The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (73 page)

“If she doesn’t want you, lad, it makes no difference, no matter how badly you want her,” I told him.

“Thank you, but I fail to see how it is your concern,” he said stiffly.

“You’ve been making it very much my concern for most of the past season.” I raised a hand. “No, I don’t blame you; we’ve covered that, haven’t we? I just thought you might like to benefit from the mistakes I made when I was your age.”

After a moment, Temar smiled faintly at me. “I lost all my elder brothers, you know.”

“I know, and I lost my younger sister, so I’ve no one else to boss around anymore.”

As the ship sped silently down the rapid river, Temar and I stood in the prow and talked, swapping tales of family and friends, discovering just how it was that we came to have so much in common that the Artifice had been unable to prevent a connection. I also gained some understanding into just why my older brothers Hansey and Ridner sometimes found Mistal and I more than a little trying. Parrail joined us after a while and volunteered some theories about aetheric sympathies, but I have to admit they made little sense to me. Noon came and went and we rounded a bend in the river to see three tall-masted ships securing themselves at anchor in the estuary.

“Dast’s teeth!” I swore, “Elietimm!”

“They must have seen them from the camp.” Livak hauled herself up on to the rail of the ship to get a better view. “Why hasn’t someone raised the alarm? What are they playing at?”

The smoke of several camp fires curled lazily upwards from the walls of the steading. I could see sentries patrolling, bows resting casually against shoulders, no sign that they had seen anything amiss at all!

“It’s a ward, a very powerful one. Someone on those ships is using artifice to make anyone looking out from your camp see only what they have seen before.” Guinalle was at my side, face pale and set. “Look, the enchantment must be concealing those soldiers, over there. They’ve landed men to make an unexpected attack.” As she pointed, I saw small detachments of black-liveried troops making their way cautiously through the undergrowth to take up positions to encircle the unsuspecting wizards.

“Saedrin seize it!” I looked around to see Shiv peering at the distant wall, a faint nimbus of green around his hands as he quelled the magelight that would betray us to the Elietimm lurking down river. “It’s no good, I can’t reach anyone.”

“We’re pissing in the wind, trying to get through Kalion’s defenses,” Usara cursed with equal frustration. “He’s not Hearth-Master for nothing.”

“What can you do?” I demanded of Guinalle. “Can you break the ward, was that what you called it? Can you make our people see the truth of what’s out there?”

She looked down river, scanning the banks and the distant vessels. “Until I can find who’s doing this, I can’t combat the ward. Even then, their Artifice might be too strong, if there are several people working together,” she scowled. “We need to do something they’re not prepared for. The only way they’ll drop the ward and betray themselves is if we can really distract them, and they’ll be expecting Artifice, defending against it. I can tell from the way they’re baffling the wards that Parrail’s friends are trying to maintain. Whoever is doing this is a master of illusions.”

“Let’s try something a little less subtle then.” Usara breathed and sent a shaft of ocher magic into the river. The waters roiled and bubbled, mud and weed swirling upwards from the river bed. “I’ll give them something they’re not expecting.”

“Let me help.” Shiv spread his hands and a dark mossy green light began to glow in the depths. The magic suddenly sped away, down toward the Elietimm ships. As it drew closer, a massive shape erupted from the water in an explosion of foam and noise. If I had thought the sea serpent in the Archipelago was huge, it was a bait worm compared to the monster the two wizards conjured from mud and magic. Rearing out of the water to reach higher than the tallest mast, it crashed down on the deck to split the vessel clean in two, ragged planking embedded in its sides as it rose up again, blunt head darting this way and that to snap struggling figures out of the water. Ropes snaked down into the waters as the other boats hastily cut their anchors to flee, sails flapping frantically as the mighty shape dived back into the water, only to rear up once more between the ships and the safety of the open sea. Shooting across the surface of the river, the great beast smashed broadside into one, sending it reeling over to start taking water in every hatch while the monster’s tail lashed mercilessly at the remaining vessel, sending splintered spars splashing into the water.

“Wizards keeping shipwrights in work again, are they?” Livak shouted from somewhere behind me. I heard mercenaries cheering as they armed themselves for a fight. “That should have attracted everyone’s attention!”

“Get me something shiny, quick,” Usara was calling to her. “And a candle, anything that will burn.” Snapping his fingers to light a spill of kindling wood, the wizard angled the magical flame to reflect against some mercenary’s rough scrubbed pewter plate.

“Otrick, answer me, curse you!”

“
What is it? ’Sar, is that you
?” The old mage’s perplexity traveled clearly enough through the faltering spell.

“Don’t you see the ships?” Usara shouted. “Get Kalion to drop his cursed barrier so I can talk to you properly.”

“
Those are Elietimm ships! Saedrin’s stones, where did they come from
— ”

“They’re landing troops to attack you! Get ready to defend the walls,” yelled Usara as the spell flickered and weakened.

“Target anyone wearing a metal gorget,” I bellowed as the light died away. “Do you think they heard?”

Usara shook his head, face aghast. “Something’s happened to Otrick!”

Given the chaos erupting around their ships, the Elietimm had abandoned their attempts at stealth and were charging towards the Den Rannion steading, harsh battle cries sounding across the waters.

“Get us ashore, curse you,” Livak was shouting at the master mariner.

“We can mount a counterattack.” Buril looked up from conferring with his fellow mercenaries.

“Let us at them, Esquire,” one of the colonists urged Temar, receiving nods of agreement from the others. “We have a fair rate of scores to settle!”

A crack of lightning silenced everyone as black clouds boiled out of nowhere and spears of magic lanced downwards to send black-liveried bodies flying, scorched vegetation burning merrily. Where a detachment tried to stamp out the flames, a surge of crimson fire leaped up from the ground to seize one man greedily by the arm, burning him to the bone despite every effort to quench it, rather transferring itself to anyone who came to the hapless soldier’s aid, leaving only charred remnants behind. Screams of fear and pain began to rise above the war cries.

“Do you think they need our help?” I heard one of the mercenaries ask his mate doubtfully.

“Over there, he’s over there!” Guinalle gestured wildly at the far bank, toward the ruins of some kind of watchtower. “Their Artificer, he’s over there!”

“Master, can you get us beside that wharf?” I shouted to the captain. “We have to get off quick if we’re not to be cut to pieces as we land!”

“Let us.” Shiv nodded to Usara and the great serpent vanished, leaving only a few swimmers struggling among the flotsam of the ebbing tide. Our boat rode over the water, however, gliding impossibly through the exposed mud flats to wedge itself securely against an undercut shore, the mercenaries leaping over the rail to land on dry grass, which was soon running red with the blood of the Elietimm who charged down to meet our unexpected attack.

After that first success our assault faltered as a handful of our warriors fell to their knees. The air felt heavy around me, almost as if a storm threatened. I wondered if some wizard’s magic was going awry. Then one woman, Jervice, Halice’s friend, struggled to her feet and I saw her eyes were black as pitch.

“Drianon forgive me!” As Livak whispered her prayer, she threw a dart, hard and true and Jervice crumpled to the ground before she could plant her raised sword in the skull of the man next to her. Others were not so lucky and I saw more than one colonist, so long in waiting, sent straight to Saedrin’s door by an unexpected blow from behind. Rage threatened to overwhelm me and I clubbed the man responsible with a heavy hand, sending him bleeding to the ground.

“Tror mir’al, es nar’an,” Guinalle set up a frantic chant somewhere close. “Parrail, repeat this after me and don’t stop, if you love your sanity!”

As the peculiar rhythm built, the sense of pressure faded and our attack was pressed home with renewed bitterness. “Go for the commanders, the ones with gold or silver at their throats!” I heard Temar shouting. More of Livak’s darts went shooting past my ear to drop anyone she could see with a gorget in their steps. I spared her a glance, hearing her chanting something under her breath. “What are you saying?”

“Whatever—it is—that she is,” Livak said between repetitions. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Over there!” Dragging Parrail along with her other hand, Guinalle grabbed my sleeve and then pointed at the creeper-clad base of the watchtower. “He’s in there.”

“Temar!” I pointed to the tower and looked around. “Tavie, Buril, with me, and you others!”

“Maintain the ward, whatever you do.” Guinalle dropped Parrail’s hand and I noticed the bruises of her finger marks in his flesh. “It’s up to you now. I have to block the source of this Artifice.”

She hurried toward the tower, heedless of danger, Livak and I hastening to put ourselves either side of her as we fought our way through the melee. As we reached the entrance, ’Sar sent magic from somewhere behind us to reduce the doorway to rubble and splinters. After an instant of recoiling from that shock, Temar and I led the charge inside. Those who came to meet us died quickly, as I found myself knowing every move Temar was going to make a breath before he did it. It seemed to be working both ways as well. As I darted to the side and an Elietimm sought to follow me, Temar’s sword was already moving to spill his guts over the dusty floor. As a second man thought he could smash his blade down into Temar’s outstretched arm, I was already poised to drive my crude blade into his head, ripping it out again to smash the hilt into the face of the gorget-wearer hoping to meet Temar’s retreat. The rest of the guard died bloodily under the swords of those beside us.

“Upstairs.” Guinalle was flattened against the wall, blood on her skirts, eyes fixed on the beams above her head. Livak, similarly splashed, waited ready to defend her, but no assailants were getting past Buril and Tavie, who had set themselves at the threshold. The two heavy-set mercenaries were drenched in gore, some their own, grimly purposeful as they hacked down any Elietimm trying to seek sanctuary within the tower again.

“Come on.” Temar set a foot on the lowest step of the stair winding up the inside of the wall and I hurried to follow him. I nodded and we both ran up the narrow treads, swords raised, ready to kill whatever we found but crashing helplessly into some unseen barrier that sent agony shooting through my skull. Gasping for breath, I stared into the hollow room in total disbelief.

It was him, the priest from Shek Kul’s domain—Kramisak, the bastard who had fled and left me to watch over Kaeska’s agonized death. He sat, calm, within a circle of eerie radiance, a mocking half-smile on his thin lips as he nodded toward me in a taunting salute. Stripped to the waist, his hands were raised and he was once more covered in black sigils, shocking against the white of his skin and hair. “I will attend to you later, Tormalin man, I have bigger fish on the hook at present.”

I glared at him and waved Temar over to test the circle on the opposite side. We found we could move around the enchanter easily enough but could not reach him; even touching a sword to the baleful light sent agony shooting up the arm that held it. As I walked slowly round, I looked over the river to see how the battle fared. The walls of the encampment were wreathed in scarlet fire; Naldeth or Kalion must have set all the creepers alight, which did not suggest the fight went well for our side. Where were Otrick’s lightning strikes, which had shattered Elietimm ambitions the year before?

“It’s a ward, a strong one.” Guinalle stood at the top of the steps, peering around Livak’s shoulder. Livak’s face was pale and set and I knew just what it must be costing her to come face to face with the Elietimm magic that had tortured her so foully before. Kramisak’s attention wavered for a moment and the circle brightened, but Guinalle raised a hand with a stream of liquid syllables and whatever the bastard was attempting against her went past in vain.

“Livak, do you trust me?” Guinalle moved to one side, her eyes never leaving the Elietimm enchanter. “Believe me, anything he can do, I can match. Hold my hands, echo my words and understand that he cannot touch us.”

Livak’s eyes were wide with apprehension, but she took Guinalle’s pale and delicate hands in her own tanned ones and repeated the arcane chant that the younger woman raised, Guinalle’s ancient accents, unheard for so many generations, mingling with the cadence of Livak’s Forest blood, songs learned in childhood from her long absent father giving her the pattern of the lost magic.

“No, you cannot!” Kramisak leaped to his feet with a shout of outrage as his circle flickered and died. He seized a mace that lay on the floor and launched himself at Guinalle. I dashed forward to intercept him, catching the crushing head of his weapon on the battered edge of my sword. He spat at me, slime just missing my face, and cursed me in his own tongue before hissing a familiar chant at me. I braced myself but no confusion threatened me, no dizziness robbed me of my wits.

“Daughter of whores and mother of vermin!” Kramisak tried to go for Guinalle again but I sent him sprawling backward into the far wall with a kick in the stomach.

“It’s time for a fair fight, you pox-rotted bastard,” I heard myself say. “There’s unfinished business between us, gurry-breath!”

“Then it’s my turn.” Temar was circling around behind me now, making sure Kramisak had no opportunity to reach Guinalle and Livak if he somehow evaded me.