In Legend Born (84 page)

The trail was long, uneven, and rough. Tansen had come to Darshon once before, during his childhood. In the succeeding years, he had forgotten what a hard climb this was. Pink, peach, brown, and black lava flows, the remnants of Dar's many tantrums, coiled, curled, rolled, and braided into a thousand tangled shapes, and he had to pick his way through or climb over them all. 

Tansen passed through what had once been a forest. The trees had been incinerated, their trunks covered by flying chunks of lava. Now they squatted beneath Darshon's snowy summit like great, lumpy trolls. As a child, he had believed every story inspired by these monstrous shapes crouching on the mountainside.

There were no trees higher up. Higher still, even the shrubs and plants grew scarce. The lava took on fantastic and incredible shapes as thick clouds slid down the mountain's slopes to greet Tansen's ascent. He passed geysers of boiling water shooting angrily into the air, warning him away from the goddess's domain. The warm rock pools where the
zanareen
liked to bathe were completely deserted, as were all the huts, tents, and caves that he passed. 

The
zanareen
were all up
there
. At the volcano's rim. With Josarian.

Fear churned in Tansen's belly. Fear for his bloodbrother, who was about to jump to his death. Fear for himself, because Dar would not welcome him here. 

Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of what Dar could do on an angry rampage. She was the destroyer goddess, not some soft-hearted foreign deity who could be placated with a few generous bribes. She was a goddess of fire and fury, and he had offended Her sorely by murdering his own bloodfather, slaying the man he had believed to be the Firebringer. And now Tansen was coming to deny Dar the one man whom many believed She wanted more than any other.

He climbed past rocks shaped like crescent moons, like loaves of bread, like dancing girls frozen in time. He climbed past lava flows which hideously suggested gigantic parts of human bodies. He passed bubbling lava pools, rocks glowing with heat, and streams created by melted snow. Tansen's once-fine Moorlander boots sank ankle-deep as he climbed powdery cinder cones. He fell several times in his haste, cutting himself on sharp fragments as the ground crumbled beneath him. Blood from a cut on his forehead temporarily blinded him, but he wiped it away and kept on going. Higher up, great splits in the earth revealed gooey-looking purple and yellow innards, rich and bristly with crystals sharp enough to drive through a man's heart.

The air grew thinner as he went even higher, making his lungs ache and his head spin, slowing him down. It was cold now, so
cold.
He was nearly there, though. Just a little further. And then he could stop Josarian.

Suddenly the ground split open before him. The crack widened into a huge rent before he could leap across it. Wisps of steam arose from the earth's wound, clotting swiftly into a column of thick yellow smoke. The poisonous miasma choked him, forcing him backwards.

"Dar!" He had stopped praying to the goddess the night he killed Armian, but he addressed Her now. "I
will
stop him!"

The black interior of the earth melted into bright red. The lava smelled like blood and was hotter than fire. It pushed apart the crack, widening the gulf between him and Josarian. The skin-charring heat drove him further back. Molten rocks began spurting into the air, chunks of yellow and orange fire leaping out at him, driving him back down the slope which he had just climbed.

"
Dar!
" he shouted. "
You'll have to kill me first if You want him!
"

But he was only a man, and She was a goddess. His swords, his training, and his skills were useless again Her. Even his courage meant nothing in the face of Her power. Yellow smoke poured out of the fresh wound in the mountain, its acrid scent stinging his nostrils. It filled his throat, choking him, strangling him.

"Josarian..." he rasped.

Tansen coughed, his chest burning. The pain and lack of air drove him to his knees. He struggled against Dar, but She was stronger. He had finally found a greater opponent.

He gasped for air, unable to move or breathe, his eyes watering until he couldn't see. And he knew his destiny had caught up with him at last. He would fail.

He suddenly thought of
her.
He'd never see her again. The intensity of his sorrow shocked him, sweeping through him without warning.

"Mira..."

Mirabar, the demon girl, plunging through the waters of Kandahar in a ball of fire to face Kiloran himself...

He heard the rumble of the volcano overhead. Dar was gloating as She destroyed him.

"
No...
"

The bitter gall of his defeat burned his chest and sucked away his strength.
He would fail.
Dar would finally have Her revenge on him. Josarian would perish. The rebellion would crumble. Dar had wanted him to die knowing this.

Tansen tried to push himself to his feet. The ground crumbled away beneath his hand. A chunk of molten rock set his sleeve on fire and scorched his arm. Head spinning wildly, he fell backwards as he tried to get away from the clinging pain. Far above him, at the summit of the mountain, Dar rumbled victoriously, having vanquished Her foe.

Every sensation faded into insignificance under the onslaught of Dar's summons. Josarian could feel the hot, smooth rock baking the soles of his feet. He could hear the ecstatic wailing of the
zanareen
. His body quivered in the exquisite heat rising from the lava lake directly below him. His naked flesh shivered against the scintillating chill sweeping across the mountaintop.

Yet all these sensations were as nothing compared to the soul-shaking power of Her ardent call. The
zanareen
had kept him isolated for days, alternately sweating beside a small lava pool then immersing himself in an icy stream. He had fasted according to their traditions, consuming nothing except the mind-spinning tisanes Jalan brought him. Hunger, cold, heat, pain... They meant nothing to him anymore. For days, he had felt nothing except this intense longing, yet they had kept him from Her.

Day and night, he heard nothing but Her beckoning. Never asleep or fully awake, he felt nothing but the insistent pull of Her yearning. There was no hunger in him except his consuming need for Her. He could almost smell Her on his skin, taste Her on his tongue. Fire and brimstone, lava and heat, earth and sky...

Man and goddess, joining as one.

They had waited until now to let him go to Her—waited  until they were sure he thought of nothing else, remembered nothing else, knew no need, desire, or ambition other than embracing Dar. As long as he remembered or cherished any portion or particle of his life, She would not have him, for She was a jealous goddess. Only now, when he knew nothing but this craving, remembered nothing of his life before coming to Her, only now was he worthy. Only now would She accept him.

He raised his arms overhead, surrendering to Her. She rumbled and roared in triumph, reaching out to him, welcoming him. Her heat rose from the lava lake to wrap around him, caressing him, coaxing him forward. Head reeling, heart pounding, he gave himself up and went to Her. He arched his back luxuriantly, then soared forward into space, tumbling into Her embrace. At the last moment, he heard a distant screeching, so faint that it was lost in the fiery thunder of Dar's passion.

Chapter Thirty-Four

A scream—a terrible
screech
—pierced Tansen's senses. His eyes rolled wildly, sending the world spinning as he jerked into awareness.

Pain.
He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut against it. Then, taking short, heavy breaths—desperately gulping at the thin air—he glanced down at his right arm. A few charred wisps were all that was left of his sleeve. The flesh was reddened and sore but only the crease of his elbow was burned badly enough to have started blistering. There was blood in his eyes again; the cut on his forehead was bleeding copiously as a result of his passing out so that he lay with his head downhill.

He sat up and started coughing, his abused lungs trying to expel the deadly fumes he had inhaled.

Slowly gathering strength, Tansen rose to his feet. He looked around, dazed and bewildered. At first, he could find no sign of the cataclysm that had nearly killed him. Shivering with cold beneath his cloak, he scrambled back up the hillside until he found the crack in the earth. It had been as wide as the Idalar River when he fell unconscious. Now it was no wider than his hand, and it was slowly oozing together, closing completely as he watched. After a few moments, only a glowing, gooey trace of red was left to mark the fissure, like the clotting blood of a minor cut.

"Dar," he whispered.

Why didn't You kill me?

The answer was obvious. She wanted him alive. She had a purpose for him. Whatever it was, She would make it known to him in Her own time. Meanwhile... he had a feeling he knew whose scream had awoken him, as well as what had made her scream.

Josarian has jumped.

Tansen started hauling his aching body up the side of the mountain, shivering with cold, feeling light-headed and thirsty. His sense of urgency was gone.

Josarian has jumped.

His lungs were heaving hard by the time he reached the crowd of spectators. Hundreds of
shallaheen
huddled together against the cold, carrying hearty provisions of food and water. They saw his swords. They saw the brand on his chest, which was exposed by the singed and tattered rags of his tunic. They murmured his name, knowing his legend. And they told him what he already knew.

Josarian has jumped. My brother is dead.

The rebellion... No, he couldn't even think about that now.

My brother is dead.

They offered him food, water, and wine. He accepted only the water, then asked for Mirabar.

"Where is she?" His lungs ached so, he could hardly force the words out. "Where's Mirabar?"

They directed him past hundreds of resolutely chanting
zanareen
, glassy-eyed fanatics who ignored him, never taking their gazes off the Fires of Dar.

Tansen spotted her at last. She stood at the rim of the volcano, poised as if she, too, intended to jump.

Over my dead body.

His feet felt as if someone had weighted them down. Every step took concentration. The freezing air burned his lungs. He was shaking hard with cold by the time he reached Mirabar's side.

"Mira..." He sounded as if someone had just tried to strangle him.

She turned to him slowly. Her eyes were glassy, too. Unfocused. Dazed. There was dark circles under them. Her cheeks were hollow, and her neck was shadowed. Her skin was almost as pale as the snow, but two spots of hot, red color stained her cheeks. She was shivering as hard as he was and panting as if she'd just plunged through the waters of Kandahar again.

Mirabar didn't look surprised to see him, nor did she seem to notice his bloodied, ragged condition. She looked as if she barely recognized him and had to struggle to recall his name.

"Tansen..." she whispered at last. "He jumped."

My brother is dead.

The next words out of his mouth were not the ones he'd intended to say. They shocked him, but she seemed to expect them: "Why didn't you stop him?
Why?
"

She didn't answer. Didn't look away. Just returned his gaze, breathing hard.

He snapped. He seized her shoulders and shook her. A
woman.
A tiny little thing. He shook her with every ounce of strength he had left and snarled, "How could you have let him
do
it?"

Her head tilted back. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. A terrible sound started deep in her chest, rose up through her throat, and burst from her mouth in a horrible, grief-stricken howl. Fine-boned hands came up to clutch her demon-red hair.