Chains of Light Page 3

  It was that thought that finally drove him to his feet, to stagger out the wide open Thraya door and into the hallway. There was no one there; no Sisters, no invaders. No bodies. Where was everyone? Was he the only one left alive?

  The hallways seemed to go on for miles as Delan shuffled and stumbled toward the sanctuary. The familiar pain in his bad leg almost drowned out by the pain in his head. Everything seemed to fade in and out of focus, and he could feel warmth trickling down the side of his face. Lyander. Sweet, innocent Lyander. Who needed him. He would find help. He wouldn't fail. Not again.

  At the door to the sanctuary, Delan stopped, leaning hard against the lintel and panting, wanting to cry. No one here. No one alive, anyway. There were bodies here, women he'd known and admired, who had helped him and taken him in when he'd had no place else to go. The Holy Mother herself lay before the altar...

  "Someone let us out!"

  Delan heard the shouting and turned, almost throwing himself off balance as he tried to locate the source of the sound. Where? And who?

  "Can anyone hear me?"

  Brina, Eldest Sister, and the Temple war-leader. They'd left her alive? He almost smiled. Now they had a chance! He staggered toward the sound and found himself standing outside a heavy door. Inside, someone was pounding hard on the wood.

  "Is someone out there?"

  Delan didn't answer. With shaking hands, he fumbled at the lock, then shot back the bolt and tugged the heavy door until it started to move. Immediately, whoever was inside pushed and the door swung wide. Brina strode out, only to stop dead in her tracks and stare.

  "Delan?" she gasped. "Warrior, where's Lyander?"

  "Taken." Delan croaked, "Took... Jyase... he took..." That was all he managed to get out before the pain overwhelmed him. His bad leg collapsed under him, and he never felt himself hit the floor.

  When he woke again the pain was gone, and he could feel tightness around his head that spoke of bandages, and the slight disjointed feeling he associated with a deep magical healing. The last time he'd felt this way was after his leg had damn near been cut off. He looked around, saw he was in his own tiny room, and sat up.

  "He's awake, Holiness," someone outside the curtain that served as his door said.

  "Thank you." To Delan's shock, Brina walked into the room. No. Brina never walked. She stalked, like a hunting cat. Delan had been shocked by her when he’d first met her – he hadn’t known women could look like her. He’d met warleaders before, but they’d all been tall, impressive looking soldiers. Brina reminded him of a brick wall – she was about his height, and as soft as the stones the Temple was built from. He could see that she and Lyander were related, but comparing the two of them was like comparing a willow tree and a thorny stump.

  Once he’d gotten over the shock, he’d liked her immediately.

  "Did you find him?" he blurted out, not bothering with honorifics or propriety. "Did you find Lyander?"

  Brina shook her head slowly. "You didn't give us much to go on. What happened?"

  "You don't know?" Delan groaned and rested his head in his hands. "It was Jyase, the caretaker before me. He came back for Lyander. He said his Lady-General wanted the treasure of the Temple." He watched Brina as her face lost all color. "Brina, what did he mean?"

  "Something he shouldn't have known. Something Lyander himself doesn't know. That means..." She paused and her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to filet that bitch," she snarled.

  "What bitch?" Delan demanded. "Brina, what’s going on?"

  "Nothing. It is nothing you need worry about, Delan. It is—"

  "Let me guess," Delan interrupted. "One of the mysteries?"

  Brina looked startled. "Yes. How did you know?"

  Delan shook his head and slowly got to his feet. "Brina," he said softly. "They're going to kill him, aren't they?"

  She met his eyes and nodded briefly. "Probably. His worth as... as a sacrifice is immeasurable."

  He closed his eyes and swallowed, standing up straighter. When he opened his eyes again, Brina was watching him curiously.

  "I'm coming with you when you go after him," he said flatly.

  Her eyes widened.

  "This doesn't involve you," she answered. "You're not one of us."

  "Maybe not, but I'm coming with you all the same. He... Brina, I'm not going to fail him. I promised him I'd stay with him, that I'd take care of him. I'm going after him. With or without you."

  "Delan—"

  "No, you don't understand," Delan said quietly. He started to pace, the pain in his faltering stride a welcome distraction from his own guilt. "He asked me tonight if I was a farmer before I came to the Temple. I told him only half the truth. I was a farmer until I was fifteen. Until I was picked up out of my father's fields by one of the warbands. My General was a good sort, not like the scum that attacked the temple. She was out there trying to protect the people from the ones like the lot that did this." Delan gestured widely, taking in the entire temple in one wave of his arm. "For five years I was a soldier, until I took a lance in my leg that damn near took it off entirely. I came home to find my family dead, and my grandmother's farm burned to the ground. That was... well, that was when I came here. I had no place else to go." He turned and looked at Brina. "I spent the last five years protecting people like Lyander. But I couldn't protect the ones that meant the most to me. I couldn't protect my family. I wasn't there. I was right in the Thraya with him and I still couldn’t protect Lyander. He's out there right now, somewhere, and he's terrified. Did you know that? That he's afraid of being outside? I... I can't just leave him! And I'll be damned if I'm going to abandon him." He stopped, then folded his arms over his chest. "Is that involved enough for you, Brina?"

  Brina nodded once. "You could’ve just told me you were in love with him. Come along, I'll see you outfitted."

  DELAN FOLLOWED BRINA through the Temple halls, into a part of the Temple where he'd never been allowed access. "I'm sorry," he said after a long silence. "About the Holy Mother."

  Brina looked over her shoulder at him. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'm trying not to think about it. I don't have the luxury of grief. Not yet."

  "I understand," Delan said. "Where are we going? The armory isn't down here."

  "No, it isn't. But if you're going to be fighting for us, for Lyander, then you should know what you're fighting for," Brina answered. "In here." She led him into a room dominated by a large stone fountain in the center.

  Delan walked up to the fountain, watching the water spill and play in the basin.

  "Brina—?" he started to ask, and his question was cut off when she grabbed him by the back of the neck and dunked his head into the water. He came up gasping and cursing. "Lady's Tits, woman! What was that for?"

  She snorted and answered, "Language, Your Holiness."

  The title penetrated his sputtering invective and he stopped, staring at her. "What did you call me?"

  "Congratulations. You're the first Priest of the Mysteries in five generations," Brina answered. "Now I can tell you what you need to know."

  Delan shook his head slowly, water splattering the ground as it streamed from his wet hair. "No. No, no, I can't be a priest. I... I can't."

  Brina frowned in confusion. "Why ever not?"

  "There aren't any Warrior Priests," Delan sputtered. "And if there were, they wouldn't take me. Not... not someone like me. I... Brina, I never told you the truth. Never told anyone here the truth. I was afraid I'd be put out. But... I'm anathema."

  "Anathema?" Brina asked softly. "Delan, I think you'd best explain. Since no one witnessed this but me, we can deny that it happened. You can walk away, but that means walking away from Lyander. So explain."

  Delan ran his hand through his wet hair and silently cursed himself once more. "I don't know how I can be any more clear. I'm anathema—"

  "Says who?"

  "The village priestess, my father, my grandmother─" Delan answered. He looked down and shook his head agai
n. "I... they wanted me to marry. I didn't want the girl. I didn't want any girl. I never have and never will. They tried to pray it out of me and when that failed, they tried to beat it out of me. That's most of my scars. The ones that didn’t come in battle. I let them think it worked, and, well, my General saved me from the marriage. But d'ye know what it's like outside the Temple? If you're born like I am? They stone you to death if they find you with another male. If you're lucky. If they want to make an example out of you, they use pikes..." Delan swallowed and wiped his hands on his pants, feeling his gorge rising. Zekial. Poor, besotted Zekial. Delan had warned him, tried to get him to be careful. He'd tried to get him to see that the miller's boy hadn't been safe. But Zekial hadn't listened, the poor fool.

  "Do they?" Brina asked slowly. "I'm going to have to do something about that. I wonder if Mother knew?" She shook her head. "We can't worry about that now, though. Delan, there isn't anyone in this temple who would call you anathema. We don't believe that what you are is a sin."

  "You don't?" Delan said, his voice shaking with disbelief. "But my father—"

  "Probably wasn't born in the shadow of the Warrior," Brina finished. "That whole ‘males are damned unless they're under the control of women’ is an idea that came with the Holy Wars and the damned Priestesses of Light. Delan, the daughters of the Warrior consider being jinsal—"

  "What?"

  "Jinsal. It means you prefer your own sex," Brina explained. "Lady bless, Delan, half the women in this temple are jinsal! Within the Temple it's considered to be holy. It also tells me that you were God sent. You’re the person we need to save Lyander. Come with me and I'll show you why." She turned, going to the far wall of the room.

  On the wall there was an empty torch bracket, and she reached up and turned it firmly. Delan felt rumbling under his feet and heard the groaning of old machines as a section of the wall slid back and away, revealing a hidden corridor.

  "What do you know of the Holy Wars?" Brina asked, taking a lit torch from another bracket.

  "Only a little." Delan followed her into the dark hallway. "My village had a temple school, but I wasn't allowed to go. It was females only. The only reason I know how to read is because my sisters taught me."

  "Ah. Your entire village was of the Light? Well, very quickly then. Did you know this was once two temples?" Brina asked over her shoulder. As she walked, Delan noticed the space was opening up. They'd gone from a corridor into a large room. "That second temple was actually the reason for the wars. Because the Priestesses of Light—damn them all to the coldest level of perdition—objected to the existence of a God. Men were inferior, they said, and had to be controlled."

  "Now you sound like my father and grandmother," Delan said. "Where are we?"

  "The Temple of Lyas, the Sorcerer." Brina stepped forward, lowering the torch to a shelf that stood at about waist-height. At once, a tiny flame raced away from them, following a channel Delan supposed must have been filled with oil. It split, then split again, until the room glowed with light, and Delan could see clearly the statue that dominated the room.

  The figure was carved from what looked like a single piece of marble, twice as tall as a man. He was nude, and proudly male, and Delan was intimately familiar with every curve, every line, every part of that body.

  "That... that's Lyander!" he said in wonder.

  Brina shook her head. "No, that is Lyas, consort to the Warrior and keeper of the Mysteries."

  At the word, Delan turned and looked at her. "You said that I was a Priest of the Mysteries. Not of the Warrior."

  "You are now a Priest of the Mysteries. Sworn to Lyas. A Lyan Priest, if you like. Since you're the only one, I suppose that makes you High Priest by default," Brina said.

  "This is too much. I don't understand." Delan turned to face Brina. "And we don't have time for me to understand. Just promise me you'll explain?"

  "So you're staying?" Brina asked.

  Delan nodded slowly. "For Lyander, I'm staying."

  "In that case, I'll talk fast. Come on, let's get you armored."

  "THE THRAYA IS QUITE possibly the oldest part of this building. It's a legacy of the old Temple, the one that existed before the wars," Brina said as they left the statue behind and headed back the way they'd come. "The Priests of Lyas were cloistered. It hadn't been used in decades until Lyander was born."

  "He said he didn't remember there ever being another man in the Thraya," Delan said.

  "There never had been. Not in his lifetime," Brina said, and glanced over her shoulder. "Delan, there hasn't been a male born to a Warrior Priestess in our entire history. There is something in the vows that we swear, something in the consecration that ensures we bear only daughters. That held true until Lyander." She opened the door to the armory and led Delan inside. "We must have some male armor in here somewhere."

  "Chain mail would work."

  "That we have." Brina opened a chest and started pulling things out. "When Lyander was born we had no idea what was happening. We're not even sure who his father was. Our seers couldn't tell anything about why we suddenly had a male in our midst. But there had to be a reason, so we kept him. Raised him. Then Lyander started to get older. He lived in the main temple with the Temple sisters until his voice broke and he started to dream. That was when his magic woke."

  "Men don't have magic," Delan said absently, examining a sword hanging on one of the racks. "This one ... this is different. I've never seen a sword like this before."

  "Take it. If it calls to you, it is meant to be yours. And you're only part right," Brina said, shifting rattling armor around in a chest. "Here. This should fit you. Gambeson are over here."

  Delan turned and took the chain mail shirt that Brina offered. "I'm not going to be much good in a fight, Brina. This leg of mine..."

  "We'll have the healer work on it again before we leave. Men don't have magic anymore, Delan, because Lyas was the source of men's magic. According to the lore, when the Lyan Priests were all taken and killed by the Light bitches, that was at the same time that the God Lyas was destroyed by the Goddess Fersina of the Light. It was then that men's magic vanished from the world. Until now." Without a hint of self-consciousness or shame, Brina stripped above the waist and started pulling on padding and armor. Delan felt his face grow warmer, and turned his back as he rummaged through the gambeson until he found one that fit him.

  "Lyander was thirteen," Brina continued. "He started to dream about sex, started to become a man, and his magic ripped through the halls like a storm. That is why Lyander goes chained. To contain his magic, lest it consume him."

  "Why does his magic need to be contained?" Delan asked. He picked up the chain mail and shimmied into it, wincing as his hair caught in the rings and pulled. He settled the armor with a sharp twist of his hips, then picked up the sword and belted it on. He looked around, helped himself to a bow and a quiver of arrows, then asked, "Is there a helm that will fit me?"

  "The racks are behind you," Brina answered. "And the Holy Mother believed his magic is so powerful because he bears all of it. All of the magic that once was born by men is held by Lyander. She believed he is truly Lyas, reborn in a mortal shell and, ah... what happens when you fill a bucket, Delan?"

  "If you fill it too full it overflows," Delan answered immediately.

  "And if it is a sealed cask?"

  Delan blinked and realized what she was saying. "It bursts."

  "Good. Think of Lyander as that sealed cask. He's filled to overflowing with magic, with all of the power of a reborn god. Mother thought she might be able to siphon some of that power off, but we didn't have another to share the load. Not until now. Now we have you."

  "What?" Delan jerked around and stared at her, nearly dropping the helm he had chosen. "I don't have any magic!"

  "You will. You had all the signs. Your mother was a mage, wasn't she?"

  Delan shook his head. "I don't know. She died birthing me." He cocked his head to one side. "But my grandmot
her used to call her a witch. I thought it was just that she didn't like my mother. But maybe..."

  "Perhaps there was more to her than you know. You have potential. The Holy Mother saw it when you came here, or she'd never have let you stay. Come on. If you've got everything you need, grab a belt knife. All right. Let's see the healer. Then we'll see what we can find for horses. Hopefully, they left us something."

  Chapter 4

  The Man who Fights

  The healer, an older woman who had never had more than two words for Delan before, exclaimed over him and treated him as if he were her only son, coddling him until he was ready to scream with impatience. But when she was done, his leg felt better than it had since before that last disastrous battle.

  "Whoever saw to this had the skill of a butcher," she said with a dismissive sniff. "If it were me, I'd have put it to right and you'd still have two good legs." She patted Delan on the knee. "All right. You're as fixed as I can make you right now. When you get back, we'll see about doing more."

  "You should forgive Mags," Brina said as they hurried toward the stables. "She's not usually that forward."

  "Mags? Oh, you mean the healer?" Delan nodded. "I noticed. That's the most she's said to me since I got here."

  "Yes. Her own daughter was stillborn a day or two before Lyander was born, so she acted as Lyander's wet-nurse. Then she never bore another living child. She's very fond of Lyander."

  "How does she know where we're going?" Delan asked.

  "She has eyes, Delan," Brina said, sounding amused. "We're armed to the teeth after an attack on the Temple where they took a single prisoner. Where else would we be going?"

  They pushed the stable doors open and were welcomed by a chorus of whinnying horses. Brina sighed with relief.

  "I was worried they'd have either stolen or killed the horses," she said as they gathered up tack. "That we'd be going after them on foot. You can ride, can't you?"

  "I can," Delan said grimly.

  "What were you in the warband? And which warband?"