I pluck up the ume dropped in my lap and force myself to take a bite. It’s difficult to eat while that song claws at my consciousness. Forcing down a mouthful, I turn the cake over in my fingers three times before looking at Halamar again. “Was it worth it?”
He shoots me another short glance, brows lifted.
“Was it worth it?” I repeat. “The bond you shared with your licorneir. With Liossark. Knowing now what thevelrhoarhas costyou, would you . . .” I hesitate, not wanting to hurt him with my prying words. But I need to know. As Mahra’s song assaults me from across the many leagues, I need an answer. “Would you do it again?”
Halamar sits up a little straighter, raising his chin and meeting my gaze fully, without prevarication.“Kya.”
I hold his gaze for a count of three breaths. Then nod and turn away. I don’t know how he can bear it. Even the potential loss of Taar fills me with such terror, knowing all the while that to lose him would mean losing Diira as well. How could I bear either loss? How could I bear to be torn from them by violence? It is too horrible to contemplate, but worse by far is the idea of simply . . . walking away. Of breaking my bond onsilmaelnight and leaving them and this dreadful world of theirs behind.
I want to ask Halamar about Tassa. I don’t doubt that there is still love between them. But why can Halamar not let himself find healing in that love? Why does he keep himself apart from her? Is it because he fears to infect her with this endless sorrow of his? Or does he perceive himself as no longer worthy? That is a song I know too well. I wish I could say something to him, offer him hope or encouragement. But why should my words matter? It’s not my place, and to speak would be nothing short of an intrusion.
I turn once more to the north and the direction from which Mahra’s song rings. I wish . . . I wish many things. Most of which I cannot begin to name, but which somehow find voice in that lonely music of broken souls.
A sudden jolt of horror passes through my skin. For an instant I don’t understand it, only feel it straight down in my gut. Then I blink, and the aftershock of what I’d seen plays back across the inside of my eyelids. Black lightning, shattering the sky.
“Here it comes,” I whisper.
Halamar curses softly as he rises to his feet. Then he cups his hands and bellows,“Vardimnar!”
There’s no need for the warning—every soul in the company saw it, tensed and watching as they all are. Warriors spring to their feet, and the Licornyn riders are already in their saddles. I stand as well, and Diira hastens to me, nudging my shoulder softly.
“You’d best mount up,” Halamar says and, at my nod, offers me a boost into the saddle. The other licorneir are in motion already, their hides flaming, their songs pouring out from the points of their coiled horns. Thirteen of them, including Elydark, gallop in a tight circle surrounding the fighting force, all of whom crowd close together with their nervous, prancing horses. I see what they are doing, how the licorneir song begins to form a whirling barrier around those vulnerable souls.
“Should we join them?” I ask.
Halamar grabs his own horse’s bridle and draws it close to Diira’s side, though he remains on the ground. “No,” he says, shaking his head for emphasis. “Best you stay out of it. Let them do their work.”
Diira begins to sing the protective anthem. Light erupts up from deep inside, glowing out through her skin, her eyes, pouringfrom her horn. It spreads over us in an arc, but I struggle to peer through it, trying still to see the whirling lightsong of the galloping licorneir surrounding the war host, trying to spy Taar in their midst. The song they generate together is powerful, yes, but is it strong enough for what is coming?
Darkness descends. Sudden as a falling ax.
I gasp out loud and retract my head into my hood, shrugging my shoulders up to my ears. Halamar, on the ground beside me, presses up against Diira; I feel his shoulder hard against my leg. His horse whinnies with terror, tossing its head and prancing, though Halamar grips its bridle fast. The presence of Ashtari surrounds us, just on the far side of Diira’s song, overwhelming even to my light-filled senses. And I know with a dreadful certainty that this hell is always near, just on the far side of mortal perception. The true miracle is that we are not constantly aware of it, that we deceive ourselves into thinking we are safe.
Diira’s song wraps me tight, pulling me back from these dire thoughts, back into the warmth of her power, her love. I lean into the song, desperate to shake off that creeping sense of shadows crawling around the corners of my eyes. I squeeze my eyelids tightly shut, bow my head. It doesn’t matter. I can still feel the black fingers clawing away at Diira’s barrier.
Halamar gasps.
I look down at him. My eyes are playing tricks on me perhaps, presenting images to my brain of things which are not truly therebut which it otherwise cannot comprehend. I see dark tendrils slithering through the grass, making their way through Diira’s song and swarming Halamar’s feet. It does not seem to be interested in his horse, just Halamar himself. Is he aware of it? Does he realize? The darkness crawls up over his ankles, swarms up his calves.
With an effort of will, I reach out, grab hold of Halamar’s shoulder. Though he stands firm as ever, I can feel him slipping away from me. Any moment now, those tendril fingers will latch into his flesh and yank him away, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent it. Nothing, except . . .
“Halamar!” I cry.
He looks up at me, startled, his eyes wide.
I open my mouth and begin to sing. I sing Diira’s song, translating the melody of soul into sound which may be heard in the physical world. A song of light and heat and space and motion, rendered into something far more simple, the vibration of vocal cords shaped through lips and tongue. But there is power in my gods-gift, power in the sound I generate.
The darkness clutching at Halamar shivers and retracts back down his legs into the grass, skittering away from me and my song. Diira’s own light-melody solidifies into a brilliant barrier, until I almost cannot see the darkness on the other side anymore, though I still feel its pressure around us.
I continue to sing. I don’t dare stop. All the while Halamar stares up at me, first in shock, then in open-mouthed wonder. As I sing,I search for the broken parts of his hearttorn song, feel them like unraveled threads waving in the ether around his soul. I take those threads, weave them into my song, finding a space of harmony for our voices, despite the dissonance.
To my great surprise, Halamar opens his mouth. In a rough, broken, almost tuneless tone, he joins his voice with mine. Wordless, for he cannot make words out of the licorneir sound, not as I do. Stumbling and uncertain, but still song. I take his voice, as I did the threads of his soul, and make it into harmony, blending both into the ongoing music of my licorneir.
And so we form a small chorus, united against the dark.
As abruptly as it came, thevardimnarlifts. The instant it is gone Halamar utters a terrible groan and collapses. Still shuddering with the effort of the song I’ve just sung, I swing down from the saddle, stagger, and drop to my knees beside him. “Halamar!” I cry, my voice quavering and small. “Halamar, are you all right?”
He lifts his head slowly, as though it weighs ten stones. When his eyes meet mine, I’m shocked to see wetness shimmering there. “Liossark,” he whispers, then closes his eyes, letting tears fall down his cheeks. “It was . . . it was like hearing his voice again.” He lifts his damp lashes, meeting my gaze. “Thank you. Thank you,maelar.”
