by Allan Cole
Derlina shouted orders and we charged for the center of their mass. It was the only way through. Beyond we could see the fires on the hilltops where Quatervals waited.
All that followed was exactly out of the vision I'd seen on the road to Galana, the vision in which my future tragically intersected with a village lad named Natt Young Natt had betrayed us, but that betrayal certainly didn't warrant payment in blood. He was so young, his mother so frantic for his safety. But that was the tale of most of the boys I faced that night My wounds, although not serious, hurt like the hells. There was a wall of pikemen in front of me. I heard the screams of people dying. Soldiers crowded into me and I took my pain and made it anger and flailed about with my sword. Hands reached for me. I slashed them away. Faces jumped up. And I cut them down.
But each time I thought it'd be Natt's face, and I hesitated—just for a breath. I nearly died several times because of that
I spurred my old war-horse forward, and she whinnied and crashed into the pike line.
Then the pike line wavered and broke.
I shouted, glad to be free, as my horse plunged through.
Then the moment came that I'd dreaded.
A figure leaped in front of me, jabbing with his pike. My enemy's image froze and I could see him clear. He was tall and so painfully thin that his rusted breastplate would barely stay on.
It was Natt, with a black smear for a mustache. His eyes were wide and white and full of fear, and I heard him bawling for his "rauwer."
Then the moment came unstuck and I shouted for him to make way.
But Natt kept coming—his pike digging for my guts—certain he was lost if he didn't kill me first
I reined in, trying to stop the course of my horse. But she was off balance, swinging wide, carrying me toward Natt's pike tip.
Instinct flung my sword forward to strike him down. But at the last instant I willed my blade to turn and I struck him with the flat.
He went down, knocked cold.
And I charged on for the hills where Quatervals waited.
Derlina had seen the whole thing and later said I'd been a fool. She said I could have gotten myself killed for nothing. And after I told her the tale, she snorted and said it wasn't likely that young Natt would live much longer. That I'd only delayed the inevitable. Unless he deserted and fled to his dear "muvver's" side.
She was right.
But I slept a little easier that night.
In war you have to learn to treasure even the smallest of moral victories, or else you lose the part of you that makes you human.
Despite all the efforts and sacrifices and loss of life, it soon became apparent that the uprising had a hollow core. Novari was just too powerful. She and Kato were slowly grinding us down. And when the time came, they'd use the impending storm to finish us off.
But as I'd told Derlina, we had to lose to win.
Besides, I had plans of my own for that storm.
THE LAST TIME Emilie and I visited the temple, there was frost on the ground and a sharp breeze in the air, and I could hear the strings of the great lyre stir in the enemy hills. She had on her little blue cloak, with the hood pulled up to keep out the cold.
There was a small gathering waiting when we arrived: Derlina, Palmeras, Quatervals, and a dozen other officers, non-coms, and Evocators.
We'd been greeted by a fiery dawn when we arose. The whole eastern sky had been ablaze, with huge black storm clouds boiling beneath sheets of red and hearthfire yellow. We hadn't needed sorcery to tell us the storm would be upon us in full fury by day's end. A ship's lad could've read the telltale signs while scraping pots over the side.
Everyone knew instantly what was to be done, and all of Galana went into motion, preparing to lash out for the final time.
We'd strike just before the storm hit.
The small group gathered at the temple was there to pray for the Goddess Maranonia's help.
Emilie stood beside me, clutching my hand, while Palmeras oversaw the sacrifice. She shuddered and turned her head away when he slew the lamb.
Palmeras cleansed the knife in the holy flame and approached Maranonia's idol. He threw up his hands to address the goddess for all of us.
"O Great Maranonia," he intoned. "Kind Maranonia. Loving Maranonia. We stand before You, obedient children, beseeching Your tender care."
Palmeras' voice was rich and so full of deeply felt emotion that he stirred us all.
"Orissa has been led to the brink of disaster and ruination, O Sweet Goddess," he continued. "The chasm we face is wide and deep.
"Without Your holy intervention, we are certain to plummet over that brink. And Your glorious light will shine over us no more. Snuffed out by the evil Novari. The Lyre Bird. The foulest threat Your beloved people have ever faced.
"Give us strength, O Goddess. Fill our hearts with Your courage. Our limbs with Your warrior's fire. Our souls with Your exalted spirit.
"Bless us, O Great Goddess. Heed us in our prayers."
None of us expected much to happen. We'd make our plea and go on our way to confront our fates. If we prevailed, the goddess would be credited. If we didn't, the usual theological excuses would be made to preserve her dignity and sanctity.
Still, carried away by Palmeras' smooth rolling tones, I found myself waiting. Expecting that at any moment a beam of bright light would burst through the glass above and the statue would become the goddess herself. And the glorious Maranonia would wave her torch and brandish her spear, and our enemies would be swept away without further ado.
I found myself gritting my teeth, thinking, Anytime You're ready, Goddess.
Then I heard little Emilie whisper, "She isn't coming, Aunt Rali."
And the moment passed.
Outside, I heard the rush of the quickening wind and the faint aria of lyre music.
Quatervals said it was time to go, and we made our farewells.
First I embraced Palmeras, wishing him wizard's luck in the fight that was about to commence. I could smell the incense on his Evocator's robes and it made me think of Gamelan and I nearly wept.
Quatervals gave me an awkward soldierly backpounding and said not to worry. We'd soon meet again, if only in the hells.
When Derlina approached, I braced for a crushing. But the giant warrior woman was most tender. She kissed my cheek and whispered, "Remember me to Polillo." And then she left.
The others filed past, hugging or pressing palms with me.
Finally only four of us remained: Emilie, myself, and the two old sergeants who guarded her.
The women wiped their eyes and drew their swords.
"You know what to do," I said. "We've practiced many times."
"Yer needn't fear, Captain," Torvol said. Weene nodded, jawline hard. "We knows our duty, Captain."
"Wait here with Emilie, then," I said. "I'll be back in a moment."
I went outside to stand in the temple's leeway and face the gathering storm, bracing against the icy wind. It was cold enough to make my armor burn where it touched the skin. The sky swirled with black clouds swollen huge with snow. The lyre music was still faint, but the notes were more distinct as the wind grew stronger and plucked the giant strings.
Novari would soon come to direct the song.
I pushed into the Otherworlds, stretching as deep as I could. I found the edges of Novari's shield, searching along it until I came to a small rent in its magical substance. I listened closely, and far inside I could hear the little demon monkey busy at its work. Chitter chit. Chitter chit.
Still picking away at Novari's defenses knot by knot. Piece by piece.
Chitter chit. Chitter chit.
I slipped a tendril through the opening. It was larger than I'd hoped, and my heart made a glad jump as I pushed through the hole deeper and deeper until I found the monkey. It was glad to see me, leaping about and chittering hysterically. I soothed it, renewed my promise to see it would come to no harm, then checked its progress more carefully.
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My heart's glad leap became a dancing dervish when I realized how close the little monkey had come. The shield had nearly been gnawed and clawed through, and just beyond I could feel the faint but familiar buzz of Novari.
A sudden blast of wind and soaring lyre music forced me to break away.
At the same instant, the heavens opened up and Palmeras led his wizard cavalry out to do battle. I heard his challenge and Kato's shouted answer.
Beyond the woods the mortal battle commenced. The gates swung open to unleash Quatervals' and Derlina's final charge.
The first snowfiakes fell, and I quickly shed my cloak and held it outstretched in the wind's teeth until it was covered with fine white dust. Then I turned my back on the sounds of fighting and hurried into the temple.
I found Emilie crouched by her little tree with the single silvery leaf. It was hanging by just a thread now, quivering in the increasing cold.
"It's almost ready, Aunt Rali," she said, voice trembling.
Her eyes were wide and I saw fear there. But I also saw Antero bravery warring with the fear. I sat beside her, pushed back the little blue hood, and kissed her and stroked her curls for luck to help win that war.
When she was calm, I said, "Make it snow please, Emilie dear."
Emilie gave a little sigh and got up. She stood over the potted tree and wriggled her fingers like before. Once again snow drifted from her palm, touching the silvery leaf and transforming into glittering magical dust.
I caught the Emiliedust in a stone bowl, stirring it together with Novari's snowflakes, which I'd brushed off my cloak.
"That should be enough," I finally said.
I set the bowl on the floor and beckoned for her to sit in my lap. We cuddled for a time, each thinking her own thoughts.
"I hope Derlina will be all right," the child said after a while. Then quickly, as if they were present and she didn't want to insult them, she added, "And Palmeras and Quatervals, too." She waved a hand. "I hope they'll all be all right."
"They will, Emilie," I said. "With your help."
"I'm glad you don't think I'm too httle, Aunt Rali," she said.
"Of course you aren't," I said. "I know you're a big enough girl to do everything exactly right."
She wriggled in my lap, delighted. She tried to make a fierce scowl. "I'll show that—that—that—Novari. Just you wait and see!"
"I know you will, darling," I said.
She was quiet for a time. Outside I could hear the lyre music growing louder. But beneath it I could hear the sounds of the raging battle.
Soon our forces would pretend to stumble and fall back in seeming disarray. Novari and Kato would be too eager to wait for the storm when they saw our weakness. They'd hit us with everything they had. The troops would panic. Quatervals and Derlina would struggle to keep order, but in the end they'd all flee, Palmeras and his Evocators included.
Abandoning us here in the temple.
"Do you think I'll be as good a soldier as you are when I get old, Aunt Rali?" Emilie asked.
I smiled. "Better," I said.
"And as beautiful?"
I patted her, thinking, Bless the child.
I answered, "Even more so."
She turned to stare at the silver leaf, dangling from the tree by its slender thread.
"It's almost my birthday," she announced. She pointed at the leaf. "Soon as that falls, I'll be seven winters old."
She counted on her fingers, "One, two, three, four, five, six ... and seven." She held the fingers out. "And then I'll be really strong!"
Emilie flexed a tiny arm, straining her face as she tried to make a muscle.
Then her shoulders slumped. Another sigh. "But not as strong as Novari."
"She has more on her side," I said. "It isn't an even fight."
"But I'll keep getting stronger, won't I, Aunt Rali?"
"Every seven winters," I said. "Remember how we figured it out. When we cast the Evocator's bones."
Emilie nodded. "Sure I do," she said. "Every seven birthdays I'll get to a new level. And each time, I'll get stronger and stronger. Until I'm so strong I could cut off her toes with lightning." She clapped her hands. "Emilie says, off with her toes!
"And her toes would be offed."
Emilie giggled. "Then she'd fall over when she walked."
We both laughed.
Then we heard a sound like chimes. And we turned to see the silver leaf break free and flutter to the stone.
I caught it with my golden hand and held it up before Emilie's eyes.
"Congratulations, Emilie," I said. "It's official now. You're seven winters old."
Her eyes were full of innocent wonder. She reached out and took the leaf between quaking fingers.
The moment she touched it, I felt a surge of sorcerous power blast out of the Otherworlds.
Emilie cried out: "It hurts, Aunt Rali! Make it stop!"
Her whole body trembled and I held her tight. Fire overflowed her veins and flooded mine. Power and pain were one, wracking us both. I tried to absorb as much as I could.
But it was Emilie's power. And Emilie's pain. And she had to suffer the most.
Then the agony ended and she went limp and sobbing in my arms.
"Is it over, Aunt Rali?" she wept. "Is it over yet?" "Just about, dear," I said.
I dried her eyes and turned her in my lap to face the bowl of Emiliedust floating in the melted snow from Novari's storm.
I heard sounds of fighting from close by, and then temple doors boomed shut and the bar was slammed into place.
"They're comin', Captain," Weene called.
Emilie sniffled her last sniffle and stood straight and tall as she could.
"I'll do it now," she said.
She dipped the leaf into the bowl and stirred the Emiliedust, chanting:
"Little is little
And big is big.
Doesn't matter,
Except to a pig.
Rain can shine.
But the sun can't get wet.
Emilie's here,
so don't you fret."
The bowl of liquid and glittering Emiliedust turned molten, silvery, thick like mercury.
She dipped some out with the leaf and spattered it about, chanting:
"East is east, And so is west.
World's upside down. 'Cause Emilie's best."
Then she drew herself up, spreading her little arms wide in unconscious parody of Palmeras, and shouted: "EMILIE SAYS... STOP!"
Outside, the wind ceased and the lyre music halted. I heard loud cries and the sounds of our soldiers' panicked retreat.
Then there came a pounding at the temple doors. And an imperious voice boomed: "Open for Director Kato!"
Emilie calmly handed me the silver leaf, which glowed with a hardened shellac of Emiliedust. I rolled it into a tube, slipped the metal splinter from my ship into the center, and gave it back. With elaborate care, Emilie placed the tube in the inside pocket of her blue cloak.
Then I kissed her. We clung for a moment.
The voice came again: "Surrender the child at once!"
I stepped away from her. Torvol and Weene came njnrdng up to stand at her side.
"Good-bye, Aunt Rali," Emilie said.
"Good-bye, Emilie," I answered.
Then she clapped her hands.
The sound was like a great blast of thunder, then her child's voice became that of a giant's as she shouted: "EMILIE SAYS, GO!"
And Novari's storm, pent up by Emilie's will, slammed its icy fist down on Galana.
All sound collapsed in its roar. All sensation bowed low under its weight. I felt the sear of Novari's magic wither the ethers around me.
Emilie and her guards became smoky, faint. She held out her hand to me. Her lips moved, but I heard nothing.
Then she waved.
I stabbed a finger at the smoky images; and she and the women vanished.
From somewhere far off I heard Novari's voice, calling, "Emilie... Em
ilie. Where are you Emilie?"
And from nearby I heard, "Here I am, Novari."
Novari's voice floated closer, buoyed up on waves of marvelous lyre music. "Emilie ... Emilie..."
And I heard a child's voice plead, "I'm here, Novari. Please. I'm scared!"
Then the air stirred beside me, and I smelled a familiar perfume.
Novari's voice came just at my ear. "There you are, child! Come with me. Novari will make you safe."
The temple dissolved around me, and a great wind lifted me up and carried me away. I bobbed on fast currents, like an insect clinging to a stick. I collided with clouds, bouncing from bank to bank, then was grabbed by the wind current again and hurled farther along Novari's sorcerous river.
Suddenly the wind ceased and I was falling from a great distance, the ground slowly floating up at me.
Then I heard a hunting creature's glad cry and the shadow of the Lyre Bird fell over me. She caught me in her claws, like a hawk swoops up a fish. Powerful wings stopped my swift descent. Then the wings flapped once, twice, and all dissolved again.
And I found myself standing in Amalric's garden.
The sun was bright, the flowers were blooming, and the fountain played sweet music on my mother's shrine.
A beautiful woman stepped out from the shadows of the trees. She wore a gown of virginal white with long floaty sleeves and a veil as delicate as mist drifting behind her in the breeze.
The woman came toward me, seeming very tall.
"Hello, Ernilie dear," Novari said in a voice as sweet as mountain springs.
"Hello," I piped, holding out my hand, which was very small. As small as my child's voice. Then I let that voice quaver. "You won't hurt me, will you?"
"Of course not, Emilie dear," Novari said, taking my hand in hers. "I'd never dream of hurting a pretty little girl like you."
"Really?" I said, tears welling up in my eyes. "You swear?"
"I don't have to swear, dear," the Lyre Bird said. "I'm Novari. The Lyre Bird.
"And the first thing you should know about me, is that... I can never tell a lie."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emilie's Revenge
NOVARI PEERED DOWN at me, a sweet smile playing across her perfect features.
