“The spells!” Dormael gathered Bethany back into his arms and rose to his feet. “They’re failing! We have to get clear of this place!”
“We’ll never make it at this speed.” Allen shoved the last of his knives into place. “The horde will catch us, and we’ll be meat for Garthorin stomachs before the end of the day.”
D’Jenn looked in the direction of the howling Garthorin. He couldn’t see the horde behind them—the doors had slowed the beasts down, and D’Jenn suspected they were rushing forward more in blind anger than anything else. The cries of the beasts had been growing louder, and were now close enough to send jolts of fear down his spine.
“We have to slow them down,” D’Jenn said. “Allen’s right—we’ll never make it. We have to buy some time to make our escape.”
“If a big bloody fire didn’t work, what will?” Allen snatched Dormael’s spear from the ground.
D’Jenn ran through a few options. Being underground was going to make things difficult. There wasn’t much but stone and air to work with, and with his body beginning to flag, D’Jenn’s power would be weakened. He couldn’t rely on his own Kai to maintain an evocation for long—he needed to build a spell.
“I’ve got an idea.” D’Jenn glanced toward the growing noise of pursuit. “The rest of you head for the top. I’ll slow them down.”
Shawna stepped forward. “You can’t hold them off alone! Dormael couldn’t do it at the river, you couldn’t do it outside, and Bethany couldn’t do it at the gate. This is foolish, D’Jenn. We have to run!”
“It’s our only option, Shawna.” D’Jenn spared a glance for Bethany’s inert form. “You’ll never make it ahead of the Garthorin. I can slow them down, but I need something first.”
“What?”
D’Jenn gave Allen an apologetic smile. “The rubies.”
“Of course you do.” Allen glared as he fished them out. “Of bloody course you do.”
***
“And now we have come to the matter of the day.” Allisondra stood in the center of the speaking circle, her voice echoing over the gathering. “The ultimate reason this Lundai was convened. You all know of the beast which has entered our lands.”
A murmur of voices answered as the gathered Mala’kii spoke their agreement.
Allisondra gestured to the contingent of Red Swords behind Nalia. “Armies of the Galanian Empire have trespassed on our lands to make war on the Moravians.”
There was another round of angry mutters, and Nalia wondered at Allisondra’s intentions.
Does she mean to set the crowd against me before I’m allowed to speak?
“Some of you—including my own ildinum—have taken up arms against the incursion. The Empire has called for an end to our war and sent someone to speak on its behalf. I have spoken to this woman, and she has strength in her bones. My own malahim spoke of the steel in her heart. I say her words are worthy for your ears. I have given her leave to speak at this Lundai, so let us hear her words. Who would speak against this?”
The crowd buzzed, but no one spoke out in protest. Nalia looked around the circle, at the multitude of scowls. She was not loved here—that was clear to her. There was disgust, hatred, disdain, and disinterest on many faces in the crowd. A few looked interested, but the overwhelming majority looked skeptical.
The Sadiri sat at the edge of the speaking circle. There were eleven herd-leaders in attendance, each as varied as Allisondra’s personal retinue had been. They regarded Nalia with blank stares. A few Sadiri raised their hands with three fingers extended—a gesture Nalia didn’t understand. A few others nodded, while others appeared to be mulling over the question. Two of them waved their hands and shook their heads.
Nalia looked to Jeshanda—who was sitting beside her—but the ugly youth was staring at the Maihdrim. The stone at Jeshanda’s throat was touching her skin, just like the choker Nalia was wearing. Nalia almost nudged the girl to ask for an explanation of the three-fingered gesture, but refrained. After a few moments of deliberation between various Sadiri, the majority of the women nodded their assent.
Allisondra took a deep breath and spoke in a loud, clear voice. “The one who comes before you is called Nalia Arynthaal. She is the daughter to the Frost Bear and sister to the one we have named the Brooding Blade.”
Brooding Blade? Is she talking about Aidan?
“She is the Ice Princess of Thardin! She speaks with the weight of the Galanian Empire behind her. Let us hear what words she brings to the Lundai.”
Nalia rose from her seat, straightening the belt of silver medallions. The gathering was silent as hundreds of eyes turned in her direction, leaving only the sound of wind blowing across the hills. Nalia rested her left hand on the hilt of the ceremonial dagger, finding an odd sense of comfort in the steel. She put on a pleasant, dignified expression and stepped forward.
The speaking ground was the lowest point in a natural circular depression, and the gentle slopes around it created a natural amphitheater. There were ancient stones on the edge of the circle, rounded by generations of seated Mala’kii. The stones were half-eaten by the ground, but still provided a convenient seat for the gathered Sadiri.
There were twelve separate herds in attendance, including Allisondra’s own. Each was seated behind their respective Sadiri, carpeting the hillsides with sun-browned faces. Everyone was armed, so there were plenty of spear points and steel edges glinting in the sun. Beside each Sadiri, around the edge of the circle, were spears driven into the ground with pennants fluttering from their tops. Each flag bore a complicated pictogram—the standards for the various herds.
Gehenia’s herd was absent—which Nalia found curious. Was her disregard meant as an insult to Allisondra and the rest of the Sadiri? Was it a statement about the Imperial presence at the Lundai? Had Nalia misread the situation when she’d recommended that Allisondra offer the woman respect?
There’s too much I don’t know.
The Imperial delegation had been given a place of honor, so that Nalia sat equal to the Sadiri. Her Sworn Men set directly behind her, while Hardin’s Red Swords were seated behind them. Nalia’s men, in contrast to the Mala’kii, were arranged in military order, their shields, swords, and helmets grounded in a precise fashion. It was a symbolic gesture of peace, though Nalia knew the Red Swords could be battle-ready in a matter of seconds. The Galanians couldn’t match her Sworn Men for individual toughness, but she had never seen a more professional infantry than the Galanian Red Swords.
Nalia reached the center of the circle and turned to meet the eyes of each Sadiri. The women were varied in appearance, and their respective herds seemed to mirror those differences. One woman was decorated with angry swirls of blue paint—a custom echoed by most of her warriors. Another Sadiri was a great beast of a woman, with wide shoulders and an ugly, puckered scar where one of her eyes had been. She was bereft of ornamentation, and so were her closest retainers.
Nalia ignored the various emotions she saw on the women’s faces—mostly distrust and skepticism—and tried to give each of them a cool, professional smile. She swept her gaze over the carpet of faces dotting the hillsides and waited a few moments before speaking. She wanted the Mala’kii to get a good, long look at her.
Jaylenia had chosen a garment somewhere between a riding dress and ornamental armor. The base layer of fabric was smooth, ice-blue silk. The upper part of the garment was sewn with thin pieces of leather, cleverly placed to mimic the look of armor. Her shoulders had been hung with thin pieces of metal to suggest pauldrons, with delicate chains hanging between them. Nalia’s hair was arranged into a Thardish fighting braid, and Jay had woven delicate chains of silver through the twists. The bottom half of the dress was made from thin, dark leather, and divided for riding.
Nothing about the dress was functional, and Nalia would never wear it in the Imperial camp. Today, before these savage people, it sent the right message. Nalia gave the crowd a moment to absorb the sight of her and cleared her t
hroat to speak.
Before she could utter a word, a commotion started at the rear of the gathering. A new group of Mala’kii was coming toward the circle. They bullied and shoved their way into position, forcing others to move aside. Dark mutters and shouted curses rose up from the rest of the Mala’kii, but the new herd ignored them. Nalia’s men shifted with unease, but she gestured at Lieutenant Hardin for peace. He called a few orders to his men, who settled back into place with reluctant expressions on their faces.
The woman who walked at the head of the new herd was tall and severe. She was whipcord thin, and Nalia could see fibrous valleys ripple through her muscles as she stalked down the hill. Her hair was chopped short, leaving a bushy stripe of dark hair down the center of her head. The stubble along her temples was frosted with gray, though it was the natural silver of age and not the bone-white of Allisondra’s bewitched hair.
The woman had bright green eyes, which was striking against her dark skin, and she fixed everyone with an intense, predatory gaze. For Nalia, those eyes held nothing but disgust. When the newcomer locked eyes with Allisondra, hatred burned in their depths.
So this is Gehenia. A formidable woman, no doubt.
Gehenia was dressed in battle leathers, much like the rest of the Mala’kii. She wore a short, curved sword similar to Allisondra’s, but Gehenia’s had a hilt made from carved bone. On the opposite side of her belt, she carried a long, curved knife. Her hands rested on the hilts of her weapons, tightening with unconscious tension as she stared at Allisondra.
Gehenia, as far as Nalia could tell, had no malahim. Her personal retinue was a motley group of warriors made up of both men and women. One of them—a hulking man close to seven links tall—planted a spear in the ground at the edge of the circle. A blue, tapered pennant unfurled from the other end, bearing a Mala’kii rune sewn in black. Nalia's eyes stared at the battle flag, a cold sweat trickling down her back.
“We would hear the words of the Ice Princess,” Gehenia said. “We have been invited. We demand our right to listen.”
A long moment passed while Allisondra stood in silence. She scowled at Gehenia, her eyes aflame with anger. The crowd muttered, and shouts went up from the hillsides. Allisondra grimaced and raised her hand for silence. After a few moments, the noise died away.
“Very well,” Allisondra said. “You have dishonored yourselves by arriving late, but we will shed no blood. These words are important for all Mala’kii. Does anyone speak against this?”
The gathered Sadiri glanced at one another, but no one spoke. Allisondra gave Gehenia a wintry smile and gestured for her to sit. Gehenia didn’t bother to return the pleasantry. She exchanged a few words with her personal retinue and sat at the edge of the circle, earning a scowl from a few of the gathered Sadiri. Gehenia ignored them, instead fixing Nalia with a stony glare.
Nalia regained her composure and offered Gehenia the same smile she’d given the other women. Gehenia, as before, neglected to return it. Nalia turned to regard the hillsides and cleared her throat. Jeshanda stood to translate for her.
“The Mala’kii,” she began, “are a proud people. You have traditions going back generations, stories that stretch into the darkness of the past. I have spoken at length with your Maihdrim. I have shared food and water. I have listened to your stories and found much to respect.”
Someone in the crowd let out a cheer, which was answered with murmured approval from others.
Nalia smiled. “I, too, come from a proud race of warriors. The Maihdrim tells me that, even here, stories are told of my bloodline, and the Thardish have won your respect in the field.”
Nalia had expected that statement to draw controversy, but no one in the crowd made a sound.
“The Empire has trespassed upon your lands—this is true. We have done so in ignorance. We have come to make war on the Moravians, who had never been friends to the Mala’kii. The Empire has no desire to take what is rightfully yours—in fact, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
The Sadiri painted with blue swirls held one hand in the air, drawing the eyes of the crowd. Standing, she gave Nalia a suspicious glare and spoke loud enough for all to hear.
“Your Empire desires everything,” she said. “I have heard the stories from veledrim traders from the north. This Empire conquers all in its path. Even the Ice Princess has been conquered—is this not so?”
Nalia smiled at the woman as she returned to her seat.
“This is a misunderstanding. The Empire does not offer the chains of servitude. It offers the hand of friendship.”
The crowd snickered.
Nalia raised her voice over the crowd and turned to face the painted woman. “Can the Sadiri answer my question? How many great nations of Alderak recognize the existence of Mala’keen? Tell me—how many ambassadors have been sent to Mala’keen from Thardin, or Neleka, or Shundovia? Have the Moravians on the borders of your land ever bothered to talk of peace? Have they sent words, honored Sadiri, or spears?”
The question hung between them. The crowd was silent, and Nalia could almost taste the tension in the air. The Sadiri gazed back at her for a long moment before nodding in defeat. She gestured for Nalia to continue.
Nalia smiled. “The Empire has not come to offer you disrespect. We did not march upon the Mala’kii. The hostilities between our people have grown from a simple misunderstanding. Emperor Dargorin is prepared to offer what other rulers have denied you—legitimacy. The Empire believes the Mala’kii are our natural allies, and I am here to offer you your rightful place at our table. We will recognize your sovereignty over this land and protect it from despoilment. We will offer the Mala’kii all rights and privileges of Imperial citizens and extend you the respect you have always deserved. We offer you the chance to win glories on the battlefield you could never find in the lands of Mala’keen!”
Suspicious mutters broke out over the hillsides.
At least they’re listening.
“What glories does your Emperor promise?”
Nalia spun to see the brutish Sadiri standing, an interested gleam in her single eye.
Nalia gave the Sadiri a respectful nod. “The Empire marches south to add more nations into its fold. You’ll first have your chance to seek your vengeance on the Moravians, who have treated you as nothing more than a nuisance since the beginning.”
There were angry mutters of approval from the crowd, and the brutish woman cracked a smile.
“You will fight on the plains of Moravia, in the jungles of southern Alderak, and even in the mountains of ancient Shera itself. You will travel farther and win more glory than any Mala’kii before you. That is only the beginning of what the Empire can offer the Mala’kii.”
Voices rose in answer, roaring their approval to the sky. The giant woman regarded Nalia for a short moment before giving her a wide grin and a nod of approval. She sat back in her place and began to speak with her malahim. The hillsides were abuzz. Even Allisondra wore a fierce smile.
I wish my mother could see me now. How proud she would be.
A deep horn blast split the air, bringing an end to the cheers. Gehenia stood in challenge and lowered a horn from her lips. She handed it to one of her warriors as the crowd grew quiet.
“I think we have forgotten the worth of veledrim words,” Gehenia said. “Look back in our histories and you will see the truth. It is a thing we tell our children before they are old enough to ride—veledrim are liars, one and all. Every word that flows from this woman’s mouth is a lie. She comes here with one hand extended in friendship while the other holds a knife at our throats! Remember who she is and you will see her promises for what they are.”
Nalia straightened her back and turned to face Gehenia. The savage upstart regarded her with open hatred. Nalia’s hand went to the ceremonial dagger, and she lifted her chin at Gehenia in challenge.
“In my land, when you question the honor of someone’s words, you must be prepared to prove the worth of your own, lest y
our enemy seek justice by spilling your blood.”
The crowd gave a hum at Nalia’s words, eager for violence.
Gehenia returned Nalia’s stare and stepped further into the circle. “If the Mala’kii decline the yoke of your Empire, if we demand that you leave this place, and we enforce our own sovereignty with spear and blade, what will be the answer from the Empire? Will your Emperor remove his forces from Mala’keen? Will he accept our terms without bloodshed and take his armies away, or will he answer with war?”
The crowd went silent. Nalia could feel them leaning forward, waiting to hear her reply. Wind blew across the gathering, scattering dust between Nalia and Gehenia. Nalia had expected the question, but she was unsure of the strength of the answer she had devised.
These people, while primitive, were not fools. They knew the Emperor wouldn’t bow to their demands and leave the field in defeat. Cold anger rose in Nalia’s chest. Gehenia had forced her to say the thing Nalia was trying to obfuscate.
Gods damn her. Where is Yurian?
Nalia cleared her throat. “As I’ve said, we are a proud people. The Empire has made war upon the Moravians, and the Emperor will not abandon his destiny. If the Mala’kii choose to be our enemies, we will answer with fire and blood.”
Gehenia gave Nalia a triumphant smile as the crowd erupted. People stood on the hillsides to shout curses at Nalia. The gathered Sadiri exchanged doubtful glances. There was an angry rustle in the herds near Nalia’s men, who fingered their weapons with unease.
Nalia took a deep breath and raised her voice over the noise. “Would the Mala’kii allow another people to dictate terms to them? Would the Mala’kii retreat from the field like beaten dogs? What respect would you have for an ally who acted with such cowardice? The Empire may have made a mistake, but it will not be commanded like an errant child. Gehenia should remember that if the Emperor wished it so, he could turn the full power of his might against the Mala’kii and grind them to dust. Instead, we have come as friends. It is not—”
“Fire and blood, she said!” Gehenia turned and called to the crowd. “Ground to dust, she says! You hear the threats coming from her mouth! You all hear the words she is not saying! Give in or be destroyed—that is the message from this veledrim Empire! I say let them come! I say their promises are worth nothing! They seek to rule us, and if we agree to this treaty, we may as well roll over and offer them our bellies!”
The City Under the Mountain (The Seven Signs Book 4) Page 35
