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After placing the victim in chains, the guards climbed back into the coracle and rowed swiftly away, knowing the serpent god would come soon.
At the end of the path opposite from the sacrificial post hung a wide brass gong on a trunk of driftwood. King Grieve picked up the baton and shouted, “Serpent god, we have a sacrifice for you. We need your strength, and we give you ours. Help us share in the blood of conquest.”
Like a warrior swinging a battle mace into an enemy’s skull, Grieve smashed the gong, eliciting a thunderous crash, surely loud enough to be heard even in the greatest depths of the ocean. The sound of the gong reverberated around the island. Thousands of Norukai aboard the serpent ships let out loud cheers, as did the crowds in the sheltered harbor. Aboard the serpent ships, the raiders began stomping on the decks, rattling on the rails. The pounding on the iron bells and drums grew louder, more insistent.
Chalk snatched the baton from Grieve’s large hands and swung it against the gong, clanging and clanging.
Isolated on the spit of rock, Yorik hung on his chains, watching the open water until a ripple formed on the choppy waves, a jagged, razor-edged fin that sliced the surface. Around the island and out in the ships, spectators cried out for the serpent god. Grieve wondered why their noise didn’t distract the enormous creature, but the serpent god knew its intended sacrifice.
The snakelike form glided through the deep channel, approaching the island. Waves crashed against the reefs, boomed on the rocks and cliffs, echoed in the cove. From his chains, Yorik shouted, “Serpent god, I am yours!” The man let out a loud snarling growl which sounded of both challenge and surrender.
The shape grew larger, the shadow darker in the water, and finally the serpent god rose from the waves. The creature’s head was long and angular, like a spear point. Frills of fins spread out like bloodred fans behind its head and under its jaw. Its scales were magnificent, blue and green. Each of its eyes was larger than a human head. As the great serpent sinuously lifted itself higher, rivulets poured from its jaws. It was far more fearsome and magnificent than the carving at the prow of any serpent ship.
The creature fixed its gaze on Yorik and opened its huge mouth, flicking out a long, forked tongue and releasing a deafening hiss.
King Grieve opened his own mouth as wide as he could and belched out his own hiss, trying to sound like the serpent god. Dangling from his chains, Yorik laughed and screamed and called out, struggling—not to break free, but to stretch himself toward the serpent god.
King Grieve shivered with awe and amazement. Seeing the great monster, he felt small, weak, insignificant. Kor fell to his knees, gibbering with amazement and terror.
From the boats anchored beyond the island, the Norukai crews yelled. The drums and iron bells continued, but Grieve saw only the serpent god as it glided into the cove toward the man who had been offered to it.
For a frozen moment the serpent towered above, regarding Yorik, who kept laughing insanely, squirming, flailing, challenging.
Grieve was suddenly terrified, wondering what would happen if the serpent god refused the sacrifice. If Yorik’s flaws made him unacceptable, would the Norukai then be cursed? Would his war of conquest be doomed from the beginning?
The serpent flashed forward and engulfed Yorik, biting down hard and ripping its morsel away. One of Yorik’s severed arms swung from the manacle, flopping against the stone post and splashing a mark of red there. With two snaps of its jaws, the serpent god consumed the sacrifice and turned about in a graceful rippling arc.
From the other side of the cove, the giant reptilian eyes regarded King Grieve, who managed to stare back. Chalk whimpered and hid behind his king, clutching the big man’s waist. Grieve barely felt him. He stared at the serpent god and shared thoughts. The fires in his blood burned even hotter, and he swelled his chest and pounded a fist against his heart.
Satisfied, the serpent god submerged again. Long rippled fins cut the water as the monstrous form glided back out to sea.
After witnessing the sign, King Grieve knew that his Norukai were destined for greatness.
CHAPTER 50
Even after they got safely back inside the walls of Ildakar, Lila kept running as if they were still being pursued. Bannon panted hard, and his muscles ached. His shirt was torn, his trousers caked with mud and blood, but he was free!
When they reached a yaxen trough in the lower levels of the city, he dropped to his knees and wheezed, “Stop, I need to rest.” He plunged his hands into the water and splashed his face. The cool liquid felt glorious, washing away sweat, grime, and blood. He let out a long sigh and kept his eyes closed as water trickled from his long tangled hair. He scooped up a handful and drank deeply.
Sweat shone on Lila’s skin as she stood next to him, proud. He remembered when she had looked so imperious in the training pits, provoking him to fight harder. Now her gaze was strangely soft. Still unable to believe what had happened, he said, “You came back for me.”
“I did.” She put her hands on her narrow hips, touching the small cylinder of the agile knife that could inflict so much pain. She nudged him with her knee. “Come, we need to let the others know. After Nicci’s sand panther spotted what might have been a rude prison for captives, they didn’t believe I had any chance of finding you.”
Bannon levered himself to his feet. Without looking back, she set off at a brisk pace to the upper levels, expecting him to follow. Her hips swayed beneath her black waist wrap, and Bannon saw the rune-marked skin on her back over the landscape of taut muscles. He increased his pace to walk next to the morazeth, rather than behind her like a pet on a leash. “How many others were killed during our sortie? Was the surprise attack a success?”
Lila turned to him with her shadowed eyes. “We killed many of the enemy. Two morazeth died, but we made a good accounting of ourselves.”
“Two morazeth? Which ones?” He had resented the women for how they treated the trainees, but now he felt a strange heaviness to learn that some were gone.
“Ricia and Marla. Genda was wounded, but she will recover.” Lila showed no emotion when she recited the names. “When I lost you on the battlefield, I…” She had to struggle to get out the word. “I apologize. I will attend to you more closely from now on, if we ever find ourselves in a similar situation.”
Bannon drew a shuddering breath, not wanting to think about what must have happened to Brock and Jed. “Let’s hope it never happens again.”
She paused. “General Utros and his army are still undefeated, and Ildakar is still under siege. Surely, there will be more battles.”
Bannon gripped Sturdy’s hilt. “I know. I just wasn’t looking forward to it.”
Dawn wouldn’t come for another hour yet, and the streetlights still blazed, lit by transference magic. Lila led him directly to the ruling tower, though he couldn’t imagine the duma members were meeting at such a late hour. He wondered how Nicci had reacted to the news that he’d been lost on the battlefield.…
As they reached the top of the plateau, he glanced longingly at the grand villa. Right now he wanted to sleep in his guest bed for days, but he had to report to the duma first. He followed Lila into the tower and up the waterfall of stone steps to the ruling chamber, which was lit by a warm fire and burning candles.
Elsa, Oron, Damon, and the chalky-white Lani were huddled over unfurled scrolls, studying a map of Ildakar, the winding streets and aqueducts that riddled the bluff. The duma members looked up at the disturbance, and Lila spoke before anyone could react. “I have rescued Bannon Farmer. He was exactly where Nicci’s panther suspected prisoners might be held.”
Nathan emerged from a side alcove carrying a thick book, which he dropped on the marble floor. “Dear boy, you’re alive! So many died that we couldn’t even tally their names, but you’re alive!” Grinning, he bounded over, and Bannon could barely breathe as the wizard embraced him. “Dear spirits, you’re alive!”
Bannon didn’t know what to say.
/> Nathan released him and stepped back, just staring at him with sparkling eyes as if to convince himself the sight was true.
Regaining his balance, Bannon looked around the chamber. Duma members stared at him, their faces full of questions, but he didn’t see Nicci. He wanted to tell her that Mrra was still prowling out in the hills.
“We fought hard. I…” He tried to organize his rattling thoughts. “I couldn’t have done it without Lila. She came for me. For me, Jed, and Brock. I—”
Oron came forward, his long yellow braid hanging on the left side of his head. His face was stony, without sympathy, exactly the expression he’d worn when skinning the poor fur animals. “You were with Jed and my son? We thought they died on the battlefield.”
“Yes, we were all prisoners, and General Utros was going to interrogate us. When Lila and Mrra came, though, we broke free. We all ran…” Each word felt heavier as he spoke it.
Oron stood waiting for a full report. “And?”
Lady Olgya came up to stand beside him, also concerned. “What about Jed?”
Bannon glanced at Nathan for support, but knew he would have to say what he needed to say. “Before we got far, the alarm was sounded. W-We ran as fast as we could, but the enemy soldiers closed in. I called for Jed and Brock, but they … they thought they’d have a better chance if we split up. While Lila and I fought our way through, those two ran in different directions. I never saw them again. I don’t know if they were captured or killed.”
Oron considered this for a long moment as the other duma members remained silent and sullen. Finally, he frowned and turned back to the stone tables. “My son was worthless anyway. What is worse, to be killed in battle, or to be captured?” He made a disgusted sound. “Twice?”
Olgya shivered, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her expression was like iron. “I already accepted that my son was dead several nights ago. Come, we have business to do and an entire city to save.”
