Bones of the Empire (35 page)

“She’s pretty,” Estin managed to eke out before the female vanished and he found himself facing the wolf again.

The woman turned Estin around to face her, keeping his paws off the ground. “Her kind kill yours, child. Does that not scare you?”

Estin stared into the woman’s eyes. “You scare me. She’s like me.”

“You are an odd little creature,” she answered, smiling. “Keep ignoring what your instincts tell you, and you might live long enough to tell her what you thought when you saw her today.”

Winds picked up around him, making Estin’s head spin, and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Mairlee was taking her hand away from his head, and the dream was gone.

Rage came to Estin without him realizing it was there. He screamed, snarling like an animal, and punched the wall of the cave until his hands were numb and covered with blood. Covering his face with his shaking hands, he fought to control the anger.

“You were not to end up like this,” Mairlee said from behind him. “You were to inspire Feanne to greatness and then die. That was your place. Insrin and Feanne would have struggled as long as they could…and they would have died, as well. Surviving this far was not something I or the Miharon foresaw. Now I find myself changing my plans to aid you.”

Estin trembled uncontrollably, leaning against the wall to keep from falling. His heart would not stop pounding, trying to escape from his chest. “You…you tricked me…you made me meet Feanne?” Estin managed to squeak out, dropping to the floor. He felt as though his whole world was crumbling. “None of this was real…”

“All of it was real, Estin,” Mairlee answered, standing over him. “I did not put you two together. I was confirming my suspicions. This was all on the two of you. There is no trick. Your feelings and lives were as genuine as any. Even I cannot create love. As I said, I believed you would be her friend and aid her, but that she and Insrin would be here today.”

“How can I even know that she loves—”

Mairlee’s slap laid Estin out on the floor of the cave. “Stop being stupid, Estin. I cannot believe you still worry about such things. You have spent nearly half of your short life with this female, and she has borne your children. Would she had put up with you this long if she didn’t love you beyond any measure I can put to words?”

“Could you have saved my parents?”

“Yes. If I had, Feanne would have died before she was eight. You would never have met her.”

“You know so much about us…the first two kits…”

“I will not begin to lower myself to determining the bloodlines of mortals, Estin. My own brood have never bothered to ask who their father was. If I will not tell my own children, why would I waste my strength seeking out answers for yours? The patterns of fate are not so…detailed.”

“If you help me…can I save Feanne?” He got up slowly to his feet.

“I have no way of knowing. That is up to you. The fabric of this world has changed too much for me to claim any control anymore. I am as bound by it as you are. Promise me something, if we are to do this,” Mairlee said, stepping up to him. She cocked her head slightly, studying him for a moment, the same way she had in the vision. “Promise me that you will not explain what you see here to anyone for as long as you live. They may learn on their own, but I do not want it coming from your mouth first. My people are few, and we must remain hidden if we are to survive after we weaken ourselves aiding you. What I must do to help you will reveal me.”

“I promise,” Estin said, standing as tall as he could. With Mairlee’s slightly hunched back, she still was a few inches shorter than him.

“This may hurt,” she said, placing a wrinkled hand on his chest. “A lot…”

Before Estin could reply, Mairlee drove her hand through his ribs and into his chest, making his entire body burn. He could not move, his muscles frozen as he felt her fingers tugging not so much at his flesh and blood, but his life itself. As he stared at Mairlee, struggling to take a breath or pull away, a silhouette rose above her, enormous wings unfurling, filling the cave. The last sound Estin heard as his heart stopped was a bestial roar that dwarfed anything he had heard since fleeing Lantonne.

“Unity”

“Flank them. Push them back against the valley,” Raeln ordered the Turessian beside him, who looked up at him nervously. “Full push. Give the order and get them moving. Confirm with Ceran before announcing, if the clans require.”

“Our enemies said they will meet with us for negotiation in two hours,” the man, Lendin, reminded him, rubbing at his tattoos as he tended to when worried Raeln was overstepping his bounds. “This would be an act of war against their clan. It is a dishonorable act, battle leader.”

Raeln grabbed Lendin—who shuddered at the touch—and turned him around to face a section of woods to the south of their position. Raeln had been watching that spot all afternoon. “What do you see?”

“Trees,” the man replied, pulling his robe free of Raeln’s grip. “Why do you keep touching me?”

“It gets your attention. What do you see over those trees?”

He followed Raeln’s pointing. “Carrion birds.”

“Carrion birds mean corpses. Watch where those birds go.”

The man sighed and stared at the woods as the huge flock of birds dipped and circled. Slowly the flock drifted toward the back of the clan’s forces. Every few seconds, some from the flock would dive into the trees, as though swooping in on food. “They’re flanking us,” Lendin said finally, standing straight in surprise. “Rotting ancestors? Are they bringing forces around while we wait to have the meeting of clans? The use of ancestors in war is against all of our traditions.”

“I doubt they even know that the council is doing it,” Raeln admitted, looking back to the large gathering of Turessians from the two clans that had come to meet with Yiral and Ceran. Word had spread quickly about them giving Raeln honor markings, and the clans seemed to want to get to the bottom of the situation before declaring war. “They are using the clans as a distraction. They will probably wipe out everyone here, no matter which clan they’re a part of.”

“Then why would we attack the others?”

Raeln grabbed the man and spun him toward the large camps down the hill from them. “They were told we betrayed the council. They will see those undead come out of the woods behind us and believe we are using them to attack. If Dorralt is smart, he will have told them we’re using undead, when in fact they are his. That way, if any of those clansmen survive, they will not spread rumors about the council, but about us. We need to strike first, moving our forces out from the undead. If we seize control over the other clans so they can see we are all being attacked, they may join with us against a mutual foe, which will make our position that much better when we move on to negotiations.”

“It is not our way to attack without warning,” the man argued, squirming under Raeln’s hands. “Ceran wanted me to help teach you our ways. I must object. I also must ask that you stop touching me.”

“I’m part of the clan, so my way is your way,” Raeln countered, turning his attention back to the ravens. He did not have long before whatever the birds were following had cut off any other escape. His clans needed to start marching, or they would be entirely trapped. “Get the message down to Ceran. I will not argue any more with you. I’m your war leader. Act like it.”

The man clenched his fists and looked ready to debate, but he seemed to figure out he had no basis for any argument and ran off toward the others.

Left alone, Raeln watched the woods for what felt like hours, though he knew less than one had passed before he saw the forces of his clans mobilize. They formed up quickly and charged with a half-hearted cry toward the other clans, who scrambled to ready themselves. It would be a brutal fight, with neither side having any fortifications or ditches built yet, but he knew the Turessians would not kill one another if they could manage it. They would capture them in the expectation of enslaving them. He would deal with that once the battle was over. With luck, before nightfall he would have four clans—nearly half the Turessian lands—working together at his side. That was a very good start.

“Is good time to lead men to slaughter, no?” Yoska asked, having managed to approach Raeln without him hearing a single footfall in the snow. “Should I begin digging holes in ground for bodies?”

“This will not end that way,” Raeln replied without looking back. He sniffed and verified Yoska was alone. “Shouldn’t your wife be with you?”

Laughing, Yoska said, “Wife? You have very silly notion of how things really are, my friend. She will grow tired of me long before then. We are old and do not concern ourselves with titles and names for what we do. She is my friend and comfort, and I am hers. Besides, you make that sound binding. If I do call her wife, you then get upset when another finds me as I travel. We must find you overly friendly wolfish man to teach you such things. I consider it least I can do for a friend.”

“No thank you,” Raeln replied, still watching the woods. Judging by the sudden flight of the ravens, the undead were moving rapidly now. “I found what I loved and won’t look for another. That was all I ever needed. I’m not like you.”

“All people are like me, Raeln. Only difference is how they express feelings. You stifle yourself behind duty. I take comfort where I can find it and welcome those who would join my life for more than a few nights. Your heart holds as much pain and love as mine. You only choose to limit the way you heal, no?”

“No, I will keep my mind on what I have to do to save lives,” Raeln said, finally turning on him. Yoska casually leaned against Raeln’s horse, looking for all the world as though he had been there the whole day. “Every life in those clans is on my shoulders. I will not bed someone as distraction when a hundred or a thousand lives depend on me.”

Smirking, accentuating the stark contrast between his white teeth and his darker skin, Yoska replied, “You make good battle leader, but poor man for party. I had brother like you. I would trust my life to him, but he died lonely and angry. Find peace somewhere, Raeln. Is not for any of us to die mad at the world. He would not be happy, wherever he is, knowing you treat yourself so badly.”

Raeln snorted angrily, rubbing at his tattoos without even thinking about it. “Go lead part of the charge. I have heard enough from you, Yoska.”

“You will hear much more before I relent,” Yoska said, bowing and walking back down the hill toward the clans. Over his shoulder, he added, “Find way to be happy, Raeln. I will pester until then. I will see you enjoy yourself before I die.”

Raeln stood there until long after Yoska had gone, then turned back to the woods, where he could see the first hints of movement from the undead there. It would not be long before they came running from the trees after the departing Turessian clans. That charge would have been devastating had Raeln not gotten his people marching early enough. Now, the undead would have to chase them, which gave him time.

“I found my happiness,” he said to himself, without taking his eyes off the trees. He touched the tattoos on his brow and smiled grimly. “Every life I save here brings me one step closer to making up for failing Greth. Once we’re even, I will be happy. Everything else can wait.”

*

Explosions and flashes of light across the snowy plains between the two camps lit up the night for miles around as the clans fought for every inch of ground. Flames and lightning seemed to dominate the battlefield, but the more Raeln stared into the dark, the more he could make out the gleam of more mundane weaponry. There were two distinct battles occurring at the same time—one between the Turessian spellcasters on both sides, and the other among the slaves and those who either had no magic or had already exhausted themselves.

Raeln watched and waited for more than an hour after sunset, until the main group of undead left the cover of the woods. He had gotten his troops far from the wood line, but the fighting would need resolution quickly or they would all soon be overrun. So far, he had seen little ground given by either faction, and that needed to change. With the undead in sight, he was ready to act on the next step of his plan.

Heading down the hill toward the fighting, Raeln drew his sword and leveled his shield. He picked up speed, the slope allowing him to run without much effort, though he still had to be careful of each paw coming down on uneven or icy ground. He kept his gaze on the two large armies ahead of him, trying not to pay attention to the darker forces far off to his right, coming from the woods. They would be dealt with soon enough. For now, the reserve troops he had left there would have to hold their own ground. His men and women were dug into trenches hastily built with magic in the last hour. He hoped they would slow the undead for a little while.

Raeln charged headlong into the magical fray at the base of the hill, where the slaves of the clans fought to hold ground against their enemies. Wizards from both sides hurled spells past the front lines. The transition from one type of combat to the next was dizzying. The slaves bleeding and dying in traditional melee, and the “true” Turessians wounding and killing each other with explosions, flame, and lightning. It had been maddening to Raeln at first. But after watching it continue for so long, he had a good idea of who would attack where, giving him some degree of surety that he could find his way through the battle. He knew where the lines were weak and where he would be seen.

Barking as loudly as he could to draw attention, Raeln slammed into the front line of slaves from the other clans, knocking three humans and a dwarf to the ground. Spinning and striking at exposed arms with his shield’s edge and the flat of his sword, he left a path of wounded and prone foes, who would recover soon enough. His job was not to kill—not today. He would need every one of these people if his plan was to succeed.

His troops shifted as soon as he charged, forming a wedge behind him to help push through the enemy lines. When the slave forces regrouped, trying to cut him off from their clan’s masters, Raeln stopped and pointed at his face. Almost immediately, the slaves facing him backed away, unsure what to do. He had overheard Ceran telling Yoska that slaves were not to fight clansmen, even in war, giving him the advantage of confusion. Shoving the last of the slaves out of his way, he continued across the field toward the heart of the clans’ army.

“I demand a meeting with your leaders immediately!” he shouted. The magical explosions quickly subsided as his own clan realized what was happening, and the opposing clans stared in dismay as he walked through the ankle-deep snow toward them. “As a member of the clans of Turess, I demand parlay. Stand down and come talk with me if you claim any honor among your clans.”

A wall of nearly fifty black-robed Turessians gaped as he walked up to them, sheathing his sword. None made any effort to move, so Raeln pushed his way through and on toward the fallen tents set up before he had ordered the attack.

So far into the army force, he soon saw the undead ancestors of the clans near the old tents, hidden away from the majority of the fighting. They were better protected than the slaves. It rankled him, but that was an argument for another day.

“How dare you, beast?” called out a man off to Raeln’s right. The bald Turessian came running to stop Raeln from going on, which told him the man was not in charge. “I will not allow—”

Raeln chopped the man in the throat with the back of his hand, and the man fell with a gurgling choke. “You don’t get to make that decision for a fellow clansman, brother. Stay on the ground or you won’t be able to get up next time. Consider this my one act of mercy for today.”

The scraping sound of dozens of swords being drawn let Raeln know he had finally drawn enough attention. The clans tightened around him and about thirty of his own troops, trapping them near the trampled tents. From behind the wall of Turessians, a pair of men and one woman stepped into the dim light of the few torches that remained lit.

“You are the reason we were here in the first place, beast,” snapped the woman—likely a clan’s preserver—but when Raeln snarled at her, she backed away a step. It seemed he already had created a reputation.

“I am a clansman, no different than you, sister,” he growled at her, trying not to let on that he was getting nervous, given the odds against him. Thirty of his people against hundreds of theirs was not his idea of a fair fight, especially with the number of spellcasters among them. “You will show proper respect for a battle leader. I came to talk, and I will not be treated this way.”