Then all thoughts of fleeing were rendered moot as a sudden, sickening feeling washed over Larin. It was as if the ground disappeared beneath his feet and he was falling into a bottomless abyss. Light and hope disappeared and Larin threw out his arms, trying to find something, anything to grab onto. He thought he was screaming, but there was no sound.
Rome had heard reports of what the Tenders could do with their sulbits, but this was the first time he’d actually seen it himself and he was surprised.
The air shimmered as blue-white bolts of energy shot out from the Tenders. Every bolt struck home, ripping holes in chests and stomachs. Blood spurted everywhere. The men who were struck screamed and were thrown backwards, off the wall.
“Attack as you will!” the FirstMother screamed.
More bolts shot out, with the same deadly effect. Then more. The successive volleys were not as powerful, but it didn’t really matter. They were still plenty powerful enough to kill.
In less than two minutes it was over. There were no more enemy soldiers on the wall. Even the ones on the tower had fled.
“Stand down!” the FirstMother yelled.
Slowly the gathered energy dissipated. The Tenders stood looking at each other in astonishment. Then the ranks of soldiers formed up behind them broke into cheers. Even Tairus joined in.
“Secure the wall!” Rome yelled, and the cheering died off as the men ran forward to take possession of the wall.
“What happened to them?” Tairus asked, just noticing the Tenders’ guards. Some had managed to remain on their knees, but the rest were on the ground. One big fellow was curled up in the fetal position. A couple of them looked to be unconscious.
Rome looked at Quyloc, who said, “The Tenders used them.”
“What do you mean, used…” Tairus broke off as the meaning came to him. “You mean…?”
“The power in those Song bolts had to come from somewhere.”
“I thought that’s why they had the shatren,” Tairus said, his face darkening.
Quyloc shrugged. “I guess it’s not enough.”
“Did you know they were going to do that?” Tairus asked Rome.
“I never really thought about it.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What do you want me to do about it? Force them not to do it? They just drove off the enemy and we didn’t lose a single man.”
“Unless some of those guards are dead.”
“Even if some are, it’s a lot fewer men than we would have lost.” Rome sighed. “I don’t like it any better than you do, but what choice do we have?”
“There has to be something. It’s just not right, doing that to a man.”
“Well, if you think of it, let me know,” Rome said wearily, turning away.
Just then the FirstMother walked up. Her eyes were alight with victory. Her sulbit was standing on her shoulder, its beady eyes darting this way and that.
“I told you we could do it,” she said triumphantly. “I told you.”
“Well done, FirstMother,” Rome said. “We’ll take it from here.” He gestured at the guards. “Are they going to be okay?”
The FirstMother turned and looked at them as if noticing them for the first time. She stared at them for a long moment, then said, “They just need some time to recover.”
“Did you have to do that?” Tairus asked her.
“Do what?”
“Use them like that? Couldn’t you have used shatren or something?”
Her tone grew very icy. “I understood that this was war, General. I understood that sacrifices had to be made. Was I incorrect?”
“Let it go, Tairus,” Rome said.
“Couldn’t you have used the flows from the enemy?” Quyloc asked.
“Don’t you think I would have if I could?” she retorted. “We’re not strong enough yet to reach that far. In time we will be, but we weren’t given time.”
She stalked away. Rome turned to Tairus. “Get some men up on that tower. I want to know how far away the rest of Kasai’s army is. Put some men on building up the wall as much as possible.” The wall was crumbly and in several places had mostly fallen down, but there were plenty of stone blocks lying around. “Send some men down the other side to chop down as many trees as they can. I want a clear field of fire for the archers.”
To Quyloc he said, “Come with me. See that huge stone on the right? I’m thinking that would be a good vantage point from which to oversee the battle. Some archers would be good up there too.”
When they were up on the block of stone they saw that the west side of the pass was much steeper than the way the Qarathian army had approached, and far more heavily wooded. Down in the valley beyond a cloud of dust was rising as thousands of soldiers marched toward them.
“Looks like we got here just in time. They’ll be here before the end of the day.”
Quyloc turned to look back at their own army, a long line of exhausted men strung out for several miles back the way they’d come. Then he turned back to Kasai’s army. “There are a lot more of them than we expected.”
Rome nodded. He’d noticed the same thing. “Do you think we can hold them?”
Quyloc shrugged. “This is a strong position. They won’t be able to bring their full weight to bear on us.”
“If only we knew what else Kasai is bringing to the party,” Rome added, peering into the distance. “What is Kasai capable of? Will any of the other Guardians be here?”
Fifty-one
It was late afternoon when Kasai’s army finally reached the pass. The soldiers who had been chopping down trees ran to the wall, which had been patched as much as possible, and their comrades helped them climb up and over. Most of the rest of the Qarathian army had arrived by then and the top of the wall was packed with soldiers. Thousands more waited in reserve behind the wall. Without room to maneuver in the tight confines of this battlefield, the ranks of cavalry waited further back. The Tenders were positioned on the end of the wall near the crumbled tower, standing back for the moment to give the archers room to fire.
“Do you think they’ll attack this late in the day?” Tairus asked. He, Rome and Quyloc were on top of the huge block of stone that lay across the north end of the pass, looking down on the battlefield.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Rome replied.
The answer came a few minutes later. There was no order given that anyone could hear; suddenly Kasai’s soldiers just started running up the slope, jumping over recently felled trees and climbing over loose stones. They were eerily silent as they came, with none of the shouting or cursing that soldiers usually used to help prepare them to face death. Most of them were men, but quite a few were women and they were all ages, from twelve or so up to gray-haired. They had no uniforms and carried a motley assortment of weapons; some had no more than pitchforks or clubs. Only a few wore armor. There were no flags, no banners. The only thing they had in common were the black marks on their foreheads. They all seemed unnaturally pale and the black marks stood out starkly.
They had no order but attacked like a mob. Arrows flew out to meet them and they fell by the score, but the survivors did not slow; they simply jumped over the fallen and came on with silent ferocity.
“Whatever is behind them is more frightening than we are,” Tairus remarked.
Though the arrows killed a great many, the attackers’ numbers were not significantly reduced and it was a solid wave that crashed up against the wall. The archers on the wall stepped back and were replaced by soldiers bearing axes and swords. Heedless of their own lives, the attackers flung themselves at the wall. They had no need of ladders or grappling hooks. The stones that made up the walls were pitted by time and easy enough to climb, and in the places where the wall had crumbled, they didn’t even need to do that, but could jump, grab the edge and pull themselves up. They died in greater numbers now, but still they did not hesitate.
Quyloc was watching the Tenders closely, the spear naked i
n his hand. He wanted to see what it was they did.
When the archers stepped back, the Tenders moved forward, their sulbits perched on their shoulders. None of their guards were with them; most were asleep in the Tender camp, the others too weak to do much of anything. But now the Tenders didn’t need them anyway. There were plenty of enemy soldiers within easy reach.
The FirstMother called out an order, her words lost in the din of battle. Each of the Tenders reached out with one hand, grabbing hold of an attacker’s flow.
Even from this distance, Quyloc could feel the buildup of energy as the Tenders bled Song. It was easy to see who they took the Song from; they faltered and stumbled as Song sustaining them was suddenly snatched away.
“Here it comes,” Quyloc said.
The FirstMother shouted and a volley of Song bolts lanced out from the Tenders, tearing through the front wave of attackers as if they were made of straw. Those who were struck were lifted off their feet and thrown backwards into the ones running up behind them, slowing the attack on that whole side of the line.
More Song built up and a few seconds later another volley shot out, this one not as coordinated as the first, but no less deadly as two dozen more attackers were thrown backwards. Those that were not struck had difficulty continuing their advance, as they were either knocked back by the bodies, or tripped over the soldiers who were being bled by the Tenders, all of whom were now down on the ground, some of them unmoving, their akirmas now faded to a barely discernible glow.
There was a slightly longer pause before the next volley, as the Tenders reached for new flows to grab onto.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I wish we had a lot more Tenders,” Quyloc said. “I wish we had a thousand of them.”
“If Kasai’s men had any sense at all,” Rome said, “they’d bring up some archers and take the women down. But I don’t see anyone in charge. They’re a mob, not an army.”
“That’s good for us,” Tairus said. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”
No archers appeared, but a few minutes later others did.
Down the hill, out of bow range, five people appeared amidst the mob, all clad in gray robes with the hoods pulled over their heads. They spread out across the battlefield until they were equally spaced across the entire width, facing the wall. Wooden platforms were brought forward and each gray-robed figure stepped onto one. Surrounding soldiers lifted them into the air and supported them on their shoulders. The robed figures raised their hands in the air.
“I take back what I said. I have a bad feeling this is all about to get a lot worse,” Tairus said.
“I believe those are the blinded ones,” Quyloc said.
Their hands burst into gray flames.
“Get word to the Tenders to target them,” Rome said to Nicandro, who was waiting nearby. A chain of messengers had been set up ahead of time, one at the top of the ladder that had been set up to allow access to the top of the block of stone, and others stretched across the line behind the wall.
“No need,” Quyloc said. “She sees them.”
The FirstMother had ceased her attacks and was staring down the hillside. She turned her head, clearly giving orders to the other Tenders, and others raised their heads to look at the gray-robed figures as well. By then the gray flames had spread, down the robed figures’ arms, over their torsos, and down their legs, completely covering them. They were only hazily visible behind the flames.
Song bolts shot out at the robed figures—
And sizzled harmlessly in the flames.
“Why did I have to say anything?” Tairus groaned. “Aren’t these guys known for burning people?”
The gray flames continued to spread, reaching out to the sides of the robed figures. The enemy soldiers touched by the flames were not affected. Soon the flames had spanned the distance between the robed figures and connected in a solid wall of flame. The flames grew stronger, higher, the wall extending upwards, reaching a height of ten, then twenty feet. Now there was a solid wall of gray flames stretching clear across the battlefield.
The robed figures thrust their hands forward…
And the wall of flame began to move up the slope toward the wall.
Rome turned to Quyloc. “I need ideas. How do we counter this?”
Quyloc didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “Unless the Tenders come up with something, there isn’t anything we can do except run.”
“That’s it? The best you have is run away?”
“Or we could stand and die. When those flames hit our soldiers, they’re going to burn. There’s no way to fight that.”
“There has to be something else we can do.” Rome walked over to the edge of the stone and looked down. “If we could take out the ones causing it…”
Quyloc knew Rome well enough to know what he was thinking of. “Don’t do it,” he said, grabbing Rome’s arm. “It must be a twenty foot drop at least. If you don’t break a leg jumping down there, you’ll never fight your way through all those soldiers in time.”
“Shall I give the order to retreat?” Tairus asked. At the speed the flames were moving, they’d be on the wall in less than a minute.
“Wait,” Quyloc said. “The FirstMother may come up with something.”
Rome looked at the wall of flames, then at the defenders, gauging the distance between them. “We’ll hold as long as we can.”
“Send word to have every available archer focus their fire on the enemy in front of the Tenders,” Quyloc said. “They can’t do much if they have to concentrate on defending themselves.”
“Cease fire!” Nalene yelled. She’d noticed that all the archers were firing at the enemy before them. Rome was giving them breathing room to try and find some way to defeat the robed figures. But what could they do? It was clear that none of their Song bolts were strong enough to pierce the flames. She’d even taken hold of two flows at once to see if she could bleed off enough power to get through. Her hands felt burned from the effort.
Her mind raced as she considered possibilities and discarded them. The wall of flames wasn’t very thick. Beyond it the air was clear. If only they could get past it and then attack the robed ones, the bolts would probably work; the robed ones were no longer sheathed in flames.
The flames were getting closer. Already she could feel the heat on her skin, like getting too close to a bonfire. Emboldened by it, Kasai’s soldiers were attacking even more fiercely, while the defenders were glancing at each other nervously. Many were looking to the their macht, waiting for the order to retreat. Nalene could sense their fear and desperation. If the order didn’t come soon, they were going to break and run.
What if she used Song to protect them? The Tenders of old had been capable of doing such a thing, their wills so strong they could contain free Selfsong in a bubble around them.
Which didn’t mean she could do it. Was she strong enough? Was her control good enough? She’d spoken to Lowellin about it, but he’d said she wasn’t ready to try it. If she faltered in the slightest, all that energy would get loose at once and she—and everyone near her—would probably be killed.
But what other choice did she have?
The Tenders were all looking to her, waiting for her to tell them what to do. They were frightened, close to fleeing themselves. Time was running out.
Mulin and Perast both stood to her immediate right. She turned to them and quickly told them what she planned. They looked shocked, uncertain, but both nodded.
“Bleed off as much Song as you can and direct it to Mulin and Perast!” she shouted at the others. “Grab two flows at once if you can. Don’t hold back.”
Moments later Song began to rush into the two Tenders. “Don’t try to hold onto it,” she told them. “Release it into the air in front of you, in as fine a stream as you can manage.”
When they released the Song, she was ready. With the help of her sulbit, Nalene corralled the streams of energy, picturing her will as a bubble extending compl
etely around her Tenders. It was dizzying, trying to hold onto so much power at once, and she had to fight for balance as she was stretched beyond anything she thought she was capable of. She had to completely tune out everything happening around her and focus everything she had on keeping the free Song contained.
When the wall of flames was a dozen feet away, one end—the end opposite the Tenders—skipped forward suddenly, enveloping dozens of Qarathian soldiers. Instantly, they burst into flames. Screaming, arms flailing, they staggered back, spreading the flames to their comrades and spreading panic to every soldier on the wall.
The Qarathian army abandoned its position and began to flee. Kasai’s soldiers surged after it with a shout of triumph, hacking and stabbing at the fleeing men.
Fifty-two
The flames roared and crackled and the heat grew ever more intense as the wall of fire drew closer. It felt to Nalene like her skin was starting to blister. The pain intensified to the point where she began to lose her focus and when that happened, her control slipped. A rip appeared in the bubble she’d erected and Song began to spray out wildly. The rip widened quickly. Imminent disaster loomed.
Then all at once a steadying hand reached in, helping her. It was Bronwyn, standing to Nalene’s left. The tall young woman’s teeth were bared as she poured everything she had into closing the rip.
The heat diminished, but Nalene knew the barrier was not yet strong enough. If would evaporate when the flames touched it, like a drop of water on a hot skilled. “More,” Nalene gasped to Mulin and Perast. “Give me more.”
More Song poured into the air around them as Nalene and Bronwyn clamped down on the barrier with their wills. Nalene braced herself for the impact.
A heartbeat later the wall of flames struck the barrier. The force of it was such that Nalene nearly lost her hold and again it was Bronwyn’s steadying strength that saved her. It wasn’t much, just enough to tip the scales in her favor.
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