They were not quite half-way to the River Arshen. Almost every body was wayworn and footsore. The elders and children had been spending more time asaddle. It was hard to watch people pushing through blisters and aches. Kir recommended a day of rest and Ulivall reluctantly agreed. The cool breeze that swept down the mountain was invigorating. Kir wished it could fill the caravan with renewed energies.
She turned Sorrha over to Melia, then coaxed Lyndal into their tent for the routine de-Vanning. Nehkial had tried to lend his services to the task, staying true to his former duty as Vann's valet. Lyndal wasn't accustomed to service. He was even less accustomed to waiting around for service that couldn't keep up with him.
“Watching the walkers trudge like that makes me tired, myself,” Lyndal reported drearily. “Helps keep my energy low and in character. Wish I could trade out and give the use of my mount to weary feet. Mine are spry enough.”
“I know, Lyndal. Ulivall has to keep us well guarded, and nobody would believe a Vannisarian that wasn't astride a kingly mount. If we had a proper airskiff, we both'd be stashed away safely inside it, like most royal processions would have us. I suppose it's better this way, on account of spies being able to see you with their own two. It's all about roles and playing for the unseen audience.”
Lyndal nodded agreement and commenced to stripping off Vann. Kir left him to it and slipped outside. She went about the camp to oversee the brigades of fire builders and tent erectors, trying to look like her presence had some meaning. Ulivall sidled her and listed out reports that Kir only half-heard. Nothing was amiss, and it was all standard information. She parked her eyes on the treeline at the base of the ridge. The mountain would lend them shade and cover in the evening hours. It would also give eyes a place to hide. Kir searched for the gleam of peepers in the brush and branches, almost expecting to see them. It felt very much like someone was watching from somewhere. That someone was not Lili this time. The treeline made sense.
“Saiya Kunnai?”
“That's fine, Ulivall,” Kir said absently.
“What's fine?”
Kir snapped back to his attentions. “Whatever you just said you needed.”
“I was asking after Lyndal's assignment. Is he fulfilling his role to your satisfaction?”
“Oh.” Kir flushed. “Sorry—I was in my head. Lyndal's been a gem. So far, I'd give him full marks. You'll tell Eshuen for me?”
“Of course,” Ulivall said. His eyes followed the path Kir's had taken to the forest. “Is something wrong with the position of the camp? You keep scanning the trees.”
“Feels like something's out there. Nothing more than the ghosts of my overactive imagination, I reckon.”
Ulivall wasn't appeased by her dismissal of the thought. “I'll have Rendack take a team to scout it. They were supposed to leave shortly to reconnoiter in leagues ahead, but proximity takes priority.”
When the scouting party was organized, Kir addressed the team. “I've been feeling eyes on us for days. It may just be paranoia, but be careful. Soventine's Night Wind have been known to park in shadow. They hit fast and silently. If the eyes I'm feeling belong to one, don't engage. Report back immediately.”
As the warriors banged their fists to their chests, movement behind them caught Kir's attention. A buzzard was perched on the apex of a nearby tent, watching them with hawkish intensity. Kir stepped through the line of scouts and approached, as close as she could comfortably get without scaring the bird away. It was the same one she had seen days before. There was no mistaking him. He was following them, which could only mean one thing.
Kir instinctively sent out her Naturals, roping the hawk firmly in her will. The moment she probed deeper, she brushed a familiar essence. It was as if midnight meadows and authority were wrapped in Cornian teakwood and Westlewin leathers. Kir knew that aura. It belonged to the Duke of Westlewin: Kir's own father. The moment she touched Virnard Karmine's awareness, she sprang herself backward and disconnected. Her father was in firm command of the buzzard. Kir knew for spitting sure now. This was positively Vann's hawk, Beacon.
It made sense that Karmine would be commanding the hawk in espionage. He had trained the buzzard in Vann's stead. Kir wondered if that was the whole reason Soventine had wanted Karmine manning the hawk from the very beginning. He had been planning the moonless night's hawking event for ages. Beacon had been the lure that had brought Vann into that lumanere cavern Holy chamber. And now, Beacon was playing a chord in their symphony of chaos once more. Kir knew Alokien had made a deal with the Karmine house. Her parents' treason had been pardoned in exchange for something. The Duke's espionage was probably some part of the bargain.
Ulivall and the scouts had slipped up behind Kir, at first concerned by her distraction, and at second, intrigued with the recognized form of it.
“Is it a messenger?” Ulivall asked.
“No...” Kir answered. “It's Beacon.”
Arms shot up in instant affront to launch at the bird.
“Don't!” Kir cried, lurching sideways to hinder their fighting arms. “These must be the eyes I've been feeling. He's spying for Alokien. And now they are certain Vann is with us.” This was exactly what they were hoping for. Eyes on them meant none on the real Vann.
Although Karmine had certainly sensed Kir's probe and knew his cover was blown, Beacon did not move from his perch. It was an abominable shame that the magnificent creature was nothing but a pawn in the games of men.
Kir toyed with the idea of connecting with the Duke through the bird. Would it be possible to communicate in such a way? She didn't expect to transmit actual words. The hawk's mind did not process like a human's. Even so, could she project images and feelings? Maybe she could somehow offer a place at her side if Karmine would betray Alokien. Just as she was about to try, Beacon's head twisted. He was suddenly aware of something happening far in the distance, up the road beyond their sights. He lit out from his perch, disappearing into the trees.
It didn't appear to be a commanded action, rather, an instinctive one. Kir tried to figure what had spooked him. There was nothing out there.
“Looked like something startled him,” Rendack said. “While we're scouting, we'll keep our eyes peeled. Do you want Avalir to capture him?”
“No,” Kir said. “Leave him be. He only sees what we want him to. We've been careful about that. But spread the word for everyone to guard their tongues. Even though Beacon can't process what he hears, we don't want to take chances.”
Rendack's team mounted up. Before they could slap their reins, Avalir noted, “Beacon must have taken off to avoid that black cloud to the east. It's odd. The air doesn't smell like rain today.”
Kir squinted in the direction Avalir gestured. It took a moment for her to see it. She had to admire Avalir's hawk-like vision. Her eyesight was pretty decent, but Avalir had seen the speckled cloud well before she'd been able to, even when she was looking hard. It did seem to be getting slightly larger and darker as her eyes adjusted.
“It doesn't look stormy,” Borloh noted. “Looks more like bats than rains.”
“Bats? In broad daylight?” Rendack squinted in evaluation. “Not likely.”
“Whatever it is, it's coming this way,” Kir said, recognizing the warning in her gut for the first time.
“How can you tell?” Tennras asked.
“It looks like it's standing still, but it wasn't there a minute ago and it's getting more obvious. That means it's heading straight for us. It's probably migrating birds, but it doesn't hurt to have a drill for the practice. Signal the emergency procedures,” Kir ordered. It might have been a premature reaction, but Master Kozias always said it's better to be fast and wrong than slow and dead.
“Enact the Hawkeye Guard Ring,” Ulivall commanded. It was one of their predesigned formations, placing Kir and Lyndal in the middle with the supply wagons, surrounded by several rings of bodies.
The warriors sprang to action, issuin
g alarm and orders. There was a flurry of organized chaos as the clans gathered in rehearsed sequences. The fatigue in their feet was suddenly forgotten with the fear and fight that was coursing through them. They had been drilled on this before, and even though there was no panic on the air, the tension was so thick, Kir could have cut it with Inagor's dagger.
She hustled through the ranks, overseeing preparations and aiding where she could. Everyone with able arms readied their weapons of choice, even the younglings. Corban and his team of chefs stood with the chow wagon, armed with their array of kitchen knives, and a few of them were setting pots of water to boil. Consul Ferinar took up his sword, finding his place in the second-inner ring. The clans formed up around the supply wagons. Kir was supposed to be in the middle of that hub. She had no intention of submitting to the original cower-and-let-everyone-else-protect-her procedure. Malacar was escorting Lyndal, already redressed as Vann, to the center. He motioned a request to join him there. Kir signaled back that she would be there soon, then sped to Ulivall's side. He and his front line warriors were on the ridge, observing the fuzzy cloud that looked to be closing the distance.
“It's a swarm,” Ulivall reported grimly. “Kaiyo.”
“A swarm? What manner of kaiyo?” If they were to be facing down foes this soon, Kir had expected them to take the form of men, not monsters. She knew Alokien was readying a kaiyo army in Arcadia, but it surprised her that they were already this far north.
“It looks to be a menagerie,” Rendack reported through his farscoper. “Aerial and grounders, both. A lot of them are new varieties to me, but I see a few common ones like furies and kamai. This looks like a herd of smaller, faster kaiyo. Lower levels, mostly.”
“Are they organized or running wild?”
“Hard to tell,” Rendack said. “There's a lot of variation in their movements, but for that many different... I don't know—species?—to be herding, I'd say they are organized. Most wildlings only band together with their own kind and never in this number.”
Kir tried to keep the panic from making its way to obvious. “Arrival time?”
“They're not moving as fast as I expected. At this rate the first waves will be here in fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.”
“Enough time for Malacar to get you and Lyndal away,” Ulivall said firmly. “At least it will be a head start. We can hold them here while you make your escape.”
“Escape? To where?! West is just a sea of water and nessertaums, south is a solid wall of mountain, and north is the wrong way,” Kir protested. “It won't do any good for us to skin out and leave you behind now. You need all the warriors you can get. At least if we stay, Malacar and I can be two more blades in the fray.”
“Too risky,” Ulivall said grimly. “There look to be hundreds. I don't know that this is a winnable battle.”
“They've got furies. If we run, they'll track us wherever we go,” Kir reminded him. “We can make a stand with you and have a lot more blades between us and them.”
Ulivall looked torn and tormented, but he did not argue. He passed over the longsword that was strapped to his back. The unique circular twin blades in the pouch at his hip, which he called chakram, were his favored weapons of choice, so Kir didn't question his relief of the sword. “Do not make me regret this, Kir. I will never forgive you if you die here.”
“Now that's an impossible prospect, since you'll be my flanker,” Kir told him.
He opened his mouth to counter, but Kir staunched his forming argument with the warrior's gesture of talk-ending. “My tongue's as sharp as my blade so don't even think of throwing challenge, Ulivall. Save your fight for the battle. Malacar's got Lyndal's back. You'll have mine.”
Copellian and his team of horse masters helped the warriors mount their coursers, then he handed the rest of the duties off to Melia and mounted his own.
Kir turned down the offer of Sorrha's reins. “I'll be right back. Gotta brief Malacar.”
She jogged through the lines and parted through the solidifying circle rings. In the second inner-most group, ringed with the supply and chow wagons, the children huddled shouldered to shoulder, gripping sticks and tent stakes in trembling hands. Kir gave them all a few words of encouragement and a gentle command to be brave.
“You're all Guardians today, shortcakes,” she said to them. “My new Guardling Squad. You are the last line of defense before they get to His Majesty. Be like fences, and Kionara.”
The children saluted in sloppy, clumsy displays that were downright adorable, and even through the twisting anxiety that clenched Kir's jaw to stone, she managed a lopsided grin. She tweaked Erahnie's nose proudly, then slipped between them.
Lyndal and Malacar were positioned in the hub of the circle rings. Poor Lyndal was sitting behind a wagon, cross-legged in the grass, gaze parked in the weeds. He was fighting through the urge to look up. Kir ran through a quick briefing for their benefit. Malacar was not happy with the situation, but he seemed to grasp his inability to change it. He understood the tactical advantage to facing down a swarm in numbers versus being chased down as a threesome and summarily overwhelmed.
“Don't stray from my side, Kir,” Malacar said. “Your stubborn head needs a Guardian. If you won't take one here, at least let me stand in that duty.”
“You're not gonna like this, Lunchbox, but I'll be on the front line with the warriors. Ulivall's got my back. You can focus your efforts on protecting Lyndal. I've got the advantage of mobility. Lyndal doesn't. Protect him as if he were Vann. That's your job as His Majesty's Guardian. Your role in this decoy is just as important as Lyndal's.”
“The procedures exist for a reason. Your place is in this hub with us. Except for Guardian Arrelius' dagger, you don't even have a weapon,” Malacar argued. “Take Scilio's bow and attack from the distance with me.”
“A longbow against kaiyo hide? That won't do much more than make 'em mad. I don't know that boomy spell Scilio does. Ulivall lent me his broadsword.” Kir presented the loaner for his appraisal. “It's too packed here for my liking. I can take more of them out if I have room to move freely and play up on my agility. We're liable to trip on each other in this small ring.”
Malacar shook his head, not finding much comfort in Kir's display of confidence. He was brooding on the situation and his lack of say-so in it all.
Kir fell to a knee before Lyndal and raised his chin, meeting his eyes that were much too brilliant and alert to be Vann's.
“No matter what happens around you, you must remain His Majesty,” Kir commanded, pointedly and low. “It doesn't matter what you see or hear. It doesn't matter who falls at your side. Even if you are taken. You will remain Vannisarian, and you will not betray your role. Understood?”
Lyndal blinked a long, hard acknowledgment and parked his eyes on her collar. Kir was not a master reader like Scilio, but the look on Lyndal's face screamed frustration at his assignment. This would be the most difficult part of his decoy. She did not envy him the job. Kir knew for certain that she could not pull it off herself.
After she rose, Kir turned to Malacar and pulled him in, wrapping arms around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach.
“Kionara,” she whispered in Malacar's ear. His grip around her back was so tight Kir thought he might not let her go. “I'll be fine. There is too much drive in me to die here, I promise. Not with Vann counting on me to rope him back. Aquiline soil has drunk up enough of my blood. I won't allow her a drop more.”
“Eskanna flies with you,” Malacar said in a voice as tight as his grip. “If your line breaks, fall back here.”
“By Nomah's honor.” Kir detached herself quickly before he had a changing of mind and got the notion to chain her to his wrist. She zipped off and ducked through the forming phalanx of tent poles and frying pans. Warriors issued updates to the caravan and the phrase “kaiyo swarm” was answered with a chorus of choking gasps. After directing Lili to Malacar's inner hub, Kir mounted Sorrha and
rejoined the warriors at the front line, nerves a'jangle with adrenaline and apprehension. They watched the distant cloud grow larger as it came closer.
“May Nomah and Eskanna be with us,” Ulivall said into the space of the silence between the steady fear and the anticipation of screams.
-21-
Courtship by way of the Lash
Kir once said that the unhurried make the best torturers. There is nothing more frightening than an interrogator without a timepiece. When they are ravenous for information, their methods are
aggressive and desperate, so merciful death comes quickly. It's the patient ones you fear the most.
They have all the time in the world, and they make sure you do, too.
- Excerpt from the journal of Guardian Toma Scilio
The hood remained. Through the stripping of his clothes. Through the basic questions. Through the dramatic pauses. Through the physical interrogation.
Scilio knew enough to understand the game. Each element: abrasive hood and its unyielding darkness, long stretches of uncomfortable solitude, abrupt clanging noises that followed, withholding of sustenance. It was all part of an elaborate stage production. The backdrop and its terrifying instruments of pain would paint the scene for the interrogation room. In the theater, a stage director's utilization of lighting and music in a scene was based on the same principles as this room; they were both designed to enhance an illusion in the mind's willing imagination. Whomever Scilio's captors might be, they were certainly skilled at creating mood. Most guests of this room would sing their secrets out, long before any instrument of anguish made gainful introduction to weary extremities.
Scilio was not one of those fortunate souls. He had not the luxury of spilling his guarded secrets. He had offered his hosts nothing, not peep nor whimper. He did not even allow himself to startle at the sudden clanging from behind his seat, meant to shatter the nerve. He would give the interrogators no clue; nothing did he betray. The game had gone on for the better part of the night.
Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4) Page 23
