The Lords Armin and Gahlon, too, spent the day preparing to leave Brenn. Rialla and the other Veldatha wizards had succeeded in piecing together most of the Lithmern’s movements up to the attack on Brenn, as well as some part of their future plans, from the common soldiers who had been left unprotected by the mind-destroying spell. The picture was grim enough to make the Alkyran nobles anxious to start their own preparations at home. They left the next day, each with Wyrd and Shee soldiers accompanying them as unofficial ambassadors.
Preparations for the coming battle began at once. Daily infantry drills started as soon as the grim task of disposing of the bodies around the walls was finished. Bracor, Herre, and Grathwol lost no time in setting up combination exercises with groups of soldiers, archers, and cavalry, for the process of integrating the three forces would be difficult and time was limited.
One of the first actions of the newly combined forces was to send Murn with a mixed group to the mountains around Coldwell Pass to begin preparations for the army and to send scouts out to keep abreast of the Lithmern movements. They were accompanied by one of the Veldatha, who would notify the allies if the Lithmern appeared to be moving before they were expected.
The other wizards remained in Brenn. Beside providing a means of communication with both Eveleth and Coldwell Pass, the Veldatha were experimenting cautiously with ways of piercing the black curtain that hid Lithra from their spells. Similar attempts were underway in Eveleth, and the two groups communicated daily regarding the success or failure of their various trials.
The few reports that trickled out of Lithra were highly disturbing. In the second week after the Battle of Brenn, a small group of Lithmern were intercepted at Coldwell Pass. They proved to be farmers and tradesmen, refugees fleeing the terror of the Shadow-born. Murn questioned them closely and sent them to Brenn under guard while the little group at the pass prepared for a torrent of fugitives that never materialized.
The deficiency of refugees was nearly as disturbing as the tale the successful escapees told on reaching Brenn. Herre’s guess had been correct; the Shadow-born had grown too powerful for the Lithmern sorcerers to hold. They were free at last, and rapidly molding Lithra to form of their own choosing.
Whispers of an army of soulless ones began to circulate. The soldiers of Brenn, who had been more than a little uneasy with the Shee and the Wyrds, began to look with more favor on their magical allies. The troops that the other nobles of Alkyra were sending would be welcome, but if they were going to face magic, the Brenn soldiers felt more comfortable with a little magic on their own side, even though the Shee soldiers were inclined to be arrogant and standoffish when they were not on the battlefield.
The return of Bracor’s messengers was anxiously awaited, but the first to reappear did not bring the hoped-for promise of aid. As the negatives continued to arrive, a cold dread began to envelop the city.
The weather, too, was unseasonably cold. Farmers spat and talked of early snows, and the steward of Styr Tel shook his head anxiously and made daily checks on the great storage bins that held the city’s winter supplies. The army was more cheerful; the consensus was that marching to Coldwell Pass would be much more comfortable in the cooler temperatures than in the high heat that normally prevailed.
Another event that raised the spirits of the army was the arrival of the troops from Meridel at the beginning of the third week. Gabion had wasted no time in fulfilling his part of the agreement. He also reported that he had persuaded at least two other nobles to send support, but that he considered their motives suspect.
The new arrivals were not pleased to find that the rumors of strange beings in Brenn were true. The haughty Shee and the fierce, cheerful Wyrds made them even more uneasy than they had made the army of Brenn. Despite the protests of Gahlon’s officers, Bracor mingled the newcomers with some of the Shee and Wyrds almost at once. “Your men will be fighting magic,” Bracor told the angry officers. “The sooner they become accustomed to seeing it about them, the better chance we have to win this war.”
The veterans of the Battle of Brenn scoffed openly at the qualms of the Meridel men, which did little to improve their tempers. “You wait until you see them Lithmern marching up all long and nasty,” a Brenn soldier told the newcomer with whom he was sharing evening sentry duty just outside the eastern walls. “You’ll be glad then of some a them furry ones with the bows, no mistake.”
“Huh,” said the other man skeptically. “I ain’t never going to be glad of them creatures. Or them snooty, slanty-eyed ones.”
“Then you’ll be heading back for Meridel afore that moon gets full again,” the Brenn man said pointing at the half circle of Elewyth that was just rising over the river. “Lord Bracor don’t want nobody along what ain’t friendly with them magic folks.”
“You mean to say I marched here double-time from Meridel just to turn around and march back?” the other said indignantly.
“That’s what I hear,” the first man said.
“That ain’t no way to run a war,” the Meridel man said fervently. “It just ain’t—what’s that?
“What?” The Brenn man spun, looking carefully around. “I don’t see nothing.”
“I heard something, by the river,” the other sentry said.
The first man looked again, then shook his head. “You’re nervy, that’s what,” he said. “There ain’t nothing—” He stopped in mid-sentence, and his jaw dropped.
The shining ribbon that was the river was swirling and boiling near the bank, though an instant before it had been calm. The surface broke, and sheets of liquid moonlight streamed from three figures standing waist deep in the shallow water near the riverbank. Each held a slender spear, and even when the water had ceased running from their shoulders, the figures gleamed in the moonlight.
The two sentries stared; finally the Brenn man stepped forward. “H-halt and state your b-business,” he said.
There was a laugh like wind on crystal chimes, and the foremost figure said, “If this is Brenn, there is work for us here. I am Larissalama of the Neira; I believe your Lord Bracor expects us.”
“That’s as may be,” the sentry said austerely, having somewhat recovered from his surprise. “I’ll send a message, but I can’t let you into the city without I get orders.”
The laugh rang once more. “Send your message; we shall wait.”
Near the end of the third week of preparations, Bracor summoned Har and Maurin to his study. They arrived to find Bracor and Herre deep in conversation. Har coughed ostentatiously and Bracor looked up.
“Come in; seat yourselves,” he said, waving to the other chairs. “We have been waiting.”
“Not too long, I hope,” Har said. “We came as soon as the message reached us.
“Commendable promptness,” said Herre dryly. Har looked at the Shee commander curiously, then turned back to his father. “What did you want to see us about?
“I would like you and Maurin to return to Eveleth,” Bracor said. He glanced aside at Herre who frowned but made no comment. “I want you to escort Alethia when she leaves.”
“There is so much to do here!” Har said, a little dismayed. “Surely she could stay until after we… have finished with the Lithmern. Unless…” He looked at Herre.
“No, this is not my suggestion,” Herre said, a bit abruptly. “Alethia is welcome in Eveleth for as long as she wishes.”
“Then I would think Eveleth a safer place for her than Brenn,” Maurin put in diffidently.
“Eveleth may be safe, but I would prefer more distance between Alethia and the Shadow-born,” Bracor replied. “Especially since the Veldatha and most of the Shee troops will be with us at Coldwell Pass, and not at Eveleth. And by now the Shadow-born know they can find her in Eveleth. You must remove her.”
“But is Brenn likely to be any safer?” Har pointed out.
“I do not intend for you to bring Alethia to Brenn,” Bracor said. “You will travel from Eveleth to Wentholm.”
> “I do not approve of this move,” Herre put in. “But I will give you a small guard until you reach Eveleth. We have few men to spare, you understand.” The Shee Commander rose and bowed gracefully. “I must go; there are other claims on my attention.”
When the door had closed behind Herre, Har shook his head slightly. “But why—” he began, then stopped and bit his lip.
“You were chosen for the obvious reasons,” Bracor said, smiling. “You have been to Eveleth, and I can trust you. I do not want Alethia to escape the Lithmera only to be held hostage by some angry Alkyran lord.”
“Is that really to be feared?” Maurin asked.
“Unfortunately, I think it is,” said Bracor. “I did not really believe that the Conclave of First Lords was so lost to reason that they could not see the threat that the Lithmern pose, but most of the nobles who have sent replies seem to think Brenn is the threat, not Lithra.”
“Surely the Regent can make them see reason.”
Bracor shrugged. “Perhaps, but it will be a month yet before we know how he sees matters, and by then it will make no difference. Either the Lithmern will be defeated, or they will be overrunning Alkyra; in either case our claims are proven.”
“Have none of the lords any sense?” demanded Har.
“A few,” said his father with a wry smile. “First Lord Thielen of Wentholm is sending us four thousand men; I only hope they arrive in time.”
“That is why you are sending Alethia to Wentholm!” exclaimed Har in sudden enlightenment.
Bracor nodded. “Nonetheless, Gahlon has made me cautious, and I want at least a few there whom I know I can trust. Isme and Tatia will be leaving in a few days. I have already made the arrangements.”
But when the gentle Lady of Brenn was informed of her husband’s plans, she flatly refused to leave the city. She had no objection to sending Tatia to a safer place, but she herself would remain in Brenn. “How would it look for the Lady of Brenn to flee before danger is even close?” she asked.
“Close!” exclaimed Bracor in exasperation. “I would think a siege of the city more than close enough to suit you.
“But the siege has been lifted,” Isme pointed out. “Besides, who will take charge of Brenn while you are gone? The city does not run itself.”
Bracor sighed. “I want you and Tatia in a safer place than this,” he said after a moment. “If the Lithmern defeat us at Coldwell, Brenn will be the first city to fall.”
“If you are defeated at Coldwell Pass, it will not matter where I am,” Isme said. “And if I am here, you will not have to leave one of the Veldatha in Brenn to let you know what is happening.”
“Isme—” Bracor shook his head. “I suppose there is no help for it; I can hardly force you to go.”
“I am glad you see the wisdom of my viewpoint,” Isme said serenely.
Her husband tried unsuccessfully to repress a smile. “It takes very little wisdom to realize that if I did try to compel you, you would find some way out of it.”
“Very likely,” Isme said. “But send Tatia by all means.” She stroked her youngest child’s braids reflectively as she spoke. Tatia was seated in Isme’s lap, playing with a string of colored beads, but at her mother’s touch she looked up.
“Won’t go,” she said matter-of-factly, and returned to her beads.
“Of course you will go, Tatia,” Isme said. “You would like to travel all by yourself, wouldn’t you? And Wentholm is a very pretty place, and you will meet Alethia there.
“ ’Lethia’s not going to Wentholm,” Tatia announced. “So I’m not either.”
Bracor burst out laughing. “It seems no one in this family can be convinced to move out of danger! But you at least will go to Wentholm, Tatia, if only to get you out of your mother’s way.”
“Won’t go!” Tatia reiterated, eyeing her parents with a decidedly martial light in her eyes. Having had experience with Tatia’s tantrums, Isme thought it best to postpone further discussion, and effectively ended the conversation by carrying Tatia off to bed.
Har and Maurin left for Eveleth the next day. Word of Isme’s refusal to leave the city was already circulating. “And I doubt we’ll have any better luck with Alethia, once she knows what we’re there for,” Har told Maurin as they rode through Brenn. “She can be more stubborn than Mother!”
“Alethia has a good deal of sense,” Maurin said. “I don’t think we’ll have as much trouble as you fear.”
“Sure, and every grain of sense she has will tell her that Wentholm is no safer than Eveleth, and maybe less,” retorted Har. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she insisted on going to Coldwell Pass to be with the army. Father must be batty to think we can persuade her.”
With this unfilial observation, Har turned his horse, and the two men rode out of Brenn to meet the Shee guardsmen Herre had assigned to them.
Chapter 18
FOR ALETHIA, THE WEEKS had flown by on wings. She progressed quickly from simple, spells of illusion to more difficult magic, though her teachers refused to let her try any truly great enchantments. She learned the basic laws of power, as well as some of the abuses to be avoided, and for the first time she began to understand why Jordet had refused her request to use magic to start a fire with wet wood on the trip to Eveleth.
The strange clarity of sight that Alethia had experienced on awakening from her attempt to use the firestone as a focus came and went erratically, growing more pronounced as the days went by. She soon learned that she possessed more than sharpened eyesight, for when the talent awoke during one of the lessons Alethia found that she could see the lines of power that Clasiena was calling on to demonstrate a simple spell.
After that, Alethia quickly discovered that she could see power, and sometimes even the relationships that were so important to spell-casting. The ability often enabled her to bypass the endless chains of rules that Illeana and Clasiena gave her to memorize, but the spell-sight was unpredictable, so she made herself continue the dull chore of memorizing Clasiena’s lists.
Her Shee teachers were astonished by Alethia’s newfound talent, and they began to encourage her to use it as much as she could in an attempt to discover just how she did it. Efforts to duplicate the effect by having Shee use a firestone as a focus failed completely. Several attempts to achieve similar results with Tamsin also failed, and the Shee were reluctantly forced to conclude that Alethia’s mixed parentage gave her some sort of ability that neither race alone possessed.
In spite of his failure with the firestone, Tamsin, too, was learning. Alethia spent much of her spare time helping him get the feel of the simple spells Clasiena and Illeana taught them, and being tutored in her turn in the long, intricate lists that the minstrel found so much easier to memorize than she. Tamsin had a knack for the spell-chants that amazed the Shee, and he was passionately interested in learning about the Shee, about Eveleth, and about magic.
At the end of the first week, news of the Battle of Brenn arrived. Almost at once, both of Alethia’s teachers were summoned to assist the other Veldatha in their attempts to descry the movements of the Lithmern army. The Shee women did not, however, neglect the lessons, which surprised both Alethia and Tamsin until the minstrel remembered the importance that the Shee attached to Firivar’s vague prophecy. Even so, Alethia could not help wondering whether she would have had quite as many lists to memorize if Clasiena and Illeana had not been so busy with their other duties.
Alethia’s favorite spot for study was perched atop a low wall in the gardens, where she was out of sight of the palace. By the beginning of her fourth week in Eveleth, she had securely established her preference for solitude, so when study of a singularly dull treatise was interrupted by a shout echoing across the garden, Alethia simply ignored the noise.
The shout was repeated, and this time Alethia looked up in mingled annoyance and surprise. A moment later she flung the book down from the wall and leaped after it. “Har! Maurin!”
“It’s about time you saw u
s!” Har said as they came up to her. “What is so fascinating?”
“When did you get here?” Alethia asked, ignoring his question.
“About an hour ago,” Har told her. “We’ve been delivering messages and seeing the horses stabled. And looking for you, I might add.”
“An hour! And you let me sit here alone all that time and didn’t come?” Alethia said. “I don’t believe you were looking. Everyone knows I sit out here in the afternoon; you couldn’t have been looking very hard, anyway.”
Alethia retrieved her book, and the three started slowly back toward the palace. Alethia was full of questions about the battle, and Har and Maurin were so engrossed in answering her that none of them saw Tamsin until he was almost upon them.
“Greetings! Clasiena told me you had arrived,” the minstrel said as he reached the group. He looked at Alethia. “Now you must make your decision.”
Maurin frowned, but Har only looked at the minstrel and said, “Decision? What decision? Father sent us to bring Alethia to Wentholm; why should she have to decide anything?”
“Wentholm!” Alethia broke in. “Why does he want me to go to Wentholm? If I am not to go to Brenn, why shouldn’t I stay here?”
“We think the Lithmern army is planning to cut through the mountains at Coldwell Pass,” said Maurin. “We are going to try to ambush them there, but they are very strong. If we lose, the Lithmern and Shadow-born will be within two days march of Eveleth should they turn north.”
“Yes, and Father wants you further away than that,” Har said. “He’s sending Tatia, too; she’s probably already left.”
“And Mother?” Alethia asked sweetly.
Shadow Magic Page 19
