Tiyana had known Keshu since they met as children consecrated to the House of Amiyas – she because of her bloodline; he because his affinity for ashuma had been recognized and encouraged. They had been friends from the beginning of their time in the service of the Matile deities. But only now, in the consciousness they shared with Almovaar, did she become aware of the love he had hidden from her all that time.
He concealed it because her father, the Leba, was of the highest royal blood; while Keshu’s sire had been a sword-maker from a small village close to the Thabas’ country. A union between them would be precluded by custom, if not law. So Keshu had remained silent and kept his longing deep within himself. But she hadn’t ever known of it – until now.
Their difference in social standing had never mattered to Keshu and Tiyana before, because he had so carefully kept his true feelings to himself. And now ....
She couldn’t think further about it now. She could not even turn her head to look at Keshu. The Oneness continued to hold her – and him – in an unbreakable grasp.
That always happens the first time, an unspoken voice assured her.
Again Tiyana tried, and failed, to turn her head. Still, she knew the speaker was Byallis, the Adept whose hand held hers.
You can learn how to shield your thoughts, Byallis continued. I will teach you, after this is over.
In an eyeblink’s time, the woman allowed Tiyana to know in full who she was. Her complete name was Byallis ni Shalla, and her home was Ul-Enish, a city located near Lumaron, Kyroun’s home. Ul-Enish had been one of the first stops on the Seer’s westward journey, and Byallis had readily chosen to join the Almovaads to escape the drudgery and abuse she endured as a servant to a mean-spirited lord who had been happy to see her go.
Kyroun had uncovered a talent for sorcery Byallis had never known she possessed. And she had risen to the highest rank of the Initiates.
So can you, Byallis assured her. And she gave Tiyana’s hand a squeeze.
Before Tiyana could respond, a new vision entered into the Oneness. Almovaar was showing them how the battle was progressing. It was as though they were birds hovering over the blood-washed streets of Khambawe. The Matile in the Oneness winced at the sight of the burned buildings and the bodies in the streets. But they saw something else that lifted their hearts – but also fuelled their anger.
They saw the Uloans in full rout, pursued like hares by soldiers and any other Matile who could hold a weapon. Fear led urgency to the islanders’ flight, and they were outdistancing their dogged pursuers. Once they reached the docks, boarded their vessels and sailed away, they would be free from further retaliation, for the Matile’s ships had all been destroyed.
Driving the Uloans back to their islands would be victory enough for Jass Gebrem. Surely a defeat as devastating as the one the Matile were now inflicting would deter the Uloans from attacking the mainland again ....
What if it doesn’t, Kyroun whispered in Gebrem’s mind in the Oneness. What if they try again, ten, twenty, one hundred years from now?
Gebrem did not reply. But he was thinking the same thing.
There is a way to ensure an end to this now and forever, Kyroun continued. Your people have always known that an end is needed. And now, you can produce that end.
And, for the second time since he had come to Khambawe, the Seer pulled his ancestor’s small Ishimbi statue from the folds of his robe.
The moment Gebrem saw the replica, he remembered the legends of how his ancestors had utilized the Ishimbi during the Storm Wars. A skeptical part of him had doubted those old stories, for all that they were memorialized in books and woven in tapestries. Now, though, he believed them. And, gathering and focusing the ashuma that coursed through him, he began to do what Lebas of the past had done in the Matile’s time of need.
4
In the witch-light that dispelled the darkness of night, Pel Muldure could see the enemy drawing farther away. He was not surprised that the scar-covered madmen were escaping. They knew the Ma-teel sought vengeance; there would be no mercy for any islander caught alive in the city their invasion had come close to obliterating.
Muldure, too, wanted revenge – for the deaths of his crew members and the loss of his ship. It infuriated him that he and the others had survived the Sea of Storms, only to face death and destruction at the hands of an enemy that wasn’t even theirs.
Of course, with his surviving shipmates, he could build another ship. But that would take time. And once a new ship was seaworthy, where would he sail it? Back into the Sea of Storms?
That didn’t matter so much now. What mattered most to him was catching and killing as many of the invaders as he could.
Not so brave now that your walking lumps of clay are gone, are you? he thought vindictively.
He cast a glance toward Lyann, who was running at his side. Her clothing had been cut to shreds, and gore spattered nearly every inch of her exposed skin. She had several open wounds, but no blood flowed from them. She should have been too exhausted to move. But she wasn’t. And neither was he.
He knew such stamina was unnatural; that rage alone could not account for it. Clearly, it was a gift bestowed by the same sorcery that created the light; and like all such boons, its price would be tallied later.
