Reader and Raelynx

by Sharon Shinn

  But more were coming. How many more? How far away were they? She snatched a blade up from a fallen combatant, and hewed her way through the mass of men. Her blue dress was covered in dirt, spattered with blood, ripped at the knees, and, gods, was it inconvenient. She hacked and kicked and burned her way through the crowd and finally was clear of the first ring of attackers.

  She stood on the outer lawns of Danan Hall, breathing hard, staring around her, wondering where the next assault might come from.

  A hawk plummeted from above, talons outstretched. As soon as he touched down, he took Donnal’s shape. His feet were bare and covered with blood.

  “How many?” she demanded. “How far away?”

  “Maybe a thousand advancing from south and west,” he said, pointing. “The marlord’s reserve soldiers are on the run from the north. But the enemy will arrive first.”

  “How many in the marlord’s troops?”

  “Easily two thousand. There’s another several thousand that can be summoned, but they’re housed on property a day’s ride from here.”

  “How quickly will reinforcements arrive?”

  “Maybe an hour.”

  “And the advancing troops?”

  But she could hear them herself, the thunder of hooves, the shouts of men. “Now,” Donnal whispered just as the first men broke across the horizon line and charged straight for the embattled Hall.

  Senneth spun around, flung her arms wide before her, and called up a monstrous wall of flame. It was taller than an oak tree and raced a mile from either side of her; she felt her own skin blister from its roaring heat. At least fifty men cantered through it, unable to pull up their horses in time. They were shrieking in pain, and their mounts snorted and reared and threw them to the ground. Through the wicked crackle of the flames she could hear shouts and cries on the other side, questions flung out, orders issued, orders remanded. One or two more soldiers braved the barrier and came through, livid with fire.

  Senneth spread her fingers as wide as they would go, extended her arms before her, and pushed. The whole long wall of fire crept slowly away from her, leaving a charred band of black in the grass. More cries and yelping on the other side as the attackers realized the conflagration was advancing. She heard a confusion of horse hooves retreating, more shouts, more cursing.

  She took a long breath, gathered her strength, and pushed again.

  Step by blazing step, she forced the opposing forces backward, till she was crunching through a broad swath of cinders as she crossed her own original line. Donnal gathered himself back into a bird shape and darted away to reconnoiter, returning a few minutes later to report.

  “They’re spreading out in both directions,” he said. “Trying to find a way around the flame.”

  Senneth nodded. She gathered her fingers into points and stretched her arms wide, extending the wall of fire another quarter mile on each side, another half mile. It was taking all her energy, all her strength, but she could enclose the entire Hall in a circle of flame if she had to. “Where are our reinforcements now?” she asked in a tight voice.

  “Another half an hour away. The battle on the inside is nearly won—only a few attackers are still fighting for their lives.”

  “Tell the others to gather at the edges of the fire and await any who try to break through.”

  She could hear what was almost a smile in Donnal’s voice, though she couldn’t break her concentration enough to look at him. “Tayse has already organized them to do so. He wants to know how long you can hold the wall?”

  “Till dawn, if necessary.”

  “I don’t think the fight will last that long,” Donnal said. A rustle, a shadow; he had changed and flown away.

  Senneth stood where he had left her, spine stretched up, head tipped back, arms still spread as wide as they would go, and fed her soul to the fire. She was alive with magic; a liquid fever careened through her veins. Her fingertips were candlewicks, and flames danced at the end of each one. Each individual strand of her hair was on fire; her eyebrows had been singed. There was nothing in the world except heat and energy and rage. Noises had fallen away, time had ceased to pass or matter. She was an elemental in a primitive state, and she could burn forever.

  It was Tayse’s voice that brought her back to a sense of humanity, a sense of self. “Senneth,” he named her, his voice both compelling and soft. “Senneth. Drop your arms. Let the fire die. We have vanquished them. The Hall is safe.”

  He said the whole speech three times before his words actually registered. Slowly she opened her eyes, tilted her head forward, allowed her arms to fall to her sides. Instantly, the fire went out. Just as instantly, she was flooded with a multitude of pains. Her back ached, her arms were sore, and Bright Mother of the burning sky, her head hurt so badly she thought it might shatter. She looked around in wonderment a moment, orienting herself. Still daylight, though the sun was low on the horizon. Before her, a scattering of charred and broken bodies littered the ground. Behind her, a grim and efficient cleanup was under way, as servants and soldiers moved through the dead and wounded, searching for friends, carrying away the bodies of enemy and comrade alike.

  “What were our costs?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

  “More than seventy dead. Mostly Danalustrous men, though a few Brassenthwaite soldiers fell in the defense. The assailants lost four times that number and eventually retreated. Some of Malcolm’s soldiers are pursuing.”

  She put a shaky hand up to the back of her neck. Every small movement was agony. Her bones felt brittle and scored by heat. Surely someone had taken a chisel and hammered a thousand holes in her skull. “Who attacked? Could he tell?”

  “It appears to be the work of three malcontent vassal lords who had been left out of the negotiations to inherit property outright.” He shrugged. “Now their sons and daughters will inherit nothing but shame.”

  He took her arm and she leaned on him heavily as he escorted her back toward the manor house. So many bodies—such a dreadful sight on Malcolm Danalustrous’s well-manicured lawns. “Tell them,” she said. “If they gather up the bodies, I can make a pyre.”

  “I think they can make a pyre of their own with more traditional methods,” he said firmly. “You need to rest. You look the color of ash—gray and white. And just as likely to disintegrate.”

  “My head hurts,” she said.

  “I’ll help you as soon as we get to the room.”

  They came upon a pile of fallen bodies; no easy task to pick a way through. Tayse simply lifted Senneth up and carried her around them. She knew she should protest that she was perfectly fine, but she felt utterly dreadful. She leaned her head against his shoulder and listened to the rumble of his voice from deep in his chest. “Your brother is anxious to make sure all is well in Brassenthwaite. He plans to set out for home first thing in the morning.”

  “We should leave for Ghosenhall tonight,” she muttered.

  “We’ll leave in the morning,” he said. “If your headache is better.”

  She wanted to lift a hand to rub her temple, but she couldn’t make the effort. “It’ll take us almost a week to get back.”

  “We might be able to push that.”

  “I wish we hadn’t come!”

  They were almost at the broad, gracious front entrance of the manor, just now stained with blood and piled high with discarded weaponry. Tayse bent to kiss her gently on the forehead. “You saved the Hall,” he said. “They all might be dead if you had not been here.”

  That silenced her for the whole trek through the foyer, up the stairs, and down the corridor to their room. There was no fire in the grate and the air was cool, for which Senneth was grateful. Her skin was still heated; her pulse was too high, too fast, too thick.

  Tayse settled on the bed beside her, arranging her so that her back was to his chest but she was leaning away from him. On their very first journey together, he had learned the trick of chasing away her headaches. No one else had the physical st
rength or reach to command all the pressure points at once. Now, very gently, he placed the thumb of one hand on a bone partway down her spine. With the other hand, he cupped the back of her neck. Senneth braced her fists against the bed.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  His hand closed around her neck; his thumb bored into her back. She gasped with a sensation that was both pain and the cessation of pain. It was as if his hands were as ferocious and unbreachable as her own wall of fire. It was as if they made a barrier that misery could not cross. Still, the suffocating hold was difficult to endure. She invariably had spectacular bruises the day after a cure like this, but the alternative was three days or more of migraine.

  “All right—enough,” she breathed, and he slowly released her. They both waited in silence a moment to see if the pain would come washing back, but Senneth felt nothing now except hollow exhaustion. “I think that’s done it. What a gift you have for healing me.”

  “The gift I treasure most,” he said solemnly. His hand pushed her down so she was lying on the bed. “Sleep now. I’ll go hear the councils of war.”

  “I need to talk to Kirra,” she said drowsily.

  “I’m sure she’ll be by as soon as she’s taken care of details of her own.”

  “And my dress is covered with blood.”

  “You can take it off later. Sleep now.” He leaned over and brushed his mouth across hers. The light kiss made her smile. She was asleep before he left the room.

  CHAPTER

  25

  IT was full dark when Senneth woke, feeling physically refreshed but emotionally drained. Sitting up cautiously, to make sure no pain woke up with her, she touched a few of the candles on the bedside table, and light wavered through the room. A glance at the fire sent the coals leaping with fire. Sweet gods, she was filthy. And starving.

  She had changed into a more comfortable—and much cleaner—shirt and trousers, and was washing her face in the basin, when a quiet knock sounded on the door. “I’m up,” she called, and Tayse, Kirra, and Donnal filed in. Kirra was carrying a tray of food. “Oh, you most thoughtful girl,” Senneth said, immediately pulling up a chair beside a small table. “I was thinking about chewing some firewood, I was so hungry.”

  Kirra sat beside her at the table. Donnal settled in his customary place on the floor before the hearth, even though he was shaped like a man tonight. Tayse dropped to the window seat so he could monitor any activity occurring outside.

  “Everyone in Danan Hall sends you gratitude and adoration,” Kirra informed her, sneaking a slice of potato off Senneth’s plate. “And your brothers have been struck almost speechless by your display of power. You have done what you always hoped to do—earned their respect.”

  “And it only cost the lives of several hundred men,” Senneth said between bites. “Hardly a steep price at all.”

  “Still, it was most impressive, even for you,” Kirra said. “Though you look dreadful, I must say. How’s your head?”

  “Better. But I’m sick at heart. Tell me the extent of the damage and what your father plans to do next.”

  “The Hall itself is mostly unharmed. Except the lawns are completely destroyed, but who cares about that? We lost a little over eighty men, and my father and Casserah are devastated by that. They are also both furious—that a man of Danalustrous would betray the land. I think they care less that they were attacked. They would give their own lives for the House.”

  “Are they prepared to defend themselves if a bigger army convenes?”

  “They are. The reserve troops will be here tomorrow. But my father doesn’t seem to believe there will be another assault. He is busy collecting renewed oaths of fealty from the vassals who did not participate in the uprising. It seems that only three lesser lords were responsible for the mutiny.”

  “Your sister mentioned Chalfrey Mallon? I think I met a Mallon or two many years ago when I lived here.”

  Kirra looked deeply depressed. “It is my fault he hates the Hall. He despises mystics, and Casserah made it clear to him that she would choose me over him. He has been nursing a grudge for months, I suppose.”

  Donnal stirred on the hearth. “Or found that incident a convenient excuse to turn against your father now.”

  Tayse spoke from the bench at the window. “Does this change your father’s attitude about joining the battle on behalf of the king?”

  Kirra’s laugh was bitter. “No! Indeed, it makes him more adamant that he will not send soldiers away from Danalustrous when it is clear Danalustrous needs defense. I cannot entirely blame him—except I do blame him. If Gillengaria is torn apart, Danalustrous will be trampled in turn. I don’t understand how he can fail to see that. It is so shortsighted, so blind, to care only about your own small patch of land. If we do not stand together, we will all fall. Gillengaria must supersede Danalustrous.”

  Senneth smiled at her. “And this, I believe, is the reason your sister will be marlady, and not you.”

  “It is indeed.”

  Senneth finished the last of the bread and wished there were more. “We leave for Ghosenhall in the morning,” she said. “Will you stay here or come with us?”

  “My father wants me to stay, but I can’t,” Kirra said. “There is obviously a great deal to do here—but—I have to put myself in the king’s service. I have to.”

  Senneth glanced at Donnal, and he nodded. “Even if Kirra wanted to stay, I would go,” he said quietly. “All of us are needed. All of us who have some ability to defend the throne.”

  Senneth tapped an impatient hand against the table. “Still, it will take so long to get to the city! And this is news that should go fast. Perhaps you two should fly on ahead and tell Baryn what happened.”

  Kirra locked eyes with Donnal and he grinned. “As to that,” Kirra said. “There might be a way. To get you to Ghosenhall faster.”

  Senneth sat up straighter in the chair. “Why am I filled suddenly with apprehension?”

  Kirra smiled, but only briefly. “I could change you, you know. Both of you. To something small and furry, perhaps mice. Donnal and I could take hawk shape and carry the two of you across Gillengaria. Not comfortable, and not fun, but we could do it.”

  Senneth just stared at her. Tayse had slewed around at her first words, losing all interest in whatever might be unfolding on the grounds. “I’m not sure I have the heart for that,” Senneth said faintly.

  “No. I thought you might not. And I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t exactly relish being set on fire by you, even if it was ultimately something that would aid me.”

  Donnal’s voice was casual. “Justin would do it. He’s not afraid.”

  “Justin’s recklessness is legendary,” Senneth shot back.

  “And I’m not entirely certain I can change you,” Kirra said. “Last fall, I altered all those people on Dorrin Isle who were sick, but none of them was a mystic. Maybe the magic in your veins will keep my magic out.” She shrugged. “It’s the reason I didn’t try to change Ellynor last year when she had to be rescued. The situation was too dire for me to try something that might go seriously awry.”

  “You realize such a confession makes me even less eager to subject myself to your spells!” Senneth exclaimed.

  “Yes, but I really think I can do it,” Kirra said. She managed another smile. “And I should have no problem changing Tayse.”

  “Could you change my sword? And my knives?” Tayse asked.

  Kirra’s face brightened even more. “Yes, my valiant Rider, I could change your weaponry right along with your body. And change them back the minute we touched down in Ghosenhall.”

  Now Senneth was staring at him. “You can’t seriously be considering—”

  He grinned at her. “Justin would do it. Justin has done it.”

  “Justin has never been my guide for behavior.”

  “And there’s more you might not like,” Kirra added. Her expression was impish, but Senneth could tell she was utterly serious. About the off
er, anyway. “The trip will still take us about two days—we cannot fly all that way, carrying you, without stopping to sleep. It would be easiest for me to not change you back to human form overnight, then change you again in the morning. But you might find it too disconcerting to stay altered for so long.”

  Senneth just opened her mouth and didn’t answer.

  Kirra went off into gales of laughter. “Oh, look at you! You’re trying to decide if I’m joking! I’m not, truly I’m not. Senneth, I believe I can do this, and it would cut the trip easily in half. But it would be strange and probably unsettling. And if we had flown half a day and you were too petrified to continue, we’d be in the middle of the country with no horses and no gear, and it would take you even longer to get back to the royal city.”

  Donnal shrugged. “We’d change ourselves into horses for the rest of the trip,” he said. “We’d still have gained a day or two.”

  “And you want to turn me into a mouse?” Senneth demanded, finding her voice.

  Kirra nodded. “A very small one. Easy to carry.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t forget and accidentally eat me?”

  Kirra bubbled with laughter again. “Of course I wouldn’t forget! Do you ever accidentally set something on fire?”

  “I think we should do it,” Tayse said.

  She looked at him helplessly. “How can you not be afraid? How can you not be repulsed? I don’t want to be a mouse flying above the earth in the talons of a predator!”

  “I never thought to see you unnerved by magic,” he said, amused.

  She shuddered. “It’s not the magic that frightens me so much as the loss of control,” she said. “I would think the same thing would weigh with you.”

  “I’m practical, and this is a practical solution,” he said. “But we will not do it if you cannot endure it. We will send Donnal and Kirra ahead, and make our way with all speed by more conventional means.”