Darksong Rising (53 page)

stupid, reminding Liende again, but she knew that when the time came, she’d need the song

immediately.

As Anna rode toward Himar, the overcaptain raised his hand, and a double trumpet blast rolled

out into the midmorning air. Anna flicked the reins, and Farineili carried her forward.

Like the road they had already traveled, the road eastward curved around hills, following the

River Syne, with the higher ground to the north, on their left. in the shadows cast by hedgerows

and the scattered clumps of trees bordering the fields, dew still glistened on the browning grass

and the greener weeds.

Anna cleared her throat and began a vocalise. Or started to begin one, because the first note

triggered a coughing attack. Her struggle against the asthma continued for almost a glass, and

perhaps four deks before she managed to clear her lungs and throat.

“Being a sorceress is not so easy as most would suppose," Jecks offered.

“No. Being anything with power isn’t, I guess."

Both looked up as a scout in Defalkan purple rode toward the column, slowing and stopping as

Himar urged his mount forward to receive the report. After several moments, the overcaptain

rode toward Anna and Jecks.

“The forces of Ceorwyn hold the next rise,” Himar announced. ‘They await us, and their blades

are bright.”

“Will they attack when we appear?” asked Anna.

“I do not know.” Himar shrugged apologetically. “They would have seen our scouts.”

“He will wish you to ask for terms,” Jecks predicted. “He will expect that, and then he will attack

or hold fast. He will not turn from you.”

Anna glanced back, but the players were close, and Liende nodded, as if to signify that they were

ready. The sorceress looked forward. ‘The players will have to dismount quickly, in case

Ceorwyn does attack. Can the lancers hold them for that long?”

“We will hold.” Himar stood in his stirrups, and ordered, “Blades and lances ready!” A triplet

from the trumpet echoed his words.

As Anna rode over the crest of the hill and looked eastward, she could see the burgundy surcoats,

set in formation on the hillside opposite her. She reined up, then turned Farinelli back. Jimbob

and Kinor pulled their mounts aside to allow her to reach the chief player.

“Liende, have the players come to the front where I am and dismount and tune. If Ceorwyn

rejects our terms, they’ll need to be ready with the flame song at once.”

“The flame song…Yes, Regent.”

Why doesn’t anyone see? Anna rode forward and to the left of the road toward a flat section of

grass that gave her an unobstructed view of Ceorwyn’s three-deep formation—less than half a

dek away. In the depression between the two forces, except for where the road lay, was a line of

bushes that marked a sometime stream.

Rickel and Lejun, the big shields out, eased their mounts before her, and Jecks slipped his mount

to the right of Farinelli as Anna reined up. Himar appeared on her left. Behind them, the players

dismounted. Soon, the all-too-familiar near dissonance of tuning began to rise.

Himar looked at Anna. So did Jecks.

“Might as well send the herald." Both glanced quizzically at her.

“The messenger—with the terms I wrote out.”

The overcaptain nodded, then turned his mount.

As Himar rode toward the center of the Defalkan formation, Jecks guided his mount closer to

Anna. “Best you remember that twice you have offered terms, and that before that the Ebrans

invaded Defalk.”

“You’re telling me that I’m being reasonable.” Reasonable for Liedwahr anyway.

“You would let most of Ebra be ruled as it once was. You exert but a light hand, my lady.”

Anna glanced up at the sound of the trumpet.

The messenger or herald in purple, one hand steadying the blue parley flag, the base of its staff

set in his lanceholder, rode forward. Shielded by Rickel and Lejun, but still mounted. Anna

watched from the hillside. To each side, behind the guards, watched Jecks, Jimbob, and Kinor.

The Defalkan lancer reined up in the depression between the two rises, waiting.

Shortly, a lancer in burgundy rode down from the formation and halted opposite the Defalkan.

The Defalkan lancer extended the scroll. The lancer in burgundy took the document and then

rode to the far hillside, disappearing through the line of Ebran lancers reined up in formation.

The sorceress-Regent blotted her forehead, glancing sideways at Jecks, but the lord’s eyes were

fixed on the opposite hill. A single fly buzzed past Anna. Then Farinelli swished his tail, several

times.

Another horse, somewhere behind Anna, whuffed, momentarily breaking the tension and the

stillness.

The lancer in burgundy appeared from the formation, riding slowly back downhill toward the

waiting Defalkan scout and the blue parley flag. Ceorwyn’s lancer spoke for a time to the

Defalkan, and then the two separated, and the Defalkan lancer rode back uphill toward the spot

where Himar and Stepan waited, both mounted.

In turn, the messenger spoke to Himar.

Anna watched the lancers in burgundy, but there was no movement among them.

Stepan and Himar rode slowly back toward Anna. Himar reined up and looked steadily at Anna.

“Ceorwyn will acknowledge you as sovereign, but not Hadrenn. And he will fight to the death,

even though he be slaughtered by your sorcery before he will allow women to rule in Ebra.”

“That’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get!” snapped Anna, turning in the saddle. “Chief

player, the flame song!”

“My lady... why will you not accept his fealty?” asked Jecks.

Anna had almost begun to dismount. She stopped and looked at the white-haired lord. “You

know why. Because I can’t hold Defalk... let alone hold Ebra. I’ve got so many dissonant lords at

home that I’ll spend years pacifying them after this. And I can’t leave some idiot who’s as bad as

the Sea-Priests in charge of the eastern coast of Ebra. They’ve akeady visited Bertmynn, and this

Ceorwyn certainly knows them. I let him take over without a free state in Elahwa, and there’ll be

a revolt here the moment I die—and that’s pretty optimistic. There might be one long before that.

Either way, and a season after that the Sturinnese will be pouring troops through Elahwa—if they

wait that long.” Anna looked at Jecks. “Is that what you want for your grandson?”

She could see Jimbob wince, even twenty yards away, and she realized she shouldn’t have

spoken so loudly.

“You would kill thirtyscore because their commander is a fool?”

“No,” Anna said softly, “I will kill thirtyscore because they follow a commander who is a fool

and because we can’t afford to lose any more lancers to sort it out.” And because you ‘re tired of

everyone else expecting to get their way and for you to be the reasonable one? Except using

sorcery to try to kill thirtyscore lancers wasn’t reasonable. Necessary, but not reasonable.

Jecks’s eyes flicked away from meeting Anna’s eyes directly. “You are Regent, and, again, I

thank the harmonies that I am not.” Abruptly, his eyes met hers again.

Anna could see the sadness in his hazel eyes, a sadness for which she had no real answer, except

that she knew that compassion on her part now would be far more costly later—and that was no

answer. Perhaps that was Jecks’ weakness—that he could not do what needed to be done when

there was the faintest chance that he might be wrong and many would die. And yours? That when

you get cornered and pushed, you lash out? Without speaking, she dismounted.

“Again,” Jecks said, turning to Jimbob and Kinor, “you will guard the Regent. She is Defalk.”

“Yes, ser,” the two affirmed.

Anna wasn’t certain she liked Jecks’ tone in referring to her as Defalk, but she did not look back

as she strode to the space that the guards had opened facing the other hill and the burgundy-

coated lancers of Dolov.

The lancers on the other—higher rise—made no movement, either to charge or retreat. Anna

swallowed. Must you do this? She swallowed again. What choice do you have? You didn't ask

for the moons of this forsaken world. You asked for limited allegiance
 
and
 
a place women could

go and not be slaves.

The sorceress cleared her throat and took a last solid look at the line of doomed lancers less than

half a dek from her. Idiots... male idiots... and you’re a female idiot for not finding a way out.

“We stand ready, Regent,” Liende called.

“The flame song!” Anna forced coldness into the command. “The flame song... Mark!” Liende’s

voice was hard, the hardness of discipline forced over emotion, but the spell melody was solid.

The sorceress put her concentration on the image of flames falling across the three-deep lines of

the burgundy-clad lancers—and especially on Ceorwyn—and on keeping her voice open and

full.

Those of Ebra who will not be

 
loyal to the Defalkan Regency,

 
let them die, let them lie,

 
struck by fire, struck by flame....

Once more, the chords of harmony shivered the sky, and the ground.

As Anna watched lines of fire fall across the opposite hillside—and a single huge firebolt sear

the center, she could sense a tension... something underlying the spell, almost like an

overstrained and fraying string on a too-tightly strung harp or violin.

Because you know it’s wrong--unharmonious... dissonant?

With the muted screams that rose from the wall of fire less than half a dek away, that unseen

string broke—and slammed into her.