How much longer? He sent his thoughts out of the tight, protective circle he and Meghianna had formed for the sake of their work, to ask the Valors who supported and protected them.
You're nearly here, Kettin answered from the other end of the tunnel. We couldn't hear you until you were halfway done with the re-making. I hope Timark is terrified and doesn't know what we're doing. If you open your eyes, you can see our perch in the cliffs facing the tower.
Mrillis opened his eyes, nearly blinded by the sweat that had dried into a crust of salt and blood poisons, and muffled a curse. He had acted without thinking, a bad sign of just how exhausted he had become.
We're both tired, Meghianna offered.
Don't make me feel even more old and doddering than usual with your sympathy, he retorted.
That earned a snort from her. With an extra burst of effort, they shredded the last arms' length of tunnel and stumbled through into open air, free at last of the enervating influence of the warped Threads. A shout rang from the tower of Tantagar.
The Valors in front of them responded with a volley of arrows enhanced with Threads, so the thick metal shafts penetrated the stonework at the top of the wall. The Valors behind Meghianna and Mrillis leaped forward, sending another volley of arrows on either side of the precise line. All the arrows had thin cords hanging from them. Half the Valors protected their fellows with magic and with more arrows, while the other half leaped forward to grasp the trailing end of the cord from each arrow and pull, drawing thicker cords up and through the loop near the head of each arrow. Only magic could release those arrows from the stone, and now thirty ropes hung down, allowing thirty warriors to climb up the walls to penetrate Tantagar.
Efrin led the charge of his soldiers that streamed through the now-friendly tunnel, spilling out into the cleared space around the tower. Five war horns blared in dissonance before anyone in Tantagar had time to respond. That boded well for their first assault on the tower.
Meghianna and Mrillis linked arms, supporting each other, and she led the way to the crevice that formed a natural staircase, which allowed the spying team to climb to the top of the cliffs facing the tower. Kettin and his Valors met them at the bottom, saluted Mrillis, and leaped out to join their fellows at the leading edge of the battle.
"I don't suppose you'll let me go fight," Markas said, staying back. His face twisted with longing as he watched the Warhawk's forces stream from the rewoven tunnel, to surround Tantagar.
"You've played Castles enough, Highness," Mrillis said, giving the boy a bow of equals. As he intended, that visibly soothed some of the prince's discontent immediately. "What is the best tactic when you are surrounded by the enemy, when you thought it impossible for them to penetrate your defenses?"
"Oh, that's easy--Oh." He nodded, his face settling into mature, grim understanding. Mrillis agreed with the assessment of the others--this boy would make a strong, good king. If Meghianna's visions were true, and the third drop of blood, Efrin's heir, would come from a marriage with Queen Glyssani, then the safety of the next Warhawk could depend on the loyalty and wisdom of his elder half-brother. "Take out the king piece. Destroy any reason for the rest of the pieces to keep fighting." He sighed. "If he's desperate enough to kidnap Mother, then he's stupid and desperate enough to try to kill me. And I'd be an idiot to make myself a target, wouldn't I?"
"I'm sorry, Highness," Meghianna said. She slid an arm around the boy's shoulders and hugged him, just briefly. "I think you are wise enough, discrete enough, I can trust you with a confession."
"Lady?" Markas took a step back. The faint blush on his cheeks made Mrillis bite his cheek to keep from chuckling. If Meghianna wasn't careful, the boy would have an embarrassing crush on her.
"Haven't you wondered why Timark chose now to kidnap your mother, when he's been so subtle all these years in trying to convince her to marry him?"
"She made a vow. On star-metal. Even if she said she would marry him, she wouldn't be allowed to until I take my father's throne." The boy nodded, eyes half-closed as he thought. "Something happened after you arrived." His head snapped up and his eyes opened. "You had a vision, didn't you? That's why you fainted when you took Mother's hand. And Timark had some spies in the castle walls, and they overheard you tell someone. Princess Megassa, I suppose."
"Exactly." Meghianna gestured at the crevice leading upwards to their spying nest. "We should find a more secure place to speak, so we aren't overheard and so we can defend ourselves if some of Timark's men should come upon us. They have an unnerving talent for being where they aren't expected."
Mrillis had seen the positioning of the spying place in the cliffs, and had already determined it would make an advantageous spot to watch the siege of the tower and provide any assistance Efrin and his soldiers needed. He had learned long ago that his mere presence was enough to encourage the common soldiers and warriors, and give them the confidence that no matter how hard the battle became, no matter what foul defenses the enemy threw against them, they would ultimately succeed. The Valors were there to provide the magical support that was usually required, and they were trained to work with the army, whereas Mrillis had not participated in a real battle in many years. Still, he rode out on many strategic campaigns for simple reasons of morale. The safe spot in the cliffs would make good staging, should he need to make his presence known to the enemy.
The three climbed up the natural staircase with Markas leading the way, taking the part of guide and host, Mrillis supposed.
He was already predisposed to like the boy, simply because Meghianna and Megassa both thought highly of him. The young heir of Welcairn carried himself with dignity and common sense, but not with the heavy, stiffening dose of pride that many others in his position sometimes resorted to. Mrillis decided that was Glyssani's influence on her son. He smiled to think of the son the Queen of Welcairn and Efrin Warhawk would produce together.
Markas reported to them the activity inside the tower the spies had witnessed and speculated on since Meghianna, Megassa, Pirkin and Ynessa left to meet the approaching army. He confessed that none of them were sure if the fortifying activities were in response to Timark bringing Glyssani there as prisoner, or if the inhabitants of the tower knew the Warhawk's army approached.
"Do you think there's any chance I can train as a Valor?" the boy asked, when they emerged onto the wide, sheltered ledge half a bowshot deep, that faced the tower and kept them in shadows.
"You need some touch of imbrose," Meghianna said. "According to the reports sent by... well, we can't really trust your regent's reports, can we? But as far as we know, you haven't shown any signs of magical talent."
"I've never been tested. And he doesn't allow any star-metal into the castle at all. Hates it, like he thinks it will bring a plague inside the walls." The boy nodded for emphasis and sat down on a slab of rock someone had made into a bench with two folded blankets. "How can I know if I have any magic if there hasn't been any star-metal to... to, what do you call it? Give me the energy? Awaken it?"
"He already knows more than some Valors when they first arrive for training," Mrillis said with a chuckle.
He glanced at Meghianna, a question in his eyes, and she bowed her head, effectively giving her support to whatever he chose to do. They had worked together in concert like this only a few times before, and it gave him a warm feeling of satisfaction and completion that he hadn't known in many years, each time it happened. They would make a strong partnership, defending Lygroes and the Warhawk's throne, for many years to come.
He found some comfort in that knowledge. Too many others he loved had been ripped away from him, so he felt far too much alone.
It took a moment of thought, assessing what he knew of the boy, studying his hands and wrists to be sure of his choice. Mrillis estimated Markas still had a growth spurt or two ahead of him. Markas the Elder had been a tall, broad-shouldered man, graceful despite his heft and muscle, and the son showed the promise of being his father's
image. That decided Mrillis.
He took a ring out of his belt pouch, one of several star-metal trinkets he carried whenever he traveled to Moerta, for just such purposes. Holding out his hand, he waited until the boy gave his hand into his grasp, then slipped the ring on his thumb. It wasn't a good fit, but that simply meant there was still room for growth. A single blue spark leaped from the boy's thumb to Mrillis' hand as he released him.
"Ah." Meghianna smiled wearily and nodded.
"What does that mean?" Markas asked. His eyes widened and he stared at his hand, meaning he saw the faint blue glow spread, surrounding the ring and then creeping across his flesh to cover his entire hand, from fingertips to wrist. His grin was purely boyish delight. "I have imbrose?"
"You do indeed," Meghianna said. "And the first thing we should do is teach you a simple protective spell against poisons. That's a coward's most effective weapon."
"But when the Warhawk wins the battle, Timark will be deposed, and Mother and I will be safe from him. Won't we?"
"How do you think your regent grew secure enough to kidnap your mother?" Mrillis asked. "He has many supporters. Chopping off the drakag's head doesn't mean his claws will not remain poisonous and scratch you at the worst possible time, when you least expect it."
"Ah." Markas nodded, sorrow dimming his joy.
A shout rang across the gap between tower and cliffs, and they watched as the second wave of soldiers climbed the ropes to the parapet, protected from Timark's soldiers by a shielding rain of arrows and blinding blasts of light from the Valors. In perfect, practiced unison, they swung over the top and unsheathed their swords before their feet touched the stones. Timark's men screamed and attacked, too stunned to realize they were outnumbered, with almost too little room for fighting. The thirty soldiers quickly overwhelmed them and drove them through the two doors, down into the tower.
Less than an hour from the time the Warhawk's forces reached Tantagar, they held one of the three parapets of the tower.
"How soon?" Markas asked, sitting down again, eyes wide with admiration for the speed of the victory.
"Until what?" Meghianna asked.
"Until Mother is safe."
"This is just the first attack. We don't want to take the tower in a shower of blood," Mrillis said. "Now, we give Timark time to consider his options, and surrender."
"He won't. He never apologizes, even when everybody knows he was wrong," the boy said, shaking his head, his mouth twisted with disgust.
Mrillis sighed, sure the boy was right, and they were due for a siege. Sometimes, he mused, living by principles of honor and justice made action difficult.
Chapter Twelve
Meghianna watched the siege of the tower through Megassa's eyes, and found it boring and filthy, while her sister gloried in the paradox of intertwined tedium and tension. Five days the Warhawk's army camped around the tower, while Meghianna and Mrillis took teams of Valors out into the poisoned land, gathering up and purifying star-metal to widen the cleansed, safe territory around the tower. They left only the largest deposits in place, the fence posts as she and Mrillis both referred to them, to keep up the illusion that Timark's protective wall of power was still in place.
They had no idea what sort of enchanters and failed Valors Timark had as supporters, and didn't want to alert the enemy that their source of magic was about to be yanked out from between their fingers. At the very last, in the decisive moment, they would pull it all away. The tug-war, similar to what Mrillis and Ceera had participated in as children, would purify the star-metal at the same time it hopefully scorched and destroyed the enemy's hold on the Threads. Until that decisive moment came, they had to act quietly, discretely.
It bothered Meghianna more than she liked to admit, when every day's work yielded enough star-metal fragments to form a purified ball the size of a horse's head. For the last ten years, that was the total gleaning for a summer's worth of searching through Moerta. She and Mrillis both agreed that chances were good someone before Timark had been gathering up star-metal and hoarding it here in Tantagar. It explained why the harvests of star-metal over the years had decreased.
Mrillis confessed to her that he had taken it as a good sign, that they approached the cleansing of Moerta sooner than first anticipated. To know an enemy used their tactics against them was disheartening, and frightening.
Meghianna noted that the theory also made him angry and thoughtful. No one would be able to strike at them from that angle ever again. She was proud to be part of that bit of defensive action on behalf of Lygroes.
While Mrillis and Meghianna were busy, Efrin and Megassa sent their soldiers on overlapping sallies against the tower from all sides, bombarding the structure of the walls, distracting Timark's soldiers to allow more teams of Valors to shoot arrows into the walls, with more climbing ropes attached. Her sister explained that part of the victory was won in the enemies' heads, driving them mad with impatience and fear, wondering when the next attack would come.
The second parapet was taken on the third day. And the third parapet on the fourth day, just before sunrise, with the battle illuminated by pale green magic light Mrillis and Meghianna provided, which allowed only their soldiers to see clearly.
Timark's people held the narrow, winding staircases inside the walls leading up to the parapets. They were effectively jammed into the rooms inside the walls, because the Warhawk's forces could shoot down into the open courtyard in the center of the tower. On the first day of the siege, they used flaming arrows to set the wooden shelters with thatched roofs on fire. Judging by the smell of scorched grain and cloth and meat, those shelters held the tower's stores.
"Starvation is an effective weapon," Efrin told her, when Meghianna came to ask him about the smells and what they meant to the progress of the siege. "I always prefer to use hunger, rather than disease. It weakens them physically, but is easier to remedy as soon as they surrender."
"If they don't go mad with desperation, first," Megassa added.
"Desperation? Enough to do what?" Meghianna asked, when she caught the warning look that passed between her father and sister.
The three sat by themselves around a small fire in front of the tent Efrin and his commanders shared. The sisters and Ynessa had been given the shelter of the spying ledge, putting them far enough away from the camp to relieve Ynessa's sensibilities, frustrate Meghianna's curiosity, and infuriate Megassa, who worried she would miss the best parts of the siege--and wanted to spend as much time with her fellow Valors as possible. This time with their father, in the quiet hours as night settled in, before they went to their lofty quarters, was the only real rest the three enjoyed.
"To do what?" she pressed, when neither one answered. "I'll simply ask Lord Mrillis, if you don't tell me."
"Don't get sick on me, Meggi," Megassa said with a sigh. "Sometimes, if the situation is bad enough, people under siege eat each other."
For a heartbeat, Meghianna's stomach knotted and she felt her throat close up, as if she would spew. Then she forced down the physical reaction with all the discipline she had learned to control her magic.
"Well," she said, her thoughts racing to assess all the implications, "I know we don't need to worry about Queen Glyssani becoming food." Her father's tiny jerk and the widening of his eyes in shock settled the last of her roiling stomach with amusement. So, she hadn't imagined the instant attraction Efrin had felt. "But what about any women and children, or the injured in the tower?"
Since those numbers weren't known, her father and sister had no answers for her. Meghianna was just as frustrated as Markas, when the boy couldn't give her any idea of the people who normally occupied the tower, and what forces would have been called to Tantagar when Timark made his move.
* * * *
On the sixth morning, Efrin sat before the campfire when Meghianna and Ynessa came down from their safe perch to help with breakfast in the gray light before dawn. He gave his daughter a brief smile, but all his attent
ion focused on the black bulk of the tower, barely outlined with the first grudging gray haze of day. Even the sunlight in this tainted portion of Welcairn seemed poisoned and lifeless.
"I think we have done enough damage to their spirits, we need to attack their minds," he mused, startling them both by breaking his silence after nearly twenty minutes.
"Papa?"
"You know how to create illusions, don't you? Can you wrap an illusion around me, so they think Timark is standing out at the gates of the tower, and an imposter is inside with them, leading them toward disaster and treachery?"
Ynessa laughed, and a moment later covered her hand when the Warhawk gave her a sharp look, questions in his eyes.
"Forgive me, Majesty, but knowing Timark's most loyal followers, they expect treachery and lies all around them. It would be no shock to them to learn their master is a lie, too. And after all this time, all this damage your men have done... they would be very glad to throw the traitor over the walls and open the gates to their true master."
"In more ways than one," Meghianna added.
"Well, my dear?" he said, nodding toward the tower.
"I think so." She thought of Mrillis' chiding just a few short days ago. "I know so," she amended.
Blessed Estall, help me in this, so we can end this siege. Meghianna had tried not to think of all the cruelties Timark could have subjected Queen Glyssani to, in the time he had held her prisoner. From all the stories Ynessa and Markas had told her of the regent of Welcairn, he was the type of man who punished others for his failings and disappointments. No matter how much he might want to claim Glyssani as his queen, and through her the throne of Welcairn, his childish, self-righteous nature might break through. He might try to accomplish through brutality and force what he had not been able to attain in twelve years of lies and flattery and schemes.
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 19