The Blackgod

He didn't answer, for at that moment one of his arms tore free of his body. Again he was surprised at the lack of pain, and he wondered if there would be pain when she finally bit his head off. Shuddering, he called up all of the gods he had swallowed; he began to burn them for strength. The stream demon was strongest, would burn longest. He did not bother with the feeble fuel of his Human ghosts, though they shouted at him.

One shouted at him more loudly than the others.

River! he shouted. Ghan shouted.

Ghe understood in a blaze, but there was no triumph in that comprehension, for it came too late. He could scent him, his Maker, and he realized that their aerial battle had brought them very near his waters. So it was worth a try.

Using what strength he could, he tore himself from the Huntress and flew. For an instant he was free of her, and sprawling below him he could see trees, the rising flanks of mountains—and a gorge that pulsed with salvation. How could he have forgotten that his lord lay so near?

“No, you don't,” the Huntress shrieked as sharp talons dug into what remained of his spine. 'Oh, no, my sweet.”

For an instant he went limp with despair, but then Ghan spoke again within him, a single word.

Hezhi.

Ghe snarled and struck his talons into the Huntress, reached for the beating heart of her power. He touched it and it surged through, burning him, tearing at him, far too much energy for him to absorb; his extremities charred and his vision blazed away with his eyes, and then they were falling, the Huntress shrieking and beating about him, but they were still falling. She had not recovered.

“No,” she snarled, and then they hit something that broke them both.

“G? fine,” Hezhi said, stumbling toward Dark. But she wasn't fine. She had killed Moss, and though the man had been her enemy—or had he? She barely knew that anymore. The effort of fighting Hukwosha back into her heart had sapped her of strength, and she could barely stand.

“I've never seen anything like that,” Sheldu muttered. ”Not in a Human shaman. Surely—“ He bit off his remark, seemed almost ready to chortle. ”Come. Our success is certain now. In ridding us of that menace yourself, you have removed the last chance that we might be stopped.”

“You mean because you wouldn't have to reveal yourself, Blackgod?“ Hezhi muttered.

The man smiled grimly. “Well. I thought that Perkar might soften, eventually. But it matters not. I would have revealed myself to you—it is to this forest that I dare not show my power—not yet. The actions of a Human shaman such as yourself—”

“I don't understand what you're talking about,” Hezhi groaned. “But shouldn't we get going?”

“Indeed.”

As they continued their ride up the valley, Ngangata flanked her on one side and Tsem on the other.

“So you know,” Ngangata said, his voice low.

She nodded. “Perkar told me.”

“Give the word and we flee,” the halfling said. “With your familiars and Tsem and me to stand for you, chances are good you can escape.”

“Why? Why should I want to do that?” Hezhi asked. “This is what I want. I want to be rid of this malevolent thing our people call Lord. The thing that brought Ghan here to his death—that—that—” She stuttered off, realizing that she was dangerously near crying. She must not weaken now; the end of all of this, one way or the other, was nigh, she could feel that. She took a deep breath and continued. “I care not what designs your Crow God has, what hidden agenda his scheming covers. The truth is that compared to the River he is but a flea.”

“A flea who believes he can slay the dog,” Tsem muttered.

“And I believe he can, with my help,” Hezhi said. “But he is still a flea.”

“Do you imagine yourself more, Princess?” Tsem asked softly.

She looked at him, shocked, but then reflected on her words and smiled.

“It sounds like I do, doesn't it? It's just that I know what it feels like, the power in the River. Just now, when I was the bull, I felt I could do anything, and that takes more than a moment to forget.”

Tsem bridled. “I wish I could forget it in a moment, Princess. If you could have seen yourself—”

“Hush, Tsem. I'm fine: I don't want to be a goddess. That is exactly what I want to be free of. Only the River can poison me with such might—the Blackgod and his kin cannot, will not do it. They have the same desire I do, to end the threat I pose.”

“They could do that simply by killing you,” Ngangata argued.

“True, which is why I do not fear the Blackgod. He has had ample opportunity to slay me and he has not. Why? In another generation the River can produce another like me, perhaps one more receptive to his will. As long as he exists, the threat I represent exists.”

Ngangata shrugged. “Still, it is never wise to trust the Blackgod completely.”

“Or any god. Or any person!“ Hezhi answered. As she did so, Yuu'han drew abreast.

“An instant of your time, please,” he asked of Hezhi.

“Of course.” Hezhi was taken aback by the man's tight, formal tone.

“I have tried to dissuade Brother Horse from this trip many times,” Yuu'han admitted. “He is an old man, and I fear for him.”

“I have tried to turn him back, as well,” Hezhi told him.

“I know. I thank you for that.”

Hezhi regarded the young man. Since Raincaster's death, Yuu'han—always somewhat dour—had withdrawn from almost everyone but Brother Horse. “If you wish to try again …”

“I have done that, thank you. He will stay with you, and because he does, I do, as well.”

“Your uncle means much to you.”

Yuu'han raised his enigmatic gaze to lock fully on her own, something the Mang were reluctant to do unless angry—or very, very sincere. “I call him uncle,” Yuu'han said, quite softly. “I call him that because he was never married to my mother, and thus I have no right to call him 'father.' Nevertheless, he is the one who begat me. And when my mother died and her clan refused her orphan, Brother Horse drew me into his clan. Few would have done that; most would have let the mother's clan dispose of the child.”

“Dispose?”

“The custom is to leave an unwanted child in the desert for the gods to take their mercy on.” He glanced away at last, having impressed upon her what he wanted to.

Hezhi looked to Tsem and Ngangata for support; the halfling nodded to himself, but Tsem appeared confused, perhaps not following the entire conversation. Neither of them gave her any clue as to how she should respond to Yuu'han. “Why do you tell me this now?” she finally asked.

“So that if my une—” Yuu'han paused and began again. “So that if Brother Horse and I are both slain, you will know how to sing to our ghosts. In death I may be spoken of as his son.” He smiled wryly. “Understand me, this is no demand. My sword is yours, because Brother Horse is with you. I merely request this of you.”

“I would rather promise that you will not be slain,” Hezhi remarked.

“Do not promise me what is not in your power,” Yuu'han warned. “Do not insult me.”

“I will not insult you, cousin,” Hezhi assured him. “If you are both slain, I shall do as you ask—provided I survive.”

“I say the same,” Ngangata assured him.

“Thank you. It is good.” Seemingly content, Yuu'han dropped back to where Brother Horse rode.

Shortly they began climbing again, but it was to be a brief ascent They mounted up out of the valley, and Hezhi realized then just how high they were; She'leng walled off most of the sky—they had scarcely begun ascending it—but even the valley they rode in was lofty, overlooking the folded layers of forest marching off from them.

Karak stood in his saddle. “Follow now,” he said. “I grow impatient, and one more obstacle remains.”

“What's that?”

“Some fifty Mang warriors await at the entrance to Erikwer, the place we seek.”