In Legend Born (49 page)

"The attack may come tonight," Tansen warned Josarian when the two of them went down to Lake Kandahar to collect water for everyone.

Josarian's glance flickered to the glowing twilight sky. "You're that sure Kiloran knows we're here?"

"Not much happens within a day's ride of Kiloran that he
doesn't
know about." He stooped to fill a goatskin with water. "I don't think he'd hide out this close to a good road, since the Outlookers would have access to such a place, but I think we must not be very far from his—"

"
Tan!
"

He saw shock on Josarian's face and instinctively reached for his swords as his friend lunged at something behind him. He had barely touched the hilt of his left sword when something thick, wet, and viciously cold wrapped around his throat and cut off all his air. He struggled to withdraw at least one blade, but another icy tentacle wrapped around his body with lightning speed, trapping him. Strangling, freezing, and astonished beyond thought, he heard Josarian's screams—and Elelar's in the distance—as the tentacles dragged him away from the shore, into the center of the lake, and beneath the surface into its chilly depths.

Swinging his sword and screaming, Josarian ran through the water, ignoring its deadly chill, following Tansen as he struggled in the arms of some obscene
thing,
then disappeared into the murky depths of the lake. Sword raised over his head, blood roaring in his ears, Josarian started swimming, paddling frantically when his feet could no longer touch the ground. Stunned and horrified, he treaded water in the middle of the lake, unable to find any trace of his brother or the thing that had seized him.

Torena
Elelar stood at the shore now, knee deep in water, with Srijan laughing behind her. "Get out!" she screamed. "
Get out!
"

He ignored her, took a deep breath, and dived down, giving into the weight of his sword and his boots, resisting the numbness creeping into his limbs.

A geyser of water suddenly forced him back up, throwing him high into the air. When he landed, expecting to sink back beneath the water's surface, he found that its consistency had changed in the blink of an eye. It was as hard as rock now, and landing on it hurt like all the Fires. Bewildered, he hit it several times with the hilt of his sword.

Water magic
, he realized through the chaos of his confusion and fear. "Kiloran," he said aloud.

"
Josarian!
"

He looked up to see Elelar now running towards him, her dainty feet skittering across the crystal-hard surface of Lake Kandahar. Srijan approached at a more leisurely pace. Josarian flipped his sword over and started chopping fruitlessly at the diamond-hardness of the water, screaming his brother's name over and over.

Elelar fell to her knees when she reached his side, gasping for air, trembling and babbling questions. He had never handled a woman roughly in his life, but now he grabbed her by the hair and demanded, "Is Tansen dead? You know Kiloran's tricks! What's happened to Tan?"

"I don't know!" she cried, gritting her teeth against the pain and trying to pull away.

He pushed her aside and jumped to his feet, lunging for Srijan. The assassin flinched with surprise, apparently not having expected an attack from Josarian. Faster, smarter, stronger, and unhampered by a wound, Josarian drove him down to the cold, hard surface beneath their feet and held his sword to Srijan's throat.

"Kiloran!" he shouted. "If you truly know everything that happens here, then know this: I will kill your only son
now
if you don't release Tansen alive!"

Elelar scrambled forward on her hands and knees. "
No!
He'll kill you, too! No!"

She flung herself at Josarian and tried to wrestle his sword away. His kicked her away and stilled Srijan's struggles by slicing open his cheek. Srijan screamed in pain. Elelar cursed and begged and flung herself at Josarian again.

"
Kiloran!
" Josarian dug the blade into Srijan's throat, ready to cut.

The surface beneath him moved, knocking him off balance. The sound of rushing water filled his ears, even louder than Srijan's moans of pain. He stared in bewilderment as a small whirlpool of water churned in a frantic circle nearby. His heart thudded as the whirlpool widened and deepened into a tunnel. He pressed his blade even harder against Srijan's throat to keep him still, watching as the swirl of water and magic glittered in the dying light. Josarian prayed to Dar to bring Tansen through that tunnel.

When the water stopped moving, he found himself staring at a familiar, coiling structure, but his mind could form no coherent thought. 

It was Elelar who crept forward, studied it, and then said: "It's a staircase."

"A
staircase?
" Josarian repeated, gazing in confusion at the gleaming, crystalline steps leading into the depths of the lake. "I don't understand."

"It means," Srijan croaked, "that my father is inviting you into his home."

Chapter Twenty

Mirabar was growing weary. Keeping the assassin prisoner was proving to be hard work. His first escape attempt had nearly succeeded. She'd been more vigilant since then, but it hadn't stopped him from trying again. The third time had been only last night, and it was terrifying; he had tried to kill her.

They were traveling over the mountains, avoiding contact with other people. Sister Basimar, Amitan, and another of Josarian's men, young Kynan, accompanied Mirabar and the assassin. Mirabar didn't want to lead so many people into Kiloran's clutches, but she couldn't control the assassin day and night by herself. Indeed, he had attacked her while she slept last night, and she knew she might well be dead now if not for Kynan's and Amitan's help.

She wondered if all assassins were as tough as this one. He now bore bruises and minor wounds inflicted by the two
shallah
men, as well as the burns Mirabar had inflicted when she captured him. Remembering that confrontation still nauseated her, and she knew Tashinar would be appalled by what she had done. Yet despite the pain and exhaustion he must be suffering, Mirabar's captive didn't look like a defeated man.

Perhaps she should have listened when Basimar and the others had tried to discourage her from capturing an assassin.

She was very tired and knew she must save strength for her imminent encounter with Kiloran, so she insisted they make camp early that day. She blew a campfire into life so that Basimar could start cooking their evening meal. Then she approached the assassin, whom Amitan had tied securely to a tree. His dark eyes were watchful and wary.

"Assassin..." She paused, then said, "You might as well tell me your name." When he didn't respond, she added irritably, "Just so I know what to call you."

His gaze held hers for a long moment before he replied, "Najdan."

"Well, Najdan, how much farther to Kiloran?"

He shrugged.

"Tell me. Or I will
make
you tell me." She was aware that her threats were growing thin.

"He is near now," Najdan said stonily.

"How near?"

"Near enough to know that you are here." There was confidence in his voice.

"I see." She studied him for a moment. "Then I look forward to meeting him."

Najdan's confidence worried her. Realizing that Kiloran might attack them, rather than cordially awaiting her visit, Mirabar decided to set a ring of protective fire around the camp that night. Even if it didn't keep Kiloran out, it would deflect any ordinary assassins and alert her to danger.

Blowing life into the ring of fire was an exhausting task, and keeping it going all night would tax her strength. Consequently, she was anything but pleased to hear the Beckoner calling her when she was done igniting the blaze.

"Go away," she snapped. "I'm tired."

Come... You must come...

She resisted. "In the morning!"

"Who's she talking to?" Najdan asked warily.

"I don't know," Amitan said. "
Sirana
, who are you talking to?"

Now is the time.

"You'd better tell me what I'm supposed to do when I find Kiloran," she warned the Beckoner.

"Who, me?" Najdan asked.

"I think it's a vision," Basimar said. "She'll go into fits and screams in a minute. Don't let it bother you."

"Thanks for the advice," Kynan said dryly.

Come to me. You must come.

"Oh, all right!" Without looking at the others, she got up and followed the Beckoner, knowing how he would torment her if she continued resisting.

He led her through the woods, to the other side of Mount Kandahar, and down into the valley beyond. It was a long walk, and she was very tired by the time the sky grew dark.

"Couldn't I have visions closer to my bedroll?" she asked irritably, hating the Beckoner with all her heart.

The force of his will pushed her hard, carrying her on a wave of insistence, tumbling her through the air. She landed on the shore of the lake. Stars glittered on its surface. The waning crest of Ejara gleamed and undulated as she stared at the water.

Water. A house of water.

"Kandahar." Mirabar shook her head. "Surely it's not possible..."

A house of water.

"So...
this
is where he hides from the Valdani?"

A blaze of fire appeared above the surface of the water, sketching the foreign symbol of the warrior she sought.

"Is he here?" she asked.

Only you can save him now. The others have tried and failed.

"What others?" Her throat was dry.

Without him, the shackles remain.

"What must I do?" Her heart ached with fear.

The burning symbol sank slowly into the water, its light blazing gloriously even as it sank deep, deep into the black depths of Kandahar.

Fire in water.

"No..." She shook hear head, feeling her feet take steps backwards as she spoke. "I can't."

Fire in water...

The symbol kept blazing.

"I
can't
. No one could!"

Find the
shir
, and you find him.

"Please..."

The alliance lives or dies tonight. Find the
shir
...

"Oh, Dar shield me!" she begged, falling to her knees. Then, knowing she had no other choice, she asked, "How? How do I do this?"

She looked up and saw the Beckoner out in the center of the lake, hovering above the water's surface, surrounded by the glow of the Otherworld; the only good thing in an evil place. Fear clouded her vision as she rose to her feet again, consigning her life to his care, knowing that he wanted her to live to fulfill the dreams of dead rulers in living flame.

He opened his arms, reaching out to her across the span of centuries, across the barrier of death, through the void of destruction and despair, past the sorrow of a humiliated people and a culture condemned to servitude. He reached out and she went to him, offering her life and her power to the Fires beyond.