“I’m sorry, Reivan,” she said, hurrying over. “I didn’t protect you in time. I expected him to strike at the Voices, not the Servants.”
Reivan shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She looked at Nekaun’s body. It had stopped twitching. “I guess you’ve made a fine example of him.”
Imenja gasped out a laugh. “Oh, I think we have. You’ve got to make a few examples on the road to ruling the world. I can’t think of a better one to start with than our former First Voice.”
Reivan looked closely at Imenja, but she couldn’t decide if her mistress was serious or not. Imenja glanced at her. “What is it?”
“You... you don’t seem that upset about the death of the gods.”
“Oh, I’m upset,” Imenja said with feeling. “And angry. Yes, and getting angrier. But I haven’t decided what to do about that.”
“Hunt down Auraya and kill her?”
“I’m not angry with Auraya.”
Reivan lifted her eyebrows in surprise. It caused the skin on her cheek to stretch, and she winced.
Imenja frowned. “I’ll explain later. We have to get you to a Dreamweaver.” She looked at the Servants on the ground, then at those still standing. “Go back and get help,” she told them. “Don’t rely on your pendants working.” Two of the Servants nodded and hurried away.
King Ais cleared his throat. “If you do not need me, Second Voice, I will return to my people.”
She looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Thank you for your assistance, King Ais. It was very much appreciated.”
He smiled faintly. “I am guessing it is no longer required.”
“No. But we would be honored to continue working with your people in the future.”
He bowed slightly. “As we would be honored to work with you and yours. Goodbye. And good luck.”
All watched him move to the edge of the road. He slid out of sight down the embankment, then a moment later they heard a faint splash. Imenja turned to Reivan and smiled.
“We have much to do, and I hope you’ll help me do it.”
“Of course I will,” Reivan said. “Whatever happens, I’m still your Companion.”
Smiling broadly, Imenja took her arm and they both started along the Isthmus, toward home and a new and unexpected future.
The White walked slowly and silently back to Diamyane, their heads bowed and their faces lined with grief and shock. None of the other advisers approached them, so Danjin did not either.
He did not understand what had happened. Questions crowded his mind. What had Auraya done? Were Mirar and the Dreamweaver woman who had run forward despite Arleej’s protest a part of it? Why was Auraya so upset when she left?
He remembered how Mirar had comforted her, then guided her off the Isthmus to a boat, and he felt anger stirring. There was something between them still. That was obvious.
At last the White reached the end of the Isthmus. High priests and priestesses waited expectantly, ready for the battle to begin. The White stopped and exchanged glances. Juran looked back at the advisers and Dreamweavers who had followed them to the meeting with the enemy, then raised a hand to indicate the other White should wait.
When Danjin and the others arrived, Juran surveyed all who were watching.
“The gods are dead,” he said. “Both the Circle and the Five are gone. There will be no battle. Pack up and prepare for the journey home.”
A stunned silence followed, then questions burst out. The White ignored them. They exchanged a few words, then parted, each heading in a different direction. Seeing Ella heading toward the docks, Danjin sprinted after her.
“Ellareen!” he called as he neared her. She paused and looked around at him. He stopped, shocked, as he realized that tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hello, Danjin,” she said, wiping her face.
“What happened?” he heard himself demand.
She looked away. “Exactly what Juran said. The gods are dead.”
“How?”
“Auraya...” Ella’s voice was tight with emotion. Her eyes were fixed on the Isthmus. “The other Wilds. They trapped them. They killed them.”
Shocked, Danjin could say nothing. Auraya did betray us, he thought. But not by joining the Pentadrians, as we feared. By joining the Wilds.
Ella started down the dock toward a group of Dunwayans working on a ship they had hoisted up out of the water. She didn’t turn to see if he followed. Looking beyond, he realized that every ship sat at an angle, their decks awash with water. Further from the shore a forest of masts had replaced the warships of the Dunwayans.
All sunk.
The Elai were the only people who got to practice their fighting skills in this war, he found himself thinking. The Dunwayans will be disappointed to hear the battle is not going to happen now.
The war had been abandoned. He ought to have been relieved at that, but instead he felt empty. Ella stopped and he managed to catch up with her.
“The Elai,” she muttered, staring out at the water. “Must do something about them.”
Then she strode away again. Looking in the direction she had been staring, Danjin saw a distant shape. A tiny boat, three figures aboard. Something flashed a vivid blue.
Auraya, he thought. The Wilds. The gods were right all along. They are dangerous. If they can kill gods, what else can they do?
He shivered, suddenly cold. Thrusting his hands under his vest, he felt something hard in one of the internal pockets. Reaching inside, he pulled it out.
A smooth white ring lay in his palm. He felt a chill spread to his bones. It was Auraya’s link ring. Ella hadn’t asked for it back the previous night, so Danjin had pocketed it until he had a chance to give it to her.
Memories arose of the first time he had met Auraya. He had thought she would make a good White. Later he had come to love her like a daughter, and admire her for her compassion and intelligence. He had worked hard for her. He had worried about her while she was imprisoned in Glymma. He had never doubted her.
She betrayed us, he thought. She turned on the gods. She killed them.
Closing his fingers around the ring, he drew back his arm, moved to the water’s edge, then threw it with all his strength. It disappeared into the murky water.
Then, turning away, he started back toward the town.
Neither Mirar, Emerahl or Auraya said anything during the journey to the Sennon shore. Mirar watched Auraya closely. She stared at the bottom of the boat, her expression closed and distant.
I will have to tell the others of Huan’s trickery, and that Auraya learned too late that Chaia didn’t try to kill her, he told himself. And that he killed himself and the others. They won’t understand why she grieves, otherwise.
He couldn’t feel the same sorrow. Chaia had done terrible things in his time. The world was better off without him. But Mirar knew he would not be able to express such an opinion to Auraya. Ever.
Finally the bottom of the boat scraped against sand. Auraya looked behind at the shore, then braced herself as Emerahl used magic to push the vessel high up out of the water, next to another.
The three of them rose and stepped out. They were in a small bay. Sand dunes hid them from the sight of all but passing boats. Three more figures waited, sitting on the beach. They had lit a small camp fire. Mirar caught the smell of cooking fish.
“This is a fine welcome,” he said.