In Legend Born (85 page)

"
Nooooo!
" she screamed.

She yanked away from him. Afraid that she would stumble into the volcano, he reached for her. She tore herself out of his grasp, then fell to her knees, keening with misery.

It would have been a lot easier if she had just set him on fire. The sound of her grief, unleashed by his own cruelty, was worse than the cut of a
shir
. He sank to his knees, too, and tried to put his arms around her.

"Mirabar..."

"
No, no, no!
"

"I'm sorry."

"The visions... the dreams..." she gasped, sobbing and gulping air. "The Calling...
Calidar...
"

"Shhh... I'm sorry. I didn't mea—"

"Calidar told him... She sent him here. He would not listen...
I thought it was the will of the Otherworld!
"

"Shhh."

Her whole body convulsed, then she heaved violently, again and again. Dry choking sounds wracked her throat. Nothing came up, though, not even spittle.

Through the fog of his pain, exhaustion, and grief, he finally realized that in addition to being upset, she was very,
very
sick. Her skin was burning up, and those violent shivers were from fever as much as from the cold. He'd seen this once before. Some bodies, no matter how strong, couldn't adjust to being this high up. She would die if she stayed here much longer.

"We have to leave," he said.

"
Nooooo...
" She wept harder.

He didn't try to soothe her this time. He knew she'd be irrational until he could get some water into her body and find a warm place for her to lie down. It needed to be further down the mountain, though, because her main problem was the lack of air. She wouldn't improve until she could breathe again.

His exhausted, aching muscles screamed in protest as he stood up and lifted her into his arms. His burned arm felt like the flesh was being torn from it. Mirabar was petite and she'd lost weight up here, but she was still a solid
shallah
girl—woman—and his own weakness would make this downhill trip a gruesome expedition. They wouldn't go far. Just until they got below the snow line. He knew he could go no further than that today.

She struggled weakly in his arms, hurting him. His trembling legs betrayed him and he stumbled. They fell to the ground together.

A fierce roar, the birthing screams of a goddess, suddenly filled the air. Mirabar lifted her head, trying to peer into the caldera. His pain forgotten in the terror of the moment, Tansen tangled his fingers in her red curls and dragged her head beneath his shoulder as the sky howled and the earth trembled. He flung his leg out and rolled on top of Mirabar, shielding her—though he didn't know from what direction the threat came.

Heaven and earth seemed to collide. The sky all around them turned orange. The clouds themselves seemed to catch fire. The ground heaved like the waves of the ocean.

"Dar!" Mirabar cried. Senses drowning in the roar of the goddess, Tansen could barely hear Mirabar's voice, so close to his ear, as she shouted, "Let me go! It's Dar!"

He wouldn't let go of her, though. Dar already had Josarian. He wouldn't let Her have Mirabar, too. She'd have to take
him
first, and She had already proved that She didn't want him yet.

Lava shot straight up from the volcano, spinning high into the air, then falling back into the caldera. Tansen lifted his head and stared in wonder. He had seen Dar's explosions before, during his boyhood, but he had never seen anything like
this.
This was no series of violent eruptions spewing destruction over the mountain and across the land. Lava gushed sky-high as smoothly, regularly, and gracefully as the water in Shaljir's finest fountains. At its peak, the thick, red-hot flow blossomed into a thousand slender, glowing strands that fell gracefully back to their source. A billion tiny drops of molten lava flew in all directions, but they threatened no one, not even those cowering nearby.

Mirabar's eyes glowed yellow with religious fervor as she stared at the spectacle.

"Is
that...
" Tansen cleared his throat. "Is that Dar?"

"I don't... know..."

A ball of fire erupted from the top of the lava fountain. It flew straight at Tansen and Mirabar. If this was Dar, then She had evidently just changed Her mind and wanted Her revenge
now.
Tansen folded Mirabar back beneath him, practically smothering her, and flung an arm over his head, suddenly a little less ready to die than he had supposed.

The ball of flame landed so close to them it nearly set Mirabar's cloak on fire. Tansen rolled away from it, clutching the woman protectively, ready to defend her from the goddess she was struggling to see as he pressed her face into his shoulder.

"It's
him
," she cried. "Don't you see? It's—"

Someone started screaming in exultation, jumping up and down and pointing into the flames. Heart quickening with hope, Tansen rose to his knees and stared into the heat of the fire.

"
Josarian?
"

A shape slowly solidified in the leaping flames. It
might
be a man's body, crouched down on one knee, poised as if about to rise. It wasn't Josarian, though. It glowed as if made of the hottest coals.

"It's
him,
" Mirabar breathed, gasping for air, tugging on Tansen as she tried to rise to her feet.

The flames started sizzling and smoking, gradually fading the way ordinary fire did when there was no wood left to fuel it. As the fire died, the glowing shape within it became more distinct. Tansen's heart nearly stopped when the thing
moved
, but he didn't back away. Mirabar said that creature was Josarian, and Tansen would not flee from his brother, no matter
what
he had become. Moving as slowly and painfully as a very old man, the shape in the fire pushed itself off the ground and rose to its full height. It stood there glowing, radiating heat and power, as the flames all around it withered and died.

Then the figure, too, started changing. The fiery glow, so similar to Mirabar's eyes, was fading, cooling, and sliding away to reveal the body of an ordinary man. Moment by moment, familiar parts of him appeared beneath the glowing sheathe which had covered him: the gleaming dark hair; the sun-browned flesh; the two scars left by Valdani swords; the marks on his palms.

He was breathing hard, and his naked body was drenched in sweat. His eyes were closed, his expression unapproachable. He seemed to be focused on some inner vision. Tansen stepped forward, but Mirabar clutched at him, stopping him. The tightness of her grip warned him not to speak or disturb Josarian.

The
zanareen
went wild, screaming, cheering, flinging themselves against each other. The
shallaheen
were shouting Josarian's name, crying out their triumph at the coming of the Firebringer.

The Firebringer.

It was true. It
was
Josarian. He had done it!

The volcano's furious activity subsided, until nothing was left of the fire and fury which had consumed both earth and sky only moments ago. Dar's voice was once again only an unsteady murmur in the caldera. Everything at Darshon again looked as it had always looked.

Except that the Firebringer is among us now.

"He is come!" Jalan cried, leading a swarm of wild-eyed men toward Josarian.

"Don't let them disturb him," Mirabar said quickly.

Obeying her, for these events were far more of her realm than his, Tansen unsheathed both his swords and jumped between Jalan's people and Josarian.

"He is the Awaited One!" Jalan cried. "We are his servants! You cannot keep us from him!"

"I know. Just give him a few moments," Tansen said, secretly fearing that Josarian might need a whole lot longer than
that.

"Tan..."

Tansen whirled instantly, recognizing the voice. Only minutes ago, he had believed he would never hear it again. "I'm here."

Josarian's eyes opened at last. Tansen had feared what he would see there, but this was the same familiar gaze he knew, the same ingenuous brown eyes he had looked into more than a thousand times. Josarian's expression was exhausted and dazed, but... this was unquestionably still the face of his brother. Relief coursed through him.

After a long, amazed moment of silence, Tansen asked, "How... How do you feel?" 

The wind whipped across Darshon. Josarian shivered, frowned, and said, "I'm
cold.
"

Mirabar struggled to her feet. "Here. Take this." She tried to remove one of her cloaks, a voluminous garment which Tansen recognized as Josarian's, but her arms were as weak as a baby's.

Tansen sheathed his swords, went to her, removed the cloak, and helped her back down to the ground before she
fell
down. The
zanareen
and
shallaheen
watched the three of them, whispering, murmuring, but wary of interfering.

"I guess the scriptures are a little vague about what happens next," Tansen surmised. His burned arm was smarting again, howling against all the recent abuse it had endured. 

Josarian blinked and looked at him more alertly now, focusing his gaze. "Tansen." A slow, tired grin stole across his features. Astonishingly, he started to laugh. "Tan!"

Josarian stumbled forward and flung his arms around him, giving him the sort of openly affectionate bear hug that Tansen usually found embarrassing in front of the men. Now he blinked back tears and returned the fierce embrace.

Thank You, Dar. Thank You. Thank You for giving him back.

After a long moment, Josarian pushed him away to seize his shoulders in a hard grip. Tansen winced against the pain, but Josarian didn't notice.

"Tan, you'll never believe it!" Josarian shook his head, his expression vivid with amazement. "It wasn't Armian!
I'm
the Firebringer!"

Najdan was waiting for them when they entered the Sanctuary at the base of Darshon. He had some idea of what had happened up there, since witnesses to the miracle had descended the mountain to start spreading the word even before Josarian was recovered from his ordeal.

The Firebringer.

It made Najdan's chest tight with wonder. He had never believed in the Firebringer, and he had certainly never imagined that he would know and serve him.

His next thought was that Kiloran would not be pleased. No man in Sileria was more feared than Kiloran; but now one would exceed him in fame and glory, and in the awe that he inspired. The Firebringer would command even greater power and respect than the mightiest waterlord in the world, and Kiloran would
hate
that.

Najdan had stayed here, obeying Mirabar's instructions and awaiting her return. The day after word of Josarian's triumph came down the mountain, a runner had arrived with news from Tansen, who was up there, too, now: The
sirana
was very sick and would need care and attention when she arrived that evening. Najdan would have ignored her previous orders and climbed to the very peak of Darshon to retrieve her, except that he didn't want to upset her if she was already unwell. She believed it would be a sacrilege to bring him with her to the volcano wherein dwelled the goddess she worshipped. Respecting this without resentment, for the Honored Society did not concern itself with Dar, Najdan remained where he was, supervising preparations for the
sirana
's arrival and watching the mountain path for her.

When Josarian, Mirabar, and Tansen finally arrived, they were accompanied by a veritable herd of
zanareen
. Loyal and obedient to the point of idiocy, Josarian's followers camped outside the Sanctuary as he ordered. They had brought Mirabar down the mountain on a pallet. Josarian lifted her limp body and carried her inside the Sanctuary, accompanied only by Tansen.

Najdan could see at once that everything had changed. Josarian, who had always been strong, now looked invincible, positively radiating power, energy, and confidence. It was Tansen, however, who looked as if he had faced death and barely survived. His entire right arm was swathed in dirty makeshift bandages. His humble clothes hung in tatters on his lean frame, torn, singed, and smeared with blood. An angry gash stood out boldly on his forehead. Josarian had made haste to Darshon, knowing that if Tansen survived his adventure in Shaljir, then he would try to stop his bloodbrother from embracing Dar in the volcano. Looking at the
shatai
now, Najdan could see that he had indeed tried. He had challenged the goddess, fighting Her honorably. He had failed, and Josarian had stunned them all with his divine triumph. But Tansen had survived his own ordeal, and a man who had lived through a battle with a goddess would never again be the same.

Unconscious in Josarian's arms, Mirabar seemed the most changed of all. She looked pale, weak, and half-dead. Forgetting the respect that a man owed to the Firebringer, Najdan snatched the
sirana
out of Josarian's arms and snapped, "What's happened to her? What did you let those madmen up there
do
to her?"