by DAVID B. COE
"You mean," Sirj said, "you want us to help you defeat the Mettai who are marching against you."
"That's right," the a'laq answered. "You claim that you mean my people no harm. They may be harmed by the magic these other Mettai use against us." Besh laughed, drawing a hot glare from the Fal'Borna.
"Forgive me," Besh said. "But I have to ask: What would you call a Fal'Borna prisoner who helped his captors in a fight against you? A traitor? A demon? Or would you dispense with name-calling and simply kill him?"
The a'laq looked so angry that for a moment Besh thought the man might strike him. Instead, he showed the first true sign of weakness Besh had seen in him.
"I… I could free you. If you answer my questions, I can release you, send you back to your people."
Something had the man deeply frightened.
"That would be even more of a betrayal," Sirj said. "I won't buy my freedom with the blood of other Mettai."
"I can use my magic against you!" the a'laq said. "I can make you answer!"
Besh smiled bitterly. "You can make me say a lot of things. You've already proven that."
The a'laq's face colored.
"If I was in your position, I wouldn't answer, either," Grinsa said. "But I don't think any good can come of a defeat for the Fal'Borna, or a defeat of the Eandi for that matter. We need to find some way to drive this army back across the Silverwater without too many people being killed. Any information you can give us might help with that."
Sirj let out a sharp laugh. "So you count yourself as one of them now?"
"Sirj," Besh said, laying a hand on the man's arm.
"It's all right," Grinsa told him. He looked at Sirj. "I deserved that. I promised that I'd keep you safe, and I've failed. I'm sorry." He took a breath. "Yes. In this war, I consider myself Fal'Borna. If the Eandi and the Mettai reach this sept, they won't stop to ask where I come from or how long I've lived on the plain. They'll see my white hair and my yellow eyes, and they'll kill me. And then they'll do the same to Cresenne and our daughter."
Sirj dropped his gaze.
"You think you can prevent this war?" Besh asked.
Grinsa shook his head. "The war's probably started already. But I'm hoping that we can find a way to end it before too much damage is done. And as I see it, the only way to stop the war is to drive the Eandi back. If they manage to retake any of these lands, it could mean another century of warfare. The Fal'Borna won't waste any time in trying to take back the cities and lands they've lost. More Eandi will come, and before long fighting will spread all across the Southlands."
"So you do want us to help them," Besh said, unable to keep the despair from his voice. He understood the Forelander's reasoning, and he could hardly argue with the progression of events Grinsa had laid out. The history of the Southlands was littered with battles and failed campaigns that began much the way this latest invasion had. But he couldn't help feeling that Grinsa had betrayed them in some small way.
"I want you to help me. The a'laq will leave us, and we can-"
"I will not!" E'Menua said, glaring at the Forelander. "They're my prisoners! I'll stay here and question them for as long as I see fit!"
"You just offered to free them," Grinsa said.
"If they were to tell me what I want to know!"
"And Sirj has already said no to that," Grinsa said. "I'm offering a compromise. They'll talk to me, and I'll carry the information they give me into battle. If any of what they tell me can save Fal'Borna lives, I'll share it with you. But other than that, what the three of us discuss here will remain secret." He turned to Besh and Sirj. "Is that acceptable?"
"It's not acceptable to me!" the a'laq said.
Grinsa regarded him placidly. "Then you'll learn nothing from them at all."
"There are other ways!"
"None that I'll allow you to use."
The two Qirsi stood staring at one another, the a'laq clearly enraged, Grinsa calm, but resolute.
"You tricked me," the a'laq finally said. "You planned this all along."
"It was your idea to come here, A'Laq. I simply followed, and I planned nothing. But I won't apologize for turning your choice to my advantage. You tricked all of us the other day. You deserved this."
"I should have known better than to trust you."
"You can trust me," Grinsa said. "I meant what I said a moment ago. If any of what I learn from these men can help me save even one Fal'Borna life, I'll tell you immediately."
E'Menua didn't look mollified. "I won't free them."
"It wouldn't be safe for them to leave the sept right now anyway. Let them remain here as your guests. Allow them to leave their z'kal and wander freely throughout the settlement."
"Another compromise," the a'laq said, contempt in his voice. "You talk like an Eandi."
"I talk like a man of the Forelands, as I always have." He looked at Besh again. "Will you agree to this? Will you answer my questions?"
Besh glanced at E'Menua. "Will he allow us to leave our shelter?" Grinsa looked at the a'laq, too, raising an eyebrow.
E'Menua nodded reluctantly. "I want to know what their kind can do," he said. "I want to know what they can conjure."
"I understand, A'Laq. I want to know those things, too."
Still the a'laq eyed him, finally shaking his head and saying, almost under his breath, "You're a most difficult man." He cast a dark look at Besh and Sirj and then stalked off.
"I'm still not sure we should help you," Sirj told Grinsa, once E'Menua was out of earshot. "I don't like the idea of working to defeat other Mettai."
"They deserve defeating," Besh said.
Sirj looked at him, clearly surprised.
"We have no business in this war. Our people haven't fought against the Qirsi since the earliest days of the Blood Wars. What kind of fool would choose to start fighting again now?" Besh could see that Sirj had no answer for him, so he turned to Grinsa. "What is it you want to know?"
"You conjured a fox," the Forelander said. "I'll never forget it. And I saw you conjure hornets as well. What other creatures can you summon in that way?"
Besh nodded. "A good question. I'm not sure I can answer. There were spells that our people did long ago, back in the days when we fought. Many of them have been lost to time, though tales of them remain."
"E'Menua fears that you can conjure creatures from myth and legend."
"Of course he does. No one wants to face a creyvnal in battle, much less a score of them."
Grinsa frowned. "A creyvnal?"
"A beast from the ancient stories. It has the body of a lion and the head of a wolf."
"Can you conjure such a thing?"
Besh smiled, but quickly grew serious again. "No, I can't, but you're asking if our people can. And that's a more difficult question."
He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ground. As a rule, his people were reluctant to speak with outsiders about their history, their magic, or their traditions. This was one of the many reasons he thought it so odd that Mettai had chosen to fight alongside the Eandi army. It wasn't just that his people valued peace; over the centuries they had also come to embrace their isolation.
There were stories of the early Blood Wars that had been passed down by generations of Mettai. These weren't the tales that parents told their children at bedtime, or that had been turned into songs sung around fires on cold nights during the Snows. These stories were told in hushed voices and were intended as warnings. Many people doubted that they were true, either because they couldn't believe that Mettai magic had once been so powerful, or because they didn't want to believe that Mettai men and women could be so evil.
Besh had been among those who thought the stories more fanciful than accurate. But he had also seen that the stories served a purpose. Magic had its place, these tales cautioned, but those who wielded it were responsible for its consequences. A Mettai did not conjure carelessly or without good reason. Blood and earth were not to be wasted on trifles, nor we
re they to be taken up in anger except as a last resort. These were the lessons passed on to children as they came into their power. And the tales of ancient evils gave weight to those lessons.
Now, though, he could see that there was a darker side to these stories. For those Mettai looking for glory or gold or land, the old tales might actually encourage them to march to war. Because it was told that once, centuries before, Mettai magic had been a mighty weapon. Qirsi had trembled at the mere thought of some Mettai spells. Eandi had come to see Besh's people as one of their greatest assets when they marched to battle. If it hadn't been for the Mettai, some of the tales said, the Blood Wars might have ended hundreds of years earlier; they might never have been fought at all.
It was so hard to credit. And yet, hadn't Lici found a way to kill hundreds with her magic? Back in the warm, hazy days of the late Planting, before Lici left Kirayde and began spreading her plague across the land, Besh had never imagined that Mettai magic could harm so many. He never thought that it would start another war. But it had. Was it such a stretch, then, to believe that these old stories were true? If Lici could conjure her pestilence, couldn't the ancient Mettai have created evil creatures and bound them to their service?
"There may have been spells that could do such things," Besh finally said. "But if they existed at all, most of them would have passed out of memory long ago."
"You don't even know if they were real?" Grinsa asked.
"No. I want to believe that they weren't. They were… they could do terrible things."
"What kind of things?"
"It was said that the Mettai of old could kill hundreds at a time with a single conjuring. They could send poison at their enemies. They could conjure animals, birds, even dragons."
"Dragons?" Grinsa repeated. "But surely…" He stopped himself.
Besh had some idea of what he was thinking. He'd asked about the creyvnal, and Besh had said, in essence, that he didn't know if the beast could be conjured. But if it was even possible, then so was a dragon, or any of the demons and beasts said to live in Bian's realm.
"You've never believed those tales," Sirj said.
"No," Besh said. "I haven't. But I never thought that a Mettai could conjure a killing plague, or, for that matter, that I could create a spell that would defeat such a plague."
"You say that these spells have been lost to time," Grinsa said. "But are you certain of that? Is it possible that some Mettai still remember them?"
Some Mettai. The Mettai who had joined with the army of Stelpana.
"I suppose it's possible," Besh said. "Like the Qirsi clans and the Eandi sovereignties, different Mettai villages have different traditions. We may well remember different things."
Grinsa frowned. "But the way your magic works, can't you simply come up with an incantation and summon that beast you mentioned before?"
"The creyvnal, you mean?"
"Yes. Couldn't any Mettai do that?"
Besh shook his head. "It's not that easy. Not nearly. The phrases have to be right, and they have to be spoken in the correct order, but that's the least of it. I can't create something that I can't picture in my mind. When I conjured that fox for you when we first met, I knew exactly what it would look like. I've seen hundreds of them. I have some idea of how a creyvnal should look; at least, I think I do. I've heard the legends. I can imagine a wolf's head on a lion's body. But that's not the same as knowing how the creature would move and sound."
"What about the blood wolves?" Sirj asked. "Or one of the other battle creatures?"
Grinsa looked from one of them to the other. "Blood wolves?"
Besh glanced at Sirj, wishing the younger man hadn't mentioned battle creatures.
"There are stories-the same ones that speak of the poisoning spells. They tell of creatures conjured by the Mettai during the early years of the Blood Wars. Great wolves, unnaturally quick and canny. Other beasts as well. Snakes, falcons, wild cats. Blood creatures, they were called." He took a breath and exhaled through his teeth. "These creatures might be easier to conjure than that poisoning spell. I might even be able to do it. I haven't seen them, but I've seen wild wolves. I know how they behave. I could create something like them, but bigger, stronger, smarter. They might not be exactly like the blood wolves of old, but they'd be close enough."
"Do you think these Mettai who have joined the Eandi army would use them?" Grinsa asked.
Besh nodded. "I think that once this war begins, and the full power of Fal'Borna magic is unleashed against this army, they'll use every spell they can think of. Wolves might well be the least of it."
Chapter 16
UPPER CENTRAL PLAIN
She really is quite beautiful. I can understand why you can't take your eyes off of her."
Enly looked sharply at Gries, who was watching him, a faintly mocking smile on his handsome face. Enly hadn't fully realized that he was staring at Tirnya until the captain spoke, but now he felt his face reddening.
He didn't answer, and after a moment he faced forward, making an effort not to look at her or at Gries.
They were riding west again. Their forward scouts scanned the horizon for the next Fal'Borna settlement, while their rearguard watched for an assault from the east. The sky was leaden, and Enly could see rain falling in the distance to the north. But the wind blew from the south, warmer than usual and heavy with the scent of storms.
"Is she as taken with you as you are with her?"
"Of course she is," Enly said drily. "Haven't you noticed how she dotes on me?"
Gries laughed. "Good for you, Enly. I've always thought that there was more to you than that serious, spoiled lord heir who seemed so intent on beating me in the ring."
Enly glanced at the man. "Is that right?"
"You and I could be great friends, you know. It won't be too long before we lead our cities." He looked around, as if to be sure that no one else could hear. "Neither of us will ever be sovereign, of course," he continued, dropping his voice. "But Ankyr is weak, not to mention a fool. House Ballidyne and House Tolm could be the most powerful of allies. Together we could present a united northern front to the Kasathas. We could make Stelpana the supreme sovereignty in the land."
"Our fathers might still have a bit to say about that," Enly said.
"Yes, of course," Gries said with impatience. "You get my point, though, don't you? It might not happen today or tomorrow. But the day is coming when we will rule this land in fact, if not in name. Think of all we could accomplish working together!"
Enly had to laugh. "It's an interesting idea, Gries, but I think you're forgetting something. You and I don't like each other. We never have."
"Nonsense!" Fairlea's lord heir said, waving off the suggestion. "We didn't like each other before because we were too young to know better. You were spoiled and arrogant and I was even worse. But we're men now. We're captains, we're statesmen. We understand the world."
Enly laughed again. Understand the world? He didn't even understand Tirnya. He was barely capable of speaking in civil tones to his own father. And Gries was ready to join him in ruling the world.
"What's so funny?" Gries asked, sounding irked by Enly's laughter.
"It's nothing. What is it you want from me, Gries?"
The man shrugged. "Who says I want anything? We're riding to war on this desolate plain. We're comrades in a great struggle. Isn't that enough for now?"
Enly wasn't sure what the man was up to. Maybe this was nothing more than idle thoughts born of boredom and a long ride and a grey sky.
"Yes, all right," he said. "That's enough."
"Splendid!" Gries said.
They rode in silence for a short while. Then Gries turned to him again. "So if she doesn't dote on you, as you say, why do you persist in pursuing her?"
This was not a discussion Enly cared to have with anyone, Gries least of all. "Who says I'm pursuing her?"
Gries merely stared at him, his eyebrows up.
"Tirnya and I have kno
wn each other for a long time-since we were children. Any chance there was that we might be anything more than fellow soldiers in the Qalsyn army vanished years ago."
"Really?" Gries said. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind if I were to court her."
"You?" Enly knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd seen the two of them together on a number of occasions, and though he didn't care to believe that Tirnya had any interest in Fairlea's lord heir, he wasn't at all surprised to learn that Gries was attracted to her.
"Why not?" Gries said. "She's beautiful, she's smart. And as I've said, I'd like to forge a bond between Fairlea and Qalsyn. What better way than for my city's lord heir to wed the daughter of Qalsyn's most renowned soldier?"
"Of course," Enly said, resisting a sudden urge to pull his sword free and hack off the man's head. "You might find, though, that she's not really the marrying kind. She cares more for swords and battles than for more… wifely things."
Gries smiled in a way that made Enly's sword hand itch. "Leave that to me," the Fairlea captain said. "I've thawed colder hearts than hers, albeit for a night rather than for a lifetime. But still, I think I can coax the sword from her hand."
"Well, good luck to you, then," Enly said, spurring his mount ahead of the man.
Gries caught up with him almost immediately. "Enly?" He leaned forward so he could look Enly in the eye. "You're sure you're all right with this?"
"Absolutely," Enly told him, a brittle smile on his lips. "As I say, I wish you all good fortune in your… pursuit."
He rode ahead once more, and this time Gries let him go.
Enly hadn't been riding on his own for more than a few moments, however, when he heard a shout go up from the army's right flank. Fearing that they were under attack, he wheeled his horse sharply and pulled his blade free. What he saw stopped him cold.
A lone horseman, flanked on either side by Qalsyn scouts, was riding toward the army. The man had an arm raised in greeting, and a broad smile on his homely face. He was a large man, both tall and heavy, and he was Eandi. He wore travel-stained clothes and a torn blanket around his shoulders. A black patch covered his left eye, giving him the look of a brigand.