by Julian May
‘Con?’ The soft, anxious voice of Stergos broke the train of the king’s thoughts. ‘What would you have me do now?’
‘Invite the High Sealord and Earl Marshal Parlian to attend me. Bid the others eat and drink and take their ease. Tell them we’ll all confer together within the hour. Then bespeak Chumick Whitsand, Somarus’s archwizard, and command him to bundle His Majesty of Didion onto horseback and whip his fat arse over here speedily, as though his life depended upon it.’
While Stergos went to fetch Donorvale and Beorbrook, the Sovereign collected five fieldstools and set them about a flat-topped military chest. On this he spread the marine chart of the island which the alchymist had brought with him, weighting the corners with stones.
‘Plotting new strategy, my liege?’ Sernin Donorvale bent down to peer at the map from his great height. He was half a foot taller than Conrig, a giant of a man with a full head of sand-colored hair pulled back in a short pigtail, and pale brows above eyes that were a changeable grey-green, like the Boreal Sea. He was pushing three-score-and-ten, but looked a dozen years younger.
‘I have no revised plans yet, High Sealord,’ Conrig admitted somberly. ‘For that I’ll welcome your advice – and that of others. Sit you down. There’s fresh disaster brewing.’
‘Oh, shite,’ Sernin whispered. ‘Not the Salka?’
Conrig gave a grim nod of assent. Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook had overheard, and he muttered a curse before taking a stool himself.
‘My friends,’ the Sovereign said, ‘I’ve summoned Somarus as well, since he must participate in any decisions we make.’ Pointing to the relevant spot off the Desolation Coast, he related how the monsters had been sighted by Ontel and Tallu less than an hour ago. ‘It’s likely that the Salka are planning another invasion in force. The message from the sealady and her husband estimated that there were many thousands of the creatures swimming northward. It doubtless means that they intend to circle around the island and strike somewhere in the west. No other possibility makes sense.’
‘But it’s too late in the season!’ the earl marshal protested.
‘Nearly two moons remain before the big winter storms begin,’ the High Sealord said. ‘It will be yet another moon before our northern ports ice up completely. I fear that the Salka have time enough to invade and establish themselves on land. They hibernate in winter, you know, burrowing deep into the mud of river or lake bottom where no human being can dislodge them.’
‘Can they survive under sea-ice, my lord?’ Parlian asked.
‘I truly don’t know,’ Sernin replied. ‘And I think it makes very little difference to our defensive strategy whether they can or not. What’s imperative is that we set up naval patrols off the most obvious coastal targets. Safeguarding the Tarnian capital is feasible, using those of our ships still based at Yelicum. The Firth of Gayle is narrow and readily defended. Donorvale lies upriver and batteries of tarnblaze cannons protect its approaches. But the rich settlements of Shelter and Goodfortune Bays are another matter. The majority of Tarnian warships based in those areas were sent north when the Beacon River invasion was detected. Now they lie off Ice Haven with other vessels of the Joint Fleet.’
‘I’ll order Lord Admiral Hartrig to have the fleet up anchor and set sail at once,’ Conrig declared. He looked down at the chart. ‘Do you think the faster ships have a chance of catching up with the Salka horde before it rounds Cape Wolf and becomes an immediate threat to your larger towns?’
‘Not a prayer, my liege,’ said the High Sealord. ‘The winds are fickle in northern waters this time of year, especially in the Icebear Channel between Blenholme and the Barrenlands. Salka are formidable swimmers. They’re bound to beat our ships to the the Western Ocean, even if our shamans and the other wizards aboard lend magical propulsion.’
‘Then so be it.’ The Sovereign’s tone was flat. ‘But the Joint Fleet must move out anyhow and do what it can. Meanwhile, I can summon those Cathran men o’ war still in southern waters to assist in patrolling your vulnerable ports.’
‘There’s no certainty that the Salka plan to invade Tarn,’ the earl marshal pointed out. ‘They could as easily continue southward, swarm into the Cathran harbors of Westley, and go up one of our rivers. Imagine the havoc they’d wreak – the panic among our people if the Army of the Sovereignty were not already emplaced to repel invaders.’
‘The army!’ Sernin Donorvale shook his head in dismay. ‘Deciding how to deploy our ships is difficult enough. But who among us can say where the troops should now go?’
The three leaders fell silent, staring glumly at the chart. The truth was, without firm intelligence as to the Salka objective, the Sovereignty ground forces were all but helpless.
Stergos returned and said that Somarus was reluctantly on his way. ‘I had to explain the urgency of the situation to Archwizard Chumick before he’d agree to waken the king. I doubt we can trust the man to keep quiet about this shocking development.’
‘Everyone will know soon.’ Sernin Donorvale was resigned.
Parlian Beorbrook had not lifted his eyes from the map. He now stabbed his finger down at a point on Blenholme’s west coast where Tarn and Didion disputed the border.
‘Here!’ the old general said, poking the parchment again for emphasis. ‘Right here is where I’d establish a beachhead if I were the Salka commander. In Terminal Bay, that stinking lair of pirates. Not even Duke Azarick Cuva, the nominal overlord of the place, can keep the local sea-wolves under control. They do as they please, and devil take the hindmost. With no solidarity amongst the various bands of corsairs, their resistance to a sudden massive Salka invasion might crumble rather quickly.’
‘I’m not inclined to agree,’ the High Sealord said. ‘Tarn is the logical target. Our land is rich and the population relatively small.’
Beorbrook persisted. ‘But look here: observe Terminal Bay’s narrow entrance, all clogged with reefs and rocks, and its broad landlocked waters. If the monsters should ensconce themselves inside there, we’d have a hell of a time winkling them out with seapower. There’s also an easy corridor to take them far inland: large rivers, swamps, puny little fortresses except for the one at Dennech-Cuva. Sire, I think we should give very serious consideration to Terminal Bay as a likely point of attack.’
Conrig seemed uncertain. ‘You may be right, Parli, although I’m inclined to agree with Sernin. At any rate, we’ll have to wait for Somarus before discussing defense of the place…Meanwhile, Gossy, relay my command to Lord Admiral Hartrig. I order the Joint Fleet to embark from Ice Haven at once and follow the presumed course of the Salka horde with all possible speed. Then bespeak our admiralty in Cala. The southern fleet is to set sail for Flaming Head and wait there for further orders.’
Sernin Donorvale said, ‘Also be so kind, Lord Stergos, as to summon Grand Shaman Zolanfel to attend me here.’ He eyed Conrig. ‘We Tarnians will organize volunteer reconnaissance squadrons immediately – fast sloops that will range out from ports on the north and west coasts, scouting for signs of the enemy. Zolanfel can advise us on setting up relays of windspeakers, as well as secure means of communication.’
Conrig nodded approval and said to his brother, ‘Take care of it all.’
‘At once.’ Stergos headed for a deserted corner of the pavilion, pulling his hood over his head as he went.
‘What about the troops?’ the High Sealord asked. ‘Do we march them out of here right away to a new staging area? The cavalry and foot-soldiers of Tarn can be ready within a day or two, and I presume that the Cathran forces are also in good shape. But Didion…’ He shook his head.
Parlian Beorbrok said, ‘Sernin’s point is well taken. As we visited the Didionite camps earlier, it was plain that the mood amongst their soldiers is touchy, even ugly. The vast bulk of them are yeoman infantry from eastern or central Didion. Few of them save the Elite Mallburn Guards are highly trained. They’re eager to go home. Somarus himself must be the one to command his generals and t
heir officers to respond wholeheartedly to this new threat. Otherwise, I fear we might face a mutiny.’
‘There’ll be no mutiny,’ Ironcrown pronounced with merciless certainty. ‘Not if Somarus hopes to keep his throne.’
Parlian blinked in astonishment. ‘You wouldn’t depose him! It would surely set off an insurrection.’
‘I’d do it in an eyeblink to defend this island against the Salka,’ Conrig said. ‘And if the warriors of Didion revolted, they’d do it without their Crown Prince and generals and battle-commanders – who would remain confined right here in Vanguard’s camp, under Cathran guard.’
The High Sealord’s face wore a thoughtful scowl. ‘Who would you put in Somarus’s place, my liege – Crown Prince Valardus? He’s not much of a warrior.’
‘At least he’s a political realist,’ Conrig said with brutal candor, ‘not a fat sot intoxicated by dreams of ancient glory. If the prince affirms fealty to the Sovereignty, I’ll not hesitate to crown him.’
But would Valardus accept the crown? For all Conrig’s bold talk, he knew that deposing Somarus by force was impossible. Another solution must be found.
A trumpet sounded distantly. The earl marshal glanced outside the pavilion, where a cloud of dust was rising near the camp’s main entrance. ‘I believe His Majesty of Didion has arrived. Will you see him alone, sire, or shall we three work together to make him see reason?’
‘You and Sernin together, Earl Marshal,’ the Sovereign said with a sigh. ‘Somarus hates me, but he respects the two of you. Just remember that he’s half off his chump. Appeal to his love of country and the warrior traditions of Didion. Do what you must to get him to accept your leadership. I’ll…well, it’s best that I keep strategically aloof, don’t you think?’
The two older men chuckled uneasily but made no reply.
As the afternoon lengthened in Royal Fenguard castle, the Four Salka Eminences gathered once again to bespeak Beynor and ask whether he would agree to help them obtain moonstone mineral from Demon Seat. Nearly two hours passed before their combined hail was finally answered. They were fatigued and cranky but there was no helping it: they’d have to swallow their indignation and pretend friendship and good will.
‘It’s good to hear from you, Beynor,’ Kalawnn said, ponderously jovial. The other Salka leaders were content to leave most of the negotiating to him, after having agreed how the human was to be handled. ‘When we were unable to contact you at first, we feared for your safety.’
I’m fine. I was merely preoccupied with other affairs. No doubt you perceive that I’m situated in Boarsden Castle, where the leaders of the Sovereignty have been gathered in a Council of War. They’ve found out about your new Salka offensive, you know.
‘Yes, that’s a pity. We hoped to keep our intentions secret for as long as possible. But our valiant warriors had no choice but to obliterate the ship of the Tarnian spies, once they became aware of it. At least it was possible to muffle the further attempts of the human foes to bespeak information to their confederates before they were slaughtered.’
You were able to do that, were you? My congratulations! The spell of windspeech suppression is a complex one that I’ve never been able to master.
‘It requires the concerted action of several hundred trained minds,’ said Kalawnn proudly. ‘We used a variant of the spell to blur the movements of our troops in the Beacon Valley, and we also use it when our main army communicates with the reinforcements moving around the south end of the island. But enough of Salka tactics. Shall I set forth the proposition we’re prepared to extend in exchange for your help at Demon Seat?’
Master Kalawnn, I’m truly sorry. But at this time I can’t undertake a long journey to Cathra, no matter what valuable considerations you offer. Conrig has accepted my claim to the throne of Moss. I’m once again its true king-in-exile and a loyal vassal of the Sovereignty of Blenholme –
‘What?!’
Don’t be dismayed. It’s all a ruse to help me win Conrig’s trust. This changes nothing between us, save that I’m now forced to postpone performing the favor you requested of me. The opportunities available here if I act immediately are stupendous. I can’t ignore them.
‘But – but you’re willing to abandon us? When we offer our Potency to lift your curse – to say nothing of a myriad of other great gifts?’
I won’t abandon you, old friend! Don’t misunderstand. This is only a temporary change of plan, until I’m fully accepted by Conrig. Kilian is dead, you know. His passing leaves a useful power void that I intend to exploit. It’s likely that I may now be able to assist your battle strategy as well. My great goal is to destroy Conrig – remember that! I’ll do whatever I can to further your new invasion.
‘We are greatly disappointed,’ the Supreme Warrior grumbled. ‘We had hoped for your assistance in obtaining raw moonstone, but there are other options open to us. Furthermore, we are in no way dependent upon your help to ensure the success of our new invasion –’
Where do you plan to come ashore, Ugusawnn? At Donorvale?…Or perhaps at Terminal Bay?
The Warrior concealed his dismay at the human’s lucky guess. Or was it a guess? ‘What makes you think we would choose either objective?’
I eavesdropped on the Sovereign’s strategy session a few hours ago. Those two locations were picked out of a hat as being particularly vulnerable. You can count on their being heavily defended from the sea.
‘What about from the land?’
Ah. That’s another matter. Splitting up the Army of the Sovereignty is an option Conrig fiercely resisted, but his military advisers convinced him he had no choice but to do it. For the time being, their plans call for half of the troops to mass at Castle Direwold, near Frost Pass in the White Rime Mountains. If necessary, they’ll undertake a forced march to defend the Tarnian capital. The other half will wait at the Lake of Shadows, near Elderwold, on the off-chance that you’ll attack Terminal Bay. Either wing can reinforce the other once the point of attack is known for certain. However, Conrig is faced with an irksome dilemma.
‘Indeed?’ All four Eminences bespoke the query. ‘What kind of dilemma?’
King Somarus is baulking at ordering any of his troops into Tarn. Conrig wants half the Didionite warriors to join the force at Direwold – an even split, as Tarn and Cathra agreed to. Somarus claims his men and the rest of the army as well are bound to be caught by winter weather in a far-northern country that won’t be able to feed them. But he’s really holding back for another reason: the worm has turned. He’s sick of taking orders from Ironcrown.
‘Ahroo!’ the Master Shaman exclaimed. ‘But has Somarus a choice in the matter?’
He stomped off in a fury after telling his generals they’d be executed if they ordered any troops into Tarn. The High Sealord and Earl Marshal Parlian will work with Somarus’s son Valardus in an effort to change the king’s mind. It’s a rather droll battle of wills! I can hardly wait to see what happens next…By the way, where DO your people intend to land? You never answered my question.
‘Nor do we intend to,’ Kalawnn said equably. ‘What benefit would accrue to us by doing so?’
I really think I’ll be able to help you.
‘Give us tangible evidence of that, Beynor of Moss, and then bespeak us again. For now, I bid you farewell.’
Kalawnn cut the windthread and regarded the other three Eminences with a resigned expression. ‘That’s that, colleagues.’
‘But the Great Lights could not have lied!’ The First Judge cried. ‘They told us –’
‘They told us to ask Beynor about obtaining raw material from the crag,’ Kalawnn said. ‘They never said Beynor was the only one who might fetch it.’
‘But who else could do the job?’ the Judge asked.
‘I could,’ Ugusawnn said.
‘Ahroo!’ the others exclaimed.
‘Kalawnn’s artisans have begun fashioning a Subtle Gateway sigil,’ the Supreme Warrior reminded the others. ‘If they are suc
cessful, the Great Stone might be used in more than one way…by a person who is prepared to accept the enormous pain-price. I’ve already told you I’m willing! It’s my destiny as Supreme Warrior to carry Destroyer to our invading forces. But if it’s the will of this group, I’ll gladly travel first to Demon Seat and back, bringing whatever moonstone mineral I can prudently carry.’
‘The triple pain-debt might kill you,’ the Master Shaman pointed out, ‘unless you postpone the third journey until you have sufficiently recovered.’
‘I’ll take the risk. If I perish, another warrior can bond to Destroyer. Our army must have that weapon! Victory depends on it. We’ve already agreed on that point.’
‘True,’ the Conservator of Wisdom noted.
‘What if Beynor bespeaks us with a new proposal concerning the invasion?’ the First Judge said.
The Supreme Warrior gnashed his crystalline fangs and suggested that the Conjure-King then be told to perform an impossible sexual act upon himself.
‘No,’ Kalawnn said, when the others had finished laughing. ‘We’ll listen. The Great Lights said that we have things to learn from him. And I, for one, intend to continue doing so.’
To keep the capture of Maudrayne’s friend secret, Tinnis Catclaw had ordered Sir Asgar Beeton and his men to take her directly to a disused fowler’s blind in the marsh behind Castle Boarsden, an isolated locale he was familiar with from hunting parties led by Duke Ranwing.
Late in the evening, after receiving word that the prisoner was secure there, the Lord Constable rode out along the dike track with the warrior who had brought the news. He had scarce paid any attention to Rusgann Moorcock during the years she’d spent as Maudrayne’s companion at Gentian Fell Lodge. Indeed, the creature had been conspicuous only for her homeliness – and Lord Tinnis, like many other people who were fair of face, equated plain features with slowness of wit. He thought it would be an easy matter to ascertain whether the woman was carrying a message to Prince Dyfrig, and discover what dangerous information she might already have passed on to persons at the earl marshal’s castle.