From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [200]
Achan looked away, wheezing to catch his breath. All was silent. Lord Nathak’s body lay in four bloody pools on the roof.
Could it really be over? How did a keliy die? Who was next in line? The thought made Achan twist around toward Esek’s body, but it lay still in the midst of a dozen dead gowzals.
Achan looked upward. “Why is it still dark? What else do we have to do? Perhaps it is nighttime?”
Shung shrugged, then motioned to Bran. “Can anything be done for the boar?”
Achan ran across the roof and used his right leg to kneel at Bran’s side. The squire’s eyes were closed, but choking breaths seeped in and out of his lips. Bran still clutched his opposite shoulder, blood seeping between his mailed fingers.
There was blood everywhere.
Bran’s eyes opened. He sucked in a wet, gurgling breath and his arm twitched. “Take care of her.”
“Of who?” Achan asked.
Bran croaked a near silent laugh, though his eyebrows pinched together. “Who indeed. Don’t let her… run away. She tends to… to run. A lot.”
Sparrow. “I won’t let her run, Bran. I promise you.”
“Good.” Bran’s brow softened. “And tell Gren…”
But he never finished that sentence.
Achan fell to his rear and looked into the dark sky. “Why, Arman? Didn’t I do everything You asked? Where is the light?”
“Achan.”
Achan looked toward the entrance to the stairwell. A woman in a red dress stood there. Sparrow.
How had she gotten up the broken steps? Achan glanced from Bran’s body to Sparrow and back. He pushed to his feet and stepped into the line of sight between Sparrow and Bran. “I’m sorry, Sparrow.”
She walked out onto the roof. The wind blew her skirts against her legs, the hem flying out to the opposite side like a flag.
Achan approached and took her hand. It was as cold as the floor in Ice Island. His were sticky with blood. “How did you get up here?” He frowned. “Weren’t you wearing trousers and armor?”
The corners of her mouth curved up, and when she spoke, the voice was not her own. “I was wearing my green doublet with the ermine trim, but you ruined it.”
Achan dropped her hand and stepped back. “Lord Nathak?”
Sparrow’s skin darkened. Her hair began to grow, curl, and lighten to a chestnut color. Her body morphed, stretching the red dress wider and longer.
Gren.
Achan shook his head. “Stop that.”
“But you preferred this face, did you not?” Lord Nathak said, and Gren melted and reformed into Lady Tara.
Achan limped back to Bran’s body and picked up Ôwr.
Tara’s musical laugh made him cringe. “I’m beyond human form now, dear brother,” Lord Nathak said in Tara’s voice. “A sword cannot harm me.”
Help me defeat this foe, Arman. “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd. Hatzileni, beshem Câan, ben Arman.”
Tara walked toward him, shimmering, each step changing her appearance. She swelled and stretched. The dress twisted into britches and a linen apron until a huge man stood before Achan, hunched and balding. Tara’s voice spoke first, then changed pitch until Poril’s voice came forth. “Poril was easy to manipulate, he was. Enjoyed beating you.”
Please, Arman. Help me. Achan inched back and raised his voice. “Arman is God, Arman is One, Arman is Three in One. Deliver us in the name of Câan.”
Poril’s body shrank to the stately image of Esek. Achan looked from Esek’s illusion to his dead body, then glanced at Shung, not knowing what to say or do.
Pray. Shung waved a hand Achan’s way. Call on Arman.
The little cham is His chosen.
Achan opened his mouth to argue, but his mind was an empty pot.
Call on Arman, Shung said again.
And say what else? I’m just one man, Shung. There’s nothing special about me. Nothing I can do that you can’t. I’ve asked His help, but nothing has changed.
“Esek made a better Crown Prince than you,” the keliy said. “He always craved power.”
Little Cham can bloodvoice better than any man. Or woman.
Achan stepped back from Esek’s likeness. He did have a strong ability to bloodvoice, but how could he use that? Cover me, Shung. He forced his eyes shut,