He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his face in her thick warm fur. Smash and blast and burn it, Tobi, what am I supposed to do?
I don’t know.
Help me. I can’t bear this. I can’t lose her.
He’d been so terrified when he’d looked up from the patient they’d just finished healing and seen the two members of her crew carrying her limp body into the healers’ area. The relief of discovering she was alive had been swept away by the shock and horror of her mutilation. His training and experience had allowed him to shove those feelings aside and work with Tobi to do what was necessary. But as soon as the healing was finished they’d come rushing back.
She’s hurt and I can’t fix it. She’s lost something she’ll never get back, and it’s my fault. When she’d needed him, he’d failed her. For all his gifts and powers and hard-won skills, he’d proven inadequate when it really mattered.
And his failure had destroyed their love. In her pain and anger she’d pushed him away, broken their newly forged bond, returned betrayal for betrayal. He felt as if his heart had burned away with her hand. The pain and grief were blinding, shattering, impossible to contain. He would break, was breaking, had broken.
Tobi’s voice cut into his thoughts. It is not your fault. The Ramunnans hurt her, not you.
The Ramunnans. It all came back to them. He’d poured out everything he had to help them, to bring them the Mother’s power, and they’d spit the gift back in his face. At every turn they’d opposed him. They’d called him evil and Tobi a demon and the Mother’s power an abomination. They’d manipulated and deceived and betrayed him. They’d killed his master and nearly killed his apprentice. They’d lied to him, tricked him, assaulted him, driven him from their land. They’d attacked and invaded and conquered, sent his city into exile, claimed his homeland for their own. They’d forced him to become a fighter, a killer, a leader in war. They’d shot at him and stabbed him and tried to blow him up. And now in a single flash their bomb had mutilated his lover’s body and destroyed his hopes and dreams and future.
He squeezed Tobi hard and let her go. You’re right. He stood up, all his chaotic, turbulent emotions falling into order, a focus as clear and sharp and hot as sunlight through one of Gevan’s lenses.
He couldn’t restore what had been lost, but he could render the Mother’s justice to the guilty.
* * *
As the Ramunnan forces fell or surrendered or retreated, groups of fighters returned to the Tevenaran base. They crowded into the intersection, mobbing the food wagons, drinking from the fountain, carrying their wounded comrades to the wizards. A growing throng of Ramunnan prisoners packed the street to the rear, surrounded by wary Tevenarans. The last few wizards emerged from the buildings on either side and joined those healing the injured. Down both side streets and ahead, teams labored to sort the strewn bodies and lay them in neat rows, Ramunnans on one side, Tevenarans on the other. Already the dead carpeted acres, and the battlefield was barely touched.
Elkan strode to where the leaders of the groups were gathering, just behind the weapons. Jaron was there, speaking with the other leaders of his column, but he didn’t see Meira. He hoped Hadara had persuaded her to rest and eat. He would respect her request and not seek her out, but if she insisted on resuming command of her crew, they were going to have to work together.
He raised his hand to acknowledge the shouts and cheers when the other leaders spotted him. High spirits abounded. They’d defeated a much larger Ramunnan force and broken the key element of their enemies’ strategy. The Mother’s Hall and victory lay only a short distance ahead. They were eager to do whatever he commanded.
Elkan raised his voice. “Gather your fighters and get ready to advance. We’re pushing straight to the Mother’s Hall.” At his request Tobi opened a window over his palm and scanned the street ahead. The two captured weapons lay broken and abandoned. The surviving Ramunnans were rapidly retreating to join a sizable force gathered in the plaza outside the Mother’s Hall. More Ramunnans were pouring in from other directions, but there were no weapons among them, and he doubted they would equal the numbers they’d just faced even when they were all assembled. “I expect they’ll make a final stand, but we’ve shown we’re more than a match for them.” Enthusiastic cheers answered that. He raised his voice. “Leave as many as needed to guard the prisoners, and a few wizards to work on the wounded. Everyone else comes with us.”
Several leaders frowned. He met the eyes of each in turn. “That’s right. Leave the dead, theirs and ours. We’ll deal with them when the battle’s over.”
None of them looked happy, but one by one they nodded. He made a gesture of dismissal. “Get to work. We move in a quarter hour.”
The leaders broke up and went to their groups. Elkan headed for the cluster of wounded. Golden light flashed as wizards and familiars labored over dozens of casualties. Hundreds more waited their turn.
They’d been forced to triage. Elkan had spent most of the battle evaluating the arriving wounded, sending many to be bandaged and sent back into the fight, some to be tended by the wizards, and others to a waiting area off to one side. A few of the third group might cling to life until the wizards had dealt with the easier cases and could spare the massive amounts of energy they required. The rest would join the motionless rows of the slain.
“Stabilize as many as you can in the next few minutes. We’re leaving ten wizards behind to keep working. Everyone else, advance when I give the word.” He moved from wizard to wizard, repeating his instructions. Many of them protested, but he ruthlessly demanded obedience, and they reluctantly gave it. The ten he chose to stay begged for more help, but he refused. Everything depended on this final push. Every wizard who fought could save ten or twenty Tevenaran lives for each one saved by those who stayed behind.
More than a quarter hour later, but less than a half, the weapons rolled forward, fighters crowding ahead, around, and behind. They moved between piles of hastily cleared dead, past the spot where a crew had rolled the abandoned iron tubes aside and cleared the shattered remains of their carriages, and up the hill toward the Mother’s Hall. No Ramunnans challenged them. Windows showed the ranks of defenders in the plaza swelling. Messengers arrived with news from the other columns. All of them were advancing also, though Elkan’s column would reach the Hall first. Even if the Ramunnans proved tougher than he anticipated and held out for a long time, more Tevenarans would arrive periodically to bolster their forces.
He wasn’t going to let it come to that, though. He was sick of fighting, sick of noise and blood and screams and death. He was going to put an end to it.
They crested the hill. The plaza opened ahead, the Mother’s Hall on the left. Its side wall rose tall and strong over the low buildings between.
Ramunnan soldiers surged toward them in a disciplined mass. Tevenaran fighters charged to meet them. Elkan went to Jaron and pointed, shouting over the noise. “Target the Mother’s Hall.”
Jaron stared at him. “But you said—”
“I’m changing my orders. The Ramunnan officers are inside.” Tobi opened a window that showed Benarre and the rest clustered around a long table in front of the huge main fireplace, urgently pushing wooden markers around a map, speaking to each other in rapid and increasingly agitated Ramunnan. “If we bring the building down around them, they’ll have to flee to their ships.”
Jaron stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell the other crew.” Elkan turned and strode back to where the wizards waited for orders.
He kept checking the enemy while he surveyed the area and distributed groups of wizards to various posts. The Ramunnan officers seemed oblivious to their danger. They must assume the Tevenarans would never risk destroying the beloved historic heart of their city. They’d be right, except for the burning ruthless determination they’d ignited in Elkan when they’d hurt Meira.
It took a while for the weap
on crews to unhitch the horses and get everything in place. Elkan finished positioning the wizards and found a sheltered doorway where he could keep watch with little danger of stray attacks.
Meira’s voice rose over the clamor. “Fire!”
Her weapon roared. An iron ball struck high on the wall of the Mother’s Hall, sending shattered stone flying. It fell, leaving a deep divot. Jaron’s weapon discharged immediately after and carved another big chunk from the wall.
How long would it take to batter down this whole side of the Hall? The blocks of stone were strong and wide and deep. They’d stood for a thousand years. It could be done, but it would require many hits.
At his request, Tobi opened another window into the Hall. All the Ramunnans were staring at the south wall. It trembled as two more shots struck it in rapid succession. Elkan took grim pleasure from the shocked looks on their faces.
Benarre grimaced, shook his head, and exchanged glances with the other officers. “Gentlemen, the time has come for us to make a strategic retreat. Signal the ships to move in. Begin the evacuation according to the plans we discussed.”
In a chorus of assent the rest of the Ramunnans rose and saluted, then headed for the main doors. They seemed less upset than Elkan would have expected. They must be relieved Benarre wasn’t insisting they waste more of their people’s lives in a futile final effort, now that it was clear they couldn’t win. He hadn’t expected the Ramunnan leader to be so sensible or abandon the besieged Hall so quickly.
Benarre swept the marker disks into a wooden box and snapped the lid shut. He turned to the man standing behind him. “Mirlen, fetch my personal belongings.”
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant saluted and strode toward the living quarters.
Benarre addressed the air in heavily accented Tevenaran. “If any wizards are watching and listening, tell your leader I want to discuss the terms of a truce. I’ll wait by the fountain under a white flag. Have him meet me there with the same sign. We will not attack anyone displaying a white flag, and we expect you to respect ours likewise.”
He nodded sharply, then bent to roll up the big map and slide it into a long tube-shaped case. As two more cracks sounded, Benarre picked up the map and box of markers, strode to the big double doors at the front of the Hall, and pushed outside.
Other captains joined him beyond the doors. One produced a large square of white cloth attached to a pole. Benarre took it, raised it so the fabric fluttered over his head, and walked to the large fountain in the middle of the plaza.
The building Elkan was using for cover was typical of Elathir, with shops on the ground floor and apartments above. He had Tobi scan the deserted rooms until the window showed a bed with white sheets. The Mother’s power carried one to him, and a nearby mounted fighter gave him her spear. Together they made a reasonable facsimile of Benarre’s truce flag.
If Benarre was willing to leave without further fighting, Elkan would let him go. He would cease hostilities and exchange prisoners. But he would accept no terms other than the Armada’s complete withdrawal. He wanted the Ramunnans gone. Gone from the Mother’s Hall, gone from Tevenar, gone from his life.
He strode forward. Everyone turned to look at the fluttering sheet over his head. He approached Jaron’s weapon from the side so it was between him and Meira’s weapon. “Stop shooting. They’ve asked to negotiate.”
Jaron broke into a grin. “Yes, sir!” His crew cheered.
“Spread the word,” Elkan said. He turned and strode away as Jaron hurried to relay the good news to Meira and her crew.
Elkan walked toward the Hall, Tobi padding at his side. He didn’t expect a trap, but there was no need to risk anyone else. He and Tobi could protect themselves from anything Benarre might throw at them, if they remained alert.
He pressed his hand tight to Tobi’s back so they’d be ready. “Fall back,” he told the Tevenaran fighters he passed. “Regroup and wait for further orders.”
The Ramunnan troops were withdrawing as well, leaving a clear space between the forces. Elkan raised the spear and sheet high and ventured across, scanning the sky for arrows in case any Ramunnan archers decided to ignore the makeshift flag.
None did. When he reached the Ramunnan fighters, they stepped aside, clearing an aisle for him all the way across the plaza to the fountain in the center. Benarre waited there under his own flag, several other captains at his back.
Elkan strode to meet him. He stopped facing Benarre and raised his voice over the splashing fountain, speaking Tevenaran. “Here I am, as you requested. What do you want?”
“You’re the leader of the Tevenarans?”
“I am.”
Benarre inclined his head. “Commodore Tonden Benarre.”
Elkan returned the gesture. “Master Elkan Farmerkin Wizard. And Tobi, my familiar.”
Benarre eyed the mountain cat warily before returning his attention to Elkan. “I wish to formally request a temporary cessation of hostilities. I will take my men and withdraw to our ships without attempting to further engage your forces. You will order your people to allow us to pass unchallenged.”
Elkan studied him. He badly wanted to believe Benarre meant what he said. But something in the Ramunnan’s manner aroused his suspicion.
It could be a sincere offer. Surely the Ramunnan leader was intelligent and experienced enough to recognize that with the failure of his strategy and the heavy losses he’d taken, he no longer had any realistic chance of defeating the Tevenarans on land. Retreat was clearly the only practical option.
But Elkan had participated in or observed many hotly contested court cases. Even the most mature and self-possessed litigant, when faced with an unexpected defeat, displayed traces of frustration and anger. Benarre didn’t. He was as detached as if he were discussing plans for the evening’s dinner. If anything, the subtle cues of body and voice Dabiel had taught Elkan to read suggested Benarre felt confident. Smug, even.
Which meant he had some plan to reverse the outcome of the battle. He believed he knew something Elkan didn’t which would give him the ultimate advantage. This retreat was a step toward accomplishing his long-term goal.
The other half of the Armada was approaching up the coast. It had probably come close enough to be visible from the roof of the Mother’s Hall. Elkan strongly suspected the Ramunnans had sighted it and changed their strategy accordingly. Benarre thought the Tevenarans would remain ignorant of the coming reinforcements until the ships were near enough to spot from ground level, well after his men were safely aboard their vessels. He probably planned to launch a new attack from the water. The weapons of the full Armada could do terrible damage to Elathir, even if all the Tevenaran weapons fired back.
But Elkan, too, knew things his opponent didn’t. The Matriarch was aboard one of those ships. Her presence would change everything. For her, Tevenar no longer mattered except as a source of resources to help her reconquer Ramunna.
It was a gamble, but Elkan would take it. He narrowed his eyes at Benarre. “Every Ramunnan will leave Elathir. Any who remain will be taken prisoner.”
“Of course.”
“The truce ends at sundown. After that, we’ll consider any of your ships that remain within range of our weapons or the Mother’s power as hostile and legitimate targets.”
Benarre inclined his head. “That sounds reasonable.”
Elkan took a deep breath. “When you report to the Matriarch, tell her that we intend to reinstitute the Law of Isolation. No contact between Tevenar and the rest of the world. No trade, no diplomacy, no communication. We’ll enforce it with weapons and the Mother’s power. Any wizards in Ravanetha must come to Tevenar, no matter where they were born.”
Tobi’s mental tone was shocked. What?
It’s the only way, he told her wearily. The truth sickened him, but he could no longer deny it. We tried to take the Mother’s power to the rest of the world, and we failed. It’s not the right time. When Josiah allowed Ozor and the others to leave Teven
ar, it forced the Mother to act too soon. It’s up to us to restore and maintain the separation until the world is ready for wizardry. Even if it takes generations.
But the Mother told Vigorre there was still hope.
Whatever path she saw, we missed it. Along with the shame and despair of knowing he’d failed the Mother came a tremendous sense of relief. No longer would he have to struggle and strain and sacrifice everything he cared about trying to accomplish miracles far beyond his all-too-human limitations.
Benarre studied Elkan at length. Eventually he nodded. “I’ll tell her.”
“All right.” Elkan extended his hand. “I agree to the stated terms.”
Benarre clasped it. “I agree also.”
Elkan released him and stepped back. “I’ll inform my forces. Give me about half an hour to make sure everyone knows. Then proceed directly to the docks.”
“Understood.” Benarre turned, gestured to his attendants, and headed toward where the other captains were gathered in front of the Mother’s Hall. Elkan hefted the makeshift flagpole and turned back toward the Tevenaran column.
He’d only gone a few steps when Benarre called in a studiously casual voice, “One more thing.”
Elkan swiveled back, clutching Tobi. “What?”
“Do you want to arrange an exchange of prisoners?”
Elkan would be delighted to get rid of the hundreds of Ramunnans his column had taken captive, and he was sure the other column leaders would feel the same way. But as far as he knew the Ramunnans had taken only a few Tevenaran prisoners, and the falseness of Benarre’s tone raised his warning instincts. “Only after you’ve surrendered completely and are prepared to return to Ramunna. It would be foolish to release those we’ve removed from the conflict if they’re going to start fighting against us again.”
“Of course.” Benarre shrugged elaborately. “Unfortunately, I can’t offer more than a temporary truce at the moment. I’ll tell your apprentice he’ll have to wait.”
The Wizards' War Page 57
