The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04

by Allan Cole

  I looked at the others. Shrugs all around. "Make it three hours," I said. 'That's guess enough to live by."

  It was decided that the most reliable method of keeping track of the hours was to make Galana the clock. Flares would be set off moments before Palmeras cast his diversionary spell. That'd mark the first hour. Other flares would follow an hour apart. When we spotted the last flare, we'd know our time was up. We were supposed to drop whatever we were doing and rush back to the front fines as fast as we could. Palmeras' second casting would be made soon after the last flare was lit.

  When that happened we'd best be in place, or it'd be most difficult to get through.

  AFTER WE'D DISCUSSED the plan in depth and got ourselves ready, I stole a few moments for a promised visit with Emilie.

  She was excited to see me and said she had a wonderful surprise.

  "You have to come right away, Aunt Rali," she said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling. "Oh, do say you'll come. Please!"

  I knew I should rest, but her smile was so sunny, how could I do anything except agree?

  She led me outside, trailed by two large pensioners who were her ever-present guards. They were both former sergeants with scars enough for five careers. Their names were Torpol and Weene. They were big shy women with fierce features and eyes that became tender when they gazed on Emilie.

  The rain had stopped briefly and the child ran ahead, dancing about in the puddles, happy to be free and in the open. She had on little boots to protect her feet and a blue-hooded cloak that she could grip in her hands and flap like a bird.

  "She's what we're fightin' for, Captain," Torpol said, a smile creasing her rough face.

  "Use'ter be Orissa," Weene added. 'Took my oath to defend her when I was but a lass. Then they took away Orissa. So it's Emilie we fights for now."

  "What she stands for, we mean," Torpol broke in. "The last Antero. If she falls, Orissa will never rise again, they say. And I, for one, believe it."

  I didn't point out that Emilie was the last Antero but one. I was there, after all: Rali Antero in the flesh. But I don't think anyone at Galana really knew what to make of me. Was I a ghost or was I mortal? To tell the truth, I wasn't certain myself.

  Nor am I any more certain now as I write this.

  Emilie took us through the woodlot that surrounded the temple. From the easy way the two guards walked, I could tell it was a path they frequently trod. The air was heavy with moisture and smelled of fall's tired growth. When we came to the temple, the two women fell back to guard the entrance while Emilie and I continued on.

  Memory flooded back when I stepped inside. The temple was the same simple little stone building I'd visited fifty years before.

  I walked past the familiar offering box near the entrance and crossed the stone pavement toward the altar and the tall statue of the Goddess Maranonia. Above her was the patterned window in the high ceiling. When I'd last been there, a bright summer sun had streamed through. Now the light was cold and faint, making the statue somehow seem remote to us, as if the goddess' attentions were distant from the plight of her loyal subjects.

  The same frescoes heralding the triumphs of the Maranon Guard graced the walls, including my own battle against the

  Archon. When I'd seen that fresco last, it'd been freshly painted. Now it was as faded and old as the others.

  Emilie guided me to the raised pool near the altar. "First we need some water," she explained. "Special water. For the surprise."

  She took a cup from her cloak pocket and dipped it into the pool. When the cup broke the surface, it released a faint cloud of perfume. She lifted the cup, and droplets glittering like small diamonds ran down the sides and fell back into the pool, hissing as if they were hot sparks, then vanishing as if they'd been quenched.

  "It was already magical," Emilie said, indicating the pool. "But just a little bit."

  She held up two fingers spread slightly apart to show the dimensions of a "little bit."

  "So I kind of played around and made it more magical. And you know what?"

  "What?"

  "It was a good thing I did," she said solemnly. "The way it turned out, I needed a whole lot of magical water."

  A most precise little girl, she spread her arms wide to demonstrate. "A whole, whole lot!"

  Then she took me behind the statue of the goddess, and there, frail and naked under the cold light leaking in from above, was a little tree in a little pot.

  Coming to about my waist, the tree was gray, with half a dozen graceful limbs no bigger than my smallest finger. Only a single silvery leaf clung to the tree. It was overly large, but delicately shaped, with fine veins tracing a lacy pattern across its surface.

  "Isn't it wonderful, Aunt Rali?" Emilie cried. Then she ran to the tree and fell on her knees. She poured the water into the pot, chanting:

  "I took a look In a book And there I saw a tree.

  And the tree lived here And the tree lived there. Wriggly, wriggly everywhere. Come and see Emilie's tree And you shall be Free like me. Wriggly, wriggly, Emilie."

  The water came out of the cup as a glowing stream. The quantity seemed vast for such a little vessel, flowing on and on as she chanted, swirling about the base of the tree, overflowing the pot and spilling out onto the stone floor.

  When she finished her chant, she stopped pouring and put the cup down carefully. Then she clapped her hands together, shouting: "Emilie says!"

  The little tree shimmered, and the silver of the single leaf shone brighter. 1 could feel sorcerous energy stir from far away. The tree's roots were drawing on that Otherworld power, and I could actually sense woody life swell and grow stronger.

  'The beautiful tree was in Uncle Amalric's book," Emilie said. "I didn't really read it. I can read a little. But Uncle Amalric uses pretty hard words sometimes. So I got other people to read it to me. All about their adventures looking for the real Far Kingdoms. My favorite part was when they got to the magic tree. With the silver leaves."

  She pointed at the pot. "So I made one." She grimaced. "It's kind of small. And it doesn't grow so good in this light. But with the magic water to help, I got it to make a leaf."

  Emilie touched the leaf and it moved under her fingers, seeming to rub against them like a kitten.

  "Maybe you can use the leaf to win the war, Aunt Rali," she said, solemn as a temple priestess. "That's my surprise. I hope it works. I've been watering and making spells and working hard for ever so long."

  I became kind of moist-eyed at that. To think of a child less that seven worrying about such terrible things. And plotting day after day to find a means to save her elders. But I didn't see how a leaf from even the most magical tree could help.

  I said, "It's lovely, Emilie. And I'm proud you were able to do such a thing. I don't think Palmeras could snatch a tree out of a book and grow it. I certainly couldn't."

  "It isn't out of the book," Emilie protested. "That just gave me the idea. I imagined the tree. I imagined a forest where they grew, but they were too big for me to bring back. So I took a seed. And grew it."

  Her story was astonishing. She was only a child, but moving in and out of worlds with the ease of the most learned Evocator.

  "The leaf isn't ready yet," she said. "It needs to grow some more. I think it'll fall off when it snows. Then it'll be ready." "How do you know?" I asked.

  She shrugged. "I just do. And you know what? I think it's going to snow on my birthday this year. So that's when the leaf will fall off and be ready. Isn't that a wonderful present, Aunt Rali?"

  "Hold on a moment, child," I said. "Your poor aunt Rali's head is coming apart. First you show me a bewitched pool. Then a conjured tree. And now you're predicting the weather. Give an old soldier a chance to catch up!"

  I sat beside the pot and pulled her into my lap. She snuggled close.

  Then she said, "Are you ready yet?" "I'm ready," I said. "Now tell me about the snow. It's important."

  "What do you want to know?" Emili
e asked, playing with her fingers.

  "Can you really tell when it's going to snow?"

  She frowned, thinking. Then shook her head. "Not exactly. But soon. Can't you feel it? It's out there." She pointed south. "Way, way far away."

  And then we pushed into the Otherworlds together until we came to what I can only describe as a cold brittle place.

  "There it is, Aunt Rali," I heard the child's voice whisper. "There's the snow."

  I could smell it. Taste its metallic edge. Hear the bully winds blow just beyond.

  "Let's go home, Emilie," I said.

  I felt her stir in my arms and suddenly we were back in the temple.

  "Thank you for showing me the snow, Emilie," I said. "I couldn't have found it on my own."

  Emilie shrugged, unimpressed with her own powers. "That's okay," she said. "It was easy."

  "The snowstorm doesn't seem many weeks away," I said.

  "I told you," Emilie replied. 'The first snow of winter. Just in time for my birthday.

  "I'll be stronger then. That's what the pretty lady said, anyway. But I don't know. I'm kind of little, Aunt Rali. I don't think I can get that strong all at once, do you?"

  "I can't answer that, dear," I said. "We'll just have to wait and see."

  "Even if I'm not," she said, "you can use the leaf. Just like Janela and Uncle Amalric. Because soon as it snows, that leafs going to be ready. And it'll fall off and I'll make up this—this—great big spell. And then the war will be all over. And maybe the pretty lady will let my mother and father come back and live with me again."

  I looked up at the statue of the goddess. Her back was to me. And I thought, How like you. Turn around, O Great Goddess. Whom we all worship like fools. Turn around and answer the child. You explain why her mother and father can't come back. You explain why every member of her family has been slain. And while you're at it, maybe you can explain it to me.

  Thankfully, Emilie became restless and squirmed out of my lap. She went over to the potted tree.

  "I can make it snow without a storm, Aunt Rali," she said. "Do you want to see?"

  I nodded, and she wriggled her fingers above the tree, piping: "Emiliesays!"

  Suddenly flakes of snow fluttered from beneath her hand and drifted down on the tree.

  Emilie giggled, wriggling her fingers harder, making more snow fall. Some fell on the leaf, causing it to shake and jingle like the market bells on a horse-drawn sleigh. The flakes didn't melt but fell to the floor quite whole. I swept them up with my mortal hand and they crumbled like dust.

  I started to blow the snow dust into Emilie's grinning face, then stopped.

  "Could you make a little more of this, Emilie?" I asked. I pointed to the cup. "Enough to fill that?"

  "Are you going to make a spell, Aunt Rali?" she asked.

  "Yes, dear," I said. "And I'll need some Emiliesays dust to make it."

  She laughed at that and wriggled her fingers to make more snow, chanting Emiliesays over and over again.

  And later, when Quatervals led the scouting party out of the gates, I had the cup and her kiss to arm me against what lay ahead.

  THE RAIN HAD been replaced by a heavy mist that swirled around us like a watery cloak as we moved across the muddy swamp of the battleground. The mud and mist made it difficult going. There were sodden timbers of wrecked war machines to trip us up and stab us with pike-length splinters of wood. Abandoned fighting pits and trenches were invisible pools of muck to trap us and suck us down. In one place corpses floated out of their graves, rotted arms outstretched to embrace us.

  Quatervals took the lead, displaying his vaunted talents as a scout by steering us past all danger. We must've looked like a giant centipede as we scuttled across the muck, weaving this way and that, blindly following Quatervals' signals. Sometimes he'd pause, tapping my hand to wait. I'd tap Pip, who in turn would signal Derlina. And we'd all stop as if we were a single creature. When whatever danger had existed passed by,

  Quatervals would tap and move forward, and off we'd go again.

  We traveled like that for a time, then we came on the firmer ground of trampled grass. I felt greater weight on my legs and knew we were moving up an incline. Then the mist lightened and I could see the piled logs and boulders of a barricade. Beyond that was enemy territory.

  One of our patrols was waiting for us there. It'd been their job to find and clear any ambushes that might've been set up. Now that we'd arrived at the jumpoff point, they'd hurry back and report to Palmeras so the flare clock could be started and the first diversion launched.

  Hasty hand signals were flashed. No one had been seen behind us. No enemy patrols were immediately ahead.

  Then they pressed our palms to wish us luck and hurried

  back to Galana. 1

  While we waited, I crept up on the barricade and peered up the hillside with my ethereye. I saw the shimmer of Novari's first shield and searched along its edges for a flaw. The shield was meant both to block any magical attack and to give the alarm if anyone broke through. But it had to protect so much ground that I knew it'd make an imperfect fit There'd be small hollows and dips big enough for us to get under.

  I found a possible spot not too far distant. I jabbed a golden finger at that point, held it steady, then slipped a sniffer through. Knowing Novari, I did so quite cautiously. I snaked the tendril about, probing for the alarm net. I felt a familiar tingle as I touched the first strand and snatched the tendril back.

  Nothing happened. My touch had been too light to trigger the alarm.

  I took courage and probed about again, locating the strand. I felt out from there, nerves popping as I found a second and a third and then so many that my spiritself was a continuous buzz of discovery. No matter where I probed, I found an alarm strand. And in no place was there space enough to slip through. Pride kept me going, but I finally gave up and flopped over on my back to rest. I cleared my mind and setded into a soldier's cold comfort. It was someone else's job now. It was Palmeras' turn.

  The first flare went off, a hot burst of sorcerous fire that shot up from the valley and hovered over us for long moments, spitting sparks into the night.

  We all rose to our feet. My comrades looked at me, waiting for the signal. I shook my head and held out a finger, telling them to wait. I pointed up, then forward, meaning we'd go with the diversion.

  Just then I heard a great horn blare from above. We looked up. Above Galana we saw the moon glowing dimly through the haze. The horn blew again and the moon seemed to burn hotter and then a wide fiery road rolled out across the sky, sweeping the mist aside, plowing it into big boiling hills and banks.

  We heard the drum of giant hooves and armor rattling like thunder. A spectral cavalry burst forth, Palmeras at the lead, and charged along the Otherworld highway. They were huge ghostly figures, formed of mist and magic. Their armor and weapons shone like the Gods Hearth itself. Their bellowed war cries slammed against the enemy hillsides like the Gods Hearth hammer.

  Palmeras' roar sounded above all the others and he waved his sword, crying out for his enemy to come meet him.

  My heart leaped at his cry and I thought then that nothing could beat us. But no sooner had that thought formed then I heard the twang of a lyre string, sounding the alarm. Then there was a whole stream of golden harp notes forming around the enemy encampment. Out of that stream boiled a second spectral cavalry. Black armor and golden swords and mailed horses with spiked hooves. Emblazoned on their shields was the symbol of the Lyre Bird.

  A huge wizard in armor of silver and black led the charge. His great beard and streaming hair were tied up in flaming ribbons and he made an awesome sight as he rushed to meet Palmeras' challenge, screaming:

  "For Novari!"

  And his wizard warriors roared back: "For Novari!"

  Pip tugged my sleeve and whispered in my ear: "That be Kato, Cap'n."

  Then the two ghostly armies clashed, horses rearing and screaming, wizard warriors flailing about
with their swords.

  As the ghostly battle raged above us, I leaped off the barricade and raced up the hill, the others at my heels. I led them to the large hollow beneath the first shield. I stopped there, indicated how to go, then slithered through. Twenty paces beyond, my senses brought up short at the second shield—more like an immense magical close-woven fishnet. I wasn't worried about setting off an alarm now. Palmeras had covered that. However, any rent I made would have to be immediately repaired. Otherwise the gap would be noticed as soon as the diversion ended. I carefully picked the magical fence apart, making space enough for the largest of us—Derlina. After we'd gone through, I quickly put everything back the way it was. And I powdered the area with Emiliedust to eliminate my spoor.

  Derlina took us to the top of the first hill. Any opposition we met at this point would have to be overwhelmed immediately. She had her axe up and chin set, long legs eating the distance at a furious rate. I pitied any mere mortal who got in her way.

  Just before we reached the top, the thunder and hghtning of the battle stopped. The abrupt silence that followed was so sudden that the sound of my running boot heels seemed shockingly loud.

  Then we were at the top, crouching among low boulders, catching our breath and getting our bearings. All of us, I noticed, sneaked peeks overhead. Marveling at the empty sky. Wondering if we'd only imagined Palmeras' grand diversion.

  Then the second flare lit the sky, to remind us how real this was. We had two hours to go.

  The haze Palmeras had promised was closing, and I had little time to study our surroundings before we were blinded.

  Beyond our perch was a dark rolling landscape dotted with hundreds of campfires.

  Novari was erecting her secret weapon somewhere in that wide wing of hills. I had no doubt that's what she was doing. After seeing all the sorcerous machines in Galana, it was a logical conclusion. I knew Novari's preference for such machines. I'd slaved in her mines to feed one.