10: His Holy Bones Read Online Free Page A

heaps of rubble scattered across the street. An arm jutted out from beneath one huge mass of charred stone.
    “You wish to keep your true name a secret from them, my lord?” Wah’roa asked in a low whisper. The man was so slim and quiet that John hadn’t even noticed his approach. He’d thought Wah’roa had gone with the rest of the kahlirash’im.
     “Yes, if I can.” John leaned against the cracked stones; below he could see the pulverized wreckage of the lower terraces as well as the shattered valley. Wah’roa joined John next to the remnants of the terrace wall.
    “Why?” Wah’roa asked quietly.
    “They’re already afraid of everything that’s happened,” John said. “The last thing they need to find out is that the Rifter has crossed the worlds. For anyone who isn’t a kahlirash, the Rifter means the end of the world.”
    “They will learn otherwise,” Wah’roa said. He gazed at John intensely. “They will come to realize that you are a cleansing rain brought down from the heavens.”
    “Announcing something like that would only scare them more, especially right now,” John replied.
    “But you are the divine wrath,” Wah’roa said. “Shouldn’t they fear you? Shouldn’t they bow down before you and beg your mercy for all their wrongs?”
    “That’s the last thing I’d want,” John said.
    Wah’roa seemed surprised by this. He said, “I…I mean no offense, my lord…but you are not what I expected.”
    “No, probably not.”
    Far below in the valley, bodies of the dead lay twisted and mangled at the edges of the vast chasm. There were too many to count. A chilling wind swirled up from John and snow began to pour down over the carnage.
     “If I hadn’t witnessed your ascent from the valley to the temple I would never have thought…” Wah’roa began but then broke off. He studied John. “I never thought the Rifter would seem so human.”
    “I am human,” John said. He immediately realized that he was wrong. A human being didn’t tear stones apart with his bare hands or ride on storm winds. Human beings died when they were impaled, poisoned, and shot. Humanity was no longer his to claim. John felt an almost physical loss at the thought.
    “I was human,” John amended.
    The two of them watched as the snow blanketed the valley, covering the dead like a pure, white shroud.
    “Will you destroy the Payshmura?” Wah’roa finally asked.
    John didn’t want to destroy anything. But he hadn’t necessarily wanted to crush this army either. If he had to make the choice again, he knew he would still come to Vundomu. He would still murder thousands of men to try and save Ravishan.
    “I’ll do what I have to do to free the issusha’im and to keep Vundomu safe,” John said. He turned back to the distant silhouette of the temple.
    “We should get back,” John said.
    “Indeed,” Wah’roa agreed with the hint of a smile. “Our new Fai’daum allies will need looking after.”
    They walked up together.
    When John reached the infirmary, Ravishan was still unconscious, but his skin felt warmer. A little color had returned to his face. Ji hunched beside another wounded man, whispering low, growling words over his damaged body. She glanced up at John but didn’t stop her spell to greet him. John spotted Kansa, Tanash, and four of Ji’s other students also moving among the cots, treating the wounded. The old infirmary priest seemed flustered by the influx of young women. He gave Wah’roa a pleading glance, but Wah’roa just shrugged.
    John knelt down beside Ravishan’s cot. He took Ravishan’s hand in his own. Where his fingers rested against Ravishan’s wrist, John felt the weak kick of his pulse. John bowed his head and closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep. He couldn’t have slept, but he needed to shut out the outside world, even for a few minutes. He needed to be with Ravishan, even if Ravishan could not respond to him.
    From time to time he caught glimpses of Wah’roa or