The other lands

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Corinn had never run so fast in her life. She had never felt more frustrated and frantic, filled with an awful urgency that made her want to burst out of her skin and fly. She held the skirt of her gown in both hands, pulled high so that her legs were free to move. Marah crowded her on all sides. They would have preferred to have held still in a defensive circle around her, a human wall with halberds and swords jutting out like the spines of a porcupine. It took all the queen's effort to keep them in motion. She propelled them against their will by shoving them forward and spewing curses and threats at them. Aaden was in danger. Aaden might be dead.

She had stepped out of the secret room into an office strewn with bodies, blood, and organs-both human and Numrek. Though Sire Dagon begged her not to go, she strode away. She had to find Aaden. Hopeful one second; near tears the next; boiling with white-hot anger just after, when interrupted by scenes of violence, people confused, stunned, getting in her way. She hated when they got in her way! Standing about stupid-faced, gaping. Nobles or peasants, old or young: it did not matter. They worked their jaws in meaningless chatter. She had never hated them more. Several times she roared at them, and each time they peeled away before her, like sheep before a wolf, terrified. If they prevented her from reaching Aaden in time, she would kill them.

Coming off a ramp and up a short flight of steps, she trod on the hem of her gown and fell against the men in front of her. Arms pulled her back up. Hands touched her with an intimacy that would have doomed the owner of them an hour ago. One guard whispered respectfully that perhaps they should turn back, get her to safety in the upper palace. His voice trembled and she recognized him as one of her Marah, alive after the battle with her Numrek guards in her offices. "We'll keep you safe there, Your Majesty, until-"

In answer she reached for his waist and pulled free the slim dagger sheathed there. "Are you a coward?" she asked. Judging by the way the man's face froze, he must have thought she was about to slit his throat. She let him think so for a second, and then sawed at the skirts of her gown. The razor-sharp blade ribboned the light layers of fabric. She tore it all free by the fistful. She moved so viciously that she cut the flesh of her thigh. She did not notice until a few seconds afterward, when the warmth of her blood filled the gash and overflowed.

By the time she reached the tunnel that led into the Carmelia, dashed through it, and came out in the open air midway up the stadium's ranks, she was as sweaty, bloodstained, and panting as if she had been at the butchery of battle herself. She froze as the view rose up before her, her eyes searching for her son even as she saw Mena and Melio and clusters of Marah soldiers, all fighting a few Numrek. There were many dead Marah already, and three of the Numrek lay as broken corpses on the field. The remaining three were bellowing whirlwinds. Their curved swords scorched the air around them, long hair flying as they wrenched their heads around from one foe to another.

Where was Aaden? She didn't see Aaden. He had to be here. He had to be-and then she spotted a child's small form lying facedown on the grass. Her breath left her in one long ahhh. He was so tiny. Like a doll.

Oh, Aaden.

As she said his name in her head she knew it was not right. The name did not fit the body. It was not Aaden. The figure was a little longer of limb than Aaden. Dark haired while Aaden was fair. It was Devlyn.

She shouted, "Find the prince! Find him, now!" The command came from something tapped into the urgency of life, something far greater than she.

As the guards dashed down the stairs and ran to either side, calling for the prince, searching for him among the rows of seats, Corinn turned her gaze to the ongoing battle. Her sister was there, tiny beside the Numrek she faced-Greduc, who had so often walked behind her. Greduc, who had once held his arm out, Aaden dangling from it, standing as tall and still as a tree, grinning as the boy's legs kicked in the air. Corinn pressed her palm to her chest, realizing she was frightened now from all the moments Greduc had had her and Aaden in his power. At any time he could have killed them both.

I am a fool! she thought.

Two Marah worked with Mena, making a triangle around Greduc, but he always turned to keep the princess before him. Mena held a curved Numrek sword in a two-handed grip. Mena never knew her limits, Corinn thought, and then was appalled. What a vile thought, tainted as it was by an adolescent desire to see her sister punished for the arrogance. She had to get control of her thoughts. Defeat him, Mena. Kill him, my sister! Make him die and die and die!

Mena yelled something at Greduc that Corinn could not hear. The Numrek responded, and whatever he said caused Mena to hesitate. Her sword drooped slightly. One of her hands rose, sketching her confusion with a motion of her upturned palm. The Numrek jerked his chin upward and spat. That ended the intermission.

The attackers drew closer to the Numrek, who roared into motion, battling the Marah but always driving toward Mena. She somehow managed to parry, duck, slip to the side. She stumbled then righted herself and swung the heavy blade around, nearly taking off Greduc's head-except that he managed to block and, stepping back, twirled into a surprise attack that caught the Marah behind him and took his arm off at the shoulder.

Corinn pitched forward and vomited. Strong hands grasped her, steadying her. What was wrong with her? Her mind was so scattered, cluttered, random. Aaden! Where was Aaden? She scanned the bleachers. Her guards were racing through them, bending to check under seats, dashing along other rows. They were looking, but she knew that if he was in the stadium she would feel him. Perhaps Mena had hidden him. Yes, that was it. Hidden him someplace safe. Corinn stepped forward, thinking she would descend toward the chaos and-

"No, Your Majesty," a voice behind her said.

Delivegu strode the last few steps to reach her, behind him several more Marah, all of whom rushed past her to join the fight. Rhrenna followed them as well, carrying her dagger. "You shouldn't even be this close," Delivegu said. "If one of them sees you, he may charge. Come. Draw back with me so that you can't be seen."

"I cannot find Aaden," Corinn said. "He was here."

Delivegu set his hand on her shoulder and scanned the stadium, his face grave. He looked at Corinn, took her other shoulder in hand. "We'll find him. He's not here."

Exactly, she thought. He's not here! Now that seemed a good thing. Aaden was somewhere else, which had to be better than being here.

"He's probably safe."

Exactly, Corinn echoed. He's probably safe.

Rhrenna stood beside her now. "The palace is secure," she said. "Balneaves Sharratt is checking the records to determine how many Numrek were on the island. There's fighting still in the lower town, as some of them were trying to flee the island. They won't get off. And General Andeson is already committed to sail for the Teh Coast, to blockade the-"

"Good," Delivegu said. "Good!" He was not responding to Rhrenna.

Corinn followed his eyes back to the field. One of the Numrek had fallen. The Marah who had killed him worried his back with jab after jab of their swords, and then ran to aid the others. Corinn remained aware that one of Delivegu's hands still rested on her shoulder. She reached out and found Rhrenna's hand and clasped it. Together they watched the tide of the fighting turn.

The next to die got caught dealing with too many foes. Melio hacked him in the side with a two-handed diagonal swing. His blade bit into the Numrek's side, cut him to the spine, and then stuck fast like an ax driven too deep into a tree trunk. The Numrek fell onto his knees, yanking the sword from Melio's grip. Two Marah swept in, the first with a downward strike that sliced off a portion of the Numrek's face. The second leaped into a twirling attack that first cut through the arm the Numrek raised to block it and then sliced halfway through the side of his skull.

Now only one remained. As the rest of the Marah circled him, their weapons before them, he seemed to come to terms with the situation. He let his sword droop a moment, turning slowly to take them all in. It looked like he might be surrendering, but then he roared and ran toward Mena, his sword raised high in a two-handed grip. He looked undefeatable, unstoppable. The Marah closed on him with their own furious intent, slicing and stabbing, then making sure the fallen Numrek would not rise again. Corinn lost sight of Mena, and did not spot her again until the soldiers began to stumble away from the body. Some fell to their knees. A few sprawled on the grass. Still others dropped their swords and moved among the injured, aiding them. It was over.

Corinn saw Mena standing a surprising distance away, panting, her arms limp at her sides and her body curved with fatigue. She had dropped the Numrek sword and stooped before it, as if unsure of what it was. She looked like she might fall to her knees at any moment. Instead, she glanced up and met Corinn's eyes. She stepped forward, unsteadily. She stumbled from the field and mounted the steps toward Corinn. She seemed to regain some of her abnormal stamina as she climbed. Corinn shouted her question. "Where is Aaden?"

When Mena reached Corinn she grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into motion. "Come," she said. "Elya has him."

Elya has him! Of all the things she feared or hoped to hear this caught her completely off guard. The lizard has him?

"You look a mess, sister," Mena added. "Rhrenna, tell me what has happened."

The Meinish woman began recounting the details she had begun to give Corinn a few minutes earlier. Mena peppered her with questions. She answered. Delivegu and several Marah followed as well, silent for the time being. Listening to the two women talk helped Corinn through the moments of waiting, as they retraced their path back to the palace. She tried to concentrate on their voices that talked through the crisis like veterans of such things. Corinn knew she should join them, but she couldn't. Not until she knew.

They found Elya and Aaden in the central gardens of the queen's palace. Arriving, they had to push through the throng of nervous servants. In the center, within the open area of benches and chairs, in the middle of the mosaic of the Akaran family symbol, lay Aaden. He was on his side, one leg crossed over the other, his arm cradling his belly. Asleep. Or dead? Corinn could not tell. The lizard stood off a few paces. It stood propped on its hind legs, its forearms held together and its slim paws pressed one against the other.

Corinn moved forward, somehow more patient now that she actually saw her son. The emotion that had driven her to the Carmelia had drained out of her. She just wanted to know. That was all. She just had to know. And so she walked calmly across the tiles, the hushed crowd watching her. Reaching her son, she knelt and whispered his name. She sat down and slid her hands under his head and shoulders and drew him onto her lap. There was a strange, tangy citrus scent on him that was pleasant to inhale. But there was also blood on him, yes, soaking his clothes all around his mid-section. "Oh, Aaden," she said, drawing him still closer. So much blood. He was warm. Limp as he was, she knew that he was yet alive. Leaning over him, she felt breath pass through his lips, faint, oh, but there. He breathed, but it was fading.

She heard Mena call for the royal physicians and bark other orders. Reasonable things, things she should be saying herself. All she could do was hold Aaden in her arms and feel grief and fear opening around her like the maw of the toothed worm that lives in the center of the earth. She felt it rising, hungry, enraged. The worm was death. Death! It wanted to swallow Aaden. She had never known what death was, but now she did. It was a worm in the center of the earth. A hungry beast of a thing that wanted her son.

But she would not give him her son. Why should I have to? I've given so much already. Why can I not have this one thing-a son to love? Why? She realized she was talking to the beast inside her head, but it did not care. It began before her and would go on after her and never, never would care for words like that. If she held on to Aaden the worm would swallow her as well, gulp them both down into the fetid abyss that was its belly. She and Aaden, Mena and the servants. The entire palace. No, the island Acacia itself. If she held on to her son and denied the worm, its jaws would rise from the sea and clamp shut around them and drag everything into the deep, unless… unless she sang.

I have to sing!

Thinking it, she realized she had known it all along. The worm was ancient, and since she had first read from The Song of Elenet she had felt it stir. She had not admitted it, but she had felt it roll and flex beneath the earth. It had welcomed her song. It wanted it. It fed on it. Why had she not understood this until now?

Mena leaned over her, saying something, but Corinn ignored her and everyone around her. It did not even matter if they heard her. Nothing mattered except that she sing for Aaden before the worm ate them all. They knew nothing about it, the fools! Corinn had done nothing useful the entire day, but she would now.

With her lips brushing the soft flesh of Aaden's neck, she opened her mouth and breathed out the song. It came to her willingly, those mysterious words and the notes they rode upon. She did not form it. She just released it, aware that if she did it would heal the damage inside Aaden. And that would appease the worm. It was a promise of some sort, a deal she was making with things unknown.

She sang.

In the seas surrounding the isle of Acacia, Corinn was certain that the jaws of the beast paused just below the surface, halting the great swell of momentum that had driven it. It paused because she sang. It listened. It heard, and then the worm sang with her, a great bass rumble that was beautiful, and horrible, to hear.