Greendaughter (Book 6)

by Anne Logston

  “There’s still the road,” Sharl reminded her. “It’s heavily traveled enough to be easily discernible, and it leads around the forest to Allanmere. I hoped that the advance force would be small enough that my troops could kill them to the last man, and that if none of their scouts returned, the army might indeed pass us by in favor of easier looting elsewhere. That seemed like a better chance than simply hiding and hoping they’d miss the south pass entirely.”

  “Then what will you do?” Valann asked.

  “Just what I said,” Sharl said resignedly. “Pull my troops in and prepare for a war. There’s no further point in dispatching any troops outside the city. A garrison would only be wiped out, and wouldn’t gain us any noticeable amount of time. I can’t send troops through the forest; even if we could get all the various clans to let them pass, my men aren’t trained for fighting in the trees, and a company that size couldn’t possibly reach any area where they’re needed in time to do any good anyway. All I can do now is get the city ready, and keep the barbarians’ attention on us instead of the forest. I’ll continue sending weapons as long as I can, I’ll shelter as many of your people as can get here before the army, and if our mages can do any good from here, we’ll do it, but that’s the best I can do. Can you understand that, Valann?”

  Val glared at him for a moment longer, then sighed.

  “Yes,” he said at last. “I understand. And Wilding would not have your aid if you sent it, in any wise. At least the rain is continuing; that is helpful to our kin, to wet the wood well so it will not burn easily.”

  “That aid is not without price,” Chyrie said wryly. “The brighthawk does not like to fly in the rain, and it is growing more difficult to gather healing herbs. Rowan says the forest is turning to mud.”

  “We can try to stop the storm,” Rivkah said doubtfully. “I think it would be difficult now—it doesn’t seem inclined to stop anytime soon—but if you want—”

  “I think your magical storm only began our typical spring rains.” Val chuckled. “Every year the Brightwater and its creeks swell and flood. Every year the swamp rises. This year is different only in that the water came earlier than usual.”

  “The city’s turning to mud, too,” Sharl said with a shrug. “The downpour isn’t going to help our troops any once their forces reach the city, but I think it’s going to hurt the attackers more; we have shelter, after all, and they won’t likely have anything better than hide tents. At least we’ll be less vulnerable to fire arrows and the like.”

  “What’s the status of the wall?” Rivkah asked worriedly.

  “There are only three sections that aren’t finished,” Sharl said. He produced a second map, this time a map of the city, and indicated three sections marked in red ink. “Two places on the east wall and one on the south. It’ll take at least four more days to finish them, and that’ll be a hurried job. The northernmost section on the east wall is the one that concerns me. My mages say there’s a weakness in the stone under the wall that may not support the wall’s weight. It may be one of those hot springs. I don’t know why it wasn’t discovered before. Now they’re trying to decide whether to tear out that section of wall and rebuild around the weak spot, or whether there’s some way to fill in under it. There are many more places where the battlements aren’t completed or hoardings built. I had to pull men off that work to cut stone in the pits.”

  “I can send Riburn back to the walls if you need her,” Rivkah said hesitantly. “She’s not specialized in stonework, but she’s a good levitator.”

  Sharl frowned.

  “Why did you take her off in the first place?”

  “She’s got a talent none of the others have,” Rivkah told him. “She can chant fish right into the nets. We’ve been pulling the nets in full almost as soon as they’re thrown out.”

  “Then leave her there. We need the food as badly as we need the stone.” Sharl turned to Chyrie. “Could you do that?”

  Chyrie was shocked to horrified silence, but Val answered for her, his voice sharp.

  “Certainly she could not.” The elf’s eyes were narrowed. “Beast-speakers are forbidden even to hunt, for the pain it causes them. To touch a beast’s mind and then bring it to harm—none of us could bear to do such a thing if we would.”

  “No need to be so angry,” Sharl said mildly. “I was only asking. In any event, from what I’ve seen, Chyrie can only contact one animal at a time, and there are better ways for Chyrie to use her talents than pulling in one fish at a time.”

  “Indeed there are,” Val muttered, still angry.

  “What about your other mages?” Sharl asked Rivkah. “What kind of help can we expect from them?”

  “The stoneworking teams aren’t good for much else,” Rivkah said, shaking her head. “They’ll be heading back west before any conflict, unless you want to pay them well to stay. They’re just not battle mages.”

  “We’ll keep them,” Sharl said firmly. “If the wall should need work during battle, we don’t have anyone else who can do it. Go on.”

  “The mercenary mages we brought in are split about evenly between offensive and defensive magicks,” Rivkah said. “About a dozen good mages total, plus five or six amateurs. Four healers and as many apprentices, half a dozen miscellaneous specialists, and then Loren and myself. We’re the only jack-of-all-trades, though.”

  “No seers?” Sharl asked worriedly.

  “No foreseers.” Rivkah nodded. “True foreseers are in demand everywhere. The few who came were clumsy fakers, and I sent them back. Loren’s got a fair gift for farsight and sensing, and he can use a crystal over a short range, and I’m a pretty fair magic-spotter, but one or two of the defensive mages are really good. I’ve already assigned the mages to their stations, and with the mages who can use crystals, we should have a fair relay of information from all sides of the city. That’s about all I can tell you.”

  “Then I think that’s all,” Sharl said wearily, rolling the map. “If you have nothing else to add, I’ll meet with my generals and report. I’ve got to get them to persuade their troops to work with elven bowmen—or bow-women—on the battlements.”

  “There is one thing I would ask,” Valann said quietly. “If all goes as you expect, and this army should attack your city, with our people harrying them from behind, and if this army finds the shell of this city too hard to break, and they turn to seek the softer fruit at their backs, what will you do then?”

  “Then our ballistas, catapults, and bowmen have a fair target at their backs,” Sharl said, looking Valann directly in the eye, “and our mages will strike at them as fiercely as if they were attacking our gates. Only our short-range defenses will be useless, and in a pinch I’ll send out troops on horseback, so that if they need to retreat back to the city, they can get back in in plenty of time for us to close the gates. There’s not that much open land between the city and the forest’s edge. I wish the Blue-eyes would have allowed us to station troops within the forest. If they had, we’d have stood a fair chance of crushing the invading troops between the two forces like a nut between two stones.”

  Valann nodded slowly.

  “Then I am reassured,” he said.

  “This battle is only half the war,” Sharl told him. “If this city is even to survive, we need the elves’ tolerance. If it’s to thrive, we need their friendship and their trade. If the barbarians burn the forest or strip it bare, I won’t get either. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Rowan may make what schemes she will,” Valann said quietly. “We are no part of them, although I wish her success and prosperity. My kin have chosen to bear alone the weight of their own future. If my mate and her children are kept safe, I am satisfied.”

  “We hold our mates and children as dear as you do yours,” Sharl said. “Anything we can do to protect them will be done, I promise you.”

  “If what you say is true,” Val said, extending his hand, “my mate and I will be honored to fight at your side.”

/>   Sharl raised both eyebrows, then smiled his charming sideways smile as he clasped Valann’s hand. “A fair beginning,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chyrie wakened to a tug on her thoughts, wincing as dull cramps seized her belly. Remembering that she had left Jeena’s potion on the table with the wine, she started to sit up, when the cramping became a sharp stabbing pain. Her gasp brought Val instantly awake, and before she could even speak Jeena was at her side.

  “What is it, little one?” Jeena asked, already sorting through her bag of herbs. “Is it the old pain?”

  “This is sharper,” Chyrie gasped as she felt the stabbing again. “I feel as if I would tear open.”

  Jeena dropped the bag and laid both hands over Chyrie’s belly, her face tight with concentration. At last she shook her head.

  “My children?” Chyrie whispered, her eyes wide, dreading Jeena’s answer.

  “Nothing is awry with your younglings,” Jeena said quickly. “It is what they are doing to you that is not well. The two of them together are growing too quickly for your body. One of them, the male, is already quite large.”

  “What can be done?” Valann felt the tautness of Chyrie’s belly. “She is already swollen as big as most of the women who are ready to bear.”

  “There is nothing else for it,” Jeena said, shaking her head again. “It will take clever healing to allow her womb to expand farther, and it may need to be done again before she bears.”

  “Is there nothing else to be done?” Valann protested. “That will doubtless speed her unborn children further each time it is done.”

  “I see no alternative,” Jeena said, examining Chyrie again. “She is too far in her pregnancy to be potioned to lose the younglings, even if she would consent to such—”

  “Which I would not,” Chyrie said firmly, gritting her teeth as pain ripped through her again.

  “—and not far enough in her pregnancy that the young ones would survive if cut from her body,” Jeena continued, giving Chyrie an absent nod. “There is nothing else to be done.”

  Val glanced reluctantly at Chyrie, who nodded permission.

  “Do what you must,” Chyrie told Jeena. “But please do it quickly. Dusk is calling me, and for him to call at such an hour must mean dire tidings indeed.”

  “I will show you what to do,” Jeena told Valann. “This is subtler work than you have done.”

  This time, despite Jeena’s skill, Chyrie barely choked down a cry of pain. For a horrible moment she thought she would surely burst asunder, and her unborn children thrashed vigorously, worsening the pain, but at last they quieted and some of the terrible tightness in her womb eased.

  “She could bear at any time now,” Jeena said worriedly. “I like it not. The male is very large indeed now.”

  “Help me to the window,” Chyrie murmured to Valann when she could trust her voice again. Valann quickly lifted her and carried her to the window, and Jeena spread a fur on the stone sill for her to sit on.

  (There you are,) Dusk thought relievedly as soon as she touched the brighthawk. (I feared some harm had come to you. You must tell the human lord to stand in readiness. There is a force of humans passing the forest with great speed and determination. They have been passing for hours upon hours now, but at first they were far to the east and we did not see them. I myself was alerted by a beast-speaker in Fir Grove, and they are far to the south. A part of their number is attacking the north edge of the forest even as we speak, but others are passing by unheeding. They are numerous as the stars in the sky. Why would they pass us by unless they are bound for the city?)

  (I will tell Lord Sharl,) Chyrie thought quickly. (But how fare the elves to the north?)

  (I will show you, if you can bear being bounced from beast to beast as a stone skips across the water,) Dusk thought. (I have worked with the other beast-speakers, and they will help to move our thoughts from beast to beast across the forest. Join your thoughts firmly to mine, and this time I will be your wings.)

  Chyrie nerved her resolution and obeyed, strengthening her link to Dusk and simultaneously relinquishing her hold on the brighthawk. Abruptly her awareness of the brighthawk spun away; with a dizzying rush, it seemed she touched a dozen minds, seeing briefly out of the eyes of Dusk’s owl, a night-hunting weasel, a ringtail, a night warbler—finally she settled into yet another owl, this one soaring over a horrible scene below.

  It was difficult to sort out the rapidly moving bodies; it seemed to Chyrie that a fleshy river of humanity flowed inexorably around the forest’s edge, the pounding of their feet causing a rumbling that rivaled the thunder. They ran as silently as an army of that size could, making no cry, speaking no word to each other.

  Chyrie had had but the briefest glimpses of her assailants at the altars, and had had little enough inclination or opportunity to examine the corpses later; these barbarians, however, shocked her to inner stillness.

  Like the elves, these humans wore leather, not the woven-fiber cloth the humans of Allanmere took such pride in. The leather these humans wore, however, were crudely cured furs clumsily stitched together to form garments of a sort. Many of the barbarians wore grisly ornaments—strings of teeth and bones, dried or fresh fingers or ears, and cords of strung human scalps, some still relatively fresh. Both the humans themselves and the clothes they wore were caked with filth and blood from previous battles.

  There was nothing primitive, however, about their weapons. Flashes of lightning flickered on steel swords of amazing length and breadth, steel-tipped spears, and huge broad-headed axes. Others carried huge studded clubs, maces, or mauls. A few carried heavy, stout bows that awed even Chyrie—who could possibly draw such a monster? None wore armor or carried shields such as Chyrie had seen on the guards and soldiers, but many wore helms of a sort, crowned with the skulls of hideous-looking beasts.

  Some bore wounds from previous battles, untended and often festering, but if their wounds pained them they made no sign. As Chyrie watched, one of the barbarians, his arm nearly severed, faltered and finally fell; the others ran on, ignoring him as they ignored the owl circling above them.

  The scene shifted again, and now Chyrie looked down through the sharp eyes of a pale gray treefox, and this scene was by far more appalling than the last.

  Elven warriors scrambled from one tree to the next to fire their arrows or hurl spears. Several, recognizable as predominantly Dawn’s Edges and Silvertips, but also a few other clans, lay dead on the ground. In a few places the elves fought the barbarians hand to hand, but for the most part the elves kept their distance as best they could, relying on their quickness, superior night vision, and the shelter of the trees against the savage strength and fearless determination of their attackers. It was apparent, however, even for the short time Chyrie watched, that the barbarians were driving the elves inexorably backward into the forest.

  Dusk and Chyrie jumped dizzily again, and this time, for the first time, Chyrie looked out through Dusk’s own eyes. He was in Rowan’s speaking hut, gazing down at a map similar to the one that had been sent to Sharl.

  (These areas are presently under attack,) Dusk thought, indicating the Dawn’s Edge, Silvertip, and Little Creek lands. (Already the Dawn’s Edges are being driven back from their lands. Soon they will have no choice but to abandon them altogether.)

  (What of Wilding?) Chyrie asked quickly. (They are only a little southeast of Dawn’s Edge and Silvertip. How do they fare?)

  (I cannot say,) Dusk told her soberly. (We have no beast-speaker in their lands, no contact with their Gifted One. Their refusal to accept our aid was final.)

  (But only a portion of the army is attacking the forest,) Chyrie thought confusedly. (Why do they not all attack, or pass us by altogether?)

  (My supposition is that they wish to pass through the forest, rather than around it,) Dusk thought, (but are not so determined that they will commit their forces, knowing that there is a clear path to the city around the forest’s edge. They
do not follow any logical pattern of attack that I can imagine. Occasionally they still try to burn the forest, which is foolish if they wish to pass through or either hunt or gather food. It is inevitable, however, that they will win through in time if the attacks continue. We can pick them off with spear or arrow from the trees, but they come faster than we can kill them, and unlike our arrows and spears, their numbers seem endless. Once they come near enough to use their swords, their strength makes them formidable opponents. We will attempt to take captives for questioning, but even if we can understand their language, their ferocity is such that taking any alive will be very difficult. We can only hope that the main force passes us by soon.)

  (I will warn Sharl immediately,) Chyrie thought. (If they are as far south as Fir Grove, Sharl’s watchers will soon see them, and there are not many hours to prepare. I will be waiting for further tidings from you.)

  “What is it?” Val asked when Chyrie’s eyes cleared, but the tautness of his expression showed that he already knew. The other elves in their room had gathered quietly around, waiting fearfully.

  “The army is coming,” Chyrie said. “The first forces of it, at least. They have already reached Fir Grove. Others are attacking the northeast clans. There are no tidings of Wilding. We must tell Sharl, that he may alert his soldiers and begin to prepare.”

  Val called the servants instead and let them summon the High Lord and High Lady, and Loren as well, to meet them in the great hall, and to have food brought for them all. When the servants had gone, Val and the other elves, silent and frightened, helped Chyrie dress—her belly had now grown to an unwieldy size and she had to borrow a tunic from one of the larger Brightwaters—and he and Jeena helped her down the long halls and stairways to the hall. Sharl and Rivkah were already there, still in their night robes, and a sleepy Loren soon stumbled in as well.

  Sharl listened grimly to Chyrie’s tale, then unfolded his map and had her show him the areas Dusk had indicated. Chyrie described the weapons she had seen the barbarians carrying, and their amazing numbers, and the swiftness of their pace. Sharl sent a messenger to fetch his commanders before he turned back to the map.