The Dark-Eyes War bots-3

by DAVID B. COE

  The clods of bloody earth became large, flat surfaces of rock that coalesced into a near-seamless wall. And as quickly as they appeared, they were shattered by that same wave of shaping power. Where the magic hit the rock, it seemed to dissipate. None of the Mettai were hurt by the shaping power, and only a few of the Eandi standing beside them fell, although those who did howled in agony.

  But their cries were lost amid the screams of those near the center of the army who had been standing beyond the Mettai's protection. There the devastation was overwhelming. Literally hundreds of men collapsed to the ground. The sound of their bones snapping made Tirnya's stomach heave. If the Mettai hadn't managed to erect their wall, most of the army would have been lost. As it was, that single pulse of magic took a third of Jenoe's force.

  To Tirnya's great relief, her father appeared to be all right. But they wouldn't be safe for long. More than ever, she understood why the Eandi had fared so poorly in the latter years of the Blood Wars. And at last she realized that this invasion was a mistake, just as Enly and her father had warned it would be.

  "Eldest!" she heard her father shout over the continuing cries of the wounded. "Whatever magic you have left, use it! We can't take another assault."

  Fayonne stared back at him. After a moment, she nodded.

  "No!" her son said, his voice carrying as well.

  The eldest eyed her son. Then she raised her blade over her head and called to the other Mettai, "We've spoken of this spell. We know how to do it. This is the time."

  "I won't do it!" Mander said, even as his mother picked up more dirt and cut herself yet again.

  Fayonne looked up at him and spoke, and though Tirnya couldn't hear her, she could see what the woman said. "Then don't."

  The Mettai spoke as one in low voices and then threw their spells. This time the mud turned to that same silvery mist Tirnya had seen them conjure so many times before, and soared over the plain toward the Fal'Borna army.

  An instant later the Mettai conjured another set of walls, though Tirnya didn't understand why until she saw the stone fracture again. More Eandi soldiers died, but again the Mettai conjuring saved countless lives.

  Tirnya heard a cry go up from the Qirsi lines and then saw the grasses near the Fal'Borna flattened as if by a hard wind. She assumed that the white-hairs were trying to slow the advance of the Mettai's spell. It didn't work.

  She heard more cries, saw Fal'Borna grabbing at their throats. And then the Qirsi began to topple off their horses. After another moment, even the horses started to fall. She'd seen how the Mettai sleeping spell worked. This was different. There was something… sinister about how those men and animals collapsed to the ground. Within moments, there wasn't a single white-hair warrior or horse remaining upright. Not one.

  Usually she would have expected to hear a roar of triumph from an army that saw its foe vanquished so. But most of the Eandi soldiers merely stared at the prone bodies of the Qirsi. Aside from the low rustle of the wind, and the moans and sobs of wounded men, Tirnya heard nothing at all.

  Tirnya looked at the eldest again. She stood with her arms hanging at her side, her bloodied knife still in one hand, dark earth clinging to the other. She looked utterly spent, and there was a haunted look on her face. Her son stood beside her, obviously horrified.

  "Report!" Tirnya's father called, his voice ragged.

  Tirnya started toward her father, walking slowly. She felt weary, though she hadn't done anything more than stand there and watch.

  After a moment she realized that Enly was walking beside her. She glanced at him, and their eyes met briefly. Then she looked away.

  As they approached Jenoe and the Mettai, Tirnya heard the eldest's son say, "That spell should never have been used again! It was forbidden centuries ago! And for us in particular-!"

  "That's enough, Mander!" the eldest said.

  "What spell did you use on them?" Jenoe asked, sounding as if he didn't want to hear the answer. "Are they asleep?"

  "No," Fayonne said. "It was a poison spell. The Fal'Borna are dead." Jenoe took a long breath and nodded.

  "Then at least we don't have to go and kill them."

  "I didn't know Mettai magic could do that," Gries said, staring at the bodies of the Fal'Borna.

  "It's a spell from long ago," Fayonne told him, damp hair clinging to her brow. "I wouldn't have used it if we hadn't been desperate."

  One of Hendrid's captains approached them, his face deathly pale, one of his arms hanging limply at his side. He stopped in front of Waterstone's marshal and saluted. Tirnya saw that there were tears on his face.

  "Report, Verin."

  "We're still counting the dead, Marshal. The last…" He swallowed. "The last I heard it was five hundred."

  Hendrid closed his eyes briefly and rubbed a hand over his beard. "Blood and bone." He looked at his captain again. "How many wounded?"

  "I don't know, Marshal," Verin said. "Hundreds."

  Hendrid sighed and nodded. "I see you're one of them. I want you to get that arm splinted. And keep me informed. I'll want a final count."

  "Yes, Marshal."

  "Now are you ready to listen to me?"

  They all turned. Torgan Plye stood nearby, holding the reins to his horse.

  For a moment Tirnya thought her father would pull his sword free and run the man through. His eyes blazed and his hands appeared to be trembling. He opened his mouth to speak-probably to remind the merchant that he'd been banished.

  But at that moment, a series of odd, strangled cries rose from the far left flank of the army. Turning to look that way, Tirnya saw several Eandi soldiers grabbing at their necks much as the Qirsi had done, and falling to the ground.

  "Gods save us all!" Mander said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Jenoe had a frown on his face. "What's-?"

  "It can't be!" Fayonne said, her face ashen.

  "Of course it can!" Mander told her, his tone harsh. He turned to Tirnya's father. "The poison spell is coming this way! It might be the wind or… or something else. But we all have to get away from here as quickly as possible!"

  "Blood and bone!" Jenoe still looked confused, as if unsure of what to make of this Mettai magic, which always seemed to turn against them. But he didn't waste time. "Signal a retreat!" he shouted to his captains. "South, along the river!"

  "What about the horses?" Tirnya asked him.

  He looked toward the far end of the camp again. Tirnya did the same. Men were dying by the moment, and others were already starting to flee. "Quickly, Tirnya! Untether them. If they follow, they'll be saved, but don't delay if they linger. I'd rather lose horses than soldiers." And I don't want to risk losing you.

  He didn't have to say this last. She read it in his eyes.

  "I'll go with you," Enly said.

  She didn't object. Together they ran back to where the marshals, captains, and lead riders had left their horses. The animals were still there, all of them alive. Tirnya could hear orders being given above the tumult of death cries and shouting. She and Enly worked wordlessly and in moments had all of the animals untied. Enly started slapping the animals on the haunches and shouting for them to run. Some did. Others bolted short distances before stopping again. A few ran the wrong way, back toward where the poison spell had killed soldiers. They hadn't gone far-not far at all-before several of them began to thrash violently. In moments they had collapsed to the ground, their flanks heaving. And then they were still.

  "Come on!" Enly called. "It's getting close!"

  He was running again and Tirnya sprinted after him. She could see their horses. Thirus, her sorrel, was just ahead of Enly's bay. They both shifted directions slightly to intercept the animals. For all they knew, they couldn't outrun the poison, but perhaps they could outride it.

  She whistled for Thirus, and immediately the animal stopped and turned toward her. Enly's horse halted at the sound of his whistle. They reached the animals and swung themselves onto their backs.

  "What abo
ut the others?" Tirnya asked, breathless, her eyes scanning the mass of soldiers for her father.

  "There's nothing we can do for them," Enly said. "If we try to bring your father's horse to him, or do the same for any of the others, we risk slowing ourselves down too much." He eyed the army briefly, apprehension in his pale eyes. "They're moving, and most of the horses are moving. That's the best we can hope for."

  She nodded. She could see Jenoe now. He was near the head of the army. He would run several paces, then pause to urge his men on and mark their progress before running farther himself. Men at the back of the column continued to fall, so that the army appeared to leave a trail of broken bodies in its wake. But the number of those afflicted seemed to be decreasing. Perhaps they could outrun it.

  "We need to ride, Tirnya. We've done what we can."

  She knew he was right. When Enly spurred his mount to a canter, she did the same with Thirus.

  They rode for more than a league, stopping periodically to mark the progress of those on foot. The army kept up a swift pace, marching as if another Fal'Borna army pursued them. Tirnya could see her father leading the soldiers, and Stri beside him. She also spotted Gries, Hendrid Crish, and many of the captains. She lamented the loss of every life, of course, but she couldn't help but be relieved to see that most of those who led the army had survived. She noticed that the Mettai were near her father, too. Most of them seemed to have made it. Some of the horses had lagged behind until Tirnya finally lost sight of them. But many of the animals had followed her and Enly.

  At last, as Enly and Tirnya waited once more for the army to catch up with them, she saw her father raise a hand, indicating to the soldiers behind him that they should halt. Enly and Tirnya rode back to join them.

  "I want a count made of survivors!" Jenoe was shouting as they reached him. "Every captain should make a count of his or her lead riders, and then every lead rider should make a count of the men under his or her command. Quickly! I want to know how many we've lost." He turned to Tirnya and Enly. "That goes for the two of you, as well."

  "Of course, Father."

  "How many horses did we lose?"

  "We're not sure," Enly answered. "I'm hoping some of the stragglers will find us eventually. But right now we've got maybe half the number we started with."

  Jenoe nodded, though he looked disgusted. Turning to Fayonne, he said, "How did this happen? I find it hard to believe that the Mettai of old would have been valued as allies had every one of their spells killed Eandi as well as Qirsi."

  "It must have been the wind, Marshal," the eldest told him.

  "Mother."

  All of them looked at Mander, but before the young Mettai could say more, Fayonne shot him a look that could have kindled wet wood.

  "You should see to your men, Marshal," the old woman said. "I want to make certain that all of my people are all right."

  Jenoe eyed her and Mander for several moments. "Yes, of course," he said at last. "But we're not done here, Eldest. I have questions, and I'm going to expect answers."

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  "Go," Jenoe said to Tirnya and Enly. "Check on your companies and then come back here."

  Tirnya and Enly exchanged glances and then went in search of their men.

  Tirnya found Oliban, Crow, Qagan, and her other lead riders in a small cluster not far from where she'd been speaking with her father. Oliban spotted her first and said something to the others, who turned to greet her. None of them appeared hurt or any the worse for their brush with the Mettai spell. But their expressions were bleak, and Tirnya felt her heart begin to pound.

  "Report," she said as she approached them, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked around, feeling panic rise in her chest. "Where's Dyn?"

  "He's with th' others, Capt'n," Oliban said. "He wasn' hurt."

  "Good. But we lost men, didn't we?"

  "Not many compared with th' others," Oliban told her. "Eighteen, t' be exact. Most o' them were lost in th' mess as we retreated from th' battlefield. By th' time we knew they were missin'." He stopped, shaking his head. "We were lucky we didn' lose more. There are companies from Waterstone and Fairlea tha' were wiped out entirely. And Enly's and Stri's men didn' fare too well."

  Eighteen men. It could have been so much worse. They'd been lucky to be near the Mettai when the Fal'Borna attacked with their shaping power, and far from the flank when the poison began to drift back over the men of Stelpana.

  "What happened to the other Qalsyn units?" she asked.

  "Th' white-hairs got 'em," Crow said. "The shapers. Some weren' dead, bu' there was nothin' we could do t' help 'em once tha' spell started killin' th' Waterstone army."

  Oliban looked briefly at the other lead riders before meeting Tirnya's gaze again. "Capt'n, tha' Mettai magic… Is i' really worth this?"

  Not long ago, a few days perhaps, she would have been angered by the question. But not after today. Somehow the poison spell had changed everything. Killing the Fal'Borna as they slept had appalled her, and fighting off the great magical wolves had been a trial for all of them. But they'd been as defenseless as the white-hairs against the Mettai's poison. The spell killed indiscriminately. It was worse than Fal'Borna magic, and Tirnya hadn't believed she'd ever think that about anything.

  "I don't know," she told him. "I thought so before, but I'm not sure now. I'll speak with my father and Marshal Crish and the other captains," she said. "We'll need to decide what to do next."

  Oliban appeared surprised by her candor. "All righ', Capt'n."

  She started to walk away, but stopped after only a couple of strides and faced her riders once more. "I'm glad all of you are all right," she said. Then she grinned. "Even you, Crow."

  The men laughed.

  "Thank you, Capt'n," Oliban said.

  She nodded to them and went to find her father.

  She and Enly were the last two captains to report to the marshals. The others stood by silently as Jenoe and Hendrid spoke in low voices. Tirnya noticed that several of the Fairlea and Waterstone captains weren't there, including the man who had fallen in the Silverwater and been rescued by Gries so many days back. Gries was there, but Tirnya avoided his gaze, remembering how angry she had been with him just a few hours before.

  Thinking of this, she looked around for the merchant. He stood with his horse a good distance away from the army and its leaders.

  "How are your men?" Jenoe asked Enly and Tirnya.

  "I lost eighteen," Tirnya told him.

  "You were lucky," Enly said dully. "I lost forty-six, including four of my riders."

  She looked at him. "I'm so sorry, Enly."

  "Eighteen and forty-six," Jenoe repeated. "The army of Qalsyn was fortunate. We lost fewer than two hundred. Waterstone lost more than six hundred. Fairlea nearly four hundred." He rubbed a hand over his face. "More than a thousand men. Add that to the hundreds who died at the last sept we fought and we've lost more than a third of our army, and we're still not to Deraqor."

  "I hesitate to bring this up again, Marshal," Gries said. "But perhaps we should reconsider Torgan's offer."

  "Yes, I noticed that he's still here," Jenoe said, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "Was that your doing, Captain?"

  Gries shook his head. "No, Marshal. The Fal'Borna attacked before he could leave, and I think he followed us when the poison spell reached our lines."

  "I ordered him away from here," Jenoe said. "I haven't changed my mind."

  "He can help us defeat Deraqor. We wouldn't need wolves or eagles or poison."

  "You'd still need our magic."

  All of them turned. Mander and Fayonne were walking toward them, the young man in the lead, his mother trailing behind him looking pale and small.

  "Yes, Mander, we would," Jenoe said. "Is that a problem?"

  "I believe it is, Marshal," the young Mettai said.

  His mother looked at him, narrowing her eyes. But she remained silent, and after a moment dropped her gaze again. />
  Jenoe frowned. "I don't understand."

  "No," the man said. "I'm sure you don't." He took a breath. "Perhaps you've noticed that our spells often don't work quite the way they're supposed to. The wolves turn on our people, or the eagles turn on each other, or the poison kills those it was supposed to help."

  "What of it?" Jenoe asked, ice in his voice.

  "Perhaps you also noticed that the land around our village was blighted," he went on, seeming to ignore the question. "Or that our people weren't as prosperous as other Mettai you encountered in your travels."

  "What is this about?" Tirnya's father demanded. He looked at Fayonne. "Eldest? What is it he's trying to tell us?"

  Fayonne opened her mouth, as if intending to reply. But she closed it again and looked away.

  "Our people have been cursed," Mander said.

  Jenoe stared at him. "Cursed?"

  "Yes. By other Mettai. It's been over a century now. I won't bother you with the details of why they did it, but they had their reasons, and some would insist to this day that our people deserved their fate."

  "A curse," Jenoe said, his voice low. "What does this curse do?"

  "Just what you've seen, Marshal. It ruins our land, it robs us of our prosperity, and it twists our magic in ways we can't anticipate."

  "And you didn't think to tell us this before marching with us to war?" Enly asked.

  "Would you have offered us this alliance?" Fayonne asked him.

  "Of course not!"

  "That's why we didn't tell you," she said.

  Enly started to object, as did Jenoe, Gries, and several others, Tirnya among them. But the eldest raised a finger, silencing all of them.

  "I thought it possible that by leaving Lifarsa, we would also leave the curse behind, particularly once we were past the Silverwater. And since I knew we wouldn't conjure on your behalf until we were clear of the wash, I thought there was some chance that you'd never need to know of the curse."

  "It seems you were wrong," Jenoe said in a hard voice.