Darksong Rising

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Jerat bowed, then looked up. "Regent... we have done the best we can, and we continue to labor."

  "You have done much," Anna affirmed. More than enough for a fort that's outlived its usefulness... You hope.

  "Repairing the fort has helped us add some armsmen as well, Lady Anna. Did you know that we have over twoscore here, and a score could go with you... should you need additional forces."

  "You have done well, Jerat, and we appreciate that" Anna managed not to wince at her own words. You're sounding like royalty... or a politician. She nodded and turned to Himar. "Once everyone's quartered and settled, perhaps you could review these armsmen with Jerat and see whether it would be better to have them accompany us... or whether they might best be held in reserve to follow us later. I imagine you'll have to look into the question of supplies and mounts... and other matters."

  "Jerat and I will discuss this," Himar said. "And perhaps the Lord High Counselor?" He glanced toward Jecks.

  Jecks smiled politely. "I am at your disposal, overcaptain."

  "The stables are on the southeast wall... the ones left. We didn't try to rebuild the others, collapsed like they were." Jerat turned and began to waik toward the remaining stables.

  Anna looked over the armsmen as she rode past. They looked like any others she had seen. "He found more than a score of men to train here in the middle of nowhere.. ' she murmured to Jecks.

  "So it would seem... though some might be Ebran deserters or from our forces."

  "Still..." Anna mused, "in little more than a season...."

  "If others did as well, you would have a greater force," agreed Jecks.

  "Maybe we need to do recruiting in the outlying lands," suggested Anna. Yet another task and job... even if you survive the battles, you'll be buried by the bureaucracy you'll have to create to run this place.

  She tried not to groan as she reined up outside the stable, keeping a smile firmly in place.

  40

  ESARIA, NESEREA

  The dark-haired Rabyn slips from the audience chair without looking at the Mansuuran overcaptain and makes his way into the smaller chamber behind the receiving hall, where he steps to a serving table. There he lifts a pitcher and pours a goblet of wine, looking up as Nubara walks slowly into the chamber.

  "Audiences are done for the day," the youth says. "For that, I am pleased. A charade, but a necessary one, you know?"

  "I understand,"...offers Nubara. "Charades are useful to rulers.

  Most useful, if one would gain the support of the people."

  "Ah, yes, the people, the dear people." Rabyn takes a second goblet from the back of the table, set slightly apart from two others, and fills it, then extends the goblet. "You look thirsty, Nubara, even if I did all the speaking."

  "that is your role as Prophet" Nubara takes the goblet.

  Rabyn smiles across the small chamber and lifts his glass, drinking. After a moment, he replies. "The Prophet of Music has many roles."

  "All rulers do." Nubara takes a sip from the wine goblet, then frowns, looking at the dark liquid.

  "One of those roles is to make sure they continue to rule," Rabyn says easily, setting his goblet on the back of the table.

  Nubara's hands begin to shake, and he barely manages to set the goblet on the serving table.

  "You see... Nubara... you should pay attention to me." Rabyn's smile is hard, almost dispassionate.

  The officer pales, trying to speak before his knees buckle, and he slowly collapses into a heap on the polished white tiles of the floor. Rabyn watches, seemingly waiting, until the lancer overcaptain convulses. Then the youth kneels and rolls Nubara onto his back. Rabyn takes a small vial from his wallet and lets several drops ooze into the Mansuuran officer's mouth.

  The convulsions slow, and Rabyn stands, stepping back and watching, his dark eyes cold and intent.

  After several convulsive movements, Nubar slowly sits up. Then he stands, if shakily. "What...you serpant... what have you done?"

  "Careful, Nubara." Rabyn steps back, holding up the vial. "This will only last a week ...and none but I know the way to formulate more."

  "If you would explain... Prophet..." Sweat begins to pour from Nubara's forehead, and he shudders.

  "I did not trust you, Nubara...so I took steps to introduce... certain ingredients into your diet... they have damaged your body. You will die within a day without the antidote. The damage is forever, the antidote is temporary."

  Rabyn's smile is hard. "You will need several drops every few days."

  "You are truly your mother's son," Nubara's voice is rasping. "Truly..."

  "I am indeed, and do not ever forget that. You will not forget, not if you wish to live. Nor will that bitch sorceress." Another smile crosses Rabyn's youthful face, a countenance that suddenly appears far older, far more cruel. "Now...shall we plan the attack on Defalk?"

  Nubara looks down, if momentarily, before he raises his eyes. "I believe such an attack is most unwise, Prophet."

  "Will you assist me? Or do you wish to die?"

  Nubara takes another deep breath. "I will assist you."

  "I thought you would see reason, Nubara." Rabyn smiles once again.

  41

  Come in." Anna stepped back from the pine-planked door to let Jecks and Himar enter the chamber that had once been meant for Lord Barjim. It was larger than the room she had once occupied at the Sand Pass fort with three other women, but spare, containing little more than a large bed, whose frame had been roughly repaired with pine splints over the light oak, a few chairs, a wash table with bowl and pitcher, a small writing table with a single stool, a chamber pot, and a plank with hanging pegs nailed to the brick wall.

  The traveling scrying mirror rested upon the writing table, and the uncased lutar lay across the lower corner of the bed.

  "You wished to see us?" A humorous glint tinged Jecks' hazel eyes.

  "I did." Anna let Himar close the door before she asked, "We still have two companies of bowmen, right?" We'd better...

  "They can shoot arrows. Most would be useless without your spells to guide the arrows," Himar said. "Years it takes to make an archer."

  "We'll need their arrows, though." Anna pursed her lips. "Before we talk, we need to see what's happening in Ebra." If we can. She motioned toward the mirror on the table, then turned and reclaimed the lutar. She checked the tuning, cleared her throat, and began what she hoped would be the last vocalise.

  Her cords clear, she began the scrying spell.

  Bertmynn, Bertmynn, Lord I'd see, show his forces now to me...

  As the last notes of the spell died way, the mirror silvered over, and then presented an image of armsmen in leathers and burgundy tunics advancing across a recently harvested grain field. One armsman staggered, flailed as an arrow went through his neck, then slowly crumpled. Those behind and beside him continued to trot forward with bared blades.

  'They are fighting. Whether it is the beginning or the end..." Jecks shrugged.

  "The beginning," offered Himar. "Bertmynn's armsmen still hesitate."

  Without waiting, Anna tried a second spell.

  Show me now, and as must be any fighting near Elahwa city....

  Anna tried not to wince at the rhyme, but the mirror image shifted, this time to show what seemed to her a pitched skirmish between figures in blue and others in burgundy. To the side of the blue figures with blades were others in blue with bows. Abruptly, a squad of lancers in burgundy appeared, slashing at both archers and armsmen afoot. Anna could tell that most, if not all, of those in blue were women.

  As it became clear that few of the freewomen shown by the glass would survive, Anna sang a release couplet, then slowly laid the lutar on the bed.

  "It may be different elsewhere near Elahwa," offered Jecks.

  "It might be, but... is it likely?" asked Anna. "I'll check again before we leave in the morning."

  "The morning?" Himar's eyebrows rose.

  "We should march before Ber
tmynn can recover. We can't reach Elahwa before he takes over the city, anyway," Anna said. You couldn't reach the other side of the Sand Pass....

  "You should not," returned Himar. "Let the freewomen weaken him, and let young Hadrenn understand the danger. Your support will be worth more to him."

  "And it will be less costly for you and for our lancers," added Jecks.

  The Regent nodded slowly. What both men said made sense. So why did she feel guilty about not being able to attack Bertmynn before he reached Elahwa? Because women are dying, and they have no one else? Her lips tightened, but nodded once more. "We leave in the morning."

  42

  The Ostfels and the eastern end of the Sand Pass lay a good ten deks to the west and behind the column of Defalkan lancers. On the north side of the narrow road were grasslands, similar to those around Mencha, but more lush. A half dozen deks or so to the south of the road lay a long beige ridge of sand-the westernmost part of the Sand Hills. The air above the dunes shifted and shimmered, sometimes reflecting the sun or something else.

  Anna could almost feel the heat radiating from the dunes, and she took another long swallow from the water bottle as she studied the Sand Hills. According to Brill, at one point, years earlier the sand had actually blocked the entrance to and the use of the Sand Pass, effectively isolating Ebra from Defalk. Then the Evult had shifted the dunes and begun his plans to invade and subdue Defalk.

  Anna frowned. Without the Evult, would the sands shift again?

  "What is the worst mistake a lancer can make in battle?" asked Kinor, his voice drifting forward to Anna and Jecks.

  "Trying too hard to kill people," answered Himar.

  Anna found herself listening, wondering what the overcaptain would say next.

  "Aren't you supposed to kill the enemy?" interjected Jimbob. Himar laughed. "If you must and if you can-easily. If your blade skills are good, it is best to let others make mistakes." There was a pause, as if the former Neserean officer had shrugged. "If you cannot; then by all means attack vigorously so that none will know how little skill you have."

  "...doesn't make sense..."

  Anna thought the words were Jimbob's, but she wasn't sure. "Perhaps one lancer in fivescore is strong enough and skilled enough to beat down another's blade. In all other cases, lancers die from their mistakes, and the biggest mistake is being too hasty in trying to kill another."

  Jecks smiled and murmured to Anna. "His words are true."

  "They make sense," she replied. They're true in everything... but it's so hard to be patient when everyone is flailing at you. She wished Skent had heard Himar's words... or that someone had conveyed them to the all-too-young undercaptain.

  Another mistake? Another case of haste on your part? Because you need trusted and intelligent officers so badly?

  Her eyes went back to the shimmering expanse of the Sand Hills, then to the road ahead, the long road to Synek...and the longer road to bloody Elahwa.

  43

  There's someone riding toward us," observed Rickel, checking his blade and glancing toward Blaz, who rode on Anna's left, away from the River Syne, a narrow and placid strip of brown water winding between intermittent low hills. The hills were covered mostly with a mixture of brown and green grass with patches of trees that represented woodlots for the cots that appeared at irregular intervals.

  "In a hurry," suggested Blaz, as both guards reached for the large shields they carried to protect Anna for enough time to allow her to use her spellcasting.

  Anna squinted into the low, late-afternoon sun, looking to see if she could discern any sign of Synek, but all she saw was the rider, and a good dek farther up the road, on a hillcrest to the west, another group of riders, two of whom appeared to be the scouts Himar had sent out ahead of the main column. She readjusted the floppy brown hat, but the sun was too low for the hat to help much.

  "Ready arms!" ordered Himar. "Bowmen, first squad!"

  Jecks drew his blade and eased up beside Anna.

  Anna turned in the saddle and slipped the lutar out of its case. She glanced back at Jimbob and Kinor, both of whom had drawn steel, and then at the small round shield in the open-topped case at her knee, spelled against weapons directed toward her-an idea Jecks had forced upon her when they had begun the campaign in Dumar, but one that had proved its value more than once. Then she began to check the lutar's tuning as Rickel and Blaz eased forward so that they could lift the shields to protect her.

  A rider in a green tunic neared, one hand on his mount's reins, and a second empty hand held clear of mount or the long blade he bore in a shoulder harness. "Greetings!" came the call as he reined up. "Regent and sorceress... Lord Hadrenn sent us to escort you to his hold." The black-haired lancer gestured. "My squad waits with your scouts." He paused, looking flustered, then extended a gold ring to Rickel. "My master's seal ring... to... so that..."

  Anna took the ring from Rickel. "I will be happy to return it to Lord Hadrenn."

  As Hadrenn's escort turned his mount, Anna slipped the ring into her wallet, but kept one hand on the lutar as they rode uphill and westward. Below, along the river, those few trees not uprooted or buried in piles of clay were bent over, almost touching the uneven ground on the lower riverbanks. The leaf patterns were uneven, with some trees having but few leaves at all, and one or two having full leaves, although touches of red and yellow were beginning to appear.

  When the riders reached the hillcrest on the packed-clay road, Anna finally saw Synek on the far bank and to the northwest. At the next dip in the road, a crude timber bridge spanned the narrow river-the only bridge Anna could see looking either up or down the river, and clearly placed there because of its location on the narrowest part of the Syne.

  "We must cross here," announced the guide. "Perhaps some of your force, then my squad, and then the Regent and players, and then the remainder of your lancers..."

  Anna touched the shield at her knee, but it remained still, without vibration.

  "Two companies first," suggested Jecks.

  Anna nodded.

  "Purple and gold companies to the fore!" ordered Himar.

  Anna, Jecks, Jimbob, Kinor, and Liende and the players gathered to one side of the clay-packed causeway leading to the bridge as the two companies crossed and formed up on the northern side. Then Jecks and Blaz started across, and it was Anna's turn.

  The bridge flexed, alarmingly to Anna, under Farinelli's weight, even as they took it in single file with no more than two mounts on the structure at a time. On the north side, as she waited for the remainder of the long line of lancers, Anna retuned the lutar, her eyes flicking along the north river road every few moments. Except for her escort and her own force, both roads remained empty.

  Skent led his company-the cyan company-across the bridge with a show of confidence. Anna just hoped the young man was not too confident.

  Once all had crossed, and they rode slowly back westward toward Synek, Anna studied the southern riverbank, the one that showed the most damage-more than half the area within a hundred yards of the water had not been repaired or rebuilt, and pile after pile of bricks and debris filled the ground. In a few places, dwellings and shops, seemingly rebuilt from the yellowish bricks, rose in clumps.

  Anna swallowed. While she had not meant to visit such destruction on Synek... she had. The most damning obituary, someone said, is: "She meant well." You meant well, and did worse. Yet what else could she have done?

  "There is Lord Hadrenn's hold." The guide gestured to a structure built of tan stone and yellow brick, not even so large as Loiseau, set on a hilltop perhaps a dek to the north of Synek. "We take the next lane."

  An effort had been made to fill in the worst of the potholes on the side road, and to cut back trees and bushes, some of the saw cuts so recent that Anna could smell the odor of pine resin and other saplike odors.

  The hold itself lacked a separate wall for fortification, but the windows on the lowest level were infrequent, small, and iron-bar
red. Otherwise, the mansion appeared more like an English country estate, but without either lawns or gardens. Several outbuildings flanked the dwelling hall, and one was newly built of old yellow bricks. Armsmen's and lancers, quarters, no doubt.

  "This is Lord Hadrenn's family home and birthplace," explained the guide.

  The man who rode out alone down the road from the mansion toward them was stocky, almost overweight, for all that he was probably less than thirty years old, Anna estimated. He was already mostly bald, and a scar ran from the side of his nose to below his right ear. Anna recognized him from her efforts at scrying him.

  "Regent and sorceress?" His voice was surprisingly uncertain

  "Yes, Lord Hadrenn. I'm Lady Anna, Sorceress and Regent of Defalk." Anna gestured. "This is Lord High Counselor Jecks; Lord Jimbob, heir to Defalk; Liende, my chief of players; and Overcaptain Himar."

  Hadrenn inclined his head deeply. "To bring such... you honor me. You honor Synek." When he looked up, Anna noted that his eyes were deep and brown, almost cowlike except for the intentness and concentration they held.

  "There is much to do," Anna temporized.

  The young lord bowed again. "Lady Regent, I cannot say I expected you to come to my aid... even after your messenger arrived."

  Anna smiled politely. "I am here... and we need to talk about what we should do. After we are settled and somewhat refreshed."

  At her shoulder, Jecks nodded.

  44

  ENCORA, RANUAK

  The blonde woman taps on the study door, a door slightly ajar.

  "You may come in, Alya," responds the Matriarch.

  Alya slides through the door and closes it behind her, if gently and nearly silently. "You have heard, Mother?" Her eyes focus directly on the round-faced Matriarch, who wears gray and black, not the usual garb of brighter colors.