Into the forefront of this disorganized mass smashed Eltorn and his galloping host, lances in perfect array. Men screamed and died as lance and sword bit through armour. More Colladans came bucketing up the long incline.
The key to the battle rested not in the splendid fury of aristocrats in mounted combat but in the southeast comer of the ramparts. On paper, they manifestly defied successful assault; the protected defenders could easily inflict worse than prohibitive losses on any attacker. Yet it was this very comer that the leaderless rabble assaulted, bellowing out their rage and defiance. Scores fell for each man who scaled the walls to strike a blow — and die. To the Colladans in their berserker fury this was acceptable, and their pressure steadily increased. Hoes and scythes tore open Thesian faces and a burly, dark smith jellied no less than nine enemy heads ere he was transfixed by two arrows simultaneously. A hurled woods-axe felled one of those archers ere his string had ceased to tremble.
The defenders at that southeast comer were soon faced with a grim choice: give ground ignominiously before outraged peasants, or give their lives to save their comrades. On their position the mob had focused its rage, and there was no stemming it save at enormous cost of life. Aye, and Thesian knights were under attack by both gods and men.
There are few things at which amateurs are superior to professionals. Yet dying is one of them. The Thesian mercenaries were not willing to die. Knowing that retreat was disaster, they nevertheless gave back.
A great tide of roaring, ludicrously armed, temporarily inhuman humanity poured through the breach in what had been their defences.
“Collada for Coilada-a-a-ans!” the cry bellowed forth, and even the thunder was whelmed.
The rest of the Battle for Lieden forms a chronicle not of combat but of massacre, of men who begged for the mercy they had vowed not to give — and were denied.
Eltorn and his knights rode and swung and struck until arms were leaden and their armour ran red with the blood of others. Blacksmiths shattered helmets and skulls with flailing hammers while the scythes of farmers reaped a human harvest. As individuals, the Thesians fought with skill, though few but sought to let his fellows do the dying. For lack of the will to die, they died all, and badly.
First to realise that the Colladans had won an impossible victory was Lokieto. With all but one of his ships afire and Lieden awash with the blood of his men, he deserted them without hesitation. Accompanied by a few favourites, he boarded the last ship and ordered it to set sail. At the water’s edge, Narthur himself raged and shook a scarlet sword.
The Thesian craft was a half-mile out when a messenger of vengeance overtook them.
Commanding the racing galley Swallow was Admiral Kandor. The young genius was determined that the author of this suffering must not escape. Yet Kandor knew his racer was useless in conventional naval warfare. With the enemy a few hundred yards away, he ordered his men to hurl away arms and armour — and commanded full speed at the other vessel. Swallow had attained great velocity when it smashed into the side of the Thesian ship. Though the galley was broken into kindling, most of its crew swam away. For a moment the Thesian vessel seemed undamaged… and then it slowly listed and sank.
Of its armoured crew and passengers, few swam to shore. Those who did, including Lokieto, were promptly slain.
13 A Wizard and a Prince
The head of Derramal is in the possession of Sulun Tha of Lieden, the most dangerous of all wizards. He makes this the most perilous part of the mission. Though his knowledge of the black arts is not deep, he is perfect at one deadly art: the false appearance of wisdom and goodness. When you meet him, slay Sulun Tha instantly. Do not give heed to his voice; do not look into his face. Delay, and his mask of kindness will paralyze your will. He will send you to your death as he has sent hundreds before you, with bad advice you will feel compelled to trust.
— the map of Lamarred
*
Prince Eltorn had fought all the day and was exhausted. Nevertheless, he could not rest. Eltorn Bihal knew and felt his responsibilities. In victory, they were even heavier than before and during the battle. Were proper orders not given and arrangements not made, wounded men would die unnecessarily. Too, the dead must be buried quickly though with honour, and their families informed. Food must be brought swiftly for a city of starving people.
With these and a host of other cares Eltorn of Collada struggled.
His difficulties were worsened by his own omissions; having expected defeat and death, Eltorn had made no preparations for victory. The incessant call of details kept him occupied, and his message-bearing aide from him, for hours. At last the messenger burst past the guards, who followed with enraged faces and bared steel.
“Your Highness! You need come; the Lady Tiana fell from the sky, and the physicians fear she is dying.”
Waving back the guards, Eltorn hastened away with his aide. Duty had forced him to gross ingratitude; that magnificent young woman had saved his city.
“I waited by the lake as you ordered, Highness,” Rushil explained as they ran. “Very suddenly, she came plummeting from the sky and hit the water at terrible speed. When I pulled her out before she could drown, it was clear she had taken an awful beating. Riding in a storm — ! I had her placed in your pavilion with Forfis to attend her and —”
Rushil broke off; they were sweeping into the royal pavilion and Eltorn was seizing upon his plump personal physician with ungentle hands. He learned swiftly:
“She has frostbite on both hands and feet and more bruises all over her body than a thief after a public stoning. Every muscle appears strained, though she is in excellent condition, my Prince. Ah — was. No bones are broken. By itself none of the dear lush girl’s injuries would be serious. Whether or not a human being can survive such a ghastly catalogue of injuries, though, I cannot say.”
“Forfis, lay one hand unprofessionally on that ‘lush girl in excellent condition,’ and you will have to raise lentils to support yourself in sudden retirement!” And the prince armed Forfis aside to hurry to Tiana’s bedside. There he knelt, the royal knee bent to the saviour of Lieden.
One eye was not swollen shut; it opened and focused on Eltorn. Tiana winced at her own smile, but threw her arms around Eltorn just the same. She kissed him most soundly indeed.
“You are a handsome fellow, for a prince! Oh, it was glorious fun, Prince. Next thunderstorm, you must come riding the thunder with me.”
“Ah… but — your wounds…”
“Nonsense. Everything fun is dangerous.”
Eltorn made no reply; how could a prince admit that this flaming red-haired young woman was more daring than he — and she from Ilan, at that. After a long awkward moment, he explained that the racing galley had been lost in the destruction of Lokieto of Thesia.
And then the “Lady Tiana” was moved to the royal palace in Lieden.
There she spent her convalescence, in a gold-headed bed sheeted with white silk. The service was perfect, the food delicious, and the handsome prince not only made daily visits but was plainly reluctant to depart. It was all most pleasant — and Tiana’s temperament soon had her up and about her business.
Eltorn’s face fell when she told him what she wanted. “Tiana… any other man I could summon and he’d obey instantly, whether from loyalty or compulsion. But Sulun Tha… the man is a white wizard, and holds that it is the better part of loyalty to disobey aught of unwise counsel.”
Tiana sat up, looked down, tugged at herself. “Shameless bed-garments you inflict on women in this palace.”
“I like it,”
She ignored him, and waited until he lifted his gaze again to hers. “Then why not use force on the man?”
“My ancestors tried that, with unpleasant results. As a white wizard, Sulun Tha is unable to use his Powers to his own advantage. But his Powers are considerable, Tiana. None can force him to assist in anything evil or foolish.”
“Evil or foolish!”
His Royal
Highness sighed. “You do want the head for… good purpose.”
Tiana stared, and anger flashed in her green eyes. “No, of course not. I want to un-save your country, Prince.”
A struggle took place in Eltorn’s face. Though naturally a prince could not apologize, he at last nodded with an air and mien of contrition — and great resolution. “I shall summon Sulun Tha and politely ask for the… head. He’s certain to help in any cause for good.”
Tiana sighed, which made her glance down and then sigh again in resignation. Down, impertinent appurtenances! “What’s so difficult or fearsome about that?”
“Tiana, Sulun Tha is a truly good man. He expects the same of all others. His presence is… most uncomfortable. Many seek his advice, but… by messenger.”
Tiana hardly noted Eltorn’s leave-taking. She’d had two warnings concerning Sulun Tha: he was deadly evil; he was too good for human society.
“It will be interesting to meet the man,” she murmured.
*
It was. Sulun Tha was a thin, not tall but intensely erect man with a full grey moustache and a marvellously full head of hair, grey-shot white. His dusk-grey robe was girt, she thought, because this all-evil or all-good man was not above a bit of human vanity over his trimness. She noted also that his gaunt face appeared to have been chiselled from a block of flint. The large blue eyes that stared into hers were deep-set and full of intelligence. They were also cold and hard, like glaciers of blue ice. Having considered the sources of her conflicting advice, Tiana slew him not.
In an instant, he said, “I see that though you commanded storm and lightning to the saving of Lieden, you are no witch at all.”
Then Eltorn was speaking, but Tiana could give his words no attention. Her eyes and mind were as if chained to Sulun Tha. Even his physical appearance lost importance. Though she could see and touch the prince nearby, it was clear that she faced the mage all alone, with none to aid or protect her.
Her bright swift rapier and razor-sharp dagger became meaningless bits of metal; she was completely disarmed.
Her new Colladan clothing no longer covered her; she felt naked and helpless as an infant.
Her mind had become an unfurled scroll; every thought was writ large for the world to see, and Sulun Tha read therefrom.
Dead memories rose from their graves like haunting spectres. Though she fought with all her will, they would not be exorcised. She remembered a careless mistake that had cost the life of a friend, years agone; good people she had failed to rescue; times she had been unjust and cruel to friends or others deserving better of her. Memories of guilt… she had slain often, and now intense guilt arose; what right had she to be judge and executioner? Her entire life stood in grim review, and it was dark, a series of acts of monstrous egoism. Morals? Naught that she had done had been acceptable.
Now Sulun Tha was an infinite height above her. His gaunt face was the entire world. His eyes were blazing suns that left dark no cranny of her soul. She stood naked and helpless before a sternly moral judge whose demand for righteousness considered no compromise. Weighed in the balance, Tiana was found wanting. Desperately she sought a suitable penance. She’d take the vows of a nun and live out her life in a convent of Theba, perhaps… yet even that seemed hardly adequate for her sins, for the wrongs she repented.
Down from the sky thundered the voice of Sulun Tha. “Why do you want the head of the lord of evil, Derramal?”
The crushing weight of her guilt eased a little, for in this she knew she was in the right. “There is no comfort for my brother’s grave.”
“That is true, for your brother is not at peace in the grave, nor truly dead. Know you the danger of what you seek to do, danger not merely to your inconsequential self but to all who live?”
“How can it matter! Lamarred is a wound festering upon the world! Such wounds must be lanced and cleaned at any risk. Delay but invites disaster.”
“You speak up strongly, as none do to me, and with truth withal.” Sulun Tha nodded thoughtfully. “You have wrought more that is good than you believe and you repent the bad. You shall have your chance to combat Lamarred. Seldom has a gift been more likely to slay the recipient — but I shall give you the head of Derramal. After your death, I and others will have to fight this war, Tiana of Reme.”
And, suddenly, a drained and sweating Tiana was alone with Prince Eltorn. On a table before them rested a box of softly gleaming ivory. It was of size and shape to house a human head, and Tiana knew she need not look within.
Pretending a calm she hardly felt, Tiana asked, “Eltorn… what did you just experience?”
“Memories best forgotten,” he croaked in a strained voice. “I warned you, Tiana. Come, I have a medicine to wash away the dead past and its unpleasant shades.”
His handsome Highness opened a cabinet and snatched forth a decanter. Picking up two wide goblets of excellent workmanship, he poured but enough bright amber liquid into each to cover its bottom. He handed her one, swirling its contents.
“I think you will enjoy this, Tiana. It is made from apricot wine by a secret process called distilling.” He swirled his goblet, inhaled deeply with his nose nigh within the bell, and took a tiny sip.
Tiana had observed the seeming ritual with some puzzlement. Though sniffing was a good means for the detection of poison, certainly sipping was not. Ordinarily she’d have checked for poison herself, but the prince was right; the dead past needed drowning, and she had no patience. Besides, there was the matter of quivery calves. She set down the glass with its mere touch of amber fluid, took up the decanter, and took a deep pull.
Liquid fire seared her throat. Choking and sputtering, she nearly dropped the handsomely decorated decanter. The prince curbed his smile.
“One must sip this, Tiana.”
“Oh.”
Some sipping later, both of them were considerably more relaxed, and with a lovely warmth upon them. Eltorn asked what he might provide in addition to the severed head of a dead mage of evil.
Smiling, Tiana returned his hands to himself. “A coffin.”
“A coffin!”
“Aye. It must be of ordinary appearance, mind, and showing no excellence of workmanship. Inside, though, the lid must be faced with a full length mirror of the highest quality. It must be completely obscured by black cotton, which shall also line the coffin. And it must be possible to whip away the cotton from the mirror swiftly — all at once.”
“Most unusual… and I think I’ll not ask. You are pleased with the mirror in this room?”
Tiana smiled. “I am. It tells no lies.”
“Then it is my gift to you, for your strange coffin.”
“I shall miss it. Now… I’ll need clothing for a thin man, six feet in height. The clothing must be shabby in appearance — but the lining must be of silver. With silver fastenings, Eltorn, painted over with a dull black.”
The prince nodded. “Again, simple. At once. And the silver buckles I shall give you for your boots, Tiana, will not be painted black! Tiana…”
When he trailed off, she put her head to one side and looked her question. “Tonight is the first formal palace dinner since the siege. Will you attend with me, wearing not what you might choose but what I shall have the royal dressmaker provide?”
Tiana readily agreed, with a smile that had His Highness reeling when he left her. My appearance seems most important to him, she mused, and she smiled anew.
The dressmaker was more than expert, and she commanded a small army of seamstresses. In a few hours, Tiana was arrayed in a lovely gown of scintillant green silk. She loved it, not merely because its beauty enhanced hers, but because it was intelligently made. It covered her in a way that seemed modest, but its effect was not. She particularly admired the exhibition the gown afforded her full-formed breasts, though it was annoying to have to be so mindful of sudden movements.
The dress was of Eltorn’s choosing; Tiana provided her own jewels, and not from those the dressmaker p
roffered. Bedizened in the richest of the gems she had stolen from the Tomb of Kings, the royally bedecked pirate admired herself in the mirror that would soon line a coffin’s lid. She was an absolutely breath-taking vision, and she very well knew it.
“This mirror, after all, does not lie.”
Dinner was less magnificent, for her. The prince was constantly harried by minor matters; that is to say, his attention was diverted from Tiana. On the new coins, did he want his face three-quarters or full profile? — What thought His Highness of thigh-high boots for the palace guards? (like Tiana’s.) Had he considered how long to wait before sending a delegation to Thesia’s king, whose brother they’d slain? — at next week’s state dinner, who had precedence, the ambassador from Bashan or Ilan? (“Ilan, of course,” Tiana said, and the prince smiled and nodded.) Given that the kingdom was nearly bankrupt but that Thesia’s monarch might well feel that he must avenge his brother’s death, how was a new navy to be outfitted?
With Eltorn thus occupied, a number of silly women chattered at Tiana. She paid them little heed; girls they were, she mused, of all ages. The food — which she was careful to tongue-touch before eating — was good if overly fancy. So were the eating utensils, of which there was a variety only slightly less complex than Turgumbruda’s surgical tools. Yet there was no sharp knife, and so Tiana used her dagger — aye, and cut the Countess of Clearspring’s meat for her too bidding her eat more of it and less of the excellent pastry and she’d not have to spend so much time bemoaning her lost figure.
After dinner, Tiana was escorted by the prince into a council chamber, along with his closest advisers. It puzzled her that so brave a man as Eltorn Bihal of Collada was suddenly so obviously nervous. The mystery was soon solved; His Highness rose to speak.
“My Lady Tiana, my learned and wise advisers. We are met tonight to discuss a matter which will deeply affect the kingdom. As you know, during the late siege my royal father set an example of courageous austerity by eating rations smaller than the humblest citizen received. His Majesty is now greatly wasted and still unable to discharge the burdens of the crown. I proposed a temporary regency, but the king desires the peace of retirement. Further, he feels that after all the people have suffered, they deserve a joyous holiday, a coronation. In two weeks, I shall officially assume the coral crown and reed sceptre of Collada.”
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