The Dark-Eyes War bots-3

by DAVID B. COE

  "Then we'll assume that they've turned east," E'Menua said. "We'll follow these tracks as far as they lead us. They're still fairly fresh, and with so many of them on foot, we should catch them before long."

  "What if they're retreating?"

  Every one of them turned to look at Grinsa.

  "Why would they retreat?" O'Tal asked, looking puzzled. "We know from last night that our army has been destroyed. There's nothing to keep them from crossing into the Horn. They'd have no reason to turn back now."

  "We don't know how many men they lost," Grinsa answered. He gestured at the trampled ground. "This could have been done by four thousand men. It also could have been done by half that number or fewer. Maybe they defeated the Fal'Borna army, but lost so many that they decided that they couldn't go on."

  "What does it matter?" E'Menua asked irritably.

  "If they're retreating, we should let them go," Grinsa said. "Particularly if the Mettai have magic that can destroy an entire Qirsi army."

  H'Loryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other two a'laqs, a hopeful look on his face.

  O'Tal caught Grinsa's eye, and shook his head slightly. But it was too late.

  "Let them go?" E'Menua said, his voice rising. "Let them go! They invaded our land! They killed hundreds of our warriors! Who knows how many septs they attacked? And you want to let them go?"

  "Forgive me, A'Laq," Grinsa said. He felt weak for apologizing, but he knew that he'd been mistaken to speak of retreat in front of everyone. He would have been better off first approaching E'Menua in private. Or better still, O'Tal. Too late for that now.

  For his part, E'Menua didn't seem to hear his apology.

  "I thought that you finally understood what it meant to be Fal'Borna!" the a'laq was saying. "I thought you were becoming one of us, at long last."

  He spat on the ground at Grinsa's feet. "Clearly I was wrong."

  The a'laq turned away without another word, walked back to his horse, and swung himself onto the animal's back.

  "We follow them east!" he said fiercely, glaring at all of them.

  He wheeled his horse away and spurred the beast to a gallop, leaving the rest no choice but to follow.

  "I'm sorry," Grinsa said to no one in particular. "This war has already been costly. I just thought perhaps we should consider letting it end. I meant no offense."

  None of the others would so much as look at him, except H'Loryn, who seemed even more disappointed than Grinsa felt, and O'Tal, who shook his head ruefully and said, "You should have known better. You've lived among the Fal'Borna for a few turns now. You should have known what he'd say."

  O'Tal didn't seem angry with him, as E'Menua had. But he and H'Loryn followed the others, so that Grinsa was left there alone. He climbed back onto his horse and rode after them, knowing he'd been a fool to say what he had.

  The a'laq set a grueling pace. It almost seemed that E'Menua wished to punish his entire army for what Grinsa had suggested. They pushed their mounts throughout the day, barely resting. Grinsa had rejoined the other Weavers at the head of the army, though still none of them spoke to him or even acknowledged him. His back and legs ached, and he longed for nightfall so that he could sleep.

  The trail left by the Eandi army stretched out before them. It seemed the invaders were still headed due east, toward the Silverwater and the safety of their homeland. Even as the snow began to melt, making the enemy's tracks less apparent, other signs of their passage became more obvious. The grass had been flattened; scraps of food-rinds of cheese, crusts of bread, and bits of dried meat-littered their path. The riders could even see where men had strayed from their course to relieve themselves. There could be little doubt at this point: The Eandi were leaving Fal'Borna land, and it appeared they were in a hurry to do so.

  Just let them go! Grinsa wanted to scream. This war is over! Return to your parents, your wives, your children!

  But he said nothing, and he rode with the rest of them.

  They spotted the rearguard first, perhaps two dozen soldiers, all on horseback. The men were too far ahead for Grinsa and the others to reach with magic, though that didn't stop E'Menua from trying. He used language of beasts first, and when that failed, shaping power. But the Eandi riders had seen the Fal'Borna and were galloping away, no doubt to warn their commanders that the Qirsi riders were coming.

  E'Menua signaled a stop, and while the warriors rested, the a'laqs and Weavers gathered to discuss what they should do next. They made room in their circle for Grinsa, but otherwise he might as well have been invisible.

  "We're going to do this quickly," E'Menua told them. "I don't want to give them any time to prepare. Our first attacks will be directed at the Mettai. Shaping, fire, even mind-bending if you can manage it. I don't need to tell you that they're the greatest danger. Once they're dead, we can turn our attention to the rest of their army."

  "Forgive me, A'Laq," Grinsa said. "But don't you think the other Fal'Borna army will have tried the same thing?"

  E'Menua stared straight ahead, still refusing to look at him.

  "What of it?" he asked after a moment, his voice as tight as a bowstring.

  "I think we need to ask ourselves why they failed and what we can do to overcome whatever attacks the Mettai throw at us."

  For a moment no one spoke, and Grinsa wondered if the rest intended to keep on ignoring him.

  But then O'Tal cleared his throat and said, "The Forelander makes a valid point. P'Rhil would have done all he could to destroy the Mettai first, and clearly he wasn't able to."

  E'Menua's face reddened. Grinsa was sure he was going to dismiss what they were saying as cowardly or foolish. But the a'laq surprised him.

  "Perhaps they're able to strike too quickly," he said. At last he faced Grinsa. "Do we know how close the Mettai need to be for their magic to work?"

  "No, A'Laq," Grinsa said. "At least I don't know. But what we discussed the other day remains true. Fire magic might work against any spells they try to use against us. And shaping should work against any creatures they conjure."

  E'Menua appeared to think about this for several moments. "All right, then. Forelander, I want you watching for any attacks that can be destroyed with fire magic. I'll give you fifty men who wield that power; that should be plenty. That's all you're to do. The rest of us will fight off whatever they conjure-we have plenty of shapers in this army."

  Grinsa nodded. "All right."

  "What about language of beasts?" H'Loryn asked. "Won't that work on the creatures they send against us?"

  "I don't think so," Grinsa said. "From what I know of Mettai magic, their creatures could be immune to that power."

  "And how is it that you know so much about the Mettai?" O'Tal asked him.

  Grinsa didn't need E'Menua's small head shake to tell him that they had strayed into dangerous territory. "I haven't been in the Southlands long," said, "but I've journeyed here a good deal. And in the course of those travels I've met many people, including some who are Mettai."

  O'Tal frowned, clearly not satisfied by this answer. But before he could say more, E'Menua gave the order to resume riding. Moments later they were galloping after the Eandi, the drumming of their horses' hooves seeming to make the ground tremble. Grinsa wasn't sure how far they'd have to ride before they encountered the invaders. The rearguard could have been two leagues behind the army, or one mile behind it. As it turned out, the distance might have been even less than that.

  Grinsa and the Fal'Borna topped a small rise, and found themselves facing an army of at least two thousand men, possibly more. Archers were positioned at the front of the force, spread in a wide arc, no doubt to make it harder for the Qirsi to raise a wind against their volleys of arrows. The Mettai stood near the center of the army. There didn't appear to be many of them, but Grinsa was sure there were enough to kill every Fal'Borna rider in E'Menua's force.

  But the army itself was the least of his concerns. The expanse of grass between the Qirsi army and
the Eandi was already teeming with creatures that made Grinsa's blood turn cold. There were serpents, as long as a peddler's cart and as thick around as a horse's neck. Great wolves, nearly as large as the horses ridden by the Fal'Borna, loped toward the Qirsi army. Enormous eagles circled overhead, their wings so broad they seemed to blot out the sun, their talons as long and sharp as daggers.

  E'Menua signaled a halt, and for a few moments Grinsa and the others simply stared at the scene before them. Several of the younger warriors appeared stricken with terror.

  "These creatures are nothing," E'Menua said at last, contempt in his voice. He looked back at his riders, a harsh grin on his face. "They think they can frighten us with big dogs and a few snakes?" He faced forward again and shouted, "Shapers!"

  The eagles were closest, and so they were the a'laq's first target. Grinsa felt the pulse of magic as E'Menua sent it forth. But still, he wasn't prepared for the deafening shrieks that came from the giant birds above them. A moment before they had been as graceful and terrible as any creatures Grinsa had ever seen. Now, their wings broken and flailing, their backs arched in agony, they tumbled to the earth, landing in great heaps on the plain.

  "Shapers again!" E'Menua called.

  This time the a'laq directed their magic forward instead of up. An instant later, the lead wolves let out loud yelps of pain and crumpled to the ground. Grinsa could see the Mettai conjuring more birds and more wolves, but clearly the creatures could be defeated with shaping magic.

  "The snakes!" Q'Daer shouted.

  Grinsa saw them, too. It seemed they were too low to have been hit by the shaping magic that killed the wolves. They were disturbingly fast and had nearly reached the Qirsi lines.

  His eyes wide, E'Menua shouted, "Fire!"

  The a'laq aimed the flame low, and made it spread like low waves over sand. It blackened the grass and slammed into the snakes, so that they twisted and writhed on the charred ground.

  Again, these horrors called forth by the Mettai couldn't withstand the Fal'Borna's magic. But Grinsa couldn't help noticing that E'Menua and the other Weavers had yet to direct an attack at the Eandi. It was all they could do to defend themselves against the Mettai attacks.

  Even as he formed the thought, he saw the Mettai conjuring again. And this time, rather than calling forth more wolves or eagles or snakes, the blood and earth that flew from their hands changed into something that looked almost like sand. Except that it didn't billow in the wind and fall to the ground. Instead, it spread across the sky and soared toward the Qirsi riders so swiftly that Grinsa felt panic grip his heart.

  "Fire!" he shouted. Reaching for the magic of the Fal'Borna around him, he sent forth a wall of flame that shimmered and danced over the plain even as it broadened to consume the spell of the Mettai sorcerers. And when the two met, the fire flared like lightning in the Growing turns, so that every person on that battlefield threw up a hand to shield his or her eyes.

  "What was that?" E'Menua called to him.

  Grinsa shook his head. "I don't know."

  The a'laq surveyed the battlefield, his expression far more sober than it had been a few moments before. Already the Mettai were creating more of their blood animals, and Grinsa could see the Eandi archers creeping forward, trying to put themselves within range of the Fal'Borna. It seemed E'Menua saw this, too.

  "O'Tal!" the a'laq called. "You take the snakes. Use fire on them-that seems to work best. H'Loryn, I need you to raise a wind. Keep it swirling. Don't let those archers reach us."

  "Yes, all right," H'Loryn said in return.

  "I'll keep using shaping on the eagles and wolves," E'Menua went on. "The Forelander will fight off their other spells. Q'Daer and L'Norr," he said, dropping his voice slightly. "I want the two of you to gather twenty warriors from our sept and try to use shaping magic against the Mettai. You might need to get closer to them, and I'm not sure how you should do that. That's up to you. But until the Mettai are defeated, we can't win. You understand?"

  "Yes, A'Laq," the two men said in unison.

  "Good. Now go."

  There was much about E'Menua that Grinsa didn't like or even respect, but he couldn't find fault with the a'laq's battlefield strategy. He tried to keep one eye on the Mettai, so that he could guard against their next spell, but he also watched as Q'Daer and L'Norr wheeled their horses away and waved to several of their riders to join them. As he did this, Q'Daer glanced back at Grinsa and for just a moment their eyes met. Grinsa nodded to him, and the young Weaver gave a fierce grin. It wasn't surprising, really. It seemed to Grinsa that the man had been itching for battle since the day they met. Here it was at last.

  "Fire!" O'Tal yelled.

  And E'Menua followed that almost immediately with another call of "Shapers!"

  Grinsa's gaze snapped forward again. Another line of snakes was getting close. Two dozen wolves trotted just behind them. Already a number of eagles were tumbling out of the sky, their great beaks open, their death cries making E'Menua's warriors cringe. He felt H'Loryn's wind rising. He saw the Mettai conjuring another of their strange mists, and he reached for the fire magic of the men behind him.

  He hadn't started to tire yet, but no Qirsi, not even a Weaver, could wield his power forever. He wondered how long the Mettai could conjure.

  Chapter 23

  There was little for Tirnya to do but watch and wait for something terrible to happen. If Mander had been telling them the truth about his people's magic and the curse that had been put on his village, something was bound to go wrong in this battle. The eagles, wolves, and snakes would turn on the soldiers of Stelpana. One of the Mettai spells would work against the Eandi instead of the white-hairs. The plague would return and strike at her father's army.

  The eldest and her people had already tried their sleeping spell against this second wave of Fal'Borna riders. Tirnya had heard her father calling for the spell, and Tirnya's first thought had been that it would fly back at them as the poison spell had by the river. She could imagine the soldiers around her falling asleep; and she could imagine as well the Fal'Borna riders moving among their still bodies, killing them as they slept, as Tirnya and her men had done in that sept they'd encountered early on. It was as if the gods were punishing her people for starting this new Blood War. It was like a waking nightmare.

  When a wall of Qirsi fire appeared and burned the Mettai spell out of the sky, Tirnya actually cried out, fearing that this was the curse again, that the dazzling blaze overhead would rain down upon them and kill them all.

  When it didn't, and when the Mettai recovered from their shock at what had been done to their spell, it all started again. More wolves, more eagles, more serpents.

  We're leaving! Tirnya wanted to scream at the white-hairs. Why can't you just leave us alone and let us go home?

  But she knew the answer. They were Fal'Borna; her people were Eandi. And this was a new Blood War. She'd started it, and she should have known better than to think that it could end so easily. If white-hairs had crossed the Silverwater into Stelpana, killed thousands of her people, and then retreated, she wouldn't have been willing to let them go. She would have wanted vengeance. She would have wanted to see every one of those invaders killed. The army of Stelpana would be lucky to make it back across the wash.

  "How much longer can you keep this up, Eldest?" her father called to Fayonne.

  The Mettai woman didn't take her eyes off the Qirsi lines. The back of her left hand was bloody and raw, though Tirnya had yet to see her give any indication that she was in pain. "As long as we need to to stay alive," she answered. "I have a lot of blood in my veins, Marshal."

  Tirnya had come to believe that she'd been wrong to suggest the alliance with the Mettai, but she couldn't deny that she admired this woman.

  "Do you want us to try the poison spell?" Fayonne asked a moment later. Jenoe looked over at Tirnya, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. "Not yet," he said. "Try the sleep spell again."

  Fayonne nodded
and said something to her people that Tirnya couldn't hear. A moment later they again threw handfuls of blood and dirt at the Fal'Borna. As before, these balls of mud transformed themselves immediately into streaks of silvery mist.

  And once again, the spells hadn't made it halfway across the expanse of plain separating the two armies when they were met by a wave of fire. The magic flared so brightly, it seemed like the sun had exploded above them. When Tirnya could see again, the white-hairs were still awake, still fighting.

  "Damn!" the eldest said, her fists clenched, blood oozing from her many cuts.

  Tirnya felt the wind freshen against her face, though moments before it had been blowing from the other direction. An instant later it had shifted again, and was blowing from her left, and then from the right.

  "They've noticed the archers."

  Tirnya turned at the sound of the voice. Enly was beside her, his brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping over the battle plain. After a moment, she nodded.

  "Do you think we should let them use the poison spell?" she asked.

  "No," he said, without hesitation. "It could kill us all. Even the sleep spell is risky. If it puts all of us to sleep, the Fal'Borna might wake up first, and then we're dead."

  "Have you mentioned that to my father?"

  He grimaced, though he might have been trying to smile. "Your father hasn't been so fond of me recently. I haven't said much of anything to him."

  "You have to tell him this, Enly. He keeps telling the eldest to try that sleeping spell. You have to make him stop."

  He looked over at her father with uncertainty.

  "Never mind," she said. "I'll talk to him."

  "No," Enly said. "I will."

  He took a breath and started walking toward the marshal.

  Tirnya didn't know much about Mettai magic, and she knew even less about what it meant to be put under a curse. The day before, listening to the eldest's son talk about how his people had suffered because of the spell cast by their Mettai rivals, she had barely grasped all that he was telling them. She had thought about it a good deal in the past day, and had been struck again and again by how awful it would be to feel such malevolence from the very land on which they lived. But even worse than that would be the knowledge that their magic, the single thing that defined them as a people, couldn't be trusted.