The Dark-Eyes War bots-3

by DAVID B. COE

  Tirnya raised her blade and plunged it into the creature's chest. The wolf spasmed, rolled onto its back, its paws clawing at the air. She pulled the sword out and stabbed the wolf a second time, and then a third. She drew back the weapon for a fourth thrust, but the animal was dead.

  She looked up at her father, who regarded her, grim-faced.

  "Kill the rest of them," Jenoe called to his soldiers, without taking his eyes off of Tirnya.

  She walked over to the nearest of the children. It was a small girl; she couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, and her long white hair was in tangles, but Tirnya could see that she was beautiful. She had a small rounded nose and eyelashes that were fine and long and pale, as if made of spun silver.

  Yes, she was a white-hair, but in that moment Tirnya would have given up everything she owned to spare this child the horrors and anguish to which she would awake.

  She heard a footfall behind her, but didn't bother to turn.

  "We should do something for them," she said.

  "There isn't much we can do," her father told her, as she had expected he would. "You know we can't take them with us, not even as prisoners."

  "Yes, I know." She looked back at him. "What about food? Could we leave them some of…?"

  She trailed off. He was shaking his head.

  "We can't start giving away our provisions, Tirnya. If this war goes as I expect it will, these aren't the last children we'll be leaving behind as orphans. It's not our responsibility to feed them all. This is war. Even the Fal'Borna would tell you that."

  Tirnya nodded, knowing that he was right. There were older children lying nearby. No doubt the Fal'Borna had food stored somewhere in the sept, and if the children needed to leave this place, they could take some of the horses. This little girl and the others around her would survive.

  Jenoe looked like he might say more to her, but Enly, Gries, Marshal Crish, and several of the other captains were coming toward them. So, too, were Fayonne and her son.

  "The rest of the wolves are dead, Marshal," Gries said, casting a dark look sidelong at the eldest. "The men who were wounded will be all right. None of the adult Fal'Borna survived. Fourteen children were killed."

  Jenoe's mouth twitched. "Damn."

  "I'm sorry, Marshal," the eldest said. "We didn't know that this would happen."

  "Of course you didn't, Eldest. How could you?"

  She glanced at her son, but quickly faced the marshal again. "This was an ancient magic, and we thought it would help us win the battle. The next time we-"

  "There won't be a next time," Tirnya said.

  Her father frowned. "Tirnya."

  "No more of those… creatures. I want you to promise me."

  He looked at her with obvious concern, his eyes straying to the drying wolf blood on her mail. But then he took a breath and shook his head. "I can't promise that," he said, keeping his voice low. "We'll have to be more careful next time. But the wolves the eldest and her people created for us did what we wanted them to do. We defeated a Fal'Borna settlement today. Not a single Eandi soldier was killed. Only five were hurt. I'd be mad to promise that we won't use that magic again."

  "There are other creatures we can conjure," Fayonne said. "It doesn't have to be wolves."

  Tirnya eyed the woman for a moment before turning and starting the long walk back to where they'd left the horses. She brushed past Enly and Gries, and continued past men from all the armies, including her own soldiers and lead riders, but she said nothing. Reaching the stream, she paused long enough to wash the blood from her blade and sheath it. Wading through the water chilled her, but though she was shivering she stopped again halfway across to splash away the blood on her coat of mail. The other captains had followed her, and several walked past now. No one spoke to her, though, or even made eye contact.

  The foot soldiers had remained behind, and Tirnya could see a column of dark smoke rising from the settlement and twisting in the wind. "What are they doing?" she demanded of no one in particular. "They're burning the dead. Men and wolves."

  She turned. Gries stood waist deep in the stream a short distance away. "The dead children, too?"

  He nodded. "Your father had his men move the survivors so that they wouldn't awaken to all that blood."

  Tirnya continued to stare at the billowing smoke.

  "Come on, Captain," Gries said, starting toward the far shore. "You'll freeze in this water."

  Reluctantly, she walked after him. When they reached the bank, he held out a hand to her and helped her up the slope to the plain.

  They found the horses just where they had left them, and soon the captains were riding back to where the rest of the armies waited for them. Tirnya had tethered her father's mount to her saddle, so that he trotted alongside Thirus. Gries had done the same with Hendrid's horse.

  By the time they crossed the stream again and found the two marshals, several of the Fal'Borna children were awake. They sat in a tight cluster, watching the Eandi soldiers. The youngest among them looked frightened, but a few of the older boys and girls wore expressions of pure hatred. Jenoe and Hendrid stood a short distance off, speaking in low voices and glancing occasionally at the children.

  Tirnya and Gries steered their horses to the marshals. Tirnya dismounted and approached her father.

  "How long have they been awake?" she asked.

  He shook his head and began to untether his mount. "Not long. Fayonne thinks the others will be awake soon. It would have been easier if we'd been able to leave while they were still sleeping."

  "Have they said anything?"

  "Not a lot." Jenoe pointed to a long-limbed boy who wore his hair tied back. "That one threatened me. He said that he'd follow our army and cut my throat while we slept."

  Tirnya stared at the boy. He had a narrow, bony face and he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, his muscular forearms wrapped around his shins. Tirnya had heard that Qirsi came into their power around the age of sixteen; this boy couldn't have been more than a year or two away. She noticed that he had an empty sheath strapped to his side.

  "Is that why you took his knife?" she asked.

  "You should have heard the way he said it," Jenoe said, sounding defensive. "You would have done the same."

  "I don't doubt it."

  After watching the children for another few moments, Tirnya approached the angry boy her father had disarmed. His eyes flicked in her direction, but he seemed determined not to look at her.

  "My name is Captain Onjaef," she said. "You can call me Tirnya." No response.

  "It looks like you'll be in charge here now. Do you know where your people stored your food? Will you be able to feed the others?"

  He continued to ignore her, but a few of the other children were watching. Tirnya approached one of them, a girl who looked to be nearly as old as the boy. She had a dark wound on her neck-an old burn, from the look of it, perhaps from when the plague struck-and a cut high on her cheek that appeared to be healing well.

  "What's your name?" Tirnya asked.

  She didn't answer.

  "Is there food here? Do you know where to find it?"

  The girl hesitated before nodding once.

  Tirnya smiled. "Good. Thank you for telling me that." The beautiful young girl Tirnya had seen earlier was still asleep beside this older child. Tirnya pointed to the young one now and asked, "What's her name?"

  "Don't answer," the boy said. He scrambled to his feet and crossed to where Tirnya was standing. Looking down at the older girl, he said, "Don't tell her anything more. Do you hear me?"

  He was half a head shorter than Tirnya. From all that she had heard about the Fal'Borna, she gathered that he wouldn't grow much taller, but would wind up broad in the shoulders and chest. Right now, though, he looked terribly young, even more so than he had when he'd been sitting. Still he didn't flinch from her gaze.

  "I was speaking to her," Tirnya said. "You had you
r chance to answer my questions."

  "As you said, dark-eye, I'm a'laq now. This sept is mine. And I'll decide who you speak to."

  She had no desire to humiliate him. "Very well. Then you'll answer my questions."

  "I'll speak to a man. Not to you."

  On second thought, maybe she did want to humiliate him. "You threatened the marshal. You won't be speaking with him again. You've got me now. And I want to know if you can take care of these children."

  His eyes widened and he suddenly looked terribly sad. "No, I can't. Won't you stay and be our mother? Won't you cook our food and smooth our blankets at night?" He grinned harshly.

  Tirnya drew her blade and had it leveled at his eye so quickly that the boy actually staggered back a step. His grin had vanished.

  "I think this girl here can lead the others just as well as you can," Tirnya said, gesturing vaguely at the girl who had answered her question. "They won't miss you at all if I kill you."

  To the boy's credit, he recovered quickly from his surprise and stood unbowed before her.

  "A Fal'Borna warrior doesn't fear death," he said.

  "What about a Fal'Borna child?"

  His cheeks reddened, and he glowered at her. "Go ahead and kill me, dark-eye. If that's what it takes to make you feel like a real soldier, then do it."

  "Where is the closest sept?" she demanded.

  "Why? So you can destroy them, too? So you can send your plague and your wolves and your arrows into their z'kals?"

  Tirnya shifted her stance so that her blade still menaced the boy, but she could look the girl in the eye.

  "Tell me where the nearest sept is," she said.

  The girl swallowed and shook her head. "I-I don't know. South, I think."

  "Z'Maara!" the boy said.

  "She'll kill you otherwise!"

  "Actually, I wouldn't have," Tirnya said, not certain why it mattered to her that they know this. "But thank you for telling me." She faced the boy again. "We're not going south. That sept will be safe for you. Take the others there."

  "I don't take orders from you."

  Tirnya ran her hand through her hair. She wanted to scream at him, but she could imagine an Eandi boy his age speaking the same way to an enemy. She and her army had conquered his village, killed his family. For all he knew, she was about to kill him, too. Where was the boundary between bravery and folly?

  "You're going to follow this order," she told him, speaking with as much patience as she could muster. "You can't stay here. There may be food enough to keep you alive, and shelter for when the Snows begin in earnest. But you're still just children. You have those horses. Use them. Ride south to the next sept. They'll care for you there."

  The boy stared back at her. The look of defiance had fled his face, leaving him looking like a child once more. He appeared confused, as if he didn't know how to respond to what she'd said. Finally, Tirnya glanced at the girl

  "Did you hear what I said?" again.

  Z'Maara nodded.

  "Sleep here tonight," Tirnya went on. "Leave in the morning. The little ones will be scared; it'll be up to the two of you to reassure them and keep them safe. The wolves that attacked you are all dead. I promise. Any wolves you hear tonight will be the wild ones you're used to."

  "I told the old man that I'd follow you, and kill him when he sleeps," the boy said. "I won't ride south, like a coward."

  "You think it's brave to get yourself killed taking on an entire army by yourself?"

  He bristled.

  "I won't pretend to know a lot about your people. But I do know that an a'laq takes care of those in his sept who can't take care of themselves. You can try to kill the marshal and leave these children without a leader, or you can take them south to the next sept and make sure that every one of them is safe."

  For a moment she saw doubt in his pale eyes. And she thought she saw acquiescence as well. He'd take them south. A moment later, though, his expression hardened again, and this she understood, too. He was Fal'Borna, an a'laq. He couldn't appear weak in front of the other children.

  "What does a dark-eye woman know about being an a'laq? What does she know about bravery?"

  She held his gaze, refusing to let him provoke her; refusing as well to let him believe he had shamed her. After a few seconds she turned and walked away, sheathing her weapon as she did.

  "Is it brave to destroy a sept that's already lost most of its warriors to the plague?" the boy called after her. "Is this how the Eandi fight their wars?"

  Tirnya didn't look back. When she reached Thirus, she swung into her saddle. Her father was already sitting his horse, waiting for her. He looked like he might say something. Before he could, though, she spurred Thirus into motion.

  She continued to look straight ahead, but as she rode past her father she slowed just long enough to say, "Give the boy back his knife. He won't be following us."

  Eventually the armies resumed their march westward, leaving behind the Fal'Borna settlement and its orphaned children. Once more Fayonne and the other Mettai took their place at the back of the vast column. Mander walked beside the eldest, silent and clearly disturbed by what had happened this day. Fayonne knew that he would want to speak of it, but she didn't press him. He'd talk when he was ready.

  For her part, the eldest wasn't certain that any of it could have been helped. Of course she'd been troubled by the deaths of so many children. But to declare that they were never to conjure the blood wolves again struck her as an overreaction. The marshal's daughter was young. She'd never seen what Fal'Borna magic could do. That was why she had spoken so rashly. Let her face a full, healthy sept. Let her see Eandi soldiers cut down by shaping magic and Qirsi fire. Then she would understand the value of Mettai conjurings. All of them would.

  She would need to speak with the marshal. He'd been angry with her, as had several of the captains. Fayonne noticed how the young man from Fairlea looked at her, and she knew what he was thinking. Perhaps during the next battle they would be better off using gentler magic. The sleep spell had worked well against both the wolves and the children. They would be better off using such magic again. She'd heard her grandmother speak of poison spells used during the earliest of the Blood Wars. Mettai sorcerers had wiped out entire settlements with a simple conjuring. Fayonne thought that she could teach herself a similar spell, but she wasn't certain that Mander and the others would let her use it. The Mettai of old had forsworn all such spells after withdrawing from the wars and retreating into the Northlands around the Companion Lakes. They decided that earth magic shouldn't be used to kill indiscriminately.

  Fayonne understood, of course. That kind of magic led to evil. But for years she and her people had known that other Mettai had begun to dabble once more in the darker powers. How else could they explain all that had befallen the families of Lifarsa for so many generations? How else could they explain the plague that had killed so many Fal'Borna over the past few turns? Teaching themselves the blood wolf spell had been a violation of the old Mettai laws, but the people of Lifarsa were hardly the first Mettai to cross that line. And if this invasion really did mark the return of the Blood Wars, they wouldn't be the last.

  "We nearly made a mess of things, didn't we?" Mander said suddenly, his voice low.

  Fayonne shrugged. "I suppose. The Eandi soldiers who were hurt will recover. The Fal'Borna children…" She shrugged. "Marshal Jenoe and the rest will forget about them soon enough."

  "It had to have been the curse."

  She hissed and quickly looked forward to see that none of the soldiers had heard. "Keep your voice down!" she said.

  He regarded her sullenly, but when next he spoke it was in a whisper. "They'll figure it out eventually."

  "There's nothing to figure out," Fayonne told him. "You don't know that what happened today had anything to do with… with anything else. You're assuming it did, but you don't know."

  "Don't I, Mama? It's been following our people around for more than a century. We
were fools to believe that it would remain in Lifarsa while we came out here onto the plain."

  She started to argue, but thought better of it. The truth was, Mander might well be right. This was precisely the way the Curse of Rheyle worked. They conjured; their spells did most everything she and her people wanted them to do. But at the end they turned out… wrong, somehow. It almost seemed that Qirsar reached down at the last moment and twisted their magic into something dark, something far from what they had intended.

  Conjuring had been like this for Fayonne all her life. It had been this way for every man and woman in Lifarsa.

  She still remembered watching her father use a simple fire spell to light a cooking fire in their home one stormy night. Most nights they lit their fires without magic, but on this evening they'd started the meal too late. Fayonne didn't remember why. She did recall watching her father as he took every precaution he could think of-moving the wood pile outside; having Fayonne, her older brothers, and younger sister stand outside as well. Families in Lifarsa had burned their homes nearly to the ground with such spells. But he didn't, and for a few sweet moments all of them-her parents, her siblings, and she-thought that for this one night they had escaped the village's unhappy fate. Her mother cooked the meal, and they sat down to eat.

  When the fire popped, they thought nothing of it. All fires popped; this one had several times already. But then they smelled the burning cloth and hair, and Traisa began to scream. By the time they put out the flames, she had burns on her back and neck. Fayonne's mother said that they were fortunate Traisa hadn't died, and she made their father promise never to use a fire spell in the house again.

  Mander smiled grimly. "You know I'm right, don't you?"

  "I'll admit it's possible that the curse had something to do with what happened today." She paused, glancing at the Eandi soldiers again. The nearest of them appeared to be absorbed in their own conversations. "But that's as far as I'll go. We were using ancient, powerful magic. We'd talked of using the blood wolf spell, and a few of us thought we'd figured out how to make it work. But we'd never actually tried it before. Even without the curse we might have had trouble controlling those wolves."