called the Mounds the great vine pushed itself from the ground and began spreading far and wide. It rose into the air and spread itself like a dozen arms reaching for the horizon. As it spread, the ground beneath it offered up trees and shrubs and deep, green grasses.
Deep within the center of that great vine, Cullen moved and sighed and stretched herself.
The Mother-Vine was renewed. That was all she could hope for.
Deltrea’s voice spoke to her softly. “That wasn’t so horrid, was it?”
“By all the gods, Deltrea? Why are you still here?” She spoke with no mouth and was not the least concerned by that fact.
“I have no idea. But here I am and here I’m staying.”
The notion of eternity was not particularly pleasant at that moment.
Nachia Krous stared out from her window and shook her head. “What exactly happened?”
Desh Krohan rubbed at his jaw and mirrored her headshake. “No bloody idea.” He raised his hands in mock surrender when she looked his way. “I could not hope to be more serious.”
Drask Silver Hand moved into the room. He did not knock.
Nachia frowned. “I’m not sure how this works. Their champion rose and beat my champion. I accepted defeat and offered up my Empire and then you came along and defeated them.”
“If I had any desire to rule an empire, I would have the right to yours.”
Desh looked his way. “Would you?”
“Nachia’s Empire was technically in the hands of Tarag Paedori as the head of the Daxar Taalor’s armies. When she conceded, the Empire was his to claim in the name of the gods. I defeated him in honorable combat. I could claim your Empire as my reward.”
“Why not claim his kingdom?” Nachia looked at the gray-skinned man dubiously.
“The gods choose who is king. I am not currently in their favor.”
“So what would you do with this Empire if you had it?”
Drask shook his head. “Leave you as my regent and leave. I have many things to consider.” He looked them both over. “You are either the Empress or the regent to the Emperor. Either way, you will likely see me again.”
Drask left the room that easily and the two of them looked after him.
“I don’t suppose you could just turn him into ashes.”
“No, Nachia. Don’t even jest.” He worked his jaw and heard several light crackles.
“How do you feel?”
“Humiliated. I was punished by a boy.”
“And you were cheating.”
“I was not!”
“He dropped you without benefit of sorcery.”
“He has iron hands!”
“You wear robes that can stop a dozen arrows. You were beaten by a boy who was smart enough to figure out your weaknesses.”
“What happens now?” Desh liked a good jest but there wasn’t time. There was never time. After centuries he was beginning to understand that notion.
The war was over. Nachia was Empress. They had to do better when the next challenge came around.
“We need to rebuild our armies. We need to find a way to speak properly with the Silent Army. They have not yet gone to rest and they might know something we do not.”
“They were ruined. You understand that don’t you? They were broken and defeated and I still don’t understand how.”
“The Daxar Taalor and their chosen.” Nachia shook her head. “I have never seen more brutal soldiers. They are relentless. You saw Andover! You ruined his leg with your sorcery. You burned him alive, and he kept coming.”
“I truly hope he doesn’t hold a grudge.” Desh was looking down at the courtyard where the fight had taken place. Andover Lashk was down there. He knew it. He didn’t have to guess. Merros Dulver had told him as much.
Nachia nodded her head and moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. “I have never been this tired, Desh.”
“So sleep for a while. I will be here waiting.”
The Empress of Fellein, or regent, depending, nodded her head and moved to the antechamber where she had a small bed concealed. Now and then rest was a beautiful thing.
Merros Dulver looked at Andover Lashk and headed his way, carrying two Pabba fruit and a knife.
The young man looked him over, read his posture and assessed the contents of his hand with a glance.
One quick stroke of the knife opened the hard rind of the fruit. A second slice and the other was opened. Merros offered both to Andover and let the lad pick. As soon as he had made his choice Merros peeled the rind back and took a bite of his prize. The best way to make the lad comfortable was to show that he meant no harm.
“I’m surprised you don’t have me in leg irons.”
“Personally, I don’t feel like losing that many soldiers today. We’ve had enough injuries of late.”
Andover meticulously pulled away the rind and then tore segments from the sweet Pabba. Watching him eat was unsettling and fascinating at once.
“You are staring.”
“I’m sure you did the same when you got those… things on your jaw.”
“They are marks from the gods.”
“Do you still hear them? Your gods?”
“Yes,” Andover nodded. “They still speak to me.”
“What do they say?”
“I can come home to them or stay here as their… ambassador.”
“Do they wish to sue for peace?”
Andover shook his head. “No. They are gods of war. They will never sue for peace. They will simply bide their time.”
“And do you think we should accept you as their ambassador?”
“Honestly? I still don’t really know what an ambassador does.”
Merros chuckled. “From what I’ve seen they mostly sit on well-padded seats, eat food and flirt with the Empress.”
“That is hardly the life I was planning to live.”
“You could work a forge. I’ve seen your work.”
Andover shook his head.
“Then how about this? How about you work with me to train the Fellein Army?”
“How’s that?”
“By all the gods, lad, you took down Desh Krohan. You knocked the greatest wizard of the lands down a few pegs.”
“He did not want to kill me any more than I wanted to kill him.” That said, more of the fruit went into his mouths and Merros forced himself not to stare.
“Maybe. But he would have.”
“He very nearly did.”
“Help me train the troops. They will follow your commands.”
Andover nodded. “Until one tries to kill me.”
Merros grinned and pulled a slice of his own fruit free. “Then you get to keep your senses sharp. Stay more alert than I did when I went into the Blasted Lands.”
Andover closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “For now I will stay. It is what the gods want and what you want.”
“Excellent. I expect honesty from you, Andover. A vow not to kill anyone here without a fair and proper warning, regardless of what the gods will say.”
Andover looked at him for a long moment and sighed. “You have been talking to Drask Silver Hand.”
“Drask and I respect each other. I would have the same sort of respect with you, Andover.”
“Done.” He shrugged. “I will not betray the kings or the Daxar Taalor. But I will offer you this. If I am ever told to kill anyone, I will leave the city for two days first.”
“What good will that do?”
“Do not insult me, General Dulver. You have had people watching me since the Sa’ba Taalor left.”
True enough and he couldn’t argue the point.
Merros nodded. “We will work out the details soon. In the meantime you may stay in my chambers until we work out the final details.”
“Where will you be?”
Merros tried to smile and looked away. “I lost someone to the war. I will go to her home and find a way to say goodbye to her.”
Andover looked at him and nodded. “I have lost someone as well. I wish you the best at finding peace.”
Merros moved away and left his last thoughts unuttered. There is no time for peace, even after war. There is only time to prepare again. His people had forgotten that for a very long time and it had cost them almost everything.
It wasn’t a lesson he intended to forget a second time.
Tataya was the one who found Captain Callan’s body. First she called the Sisters to her and then she called on Darsken Murdro.
“How do you suppose he died, Darsken?”
The Inquisitor looked at the dead man and shook his head. “He died at sea, fighting the Sa’ba Taalor. He died as he was meant to die, as a hero.”
“How do you know these things, Inquisitor?” Pella’s voice was soft and low and lovely. Her eyes looked into his and he smiled, content to know that he could drown in her eyes as easily as any of the Sisters. They could enchant a soul with ease and chose to leave his alone.
“When he died he drove his ship to Louron.” He shrugged. “Sometimes the spirits find their way to us and we do what we can.”
“Did he know he was dead?”
“He did not. He had a small seed of talent. His anger was so great that he dragged the spirits of the dead with him. So, of course, we did what we had to, to help him. In another life he might have been a sorcerer. Instead he took to the seas and had his fun and games dodging the military and the City Guard.”
Callan’s skin was cold, but surprisingly well preserved all things considered.
Tataya almost asked, but before she could Darsken answered her. “It’s the waters. They are very cold and hold off decay. Now that he is here, on the land, the rotting begins.” He looked down at the man and shook his head. “A pity. I liked him.”
“I remember you yelling at him very clearly.”
“I had hoped to convince him to try a different career.”
“Apparently soldier was not the right choice, either.” Tataya’s voice was touched by sorrow and she touched the captain’s face.
Goriah’s voice was soft and cold, “Was it you, Darsken?”
“Was what me?”
“Did you silence the gods?”
“Who am I to silence gods?”
“There are many tales of what the Louron can do.”
“Do any of those tales speak of silencing gods?”
“Well, no, but it was not us.”
“Had I that ability I would have used it long ago. The Louron do not believe in gods, after all, and having them silenced would work to our benefit.” Darsken rolled his shoulders. “We can call this one a war hero and give him a proper ceremony. He and his crew killed several of the enemy and foundered their ships. Besides which, he was a good man. I will send the City Guard to claim him before the birds can feast.”
The Sisters nodded as one and moved with him. Darsken did not mind the company.
Not far away a member of the Silent Army looked out at the waters, guarding against whatever might come.
They were all disheartened. They were all, to the last, broken. They could not speak to their gods and that was as great a sin as if they’d had their ears ruined and their eyes cut out.
Still, the Sa’ba Taalor were fighters. They moved across Fellein using whatever methods were available to them. Many walked, others ran. Some cut down trees and took to the waters, building small vessels to let them find their way to Wheklam. There were a lot of small boats and more stolen along the way.
Tuskandru found his way home easily enough. He killed any of the Fellein who crossed his path on the trip and he took the time, now that the war was at least halted, to get to know Stastha better. They lost themselves in their lust and it eased the pain of their broken contact with the gods. At least for a while they could connect with each other. Also, his second seemed determined to break some kind of personal record. Who was he to argue?
Every king made it back home. The first of them was Swech, who rode Saa’thaa to the mountain where Morwhen no longer stood as if her very life depended on her being first. In some ways it did.
She followed the rules, of course, and made her way to the heart of the mountain, crawling and climbing as was needed.
Through the Thousand Veils of Paedle she worked her way until, finally, she stood at the heart of the mountain, naked and afraid.
“Where are you, Paedle? Why can I not hear you any longer?” The stone beneath her bare feet surged with warmth and she heard the voice of her god.
I AM HERE SWECH, I HAVE NEVER LEFT YOU.
She wept and dropped to the ground, pressing her face to the warmth of the volcanic heat below her. “I have been so alone, so very alone.” She wept. They were tears of joy at finding her world was not destroyed irreparably.
THE DAXAR TAALOR LOVE YOU AS THEY HAVE SELDOM LOVED ANY OF THEIR CHILDREN. THAT IS WHY WE HAVE GIFTED YOU SO MANY TIMES.
She nodded, feeling the love of the gods and returning it.
“I thought you would make me kill him. I would do it, you know. If you asked, but I am grateful that you did not.”
HE IS AS SPECIAL TO US AS HE IS TO YOU. MERROS DULVER HAS NOT YET COMPLETED HIS TASKS FOR THE DAXAR TAALOR. Swech felt the warmth move over her and concentrate on her belly, where the life within her continued to grow, a sign that she and Merros were meant for different things.
IT IS NOT MERROS DULVER’S TIME AND IT IS NOT YOUR TIME. YOU HAVE MANY THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH IN OUR NAMES.
Swech rolled over and looked up at the stone ceiling above her. At a distance she could see the opening to the heavens and the Great Star above her. For the moment she was content in the love of her gods and in the knowledge that they loved her still, despite her flaws.
Her hand rested where the baby stirred inside her, growing slowly.
It was enough. For now, it was enough.
The Pilgrim listened to the words of Empress Nachia Krous and ignored them. Rebuilding themselves from the ground was easy enough. The giggling man, Nolan March, had found him and asked a simple question of him. He had asked if the Pilgrim could make the Sa’ba Taalor suffer.
After consulting with the gods, he had said yes.
The idiot godling fed power into the Pilgrim and the Pilgrim shared that power, bringing back the defeated Silent Army and then striking in a way the Sa’ba Taalor could never have expected.
The Silent Army could not silence gods, but they came close. They deafened the followers of the gods. In time the effect would wear off. Eventually the Sa’ba Taalor would reach their gods and the connections would be reestablished. Until then the enemy fled, uncertain how to react when they could no longer hear their gods.
It was a simple trick, really, but one with heart-wrenching implications. The Pilgrim and his faithful devotees would have been just as lost if their gods stopped speaking to them.
Drask took little with him. He had little to take. His weapons stayed with Brackka and so they came along. Just to his side Tega rode in comfortable silence and Nolan March held onto her as he always did.
He did not know how Nolan had silenced the gods. He did not care. The lad had ended the war and that was enough.
“Why do you suppose he silenced the gods?” Tega was looking at Nolan as she asked.
“Perhaps they offended him when they killed his mother.”
“Did they kill her, truly?”
“Swech did as she was told. She is no more responsible than a sword blade.”
“Are you a sword in the hands of your gods?”
“I am not Swech. Her faith has always been greater than mine.” He paused a moment. “Are you certain you want to come along?”
“I cannot stay here, Drask. Desh will ask too many questions and I must have my time away from him before he learns what I did.”
Drask nodded. Tega climbed atop the saddle and looked around as her mount purred.
“Where are we going, Drask?”
“Wherever you would like.”
“You have no destinations in mind?”
“I have not read a thousand books telling me of the past. I have only lived in the now. The past is as good a place to look as any, but you are the one who knows where wonders might be hidden.”
“Perhaps across the sea.”
Drask nodded. “Wherever you like. For now we can see the world and later we can consider what the world is trying to tell us.”
“Can you still hear your gods?”
Drask nodded. “They are angry with me.” He tilted his head a bit. “They are also weak at the moment. Now is a good time to leave, before they grow strong again.”
Nolan chuckled to himself as they started off. Sometimes Drask suspected that the boy knew more than he showed. On other occasions, he was certain of it.