As Bannon roped up, Elsa showed him the spell-form drawn on the damp sheet of paper. “If other wizards can lay down smaller boundary runes around the enemy army, as well as a central anchor rune, I can link all of them to this much larger design painted on the cliffs. Then I can transfer from the bluffs and the Killraven River right out to the middle of the general’s forces.”
“Transfer what?” Bannon asked. “Water?”
“The river and the stone have something far more destructive than just water.” Her eyes twinkled. “Heat, a great reservoir of heat. I could drain all the heat from the river for as much as a mile in either direction, and I can suck the heat from these rocks and dump it all into the middle of the battlefield from the anchor point of the connected runes. But first we need to have the primary spell-form painted large and bold. That’s the important part for now. We need to be ready in a day or two for the main assault.”
Bannon had never understood or attempted magic, but always fought with his sword. Right now, though, he would continue the battle with a paintbrush.
“Over the edge with you, young man,” Elsa said once he had all the ropes tied around him. “As soon as this is completed, we will hit General Utros again. Their army is in shambles, and after the terrible thing they did to High Captain Stuart…” A stormy expression crossed her face. “We are not inclined to show them much mercy.”
Bannon checked the rope again. In the drizzle, the thick cord was wet in his hands, but the knots were tight. He backed toward the edge of the sheer drop-off holding a bucket of paint in his right hand. “I will do my part.”
“Just paint the lines you see. So long as the projection magic keeps the design in place, the rune is clearly marked. You won’t have any trouble.”
The cold mist clung to him like a sheen of sweat. Determined, he lowered himself over the edge, taking care not to spill the paint. He found small handholds and footholds in the sandstone, then a narrow carved walkway.
After a quick glance at the dizzying drop, he focused on the rock in front of him. The rain picked up, but he kept descending toward the obvious mark of Elsa’s giant rune. He was glad Lila wasn’t watching him today. Instead, she was continuing to train prospective swordfighters for the charge of separate strike forces that Elsa’s plan would require.
Dangling on the rope, he reached the proper position near the sluice chute where river water flowed upward into the aqueducts. The shimmering design hovered on the rock. Bannon dipped the brush into the bucket and smeared a wide line of red paint on the sandstone. The paint was thick enough to stick to even the rain-wet rock, and Bannon covered the appropriate spot. He swung like a pendulum, back and forth, to reach more of the design. He dipped the brush into the bucket and slapped red along the projected line.
Across the cliff face, he watched his fellow volunteers hanging in their cradles, standing on narrow platforms, gripping rickety rails so they could lean out and paint farther along the lines. Many parts of the grand design were already coming together.
One of the workers leaned too far and slipped on the rain-slick wood. He yelped, and his bucket tumbled over the edge, splashing red paint like blood as it fell toward the river. The man managed to hook his arm around the scaffolding, while the rest of his body dangled free. He kicked his legs and flailed his other arm, but no one was close enough to help him. After a few tense seconds, the man levered himself back onto the scaffold, where he hunched on his hands and knees, panting to recover.
From above, Elsa looked down, her face filled with concern. When it was clear the man was safe, she yelled, “None of the paint got on the cliff. The spell-form is intact!” She called into the loading tunnels. “Bring that man another bucket. We need to finish.”
Bannon checked the knots on his harness and anchored his foot on a hard lump of rock for greater stability. He held the wet rope with one hand and brushed more paint with the other.
* * *
That night, knowing that the giant rune would be completely painted within the next day, Elsa met with Nathan and the leaders of six separate groups of volunteers who believed in her plan. She joined them in the torch-lit ruling chamber, making them gather around the stone tables where she drew on a large unrolled sheet of paper. “Here is how we will use transference magic to hurt General Utros.”
Nathan smiled at her in encouragement, admiring the scope of her plan. With precise instinctive motions, she described the complex spell-form on the cliff and the unique design of the boundary runes she had developed for this exact purpose. “This,” she said, tapping the paper. “Burn it into your minds.” It was a circle with internal loops bounded by a triangle. “With transference magic, each rune, each spell-form, has a certain grammar, a kind of punctuation that must be exact. I won’t explain what every curve and line means. Just know that you cannot make a mistake.”
Oron, Olgya, and three other gifted nobles would lead the satellite teams. Julian was one of Olgya’s primary silk merchants. The second gifted volunteer, Leo, was a short, effeminate man who managed two yaxen slaughterhouses and who had a remarkable control over his own magic. The third, Perri, was a meek-looking, middle-aged woman. She was a shaper, like Damon, and she manipulated the vines in the bloodwine vineyards to produce a larger harvest. These five team leaders had all sworn to use their skills to help Elsa’s plan.
“You will each be responsible for drawing one of these satellite runes—five boundary spell-forms—and they must be exact.” Elsa looked at each gifted leader to make sure they understood. “Your boundary runes will encircle the zone of destruction. Each of your teams will have a fighter escort to lead you to your respective positions around the valley. Nathan will accompany me, because we will face the hardest fighting to place the anchor rune in the center of the camp.” Her voice cracked. “We will mark the center point to connect the boundary runes. This complex of symbols will magnify and draw from the single huge design painted on the cliffs above the river.”
Nathan said to her softly, “I have no doubt you will save us all.”
Knowing the risks, the duma had decided not to send out all of their wizards, however. If Elsa’s attempt met with disaster, then no one would remain to defend the city. Damon and Quentin had offered to stay behind. Nathan also knew that he would find a way to keep Bannon safe behind the walls. The young man would want to volunteer to become part of a strike force, and he had certainly proven his mettle on the battlefield, but he had already been captured and nearly killed by the ancient army. Nicci wasn’t here, and Nathan would see to it that the young man remained inside the walls. Elsa’s plan had more than enough volunteers, and he knew he could convince Lila to keep Bannon safe. The morazeth wouldn’t risk him either.
As he thought of the upcoming mission, Nathan forced good cheer, more for Elsa’s benefit than for anyone else. He looked at the gathered volunteers, the powerful wizards who believed in her proposal. He brushed his hands together. “When Nicci returns, I will be quite pleased to tell her that we managed to defeat General Utros while she was gone.”
CHAPTER 72
Serrimundi sprawled across low hills surrounding a harbor that was crowded with tall sailing ships and fishing boats. Closely built homes lined the slopes that had been forested at one time. Serrimundi was an ancient city, and all that remained of the untamed woods were spacious parks. Wide canals guided water between the hills and into the bay. Boatmen poled shallow vessels along the canals, delivering supplies or ferrying people.
From a high point in the hills as Nicci stared across the rolling streets, the dark tile roofs, the whitewashed buildings, she acknowledged that Serrimundi was indeed a beautiful city. And entirely vulnerable.
When she emerged from the sliph, Nicci coughed and sucked in a deep breath. She realized that the sliph had not admonished her to “Breathe!” As she regained her balance, she turned to see the silvery figure staring at her with a hard expression. Without even acknowledging that she had delivered her passenger, the moody creat
ure dropped back into her well and retreated into the unfathomable depths.
Nicci found herself in the open sunlight on a hill above the harbor. The sliph well was part of an unoccupied open-air temple with fluted support pillars. Tall urns filled with fresh-cut flowers were arranged across the tiled floor. A platter of overripe fruit sat on an altar, an offering to some god or goddess that had apparently gone unheeded for days. Dry leaves skittered across the floor, and birds chirped in the vines overhead.
Nicci turned to see a statue of a revered woman with long, flowing locks of hair, like the waves on the sea. Her hands extended as if calling supplicants. Nicci had seen a similar statue before, a giant carving on a cliff at the mouth of Serrimundi Harbor. The Sea Mother.
On Chiriya Island, Bannon had been brought up to worship the Sea Mother, and the religion was common along the coast of the Old World. It was generally compatible with the prevalent belief in spirits and the underworld, which Nicci knew to be true because of her direct experience with the Keeper. She decided this must be an isolated temple to the Sea Mother.
Strangely, the goddess bore a striking similarity to the sliph. Nicci wondered if some gullible observer, thousands of years ago, had seen the quicksilver woman emerge from the well, delivering travelers who secretly served Emperor Sulachan. Could that have been the inspiration for the Sea Mother’s appearance and the huge statue on the cliff?
Though empty, the temple was obviously still used. Supplicants to the Sea Mother generally made their sacrifices in the open ocean, but if the original sliph well was up here, someone would have built a temple to mark that spot. Gardens spread out beyond the temple, and stone footpaths wound in haphazard directions, as if supplicants were expected to walk a contemplative path before they arrived at the altar.
Nicci heard voices and saw figures passing among tall hedges, approaching the open temple. Since she didn’t want to explain where she had come from, she departed down a different path, making her way toward the residential buildings closer to the harbor.
She reached the crowded streets where women sat outside sewing garments and men toiled at craft benches. Some of the people acknowledged her as she walked past. The inhabitants of Serrimundi were not suspicious, not even curious about the stranger. Nicci’s black dress was different from the style of their own clothes, but she realized that the bustling harbor city must see many foreigners.
She had been here once before, when she and Nathan sailed south from Tanimura aboard the Wavewalker. Back then, they were simply traveling the Old World as emissaries for the D’Haran Empire. Nicci had briefly met the harborlord, a man named Otto, when Captain Eli Corwin took on more supplies. She decided to start with the harborlord and deliver her warning.
She walked along one of the canals until a boatman drifted by and offered her a ride. Nicci didn’t mind walking, but she was in a hurry, and so she accepted. As she balanced on the boat while the man poled them along, she scanned the hills, buildings, commercial districts, orchards. Serrimundi was open, thriving. They would be entirely unprepared if General Utros’s invading army crashed into the city.
Serrimundi had been mostly unscathed by the Imperial Order, and now she could see they were too complacent. She would have to change their mind-set.
Eventually, she reached the offices of the harborlord, near the water’s edge. Clerks inside the harborlord’s office kept detailed ledgers of all ships that entered Serrimundi Harbor, along with notations of their captains, their primary cargo, and their ports of origin. Three older men with nearly identical fringes of short white hair around their bald skulls sat squinting over their books.
One of the men glanced up at Nicci, squinted as if she were more difficult to see than the notations in his leather-bound ledger. “Harborlord Otto isn’t here, miss. He went down to meet a ship. His daughter’s just been betrothed to Captain Ganley.”
“Which ship?” Nicci asked. “I will find him on the docks.”
“The Mist Maiden,” said one of the other men. “He should be there.”
Nicci set off along the harbor’s edge, carrying the cloth-wrapped rectangle of glass that showed the vast ancient army. She passed a foul-smelling krakener, whose hull was permeated with the slime of the tentacled sea creatures they hunted. One ship had just pushed off from its dock and drifted away from the crowded piers, heading toward the mouth of the harbor, where waves crashed against a rock outcropping that stood like a sentinel. A towering female figure had been carved there, a woman bursting from the raw rock, the Sea Mother. Again, Nicci recognized the familiar features of the sliph.
The Mist Maiden was a three-masted cargo ship, even larger than the Wavewalker. Its sails were tied up, and thick hawsers lashed the hull against the largest pier in the harbor. The ship’s crew had already disembarked except for a handful of men still lounging aboard on the open deck. Large crates of cargo had been stacked while workers and carters hauled the goods away. Merchants squabbled over the division of the shipment.
Nicci recognized Harborlord Otto as he strolled down the gangplank of the Mist Maiden. He walked with a spring in his step, adjusting his floppy leather hat that she remembered from before. On the deck of the Mist Maiden, she saw a young woman talking to the bearded captain and guessed it might be Otto’s daughter, Shira. The young woman had lost her husband, Captain Corwin, when the Wavewalker was wrecked by the selka. Soon, Shira would be marrying a new husband, Captain Ganley.
The harborlord was hearty, good-humored, and well respected in Serrimundi. If Nicci could enlist Otto as an ally, he would help spread the warning and prepare the city’s defenses.
She called out in a brisk, businesslike voice. “Harborlord, I need to speak with you.”
He turned his caramel-colored eyes to her. “How may I help you?”
“You can help me spread a warning throughout Serrimundi.”
He frowned. “A warning about what?”
“An enemy army, a huge force of ancient soldiers that may eventually move against the Old World. They are far away, laying siege to Ildakar, but Serrimundi must be prepared. Luckily, there is time, if you act.”
Harborlord Otto seemed more puzzled than alarmed by the suggestion. “An enemy army? Do you mean the Imperial Order? We heard that Emperor Jagang is dead and his entire force defeated. What is there to worry about?”
“Yes, Jagang is dead.” Nicci didn’t point out that she herself had killed him. “This is another army, one that served Iron Fang fifteen centuries ago. They were under a spell, but now they are reawakened.”
Otto chuckled. “I’ve heard sailors tell many stories about sea monsters, selka, and krakens. You are having a joke on me.”
Nicci unwrapped the glass and showed him the image of Utros’s army. “It is true. The legendary city of Ildakar is besieged, and regardless of whether they survive or fall, General Utros is likely to continue his conquest. He will eventually come to the coast and Serrimundi. You need to build up your defenses.”
Otto chuckled again. “But Ildakar is on the other side of the world, if it even exists! No one has heard of it in centuries.”
“Ildakar exists, and is not as far away as you might think. The D’Haran Empire has been alerted, and Lord Rahl’s soldiers will be moving south from the Tanimura garrison. Serrimundi needs to help as well.”
The harborlord scoffed. “We don’t fear any invasion. We survived the Imperial Order, miss.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the glass. “How did you get this image?” He tapped the pane with his fingernail as if expecting the figures to dissolve. “Did you come by ship? Which vessel were you aboard?”
“I am a sorceress, and I came by other means,” she said. “You and I met briefly some months ago, when I arrived aboard the Wavewalker. Afterward I sent a message by courier that the ship had been sunk by selka.”
He hung his head, suddenly serious now. “Yes, we received that news. It was tragic.” Otto struggled to recall a name. “You are … Nicci?”
“Yes.”
She held up the glass again. “And you need to listen to me about this army. General Utros has a force as great as the Imperial Order. Sooner or later you will be under attack.”
He frowned as he struggled to recall a conversation. “Now that you mention it, I heard secondhand from a fishing boat that came in this morning, something about one or two coastal villages being destroyed, Effren and one other. But I have no further proof, and I don’t think we should overreact until the news has been verified. Is that what you mean? Is this enemy army attacking the coast?” He pointed toward her pane of glass.
“No. General Utros is far inland, but he will be moving. I promise you, this is a threat. You must prepare.” She could see that her words were not getting through to him.
He nodded distractedly. “Thank you, I will make note of it, but Serrimundi has no standing army. Our harbor is busy, as you can see. Our population is healthy and prosperous. Everyone trades with us. We are not on a war footing.”
“That’s why I came to warn you.” Even though Elsa’s preserved images proved what Nicci said, the sheer distance from Ildakar to Serrimundi made the threat seem a small one, but Utros had already dispatched large portions of his army. If those forces continued marching, needing no supplies of food or water, they could cross the continent more swiftly than anyone expected. “You don’t comprehend the danger, Harborlord. This is not an army to be ignored.”
Otto paused to consider the glass again. “The Sea Mother will protect Serrimundi as she always has. We need not fear an attack.”
Growing frustrated, Nicci wrapped the cloth over the glass, covering the image. “Remember that I warned you.”
As if he didn’t give her a second thought, Otto adjusted his leather hat and strolled down the dock, still smiling. From the deck of the Mist Maiden, his daughter waved and wrapped her arm around the other captain, her fiancé.
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