They met on his side of the bridge, where she swung off her horse and hugged him very hard. She smelled to him of pine, wood smoke, and the chamomile she used for headache tea. He saw no sign of that nasty leather pack she had carried away with her. She looked like his good old Rosethorn, fixed on the here and now. Her brown eyes were sharp as she looked him over.
“What is it?” she asked. “Your eyes are puffy. You look like you’ve been dragged backward through a bush. Tell me.”
“Evvy,” he said, and his throat closed up.
Jimut took charge of her horse. Rosethorn guided him to the riverbank, where they sat. Once he could speak again, Briar told her about the letter and Evvy’s stone alphabet. Then he held her. For too short a time they mourned.
“We should go,” Briar said hoarsely at last. “We have to catch up with the supply train by dark, just to be safe.”
Rosethorn went to the river and soaked two handkerchiefs in the cold water. She wiped her face with one and gave the other to Briar. A light rain had begun to fall. “At times like this it’s hard to be a good dedicate and to trust in the gods that all things happen for a reason,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She had such a hard life. I feel that the gods owed her something better for longer than she had it.” She looked at her handkerchief and twisted it dry. “Since I never get an answer from the gods, I shall have to work my frustration out on Weishu and his armies.”
Briar nodded. She had put his rage into words. They would make Weishu pay.
Rosethorn put her arm around him as they walked over to the others. They were already mounted up. Jimut passed her the reins of the fresh mount they had brought for her. The one she had ridden this far was with their spare horses. Rosethorn stopped briefly to give him a handful of oats, then swung into the saddle on the fresh horse.
Briar looked at the drizzling clouds, wishing he and Rosethorn had the wide straw hats they usually wore in the rain. Where had the hats gone? East, probably, with the Traders. He hauled himself into the saddle of his own mount.
“Are you up to a trot?” the sergeant in charge of the squad asked Rosethorn. “So we can cover some ground?”
“I’ll keep up,” Rosethorn said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Briar rode beside her, one careful eye on his teacher. He could tell she was upset, but he knew her. To the others she must look as if she were deep in thought. That’s good, he told himself. She hates people feeling bad for her.
For his own part, he had Evvy’s stone alphabet in the sling on his chest, tucked among the seed balls he used for weapons. Now and then he would slip a rock or crystal from its pocket and hold it, reminding himself of what he owed the emperor and his soldiers.
They set a rhythm of trot, walk, trot, rest. They would water the horses, drink tea, check to make sure their weapons were ready for use, and then mount up again. That steady pace brought them to the supply wagons by late afternoon. At day’s end they found Parahan, Soudamini, Captain Lango, and their soldiers. They were raising their tents at the far end of the ground where the western tribes and temple warriors had set up camp. Their friends greeted Rosethorn, expressed their sympathy for her loss, and invited her and Briar to join them for supper.
Free of her temple’s burden, Rosethorn was happy to share a tent with Briar. Jimut saw to the arrangements, placing it to one side of Souda’s far larger tent. While they waited for the call to eat, Jimut also brought out Rosethorn’s packs, which had traveled with their supplies. She and Briar sat quietly, going over what they had.
Finally Briar had to ask. “What was it like?”
Rosethorn sighed. “I can’t say.”
“Wasn’t it just a temple?”
“It was and it wasn’t. I can’t put it any better than that.”
“You could try.”
“Briar, it’s not permitted. I had to swear an oath.”
He knew she meant it. “I hate that, you know. Just once you could break an oath.”
“Then how would you ever trust me, boy, or I you?”
“I’m not your boy.”
In a shocking burst of affection, she leaned over the seed balls between them and hugged him. “You will always be my boy. And you would never listen to me again if I broke an oath.”
“You know Parahan and them will ask.” He hugged her back, and let go at the same time that she did.
“They will have something like the same answer.” Rosethorn sighed. For a moment they were quiet together before she said, “I will be so glad to go home.”
“I know what you mean,” he said fervently. “This country is just too odd, Rosethorn. The paintings come to life and make fun of you —”
“There are mysteries I was never taught in my temple,” she added.
“Statues move around.”
“I hear voices that shouldn’t be there. Emelan is wonderfully ordinary,” Rosethorn said. “We’ll go home, and this place will seem like a distant dream. It has to.”
In the morning word spread through the army like wildfire: The scouts had found plenty of hoof prints on the road ahead and on the ground to the east. The enemy had been here before them. With the news that the enemy had come so close, the westerners were eager to be up and moving at dawn. Their fires were out and their tents packed at the same time as Souda’s and Parahan’s troops.
That day saw the Realms troops and Lango’s company in the middle of the line of march, since they’d had the rear the day before. Briar yawned without letup. He had joined Rosethorn for her midnight worship, knowing she would conduct prayers for Evvy in the darkness. He did not begrudge Evvy’s spirit some of his sleep, not when he and Rosethorn could now burn the proper incense and say the prayers that felt like balm to his heart.
The day was uneventful but tense. They rode by a walled village: Its gates were closed and its people positioned on the wall, armed with crossbows. A small party of villagers rode out to confer with Captain Lango. The commanders of the various portions of their group stopped beside the road to talk while the rest of them rode on. Then they rejoined their people. Immediately scouting patrols were increased, riding in all directions around their small army.
Briar eased up through the soldiers until he rode next to Souda when she returned. “How close to them are we?” he asked.
She frowned at him. “Perhaps you are new to armies. Perhaps you don’t know that it’s not common for commanders to share information with soldiers unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“But you have to share information with your mages, don’t you?” he asked, giving Souda his most innocent look. “It might be something we can work with.”
“You’re plant mages,” Souda replied. “What can — oh, Raiya, give me patience. The riders who came too close this morning are a rear guard. There’s a small army two days ahead of us and moving a hawk’s anus faster than we are, because they don’t have a monkey-spit supply train to worry about! It’s those swine who attacked the Temple of the Tigers, from what the people in the town told Lango. You’d think they’d turn around and give us a nice straight-up fight!” She glared at the open lands on her right, then frowned. “Now who do you suppose that is? Don’t tell me I’m going to get my wish!”
Briar squinted. A new rider watched them from a distance, far enough that Briar couldn’t see what the observer wore or if he carried weapons. He sent his power into the grass roots, reaching for the watcher, but the man wheeled and rode away before Briar’s magic got to him. He glanced at Rosethorn, who shook her head. She hadn’t touched the watcher, either.
Souda whistled sharply. This time she sent two of her soldiers after the stranger. They soon returned. They had lost him.
One of the tribesmen spotted the next watcher; Parahan’s scouts reported a third. By nightfall a total of six watchers had been seen. None had been caught.
“Theirs or ours, do you think?” Briar heard Parahan ask Captain Lango.
The Gyongxin man was grim. “Yanjingyi armor, Yanjingyi spies.”
All the commanders put the soldiers to digging a broad ditch around their camp that night. Rosethorn sprinkled a few seeds at the bottom of the ditch, just in case. They would take the place of abatises if the enemy attacked. A word from Rosethorn or Briar and the seeds would send thorny branches shooting up to surprise anyone who tried to cross the ditch. The only side of their camp not so defended was on a wide pond.
The creation of a tighter camp seemed to make the soldiers feel more like one army. When Briar volunteered for guard duty, he found himself trading nods of greeting with tribesmen, temple warriors, and Realms soldiers who had the same duty. One tribesman even offered Briar a chew of betel nut, though Briar politely turned him down. He thought orange teeth might ruin his appeal for girls at home in Emelan.
Staring at the stars, he realized that the constellation called the Herdsman was starting to rise over the horizon. He picked out the ancient hero’s head and earring, his shoulders, his belt, and the one visible arm with its sling, ready to drive a rock straight between the eyes of the Lion of Shaihun. It was one of Evvy’s favorite stories. On their road east, she had insisted on pointing out the Herdsman every night she could see it.
Briar’s eyes filled as he looked at it. He wiped them on his sleeve.
I’m not going to get all weepy every time I see a shepherd with a sling, he told himself. That’s not fair to Evvy. And this country has herders with slings everywhere I look.
Then he frowned. It was hard to shoot a seed ball from a crossbow. The archer drew the string until the head of the bolt almost touched the stock, leaving scant room to tie the ball. A seed ball was too light to go far on its own, but a sling could throw a seed ball if the ball were weighted somehow.
Briar looked at the earth under his feet. There were stones in it. He picked one up and tossed it in his hand.
Rosethorn took his place when the guard changed, sending him off to bed. Once he pulled his blankets up around him, Briar slept without dreams.
He woke in the morning to a normal camp. No one had tested the sentries. While Jimut grumbled about it as he brought tea for Briar and Rosethorn, Briar was just as happy. He prized his sleep.
He helped Rosethorn to do up the laces on her cuirass and greaves; she returned the favor. Both of them settled their carry-bags full of seed balls over their chests.
Briar nearly collided with Jimut when he walked out of the tent. His aide was bringing the dumplings called momos for their breakfast. “Do you know anyone who is good with a sling?” Briar asked him. “Someone who can put a rock close to a reasonable target.”
Jimut shrugged. “I can,” he replied, offering momos to Rosethorn as he emerged from the tent. “I helped my father and uncles with the herds before I decided to be a soldier. When I hunt for the company I save arrows with my sling.”
“Would you start carrying one with you?” Briar asked. “I’d like to be able to work at more of a distance.”
Jimut frowned, and then bowed. “Of course.”
“I think I would like a slinger, too,” Rosethorn said. She ruffled Briar’s short hair, which was starting to grow out. “Clever Briar.”
Briar pulled a tuft of hair out to see how long it was. “I need this cut.” He was strict about keeping it an inch long. That way it never curled and it dried fast.
“Just don’t let the emperor’s barbers do it,” Parahan said cheerfully. “They could make a mistake and take your whole head.” He turned his beak of a nose into the wind from the east. “I smell battle coming. It’s about time.”
“Savage,” Rosethorn told him.
“We are civilized about wars in Kombanpur,” Parahan replied. “We study long and hard for them so we do not dishonor our enemies by giving them a bad fight.” His dark face went a shade darker. “And we do not kill their little girls.”
“I wish every warrior was as tidy about it as you,” Rosethorn said.
“I wish some little girls I know were here to help fight,” Briar said. “They’d give these muck-snufflers a lesson they’d never forget.” He saw some likely looking stones and bent stiffly to pick them up. It was hard to do in armor.
“We use what we have,” Rosethorn told him. “It will be enough.”
After breakfast the small army set forth once again. Souda had placed their three companies in the middle of the march. “If we’re attacked, I want regular soldiers in the middle,” she explained to Rosethorn and Briar as they rode along. “We worked out that the temple soldiers will bring the supply animals up with us and guard them in the event of a fight. The tribes will ride into the enemy flanks. If we hold here at the middle, we might just make a battle plan of it.”
Rosethorn nodded. “If we have to fight, it’s a good plan,” she replied.
“But I have seen you fight,” Parahan commented with surprise. “You did not hang back.”
“I am like most who take up a religious life in our wicked world,” Rosethorn said. As she and Briar rode, they used their magic to open the seed balls and drop thumb-sized stones into them. Another touch of magic wove the cotton together once more. “I will not surrender to evil, or allow anyone in my charge to be harmed by evil, and violence that kills the helpless and destroys the beauties of the world is evil. But I am also a healer. It can be depressing to have to repair what you took apart that morning.”
“There are religious orders that live in isolation and refuse to commit any violence,” Souda remarked.
“I hope they are mages who can defend or hide themselves, then,” Rosethorn replied. “I and mine, we live in the real world.”
Everyone ate midday in the saddle. Not long after that a cloud of dust rolled toward them across the flatlands from the east. The tribal shamans began a heavy, droning chant like that Briar had heard in the temples and in the canyon behind Garmashing. It was a song with a buzz under it, much like the sound of the great horns. As the shamans chanted they pounded small drums or banged little gongs. Goose bumps prickled all over Briar: They were raising Gyongxin magic.
He passed a cloth seed ball to Jimut, who already had his sling in hand. Rosethorn’s slinger balanced his cloth ball in his hand, noticing the weight. He raised his brows, then settled it into his sling.
Whatever the other mages had put in motion, it seemed to be working. The dust cloud was breaking up and drifting skyward. As it thinned, it revealed several companies of imperial horsemen.
“Archers!” cried Parahan, Souda, and Lango at the same time.
“Wait,” Briar murmured to Jimut. He heard a change in the chanting of the shamans. Lango’s mage had also begun something of his own.
Briar shifted his attention to the grasses that grew ahead of the enemy horses’ hooves. Under the earth’s surface, he followed his power into their roots.
He didn’t hear the commanders giving the archers the order to shoot. In the part of him that stayed with his body he noticed that Jimut and Rosethorn’s slinger released their balls of weighted seed at the same time. Seed and arrows soared high, then fell among the enemy soldiers even as the Yanjingyi archers shot. The Gyongxin tribes and temple warriors on the right and left attacked, charging under most of the Yanjingyi volley of arrows. Those were aimed for the commanders and mages on the road.
Parahan, Souda, and Lango barked the order for the archers to prepare to shoot again. Briar urged his body to hand a second thorn ball to his slinger, as Rosethorn was doing, and returned to his work on the grasses ahead.
He heard shrieking war cries: The tribal and temple warriors were colliding with Yanjingyi horsemen on the right and the left. The center of the Yanjingyi line began to charge, bellowing in return.
Lango and the twins yelled the order to shoot; the archers obeyed, aiming at the heart of the charging line. Riders and horses went down. Jimut and Rosethorn’s slinger released their seed balls to strike the enemy soldiers who still galloped on.
They were falling even before the balls hit the ground and exploded. Growing ferociously, the grasses
enveloped the horses’ hooves. The animals went down, throwing their riders. In the heart of the army, warriors screamed as thorny vines shot through and around them. Horses reared, trying to shake the grip of the tough grasses. They dropped under the hooves of those horses galloping up behind them.
Some of the thorns and grass went gray. Some burst into flame, burning the soldiers in their grasp. Briar fumbled as he passed another ball to Jimut, his fingers going numb. A strange green veil was falling over his eyes; his throat had gone too tight to breathe. He clawed at it, gasping.
Suddenly air rushed into his throat. He inhaled several times, filling his poor lungs, then looked for the cause of his sudden cure. Jimut was holding an oblong disk in front of his face. “Are you all right?” the man asked.
“Better, thanks. What is that?” Briar wanted to know.
Jimut turned the disk around for a moment, then turned it back so the polished side faced the enemy. It was a metal mirror. It had reflected the enemy’s spell back to them.
Briar checked Rosethorn. A temple mage with her face tattooed all over with interesting patterns had ridden her horse next to Rosethorn. She wrote signs on the air between her and Briar’s teacher. As she worked, Rosethorn sat with her hands palm up in her lap, peacefully gazing at the battle before them. Vines were growing rapidly, twining around enemy warriors and yanking them from the saddle to be trampled in the fighting. Whatever the temple mage was doing, she held the Yanjingyi mages off Rosethorn, it was plain.
Briar let Rosethorn work with the vines. There was a cluster of stillness in the spot where the Yanjingyi soldiers had waited before their charge. He would wager that was where the mages and perhaps the commanders watched the fighting. He closed his eyes and poured his magical self through the grass roots between him and that stillness. The grasses lent him their strength as he ran from root to root.
The Yanjingyi mages’ power shone like a beacon even underground, guiding him to them. Below them in the earth, Briar drew on the vast network of plants that stretched out around him and carefully reached up with his power. There were the above-ground grasses that grew around the horses’ hooves. Out of habit they tried to eat a mouthful or two, but these were the finest products of the army’s stables. The plants of the Gyongxin plain were a little too tough for their liking. Sensing Briar’s presence in the grass, they huffed and stamped, only to be slapped by the soldiers who held their reins. Neither the generals nor the mages wanted to be disturbed by restless animals.
Battle Magic Page 27
