Battle Magic

by Tamora Pierce

  Shaking his head at the idea, possibly a leftover of his nightmares, he scooped up a little dirt. The grass closed over the space it had made for him. Briar said his thanks, rubbing the dirt in his palms to get a feel for it. If he was going to be fighting on these plains, he needed to understand his battlefield. He spent his ride back to Fort Sambachu smelling that earth, rolling it between his fingers, and dusting it onto his cheeks. Finally he rinsed it off in the little river that ran past the camp. By then he understood the earth of the Gnam Runga and what grew there, if not the stones and their paintings.

  This dirt was very young and energetic, thrust up by the same force that made the Drimbakangs themselves. That same youth filled the roots and stems of everything that grew in it, making it more inclined to do whatever he — or Rosethorn — might ask of it.

  He was considering the possibilities on his return to the fort when a soldier in the armor of the Realms of the Sun hailed him and informed him that Their Highnesses Parahan and Soudamini desired his company at breakfast. By the time Briar left Parahan and Souda, they had equipped him for any fighting they might encounter as they got the villagers to the safety of the temple fortresses. He now had three horses assigned for his use, extra packs, a tent, an armored vest, riding gauntlets, leather riding breeches, and an armored cap with a tassel of bronze eagle feathers. He also had a short, potbellied rider named Jimut, who had been assigned to care for Briar’s horses, tent, and even Briar himself.

  He and Jimut had just dumped everything in Briar’s room when Rosethorn banged on the door. Briar could hardly believe what he saw when he opened up. Rosethorn looked fresher and brighter than she had in a couple of years. There was an extra gloss to her short-cropped hair. Even the natural red of her lips was more vivid than it had been in a long time.

  “What are you gawping at, boy?” Her voice was louder and crisper, as if she had more wind in her lungs. Briar forgot himself and hugged her. She pushed him away. “What has gotten into you? Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for your rudeness to First Dedicate Dokyi last night!”

  He grinned at her. “Never crossed my mind,” he reassured her.

  Rosethorn looked at Jimut. “And who’s this?”

  “Jimut, this is my teacher, the nanshur Rosethorn,” Briar said. He’d been lucky that Souda had found a man who spoke tiyon, since Briar had only a scattering of words in Banpuri. “She’ll be riding with us.”

  Jimut pressed his palms together before his face and bowed deeply to Rosethorn. On their walk to the fort Briar had tried to explain that it was important to be polite to her.

  “Whatever he told you, I’m much worse,” Rosethorn said.

  Jimut kept his palms together and bowed again.

  Rosethorn made a harrumphing noise and looked at Briar. “Bring a seed ball and some strong-grow potion,” she ordered. “Captain Rana has horses and guards waiting. We’re going to block the pass.”

  “May I come?” Jimut asked. “If I am to attend Nanshur Briar —”

  Briar sighed. “It’s just Briar.” He’d already said it to Jimut twice.

  “I should take every chance to become used to his sort of magic,” Jimut continued politely.

  “I have no problems with that,” Rosethorn said. “Only Briar, if we can move this along? We need to root them more deeply than usual, and I want to get it over with.”

  “Evvy?” Briar asked.

  “She would rather take a bath, she says. She has seen us do this before.”

  They were out the door with Rosethorn before she had time to get testy. She said nothing, sinking into a distant, thoughtful mood as they joined Sergeant Kanbab and a squad of ten soldiers at the stables.

  As they rode past the camp, they saw that everyone was now up and busy shining armor, sharpening weapons, bundling crossbow bolts, and doing up packs. In the open ground between the tents and the river, archers practiced their shooting while spearmen and swordsmen dueled under the eyes of their commanders. The cavalry jumped their horses over obstacles in unison on the plain. Refugees were arriving: They carried children and belongings, or fetched them in carts and on the backs of mules and yaks as they climbed to the fort.

  Once they reached the narrow place in the pass where the road first entered the river gorge, Rosethorn emerged from her deep silence. “Sergeant, take your people over to that rock,” she yelled over the roar of the fast-moving water. “If you’d hold our horses until we’re done?”

  Kanbab nodded and motioned for her people to take the animals as Briar, Jimut, and Rosethorn dismounted. Jimut stayed back as the mages went into the bottleneck where the hills were closest to the road.

  The task was easily done. Briar sprinkled strong-grow potion on the seed balls held by each of them, but the seeds were already quivering before the liquid touched them. The balls had soaked in the wakefulness and swift growth of the others used in the fighting on their way to the fort. Now it took just a whisper from Rosethorn for them to leap to the ground. The cloth burst, showering seeds everywhere. Plants slammed roots into the earth and sprouted even as Rosethorn and Briar walked forward with their water flasks. By the time they had emptied the water over the scattered seed, the growing vines were up to their shins. The green whips did not try to snag the two mages, but those would be the only people the vines left alone. Thorns an inch long showed on the lowest parts of the stems as the vines rose and sprouted more branches. Their various flowers budded and bloomed, then scattered still more seed in a burst of air.

  Rosethorn and Briar had withdrawn to the clear ground near Jimut by the time the first blossoms showed. Everyone could see that green stems had crawled across all of the open ground between the rise of stone to the hills and to the river. They could hear the rustle as petals and leaves unfurled and heavy stems wove together with their neighbors.

  Kanbab, who had at least seen something like this before, offered Rosethorn her flask. Rosethorn took a gulp of butter tea, grimaced, and passed the flask to Briar. He took two good drinks, having acquired a taste for the local beverage, and returned the flask to Kanbab with a quiet thank-you. He never took his eyes from the barrier, feeling with his power for any weaknesses. Rosethorn left that to him as the kind of basic work a junior mage ought to attend to.

  “Will the enemy be able to cut through the vines?” Kanbab wanted to know.

  “With a sharp enough sword or halberd,” Rosethorn said absently.

  Briar grinned. “And then the stems will grow back three times as fast. And they will look for the one that chopped them, and grow straight through him.”

  “Or around,” Rosethorn murmured.

  “Or around,” Briar agreed. “And around, and around.”

  “And the emperor will know you did this,” Kanbab said.

  Rosethorn and Briar looked at each other. “Let him,” Rosethorn said.

  The barrier was now two feet thick and three feet high. Thorns pulled themselves up the hillside, drawing stems with them. Roots shot down from the stems, lancing deep into the stony earth. More blossoms gave up seed that filtered to the ground among the thickly woven stems.

  Briar waited for word from Rosethorn. She watched until the barrier was four feet tall and five feet wide on the road, and had climbed ten feet up along the hillside. No horse, mule, camel, yak, or human would be able to pass between the barrier and the river without losing skin, or between the river and the cliffs that edged it on the far side. They both knew the thorns would continue to grow for days, leaving the flanks of the hills on the north side of the road impassable by mount or by foot. No one would be crossing into or out of Gyongxe until Dokyi, Sayrugo, or those with whom they had trusted the opening spell came to clear the pass again.

  Briar glanced at Jimut, who had turned gray under his dark brown skin.

  “Jimut, mount up,” he told the rider. “And have a swallow of something, before you faint.”

  “I never faint,” Jimut said, but he wobbled as he walked to his horse.

  One of t
he other soldiers held the mount’s reins. It took Jimut two tries to get into the saddle.

  “This will do, I think,” Rosethorn said, turning away from what they had set in motion.

  “Good,” Briar said. “I want my breakfast.”

  By midday, General Sayrugo and two hundred of her troops were gone, on their way northeast to warn the villages and get the people to safety in the temple fortresses. Briar, Rosethorn, and Evvy spent the afternoon with Parahan and Soudamini, playing with the cats, watching their troops exercise, reading maps of the Gyongxe basin, and refusing to speak of anything gloomy. Supper was a grand feast in the style of the Realms of the Sun. Captain Rana and his squad were invited as thanks for bringing Parahan to Gyongxe and his sister. There was juggling, sword and fire dancing, and music from the Realms and Gyongxe. In the end, Parahan carried Evvy back to her room in the fort. She had fallen asleep by the fire. The cats, used to these things, followed them.

  Evvy woke as Parahan set her down to open her door. Since she was leaving at dawn, Rosethorn had moved her things down to the camp. Evvy now had the room to herself. Parahan held her up with one hand as he walked her inside.

  “Are you coming to say good-bye to us in the morning?” he asked as she fumbled to feed the meowing cats.

  Evvy shook her head. “I don’t like good-byes. They’re bad luck. I feel small enough about not going to fight.” She sat cross-legged on her bed.

  “You helped fight all the way here,” Parahan told her. “And Rana may need you to help defend this place. Just take care of yourself and the cats, so I have my friends to come back to. Will you promise me?”

  “All right. I promise.” Evvy grabbed Parahan’s sleeve. “And you look after Briar and Rosethorn? As much as they’ll let you.” She felt a bad quivering in her lip and in her eyelids.

  Evvy turned over and buried her face in the pillows. She only looked up, and wiped her wet eyes on her sleeve, when she heard the door close.

  That afternoon she had placed her small statue of Yanjing’s god of luck, Heibei, on the room’s shrine. Now she used one of the coals in the hearth to light a stick of incense. Applying that, she lit two more sticks in the jar that already stood on the shrine, then left hers with them. Putting her palms together, she bowed and prayed silently to the plump, grinning god. She knew that Parahan, Souda, Dokyi, and Rosethorn didn’t pray to Heibei, but she didn’t think the god would mind, and Briar always said he would take help from wherever he would get it. She wasn’t sure about General Sayrugo’s gods, but she included her as well. She’d heard Captain Rana’s warriors say that soldiers could always use a friendly god’s attention.

  Once she had finished praying to Heibei, Evvy turned in the direction of the Sun Queen’s husbands. She knew exactly where each mountain’s peak rose behind the fort. Now, in the quiet of the room, with the cats settled on the bed without fuss, she even thought she could hear their voices. One of them especially had a kind and musical voice, a low, burring hum. She tried to copy it low in her chest, reaching for that magical sound. On and on she hummed, making a kind of prayer of it, a prayer to the Sun Queen’s husbands to look after her friends.

  THE PLAIN OF GNAM RUNGA

  SOUTH AND WEST, ALONG THE FOOT OF

  THE DRIMBAKANG LHO

  Jimut roused Briar at a painfully early hour to help him put on his new half armor. Briar donned the sling with his seed balls and other odds and ends himself, not wanting his helper to get in the habit of handling his mage’s gear. Breakfast was hot bread stuffed with spiced meat and rice, something he could eat as the soldiers dismantled and packed up his tent. He drank hot tea with Rosethorn, Parahan, and Soudamini, none of whom seemed to believe in chatter before sunrise. He was drinking a second cup of tea when Rosethorn bent down and lifted the strange pack she had gotten from Dokyi two days before: the thing she had to take someplace that Briar was not allowed to go. She slung it on her chest in place of her own bundle of deadly plant magics and ran her fingers over it, her face thoughtful.

  Briar scowled.

  “Don’t start fussing again.” She met his eyes. “I took care of myself long before you met me.”

  “Carrying something like that?” He tapped the pack with his finger.

  The next thing he knew he was flat on the ground. His ears and head rang. Something cold and wet lay on his forehead. Above him the sky was the color of gray silk.

  Rosethorn bent over him, her brown eyes rueful. “I had no idea it would knock you down,” she said. “I would have warned you, honestly.”

  Parahan knelt beside him. “Are you all right?” he asked. “There was a flash of light and you flew through the air.” He looked at Rosethorn. “We’ll warn the troops to keep away from you and your burden.”

  She nodded.

  Briar took a breath and coughed. Rosethorn helped him to sit up. Jimut knelt beside him with a flask. Briar hesitated, then drank. It was cold water. “Thank you, Jimut. I believe you would have told me,” he said to Rosethorn. “And you think you are safe with that thing?”

  “Safer than you,” she said. Parahan and Jimut hoisted him to his feet.

  Souda waited nearby with men who held their saddled horses. Their small army was ready to march.

  Briar felt better in the saddle. He didn’t complain when Jimut rode close to him and collected the reins so he could lead Briar’s mount. That seemed like a good idea, too.

  It was hard to concentrate on what anyone said, or on anything but the strange pictures that rippled through his brain: lions that seemed to be carved of ice and snow, tiny metal serpents with skulls for heads, and orange fanged gods with flames for hair. Blue goddesses danced on the mountaintops with a different weapon in each of their six arms. A yak whose head was as big as he was tall snuffled in his ear. He had wanted to know what Dokyi had foisted on Rosethorn — what all the secrecy and risk was about. Now it seemed like ignorance might not be such a bad thing. At least, not when it came to that pack. Clearly Rosethorn could carry it without problems, but he thought he would leave it alone.

  Briar opened his eyes to full daylight. He found himself at the back of their group with the pack animals and their crossbow-wielding guards. The rest of their numbers trotted ahead. Briar twisted frantically, looking for Rosethorn. That was when he discovered someone had tied him to the saddle.

  “You’re back with us,” Jimut said cheerfully. He rode between Briar and an attendant who led a train of supply mules. The reins to Briar’s horse were in his hand. “You are back?” His furry eyebrows inched up toward his hairline.

  “I never left!” Briar retorted, annoyed by the question. Then he looked at the sun. It was almost noon. “Did I?”

  “Your eyes were closed. You didn’t move. Forgive me,” Jimut said, bowing as Briar yanked at the long scarf that secured him in the saddle. “I didn’t want Nanshur Rosethorn angry if you fell off.” He edged his own mount over to Briar and traded Briar’s reins for the scarf once Briar untied the knot.

  “I … was in a mage trance,” Briar announced, trying to recover his dignity. “Don’t your nanshurs have trances?”

  “Weeelll, yes,” the older man drawled. “But usually they shake rattles and hum and chant for a long time first to give us warning.”

  “Mine caught up with me fast,” Briar replied, thinking quickly. “I had no time to warn anyone.” He looked ahead. “Shouldn’t we be riding up there if I’m to help guard the warriors?”

  Jimut looked at his friend, shrugged, and led the way as Briar nudged his own horse into a trot. They picked up the pace to a gallop. A few of the warriors they passed called out jokes to Jimut, suggesting that it was nice of him to join them. Jimut only turned his beaky nose up haughtily.

  “I’m sorry,” Briar called. “You should have roused me.”

  “I tried!” Jimut replied. “It didn’t work!”

  “I don’t normally sleep like that,” Briar said as they slowed. “I really don’t.”

  “Whatever Nanshur Roset
horn carries, it must be as strong as the great river Kanpoja — the Thundering Water,” Jimut explained. “You can hear her in Kombanpur from miles away. She comes to us from here in Gyongxe. The hero Ajit Robi fought the Drimbakang demons to set Kanpoja free. He cut a path for the goddess through the mountains, and she leaped from Gyongxe into Kombanpur. All of our great rivers are born from her.”

  Briar looked at the tumbling band of the Snow Serpent. “This river is the Kanpoja?”

  Jimut shook his head. “Farther west. Along the Drimbakang Zugu and through the Drimbakang Lho. Maybe we will see it, where the goddess’s temple stands.” He sighed. “I have always wanted to see it.”

  He and Jimut had just caught up with Rosethorn, Parahan, and the others when they reached a bridge across the Snow Serpent. Here Rosethorn, Briar, Jimut, Souda, the Gyongxin Captain Lango, and two companies of warriors turned off the road and crossed the bridge. A large village several miles up this road had to be evacuated. Parahan rode on to collect people on the south side of the road and ensure they reached safety, while the other Gyongxin captain, Jha, left them to do the same errand on the north side of the road.

  At the village, the officials were not impressed with the warning carried by Souda and Captain Lango. They did not like the arrival of two hundred-odd soldiers at their gates, half of them southern foreigners. They did not believe that the Yanjingyi emperor had declared war on Gyongxe. Yes, the headman said, messengers had come from that fortress to the east, but messengers were excitable. They would claim a caravan was an enemy army. The headman said his village wall would hold off any invisible army.

  Finally Rosethorn had heard enough. She rode forward to Souda’s side. “Excuse me, Your Highness,” she told Souda, her voice carrying to the villagers, “but if they don’t want to leave this place, they don’t have to. If they want to trust their safety to logs that have been eaten hollow by insects, let them. Surely there are other people around these parts who will be grateful for the warning.”