by Allan Cole
When I recovered I said, “Don’t go, young Natt. Don’t go.”
His mother clapped her hands and cried out in joy.
But Natt wasn’t satisfied. “What did’ja see, Granny?”
“I saw yer die, Natt,” I said. “I saw yer die at Galana.”
I started to turn away but he grabbed my sleeve.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “Yase’re makin’ it up. Jus’ t’ please me muvver.”
“She promised th’ truth, young Natt,” his mother said. “‘N that’s what we gots. Now, yase gave me yase promise.
“So let’s go home now, where yase belong.”
“I still say she was lyin’,” Natt shouted.
He pointed at both of us. Voice loud and accusing. “They’re rebels,” he said. “Can’t be any other reason.”
Pip came up to the lad quick. Pinching the flesh on the back of his arm to make him mind.
“Watch what’cher sayin’, son,” he said. “Yer’s don’t want ter get innercent folks hurt.”
“She said I was gonna die,” young Natt said, tones full of youthful outrage.
“On’y if yer go to Galana, dearie,” I said. “On’y then. Go home’n yer’ll be safe from harm.”
“I oughtter tell th’ guard,” young Natt said. “Report yase fer discouragin’’ lads from helpin’ Novari’s cause.”
“Yase’ll do nothin’ of the kind,” his mother said, taking him from Pip and pulling him back down the road. “Yase’ll stay with me like yase promised. So come along now, young Natt, and leave these nice people alone.”
Soon as they were out of sight we threw the rest of our things in the dray and took off as fast as we could.
An hour or so later we thought we were safe and slowed our pace.
“Might’a been a good time fer a little lie, Cap’n,” Pip observed, dry. “Lad’s sure t’ tell. Jus’ like he’s sure t’ go t’ Galana. No matter what his muvver says.”
And I said, “I saw him die there, Pip.”
“I’m sorry for him, then,” Pip said.
My answer came out hoarse, as a lump suddenly formed in my throat. “But it’s me who’s going to kill him.”
Pip was silent. He looked at me, then up the Great Harvest Road where Galana and our destiny waited.
“Well, Cap’n,” he said at last. “If I see him there I’ll kill him first and take the sin on me own soul. And damn the lad fer makin’ me do it.”
Then we heard horses behind us. We got off the road in a hurry. I cast a spell to hide us and no sooner had I done so when a dozen troops flying the Lyre Bird’s standard rumbled into sight.
It was a hunting party. Moving fast. And we both had no doubt they were hunting a market witch who told one truth too many.
After they’d passed Pip said, dry, “I ain’t no witch, Cap’n. But right now, old Pip fears fer young Natt’s future.
“‘N playin’ the snitch ain’t a real good start on it.”
The late fall warm spell bid us farewell the following day. The skies became troubled, showers were frequent and there was the beginnings of a nip to the air.
But what was a “nip” for me was something much more for Pip.
He shrugged into a sheepskin coat, hugging it close as we plodded along, doing our best to avoid the big mud puddles forming on the road.
“Never liked th’ cold, Cap’n,” he said. “If this was th’ old days I’d a been whinin’ t’ yer brother about bonus pay t’ compenserate me fer me sufferin’”
“Don’t try it on me, Pip,” I said, draping a wool scarf about my neck as my only consolation to the change in weather. “I know what cold is. This isn’t cold. This is summer where I come from. Now is when we plow the ice and plant the bergs.”
“Yer gotter hard heart, Cap’n,” he said. “Makin’ jokes at poor old Pip’s expense. But facts be facts. It’s colder’n a wizard’s pizzle, ‘n there’s no denyin’ it.”
He pointed to a low bank of black clouds blowing in from the north. “‘N it looks like it’s gonna get worse, by ‘n by.”
I studied the clouds, wondering if they were a harbinger of an early winter. Despite my teasing comments I was worried this might be the first winter storm Maranonia had warned was my deadline. Then a bright orange light burst out of the clouds. Followed by an eerie sound that seemed like many wailing voices. The black clouds rolled along the ground towards us.
“That’s no storm, Pip,” I said, grim.
The first tendrils reached us, filling our lungs with a bitter acrid stench. It choked us, searing our throats and making us weep. The horse reared in its traces, nearly knocking the dray over. We fought for breath and struggled with the horse at the same time.
The wails were now horrific screams and the stench was that of burning flesh. Then the wind shifted, blowing the clouds away. We dragged in shuddering breaths, patting the horse and trying to choke out soothing words.
The strange cloud bank had vanished but so had the sun. The skies were leaden, with an odd glaring cast to them that made the green countryside seem suddenly menacing. The wailing sound was gone but there was an insistent thrumming in the air. Like fire in an overheated hearth.
Even Pip, who had no magical senses, knew it was war’s ghastly shadow show we were witnessing.
“We’d best hasten, Cap’n,” he said. “Folks are dyin’ at Galana.”
From that point onward the signs of the long siege were plain. Villages and farms were abandoned. Grazing land empty. Fields and orchards stripped of all produce. Forests leveled for camp fires. All to supply Kato and Novari’s soldiers as they hammered at the gates of Galana.
The sky itself was a mirror of that distant fight. Strange lights and fearsome shadows did a deadly dance in the heavens by day. And at night the moon and stars were captive witnesses to the sorcerous battle raging between the Lyre Bird’s Evocators and Palmeras.
Demons on demon steeds grappled with many-headed monsters. Fire spitting lizards locked with giant armored warriors. And packs of jackal-visaged men hunted the night skies, filling the air with their blood-chilling howls.
I cast spells to make us seem unimportant to any of Novari’s wizard warriors, but the scale of the battle was so large we felt as insignificant in the flesh as I made our spirits appear.
We ran into a few patrols but they were so busy scavenging for food and fuel that they took little notice of us.
Pip used an old horsethief’s trick to make our old mare appear diseased, which discouraged any who might see her as dinner on the hoof. And we appeared so poor that even the greediest soldier didn’t think to shake us down for rations.
Once a patrol tried to take the dray from us to break up for firewood. But I spit and cursed and threatened to turn their pricks into mop strings. At same time I sent a real spell to shrivel their balls with a warning chill. They hastened away, not daring to turn their heads as I howled a stream of invectives.
The closer we came to Galana the worse all appeared. The whole landscape became a smoking ruin, and the skies were a molten cauldron of battle spells.
A day out of Galana we took another road that made a wide loop around the settlement. It intersected with the river at a small port village a few leagues above the fighting. Our intention was to strike south from there. Coming in from a direction where we hoped there was more chance of meeting friend than foe.
There was nothing left of the little port but charred posts and broken pavement.
Instead of taking the road out of town to Galana, Pip made a detour to the river. The docks had been broken up, leaving only a few jagged piles poking up out of the water. The only boats to be seen were stove-in scows too waterlogged to be burned.
We let the horse drink and stood on the bank in silence, staring at the dark currents rolling by. A feeling of immense sorrow came over me. I could hear voices, very faint and far away but at the same time they seeming close. Nibbling at the edges.
“This be where Kele died, Cap’n
,” Pip said, low.
There was a knot in my throat. I coughed, trying to clear it.
“She put Emilie down just below Galana,” Pip said. “Then, whilst some other brave souls carried th’ child off, she retreated up th’ river. Fightin’ all the way. Drawin’ th’ villains wi’ her.”
He pointed at the small harbor and destroyed docks. “Caught old Kele there, they did,” he said. He pointed at the ruined town. “They’d already taken and burnt the port so they had her pinned ‘tween the river ‘n the land. A fight commenced. Most fierce it was.
“Kele ‘n all th’ rest were killed in it. But they took lots of villains wi’ them, Cap’n. Kele made ‘em pay most dear, she did. Most dear, indeed.”
He turned away. “Sorry, Cap’n,” he said. “Jus’ wanted t’ pay me respects t’ an old comrade in arms.
“She’d do the same fer me.”
That night we came to the hills that guard Galana’s back. The whole sky was aglow with the fighting. Thunder boomed beyond the hills and the higher we climbed the more distinct became the shouted battle cries and clashing weapons.
Then the heavens opened up and rain poured down, turning the road into a river of mud. We struggled for what seemed like an eternity. Stopping constantly to lift the dray out of the mud or to help the horse over a difficult section.
Finally we came to the top of the hill. We paused beneath the shelter of high-piled boulders and looked down at the valley below. Lightning crashed and balls of sorcerous fire exploded overhead, illuminating the scene.
Just beneath us, crouched in the hard-driving rain, was Galana itself. In the intermittent light I could make out sharpened timbers and guard towers where a fortress wall had been thrown up. I could see the barracks that’d once been home to my warrior sisters who’d grown too old to fight.
A crash of lightning showed me the spire of the small temple to Maranonia, where’d the goddess had first appearance to me. I saw the glowing mouths of caves along a low hillside where our comrades had dug in.
Pip gripped my arm to get my attention and as I looked the gates of the fortress swung open and scores of defenders swarmed out. I could hear their screams of defiance above the roar of battle and see their spear points glittering like forged teeth as they charged a mass of soldiers.
The two lines met, crashing together like waves on an opposite course. My blood raced as I saw the enemy line bow under the weight of the furious assault. Off to the sides I saw reinforcement columns of enemy troops slog through the mud to stop the breach.
Pip squeezed my arm tighter. “Those sons’a poxed whores ain’t gonner make it in time, Cap’n,” he chortled. “Novari’s lads are gonner get their arses kicked tonight.”
Then we heard music. Lyre music. It began with a sharp single note that cut through battle and storm. Then it was a shower of notes. And the shower became a torrent. And that torrent became a river of fierce music, wrenching all senses with its force.
The rain suddenly stopped but the clouds churned about, scudding and bumping across the sky. Lighting cracking out when they touched. Jagged spears that were hurled downward to blast among the battling troops.
Enemy and friend alike were lifted up and hurled aside by the lightning strokes. I could hear nothing but the lyre music underscored by the crashing bolts.
The violence of it drove us back from the hill top. It doubled us over and we spewed our guts onto the stones. I forced myself up, groaning under the sorcerous weight. I raised my etherhand and gritted out a shielding spell.
The weight lifted and the hammering ceased and I could breathe easily again. I helped Pip up but he paid me no mind and ran back to the edge to see what was happening. I shifted the shield to keep him under it and shouted for him not to stray too far. I could only protect so much ground without giving my presence away.
I went to Pip and stood with him to watch the carnage below. The lightning had stopped and I could see the troops regrouping. The enemy reinforcements rushed in just then and our own troops were falling back to the gates of Galana.
I saw the defenders pouring out to play rearguard while the main force withdrew through the gates. But the enemy’s crush, driven harder by the Lyre Bird’s mad song, was overwhelming the retreat. In a moment all would be lost and the enemy would break through the line and into Galana itself.
Suddenly, out of the gates burst packs of immense dogs with teeth as long as cave lizards. They had huge spiked collars with fire shooting off those spikes and they plunged into the advancing enemy line and savaged it.
The troops scrambled back to escape the slavering dogs but the lyre music shrilled and they soon rallied and fought back. The dogs were overwhelmed by a series of concentrated and well-organized attacks.
And then the enemy turned to finish the job. But it was too late and the gates were crashing closed.
They charged, hoping to break through while the bars were being rammed into place. Galana’s defenders were ready, pouring hot oil and molten metal into their ranks. They fell back, dragging their wounded with them.
Then the music stopped.
And the battle was over.
We watched the enemy troops march off the field, thick columns of troops and equipment dispersing into the hills ringing Galana.
And we saw Galana’s defenders come out to get their own wounded and dead.
The clouds blew away, letting bright moonlight puddle through.
I saw a glowing form swoop across the sky, riding the underbelly of the fleeing black cloudbanks and heading toward Orissa.
My ethereye caught the great flaming aura surrounding the flying figure. I saw the wide wings and the graceful tail.
“It’s her, Pip,” I said. “The Lyre Bird.” I gritted my teeth in fury. “If she were only closer. By the gods, I’d be a fool to show myself. But I’d trade my other hand for a chance at her.”
“Go easy, Cap’n,” Pip said. “Yer said yerself she’s got two hundred or more Evocators behind her. Yer’d never stand a chance.”
He patted me on the shoulder, soothing. “If’n it was one on one, I’d say be a fool. But yer’d be fightin’ two hundred and one, Cap’n. ‘N them’s worse odds’n any dice game in Cheapside.”
I slumped down on a boulder - so hard it bruised a haunch.
“We’ll go down and see Quatervals ‘n Palmeras in th’ mornin’, Cap’n,” Pip said. “See what’s what.” He started making a cold camp. “Don’t want t’ surprise our mates just now,” he said. “They’re likely t’ be edgy. Might not be able to separate friend from foe that quick like.”
“They’re in worse shape than I thought,” I said.
“They made a good ‘nough showin’ fer themselves,” Pip said.
“That had all the marks of a desperation attack,” I said. “They were trying to catch the other side by surprise and didn’t have the muscle or the magic for it. Those dogs were a good trick, but it was only a trick. Palmeras thought fast. Unfortunately he doesn’t have Novari’s resources. Or her huge stable of Evocators to help him.
“I could feel the difference. And it was large, believe me. Very large.”
“Yer’ll soon be there, Cap’n,” Pip pointed out. “They’ll have yer powers to draw on, won’t they?”
“It might not be enough, Pip,” I said. “I can tilt the odds. If I’m lucky I might even get a small edge. But it’s going to take more than luck to win this.”
“Yer could be right, Cap’n,” Pip said. “Howsomev’r. In all me long years I never once turned my back on luck. She’s got old Pip this far, she has.”
He tapped his head. “‘Course it don’t hurt t’ use yer noggin’. ‘Cause smart luck’s more certain than dumb luck, as me dear old granny used t’ say.”
I slept only a few hours that night but I slept deeply and when dawn broke I awoke refreshed and ready to brace whatever might come.
I found a small pool of clear cold water. I used a cream that Garla had given me to wipe away the paint and marke
t witch’s makeup. I scrubbed my skin until it was pink, then unpacked the costume I’d been saving since I left Salimar’s side so many months ago.
It was the ceremonial uniform of a Maranon Guardswoman: gleaming boots, white tunic, polished harness bearing sword and dagger, a golden cloak and a wide gold band about my head. I wore the spear and torch earrings to honor the goddess, although in my heart I didn’t believe she deserved it.
Pip caught his breath when he saw me.
With my golden hand and rakish eyepatch, it seems I made a sight strange enough to jolt even the King of Thieves.