Chapter Six
In the middle of a howling winter storm, Torina’s cabin was snug and warm. The young woman cooked a simple evening meal and ate absently. She was healthy and strong from riding so much. Healthy, not happy. Letters in a hollow tree couldn’t sustain her need for companionship; looking into the crystal gave her glimpses of all the kingdoms, but not a single sight of Landen.
She listened to the wind moan. Gazing at snapping flames, she was reminded of her former self. Once I was as luminous and full of motion as fire. Now I live cold as winter all year long, more alone than a hermit nun.
She stared at her writing paper. One word, Dahmis had said. One word, and he would send for her, let her live under his protection.
Torina loved going where she wished, without escorts, guards, or permission. To mount Justina when the mood took her; ride as far and as lost as she wanted; come home when it suited her; all this she treasured.
What good is my independence without freedom to show my head? She gripped the arms of her chair. She had made up her mind. She would send the ‘one word’, and go to live in Glavenrell. The next time she saw Dahmis, she’d petition his help finding Landen. Between them, they could discover if he lived, and where.
She wrote the letter immediately.
Dear Cousin,
How is your village? Though well, I am feeling the weather and wish I might join you in a warmer house.
Vineda.
She rolled the message, tying cords with practised fingers. She grabbed her worn jacket and opened the door. A gale-force wind greeted her, driving needles of snow into her face. Torina laughed and shut the door again. Of course, she would need to wait for the storm to pass.
She hung her coat, glowing and happy. Tomorrow, she and Justina would find their way through the drifts to the hollow tree. Even if it took a few weeks to move to Glavenrell, it would happen. Life! She felt ready to dance. Full of energy, she decided to make the most of the confining weather. She would consult her crystal for the high king, perhaps add an important postscript to her letter.
She unbraided her long, burnished hair, luxuriating in the feeling of having it hang free. She put another log on the fire.
Bringing out her seer’s eye, she let her eyes be drawn into its depths. First, she asked again for a vision of Landen. The obstinate globe showed her a circle of men sitting round a fire. She had the sense that it was a group of criminals. One of the men had a monstrous scar on the side of his face. She shuddered. Was Landen in the company of such men? She peered anxiously, but he didn’t seem to be among them. The image faded.
Never mind. Soon the high king would be searching for him.
She kept looking in the crystal. This time she saw Vesputo and Dahmis standing together. The high king shook Vesputo’s hand. His voice rumbled in Torina’s mind, like an ocean storm. ‘We are now allies.’ And the hated voice of her former betrothed: ‘Count on me to honour the terms of the alliance.’
She stared in disbelief, but the odious sight persisted, the two kings in smiling agreement.
‘It can’t be. No, no, no. Say it isn’t so!’ she chanted, wanting to throw the crystal into the fire and watch it heat until it cracked. ‘No, no, please,’ she moaned, as the high king and her father’s murderer toasted each other with glad faces.
Torina jumped up, tossing the crystal away, as if it would burn her. Grabbing the scroll she’d written earlier, she unwound its cords, crumpled the message into a ball and slung it at the fire. As the flames took hold, she sank back in her chair, rigid with anger and loss. While winter raged outside her cabin, she felt as if all the ice of the world was packed round her heart.
Dahmis watched his soldiers train, forehead wrinkled with worry. Spies daily brought him reports of Sliviite might: thousands of mercenaries sharpening their blades behind the Sliviite banner; droves of Sliviite slaves learning to man the enormous navy ships; swaggering Sliviite soldiers drilling from dawn till dusk.
Still no word of where they would make their onslaught. More troubling, Vineda had sent no messages in three weeks. That was not like her. What if the men hunting her had been successful? What if she was abducted or killed?
Dahmis didn’t like to admit to himself how much the lovely seer occupied his thoughts. Now, when his mind should be on his troops, his allies, strategies for war, he spent time he couldn’t spare wondering about Vineda. Tempted to send a trusted spy to find out if she still lived in the Desantian forest, he was annoyed with himself for having promised her he wouldn’t tell anyone where or who she was.
As if he knew who she was. Did anyone know? Why was she so secretive? With her gifts, she would be welcome, sought after, celebrated, in any court she chose. Instead she lived hidden away, as though she’d committed some terrible crime and feared discovery.
I would have thought she was too young to be willing to give up all the splendours her beauty would earn. But even that beauty she hides under ugly clothes and disguising scarves. Is public adoration so loathsome to her? He remembered her angry words: ‘I cannot live a prisoner in a king’s fortress’. What young woman could believe that life in the high king’s fortress, surrounded by awed attendants, would be imprisonment? And what about that other statement, spoken with such bald, scornful sadness: ‘I feel awe, but not of kings’.
Dahmis shook his head in exasperation and called for Larseld. When his general was at his side, the king explained that he would be gone for several days.
‘My lord, the council of kings?’
‘I’ll return in time for the council.’
‘I thought we would prepare.’
‘We will. Just not in the same room. This errand is necessary, though inconvenient to everything.’
‘Pardon me, sir. Can no one else do this . . . errand?’
‘No, Larseld, no one else. Come, we’ll talk with Michal and settle all pressing business before I leave in the morning.’
Dahmis, dressed as a messenger, took a swift horse and rode in the direction of Desante. He figured the disguise was best for excusing the fact that he was mounted on one of the best animals in the kingdom. As he galloped down the main roads, no one seeing him questioned his speed; urgent messages were growing commonplace among the allied kings.
As he neared Vineda’s cabin, the king’s fatigue was acute. He half expected to find the place deserted. The thoughts that had driven him on the long ride clamoured in his head. Was she safe?
He dismounted in her clearing beside a dark, silent cabin. Peering inside, he saw embers in the hearth; checking the stable, he found Justina munching straw. Dahmis decided to wait for Vineda. If she didn’t come back soon, he would ask at the farmhouse for news of her.
Weary as he was, the king rubbed down his horse and gave him food.
As he left the stable, Torina walked into the meadow. It was now full night, though a bright moon lit the snow to a pale likeness of day. Her usual scarf wrapped her head, a threadbare jacket covering her body. Wonderfully relieved to see her, Dahmis wondered again why she would conceal so much beauty.
‘Vineda,’ he said, all his tiredness forgotten. He touched her shoulder affectionately, then stepped back, nonplussed by the utter coldness in her face.
‘Vineda? What is it?’
Her eyes looked opaque in the moonlight. ‘You have allied yourself with Vesputo,’ she said, as if he’d done something unforgivable.
Dahmis gritted his teeth. ‘So I have. It was necessary. Vineda, there are times when this sight of yours is a curse. I wanted to tell you myself.’
‘He will betray the alliance.’
‘His soldiers fight well. His coastal borders are vulnerable to Sliviite attack!’
With set face, she began walking to her cabin. ‘He will betray you,’ she said over her shoulder.
Dahmis pursued her. ‘Have you seen this? If you have, why no message?’
She whirled to face him. ‘I don’t need a vision where Vesputo is concerned!’
‘So, y
ou have not seen it.’ He stared at her face, whitened by moonlight. Again, he reached for her. She shrank from him.
‘Vesputo knows his interests, Vineda,’ he said, trying to talk reasonably. ‘The Sliviites are a far greater threat to him than anything he’s ever faced. And a greater threat to me than one king with a lust for power. Only a complete alliance can stave off the Sliviite forces. All reports agree they’re massing for the greatest invasion we’ve ever endured. It’s only what you know yourself.’
The lovely young woman balled her fists. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Two reasons. Foremost, I came to see if anything had happened to you. Second, if I ever needed your help, I do now.’
She shivered. ‘You won’t get it.’
‘Please, Vineda. The alliance is important. Vesputo commands a sizeable army. As soon as the ice melts, everyone in the kingdoms is in danger, including him.’
‘Have you forgotten? He plotted against your life.’
‘The high king cannot afford to hold grudges. I need Vesputo. His position is key. To overthrow him would exhaust my forces when they are needed most. The alliance is the only good choice!’ His voice rose, blowing clouds in the frosty air.
‘Then may it profit you,’ she answered.
‘Will you help me?’
She lifted her chin, lips trembling. She turned her back.
‘Vineda. Please. Help us!’
She went inside, and closed the door. The high king stood alone, lifting his eyes to the starry sky. He wanted to beat down her door, force her to serve him. He wondered where and when she had learned to hate Vesputo with such passion. She must be ignorant of kings if she could not overlook the chessboard moves they often made against one another. Vesputo wasn’t the only one who’d tried to take Dahmis’ place. Early in his kingship, Dahmis had been challenged in every possible way: some overt, many covert.
Now, Vesputo had provided the missing piece for Dahmis. His spies had been able to discover where the Sliviite invasion would land. He’d allowed Dahmis to interview several men and one woman, all of whom had made the dangerous journey to Sliviia. Each had intercepted the same intelligence: the Sliviites would sail to Bellan Bay, one of the largest bays on the whole coast. It made sense that such an immense navy would seek the waters of a place like Bellan Bay.
Dahmis realized how much he’d grown to rely on Vineda’s skill. He didn’t like moving ahead without it. He’d ridden so hard to be next to her. Now, in front of him, her cabin was dark. She might as well be across the ocean.
‘God help us,’ he prayed. Moonlight fell round him, not answering.
Vesputo arrived early for the joint council of kings. He wanted a chance to observe all the rulers as they walked in. The room chosen for this historic meeting was spacious and well furnished. Every smooth surface was polished till it shone, the thick Glaven rugs brushed soft. After greeting Dahmis with deference, Vesputo stood to the back, face set in regal reserve. He controlled his fear that Torina had warned the high king. He would need to watch carefully, gauge his actions accordingly.
Ardesen, king of Desante, swept in, frowning, treating Dahmis to a curt bow, his grey head taller than the high king’s. Fierce Mlaven, ruler of Emmendae, the harsh land north of Glavenrell, embraced Dahmis.
‘So, my friend,’ Vesputo heard Mlaven say. ‘What does your fortune-teller advise?’
A muscle jumped in the high king’s cheek. ‘She has ceased to help me,’ he replied softly.
‘No prophecies! That is hard news. You must find out her price, my lord.’
‘She doesn’t respond to those inducements,’ Dahmis answered.
Vesputo clenched his jaw with the effort not to break into victorious laughter. Torina had broken with the high king! Now the fool would have only his own starry-eyed visions to guide him.
Once the council was under way, Dahmis encouraged Vesputo to tell the others what his spies had learned: that the main thrust of the Sliviite attack would be Archeld, in what was formerly Bellandra.
‘Bellan Bay is more accessible than anywhere south of Emmendae,’ he said. ‘The waters will be warm within a week. From there, they can pillage Archeld and make their way in force to Glavenrell.’
‘It’s what I’d do if I had their navy,’ boomed King Mlaven.
‘What are our assembled numbers?’ Ardesen of Desante asked.
‘Fifty thousand troops among us,’ Dahmis answered. ‘We estimate the Sliviite invading force at thirty thousand strong, including mercenaries.’
‘How shall we distribute our soldiers?’ asked Endak, quiet king of Davia.
‘We cannot leave any country without protection, of course,’ Dahmis asserted.
‘If everyone agrees the brunt of the attack will fall at Bellan Bay, I advise we concentrate our forces there, and devise a way to send messages quickly so that if any surprises occur we can cover with reinforcements,’ Vesputo put forth.
The council was over, the kings returned to their home-lands. All had agreed to send their most seasoned soldiers, under a trusted general, to the coast of Archeld. Larseld would coordinate the other generals for concerted defence. Troops would be on the march within a week. Dahmis was elated with the progress of their cooperation. History was made: the collected kings had conferred together with only minor hostility, each submitting to the good of the alliance. It was a victory the high king savoured. It seemed to him the stars must be singing with happiness. The only sad note came when he thought of Vineda.
A message was sent with Ardesen to ask Bellanes and his band to visit Glavenrell. In a few days, Dahmis got word that the men were camped outside Glaven City. Bellanes, still shunning his spreading fame, thought it too risky to meet the king in public. He sent word of where to find his camp. Dahmis rode out with Larseld to see him.
They arrived in the evening and were halted by a man with a livid scar on his face.
‘Give the password.’
‘Peace awaits.’
The man led them to a campfire circle where Bellanes met them with a smile.
‘My lord.’ He swept the circle with his hand. ‘This is my band. Men! The high king, and General Larseld.’
Dahmis was amused at the sudden galvanism among them. Plainly, Bellanes had not prepared them. They stood as one. The guard who had asked for a password seemed stunned. ‘I— I, my lord!’
‘Bangor, the high king understands the need for passwords,’ Bellanes told the flustered man. ‘My lord, your time is short, I know. What is it you need?’
Dahmis addressed the entire band. ‘The council of kings met and decided the Sliviite attack will be focused on Archeld, at the coast near what used to be Bellandra. All the allied members are pledged to send troops there, agreed to work under Larseld’s direction. Larseld leaves in the morning. I want you to go with him. Your skills may be invaluable there. King Vesputo particularly requested your participation.’
Bellanes frowned. ‘Vesputo is now part of your alliance?’ His voice was hard.
‘Yes, he has joined us.’
‘So late?’ Bellanes folded strong arms.
Dahmis sighed. ‘He may be motivated by self-interest, since he believes his shores vulnerable. His spies report Bellan Bay as the first Sliviite target.’
Bellanes stood taut as a ready bowstring. ‘My lord, forgive me for what I have to say.’
‘Please, speak freely.’
‘I and my band won’t go to Archeld to defend Vesputo. I beg you not to weaken your forces in Glavenrell. The Sliviites fight intelligently, and though Bellan Bay may be a likely access point, they must know Glavenrell and Emmendae have bays as well. What if they realize that by invading Glavenrell and smashing the high king, they would meet only disorganized resistance afterwards?’
Dahmis stepped closer to the fire. ‘You believe the Sliviites will aim at Glavenrell first?’
‘You are the central power among the kingdoms. They can’t be ignorant of that.’
‘What about the informat
ion from Vesputo’s spies? If we can blunt the first attack with the alliance, we stand a far better chance collectively.’
‘Have other sources confirmed it? Have your own spies told you this?’ Bellanes probed.
‘No, though all agree the Sliviites are prepared for war, and are even now launching their ships.’
‘If they land on your shores, and you’ve sent away your best troops, how will you fight?’ Bellanes’ clear voice beat at him.
‘I can’t forsake the alliance now. I’ve pledged my word. It would go against everything I’ve worked for.’
‘Then, my lord, I and my band will stay in Glavenrell, where we can help you if needed.’
Looking round at the attentive faces, Dahmis felt that this group of men was in absolute unity with their leader.
The high king bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Bellanes. Keep me informed of where you make camp.’
Chapter Seven
Torina dug in her garden, wrestling stubborn chunks of cold soil. Cool air met her hot cheeks and wafted round her covered head. She was tired of the cumbersome kerchief and felt wretchedly warm. Sweating in the weak sunshine of early spring, she beat the resisting ground as if it could yield relief for her pent-up spirits.
She hadn’t looked at the crystal in weeks. When her heart reproached her for forsaking the alliance, she revived the image of Dahmis and Vesputo toasting each other.
Today, the crystal called her. Her arm tingled and throbbed. Torina threw down her shovel and slammed into her cabin. Wrapped in cloth on a shelf, her seer’s eye seemed to stare through the fabric into her mind. Dripping sweat, Torina reached for it, her hand pulsing and humming. But before touching the stone she drew back, clenching her fists.
‘No, no, no!’ She ran out of the cabin.
She rushed to saddle Justina. The horse seemed to catch her mood, running hard through the meadows. Torina tried to lose herself in the flowing movement, not caring where they went.
It was late afternoon by the time she approached the village again. Exhausted, she noticed how much the temperature had dropped and how thin her dress was against the cold. When she realized Justina was making her way towards Lindsa’s house, she brought her up short.
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