Names in the old tongue had syllables that, in any other language, would compose an entire paragraphs worth of words. Or a page. Or a book. They couldnt be spoken quickly in a breathless rush; enunciating them at all was like trying to speak with a mouth full of molasses. It was messy, it took effort, and it was probably unpleasant to watch.
But as the syllables came, the giants steps slowed and faltered, as if he was keeping time to her awkward struggle to speak. To speak, she realized, to him. The giant was, or had once been, a man. Not a human; humans didnt have names like this at their core. But inasmuch as Dragons and Barrani were alive, he had once been alive.
His sword was no longer raised above his head; he lowered it, letting one hand fall away. The free hand, he raised in her direction, where it tapered from fist to point. She continued to speak, but as she did, he began to speak, as well. His voice was the low rumble of moving eartha Dragons human voice, but slightly deeper and slightly fuller.
She couldnt understand a word of it.
But even as she thought it, she realized that understanding what he meant to say wasnt quite the same as understanding its effect: he was trying to tell her his name. He was trying, as she was, to speak the whole of it even as he closed the distance. He was also going to kill her if he could; that was clear. But he knew that if she knew his true name, she could prevent him. This utterance was the whole of his attempt at self-control.
And he wanted it.
His desire gave her strength; his speech gave her attempt a more solid foundation. She continued to speak, but as she did, she understood why Mejrah and her companions chanted in unison: she was speaking his name as a harmony to his speech. It was like song, like music, like a chorus of two. It grew louder as she grew more certain; it came faster, because she was no longer struggling to find, to feel, the syllables. Every syllable spoken caused him to lose height.
When he at last reached her, he was a mere eight feetor eight and a halfin height, and his blade was no longer so big it could stave in rooftops. And as she spoke what she knew were the last three syllables, the blade fell from his hands, landing on the ground between their feet.
She looked at him. The armor still girded him, but he was now the size and shape ofof a refugee. He wasnt young; he might have been older than Severn, but it was hard to tell; if he had a name, he should be immortal.
At least in this world.
His hands were shaking as he lifted them and removed his helm. In the dark light of altered vision, the helm shone like polished ebony as it rested in the crook of his arm. His eyes were clear, and they were a shade of gold that looked both familiar and wrong in his face. He spoke again, and this time, she lifted a hand and walked toward him slowly, until she could touch what she could still clearly see: his name, the name he had spoken with her, and by speaking, had given into her keeping. When she touched it, she could hear his voice so clearly it was almost a song.
Chosen, he said softly. You are Chosen.
Kaylin nodded; her arms were glowing so strongly the runes could be seen.
But you are not of the People.
Not of your people, no. Do you know where you are?
I am in the heartland, he replied. It made, of the word heart, something to be dreaded or loathed.
Do you know what you were doing?
Yes. I was summoning my forces to do battle against the fortress ofour enemy. He lifted a mailed hand, and removed, with effort, a gauntlet. His hands were callused and scarred; he lifted them to those startling eyes, dimming them a moment.
Call them back.
He nodded, and lifted the mailed hand. I cannot hold them for long, he told her. Not as Iam. He bowed to her then. I can send them from the border for now.
And what will you do?
I will be called, sooner or later, and I will follow.
You cant
Can you give me back my name, Chosen? Can you, when you cannot take it and use it as your own? I would serve you, could you hold me. But the name is not known to you alone.
Even as he spoke, she heard the whispers of a distant voice.
Maggaron, she said softly. And then, in the silence of thought, Maggaron. It wasnt the whole of his name as shed struggled to pronounce it, but it was the expression of what shed achieved. Just as Nightshades name had been, and was, although this was the first time she understood the fact as fact.
He smiled; it was a pained, tortured expression. Yes. The mental bond came with the true name.
Are you alive?
Is this life? I would not be considered alive by the People.
Could they cleanse you?
Ah. No. It is notan infestation or a contamination of that nature, Chosen. I am used against myself; nothing else is required.
Kaylin snorted. Youre not a twenty-foot-tall giant; you didnt get that on your own. Youve been living in shadow, in the Shadows, for how long?
What does time signify here?
Spoken like an Immortal, she snorted. She heard shouting, voices, and one loud roar, as the world suddenly returned; she turned to meet it.
The road was a mess because it wasnt really road anymore; there were patches of it that were still glowing an unpleasant orange, and whole new ditches that would kill any horses anyone was stupid enough to drive this far into the fiefs interior. But there were only a few bodies on the ground, and most of those were moving, albeit not without help.
Morse was bleeding; something had lanced her cheek. She didnt appear to notice, and not even Tara fussed over Morse when she decided an injury was beneath contempt. But it was Mejrahs voice that was clearest, because Mejrah was shouting or cryingor bothas she pointed at Kaylin.
No, not at Kaylin. At the man who stood before her in his odd armor, his name exposed and held beneath the flat of her open palm.
CHAPTER 5
Kaylin. Tiamariss voice was the low rumble of moving earth. Step back across the border.
Kaylin frowned. From where she was standing, she could no longer see itnot that it had ever been all that clear when there wasnt a small army of Shadows waiting along its edge. Can I bring him with me?
Smokea literal stream of it, forcefully expellededdied around her feet. Before the fieflord could follow it with words, Mejrah approached Kaylin, her hands lifted and turned palms out as if to imply that she was helpless. She spoke to the armored man, her voice low enough that it broke on syllables.
The man, still facing Kaylin, moved his head toward the old woman. His expression as he did could have broken stone hearts. Mejrah, however, turned to Kaylin and spoke rapid, agitated wordsnone of which made any sense. Language lessons had never seemed so profoundly important; unfortunately, no one present was yet expert enough to teach them.
What is she saying? Kaylin asked Maggaron.
Can you not understand her words?
I wouldnt be asking if I could.
His brows rose in genuine surprise. Butyou are Chosen.
I cant walk on water, she replied tersely. And you clearly understand her. What did she say?
She wishes to know if what you have done is stable.
Tell her I have no idea.
He did. Kaylin was running through Leontine phrases in her mind.
She wishes to know if what you have done is stable.
Tell her I have no idea.
He did. Kaylin was running through Leontine phrases in her mind.
She asks if you know who I am.
Tell her Kaylin bit back the flippant response. Does she know who you are?
He didnt repeat the question; instead, he nodded. When he began to speak againto MejrahKaylin listened. But she listened, if it were possible, with her hands; she listened to the word that she hadnt released. It was warm, and it was bright; if she looked at it too long it burned itself into her vision, the way the sun could at the wrong height.
Ascendant, Mejrah said. Kaylin could hear two words overlapping each other as the older woman spoke. It wasnt cacophony, but it was disturbing. How is it that you come to be here?
Do you not understand? You are here.
We came through the emptiness. Weall of our people that could be gatheredwalked the gray space and the hungering void. We are here. But you She hesitated.
I fell in battle.
Yes. On plains far from these streets and thiscity. But even here, the Shadows exist. This last was said with resignation and bitterness.
Yes.
They are not so strong here; the war in these lands has barely begun. We will fight, she added, her voice a low growl.
Maggarons smile was sharp and brief. He raised an arm in salute.
But the older woman was not yet done. We did not think to see Ascendants again. How did you travel here?
Idid not travel here.
Mejrah was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was harderbut it was also more brittle. How is it that you command the darkness? How is it that you fight at the behest of our enemy?
He flinched and turned away from herbut turned back as if shorn of will. There is truth, he finally said, in the stories of the Ancients. The Shadows spoke my name, and they knew me, and when they bid me follow, I could not disobey for long, although I did struggle. I came, at last, to the heart of the Shadowand it is the heart of the world, Mejrah. What I have seenwhat I have touched He fell silent. I have fallen. But there is beauty and majesty in the Shadows; there isthere could befreedom.
If you were free, Kaylin asked, would you stay in the Shadow?
His smile was bitter. No, Chosen. There is no freedom for me now. What they have, they hold, and they will hold it
Until theyre destroyed.
He shook his head, and his face developed the expression that Kaylin most loathed: pity. They cannot be destroyed. They are eternal; they live and breathe and move and change. They defy death, just as
As you do.
No, Chosen. Their will is stronger than any other force they have encountered. They live in the web of the knowledge of worlds, and they feed from it. They move along its strands, and they change whatever they touch. They speak all languages, they can live in any environment. They require no breath, no warmth, no food.
If they were that powerful, all worlds would already be Shadow. All of them. We can fight them. There are people here who are also powerful and ancient. She was acutely aware she wasnt one of them.
He did not speak; instead, he looked toward Tiamaris and Sanabalis. And then, to her great surprise, he bowed. His armor clanked. She wondered, given its weight, if hed be able to stand up again without teetering, because she doubted she could have. They are Dragons, he whispered.
Yes.
He rose with an enviable ease. They are the firstborn, and the oldest. Do you not understand what they are?
A brief memory of Diarmats first class came to mind. It was hard to feel any awe for someone you wanted to strangle so badly. Theyre Dragons, she said.
Kaylin.
Kaylin turned to the fieflord. His eyes werent orange; they were an unfortunate shade of red. Sanabalis was now standing by Tiamariss side; his eyes were orange. And unlidded.
I have his name, she told them. And then, after a pause, He has one.
The two Dragons exchanged a glance. Sanabalis said almost gently, I do not believe that is possible if he is of the People.
Why?
They are mortal. They age and they die.
So am I, and I have one.
The Dragons exchanged a more familiar glance. It was Tiamaris who answered. And that is, of course, information that is best shouted loudly at the edge of a fief, where Shadows are dominant. His breath was a plume of bright-colored flame. Do you hold his name?
Yes. But so do they.
They?
Actually, that was a damn good question. She didnt have an answer, but hazarded one anyway. The Shadows. Frowning, she added, What does happen if more than one person holds a true name?
It depends, Tiamaris replied. He glanced at Sanabalis, and Kaylin could almost see him passing the question off.
Sanabalis ran a hand through the long strands of thin beard. It would depend. Let us assume that you speak of only two entities: yourself, in this case, and the Shadow. If you have opposing goalsand again, we will assume for the sake of simplification, that this is trueyou will exert the force of your will upon the name.
The name will not break; it is not a physical object. But the man will be pulled in two directions. The best that can be achieved in that case is that he will be rendered immobile and will do nothing.
And the worst?
You sleep. You are easily distracted. You are not accustomed to enforcing your will and your desire upon others. I do not believe any of these three things can be said of your enemy. Kill him, if it is possible for you to do so; leave him, if it is not. If he follows you nowand I believe he willthere is no guarantee that he will not turn upon you, or upon any of us, the moment your will flags.
And he will be dangerous then. The power that he can easily reach will be lessened, but he will be able to draw it; he will be a window from the heart of the fiefs into the fief of Tiamaris, and we are already undermined by some Shadow we cannot yet locate.
She turned back to Maggaron. He smiled. It was not a happy smile, but unlike most smiles one saw in the fiefs, it wasnt cruel, either. Bending at the knee, he retrieved the sword that had fallen between them. Chosen, he said. Learn to speak the tongue of the People. Ask Mejrah what the Ascendants are, and how they are born.
If I understood the Dragon Lord correctly, you bear a name much like mine, but you are, like the People, a thing of flesh and mortality. Take this. It will serve you well in your coming war.
She looked at the runed sword in his hand. It was no longer the greatsword of a giant; it had lost that form and shape when he had lost the same. But at its size it was still something even Severn would have difficulty wielding with any grace; it was a weapon of brute force.
Take it, Chosen. Take it, or it will serve me, as it has done.
She shook her head. I cant
But Mejrah shouted in her ear loudly enough that her teeth were rattling by the end of it. She didnt need to understand the language of the People to understand exactly what the old womans demands were. She wanted Kaylin to take the sword. Kaylins sword training was such that she was competent; she doubted she would ever be good.