by Lori Martin
The firelight crackled. In a little while they’d have to be in movement again; there were more decisions to make. Paither intended to take the rest of the Hill. The Mendales were bound to be enraged by the night’s attack and would fight back hard. But for a few moments he was content to sit quietly under nursing hands, within the warmth of this room and company. Nhy murmured, “Mistress Mejalna will to be sad to see you hurt.”
Samalas looked up, but Paither was unsurprised; her name was sounded constantly in his heart. He had as yet no idea that he had another to think of. He murmured something, and gazed contentedly into the fire.
Thus War came again to the Five Hills of the goddess, before the first moon of winter. It raged up before the Mendales even knew the truth, because it took Governor Nesmin some time to credit the startling reports crossing his desk. He met the outrage on the Fifth with a stern counter-attack, intending to teach the lins a good lesson, but it failed. Worse, the lins were advancing to the valley. Hiding in deep cover, attacking from unmarked roadways, leaping out from tree and bush, somehow these criminals were overcoming his own trained soldiers and archers, who fought by procedure. The entire Ninth Archery Band had been put to rout; he’d had to send in backups from the Third.
Tribune Haol would certainly hold him to blame – would say it was his decision to destroy the temples that had started the trouble. But it’s really Haol’s fault, he thought resentfully, with all that hueand-cry over a lin royal... There were reports now that this relas person had actually been seen in battle. Was it possible, after all, that he actually existed?
Nesmin recognized his son’s voice in a burst of drunken laughter below. Well, he’s young yet. He’ll be in the fighting soon enough. All the same, there’s little enough to laugh at.
He turned his eyes to the windows, and looked out on the unsatisfactory landscape. Against his will, he knew he’d have to send to Haol right away and let him know that the royal was indeed here (if he was anywhere). After all these years, after all his careful husbandry, what could be fueling this rebellion now? There was a hard will behind it. He could feel it, a purpose intent, not to be turned aside. His skin crawled with suspicions.
The once-successful conqueror gazed with trepidation to the east, straining his sight through a nothingness of white air. He never knew that, far from the west and north, demons were upon them.
A moon passed and winter came on in full. Though the northwest Mendale farmland was underpopulated, and the scattered villages largely indifferent to the politics of the capital, it was not to be expected that a large host could make landfall without exciting notice. Mejalna hoped merely to keep the size and purpose of the force unknown; let Tribune Haol discover who the Feimennas were when they knocked at his door.
The first boats came in on schedule. As her four escorts greeted their countryfolk, Mejalna explained their fighting techniques to Renasi. “They’ve never organized into a proper army, being such wanderers, and anyway they had no enemies, except when the Mendales came. But they’re handy with their weapons. I saw demonstrations before I left. They fight the same way they hunt: the men come ahead in a wedge formation, with spears in front. The women follow and encircle; they use daggers to finish off the prey, or firebrands.”
“Oh?’ Mejalna frowned at him; he was fidgeting. He seemed always uneasy these days. “Yes. They use the fire to drive the prey towards the men. I’d rather see them use bows, in war, but we’ll have to work with what we’ve got and be thankful for it. It’s enough just to deal with the language problem.”
“I still can’t believe they can cross the Valtah – and in winter! All these people.”
“Oh, it’s not easy even for them. Wait until you see the build of the undersides of their boats, it’s an education. I hope they haven’t lost too many.”
As they discovered, the Feimennas had lost two boats in ten. They seemed to think this ratio reasonable, and took the deaths stoically. Indeed, many of those on the foundered boats had been saved.
They were now faced with the problem of supporting a large mobile force on hostile territory. Though the wind off the water was bitter, they could sleep out-of-doors; the expert Feimennas could pitch tents on near rock, and expected nothing else. Food was another matter. The Feimennas had been able to transport only limited stores with them. For the first days Lindahne foragers could find enough to tide them over, but each scouting party they had to send out put them in greater danger of discovery, and once the full Feimenna force had arrived the region’s stock would be picked clean fast. “We’ll have to raid the farms,” Renasii said. “The hunting’s poor around here, especially at this time of year, and it takes up too many hours. We’ve got discipline to maintain. But the local storehouses will be full.”
“Yes. Of other people’s smoked meat and grain.”
“Are we at war, Mejalna, or just paying a friendly visit on the Mendales? You know I’m right.”
“Yes.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked tentatively. “You look a little fatigued.”
“That’s the last time I trust you with a confidence. You keep staring at me like I’m about to sprout wings. I’ll thank you to stop it, someone will notice.”
“I only meant –”
“I don’t know why I told you at all, it isn’t right. But after all those days with strangers, not understanding a word they said, when I finally saw you – but it wasn’t right.”
“Why?” She had wounded him. “Am I no longer your friend, because the relas loves you?”
She put her hands over his. “Of course you are. I only meant it wasn’t right for me to tell you, when Paither doesn’t know yet himself.”
“Oh.” Renasi’s face changed. All this time he had thought the less of the relas, for sending her off alone, to carry his child into Mendale. She was paler than usual, but even that brought out her blue eyes to a more brilliant hue, starred by the dark lashes. Her cheeks had rounded. He imagined her for a moment as the queen of a free people; surely there could not be a lovelier. His eyes fell to her hands. The broken fingers had set a little crookedly. Renasi left her to her thoughts, as she pored again over a map of Mendale.
Mejalna knew the Defiers and old friends they hadn’t seen since the attack on the headquarters camp were arriving too, anxious to see for themselves this miracle the goddess had sent them from the land of dreams. The Feimenna first-high had sent all those who, like Nhy, had saved their language, which meant there were enough translators to assign to Lindahne officers. Mejalna found herself missing Nhy, who had come to seem a friend. She hoped he was a help to Paither. The happiness of her love was swallowed up in anxiety for Paither’s safety, impatience for his return to her, a determination to see his orders through, and misgivings over this child – a child conceived on foreign earth and certain to be borne in the midst of war. Poor girl, poor boy, whichever, she thought. A notion that Paither, as a goddess-willed twin, might also father twins, dizzied her for a moment, but she was not Dalleena-relas, to be called on by the divine in that way. There were too many mortals calling on her as it was, awaiting every order.
Defiers, rebels, Feimennas, all brought together under her eye. And she’d need to mold this startling assembly into an invading army. All the same, she smiled to herself, Tribune Haol’s troubles will be greater than mine. A few more days... She yawned. Her eyes closed. The map with its dots and lines, the diagrams of battle plans, slid to the floor.
Five miles away, a Mendale farmer’s eldest son stood impatiently over the cooking fire, stirring the pot and hissing through his teeth. Finally their bay horse showed across the meadow, but his frown only deepened. His sister, no more than ten this midsummer, was riding fit to kill the animal – and herself. “Here!” he shouted. “Tella! Stop! Father will tear into you for riding like that.”
Grubby and breathless, the child tumbled off into his arms. Her eyes were enormous, shining like the madman’s who lived down by the shore. He started to scold, but she dr
ew in a huge breath and screamed him into silence. “Demons! Demons! I saw them, they’re everywhere!”
After a long argument he went to look for himself, and came back in nearly the same state as his sister. There truly were demons
– demons who had taken man shape. Inhuman red eyes stared from their faces, and they howled demon talk at one another. His anxious parents went to see and returned; the cousins five miles over were called on; by the next morning someone had the sense to send to Birl-town, where the Ninth Band was headquartered. But it would be another two days before the soldiers could arrive from there. In the meantime, the farmers were on their own. They sent for the spirit-healer, who offered brave advice but refused to lead – or even participate in – their expedition.
They attempted stealth, creeping through the fields. Demons were known to be poor-sighted in daylight, and to fear fire: so the farmers were horrified and astonished when a pack of them leaped forth, the demon-women themselves wielding firebrands. No one could oppose them. Man and woman, the farmers ran without a fight. The demons gave chase, until one gave a harsh yodel that called them back. One captive was taken: little Tella, who had disobeyed her parents to trail behind the expedition, and had nearly been trampled by her kinfolk’s flight. She was dragged screaming and biting to the demon headquarters.
Mejalna wasn’t surprised to hear that they had been discovered. She was glad it was only some local people instead of soldiers, gratified no blood had been shed, and puzzled with their battle prize. The child was thrust still howling through the door. When she saw Mejalna – clearly human – she ceased, and stood staring.
Businesslike, Mejalna asked, “Name?”
“Tella.” Two great splashes of angry tears stood on her cheeks. “You’re not a demon.”
“Age?”
“Ten.”
“And what is it your parents do, Tella?”
“We farm. We’re over there.” She gestured in the wrong direction, determined not to give away her home. “Your demons are on our land. Why do they yell like that?”
Mejalna rubbed a hand across her mouth. “That’s the way demons talk,” she said gravely.
“Well, the soldiers will get them. We told. So you better let me go. They’ll be here soon.”
“I see.” Sobered, she retreated into thought. The child glanced behind – there was a demon guarding the doorway – and risked no more questions. After a time Mejalna said, “Let’s come to terms. Now listen, little Tella. Do you know what an envoy is? No? Well, it’s a kind of messenger, but a very important one, like someone who makes a speech to the Assembly or carries orders from a Tribune. You’re going to be my envoy.”
“I’m a prisoner,” the child said stoutly.
“Certainly. But I will release you on your honor, if you’ll be my envoy to the First Tribune. Do you think you can do that?”
Her jaw dropped. “You mean go to MenDas? Me? But I’ve never been there. Mother won’t let me.”
“I think she will this time. In fact, I think your whole family will make the trip, but remember, no matter who else goes, you’re my chosen envoy.”
“Yes, mistress.” Tellas wiped away her tear tracks with the back of a grubby hand. Her eyes lit with interest. “What do I say?”
Mejalna leaned over and took her by the shoulders. “First, send greetings to the Trio in the name of Paither, relas of Lindahne.”
“Oh, we heard about him. That means royal, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Repeat it to me. Paither, relas of Lindahne.” The child obeyed. “Good. After the greeting, tell them what you’ve seen here, about my demons. But Tella, they’re not really demons.”
“No? But their eyes?”
“They’re from Feimenna. Have you heard of it?”
The enthusiasm died from her face. She said with disappointment, “Oh, you’re just telling me a tale. I thought it was real.”
“This is very real, little Tella. The Feimennas exist. They’ve crossed the Valtah and they’re here to fight for the relas of Lindahne against all of Mendale. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, mistress. And it’s true? Really true?”
“Every word.” She called to the guard. “Take the child back to where you caught her and let her go. Goodbye, Tella. You’ll make a fine envoy.”
Renasi, sitting in the corner, had listened in silence. Now he said, “Is it a good idea to announce ourselves to Tribune Haol?”
“Instead of hearing one impossible story about demons, now he’ll hear a second about people from Feimenna. While he’s busy sorting out the truth, we can be ready. It never hurts to confound the enemy.”
“Funny how the child was faster to believe in evil demons than in the Feimennas.” He added bluntly, “It must have been her family’s storehouse we took this morning. We cleared it out. She’ll have a hard winter.”
Mejalna paused, then picked up her pen again. “So will we. Here, look. I think we should run the first patrol line here.”
Chapter 27
Ennilyn was steadfast in her refusal to accept a command of any type. She also refused to accept any title Paither could devise to call her. Soon the Defiers were addressing her only
as “Mistress,” as any nobleborn woman, though Hajia continued to call her “Mother priestess.” This alone she did not refute. “...because of the communications problem,” Paither was saying when she rode up. Caught between tents by a question, he had stopped in the rain to answer. His page Jessa sidled up behind and lifted the relas’s hood up to cover his head, then stood ready. Paither, still talking, put out his arm without thought and leaned on him. His thigh wound made it difficult to stand without support. As Ennilyn dismounted the conversation broke up.
“How were they?” he asked her. They were still in control of the Fifth Hill’s temple and the southwest slopes. He had sent Ennilyn to inspect the companies.
“In good order.” He waited, but she seemed about to lead the horse away. “Well,” he said impatiently, “what else?”
“That’s all,” she answered with surprise. The rain stuck her hair to her neck. “You’d better go in and get off that leg.”
“I don’t consider that much of a report. If I send you to do something, I expect better. Did you speak with the officers? How is the discipline? The morale?”
Ennilyn tilted her head. He had been on edge, sparring often with Samalas. Once she had heard Mejalna’s name flung down between them, an unclear challenge. “As I said, they’re in good order. I commend Bhael to you, she’s doing a good job with her archers. The men,” she added drily, “were all speaking of your great deed in the temple, and of your heroic wound.”
Thunder crackled. Paither became aware of the page, still standing rigid as a post, taking his weight. “Come inside,” he barked.
She hitched her horse and floundered after him through the melting snow and mud puddles. She couldn’t remember Mejalna’s voice, and of course, as they had kept her blindfolded whenever she was taken beyond the little prison hut, she had never laid eyes on her in the Defier camp. In fact, their closest contact had come when Mejalna had knocked her unconscious from behind during the abduction of Tribune Nichos. (Though Samalas for some reason had never mentioned it; one of the Defiers had told her about it.) She wondered why Mejalna had not simply run her through.
Paither settled himself. The page put a pillow under his leg and withdrew. As soon as they were alone he said, “Why did it take you so long to get back? Did you come straight here?”
“No, I stopped by one of the shrines in Salla-village. With the Mendales chased out they’ve been able to make offerings again.” She began to draw off her dripping cloak, thought again, and waited, arms folded.
“I hope you offered to Numir, god of Reliability. You’ve been going off too much. You’re never here when I need you.”
She made a visible effort to control her temper. “I’m only trying to learn about my own country. My own people. You should understand that.”
“I don’t know. For myself... I don’t know.”
He paused. She was a true Nialian, with a gift beyond him. Thunder rumbled again. The storm was moving closer. And was it raining in Mendale? In Feimenna? They’ll never get the boats over if it’s pouring like this. I hope she found Renasi. He’ll help her, he’s steady.
Steady. His look returned to his sister, the sister he had not been raised with, the sister he had not lived with, the sister he did not really know. “I’m holding a council before supper. You’ve missed the last two. I expect you at this one.”
“Will you tell me, relas, why you’re angry with me?”
“Will you tell me, mistress, why you make yourself of so little use? You’ve served, you’ve actually trained, in the Mendale army! That’s experience that could be invaluable to us. But instead you’re off here, there – as if it were even safe to be riding about! We’re a long way from safety and peace. You’d better remember it.”
“I know what I’m about, relas.”
“Why bother to call me that? You don’t accept my authority. I wanted you to take a command, but you refused. I want you to act like the royal you are, and you don’t. I ask you to inspect a few companies – and it’s almost more than you can be bothered with! It’s not enough I’ve got Samalas barking at my heels all day long, second-guessing my every move – now I’ve got to prove myself to you of all people?”
“I don’t question you! You’re questioning me.”
“Yes, I am. I’m asking you this, just once more: do you or do you not acknowledge me as the rightful relas of Lindahne? Or do you consider your own claim equal to mine?”
Outside a roar of wind and flying rain passed over their heads. “I told you,” she said, shaking with anger, “I told you I make no claims. You’re my elder, you were born first. We know it. Mistress Pillyn said so.” A fierce flush covered her cheeks. “She said so, and she loves you as a son. So it must be true.”