The Demigod Proving (52 page)

“I can’t. I have to deliver this.”

“Well do it, then come with me.”

It sounded pathetic, but she didn’t care. What did she have left, other than asking him?

He frowned and didn’t speak for a long time. Teirn and Rashel watched him without blinking, as if afraid he would do something sudden and deadly. What had happened between the three of them that day?

“I have to do as the Master asks. That’s all I know. I have to return to him, take him this . . . trophy.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” she said.

That would mean facing Athanaric. He might try to kill her. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would listen to reason, and maybe Wrend would make a decision in her favor. In his favor, really.

Wrend grunted. “Of course you are. Because today wasn’t complicated enough, already.”

He motioned for her to get on the saddle with him, and she obeyed, careful not to touch the head.

She kept her arms around him as they rode down into camp. She hoped that he felt as she did—unusually contented to be together. Surprisingly at ease.

It all ended once they reached Athanaric’s tent.

Chapter 67: Gone to war

There is no point in delaying combat—unless you can gain a strategic advantage by waiting. But usually you can’t. Once battle has become inevitable, it’s best to get it over with.

-Athanaric

Wrend sought out the Master’s tent, to tell him about how the task had been completed.

He didn’t know what to say to Leenda as he led his mother, brother, and paladins into the camp, and so said nothing. He was happy that the Master hadn’t killed her, and found it altogether distracting and pleasant the way she wrapped her arms around him, pressed her body close.

But he still couldn’t even entertain the idea of doing anything she wanted. He had duties. Obligations. He was loyal to the Master, and needed to do what the Master wanted. Maybe someday, when he was god, he could humor Leenda.

They rode down the long hill at a trot, about a quarter mile into the edge of camp. A dozen paladins stopped him with lowered pikes. Leenda tried to hide and make herself as small as possible by ducking her head low against his back. But once the paladins saw who he was, and that he had nearly a hundred paladins behind him, they let him through. He headed for the Master’s tent.

“Haven’t you noticed,” Leenda said, “that most of the paladins are gone? I doubt that Athanaric is here.”

Wrend nodded and frowned. Even though the sky hadn’t yet darkened, few people walked among the tents and sagebrush. The handfuls of serving girls ducked their heads and scurried away like frightened mice, and he saw no one else. No priests or mothers running errands. No paladins on patrol. No demigods. If Wrend hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed that they’d abandoned the caravan. Something wasn’t right.

But he didn’t think much about it. He was too worried about lying to the Master. He planned to report that he and Teirn had decided to work together—had even jointly killed the leader. It was a blatant disregard for the instructions they’d received, but Wrend needed the Master to know he found this test a travesty and a waste. He’d wearied of it, simply grown too tired of the fear to care about it anymore.

As for Rashel, he’d decided to let her speak for herself. He would say nothing about what she’d done. It was her action to be accountable for, and not his place to tattle.

When they reached the Master’s tent, unchallenged by even a single priest or paladin, he dismounted and motioned for the others to follow. He paused at the door and took several deep breaths, dreading the coming conversation, and entered.

The tent lay in general darkness save for a single lamp lit on a stand next to the enormous bed. It cast a ruddy glow over the bed sheets, table and chair, divans, carpet, and poles rising to support the thirty-foot ceiling. The table lay bare, without a spread of raw vegetables and baked breads.

“I didn’t hear you coming, love,” a woman said.

She lay in the bed, barely visible in the light, dwarfed by the pillows and sheets. The covers lay over her body, yet showed her bare arms and shoulders. She held them against her breast as she sat up with a gasp and looked at Wrend.

Calla.

Wrend closed and diverted his eyes. Behind him, Leenda squeaked in surprise, and Teirn growled.

“Lovely,” Rashel said. “Waiting here for him? The rest of us obey his commands and wait for a summons when he needs us, but you wait here for him?”

“How do you know he didn’t ask me to wait here?” Calla said.

Rashel harrumphed and Wrend—eyes still closed—heard her move past him, toward the bed.

“Cover yourself,” she said. “There are children present.”

There was the sound of clothes being picked up and thrown.

“Wrend, is that you?” Calla said. “And—Teirn? What are you doing here?” Her voice became hard. “You’ve failed again?”

“Where’s the Master?” Wrend said.

He dared crack his eyes. Calla stood next to the bed, her back toward him, pulling on a blouse. The bed hid the lower half of her body. Now that the shock of seeing her naked had passed, a dull anger seethed to life in Wrend. Calla had done so much to harm him. How could she treat him so ruthlessly in secret, and yet have been so kind to him all his life?

“He’s gone,” Calla said. “After he sent the two of you off, he headed out with his paladins. He intends to engage the armies of Hasuke in the morning.” She turned around and bent over to begin pulling on a skirt. The look she gave Teirn might have killed. “And here you are. Both of you. My understanding was that only one of you would return.”

“Stop it,” Rashel said. She stood next to Wrend near the foot of the bed, her fists on her hips. “Teirn told us everything.”

“You tied me up at the Seraglio,” Wrend said. “You planted the letter at the Strengthening. And you told Teirn about the proving years ago.”

Even in the red light, he could see her face blanch. She licked her lips, tightened her eyes.

“I wanted to help my son.”

“We were forbidden,” Rashel said. “You know as well as I do that our sons were never supposed to know that.”

“Bah,” Calla said. “You, of all people, cannot lecture me on obeying our god. Where have you been the last two days? Where did you disappear to? You didn’t tell anyone.”

“You little sneak,” Rashel said.

She took a threatening step forward, fists clenched, but Wrend grabbed her arm to stop her, even though he would’ve liked to see her punch Calla in the face. Rashel tried to pull free, but Wrend held tight. They needed to move on and find the Master, report to him that they’d eradicated the renegades.

“And you,” Calla said. She sneered at Teirn. “You told them everything? You betrayed your own mother? And you failed.”

Teirn stood by the door, his face covered in shadow, his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, mother.”

“Sorry won’t save you. And it won’t save me. I can’t believe you told them everything. I’m as good as dead.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Teirn said. “I—.”

“How do you expect to become god if you—.”

“Enough!” Wrend said.

Behind him, Leenda jumped at his shout. Everyone looked at him. But the silence lasted only a moment as Calla came around the bed toward him and Rashel, lips curled up in a sneer, finger raised in rebuke.

“You’re all reckless,” she said. “You openly defy the Master and provoke his wrath. You’ll get us all killed if you tell him what’s gone on.”

With a surge of strength, Rashel pulled free of Wrend’s grip and flung herself at Calla, screeching. For an instant, Wrend thought his mother would claw Calla’s eyes out, but Calla reacted with unusual speed by grabbing Rashel’s wrists and shoving her backward. With a cry, Rashel fell into Wrend. He caught her by the arms before she hit the floor, and looked at Calla in disbelief.

She’d moved so fast. Almost like a demigod using Ichor.

Was it possible? Was she Athanaric's daughter? And his husband? Would he do something like that?

Wrend didn't know anything about her past. It seemed conceivable.

“None of you understand what’s at stake,” Calla said. She stood there with her finger raised and trembling, eyes intense. “You think you can outsmart your god—that you can avoid this proving. You think it’s so wise to run to him, telling him what I’ve done. Well, you cannot tell him my faults without telling him yours. You’ll only end up getting us all killed.”

Wrend had no idea how to respond. He almost hadn't even heard her little speech, from how his head reeled at the possibility he'd uncovered. But he understood her logic, and even agreed with it. Even so, he would defy the Master as long as possible, no matter the cost. He would not forfeit his life—or the life of his brother.

“Be that as it may,” he said, helping Rashel stand up straight, “Teirn and I worked together to defeat the apostates, and must report on our success.”

“Failure, you mean,” Calla said.

“Success,” Teirn said. “Success as brothers.”

Calla snorted. “You'll all end up dead. We all will.”

Rashel stood next to Wrend, rubbing her wrists where Calla had gripped them. Leenda still made no sound.

Wrend turned away and headed for the door.

“We need to find the Master,” he said.

It wouldn’t be too hard to locate him. The priests left behind would know where he’d taken the paladins.

Without even a glance at his mother, Teirn preceded Wrend out of the tent. Leenda and Rashel followed them into the twilight. It was colder outside, with the sun down. Stars, sharp and clear, had begun to appear in the sky. By the time Wrend mounted and pulled Leenda up behind him, Calla appeared in the tent flap, pulling on boots.

“I’m coming with you,” she said. “I want to see how he handles the news you’re taking him.”

Leenda snorted and shook her head.

Rashel glared at Calla. “You just want to try and protect yourself.”

Calla narrowed her eyes at Rashel. “I want to see how he reacts to our sons’ failures. And to your return, following your sudden departure. My guess is that your hours are numbered.”

“No fewer than yours,” Rashel said.

Wrend glanced at Teirn, amazed at the animosity between the two mothers. He’d always thought of them as close friends. Teirn shrugged. Ever since the cave, he seemed so at a loss regarding what to do.

Well, Wrend knew what to do. And he was going to do it.

He would go to the Master.

Chapter 68: By starlight