“Good, very good.” Adrogans clasped his gloved hands at the small of his back. “How did we win?”
Mikhail winced. “Dreams, General, are so seldom specific. But we did win, and I was there, in Varalorsk. I know this because I had drawn a sketch of the tower from my dream, then I spoke with the men from Svoin. I drew the map as they told me it was, and I compared the two. They matched perfectly. And, remember, General, that I have never seen the Three Brothers. I was born in Yslin, in exile.”
“I am pleased to have the omen, then, as well as this model.” Adrogans furrowed his brows, then replaced the top layer of Varalorsk. “Toppling these towers will not be easy.”
“No, General. They have never been taken before.”
The Jeranese general decided not to argue that point. The Three Brothers had actually fallen into Aurolani hands because they had been abandoned. Stories over the years had resolved themselves into a core fiction that indicated a noble had commanded the garrisons to come away with her and cover her retreat to Jerana. Some said it was Tatyana; others named various nobles, though no single story seemed to be verifiable. Tatyana had actually been in Yslin at the time of the retreat, and countless nobles had fled Okrannel, but none powerful enough to command the garrison to depart. Chances were the soldiers had just decided that fleeing was preferable to dying.
Had they ever been taken before, Adrogans might have had a place to start planning. As it was, the setup only had one defect, and that was that the three brothers could not see each other. Aside from that, they were nearly unassailable. The Svar River cut a deep gorge through the mountains at that point. The road was narrow and the approaches to Darovin were such that far too little siege machinery could be brought up the road and positioned to launch on the fortress. While a ram might do the job, the time it would take to haul it along the snowy road would give the garrisons ample opportunity to prepare themselves. The missiles from the fortress would be hideous and if they had dragonels . . .
“Beal mot Tsuvo’s people said nothing about dragonels, correct?”
Mikhail shook his head, but pointed at two openings on either side of the gatehouses. “A generation ago these had ballistae in them that could rake the roadway. They have been opened a bit, and it is thought they might contain dragonels. The scouts did say the work was irregular, so I don’t know.”
Adrogans nodded and, dimly, felt Pain rake her fingers down his spine. The only way to find out what lurked there was to present a force that would invite an attack. Adrogans imagined men huddled behind mantlets, approaching as quickly as they could, being blown into bloody splinters by the dragonels therein.
The problem was that the Three Brothers had to be taken; otherwise, Adrogans’ line of supply from Guraskya would be cut. It would have been possible for him to infiltrate his people through the mountains—killing many horses in the process—but they would arrive hungry and weak. Or, worse, the troops in the Three Brothers would be able to range south to the ford and cut off his supplies, if another blizzard didn’t do that anyway or, worse, trap his entire army in the mountains so they would starve to death.
Taking and holding the Three Brothers would guarantee that no other Aurolani troops slipped in and attacked his army from the rear. Just because he knew of no other troops operating in the south did not mean there were none, or that none were on their way. Just over a century before, the Aurolani had undertaken the daring seaborne raid that won them Vorquellyn. A repeat of that action could land troops anywhere along the eastern coast, leaving them able to hammer his people against the anvil of Svarskya.
Mikhail pointed to six banners, four of which were located at Varalorsk, then one north at Krakoin and the other south at Darovin. “I painted them according to the descriptions given, and none shows signs of dragonels, but I do not know if Aurolani banners ever did. It would be six legions, though.”
Adrogans nodded. “A garrison of six hundred, which is slightly less than the Okrans army used to use. Still, within those fortresses, they might as well be doubled, or tripled, even. They won’t be foolish enough to come out after us as they did at the ford. The obvious approach would be the frozen river, but it is far too volatile.”
“That is true. The water level is down to winter levels, but the river still runs deep. It did freeze over earlier than normal because of the weather, but the ice will not support siege engines. Were the river bed shallower, we might get a catapult down but . . .”
“The engineers would freeze.” The Jeranese general sighed. “The river is just one broad killing field, and even if our people were able to rush past it and reach the roadway between Varalorsk and Darovin, what then? They would be trapped between and troops from Varalorsk would slaughter them.”
Phfas entered the long, low building Adrogans had appropriated as his headquarters. He hissed as he saw what they were studying. “The Three Brothers. You know the history?”
Adrogans nodded. “Three brothers back in history stopped a Zhusk horde bent on pillaging Svarskya. They died there. The citadel was raised in their honor. That legend, uncle?”
The Zhusk shaman nodded. “An evil time.” He glared at Mikhail as if daring the Okrans noble to make a comment, but the young man wisely held his tongue.
Adrogans smiled. “Why do you remind me of this legend, uncle?”
The old man smiled lopsidedly. “So you would know the Zhusk have no answer to this puzzle.”
“Noted, thank you.” The general shared a smile with Mikhail. “The Blackfeathers, the Rangers, and Beal’s scouts will keep us informed about any reinforcements. It would appear, however, that the best approach—and I use that term advisedly—will be a frontal assault. It will not be pleasant.”
The duke nodded. “The Kingsmen will request the honor of going in first, General.”
“So anxious to die, Duke Mikhail?”
The young man shook his head. “These fortresses were raised to protect our home. How can we ask others to shed their blood first to destroy them? Only a coward would do that. Besides, I know we will win through, so I know I will not die.”
“But you may be the only one to survive.”
That comment sobered Mikhail for a moment, but his brown eyes dulled only for a heartbeat. “Then I shall be the one to scale the gates, slaughter the garrison, and lead the way to Varalorsk.”
Phfas snorted. “Wake up, Svarskya. This is not a dream. It is a nightmare.”
Pain’s talons sank into the back of Adrogans’ skull, but he shrugged the agony away. “It is indeed a nightmare, but one we shall find a way to push on through.”
Mikhail smiled. “I have every confidence in you, General. I could only wish Alexia was here to help.”
“I would welcome it.” Adrogans glanced at Phfas as the shaman muttered under his breath. “Alas, even your cousin’s vaunted talents might be stymied here. More blood than water will flow in the taking of the Three Brothers. Unless I can change that, the cost will keep Svarskya out of our grasp forever.”
CHAPTER 40
F or Alexia, the time spent in Bokagul had many dreamlike qualities, all of which conspired to push the horror of winter and the war into the background. Though she still felt the urgency to get to Caledo, the trip through the urZrethi halls and corridors—she could not bring herself to consider such places tunnels—went faster than expected.
The halls took her breath away. Having grown up in Gyrvirgul, she was used to living within mountains. After all, the urZrethi had created Gyrvirgul for the Gyrkyme, willingly courting the anger of elves by providing the winged ones with a home. There the urZrethi had created vast open galleries that were perfect for the Gyrkyme.
But had she been asked to predict the nature of urZrethi architecture, she would not have thought of the tall galleries as being something they would normally create. But it seemed the urZrethi built everything on a grand scale, with walls rising into gloom. Floor after floor of galleries and balconies, all decorated with ornate sculptures, soared in
to the shadows. The stone looked less carved than cultivated—trained the way gardeners worked topiary.
The whimsy in some of the decorations surprised Alyx. Her mental image of the urZrethi had rendered them dour and doughty, stout-hearted and humorless. But granted most of the tales she knew involved warriors who had emerged from the mountain strongholds for battle, and that might have provided a skewed view. She welcomed the chance to have her knowledge of them broadened.
Each night over the five days of their journey, the company was welcomed into a coric. Perrine always took the premier position by dint of the fact that she had what all urZrethi wanted: the ability to fly. Watching how the urZrethi reacted to Peri suggested that even if elves had offered to go to war over the Gyrkyme, the urZrethi still would have created Gyrvirgul.
Alexia shared a chamber with Crow at night and the others seemed to be happy for them—though Peri teased her as only a sister might. Alyx looked forward to the time she got to lie with Crow, whispering conspiratorially with him so as not to disturb any of the others. She loved tracing her fingers through his white hair, or down through the thatch on his chest and along the trio of scars that marked the right side of his body.
Occasionally she would forget the scars were there. One time, upon encountering them, her hand recoiled, but Crow’s hand covered it. “It’s all right, Alexia. They don’t hurt.”
“It’s not that.”
He snorted lightly and she could sense a smile forming on his lips. “You fear the memory would be painful, or could have been, but I was simply doing what had to be done to save my friends. When I did not break and when she could not trick me, Chytrine decided to kill me. The fact that I’ve lived long enough for these scars still to be there is a victory. There are few enough of those in the world.”
Her fingers came up and raked through his beard. “We will have more, you know.”
Crow’s right hand came up. His index finger played along her jaw, then tipped her face up. “The same day Chytrine got the Svarskya fragment of the DragonCrown, she let you slip away. I think she will find that a very grave error.”
He kissed her then and they made love. Softly, slowly, and quietly they joined, despite the urgency they felt. Desire flashed through Alyx. She wanted to touch and taste and caress. She wanted to feel him move under her and over her. She wanted to hold him very close and to be held closer, then have their worlds melt and fuse in passion until their unity was all that existed.
And, for a time, it was. In the time after that, sleep came, deepened by the feeling of safety in his arms. That struck her as odd, though, because she had never felt unsafe or insecure. She had just always felt that she needed to be on her guard, but with Crow that was utterly unnecessary.
That next day, the third in their trek, Alexia did manage to slip away and join the Communion of Dragons, while sitting back after a meal, listening to urZrethi singers present a melodic series of ballads she could not understand. Maroth met her at the slip and took her to the island, where she found the Black Dragon and two other individuals. One was female and appeared to be completely fashioned of ice. Alyx wondered if, for a moment, Chytrine had managed to project herself into the Communion, but she felt no malevolence coming from the woman.
The other figure was a man—or so she assumed since all she saw was the clothing he wore. From boots and velvet trousers to a heavy jacket and on up to a black velvet cap, it all seemed rather fashionable. At least she had seen some people in Meredo so attired. Of his flesh there was not a sign.
The Black Dragon greeted her warmly. “It is very good to see you. I had heard reports that you had gone north from Meredo, but nothing since.”
Alyx regarded him curiously. “You are tracking me?”
“I will admit an interest in you, since I nominated you to join us, but I have not been hunting or spying. I assume you are traveling to Muroso? You left Meredo in the company of a princess.” The Black’s jaw dropped open in an approximation of a smile. “Prince Linchmere is missing from the capital, and many believe he’ll be found dead with the spring thaw.”
Alyx could not keep from smiling. “They will have to look well outside Meredo to find Linchmere. Just so you know, I am heading north. Right now we are moving through Bokagul. We are probably a week away from Caledo.”
The Unseen Man sipped a cup of wine. “A week and it shall yet be there. Two perhaps.”
The woman hissed. “Caledo will take far longer to fall, if it does at all.”
“I hope, for your sake, Ryme, that your people fare far better than mine. The Aurolani would be at the gates of Caledo already save that the consolidation of Sebcia is taking longer than expected. The blizzards are in their favor, but they are slowing down troops and supplies. Sebcians have been laying their own nation to waste as they retreat.”
Alyx nodded. “Your source is reliable?”
A hearty laugh issued from the invisible throat. “My dear child, I am my source. I fled Lurrii when it fell, and am now fighting on the peninsula. If no ships can be found, I’ll die there, too.”
The Black shook his head. “You’ll not die. You’re far too resourceful.”
“My frostbitten toes—the few I have left—thank you, my friend.” The clothes bowed toward the Black. “Chytrine’s army is vast. Gibberers clearly breed faster than imagined. I have heard tales of other creatures in her armies, but have seen none myself. Sullanciri have been sighted, but again I have seen none. The push is on to Muroso, though.”
The woman nodded. “Sebcian refugees have told terrible tales.” She looked at Alyx. “My sister is safe with you, is she not?”
The princess frowned. “You know who I am?”
“No, but I would not be here were I not able to deduce that the Murosan Princess traveling north from Meredo is my sister. Her mission to bring the Norrington to Caledo was not sanctioned by our father. He will be pleased to accept help, but her departure angered him.”
“Your sister is well, and is a bold warrior.”
“A bit headstrong, but likewise heartstrong.” Ryme’s comment was made with some affection, but more annoyance. “The Aurolani have advanced on a broad front so you will never be truly safe until you reach Caledo.”
“Thank you.” Alyx frowned. Because she had learned about the Aurolani advance in the Communion, she would not be able to share that information with anyone outside. She would not be prevented from acting on it, however, and could direct things so that their guard would be up when they left the mountains.
She looked at the Black. “Anything from Fortress Draconis or Okrannel?”
He shook his head. “I fear the worst for our Communicants at Fortress Draconis. In Okrannel there is much secrecy, but Adrogans does appear to be moving against Aurolani probes in the Guranin Highlands. Beyond that I know nothing, though I do hope for the best.”
“As do I.” Alyx smiled. “I’d best be back to Bokagul. Until we meet again.”
The Unseen Man raised his goblet in a salute. “If we meet again.”
His words echoed in her head as she blinked her eyes and returned to the coric. Crow offered her a tankard of mulled wine. “Anything wrong, Highness?”
She accepted the wine from him, letting her left hand surreptitiously stroke the back of his right. “No, nothing.”
“You seemed far away.”
“I was, but I am back now. Come, sit beside me.”
He eyed the choir. “Misery loves company?”
She winked. “No, lover, temptation demands it.”
Will hunched his shoulders and pulled his cloak tighter about himself as the massive urZrethi portal rolled back. He squinted as light reflected brightly from the virgin snow. The company rode from a warm mountain fastness out to the shore of a huge lake in the northern reaches of Bokagul. Breath steamed, and ice began to form almost immediately on the muzzle of his horse.
Silide-tse Jynyn came striding up on his left, keeping pace with him and Princess Sayce. “The lake is Osemyr
, which means lake of the stars. In the summer, on a moonless night, one can come here and peer at the lake. Its dark waters perfectly reflect the night sky. Constellations twinkle and stars streak to their death.”
Will looked past her at a vast snowfield. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. As beautiful as it is cold.”
The urZrethi sighed. “My apologies. But our journey outside could not be helped.”
For four days they had traveled through the halls of the urZrethi, passing from realm to realm. The whole of Bokagul was divided into duchies, baronies, and counties; cities, towns, and villages—which struck Will as incredibly odd because it was all underground. The routes they traveled were the equivalent of the kings’ roads, save that a village might be above or below it, and therefore entirely unseen. The corics in which they stayed were guest lodgings, and delegations from the local nobility would come out to fete them. The idea, though, that someone could ride through a hallway and move from one realm to another just boggled Will’s mind.
The reason they had been forced outside was Kerrigan’s servant, Bok. His family name was Jex, and the next realm on the route was his home. Word of his presence had traveled quickly through Bokagul. Whereas most urZrethi just ignored his presence in deference to their visitors, the Baroness of Yreeu refused to grant them passage. That forced a detour out to the lakeshore and the biting cold.
Sayce looked over at Silide-tse. “It is not your fault. It is understandable that he would not be welcome there.”
Will arched an eyebrow. “It is? What did he do wrong?”
The urZrethi kept her voice even. “He is a rebel against our society, Lord Norrington. He chose to live apart, so his return is not permitted.”
“Um, you said he chose to live apart, but I thought he just decided not to be a slave. I mean, that’s what I was told it meant to be branded a bok.”
Sayce shook her head. “It is more complicated than that. Society has rules so that everyone can play their part. In Muroso, people are bound to the land, to work it for their liege lords. They produce food and livestock and generate income for their master and he, in turn, protects them. Your Freemen, when the war is done, will go with you to Eori and will begin farming until the time for them to rise and serve you as warriors comes again.”
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