by A. L. Sirois
“Why, Mistress Witch,” he said in a playful tone. “One might almost think that you were worried about my safety.”
To his surprise he saw a blush creep up her face. She sat back, leaning a little out of the light cast by the single candle on the table, doubtless trying to make it less noticeable.
“We must both strive to remain alive,” she muttered after a moment. “We need each other, that we may complete this quest.” She paused. “And I feel as if we are becoming friends.”
He looked at her, surprised anew. “You may be right,” he said. “Now, who would ever have expected that?”
She smiled slightly, then said, “It is late, and time we were asleep. I will see you in the morning.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IN WHICH GUILHEM GOES TO BATTLE
The next day Guilhem rose early and breakfasted lightly on a piece of fruit and some of the mushroom wine left over from the night before. Oriabel, he saw, watched with interest as he strapped on the armor provided by the nixies: a cuirasse, tasset and pauldrons made from the casings of large beetles, and a helmet of snail shell braced with bands of iron, with carved openings for his eyes. The helmet and armor both were surprisingly comfortable and seemed sturdy enough, though he wondered how well they would hold up to sustained punishment. For weaponry, he had a sword fashioned from a sharp thorn, and a short stabbing spear with a metal tip.
“The troops are to assemble on the far side of the square,” he said, turning this way and that in front of a full-length mirror that had, no doubt, once been part of an elf lady’s toiletries. “I must soon depart.”
Oriabel, meanwhile, had begun gathering her things as she prepared for her day in the tunnels. “How long do you reckon you will be gone?”
“Mm? From what I gather, these battles amount to little more than skirmishes. They rarely last beyond a day or two.” He patted her shoulder. “Do not concern yourself; all will be well.”
Her somewhat vulnerable manner of the previous night had vanished. “In truth I am more concerned for my own well-being in the mines,” she said, rather stiffly. “You can confront your opponents directly. I must be more circumspect.” She grimaced. “Plus I hate doing that work. It’s hot, dirty, and wet down there.”
Guilhem grinned. As far as he could tell, she hated doing any work, but he wasn’t about to taunt her with that gibe. For one thing, relations between them were become more cordial, likely in the face of shared peril; and for another, he felt excited and avid for battle after a prolonged period of inactivity, and was in no mood for an argument.
“I trust you to comport yourself with the utmost prudence and discretion,” he said, bowing. He drew his thorn sword, saluted her with it, then slid it back into its sheath. Thoughts of the coming fray consumed him, but caused him no undue anxiety or worry. On the contrary, Guilhem felt as though he owned the world—and he intended to make it bend its knee to him. These pre-battle emotions were familiar, and he welcomed them: a high sense of expectation and excitement, almost an impatience to meet the enemy in battle. These left no room in him for fear. It had been this way since his earliest experiences with warfare as a youth. His blood felt on the verge of boiling.
* * *
As Guilhem finished adjusting his gear prior to leaving the house, there came a rap on the door. Upon opening it he found Baubaruva, dressed as was Guilhem in soldier’s gear, standing on the doorstep. “I have been assigned to your platoon,” the nixie said, grinning.
The nixie referred to a small strike force of fifteen to thirty individuals. Fighting units among the nixies, he had learned, rarely consisted of more than 150 soldiers, and usually less; there was simply not enough room in most of the tunnels for more warriors to maneuver—though he had been told battles between three hundred or more soldiers from both sides were not unknown in the larger, more open caverns. But the main force of the Persons’ armies consisted of fast-moving platoons, like the one to which Guilhem and Baubaruva were assigned.
“I had not known you would be engaged in this battle,” Guilhem said as he followed the nixie into the plaza.
“Nor did I until quite recently,” Baubaruva said. “As it happens, I am a soldier by trade, I suppose you would say. Uvaxshtra is a palace functionary, and was able to have me transferred to your posting with Ariyāramna’s platoon because of my familiarity with you humans.”
“Well and good,” said Guilhem. “It’s always helpful to have a friend when one is among strangers.”
As he and Baubaruva splashed their way across the half-submerged plaza toward the tunnel opening leading to the cavern where they were to join Ariyāramna’s platoon, Guilhem was conscious that the nixies who were out and about that morning were staring at him with wide, astonished eyes, and talking amongst themselves. Good, he thought; let them stare.
“I’d like to tell you a little about what you will really be fighting for,” said Baubaruva.
Guilhem frowned. “I thought it was simply a matter of taking up arms against your foemen.”
“There is more to it. Uvaxshtra and I had another brother. His name was Husravah. He is now dead, having been killed in an earlier clash with the Cáervinens. Husravah’s wife was a Cáervinen girl whom he married during a time when our cities were at peace.”
“Intermarriage,” Guilhem said, and grunted. “There is nothing unusual about that.”
“Indeed not,” the nixie replied. “Fagertärn and Cáervine have gone through many periods when they are peaceful trading partners. But now that we are adversaries once more, Husravah’s wife, our sister-in-law Iotapa, has been sentenced on suspicion—what? Is something wrong?” For Guilhem had grimaced as though stung by a wasp.
“Nothing. Iotapa, you say her name is?”
“Aye. What of it?”
“Nothing; continue with your story.” He had been about to blurt out Oriabel’s association with Iotapa in the treasure tunnels but decided to keep it to himself for the time being. One never knows when a piece of information might be traded or sold for gain, he told himself.
Baubariva said, “As I was saying, Iotapa is accused of being an enemy spy. She isn’t, of course; she is a gentle, harmless soul. Uvaxshtra and I love her as though she were our own blood. We feel responsible for her, and want to rescue her. She now labors in the treasure tunnels, digging out elvish gold for the queen.” He splashed along for a few more steps. After a moment, Baubaruva added, “Uvaxshtra and I feel that with your fighting skills, and your companion’s command of magic, we could successfully free our late brother’s wife from her life of endless toil.”
Guilhem raised his eyebrows. “Even I, an inexperienced visitor to your realm, know that is sure to be illegal,” he said.
“You are perfectly correct,” said Baubaruva. “We all run the risk of being executed if we are caught. But Fate has thrown Uvaxshtra and I in with you and Oriabel. Help us free Iotapa, and we will be forever in your debt. Both my brother and I will do all we can to help you finish your assignments here in Fagertärn.”
By this time, they had left the main concourse and were threading their way through smaller tunnels, all of which were partially filled with water. Guilhem had left his boots behind, knowing what to expect from the tunnels, and walked barefoot.
“I can’t speak for Oriabel, but at the least I will confer with her,” he said to the nixie.
“That is entirely reasonable,” said Baubaruva. “I am grateful to you for considering it. You understand the risk, however.” It wasn’t a question. “We in our turn understand what we are asking of you, and I swear to you that we will not hold a refusal against you.”
Guilhem grinned. “It is in the nature of the knights of my country to compete amongst themselves when it comes to rescuing ladies in distress. We see such tasks as being a part of living a life of honor. You will not hear a refusal from my lips.” Then, as something occurred to him: “But if your brother’s wife shares the prevailing negative attitude among Persons concerning magic, she
may not like our methods.”
Baubaruva shrugged. “I suspect that if we secure her release she will have little to complain about,” he said.
“I trust you are right,” said Guilhem, but he wasn’t so sure. If it were to become commonly known that the woman had been freed with the help of magic, she might find herself in even more trouble with the narrow-minded Fagertärnians among whom she had been living. But such problems could be addressed later; he therefore said nothing of his doubts to Baubaruva.
In any event, he had no opportunity; for, a few moments later, the tunnel they were following opened into a larger cavern in which dozens of grim-faced nixie soldiers were arranging themselves into rows and columns.
The cavern itself was larger than any Guilhem had previously seen in the nixie realm, and for a moment he was distracted by its size and the weird forest of enormous mushrooms and other colorful fungi towering around them. The colors of the fungi varied widely, from white to cream, with many bearing spots and streaks of orange and various shades of green. Some of them glowed with a spectral, silvery light, which provided illumination in the cavern while leaving its farther reaches shrouded in mysterious darkness. Old, fallen stalks littered the ground between the huge growths, but the assembling army had made a substantial clearing in the middle of the cavern where the men were gathering while their commanding officers, Ariyāramna among them, shouted direction while pointing to their assigned places.
Guilhem and Baubaruva hurriedly took their positions in their platoon. The adjacent nixies, not having heard about Guilhem, regarded him with surprise—and, in some cases, grave distaste—but their eyes snapped forward at Ariyāramna’s snarled orders. Guilhem did his best to look inconspicuous. It wasn’t easy, as he was the only human among several hundred nixies.
At last the men were all in proper formation. Ariyāramna and the other platoon commanders stood to one side as another nixie—equivalent, Guilhem thought, to a general—stalked forward and began haranguing the men.
“Today we venture forth on a mission of the highest importance,” the general shouted. “Our way of life, our women and children—all are threatened by the advancing Cáervine forces. You will show them no mercy. You will engage them; you will pursue them, when they flee like the cowards they are, into their slimy tunnels. You will leave none alive!”
He paused, and the nixies, evidently expecting the interruption, lifted their hands, fists clenched, and shouted “Aye!” as loudly as they could. Guilhem, caught off guard, lifted his hands, but had to drop them at once because the nixies held theirs aloft only briefly. The general continued his peroration a while longer. Guilhem, having heard, and given, many such speeches before, stopped paying attention, but kept his eyes forward as though fascinated by the officer’s words. He would have liked to look around the cavern and examine its marvelous fungus forest, but he knew better than to appear disinterested and thus draw attention to himself. He was already an alien element among the troops.
Presently the general stepped back and allowed the platoon commanders to again take charge of their men. Ariyāramna directed his troops to set out across the cavern, in orderly rows, toward a low opening in a far wall. Other platoons went to other openings, leading Guilhem to assume that the attack would proceed along several fronts. As a military man, he would have liked to study the nixies’ tactics, but he knew he would have to satisfy himself with experiencing the battle from the point of view of a common soldier: they obviously wouldn’t put a non-Person in command of their forces.
“Something occurs to me,” he said to Baubaruva as they went. “Are there differentiating characteristics between our enemies and ourselves?”
“Oh, aye,” Baubaruva said. “Their helmets are pointed, and made from the husks of green beetles. You will have no trouble telling friend from foe.”
The troops ducked into the tunnel and proceeded on their hands and knees for a short distance. The passageway soon opened on another large cavern, this one dominated by a vast underground lake. Moisture dripped into the lake from pointed stalactites hanging from the ceiling high above, making a sort of music that accompanied the soldiers as they marched past the water’s marge.
At the far end of the lake, Ariyāramna brought his men to a halt in front of a wall in which there were four small tunnel openings.
He stalked back and forth before the front ranks of troops. “From this point onward,” he said, “we may expect to be attacked at any moment by our enemies. Stay alert, be cautious. Take no unnecessary risks. Slay any and all Cáervinens you encounter.” His words brought enthusiastic shouts, and cheers came from the ranks. Guilhem did his best to lift his voice with the others.
Ariyāramna ordered the platoon to break into four smaller squads. Guilhem was pleased and somewhat relieved to have Baubaruva among the men in his squad. He did not know the others, but to his eye they seemed to be capable fighting men. The squads moved forward into the openings. The lead man of each squad opened a pouch on a belt around his waist and drew forth a chunk of glowing fungus, which lit the soldiers’ way once they entered the black passageways.
Baubaruva followed the lead soldier, with another one behind him; then came Guilhem, with the last soldier trailing him.
“Hsst!” whispered the man behind him. “You’re no Person. What are you?”
Guilhem had a pat answer ready. “A human, victimized by magic, in service of the queen,” he said. “The Persons have been kind enough to take me in, and I show my gratitude by being willing to lay down my life.”
This seemed to satisfy the noxie, who gave an approving grunt and said no more.
Guilhem concentrated on keeping his footing on the curved floor of the tunnel. It was like walking inside a hollow bone; and while the nixies’ long, prehensile toes found easy purchase, his own unwebbed feet slid and slipped in the algae coating the stone. Before long he was sweating, covered with algae filth, and cursing the day he had met the nixies. He soon grew so out of sorts that he walked into the soldier in front of him when the man stopped suddenly.
The fellow spat a curse over his shoulder. Guilhem’s instinct was to respond to insubordination with a sharp word or a blow, but Ariyāramna snapped out an order and they fell silent, the incipient squabble forgotten or at least shelved.
“Ahead of us the tunnel enters Cáervinen territory,” the commander said. “We will not cross into it. Our scouts have reported that the enemy uses this very passage as a way into our realm, so we may expect to engage their warriors soon as they seek to test weaknesses in our defenses. Remain alert for movement ahead. Walagash, you clot! Douse that light.”
The nixie with the glowing fungus stuffed it into his pouch. Blackness engulfed the troops.
“All right,” Ariyāramna said in a hushed but penetrating voice, “Baubaruva—scout ahead and see if you can learn anything about their position.”
“Sir.” There were faint splashing sounds as the nixie moved off.
Guilhem had fought in many nighttime battles and skirmishes, but this darkness was so profound as to be almost a palpable thing. It was completely outside his experience. He lost all sense of orientation at once, and found himself having to concentrate on his feet so that he could retain a grasp on his position. He heard the men breathing around him, and the faint rattling of their weapons as they shifted position on their feet. Were it not for those sounds, he would have supposed himself to be completely alone in the dark, with Heaven knew what sort of unseen horror about to leap on him and—
He took a deep, shaky breath. Never a man prone to anxiety or panic, he despised himself for this feeling of uncertainty and weakness. His self-excoriation was interrupted by more splashing sounds somewhere ahead of the squad. He stiffened, and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. But it was only Baubaruva returning to make his report.
“I walked for about ten minutes without encountering the enemy,” the nixie began without preamble.
Guilhem’s eyes went wide. Could his sense of
time be that impaired down here in the endless night? Apparently so!
“But then I heard faint movement ahead of me,” Baubaruva went on. “I went forward with the utmost caution, and soon came to a place where the tunnel opened on a large cavern like the one in which we assembled. There were perhaps twenty men in Cáervinen armor there, checking their gear. By the glances they shot toward the tunnel in which I was crouching, I was certain they meant to enter it and approach our dominion.”
“Then we must prepare for battle,” Ariyāramna said. “We will follow along Baubaruva’s tunnel and attack them at once, before they can mount guards or send out scouts of their own.” He barked out a series of orders and the men hastened to obey.
Once more Guilhem was paired with Baubaruva. The nixie was given a small piece of the glowing fungus from Walagash’s pouch. With it firmly in his grasp, Baubaruva crept away from the other soldiers, followed by Guilhem, whose nerves were at peak receptivity. He felt entirely alive and whole in a way he never did in any other part of his life. As horrible as he knew warfare to be, something about it brought him to the peak of his ability.
“Not much farther now,” Baubaruva murmured over his shoulder. “Have a care, Guilhem.” Rather than reply verbally, Guilhem patted him on the shoulder.
Without warning, the Cáervinens were upon them. The first hint Guilhem had of their presence was when two nixies burst out of concealed niches in the wall, swords drawn. “A trap!” Baubaruva barked. Guilhem was automatically on guard, his thorn sword in his hand and parrying a blow from an enemy blade before he was scarcely aware that he had moved. Blessing his reflexes, he pressed his foe, too occupied with fighting to take heed of Baubaruva. By the simple fact that the battleground had not been plunged into darkness, however, he assumed that his companion had retained his grip on the phosphorescent fungus. He heard the crack of thorny swords behind him, but his own opponent was too good a fighter for Guilhem to relax his guard for so much as an instant.
