The God-Touched Man Page 17

  He lay there for a moment, unmoving, enjoying the absence of pain and the feel of soft, fresh-smelling heather under his face. Nearby, Ayane let out a heavy breath and began to stir. They’d both made it through—though through to where, Piercy had no idea.

  He stood up, which was a complex process involving most of his protesting joints and muscles, and looked around, blinking away the last of the inky darkness. Moorland still surrounded him, but it wasn’t the oppressive grayness of late autumn. Purple-green heather like the patch he’d landed in grew sporadically across the ground, and in the distance he could see a few trees verdant with leaves that trembled in the cool breeze. Hodestis lay on his back nearby, his eyes wide and staring at the sky, and Piercy’s heart began beating faster with fear. If they’d succeeded in returning, only for the little man to lose his life in the process….

  Someone grabbed him from behind, and the sharp prick of a knife’s point pressed against him in the vicinity of his kidneys. “What foul magic have you worked, sorcerer?” the raspy-voiced Santerran said in his ear.

  Piercy went still. “Your persistence is no longer amusing,” he said. “And you will regret following us.”

  “I regret only that I did not kill you when I had the chance. Now. Release the princess—”

  “What exactly do you hope to gain by rescuing Princess Fahari?” Ayane said. “Is there a reward? Because it’s either that, or you’re incredibly stupid.”

  “Please do not antagonize the man with the knife, Ayane.”

  “I want only to serve my country,” the Santerran said.

  “And I suppose your princess is an excellent fighter? Skilled in the blade and in personal combat?”

  “I…do not know.”

  “She speaks the language of the foreigners?”

  The man was silent, but the knife slipped, as if he were holding it more loosely. Piercy twisted, grabbed the man’s wrist and struck his hand hard with the edge of his other hand. The knife fell, and Piercy kicked it in Ayane’s direction. “If you wish an even fight, I will be happy to oblige you,” he said.

  Gaping, the Santerran took a step backward, then launched himself at Piercy, fists raised. Piercy punched him hard in the face and the man fell, clutching his nose and gasping. “Your stance is terrible and you failed entirely to protect your face, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he said. “I think an even fight would be impossible unless I were blindfolded and missing both my arms.”

  “Piercy, stop taunting him and help me,” Ayane said. “Mr. Hodestis is alive, but he’s barely breathing.”

  “Loosen his collar,” Piercy said, coming to kneel beside her, “and support his head. If either of us were healers…but there is no sense wishing for what cannot be.”

  Ayane slid around to lift Hodestis’s head into her lap, and Piercy began unbuttoning the man’s shirt. Hodestis’s breathing didn’t grow any stronger, and he started to wheeze. “He can’t die,” Ayane said. “All that effort…it just seems wrong.”

  “It does,” Piercy said, and realization struck him. He reached into his shirt again and pulled out the necklace. “What about this?”

  “Suppose it only works once?”

  “I think it would hardly be a powerful artifact if it only worked once.” Piercy unfastened the strange clasp and put the necklace around Hodestis’s neck.

  Immediately the little man sucked in a deep breath and his eyes focused on Piercy. He blinked a few times, then sat up.

  “Did it work?” he said.

  “We assume so. At least, the portal brought us somewhere. And we have verified the necklace performs as expected.”

  Hodestis laid his fingers gently on the chain. “Amazing,” he said. “Dalessa can be saved.” He stood up, showing no sign of the stiffness that had Piercy longing more than ever for a hot bath. “Thank you for your help. Good luck on your journey.”

  “Stop,” Ayane said. “You must not travel alone and on foot. You do not even know what year it is.”

  “It’s the same year we left. Eight—no, nine days later. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you too much.”

  “You seem rather agitated,” Piercy said. “How far is it to your lady’s home?”

  “Far. You really don’t need to come with me. I can take care of myself on the road.”

  “I question that assertion, Mr. Hodestis.” The little man really did seem agitated at the thought of them traveling with him. “You seem determined to leave us behind.”

  “I…just don’t want to put you to the trouble.”

  Piercy and Ayane exchanged glances. “I think you are not telling us the truth,” Ayane said. “Where do you actually intend to go?”

  “I told you. To cure Dalessa. Then she’ll be able to speak to me.”

  “Be able to? You said before she simply chose not to.”

  “Well, her illness…prevents her from speaking to anyone. But I’m sure she’ll change her mind once she sees what I’ve done for her.”

  Unease crept over Piercy like a slowly rising tide. “I think,” he said, “you do not want us to know the truth about your lady. Why would you fear such a thing?”

  “I wouldn’t! That is—you just wouldn’t understand. No one understands about Dalessa and me. It’s better if we just part ways.”

  “You said Dalessa was a far more powerful magician than you, and she was cruel enough to make you think you were a frog,” Piercy said. “She does not strike me as a compassionate or unselfish person.”

  “Do not speak of her that way!” Hodestis shouted. “She is all that is most perfect in a woman! She would never betray me! And when she sees what I’ve done for her, she’ll love me the way I love her!”

  “Your words suggest you fear we would attempt to stop you using the artifact on your lady,” Piercy said, “which further indicates there is some truth you have failed to tell us. We risked our lives for you and your lady. I insist you tell us what you have concealed.”

  “I won’t let you stop me,” Hodestis said, taking a few steps back to put him out of Piercy’s reach and raising his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you, because you did make all this possible, but I love Dalessa and I don’t want to live without her. So please, just leave me alone.”

  “I think that is not wise,” Ayane said.

  “What madness have I stumbled into?”

  Piercy turned rapidly to see the Santerran struggling to his feet. His face and the front of his coat were drenched in blood and his voice was now nasal in addition to being raspy. He staggered, pointed at Piercy, and opened his mouth to speak.

  “Desini cucurri!” Hodestis shouted—

  and Piercy found himself lying with his face pressed into the soft prickles of the short grass, numb from his shoulders to his waist and through most of his left leg. The sun, which had been just a finger’s breadth above the eastern horizon, now sank in the west. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and then panic struck him so hard he couldn’t breathe: Ayane. Hodestis. What are we going to do?

  He thrashed until he rolled onto his back, then began flexing the muscles of his right arm, which felt marginally less paralyzed than the rest of him. He could hear at least one other person moving about, but his jaw was locked tight, so he focused on freeing himself.

  “Piercy?” Ayane said, slightly muffled, and the panic eased somewhat. “Wha’ happen’?”

  Piercy grunted. His right arm was finally relaxed enough that he could push himself into a sitting position. Ayane’s legs were contorted as if she’d been running when desini cucurri struck them, but both her arms were free and she was propped up on her elbows. Piercy began ostentatiously rubbing his jaw, nodding at her so she’d take the hint. She nodded back and began massaging her left leg.

  Off to his left, someone grunted, a panicked sound. The Santerran lay face-first on the ground, his arm outstretched in the act of pointing. As if they needed another complication in this mess. Piercy ignored him for the moment. If desini cucurri could give them a few
minutes to work out what to do next without the interruption of the deluded Santerran, so much the better.

  His jaw unlocked with a pop that made him shudder. He was never going to like that sound. “Hodestis has a good ten-hour head start on us,” he said. “But he is on foot, and not in excellent physical condition as we are. If you can track him, we can certainly catch him up before he goes too far.”

  “At least we already know he can’t instantaneously transport himself anywhere,” Ayane said, somewhat less muffled now. “Are you as worried about his plan as I am?”

  “I cannot read your mind, but I daresay I am. Whoever this Dalessa is, he has no intention of allowing anyone to interfere with his plan of restoring her.”

  “And Hodestis is powerful, so if she’s even more so….”

  Another grunt came from nearby.

  “And we must deal with our relentlessly single-minded friend. I feel the tiniest twinge of compassion for him, being trapped outside his own time as we almost were.”

  “I don’t. If he hadn’t been such a bull-headed idiot, he wouldn’t be trapped.”

  “Very true. Unfortunate that we have no horses, no food, and no idea where the nearest town is. That last is an advantage Hodestis has over us.”

  “If we move quickly, before we lose the light, I can…give me a minute.”

  Piercy left Ayane to scan the ground around them and went to the Santerran, whose arms were now free of the paralysis. “I suppose we cannot leave you here, however inclined I am to that course of action,” he said. “If you massage your limbs, the paralysis will wear off more quickly. And while you do so, I will explain to you the conditions under which you will travel with us.”

  “I’ll see you dead first,” the man growled.

  “In that case, I will bind your arms and legs and leave you here for the wolves to devour,” Piercy lied, and the man’s dark complexion went paler. “We did not kill any of your companions in battle, though we would have been well within our rights to do so, and we did not kill you while you were helpless. You owe us your life, and I think you can begin to repay that debt by behaving honorably toward us.” He remembered how the God’s sword had moved in his hand, almost as if it wanted to prevent those deaths, and filed the memory away for later consideration.

  “Now,” he continued, “this is the honest truth: We have been transported forward in time some two hundred and fifty years. The lady and I hail from this time. She is not Princess Fahari; that lady is long dead. Her name is Ayane Sethemba and I am certain if you ask her she will provide you any number of corroborating details about her family. My name is Piercy Faranter. The madman who cast the spell on us is Atheron Hodestis. We intend to catch him and shake the truth out of him along with his teeth.”

  “You lie,” the Santerran said.

  “If you persist in assuming everything that counters your preconceptions is a lie, you will not survive to return to Santerre. What reason do I have for making up such a preposterous story? Look around you. Your comrades are gone. The horses are gone, much to my disappointment. It is spring now, not autumn. You are no longer in your own time.”

  The Santerran paused in rubbing his legs. “Why did you do this?”

  “I did nothing. You followed us through the portal before it closed, much to my dismay. We cannot return you to your own time.”

  “Cannot, or will not, sorcerer?”

  “I am no sorcerer. I told you I was so you wouldn’t kill me out of hand. Our sorcerer—our magician—struck us down so he could escape. The lady and I intend to follow him. You may join us, if you stop trying to assault me and kidnap her. We would not leave anyone stranded here, least of all someone who is accustomed to the manners and society of a much earlier time.”

  He frowned, massaging his legs again. “She truly is not Princess Fahari.”

  “She is not.”

  “And you are no sorcerer.”

  “Correct.”

  He managed to bend his legs so he could get to his feet. Piercy assisted him and was heartened to see the man didn’t reject his help. “I do not believe your story about no longer being in the present.”

  “That I can understand. When we reach the next town, I will prove it to you.”

  The man nodded. “I am Lord Sadiki Dolobeka of Onyka, in Santerre. As you have bested me in combat, I must show you honor, Lord Faranter.”

  “Just Mr. Faranter will do.”

  Ayane came to his side, eyeing Dolobeka dubiously. “I know which direction he went. We should set out immediately. I won’t be able to track him after dark.”

  “I would feel more sanguine about our journey if I were certain Hodestis brought us to the correct time. If—oh, of course.” Feeling foolish, Piercy pulled out the palm-sized round mirror from his coat pocket, breathed on it, and traced a pair of runes in the resulting fog.

  “You said you were no sorcerer!” Dolobeka exclaimed.

  “I—this is not something I can explain to you, but I know exactly three spells, and that in no way makes me a sorcerer. A magician. Eloqua Evon Lorantis,” he said, and waited.

  Almost instantly the fog cleared, and Evon’s face filled the little circle. “Where in Cath’s five hells have you been?” he said. “I’ve had the Foreign Office nagging me all week, asking if you’d contacted me. The velocitor explodes, you’re seen running toward the destruction, and then—nothing. It was as if you’d vanished from the world entirely. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m quite well, dear fellow, and I have the most extraordinary story to tell you, but I must ask—what day is this?”

  “You’ve been missing for nine days,” Evon said. “What’s your story?”

  “Ah…it’s rather too long for a mirror conversation,” Piercy said.

  Faintly, he heard Kerensa’s voice. “He’s safe,” Evon said over his shoulder. “You have to tell me something, Piercy, and then you have got to contact Miss Tedoratis. Where are you?”

  “East of Rainoth, I think. A very long way east of Rainoth. Other than that, I’m afraid I cannot say.” Inspiration struck him. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a magician named Dalessa? I don’t know her surname.”

  “I don’t know—”

  Kerensa said something, more loudly this time, and then the view in the mirror swung wildly, nauseating Piercy. Then it was Kerensa’s face filling the circle. “Did you say Dalessa?” she said.

  “It’s not a name I’ve ever heard before, so I had hoped Evon might know of her. Does the name mean anything to you?”

  “Of course,” Kerensa said. “That’s the given name of the Witch of Marhalindor.”

  “The Witch of Marhalindor?” Piercy repeated. “The evil magician who was responsible for the deaths of who knows how many people in Murakot’s time?”

  “She wasn’t evil, Piercy. She was just insane. Though her insanity cost a lot of people their lives, true, so in that sense I suppose you could call her evil. Dangerous, absolutely. Why are you asking about that name?”

  “It’s probably nothing.” It didn’t feel like nothing. Hodestis’s insistence that Dalessa was a powerful magician, that they wouldn’t understand his trying to cure her, struck him as sinister. “She is dead?”

  “Of course she’s dead. She died almost a thousand years ago.”

  “And there is no chance she might have survived all these years?”

  “Her death is well-documented, even for those times. People were very interested in making sure she stayed dead.”

  “Ask about the necklace,” Ayane said. Piercy had forgotten she was there.

  “What about a necklace?” he said. “Sixteen inches long, made of a grayish-black metal. It was kept under divine protection in a monastery of Cath.”

  “I don’t—” Kerensa went silent. “That sounds very familiar,” she finally said. “Does it do anything special?”

  “It heals people. We saw it restore life to a man near death.”

  “Grayish-black metal…are you sure you don�
�t mean black metal that’s gray where the light strikes it?”

  “How did you know?”

  Kerensa closed her eyes. “Gods have mercy,” she said. “Do you have it?”

  “It is in the possession of a man who wishes to use it to heal this Dalessa, whoever she may be.”

  “Kerensa, you need to not agitate yourself,” Evon said from somewhere just out of sight.

  “Are you well?” Piercy asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “She’s in a rather delicate condition,” Evon said.

  “I’m fine. Piercy, did you handle it? How did it feel?”

  “Hot and cold at the same time. My dear, if you are unwell—”

  “Piercy, it’s not a necklace. It’s the leash of the Dirn-Hound.”

  Piercy felt cold all over. The magical artifact that brought the ancient hero Carall out of the Underworld. And he’d had it in his hands. “Kerensa, what does that mean?”

  “Disaster,” Kerensa said. “The man who has it? He’s not trying to heal anyone. He wants to resurrect the Witch of Marhalindor.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Kerensa, that is a leap of logic a pond full of frogs would envy,” Piercy said. “There could be any number of women in Dalanine named Dalessa.”

  “But there’s only one leash,” Kerensa said. “I was confused when you called it a necklace, because all the drawings show the links to be big, but what you described can’t be anything else. It doesn’t heal so much as bind spirits to the physical world, which, if the injury’s great enough, might as well be healing—”

  “Kerensa, sit down,” Evon said.

  “I am sitting. Didn’t your magician say anything about the woman he wants to heal?”