The Dark-Eyes War bots-3

by DAVID B. COE

  Besh remained where he was, staring out over the plain, watching as the last of the small grass fires burned themselves out. He wanted to weep, but he didn't allow himself that release. Cresenne and Sirj were right: People were going to die this night no matter what. Better the J'Balanar raiders than them.

  But a part of him couldn't help wishing that he'd never left Kirayde.

  Chapter 22

  UPPER CENTRAL. PLAIN

  After the hunt, the warriors and their a'laqs enjoyed a feast of all the rilda that Grinsa and the other hunters had killed. Grinsa made a point of sitting with E'Menua, Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the warriors from E'Menua's sept, though he would have preferred to sup with O'Tal and his men. He also apologized to E'Menua for hunting with O'Tal rather than with Q'Daer.

  "I didn't realize I was expected to hunt with the men from our sept, A'Laq," he said as they ate. "O'Tal invited me to hunt and I thought it would be all right if I hunted with him. I meant no offense."

  E'Menua still appeared to be sulking, but he waved off Grinsa's apology. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I wasn't offended."

  Grinsa wasn't sure he believed this, but he kept his doubts to himself. "You and O'Tal are rivals," he said instead.

  The a'laq's eyes narrowed, giving his face a feral look. "Is that what he told you?"

  "I just gathered as much from the way the two of you spoke to each other."

  Again E'Menua dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "I care little about him one way or another. He's a pup. A few years from now he might be a worthy rival to me, but for now he doesn't have enough hunts under his belt or Weavers in his sept to be of consequence."

  For several moments they ate, saying nothing. The rilda was delicious-the best meat he'd ever had. He still hoped to leave the Fal'Borna and make a life for himself and his family somewhere else in the Southlands, but he couldn't deny that he would miss rilda meat. Dried and salted, or fresh like this, he couldn't imagine growing tired of it.

  "Q'Daer says you hunted well," E'Menua said, finally breaking the silence.

  Grinsa glanced past the a'laq to the young Weaver, who sat beside E'Menua on the a'laq's right. He was chewing and grinning back at Grinsa. "Q'Daer is being generous, A'Laq. I brought down the doe I was hunting, but another hunter had to kill her for me."

  "You brought her down while you were riding?" E'Menua asked.

  "Yes."

  "And you didn't fall from your horse?"

  Grinsa smiled in spite of himself, remembering how close he had come to being unhorsed. "No, I didn't fall, though I almost did."

  The a'laq nodded. "For a stranger to these lands on his first hunt, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

  It might well have been the kindest thing E'Menua had ever said to him. "Thank you, A'Laq."

  They lapsed into silence once more. E'Menua ate but seemed distracted, his gaze continually sweeping over the gathering. Grinsa knew that he'd been unhappy when he and his army first joined O'Tal's and H'Loryn's. E'Menua had expected there to be more warriors and Weavers at this meeting place-six or seven septs' worth. But no new a'laqs had joined them. They had perhaps four hundred warriors to face an Eandi army that some had said consisted of ten times that many men.

  "Do you think they're coming?" Grinsa finally asked him, drawing E'Menua's gaze. "The other a'laqs you were expecting, I mean."

  "I don't know," the man said, lowering his voice. "It may be that others suffered J'Sor's fate, but had no one to cure them. Or it may be that they're on their way and will be here in the next day or two. I hope to hear from P'Rhil or S'Bahn tonight. I want to know where they are and whether they've found the dark-eye army yet. It may be that we won't need other septs to finish the war. But we won't know until we hear from those who rode north."

  They finished eating their meal, though Grinsa could have stopped far earlier and been sated. He was glad that they probably wouldn't have to battle the Eandi come morning, because with all that the men had eaten, he couldn't imagine any of them would be in much condition to fight. E'Menua rose and suggested that all of them get some sleep, and then he went off to do just that.

  Grinsa thought about staying awake so that he could walk in Cresenne's dreams and speak with her, but he really had nothing to tell her, and he knew that contacting her in this way left her exhausted the following morning. He found his sleeping roll and blankets, laid them out on the cold ground, and was soon asleep.

  He awoke early the next morning to grey skies and a light snow. After stowing his blankets and roll, he went in search of the a'laq, certain that E'Menua would have expected no less of him. He found the a'laq speaking with Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the other two sept leaders. E'Menua seemed in a darker mood than he had been in the night before and barely acknowledged Grinsa as the Forelander joined their small circle.

  "They probably haven't fought the Eandi yet," H'Loryn was saying. "As soon as they do, they'll reach for one of us. You know they will."

  E'Menua nodded vaguely but said nothing.

  "You think they've fought them already and lost," O'Tal said.

  "I don't know what to think," E'Menua said. "I only got here yesterday, so you know better than I do how many warriors and Weavers they had, and how soon they thought they'd reach the Horn. I I…" He shrugged. "I have a bad feeling. That's all."

  "Maybe we should head to the Horn now, then," Grinsa said.

  The others looked at him, their expressions revealing little other than surprise at the fact that he had spoken.

  After a brief, uncomfortable silence, H'Loryn said, "We're supposed to wait here for warriors from other septs."

  "Yes, I know, A'Laq," Grinsa answered, trying to keep his tone respectful. "But won't any army, even one this size, do more good reaching the Horn in a timely way than a larger force would if they arrived too late?"

  O'Tal and E'Menua shared a look. For once they appeared to be in agreement.

  "He raises a good point, H'Loryn," O'Tal said.

  E'Menua added, "We can reach for the Weavers who are supposed to join us here, and tell them where we've gone. But I'd feel better knowing that we're doing something, even if it is just riding north."

  H'Loryn looked scared, as if he didn't wish to admit the possibility that something had gone wrong with the army that had already ridden to the Horn. But at last he nodded his agreement. "Yes, all right."

  E'Menua looked at his Weavers, including Grinsa. "Ready the men. I don't want to linger here any longer than we have to."

  "Yes, A'Laq," Q'Daer said.

  Grinsa started to follow the younger Weavers, but E'Menua caught his eye. "Thank you," he said.

  The Forelander merely nodded, and hurried after the others.

  It was a small force, and the Fal'Borna warriors responded to orders with alacrity. It seemed only moments before the men were astride their horses, thundering northward. They rode hard throughout the day, pausing only long enough to eat and drink a bit and keep their horses fresh.

  By the time they camped for the night, Grinsa was stiff and sore and wearier than he had been at any time since leaving the Forelands. He ate a small supper, the feast of the night before seeming a distant memory, and then lay down to sleep. Many in the army camp remained active, but Grinsa fell asleep almost at once.

  He was awakened some time later when someone gently shook his shoulder.

  "Forelander. Forelander, wake up."

  Grinsa opened his eyes. It was dark still, though a fire burned low nearby. E'Menua squatted beside him, his tapered face in shadow.

  "What is it?" Grinsa asked, sitting up and trying to clear his head. "What's the matter?"

  "I need you to do something for me," the a'laq said. "I need you to reach to the north with your magic and tell me if you sense anyone."

  "Anyone?"

  The man hesitated for an instant. "An army," he said. "Do you sense the Fal'Borna army?"

  "Why me?" Grinsa asked, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Why not Q'Daer or one of the other
a'laqs?"

  "Because I think you've done this more than they have. I think you've done it more than I have, and I'm… I'm concerned." He faltered again. "Please."

  "All right," Grinsa said. "Where am I looking?"

  "North. On or near the Horn. There should be an army of eight hundred or nine hundred Fal'Borna warriors."

  Grinsa felt the blood drain from his face. "And you don't sense any of them?"

  E'Menua shook his head. "No."

  Grinsa closed his eyes and reached forth with his magic, much as he had done when he spoke to the a'laqs and passed Besh's spell to them. He sensed S'Vralna first. There were Qirsi living there still, but very few. The plague had taken its toll. Farther north, he sensed D'Raqor, a city of several thousand Fal'Borna, and he sensed a few smaller septs as well, beyond D'Raqor. But there was no army here. When he reached forth in this way he could see the magic of a Qirsi with his mind, as if it were a candle burning in darkness.

  An army that size would have appeared as a bright blaze in the night. But he saw nothing. Demons and fire.

  He opened his eyes again and looked at the a'laq. "Anything?" the man asked.

  "No," Grinsa said. "Either the army isn't near the Horn, or every man who rode to meet the Eandi is dead."

  "That's what I think, too," E'Menua told him.

  He stood. Grinsa threw off his blankets and climbed to his feet as well.

  "I was looking for P'Rhil or S'Bahn," E'Menua said. "Both of them should have been there with their warriors. But like you, I couldn't find them. There was no sign of them at all."

  "What do we do?" Grinsa asked.

  The a'laq exhaled heavily. "We have to tell H'Loryn and O'Tal." "Do you want me with you?"

  "Yes," E'Menua said. "O'Tal will want to know that I'm not mistaken or lying."

  E'Menua woke one of his warriors and sent the man to find the other two a'laqs. Then Grinsa and he woke Q'Daer and L'Norr. Before long the six of them were standing together around a fire. The sky above them was dark with clouds, and snowflakes fell on them and hissed in the small blaze.

  "The army has been wiped out," E'Menua told them.

  O'Tal looked incredulous. "What?"

  H'Loryn shook his head. "Impossible."

  "I just reached for them," E'Menua said. "Not only couldn't I find any of the Weavers, I couldn't even find their men. None of them. I had Grinsa try. He couldn't find them, either."

  "I don't believe it," O'Tal said.

  "Try it yourself."

  The young a'laq closed his eyes for several moments, his brow creased in concentration. He stood that way for what seemed a long time, until at last he opened his eyes again, looking stricken.

  "Blood and bone," he whispered.

  "It's true then?" H'Loryn said, a tremor in his voice.

  "Could they have gone somewhere else?" Grinsa asked, ignoring him for the moment. "Somewhere we haven't thought to look?"

  O'Tal shook his head. "It's only been a few days. Where else could they have gone?"

  "Is it possible they went south instead of north?"

  "No," O'Tal said. "We saw them ride off. They went north, and they wouldn't have turned around without letting us know."

  "But how could they all be dead?" H'Loryn asked. "Even if the Eandi had managed to defeat them somehow, some would have escaped. There might be wounded, or prisoners. But you're saying that there's no one at all?"

  "The Mettai," E'Menua said. "It has to have been some spell of the Mettai.”

  Grinsa had to agree. H'Loryn was right: If it had been a normal battle, there would have been survivors. But if it was magic, as E'Menua suggested, that could explain how every last man had been lost.

  "So what do we do?" H'Loryn asked.

  "We continue north, and we fight," O'Tal said, staring at the old man as if daring him to disagree.

  E'Menua nodded his approval. "That's right. We'll find a way to defeat the Mettai, and then we'll crush the dark-eye army."

  "Yes, of course," H'Loryn said, as if willing himself to be brave. "My warriors will be ready to ride when you give the word, E'Menua."

  E'Menua looked grim but determined. "Good. We've still a few hours until dawn. I'm going to try to sleep. The rest of you should, too."

  The others turned and started back toward the warmth of their sleeping rolls. Grinsa had every intention of doing the same, but the a'laq spoke his name quietly, stopping him. Q'Daer halted as well, eyeing both Grinsa and E'Menua.

  "Go," the a'laq told him. "I just need to speak with the Forelander for a moment."

  Q'Daer frowned, but after a moment he left them.

  "This would be a good time to tell me all that you learned from the Mettai about their magic," E'Menua said when they were alone. "I had no idea they were capable of anything like this. I don't think any of my people did."

  "I'm not sure Besh and Sirj did, either," Grinsa said.

  "You'll tell me what they told you?" E'Menua asked.

  "Yes, of course. To be honest with you, Besh and I spent most of our time talking about the creatures they could conjure. That was what you were most concerned about, and the idea that they can conjure beasts of any sort still amazes me."

  The a'laq scowled at this.

  "I'm just being honest, A'Laq. Our magic, which can do so much, can't do anything like that."

  "What's your point?" E'Menua demanded.

  "That all of us were so concerned with dragons and demons, creyvnals and blood wolves, that those were the only spells we considered. Besh mentioned something to me, though-I didn't make much of it at the time, and neither did he. But it could explain what's happened to the other army."

  E'Menua looked genuinely alarmed. "Demons and dragons don't explain it?"

  "Not really, no. Even they might leave survivors. But Besh spoke of magic that could kill hundreds at a time. A poison spell, he called it. He didn't tell me how it works, and so I wouldn't know how to stop it, except…" He took a breath. "Except to try to kill every Mettai in the Eandi army.”

  "We intended to do that anyway," E'Menua said. "You don't know of any defense against this poison spell?"

  Grinsa started to say that he didn't, but then stopped himself, recalling his own experience with Mettai magic. That terrible night when he nearly died from Lici's plague, Besh tried several spells on him, and each one fell over him like a cool mist. It seemed that even a spell that didn't lead to the creation of a fox or hornets or a creyvnal had to take some physical form.

  "Forelander?"

  "Fire magic," Grinsa said.

  "What?"

  "Mettai conjure with earth and blood, which means that all their spells have some form, some substance. They're not just thought, like ours are. It may be that they can be burned away. That is, if we see them coming."

  The a'laq nodded slowly. "Yes. That makes sense." He looked Grinsa in the eye. "Well done." He started away. "Get some sleep, Forelander. We'll be fighting before long."

  Grinsa returned to his sleeping roll, but he was wide awake. Again he considered reaching for Cresenne. But she would ask him questions about the war, which inevitably would lead to what had befallen the other army. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her.

  He lay down and pulled his blankets up to his chin. Snowflakes fell on his face and melted, running over his cheeks and into his hair like tears. After a few moments of this, he pulled the blanket over his head and eventually fell asleep again.

  Morning came quickly, and soon the Fal'Borna were riding again. It seemed that word of the other Fal'Borna army's fate had spread through the ranks of the warriors. Only the day before, the men had joked and sang as they rode. Now they made not a sound. Grinsa saw fear in their faces, but also the same iron resolve he'd seen in E'Menua the previous night.

  Q'Daer and L'Norr rode next to Grinsa, but they didn't speak to each other or to him. The young Weavers scanned the horizon continually, as if both were eager to be the first to spot the Eandi army. Snow fell intermittently
throughout the day. At times it was so heavy that Grinsa could hardly see. At other times it stopped completely and the sun shone through breaks in the clouds, making the light layer of snow on the plain sparkle brilliantly.

  They came to the Thraedes late in the day and followed it northward, past the point where the K'Sand joined its flow. They'd reached the Horn; it was just to the west, across the river. But still the riders saw no sign of the Eandi, and when they stopped for the night, the mood in the camp was somber.

  It was a cold night, and though it stopped snowing and the skies cleared, a harsh, frigid wind blew out of the north, making it hard to sleep.

  With first light they were up and moving again, and before long they found what they'd been seeking.

  Q'Daer was the first to notice, and he rose in his saddle to point, a cry on his lips. Snow still covered the ground, but ahead of them a wide swath of grass had been trampled, leaving it dark compared with the rest of the landscape.

  Grinsa and the Fal'Borna riders stopped at the edge of the tracks, and the a'laqs and Weavers dismounted to take a closer look. The tracks must have been made by the Eandi. When Grinsa and the others had reached forth with their magic two nights before, there hadn't been nearly enough Qirsi in the area to disturb the land in this way. Add to this the fact that most of the prints they could make out had been made by humans and not horses, and it seemed clear that a vast Eandi army had passed this way on foot.

  But Grinsa was struck by the route they seemed to have taken.

  "They came from the north," Q'Daer said, sounding as confused as Grinsa felt. "They followed the river. And then they… they turned to the east."

  "That's how it looks to me, too," said O'Tal.

  E'Menua stared at the tracks, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "It makes no sense. They defeated our army and made it to the river. Why would they turn away from the Horn?"

  "Could it be a trick?" H'Loryn asked.

  Q'Daer appeared to weigh this. "Perhaps," he said. "A path this wide, made by so many men. With so much of the snow trampled, it's hard to read. I suppose it's possible that they doubled back." He turned to scan the riverbank. "But I see no sign that they crossed the river, at least not near here."