“Ah, it is so good to see you both again!” she said, when she emerged from Cal’s enthusiastic hug. “Kingswell is very tense, at the moment, very tense. But Yannassia insisted I come here to help out. And you look remarkably well, Drina.” She touched a finger to one cheek, and I relished that little tingle of magic, my mother’s special type of magic, like no other I’d encountered.
“We aren’t exactly relaxed here,” Cal said. “So if you are hoping for a little recreation, you may be disappointed.”
She threw him a sideways look. “Is this one of your jokes?” Then her expression shifted to alarm. “Has something happened?”
“I daresay the message riders passed you on the road, so you won’t have heard,” I said. “The forward camp has been destroyed, and I have shut down the supplies camp in case of attack. We are all safer within the defences.”
The rest of the hours of sun were spent telling her all the details, as she listened with one hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Then we had to catch up with the news from Kingswell. Yannassia was much better, it seemed, but the nobles were in disarray over the proposal to appoint Axandor as the new Bai-Drashonor.
“And…” Mother hesitated, lowering her eyes. “Perhaps I should not tell you this, but there is a faction that does not like you being war leader, Drina.”
“That does not surprise me,” I said. “The Gurshmontas, I suppose.”
“Amongst others, yes. And there are shortages of some supplies, so there have been protests about that.”
I clucked in annoyance. “Of course there are shortages. The army has commandeered a great amount of wood and metal and horseflesh and other things for the war. That will right itself, in time.”
“True, but there are food shortages, too. Farmers have been moving away from the border, in the expectation of an invasion, so less than usual has been reaching Kingswell.”
I remembered the abandoned fields I’d seen on the ride north, the fields still full of summer’s crops, flattened by the rain. “I will tell the commanders to reduce their orders, then. They can scavenge from the farms. A great deal of it will still be usable.”
And their needs were reduced now, with the forward camp gone, but I didn’t mention that.
~~~~~
For three suns the commanders worked to follow my orders. The supplies camp was closed up, although many of the goods remained in the huts, since there was no room for them within the fortress. I suggested sending some to Kingswell to offset the shortages there, but the commanders were so incensed at the idea that I didn’t insist. There would be time enough over the winter, if the roads were dry enough.
I had all but given up trying to contact Ly-haam. Each sun I sent the eagle out in a different direction, but without success. Perhaps he was beyond my reach, now, too far away for me to detect.
But at night I dreamt of him. Not the quiet, almost shy young man from the island, intent on his cooking, desperately unhappy at what his magic drove him to do. This was another Ly-haam altogether, wild, angry, filled with rage against the world. Wanting nothing but to fall on some creature and tear it apart with bare hands and teeth. No, it was claws. Somehow, Ly had claws in my dreams, claws that dripped with blood.
He had a voice, too, shrieking with rage against the world. Against Bennamore. Against me.
I woke shaking with rage, too, my head full of it. I couldn’t lie beside Arran’s peacefully sleeping form, I had to pace about the room, six steps one way, then six steps back, again and again, until the anger dissipated and I stopped trembling. Then I would sleep again for a while, only to fall back into the same, horrible dream.
And each time it was stronger, the anger was more violent and took me longer to shake off.
“You were upset by what you saw at the forward camp,” Arran said, when he woke to find me practically snarling. “The horror has infected your mind. It will wear off. Come back to bed, and let me kiss away the nightmares.”
But on the third night, the dream was so real, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ly-haam was really out there somewhere, shrieking his defiance at the world.
I reached out for Sunshine, and she, too, was quaking with fear, hunched down on top of one of the watchtowers. Normally she reacted to my calls with pleasure, but not tonight. Instead, she made little peeping noises of distress.
It had become so routine now to search for Ly-haam through the eagle that I did it almost without thinking, and instinctive quick scan, expecting nothing. So I was unprepared for the flood that barrelled into my head, all the violence of my dream but a hundred times stronger, more vivid.
With a scream, I shut down the connection. For an instant, I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart was hammering so hard I could hear it pounding in my skull.
Arran was out of bed and across the room. “Sweetheart, what is it?” He scanned the room, and I realised he carried his sword. “Another dream? Or something else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you hear something?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am sorry.” He placed the sword on a side table, and took me in his arms. “Hush now. Tell me what is bothering you.”
“Like the dream,” I stammered. “More so. Wait. Let me try again.”
I pushed outwards again with my mind, first to the eagle, still full of distress, then beyond… There it was again! It slammed into me like a wall, but this time I was prepared for it. It rocked me, but I let it in, let it wash through me. So much aggression! I had never in my life felt so much anger.
But it was a mind, a human mind, and beneath the pulsing rage, I knew who it was.
Backing away again, I whispered, “Ly-haam. It’s him. He’s close.”
“Close? Where? Can you tell? Can you see?”
Could I force myself to suffer the rage for long enough to see through his eyes? And would he be aware of my presence? But I had to risk it.
Taking a deep breath, I plunged back into that maelstrom, letting it flow through me. Then I searched for vision. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be with Ly-haam, but I’d done it so many times with the eagle that it took no effort at all. As soon as I tried, I could see.
Light. A strange glow, diffuse, with no source. Even though I was somewhere dark, there was a dim light.
I was moving, walking— no, riding. Beneath me was… not a horse, but something else, something huge, with golden fur, striding lithe and strong. More people riding on either side, also riding. Lions! They were riding lions. I could see the manes swinging as they loped along. But my beast – Ly-haam’s beast – had no mane. A lioness, then.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could make out trees around me. Trees with great, tangled roots, black as night. In front of me, the trees swayed, although I heard no sound of wind or leaves or creaking. But the way was blocked. Great masses of roots, all knotted impenetrably together, as thick as a wall and stretching far above my head.
Ly-haam roared. For a moment, I lost sight of the trees as he threw his head back and closed his eyes. All around me came a great surge of noise as Ly’s companions roared in answer, and the lions with them. The cacophony blasted through my head, but I held on, determined not to lose Ly now that I’d found him. His eyes opened and I could see again.
In front of me, the tree roots glowed with a stronger light, and even as I watched, they writhed and untangled themselves and parted to let me through.
And beyond, a different light, more normal, wide and shimmering under the dying moon.
I dropped abruptly back to myself. “The lake!” I screamed, but my voice was no more than a croak. My chest was tight, too tight to breathe, to speak.
“What is it?” Arran said, his face so close it startled me. Behind him, one of my bodyguards, and a couple of soldiers who had been on night guard duty. “What did you see?”
“The lake!” I said, more loudly.
“The lake? This lake?”
“The black-bark forest – they are coming
through the forest. They are here. Now!”
One of the guards swore.
“Alarm!” Arran yelled. “Run!”
They ran. Outside there was shouting, booted feet thundering, more shouting.
I was too shaken to move, but Arran jumped up. “Quick, get dressed! Here!” He tossed a heap of clothes at me, and automatically I began to untangle them, to pull things on. I was almost done when a bell began clanging urgently somewhere up above us.
“Quick, let us get somewhere where we can see!” Arran hissed at me.
He grabbed my hand, and towed me along. He’d had no time for battle mail, but he had his training leathers on, and his sword gleamed in his other hand.
“You need a helm,” I said.
“No time. Come on!”
We ran for the stairs. The corridor was open to the inner ward of the fortress, and everywhere soldiers boiled out of doors, still fastening shirts, leathers, sword-belts. The sword and pike wielders headed for the entrance gate, but we followed the archers upwards to the parapet.
Dawn was just touching the sky with pink and crimson and rain-washed blue, but the moon was still aloft, touching the rippling surface of the lake with shimmering gold.
Arran hurtled along until he found someone pointing. “What is out there?” he yelled. “What do you see?”
“Lions!” the soldier yelled back, eyes wide beneath her helm. “And… other things.” She handed Arran a seeing tube, but I could tell by the gasps as others arrived that whatever she had spotted needed no seeing tube.
Gazing over the parapet wall, at first I could see nothing. The ditch and earthen bank that protected us was empty. Beyond that, the grassy slope churned to mud by the back-and-forth of horsemen over the last few suns. Close to the lake, the deserted huts of the supplies camp, a couple of flags hanging limply in the still air. Then the lake, with its wooded island, and on the far bank, the darkness of the black-bark forest.
In front of it, though, things moved. Many things, emerging like maggots from the darkness, crawling round the end of the lake, then heading straight for us. Lions, many lions, but other creatures too. Great furred beasts, trotting like horses, but far larger. Huge bears, shambling along. Two-legged birds, running on the ground, not flying. A large pig-like creature. Something short and squat, not furred but covered with chitinous plates and horns on its head. A huge long-haired beast rather like a horse. And above them, many birds – eagles like mine, but also a white type, with a golden head, and one with red-brown feathers.
And all of them with a rider, all of them roaring or squealing or shrieking, riders and mounts alike.
Cal and my mother appeared on either side of me.
“No dragons, then,” Cal said. “For a moment there, I thought we were in trouble.”
I couldn’t help laughing at his irrepressible humour. Mother was serious, concentrating, and Arran was busy directing the archers, but Cal was actually enjoying himself, and some of that recklessness imparted itself to me, too. I straightened my back. Perhaps we were all going to die this sun, but we would go down fighting.
And whatever happened, we would be together.
34: Attack
We hadn’t had much warning, but it had been enough. Before the first of the beasts had raced round the end of the lake, past the camp and up the hill towards us, the parapets were crammed with soldiers, still pulling on gear and priming bows. The commanders, squabbles set aside, fell into well-practised routines, directing the defence. And there had been time to raise the bridge across the ditch.
Not that it would stop them for long, but the deep ditch with its rows of wooden spikes and the steep-sided bank were enough to slow the beasts on the ground. They milled about on the far side of the ditch, their riders yelling, slapping or digging spurs into their mounts, urging them onward. The riders looked like insects atop these monsters, lions the size of a wagon, birds many times the height of a man and the pig-like beasts the size of an ox. They roamed back and forth, roaring or screeching, shaking their great heads. But the ditch held them back.
Not the birds, however. They circled over us, shrieking with anger, so close I could see their riders’ faces, red and distorted with rage. The birds swooped around, then fell into steep dives, plucking an archer in vicious claws and then lifting, only to drop their victim far away. Then back in for another.
The archers hit a few, but regular arrows had no effect on them. Only a crossbow bolt could bring one down, and most of the birds were too agile, flitting quickly out of range.
My own eagle was in the sky, too, shrieking furiously at the other birds, trying to chase them away. They seemed bemused, keeping out of her way and not attacking her. I screamed at her to get out of range of the crossbows, but it was some time before I could get her attention. Then, complaining, she landed near me.
Probably I should have been terrified to find myself in the midst of an aerial battle, but I wasn’t. I had my mother, the world’s most powerful mage, on one side of me. I had Cal, almost as powerful, on the other. I had two sturdy bodyguards at my back, fully mailed and armed. And then there was Arran, circling round and round us, sword out, a knife in his other hand, watching for anything that came near me.
It was exciting, not frightening. I was euphoric, and a strange urge to laugh bubbled up inside me. I was invincible! No one could touch me! I threw back my head and shrieked with laughter.
One of the commanders turned and looked at me, appalled. I didn’t care.
After a while, I turned to see what was happening beyond the ditch, but Arran yelled, “Look out!” and Cal grabbed me, pulling me down. I squealed in surprise. A white bird was almost on top of me, but Mother calmly raised one hand and with a scream it wheeled away.
Again I laughed, exhilarated. My mother defending me in battle! Nothing could harm me, when she was here to protect me.
When another bird appeared almost at once, this time I wasn’t startled. The rider was a young woman, her face set in determined lines, concentrating. I wondered if I could see into her mind, and almost before I had the thought I was aware of her, feeling her fear. Feeling her magic.
And then I reached out and took it.
Her face changed, and the bird hovered uncertainly, no longer under direction.
Mother raised her hand.
“Wait!” I yelled.
Too late. The bird screeched and flew away, not circling round, simply heading back towards the forest. Without the bond of magic with its rider, it was following its own instincts.
“What are you doing to them?” I asked Mother.
“Just repelling them. I don’t like to hurt them.”
Cal shook his head at that. “We’re in battle, Kyra. We have to kill or be killed.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I can take their magic. See that one there?” I reached out in my mind. It wasn’t easy, for there were scores of birds flapping and swooping and diving, but I managed to fix on the one I wanted. Then I took his magic.
The eagle had been about to dive, but it stopped, hovering and flapping half-heartedly. I could see the rider yelling at it, but that wouldn’t work. There was one more thing to try. Could I connect with the eagle and bring it safely to land?
To my astonishment, I could. It was relieved to feel my mental touch, not exactly happy, but it responded to my command at once, landing lightly near my own eagle and tucking its wings away with a chirp.
Several soldiers raced across to drag away the rider, still yelling angrily at his mount, who gazed at him with a bemused eye, before turning to touch beaks with my own eagle.
“Another one!” Cal shouted. “That one there! Before it dives!”
And quick as thought, it was done. The other birds were beginning to veer away now, realising that something was going wrong. We were able to turn our attention elsewhere.
“They are across the ditch,” Cal said. The running birds had used their vicious clawed feet to scrape mounds of earth into the ditch, bur
ying the stakes. Now they were digging away at the earthen bank, opening up a gap. Even as we watched, the first lions leapt through the gap, and then more, in a golden flood, racing towards the sturdy lines of defenders blocking the road.
“Now it gets serious,” Arran said, leaning over the edge. He had found a helm and shield from somewhere.
“We should be down there, in the thick of it,” Cal said. “It’s hard to pick a target from up here.”
“There is only one target that matters,” I said. “Ly-haam is directing all of this.”
“Then we need to take him out,” Arran said. “Can you see him?”
“No. But I know exactly where he is.” I turned slowly. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel him. It was like the sun beating down on me, a great ball of roiling magical power radiating from him. He was far, far more powerful than anything I’d ever encountered before.
More powerful than my mother, even. I shivered. How were we to stop him? And he was controlling all of this, every beast, every rider, pushing them onwards. Their aggression was all coming from him.
“There,” I said, pointing, eyes still closed. “He’s over there. Somewhere.”
When I opened my eyes, the spot I’d pointed to was a long way away, near the camp walls, and all I could see was a mass of lions. But he was there, nevertheless.
I didn’t want to open my mind to him. The aggression in him was so strong I could feel it even from where I stood, thrumming at the edge of my consciousness, low and menacing. Yet I knew I must. I had to make contact with him, to tell him I was here, watching the killing that he was orchestrating. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
While I dithered, the battle raged on below us. Mother leaned over the parapet, and I have no idea what she was doing, but one beast after another simply fell over or lay down. Sleep spells, perhaps. Cal couldn’t do that so easily, but he tried.
But then Arran nudged me. “Are you calling him? Because he’s coming to you.”
From the swirling mass of lions, one loped out of the throng and even from this distance I recognised that slight frame and dark hair. Ly-haam. And he was heading straight for me, a cluster of other lions chasing after him.
The Fire Mages' Daughter Page 32
