Western Shore ac-3

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Velindre was already reaching for the gourd full of water she had obtained the day before, her eyes distant. She said something to Naldeth in the Aldabreshin tongue, too fast and colloquial for Kheda to catch. She still looked drawn but the bruises of weariness beneath her eyes were less pronounced than they had been.

  'So what are we doing today?' Naldeth tugged crossly at straps and buckles as he settled his stump in the leather cup of his metal leg. He looked up at Kheda with his grotesquely bloodshot eyes. 'Arguing round in circles until the sun sets again?'

  'Velindre, I want you to keep scrying for any force of wild men coming over the river,' Kheda said. 'The tree-dwellers' wizard must know you've killed the skull-faced mage between the two of you. I'm sure he'll attack.'

  'The only question is when,' Risala agreed as she took a handful of the fluffy pulp. 'Judging by what we saw in Chazen.'

  'But the dragons—' Velindre broke off and Kheda narrowed his eyes with growing suspicion.

  What about the dragons? What aren 't you telling me?

  'Velindre can do the scrying.' Naldeth struggled to rise. 'What can I do?'

  Kheda offer him a hand. The wizard took it with a reluctant grimace and Kheda hauled him to his feet. 'Can you tell us where that black dragon might be?'

  'Can you tell if it's hiding in the shadows anywhere

  close to spy on us again?' Risala shivered at the thought as she took a mouthful.

  'Attune your affinity to earth and fire and do your best to sense any disruption,' Velindre interjected firmly.

  'Naturally.' Naldeth tugged his grubby tunic straight. 'But I don't imagine I'll catch it out a second time with a simple trick like summoning up molten rock beneath it.'

  Kheda glanced towards the magewoman. 'I take it that black dragon must know it was you who roused that snowstorm?'

  She nodded. 'With air antithetical to earth, I as good as slapped the beast in the face.'

  'Making it all the more hostile, no doubt.' Risala finished eating, then looked at her sticky hands with some exasperation. She rose and went out of the doorway without a backward glance.

  Kheda looked after her.

  What can I do to restore your peace of mind, my beloved? Nothing until I've solved the problems laid before me. That's what I've always done, whatever signs I may have thought were guiding me.

  Kheda looked down and found he had little appetite for the remaining starchy pulp in the gourd. He forced himself to keep eating and nodded to Naldeth and Velindre. 'We can't afford to go hungry.'

  'We can't afford to be caught unawares either.' Velindre plucked up gobbets of food with one hand as she sat cross-legged with the fat-bellied water gourd held between her legs and passed her other palm over the wide neck. Emerald radiance danced within, not quite strong enough to escape. Frowning, Velindre peered into the gourd and faint green light played on her angular face.

  Kheda realised a ragged circle of savages was watching them though the deceptive walls of the hut with mingled awe and apprehension. None was coming closer than a

  spear length. 'Do you suppose they know what she's doing?'

  'I've no idea.' Naldeth was eating with little enthusiasm while watching the wild men and women with a curiosity to equal their own. 'We know so little about their wizardry, or what the non-mageborn here make of it.'

  'There doesn't seem to be anyone between here and the river,' Velindre said slowly.

  'What about the far bank?' Kheda moved closer to peer over the magewoman's shoulder. He struggled to make sense of the miniature vista shining in the mossy shadows within the gourd. Bright patches of brown and yellow and green shifted and blurred. 'Try to find those caves we told you about.'

  'We don't know who those people might owe allegiance to.' The cleft between Velindre's golden eyebrows deepened as she concentrated.

  'If the river's some kind of boundary, presumably they owe fealty to the tree-dwellers' wizard,' ventured Kheda.

  'Kheda.' Risala appeared in the doorway, hastily shaking drops of water from her hands. 'There's something going on.'

  He followed her outside to see a handful of men hurriedly tearing open a gap in the thorn barricades on the far side of the enclosure.

  Naldeth joined them. 'It's not the dragon.' He sounded sure of that.

  'They're getting ready to fight something.' Velindre came to the doorway still holding the gourd.

  The men of the village were hurrying to gather their spears and clubs from their rickety huts as a group of newcomers waved their hands in animated conversation with those who had opened the woven thorns. The newcomers' voices were increasingly raised, and edged with urgency.

  Kheda looked back into the scrying spell. The river valley reflected in the oscillating mossy water was empty. The water flowed sluggishly between the rich brown of the mudflats and nothing was stirring on the grassy plains, bird or lizard.

  'Are they part of this village?' Risala didn't look reassured. 'Or from another? We've no idea who else might be living up here, have we?'

  'Or how far word of our presence here has spread,' Kheda said thoughtfully.

  Velindre looked up from her gourd. 'Do you suppose some other wizard we haven't encountered yet could have spies set among these people?'

  'It's what we'd do,' Risala commented frankly.

  Kheda noticed that a girl who had been standing near the arguing men was running over to the old woman whom they had first encountered. The girl began speaking rapidly, her hands lively. The old woman answered her, equally animated. Some of the men and women who had been hanging around the dead mage's hut began to drift towards this new commotion.

  'I've found those caves.' Velindre focused all her attention on her gourd. 'There's nothing there.'

  'Nothing?' Kheda frowned. 'No people? No fires?'

  'No.' Velindre looked up. 'Nothing of what we saw when I scried there yesterday. The place looks deserted.'

  'Wait.' Naldeth was looking down at the ground with growing alarm. 'There's something—'

  'Something's wrong.' Risala walked forward to meet the old woman, who was making haste towards them, her wrinkled face creased still further with anxiety.

  The old woman waved Risala away and hurried up to Kheda to tug at his elbow with her twig-like fingers.

  How am I possibly supposed to understand you?

  Detaching her hand, Kheda tried to look receptive. The

  old woman immediately seized his elbow again to urge him in the direction of the sizeable force now gathered by the gap in the thorn barricade. 'Velindre, are you sure there's nothing out there? Forget the caves. What's this side of the river?'

  'Nothing that I can see.' Growing doubt tainted the magewoman's words.

  'You may not be seeing what there is to see.' Naldeth stooped awkwardly to spread his fingers on the sandy soil. 'I can feel something working with the water deep within the earth.'

  'Is it the black dragon?' Kheda realised he had already taken ten or more steps at the old woman's insistence, Risala following a few reluctant paces behind.

  'No,' Naldeth said confidently.

  'I'll go and see if I can make any sense of this.' Seeing Kheda approaching, a few of the wild men dropped their crude weapons, holding out empty hands, their faces apprehensive. The old woman scolded them and pushed Kheda's hand towards the hilt of his sword.

  Tension tightening his belly, he drew the blade, prompting a murmur of fearful wonder from the newly arrived wild men as they stared at the thin, bright steel. One of the men near the gap in the fence broke into voluble explanation. The other men of the village deferred to him, nodding their agreement. The newcomers' eyes grew wider still as they stared at Naldeth and at Velindre over by the dead mage's hut.

  / have to learn how to tell these men apart.

  Kheda studied the man who was doing the explaining. He was taller than most, his hair a solid mass of reddish mud. He carried a fire-hardened spear that reached to his shoulder and a worn leather sling tucked through his
brief loincloth. His wiry arms and legs were sun-dried muscle and sinew while paler skin marred his flank, just above

  the hollow of his hip. Some time long since, some beast with vicious claws or teeth had bitten deep into his side. Age and experience shone in his dark-brown eyes, surrounded by the creases of a lifetime spent squinting in the bright sun.

  A lifetime that you mere lucky to see with that wound. How do I learn to understand what you want to tell me?

  Kheda could see frustration to equal his own in the scarred spearman's face. The warlord gestured towards the gap in the thorn barrier with his sword and the wild men closest hurriedly retreated from the sunlit metal. Kheda kept his eyes fixed on the first spearman, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of enquiry.

  The spearman licked his chapped lips and said something to his companions before nodding emphatically at Kheda. He moved towards the gap, jerking his head to indicate that Kheda should follow. The warlord complied, noting the newcomers and some of the men from the village following behind him.

  The rest hurried away towards the huts, clapping their hands and summoning the women with urgent shouts. Kheda saw the old woman grab Risala, refusing to let go of her hand as she dragged her back towards the centre of the village. Brisk shouts brought more children than Kheda had expected running to the wide communal hearth. As the savages clustered together, they all looked anxiously at Naldeth and Velindre. The wizards didn't appear to notice. Velindre was still intent on her gourd. She had linked one hand with Naldeth, who was kneeling awkwardly, the fingers of his other hand thrust deep into the hard earth.

  There's trouble coming. Still, both wizards have proved themselves since we made the mistake of coming ashore here. Risala must be as safe with them as anywhere.

  Kheda turned his back on the village and scanned the thistle-studded expanse beyond the thorny barrier. He could see no movement beyond the odd dusty stalk stirred by the breeze.

  The scarred spearman loped ahead, ducking low and looking from side to side. Kheda followed and the rest of the men spread out around him. They reached the open plateau dotted with swollen barrel trees and the wild warriors split up to take advantage of the cover. Kheda looked to the scarred spearman for guidance. The wild man nodded and beckoned to him. Kheda joined him in pressing his back to the leathery bark and edging around the tree. The scarred spearman craned his neck to see what lay ahead and, catching Kheda by surprise, ran swiftly to the next tree. Kheda followed and saw that the other wild warriors were also advancing from tree to tree in groups of two and three, faces grim.

  They reached the edge of the plateau where the rain-scored sandy ground fell away towards the grassy plain. The scarred spearman led Kheda to a vantage point off to one side. As they crouched behind another fat tree, he pointed, and the warlord saw movement down among the straw-coloured tussocks. Movement running contrary to the pleasant breeze bringing some relief from the heat. Concentrating, Kheda picked out smudges of dark skin and an incautious head breaking through the sea of fronds.

  Four groups of attackers, possibly five, and spread out all along the plain. If we stay here, we'll be outflanked.

  Kheda tapped the first spearman on the shoulder and pointed emphatically backwards towards the village. The wild man frowned and shook his head, reaching out to tap Kheda's sword hand with an encouraging grin.

  You think a steel blade will make all the difference? There are plenty of dead in Chazen who could tell you otherwise.

  Though we did well enough against the invaders once they had no magic behind them.

  Before Kheda could finish that thought, stifled commotion behind him demanded his attention. He whipped his head round to see Risala struggling in the hands of a burly savage who was doing his best to force her to the ground. Kheda retraced his steps as fast as he could, ducking low until he was sure he couldn't be seen from the plain.

  By the time he reached her, Risala had freed herself from the wild man's grip and was standing at bay. Three savages ringed her, not daring to get within reach of her drawn dagger. The one who had seized her was sucking a shallow cut on his forearm. He looked at Kheda, openly apprehensive.

  'There are savages out there.' Kheda pulled Risala into the shade of the nearest barrel tree. 'Velindre's scrying just isn't seeing them.'

  / was right, and I didn 't need any omen to tell me what to expect.

  'That's what I came to tell you.' Still breathing hard from her exertions, Risala sheathed her dagger. 'That earth dragon is manipulating her spell against her — it's something to do with earth and water.' She dismissed the irrelevance with a shake of her head. 'And its pet wizard with the beaded cloak is working some kind of illusion, according to Naldeth. Only one of those bands of tree dwellers is real. The rest are just magical feints that you don't have to bother with, so Naldeth says anyway.'

  'Which ones?' demanded Kheda. 'And how do I explain that to these men?'

  'Velindre says she can hold the dragon's attention as long as it thinks she's being distracted,' Risala said resolutely. 'Naldeth says that will leave the wild mage working his magic without the beast's assistance, so Naldeth thinks he should be able to break the illusions

  and you can lead the spearmen against the real enemy.' She looked at Kheda with ill-concealed apprehension. 'You have to look for dust. That's what the wizard with the beaded cloak is using to make his illusions.'

  'I should be able to do that.' Kheda felt strangely calm.

  'Wooden spears and stone-studded clubs killed plenty of armoured men in Chazen.' Risala slid her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. 'Promise me you'll be careful.'

  'I promise, and I'll be the only one in the fight with steel weapons, won't I?' He brushed a kiss on her forehead and tasted the salt of the sweat slicking down wisps of her black hair. 'Now get back to the village and stay safe for my sake.'

  She reached up a hand to draw his head down and pressed a fervent kiss on his lips. 'Be careful.' She didn't say anything more, simply turned away.

  Apprehension fluttered in Kheda's belly as he watched her run back through the scrub, perilously exposed among the sparse thistly plants and upthrust spiny spikes. The wild men of the village crouching closest watched her go before turning their gaze on Kheda, some curious, some uneasy. The warlord nodded to them in turn, catching their eyes and trying to convey a confidence he didn't entirely feel before turning and darting swiftly from tree to tree to return to the scarred spearman's vantage point.

  He crawled across the last gap on his belly. The enemy, be they real or illusions, were considerably closer now, far easier to pick out among the grasses. Kheda looked at the scarred spearman, who was intent on the slowly encroaching foes. He didn't see any bloodlust in the savage's eyes, just a resigned acceptance that this task must be done, coupled with grim resolve to defend his own.

  Not so different from the men who laid down their lives to defend Chazen, even when they knew they were facing magic. Do you know what you re facing? Has this wizard across the river tested you with illusions before? How by all the stars and moons do I explain this to you?

  Kheda looked back to see the enemy drawing closer still. He frowned as he saw a plume of dust flourish for a moment before dissolving in the breeze. Then he saw a second sandy smudge spiralling upwards to vanish, and a third. With sudden exultation, he realised there was only one column creeping low and stealthy through the grasses with no such betrayal trailing behind them. They weren't the closest, nor yet the ones looking to advance directly into the open ground dominated by the barrel trees. As far as he could tell, given the lie of the land, they were intent on slipping up the deep ravine choked with nut trees and thistly scrub that ran away inland on the far side of this higher ground.

  So they can come up to attack our flank, or even bypass us altogether and strike at the village while all the spearmen are waiting here. That must be the real enemy. If Naldeth is right. Well, we '11 just have to trust that he is, always assuming I c
an make myself understood.

  Kheda shook the scarred spearman's shoulder. When the wild warrior looked at him, the warlord bent down and scored four marks in the dust roughly in keeping with the supposed enemy advancing down on the grasslands. The spearman nodded with cautious understanding. Kheda used his sandaled foot to obliterate three of the four marks, leaving just the one he hoped signified the real foe.

  The spearman frowned at Kheda, baffled. Using the end of his spear, he redrew the three marks and pointed insistently out at the plain. Kheda shook his head emphatically, pointing at each of the false foes before he rubbed

  out the corresponding mark again. As the scarred spearman's frown grew more perplexed, Kheda swept his hand around to indicate all the spearmen from the village who were hiding behind the various fat trees. Drawing his hacking blade as well as his sword, he pointed first at the sole remaining mark on the ground with both murderous steel points and then over towards the scrub-choked ravine.

  The spearman looked at Kheda, desperately wanting to understand - that much was plain in his eyes. Kheda gazed back at him, frustration burning in his throat. He set down his hacking blade and clapped a hand to his throat. Swiftly, he laid down his sword and unclasped Itrac's silver and turtleshell necklace. Redrawing the three marks that signified the false foes, he laid the necklace in the dust across them and then pointed back towards the village.

  The scarred spearman nodded slowly, cautious understanding sparking in his intelligent eyes.

  Kheda scooped up the necklace and a handful of dust, obliterating the marks as he did so. Opening his fingers, he let the dust blow away before closing his fist on the soiled necklace and stretching his arm out towards the unseen village again.

  Do you understand? Do you see this as an adornment one of your mages might wear? Do you understand that those false enemies are the beaded wizard's work? Or that my wizards will defeat them for you? It comes to the same thing. Do you understand that the real enemy will be evading you by sneaking along that ravine?