by Fire
Ager entered. Morfast was lying in her cot, still dressed, her hands behind her head.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I had never been in a battle before,” she said.
“From your scars I thought—”
“I’ve fought many Chetts, for one reason or another,” she said. “But that was different. Much more personal.”
Ager scratched his head. “The opposite for me. I’ve been in very few fights that weren’t part of some larger battle. In fact, none before I met Lynan.”
“Your prince has changed the world for both of us, then.”
“Does that upset you?”
Morfast frowned in concentration. “I’m afraid, I think.”
“And you’ve never been afraid before?” he asked, quite willing to believe it.
“Of course I have been, but for myself. When you slew Katan, I became afraid for my clan. Now I’m afraid for all of us.”
“There’s a great deal at risk, but I think that would have been the case whether or not the Chetts tied their fortunes to Lynan.”
Morfast said nothing, and Ager started to feel uncomfortable. “Do you regret asking me to be your chief?”
“No!” she said quickly. “Never that! You cannot know how much it has meant to the Ocean clan. We are proud to have you for our chief.”
“Even though I am so closely linked to Lynan?”
“That is fate, but knowing that does not stop me being afraid. I cannot see where our future lies anymore. Once, it was easy. We would protect our clan, mate and raise children, live and die on the Oceans of Grass. Now, I do not think I will die on the Oceans of Grass, and that saddens me.”
“You and your people can return to your territory, you know. I will not be angry—”
“Me and my people?” she said angrily. She sat up and stared at him. “You mean your people, don’t you?”
“Well, yes ...”
“You still don’t understand, do you? We made the decision to continue as a clan under you. It cannot be taken back, and we will never regret it.”
Ager felt humbled by her words, and ashamed. “I am sorry, Morfast. I am proud to be your chief, prouder than words can express. But being chief of the Ocean clan means I must also consider what’s best for them, and going east with me may not be what’s best for them. I am thinking that most of you should rejoin the herd in the clan territory, leaving behind only that contingent conscripted in the army. Other chiefs ride with the army, but with no more than a few hundred of their warriors.”
“It comes back to Lynan, Ager. You are not just a chief; you are one of the White Wolf’s companions. We understand that, and can no more desert you than you can desert Lynan. Do not talk again about sending us back to our territory.”
Ager looked away from her. “Is it just the future that makes you afraid?” he asked.
He heard her hold her breath, and found himself hoping—and at the same time fearing—she would say the words he wanted to hear.
“You already know the answer to that question,” she said.
It has come to this, he thought. And I do not know what to say.
Morfast reached out to take his hand and pulled him to her cot. He sat down beside her. She gently turned his face so he was looking at her, and kissed him.
Jenrosa was alone in the middle of a wide green plain. It was not on the Oceans of Grass, the vegetation was too green for that. She was in the east. All around her were the signs of what had been a great battle: spears in the ground like bare saplings, abandoned helmets and shields and weapons, streaks and puddles of blood, the smell of shit and rotting flesh, the sound of flies and ravens. But there was no human, alive or dead, as far as she could see. It was the moment just before evening, and the plain was brushed in a golden light.
Something glinted on the ground not far from her. She walked over to it. Curled in the grass like a snake was a golden chain. She picked it up and saw that it carried an amulet. It was the Key of the Sword. She sensed something nearby. She spun around and saw Lynan. He was standing straight as an elm. He was dressed simply in tan riding breeches and an open jerkin. His eyes were staring at the horizon. Around his neck hung the Key of Union.
She went to him, stood before him, but he looked right through her.
“Lynan?”
No sign of recognition. He did not know she was there. The chain she was holding suddenly became very heavy, and she knew what she had to do with it. She carefully put it over Lynan’s head, then stepped back.
Lynan’s body started to shimmer and blur. His eyes changed color, his hair grew longer, his clothes metamorphosed into bark and twigs and leaves. And then he was gone. Standing in his place was Silona. Only the Keys of Power remained unchanged.
Jenrosa tried to run away, but she was frozen in place. Silona’s eyes closed, then opened. She looked straight at Jenrosa and recognized her.
“You,” the vampire breathed, and reached out a hand.
Again Jenrosa tried to run away, but something held in her in place. Silona’s fingers curled around Jenrosa’s hair, and her mouth opened. A long, green hollow tongue flickered in and out.
Jenrosa screamed.
She woke sitting up, Kumul sitting next to her, his arms around her shoulders.
“God’s death!” Kumul cried. “What’s wrong?”
Jenrosa was panting for breath. “It was her. Silona.”
Kumul’s face went pale. “Where? Is she in the camp?”
She shook her head. “No, no. In my dream.” She started shaking and wrapped her own arms around Kumul to try and stop it.
Kumul hugged her tightly. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “I’m here. No one can harm you.” After a while, he asked, “Can you tell me about it?”
She haltingly described the dream, still fresh in her memory.
“No wonder you woke up screaming,” Kumul said.
“What if it wasn’t a dream?” she said. “What if I was seeing something in the future?”
“You have no reason to believe that,” Kumul told her, but she heard the doubt in his voice.
She closed her eyes, and the image of Silona was still there, reaching out to her. “Oh, Kumul, I wish that was true,” she said, and started to cry.
Lynan and Korigan were in his tent squatting on the ground and looking over a map that rested between them. The Algonka Pass marked the westernmost edge of the map, the Sea Between the easternmost edge, and in the middle were the provinces of Hume and Chandra.
“If we have correctly interpreted the words Jenrosa and Lasthear read with their magic,” Lynan was saying, “then Salokan will be making directly for his border. His rate of march will be determined by how closely he is being pursued by Areava and her army.”
“The problem is, we don’t know if the magickers are telling us about something that has happened or will happen,” Korigan said.
“That is why we have to cross the pass as soon as possible. If we send scouts a day or two ahead of us, they should find signs of a retreat easily enough, if there is one. Then we will know where to strike next.”
“You are looking for another battle, then?”
Lynan nodded.
“With whom? Areava or Salokan.”
“We both know, I think. Areava’s forces will be spread out—scouts well north, a vanguard, then the main body of infantry. Her cavalry will be out wide on her northwest and northeast flanks to make sure Salokan doesn’t double back. She will not be expecting a threat directly to her western flank. We could decide the whole issue if we defeat her centre, then destroy her detachments in detail.”
“What issue?” Korigan asked.
Lynan’s breath caught in his throat. He had not said it before, but knew in his heart there was only one issue that would guarantee he and his friends could return safely to Kendra. “The issue of who will rule the kingdom,” he said slowly, and with the saying of it was surprised to feel a great weig
ht lift from his shoulders.
“Have you told Kumul of this decision?” she asked.
“No.”
“You will have to, sooner or later.”
“Sooner, I know. Before the battle. He has a right to know what he is fighting for.”
“If it helps, I think he knows already. He just can’t admit it to himself.”
“He has always served the throne of Grenda Lear.”
“By serving you, he still does,” Korigan said.
Lynan looked up, met Korigan’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said.
They both stood, still looking at each other.
“I had better go,” Korigan said.
“Yes.”
They both reached for the flap at the same time and their hands touched. For a moment neither moved, but then Lynan opened the flap and the contact was broken. Korigan left without saying another word.
Kayakun picked up the wine jar and refilled the two goblets, took his own, and drank deeply. “I cannot believe it is the same boy.”
Gudon belched, pounded his stomach with a fist and belched again. “Where did you say this piss came from?”
“I didn’t. It’s from some new vineyards in eastern Hume.”
“It is too warm there for good wine to grow,” Gudon declared.
“That hasn’t stopped you from helping me drink two flagons of the stuff.”
“Two?” Gudon asked, surprised. “Already?”
“We’re ready for our third.”
As if Kayakun’s words were a signal, one of his servants reappeared with a full jug and took away the empty.
“As I was saying, I can’t believe it is the same boy.”
“We’re talking of Lynan now?”
“Of course.”
“I only ask because in the last few hours we’ve discussed the defeat of the mercenaries, the weather, politics in Grenda Lear, the lineage of some merchant who offended you ten years ago, the weather, a new brood mare you purchased in the winter, and the bloody weather. I’ve lost track of where we’re up to.”
“We’re up to Lynan. The boy. The man. Whatever he is.” Kayakun glared at Gudon through half-closed eyes. “Come to that, what is he?”
“The gods only know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He is the White Wolf returned—” Kayakun waved dismissively at that, “—he is heir to the throne of Grenda Lear, he is a warrior and a general, he is a leader, he is a prophecy in the making.” Gudon put his goblet down and said heavily, “And he is a boy. Nothing more than a boy.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“I love him. Truth, he is a son and a brother all at once to me. I saved his life. He has saved mine. He makes me proud. He terrifies me.”
“Have you told anyone else this?” Kayakun asked.
“Oh, that’s clever,” Gudon said, wagging his finger. “Ply me with bad wine and then interrogate me. What do you want?”
“I want to know whether or not this Lynan is leading our people to disaster.”
“I think he will save us from disaster.”
“What do you mean?”
“He saved Korigan’s crown at the High Sooq. Maybe even her head. He has united most of the clans under his pennant, and may yet unite all of them. If he wins the throne, our independence will be guaranteed and our isolation ended.”
“He can’t do both. Our isolation is our independence.”
“That’s glib, Kayakun, but not true. Independence comes not from being left alone, but from being equal with all the other peoples that make up the kingdom of Grenda Lear.”
“And if he loses? What attitude will Areava take toward us then, sitting on her throne in far-away Kendra?”
“I’m too drunk to answer that.”
“And tomorrow you’ll be too sober to answer it.”
Gudon giggled. “Oh, now that is clever.”
Kayakun leaned forward until his face was less than a hand’s span from Gudon’s. “I’m serious.”
“Then you haven’t drunk enough of this wine.”
“I’m serious,” Kayakun repeated.
Gudon sighed deeply. “All right, I’ll answer your question. If Lynan loses, Areava will not attack us. But she will make sure that our isolation becomes permanent. We will be imprisoned within the Oceans of Grass.”
“That sounds like a reward, not a punishment.”
Gudon scowled at him. “Kayakun, that is the most stupid thing you have ever said.”
The Chett army stayed at the Strangers’ Sooq for over a week. In that time, most of the grass around the sooq was eaten by all the horses, but since no caravan would be coming this spring, it was no great loss.
Lynan, Korigan, and Gudon spent the days gathering supplies and the wagons necessary to carry them across the Algonka Pass and into the eastern provinces; Lynan wanted to avoid his army living off the land and alienating the very people he wanted as his subjects. Kumul and Ager resumed their training of the army and invented pennants for each banner, pennants that had nothing to do with any existing clan. Jenrosa spent all her time with Lasthear, trying to master her skills, hoping there was a limit to them and that in the end she was nothing more than another magicker; she had no more dreams about Silona, but could not forget the one dream she had had.
At the end of that week the warm winds of the coming summer were already blowing across the Oceans of Grass. For Lynan it was a sign, and he ordered the army to move out.
The banners, proudly carrying above them their new pennants, left the Strangers’ Sooq as quietly as they had come.
Chapter 27
Galen did not enjoy being in the middle of the argument, but he knew whose side he was on, and that surprised him. “It may be your province, your Highness, but our queen gave command to Prince Sendarus; indeed, not only did she give him command of her army, she also gave him the Key of the Sword, and whoever wears that has supreme military authority within Grenda Lear.”
Charion’s eyes narrowed and she glared at the nobleman. “I am also a queen,” she hissed. “I want Salokan’s head, and I want it now. I don’t see why this—” she waved deprecatingly at Sendarus, “—gentleman will not lend me his cavalry so I can pursue the bastard!”
Prince Sendarus closed his eyes and wished desperately he was back in Kendra with his wife. This black-haired witch’s bad temper and abuse made him want to drop her from the top of her own city’s walls.
“I’ll explain again,” he started calmly, “and this time I expect you to listen, because it is the last time. I am going to pursue Salokan, but I will wait until all my infantry has caught up with me here at Daavis. In the meantime a portion of my cavalry and light infantry will keep in touch with Salokan’s rearguard, ensuring he does not double back to catch us unaware, and the rest of my force will help repair any damage done to your capital and help bring in fresh supplies.”
“But what if Salokan reaches Haxus before—!”
“Be that as it may,” Sendarus interrupted, his voice rising, “my first priority is to secure this city. When I am satisfied that Daavis is safe, we will hunt down Salokan and destroy his army to the last soldier.”
Charion put her hands on her hips and looked ready to spit, but she had run out of arguments and insults. Obviously, this upstart prince was not going to let her pursue Salokan—undoubtedly because he wanted all the glory for finishing off the foreign king for himself—nor was he going to let her assert her right to determine events in her own country.
“Very well,” she said tightly. “I will await your pleasure. When your lost regiments finally discover how to find this city—ten square leagues in size and sitting astride the continent’s widest river—I look forward to once again taking up the war.”
She spun on her heel and stalked off before Sendarus could reply. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t think this would be a good time to ask her about billeting,” he said.
“That’s the truth,” Gale
n said. “I think that went as well as can be expected.”
“You’ve had dealings with her before?”
“Only once. I attended an embassy to her from Usharna; I escorted Berayma. Berayma was . .. overwhelmed ... by her.”
“She would overwhelm a great bear, I think.”
They started back to their camp north of the city.
“I haven’t had time yet to congratulate you and the knights for your victory over the Haxus regiments south of here. I think it was that which finally convinced Salokan to turn tail. If he had not heard news of your victory, he might well have taken Daavis that morning. Charion will never admit it, of course, but her secretary Farben told me that the city’s defenses were not far from collapsing.”
“I think I am speaking for all the Twenty Houses when I say we are only too glad to contribute to the security of the kingdom.”
“Areava will hear of it, I promise,” Sendarus said.
Salokan knew he was defeated, but he was not panicking. His army was retreating in good order, not in a rout, and he wanted to keep it that way. He selected his best troops for the rearguard, with clear orders to slow down any pursuit. Over the last eight days there had been some skirmishes with Grenda Lear cavalry, and on two occasions with fast-moving and lightly-armored infantry, but nothing that seriously interfered with the retreat. The problem was that the enemy cavalry and light infantry was not trying to slow down the retreat at this point, but simply to stay in touch so that when the main Grenda Lear army came up, it could go straight for the throat of the Haxus army. He knew that if he wanted to survive long enough to reach his own kingdom— where he had reserves and well-established supply lines-he would have to do something unexpected, something that would throw the enemy off his scent or make them think twice about dogging him so closely.
His troops were tired and demoralized, but they would be considerably more tired and demoralized if the enemy caught them on a field not of their choosing. Thus it was that on the eighth night of their retreat, as soon as the evening meal had been finished, he ordered the army to march on instead of settling down. He pushed them on until midnight, and then, instead of letting them rest, he made each regiment build a rampart from packed earth with two ditches in front, one filled with wooden stakes and the other with their last reserve of cooking oil. The ramparts were not continuous, but built checkerboard so that gaps between the first line were covered by those ramparts making up the second line. Finally he had the ditches and ramparts covered with branches and turf. The work was done by dawn; he let them sleep until noon, then stirred them and made them line the ramparts, with strict orders not to make a sound.
