Fortress Draconis (19 page)

Alyx dispatched Captain Agitare to offer quarter to the vylaen leading the defense of the end of the enemy line. Agitare fastened a strip of white cloth to the end of his horse-bow, approached, and tendered her offer. Power began to gather in the vylaen’s palms, but before it could cast a spell, Agitare plucked an arrow from his quiver, nocked, drew, and let fly.

The scarlet-fletched arrow burst the vylaen’s heart. Magickal energy trickled up its forearms like ivy growing up a tower, burning as it went. The vylaen collapsed. A sleetstorm of arrows covered Agitare’s retreat. Peri screamed high above the enemy position, then a firecock exploded at its heart. The Red Caps advanced and before too long, all Aurolani resistance had breathed its last.

High in the tower that housed Porasena’s mayor, Alyx attended a hastily planned noontime reception. General Caro had made certain to give her all due credit for the planning of the attack, but he did nothing to deflect the flowery praises the local merchant-princes lavished upon him. Most of them, it turned out, had taken their breakfast and tea in towers, watching the battle unfold as they ate. Their daughters and young wives entertained some of the younger officers. The women listened with wide eyes and sympathetic sighs as stories of courage unfolded and thousands more gibberers were slain than had ever been encamped on the plains of Sena.

Alyx shook her head and carried her goblet of wine out onto the tower balcony that looked north. The river unwound a ribbon of blue, flecked with flashes of silver, rolling north. It had long since carried away most of the bodies, while smoky pyres on either shore took care of the rest. The meager loot left behind in the Aurolani camps had quickly disappeared once the fighting had stopped.

“Are Aurolani artifacts selling briskly in the market?”

Peri blinked her amber eyes slowly. “Most of the real things are gone, but plenty have been manufactured. One smart man is overstriking coins with a star to mark the battle.”

The pale-tressed woman set her goblet on the balcony’s stone balustrade. “The people are celebrating as if this was some great victory. It means nothing. Chytrine left troops here for us to kill, for reasons known only to her. That we cost her more than she might have expected is good, but her only purpose here might have been to test us.”

“Yes, my sister, what you say is true.” Peri walked over to stand beside Alyx, appropriated her goblet, and drank some of her wine. “You must recognize, though, that for the people of Porasena, thiswas a great victory. This valley is their world, and we saved it for them. Could you expect them to act any other way?”

Alyx shook her head. She knew Peri was correct, but the simple and willful lack of awareness of the world displayed by the townsfolk astonished her. Alyx had seen more of the world than most of the people in Porasena; having been born in Okrannel and flown to Gyrvirgul as an infant was but the first of many journeys she’d undertaken. She’d been schooled in history and knew in intimate detail the forces and elements that had shaped the world.

And she knew the incredible threat Chytrine represented to all of it. A quarter century earlier many warriors, including her father, had died to prevent Chytrine’s invasion of the south. While the effort had been unsuccessful at unseating her, it had held her hordes in check. Still, new incursions, like the siege at Porasena, indicated that Chytrine’s power was growing, as was her need to project it southward.

“I understand what you are saying, Peri, but I just…” She shivered. “It’s as if they are celebrating being dry because the first raindrop in a storm did not hit them.”

“I never said it was smart, sister, just inevitable.” Peri frowned. “The people are stupid from drinking too much of this wine. Vinegar is not as bitter.”

“Better than the beer. It’s watery and the color of your eyes.” Alyx took the goblet back, went to drink, but saw something over the edge of the cup. “What is that?”

Peri’s eyes narrowed as she focused on the river. “A wave of some sort, working its way down the river. It’s red, bloodred.”

It took a dozen heartbeats for the wave to come close enough for Alyx to see it, and she knew she wasn’t getting any of the detail Peri was. The color matched her description, but Alyx noted there was no foam at the crest of the wave. It moved upstream, against the current, coming on fast.

A much larger wave surged out from the city and rose to the height of the walls. It rolled north, rising, cresting, and smashing down on the smaller scarlet wave. The red wave vanished for a second in the mist of the tall wave’s crash, then a bloody waterspout stabbed up and through what would have been the wave’s heart. River water sloshed up and out, over the banks, washing away dogs and setting crows to wing over the battlefield they’d been scavenging.

Fish flopped on the banks, while others floated in the channel. A few gibberer bodies bobbed up again. Huge bubbles boiled to the surface and exploded, projecting a foul stink of rotting muck.

“What was that?”

Peri shook her head. “Not certain. The big wave, that was theweirun. Of that I am sure.”

Alyx looked again at the red stain, which had melted from its spear-shape to an amorphous blob floating on the slowly settling surface. “Did that thing kill it?”

“The river’s not dead.”

The red splotch slowly floated to the western bank. A rounded and soft column of oily plasm reached up toward the bank. The very end of it resolved itself into a hand that clutched at long-leafed grasses. The rest of the red stain flowed toward this hand, as if it were wax filling a mold of a naked man. Once legs and feet had been formed, the figure pulled himself up onto the plain.

He remained naked for barely more than a second before his flesh took on the wrinkles and seams of cloth. It appeared as if his clothing were rising up through his flesh. The scarlet color drained away, leaving his clothes black, from boots and trousers to tunic. Likewise a hooded cloak flowed from him, and a black mask appeared on his face, covering him from upper lip to forehead.

His eyes remained dark holes for no more than a moment. Bright yellow-orange flames ignited there, guttering. The hem of his cloak caught a spark and also burst into flame. The fire quickly consumed the cloak, which became composed of little licking flames against which his flesh and clothes were apparently immune.

An archer on the wall below launched an arrow at the figure. The shaft sped toward its target and then, when only a man-length from its heart, slowed. It almost seemed to Alyx that it had been shot into water, or something even more viscous. The figure reached out and casually plucked the arrow from the air. He said something in an oddly sibilant tongue, causing the arrow in his hand to combust.

On the wall, the other arrows in the archer’s quiver blossomed with fire. The man tore it off and others stomped the fire out while yet another colleague smothered the flames on the man’s back with a cloak. Sharp, surprised shouts faded, and cold laughter from the figure stole over the city like an icy drizzle.

The figure brushed his hands one against the other to rid them of arrow ash, then clasped them at his belt. His laughter drained away to be replaced by a voice that was both strong and melodious. Despite that, however, it brought with it no warmth at all.

“Hark unto me, Porasena, poor; town with a future no more. Celebrate victory this morn; so the morrows you’ll mourn.” The figure looked around, then stamped his foot to scatter a mangy pack of hounds slinking toward him. “Blood is power, and in an hour, much blood did you spill. Next will come fire, certainly most dire, and all will it kill.”

The figure reached back and tugged its hood up to cover its head. Then hands shot to opposite shoulders, grasping the fiery cloak and pulled it tight around him. In an eyeblink he became a column of fire that then collapsed into a greasy black stream of smoke. The breeze wafted it toward the town and it smelled even more foul than the river gas.

Alyx drank some of the wine, holding it in her mouth until its fumes could dissolve the stink in her nostrils, then she swallowed hard. “That was asullanciri!‘

Peri nodded. “I believe so, sister.”

“So, all of this was bait to get us here, so we could see something Chytrine wanted us to see. And he was here to make sure we knew this was just a prelude.”

“We would be wise, then, to leave.”

Alyx upturned the goblet and shook the last drops of wine out over the city. “If we leave, there will be panic, rioting, looting. We will have saved the city for nothing. If we are going, we are evacuating it in an orderly manner.”

“Not a simple task.”

“No, my sister, but one that must be done.” Alyx sighed. “Come with me. It won’t be an easy fight, but if we turn Caro to our side, we might just be able to keep some people alive.”

Will liked having Dranae join their group. While he remained largely silent as his throat was healing up, Dranae had no problem helping out with various chores. He hauled water and firewood without being asked. He found some herbs and leaves in the Saporician rainforests that were able to spice up rabbit stew. He also didn’t seem to mind taking the predawn watch, which was the one Will especially hated.

Outfitting Dranae had been difficult, since none of the clothes they had would fit him. They ended up winding a blanket around him in a skirtlike affair. At first he pulled the back of it up between his legs and tucked it in at his belly, but pretty soon just left it down at knee-height. Will thought it looked kind of ridiculous, but Resolute noted there were all sorts of sailors on the Crescent Sea who dressed similarly, raising the specter that Dranae might once have been one of them, or even a pirate shipping out of Wruona. Will questioned him about that possibility, but the man couldn’t even name the pirate queen, much less remember high-seas adventures.

Crow sewed together two belts taken from gibberer corpses to make something suitable for Dranae. It circled his waist, then a leather loop went across his body from left hip to right shoulder. During the days Dranae went bare-chested, but pulled a blanket around him like a cloak as the day’s heat wore off.

By salvaging more leather from the gibberers’ equipment, Crow put together some makeshift sandals. Everyone agreed they’d not last long, but it was hoped that in Sanges they could find more suitable footwear for Dranae, as well as passage north to Fortress Draconis.

They made pretty good time, heading north from Alcida and into the rainforests of Saporicia. By keeping to lesser-used tracks they traveled slower than they might have otherwise, but avoided detection. Will would have been inclined to protest, if for no other reason than still being angry about how he had been pulled into the adventure, but Dranae nodded sagely when Resolute informed him of their plans. Moreover, Dranae took their security concerns seriously, earning expansive nods from Resolute and an occasional word of thanks.

The rainforests of Saporicia differed from the woodlands of Alcida in that they seemed older and far thicker. More undergrowth bordered the trails. The trees rose higher, and in the dim distances—which were not all that far, but tough to see because of the thick growth of trees— mossy giants had snapped at the base and crashed down. Stony outcroppings jutted from hillsides carpeted in rusty pine needles, dripping water down into rivulets that formed streams or sank into bogs that they bypassed or slogged through.

Will wrinkled his nose at the fetid scent of a swamp. “Why do these woods seem different than the others we went through?”

Resolute glanced back from his position in the lead. “More rain here, and less men.”

“More rain, more wet. That I understand.” He turned to look at Crow and Dranae. “How come there are fewer men?”

The Vorquelf answered before either of the other two could offer Will anything. “Saporicia was, for a long time, a buffer between the Estine Empire and Loquellyn. Over time, as men encroached, elves pulled the borders of Loquellyn back. Most humans settled on the coast, and around the great harbor that splits the country. During that time, though, Panqui had moved into this section of the country. They tend to keep humans out, as the dragons intend.”

Will frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Resolute shook his head. “How can you be as old as you are and know nothing of the natural order of the world? First the urZrethi come into elven homelands and build mountains to chase the elves away. Then dragons come and drive the urZrethi from the mountains and make their homes in them. Dragons permit Panqui to live in those mountains or the nearby areas to discourage men from coming in. Why? Because men quarry the mountains and steal the stones to make their cities.”

“Oh, and then elves come and extend their homelands to drive men away, to start the cycle again?”

“No, boy, elves do not. This is why, someday, there will be no elves left in this world.”

The cold finality in Resolute’s voice sent a shock through Will. He had stated, so matter-of-factly, something that meant his people would someday be driven from the world and yet, here he was, fighting to see that the cycle he described would not be broken by an invasion from the north. Will saw the logic of fighting Chytrine, since her victory would mean the destruction of the elves anyway. Still, knowing the elves would eventually have to move on meant

Will’s enthusiasm for fighting would have been greatly dampened had he been Resolute.

Dranae spoke in a low voice. “Friend Resolute, that’s an interesting view of the world. I have heard it suggested that elves are constantly searching for a place that is meant to be their home. If one place is not it, they move on.”

Resolute reined his horse up short and turned to face them. The expression he wore seemed stuck between puzzlement and discontent. “The elves who were bound to Vorquellyn before its desecration did gobeyond. That is your word for what they did. It does not contain the whole of it. Some say there are many worlds, like pearls on a string, and elves pass from one to another, by going beyond, or by dying and being reborn. I do not know, since this is a mystery denied me by fate.”