Chapter 1

On a summer evening, when the last light of the sun still lingered over the western ocean, a woman on watch upon the walls of Habaddon caught sight of two riders emerging from the forest. They came slowly, as men will do when they want to bring their horses cool into the stable. Their dog ran ahead to greet the farm dogs guarding the fields of wheat and barley.

"It is Uleál and Bennek," the sentry called to her captain, and word was sent to Jahallon.

Bennek had been one and a half years in Jahallon's service. He was seventeen now—Marshal's age, when Bennek had last seen his brother. Not a day went by when he didn't think of Marshal, and of Kit and Lanyon, and Pantheren and Jakurian, too. But Lanyon had left the world, and no news of the others had ever come out of the north.

Bennek still longed to go after them, but the way north was impassable. No matter the number of arowl slain by Habaddon's warriors, more came ravening out of Nendaganon to reinforce the hordes already loose in Samokea.

In the first year of Bennek's service, the army had crossed the Glycian on a floating bridge made by the artisans of Habaddon. At Jahallon's command, Bennek had directed the movement of companies up and down the riverfront. At the same time, he had worked to beguile the arowl, at turns summoning them into fury or sending them howling away in panic. By such means, he had controlled the pace and direction of battle, enabling the army to clear the forest. They had secured the territory with a line of stockades constructed where the trees gave way to grassland.

But Jahallon did not dare to push farther into Samokea. Day after day, season after season, the arowl came south in numbers never seen before. The Long War had become a fiercely-fought stalemate—with Édan the only winner. Jahallon could not bring war against the sorcerer when all his men were needed in the defense of the Protected Lands.

Yet Jahallon saw success in the very passion of Siddél's assault. "We must not confuse Siddél's fury with strength," he told his captains. "The monster puts all his strength against Habaddon, determined to keep Samokea for himself, against the day the talisman returns. But Siddél's strength is less than it was. He suffers from arrow wounds that will not heal, and our many prayers for his demise surely weigh on him. He is afraid—because not even the great spirit of storm can rage forever without cease. Soon now, soon, all this will change."

Bennek did not doubt some great change was upon them. For days, as he accompanied Uleál on an inspection of the stockades, trepidation had been growing in his heart. All had appeared in good order, with each attempted incursion of the arowl crushed by a fierce defense, and still he felt unnerved, as if he'd been visited by a premonition too dreadful to remember.

Riding beside Uleál in the twilight, Bennek looked ahead to Habaddon. The city's dark walls stood high against a deep purple sky, the prayer flags flying bravely above them. Stars shone out overhead and crickets sang amid the wheat. But ominous dark clouds had gathered over Samokea, and the north wind smelled of rain.

"I fear this storm," Bennek said softly.

Uleál turned to him, his lined face shadowed by twilight. "Is there something more to it than rough weather?"

"Not that I can see. Yet we face some great tipping point. I sense it. Though what shape it will take I cannot say."

At the city gate, they exchanged soft greetings with the guards, then rode on to the stable, where two young girls took their horses. Bennek went home to Mari's house, while Uleál went to find his wife in the rooms they shared within the keep.

Mari had received word of his homecoming. She had a bath ready. But Bennek had only just slipped into the delicious hot water when word came from Jahallon that he should come to the keep. He dressed quickly in the tunic and pants and soft boots Mari laid out for him. It had been more than half a year since he'd persuaded her to cut off his long hair. He kept it cropped close to his head in the style of Jahallon, Uleál, and Pantheren. Easier to care for that way. In little more than a minute, he was ready to go.

Mari met him in the courtyard with a loaf of freshly baked bread. "Jahallon will feed you more," she assured him, with a kiss on the cheek to send him off.

He turned to go, but then Anjella stepped out of the kitchen, with her baby on her hip. Melanni was ever a wonder to Bennek, for she looked nothing at all like him, and only a little like Anjella. Mostly, she resembled Anjella's oldest son, Teller, who was said to look exactly like his father, killed in battle years ago.

Bennek went to see the baby. He blew in Melanni's ear and kissed her cheek, making her laugh. "May I hold her?"

"You have to go."

"A moment only."

He cuddled the baby, while Melanni patted his face with her warm little hands.

Anjella watched them together. "You are melancholy, and that is not like you. Is there some dreadful news?"

"No, there is no news, only a dread I cannot explain."

"A sense that something comes?" she asked him in a whisper.

Bennek looked into her eyes, saw the fear there, and knew she had sensed the same thing. "It's something I cannot name and do not wish to face."

Anjella gazed at Melanni, so happy in Bennek's arms. "I fear that all we know will soon change." She looked away, shaking her head. "Oh, Bennek, do not listen to me. Do not lose heart." She took the baby back. "Go. Jahallon is waiting."

◆

The first drops of rain began to fall as Bennek reached the keep. Many of Jahallon's captains arrived there at the same time, Bahir among them. As they ascended the stairs, he asked Bennek, "What news have you brought from the Glycian to prompt this sudden council?"

Bennek shook his head. "Sir, I don't know. The fighting goes on as it has this past year. Nothing is changed. Not yet."

Candles and oil lamps lit the council room, assisted by the glow of low flames on the hearth. Jahallon stood beside the fire, in quiet conversation with two of the women who oversaw the provisioning of the men in the field. With them was Uleál, unwashed and unchanged, still smelling of sweat and horses.

As Bennek crossed the room, Uleál gave him a nod and a reassuring smile, as if to say, It's all right.

But things were not all right. Bennek heard the rain outside, falling harder now. The sound of it only fed his sense of foreboding. He crossed to the far side of the hearth. His accustomed station during these gatherings was a cushioned armchair beside the wall. But he did not sit down, choosing to stand instead with arms crossed, awaiting Jahallon's direction, while the captains took seats around the long table.

When all were settled, Jahallon left the hearth, taking his place at the head of the table. He looked at his captains in satisfaction and announced, "I have good news. We are no longer alone in our battle with Siddél. Our emissaries in Hallah have told the story of the talisman, and of the hard fighting that has fallen to us since Édan was discovered again in the world. Today, news has come that some nine hundred warriors of Hallah are even now riding north, to set their strength of arms beside our own."

Good news, indeed! A glance around the table assured Bennek that the captains all shared his surprise.

Warriors from Hallah were not unknown—a few came to Habaddon every year, some out of curiosity and some to test their mettle on the battlefield—but never before had Hallah sent an army north.

"Can there be nine hundred men in Hallah who know how to fight?" Bahir wondered.

Uleál answered him, "If they do not know, they will learn."

Jahallon's eyes narrowed. "I believe Siddél is already aware of this new force—and that it does not please him."

This drew grim laughter from the men, but not from Bennek. Despite the news, there was no laughter in him.

As if sensing this, Jahallon turned to him, saying, "Dread flows out of the north. Fear takes root in our hearts."

So it was real, and Jahallon felt it too. But then came a warning, "Do not heed it, Bennek. It is a conjuring of Siddél."

Turning back to his captains, he repeated this admonition, "Do not heed it."

The men nodded, answering in loose chorus: "We stand with you, Jahallon! We stand firm."

Only Bennek remained silent, doubtful. This dread felt deeper, finer, than anything the blustering Inyomere could conjure. But he said nothing, not yet, not here in this company.

Jahallon resumed speaking. "Siddél will expect these new forces to be arrayed against him, and he will sweep down upon us in redoubled wrath—but he does not understand my heart. The time has come to engage Édan. At last we will have men enough to do it."

An uneasy pause, filled by the sound of falling rain and the crackling of the fire. Bennek wondered: Was this what he'd been dreading? War, not with the arowl, but with other people.

The silence of the captains reflected the weight of this decision. Only after several seconds did they nod and murmur their approval. No one cheered.

"We will divert the warriors of Hallah," Jahallon told them. "Three of you will go forth tonight. You will seek out our friends from Hallah and lead them east through Fathalia, and if need be into Ohtangia, making a threat of force against Édan.

"Hear me carefully when I say a threat of force. It is not my intention to sacrifice Hallah to Édan's witchcraft. He will see our numbers and know he cannot win, and he will flee. He will be forced into the open, where we will meet him. He will be caught between Habaddon and Hallah and he will surely fall.

"Never before have the people warred against the people. It is our burden that we must be the first. We must engage Édan. We must bring him down, for our own defense, but also in defense of my far daughter, Lanyon Kyramanthes. Édan must be gone from the field when she finally returns. We cannot allow him to interfere with the talisman again."

Ah, so this war was to be waged in defense of Lanyon. Bennek was pleased to hear it, and still, Anjella's words came back to him: I fear that all we know will soon change.

He could not yet see what form that change would take. He wondered if Jahallon knew—and suspected that he did.

The captains asked questions. A discussion commenced. Bennek tried to follow the details. Jahallon expected him to know and understand the tactics they would use—but he was weary. He'd been in the field for days and in the saddle since before the sun rose. When all the words began to blur, he sat down.

Those captains selected to rendezvous with the men of Hallah said their farewells. They would gather their companies and ride out that night.

Jahallon addressed the others, telling them, "Prepare your men. We will leave an hour after sunrise—whether we see the sun or not."

Bennek did not remember any sense of sleep stealing over him. But some time must have passed, because when he woke with a start, only Jahallon remained in the council room, engrossed in a parchment spread out on the table. He studied it by the light of a single candle. The lamps and all the other candles had been put out. A dull roar filled the room, the sound of heavy rain pounding against the roof and the battlement.

Bennek straightened. A flush warmed his cheeks. "Sir, I did not mean to sleep. I—"

The single candle guttered and went out, as if extinguished by a stray draft—but the air in the council room was still.

In the ruddy light of the low-burning fire, Bennek saw Jahallon eyeing the thread of smoke curling up from the blackened wick. Then the fire guttered too. Its light went out. And Bennek could see nothing. Darkness had flooded the room. An impenetrable, willful Darkness. Bennek did not dare to move or to speak.

Jahallon, though, did not share his alarm. He greeted the Darkness with a soft, skeptical laugh and spoke to it with familiarity. "Here you are again. Have you come once more at the bidding of Jamu-karizen?"

"I come with a warning," the Darkness answered, in a voice so low it vibrated in Bennek's bones. "Siddél is desperate. His strength fails him, and he has become afraid."

Jahallon answered with satisfaction. "I know it. His dread taints the very air. The monster senses what many have sensed . . . this dark presence, looming in the Mere. The talisman returns to us."

"It comes," the Darkness agreed.

Jahallon asked, "How soon?"

"You may not live to see it," the Inyomere warned. "Long ago, Siddél spoke his curse against you. It was his will that you should endure the grief of countless years and that finally you should stand alone, as the last of the people within the Wild.

"But Siddél's fear has grown stronger than his hate. He rues the spell that holds open the gateway through which your life flows. He has sworn to unbind it when next he meets you . . . and when next he comes upon Édan."

Another soft laugh from Jahallon. "It has always been in my mind that Siddél would call back his curse if I hurt him deeply. You have not taken me by surprise."

"Jamu-karizen says if you flee now into the south you may live on for some long time."

"If it was my will to flee, I would have gone long since. I will stay."

The pressure of the Darkness eased. The fire flickered again, and by its ruddy light Jahallon struck a flint and lit the candle.

Bennek stirred uncertainly, feeling as if he'd been held in the grip of a spell. "Sir—"

"The night is nearly gone," Jahallon said. "Return now to Mari's house. There is only a little time to prepare."

"But, sir! You have spoken to the Darkness. Will you not heed his warning?"

"It was not a warning, Bennek. It was a test of my resolve."

"Then you don't believe Siddél will unbind his curse?"

"I do believe it. I have long believed it. Did I not just say so?"

"Sir, you did," Bennek admitted.

The candlelight did little to soften Jahallon's stern gaze. "Do not be afraid. Even for Siddél, releasing such a curse will not be an easy thing to do. He must find me first. He must descend upon me . . . and that is always a danger for him."

"Yes, sir."

"Bennek, say nothing of what you heard tonight. Do not give the men cause for fear."

"I will say nothing of it . . . but, sir, what did you mean when you said the talisman is coming? Have you sensed Lanyon's return? Is it time?"

Jahallon nodded. "It will not be long. The talisman has set a dark gyre turning within the Mere. Siddél feels his fate unraveling in its current. Édan must sense it too."

"We will defeat Édan, sir, just as you said."

"That we will. Now go, and prepare."

◆

Anjella was awake when he returned to the house. She met him at the courtyard gate, Kina at her side. "What news?"

"The army is to set out an hour after sunrise."

She held a candle for him as he packed his gear and prepared his weapons. There had not been time to wash his things, but Mari brought him a fresh shirt and trousers, and brushed his coat clean. It all took but a few minutes.

"Come to the kitchen and eat," Mari said.

It was quiet, with the children still asleep. Anjella sat at the table, watching in silence while Mari served Bennek breakfast enough for three men, with another generous portion for Kina.

Then Mari and Anjella went with him to the courtyard gate. A lantern hung on a post, and in its soft light Bennek saw tears in Mari's eyes. She hugged him and kissed his cheeks. "Know that I count you among my own children, Bennek, my dear. Take care. Take care." She could say no more.

Anjella's eyes shone too. "I do not know if I shall see you again, Bennek. Your path is strange, and haunted, but it is not all dark."

His heart skipped. "So you think I will not return?"

"No, it is just that I cannot see that far." She kissed his mouth. Then she let him go. Yet as he started to turn away, she reached for him one more time. "Remember the fire spell."

Bennek nodded. Then he said goodbye to them, and with Kina at his side, he hurried off through wind and rain, returning to the keep, to await Jahallon.

• Home
• Novels
• Short Stories
• Newsletter
• Bio
• Bibliography
• Mythic Island Press
• Privacy Policy

Copyright © 2024 Linda Nagata