Warriors from both sides were moving among the dead, claiming fallen friends or stripping the enemy. Ravens had already arrived, drawn by the smell of death. Flocks of them massed in the trees, filling the air with their hoarse, hungry cries as they waited their turn.
At the camp Ki was carried into her tent and given over to the care of the drysians. Tamír watched them anxiously through the open flap as she waited for Korin’s lords to surrender.
Korin’s body lay under a cloak on a makeshift catafalque nearby, with Porion and the other fallen Companions beside him. Her Companions kept silent vigil over them, all except Nikides and Tanil.
Nik, in spite of his own grief and his wound, had stepped in and was seeing to the necessary details, sending off heralds to carry word of the victory and Korin’s death, and seeing that messenger birds were let loose to carry the news quickly to Atyion. Tamír was grateful, as always, for his competence and foresight.
Tanil crouched on the ground by his fallen lord, sobbing inconsolably under his cloak, and would not be moved. He could not grasp what had happened, and perhaps that was for the best. Caliel knelt with him, sword planted before him, keeping the vigil with him. He’d already reported seeing Urmanis, Garol, and Mago fall earlier in the day. There’d been no sign of Alben among the living or the dead.
Messengers arrived from her own side with word that Jorvai had suffered an arrow wound to the chest; but Kyman and Nyanis arrived soon after, unhurt. Korin’s baggage train had been captured, yielding much-needed food and tents. That, together with the supplies the Aurënfaie had brought, would be sufficient to make camp here until the wounded could be safely moved.
Arengil brought news that the Aurënfaie had killed all the horsemen Korin had sent to flank them and suffered no losses of their own. Solun and Hiril soon followed, bearing the captured standards. Tamír listened with half an ear. Inside the tent Ki remained motionless and the drysians looked concerned.
Wethring and a few of the remaining nobles arrived under a flag of truce. Tamír stood and drew the Sword, holding it up before her. The herald had brought Korin’s head back and placed it carefully under the cloak with the body.
Kneeling, Wethring humbly bowed his head. “The day is yours, Majesty.”
“By the will of Illior,” she replied.
He looked up, studying her face.
“Do you believe what your eyes show you?” she demanded.
“Yes, Majesty.”
“Will you swear fealty to me?”
He blinked in surprise. “I will if you will accept me.”
“You were loyal to Korin. Show me the same loyalty, and I will confirm your title and lands, in return for the blood fee.”
“You shall have both, Majesty. I swear it by the Four and vouch for all those who’ve followed my banner.”
“Where is Nevus, son of Solari?”
“He went east, to Atyion.”
“Have you had word back from him?”
“No, Majesty.”
“I see. And Lord Alben? Did he fall today?”
“No one has seen him, Majesty.”
“What of Lord Niryn?”
“Dead, Majesty, at Cirna.”
“Did Korin kill him?” Lutha asked, overhearing.
“No, he fell from Lady Nalia’s tower.”
“He fell?” Tamír let out a short, mirthless laugh. It was a ridiculous death for someone so feared. “Well, that’s one bit of good news, then.”
“Do I have your leave to burn our dead?”
“Of course.”
Wethring cast a sad look at the draped form beside them. “And Korin?”
“He’s my kin. I will see that he’s properly burned and his ashes gathered for his wife. Send your army back to their homes and attend me in Atyion in a month’s time.”
Wethring stood and gave her another deep bow. “I hear and obey, merciful Queen.”
“I’m not quite done with you yet. What are the defenses at Cirna? What provisions did Korin make for Lady Nalia?”
“The fortress garrison was left behind. They’re mostly Niryn’s Harriers now, and a few wizards.”
“Will she stand against me?”
“Lady Nalia?” Wethring smiled and shook his head. “She wouldn’t have the first idea how, Majesty.”
Lutha had been listening intently and he stepped forward now. “He’s right, Tamír. She’s been sheltered and kept locked away. The nobles who know Korin’s court know that. She’s helpless there now. With your permission, I’d like to take a force north immediately to protect her.”
“You should bring her here and keep her close,” Arkoniel advised. “You can’t risk her and the child becoming pawns to be used against you.”
Lutha went down on one knee before her. “Please, Tamír. She’s never done anyone any harm.”
Tamír sensed more than mere courtesy behind his interest in Lady Nalia. “Of course. She knows you. It’s best if you are my emissary. Make her understand that she is under my protection, not being arrested. But you’ll need warriors to take the fortress.”
“I’ll go, with your consent,” said Nyanis.
Tamír nodded gratefully. She trusted all her nobles, but Nyanis most of all. “Capture the place and leave a garrison. Lutha, bring her here.”
“I’ll guard her with my life,” Lutha vowed.
“Arkoniel, you and your people go, too, and deal with Niryn’s wizards.”
“I will be certain we do, Majesty.”
“Show them no more mercy than they showed to those they burned.”
“We will go, as well, and destroy the blasphemers,” Solun said.
“And my people,” said Hiril.
“Thank you. Go now. Take what supplies you need and ride hard.”
Lutha and the others saluted and hurried off to make ready. Arengil moved to follow as the others started away, but Tamír called him back. “Do you still wish to be a Companion?”
“Of course!” the young Gedre exclaimed.
“Then stay.” She rose to go to Ki but noticed that Arkoniel had lingered behind.
“The others can deal with Niryn’s people if you’d rather I stay?”
“There’s no one I trust more than you,” she told him, and saw the color come to his cheeks. “I know that you will do what is best and protect her for me, no matter what. You understand better than anyone else why I will not have innocent blood spilled in my name.”
“That means more to me than I can say,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “I will keep an eye on you here and return at once if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. Go on now.” With that, she ducked through the low doorway of the tent and pulled the flap down.
The air inside was heavy with the smell of the drysians’ herbs. Kaulin was sitting with Ki.
Ki’s arm had been set and wrapped securely in rags and a cut-down boot top. His chest and head were wrapped in ragged bandages. His face was still and white under the streaks of mud and blood.
“Has he woken yet?”
“No,” Kaulin replied. “The sword thrust missed his lung. It’s the blow to his head that’s bad.”
“I’d like to be alone with him.”
“As you wish, Majesty.”
Sitting down beside Ki, she took his left hand in hers. His breathing was almost imperceptible. Leaning over him, she whispered, “It’s all over, Ki. We won. But I don’t know what I’ll do if you die!” Thunder rumbled in the distance as she pressed his cold fingers to her cheek. “Even if you never want to be my consort—” The blessed numbness she’d clung to was slipping away and the tears came.
“Please, Ki! Don’t go!”
Chapter 54
Ki was lost, and chilled to the bone.
Scattered images flashed behind his eyes. She’s in danger! I’m not going to get there in time.
A starlit window and flailing legs—
Tamír unarmed, under Korin’s shining blade—
Too far! Ca
n’t reach—
No!
The blackness took him before he could reach her, and the pain. So much pain.
Drifting, alone in the darkness, he thought he heard distant voices calling to him. Tamír?
No, she’s dead—I failed and she’s dead—
Then let me die, too.
Such pain.
Am I dead?
No, not yet, child.
Lhel? Where are you? I can’t see!
You must be strong. She needs you.
Lhel? I’ve missed you!
I’ve missed you, too, child. But you must think of Tamír, now.
Panic shot through him. I’m sorry. I let her die!
A small, rough hand closed hard around his. Open your eyes, child.
Suddenly Ki could see. He was standing beside Lhel in the tent. Rain was drumming down on the canvas and dripping through all around them. And Tamír was there, asleep on the ground next to a pallet, where someone else lay.
She’s alive! But she looks so sad. Did we lose the battle?
No, you won. Look closer.
Tamír, we won! he cried, trying to touch her shoulder. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel his hand at all. As he bent closer to her, he saw dried tears on her cheeks, and the face of the person she was sleeping beside.
That’s me. He could see his own pale face, and the thin crescents of white under his parted lashes. I am dead!
No, but you aren’t alive either, Lhel replied.
You’re waiting. Brother appeared beside Tamír, gazing up at Ki with less hostility than usual. You’re waiting as I wait, between life and death. We’re both still bound.
Look closer, Lhel whispered. Look at her heart, and yours.
Squinting, Ki could just make out something that looked like a thin, gnarled black root stretching from Brother’s chest to Tamír’s. No, not a root, but a wizened birthing cord.
Looking down, he saw another cord between him and his own body, and one that stretched from his body to Tamír, but these were silvery and bright. Other strands, less bright, radiated out and disappeared in all directions. One dark one stretched from Tamír’s chest across the tent to the open flap. Korin stood out there, gazing in with a lost expression.
What’s he doing here?
She killed me, Korin whispered, and Ki felt fear as that empty dark gaze turned to him. False friend!
Don’t let him trouble you, child. He has no claim on you. Lhel touched the silver cord joining Ki to Tamír. This one is very strong, stronger than your own life cord.
I can’t die! I can’t leave her! She needs me.
You saved her life today. I foresaw that the first time we met, and more. She will be very sad if you die. Her belly may never swell. Your people need the children you and she will give them. If I help you live, will you love her?
Looking down at his own still face, Ki saw tears well out from under his lashes and trickle slowly down his cheeks. I do love her! Help me, please!
But even as he said it, he felt the cord joining his spirit to his body pull painfully at his chest and grow thin. He was floating above himself, looking down at Tamír. Even in sleep she held his hand tightly, as if she could hold him back from death.
Please, he whispered. I want to stay!
Hold on, Lhel whispered.
Keesa, wake up.”
“Lhel?” Tamír sat up, startled.
It was still dark in the tent, and rain was pounding on the canvas. A sudden flash of lightning turned the darkness grey. It was Mahti leaning over her, not Lhel. A clap of thunder shook the ground. Something struck her cheek; water was dripping from the witch’s hair. He had just come in from the storm.
“Mahti? You came back!”
“Hush, keesa.” The witch pointed to Ki. “He very weak. You must let me play healing for him. His mari try to go.”
Tamír tightened her hold on Ki’s cold hand and nodded. “Do whatever you can.”
Another flash of lightning lit the tent and thunder shook the ground, as if the world were falling down around them.
Mahti sat as far from Ki as the cramped quarters allowed, back pressed to the sodden canvas behind him. He put the oo’lu to his lips, resting the mouth of it next to Ki’s side, and began the spell song.
The boy’s spirit was already out of the body. Mahti could sense it hovering nearby. He could see Lhel and Brother, and the sad spirit lurking outside in the rain; but Ki was caught between life and death, so Mahti could not see him clearly. There was no need for the lifting out song, but he knew he must work quickly to heal the body enough to hold the spirit in before it was lost.
Sojourn’s deep voice filled Mahti’s head and chest as he played, gathering the necessary power. When it was strong enough, he sent the song out to the floating spirit, wrapping him in binding song to keep him from flying away. Then he wove the voices of night herons and frogs to wash the dark blood away from inside the boy’s head. It was a bad wound, that one, but Mahti had wrestled with them before. It took time, but he finally felt some of the pain flow away.
He played into the body next, leaving the arm bones to knit on their own and concentrating on the deep sword wound in his side. He used the song of bears to take the heat from it; there was good magic at work already, from the other healers. Mahti touched it with his song and approved. This would heal well if Ki lived.
He played through the rest of the body, finding little that needed his attention. Ki was young and strong and wanted to live.
The head wound was still fighting him, though, so Mahti increased the power of the song to drive the dark threat from it. It took a long time, but when he finished the heron song a third time, the pain was nearly gone and Ki’s face was more peaceful. Mahti blinked the sweat from his eyes and gently coaxed the spirit back into the flesh. It went willingly, like a loon diving under the water after a fish.
When he was done only the sound of the rain and thunder filled the tent, and the tense breathing of the girl and her oreskiri as they stared anxiously at the boy, waiting.
Ki?” Tamír stroked the dirty, blood-stiff hair back from his bandaged forehead and caught her breath as his eyelids fluttered.
“Ki, open your eyes!” she whispered.
“Tob?” he mumbled. He opened his eyes very slowly, not focusing on anything. His right pupil was larger than the left.
“Thank the Light!” Tears crept down her cheeks unnoticed as she leaned closer. “How do you feel?”
“Hurts. My arm … head.” He looked blearily at nothing. “Gone?”
“Who’s gone?”
His eyes finally found her, though they were still very vague. “I—I thought—I don’t know.” He closed his eyes again and tears welled under his lashes. “I killed Master Porion.”
“Don’t think of that now.”
“Keep him awake,” Mahti told her. “He will—” He mimed vomiting. “Not sleep until sun goes down again.”
With help from Mahti, Tamír got Ki propped up with his head on a pack. He began to retch almost at once. She snatched up a discarded helmet and held it under his chin as Ki brought up what little he’d had to eat.
“Rest,” Mahti told Ki as he slumped limply back in Tamír’s arms. “You heal now.”
“How can I thank you?” asked Tamír.
“Keep promise,” Mahti replied. “And let me play healing for you. Lhel say.”
“I keep telling you, I don’t need it.”
Mahti grasped her by the knee, dark eyes suddenly intimidating. “You don’t know. I know! Lhel know.” He reached down and cupped her roughly between the legs. “You still tie to demon here.”
Tamír knocked his hand away angrily, but even as she did, she felt again the strong, disconcerting sensation of having two bodies at once, her own and Tobin’s.
“This end magic,” Mahti promised, as if he understood. “Make you clean.”
Clean. Yes, she wanted that. Suppressing a shiver of apprehension, she nodded. “What do you want me to do
?”
Mahti shifted, letting the mouth of his oo’lu rest near her leg. “Just sit.”
Closing his eyes, he began a deep, throbbing drone. Tamír tensed, expecting the fire that had burned away her other body.
But it wasn’t like that at all, this time.
Lhel sat close beside Mahti, whispering in his ear, showing him what to look for. It was a woman’s spell he was undoing, and he had to be careful not to damage what should remain.
Brother hunkered down beside Tamír, staring not at the girl, but at Lhel.
Mahti started to play a water song, but the tune changed. He knew this song; it had been the first one he’d played on Sojourn. Now it showed him the thick, gnarled birthing cord that joined brother and sister. It showed him the phantom shape of the boy’s body that still clung to the girl like shreds of a snake’s cast off skin. The wasted shape of a penis still rested between her thighs. His song made the last of the ghost body fall away, leaving only living flesh.
Snakeskin song, that’s what he would call this one should he ever need it again. He silently thanked Lhel for it.
The birthing cord that joined her to her brother was tough as an old root, but the song burned through it, too. It fell away like ashes between them.
You go now, he whispered in his mind to Brother.
From the corner of his eye he saw Lhel rise and take the trembling demon boy by the hand. Child, let go of this life that was never yours. Go and rest for the next.
She embraced the pale figure. He clung to her for a moment, like a living boy, then disappeared with a sigh.
Well done, Lhel whispered. They are both free.
But Mahti saw another dark cord joining Tamír to a ghost outside. He played the knife song and freed the dark-eyed dead man, so he could go on to peace, too.
There was another very old cord from her heart that stretched far, far away. He touched it with his mind. An angry, confused spirit lurked at the end of this one. Mother.
Cut that one, too, whispered Lhel.
Mahti did, and heard a brief, distant wail.