The tribes ranged in size from a few dozen families to over a thousand individuals. Of the thousands of Siyee, more than half formed this army. Not all were warriors, though. For every two Siyee dressed as fighters she could see one that was not. Each tribe was bringing their own healers and domestic helpers, who would also carry portable bowers and as much spare food as possible.
Sirri’s appearance was the cue for the other Speakers to come forward and form a line. Auraya took her place—a few steps from the end of this line—and watched as Sirri stepped onto Speakers’ Rock and spread her arms wide.
“People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. Look at yourselves!” Sirri grinned. “What a fierce sight we make!”
The Siyee shouted and whistled in reply. Sirri nodded, then raised her arms higher.
“Today we are leaving our homes and flying to war. We do so in order to keep a promise. What was that promise? It was a promise to help a friend. Our allies among the landwalkers need our help. They need us, the Siyee, to help them defend themselves against invaders.
“We know what that is like.” Sirri’s expression was hard now. “We know the pain of losing land and lives to invaders. No longer will that pain be ours, for our new allies are also keeping their promises. Last night Auraya of the White gave me the welcome news that the King of Toren has ordered his people out of our lands.”
The whistling that followed this announcement was deafening. The noise continued on and on. Sirri turned and beckoned to Auraya. As Auraya moved to join the Speaker, the crowd slowly quietened.
“People of Si, I thank you,” she said. “By giving your support and strength to my people you help us defend against a terrible enemy. For many years we have heard rumors about these barbaric peoples of the southern continent, but they were too distant to be of concern. We heard that they enslave men and women, and that these followers of the Pentadrian cult force strange and perverse rites on their people. We know that they worship war for the sake of violence itself.
“Now these Pentadrians wish to spread their vile ways. They wish to destroy my people and enslave all of Ithania.”
She paused. The crowd was silent now and she sensed the beginnings of fear.
“They will fail!” she declared. “For men and women who worship war for the sake of violence are not true warriors, as we are. Men and women who invade another land are not driven by a passion to defend their homes, as we are. Most importantly, men and women who follow heathen cults do not have the protection of true gods…” she paused, then spoke each word quietly but firmly “…as we do.”
She put her hands together to form the symbol of the circle. “As one of the White I am your link to the gods. I will be your translator and interpreter. I am proud to be the link between such a people and the gods. I am proud to accompany such an army as this.”
:And I am proud to have created such a people.
The faces below Auraya changed as one. Eyes widened, mouths opened. She felt their awe, like a gust of wind, at the same time as she sensed the presence at her side. The crowd, as one, dropped to the ground as she turned to face the glowing presence of the goddess. Huan lifted a hand, indicating that Auraya should remain standing.
:Rise, good people of Si, Huan said.
Slowly the Siyee climbed to their feet. They gazed at the goddess in awe.
:It pleases me to see you gathered here today. You have grown strong and plentiful. You are ready to take your place among the peoples of Northern Ithania. You have chosen your allies well. You have a loyal friend as well as an ally in Auraya. She loves you more than duty requires. All the White will protect you as best they can. But it will be your resilience as a people that will ensure you survive in the future, not Auraya or I. Be strong, but also be wise, people of Si. Know your strengths and your weaknesses, and endure.
The goddess smiled, then her glowing form faded and disappeared. Sirri looked at Auraya, her eyes still wide, then at the gathered Siyee.
“We have heard the words of the goddess Huan. Let us wait no longer. Let us fly to war!”
She nodded to the Speakers. They immediately moved to the edge of the outcrop and flew down to join their tribes. Sirri turned back to Auraya.
“I had a stirring final speech planned, but I completely forgot what I was going to say,” she confessed quietly.
Auraya smiled and shrugged. “A visit from the gods can have that effect on a person.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is we set off in a confident state of mind, and Huan certainly arranged that nicely. Now, it looks like my tribe is itching to get into the air. Would you like to fly with us?”
Auraya nodded. “I would, thank you.”
Sirri grinned, beckoned, and they both leapt off the outcrop. The Speaker’s tribe immediately surged into the air to join them, followed by tribe after tribe of Siyee. Auraya looked back at the cloud of flying figures and felt a thrill of amazement.
But it was followed by a stab of concern. This will be their first war, she thought. There is no way they can be fully prepared for what they will face. She sighed. And there is no way I am either.
PART THREE
33
Plains are supposed to be flat tracts of land, aren’t they? Danjin thought as he climbed the face of the hill. The Plains of Gold were better described as “undulating.” They were a little less undulating in the western part, but here in the east they could be described as flat only in comparison to the rugged mountains at their edge.
They weren’t living up to the other part of their name, either. The plains were gold only in summer when the grasses turned yellow. Now, in the aftermath of winter, they were a mix of healthy green new shoots growing up among older, darker plants.
Danjin reached the top of the hill and paused. His heavy breathing sounded loud in this quiet place. He turned around and his quibbling and discomfort were forgotten. Below was the largest army camp he’d ever seen.
The only army camp I’ve ever seen, he corrected himself. But this is certainly larger than any I’ve read of.
Men, women, animals, tarns, plattens, and tents of all sizes covered a large valley surrounded by low hills. The grass that earned the plains their pretty name was now trampled into mud. The light of the late afternoon sun touched a line of brown that led into the valley on one side and continued to the mountains on the other. A wider band of crushed grass around the western part of this road showed the direction the army had come from. In the center of the valley was a large tent, which had somehow managed to remain white despite being pitched beside the muddy main thoroughfare of the camp each night. This was where the White’s councils of war were held.
It was hard to imagine any force could match this army. Danjin looked to the mountains in the east. Even at this distance they looked fierce and unassailable. He was too far away to see the road winding up to the pass. Somewhere beyond those peaks was another army, and by all reports it was even larger than the one before him.
He took some reassurance from the fact that the Circlian army was not yet fully formed. So far it was made up of only three nations: Hania, Somrey and Genria—the latter had joined them a few days out of Jarime. The Toren army was due to arrive in a few days, the Dunwayans were not much farther away, and the Siyee…the Siyee were due any moment.
Turning his back on the army, Danjin gazed at the southern sky. It was cloudless apart from a dark smudge near the horizon. She said they had reached the plains, he thought. So where are they?
He stared at the sky until his eyes began to water from the brightness. Looking away, he dabbed at his eyes with a sleeve. Footsteps brought his attention abruptly back to his surroundings and he turned to find a soldier approaching. The man was one of the many guards patrolling the hills around the camp.
“You all right, sir?” the man enquired.
“Yes, thank you,” Danjin replied. “Just the brightness of the sky.”
The man glanced southward then stopped and shaded his eyes. �
�Will you look at that cloud?”
Danjin followed the man’s gaze. The dark smudge had grown larger and…fragmented into many tiny specks. He felt his heart skip a beat.
“It’s them,” he muttered.
Danjin left the soldier looking puzzled and hurried down the hill. It seemed a longer journey back to the camp despite being all downhill—though it didn’t help that he kept glancing behind, worried he wasn’t going to make it in time. When he reached the first of the tents he slowed. Soldiers watched him pass, always alert for signs of nervousness among the army’s leaders and their advisers.
Reaching the main thoroughfare, Danjin saw that Juran, Dyara, Rian and Mairae were already standing outside the white tent, their attention on the sky. The elderly Genrian king, Guire, stood nearby with his advisers and attendants. Meeran, the Moderator of the Somreyan Council, stood with the Circlian elder, Haleed. A Dunwayan ambassador, Jen of Rommel, stood beside the Dunwayan priest who always accompanied him, and whose main role appeared to be to provide the White with a way to communicate with the absent Dunwayan leaders.
Danjin quietly joined the small crowd of advisers. He noted that the new Dreamweaver adviser was present. Raeli rarely attended war councils, and when she did she remained aloof and apparently uninterested. Sensing him looking at her, she turned to meet his eyes. He nodded politely. She turned away. Danjin suppressed a sigh.
I think I may actually miss Leiard. He wasn’t much more talkative than this woman, but he was…what, exactly? Approachable, I suppose.
Raeli’s attention was on the sky. He turned just in time to see the first of the Siyee appear over the top of the hill he had just climbed. A pair of them circled the valley once, drawing murmurs from the onlookers, then suddenly a great mass of them poured over the crest of the hill. Danjin heard gasps and exclamations as thousands of Siyee swooped down to fill the valley. He realized his own heart was beating fast with excitement. The Siyee wheeled and turned then began to drop to the ground. The sound of their wings was like a rush of wind, and the smack of feet on the ground was like the patter of heavy rain.
Once they had landed, their small size was suddenly obvious. Their childlike appearance was tempered by their clothing and weapons, however. Unlike the two messengers who had come to Jarime, these Siyee had bows, quivers of arrows, knives, and what looked like blowpipes and darts strapped over leathery vests and trousers. Both men and women had short hair, muscular bodies and a proud demeanor. These were warriors, small but fierce.
“Interesting. Very interesting.”
Danjin turned to look at the speaker. It was Lanren Songmaker, the military adviser the White now favored above the others. The man glanced at Danjin and smiled grimly.
“I can see how these people might be useful to us.”
“Auraya certainly thinks so,” Danjin replied.
“Here she is.”
Danjin turned back just in time to see Auraya descend to the ground before the White. A Siyee woman swooped down and landed beside her.
Auraya smiled. “This is Sirri, Speaker of the Bald Mountain tribe and Head Speaker for the Siyee.”
Juran stepped forward and made the two-handed sign of the circle. “Welcome, Speaker Sirri, and all Siyee. We are pleased and grateful that you have come so far to help us defend our lands.”
Auraya turned to the other woman and uttered a string of whistles and sounds. Translating, Danjin realized.
As Sirri replied, Auraya translated for the benefit of the audience. Danjin examined the faces of the people around him. Most were staring at the Siyee. Some looked fascinated, others amused. The Dreamweaver adviser looked as uninterested as ever, while Lanren Songmaker was all suppressed excitement.
The Siyee were reacting to this scrutiny in different ways. Some eyed the humans warily, others kept their gaze on their leader and the White. Danjin noted the similarities and differences in their garb and realized they were standing in groups—each one was probably a different tribe.
The exchange ended with Juran raising his voice to speak to the Siyee in their own tongue. Danjin smiled crookedly. It almost annoyed him that a simple Gift bestowed by the gods could make irrelevant a skill he might spend years learning.
As the Siyee began to move away, following their leader along the thoroughfare to make camp, Auraya stepped forward to join the White. Her eyes shifted to Raeli, who stared back expressionlessly, then she looked at Danjin and smiled.
:Hello, Danjin Spear.
:Welcome back, he thought at her.
:Thank you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
:We have indeed. I have to warn you, Juran has a habit of forgetting that mortals need food or sleep. We may have trouble finding time to do this catching up.
:Then I’ll have to make sure he remembers.
Once the Siyee moved away to make camp, Juran invited all into the tent. Lanren Songmaker watched as the hierarchy of power asserted itself. The White’s leader looked to the King of Genria first, as the man was the only royal personage present. Then the Somreyans entered, as the Moderator was the closest to a ruler that his country had. The two Dunwayans followed, as representatives of their country. Lanren was eagerly waiting to see how the King of Toren would fit in, since the two kings were of equal position. Guire was a sensible monarch, but Berro was known for being rude and troublesome.
Next the advisers entered the tent, in no particular order. The White discouraged them from behaving as if one was more important than another, yet Lanren still felt it wise to give way to the White’s personal advisers. They were much closer to the White and had been working for them far longer.
He followed Danjin Spear to the tent entrance. Lanren had found the youngest of the Spear brothers an intelligent, well-educated, cautious man—nothing like his brothers in regard to the latter. Danjin had seemed a bit lost so far, and Lanren guessed this was because Auraya had been absent and the adviser had no more knowledge of war than history books might offer.
In matters of strategy and fighting, Lanren was the “expert.” He felt he was hardly that, but there were few other choices. Nobody could be an expert on war when there had been no more than a few minor confrontations in Northern Ithania for the last hundred years. He had studied war and strategy since he was a child, witnessed most of the small skirmishes or uprisings that had happened in the last fifty years, lived in Dunway some years in order to study their warrior culture, and spent a few months in Avven over a decade ago, during which time he had observed the military cult of the Pentadrians—albeit from a distance.
As he entered the tent he noted that everything was arranged the same way it had been each night before. Around the room, several chairs of equal size and plainness had been arranged in a rough circle. A large five-sided table stood in the center of the room. On it lay a beautiful map. It was a fine work—the best he had ever seen—painted in rich colors on vellum.
Juran looked at Auraya. “The Dunwayan forces have reached their southern border and await our decision. Before you arrived we were discussing what they should do: join us or remain in Dunway.”
She looked down at the map. “I was considering this question during my journey. Either choice is a risk.” She glanced at the Dunwayan ambassador. “As I understand it, Jen of Rommel, if the Dunwayans join us on this side of the mountains they will leave Dunway vulnerable to attack should the Pentadrian army veer north. It seems unfair to ask your people to leave their borders unprotected in order to help us.
“From all reports,” Auraya continued, “the Pentadrian army is enormous. Dunwayan fighters are famed for their skills in battle, but our spies have reported that these Pentadrian warrior sects also produce exceptional soldiers. We know from our encounters with these black sorcerers that they are more powerful than any in Dunway. Even if all the Dunwayan fighters remain to protect their home, I fear the land would still fall.”
The Dunwayan ambassador frowned as he nodded in acknowledgment.
“If they did rem
ain at home,” Auraya added, “and the Pentadrians did not fight them but continued through the mountains, there is the possibility that our army will be no match for the Pentadrians’ trained warriors. I must pose this question: if this army fell, how long would Dunway stand?”
“So you would have us cross the mountains?”
Auraya nodded. “Yes, but…” she paused and looked at Juran “…perhaps not all. Perhaps leave some Dunwayans at home. If the Pentadrians invade Dunway, your warriors can slow their advance, giving us time to cross the mountains and engage the enemy.”
Those people will make no difference, Lanren thought. But…I think she knows that. She simply wishes to allow the Dunwayans to feel a little safer. It won’t work, however. They’re too well versed in warrior lore to deceive themselves into believing such an illusion.
Juran glanced at Lanren and shook his head. “A few fighters would not slow an army of the size of the enemy’s.”
“He is right,” the Dunwayan ambassador agreed.
“May I make a suggestion?” Lanren interjected.
Juran looked at him and nodded.
“We know that the Pentadrians are not far from the mountains,” Lanren said. “The more time we have to reach and fortify our position in the pass, the better. If the Dunwayan army should come through the mountains, they can set traps along the way, slowing the Pentadrians’ progress.” And they’ll enjoy doing it, Lanren added silently.
Juran smiled. “Indeed, they might.” He looked at his fellow White. Each nodded once. He turned back to the Dunwayan ambassador. “Please convey our assessment and suggestions to I-Portak. Tell him we would prefer it if he joined us here, but respectfully acknowledge the risk that would entail. We leave the decision for him to make.”
The ambassador nodded. “I will.”
Juran looked down at the map, pursed his lips, then straightened. “This evening’s reports on the Pentadrians’ position have not yet come. Let us have an early meal, then return to consider our journey to the pass. I would like to include the Siyee in that discussion.”
Priestess of the White Page 42
