Darksong Rising (81 page)

drums shreds under the assault of golden arrows from the heavens.

Rabyn’s eyes widen as the flames cascade down around him A dull thud announces that one of

the drummers has fallen across his drum.

More arrows flash downward, and these bear heavy iron shafts, iron that glows and sings as it

falls from the darkness.

One slashes through Rabyn’s shoulder, and a second through his neck—and yet another pierces

his chest.

"... bitch..." His words gurgle to a halt in the rain of fire. Beneath his twitching body, the ground

groans, and shudders, and the clashing chords of Darksong and Clearsong rip even through the

ears of those who have never heard the sounds of dissonance and harmony.

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Anna stood in the alternating waves of light and darkness, trying to recall what she was supposed

to do next. Unseen dark waves of sound—with the feel of something dank and evil—pawed at

her as she stood motionless. Behind her, her players were equally frozen.

What can you do when his sorcery blocks your flame arrows? The question pounded through her

head.

Her sorcerous arrows were only flame arrows. Perhaps the weight of real iron-headed arrows,

boosted by sorcery, would be enough.

“The arrow song! The arrow song…Hanfor! Now! Have them loose the arrows, all they can!”

She could direct that sorcery and the arrows at the drums themselves. Then.. . she’d need another

spell... but that would have to wait. The drums... she had to destroy them, first. “Liende, the

arrow spell!”

“The arrow song! On my mark... Mark!” called Liende, her voice strong, if slower than usual.

The players’ first notes were shaky, but better than with the first spell, and melded together

almost seamlessly within a bar. As before when she had faced the drums, Anna felt beaten down,

depressed, and as though she were crawling out of a hole, and each word of the spell was forced:

She kept her focus on the spell, just on the spell.

“Loose shafts! Toward the fires! Loose shafts, now!” ordered Hanfor, his voice carrying now

that the element of surprise was gone.

As she began to sing, Anna concentrated on the image of the heavy arrowheads bursting through

whatever barrier Rabyn had laid, and smashing through the drum-skins, the iron glowing with

glistening light, searing through the darkness.

Heads of arrows, shot into the air,

 
strike the drumskins, straight through there,

 
rend the drums and those who play

... for their spells and Darksong pay!

Anna held her breath, watching, then coughed, and tried to clear her throat, her eyes still on those

lines of glowing red iron as the arrows climbed and then arched over the fires toward the tent of

the Prophet and the heavy beating of the Darksong drums.

Eiiisttt! Like they had become sparklers, each shaft began to sizzle with light as it neared the

Prophet’s tent. The first shafts, like the earlier flame arrows, winked out, but suddenly more than

a handful seemed to accelerate.

A brilliant line of blue fire erupted from the Neserean camp, outlining in detail the alternating

blue and cream panels of a large pavilion tent.

As the blue fire died, the heavy shafts loosed by the bowmen took on a brighter and more golden

glow, then a sunlight incandescence as they dropped toward the drums and the tent of the

Prophet.

Got to get Rabyn... can’t let him do another spell like the last ones.

“More arrows! More arrows…the arrow spell again... Anna shouted.

She swallowed, then timed her entry to the spellsong, and directed her voice westward, toward

the again dark tent and the Prophet who had to be there.

These arrows shot into the air,

the head of each must strike Lord Rabyn there—

The sorceress could hear the thrum of bowstrings and sense the release of the arrows.

—with force and speed to kill him dead,

 
for all the treachery he’s done and led.

She staggered for a moment at the end of the spell, trying to catch her breath.

One more set of fire lines arched across the Neserean camp, and the lowest-pitched drum fell

silent, then the others. The lower camp—that of the Mansuurans—continued to bustle with

mounts and men.

While the light breeze continued out of the north, Anna could still smell a hint of charred flesh,

and her stomach turned

“Now what, Lady Anna?” asked Hanfor.

The sorceress swallowed. “We ride back to where the rest of the lancers are, and we get ready, if

we have to, to wipe out the Mansuurans, if they decide to attack. That will give the players a

little time to rest." She turned in the darkness that had again fallen across the road and the

hillside. “Chief Player?”

“Yes, Regent."

“Have the players mount up. We’ll rejoin the rest of the lancers. Once we get there, though, have

everyone ready to play the long flame song. That’s just in case.” Anna rubbed her fore head,

trying to massage away the pain in her eyes, ignoring the throbbing in the back of her skull.

“We will be ready” After a pause, Liende called out. “You heard the Regent. Pack your

instruments and mount up”

“Green company! To the fore!” Hanfor’s voice rode through the darkness.

After mounting, Anna took the water bottle Kinor extended, swallowing half of what was in it

before turning Farineili away from the still-burning Neserean camp.

“...form a rear guard here until the Regent and the players are well away. Then you follow

slowly, and rejoin us and the rest of the force...."

Anna nodded at the sense of Hanfor’s orders. He was always crisp and clear. She felt she

muddled through everything.

“Are you all right, Lady Anna?” asked Kinor.

“Well as I can be." With her free hand, she massaged the back of her neck for a moment.

“Will they come after us?”

“I wouldn’t, but who knows?” Anna eased her mount next to Hanfor’s as the column rode at a

fast walk back eastward along the road. Behind them, the company of lancers Hanfor had left as

a rear guard formed darker shadows on the road, barely outlined by the coals and few flames of

the Neserean camp.

“Hanfor... when you came to serve me, you said you would not lead armsmen into Neserea.

Would you consider them leading you?”

“What might you mean?” Anna could hear the frown in the arms commander’s voice.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fighting battles between Defalk and its neighbors.

Rabyn had no heirs—not that anyone knows. I’m asking you to consider becoming High

Counselor and ruler of Neserea.”

The veteran swallowed, loudly even in the darkness, for the first time since Anna had known

him. “Lady Anna…I am not a ruler....”

“You’ve seen enough to know dishonesty and scheming, and you’re honest enough to try to do a

good job. And you are from Neserea. If they don’t attack us, I’m going to ask the Mansuuran

lancers to support you. And it may be that the Nesereans who are besieging Westfort might also

be agreeable to that.”

Hanfor langhed. “Those at Westfort are the Prophet’s Guards you bespelled in Falcor last year.

They can do nothing against you, but whether they would follow me is a different question."

“Would you consider it?”

Hanfor bent his head. “I cannot say that it would not be good to return. Yet... will either the

Mansuuran lancers or the people accept me?”

“We’ll know about the lancers shortly. As for the people... most of the time, they haven’t been

the biggest problem in Defalk.” It’s only in a democracy where people are the problem...

because they have some power, and people with power always get into trouble? What about you?

Anna didn’t want to deal with that question, not yet, anyway.

“We shall see, lady, but I do not think that many will see matters as you do,” prophesied the arms

commander.

Anna nodded in the darkness and reached for the cheese and stuff in the small food pouch.

Perhaps that would help.

The faintest hint of gray was appearing in the east, and by the time the column rejoined Himar’s

forces, the predawn light was strong enough that Anna could turn in the saddle and study the

players. Several, like Palian and Delvor, were clearly pale, but no one was about to fall out of the

saddle.

Himar rode out to meet the column, his eyes surveying the riders nearing him. “How went it?”

asked the overcaptain. “We saw the fires in the sky.”

Hanfor looked at Anna.

“The Nesereans and those who followed Rabyn are dead. So is Rabyn, and his drums—he used

Darksong—got burned up. The Mansuuran lancers…we don’t know what they’ll do yet.”

Himar frowned.

“I didn’t want to kill them and get the Liedfuhr ready to take over Neserea. Not yet, anyway. I’d

like to try something else flrst."

That got a slow, if reluctant, nod from Himar.

“Can I borrow one of your grease markers and the sketch board? I need to send a message to the

head of those lancers.”

Hanfor said nothing when Anna dismounted and handed Farinelli’s reins to Kinor. She walked to

the lower side of the road and propped herself against an oak that still held most of
 
its leaves. As

the dawn brightened, she used Hanfors grease marker and his sketch board as a desk while she