She was dressed for heavy weather. She had the baby bundled and wrapped. “I need my son, Varth.”
“Oh, no,” he said softly. “Oh, no. Why?”
“Ethrian is alive, isn’t he? You’ve known it all along. You’ve been lying to me.”
“No, dear. I told you... “
“You told me lies. Lies and lies and lies. He’s at a place in Shinsan called Lioantung. And you didn’t want me to know.”
The rage welled up again. “I told him... “
Nepanthe herself was powered by a cold anger. She weathered his outburst without flinching. “You warned who? What are you doing to me? Varth, I want to see my son. Do you hear me? Mist is here somewhere. She came to see you. I’m going back with her.”
Varthlokkur ignored her. He ambled into their bedroom, stared down into Smyrena’s empty cradle. After a time he went to the window. “Come, Radeachar. Come, my only friend.”
“Why did you lie to me?” Nepanthe demanded. “Damnit, Varth, I’m talking to you. Answer me!”
He whirled. “Did they tell you what your son is?”
“What thehell? Who are you talking about? Tell me.”
“Ragnarson and that Shinsaner bitch.”
“I haven’t seen either of them. What have they got to do with it? Never mind. Tell me about Ethrian. Then find Mist and tell her I’m going with her.”
Anger fed upon anger. Their shouting increased in pitch and intensity. The Unborn arrived at the window and hovered there, unremarked.
“All right, damnit!” Varthlokkur suddenly shrieked. “We’re going. Be it on your head, woman.” He whirled, stamped out of the room muttering, “Bragi, you’ll pay. You cut your own throat this time. The wolves are circling you right now. I’m just going to sit back and laugh while they pull you down.”
Nepanthe watched her husband go, baffled behind her anger. What was that all about? she wondered. All that noise about Bragi and Mist. And she hadn’t seen either in ages... They must have known too. They must have been keeping it from her. She never would have known had not the Queen come to see Smyrena and mentioned it in passing.
Poor Inger. Now she would get yelled at too.
The hell with them. All of them. She was going to see her son. What they liked didn’t matter.
15 Year 1016afe
Lioantung
ETHRIAN’S DEAD WARRIORS brought a chair plundered from a manor near Lioantung. He settled into it. Sahmanan seated herself on the earth beside him, leaning against the chair. “Can you tell me your idea now?”
“I suppose.” The fun had gone out of teasing her. “I’ll use their animals against them. And the bodies of those the animals kill.”
“Won’t they destroy them?”
“Probably. The dogs, cats, horses, and such, that they can catch. But how do you guard against rats that attack you when you’re sleeping?”
“It might work. You’re planning a siege?”
“We can afford it. They don’t expect help. This’s the battle that’ll make or break us.”
“What about the army?” She nodded toward the nearest dead warriors. “They’re only good for a few days.”
“They won’t go to waste. Let’s get started. Guard me.” He dropped the ties to his body, drifted into the city. Lioantung was a maze of twisty streets and alien architecture. Whole quarters were empty. He would recruit among abandoned animals...
The enemy were busily preparing for his assault. They seemed unconcerned. The battle in the forest had restored their confidence. Only the Tervola themselves were uncertain.
They were debating what to do about the animals...
He flung himself into the darkness-haunted streets, found a stable. He seized a horse’s dim mind. It reared, broke down its stall, hammered a stableboy to the earth.
Ethrian seized the body, found a hayhook, slipped into the night. He stole up behind a legionnaire...
So it went, hour after hour. The enemy responded. By dawn no soldier went anywhere alone. Next day Lord Ssu-ma ordered all animals destroyed. Ethrian returned to his body.
“You look exhausted,” Sahmanan told him.
“A little. Did they try very hard?”
She gestured at their surroundings. The earth was scorched. His chair had been reduced to toothpicks. “I thought they had us once. I barely hung on.”
“They’re going to kill the animals. It’s time to send in the dead.”
“Don’t you want to rest?”
“I don’t have time.”
“Ethrian... “
“Be still.” He reached out, gathered the threads. Corpses shambled toward the city. Dragons took the air. Some carried multiple riders, some supported the storming of the walls. The legions left off slaughtering livestock and rushed to the battlements.
Ethrian continued the attack till almost nothing remained of his army. He and Sahmanan were the only survivors outside the city. Inside, in the abandoned quarters, he squirreled away a thousand bodies.
He roamed the city in his out-of-body state, occasionally slipping into an animal to listen. His enemies were as tired as he.
Wearily, they resumed the slaughter. Some commenced a house-to-house search for the dead.
Ethrian returned to Sahmanan. “Rest, Ethrian,” she insisted. “You’re killing yourself.”
“One more thing, just to keep them busy. Then I will.”
He went back into Lioantung, seeking rats. And rats he found, of course, for Lioantung was an old city, well stocked with vermin.
He began in Lord Ssu-ma’s citadel headquarters. In a hundred places rats suddenly streaked across rooms, overturning lamps. Most of the fires were extinguished immediately, yet a few started where there were no witnesses.
Ethrian returned to his body. “That should keep them occupied. Wake me if anything important happens.”
He slept fourteen hours and wakened still only partially refreshed. “What’s happened?” he demanded.
“Nothing. They’ve been too busy fighting fires.”
He went into the city again. The last conflagrations were under control. Weary legionnaires were staggering to their barracks, cursing him, praying for rest. He gave them no respite.
Here, there, he sent rats to the jugulars of the sleeping. The dead he raised against the living. He shuttled from barracks to barracks. The Tervola mounted sleepwatches. He shifted his attention to the headquarters itself, then to the wall, hurling animal after animal at the sentries. He used dead men to open a gate, brought in beasts of the field and forest. Confuse and frighten, confuse and frighten, he chanted to himself.
When doing nothing else, he moved his hidden soldiers inward from the empty quarters. Slowly, slowly, they closed on Lord Ssu-ma’s headquarters...
There were no more large city animals. He had no time to recruit in the forest. The Tervola turned their art to the destruction of mice, rats, and squirrels. “It’s a race now,” he told Sahmanan. “I have them diverted, though. With luck, my next attack will kill so many Tervola you can overpower the rest.”
His attack lasted three hours. Afterward, he returned to Sahmanan. “That should do it. We’ll finish after I’ve rested.”
“Ethrian, something’s happened to the Great One.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel him there anymore. It worries me.”
“Does it matter?”
“Maybe. We might need him again.”
“Is he up to something?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll go see when this is done.”
“We can’t. The flyers are gone.”
Ethrian gave her a sharp look. He did not like her tone. “You trying to say something?”
“No... Yes. Ethrian, you’re Nahaman all over again. Just as filled with bitterness and hate and unreason.”
“Be quiet. I have to sleep. We finish them when I wake up.”
A morning sun hung low and red when Ethrian sloughed his haunted dreams.
Sahmanan was shaking him. “What?” he grumbled.
“Wake up. They’re up to something. Look.” She pointed toward the city. Soldiers had come forth. A squat, chunky Tervola bore a white flag. His bodyguard spread out near the gate. Strangers moved up on the Tervola’s sides. Next to him, on either hand, a woman walked. A man walked outside each woman.
“Oh, Lord,” Ethrian said, stricken. “Oh, Lord, no.”
“What is it? What is it, Ethrian?”
His breathing became ragged. Deep inside him, something stirred. A shadow uncoiled. He shrieked. The darkness welled up. The world disappeared.
“Ethrian!” Sahmanan chafed his wrists, slapped his cheeks. “Wake up! Please?” She glanced toward the city. “They’re almost here. I need somebody to tell me what to do.”
Shih-ka’i stood at a stiff parade rest, ignoring the pain of his wounds. The Princess and her party entered the command center. He snapped to attention. His surviving commanders saluted. Mist eyed them, appalled. “What happened, Lord Ssu-ma?”
“We held, Mistress.” Shih-ka’i studied her companions. Two men and a woman, of western stamp. The woman carried an infant. The younger man had the warrior look. His gaze did not rest. His lips were taut and pale. The older, thinner man looked angry. Shih-ka’i faced his Princess, his question implied.
“The wizard Varthlokkur,” she said, indicating the older man. A chill scrambled down Shih-ka’i’s spine. “His wife, Nepanthe, and their daughter.”
Shih-ka’i bowed to the woman. “My Lady.”
Mist said, “I’ll have to translate.”
Shih-ka’i nodded, considered the third man. The wizard’s bodyguard?
“King Bragi of Kavelin,” Mist said.
Shih-ka’i went rigid. His commanders stirred angrily. He admonished them with a gesture. “The Ragnarson of Baxendala and Palmisano?”
“The same.”
One of the Tervola stepped forward... “Meng Chiao! Comport yourself. Mistress, because of this man he lost three brothers, four sons, and his legion.” Shih-ka’i planted himself before Ragnarson. The westerner towered over him. He removed his mask, stared into the man’s eyes. He saw no fear in those pools of blue. The man said something.
Mist translated. “He says you look like an honest soldier. The first he’s seen among Tervola.”
Shih-ka’i smiled, replied, “You’d find me more stubborn than Lord Ko.” He awaited Mist’s translation, asked, “Mistress, what is this?”
“These people were close to the Deliverer once. His grandfather. His mother. His godfather.”
The commanders stirred again. “Mistress?”
“And he’s my nephew by marriage. Lord Chin kidnapped him during the Pracchia thing. We thought he’d died. Somehow, he survived, made an alliance with your godling, and came after us, assuming we were behind his misfortunes.”
Shih-ka’i paced. Finally, “What do you propose, Mistress?”
“That we go talk to him. That we shatter his illusions. That we steal away his cause for destroying the empire.”
Shih-ka’i surveyed the visitors. “These people have no reason to help.”
“They will. For their own reasons.”
“Then let’s try it. Pan ku. Bodyguards.”
“Lord!” Pan ku saluted snappily, departed. He returned in minutes. “Ready, Lord.”
Shih-ka’i explained, “The Deliverer has made it impossible to walk the streets unguarded.”
The city was a ruin gutted by fire, shattered by blows from the skull-faced things. Every street boasted its heap of charred bones.
Mist said something. Ragnarson grunted, conceding awe at the devastation. The wizard betrayed no reaction at all. He had a big anger on. His wife seemed included in the flame of his ire. Shih-ka’i dropped back, doffed his mask, examined the baby. He expressed his approval with a smile. The woman responded in kind.
“Why is it so quiet?” Mist asked.
“The calm before the storm. He’s resting.”
“Could you have stopped him again?”
“I doubt it. This’s our last cast of the dice.”
They reached the gate. Soldiers swung it wide. Pan ku handed his master a stick with a white cloth attached. Shih-ka’i stepped out of the city. “Hold the guards here, Pan ku.”
“Lord?”
“If the Princess, the wizard Varthlokkur, and I can’t hold our own out there, there’s no hope anyway.”
“As you command, Lord.” Pan ku wheeled, rushed inside, hurried to the ramparts, found a light baliista. He laid it with all the care his master gave preparation of a spell. The Deliverer would hear from Pan ku if he attempted any treachery.
Shih-ka’i walked toward the hummock where the woman was waking the Deliverer. He kept his stride purposeful. He would not betray his fear to these westerners.
The Deliverer rose, brushed his hair back, stared, went down. The woman knelt over him. He rose again, exuding arrogance. He gestured. A panther came round the hummock and curled at his feet. A bear appeared, seated itself at his right hand. A huge forest buffalo, its eyes wild, stationed itself to the woman’s left.
Shih-ka’i told Mist, “Keep your eye on the woman.” Then, “What’s wrong with him?”
“He knows these people. He’s imagining what they think of him.”
“I see.” He halted five steps from the Deliverer. A short leap for the panther, he reflected. He glared. This whining child had destroyed two armies?
Mist stopped when he did. Ragnarson and Varthlokkur followed suit. The woman with the infant did not. “Ethrian?” she said in her own tongue. “Ethrian? Look. This’s your sister. Her name is Smyrena.”
Torment filled the boy’s eyes. He started blubbering. “Mama. I thought they killed you. I thought they killed you. They told me... “
Nepanthe shifted Smyrena to her left arm. Her right she slipped round the boy, pulling him against her shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s all right, Ethrian. It’s over now. It’s all right.”
The air was still. The world was silent but for the boy’s weeping. And yet, the hair and clothing of the woman in white stirred as if blown by a rising wind. Shih-ka’i glanced at Mist. “Mistress?”
“Not to worry. She’s happy for him.” Silent communication passed between the women. Mist nodded.
Something drifted down from the sky. It hovered behind the hummock. Shih-ka’i looked only once. “The Unborn,” he murmured. He had heard of the thing. Its presence was more offensive than he had believed possible.
The woods buffalo snorted, loped away. The bear followed, breaking into a wild shamble. The panther rose elegantly, licked a paw, strolled toward the wilds. Nepanthe started walking her son toward the city.
Shih-ka’i glanced at Mist again. “It’s over, Lord Ssu-ma. It’s really over. Go ahead.”
Mother and son passed him. He turned. The wizard and King kept pace as he followed. He glanced back, saw Mist and the woman trailing. The woman floated more than walked.
His tension drained away. He felt limp. Almost disappointed. He hadn’t realized how tense he was...
It began suddenly. He did not know anything was wrong till his mother was hurled away, and he went rigid. A dark nimbus surrounded him.
The air crackled. Shih-ka’i had felt the same thing just before the disaster on the Tusghus. “Mistress! Princess!”
Varthlokkur flung himself forward, caught his woman before she fell. Ragnarson had sword in hand with almost magical quickness. He crouched, growling in his harsh western tongue.
Mist shrieked, “Ethrian! Stop!” Shih-ka’i heard echoes of the other woman in her voice.
He tackled the youth. The boy remained rigid. Shih-ka’i clamped his fingers round a stiff throat.
Something moved on Lioantung’s wall. Bodyguards scrambled. The western King bellowed. His sword hammered the air above Shih-ka’i’s head.
The youth bucked violently. Shih-ka’i bounced to his feet as the King plucked a broken spear from the earth
, a ballista shaft diverted from its deadly arc. “I owe you, westerner.” He faced the Deliverer.
Madness filled the boy’s eyes. His mother wept against the wizard’s chest. The boy’s mouth slowly opened.
The woman in white stepped past Shih-ka’i. A faraway voice said, “Ethrian?... Oh, no! It’sHim. The stone god has taken him.”
“Impossible,” Shih-ka’i snapped. “We destroyed him.” He and Hsu Shen, Pan ku and Lord Kuo... Hadn’t they?
Gently, Varthlokkur passed his wife to Ragnarson. There was some trust left there. He made a small gesture. The Unborn drifted closer.
“No. Don’t,” said the woman in white. “I summoned him. It’s only just that I banish him.”
The fury of an immense inner struggle distorted the boy’s face. His mouth opened wide. He began filling his lungs. He tried forcing his hands to his lips. They hovered, palsied, a few inches away.
The air crackled as it had before the disaster on the Tusghus. Shih-ka’i snatched up a handful of earth, flung himself forward, forced the soil into the Deliverer’s mouth. His off hand he drove viciously into the boy’s chest. He felt bone crack under his fingers.
Sahmanan’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, like the wailing of the mothers of the thousands when they learned what had become of their sons in Lord Kuo’s ill-fated western campaign. The youth faced her, pale, clutching his chest. He croaked, “Sahmanan! No! I beg you... I’ll give you anything. All the power I gave him. I’ll give you the Word. You could be queen of the world.”
The keening grew louder. Shih-ka’i ground his palms against the earholes of his mask, could not shut it out.
The Deliverer’s mouth opened wide. Vomit gouted. Again he drew breath for a shout.
Sahmanan’s voice cracked. The youth went rigid. He seemed to flicker, to fade, to spin, to become two distinct Ethrians, one of which was a shadow of the other so bleak and dark light shied away. A scintillant mist gathered, spiraling inward. Then only the black Ethrian could be seen, rocking slowly, trying to widen its mouth.
Cracks of fire ran over the boy of darkness. Smouldering flakes fell away. Smoke drifted on a rising breeze. Suddenly-whoosh!-the rest of him flung skyward in one roaring, expanding black cloud.