by DAVID B. COE
Tirnya was a skilled swordswoman. She had tried to imagine what it would be like to lose faith in her blade, to worry that every tactic she tried in the ring might end up helping her opponent. The unpredictability of it all: That was what she would have found the most unnerving. Never knowing when the curse would next strike.
It seemed that this was the worst part of it for the Mettai as well.
They'd been conjuring beasts out of earth and blood for some time now, and all of these magical creatures had advanced on the Fal'Borna. There was no reason to expect that the Mettai's next conjurings would be any different. No reason except the curse.
Fayonne and the other Mettai gathered more blood on their blades, and mixed it with the dark soil of the plain. The mud flew from their hands, as it had countless times already on this day, and it twisted and writhed and grew into wolves, snakes, and eagles. But this time, the animals turned on the Eandi. Several of the wolves lunged for the nearest of the Mettai. Tirnya saw one beast leap at a Mettai and close its jaws on the poor man's throat. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.
Several of the eagles soared up into the sky, wheeled sharply overhead, and then dove at the nearest soldiers, who happened to be men from Gries's company. One of the birds rose into the air again with a man clutched in each talon. Both soldiers were screaming, fighting to get free. Another bird merely pounced on a soldier and with its huge beak tore into the man. Tirnya turned away rather than watch.
"Archers!" Jenoe hollered. "We need archers here now! Eldest, do something!"
Fayonne stared at the creatures, clearly appalled.
Snakes were rampaging through the Eandi lines, striking as if at random, leaving a trail of bloodied, lifeless forms in their wake. One snake actually struck at a wolf, just as the great animal sprang at it. For several moments the two creatures fought viciously, rolling over each other, the wolf snarling, the serpent hissing horribly. Then the wolf let out a yelp and was still. The snake untangled itself from the creature and slithered toward a knot of soldiers.
Everywhere Tirnya looked, soldiers, their swords looking pitifully small, tried to fight off the animals of the Mettai. Men screamed in agony. Archers fired their arrows at the eagles, though they had little effect on birds so large.
The Mettai threw another spell into the air, and this time several of the eagles went rigid and then fell to the ground. Dozens of soldiers were crushed.
"Tirnya!"
Enly's voice.
She turned just in time. One of the snakes was slinking toward her, its mouth open to reveal long, gleaming fangs. She pulled her sword free, and then her dagger as well, and she lowered herself into a fighter's crouch.
As the creature struck at her she dove to the side, rolled, and came up with weapons held ready. Already the snake was rearing back to strike again. She dove a second time, angling away to distance herself from the creature. Not that it helped much. Gods, these serpents were fast!
She lashed out at the creature with her sword, but it snapped its head back out of the way before striking at her again. Once more Tirnya dove away, and as she came up she saw that the snake had anticipated her dive and roll and was already readying itself for another strike. She tried to wrench her body out of the way, but knew that she'd fail this time. The serpent was too quick for her, for anyone.
But just as the snake began to strike, it suddenly twisted to the side, its tail thrashing violently. An arrow had embedded itself in the side of the snake's powerful neck.
Tirnya looked to see where the arrow had come from, and saw an archer standing beside Enly.
"Finish him!" Enly shouted to her.
Of course. She leaped forward, raising her sword, and she hammered at the beast as hard as she could, catching it just below where the arrow had struck. Dark blood spouted from the wound, and the beast flailed about even more desperately. She struck at it again, and the creature gave one last mighty heave and was still.
Tirnya stared at the creature. She was breathless. Her pulse pounded. Blood dripped from her sword. Finally, she wiped the sword clean on the grass and turned to face Enly again.
He was staring back at her, looking pale. But he nodded to her and even managed a thin smile. By then, though, Tirnya was already looking past him, her eyes widening, her mouth opening to shout a warning. Not that it would do any good. The snake she had killed might have been fast, but the eagle hurtling downward toward her father, its talons outstretched, its enormous beak open wide, was like a dark blur in the bright sky.
Their defenses against the great beasts conjured by the Mettai seemed to he holding. Grinsa remained vigilant for any sign that the Eandi sorcerers were going to try another of their spells, but he also watched as E'Menua, O'Tal, and the others kept the snakes and wolves and eagles at bay. Already the plain was littered with the bodies of those animals that had been killed, yet still more of the beasts advanced on them.
When the Fal'Borna saw that some of the animals had turned against the Eandi army, they cheered and began to sing a war song Grinsa had never heard before. Still he watched the sky, but he could also see that the Mettai were now more concerned with their own creatures than with the Qirsi army.
"This is the time to attack!" E'Menua shouted, looking first at Grinsa and then at the other two a'laqs. "We can finish them now!"
He was probably right, but Grinsa wasn't sure he wanted to see thousands slaughtered on the plain. He kept silent.
"Well?" E'Menua said, his voice rising further.
"Yes, all right!" O'Tal called back, even as he scanned the charred grasses for more of the snakes.
"I want shapers and fire wielders together!" E'Menua called, swiveling in his saddle to look behind him. "Shapers will ride with me; those with fire go with O'Tal." The a'laq looked over at Grinsa. "Stay with O'Tal. Use the fire against any spells that they send our way."
"All right," Grinsa said, still watching the Eandi.
One of the eagles that had been attacking the men of Stelpana wheeled away from the Eandi army, gliding over the battle plain. Several arrows jutted from its belly and chest, and when it flapped its wings it appeared to labor mightily. As it approached, one of the other eagles turned to intercept it.
Grinsa glanced at the a'laqs, but they were speaking to one another.
The second eagle circled once over the wounded bird, and then, with a sharp cry, it abruptly pulled in its wings and swooped toward it, raking its talons across the first bird's back. The wounded eagle let out a sharp scream, and when the second bird dove at it again, it flipped over in midair and met the assault with its own outstretched claws. The two eagles grabbed hold of one another, each tearing at the other with its beak, both of them flailing with their great wings, desperate to stay aloft.
By now their struggles had carried them closer to the Fal'Borna army, so that they were almost directly overhead.
"The wolves!"
Grinsa tore his eyes away from the birds in time to see that another line of blood wolves had almost reached the Qirsi army.
"A'Laq!" he called, not caring just then which of the three men heard him.
E'Menua reacted first. "Shapers!" he bellowed.
The pulse of shaping magic slammed into the wolves just as they reached the Fal'Borna, knocking their broken bodies backward and to the ground.
Another scream from the eagles drew their gazes toward the sky. The wounded bird seemed to be clinging to its foe. There was blood on its neck and breast, and one of its wings hung limply from its body, while the other beat fitfully and weakly against the breast of the second bird.
They continued to grapple with each other for another moment. Then the second bird released the first, letting it drop to the earth. Most of the Fal'Borna riders on the ground below had already started scrambling to get out from beneath the giant eagles, but not all of them made it. Several men and horses were crushed by the dying creature; others were sent sprawling by the impact.
And by the time the Qirs
i and their leaders had recovered enough to take stock of what was happening, the snakes were almost upon them. A wave of serpents reached the riders all at once, some of them striking at men who had fallen to the ground, others going for the legs of horses.
One of them sank its fangs into the haunch of E'Menua's mount. The animal bucked ferociously, sending the a'laq flying. He landed hard on his side, rolled once, and was still.
Without bothering to reach for the power of any of the Qirsi around him, Grinsa crushed the snake's head with shaping magic. But E'Menua had landed near another of the serpents, and before Grinsa could do anything, this second beast struck at the a'laq, drawing blood from his side.
Grinsa killed this snake as well, though he knew that it was too late. Feeling sick to his stomach, he leaped down off his mount, killed a third snake that was slithering toward him, and then sprinted toward the a'laq.
A wolf lunged for him and he set the beast on fire with a thought, barely even breaking stride. Snakes and eagles and blood wolves were all around him, as if this were some terror visited upon him in his sleep. But he left it for the other Fal'Borna to fight them off.
He dropped to his knees beside the a'laq, laid his hands upon the wound from the serpent, and began to pour his healing magic into the man. The wound itself was nothing. But the venom nearly overwhelmed him. It was as cold as death and as bitter as tansy. Already it had spread through E'Menua's body, seeping into the man's heart.
"Don't," E'Menua said weakly. His eyes fluttered open and with a great effort he turned his head to look at Grinsa. He made a feeble attempt to push the Forelander's hands away. "Save your strength," he said. "I'm dead already. Fight the dark-eyes. Guard the others."
"I'm sorry, A'Laq," Grinsa said, his chest aching. He'd never liked E'Menua, any more than the man had liked him, but he'd come to respect him, and he knew that his death would be a terrible blow to all the people of his sept. "I should have kept you safe."
"I should have done that for myself." E'Menua stiffened, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. "Gods!" he gasped. After a moment the spasm appeared to pass. "You need to protect the rest," he said, barely strong enough to make his voice heard.
"I will, A'Laq. You have my word."
"And D'Pera. I love her. Tell her."
"You have my word on that, too."
E'Menua moved his head slightly, as if trying to nod. "You're a difficult man," he whispered. "But your word is good with me."
His body went rigid again, and this time he remained still.
Grinsa closed his eyes for just an instant. "Damn," he muttered.
He climbed to his feet and looked around him. A pair of Fal'Borna stood a short distance away, and several dead wolves and snakes lay nearby. He recognized the men as warriors from E'Menua's sept.
"You were protecting us?" Grinsa asked.
One of the men nodded, his eyes fixed on the body of the a'laq. "Is he dead?" the man asked.
"Yes. I'm sorry. The venom from that snake was too powerful. I couldn't save him."
The man swallowed, then nodded again. There appeared to be tears in his eyes, but Grinsa couldn't be certain because the man turned and quickly walked away. The other warrior remained there, still looking at E'Menua.
"I think there was another a'laq once, when I was a boy," he said. "But I don't remember."
"Q'Daer will lead us well," Grinsa said. "He's a good man, a strong man." The warrior nodded at this, and then he, too, walked away.
Grinsa could see that Qirsi warriors were still fighting off the Mettai's creatures, and at least a dozen of the great eagles still circled over the battle plain. Looking below them, he saw that Q'Daer and his small company had halted and were staring back at the Fal'Borna lines. The young Weaver might have been trying to spot his a'laq amid the obvious tumult in their ranks.
A moment later, Q'Daer faced forward once more. Grinsa watched him and his men, though from this distance it was hard to tell what they were doing. Then it became obvious. The Mettai were no longer all together at the front of the Eandi lines. But several of them stood in a cluster, and now every one of them in this group collapsed to the ground, as if they had been smitten by some great unseen fist. A cheer went up from Q'Daer's men and was echoed by those warriors closer to Grinsa.
Almost immediately, the Forelander saw another, smaller group of Mettai reach for their blades and for handfuls of dirt. He knew what they were going to do and he shouted, "Fire!"
But he could also see from the trajectory of their spell that he'd be helpless to stop it. He threw a ball of flame at the shimmering mist, but it had already started to settle over Q'Daer and the others. He roared the young Weaver's name, and then watched the man fall to the ground.
Enly spun to see what had put that horrified expression on Tirnya's face, and felt the breath leave his body in a rush, as if he had been punched in the stomach. The eagle plummeting toward Jenoe looked to be the size of a small house. A house with talons like dagger blades and a beak that could swallow a horse whole.
Arrows jutted from its body in every direction, and more were hitting it even as it dove. But they wouldn't be enough to stop the creature. Tirnya was screaming to her father and now Enly did, too, even as he pulled out his sword and started sprinting toward the marshal. It was hard to hear anything above the tumult of all that was happening around them, but at last Jenoe seemed to grasp the danger. Not that there was much he could do about it.
The marshal began to run, peering back over his shoulder to see what the great bird was doing. The eagle adjusted its course with little more than a flick of its tail and the subtle shift of a wing. Even as Enly continued his desperate run, he was startled to note how much this creature of magic had in common with the normal eagles he had seen in the foothills of the Aelind Range. He also saw that Jenoe's attempt to escape had bought them both another moment or two. Enly never would have made it otherwise.
Just as the eagle reached out to grab the marshal in its claws, Enly caught up with Jenoe and shoved him to the side, out of reach of the eagle. An instant later the bird's talon closed, not around Jenoe, but around Enly, tearing a gasp from his chest.
The creature's grip was as strong as iron; he felt a rib break, and then another. One of the claws punctured his back just below the shoulder. The pain blinded him, stole his breath, and nearly made him pass out. It was a miracle beyond reckoning that he managed to hold on to his sword.
The bird started to rise, its wings pounding the air, its hold on Enly tightening even more. He felt and heard another rib crack. He knew he couldn't allow the beast to get too far off the ground, and so he drew back his blade, the pain in his side and back making his stomach heave, and he hacked at the talon that held him.
The bird let out a deafening cry.
Enly hacked at the foot again, and then a third time. Then he stabbed at the bird's leg with the point of his weapon.
The eagle shook him; it clutched him even tighter, crying out again. Enly stabbed at its leg a second time and then a third. The eagle bent its head down and for one terrifying moment Enly thought that it would tear into him with its beak right there in midair. Instead it tried to take hold of him with the other talon. He hacked at this one, too, with as much force as he could muster.
The talon gripping him opened and he started to slip from the eagle's grasp. He rolled, and let out a howl of pain as the flesh below his shoulder tore away. The eagle grabbed at him with the other talon, but only managed to knock him out of reach.
It was only then, as he started to fall, that Enly realized how high he already was. He'd thought that he'd kept the eagle from taking him too far, but he was wrong. This was like falling from one of the towers on his father's palace.
He was spinning, tumbling. It seemed to take forever. And as he saw the ground coming to meet him, he thought, I'm dead.
Chapter 24
They were farmers and trappers, wheelwrights and smiths. They had lived their lives under the
Curse of Rheyle, coaxing livings from a stingy, blighted land. They weren't wealthy or powerful, but they were her people. They had left families behind in Lifarsa, men and women, boys and girls who prayed every night for their safe return to the village.
And now more than two dozen of them were lost, crushed as if by the war goddess herself. It had happened in an instant, without warning. That was the power of Qirsi magic. No blood, no earth, no spell. Just a thought, and in an instant more than a score were dead. If Fayonne and Mander had been standing with the others, they would have died as well. Being eldest didn't impart to her any special powers-she was no Qirsi Weaver. She would have been as helpless as the rest. But she was the leader of these people, and she felt their deaths in her heart in ways no one else on this plain could imagine.
And when she heard the cheer go up from that small party of Fal'Borna that had ridden forward on the left side of the battle plain, she knew that they were responsible.
It was a rash choice, especially after what had happened by the river in their encounter with the last Fal'Borna army. Fayonne didn't care. These white-hairs had killed her people, and now they were celebrating.
She bent down and grabbed a handful of earth, then held it over her head for just an instant.
"Blades!" she called to the Mettai who were still with her. "The poison spell!"
"Mother, no!" Mander said, whirling to face her.
"You heard me!" she said, ignoring him.
The others stared at her. A few of them exchanged troubled looks.
"You saw what they did!" she said, her voice carrying over the din of battle. "You saw how many of our people fell. And now you can hear the white-hairs cheering. We'll be next, unless we stop them, unless we avenge those we lost."
