Hades’ Daughter. Book One of the Troy Game by Sara Douglass

As his face hit the earth, Asterion whispered a single word. “Resurgam!”

His eyes fluttered closed, but his heart, even as weak as it was, continued to beat spasmodically for some minutes further, pumping more and more blood out of the rent in Asterion’s neck .

It collected in the heart of the labyrinth, then, when it could be contained no longer, seeped along the pathways of the labyrinth until, finally, it trickled out the entrance.

At the precise moment his blood escaped the labyrinth, Asterion’s heart fell still.

CbAPGGR CUDO LLANGARLIA ,'”*

^,’ti’t’tEWOKE’ SUDDENLY AND COMPLETELY, THE DREAMstill vivid in his mind.

He trembled, the anger that had consumed him in the dream even stronger now he was awake.

The girl beside him murmured and shifted, and Loth eased himself away from her, untangling their limbs, and sliding out of the bed.

He waited a moment, willing her back into sleep, and she quieted, pulling the wraps tighter about her, forgetting his presence.

Loth lifted a piece of beautifully woven green and red cloth from the end of the bed, deftly tying it low on his hips, slipped his feet into his leather sandals, and took from a bench a short cloak of a similar but heavier material than that of his hip wrap.

As he tried to throw it about his shoulders, the cloak caught for an instant on one of the protuberances on his skull, and Loth gave it an impatient tug to settle it where he wanted.

He smoothed down his hair where the cloak had disturbed it, then moved, not toward the door of the large circular dwelling, but to another sleeping niche on the far side.

There the Mother of the House lay awake.

As he approached the Mother stood, not bothering to hide her nakedness from this man. She was an old woman, her breasts scrawny and low, her belly lost in many folds, her long pubic hair gray and straggly.

‘I must go, Mother Mais,” Loth said very quietly as he reached her. She held out her hands, and he took them in his. “For your food and shelter and warmth this night, I do thank you.”

‘There is trouble,” she said.

‘There is trouble,” he agreed. “Great trouble.”

The woman took a deep breath, but she knew, they had all known , this was coming. She looked past Loth to the bed he had left.

‘Has she conceived of her daughter?” she said.

Loth smiled, and nodded. “She will be a strong and healthy child.”

‘I thank you! You honor my House.”

He leaned his malformed head forward and kissed her gently on the brow. “I increase the herd,” he said. “It is my duty, and it is my privilege.”

THE SIX ROUND HOUSES WERE GROUPED TOGETHER AT the edge of the great northern forest. Loth paused as he left Mother Mais’ house, looking at the trees.

Normally Loth would have found the pull of the trees almost irresistible, but tonight his concern

drowned out even his need for the forest and its mysteries.

He turned to the open fen land before him, striding forward.

Within moments he broke into an easy jog, his long legs covering the soft ground with the grace and economy of movement of a forest deer.

It was still dark when he left Mother Mais’ house, but by the time Loth reached the small rise that overlooked the valley floor and the sacred mounds, the sun had crested the horizon, tingeing the Llan’s marsh mists a soft gold.

Loth paused, his breath easy despite the distance he had covered, his face reverential. Slowly he dropped to his knees, bending his forehead to the ground in obeisance to the valley of the Veiled Hills, the sacred heart of the land.

Then, rising, Loth skirted the northern perimeter of the Veiled Hills, jogging across gently undulating ground thick with late summer flowers and grasses.

There were hares and birds and badgers out in this early morning: they all raised their heads to study the strange half man half beast that ran among them, then, unconcerned, resumed their morning feeding.

The sun had fully crested the horizon by the time Loth reached his destination—Genvissa’s strange stone house.

SHE WAS WAITING, AS HE KNEW SHE WOULD BE.

‘Loth,” she said, calmly. “Have you seen?”

‘Yes. Where is the Gormagog?”

‘Your father is asleep. He is old, and weary, and not given to early risings anymore.”

‘Genvissa… does he realize how many there are? By Great Og himself! I G saw countless score after score of those black-hulled ships! And they were packed with people.”

‘Loth—”

‘Tens of thousands! You never mentioned tens of thousands! And they are only just across the Narrow Seas! They can be here within a day!”

‘Loth—”

‘They will swarm over us!”

She reached out and grabbed his elbow, giving it a little shake. “For mercy’s sake, Loth! Will you listen?”

He subsided, and Genvissa let out a relieved sigh. “There are not tens of thousands, a little over ten thousand, yes, but not tens of thousands,” she said. “And they will not swarm. They want to settle here, and they, and their leader, are intelligent enough not to swarm like damned hares!”

She forced a smile back to her face. “Besides, you know as well as I that we may not need them.”

‘My mother.”

Genvissa almost smiled at the vengeful hunger on his face. “Aye, Blangan. She is with them. Did you not see her amid all your tens of thousands?”

Loth shook his head. If truth be told, his sight had been unusually attracted to the woman who gave birth. Every time he’d tried to drag his mind’s vision closer to the occupants of the many score black-hulled ships, it had been dragged back to the hovel where the young woman had almost died.

It was rare that Loth was granted such power of vision, and to have it drawn constantly to the young woman when he could have scried out his mother…

‘Well,” Genvissa continued, “Blangan is with them. She is our chance, Loth.”

He nodded, his eyes aglow at the thought of Og’s restoration at her death. “Where?”

‘Mag’s Dance.”

‘Mag’s Dance? Why there?”

Genvissa shrugged. “Trust me, Loth. It will be best there.” The best place to take both Og and Mag in one economical swoop .

‘But their ships are just across the seas. They will sail straight to the mouth of the Llan.”

She shook her head. “There will be a wind awaiting them once they gather themselves enough to set to sea again. It will drive them south, far south. They will land close to the Dart. Loth, can you speak to Coel? Ask him to move south to meet them. He can then lead a small party of Trojans north to meet with myself and the Gormagog. A small party that shall include Blangan, of course.”

Loth grinned. “And their path shall pass straight by Mag’s Dance.”

‘Exactly. Send Coel today. It will take him a week or more to get to the Dart.”

‘Should we not consult with my father?”

‘I speak for both of us, Loth. Your father needs his sleep. Leave him be.”

Then she stepped forward, put her hands on Loth’s shoulders, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

“When Blangan is dead, and Og’s power is returned…”

He seized her, stricken with longing, and for a moment or two Genvissa allowed him to rub against her breasts and belly, and to kiss her mouth.

Then she pushed him back. “Not yet, Loth. Not yet…”

He growled, and made as if to snatch at her again, but she spoke sharply. ” Not yet!”

He turned away, breathing heavily, bringing himself back under control, hating himself for his yearning

and lack of control.

When he finally looked back to Genvissa his face was neutral. “And if we take Blangan, and all goes well?”

‘Then you may take this Brutus,” she said, “and do what you will with him. I shall have no need for him.”

‘And the ten thousand?”

‘They will be back at the Dart,” Genvissa said, then she laughed. “Where they will be surrounded by half a country’s worth of forest!”

‘And the forest can take them?”

‘Whatever you wish, beloved,” she whispered, a hand to his cheek. “Whatever you wish.”

CbR AG STOOD TO ONE SIDE OF THE LABYRINTH INthe center of the stone hall. Her head was down, her hands folded before her.

She waited.

Before her, in the heart of the labyrinth, the flat stone with the word resurgam inscribed on it moved slightly. It appeared as if it floated on a pool of black, bubbling blood.

Mag prayed, seeking within herself the courage for what she now had to do. Oh, Og! This was such a loathsome alliance, but it was the only way Genvissa could be stopped and, eventually, Llangarlia freed of all her darkcraft. Mag could not do it by herself. She needed help.