“I wasn’t happy with them, but I wouldn’t have changed that,” Anna admitted. “Just like I didn’t unseat Ustal.” As big a chauvinist as he is.
“Because you would allow a few women to hold lands … he would torch all Defalk?”
Anna gestured eastward toward the distant keep. “He’s certainly acting that way.”
Liende fixed Anna with intent eyes. “How will you use the spell?”
“To kill anyone who supports Tybel and who also believes that women should be slaves.”
“Not to kill them all?”
“Not unless they keep attacking. Then I’ll have to use the full flame spell.”
Liende exhaled slowly. “You are as fair as the harmonies allow. I will have the players make ready once we reach the ridge.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They will be sorrier still, the hapless fools.” Liende’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.
Anna and her guards followed the player back toward their mounts, Blaz carrying the scrying mirror.
107
The area overlooking the road that Anna had picked was more like a bench protruding from the gentle eastern side of the hill than a true ridge. The lancers, each beside his mount, were arrayed in an arc that flanked Anna and the players. Anna’s guards remained mounted.
The sorceress watched as the dust rose from the road leading from the keep beyond the town toward their position. She had picked a slight knoll in the benchlike meadow, one not quite in the center of the open space overlooking the road from Arien. Standing behind her were Liende and the players.
The sound of tuning overrode the intermittent whispers of wind in the dry grass of the hillside field.
“The first warm-up song!” ordered the chief player.
Anna launched into the third vocalise. “Muueeee … oooweee …” Her cords and throat were clear for a change, perhaps because the night frosts had reduced the amount of pollen and molds in the air, and perhaps because the winds had been light and carried little dust.
After the vocalise, the sorceress stepped forward to the edge of the knoll and looked eastward again. Rickel and Blaz, shields out, rode forward to cover her.
The black-surcoated riders slowed almost a dek away and began to re-form from a column into a broader formation, at least several riders deep, from what Anna could tell. Two outriders with black banners bearing some sort of silver device took station before the formation.
At the sound of hoofs, Anna turned to watch as a scout rode up to Himar. Then she turned and walked back toward Liende. The sorceress waited until the players finished the second warm-up tune.
“Yes, Regent?”
“Lord Tybel’s armsmen are forming up. It won’t be long.”
“Stand ready!” Liende ordered.
Both women turned as Himar rode toward them.
“Regent … Chief Player. The scouts say that Lord Tybel has near-on thirtyscore armsmen.” Himar looked eastward for a moment, then back to Anna.
“Thirty? That’s more than any lord in Defalk.” Anna looked at the slowly advancing riders and the dark lances with tips that glittered in the cool afternoon light. As she watched, the formation halted once more, and a rider with a blue parley banner rode forward from the lines of black-surcoated riders and up the gradual incline of the road.
“Birtol! Go hear what he has to say!” ordered Himar.
“Stand ready,” Anna said quietly to Liende. “I think Tybel will make some impossible demand, and when we reject it, he’ll have everyone charge us and try to overwhelm us before I can sing anything. So the players have to be ready to go as soon as their herald or messenger or whatever he is turns.” She paused. “Or if I signal sooner.”
“We are prepared.”
The herald with the parley banner guided his mount to a position a hundred yards below the Defalkan lines. After reining up, Tybel’s herald declaimed. “These words are for the sorceress and for all to hear. Lord Tybel would have naught said in secret, naught hidden.” After a moment, he continued, his voice ringing across the late afternoon. “The most honorable Lord Tybel of Arien demands that the Regency be turned over to him to preserve the heritage and honor of Defalk. He further demands that the false sorceress be stripped of her powers and executed … .”
Anna turned to Liende. “Have them play. Now!”
Liende pivoted on one foot, her face grim. “The flame song—on my mark. MARK!!”
The first introductory bars of the players drifted downhill, past the sorceress and toward the herald and Tybel’s armsmen.
Anna began the spell, trying to maintain both her composure and her images while she projected full concert volume across Tybel’s forces.
Turn to fire, turn to flame
all those under Tybel’s claim,
those who hold women as does he,
those who will not honor the Regency.
As she sang, she concentrated on an image of a curtain of fire, white-hot, descending from the cold, clear sky.
“Charge the bitch!” came the order from below, even before the herald had finished his words of challenge to the Regent-sorceress.
The drumbeat of hoofs began, as the black-clad lancers charged toward the knoll. Anna kept her mind and voice on finishing the spell.
Turn to ashes, turn to dust,
all Tybel’s lancers we cannot trust … .
The chords of harmony strummed once, heard but by Anna and the few of the more sensitive players, then a second time. Those twin chords were clear, but unstrained, unlike other recent efforts by the sorceress.
Whhhhsssttt! Instead of lines of fire, there was an intense sheet of white flame, brighter than the sun that dropped like lightning.
The hillside was silent, deadly silent.
Anna blinked, her eyes watering profusely. White stars flashed before her eyes, the aftermath of the strobelike white fire wall.
“Dissonance …”
“Mother of harmonies …”
“What happened … ?”
The sorceress blotted her eyes, trying to clear her vision, hoping that the spell had been effective, because she wasn’t seeing anything. Except for murmurs from her guards, the silence drew out.
When her eyes stopped tearing and she could finally see, Anna looked downhill. She shook her head. There were five … maybe six men on their mounts in black surcoats. There were no other black-clad figures—or mounts. Beginning about fifty yards below the Defalkan lines, the ground was black, and not a trace of vegetation remained—just a swath of charred ashes three hundred yards deep and almost half a dek wide.
Anna looked at the devastation blankly. Never had one of her spells destroyed a foe so completely and quickly. Your sense of frustration and anger?
The sorceress turned.
Liende looked at her. “ … I wanted that … so much … after what the herald said … . May … the harmonies … forgive me.”
Anna touched her arm. “I guess … maybe I did, too.”
Himar had turned his mount and rode slowly toward Anna across the browned grass, with the faint hint of the orange redness of twilight falling across his face. Seated in his saddle looking down at her, he appeared to be looking up. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What would you have us do?”
“I couldn’t do it any other way,” Anna said raggedly. “Look down there … how many are alive? The spell would have spared anyone loyal to the Regency … anyone who thought women were people … . What was I supposed to do? Too many people have died because I tried to be forgiving and understanding.”
Himar swallowed. “There are some few who live.”
“I’d … like to see … them.”
For a time, Anna leaned against Farinelli, not quite clinging, before she finally fumbled out the water bottle and drank. She had just about finished when a squad of lancers escorted a man on foot toward Anna. The man’s hands were loosely bound, and his scabbard was empty.
Rickel and Lejun stepped forward, sh
ields on their arms, blades out, barring the way to the sorceress. Beside Rickel were Bersan and Fielmir. Blaz flanked Lejun. All five focused on the captive.
“This man remained among those still living,” Himar said.
The man before Anna wore a silver pin of some sort in his black collar, and he stared defiantly at her.
“How many were there?” Anna asked.
“A half-score, all older lancers except this one.”
Anna studied the man with the slightly frizzy henna-colored hair. She should have recognized him, but her mind wouldn’t come up with a name or from where she knew him.
“Will you slaughter me as well, lady?” he finally asked.
The voice was familiar as well. Yet she could not place him. “Why should there be any more killing?”
“So that you can dispose of my uncle’s lands as you please.”
Zybar … the younger brother at Gatrune’s.
“Did he fight?” Anna asked Himar.
“He rode and he had his blade. He was wise enough not to use it after the others fell.”
Anna shook her head at the irony.
Zybar flushed. “You mock me as well!”
“No … I’m not mocking you, Zybar. You didn’t think what your uncle and your father did was right, did you? But you didn’t want to cross them? Or you feared them?”
“I stood with them.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“Best you answer the Regent,” suggested Himar.
Rickel and Lejun raised their bare steel blades slightly.
Zybar shifted his weight, and his eyes finally dropped from Anna’s level gaze. “You had given Lord Hryding’s lands to his consort for his heirs. That was right. I would not, held I lands, have wished it otherwise. Better even a daughter hold her father’s birthright than an outsider or a distant cousin.” Zybar flushed. “I like you not, Regent, but with the lands have you been fair.”
Anna nodded. “I’m glad you think so, Lord Zybar.”
Zybar looked directly at Anna. “You say you do not mock me, yet you call me lord, after you have slain even my brothers and my father and uncle with your sorcery.”
“I used a special spell, Zybar—it only killed those who opposed the Regency. Why do you think you’re alive?”
“Yet you have shamed me, for I did not stand in my heart with my father.” Zybar lifted his head, but his eyes avoided Anna’s.
“You stood for what you thought was right,” Anna pointed out.
“The more fool I. For I will die later as sooner.”
Anna shook her head, waiting. “You say that you think lands could go to daughters as well as sons.”
“Aye. What of Lord Hryding’s lands?”
“His daughter still lives,” Anna said. “Lord Dannel attacked the liedburg in Falcor. His men tried to kill several daughters of lords who were their father’s only heirs. They failed. Lord Dannel is dead. I did seize his lands for that, and that attack was partly why I came to Arien. The other reason was the strange death of Anientta and her sons.”
Zybar’s face paled. “My uncle … he …”
“The ‘illness’ that killed Anientta and her sons was a little too convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“You have shamed my family … yet … I feared such.” Zybar lowered his eyes once more.
“Look at me,” Anna said quietly.
Zybar raised his eyes.
Anna’s eyes were like ice as she addressed him. “You can worry about shame, or you can get on with redeeming your family’s honor by supporting the Regency and what you know to be right. What will it be, Lord Zybar? Will you be Lord of Arien, and support the Regency and the rights of daughters?”
“Altyr has two boys living, and they are in the hold at Arien,” Zybar said slowly. “The oldest is but five. Altyr’s older son died of the flux two years ago.”
“Tybel’s older son may have children, Zybar, but two generations of treachery is enough for me. If you wish to be their guardian, you may do so, but only with the condition that they will never be lords in Defalk. Nor will their children, and you must ensure that. Nor the children of any others except for you.”
“If I cannot undertake such?” questioned the henna-haired man.
“I’ll have them fostered somewhere in the far south or north, as far from Arien as possible.”
“I will foster them myself, save that you allow it.” Zybar’s voice was hoarse.
“I will allow it.” Anna continued to study the young man. “Will you swear fealty to the Regency?”
Zybar lowered his head for a moment, then raised his pale green eyes to Anna’s. “In honor, I have no choice. You have acted with greater honor than my own kin.” He laughed hoarsely. “Yet, so far removed was I that I have no consort, for none …” he shook his head.
“I doubt you will have trouble with that now,” Anna said dryly. After a moment, she added, “You and your remaining armsmen may return to Arien. You can tell your brother’s consort and your cousin’s consort and anyone else that, if anything happens to you, I will exile every living relation of Tybel’s and will use sorcery to destroy whoever lifts a hand against you. You are your family’s sole hope, Zybar. You’d better make good on it.”
Zybar’s eyes met Anna’s. “Dare I do otherwise?”
“No.” Anna glanced toward Himar. “Escort him back to his mount and his men. Then untie him, and let him go.”
She watched the young man walk slowly downhill in the twilight, his steps uneven.
“You are hard, lady,” offered Falar, who had slipped up beside Anna’s guards.
“Hard? Not as hard as Tybel would have been.”
“He must atone for two generations of wrongs, and know that you could destroy him in a moment.” Falar shook his head. “He must change everything his sire and his uncle believed in. He knew they were wrong, and he was not strong enough to stand up to them, and you did, and you are a woman.”
“That’s because I have some power, and he didn’t.”
“From what I hear, you had little enough power when you came to Defalk. Yet you would not turn from what you saw to be true. You have shamed him.” Falar laughed, almost lightly, “Not that we all could not use shaming at times.”
Including you … but what else could you have done—except let people keep getting slaughtered. What you’ve started is like an avalanche … you either stay ahead of it or get swallowed in it.
Her eyes burned as she turned and walked out to the end of the knoll, looking eastward at the distant keep of Arien. Zybar and his ten lancers had already vanished into the twilight.
108
Under the morning sun, Anna turned in the saddle and looked back over her shoulder at Arien. While some had wondered at her refusal to enter Arien, and her insistence on making a camp above the battlefield, after what she had done, she could no more have stayed in the town or the keep than … physically touched Elizabetta across the gap between worlds. Or worked sorcery on Earth.
Her face turned to the road that would lead to Synope and the keep of Flossbend, but she saw nothing. After a restless night’s sleep, her eyes watered and burned with the questions that ran through her mind. What have you become? All you wanted … was a few more rights for women … a little more justice … and it’s as though you were … some sort of monster. Even Himar looks sideways at you.
She twisted in the saddle, then reached for the water bottle, not sure she was thirsty, but knowing she couldn’t afford to get dehydrated, either. The water was cool, tasteless, and she swallowed, then replaced the bottle in its holder. The wind was cool, but not cold, on her face, and the air carried the mold of autumn. She found herself coughing, leaning forward in the saddle for a time before she straightened. Stress always had made the asthma worse.
Liende rode up beside Anna. “You are troubled, Lady Anna.” Her voice was soft, sympathetic in a way Anna had not heard from the older-looking woman in weeks, if not seasons.
“Does it show that much?” Stupid question. “I’m sorry. Yes … I’m troubled.” More than troubled … very troubled.
“You did not wish to destroy Lord Tybel that way?” Liende glanced ahead toward Himar and the vanguard. Except for Liende and her guards, Anna rode very much alone, with wide spaces between her and the lancers.
“It’s not that. I mean, it is, but it isn’t. All I started out to do was to survive and then to make sure Lord Jimbob would have a country left to inherit, and then I tried to make sure that women weren’t treated as slaves. But I kept having to use sorcery against other countries to keep them from invading … mostly, except for Ebra the second time, but Bertmynn was killing all the women in Elahwa because they didn’t want to be slaves anymore.” Anna swallowed. “And somehow, almost half the lords in Defalk are or were against me. And most of Defalk’s neighbors. It’s like a holy war, and all the old lords want to kill me and stop what I’m trying to do. Some of the old crafters like the chandler in Pamr, too. So I either give up, and that doesn’t seem right, or I kill a lot of people, and that’s not right, either. When I tried to talk, no one listened, and when I used force they all thought I was terrible.”
Liende nodded. After a time, she spoke. “Lord Brill treated women well, but he would do nothing beyond his own lands. He died, and nothing changed.”
“If I died tomorrow,” Anna said, “nothing would change.”
“It has already changed, lady, and if you can but survive a handful of years, it will never change back.” The chief player continued more softly. “Never would I have paid as you pay,” Liende said. “You have given my son lands, and my daughter hope and dignity … and others as well, but few will thank you. You have begun to change this land so that it will survive and prosper, but few will thank you for that.”
“I guess I just got tired of being the good little girl.”
“Ah …”
Another expression that doesn’t quite translate. “Women are supposed to listen to men and take their advice. They’re not supposed to be too assertive, even if they’re regents. They’re not supposed to use sorcery to wipe out brave strong armsmen. It’s all right for that brave strong armsman to use his blade or lance, or to take an unwilling woman with his strength, but good girls don’t point those embarrassing things out. Good girls don’t say, ‘You’re not going to keep doing this, and back it up with superior force.’ Good girls don’t …” Anna broke off the monologue. “I guess I’m just not a good girl. Maybe I never was … Now I’ll have to hold the Thirty-three—or many of them—under an iron first” The sorceress shook her head. “I never wanted that.”
Darksong Rising: The Third Book of the Spellsong Cycle Page 52
