He jerked to a halt, halfway through the doors as there was a sudden shock, like a pinprick inside his head, and a shrill keening sound from behind him. He spun about and realized it was coming from his tent. An instant later, he remembered the warning spells he had set. He gave a shout for his guards and then ran back to where his daughter was sleeping.
* * * * *
Kareen was drifting off into a warm, pleasant sleep when the noise slashed through the blankets like a knife and jarred her awake. When Thelena had first come over to her and lay down next to her and talked, she had been very tense. She knew what she had been suggesting, and she had not known what might happen. But nothing had happened, and snuggling had felt very warm and very nice, and her apprehension had dissolved into their comforting embrace.
Now, there was a piercing shriek filling the tent, and she thrashed madly to get free of the furs and blankets and Thelena’s flailing limbs. She managed to sit up and look about, trying to find the source of the noise. In the red glow of the dying fire, she saw two shapes which did not belong there. They were over on the side of the tent Atark normally occupied, but neither one was Atark. One snarled a curse when it saw the two women; the other was frantically rummaging through Atark’s things.
“Kill them!” snarled the second one. The first one moved to block the tent’s exit and the firelight flickered off a long knife blade.
“Thelena! Watch out!” cried Kareen.
But Thelena did not need the warning. She dodged to one side as the man advanced on her and threw a blanket over him. He tore it aside in an instant, but the women used the seconds to grab up sturdy lengths of wood from the pile next to the fire. Kareen stood shoulder to shoulder with Thelena, and when the man came at them again, they beat him back with a flurry of blows. A strange exhilaration filled Kareen, in spite of her fear: she had struck a Kaifeng! Hurt him, too, from the sounds of his cursing. True, she was fighting to protect her qoyen, but it still felt very good. She wanted to do it again!
“Come on, you bastard!” she cried, holding the stick high.
The man advanced more warily this time. The women swung at him but missed as he pulled back. Kareen glanced to see what the other man was doing. He still seemed to be looking for something. She also saw that there was a hole through the rear of the tent—so that was how they got in!
The man lunged again. Kareen gave him a solid whack on the shoulder, but then he slammed his elbow into her and she fell back onto the blankets with the wind knocked out of her. She saw Thelena hit the man, but then he grabbed her stick and yanked it out of her hands. He raised his dagger to strike.
“Thelena!” gasped Kareen.
But before the blade could fall, there was a bright flash and the man was engulfed in flames, filling the tent with a hellish light. Atark was standing in the door of the tent, and he was burning the intruder just as Kareen had seen him do to the other man months before. The man shrieked and whirled about and then tripped and fell in a burning heap. Thelena leaped back to escape the fire. Kareen scrambled to her feet and ran to Thelena’s side.
A shout from her left pulled her attention away from the burning man. The other one was standing a few yards away. He was holding Atark’s wooden box out in front of him and screaming at Atark. Kareen gasped when she recognized the gray-bearded man who had questioned her two weeks earlier! He had wanted the box and now he had it! Atark stood there, and a glowing fire was in his hands. It looked to Kareen that the man was trying to shield himself with the box. What could be in it that was so precious?
It seemed as though Atark was hesitating to use his magic. Was he afraid of hurting the box or its contents? The man started edging toward the hole in the tent. But then several guards crowded into the tent behind Atark. One of them had a bow and Atark barked a command. The guard, in one fluid motion, drew and fired, and an arrow was suddenly in the gray-bearded man’s eye.
The man didn’t make a sound. He twitched and fell. The box tumbled from his hands and bounded toward the two women. Kareen yelped when the lid popped open and something bounced out. Her yelp became a shriek when a human skull, with purple fire in the eye sockets, rolled to a stop at Thelena’s feet and grinned up at her.
Chapter Nineteen
The warship gave one last, stomach-churning lurch and then slid past the breakwater into the harbor of Zamerdan. Jarren gave a sigh of relief and slightly loosened his death-grip on the railing. The voyage back to Zamerdan had been nearly as harrowing as the voyage back to Erebrus. Nearly. No one had fired a pistol into his belly on this voyage. He pressed one hand to where the wound had been, but he could feel no pain. Idira had somehow repaired the wound completely, although there was still a faint scar on the skin. He had no experience with such things, but Colonel Krasner, Brother Thaddius, and the ship’s surgeon had informed him that wounds like that were almost invariably fatal. Idira, on the other hand, had told him repairing such wounds was almost routine—although she, herself, had never actually healed one.
He was very glad that Idira had been the one who was right.
“We here to stay?” asked Gez from beside him.
“For a while, I would think,” answered Jarren. “The winter, anyway. And you are free to leave my service if you want to, Gez. There is nothing forcing you to stay with me.”
“Ah, I’ll stay on if you’ll have me, mister. The pay is pretty good—and I sure can’t say it’s been boring!”
“Then you still have a job, Gez. Although, come spring, there is no telling where I might be off to.”
“Spring’s a long ways off. I’ll worry about that when the time comes. Gods, it’s cold out here!”
Jarren looked up as Idira came to the rail with Thad trailing her like a puppy. The priest had spent nearly every waking hour talking to Idira about her healing abilities. “Zamerdan!” she exclaimed. “It has been a long, long time since I was last here. But things do not appear to have changed a great deal.”
“I have never been here,” said Lyni, who had come after the other two, “nor do I wish to be here now.”
“Give it a chance, Lyni. There are so many interesting things to be found in any city, and Zamerdan is one of the great ones. Art, music, the theater: I missed them on our lonely island. Jarren knows all about such things, I’m sure, perhaps he could give us a tour.”
“I’d be honored to,” said Jarren, but Lyni simply scowled at him and moved away.
“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”
“She’s just tired,” said Idira. “She spent half the voyage calming the weather, and that takes a lot out of her.”
“It is amazing what she can do.”
“She’s one of the strongest magickers to come to us in many years. She will be truly great one day.”
“How about you, Idira? You must be tired, too. You spent half the voyage treating injured sailors.”
“Just broken bones and cracked ribs. Common enough things for the kind of voyage we have faced, I understand. Such things don’t cost me as much as healing a bullet wound, Jarren.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I owe you my life, Idira. And the sailors of this ship think you are some kind of saint.”
Thaddius jerked like he had been struck and Jarren realized he was treading on thin ice.
The woman snorted. “Any healer could have done those things. But then you don’t have healers anymore, do you? I weep to think of all the suffering that could be avoided if there were more of us. I have talked with the ship’s surgeon, and while he is a worthy man, I’m appalled at the crude methods he is forced to resort to. Thaddius, here, has far more practical knowledge, but is still terribly handicapped.”
“We do the best we can,” said Thad, “but that seems like a mere trifle compared with your powers, Lady Idira. I am unsure what to think now.”
“Surely you can see that her powers cannot have come from demons as church doctrine would have you believe!” exclaimed Jarren.
“My heart agrees with you, Jarren, but you must
understand how difficult this all is to grasp. My world has turned upside-down in the last few weeks, and it will take a while to see what it all means.”
“Well! I can assure you that I have not been consorting with demons!” snorted Idira. “I have a gift. Perhaps it came from the gods, but wherever it came from, I intend to make use of it.”
“Maybe after we deal with the Kaifeng, you can start your school and train more healers,” suggested Jarren.
“That is my hope. Indeed, I am not sure what use I shall be against the Kaifeng. There is no practical reason why I could not learn battle magic, but it goes against my every instinct to use magic to cause harm.”
“We aren’t asking you to use your magic to cause harm,” said Colonel Krasner as he joined the group, “we’re only asking that you stop the Kaif necromancer from doing harm with his magic.”
“I’m aware of that, Colonel,” said Idira. “But you leave out the significant point that if we succeed, it will allow you to kill countless thousands with your muskets and cannons. I realize that this is necessary, but don’t try to tell me that my actions will do no harm.”
“Very well, I won’t. As long as you are willing to help, you have my thanks.”
“Assuming we are able to help. We still have no real answer, you realize.”
“I realize that, Idira, but you cannot go around telling that to people,” said Krasner, glancing around to make sure no one could overhear them. “We must proceed as we agreed to.”
Everyone looked uneasy. Jarren could feel the same thing inside him. During the entire voyage back, they had been living a carefully crafted deception. The commodore and his officers and all the ambassadors had welcomed them back to Erebrus like conquering heroes. They all assumed that the wizards had the means to stop the Kaifeng, and Krasner had insisted that they do nothing to disabuse them of the notion. Not a word was said about the death of Dauros or Stephanz’s coup or the imprisonment or the escape. As far as anyone was concerned, the wizards had offered help and sent their three best people to carry it out. On the one hand, Jarren could see that Krasner was correct: to tell the complete truth was to invite panic and it could well blow apart the fragile alliance that was being put together. But on the other hand, if the truth became known later, the damage might be even worse.
“I certainly hope you are right about this, Colonel,” said Idira.
“Hey, lying through my teeth has gotten me this far. Why quit now?”
* * * * *
“Battai is making trouble again, Atark,” said Re-Ka Zarruk. “He insists that at least one shaman from his own tribe be taught your magic.”
Atark snorted in disgust. “How quickly and conveniently he forgets that not one, but two, shamans from his tribe had been learning the magic until they quit—and were then killed while robbing my tent and trying to murder my daughter!”
“Battai claims to have had no knowledge of their plans, and there is no evidence to the contrary. All of the other kas have at least one man being taught by you. Battai is worried that he will have no one that knows the magic in his own camp.”
“And just what does he expect me to do about it?”
“I believe he has a young shaman he would like to include in your class.”
“Wonderful. He’d be starting from scratch and have to try to catch up. Then he’ll get frustrated and quit and it will all be my fault for withholding the ‘great secrets’!” Atark paced back and forth in the small but extremely opulent room, which had once been the Berssian King’s private council chamber.
“Well, do your best,” said Zarruk, who lounged in a gilded chair only slightly more modest than the great throne itself. “How are the others coming, by the way?”
“Most are doing pretty well,” admitted Atark. “All of the ones who are left can at least cast the spell to some extent. A few are actually able to make several score of the seekers.”
“Several score?” said Zarruk, frowning. “That hardly seems like enough to do much good in a battle.”
“No, but it is a good start. They have all they need to succeed. All it will take is more practice to produce more of them. Don’t forget that it took me almost four years to build up to the strength I have now.”
“That is good. When the time comes, they can go out with some of the smaller columns and get battle experience. By the time the campaign starts in earnest, they will be ready. And, as we both know, the main thing is to keep the other kas happy.”
“Yes. Have you decided what our plan is to be in the spring?”
“Only in general terms,” said Zarruk. He pointed to a beautiful map, which covered one wall. “Heguria is the closest large kingdom to where we are. Since it is farther south, we could start the campaign there earlier in the year. There would be some rivers and rough terrain and forests to get past, but I hope we could get through to their capital city in a few months. After that, I’m not sure. We could turn north into the heart of the east, or continue along the southern coastline. The map indicates a number of cities that way, too.”
“What about the Varags?”
Zarruk looked at Atark and shook his head. “I’m sorry, old friend, but the Varags will have to wait for another day. They have little of value, and the warriors are not going to be content with burning villages and stealing cattle when all the glittering wealth of the east lies ready to be seized. By the time we are ready to move, three-quarters of the men will be newcomers who missed out on the sack of Berssenburg. If we cannot give them new cities to plunder, the army will fall apart.”
Atark frowned, but he did not argue. He had expected this answer, and he knew that Zarruk was correct. It was true: the Varags could wait for another day. After the carnage he had wreaked on them last fall, they would be cowering in whatever holes they could find. They would make no trouble. “Very well.”
Zarruk leaned back in his chair, pointed again to the map, and sighed. “The east is a big place, my friend, bigger than I ever supposed when we started this war. We shall not take it all in a single year, or even three, I am thinking. And even supposing we do conquer every kingdom, what then? How can anyone hope to rule such an area?”
“I would not presume to instruct my re-a in matters of rulership,” said Atark.
“Bah! Don’t give me that! You have instructed me for nearly five years now, and I am deeply grateful for every word. I will always need your advice.”
“I’m honored. But, sadly, I have little advice to give. I am as new to this situation as you are. I can only suggest that we smash every army and sack every city that we can and see what happens afterward.”
Zarruk laughed long and loud. “I can tell you what will happen: we shall be crushed under the weight of our own loot! I have more wealth here already than I ever imagine existed in the entire world. What else could I possibly want?”
“Are you suggesting we stop, my lord?”
“No, of course not, how could we? The new tribes will demand loot, and if we cannot let them take it from the Easterners, they will try to take it from us. And it will only get worse. The scouts report that there are scores upon scores upon scores of tribes just beyond the mountains. As soon as the snows melt, they will be coming here to join the great conquest.” Zarruk paused and got up from his chair. He walked over to the lovely map and drove his knife into the center of it.
“We couldn’t stop now if we wanted to.”
* * * * *
“So, Colonel Krasner, I trust that the wizards are satisfied with their accommodations?” asked General DeSlitz.
Matt looked at the man who was now his commanding officer. He was a Zollerhan general of great prestige, not the annoying twit Matt had met at the first conference, but a real commander with a real combat record. He had been appointed to lead the combined army that was being assembled to fight the Kaifeng. So far, he had not given Matt any reason to dislike him.
“Actually, no, sir. The rooms themselves are as luxurious as anyone could want, but they tell
me they need a place outside of the city where they can conduct some experiments with the fireflies. They say it would be too dangerous to work here in the city: if any of the fireflies escaped, they might do terrible damage, considering all the gunpowder in the vicinity.”
DeSlitz nodded. “There are a number of estates outside the city; I’ll speak to the princes about securing one for their use.”
“Experiments, Colonel?” asked Brigadier Saginau, DeSlitz’s chief of staff. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Matt hesitated. This was getting into dangerous territory. How much could he risk telling these people? He was confident he could spin some yarn that would satisfy the immediate question, but was that the right thing to do? It was vital to keep all the kings and princes and dukes (not to mention all the people they ruled) confident in victory, but what about the generals who led the army? Matt remembered how confident the Berssian generals had been—and what that had led to. So, perhaps not the whole truth, but enough of it to keep these men properly worried.
“Sir, you have to keep in mind that these wizards are not warriors. They have lived peacefully on their little island for centuries. While they are powerful and have a great deal of knowledge, this is a crisis far different from anything they’ve ever dealt with. They tell me that it will take them some time—and some experimentation—to devise the proper means to deal with the Kaifeng sorcerer. I’m sure you all realize that it will not be as simple as them waving a magic wand and making the enemy vanish—in spite of what some of the people in this city might think.”
The frowns and expressions of alarm from around the general’s conference table told Matt that some of them had been expecting exactly that. He was relieved to see that DeSlitz was not one of them. Instead, he nodded.
“Yes, Colonel, I quite understand. At best, we can expect the wizards to neutralize the enemy magic. Fighting—and winning—the battle will be up to us!”
The men around the table nodded and Matt felt relieved. “But winning it is going to be no easy job, gentlemen,” continued DeSlitz. “Creating this combined army is a task unlike anything ever attempted before. We have contingents promised from nearly every principality in the east. Only the damn Eparans are holding out.”
Fires of Memory Page 42
