Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  When she woke, she lay on the narrow cot under her tent, and Jecks sat on the stool facing her, his face barely illuminated by the single candle.

  “Oh …” A line of pain knifed through her eyes.

  “My lady … how long must you do this?”

  As long as it takes … Anna turned her head to look at Jecks, turned it without lifting it. Even that gentle movement sent additional stabs of pain through her skull.

  “You need to drink … and eat.” He extended the water bottle.

  Some of the stabbing pain abated after several swallows. “Dehydrated … I guess.”

  “You will need to eat in a time.” Jecks’ voice was soft, caring.

  Thank heavens there’s only one image of him … . “In a moment … more water, please … if you would.”

  Jecks eased the bottle to her lips again.

  After several more small swallows, she coughed slightly, wincing, then asked, “Did we win?”

  “None who remained on the field and wore the burgundy live. Some half-score of Hadrenn’s lancers died also from the last spell.”

  “The players?” Anna asked, her voice fearful.

  “Some fell … like you—Liende … the young one, Yuarl … but they awakened earlier and have eaten. They are resting. Some may be sleeping.”

  Anna let out her breath, and stars sparkled before her eyes. Then the full import of what Jecks had said earlier struck. “Those on the field?”

  “Ah … Just before your last spell, many score of Bertmynn’s lancers turned and fled.”

  “How many?”

  “We could not tell, but perhaps twentyscore or thirtyscore. The Lord Bertmynn had brought more than eightyscore.”

  Anna took a deep breath. Thirtyscore lancers loose—that wasn’t good, especially the way she felt. What about the fiftyscore you killed … is that good?

  “How many … how many did they kill?” she asked fearfully.

  “Almost fivescore,” Jecks admitted. “Three from Defalk, two from Synek. Less than in many battles, far less than at the Sand Pass.”

  “ … shouldn’t have been that many.”

  “Against battle drums? Without you, all would have perished.”

  “ … should have thought faster …”

  “Himar has gathered all the blades and lances,” Jecks added, as if to change the subject. “I suggested that you might be willing to make a gift of them to Lord Hadrenn … to defer the expense he will incur in raising the additional forces he will need.”

  “He’ll need them.”

  “More than he now knows.”

  “How did Kinor and Jimbob take it? The battle.” She knew the question was inane as she asked it, but did not try to take it back.

  “Jimbob was white, and he shivered, but said nothing and kept to his post. You saw Kinor; he would give his life to save you. He was not injured, but when the final spell fell, he wept, but still lifted his blade as though to smite any Ebrans who might be left.” Jecks’ crooked smile warmed Anna. “I took the precaution of having the purple company guard young Hadrenn closely, for his protection, of course. With that, and with your friend Stepan in charge of the green forces, I thought that might ensure that Hadrenn had no second thoughts.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Anna whispered, taking another swallow of water, and then reaching for the hard biscuits. “Skent?” she asked.

  “He acquitted himself well, though his company was the last Himar threw into the melee.”

  Anna moistened lips that were still dry. “ … got to stop doing this …”

  “I believe I suggested that, my lady.”

  “You’re not sorry I used the flame spell?” Anna had to know.

  “Against drums and Darksong?” Jecks laughed. “Would that you had done so earlier, but we did not know how low Bertmynn would stoop or that they would be so used.”

  “But I suspected something … so did you.” But you couldn’t think … was that the spell Bertmynn was casting, or something that slowed everything? “ … didn’t think fast enough.”

  “No one thinks fast enough in battle. You thought well enough to save most of your forces.”

  In spite of herself, Anna found the yawns coming. Her eyelids were heavy, far too heavy. “ … stupid … really stupid …”

  “All is well now. You must sleep.”

  Anna wanted to protest, but couldn’t as her eyes closed in spite of her wanting to say more, to hear Jecks’ comforting voice.

  52

  Anna found herself shaky the next morning, even after washing as best she could in the bucket of water the guards left by the tent entrance, until she’d eaten enough hard cheese and biscuits for three people. Even after that, she was tired, and she retained a faint, but dully throbbing headache. Her neck and shoulders were also sore. She hadn’t noticed the stiffness or the pain the night before, but she hadn’t noticed much of anything.

  “Good morning, my lady.” Jecks looked at her as she stepped out in front of the small tent in the morning light—not dawn, but not all that late, either.

  Rickel and Blaz nodded greetings, but neither guard spoke.

  “It’s morning,” Anna admitted, her eyes taking in the day. The sky was gray, and she suspected it had been since her excessive use of sorcery the day before. Maybe that’s just the way you think it should be. She shook her head at the thought, and winced. Headshaking didn’t go with headaches. The trampled brown grass was covered with dew, and the damp breeze out of the northeast was cold, but the high gray clouds didn’t seem to promise rain, not too soon.

  “Lady Anna?” inquired two voices, almost simultaneously.

  She turned. “Good morning, Jimbob, Kinor.”

  “Good morning, lady.” Jimbob inclined his head, not deeply, but more than perfunctorily.

  So did Kinor, but not before Anna saw the stark darkness in the redhead’s eyes.

  “Thank you both.” She paused, then asked, “You see why I need guards?” Her voice was dryly humorous. “Nowhere in a battle is necessarily safe.”

  “I had heard such, lady,” Kinor replied.

  Jimbob nodded, almost fearfully.

  “Kinor,” Anna said gently. “Thank you for your thought about the drums yesterday. It was a good suggestion. A very good suggestion. Without you and Lord Jecks, matters might have turned out differently.”

  Kinor glanced at the white-haired lord, and Jecks looked at Kinor.

  “You both suggested a spell against drums,” Anna explained, “but I probably wouldn’t have been able to act and come up with a spell had you both not reminded me. So thank you both.”

  In retrospect, the idea made sense. Even Darksong couldn’t both cast a spell and protect an object made of wood and skin against a spelled arrow. She just hadn’t thought about it at the time. Then, she hadn’t had that much time, not as she considered the battle in retrospect.

  Jimbob looked sideways at his grandsire, appraisingly. Anna hoped they’d all survive the youth’s practical education.

  Too many spells … she’d used too many spells, that was also clear in hindsight. Does that mean that you should just go out and use the most destructive spells and clear the battlefield? And if you don’t, you risk losing, or dying of a spell overdose? It wasn’t fair. Every time she tried to limit the damage, it seemed, the end result was worse. Close to sixtyscore dead, and what would happen in Ebra was still unresolved.

  “You need not ride today,” Jecks said.

  “With thirtyscore of Bertmynn’s lancers somewhere?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Himar’s scouts say that they rode perhaps ten deks, but that their mounts could carry them no farther yesterday.” Jecks nodded to Kinor, who walked quickly away from Anna’s tent.

  “They’re still there?” asked Anna, massaging her forehead and neck.

  “That I do not know,” admitted Jecks.

  “It looks like Bertmynn wanted a big battle and someone else didn’t,” suggested the sorceress, walking to
ward where Farinelli was tethered on a tieline. She stopped as she caught sight of Himar striding toward her.

  The overcaptain twisted the end of his mustache nervously as he stopped. “Lady Regent.”

  “Thirtyscore of Bertmynn’s lancers—Jecks says they got away.” And you nearly killed yourself and didn’t get them all. “How did that happen?”

  “When Bertmynn fell, the reserves turned,” Himar said slowly. “They galloped over the ridge, as though dissonance were after them. The stragglers fell under the fires. Hadrenn’s men say that they were likely led by his arms commander, for the one who commanded them to turn was a tall gray-haired officer, and so was this Ceorwyn … .”

  Anna wondered how Hadrenn’s men were close enough to see, and yet had done nothing to stop the retreat. Then they’d have been outnumbered two to one. She took a deep breath. That just pointed out that she’d have to defeat—destroy—another thirtyscore armsmen for Hadrenn to have any real chance of holding all of Ebra.

  And what will that make you?

  Jecks stepped up beside her. “Their mounts were spent, and they could not go far.” He looked at Himar. “Was that as your scouts found?”

  The overcaptain nodded. “Yes, ser, Lady Regent.”

  “We need to follow those armsmen, and, in a day or two, strike at them,” Anna insisted. “Otherwise, we’ll have more trouble here in Ebra.”

  “Not today and not tomorrow,” insisted Jecks.

  “Not today,” Anna half agreed, looking at Himar.

  The overcaptain nodded. “I will send out the scouts once more.”

  Anna kept her glance level until Himar looked away, then turned.

  Seeing Anna unoccupied, Liende approached from the fire ring to the south where the players had gathered.

  “How is everyone?” asked Anna.

  “Yuarl and Delvor are most tired, and weak.” Dark circles ringed Liende’s eyes. “They cannot play, and may not for several days. The others are tired.”

  “So am I. I don’t have plans for any spells for a while.” Anna paused. “Not for another day or so, anyway.” Should she tell Liende about her gratitude to Kinor? No … better that Kinor tell his mother. “We will have to ride today. It may be a shorter day, but we need to follow the last of the armsmen so that we can hurry back to Defalk.”

  “I understand.”

  “Liende … you and the players did very well. Without you, without them … well, yesterday could have been very bad.” Just how bad you don’t even want to consider right now. “Thank you, and tell them that I’m very grateful and pleased.”

  “Thank you, Regent. They played well, and it was hard to play against the Darksong drums.”

  “I know. You … and they … will be rewarded.”

  Liende bowed slightly. “We will make ready, Regent.”

  “Thank you.” How long could she call upon the players for such destruction? As long as you need them … and you can. She sighed to herself.

  53

  In the cool sunlight and long dawn shadows outside her tent, Anna stretched. Her neck was still stiff, and her shoulders ached, but not so much as the day before. The pungent odor of the wood fueling cookfires drifted to her, and she rubbed her suddenly itching nose, then tried to clear a dry throat.

  On the lower rise to the south, lancers were beginning to form up, and behind her Kerhor and Blaz were beginning to strike her tent.

  She glanced at Rickel. “If we … if I … let those armsmen return to Dolov, battles will go back and forth across Ebra for years. That will be an invitation to the Sturinnese. With the maybe twentyscore lancers we have, we cannot stop them without sorcery.” Anna shrugged, unsure if even she were willing to spell out the conclusion.

  “My lady,” Rickel offered cautiously after a short silence, “armsmen have choices. We do. We are not slaves. That is why many remained with Hanfor and Himar. That is why some captains have but butchers and fresh-faced boys. We have followed this Ceorwyn for two days, and none of his armsmen have left They will fight … and fight—unless you stop them.” The blond guard offered an embarrassed smile. “Some armsmen are going to die. Might be Hadrenn’s, probably will be if you don’t do something, and it might be ours if the Sea-Priests do like they did in Dumar … .” He broke off as Jecks walked toward Anna from the back side of the tent.

  “Best you not slaughter those armsmen without some gesture,” Jecks said. “Ceorwyn did leave the field.” The white-haired lord looked toward Rickel. “Would you not say so, Rickel?”

  “Folk like that … they’d never take terms from … a sorceress.”

  “You mean, from a woman,” Anna replied.

  Jecks laughed, easily. “Always the truthful Regent.”

  “So I should offer terms,” asked the sorceress, “knowing that they won’t accept them.” If they do, they’ll just lie about it, and you’ll have to come back.

  “They may not, but do you wish all Ebra to know you killed armsmen without offering any chance of surrender? Or some of the Thirty-three to know that?”

  “No.” Anna glanced toward her small camp table and the saddlebags on the cot, standing under just the roof canopy since her guards had removed and begun to roll up the sidewalls. “There’s some parchment … I’d better draft them on the rough paper first.” She laughed, knowing that she’d make a mess with a quill.

  “I will tell Himar that we needs must send a parley messenger to Ceorwyn.” Jecks gave a brisk nod before turning.

  Anna pulled the camp stool toward the table, and took out the quill to sharpen it.

  The drafting was as laborious as she had feared, and Jecks had returned and was standing at her shoulder long before she finished. All too conscious of his presence, she found herself scratching out phrases and rewriting them, seemingly in every line of what she penned.

  Her forehead was damp when she finally finished what she thought were the last words.

  Then, with a deep breath, she forced herself to read over the oft-corrected terms, skipping from line to line.

  … continue as arms commander of Dolov, as regent for the heirs of Bertmynn …

  … acknowledge Lord Hadrenn as Lord High Counselor of Ebra, under the protection of the Regency of Defalk …

  … acknowledge, accept, and protect the free state of Elahwa established by the freewomen …

  Finally, she handed the terms to Jecks.

  He took the rough draft and read slowly before finally stopping and looking up. “He will not agree to the women in Elahwa.”

  “I know that. But those are my terms. What’s the point of agreeing to another lord just like the last one? All sorts of people get killed, and nothing changes? No, thank you.” Anna snorted.

  “You have offered terms, and you do not ask for executions or slaves.” Jecks offered a broad shrug.

  “Your tone of voice suggests that those might be more acceptable.”

  “For some, perhaps,” Jecks agreed. “I would prefer your terms, but, then, I have come to know you.” His hazel eyes offered the slightest hint of a twinkle.

  Anna responded with a crooked smile before she pulled out one of the few sheets of parchment and began to write, far more carefully, the final draft. Jecks nodded, then walked out of the half-disassembled tent, and toward Kinor and Jimbob, who stood waiting with Kerhor and Lejun.

  “ … will not be long … she drafts terms for Ceorwyn …”

  “He should ask for terms,” said Jimbob.

  “He will not,” countered Kinor. “He cannot.”

  Anna pushed away the conversation and concentrated on the scratchy quill and the draft, laboriously transferring one word after another. She ignored the muted clamor from the camp as mounts were saddled, cookfires banked, and as her guards disassembled and packed her tent around her, leaving but the table she worked on and the stool.

  It took a good glass before she had completed the short document. When she looked up from writing her signature and title, Jecks was waiting, patiently. So
was Himar. Behind them, in the cool harvesttime sunlight, stood the two young redheads.

  “I have told Himar that you were near-finished, and he has the lancers ready to ride.” The white-haired lord smiled sadly. “No Ebran can accept terms and remain as a leader. So we must arrive most close to Ceorwyn’s forces. We must be prepared for battle when he sees them and rejects them.”

  “You still believe he will attack?” asked Himar. “After the last … battle?”

  Jecks offered a wintry smile. “He may choose to retreat, in order to preserve his forces. Or to obtain days or seasons to rebuild. But …”

  Anna understood the pause. You can’t afford to spend days or weeks chasing Ebrans northward along the river—not with Rabyn poised to invade Defalk as soon as he learns you’re in Ebra—if he hasn’t already. Except the glass had only shown Rabyn on the march, and not clearly in Defalk. Not yet.

  Anna stood, and Blaz stepped forward to take the stool, while Kerhor glanced at the quill and inkstand.

  “You can pack them,” Anna said, extending the scroll to Himar. “I’ll get Farinelli ready, and …” She shrugged. You’ll use more sorcery because no one seems to respond to anything besides sorcery and armsmen … and armsmen will die needlessly because Ceorwyn will not accept terms from a woman or women as people.

  “We are ready to ride, lady.” Standing on the trampled grass, with the ends of his mustache drooping, Himar inclined his head, portraying almost a caricature of the professional soldier knowing that politics would result in armsmen being killed. Unnecessarily killed. But how necessary were so many killings?

  “I’ll be ready as soon as I can be.” Anna turned, looking toward the tielines, where Kinor and Jimbob stood by mounts already saddled and packed. Liende and the players stood by their mounts as well, to the right of the two young men.

  Anna stepped toward the chief player. “Liende … Lord Jecks thinks that this Ceorwyn will reject my terms. We’re only asking that Hadrenn be a regent over Ebra. Lord Bertmynn’s heirs will retain most of their lands, but I will insist that the freewomen hold Elahwa.”