The other souls jostled inside her, but she held on, not relinquishing control. All the pounding by Bayla had prepared her for this onslaught, though this was far worse than anything Bayla had ever tried. She felt as if she were being ripped apart inside out by wild dogs.
Bayla!
Yes, Liyana? Bayla’s voice rose from the vortex of other voices.
Slowly, painfully, Liyana reached into the chaos toward Bayla’s voice. She felt Bayla move through the souls as well, shepherding them into semicohesion. Liyana coaxed the spinning souls to swirl in the same direction. Together, the two of them swept the other deities into a single cyclone inside her.
Are you ready? Bayla asked.
Yes, Liyana said.
Voices spoke in unison, echoing her. Yes. Yes. Yes! She felt them speed up inside her, all their emotions and thoughts tumbling in a thick storm.
Feed me magic, Liyana ordered them.
She felt them all still for a moment.
And then the magic dumped into her, more and more, like an ocean pouring into a bowl. She pushed her soul wider, expanding it as fast as she could as the magic flowed in. She flowed through the valley. She sank into the earth and felt the life of the plants, the strength of the stone, and the heat of the dirt. She swept through the mountains, into their hearts and over their peaks. The magic surged within her, forcing her faster and wider and deeper.
Oh, sweet goddess, it’s too much! she cried.
You can do this, Liyana, Jarlath whispered within the deities. You are strong.
She pushed herself harder, and she became the wind in the mountains. It was her breath. She breathed out and spread into the desert. She felt the souls of the soldiers and the clans like bursts of fire in the wind. She felt their deaths as their souls flickered past her, en route to the Dreaming.
You must end this tragedy, Jarlath said.
She targeted one of the sky serpents. As Mulaf had done, she focused the heat of the sun on its glass body, and she intensified the heat rapidly, as if a year’s worth of sun pounded on it at once. The heart of the sky serpent heated to white-hot, and then the sky serpent cracked and shattered in an explosion that rained down on the clans and army below.
She focused on the next sky serpent. . . . But there were hundreds.
You’re killing them, Jarlath said. Our people. Find another way!
The shards that fell below were as deadly as the serpents themselves. She needed to make them vanish, not explode. Only then would her people be safe.
I need more magic, she said as an idea occurred to her.
Liyana stirred the wind high above the clans and army. She controlled the wind in a tight cyclone, keeping it from touching the humans, and then she widened her whirlwind. Pouring magic into it, she swept the wind into the sky serpents. She caught them in a net of air. The sky serpents tumbled head over tail. Their glass scales caught the sunlight and twisted it until the sky looked as if it were filled with thousands of jewels.
Fueled by the gods’ magic, Liyana propelled the sky serpents across the mountains and then beyond, a hundred miles west over empty desert. She let the wind die, and she flew her soul back to the clans and the army, leaving the sky serpents far behind her.
They will return to their mountains, Bayla said. It is how we made them. They must guard the lake.
When they return, they will find no one to kill, Liyana said. She spun the wind again, and this time she aimed it down at the army and the clans. She ripped through the sands, splitting the clans from the army.
She added more whirlwinds. It felt like stirring a soup with her finger. She guided each one carefully, using the wind to gently separate the combatants. She plucked a soldier up midbattle and blew him north to his encampment, and she removed a desert man from the encampment and returned him to the clan tents. She scooped up a clump of desert children and delivered them safely away from an advancing soldier, and then she delivered the soldier to his army. Jarlath helped direct her, pointing out his people and steering her toward them. After nearly an hour of intense concentration, she had corralled the empire’s army with their tents and the clans with theirs.
She then broadened the wind and blew the entire army eastward, across the desert and into the hills, over the border, and into the Crescent Empire. She left them on a golden plain—soldiers, horses, tents, and all.
Done, she returned to the clans. She narrowed her focus to locate the Horse Clan god. She found him, a spiky soul mounted on a bleeding horse. She sent words toward him, wrapping her thoughts in magic as if they were a summoning chant. Sendar, tell the clans that it is over. Tell them to leave the mountains before the sky serpents come back. Tell them to return to their oases and their lives.
You? His voice was as loud as a horse’s bray. You eliminated the sky serpents?
I am not alone, she said simply. She sank back toward the valley where her body waited. She felt herself lying in the grasses, sun on her skin and the smell of flowers around her. The voices within her faded. She reached for them. . . . The magic felt like a tiny pool inside her. What’s happening?
You have done well, vessel, Bayla said.
Wait! I do not understand—
Jarlath, listen for your voice. It chants for you. Follow it, Bayla said. To Liyana she said, Do not be angry with Korbyn. Or yourself.
She lost the feel of the wind inside of her. She no longer touched the valley or the mountains or the desert. She had her own human arms and legs again. Bayla—
The feel of the deities was faint, like a whisper on skin. It has been an honor, Bayla said. An uncomfortable honor, perhaps, but still . . . You were worthy of me.
And then they were gone.
Liyana woke to silence. She felt the earth on her back, and she stared up at the sky. It was day, and the bleached blue sky was empty. The sky serpents were gone. Bayla? Jarlath? Anyone?
Only quiet, inside and out.
She inhaled and felt her ribs expand. She ached in every muscle. Stretching, she tested her arms and legs. She clenched and unclenched her hands. She was whole and alive. But she felt as empty as the sky.
“Liyana.” Jarlath’s voice. Close. Outside her.
She turned her head. He lay beside her in the grass. He reached out his hand, and his fingers twined around hers. “You’re alive,” she said.
“As are you.”
Cheek against the ground, she smelled the dirt and the grass. She also smelled flowers, sweet as honey. She watched Jarlath as he pushed himself up to sitting. She saw his eyes widen and his lips part. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it, wordless.
Gingerly she also pushed herself up to sitting. “Oh, sweet goddess,” she said.
The lake was dry.
All that remained was a perfect oval of jewel-like pebbles. On its edge, Mulaf’s body lay facedown where he had fallen into the water. Liyana rose and walked, her legs shaking like a newborn calf, to the shore. She didn’t look at Mulaf.
“Liyana, don’t—”