Giving them no time to recover from the first shock, the second descended from the dark sky—Kelvren, in full panoply, his wings providing a thunder of his own as he landed in front of Eldan.
Darian had to give the barbarians credit for bravery; they were shaking, as pale as snow and plainly terrified, but they stood their ground.
Yes, but can they stand the third shock?
A deep and angry “voice” shouted inside Darian’s head—and in the heads of every other creature present that hadn’t shielded against it. Darian had put up just enough of a shield to keep the voice from being painful, but he wanted to hear what Tyrsell said. For this was Tyrsell’s contribution, his ability to Mindspeak to anyone and anything, and if the barbarians weren’t familiar with Mindspeech, this might well be the most frightening shock of all.
:Who are you, invaders? How dare you intrude on us?: Tyrsell demanded. : Why are you here? What excuse have you for invading our lands, stealing our game, devouring our grazing? Why should we not destroy you at this moment, and leave your bones to lie in the dust as a warning to others?:
There was no telling how the barbarians would take this—how they would even “hear” it and interpret it—but this was the best that any of them could come up with, providing equal parts of threat, intimidation, and opportunity for explanation. Firesong produced appropriate stage-dressing as Tyrsell Mindspoke, sending up fountains of light on either side, as his firebird made a similar entrance to Kelvren’s. Aya plunged down from the treetops, showering false sparks as he flew, then coming in to land on Firesong’s outstretched hand.
Darian held his breath, watching the barbarians for dangerous behavior. When it was apparent that the contact party was waiting for an answer—waiting angrily, but still waiting and holding their hand—people ventured from tents, milled around a little, talking nervously, then centered all their activity on three men in particular.
As the contact party continued to wait, standing as rigid and unmoving as a group of statues, those three men walked cautiously to the edge of the camp, clutching their weapons.
No eclipse-amulets! That was something Darian had been watching for particularly—the mage (or shaman) who had led the first barbarian invasion had worn one, and Darian had gotten the impression that it was worn by the leaders of a rather nasty magical cult, even by barbarian standards. If he’d gotten even a glimpse of another one like it, he was going to call a retreat!
But no; the three leaders—a wiry man with grizzled hair and beard, and two younger, much more muscular fellows—had donned quite a bit of jangling jewelry before they ventured forward, but anything like an amulet was cat-headed or cat-shaped.
The one with the gray hair spoke loudly and slowly, with a great many gestures that didn’t mean anything to Darian. Meanwhile, the other two shook rattles and brandished, not weapons, but brightly painted rawhide shields.
:He asks if we are demons of the darkness, and if we are, says that the other two are powerful shamans who will drive us away.: There was no doubt of Tyrsell’s grim amusement with this situation. :Firesong, why don’t you be your theatrical self while I answer him?:
Firesong raised Aya over his head while Tyrsell stepped up beside Kelvren. The firebird threw off a veritable waterfall of false sparks, which rained down on his bondmate, as Firesong conjured another mage-light in the palm of his other hand.
:Fools! Demons of the darkness shun the light, not court it!: Tyrsell “shouted” contemptuously. : We are the keepers and guardians of this land, and we demand that you answer to usfor your invasion!:
Nervously, the two would-be shamans dropped their painted shields as ineffective, and took up spears instead. The leader, however, waved them back, and addressed the party again.
:He says that if we are not demons, then he demands that we meet him in daylight.: Now Tyrsell’s mind-voice held a grudging admiration. :Pretty brave fellow, to stand up to us like this.:
Whatever the answer was from the contact party, Darian didn’t hear it; he only got Tyrsell’s third (and final) announcement.
: Because we are just, we give you leave to defend your actions, and time to choose your words with care,: Tyrsell said sternly. : Look for us by dawnlight.:
The party backed up, one slow step at a time—then there was another explosion of purposefully blinding light and blare of horns—and when silence and darkness descended again, the party had “vanished.” At least, they had as far as the barbarians were concerned.
In actual fact, of course, they simply rode or flew away, but with their eyes dazzled and ears ringing, the barbarians wouldn’t have seen that.
Darian waited until the allies were safely behind the Skybolts’ lines before making his own move—which was to return to the barbarian camp to see if he could make out what their reaction was.
Although he couldn’t understand a word they said, some things were clear enough. The children and most of the women were absolutely terrified, but not all. Several hardy souls among the women rallied—and railed at—their more timid sisters, suggesting to Darian that the older ones had seen magic before and knew the difference between show and substance.
And they aren’t afraid of magic, which means... what? That it’s never been used successfully against them?
Among the men, only the younger ones were cowed; virtually all the males of Darian’s age and older had gotten over their shock and gathered around the three leaders, deep in a council of their own. And once the hardier women had calmed the rest, they joined the council circle as well!
It was possible for Darian, watching through Kuari’s eyes, to infer some things—most notably, a sense of caution, in the intonations of those who spoke, in the postures of those who listened. Finally he decided that he had seen and heard enough, and retreated behind his own lines.
“They’re not as scared as we’d like,” he reported, as he dropped down out of the tree into the midst of his own war council.
“But not aggressive either?” Kero asked quickly.
“Not aggressive, at least not at the moment,” Darian confirmed. “They’ve seen showy magic before, I’d bet on it.”
“On to the next phase, then,” Snowfire said. “We approach at dawn, and see what they have to say for themselves.” He looked up at the tree branches above his head. “Dawn isn’t that far off; we won’t have long to wait.”
In the mist and still, pale gray of dawn, the contact group approached the barbarian camp once again—this time without the lights and noise. They stopped a bit further away, however, just out of arrow-shot range, where Kelvren joined them.
A cautious deputation approached from the encampment, but not immediately. From the haggard faces and dark-circled eyes, it appeared that the barbarians had gotten no more sleep than the allies. Once again, Darian was in the tree branches, but hidden better this time, and without Kuari. The eagle-owls had no advantage during daylight, except for show; Darian was here to satisfy his own restlessness, not as a primary scout. That duty had gone to Wintersky, Ravenwing, and their bondbirds.
It appeared that at least they were going to be treated as important enough for the barbarians to put on their best finery, for the deputation jingled and clattered with every approaching step. In their own way, they are impressive, he thought, peering through his screen of leaves. The oldest man—possibly the chieftain—had donned a fur cloak of the pelt of a huge cat, with the fully preserved head of its original owner acting as the hood. Their leather tunics and breeks were as well-constructed as Tayledras scout gear, and though they jangled with amulets and jewelry, and their decorations were a bit garish for Darian’s taste, they were no worse than the Shin’a’in, who had never seen a color they didn’t love. But they weren’t wearing armor, and there was still no sign of that eclipse-amulet Darian recalled only too well. Unless they were supposed to be sacrificial lambs, they weren’t expecting to meet with physical force in this parley.
This time, the allies intended to wait for the barbari
ans to speak first, so they waited with expressionless faces, still mounted, as the strangers approached. They, in their turn, stopped well short of the contact party; the leader cleared his throat ostentatiously when no one spoke, mind-to-mind or otherwise, and began what sounded, from the measured cadences, like a prepared speech.
:This is the Clan of the Ghost Cat,: Tyrsell interpreted, and with that name, images—of a huge, fierce, and reclusive predator, and of something else, a fleeting shadow by day, a call in the night, a trusted presence that guided.... :They claim their totem animal led them here, and by that sign from their gods, they say it is their right to stay. I must admit, as a defense, it has the benefit of being unique and probably unprovable.:
After a pause to confer, Tyrsell replied. : Whether or not that is true, you are in our land, where our gods hold sway, and our laws decree the measure of what is and is not to be.:
This time the leader went on at some length, with many broad and flamboyant gestures. :He wants to know by what right we claim this land; says that there are no boundary markers, no claiming poles to show that we speak the truth. If this land was ever settled by the hole-dwelling people and diggers-of-dirt—that is us, by the way—it has been abandoned for decades and should belong to anyone for the taking.: The leader’s voice grew bolder, possibly because the contact-party hadn’t struck him down. :He has no idea that it is me doing the talking, by the way. He thinks it is either Firesong or Starfall. Kelvren impresses him, but he thinks Kel is something we’ve tamed.:
Kel remained unruffled, fixing the speaker with his unblinking gaze.
:Now he tells us how huge and strong his clan is, how many warriors they have, how many battles they fought.: Tyrsell paused a moment. This is partly a bluff; something—a disease—drove them out of their own lands, and they ran rather than face a foe they had no hope of beating.:
This time Darian heard Starfall’s reply. :Tell him his own numbers,: the mage said, with grim humor. :Let’s see how he reacts to the fact that we know his strength down to the last baby.:
Tyrsell did just that, and Darian had the satisfaction of seeing the barbarian leader shaken. But he recovered quickly, and spoke again. :Now he says that we should know that even the babies of his Clan are fighters, that if we come against them and try to force them out of the place their totem has brought them to, even the babies will take up bows and swords and slay our men.: Tyrsell pawed the ground, roused in spite of himself. :There’s no doubt; he means to stay, and he’ll make it cost us dearly to be rid of him. His people are desperate, and that’s dangerous.:
Darian hadn’t needed that last admonition; he knew for himself just how dangerous a desperate person was.
:We do not need to use the spear or the sword to rid ourselves of pests,: Tyrsell replied loftily, and Darian sensed Firesong’s hand in his phrasing. :As any should know who once had the misfortune to dare the Killing Trees of the north. We had hoped that the foolishly bold and suicidal had learned to keep a wary distance from our lands by now.:
The leader barked an artificial laugh, and made his counter. :He says that the so-called Killing Trees did not prevent his passage, and implies that this means his magic is stronger than ours.:
There was a stirring in the distance, and for a single moment, Kero’s troops showed themselves before blending back into the shadows and undergrowth. This did affect the barbarian leader; he had not gotten long enough to count heads, for Kero had timed the moment so that all he had was an impression—an impression of great numbers.
: You managed to avoid the Killing Trees by passing to the west, and your boast is hollow as an old reed. Magic is not our only weapon,: Tyrsell said with great boredom, :It is only the easiest to use.:
The leader remained silent now, as his underlings whispered urgently in his ear.
Tyrsell did not wait for them to formulate a reply, not when the negotiations had just turned in the favor of the allies. :Here are our fighters, our magic, and our gods barring your way—but we are a generous people, and compassionate to those who are willing to serve. These lands have no current tenant, it is true; what have you to offer us in return for leave to remain?:
If anything, that startled the leader even more than the presence of the troops. His posture full of confusion, he made an abrupt gesture, spoke a few words, and retreated with his party.
:He wants to go discuss this with his people,: Tyrsell said uneccessarily.
Back in camp, with Wintersky spying on the barbarians and Kero’s sentries keeping careful watch, Tyrsell gave them a fuller account of what he had read in the barbarians’ thoughts.
Darian fought back a yawn, clamping his jaws on it. It seemed an eternity since the last time he’d slept, and with his excitement and fear wearing off, he felt a bit light-headed with weariness.
:You all know, of course, that without taking his mind in such a way that he would know I had done so, I could only read what came to the surface of his mind?: Tyrsell began, as a preamble.
“If we didn’t before, we do now,” Kero replied logically. “So, what information came along with those surface thoughts?”
:This Ghost Cat—I am forced to believe it is either a very powerful hallucination, or it is very real.: Tyrsell shook his head in irritation as a fly buzzed around his ears. Darian fought another yawn. :I am quite serious; and I am inclined to think that it would be difficult to hallucinate such a thing during the course of a migration lasting moons.:
Firesong and his father exchanged sharp glances, and Kero and Eldan did the same. “That puts an interesting kink in our plans,” Kerowyn ventured. “But until this Ghost Cat shows itself to me, I’m leaving it out of the calculations for now. What else?”
:The disease I mentioned. The three of us managed to get bits and pieces of the whole story.: Tyrsell sounded proud of himself and his underlings, as well he should be; that would be a difficult proposition to read from the surface thoughts. Darian wondered about this Ghost Cat; Firesong had told him about the two Avatars that helped his friend An’ desha—could this Ghost Cat be something like them? And if so, then what did that mean for the Tayledras and Valdemar? :There was a tradition of an annual gathering of clans and septs of clans every Midsummer, and the last year it ever took place, it was held in Ghost Cat territory. Just as a matter of caution, they always avoided Change-Circles, but as we know, other clans don’t. Someone from Blood Bear Clan found a Circle and went into it—and came out with more than he’d expected.:
“The disease,” Snowfire stated, without surprise. “We were afraid something like this would happen, and we took precautions against it—”
“Obviously they didn’t,” Kero said dryly.
:Exactly so. It ran through the assembled clans like a wildfire. They call it “summer fever,” since it disappears in winter, though they don’t know why.:
“Is this disease the cause of the crippled children?” Snowfire asked.
:It is. It begins as coughing, sneezing, chills and fever, then becomes a wasting disease. It kills more often than not, as the chest muscles waste away and breathing becomes impossible, or as full paralysis sets in and the victim is helpless to keep up; only the very lucky survive.: Tyrsell was uncharacteristically sober; evidently he found the images that had come with that knowledge to be disturbing. :Usually death from disease comes to the old and weak or the young and helpless. This death does not pick and choose in that way. Enough fighters died in the first sweep that every clan feud was called off, but new outbreaks have occurred every summer since then.:
Darian wasn’t sleepy anymore; whether he was picking up images from Tyrsell, or his own imagination was working hard, but he had seen those children lying beside the fire....
“All right, but why come here?” Firesong asked.
:Their shaman was one of the victims, but before he died, he told them that a sign would lead them to a place where they would find healing and an end to the sickness. And after he died, the Ghost Cat appeared, and led them south.
That was when their lore-keepers recalled that we of the south reputedly have many powerful Healers.:
“Oh, really?” Eldan’s eyebrows rose, and he turned to Starfall. “Was this Cat a revenant, do you think? Or an avatar?”
Great minds follow the same path, Darian thought.
“It could be,” Starfall said cautiously. “But we shouldn’t discount either. Well, now we know why they avoid Change-Circles.”
:Before he died, their shaman declared that their own gods and magic were helpless against this “plague from outside” and that “they must look outside for help. ” They aren’t down here purely by chance, following the Ghost Cat. They’ve heard of the Valdemaran-style Healers, as I said, and have come looking for some. Their initial intentions were to kidnap some and coerce them into helping, if they had to.:
“Huh,” Kero snorted. “They don’t know Healers very well, do they?”
Darian had to agree with that.
:However, confronted by our strong force... that doesn’t seem like too good an idea anymore.: Tyrsell’s sides heaved with an enormous sigh. :And that is all I can tell you.:
“I think we’d better bring the Healers in on this,” Darian put in, with visions of more crippled children in Errold’s Grove. “How do we know we won’t catch this fever?”
“We don’t, and that is a damned good point,” Kero responded. She rose—but halfway to her feet, was interrupted.
“Captain! Visitors!” One of the Guards entered the cave and saluted Kerowyn smartly. “Two to see you, urgently, Captain!”
“I didn’t send for anyone,” Kero began crossly, as she straightened. “And I’m certainly not expecting anyone.”
“I know you aren’t, Captain Kerowyn,” said a high, young, female voice. “I came here on my own.”
Around the edge of the cave stepped a young woman dressed in Heraldic Trainee Greys, and trailing her was her Companion—who had a distinctly hangdog and guilty look about him. Darian cast a quick glance at Kerowyn’s Sayvil, who was glaring at the new Companion with much the same expression that Kero was using with the Trainee.
Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 02] - Owlsight Page 36
