In Legend Born (66 page)

No one had ever been able to reveal the fate of Najdan's father. Najdan was a practical man and therefore did not torment himself with foolish hope. Petty criminals often drew sentences of only a year or two, and so survived the mines. But Najdan's father, who had committed no crime, had been gone for over twenty years; no man had ever survived that long in the mines. Some people, however, held onto hope even longer than that. A man would have to have a heart of stone not to pity them.

Those that did manage to survive long terms in the mines seldom lived long upon returning home. They must have been very strong men to have survived for years in Alizar, but the struggle always took its toll. 

Now Najdan was here in the black pits of hell, where whip-cracking devils ruled the never-ending night. The rebel plan of attack required men on the inside. When the fighting began, rebels down here would need to lead the prisoners in an underground fight. Najdan was one of thirty rebels who, posing as ordinary men, had willingly been caught in some petty crime during recent days. Unfortunately, some were still awaiting sentencing tonight, but most of them had already been transported to the mines and sent deep into the elaborate earthworks of Alizar.

It had taken courage to give himself up to the Outlookers and the mines. Najdan had wanted to do it, to prove to himself that despite what had happened that day at Dalishar, he was still a brave man who could coldly face death. Now that he was down here, he saw courage in a new light and encountered bravery such as he had never seen among the assassins. In this shadowy world of pain, hunger, exhaustion, loneliness, and slavery, men still somehow found the courage to survive. In this underground world of darkness and hopelessness, they still recited the names of their children, recalled the women they loved, and spoke of going home after they'd served their sentences. When the Outlookers weren't watching,
shallaheen
cut open their palms with their mining tools to swear bloodpacts with each other. When one drink of water could mean the difference between life and death, a
shallah
might give up his ration to save the life of a bloodbrother.

Then again, there was also depravity down here unlike anything that even a Society assassin had ever seen. While most Outlookers were merely indifferent to the suffering of their prisoners, Najdan had already encountered one who positively enjoyed it, and he'd heard stories about several others. Nor were the prisoners all men he looked forward to freeing. There was one he'd already decided to assassinate when the fighting began. The
sriliah
routinely betrayed his fellow prisoners for extra rations, and Najdan didn't doubt that he would side with the Outlookers when the attack on Alizar commenced—at least until the battle clearly favored the Silerians. Then there were others who had been made petty, vicious, and cowardly by their lives down here; but perhaps some of them had always been that way. Finally, there were those who had gone mad. Anyone too deranged to work was usually executed; but, over the years, Najdan had seen a few madmen wandering the mountains, released early from the mines due to the insanity which made them useless as workers. Some long-term prisoners therefore risked pretending madness, gambling that they'd be released instead of killed. Najdan would make no move against any of the madmen here, real or feigned, unless they jeopardized the battle.

He was a strong, healthy man, so although the poor rations left him hungry, he was still able to do the backbreaking work down here. His wrists and ankles were already chafed and sore from the iron finery of an Emperor's miner, but he was an assassin and contemptuous of pain. For this reason, he could also withstand the lash without much trouble. He ignored the human stench and misery all around him, since he considered himself apart from it. He had come here to do a job, and when the rebels attacked, he would either die or go free. There was no possibility in his mind of spending more than a few days down here.

The one aspect of his term down here that troubled him, however, was the feeling of being
closed in
. He felt the earth pressing down on him, suffocating him. Sometimes his chest constricted, as if he were smothering, and it took all his self-discipline not to lash out like a madman, battering at the rock-solid walls, floors, and ceilings that engulfed him. Some men who returned home from the mines were never able to sleep inside again; now he knew why. When he got out of Alizar, he'd be much more amenable to Mirabar's preference for sleeping under the stars when they traveled.

Mirabar
. He thought of her up on the heights surrounding Alizar, gathering strength with the other Guardians. He had already lost track of time down here. It was impossible to mark the hours in a place where there was no day or night. Now he had no way of knowing when the attack would begin. But he thought it would be very soon. Hoping he was right, he carefully began to spread the word, making sure that no one he deemed untrustworthy found out what the rest of them needed to know.

Tashinar's knees ached from the long journey to Dalishar, but she didn't tell the others.
I'm getting old,
she thought. Her youth seemed to have been in full bloom only yesterday. Now she was already an old woman, an elder of her sect, someone whose aged presence was needed to hold the Guardians together in this unprecedented moment. The mystic sorcerers who conjured fire from their own breath and flesh, who communed with shades of the dead, and who hid like children from Outlookers, waterlords, and assassins... the
Guardians
were about to enter into battle.

Naturally, Tashinar knew the history of the Guardians. She knew that they had once governed Sileria, that there had been many thousands of them, and that there had even been many like Mirabar. She knew that there had been warriors among them—  including Daurion himself. Yet the thought of Guardians entering into battle against the Outlookers... Well, it was almost as extraordinary as the thought of them working together with the Society.

She knew from the moment Mirabar first returned to their circle of companions—
with an assassin in tow
—that something extraordinary had happened. The Guardians had already learned from their own communion with the Otherworld that a new age was at hand, that their entire world was about to change. Fire, water, and the blood of thousands would mingle to herald a new beginning in Sileria. Then Mirabar had found them again, had come home, bringing peace-offerings from Kiloran himself on behalf of the Society. Two of Josarian's men came with her, too, and they spoke of something called the Alliance, a secret society now pledged to Josarian. Confident, impatient, and driven, Mirabar had become the leader of her former mentors. At her instructions, they had spread through the mountains, alerting other Guardian circles, forging links with the Society and the
shallaheen
, cooperating with emissaries from the Alliance, and sending their own companions into the heart of danger when necessary.

Derlen,
Tashinar thought suddenly. He was supposed to be here tonight. He had not come, and no one knew why. Shaljir was such a treacherous place, the very heart of Valdani power in Sileria... Tashinar sent up a silent prayer to Dar that Derlen was all right.

When Mirabar had first told her of this plan, Tashinar thought it would be difficult to convince the Guardians to assault the most heavily-guarded site in Sileria outside of Shaljir. The diamonds of Alizar were the Emperor's single most important source of income in Sileria, and he protected the mines with a force of over one thousand well-armed Outlookers. Almost every Guardian, however, knew someone who had been sent to the mines; and many knew someone who had never come out. There were also those who had seen the round-ups, when the Outlookers would seize innocent men and force them into service because there was a shortage of prisoners at Alizar. With their confidence bolstered by Josarian's victories against smaller targets and their fear of the Society temporarily appeased, most of the Guardians had proved readily willing to contribute their special talents to the battle at Alizar.

Kiloran was here, too, tonight.
Kiloran himself.
Tashinar didn't know precisely where he was, and she'd be just as happy not to encounter him—tonight or any other night—but she could
feel
him. Oh, yes, she knew he was here, and she suspected he
wanted
her to know it, wanted them
all
to know it. He honored the truce between them, but there could never truly be
peace
between the servants of fire and the masters of water. Eternal enmity was in their flesh, their blood, their bones, and Kiloran let the Guardians preparing for battle at Alizar know that he had not forgotten. A subtle vibration of power chilled the air and warned them:
We are allies, not friends.

Emerging from the darkness, hugging the shadows and moving stealthily, Mirabar joined Tashinar on a summit overlooking Alizar. They exchanged a brief, silent greeting, then Mirabar noticed her nervous twitch as Kiloran again stung the night with his cold venom.

"Ignore it," Mirabar said. "He's just showing off."

"He's not to be underestimated," Tashinar murmured. They both kept their voices low, wary of any remaining Outlookers patrolling the area. "Or trusted."

"No, but he knows there are assassins down there tonight. Some are imprisoned in the mines. Many will be fighting beside Josarian. Kiloran is ruthless, but he doesn't waste his own men."

Tashinar nodded. Why worry about what would happen after tonight, when no one yet knew who would live or die here?

"Who would have thought we would come to this?" she said, grateful she had at least lived long enough to see it. "I never imagined a moment such as this, a dream such as the one you and Josarian share."

"It's everyone's dream, Tashinar. When the Outlookers cut off your fingers as a young woman, didn't you dream of—"

"Not really. Until this... you, Josarian, Tansen, the Beckoner, the Alliance, Kiloran..." Tashinar shook her head. "Freedom was a tale told by wild-eyed
zanareen
and superstitious mountain peasants."

"
Zanareen
," Mirabar said sourly. "How they pester Josarian."

"You've told me that Armian wasn't the Firebringer," Tashinar mused.

"No. He wasn't."

"Then couldn't it be Jo—"

"Oh, do you really expect Josarian to throw himself into Darshon to—"

Mirabar stopped speaking the moment they heard feet shuffling against dust and gravel. They both tensed as the soft footsteps came closer. Mirabar had already warned her that if an Outlooker found them here, they must be ruthless. Tashinar didn't know precisely what that meant, but she had seen the changes in Mirabar since the beginning of the year, and she realized that the girl not only knew what it meant, but had, of necessity, learned how to be more ruthless than most. Josarian's men had begun the first part of the plan soon after nightfall: killing all the sentries and patrols around Alizar. Tashinar tried not to think about her allies stalking men in the dark and strangling them or cutting their throats. She tried not to think about the quiet warrior called Tansen, the man Mirabar had sought for so long. She could tell that he knew far too much about killing other men.

Her heart pounded as she marked the quiet approach of someone coming through the surrounding brush and scrub. She relaxed a moment later when she heard the soft flutterbird call that was the agreed-upon signal. Mirabar returned it, and their ally appeared a moment later: a handsome young
shallah
named Zimran.

"Ah, ladies! Right where you're supposed to be
and
on time. Could a man ask for more?" He grinned and, even in the dark, Tashinar could feel the measure of his charm. Many girls must have lost their heart to this man.

"Well?" Mirabar prodded.

"Kiloran is ready," he said. "Josarian is ready. Tansen is ready."

"The Guardians are ready, too," Mirabar confirmed.

Zimran gave a gusty sigh. "And I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. So if you can begin..."

"We'll give you enough time to get out of the way," Mirabar said. "Go."

"As always,
sirana
, it's been a pleasure."

After he'd departed, Mirabar muttered, "He irritates me."

"So I observed," Tashinar said dryly. Facile charm had never appealed to Mirabar.

"Are you ready?"

"As Zimran said..." Tashinar squared her shoulders. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."