by Dragon Lance
This was not altogether a positive occurrence from Vixa’s point of view. As the mist lifted and the salt rain ceased, she and her command found themselves a lonely island in a sea of Dargonesti. Hastily they formed a circle, every elf facing outward, sword and shield ready. Vixa sheathed her blade and recovered a Dargonesti spear from the mud. Without a shield of her own, she needed the reach of the longer weapon.
Several hundred enemy warriors formed a short distance away. Vixa paced inside the small circle of her soldiers, giving orders in what she hoped was a steadying voice. Now and then she glanced up at the city. A furious fight still raged atop the wall. She uttered a brief, silent prayer for Samcadaris. Then there was time for nothing but survival.
The Dargonesti rushed them from all sides. They had rags tied around their heads to keep their gills damp, but the sun was out now and the air was warming rapidly. Vixa could see the powerful blue-skinned warriors gasping even as they tried to squeeze the small circle of Silvanesti into oblivion. At least, she thought, the city will be saved. Destroying the spell of the evil priests was worth all their lives.
The press of bodies was overpowering. Vixa raced around the inside of the circle of warriors, stabbing her spear at encroaching sea elves. The weapon was finally wrenched from her grasp. Two Silvanesti in front of her were knocked down by the sheer weight of Dargonesti pushing in. Vixa tried to back away, but she fetched up against the backs of the Silvanesti behind her. There was no place left to go.
She grabbed a sword from the lifeless hand of one of her soldiers and dueled with a pair of spear-armed Dargonesti. Something hard rapped Vixa sharply on the side of her head. Stunned, she went down. A wounded Silvanesti fell across her legs. The river mud gripped her. She felt herself sinking into it.
A horn blared above the clash of war. With the shouts and screams of combat around her, Vixa couldn’t tell if it was a Dargonesti conch shell or Silvanesti brass. She struggled to rise. Her borrowed sword slipped away and was swallowed by the mud.
One of her soldiers cried out, “The silver moon banner of Eriscodera! It’s the militia!”
Vixa grappled with fallen friends and foes and staggered upright. She nearly wept with relief at the sight that met her eyes. On the far shore were thousands of Silvanesti, those called to arms by the Speaker’s edict. At their head was an auburn-haired elf on horseback. Silvanost was saved!
With a concerted shout, Eriscodera and his cavalry left the marching levies and charged down the dry, cracked riverbank onto the mud flats. The white-kilted infantry, armed with pikes and halberds, came after them to the music of elven pipes and drums. The music wafted across the narrow channel that was all that remained of the mighty Thon-Thalas. Vixa watched the cavalry flounder in the heavy mud, but they kept coming. They weren’t making for the western gate of Silvanost though, but for a cluster of poles and banners in the center of the river.
“Silvanesti, rally!” she shouted hoarsely. “On your feet!”
Barely a dozen warriors remained to answer her call. The Dargonesti had fallen back when Eriscodera’s trumpets had sounded. The sea elves seemed uncertain whether to finish off Vixa’s little band or form and meet the oncoming cavalry.
Atop the city wall, Coryphene also heard the blaring of the horns, and he saw disaster looming for his army. Three-quarters of his depleted host was engaged in a wild fight along the walls. When the priests of Zura had died, the magical ramps of solidified fog had vanished. Coryphene’s troops on the wall were trapped. The Protector was committed to this battle as the will of his queen, and he would not have ordered retreat even had the ramps still been in place. He was quite prepared to fight to the last elf. However, when he saw Eriscodera’s cavalry divert from the city to Queen Uriona’s pavilion in the river, his ambition failed him. His queen was alone and undefended but for her servants. The fact that she was still covered by seven feet of water didn’t seem to register in his frantic mind. Coryphene saw drylanders bearing down upon his divine mistress, and he acted. He threw down his weapons and leapt from the wall in a graceful, arcing dive.
No land dweller could have survived so great a fall, but Coryphene’s body, accustomed to the press of the ocean’s depths, absorbed the shock of impact. He hit the sun-dried ground, rolled down to the line of mud, and got shakily to his feet. The blood streaming from his face and the cries of his officers, still atop the wall, were all ignored as he hurried toward Uriona’s pavilion.
The remaining Dimernesti mercenaries had fled upon first sighting the levies. They were back in the Thon-Thalas heading for the sea even before Coryphene’s prodigious leap. When the Dargonesti on the wall saw their leader leave the field of battle, the fight went out of them as well. Word quickly spread through their ranks that the Lord Protector had deserted them. They drew back from their exhausted enemies and grounded their arms. Amazed, Samcadaris sent an emissary forward to discover their intentions. The Silvanesti officer came back with word that the sea elves wished to surrender.
The dazed marshal accepted with alacrity. With his lieutenants at his side, Samcadaris came down from the watchtower to accept the surrender of the Dargonesti army.
*
“Uriona! Uriona!” Coryphene shouted. He shed breastplate and armor as he ran, limping, then dove into the brown river. Born as he was to the water, still he couldn’t cover the distance in time to reach the queen before the Silvanesti cavalry did. They surrounded her pavilion and slew any servants who tried to do battle with them. Coryphene found himself hemmed in by lance-wielding soldiers long before he set eyes upon Uriona. He drew his dagger to die fighting. At that moment Eriscodera and Gundabyr arrived, the dwarf riding double with Eriscodera’s standard-bearer.
“Take him alive,” said the dwarf. “He’s their leader.”
Coryphene still struggled to reach his queen, flailing in the chest-deep water until he was exhausted. The Silvanesti cavalry barred him from getting any closer. Uriona was out of the water now and on her way, under heavy guard, to the west bank. At last, Coryphene ceased his struggles. He bowed his head.
“I-I yield to you,” he said, holding out his dagger hilt-first to Eriscodera.
The colonel took the proffered weapon. His troopers disarmed Coryphene and bound his hands with cord.
“Put Lord Coryphene on a horse,” the colonel ordered. “We will present him and his royal mistress to the Speaker of the Stars.”
Coryphene and his escort galloped to the city. Eriscodera and his herald, with Gundabyr riding pillion, returned to the west bank where Uriona was being held by the militia.
“Why does she wear that mask?” asked the colonel.
“No one is allowed to look on her face,” Gundabyr explained. “Those that dare are killed.”
“Shall we unmask her?” suggested a grinning soldier. Uriona stiffened visibly.
“Certainly not!” Eriscodera snapped. “You will show Her Majesty every courtesy! No one shall lay hands upon her until she is presented to the Speaker. Understood?” The soldier who’d spoken nodded quickly.
By the time Eriscodera’s party reached the gate at Silvanost, a transformation had occurred within the city. Where scarcely an hour earlier only soldiers could be found in the streets, now the avenues were crowded with delighted Silvanesti. From every window in the city, flowers were thrown, filling the air with sweet-smelling petals. Vixa and her tiny band entered the city first and were showered with joyous greetings.
The cavalry, muddy but triumphant, entered the city next with the captive Coryphene. He did not look at Vixa as he passed by. Instead he scowled fiercely at the cheering Silvanesti who waved and flung flowers over their victorious troops. He shook the smothering blossoms from his own head with a violent gesture.
Three phalanxes of militia infantry, who’d never even gotten to fight, swung jauntily into the city, smiling broadly at their reception. Then came Eriscodera, his herald, and a rough cart bearing the masked Uriona. The colonel had always been popular with the common folk of
Silvanost, and they went wild as he came into view, breaking their orderly lines and mobbing his horse.
Vixa waved at Gundabyr, who slid down from the standard-bearer’s saddle and pushed his way through the throng to his friend’s side.
“Forgemaster,” she said simply, gripping his hand in hers. “What a change in fortune! Can you believe it?”
“Believe it, lady.” He showed her Coryphene’s dagger. “The blueskins are finished!”
The levies finally cleared a path for Eriscodera’s horse and Uriona’s cart. After the militia came the warriors who had defended the city until Eriscodera’s arrival. Marshal Samcadaris led his weary troops in a close column of fours, divided into two bands. Between the two came the captured Dargonesti soldiers, over three thousand of them. They were shackled or tied to each other, most of them staring at the street, ignoring the shameful downpour of flowers that rained upon their heads.
Vixa and Gundabyr joined Samcadaris in the impromptu victory parade. The marshal seemed disoriented. Vixa clapped him on the shoulder and asked him how he fared.
“I’m numb,” he replied. “I-I had faith in our ultimate victory, but I never dreamed it would be so near a thing, or that it would happen so quickly!”
Vixa noticed the enthusiasm of the crowd was not so marked for Samcadaris and his brave warriors as it had been for Eriscodera and the militia. Fickle people, she thought to herself. They award the victory to those who’d made such a grand and timely arrival, not to the soldiers who’d labored so hard right before their very eyes.
The captured Dargonesti were diverted and taken to Tower Protector. There they were placed under guard and given water. Samcadaris detailed half his remaining troops to accompany them. He and the rest went on to the Quinari.
When they arrived, the streets were packed with spectators. Speaker Elendar, seated in a silk-draped litter atop the steps, with the robes of Silvanos around his shoulders, was receiving a report from Eriscodera about the conclusion of the battle. The huge crowd parted for Samcadaris, Vixa, and Gundabyr. They crossed the palace plaza. At the foot of the steps stood Coryphene, arms pinioned. Beside him, still masked, stood Uriona. The cart that had borne her was being wheeled away.
They mounted the steps of the palace. The crowd gradually quieted. Samcadaris gave a terse account of the battle. Vixa, covered in soot, dirt, and the blood of friend and foe alike, gave the Speaker a flashing smile.
“How fares Your Majesty?” she asked.
“I’ve been told I can expect to live no more than four or five hundred more years,” he quipped. “What fine trophies my warriors have brought me. This is Coryphene, I presume, and the veiled lady his queen.”
“Uriona,” Vixa said. “The self-proclaimed goddess in mortal form.”
“So it is sacrilegious to see her face? Well, Marshal, remove her mask. Let all of Silvanost behold it.”
“Sire, I would not do that,” Vixa said quickly. “Defeated she may be, but Uriona is a powerful sorceress. Also, humiliating her publicly might provoke the captured Dargonesti.”
“Hmm, yes, I see what you mean. Very well. I shall retire to the Tower of the Stars. Bring them before me, one at a time.”
He raised his hand, and four bearers hoisted his litter. The Speaker was borne across the plaza to the Tower of the Stars. Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to escort the prisoners.
“Now what happens?” asked Gundabyr.
“I’m in the dark same as you, my friend,” Vixa replied. “Why doesn’t the Speaker just throw them in the dungeon and forget about them?”
Once the leaders departed, the crowd of Silvanesti began to disperse. There was some discussion of the momentous events of the day, but for the most part the elves went quietly about their business. Gundabyr and Vixa watched them, both shaking their heads at the strangeness of it all. Just when she’d begun to think the Silvanesti were not so different from her own people, Vixa was reminded anew how different the two halves of the elven nation really were.
Chapter 24
STRANGE JUSTICE
Speaker Elendar had taken his place on the emerald throne of Silvanesti. He was pale and drawn. White bandages were visible through the vents of his white and gold robe. An elven youth stood by with a silver ewer of nectar, ready to pour at the Speaker’s nod.
Of Uriona, there was no sign. Coryphene stood proudly on the raised platform below the throne dais. Someone had provided him with water, which trickled from his jade hair and over his battered armor. Samcadaris and Eriscodera stood at his sides, their hands on their sword hilts. Vixa and the dwarf circled around them, coming to a halt beside the nectar bearer.
“Hey, lad, pour me a spot of that,” Gundabyr whispered. The willowy youth turned a scandalized look upon his Speaker. Elendar nodded, his smile fleeting.
“So, Lord Coryphene, what have you to say for yourself?” the Speaker of the Stars asked.
“Nothing,” was the reply. “You have won. I have lost. There is nothing to say.”
“Good. I hate long, pointless speeches. Tell me, Cousin, what should I do with this worthy?”
Vixa had been pondering just that question. Her expression as she looked at the captive Dargonesti had nothing of pity in it. “He’s too dangerous to let go, Sire. I would have his head.”
“I’m with her,” said Gundabyr, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He held out his cup for more nectar.
“What do you say, Marshal of Silvanost?”
The weary Samcadaris inhaled slowly, carefully considering the question. “From what I know, Great Speaker, this one is but an instrument of our true enemy. As such, he deserves some mercy. I would commend him to imprisonment for life.”
“And you, Colonel? As his captor, your voice carries weight,” said the Speaker of the Stars.
Eriscodera spoke without hesitation. “I, Great Speaker, would parole him.” Vixa and Gundabyr started in surprise – the dwarf choking on his third cup of nectar.
“That’s ridiculous!” Vixa exclaimed. “Parole him for what reason?”
The Silvanesti colonel ignored her, addressing himself directly to the Speaker. “Majesty, as lord of a defeated army, Coryphene has no power left. If we send him home in disgrace, his own people will likely disown him. We will not have the keeping of him, and he will not trouble us again.”
There might have been something in what Eriscodera said, but Vixa couldn’t countenance letting Coryphene go. She enumerated his many crimes, from the sinking of unsuspecting ships with the kraken, to his enslavement of free elves and men, and his murder of many of those same prisoners. To that she added the destruction of Thonbec, and the wrongful deaths of many Silvanesti subjects. During her long, impassioned plea, Coryphene stood straighter, as if proud of the record she recited.
“Enough,” said the Speaker at last. “I am convinced of the villainy of Lord Coryphene. Hold him at our royal convenience until further notice.” Four guards came forward to claim the Dargonesti. Before he was led away, his eyes met Vixa’s. She flushed with fury at what she saw in them: an arrogance undiminished by his capture.
When Coryphene was gone, Speaker Elendar sagged back in his throne, his face growing paler. A healer came to him with a vial of yellowish fluid. The Speaker drank some of the nostrum. Coughing, he sat erect again and commanded, “Bring in Queen Uriona.”
Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to one of the Tower’s small side chambers and returned with the queen. Her silver gown had long since dried, the supple musselbeard cloth looking as fresh and unsullied as if Uriona had spent the day lounging on her throne. Her head was held high, the soft silver mask covering all but her violet eyes. She halted a few paces from the throne.
“So, lady, your plans are laid low,” the Speaker began. “What are we to do with you now?”
“You dare not interfere with me,” she intoned. “I am the divine queen of the sea.”
“I believe we have already interfered with you, lady. As for your divinity, well, you need only e
xercise it and take yourself away from here.” The Speaker paused, leaning forward. “Any time you wish.”
Vixa saw the tendons in Uriona’s throat tense and relax, but nothing happened. Titters of laughter circulated among the ladies of the court. Vixa – almost – felt sorry for Uriona.
“I see you have decided to stay with us,” the Speaker said. “If that is the case, you are my guest. Guests do not hide their faces from their hosts, so I’ll trouble you for your mask, lady.”
Vixa held her breath. Nothing happened for a long minute. Just as the Speaker was about to order her unmasked, Uriona moved. One long-fingered blue hand came up in a slow, steady motion and took the covering from her face.
Her finely sculpted features were expressionless. Lavender eyes, surrounded by thick silver lashes, regarded the Speaker of the Stars steadily, unblinking. Without a word, she let the mask drop from her fingers and put up her hands to take the tortoiseshell combs from her hair. Released, it fell in a thick, shimmering mass down to her knees. Sunlight, refracted by the jewels encrusting the Tower walls, sent rainbows dancing in the silver tresses. Speaker Elendar didn’t appear to notice that he had risen to his feet.
Uriona bowed her head, lifting a hand to her hair once more, as though ashamed of the display she was making. The webbing between her fingers appeared nearly transparent.
“Lady.” The Speaker cleared his throat and tried again. “Your pardon, lady, for any rudeness,” he murmured.
“As my conqueror, you have the right,” she said.
Beside her, Vixa heard Gundabyr sigh. Even the tough dwarf appeared affected by the loveliness of Uriona. The Qualinesti princess was not. She found herself trying to decipher the expression on the queen’s face. Was it contrition? Embarrassment? She doubted that Uriona was capable of either.
