"You will wait upon my pleasure." Belbe imagined his face exploding in a shower of blood and bone fragments, his teeth falling like hailstones to the polished floor. "Where are the survivors of your force?"
"A few days' march from here."
"Will they make it back on their own?" With one kick she could crush his windpipe, and he would slowly strangle to death…
He shrugged. "That has more to do with Eladamri than my soldiers."
"Predator is flying again. I'll send Greven to find your men and escort them home. The ship has no weapons on board yet, but the rebels won't know that." With one blow she could drive the cartilage in his nose back into his brain.
He saluted. "Your Excellency is wise and frugal."
Crovax departed, and the Dream Halls doors closed silently behind him. Belbe leaped into the air, kicking her feet and pounding the air furiously with her fists. When this failed to satisfy her, she ran to the wall and punched an elaborate bas-relief depicting one of Volrath's dreams of glory. The flowstone walls, made to imitate marble, splintered under Belbe's blows. No sooner had the fragments fallen to the floor than they began climbing back up to rejoin the broken structure. She pounded on the wall until her knuckles were scored and weeping glistening oil. Panting with excitement, she stood back to catch her breath.
Her violence triggered the dream device overhead. With a hiss of servos and uncoiling wire, three dream catchers dropped to Belbe's eye level. In each was a dirty white "pearl", representing some dream experience the device thought appropriate to Belbe's current state of mind. She stared at the trio of machines and with a howl of pure fury, seized one in each hand and ripped them loose. The third dream catcher hastily retracted.
Belbe enjoyed crushing Volrath's dreams under her heel.
*****
The army reached Chireef, the last outpost before the Stronghold, three days after the battle. A march that had taken Crovax a day and a half Nasser was content to do in twice the time. His men were tired, many were wounded, and no one was in a hurry to return home from a defeat.
Riders came back with the news that the blockhouse at Chireef seemed abandoned. The doors were closed and barred, and none of the garrison responded to the scouts' hails. Alarmed, Nasser and the Corps of Sergeants rode ahead of the main body with all the remaining cavalry to investigate what happened at Chireef.
The blockhouse looked deserted. Arrow slits were vacant. No sentries walked the roof. Some unknown banner hung limply from the flagpole-the air was too still to stir it. Despite repeated calls, no one inside the blockhouse responded.
The door was a massive bronze affair, and the Rathi soldiers were not equipped to batter it down. A team of four men was ordered to scale the blockhouse walls with ropes and grappling hooks. The outside of the blockhouse was as smooth as glass (to prevent just such attempts at climbing by the enemy), so it took some time before the soldiers were able to reach the roof. Three men were detailed to enter the blockhouse and open the outer door while the fourth hauled down the mysterious flag and tossed it to Nasser.
It was a triangle of rough green cloth with a simplified image of a red snake's head, fangs bared, in the center.
With a loud clank, the doors of Chireef rolled back. The cavalrymen who'd entered the blockhouse emerged looking puzzled. No one was inside, alive or dead. The place had been stripped clean-not even garbage was left.
"What about the cisterns?" Nasser asked. The army was thirsty.
"Empty," the scouts reported. Someone had broken off the flowstone valves, allowing all the water to drain from the storage tanks.
This was plainly the work of Eladamri and his rebels, but the mysterious state of the blockhouse was unsettling. Why were there no signs of a fight? Where were the dead or the wounded? They couldn't even find any bloodstains. How could a band of rebels, armed only with hand weapons, capture a well-defended blockhouse the army had visited only a few days earlier?
A smudge of dust on the horizon warned Nasser the foot column was on its way. Tharvello and some of the sergeants wanted to keep the troops away from Chireef, hide the strange fate of the garrison from the rank and file. Nasser would not allow it.
"Let everyone know," he said grimly. "This is what they can expect at rebel hands! Let them contemplate Chireef and fight harder to avoid their comrades' fate."
Each company marched past the empty blockhouse. Smashed valves and puddles at the foot of the wall made it clear there was no water for them. Word filtered through the ranks about the disappearance of the entire garrison, and a chill enveloped the already dispirited army.
Nasser ordered the march to continue until dusk. Though they were within a night's march of the Stronghold, the senior sergeant didn't want his dejected troops to arrive home in the middle of the night. He decided to camp one more night and march into the city by the full light of day. Nasser sent a percher ahead with this news. Not knowing where Crovax was, he addressed his message to Greven il-Vec.
He halted the army astride the main road from the Stronghold to Chireef, The tired men filed out of formation and dropped their packs in the dirt. Details were sent to gather tinder for campfires, and the communal pots were unpacked for dinner.
These mundane tasks occupied the army in the last hour of daylight. Nasser and his comrades were about to sit down when sentries reported an unknown light in the sky.
Nasser overturned his bowl in his haste to stand. He didn't have to go far before he spied what the sentries had seen: a bright golden light, low in the air and moving with considerable speed. It was approaching from the southwest, directly away from the Stronghold.
"Airship?" suggested Tharvello. "An enemy airship?" "I don't know. Alert the troops. If we're going to be attacked, the men must disperse."
Trumpets and perchers blared, and the soldiers gave up their meager meals to stand to arms. The aerial beacon was easily visible to all now as it maneuvered below the sluggish clouds. Anxious murmurs passed through the ranks.
The hum of aerial engines reached the soldiers. The first dim outline of the ship behind the light could just be made out. "It's a big one," Tharvello said. "Shut up," Nasser replied.
The gilded searchlight raked the grassy plain, right, left, ahead, and back. Some cavalry were caught in the beam, and the kerls pranced nervously when the light hit their weak eyes. Nasser raised his hand to alert the troops. At his signal they would scatter to avoid the airborne attack.
No missiles or bombs erupted from the airship. Instead, it slowed and began to descend. The searchlight swung down, highlighting the patch of ground where the ship would alight. In the reverse glow, Nasser recognized the long prow, the jutting boarding mandible. "It's Predator!"
The Rathi troops let out a concerted shout of relief, and hundreds rushed forward to greet the landing vessel. Predator dropped to within a few feet of the ground and hovered. Lamps blazed fore and aft, and against the light Nasser could see crew members scurrying about on deck.
A rope ladder unrolled to the ground, but the first man off the ship didn't use it. Greven il-Vec jumped from the deck, landing lightly. He stooped to clear the overhanging bulk of the airship, standing erect once he saw the Corps of Sergeants drawn up to greet him.
"Dread Lord!" Nasser said, over the throb of the hovering ship's engines. "It's good to see you!"
"Is this all that remains of the force?" Greven said sternly, surveying the men clustered around Predator.
Taken aback, Nasser recovered his professional demeanor and replied, "It is, Dread Lord."
"Where's Crovax?"
Nasser looked Greven in the eye. "He's not here, sir. We haven't seen him since this morning."
"What?" Greven thundered. Every man present, veteran or recruit, flinched. "Where is your commanding officer?"
Nasser explained how Crovax vanished when the strange explosion demolished his hut. He expected a further display of temper, but instead the giant warrior seemed pleased to hear of Crovax's unexpected departure.
"Gone, is he? His chance to be evincar is gone, too." Greven noticed the press of soldiers around him and snarled. "Do you men have nothing better to do than stand here, gawking like a bunch of hungry moggs?"
The relieved soldiers returned to their campfires. Greven ordered Predator aloft to watch for trouble while he remained on the ground. He wanted to hear a full account of the battle with the rebels. Then he announced he would personally lead the remnants of the Skyshroud Expedition into the Stronghold.
Greven got the whole story from Nasser and the sergeants. They blamed the wind and fire for their debacle and confirmed that Eladamri had Vec and Dal allies in the fight.
Greven listened to every word. His inhumanly hard features were a mask to the assembled sergeants. As Greven sat there, thinking yet saying nothing, one by one the sergeants slipped away to catch a bit of sleep. Nasser was the last to go.
"If there's nothing else, Dread Lord, I'll say good night." Greven gazed at the dying campfire. Nasser saluted curtly and disappeared into the outer darkness.
He hadn't gone ten yards before Tharvello grabbed him from behind.
"What is it?" said Nasser.
"You heard Greven back there. This means the end of Crovax, doesn't it?"
"Such decisions occur far above my head."
"Come now, you and I took up Crovax's mantle gladly, thinking it would advance us in the army and get us out from under that bastard Greven's thumb. Well, Crovax botched it! We should make amends to Greven."
"You talk like a soft-handed courtier," Nasser said. "I'll not sell my loyalty at the first sign of adversity."
Tharvello grinned. "So you're staying with Crovax?"
"I serve Rath, not any one man. If you think Crovax is finished, you're badly mistaken. Defeat or no defeat, he'll be back stronger than ever. Mark what I say."
Nasser left him.
*****
Tharvello opened his hauberk and pulled out the percher he'd hidden underneath. Perchers remembered the last words spoken in their presence.
Your words are marked, Tharvello thought, stroking the winged creature.
CHAPTER 11
BANQUET
Ertai strolled down a vacant corridor, a long scroll in one hand, a hunk of soft bread in the other. The end of the scroll dragged on the floor as he went, munching his snack. He stepped out into the main corridor just as Dorian il-Dal came barreling along. They went down in a tangle, the scroll entwining around them both as they struggled to free themselves.
"Be still, will you?" Ertai said. "You'll tear the scroll!"
"Help! I've no time for this foolishness! Ugh! Where is the emissary, young man?" Ertai slid out of the tangle. "I haven't seen her." "I must find her! She must be told about this terrible thing!" "What terrible thing?"
Dorian tried to shuck the coils of parchment and untangle his legs from Ertai's. "The hostages! The hostages have disappeared!"
Ertai shoved Dorian backward. The chamberlain's head thumped on the floor, and when it did, the flowstone gripped his balding head and held it there.
Eyes wide with shock, Dorian babbled, "You control the stone!"
"In small ways," Ertai replied, rising and dusting himself off. "Now, what's got you in such a panic? Six thousand people don't just disappear. Greven must have moved them."
"Greven flew out in Predator this morning-and not a single hostage remains in the holding area!"
His words speared Ertai through the heart. With his concentration rattled, his control of the flowstone evaporated. Freed, Dorian sat up and clutched Ertai's leg.
"I received a report from the commissary officer not two hours ago. He went to the stockades to distribute food and water and discovered everyone was gone."
"What about the guards?"
"Gone, too." Dorian began to weep. "There were large numbers of footprints leading out of the city into the caverns, but there's no way out of the crater there."
"Did you send anyone out to search?"
Dorian nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Of course I did! Some came back saying the tracks lead right up the crater wall-but there's no tunnel or cave at the spot, just a blind wall! Four men were lost during the search. I fear the Death Pits-"
"What's that?"
Dorian squirmed with reluctance. "A fable, mostly. The residue of the flowstone creation process is pumped into remote caverns and crevices. It looks like tar, but it's very poisonous. The credulous believe the Death Pits are sentient. It's just a myth."
"You said you feared it," Ertai objected.
"It is poisonous!" Dorian began to tear up again. "If a single hostage dies, it will be very bad for us!"
"Come," said Ertai, hoisting the rotund chamberlain to his feet. "We'll find Belbe."
"I've looked and looked. No one knows where she is."
Ertai closed his eyes and held his hands six inches apart, right in front of his chest. Magical energy crackled between his palms, quickly solidifying into a spinning starshaped object.
"What's that?" asked Dorian, drying his eyes.
"A ferret." Ertai imparted a single mental command to his magical creation: Find Belbe. The star spun away. He grabbed the front of Dorian's robe and said, "This way! Don't lose sight of it!"
They followed the flying ferret through dark halls and light, and before long it became obvious where it was going.
"She's in the great hall," Ertai said. "Where she arrived."
One of the huge doors was ajar. The spinning star hovered outside, unable to pass the powerful wards placed around the Dream Halls. Ertai dispelled the ferret with a wave of his hand. With Dorian in tow, they entered the vast hall.
Ertai's foot crunched something. The floor was littered with shiny gray shards. It wasn't flowstone but some kind of crystal. As far as the eye could see, the concourse was peppered with the stuff.
Several yards away there was a crash, followed by the tinkle of broken bits. Ertai raced ahead and found fragments of a newly smashed globe still spinning on the mirror-black floor.
"Belbe?"
He heard a low voice muttering, and another gray globe came crashing down a few feet away. Ertai looked up and saw a figure moving in the dim heights overhead.
"Belbe?" he called more loudly.
"Go away, I'm busy."
He frowned. What had gotten into her? "It's about the hostages! They're missing!"
She was silent for a moment, then said, "Come up."
He cast about for a ladder, stairs, any way up. "How?"
"You're the magician."
Angrily, he went to one of the monumental pilasters that supported the glass roof. He placed his hands against the hard flowstone surface, and scooped handholds formed for him. He climbed steadily, noting the handholds smoothed out after he passed them. The ceiling was very high, and it took him several minutes of climbing before he reached a sort of mezzanine made of a black metal lattice, invisible from below. Here were stored all the strange devices Volrath used to explore and preserve his dreams. Belbe had been going along the platform prying out all the dream storage globes and hurling them to the floor.
She sat astride the mesh ledge, her feet dangling in the open air. Ertai cautiously slipped onto the platform and tried not to look down.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
"It's called 'cleaning house,'" she said. "I've been getting tid of Volrath's collection of terrors and pleasures." She held up a broken shell. "In his case, there wasn't much difference."
"Belbe, the Dal, Vec, and Kor hostages are missing!"
She tossed the shell into the void. "Did they escape?"
"I don't know! Dorian says even the guards have vanished."
"Ah. I wonder…"
"You know something?" He leaned over and grabbed her hand. "Belbe, what's going on? The safety of thousands is at stake!"
She looked away. "It's probably Crovax's doing."
"Crovax? Is he here?"
"Crovax has returned, and his powers have grea
tly increased. He could open a tunnel through the crater wall with a wave of his hand."
"By all the colors-if he hurts those people, every member of their families will join Eladamri's rebellion!"
"Crovax…" She gripped the mesh platform on either side, each finger in a different perforation. When she said Crovax's name, she closed her hand, tearing the enormously strong metal lattice like rotten cloth.
"Let's get down from here," she announced.
"I can make handholds, if you want to go down with me."
"Too slow." She grabbed an empty dream catcher and hugged it close. "Come here, Ertai." He crept to her. She scooped him in with her free arm. "Hold on."
"What are you-?"
Before he could finish his question, Belbe slid off the platform. They plunged down, Ertai yelling all the way. Halfway to the floor the dream catcher's wire spool tightened, slowing them. It adjusted for their extra weight and lowered them gently to the concourse.
His feet on solid ground again, Ertai said, "You could have warned me!"
"Candidates for evincar should be bold," she said. She opened her arms, releasing Ertai and the dream catcher. The empty mechanism whirred, and with a snap, flew back to the rafters.
With Dorian in tow, Belbe and Ertai rushed out of the hall. She detoured through the garrison to turn out the palace guard.
Seal the Citadel, she ordered the guards; no one was to get in or out without her approval. Then she, Ertai, and Dorian piled into one of Volrath's fleshstone walking machines. Even with extreme haste, it would still take a couple of hours to circumnavigate the crater to the point outside the Stronghold where the hostages' tracks had led.
*****
Deep within the Skyshroud Forest lay the Eye of Korai, a flat-topped mound created over the course of several centuries by the elves of the forest. Baskets of dirt and stone were brought from outside the Skyshroud and deposited in a spot located within the densest part of the swamp. Over the years, an artificial island was created, rising some twenty-two feet above the stagnant black waters. The flat top covered an acre and a half and was paved with thousands of carefully fitted stones, brought in by hand by generations of elves. The mound was called the Eye of Korai after the great elf chieftain who began it.
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