Sorcerer's Moon

by Julian May

  ‘Come and sit down, Induna,’ Beorbrook said. ‘No one will disturb us here. I suppose Sernin and the other Tarnians have finally confronted the Sovereign about Beynor.’ He began to eat, alternating bites of meat and rye bread. ‘I wondered how long it would take them to act on the information I passed along back at Rockyford. Was there a flaming row?’

  ‘Not at all, my lord. King Conrig replied rather calmly to the question posed by Sealord Sernin. He revealed to the entire group of battle-leaders that Beynor was present on his own sufferance. Furthermore, the Sovereign said that the Conjure-King had offered him three Great Sigils, which he intends to accept and wield as weapons against the Salka.’

  Beorbrook almost choked on a bite of sausage. ‘Swive me! And how did the generals react to that?’

  ‘After some hesitation, they approved. They had no real choice. The king said he’d send away anyone who opposed his decision…But there’s further news. Sealord Sernin has confirmed what you already suspected about the would-be assassin. Two young armigers who escorted Princess Maudrayne from Cathra to Rockyford revealed her identity to him.’

  The earl marshal groaned and threw the rest of his meal into the fire. ‘My appetite is ruined. I suppose Donorvale and the Tarnians are now contemplating secession from the Sovereignty – or worse!’

  Induna shook her head. ‘The High Sealord is deeply grieved at the death of his beloved niece but intends to keep the knowledge privily in his heart for the sake of the realm’s security. He feels that Lady Maude should have come to him directly and requested protection from Conrig, rather than seeking bloody vengeance. He suspects that Prince Dyfrig warned his mother that he would not seek to depose Conrig at this time – again, for the sake of the realm – and that she acted without her son’s knowledge.’

  ‘Chaos,’ Parlian muttered, staring into the flames. ‘That’s what Conrig’s murder would have brought about. Maude didn’t see it, poor deluded woman. But Dyfrig did.’

  ‘The young man must be devastated,’ Induna could not help but say.

  The earl marshal shot her a stern look. ‘His own hard decisions – to remain loyal to the Sovereign and repudiate his mother’s folly – are worthy of a great prince. His sorrows will make him stronger. The only true comfort we can offer Dyfrig is to keep secret Maude’s identity and the motive for her misguided action. Tell that to Deveron.’

  ‘I shall, my lord.’

  The earl marshal rose and began to kick apart the fire and push sand over the embers. ‘Also, be so good as to inform my adjutant, Viscount Aylesmere, that I will have an immediate conference with all of my battle-leaders at Birch Grove Circle. Then bespeak the staff wizard of Crown Prince Valardus in the Didionite camp, asking His Royal Highness and his generals to also attend the meeting. We must discuss the Sovereign’s impending use of the sigils. I want to nip any opposition in the bud.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’

  ‘Does your husband continue to windsearch the coast, seeking signs of the invaders?’

  ‘At intervals, but so far to no avail.’ Her smile was one-sided with exasperation. ‘It’s enough to make one wonder whether the monsters didn’t decide to return home to Moss after all – where they now loll in their caverns, laughing at the futility of our frantic preparations for war.’

  Earlier, Vra-Bramlow had received permission from the Sovereign to consult the demons again, using the lumps of raw moonstone. At breakfast in the gloomy great hall of Castle Direwold, before leaving to inspect the troops, Conrig had given the novice the key to the small leaden casket where he kept the minerals.

  ‘I’ll order my chamber guards to admit you,’ the king had said. ‘The casket is hidden at the bottom of my armor coffer. Take care that no other magicker follows and spies on you while you invoke the good Lights. Most particularly, beware of Beynor! If he knew about the specimens Coro brought from Demon Seat, I doubt not that he’d try to take them from me. I trust you to ensure that this doesn’t happen.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to safeguard the stones, sire,’ Bram said, but his heart plummeted. He was well aware that his uncanny abilities were no match for those of the Mossland sorcerer. Still, he thought, it was not likely that Beynor knew of the stones’ existence. A leaden box ought to thwart the windsight of even the best scrier.

  ‘I’ll be at the encampment for several hours,’ Conrig said. ‘Try to cajole the demons into searching for the Salka horde with special diligence this time – and for as long as possible.’

  ‘I will, sire.’

  After Conrig departed, accompanied by the Prince Heritor, his physician Vra-Garason, and half a dozen Royal Guardsmen, Bramlow went to the tower where the Sovereign had been installed by Direwold’s ill-tempered Didionite castellan, one Baron Jordus. The novice cast about with his windsight as he climbed the tower stairs, finding no one in the vicinity save the two guards usually posted there. They admitted him to Conrig’s chamber without a word. The place was stark and unadorned with any tapestries or arras – a sorry contrast to the luxury of Boarsden. The single bearskin rug in front of the small hearth was motheaten, and the sparse furnishings were more suited to a country cottage than the fortress of a Didionite lord. Only the tester bed, made up with the Sovereign’s own hangings, linen, and coverlets, looked comfortable.

  After fetching the leaden casket and unlocking it, Bramlow settled down in an uncushioned chair beside a narrow window with the box in his lap. He lifted the lid only enough so that his fingers could slip in, closed his eyes, and pressed the stones together without removing them from the box.

  ‘Great Lords of the Sky,’ he intoned in soundless windspeech, ‘here is Vra-Bramlow Wincantor once again, begging your favors if you would be so kind as to listen.’

  He saw the sad, ghostly faces floating in a starry firmament. We hear you. Do you still seek the position of the Salka invasion force?

  ‘Yes, and with great anxiety, for it seems certain that they must now be within striking distance of vulnerable cities on the west coast of our island.’

  We see numbers of Salka, swimming so close to the surface of the sea that their bodies often break through the waves.

  ‘Bloody hell!…Forgive me, great lords. I – I’d despaired of locating the enemy. Exactly where are they?’

  We see the nation you call Tarn. We see a long arm of the sea trending east and north, with many human settlements along its shores. It culminates in a great river whereon boats of many kinds and large sailing ships float. Do you know this place, Vra-Bramlow Wincantor? We have no name for it.

  ‘Tell me: is the entrance to this estuary very narrow, with a large island lying just south of it?’

  Yes.

  ‘It sounds like the Firth of Gayle. And the great river must be the Donor, which provides a water corridor to Tarn’s capital city.’

  The Salka hover in the waters just outside the entrance to this Firth of Gayle. On a promontory nearby stands a human stronghold.

  ‘Fort Kolm. Yes! Can you see how many Salka are present?’

  We cannot. Some of them are clearly visible to us. But we believe that there are others in the vicinity who conceal themselves in an uncanny fashion, very ingeniously.

  ‘Thank you, great lords! We humans thank you with all our hearts for helping us.’

  The One Denied the Sky is also pleased with our action. We are not really sure why this should be. We will ask him. But listen! You must take the two pieces of raw mineral with you. Do not leave them in your father’s possession.

  ‘Why not?’ Bramlow asked.

  We do not know. But you must take them and keep them safe. This we are sure of, Vra-Bramlow Wincantor. Take them! And when you feel that catastrophe threatens your groundling race, use them to summon us.

  The vision dissolved to blackness and Bram opened his eyes. With unsteady fingers he removed the chunks of mineral and concealed them within his jerkin. He locked the casket and replaced it at the bottom of the chest containing the Sovereign’s armor and r
an from the room, leaving the guards staring with puzzled expressions, and flung himself down the tower’s iron staircase.

  At the bottom he dashed through the corridors of the keep to the apartment occupied by the most important of the Tarnian shamans. The place was unshielded by magic, so Bram pushed aside the Tarnian warrior on guard and burst through the door without knocking. He found three men, handsomely dressed in gold-studded leather jerkins and gartered trews, sitting entranced at an ill-made round table. One of them was Grand Shaman Zolanfel Kobee.

  ‘Masters!’ the novice exclaimed. ‘Leave off your scrying and listen to me. I know where the Salka are!’

  Zolanfel was the first to open his eyes, and he was clearly peeved at the interruption. ‘Young Prince Bramlow? What’s that you say?’

  The second shaman snorted scornfully. ‘How can you possibly know where the monsters are? You – a mere novice in the Order of Zeth!’

  The third shaman said, ‘Let the youth explain himself.’

  The table held a large-scale chart of Blenholme’s western coast, much scribbled upon with leaden pencil to indicate areas under wind-scrutiny by the adepts. Bram indicated a location on the parchment. ‘Right here. Direct your scrying to the waters off Fort Kolm and see for yourselves. The Salka are in these waters!’

  ‘Colleagues,’ the Grand Shaman said to the others, ‘let us do as Vra-Bramwell says.’

  In unison, they closed their eyes and sat stiff as wooden effigies. Tarnian magickers were never unseemly-looking when they scried.

  Bram waited, fidgeting, as time passed with glacial slowness. At last Zolanfel relaxed and opened his eyes again, as did the others.

  ‘You are correct, my prince,’ the Grand Shaman said. ‘We have seen members of the amphibian horde clearly, and have directed the battery at Fort Kolm to bombard the monsters with tarnblaze. I have also bespoken the Lord Admiral of the Joint Fleet, who will lead his warships to the vicinity, and alerted the Tarnian naval base at Yelicum. In good time, I will require you to inform me just how you were able to succeed in a task that eluded so many others more experienced in windsearching. But for now, I command you to accompany me and my colleagues to the stables. We will ride out at once for the encampment, to inform the Sovereign and the High Sealord of this development in person.’

  Two dozen ells beneath the surface of the water, in a part of the open sea west of Terminal Bay where subterranean reefs gave birth to a confusing welter of currents, the main body of the Salka horde lurked, fed, and built up its strength. Nearly fifty thousand inhuman minds were seamlessly united in an immense shield of dissemblance that concealed their presence from oversight.

  Kalawnn and Ugusawnn alone floated motionless off the shore of a small island, disguised as flotsam. They wind watched as the guns of Fort Kolm, 270 leagues to the northwest, began to fire into the sea. A few valiant warriors lost their lives in the initial feint before the Salka officers commanding the diversionary force gave the order to move up the Firth of Gayle to the next objective. There the amphibians would be more circumspect, allowing human lookouts in widely separated locations to catch only brief glimpses of them before they vanished into the depths and continued on to the next point of misdirection.

  ‘The trickery will serve its purpose,’ Kalawnn observed with satisfaction. ‘By dawn tomorrow, enemy warships will converge on the Firth of Gayle, while the Northern Wing of the human army will be marching over the White Rime Mountains into Tarn.’

  ‘And our fighters will already be ensconced within Terminal Bay, ready to come ashore,’ Ugusawnn concluded. ‘It is…well done.’ He gave a soft groan.

  ‘Do you feel able to continue the oversight for a while?’ Kalawnn inquired. ‘If the pain-debt is too severe –’

  ‘No, I can bear it quite well. Pay no attention to my noise-making. It’s most satisfying to see that our strategy is succeeding.’

  The two of them did a careful scan inside Terminal Bay for another hour, counting armed pirate vessels and noting their position. Then, as the sun sank toward the horizon, Ugusawnn used his minor sigil Longspeaker to bespeak Commander Tasatawnn in the depths below.

  ‘It is time. Alert the troops.’

  I hear and obey, Supreme Warrior! What are your first orders?

  ‘Deploy the surface observers and elite attack forces. Any vessel, large or small, plying the open sea within scrying distance of the baymouth must be sunk. This is to be done in a manner so swift and devious that none on board suspect the cause of disaster. We must preserve secrecy as long as possible. Naturally, there must be no human survivors. Attack the shipping at your discretion, Commander.’

  I understand, Tasatawnn responded. We’ll use the false-reef tactic and the boring augers…Warriors away!…Your next order, Eminence?

  ‘At present, the bulk of the pirate fleet lies at anchor or tied up at docks in their home ports.’ He indicated their numbers and where they were gathered. ‘Perhaps word of our mighty invasion force has spread this far and the humans are cowering in fear!…The tide is now on the ebb. We have detected only small craft presently moving about inside the bay. The single exception is an armed merchant vessel now moving slowly through the bay’s lone deepwater channel toward the open sea. Strangely enough, it is a Tarnian brig, not a Didionite corsair. The Master Shaman will dispose of this ship himself using the Destroyer. He will also block the channel to prevent future encroachment on our beachhead by the enemy navy or homing pirates…On my command – but not before – order our warriors to enter the bay via the shoalwaters. Dispose of any bodies from the sunken Tarnian ship. Otherwise, make no assault on any humans or their watercraft. We will not strike until our entire battle-company – including the reserves – is gathered inside the bay. Is this clear?’

  Very clear. I await your bespoken word, Eminence.

  Ugusawnn’s enormous eyes shone like monstrous rubies. ‘And now, Kalawnn – it’s our turn! Let’s go.’

  The two Salka leaders emerged from the cove of the island where they had been concealing themselves and swam toward the treacherously shallow and reef-strewn mouth of Terminal Bay, moving faster than any whale or great fish. In minutes they were within sight of their prime objective, a towering sea-stack marking the entrance to the sinuous channel that afforded the only water access to the pirate colony.

  The Warrior licked his chops with his snaky purple tongue. ‘Can you crack that rocky pillar all along its length, so that the falling bits and pieces demolish the ship and clog the channel at the same time?’

  ‘Destroyer has only two commands, Ugusawnn: “smash” and “obliterate completely”. I’m too inexperienced to fine-tune it. It’s supposed to adjust its power output to the indicated command and to the target. If I attempt your two-at-one-blow ploy, I might end up accomplishing neither objective – and pay the pain-price for nothing.’

  The Supreme Warrior gave an apologetic grunt. ‘Well, then, topple the stack first. Let the humans know their doom is upon them! After that you can smash their ship so they tumble helplessly into the water. Our warriors have waited a long time for sentient prey.’

  Kalawnn lifted the wand on its golden chain, pointed it at the spire, and intoned a command in the Salka language.

  ‘BREESH TUSA ROWD SHEN!’

  They saw a flash of white light; an instant later, a tremendous peal like a thunderclap rolled across the water, followed by a prolonged rumble. The tall pillar of greyish rock fractured into segments, which fell with a series of enormous splashes that temporarily hid the scene.

  ‘Not as loud an explosion as the one that destroyed the sandbar back in Moss,’ the Warrior observed. ‘Looks like it did the job nicely though, from what my rather incompetent underwater scrying can make out. The channel is now impassable to anything but small human boats…and us, of course!’

  ‘When I blasted the bar in the Darkling Estuary, I used the more powerful conjuration,’ the Master Shaman gasped, ‘the one that orders the sigil to annihilate the target completely.
’ He bobbed in the water with his eyes closed, attempting to catch his breath.

  Ugusawnn was solicitous. ‘Are you in severe pain, colleague?’

  ‘I’m still all right. But I’d better take care of the ship quickly, while I’m able to, before the captain does something unexpected. ’

  ‘Use the annihilation command this time,’ the Supreme Warrior said. ‘I’ve changed my mind about letting our warriors feed on human flesh. They’ll have plenty of time to enjoy themselves later. Tarnian ships often carry a windspeaking shaman aboard, and we don’t want to risk a premature revelation of our invasion, do we?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Kalawnn lifted the wand again with a quivering tentacle.

  ‘Shall I steady you?’ asked the Warrior.

  ‘Yes, please. And if I require help swimming back to our rallying point…’

  ‘Of course, colleague.’ Ugusawnn braced his massive body against that of the shaman. ‘Carry on! Destroy the ship utterly.’

  The Master Shaman inhaled to fortify himself, then conjured Destroyer for the second time. ‘SKRESS TUSA ROWD SHEN.’

  Across the water, beneath the raging sky, a sphere of green flame swelled behind the stub of the broken rock pillar. Then came a deep roaring sound that smote the ears of the two Salka so painfully that they were deafened for a long minute. As the fireball quickly faded, the site of the explosion was enveloped in a spreading mass of fog that hid the scene.

  The Supreme Warrior’s windsight found no trace remaining of the ship. ‘It’s done. We’ve struck the first effective blow in the war against our human foe. Accept my sincere congratulations. ’

  The shaman only gave an anguished moan.

  Ugusawnn was astonished to see a ruddy internal radiance swell beneath the skin of Kalawnn’s throat. The Known Potency sigil that he kept within his craw had begun to pulsate regularly, like a silent heartbeat. The pale residual glow of Destroyer and Subtle Gateway mimicked the tempo of the Stone of Stones in uncanny synchrony.

  ‘Kalawnn!’ the Warrior whispered. ‘Something strange is happening to our Great Stones. Look at them!’