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Part 9
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
1
Rammon sat upon his great seat of black wood. His thoughts were dark. Rage, a familiar friend, stirred within him like an irresistible current.
He kept himself still and quiet so that he might better feel the thunder in his veins. The longer he allowed it to grow, the greater the fury of the storm it would unleash.
As he sat, he considered. All of Varanta was his. Its people had been reduced to puppets, marionettes, slaves. Even the cities beyond the mountains were degenerating into chaos.
More importantly, the great temple was under construction. Soon the powers he served would come to this world.
Sitting back, he closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he allowed himself to enter a form of trance - a technique that he had perfected through his millennia-long life. Emerging from it, his will would be strengthened and his body renewed.
Deep in his meditation, he regarded his desires and motives. He was engulfed by the surging currents of his passions.
He was a power that drove forwards according to its own designs. He was as unanswerable as a tempest - elemental and unreasoning; inexorable, relentless, unstoppable. The destruction he wrought and the edifices he created were as the shifting of continents. As the earth could throw up a range of mountains or give rise to a flood of lava that annihilated everything in its path, so could he.
He was a manifestation of the universe that brought devastation and ruin to worlds. Out of the desolation he constructed armies and machines that strengthened his purpose. They empowered the unanswerable rampage of his existence.
Long hours passed. At last he roused himself.
Standing, he walked across the many-coloured tiles of the floor. His eyes noted but did not really look at the mosaics, tapestries and jewel-encrusted pillars around him. But he appreciated the light that flooded through the walls. These were of glass more than a yard thick. The merchant who had built and owned the mansion had been immensely wealthy. Now, of course, the merchant was just a slave, serving in his own house.
At a clear window Rammon looked north towards the great temple. For all the frenzy of his puppets, it would be many months before it was completed; but his long life had taught him patience.
There was a knock at the door. An instant's concentration revealed who it was - Saagral, a gladiator and arena champion, captain of Rammon's personal guard.
Puppets made better guards than free men. Puppets were utterly loyal. Puppets did not have to sleep, though the consciousnesses within them might desperately desire it. Puppets were always alert.
'Come in.'
The heavy door opened. Saagral entered, resplendent in black and violet mail. He was a big man and muscular. His movement betrayed his swiftness. He was the best fighting man in all of Varanta - apart from Rammon himself; and Rammon was not a man.
'The hosts will soon be ready,' said Saagral. His voice was a hoarse, bass rumble.
Rammon followed him down through the cellars and basements of the mansion. Green-burning lanterns flickered here and there. Long rooms opened out from a central passageway.
Wooden tables lined the spaces. People lay on most of them - on their backs, breathing slowly. Their eyes were open and they stared at the ceiling. There were more than five hundred of them.
In one room, a few people sat upright, gazing blankly at the walls. A young woman - a technician - was working her way among them.
Rammon watched.
A man opened his mouth as the woman stepped up to him. He did not flinch as she thrust a wide tube down his throat. Nor did he move when she dropped a black, spherical egg into the top, which slid down into his stomach.
After she had removed the tube, he lay down on his back and became as motionless as before the procedure.
Rammon knew that the man's trapped consciousness was already feeling intense pain. The egg would be extruding tendrils through the walls of his gut. Before long they would worm their way through his entire torso. During this process he would experience the most exquisite agonies.
Rammon was indifferent to the knowledge. Though the suffering of others confirmed his power, it was of no import in itself.
The technician swiftly carried out the same procedure with the rest of the people who were sitting up. When she had finished, she turned to him and said: 'That is all of them.' Her voice was an expressionless monotone. Moving like an automaton, she left the room. Her job was done until more eggs were ready.
Rammon, alone with the hosts in the flickering green dimness, closed his eyes.
He spoke a prayer to the gods he served. As he did so he felt a vague shifting around him, followed by a black sense of disquiet and dislocation. It was soon gone; but he knew he had successfully summoned their awareness and presence.
Now, as the eggs metamorphosed and grew, they would be bathed in the gods' power and moulded by their intent. The result would be fearsome creatures - fighting machines without peer that would follow without question.
The process completed, he left the basement and returned to his room on the top floor of the mansion.
For a long while he stood still and silent in the centre of the floor. Anyone seeing him might have thought him a fierce statue wrought from steel. Even his grey chainmail and leathers looked like a part of him, sculpted from the same raw metal.
He brooded, turning his mind to a matter that he was anxious to resolve. A minor but troubling matter, one best dealt with as quickly as possible:
Hexiya.
He knew she was still in Varanta. He could feel her. But try as he might, he could not see her. All he could sense was a vague and directionless echo that was left behind her as she moved through the city - her wake, rippling outwards.
The fact that she was not his puppet meant that she must be completely immune to the usurpation that had claimed everyone else.
Weeks of searching for her had proven futile. His minions had had no success in tracking her down either, though he had sent out hundreds of them.
Was it possible that she had already realised what she was? Had she claimed the powers that were in her nature? Did she know that she was Qallish, an ancient enemy of his own kind and a nemesis of the gods he served?
He did not know.
For a long while he wondered how he might find her. At length an idea came to him.
The Qallish, he had noticed, sometimes created bonds with other people. They formed partnerships and pairings. On occasion they seemed to care more about those they joined with than they did about themselves.
This tendency had always seemed absurd and incomprehensible to him. He usually dismissed it as irrelevant. But now he wondered if he might use it.
He recalled the woman who had saved Hexiya's life when he had sent the Warriors of Ruin to kill her. He remembered her fighting skills. He even remembered her name: Kaledria.
Hexiya had hidden her from him. But now, he was sure, she was usurped. A puppet. And therefore his.
He reached out with his mind, looking for her. Within moments he found her. She was working in an iron mine under the northern hills, cutting ore from a rockface. A valuable worker because of her extraordinary endurance.
With an easy thrust of his will he overrode the simple and unconscious mechanism that controlled her body. Taking command of her, he heard her thoughts and divined her nature.
It was as if a hammer of truth came down upon him.
Qallish. Her too. He had never suspected. What was the likelihood of two of them being here, in Varanta, at the same time? It seemed impossible.
But, considering her, any doubts he might have had were dispelled.
It did not matter. No one, once trapped, could escape unless he, the puppetmaster, willed it. Not even one such as her.
Peering into her mind, he felt her passion - vast rage at her slavery, immense desire, a shocking intensity of emotion. Reading her memories and interpreting her feelings, he saw that she and Hexiya were in love. So much the better then.
Kaledria was his. If he put her on public display and had her tormented, Hexiya would try to save her. In doing so she would reveal herself to him.
Perhaps, he thought, he should have thought of this simple stratagem before. But the bonds between the Qallish had always been a mystery to him and he had never really considered their nature.
With a single, easy thought, he commanded the warrior-woman to come to him.
2
Breathing hard after many hours of exertion, Kaledria put down her pickaxe. Turning away from the rock-face, she walked through the mazy tunnels to the spiral passage and began the long climb to the surface.
Three nights had passed since she had returned from the old mansion and the tavern beneath it. She hoped that she was not going back to that place. She was afraid there might be another futile attempt to make her conceive.
She reached the surface, went to the barracks, showered and changed into her leathers and cloak. Afterwards she headed along the dirt road towards the city.
Despair and fear, constant companions for the past weeks, opened up again inside her. Perhaps she could expect nothing from her life any more. For the rest of her days she might work in the mine and be used. All she was was a slave-doll.
But: Hexiya , she thought, and held on to her love for her, trying to think of her and nothing else.
She walked, at someone else's command.
The snow was beginning to melt. Wagons had been making their ways back and forth between the mines and the smelting plants, churning the way into a mess of mud and slush. Soon Kaledria found herself leaving the road and crossing the water-logged slush of the desert. Though she struggled through soft sand and had to make her way around rocks, it was easier than staying on the main route.
A chill, wet wind knifed through her, blowing from the west, tugging at her cloak and hood. The sky was overcast, the clouds low and heavy, purple-grey in colour. Rain began to patter down as she pushed on. It quickly became heavier.
She passed a few others making their way between Varanta and the mines. Back on the road she saw that a couple of wagons had become bogged down. Through the wind and rain she heard the distant bellowing of beasts of burden as men goaded them into hauling them free.
The miles passed. At length the city wall loomed up before her, an impressive cliff of wet yellow stone. Once she found herself glancing along the towers set into its gentle curve. Warriors looked out, leaning upon their spears or shields.
3
Hexiya walked swiftly along the streets to the Old City. Up the narrow alleys of Rengor Hill she went, until she reached a temple on its west side. Rearing from the carved stone mass was a soaring, tiered spire of dark red rock. Its top was one of the highest points in all of Varanta.
She halted beneath the towering edifice. Placing her fingertips upon the stonework, she felt the texture of rock beneath her touch. Dim mauve light flickered about her. Then she began to scale the vertical reach to the first tier. Her fingers and the toes of her boots clung tightly to the great red blocks.
She did not worry whether those who passed beneath her saw her or not. As she might have expected, none even glanced at her.
Reaching the first tier, she did not pause but pressed onwards and upwards to the second and third and fourth.
Within a few minutes she neared the summit of the spire - a great steel spike, fifty feet high, with three metal spheres jutting from beneath its tip.
With ease she climbed to the very top. Though the place was precarious in the extreme and gusts of wind pulled hard at her, she felt no fear of falling.
She looked out over the city. Rain obscured much of it, but it was her inner sight that she wished to bring to bear. From up here her vision would be more far-reaching and penetrating.
She closed her eyes and concentrated. Immediately the city was laid out before her. The level of detail she could perceive astonished her. The more distant people, who just two hours ago had been mere sparks of coloured light, were now fantastically complex beacons that she could sense and dissect, read and understand. Their thoughts and feelings were now entirely open to her. Her sight had become like a blade, cutting through all barriers.
Even then, it was only with a great effort of concentration that she finally saw how they were being controlled.
A great web connected them. Silver-red strands were spun through and among them, each so subtle that she had not noticed them from the ground. They formed a vast meshwork that had trapped the entire populace. The filaments, tenuous as they seemed, were utterly unbreakable to those who had been caught.
In all of Varanta, only she had not been imprisoned in the trap. Only she had not been reduced to a puppet.
Regarding it, she sought out its centre and source. For a long time she analysed the lines of psychic coercion, brushing them with her mind, trying to trace them back to their beginnings.
The task frustrated her for a while. She began to fear that it might prove beyond her. But then, of a sudden, she saw that one small part of the great web was strangely deceptive in its pattern - as if it was hiding something beneath it.
Even as she saw it, she knew that it was not proof against her sight. As if she was bringing a psychic sword down upon an invisible shield, she cut straight through it.
And she looked at what was beneath - the source of the great meshwork of filaments.
Deep in the ground, under a mansion in the south of the city, she saw a god. As her mind brushed its mind, she felt its nature and knew what it was: an entity from the deeps of space, brought here from the abysses between the stars.
It was utterly foul. Even the faintest touch of its mind was repulsive. Sudden nausea gripped Hexiya's gut. Vile tendrils seemed to slide sickeningly through her head.
She turned her sight away from it, retreating hurriedly, hoping it had not detected her scrutiny.
And she wondered at its hold over the people of Varanta. For it did not control them individually. Rather, it controlled them as an animal controls the cells of its body - unconsciously, for the most part, unaware of each, though all served its purpose.
It had, she realised, very little intellect. It was an idiot power, barely cognizant even of its own existence.
It came to her that perhaps something or someone was controlling the god.
She opened her eyes. Clutching the tip of the spire, she looked out over the city. Rain was falling harder now. Grey-mauve sheets of water obscured the hills and rivers and buildings.
Then she closed her eyes again. Once again she summoned her inner sight. This time she sought out Kaledria.
The god, out of its unconscious foulness, might have been able to hide her before. But no longer.
It took only a moment.
There! She saw her flaring, burning aura a few miles beyond the city walls. The red and gold and blue flames, warm and desirous - mixed now with raging fury and black despair - were unmistakeable. A rush of emotion flooded up within her as she touched them.
She saw that she was coming closer even as she watched - heading for the great North Gate of Varanta.
Hexiya looked down the length of the spire at the temple beneath her. Its red stone was slick with rain. But with swift and confident movements she climbed down towards the ground.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
1
Kaledria stepped through the North Gate. To her dismay she found herself heading towards the Way of Bones, where the mansion and the tavern were.
Then, as she passed a temple enclosure, she felt a sudden prickling sensation, as she had felt so often when hunting in the wilds - sure knowledge of a nearby presence, though no sight nor sound disturbed her.
A moment later she heard her name spoken:
'Kaledria.'
A beloved voice. Not loud. Gentle and warm. From nearby.
Hexiya! she cried out with her mind.
To her surprise she halted and turned.
Hexiya was standing under a roof supported by a line of columns. She was pale and beautiful. Her hair and face were wet from the rain. Her green eyes looked deep into her own.
Kaledria's body, of its own volition, walked towards her. Fear thrilled through her at the thought that it might have vicious intent. What torment and pain could she inflict upon her love?
But then, under the stone roof between the pillars, Hexiya reached up and embraced her. She encircled her with her arms and held her close.
Kaledria's body did not resist but became quiescent.
Hexiya held her more tightly then. She pulled her down and pressed her forehead to Kaledria's. Then:
'Be free,' she murmured.
There was a flash of amethyst light. Sudden pain ripped through Kaledria's skull. She felt as if a thousand tendrils were suddenly being torn out her head. They resisted furiously, grasping at her, trying to regain their hold, twisting as they were wrenched free.
She heard herself cry out - the first command she had exercised over her body in many weeks.
And then the pain was gone. The hideous, writhing things had lost their hold on her. They had vanished like snakes retreating from fire.
With a sob of disorientation and overwhelming relief she slumped in Hexiya's arms.
Hexiya lowered the two of them to the stone pavings. They held onto each other as if they might fall from a great height if they let go.
For a long while they stayed were they were.
And then Kaledria began to cry. All the despair and terror of the past weeks flooded up from the depths of her. She gripped Hexiya as the tornado of emotion rushed though her and overwhelmed her.
Hexiya rocked her gently and ran her fingers through her black, rain-wet hair. She whispered to her that she would always be there for her, and never let her go.
The cold wind buffeted them. Rain swept in under the roof. Still they did not move.
When Kaledria finally sat back and looked into Hexiya's gentle green eyes, she wondered at the fact that she was free. She struggled to grasp and believe the fact that she was with her love again and once more her own person.
Gladness filled her like sunlight breaking suddenly through heavy clouds.
'Hexiya,' she breathed. 'You found a way.'
Hexiya nodded. 'I found you.' She pressed her lips to her mouth for a sweet moment. 'I missed you.'
Kaledria gazed at her. 'You've changed,' she said, though without fear. 'It is as if you have a kind of light within you.' Then sudden urgency took hold of her and she glanced anxiously about. 'We cannot stay here.'
'No.'
They stood, both of them chilled. Rain was streaming from the skies and pouring in a curtain from the roof above them. People walked past with no more hurry than usual.
'We're the only two in the city who are free,' said Hexiya. Then, abruptly, she turned and looked up the street. A moment later she looked behind her into the temple enclosure.
Kaledria followed her gaze, though she could see nothing. 'What is it?'
'Warriors. And something else. Beasts of some kind. Coming for us. Concealed. I can't see them clearly. Many, I think.' She looked into her eyes. 'We have to go.'
They fled down the street and away. As they did so, a vivid memory leapt into Kaledria's mind, of her and Hexiya fleeing from Arak and his minions, all those years ago when they had been children in Kohidra.
Crossing the way, they sprinted up a sidestreet.
'Left!' said Hexiya. 'More of them coming.'
'How many?'
'Forty or more warriors. Five of the . . . other things.'
'You can't hide us?'
'From these? I don't know. I'll try. But right now, they know where we are.'
Thoughts span in Kaledria's mind. She said, with sudden realisation: 'I was summoned from the mine as bait for you.'
They ran on. 'Up here!' said Hexiya; and they turned into a winding alley down which water was streaming in a torrent. 'More of them! All around us now.'
They sprinted down a passage and emerged into a wider way. Trees grew along the centre of the road, their branches drooping under melting ice and pouring rain.
Hexiya came to a halt. 'A perfect trap,' she murmured.
Ten armoured figures were moving towards them, arrayed in a wide arc. They were dark, ominous shapes in the grey water. Big men, they were dressed in black Varantan mail. They wielded axes and swords and bore large round shields.
More warriors, that had been following them, emerged behind them. Still more stepped into view further up the street.
There was an unguarded doorway five yards to their right.
'Through the buildings,' whispered Kaledria.
They ran. The warriors came in at them - slower but keeping their formation, aiming to close them down.
They barely made it. Kaledria hit the portal with her shoulder, bursting it open. They stumbled through a store-room and into a workshop. At its back was an arched opening to a courtyard.
Even as they went through, Kaledria glimpsed movement from above. Reacting instantly, she pushed Hexiya hard upon her shoulder, throwing her to one side.
A whip of linked, serrated red stones slashed the air where she had been a moment before.
'Thanks,' gasped Hexiya.
Kaledria rolled out into the open space. She looked up.
Above her, crouched upside down above the archway, staring at her with six dead black eyes, was a creature from nightmare. It had a spiked carapace and a great, horned collar. Plumes of tentacles with barbed ends reached from around its neck. Six many-jointed limbs held it fast to the vertical wall.
The whole of it was a deep, near-transparent red. It looked like a hideous statue come to life - a statue that had been fashioned from a single, enormous ruby gemstone. Its body was at least fifteen feet long. Rain ran slick over its repulsive form.
Kaledria reeled away from it, surging to her feet as she did so. As she moved, long, barbed whips sliced through the air after her, moving with incredible speed. One caught her across her cheek, gouging her deeply. She felt the fire of pain followed by a freezing numbness.
The creature extended itself. Stone tentacles slashed before it. Kaledria span and ducked. One hook she blocked with her gauntletted fist. Then she was out of its reach.
An instant later the thing dropped down into the courtyard between her and Hexiya.
At the same time, through the archway they had come through, Kaledria glimpsed the first of the pursuing warriors.
2
Hexiya looked desperately around. There was only one way out of the courtyard - a wide, roofed passage. Kaledria was right at its entrance. Hexiya's own way had been cut off by the gemstone creature.
The monstrosity turned towards her.
'Run!' she cried out to Kaledria. And she summoned the power that was within her.
A circle of amethyst light surrounded her head - it might have been a beautiful, glittering circlet worn by a princess. From a point above and between her eyes, a brilliant beam of incandescence flashed out, straight at the creature's skull. Though the stabbing radiance was physically harmless, it was psychically devastating.
She felt the thing's mind - simple but swift and voracious, with the deepest urge to kill. Just as it lashed out at her, she brought the flame of her will searing across its brain.
Immediately it went into thrashing convulsions. Its jointed whips missed her by mere inches, then contorted and twisted in upon themselves. Trying to escape the incineration within its skull, it hurled itself against the wall it had dropped from. Its great, spiked collar smashed into the stonework and the whole edifice shivered with the impact.
One pursuing warrior had advanced through the archway and into the courtyard. The creature slammed sideways into him and crushed him. Spikes that jutted from its red stone carapace went straight through his mail and the flesh beneath.
Hexiya backed up. Through amethyst light, she saw more Varantan warriors pouring down the passage she had bade Kaledria flee down. And as the creature stilled its thrashings, the fighters that had pursued them here advanced around its trembling from. Some were armed with bows.
3
Kaledria stood at the mouth of the way. Two warriors confronted her. Their swords span.
She ducked an arcing blade, feinted to her left and then leapt towards the man on her right. Slipping around his thrust, she swung her elbow back into his face and felt the crunch of bone. In a single fluid, twisting movement, she wrenched his sword from his hand and pulled him into the path of the attacker on her left. The latter's blade smashed down upon his shoulder with a squeal of metal.
With all her strength she drove her new-found weapon into the man's face; then brought it back in a reverse strike that took the first warrior through the stomach.
They collapsed to either side of her.
Advancing towards her down the passage came more fighters - two abreast, four deep. Behind her, more warriors were swarming into the courtyard.
Kaledria threw herself forward. Her sword licked out over a man's guard and took him through the neck. With a great backhand swing she smashed aside a defending blade, then plunged her weapon two-handed through the mailed chest beyond.
She glanced back, just in time to see a man with a bow aim at her. An instant later he let loose. Just barely, she ducked aside. The shaft shattered against the stone wall beyond her.
4
Warriors rushed around the gemstone creature's huge form, coming for Hexiya.
She sought out their minds. Felt them. Allowed amethyst fire to explode from her, ripping across the space of the courtyard.
Three collapsed, struck dead by the fury of the blast. A fourth nearly reached her, then crashed down at her feet.
Pale mauve light surrounded her hands. She held them out, towards the other men that were swarming through the doorway.
A great pulse of violet-white brilliance stabbed towards them. She felt their internal cries as their minds were seared and destroyed.
An instant later she felt a presence from above the courtyard. Glancing up, she saw two bowmen on the roof, aiming their weapons at her.
She reacted immediately and instinctively. One of them died instantly. The other released an arrow before he collapsed.
Hexiya barely saw the shaft. She felt a sudden shock of numbness and disorientation as it sliced across the side of her head.
Then another bowman leaned around the door. This time she was too slow to strike him down.
An arrow took her through the shoulder, slamming her into the wall at her back. An instant later, from an adversary she had not seen, another shaft punched through her side, almost nailing her to the stonework.
5
Kaledria fought her way down the passage. She made it halfway to the other end before more warriors surged in behind the ones she had slain.
A door was at her right.
Glancing back, she saw Hexiya. Blood was streaming from the side of her head. An arrow jutted from her shoulder. Another had gone through her side.
Anguish at the sight fuelled her. Grim determination filled her. Setting her back to the door, she fought on. Wondering, as she did so, how long she would remain standing.
6
Warriors rushed forward. Desperately, Hexiya tried to focus her mind and bring them down. But though psychic flames poured from her, they were undirected.
She went down under a maul of fighting men. One of them took hold of the arrow that had gone through her shoulder, and twisted it.
She cried out, then gritted her teeth. Felt him, at least, with her mind.
He did not make a sound. His face went slack and his body limp. He collapsed sideways, dead.
Others grappled with her. As she reached out for them too, a mailed fist smashed into the side of head with the force of a hammer.
The world span and sparked.
Then she felt another blow, still harder. Her awareness exploded into blackness.
7
With Hexiya down, Kaledria knew she could not hope to win this fight. Sooner or later she would be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers. All the warriors needed to do was to charge her. Some might die but their size and mass would smother her.
There was only one thing she could do.
She stepped back through the doorway. Rooms opened out behind her.
She turned and ran. Through a hall and up a flight of stairs to the roof she went. Without pausing, she leapt across a narrow street to a balcony on the other side. Fighting men surged far beneath her. One or two even looked up.
Windows blocked her way. She smashed through them, shoulder-first, an explosion of glass and wood into a living room beyond.
Out onto a landing she ran and up more stairs. She came out onto a higher roof. Behind her she heard cries of pursuit. An arrow hissed by her but missed by a yard or more.
After a moment's consideration she flung away the sword she had seized. It would only slow her down. Sprinting across a flat area, she leapt high and far across a wider road.
She barely made it; came down on her front, on the edge of the building's summit. Bruised and winded, she desperately gripped the stonework, then painfully hauled herself up.
She knew that no pursuing warrior could possibly make such a jump.
Back on her feet, she ran. Soon the fighting men in the streets were behind her. The few that patrolled the roofs she evaded with ease. She was fleet, agile, graceful and unhindered. They were slower and fully armoured. Nevertheless, she worried that they might be able to sense her presence and follow her even if they could not see her.
As quickly as she could, she began to loop back towards the courtyard where she and Hexiya had been separated.
Coming down from the rooftops, she entered a small park. As she crossed it she spied another gemstone creature, on the other side of a stand of thick-trunked trees. This one seemed wrought not from ruby, but from sapphire.
It sensed her a moment after she saw it. With terrifying speed, it wheeled around and came after her.
She fled, weaving through trees. Entering a cemetery, she ran among mausolea and tombs.
The creature was too large to navigate the way with ease. Soon she had left it behind.
Leaving the graveyard, she ran up a small, steep-sided hill among buildings owned by the Guild of Astronomers. At its summit was an observatory - an ornate structure of blue stone.
The courtyard where Hexiya had been brought down was on the other side of the hill - less than a hundred yards away.
Swiftly, she climbed the outside of the observatory, leaping and pulling herself from sill to cornice, sculpture to pillar to balcony, one floor to the next.
From close to the top she looked down. She scanned the mazy streets and alleys. The rain hindered her - falling hard from low, ominous clouds, it obscured the distances. The light had been reduced to a purple-grey dimness.
Long, precious seconds passed. Then, between sheets of water, she saw what she was looking for.
A packed mass of warriors was making its way from the sidestreets into a main thoroughfare, quarter of a mile away. Just for an instant she glimpsed Hexiya, tied and slung on a spear between two men. Her head hung limp and her short hair hung down.
Seeing her, anger and pain flared hot in Kaledria's chest. She could not tell if she was even alive.
Then, once again, the rain blocked out the view.
She descended quickly from the observatory and ran in the direction of the main thoroughfare. When she saw warriors blocking the streets, she headed back to the rooftops. When she spied another gemstone creature - emerald green this time - crouched on the side of a spire some distance away, she kept buildings between her and it, trying to stay out of its sight.
Before long she reached the wide road where she had seen Hexiya being carried - a prisoner or a corpse. Heading parallel to it, she soon came abreast of her and her escort of warriors.
She looked down from the corner of a domed temple. Though she felt a measure of relief at the fact that she had caught up with her, she still could not tell if she was alive. She wondered how she might reach her. Close ranks of fighting men were grouped around her - at least fifty of them.
Kaledria followed them to see where they went.
At a steady pace, they headed south to the Merchanter District - an area of mansions and palaces surrounded by walled grounds and towering trees. At length they came to one of the most impressive buildings of them all - a great, complex structure, massive and impressive, that had been fashioned from immense blocks of red and green glass.
From high on the perimeter wall, Kaledria looked on as the warriors carried Hexiya within.
For a while, she examined the outer layout of the mansion. She looked at the arrangement of its walls and trees and expansive gardens. She spied out some of its guards and guard posts. On its roof she made out a line of five gemstone creatures. Crouched like statues behind tall, thick spikes of glass, they might have been easy to miss.
As she scrutinised the place, her mind span. She wanted to go straight to Hexiya but she was unarmed and unprepared. Though she knew that she might take a guard by surprise and grab whatever weaponry he might be carrying, such a plan of action seemed impetuous and foolhardy.
She needed better weapons. The exotically-forged weapons she had brought with her to this world. The ones that were still, she presumed, at Hexiya's apartment.
Swiftly, she headed away along the streets, running at a steady pace that she knew she could keep up for hours.
She swore to herself that anyone who stood in her way would not live long enough to regret it.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
1
In the main room on the upper floor of the mansion, Rammon regarded Hexiya.
He had chained and manacled her to a metal frame.
She was battered from her capture. Blood, half-congealed now, had run from the side of her head and face. She was wounded in her shoulder and her side. Her clothes - fine garb of grey-mauve silk, soft leather and white fur trim - were torn. She was a pitiful sight.
He stepped forwards.
The arrow in her shoulder had been broken off. Grasping the remains of the shaft between finger and thumb, he pulled it slowly free. The barbed head tore her flesh as it came out. But she did not wake up.
The arrow that had gone through her side must have been pulled right through by one of the warriors that had captured her.
Anger stirred within him. In taking Hexiya, they had lost Kaledria.
He closed his eyes. He projected his awareness beyond the confines of his body.
He could see the room around him, the metal frame, even himself. But he could not see Hexiya.
Why can I not see you? he wondered. Qallish as you are, you should be brighter in my sight than the people of this world, and far brighter than the things around you.
Somehow, she had concealed Kaledria as well. He could no longer sense her anywhere in Varanta.
He opened his eyes and looked at her again.
Safer to kill her, he thought. But if she was the first of a new breed that could avoid the sight of his kind, then she should be examined. A counter-measure should be found. The Qallish were dangerous enough without becoming undetectable as well.
The decision came to him. He would vivisect her, mind and body. Take her apart until he knew every last detail about her. Examine her until he understood how she worked and how she had acquired her unique ability.
For the investigation to work she would have to be kept conscious. This would require a degree of delicacy and skill. Standing motionless, he pondered how best to proceed.
To his mild surprise, he found his thoughts distracted from the matter. Hanging battered before him, Hexiya interested him in a way that was greater than the mere fact that she was an enemy with a unique ability. She darkly fascinated and deeply disturbed him.
He felt as if a vast and terrible beauty was radiating from her. It was more than just her appearance. Rather, he felt that her loveliness was just a shell in the approximate form of her internal grace. What, he wondered, might be the true and deepest form of her unearthly nature?
He stood and gazed at her. Anyone entering the room would have seen him as a statue of metal.
Then, quite suddenly, he wheeled about. A flame had touched the edge of his consciousness.
Kaledria!
Suddenly she was no longer hidden from his scrutiny. Whatever Hexiya had done to conceal her was wearing off. Her presence was becoming brighter with each passing second.
Once again he projected his awareness outwards from his body. Within seconds his mind's eye was soaring high over the city. Moments later he found her.
He watched her from above: a tall, lithe, powerful form running swiftly towards Temple Hill.
He reached out but found he could not control her - his grasp just slipped away. And so instead, with delicate touches, he brushed and manipulated the web that held and controlled the puppets of Varanta.
Catch her! he commanded. Bring her down!
Then he reached for the simple awarenesses of the gemstone creatures he had arrayed around the city; felt their instinct to kill; and showed them where their quarry was.
2
For most of the way to Hexiya's apartment, Kaledria was not pursued.
Over the southern flank of the Hill of Shards she went, then across the Park of the Overlord. She rounded the Great Bazaar, crossed a bridge over the River Varant, and made her way north along the wharves. Before long she reached Temple Hill and turned onto the Way of the Suns. The long run up its length would take her most of the way home.
But then, when she was halfway to the top, she was suddenly filled with the sensation that she was being watched. Halting in the lee of a low storehouse, she looked around.
A deep disquiet ran through her mind. Something, she was sure, was observing her.
Behind me!
She span round, ducking as she did so. A dark red whip of linked red stones lashed past her from above.
It could have taken her head off. As it was the hooked end caught her across the shoulder of her leathers, cutting through them and drawing blood from the flesh beneath.
The entrance to the storehouse was open. She threw herself within and ran to the rear. Above her she heard the creature scuttling across the roof in pursuit.
Turning, she padded quietly back the way she had come.
As she emerged from the place she glimpsed the monstrosity lying in wait over the rear entrance. Though it was swift and had sharp instincts, it was apparently not so intelligent.
She ran on up the Way of the Suns. As she went, she noticed people turning towards her. Though they seemed disoriented and moved slowly, they began to follow her.
Then a group of City Guards stepped out in front of her.
She turned down a sidestreet. Above her she heard shutters opening and glimpsed people leaning from windows to watch her as she passed. The sounds of pursuit came from behind.
Climbing an outside staircase and swinging herself over the top of a wall, she took to the rooftops again. Here she would be harder to spot and harder to catch.
She moved fast - running, climbing, turning, leaping, and running again. A swift and graceful acrobat, she called upon all the skill and agility that she possessed.
Before long she neared Hexiya's apartment. She half expected a mass of warriors to be lying in wait for her.
Looking down from the roof of a building opposite, she saw no sign of anyone nearby. She was aware of a group of warriors approaching at a run along a street from the south, but they were too far away to threaten her for the moment.
She backed up, ran, and leaped across the gap onto the roof of Hexiya's home. From the sloping tiles she climbed down the outside wall. Then, feet-first, she swung herself through the window into the living room. Glass exploded around her.
She fetched up crouched on the floor. Standing, she went to the bedroom where she had left her weapons.
They were still there. Relieved, she lifted her sword. Its familiarity was reassuring. Its weight was perfect. She raised it, two-handed, and it was like a remembered part of her body. Just holding it gave her power. Its slightly curved blade, of a dense blue-tinted alloy, flashed dimly in the half-light. Its sapphire pommel glimmered with internal fire. Its long grip, wrapped in black leather, was snug in her hands.
She slid it into its leather scabbard and swung it across her back.
Swiftly then, she gathered up her axe, her throwing blades and her knives. She thrust them into their sheaths at her belt and boots, gauntlets and thighs.
Then she marched back through the apartment. Stepping up onto the sill of the broken window, she saw a group of warriors swarm into the street below.
3
Hexiya drifted in a grey ocean of swirling half-dreams and pain. She felt that she had been this way for a long time. The hurt throbbed through her and all she wanted to do was escape. But though she struggled she could not drag herself free of the crushing pressure that held her fast. Nor could she breathe properly. Claustrophobia and increasing terror mixed with her suffering.
Then, at last, she found herself rising out of the deeps. Her thoughts began to clear.
She opened her eyes. In front of her stood a figure that she recognised and feared. He was tall and broad-shouldered; rugged, and with skin like steel. He looked enormously strong. He looked indestructible.
His eyes were a deep, clear grey.
She started, struggled, and found herself restrained. Looking dazedly around, she found that she was chained to a frame of black metal. Manacles had been fitted - melted - around her wrists and ankles. A metal collar had been placed around her neck.
The chains were not long but she had hung loose in them, putting all her weight upon her arms.
Standing straighter, letting her legs take her weight, she was able to breathe more easily; and dragged in great, deep gulps of air.
The man - Rammon, she remembered - was regarding her with a measure of curiosity that seemed both strange and menacing. It did not fit his face, which seemed to have been carved in an expression of determined ruthlessness.
'What are you?' he said abruptly. His voice was very deep. It suggested immeasurable power.
'I . . .' She shook her head, trying to clear it.
He stepped towards her - a sudden, long stride. His hand reached out and grabbed her jaw. As his grip effortlessly tightened she realised that his iron fingers could crush rock.
He stared down at her and held her gaze.
She tried to summon the power within her. To smash his mind as she had destroyed the minds of some of the warriors that had tried to take her.
A circlet of amethyst light blazed around her head. She reached out as if with claws, to crush his consciousness with a ripping of psychic talons.
He lifted an arm as if warding off a blow; narrowed his eyes.
Her power shattered against a wall around his mind. Nevertheless he stepped back from her, relaxing his grip.
'That . . . hurt,' he said. 'But don't presume to try it again.'
He turned away from her and seemed to think for a moment. A few seconds later the door behind him opened. A warrior came in, resplendent in black and violet chain and plate.
Hexiya recognised him - he was famous throughout the city. His name was Saagral and he was an arena champion. For several years now he had been considered the best warrior in all of Varanta.
With him came four guards. These stepped around the frame upon which she was chained. Together they lifted it, turned it, and set off after Saagral, who made his way from the room. Rammon followed behind.
They passed down a wide flight of stairs to the ground floor, then down a narrower flight into the mansion's cellars. Saagral and Rammon took lanterns with green flames from a niche in the wall.
On the first level beneath the ground, they passed a number of long rooms. Within them, Hexiya saw many men and women lying upon tables, apparently sleeping. All had swollen abdomens. Their chests jutted upwards as if from some great pressure within.
The guards carried her onwards. They went down to a second level, then a third, then a fourth. Here they turned along a winding passage. Tunnels and cave-mouths passed on either side.
The place was labyrinthine, dank, dark and musty.
At length they descended a final flight of cracked and ancient steps and halted at a heavy wooden door. Rammon stepped forwards, took a key from around his neck, and opened it. A sudden rush of warm air came from within, carrying with it a strange, dry smell as of spores or fungus.
The guards took her through the portal and set her down against a wall. Then they left, Saagral at their head.
Rammon, beside her, held up his lantern. Hexiya looked around, wondering at this place beneath the city.
They were in a vaulted chamber that was at least fifty yards wide and high. The walls were faced with immense blocks of black and red stone. Their surfaces were carved with strange, abstract patterns that were curiously disquieting.
At the far end of the room was a wide dais of green stone. Upon it squatted a monstrous statue that looked not unlike the gemstone creature that she had slain. It was bigger - perhaps thirty feet long. It did not look like it was made of stone, either. Rather, it seemed fashioned from black bone. Plumes of many-linked whips spread from behind its spiked collar.
The illusion that it was a statue lasted only for a moment.
Even as she watched, it came alive. The jointed tentacles quivered and spread, and a ripple slid down them. Membranes slid back and six red eyes regarded her.
Hexiya knew exactly what it was:
The god she had glimpsed from afar. Dwelling under the city. The power that had spun the web that had made puppets of the people of Varanta.
Glancing from the creature to Rammon she wondered: who is the master and who the slave?
Then she felt something brush her mind. It was as if a gentle breath of icey wind had crossed her consciousness - a wind that spoke of the cold and empty horrors of nothingness in the voids between the galaxies.
A moment later she felt as if a hundred needles, heated until they glowed white, were being plunged straight into her brain.
She screamed and thrashed against the chains that held her.
The agony ripped through her, intensifying as it did so. An appalling sound as of tearing flesh grated through her skull. The needles became barbed hooks and began to dig through her head. She thought that they must be pulling aside the matter of her brain in their search for her inmost nature.
For long seconds she felt as if her consciousness was plummeting into some black place of utter insanity - trying, perhaps, to escape from the unimagined pain. Somewhere outside her she could hear the animal wail of her voice. Her heart hammered, then convulsed, then tripped again, unable to cope with the shock that was searing through her.
Then she heard the god's voice in her head, a question and demand:
What are you?
She would have answered in any way possible if she had been able to. All she wanted was for it to find what it was looking for and to leave. But it did not want her cooperation. It wanted only to tear the truth from her, no matter the damage it might cause.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
1
It was like trying to outrun a flood. Kaledria had no idea how many were after her. Ordinary people as well as warriors and guards were turning swiftly from their tasks and moving towards her. All seemed to want only to bring her down and kill her.
She had fled through buildings, over rooftops and down streets. She had swum the river under the hull of a barge that had been heading downstream. She had evaded a gemstone creature in the intricate and tortuous interior of a temple. She had slain three Varantan warriors who had confronted her in an alley.
But she was faster than any who followed her. She took by surprise those that came upon her. She was lethal if brought to a halt.
The flood had not been able to overcome her.
And now, at last, she was nearing her destination. The great houses, palaces and walled estates of the Merchanter District spread around her. The mansion that was her target loomed ahead.
With a running jump and a step off the brickwork, she threw herself over its perimeter wall.
Across a stretch of grass she raced. Coming to a great tree with immense, wide-spreading limbs, she climbed swiftly from limb to limb and ran along an upper bough.
Moments later she dropped down onto a balcony on the top floor of the mansion. Smashing a glass door with her axe, she stepped inside.
2
Vaguely, through the awful and overwhelming torment, Hexiya thought she should try to resist the onslaught. But the surprise of the god's attack had left her reeling and flailing, helplessly overcome. She did not think she could draw upon her own powers.
Nevertheless, with a vast and agonising effort, she tried. What she managed was little more than a reflexive raising of psychic arms to ward off the terrible blows that were pounding into her mind.
And yet, just for a second, just a fraction, the pain lessened.
It was all she needed. In that time her thoughts cleared enough for her call upon her inner strength.
She erected a barrier within her. She tried to eject the needles and hooks that were cutting through her. She tried to shut down the agony that was overwhelming her ability to think.
Amethyst light flared. Against it, the god pushed harder. Its energy and power were such that she felt as though she was resisting the onrushing might of an avalanche.
Gritting her teeth, drawing upon all her will, she reached out. With her psychic grasp she gripped the white-hot needles that had been pushed through her head. With a supreme exertion she pulled them out.
The pain vanished. With its cessation, her strength grew vast and she erected a wall before her. Even as she did so, the god's efforts redoubled. Its energies flared away from the barrier in cascades of dark red fire. The whole chamber blazed brighter than day before the radiance.
Hexiya glimpsed Rammon reel away from the onslaught.
After long seconds the light went out. Her shield faded to invisibility. The god's attack had ended.
3
Finding herself in plush bedroom, Kaledria padded to the door and looked out into a hall.
A guard was on patrol, twenty feet away. He turned to her, sensing her presence.
She ran, four swift steps towards him. There was a hiss as she unsheathed her sword. Twice she swung the blade. A shearing of metal and a slicing of flesh followed one another.
The man dropped to the floor, lifeless.
Leaping over a bannister, she dropped down onto a wide flight of stairs.
More guards were in the ground floor hall.
Her hand leapt to her belt. Curved blades flashed from her palm, taking one warrior across his face and another through his neck. Exotic metal hardly slowed but went straight through everything in its way. Silently, the men collapsed.
Four more rushed up the steps at her. She met them head on, sword and axe swinging in murderous patterns. To those who fell she was a like a goddess of vengeance - a bringer of death in beautiful form.
Moments later she stood at the base of the stairs. The bodies behind her were still but for the spreading of blood.
A fighting man walked towards her along the marbled corridor to her right. He was dressed in magnificent black and violet armour and carried a two-handed blade. His movement betrayed great strength, speed and confidence.
She closed with him. Tall though she was, she was still half a head shorter than him and had a much lighter build. Still, she matched his strength. And while his speed was impressive, hers was greater.
They struck, span, countered, thrust, parried. The clang of metal on metal rang through the mansion. His sword scraped her leather-clad side. A moment later her axe crashed down upon his left arm, cutting through his mail.
For a minute they duelled. At any moment Kaledria expected more guards to enter the hallway. Though it would have been safer to discover his weaknesses and take him to the edge of exhaustion, she could not afford the amount of time it would take to do so.
She hurled herself forward. Four great blows she threw at him. Each of them he deflected. Then she feinted and pretended to stumble.
The metal pommel of his sword caught her across her jaw. It was a crushing blow that whipped her head around and sent sparks shooting across her vision.
At the same instant, her blade went straight through his armour and deep into his abdomen.
Impaled, he raised his weapon for one final strike, but his movement was slow. Kaledria wrenched her sword free even as he brought his down. As she whirled away from him, his blow went wide.
Then she swung her blade in a great arc. Without slowing, it took his head spinning from his shoulders.
Even as his body crumpled to the ground she became aware of other warriors, ahead of her and behind - six in one direction, two in the other. She was surrounded.
She ran straight for the larger group.
Furious battle was joined. The noise of clashing weapons was punctuated by the ripping sound of tearing steel and the crunch of butchered flesh.
Kaledria was a whirlwind of death, barely slowing as she cut through those that stood before her.
A minute later she was the last one standing, though a blade had sliced across her thigh.
Breathing hard, she looked fearfully around. The mansion was huge. Which way to find Hexiya?
4
Rammon regarded Hexiya steadily, apparently with a mixture of caution and heightened interest. Then, for half a minute, he went very still - like a statue again.
Abruptly, he came to life once more. Taking a metal hook from his belt, he approached her. His intent was clear.
She reached out again. Stronger now, she wondered if she could penetrate the barriers that protected him.
Amethyst light stabbed from her forehead.
Even as it did so, a pulse of whiteness filled the room. Her attack shattered against the wall of his mind. Though she tried to push harder he seemed utterly invulnerable.
After half a minute, momentarily exhausted, she halted her efforts.
She looked. Though he had moved away from her, he was quite unharmed.
He stared. Then he stepped swiftly towards her. With the sharpened hook he ripped open the front of her clothing.
'Your mind is strong,' he said. 'But your body is vulnerable.'
He lifted the curved blade and touched the cold metal to the exposed skin of her abdomen.
'Let's see what's inside you,' he said.
Hexiya looked into Rammon's cold grey eyes. She saw death there.
Barely thinking, she called out to Kaledria.
5
Kaledria!
Hexiya's voice was in her head, calling to her.
She heard, and responded. Sensing the direction she had to go, she raced along the hallway and down a flight of steps. Glittering green darkness opened up beneath her. Taking a lantern from a wall, she descended quickly down further flights and ran along a winding passage.
A labyrinth opened out around her. The smell of damp and mould filled the air.
Hexiya led her on, unerringly.
6
The tip of the hook drew a trickle of blood as Rammon positioned it. Hexiya wrenched at the manacles and chains that held her. At the same time, she called once again upon her inner strength. Though she could not penetrate his mind, she wondered if she might control his body. Knowing that she was capable of moving objects, perhaps she could move him .
She heard him grunt as her will suddenly struggled with his strength. She saw him tighten his grip and turn the blade. His intent, she knew, was nothing less than to rip its hooked end right through her abdomen and chest.
The blade bit into her. The sudden, sharp pain of it gave her the strength of desperation, and she forced it away again. A cry of agony escaped her lips at the effort it required.
Rammon stepped back. Then, too quickly for her to counter, he struck her across her face with his mailed fist. The crushing impact snapped her head sideways. Her mind reeled.
'You . . . are much more than I thought,' he said. And he fell still again - that unbreathing, statue-like motionlessness.
Hexiya, silently, still called for her love. She could feel her now, coming closer.
But she said to Rammon: 'What did you want with my father?' Blood was in her mouth and her voice shocked her with its trembling hoarseness.
He shifted of a sudden. For a moment she thought she had actually surprised him. Even to her own ears the question had sounded absurd - a pitiful attempt to buy time.
He did not reply. For a minute or more he merely stared at her, such that she wondered if he had found a new use for her. Wondering, again, at what she was.
He seemed to look inward. Perhaps, she thought, he was communing with other powers - discussing, maybe, what to do with her.
Then he said: 'Kaledria approaches us now.'
Hexiya cursed herself. Of course he would know.
Rammon shrugged out of the shoulder belt from which his swords were sheathed across his back. He drew both blades and threw aside the scabbards and strap.
The noise of shouts and clashing steel came from beyond the door of the chamber. Rammon, motionless again, listened or, perhaps, merely waited in some inner space.
Within less than a minute, the door burst open.
Kaledria stepped across the threshold, breathing hard, sword and axe in her hands. Her ice-blue eyes were brilliant with inner flames. She was a wild figure, like something from some ancient legend. She was covered with blood. Her long, black hair was matted. More blood - her own - dripped down her arm and from her upper leg.
Even as Rammon raised his swords, Kaledria hurled her last throwing blade at him.
His reactions were quick, but not quick enough. As he ducked aside the cutting edge caught him across the temple, leaving behind a wide gash.
His blood was not red, but black.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, he backed away to the middle of the room. Kaledria advanced on him.
Then more noise came from the passage outside - booted feet on stone and the clank of metal. But before the approaching guards could reach the chamber, Hexiya sought out their minds.
Sleep! she commanded. And they slumped down as they ran.
Then she saw Rammon turn to the god on the dais. She read the silent command he gave it - to bring Kaledria down with a crushing psychic blow.
Even as the thing rose up and tried to obey, Hexiya erected a shield around her - a glowing mauve sphere that surrounded Kaledria. Deep red light flared away from it. The room was lit by cascades of brilliant fire.
Then: 'Enough!' snarled Rammon. And he raised his blades before him.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
1
Kaledria circled. She watched the way he moved, attuning herself to his timing. She sensed immediately that he was a better warrior than the one in black and violet had been. Far better.
He stepped towards her. Both his blades flashed out with astonishing speed. She barely avoided the first. The second she parried with her axe, but the crushing impact threw her sideways. Barely keeping her balance, she leapt back.
Then he came at her, a whirlwind of steel. His blows had so much strength and weight behind them that she blocked them only when she absolutely had to. Each time she was sent reeling. It was better to avoid his blows altogether.
Though he was vastly stronger than her, she realised that she could move more swiftly than him.
2
Four times Rammon tried to overwhelm her. Each time she was quick enough to avoid him.
Far better than I imagined , he thought. And he wondered at the strength Hexiya and Kaledria had given each other. Whatever had bonded them together was a profoundly powerful thing.
But they were Qallish. Ancient enemies.
And Kaledria, for all her skill, had nothing like his power. She would not stand before him.
He drew her in; countered her attack; then drove into her with both blades and all his strength.
3
Sweat mingled with blood. Kaledria could not get close to him. Each time she tried she came within an inch of losing her life. She wondered how she could possibly defeat such a magnificent warrior.
But she remembered what she had been put through in the mine. She also knew that Hexiya, in his hands, would suffer and probably die.
All the rage she had felt when she had been a puppet came back to her. Fury at the thought of Hexiya's captivity fuelled her. Building like a storm of fire, they sped and strengthened her blows.
4
An hour passed. Then two. The combatants fought with total concentration.
Hexiya, silent, could only look on. Only once had she tried to hinder Rammon's movement. Immediately the god on the dais had prevented the interference. The great wash of light and energy that had flared from the conflicting forces had knocked Kaledria off balance and out of her rhythm. It had almost cost her her life.
Now Hexiya kept herself still. There was nothing she could do.
5
At the last Kaledria was overcome by Rammon's strength. When he forced her to parry an overhead strike, she buckled under the fearful impact of it. Seeing his chance, he took it.
Low, under her guard, he brought his other blade up point first. Straight into her side, slicing between her ribs.
His other blade he brought across, expecting it to take her through the neck.
Somehow her axe was in the way - an impossible parry.
And then, in a moment of dread realisation, he saw what she had done.
She had allowed him to wound her. It had been the only way in which she could draw him in and commit himself.
Her sword came across in a tremendous backhand arc. He had no blade with which to protect himself.
Desperately, he wrenched himself back. But not enough.
The sword slammed into his temple. The blow was hard enough to cut through steel and snap his head sideways.
Light and pain flashed through his skull. He stumbled as numbness overcame his left side. Dizziness flooded through him.
Fetching up on one knee, he looked up at his opponent. For a terrible instant he stared into her face. He saw his death in her ice-blue eyes.
She had dropped her axe and now held her sword with both hands. Reversing it, she brought up into his chest.
He tried to raise his own blades, but his arms were heavy and sluggish.
The tip thrust straight through his armour, through his chest and heart, and came out of his back.
Collapsing back upon the stone floor, impaled by her sword, his life began to slip away from him. As it did so, she stared into his eyes. She held his gaze with her will, until understanding of his vanquishment penetrated to the depths of his being.
As he died, all he was aware of was his defeat, his death, and her victory.
6
Kaledria stood straight. Slowly, exhausted now, she put a boot on Rammon's shoulder and wrenched her blade from his torso. Then she gathered up her axe and walked across to Hexiya.
Each step was painful. She held her hand to her injured side, where her blood ran freely.
She saw that the iron manacles around Hexiya's wrists and ankles had been melted closed, as had the collar around her neck. Kaledria, too tired to cut through them, instead severed the chains that held them with blows of her sword.
When it was done, Hexiya held her. Swaying and utterly spent, she needed the support. Her breath still rushed like fire in her lungs as she tried to recover from her exertions.
But: 'There is one more thing to do,' she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the crouching god.
It was motionless now. Its eyes stared at where Hexiya had been manacled. Not even its tentacles swayed or rippled.
'An idiot creature,' said Hexiya. 'Power beyond belief. The controller of the people of Varanta. And almost mindless. Rammon's puppet, as you were its puppet.'
When they walked across to it, it did not move.
'Give me your axe,' said Hexiya. Kaledria did so, wordlessly.
It took more than fifty blows for her to hew the thing's head from its shoulders. But when it finally rolled across the floor, there was an almost audible sigh of psychic release.
The vile, snake-like strings that had held a million people in thrall rushed back upon their source, severed and dying.
Hexiya stepped back. 'It's done,' she said.
She turned to Kaledria and made her sit down upon the edge of the dais. She unfastened her leathers and removed them.
She cleaned the wound in the side of her chest as best she could. Examining the ragged rent, she said: 'I can't tell how deep it is.'
Kaledria managed a sideways smile even as she winced. 'I'll live,' she said. Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
Hexiya bound the injury with cloth torn from her shirt.
When it was done, the two of them set about removing the iron loops from her wrists and ankles and neck. Only the exotic metal of one of Kaledria's knives made it possible. Even then it took some time.
When it was done they held onto each other and climbed to their feet.
Wordlessly and utterly weary, they made their way from the chamber. Up stairs and along passages they went, holding a green-flaming lantern before them to light their way.
A great clamour reached them as they ascended to the level beneath the ground floor. Here, the people with distended torsoes were thrashing and clawing at themselves and others. Their howling cries were animal and pitiful. Even as Hexiya pulled Kaledria aside, a man rushed past and charged head-first into a wall, shattering his skull against the stone. Each of the long rooms that led from the corridor was like a vision of hell.
Hexiya backed into an alcove. She closed her eyes and reached out to the terrified, pitiful people. Within moments she understood their condition and their pain. She understood that nothing could be done to save them.
Only one thing could she do - and even this, she thought, might be beyond her.
As if gathering them all in the arms of her psychic strength, she held their panicking, frightened minds to her. She damped down the pain and distress that they felt. And she felt what was inside them.
Then she gave them a choice: death, or to be left as they were.
Most pleaded with her to take their lives.
With their consent, it was easy. Releasing them from life was like opening a box to let out the animals trapped within.
One after another she felt the hundreds of lives extinguished at her touch. She felt the gratefulness of those who so escaped.
The few that clung on, she could do nothing for, but left them in their anguish.
Then, grimly, she turned up the stairs towards the upper floors. Kaledria trod wearily at her side.
Out of the merchanter's mansion they went. They were unopposed by anyone. Warriors and others stood here and there - confused, relieved and disbelieving that they were in control of their bodies again. Most seemed unsure what to do. Some were enraged at what they had been forced to endure and how they had been made to act. Others were stunned and passive.
Hexiya and Kaledria ignored it all.
Leaving the mansion behind them, they began the walk home. Side by side. Silent. Needing, beyond anything else, to rest.
**