“Because I am not completely sure how this will affect the Lealfast,” Georgdi said, “or how long any effect will last, or even if I have enough of the falamax pods to affect all of the Lealfast. I am not going to commit every man in this citadel to action, without knowing if I may lose every last one of them.”
He pointed down to the causeway. “The only viable way we can exit and re-enter is via that causeway.” Georgdi had heard of another possibility from Elcho Falling’s servant, but it was even more unfeasible than the causeway. “It is narrow. To start with, I can’t get many men out without everything becoming congested or taking six weeks to accomplish, nor can we retreat without the same problem. I take sixty men with me and sixty only. I just want to make a point, StarDrifter, but it is going to be a damned good point.”
“And you’re going to have some fun,” Insharah said. He was a little out of sorts because he was to be left behind, but Georgdi hadn’t wanted to risk every commander they had in the citadel. Georgdi and Ezekiel would be going with the sixty men — comprising twenty Isembaardians, twenty Outlanders and twenty Emerald Guard — but Insharah and Egalion would remain within Elcho Falling.
“And I am going to have some fun,” Georgdi said. “StarDrifter? Can you do this?”
StarDrifter glanced at Georgdi disbelievingly. “Of course I can do this. But won’t the spores affect you as well, when you go into the Lealfast camp?”
Georgdi shook his head. “We’ll give it two hours . . . the spores do not last long in the open air and will disintegrate. By the time we sally forth it will be safe.”
StarDrifter picked up a large wickerwork basket full of crushed and crumbled squares of falamax pods. Georgdi had earlier collected the squares from his men . . . now it was up to StarDrifter.
“Just be careful you don’t inhale any of it,” Georgdi said, taking a precautionary step back.
StarDrifter closed his eyes and counted to ten, finding within himself the means to ignore that unnecessary remark.
Then he fixed his eyes on the basket and began to weave magic out of the air.
It took a moment or two, but soon a ribbon of spores rose slowly from the basket, higher and higher into the air. Gradully, the ribbon of falamax spores broadened and moved over the lake toward the Lealfast encampment.
There the ribbon widened and thinned until it covered the entire camp, then, infinitely gently, the spores drifted downward.
Eleanon lay slouched about the fire, as he had the previous night. He felt warm and content, and slightly inebriated once again.
He wondered if Ravenna was anywhere close, and was vaguely thinking he might go look for her when, close by, Bingaleal looked into the air in terror.
“We’re under attack by gryphons!” Bingaleal shrieked, pointing upward.
Eleanon took a moment to ponder the fact that he didn’t feel like reacting very energetically to this pronouncement despite the terror and urgency in his brother’s voice, before, equally unsurprised, he saw one of the Lealfast who had been patrolling the skies about Elcho Falling fall directly into the fire.
Bingaleal was on his feet, shrieking over and over that it was a gryphon.
The Lealfast in the fire was writhing and shrieking, too (not particularly surprising, Eleanon thought, again somewhat amazed at the tranquillity of his thoughts), and shouting something about misshapen giants attacking the outer permitter of the camp.
Misshapen giants, Eleanon thought. How ridiculous. He has been drinking too heavily of the wine.
Still, he supposed he should do something about the situation. He yawned and stretched, rising to his feet to watch, puzzled, as something bulbous and warty (the ghastly result of a mating between a warthog and a bull?) stepped up behind Bingaleal, then gutted him with its horns.
Bingaleal staggered a few paces away, clutching at his belly. He dropped to the ground with a nauseating wet thump.
“Oh,” said Eleanon.
The creature then turned to Kalanute and Sonorai, standing to one side observing Bingaleal’s misfortune with wide, glazed eyes, and gutted them as well.
Then it turned to Eleanon, and for the first time Eleanon felt terror.
The creature waved its bloodied and gore-streaked horns at Eleanon, and spoke. “I might come back, Eleanon. One day, when you are asleep. Do you dare sleep ever again, do you think?”
Georgdi looked at Eleanon who had, finally, begun to shriek in horror. Then Georgdi laughed as Eleanon pissed himself.
“I hope you remember that in the morning,” Georgdi said, waving his bloodied sword at the dark stain running down Eleanon’s breeches, then he turned and shouted the order for his men to retreat into Elcho Falling.
As he jogged toward the causeway, Georgdi began to laugh. The entire encampment of Lealfast was in turmoil. The spores had tumbled those Lealfast in the air straight down onto the encampment as they forgot to fly amid their hallucinations — at least thirty had burned to death on camp fires. Meanwhile, Georgdi, Ezekiel and his men had run amok through that area of the camp closest to the causeway. Georgdi had personally killed a score of Lealfast, and thought most of the others had managed a similar feat.
Georgdi reached the start of the causeway then stood, counting the men who now headed back into Elcho Falling.
Fifty-eight . . . fifty-nine . . . sixty . . . and now Ezekiel, bringing up the rear.
Not a single loss.
Ezekiel was laughing as well, and Georgdi thought the man looked thirty years younger. Georgdi clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder, and together they jogged back to Elcho Falling.
At dawn, Eleanon stood on the shore of the lake, staring at Elcho Falling and nursing a raging headache. He had used his power to wrap the Lealfast camp in an invisible, thin barrier — not enough to repel an arrow or even a bird, but enough to keep out whatever airborne hallucinogen had been directed at them last night.
They would not be caught out again.
Eleanon’s headache was currently being made worse by the fact that the One had decided to make contact and was screaming into his mind.
Fool! Fool! Did you not for a single moment think they might try something like this?
“Shut up,” Eleanon said, very quietly. He wanted silence, so he could concentrate his hate.
They had killed Bingaleal.
Fool, I say it again, and again! Fool! How could you not have anticipated —
And you did not anticipate, did you? Eleanon shot back at the One. You did not know what was happening. Do you not have Georgdi’s ear, then? You were as fooled as I.
I wanted to see if you had the skills at hand to manage even this. I wanted to see if you could pass this one single test. I wanted to see if —
Eleanon shut the One out. He’d had enough of the One and he’d had enough of doing the One’s bidding. Fuck him.
He was going to take revenge for last night, and he was going to damn well do it on his own terms.
“You think to humiliate me?” Eleanon whispered to Elcho Falling and all its inhabitants.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not even next week.
But not too far away, either.
They would all die now, and Elcho Falling would be torn down and trampled into the dust.
Meanwhile, there were Inardle and Axis.
Eleanon had to vent his fury somewhere, and his curiosity about what they might do with Isaiah was now at an utter end.
Chapter 14
The Outlands
Axis kept his heels close to the flanks of the horse, moving it at a slow canter, riding ever further south. He’d found the horse about noon on the first day out from Elcho Falling by using Georgdi’s whistle. Now, two days after his escape with Inardle, Axis had a small collection of horses trailing along behind him, enough that he could change mounts several times a day and keep pushing the pace.
He was relaxed but watchful. He enjoyed doing something, but he was very aware that danger lay all about. Yesterday evening Inardle told him th
at Kezial’s army rode just to the west, moving toward Elcho Falling. They would be there very soon. Axis hadn’t seen them himself, but he kept an eye out for any scouts.
And then there was the possibility of the Lealfast. Axis still couldn’t believe that he and Inardle had escaped from Elcho Falling unnoticed — whatever Inardle said, Axis preferred to keep his options open as to whether or not Eleanon had realised their presence. Lealfast treachery was always a possibility, and every few minutes Axis would raise his eyes and scout the sky — a fairly useless activity since the Lealfast could travel virtually invisible. He knew he’d never spot an individual Lealfast.
There was something niggling at the back of Axis’ mind, something that made him believe there were Lealfast following him. Axis couldn’t define the feeling and this close to Elcho Falling he didn’t want to use his power lest Eleanon pick it up, but he tried to reason to himself that Eleanon would normally have scouts patrolling and that they’d be curious about any activity . . . even what appeared to be a lone goat or sheep herder.
Axis was a little less worried about Isaiah’s situation. According to Inardle, Isaiah was at least a week ahead. She had told Axis the previous night that the Skraeling army had caught up with Isaiah, but had not yet attacked.
That was good news, but it also concerned Axis. He wondered why they’d not attacked.
It wasn’t like the Skraelings. What were they planning?
Inardle had asked if he wanted her to contact Isaiah, but Axis had said no.
He didn’t want Inardle engaged in any conversation with Isaiah of which he was not a part. Of course, Axis had no way of knowing if Inardle had or had not talked to Isaiah . . . with her abilities, she could certainly have travelled the distance to meet with him . . . so Axis contented himself with the thought that if he found out she had disobeyed him and contacted Isaiah, he would kill her.
It would be reason enough.
Axis had not actually seen Inardle since their escape. Shortly after they’d escaped the descending Lealfast, Inardle had taken to the sky. Now she travelled high above him, as would any Lealfast who wanted to remain unobserved. She did not join his small campfire at night.
Instead, the only contact Axis had with her was when she invaded his dreams as he slept. He hated this so much that he had tried to stay awake these past two nights, even though he’d needed his rest, but he never succeeded and always drifted into sleep at some point.
Axis would feel her before he ever heard her voice — a disturbing presence at the edge of his mind. Inardle would slip into his dreams coyly, Axis glimpsing her in the shadows of whatever dream had engaged him, passing back and forth, back and forth; she came forward only when he’d reached a point of such exasperation that he was close to waking.
I have news, she would say, and Axis would grind his teeth, even in sleep, and be forced to ask her to speak it. And so Inardle would relate whatever it was she had seen from her vantage point high in the sky that day, and then she would ask how he was, and then Axis would dismiss her.
Often the only way he could do this was to force himself awake. He’d lie there in his blanket, cold even though the fire would always be stoked (had she done that just before she’d entered his dreams?), and tremble with anger.
Axis just wanted to reach Isaiah . . . although it didn’t sound as if Isaiah still needed his help.
If nothing else, Axis was enjoying the ride. The horses were good — strong obedient animals fit enough to keep up a canter for many hours at a time — and the scenery was spectacular. For the time being Axis was keeping to the coast, as it was easier to avoid any scouts Kezial might have out and about. Later, when he was certain Kezial’s army was well behind him, Axis meant to angle inland so he could intercept Isaiah.
The land in the northern coastal Outlands consisted of low, rolling grassy hills above steep cliffs that plummeted a hundred paces down to the pounding surf of the Infinity Sea. It was easy going for the horses, and pleasing for their rider. The weather was mild now that the seasons had turned away from winter and into spring, the air fresh. The constant low roar of the surf and the cries of the sea birds wheeling overhead calmed Axis’ nerves.
The only thing he missed was company. Axis was not a loner by nature, always enjoying the company of good friends . . . either in a fight or a journey.
Here he had only Inardle.
That night Axis established a camp in the lee of a rocky formation some fifty paces back from the cliffs. He used the carcass of a long-dead tree for wood and started a roaring fire, not particularly caring who could see it. His disguise lay in his visibility. He ate a simple meal from the diminishing supplies he carried with him in his pack, replenished the supply of wood he had to one side for the fire, then unrolled his sleeping blanket and prepared to settle for the night.
Just as Axis was stretching out though, Inardle suddenly appeared, fully visible, on the other side of the fire.
Axis was so startled — and so angry at her incaution — that he jerked to his feet.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “If anyone sees you they will —”
“Bingaleal is dead,” Inardle said, then stunned Axis by starting to cry silently.
“What?” Axis said. “How?”
“I don’t know the details, but I felt his death. It was last night. I have been heavy with grief all day. I —”
“Inardle, what are you doing so visible? Someone can easily see you . . . I have felt other Lealfast about and —”
“They have gone, recalled to Elcho Falling by Eleanon. Axis, I do not know the details, but there was deceit and murder, and it involved Georgdi.”
Axis grinned, all his humour returning. Trust Georgdi to come up with some scheme to create mayhem among the Lealfast. Axis wished, very deeply, that he’d been there to take part.
Inardle’s face tightened at Axis’ smile. “He was my brother!”
“Forgive me if I do not share your grief. Besides, have you not spent hours telling me how the other Lealfast are lost to you now? I do not understand these tears.”
“That is because you have no understanding of love, Axis.”
Now Axis lost his humour. “I am glad he is dead. I am not even going to pretend any sorrow or concern for your grief. I hope Georgdi managed to take a few more of your fellows out as well. Now, is there any other news you wish to share? You threaten me by appearing about my campfire, and I am not sure I should believe you when you say that our Lealfast watchers have gone. If Bingaleal can be so easily tricked into death, then you can just as easily be tricked into believing whatever our watchers want you to believe.”
Inardle rose to her feet. “I have no idea why I stay with you.”
“Because you have nowhere else to go, and no one else who wants you. Inardle . . . do you still believe Eleanon did not know of our presence when we left Elcho Falling?”
“If he had he would have killed us.”
“Maybe so and maybe not. I am keeping on alert nonetheless.”
“I would not weep for you, Axis, if you died.”
Axis sighed. “How far is Isaiah now? How long before I reach him? And what is happening with the Skraelings who trail him? Or have you been too lost in your grief today to take note of any of these matters?”
Inardle took a step back from the fire, her form beginning to frost over and then fade.
“Four or five more days of riding should bring you to Isaiah. Angle inland on the day after tomorrow. Maybe you will hit his force at the wrong spot, Axis, and find the trailing Skraeling gaggle instead. I hope to the stars they eat you.”
With those words, Inardle vanished completely.
Chapter 15
Elcho Falling
Kezial reined in his horse, raising his fist to shoulder height to bring the column behind him to a halt.
He’d watched as Elcho Falling had risen — he’d been able to see it on the horizon — and his sense of awe had not abated one bit as he’d ridden closer.
Neither had his sense of danger.
Everything was wrong about this.
Armat should have sent riders with messages (orders, knowing Armat) many days ago.
There should have been Isembaardian scouts everywhere.
Nothing.
There had been some Lealfast overhead, but they had not deigned to descend to speak to him, and even if they had, Kezial would not have trusted them. He’d heard from Armat’s messengers (before they all became strangely absent) that Armat had humiliated the Lealfast in a battle in the central Outlands and that they had joined Maximilian in Elcho Falling when that weakling had raised the citadel.
But now . . . everything felt wrong.
The column behind him, sixty thousand men strong, was fully armed and battle ready. Kezial had his own scouts reconnoitring, and knew that a great mass of Lealfast, hundreds of thousands of the creatures, were camped about the shores of Elcho Falling.
Why were they not inside the citadel if they were Maximilian’s toys?
And where was Armat? Where his army?
And why were there no Icarii around? Kezial had expected to see them in the skies above.
At least the Lealfast hadn’t attacked Kezial or his forward scouts, but again that fact made Kezial nervous.
If the Lealfast were allied with Maximilian, then rightfully they should have attacked his scouts. If the Lealfast were not allied with Maximilian, but now committed to their own cause, then they should still have attacked Kezial’s scouts . . . if for no other reason than they had no cause to love any Isembaardian after what Armat had done to them.
That left the possibility that the Lealfast were now allied with Armat.
But if that was so, then where was Armat?
Kezial could make no sense of it at all.
Everything made his tightly drawn nerves vibrate, sensing danger.
He currently sat his horse perhaps an hour’s ride from Elcho Falling. He could see it clearly: the walls rising as water and then crystal and then stone, high into the sky, the three golden rings revolving slowly about its peak, the lake of turquoise water surrounding the citadel . . . and the enormous encampment of Lealfast that Kezial could now see through his eyeglass and who, to his dismay, were occupying Isembaardian tents.
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