Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Behind Hadrenn and Anna, crowded stirrup to stirrup, rode Jecks, Jimbob, and Kinor. Behind them rode Himar and Stepan.

  “ … problem with lances … one-time weapons … get under a lance, or knock it aside, and your lancer’s chopped meat … can’t carry that many lances anyway … what do you do once you break the first lance, or it lodges in some other armsman or lancer?” Jecks laughed, almost sardonically. “Lances and heavy armor work well against peasants or ill-equipped foot without a pike—if your heavy cavalry doesn’t have to ride far … and if you can find enough peasants to carry all the baggage …”

  Anna nodded, almost to herself, as she listened to Jecks’ voice carrying forward. She’d often wondered about lances and knights, about what earthly use a lance was except in a joust or a pitched battle in a small area. She’d heard Avery give all the arguments, but most of those arguments were what she’d have called Eurocentric chauvinism. In Earth’s history heavily armed knights had been an expensive and costly rarity useful only in limited circumstances, and mainly in European settings by barons and others able to amass large amounts of wealth. No empire of any great size or extent had ever been held through the armored knight … for all the romanticization about knights. And of course, neither Avery nor Mario had ever listened to your observations.

  Anna snorted to herself. Some things didn’t change across worlds. Lord Dannel and Avery would have gotten along fairly well. She shook her head. That’s too cynical, even for you. Avery wasn’t near that bad.

  Hadrenn glanced toward the Regent. “You said that the usurper’s forces were still in Elahwa?”

  Anna blinked, reorienting her thoughts. “According to the mirror, that’s where he was this morning.” She took another long swallow of water. In some ways, the steamy fall heat of Ebra was as bad as the drought-created heat of Defalk had once been. “You think it will take another two days to reach where the rivers join?”

  “Two, if it does not rain.” The stocky brown-haired lord glanced to the east, and the intermittent thunderclouds forming there.

  “Good.”

  “You feel that Bertmynn will meet us there, and that he will ghtfight. What if Bertmynn retreats to Dolov?”

  Anna thought. What if he does? Then she shrugged. “Then we will free Elahwa, and you will set up a free state ruled by the freewomen, but under your protection. Bertmynn will return. Quickly, I’d bet”

  “That’s a wager I’d not take.” Jecks laughed from where he rode behind Anna and beside Jimbob.

  “I yield to your judgment, Lord High Counselor,” Hadrenn responded, wiping his damp brow with the back of his forearm.

  “Bertmynn, indeed all Liedwahr, knows that Lady Anna’s sympathies lie with women who have been ill-treated. For that reason alone,” Jecks continued, “I would doubt that he would allow you two to ride unmolested to Elahwa.”

  “You are certain that Bertmynn is near Elahwa?” asked Hadrenn.

  “The mirror hasn’t misled me that way yet,” Anna answered. “Unless he can cover two days’ ride in half a day, he can’t be far from Elahwa or where the rivers meet north of there.”

  “He will wait for us,” Jecks said. “We should take three days, if necessary.”

  Anna understood that, but she worried. Even though the mirror indicated that Rabyn and his forces had just left Esaria, the ride from Elahwa back to Denguic was farther than from Esaria to Denguic. Lord every military strategist ever quoted by Avery or Sandy talked about not fighting wars on two fronts, and you’ve gotten into one? Was she acting out the old adage about fools rushing in?

  She pursed her lips and shifted her weight in the saddle.

  48

  Anna’s tent was set up without the sidewalls, more as an awning to offer some shade for the group that gathered in the late afternoon. She glanced at Jecks, then let her eyes travel across Hadrenn, Stepan, Jimbob, Kinor, and Liende. Liende brushed back hair that showed less and less red and more white, but offered an amused smile to Anna.

  Himar stood before the group, and his voice was raspy as he talked. “ … likely that we will meet with Bertmynn’s forces on the morrow. He brings near-on eighty score, though some are foot levies from Dolov … with little experience or training. His own lancers are well seasoned, and they will be at the fore …”

  The faintest of breezes carried a hint of coolness from the river to the north then faded, leaving the group sweating in the unseasonably sultry heat.

  “Lady Anna has studied Bertmynn’s forces with her glass, and they are here.” Using a whittled length of pencil wood, Himar pointed to a spot on the crude map just south and east of where the River Syne and the River Dol joined. “Where he now waits is perhaps a ride of three glasses.”

  Hadrenn looked at the maps and then toward Anna before speaking. “We could circle south of him, cross at one of the lower fords, and then go downriver and take Elahwa from behind. We would not have to face Bertmynn … .”

  Anna shook her head, without even thinking about getting opinions from Jecks or Himar. “That’s not the reason I’m here. I want it set up so that all of Bertmynn’s armsmen are in one battle.”

  “You risk all of your armsmen as well,” countered Hadrenn, “and much of my forces.”

  “Yours are at risk in any eventuality, Lord Hadrenn,” suggested Jecks. “You cannot raise the numbers he has, nor can you count on assistance from the Liedfuhr or the Sturinnese.”

  “Well we know that,” answered the brown-haired lord of Synek. “Well we do.”

  Himar cleared his throat, and the others looked at the mustached overcaptain. “Ah … also, if we circled south, Bertmynn could well be between us and either Synek or Defalk, and then we would have to fight more in a place of his choosing.” Himar addressed Hadrenn. “Also, should aught go amiss, you can return to Synek more easily if we fight more to the north.”

  Jecks nodded. After a moment, so did Hadrenn.

  “We’ll have to move slowly in the morning,” Anna said. “We can’t afford to attack from lower grounds—”

  “Or be attacked from higher ground,” added Jecks.

  “And we’ll need time to set up the players.” Anna glanced toward Liende, who nodded. Then she inclined her head to Himar.

  “The Regent and Lord Hadrenn have explained our aims,” Himar said. “It is now time for you to tell your subofficers and those men who will carry them out. Remember that the task of all the lancers is to protect the sorceress and the players first. If we succeed in that, Bertmynn will fall.”

  As the others hurried away, in the burnt orange of twilight, Jecks and Anna remained under the awning tent, with Kerhor and Blaz a dozen paces away.

  “You do not wish Ebra to be like Dumar,” Jecks offered in a low voice.

  “That’s partly it.”

  “You could take Ebra, and none would gainsay that.” The white-haired lord’s eyes flicked in the direction where, a hundred paces away, Hadrenn was speaking with Stepan. “You would likely rule better than young Hadrenn, even from Falcor.”

  “I can’t rule Defalk very well,” Anna said. “The last thing I need … anyone needs … is another set of lords to argue with. This way, the women of Ebra who don’t like the old ways have somewhere to go. Those who like the old ways can keep them, and outside of complaining about the free state, and me …” She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “You do not wish to leave a trail of fire and spells,” Jecks suggested.

  “No. In Dumar, I ended up destroying a whole city of innocents—or mostly innocents. That was because I let myself get backed into a corner.”

  “You backed Ehara into a corner, most would say.”

  “No. In losing, he forced my hand. Or I let him, because I worried about spending too much time in Dumar with the Thirty-three machinating in Defalk. And … I was trying to be merciful, and it didn’t turn out that way. This time …”

  “Is that why Gestatr remains in Synek?” Jecks’ eyes twinkled.

  “Yes. He’s mor
e valuable to Ebra than Hadrenn.”

  “And so, to Defalk,” Jecks affirmed.

  Anna nodded. Except nothing works out the way you plan it, not the details or the costs, anyway.

  49

  NORTHWEST OF ELAHWA, EBRA

  Bertmynn runs a hand through his thick blond hair, then glances at the scroll on the folding camp table. He picks up the scroll once more, squinting to read it by the light of the candle. “She travels the Syne River road … she is camped less than a half day’s ride from here.” He drops the scroll and stands, stretching, before he looks at the older man, who is the only other one in the tent with him.

  “We could swing northward, through Nuvann, and then strike at Synek … .” Ceorwyn lines a general path on the map pinned to the battered board set on a makeshift easel of lashed branches beside the table.

  Bertmynn picks up the scroll once more, studies it, and sets it back on the table. He shakes his head. “No … we have kept the drums hidden from her, and we cannot do that for long. Nor dare we use Darksong too often. We must ensure that her forces are concentrated in one place, where we hold the high ground. She must be destroyed all at once. Otherwise, we will fight and fight and fight, and neither the Liedfuhr nor the Sea-Marshal will send us golds week after week, season after season.”

  “The sorceress cannot linger long in Ebra, my lord,” counters the gray-haired warrior. “Many of the lords of the Thirty-three are less than pleased with her, and should she stay in Ebra too long, she risks an attack from the mad young Prophet of Music. He, too, is building Darksong drums to use against her, and he can call upon near-on a hundredscore Mansuuran lancers, and two hundred-score of his own lancers and armsmen. You have far more armsmen than does Hadrenn. You can afford to wait. She will have to leave, and soon.”

  “No … I cannot afford to wait. I cannot defeat the bitch without Darksong, and I cannot long use it and still see my way across a room, let alone to a mount. And I must use it while she suspects it has not yet been raised.”

  “Do not use it … wait. Harry Hadrenn’s forces, and avoid the sorceress. She cannot linger,” counsels Ceorwyn. “She cannot, and have a land to return to.”

  “Hadrenn can retreat back to the hills. He sent but half his forces down the river. The sorceress can send him golds. Then … what will I do when Elahwa rises again, or the SouthWomen send more golds and blades? Or when the Sturinnese send more than a mere three ships? Will I be forced to follow Lord Ehara of Dumar’s example? Then, the Thirty-three might well unite behind her, and even the bitches of the south might send the sorceress golds. So I would then be fighting half of Liedwahr and Hadrenn—”

  “Hadrenn is an inexperienced young lord.”

  “He is, but his force leaders are not, and he has the wit to listen to them, the dissonant young puppy.” Bertmynn coughs and spits on the ground in the corner of the tent. “So I would be fighting Hadrenn, the freewomen and the SouthWomen, and the sorceress again. Or I would submit to being a counter for the Sea-Lords.”

  “Those may not happen.”

  Bertmynn looks hard at Ceorwyn. “Think you not?”

  After a time, Ceorwyn’s eyes drop.

  50

  Anna stepped into a patch of shade to get out of the already warm morning sun, then glanced around the group—Jecks, Himar, Hadrenn, and Liende, with Stepan, Jimbob, and Kinor standing farther back. Behind them were her guards, and a full score of lancers surrounding the shaded grove where she had laid out the traveling scrying mirror on a fallen tree trunk. To the west, along the Syne River road, the column was forming, preparing for the ride eastward, to meet Bertmynn’s forces.

  Finally, after a vocalise, she swallowed and cleared her throat, then lifted the lutar and sang:

  Show me now and show me clear

  a road to Bertmynn with no armsmen near,

  Like a vision, like a map …

  The mirror displayed an image, almost a topographical map with a light brown line that appeared to be the river road they traveled—until just short of the juncture of the two rivers, when the path veered south and around a line of hills.

  Ulpp.

  Anna suspected the gulp belonged to Hadrenn, but she continued to concentrate on the image. Himar was sketching rapidly on a sheet of crude brown paper, his eyes flicking from the mirror to the paper.

  “If the glass is correct,” Anna said, “that will bring us out on the higher south side of the valley.”

  “The last part of the way is narrow.” Himar kept sketching. “There are trees on both sides. We would not see any lancers until they were upon us.”

  “Let me know when you have it drawn out.” Anna could feel the heat building around her, and within the mirror and its frame. After a short time, Himar lifted his head. “I have enough.”

  Anna sang the release couplet, and then took a long swallow from the water bottle Jecks handed her. She thought about waving away the biscuit that followed, but took it instead and munched through it. Have to keep your energy levels up.

  “Let’s see if Bertmynn has planned any surprises.” She cleared her throat and raised the lutar.

  Danger from Bertmynn, danger near,

  show me that danger bright and clear … .

  The image showed a line of armsmen, arrayed on a hillside. There was a smaller group, barely a handful of figures, behind the armsmen, higher on the hillside.

  “Are those archers?” asked Jecks. “Or players?”

  “They don’t have as many players as we do, if they’re players, and less than a score of archers won’t change things.” Anna frowned. “Whatever danger there is … it looks like it will be when we meet.”

  “I worry about those folk …” Jecks gestured toward the mirror, speaking in a voice meant only for Anna’s ears.

  “So do I, but we can’t just ride away because we don’t feel things are quite right.” She forced a light laugh.

  Jecks tightened his lips.

  “I need to talk to Liende.” Anna motioned to the chief player, and then to Himar, and to Stepan, waiting for them to approach more closely before continuing. “As soon as we can get within vocal range of Bertmynn’s forces, we’ll use the long flame song—that’s the one for weapons that might be spelled against us.”

  “The long flame song,” Liende repeated.

  Anna looked at Himar. “Do you think his lancers will attack quickly?”

  “Either quickly, or they will wait for us to attack.” Himar fingered his chin. “They would have to come down from higher ground and then charge uphill. I would wait, were I in their position.”

  “Does it look like our bowmen can lift arrows far enough to reach their position? If we form on the southern ridge?”

  “I cannot tell.” Himar shrugged apologetically.

  “Well … we’ll hope so.” Anna looked back at Liende. “We’ll plan on the arrow song second. If the arrows reach them, we’ll do it several times.”

  “The arrow song for the second spell,” Liende confirmed.

  “And I may need the short flame song, almost at any time.”

  A frown crossed Liende’s face, then vanished.

  “And possibly the short arrow song, the one I used against Sargol.” Not that it did any good there. She turned to Himar. “Are we ready to ride?”

  “Yes, Lady Anna.”

  Anna nodded, and recased the lutar, then looked toward the mirror, but Jecks had already packed it and was strapping it to Farinelli.

  Hadrenn took a long, thoughtful look at Anna, before turning to follow Himar.

  Liende glanced at Anna as the others moved through the dappled shadows of the grove toward their mounts, then asked the sorceress, “You will not let Kinor ride with the lancers?”

  “No … I told him and Jimbob that they had to help my personal guards. There’s some danger there, but … less, I would judge.”

  “Kinor … he would prove he is worthy.”

  “I know. But he has to see what happens in battles, I thin
k. People die, and most battles …” Don’t have to be fought? Except they do, because people’s beliefs aren’t the same, and someone always wants to force other people to believe differently. After a moment, Anna found the question coming back. Are you any different? Aren’t people dying because you want to force this world to treat women better?

  “You are silent, lady.”

  Anna sighed. “I’d like to think I’m different from others who rule, but I’m not. I fight for what I believe in, and so do they. I just have to hope that what I believe in is worth the deaths.”

  “Life is not what we wish, lady, but I believe you do the best you can. That is why I ride with you.” Liende smiled sadly.

  “Thank you,” answered Anna softly. “I try.” As Liende turned, Anna carried the lutar toward Farinelli, and Jecks.

  “Can you bring your spells against the players—if that is what they are?” The hazel eyes of the white-haired lord radiated concern.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  “For you, my lady, not for me.”

  Anna reached out with her free hand and squeezed his shoulder, firmly but gently. “I’ll try to think of something as we ride.” You’d better … when he’s worried, he’s usually right. She strapped the lutar behind her saddle, then patted Farinelli, and mounted.

  51

  Anna brushed a strand of silver-blonde hair out of her eye. A cooler breeze blew out of the east, and although high gray clouds had appeared on the horizon a glass or so earlier, they seemed no nearer than when Anna’s force had resumed the ride along the River Syne. The sorceress eased back her brown hat and glanced ahead at the scouts on the road, then at the vanguard waiting at the junction to a lane that sloped down and to the south.

  Anna touched the spelled shield at her knee, but there was no energy, no sense of sorcery there.