The woman’s head snapped up. Tireel could see the oval of her face, but not judge her expression. She moved her arm. The black bird leapt into the air, its wings beating strongly.
:Get away, Auraya urged.
Tireel circled away. Looking back, he glimpsed several more birds fly up from among the Pentadrians. Fear lent him strength and Auraya registered a little of the strain he felt as he beat his wings.
:Do you think she recognized what he is? Mairae asked.
:If she is the only Pentadrian with birds then she is probably the one who entered Si, Auraya answered. So she has seen Siyee before.
:We’d best assume our hopes of surprising them have been dashed. Juran’s thought was quiet, and only heard by the other White.
:I doubt we would have surprised them anyway, Dyara replied. This woman saw Auraya with the Siyee. She will have considered the possibility that the Siyee would join us.
:So these are the black birds that—
Impressions of shock and pain cut Mairae’s question short. A confusion of thoughts and sensations followed. Tireel, stunned, could only wonder what had happened. His head and shoulders felt battered. He felt as if he’d flown into a cliff, but he could see he was still in midair. He wasn’t falling. He was lying on something. When he looked down, he saw nothing but the ground below.
The Pentadrian army had stopped. Hundreds of upturned faces watched him. The sorceress stood with arms raised, stretched in his direction. Black birds circled between him and the ground.
Auraya felt her stomach turn over.
:The sorceress has him. Dyara’s thought was tense with dismay.
:This is not good, Juran murmured.
The support that had held Tireel fell away and he dropped. Spreading his wings, he stopped his fall, but not before he reached the birds.
They swooped in close, jabbing him with their beaks and slashing with claws. He drew his arms in close, instinctively protecting his wings, and dropped like a stone. An instant later he realized this might be a way to escape them. Drop below and arc away...
Auraya felt a rush of hope.
The birds followed. He saw their sleek shapes beside him. Wings drawn close into a dive. The ground rushed up toward him. He spread his arms again.
At once they darted in to claw and rake. He gritted his teeth against the pain and resisted the urge to protect himself. The ground was not far below now. He could not drop any farther.
:Get away, Auraya whispered, even though she knew he could not escape.
Glancing down, Tireel saw the enemy. Hundreds of faces watching. Then claws ripped through his wings. He screamed in agony and fell. The knowledge that he would never fly again was like an extra weight dragging him down. He closed his eyes and prayed that death would be instant.
The ground did not come like a last merciful blow. It curled around him and slowed his fall. As he felt the texture of it against his back he could not help feeling hopeful. He was alive. His wings might be torn, but he was still...
Then he opened his eyes and saw the ring of black-robed men and women surrounding him.
:This is not good, Juran repeated.
:No, Dyara agreed. They will learn much about us from him.
:What can we do? Mairae asked.
:Nothing.
:Perhaps the other Siyee will kill him.
:If they try, they will be captured too, Auraya told them. They can’t get close enough without being caught themselves. Her heart ached. This is my fault. I should have gone with them. I should have gone instead of them. I could have been there and back in less than—
:No, Auraya, Juran said firmly. If you had gone, we would have lost a White instead of Tireel.
:He’s right, Auraya, Mairae added.
:We did not know these birds would be there, or that they would see Tireel and be able to alert the sorceress to his presence, Dyara pointed out.
:I know it is hard to watch, but we must know what Tireel reveals, Rian said. Keep the connection, Auraya.
She focused on Tireel’s mind. His vision was blurry. He was losing a lot of blood. The sorceress was beside him. She took his hand and drew it closer to herself. The movement stretched his wing membrane and sent fresh rips of agony through him. He felt something sliding from his finger.
:The ring! Dyara exclaimed in dismay. She is taking the ring.
:It is a loss that cannot be helped, Juran murmured. But perhaps worth it if we glimpse her thoughts...
As the ring left Tireel’s finger, the sense of his mind disappeared. In its place came a feeling of regret tempered by a ruthless determination. The Siyee chose to ally with the heathens, the woman thought Best remember that. What is this, then? A trinket, or something more? Perhaps a magical device. What if I... ? No!
The sense of her thoughts disappeared as she threw the ring away. Auraya opened her eyes. For a moment she stared at the grassy hills around her, disoriented. Dyara stood beside her.
:Did we learn anything useful? Mairae asked hopefully.
:No, Juran replied wearily. At least not from her. Tireel has shown us much that we did not know. The size of their army. How close they are to the pass. We will have to hurry, if we are to meet them there. Then there is this new threat that these birds pose, especially to the Siyee. There is much to discuss tonight. I will send your Bearer back for you, Dyara. What about you, Auraya?
:I will fly.
:Then I will see you both soon.
As the other White broke their link with her, Auraya looked at the line of mountains to the east and sighed.
“I had not thought the first death would be a Siyee,” Dyara murmured.
“No.”
“Would you like me to tell Speaker Sirri?”
Auraya glanced at Dyara, then shook her head. “No, I will tell her.”
Dyara nodded. “Then go. I will be fine walking alone. In truth, I’ll enjoy - relatively speaking - a bit of solitude. I’m sure Juran won’t mind if you take your time, too.”
Their eyes met, and Auraya suddenly understood that Dyara’s toughness was not absolute. She was cold, but not uncaring. The death of Tireel had distressed her greatly.
Stepping away, Auraya drew a deep breath and sent herself into the sky.
37
Tryss woke to find his face pressed against the membrane of his portable bower. Muffled voices penetrated the thin walls. He rolled away and felt the pressure of a warm body behind him.
“Hmph, you woke up,” Drilli observed as he turned over. “I was expecting to have to shake you. You came back so late last night.”
He smiled, moved closer and rested a hand on her bare waist. “I’ll always wake up early when you’re next to me.”
She caught his hand as he began to slide it up toward her breast. He pouted, and she laughed. “It’s not that early,” she told him. “I’m surprised Sirri hasn’t come to see why we haven’t packed up yet.” She kissed him then pulled away. Sitting up, she grimaced and rubbed her belly.
“Still feeling sick?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted. “It’s just the food. Too much meat and bread. Not enough fruit and vegetables.” She looked around the bower. It was barely big enough for them to sit up in. But her attention was on the sounds beyond the walls.
“Something has stirred everyone up.”
He listened to the muffled voices. From one side came an exclamation of dismay. Somewhere close to the front of the tent two Siyee were having a rapid discussion. He couldn’t quite make out the words.
“Let’s get dressed and find out.”
She was already reaching for her clothes. They quickly shrugged into their vests and wriggled into trousers, then strapped on harnesses and weapons. Drilli finished first, but she waited until Tryss was ready before crawling out of the bower.
Siyee had gathered into groups. From their expressions Tryss guessed that something serious had happened. Some looked frightened, others angry.
“Tryss, Drilli,” a fam
iliar voice called.
He turned to see Sirri step out of a group and start toward him. Drilli hurried toward her, Tryss a step behind.
“What’s happened?” Drilli asked.
“The scouts found the Pentadrian army. Their leader, Tireel of the Green Lake tribe, has been captured.”
Tryss felt his heart sink. “How?”
“He flew too close to them. He didn’t see until it was too late that the sorceress with the black birds - the birds that attacked the men of the Sun Ridge tribe - was leading that part of the army. The birds saw him, and the sorceress brought him down.”
“Is he dead?” Drilli asked in a low voice.
Sirri grimaced. “We don’t know. He wasn’t killed by the fall, but was in a bad state when Auraya’s link with him was broken.”
“If there’s a chance he’s alive, we should find out.” Tryss felt a spark of hope. “We must rescue him.”
The Speaker sighed and shook her head. “If only we could, Tryss. He is in the middle of the Pentadrian army and imprisoned by sorcerers. We would only get ourselves captured as well.”
“Of course.” Tryss felt his face flush. The answer was obvious. “Auraya will rescue him.”
“No.” Sirri put a hand on Tryss’s shoulder. “She’d have to fight five powerful Pentadrian sorcerers and all their priests and priestesses. Alone, she would not survive either. We might be able to win this war with one less Siyee, but I doubt we’d have a chance with one less White.”
Tryss stared at her in disbelief. “So we just give up?” He felt a pang of frustration and anger. “It could have been me. I wanted to lead the scouts, but you said I’d be more useful here, working with Songmaker.”
“Tryss...” Drilli murmured.
“And you are,” Sirri told him firmly. “I’m as grieved as you are, Tryss, but all the same I’m glad you didn’t go. I need you here. Tireel may have saved many more of us. We know about the black birds now. We have time to invent ways to fight them.”
He looked at her sharply. Something about the way she had said “invent” suggested that she had used the word deliberately to distract him. Of course she did, he told himself. She’s trying to drag my attention away from Tireel’s fate to something more pressing - the safety of us all.
He managed a smile of sorts. “We had better start making plans, then.”
She squeezed his shoulder. “That’s why I’ve called a Gathering. The landwalkers can leave without us today. We’ll catch up later, after we’ve discussed this among ourselves. Tonight you and I will tell the war council our plans.”
Her gaze shifted away from him. She looked over his shoulder and narrowed her eyes.
“There’s Speaker Vreez. I must go now. When I join my tribe to discuss ideas, Tryss, I hope you’ll have plenty of them.”
“I will,” he promised.
She nodded, then managed a half-smile for Drilli. Walking past him, she strode away toward a trio of older men.
Tryss felt Drilli’s hand curl around his. “If I complain about you spending all night talking with Songmaker again, kick me,” she murmured.
As the last massive tree trunk was lowered into place across the road, Kar heard footsteps behind him.
“That is my favorite so far.”
Kar glanced back at the approaching man. Fin, Lem of the Tarrep warriors, was tall for a Dunwayan. He was handsome, though, and kept his beard short. The tattoos on his face accentuated slightly tilted eyes and an intelligent gaze.
“I see that the hidden dartfly nest is the true obstruction, but why did you set fires at either side?” Fin asked.
“Smoke subdues dartflies,” Kar explained. “The wood is mytten. It burns slowly and makes much smoke when green. The smoke will keep them within the hive until the logs are disturbed.”
“Lessening the chance a few stray dartflies will warn of the trap’s nature.” Fin nodded. “I see.”
He barked out orders to the fire-warriors and his clan members, then turned away. Kar followed as his leader started along the road to the pass. The rest of the men followed silently, the last driving an open tarn carrying tools and materials for their traps.
The way twisted and turned. Parts of it were steep. Kar considered every feature for potential. He still had a few trap ideas he wanted to try, but they needed the right sort of terrain. When they had been walking for an hour they turned a corner and Kar came to a halt.
“Ah.”
Fin smiled. “I thought you’d like this.”
The road continued steeply between two rock walls. The walls leaned inward, nearly touching. Wedged between them, several paces along the “passage,” was an enormous boulder.
Kar stroked his beard, then started walking again. He moved to the walls and examined them. There were plenty of seams and creases running the length of the passage. He looked up at the boulder as they passed beneath it, then continued his inspection of the walls. At the end of the passage the walls drew back from each other again, forming the sides of a narrow ravine filled with rocks and huge boulders. The road wound onward.
He turned around and walked back. Coming out of the passage he saw what he was hoping for.
Just above the turn, in the place he had been standing when he first saw the suspended boulder, was a wide ledge. Sighing happily, he beckoned to the fire-warriors and told them what he wanted them to do.
Less than an hour later they had finished. The firewarriors looked tired. Their task had demanded constant concentration. Their brows glistened with sweat despite the cold, and their gold brow-bands were dulled with dust. He hoped they would not be too tired for their next task.
Looking up at the walls, he could just make out the two thin ropes following the creases in the rock. Their path was guided by small iron rings set into the stone. He followed the ropes to the ledge, where they were attached to sand-filled sacks supporting a carefully arranged pile of rocks.
He then traced the strings back along the wall, his assistants following as he marched up the steep passage between the walls. He did not even glance at the boulder above. When he reached the end of the passage, he found Fin waiting for him.
The clan leader was frowning, but he said nothing as Kar ordered the sorcerer-warriors to roll the nearest off the huge boulders across the passage entrance. Fin remained tense and silent as small iron rings were set into the boulder’s surface and the strings attached. Only when Kar declared the trap set did Fin call Kar over to explain.
“You did not use the suspended boulder.”
“I did,” Kar assured him. “It is a distraction.”
“How so?”
“The enemy will be too busy worrying that the suspended boulder is a trap to notice the ropes.”
Fin nodded slowly. “And when the enemy’s sorcerers move this boulder out of the way, they will trigger the fall of the massed rocks on the ledge back at the turn. You strike not at the head of the army this time, but at its guts.”
“They will put their fire-warriors at the front of their army, to shield against traps or remove blockages.”
Fin chuckled. “What will you come up with next, I wonder.”
Kar smiled. “We still have not used the acid.” He looked at the fire-warriors. “That will require alert and rested minds for safe handling.”
“Yes. We all need a rest. Let us find a place to sit.” He gestured to the man driving the tarn. “Bring us food and water.”
As the men settled onto rocks to rest and eat, Kar gazed at the road ahead. The pass and Hania were still many hours walk away. He, Fin and their assistants had fallen far behind the rest of the Dunwayan army, but they would catch up eventually. In a day or two they would enter the pass and join the Circlian army.
He smiled. Then they would join in the greatest battle between mortals ever to take place in Northern Ithania.
The Plains of Gold were crisscrossed with roads. Those the Dreamweavers had been taking were smaller and less maintained than the main east-west road th
e army was following. Sometimes they ran parallel to the main road and sometimes they took a different direction, but in general the Dreamweavers were able to keep pace with the army fairly easily.
Today they had been forced to travel along an uneven grassy track that wandered far from the army’s path. Arleej was unconcerned, however. Local farmers had told them that the track would soon meet with a more frequented road, which ran directly south to meet the east-west road. At that point the Dreamweavers would begin following the army at a cautious distance.
Leiard glanced at his student. Jayim was watching the ground before the arem, a crease between his eyebrows. He had grown more confident and skilled at driving the tarn now, but still needed to concentrate at the task. It was too much to expect the boy to receive lessons at the same time.
Jayim now had a tendency to stray away from lessons into speculation about Auraya or the coming war. When Leiard grew tired of fending off the boy’s questions he simply gave his student the reins.
“I have a question,” Jayim said suddenly.
Well, it works most of the time, Leiard thought wryly.
“Yes?”
“You’ve been teaching me the same sorts of things you did back in Jarime - apart from the mind links. I’d have thought you’d concentrate on teaching me to heal with magic. After all, that’s what we’re here for.”
Leiard smiled. “Teaching magical healing always presents us with a dilemma. How can I teach you to heal when you have no injuries to practice on? We Dreamweavers do not harm others or ourselves in order to provide subjects to heal.”
The boy was silent. “So I won’t learn to heal until we get to the battlefield.”
“No.”
“I was expecting... I thought I’d be... well, ready by the time I got there.”
“Nobody is ever ready to face a battlefield for the first time.” Leiard looked at Jayim and chuckled. “You will learn a lot quickly when you do. Do not fear the learning. I will guide you.”
Jayim shook his head. “No point in worrying about something you can’t avoid; you’ll have enough worries when it happens.”
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