Sorcerer's Moon (72 page)

'Our lads will reach the large human town called Dennech-Cuva before sundown,' Ugusawnn enthused. 'Then we'll show the miserable groundlings what we
really
can do!'

'I still wonder whether it was wise to transfer bonding of the Destroyer sigil from me to Commander Tasatawnn,' the
Master Shaman said. 'If he should overreach himself and become badly disabled, we will have lost our finest tactician before the war has hardly begun.'

'It had to be done, my friend.' The Warrior was solicitous. 'And our Eminent colleages concurred. It was plain this morning that you aren't yet strong enough to wield the Great Stone yourself. This way, you have many additional hours to recuperate, whilst Tasa's strike will demoralize the foe utterly! King Conrig will expect us to bypass Dennech-Cuva and invest the weaker fortress at Tweenwater. Instead, we'll eliminate the most formidable enemy stronghold in all of the west country.'

Kalawnn's ruby eyes closed for a moment as he ventured forth on the wind. 'Ah... Our second force moving up the Shadow River proceeds steadily, if more slowly because of the rapids, as we expected .. . My windsight also shows that our brave reserves are doing a fine job cleaning out the lesser pirate castles and villages around Terminal Bay.' His eyes reopened.

'All the youngsters had to do was scry the assault on Karum Port to see how the good work is done.' Ugusawnn lifted a fresh haunch of man-meat from the bed of rockweed that had been keeping it cool and proferred it to his colleague. 'Would you care for something to eat? I'm feeling peckish myself.'

'No, but thank you. I wish to oversee that white castle on the clifftop again. I'm still not certain we should have let it be.' After an interval, he said. 'The humans inside continue to appear strangely torpid, lying about almost as though they were sick - or paralyzed by fear. Certainly they show no inclination to use
their weapons. It's rather unnatural.'

'We've terrified the cowardly runts into a stupor, that's what!' The Warrior chortled and began to gnaw flesh from the bone. 'Delicious. Exceptionally sweet and tender. Are you sure you don't want a taste?'

'A salmon diet will better speed my recovery.' Kalawnn's digits plucked a piece of fish from the baldric that also carried the ivory plaques of the reference books. The blinking minor sigil Scriber still hung about his neck, and the sight of it caused him much concern. Ugusawnn's Subtle Gateway and Longspeaker stones also pulsed in an identical disturbing rhythm. The Potency was still hidden away in the golden case fastened to the Master Shaman's wrist, and he had no desire to see what it might be doing; he was only happy not to be carrying it inside his gizzard any more. What good had the enigmatic little thing ever done the Salka? He wished he could get rid of it altogether but didn't dare. Not yet. . .

'The throbbing of our sigils still bothers you?' the Supreme Warrior inquired.

'Very much, as does the continuing silence of the Great Lights. I wish that the clouds would lift so that we could again see the Beacons in the night. Something important is happening in the Sky Realm. Why won't the Lights talk to us about it?'

Ugusawnn shrugged. 'So long as our sigils work, why worry?'

‘I wish I had your soldierly confidence!'

'You'd be wise to stop
fretting and conserve your energies, Kalawnn - especially if you're still determined to reclaim Destroyer from Tasatawnn after he demolishes the citadel at Dennech-Cuva.'

'It must be done. Your Gateway will transport us to his position as soon as the job is completed. He'll be weakened and in no humor to resist our demand. I feel strongly that we must abolish Destroyer without delay and re-bond it before Commander Tasatawnn decides he's entitled to keep the sigil and use it as he pleases. He's a brilliant and courageous fighter, but not always willing to . . . bow to the wisdom of higher authority.'

'Well, I agree we must keep close control of the situation. Matters are going to get interesting very soon. Conrig must be marshalling his armies against us even as we speak.'

Kalawnn nodded somberly. 'And without advice from the Great Lights, we have no notion of what he might do with the three Great Stones Beynor handed over to him. Don't forget, Conrig has a Destroyer, too. If only we could target him with ours before he uses his own against us!'

'The idea makes perfect sense to me,' said the Supreme Warrior.

'You forget what the Lights told the First Judge in their last communication: it
pleased
them to give Beynor's three Great Stones to King Conrig. They've inaugurated a new contest that pits us against humankind, with sigils used on both sides. The Sovereign of Blenholme is a principal game-piece. The Lights would hardly countenance our precipitate removal of him. It would spoil their play! Remember Queen Taspiroth's blunder . . .'

'Curse it!' Ugusawnn said. 'You're right, of course. We daren't risk it.'

The Master Shaman sighed. 'We remain subject to the rules of this damnable game. Fortunately, so does King Conrig.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Vra-Odos Springhill was the keenest long-distance wind-speaker in the Royal Corps of Alchymists. Still, he almost missed hearing the feeble generalized hail from the Dennech-Cuva wizard, passing on tidings of the calamitous events that had occurred in Terminal Bay. Once the truth of the message was confirmed. Brother Odos spurred his mule through the column of mounted warriors descending the western slope of the pass until he finally reached the king and his party. Immediately a command went out for the entire army to halt until His Grace heard what news the alchymist had brought.

'The invasion took place four hours ago?' Conrig roared in disbelief. 'Why wasn't I informed earlier?'

The Sovereign, his General Staff, half a dozen or so of his most trusted battle-leaders, Corodon, Bramlow, and Deveron sat their saddles in the lee of a great rock alongside the moun tain trail. Clouds of steamy breath from the animals filled the frigid air.

'We crossed over the pass around noon, Your Grace,' the little windspeaker pointed out with pedantic patience. 'The relatively weak voice of Duchess Margaleva's house-wizard
was for some time blocked by the bulk of the White Rime Range lying between us and Dennech. It was only by a fluke that I perceived one of his hails at all. But I assure you that the details of the message from your son, Sir Orrion, are correct. I bespoke Grand Shaman Zolanfel and asked him to verify the information by setting up a relay to Karum Castle, whence came the original warning, via a colleague situated in Tarnholme, on the coast. This person complied. He learned that the port town has been laid waste, whilst its castle remains oddly unscathed. Sir Orrion and the noble ladies with him are unharmed. They are said to be the "guests" of the local pirate lord.'

Somebody spoke up in derision. 'We know what
that
must mean.'

Conrig called for silence and bade Vra-Odos to continue.

'The shaman at Tarnholme is a most competent adept. He windsearched the shores of Terminal Bay. The devastation was obvious but no Salka warriors were visible to his mind's eye. The monsters are surely concealing themselves with powerful sorcery, just as we suspected.'

'Curse them!' Conrig groaned. 'Too bad Karum's idiot magicker never thought to send the news to Tarnholme in the first place, rather than Dennech. The Diddly blockhead! We should have learned of this earlier.'

‘I think the man might have done his best under most trying circumstances, sire,' Vra-Odos said mildly. 'Another point: the spearhead force of the Salka horde will likely fall upon Dennech-Cuva sometime before nightfall. I was told that the civilian inhabitants are fleeing and the old duchess and her grandson Egonus are preparing the citadel for an attack. The place is very well defended. This is all I have to report.'

The Sovereign sat his tall stallion, eyes hooded and lips pressed into a tight line, as if he were fending off both anxiety and physical pain.

'Sire, what are your orders?' inquired the new Lord Constable, Wanstantil Cloudfell.

'We go back, Wanstan.' Conrig's reply was colorless. 'There is no alternative.' He turned to Vra-Odos. 'Brother, please relay this command to High Sealord Sernin, as well as to Earl Marshal Parlian and Lord Hale Brackenfield: Every unit of the army must return to Direwold at a forced-march pace. Once there, we'll reconsider our strategy.'

The military windspeaker bowed, then urged his mount into a more sheltered position to send the orders.

'What about Valardus Mallburn?' Rugged old Munlow Ramscrest's harsh voice dripped contempt. 'His Diddly army is still lounging at Lake of Shadows. King Somarus won't weasel out of fighting the Salka
this
time! Not with monsters pouring into his country via the back door.'

'But would it be wise to order the Crown Prince to march against the Salka ahead of us?' Corodon ventured somewhat shyly. 'Valardus is no tactician and yet he refuses to cede authority to his wiser generals. He'd likely make a balls-up of any action and his troops would end up butchered to a man.'

"The Prince Heritor makes an excellent point,' Cloudfell stated. ‘I propose that we instruct Brother Odos also to bespeak Chumick Whitsand, the Archwizard of Didion. He's a person of some sense - which is more than one can say of Somarus and his son. Let Whitsand apprise Somarus of the grave situation. Only His Majesty of Didion can order Prince Valardus to hold off attacking the Salka until we decide the best way to counter their advance.'

The others spoke their agreement and Conrig said, 'Well thought. We can't afford to waste the life of a single warrior - not even Diddlies.'

The grim laughter that came from the group was almost drowned out by an increasing clatter of hooves and irritable
snorts and whinnies from their horses. One of the generals remarked, 'The animals are restless at having to stand still in this bitter cold. We should move on soon, sire, before their blood - and our own - freezes solid.'

Deveron Austrey raised a diffident hand. 'Your Grace, may I make a suggestion?'

'Speak.' Conrig's voice
was almost a whisper. His weariness and discomfort were all too evident, and Deveron was not the only one who realized that at some point the king would have to be persuaded to rest - at least for a little while.

'Once we reach the pass's summit again, our alchymists will be in the best possible position to scry conditions in the vicinity of Terminal Bay directly, rather than through a relay of Tarnian adepts. Altitude enhances the ability to wind-search. Might we not halt briefly at the derelict frontier post up there? It could be extremely important for us to observe what the Salka do when they reach Dennech-Cuva. If they make a fight of it, perhaps the enchantment that conceals their numbers and their route of penetration from our over sight will falter or even be temporarily extinguished. Information on the disposition of their troops is vital to our future planning.'

'I'll say,' growled Ramscrest. 'What if the filthy great boogers intend to advance on more than one front?'

'Sire, after the windsearchers have ascertained the situation,' Deveron continued, 'you and your general officers can perhaps discuss potential defensive action for a time, giving you all a welcome hour or so of respite from the saddle and the cold.'

For a time, Ironcrown said nothing. Then: 'My lords, I think we should do as my Royal Intelligencer suggests . . . Wanstan, Munlow, get my army moving again. Duke Norval, be so good as to remain here until Brother Odos completes his wind-speaking. Request that he also send an additional message to
the Didionite Archwizard, setting forth the Lord Constable's idea of holding back the force of Crown Prince Valardus. All the rest of you, follow me to the top of the pass.'

* * *

She had no idea where Vaelrath had taken her, nor that such a place even existed in Didion - or anywhere else on the island.

The cavern was so large that its upper reaches were lost in shadow. From its puddled floor rose a forest of pinkish stalagmites striped with fawn and dark green like the pillars of some fairytale palace. Their wet surfaces gleamed like polished marble in the radiance cast by thousands of pairs of emerald eyes.

The conclave of Morass Worms surrounded Casya on every side. The uncanny gaze of the creatures never left her as she perched on an outcropping of dry rock that was covered with the thick pelt of a tundra-lion, beseeching them to join the Sovereign of Blenholme in his war against the Salka.

She pleaded with all the eloquence she could summon. The issue was not Conrig Wincantor's intent to use the despicable sigils, she said, it was the deliverance of their imperiled land from an onslaught of a merciless foe equipped with the same evil weapons. If the Salka defeated Conrig's army and drove humanity from High Blenholme, would the great amphibians allow the Morass Worms and the Green Men - and even the Small Lights - to live in peace?

Many minds responded:
If
we are attacked directly, we will defend ourselves as we did before. But we will never form an alliance with a depraved human sigil-user. Never.

She tried other arguments but was unable to shift the great dragons from their intransigent position. A Watcher among them had perceived Conrig using Weathermaker. Before long, he would surely call upon the ultimate abomination. He would use Destroyer, just as the Salka had.

'But if he doesn't?' Casya entreated the worms in desper ation. 'You told me the Sovereign Army hasn't yet engaged the Salka in battle. Can you not postpone your decision, at least until you're certain Conrig intends to wield that infernal thing?'

The vast assemblage of creatures stirred, considering the matter, and finally the answer came.
Yes. We can do that.

As tears of relief sprang into her eyes, she heard Vaelrath say,
The armies will clash very soon and we will know the truth. The Salka spell of dissimulation does not conceal them from OUR mind's eye! You may remain here with us in good hope, Casabarela Who-Would-Be-Queen, until Conrig shows himself to be beyond all redemption. Then, with sadness, we must return you and your aged traveling companion to the shores of Black Hare Lake and look to our own affairs.