They took the wounded soldier onto the carriage. He did not argue, though earlier he had complained about carrying a god when men had feet.
Selka waded to the back door. The water stood at her waist now, clear enough to show the straw swirling around her legs. Beyond the doorway the yard remained almost dry. She touched the surface where it crossed the opening: a shaking wall, cold on the side nearest the rain.
Darr tried to force a wheel through it. The water pushed back. Ruun gave a hard gasp, and the carriage lurched higher.
“Stop,” Selka said.
“They're coming through the front.”
“This is keeping it together.”
He stared at her, then at the god's wounded ribs. “Can it let us out?”
She climbed onto the carriage. The iron strips had begun to strain against Ruun's swelling body. A darker shape moved within the skin: not bones, but a depth that made her dizzy.
“We have to take you away,” she said in tide tongue.
“Up.”
The broken bell opening lay above them.
“The carriage won't fit.”
“The wall will.”
She looked at the high crossbeam, the cracked altar against the rear wall. The stone there had been weakened when the carriage struck it. She explained to Darr in words so short he could hear them over the banging.
“Ropes. Through the bell hole. Break the high wall.”
“From outside?”
“From here.”
He sent two men up onto the carriage roof with a hammer. Selka stood beside Ruun and pressed its iron away from the wound. Its skin opened along her wrist. Water slipped under her sleeve, lifting her arm.
The high wall broke a stone at a time. The men swung, pulled, struck again. Below them, the front door split. A raider shoved his way through and fell face first into water he had not expected. He came up choking, with a knife still in his fist.
Darr raised his sword.
“Pull!” Selka shouted.
The carriage rose. She lost her footing and fell backward off the platform. Water shut over her head. For one startled instant it was as warm as a bath. Then the dark came, and the god's whole body seemed to be somewhere beneath her.
She could not find up.
Something caught her beneath the arms. She broke the surface hard enough to strike her teeth together. Ruun had one hand spread toward her. Its other held the iron at its chest.
She grabbed the carriage rail. Darr hauled her aboard.
The raider was close enough to touch. He caught the trailing rope, dragged himself up, and raised his knife toward the wounded god.
Ruun turned its hand.
The water folded over the man's head. He remained upright for a moment, his face visible through it. Selka saw his mouth open. The knife drifted from his fingers.
“Let him—”
The carriage struck the broken upper wall. Darr pulled her away from the edge as the man vanished below.
They burst into cold rain. The wheels scraped through the gap, breaking more stone. Outside, the carriage dropped onto the sloping roof of a lean-to. Wood splintered. Soldiers jumped into the yard, dragging the wounded man with them. Selka slid down after them and landed on her hands.
The last wheel struck a post. Its axle bent. Then Ruun released the water.
It fell inside the shrine with the sound of a building collapsing. The front door blew outward. The yard filled with foam, ash, broken candles and a spear.
No one spoke while the water settled.
Selka crawled to the carriage. Ruun had returned to its confined shape, smaller than before. Its wrist trembled against the iron.
“He was going to kill you,” she said.
“Yes.”
She looked at the door where the water still drained. “You saved me.”
“You were pulling out the spear.”
It was true, and it was not enough. She would have to live with both things.
Darr brought the horses from behind the outer wall. One limped. Two guards were missing. He called their names once, waited, then once again.
The injured soldier beside the carriage rolled his shoulder. His band was glowing. The damage had not all reversed, but the motion returned as Ruun's body steadied. Selka watched him touch the place where his fingers had gone gray.
If this body died, there would be others kneeling beside dark bands. Her daughter among them.
The captain pointed downstream. The main road ran past the shrine's front, where more raiders could be waiting. A narrow pale track led between low pools toward the salt flats.
“That way,” he said.
Selka helped him lash the broken yoke. It held when the horses pulled, then bent. They would have to go slowly.