Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar (36 page)

She tucked the oracle’s crown under one arm and left the cave. The light outside startled her; the great mass of storm-clouds was rapidly receding into the east, and the orange-red globe of the sun hung low over the trees in a lurid sky. The ziggurat walls shone fierily, and light flooded the arena below. Looking no bigger than ants from this distance, the priestesses were moving on the sand, long shadows spearing out from their hurrying figures. They were relighting the torches—the fluttering flames seemed pale and insignificant under the brilliant sun—and a large group were gathered around the oracle’s rock, on which a single figure stood motionless, presiding over the scene with a brooding and watchful air. Faintly, the drone of the women’s chanting, emphasized by a muffled thud of drums, drifted up on the still air.

Indigo felt her stomach contract in queasy trepidation, and she looked at Grimya. “I’m ready. Quickly—go on to the temple, and I’ll make my way back to the arena.”

“Be c-careful,” Grimya urged her. “Now that the light is good again, if anyone sh ... ould look up—”

“I know, dear one, and I’ll take the greatest care. But I think they have other preoccupations. I’ll be safe enough.”

She watched the wolf lope away along the ledge toward the last flight of stairs that led to the ziggurat’s summit, then turned and hastened in the other direction.

The quiet after the racket of the storm was eerie; even the sounds of the rituals continuing far below seemed unable to impinge on the huge stillness that gripped the world. Yet, despite the clean-washed atmosphere, Indigo felt that there wasn’t enough air in the world to make breathing possible. She made her way down the first three flights of stairs without incident, then paused at the top of the fourth flight to send a quick message to Grimya on the summit. The wolf assured her that all was well; satisfied, Indigo started down the steps—

And stopped halfway down, as from nowhere came an attack of near-panic. She couldn’t do this—it wouldn’t work. It was impossible, she hadn’t the power—

Yes, you have
! She forced the savage denial into her mind and snatched at the panic, grasped it, crushed it. The demon was trying to feed, on her weakness; she must
not
give way! She steadied herself, looked down at the crowds massed below her, and quickly hurried on.

Luck—or perhaps something more than luck—was with her, for she reached the foot of the last staircase safely and ducked under the stairwell, thankful to be safe at last from the gaze of anyone who might glance toward the ziggurat. The panic was still there, still trying to snare her, but she willed her breathing to slow to a regular rhythm, and willed her hands to be steady as she raised the oracle’s crown and set it carefully on her head. Strangely, it seemed less heavy than it had on previous occasions. Then she sought Grimya’s presence in her mind.

Are you ready?

Yes
, came the reply.
I am ready. I wait only for you to give the word
.

Indigo looked up at the sky and thrust the last of her doubts away. Though she had no logic to support the conviction, she believed that she could achieve what she had set out to do. She had learned several valuable lessons in the Ancestral Lady’s realm, and one of them was the folly of underestimating her own power. She closed her eyes, focused her will. In her mind she visualized the Ancestral Lady’s bone-white face, within its shrouding frame of black hair, and her eyes, blacker than night, blacker than the deep of space, with their silver corona glimmering cold and ghostly. The image came to her with startling ease, almost as if her consciousness had been anticipating this moment, like a player waiting in the wings for a cue. Indigo smiled to herself, and in her mind, silently, she spoke.

Well, Lady, this is the greatest test of all
. Her words were not a direct address to the Mistress of the Dead, nor did she believe that the Lady was truly listening; at least, not yet. But the link forged in the dark underworld still remained—and now Indigo drew on the power latent in that world, calling it to herself, forming it, shaping it, focusing it. In her mind, shadows crowded and crawled, and against a background of soft, sibilant hissing, a choir of thin voices whispered, “
we are her. she is us... we are her. she is us...
” In her mind, she reached out toward them—and felt her fingers touch the glittering, electric force of raw power.

Now, Grimya
! she called silently.
Now
!

On the ziggurat’s summit, at the edge of the towering cliff, Grimya felt the hackles rise from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine as excitement and anticipation and a sense of furious determination rose within her. Silhouetted against the sky, she lifted her head, drew breath—

And the challenging, ululating howl of a wolf rang out shatteringly across the arena far below.

Five hundred faces turned upward in shock, and Uluye snapped out of her semitrance with a jolt that shook her from head to foot and almost pitched her off the rock where she stood. Her minions tried to help her restore her balance, but Uluye savagely shook them off. As the last echoes of the wolf’s howl died away, she turned, crouching like a cornered cat, and stared up at the ziggurat where Grimya stood poised, a silhouette against the bright sky.

What was this? What did it mean?
Uluye stared fixedly at the wolf’s distant shape, her mind racing as she struggled to understand and interpret what she saw. She was still dazed; the ritual had been close to its climax, and she had almost completed her achievement of the waking trance in which her love for and dedication to the Ancestral Lady eclipsed all else; then as the final, triumphant moment approached, her spell had been shattered.
Why?
Uluye screamed silently in her mind.
Why, Lady? What are you telling me that I don’t understand?

There was total silence in the arena now. The ceremony had collapsed into chaos; the drums and sistrums had stopped as the women wielding them stared open-mouthed and terrified at the vision on the ziggurat. Everyone, priestesses and onlookers alike, waited. Then suddenly, from the direction of the ziggurat, a new voice cried out.

“Uluye! In the Ancestral Lady’s name, I command you to stop this murderous insanity!”

Uluye hissed in shock and spun to face the stairs at the ziggurat’s foot. The stone knife dropped from her grasp as she suddenly lost all control of her fingers, and she stared in stunned disbelief at the figure that had emerged from the shadow of the staircase and was now walking slowly across the sand toward her.

“No ...” The High Priestess’s voice cracked on the word as hysteria clutched at her. “No—it isn’t possible!
You are dead
!”

“I am alive.” Beneath the towering crown of the oracle, Indigo’s lips smiled, though her eyes were cold and still. “I have been to the Ancestral Lady’s realm, Uluye, and I have returned.”

The group of priestesses clustered around the rock at Uluye’s feet shrank back, whimpering. Indigo stopped five paces from the rock, and Uluye stared down at her. To either side, the throng of onlookers were starting to murmur. Few could see for themselves what had disrupted the ceremony; of those who could see, none understood, and their uncertainty was rapidly giving rise to agitation and fear.

Uluye ignored them. Her entire consciousness was focused on Indigo, and a chaotic mayhem of clashing emotions tumbled through her brain. Her jaw worked; her voice, when finally it came, was a savage hiss.

“What
are
you?”

Indigo suddenly saw through the mask of the High Priestess’s face to the confused, frightened and unhappy woman beneath. Truly, Uluye
was
a servant of her goddess; and both, in turn, were enslaved to another power that neither of them even dared acknowledge, let alone try to control and overcome. Pity filled Indigo: pity, and a fierce renewal of her vow that this demon’s reign should come to an end.

She said, “I am one who has come to reveal to you the
true
face and the
true
will of your goddess.”

Uluye’s hard, dark eyes narrowed. “That is a blasphemous lie!” she spat. “You are not our oracle. Our oracle betrayed us, and the Ancestral Lady claimed her soul!” She licked bone-dry lips and seemed to be trying to swallow something that threatened to choke her. “I ask you again, I
demand
—what manner of evil and unholy demon are you? Are you the
hushu
that the false oracle became when the Lady cast her soulless corpse out of her realm? Or are you Indigo’s vengeful ghost, seeking to wreak more havoc?” She pointed a threatening finger. “
I will have an answer
!”

Indigo gazed steadily back at her. “No, Uluye, I am neither
hushu
nor ghost nor demon. I
am
Indigo.‘’ She stepped forward, and as Uluye’s acolytes scattered from her path, she held up one hand. ”Touch me. My flesh is warm; I am human, and as alive as you!“

Uluye didn’t flinch, as her women had done, but her mouth curled in a sneer. “Touch you, and be infected by the spell of the undead? You must think me a child, demon!”

Indigo smiled coldly. “I don’t think you a child, Uluye. But I think you are afraid.” She reached out a little farther, and this time Uluye couldn’t control the reflex that made her shrink back. “What are you afraid of? Demons and
hushu
? No, I don’t think so. I think you fear the consequences of daring to acknowledge the truth you see with your own eyes.”

“Truth?” Uluye spat venomously.

“Yes, truth! That I have returned, living and breathing and unscathed, from the Ancestral Lady’s realm. Your goddess didn’t kill me, or punish me for the blasphemy of which you so righteously accuse me. She didn’t take vengeance, Uluye—she doesn’t possess that power over me, for I will not allow her to take it!”

Before Uluye could react, Indigo turned from the rock and walked to the center of the arena. The sun, swollen and crimson, was touching the treetops now, and the lake looked like a vast pool of blood. The women on the arena drew back quickly, so that when Indigo turned again to face the High Priestess, her figure, alone on the sand, looked stark and dramatic against the spectacular backdrop.

“You claim to love the Ancestral Lady.” Indigo’s voice carried clearly to the crowd; ranks of silent faces stared back at her, and she felt sickened by the terror she saw in their eyes. “But what manner of love is it that drives you to murder your own child in her name?”

She turned to look at the ugly outlines of the two wooden frames at the lake’s edge. From here, the helpless forms of Yima and Tiam were no more than indistinct silhouettes, but Indigo’s sharply heightened senses could feel their misery and despair as tangibly as Grimya might catch scent on a breeze. Anger gripped her, and she grasped hold of it.

“What crimes have Yima and Tiam committed, Uluye?” she demanded furiously. “Have they broken your laws? Have they stolen, or cheated, or murdered? No! Their only sin was to defy your will—not the Ancestral Lady’s will;
yours
!”

Uluye’s face twisted in outrage, and she drew herself up to her full height. Her whole frame trembled with rising wrath, and her voice rang shrilly as she flung out one accusing arm to point in the direction of the torchlit square, where Shalune and Inuss still lay. “With her own hand, the Ancestral Lady executed those miserable conspirators, and she has sent their bodies back to us to be given to the
hushu
. Her will is clear, demon! And the punishment for flouting it is destruction!”

“No!” Indigo retaliated. “You claim to be her High Priestess, you claim to know her will, but you are
wrong
. The Ancestral Lady didn’t kill Shalune and Inuss—you did, Uluye.
You
did!”

Uluye stared down at Indigo, and for a moment—for just a moment—her virulence wavered and a hint of uncertainty showed on her face. Then her mouth and jaw hardened into a brutal line once more, and she hissed dangerously.

“You
dare
to claim—”

Indigo interrupted hotly. “Yes, I dare! You caused their deaths, as surely as if you’d plunged a knife into their hearts. Do you know what killed them, Uluye? Do you? I’ll tell you. It was a demon, and that demon is called
fear
! The same demon that you, and your mother before you—yes, I’ve heard the stories about that monstrous woman—and all of the High Priestesses who have reigned here for centuries past, wielded as a weapon against their own followers. You rule by fear, Uluye; it has become your watchword. Yet you, and the Ancestral Lady in whose name you rule, are slaves to a fear far greater than that which you seek to strike into your people’s hearts.

“You and she are afraid of losing your place in the world. You are afraid that a day may come when your followers no longer love you. And you want to be loved; you want to be respected; you want to be
revered
. But what
true
reverence can there be for a cruel goddess and her harsh and unyielding High Priestess? What
real
love can your people have for a woman who is ready to slay her own daughter, or for a deity who demands such a monstrous sacrifice to be made in her name? Oh, they respect you, Uluye. Perhaps they admire your strength and your faith. But do they love you? Or are they simply too terrified to admit the truth: that you, and the Ancestral Lady, are nothing better than tyrants who hold them in miserable thrall?”

For perhaps five seconds there was stunned silence. Then, barely audible at first, but increasing rapidly from a murmuring to a muttering to a muted roar, voices began to rise from the crowd like a gale approaching through the forest. Uluye stood as motionless as a statue while the noise swelled around her, and her sharp ears caught individual words bobbing like flotsam on a tide.
Uluye ... the goddess ... oracle ... hushu ... sacrifice....

With a violent movement, she spun around to face the throng. She flung her arms wide in a commanding gesture, and the women near the rock at her feet drew back in shock as they felt the current of psychic energy that suddenly surged from her. Then her voice shrieked above the babble as she howled for silence, and instantly five hundred voices fell quiet and five hundred faces turned to stare at her in stunned awe. Ribcage heaving, legs trembling beneath her robe, Uluye scanned the crowd with a fearsome, glittering gaze. For the moment, she had them under control; they were more afraid of her than they were of Indigo, or of the thing that Indigo had become. She must hold them, keep her grip on them, for if she was weak, or showed a moment’s uncertainty or indecision, she would be lost.