Fortress Draconis (69 page)

Fortunately, the Jeranese general hadn’t been called upon to make those choices. But he knew making them would have been mortally wounding, and verified this by the suffering that had been etched deeply into the faces of the people, even some children. But he was certain there were stories of heroism, too, with parents offering themselves to save children; little resistance movements that fought back, even momentarily.

The principle of death before dishonor was overrated, he felt, but dying to escape the misery of Svoin, that was a sane option in a place where he was certain no hope had dwelt since King Augustus rode into Jerana.

General Caro emerged from the building the Alcidese Horse Guards had commandeered as a headquarters. “A moment of your time, General?”

“I was just coming to see you, Turpus. Have you completed the survey?”

The large man sighed heavily. “There are no food stores worthy of the name. The Aurolani seemed to think that anything above a starvation diet would cause people to riot or attempt escape. The boats only have a limited number of nets. We have them out there catching as much as they can, and we’ll smoke lots, but we need more than fish.”

Adrogans nodded. “What of the plan to send foraging teams into the hills? The vines have been untended for ages, but still grapes grow. We saw that coming in.”

“That’s all fine, sir, but it will be our people. Lifting a grape is beyond most folks here, and those who could work are terrified that the gibberers will be back. If not for the Vorquelves, we’d have no one to even look at heading out. They’re a game bunch.”

Caro shook his head. “I’d say we evacuate them to Jerana, but they won’t make it. Not sure wintering here will be possible, either. I don’t mind telling you I don’t like this place.”

Adrogans felt a shiver run up his spine. “I confess I always feel a bit cold here myself. But, you are right, we can’t move them out. I do think relocating them all to one section of the city, to consolidate food delivery, storage, and such is a good idea. Beal has her people working it out. That’s the plan I want to use.”

A brown-and-white Gyrkyme Warhawk landed in the street before General Adrogans, folded his wings, and bowed. “General, I have news.”

“What is it, Lansca?”

The Gyrkyme looked up with large amber eyes. “Northeast of here comes a rider. He bears a flag of truce. He is Aurolani.”

“How do you know? Is he a gibberer or vylaen?”

“He appears to be a man, General; but he rides a fiery horse that flies with dragon’s-wings.”

Caro and Adrogans exchanged glances. The Alcidese cavalry commander smiled. “Do you want company when you meet with him?”

“What makes you think I’m so foolish to meet with asullanciri bearing a flag of truce?”

“I’d do the same in your position.”

“And would you want a companion?” Caro barked a laugh. “I would, a big one, with a magick sword. Since we have nonesuch here, I offer myself as a poor substitute.”

Adrogans nodded, momentarily regretting giving Malarkex’s sword to Alexia. /hope she has used it well. “I will wait for you by the east gate.”

Caro tossed him a salute and ran off to where the Alcidese had stabled their horses. Adrogans turned and nodded to Lansca. “Thank you, Warhawk, for bringing me the news. Please find Beal mot Tsuvo and inform her of where General Caro and I are going. There is no need to attend us. She should send word to Gilthalarwin and the other commanders, then prepare to defend the city.”

The Gyrkyme nodded. “And Phfas?”

Adrogans smiled. “I suspect he is already waiting at the gate.”

The Warhawk soared skyward, clearing the road for Adrogans. He gave his horse a touch of spur and negotiated his way through Svoin. He’d seen the city once, long ago, as a child, when it was big and foreign, with the market teeming with sights, sounds, and smells, especially the smells.My mother bought me sweet ginger.

He smiled at himself, wishing for some ginger to settle his stomach. As he expected, Phfas waited for him at the gate, riding in some decrepit donkey-cart. They said nothing as they waited for Caro, then the trio of them rode out of the city and onto the battlefield. The siege machines had long since been torn apart to provide fuel for fires, but the scars they’d left in the earth remained.

Phfas pointed to the northeast where a rider and flaming horse rode in a little circle around the area where the Aurolani banners had stood. Aside from the flames, it would not have been that remarkable, save that the horse’s hooves came no closer than four feet to touching the ground. Adrogans saw no indication of the dragon’s-wings, but he assumed a creature made of fire could likely fashion body parts as needed.

He did see a flag of truce. Phfas raised a rag on the end of a stick, and the rag was largely white. While the rider did not appear to be looking in their direction, once their flag rose, he reined his mount around and galloped toward them.

It was a bit disconcerting that while his mount’s hooves did not touch the ground, earth flew behind him as if torn up by the horse, and little grassfires marked his passage.

Caro glanced over at him. “You’ve heard the tales?”

Adrogans nodded. “This would be Nefrai-kesh, he who was once Kenwick Norrington. Svoin must have rated more highly in Chytrine’s thinking if she sends the king of hersullanciri to contest it.”

“Perhaps killing Malarkex attracted some attention.”

“Perhaps.”

The Dark Lancer hauled back on his reins, bringing his firehorse to a halt. The beast snorted and a wave of warmth washed over Adrogans, but did nothing to chase away the chill he felt. The rider, whose fiery cloak and cowl had been fashioned from the flesh of a grand temeryx, nodded once to them, then thrust his flagstaff into the ground. The truce flag fluttered as heat came off him.

“I am Nefrai-kesh, and am come from the court of Chytrine. My Mistress bids me congratulate you on your conquest of Svoin.” Thesullancirts eyes, like those of a Vorquelf, had no discernible pupil and instead were a melange of white and blue, as if thin, wispy clouds were blowing through a winter sky. “I would add for myself that your tactics of deception were most impressive, General Adrogans. Malarkex did send part of her force to hunt your mythical army, and she came here to die.”

Adrogans nodded. “Thank you. And so you are here to negotiate the terms of Svarskya’s surrender?”

Nefrai-kesh fell silent for a moment. Adrogans saw something flicker through his eyes, as if he were trying to remember what humor was, trying to recall irony. Then thesullanciri simply shook his head. “Were you able to deliver your force there inside a week, I might indeed, but reinforcements are already on their way. The reason I am here is to tell you that I will not harass your evacuation of the city.”

The Jeranese general could not hide his surprise. “That’s most kind of you. Unbelievably kind, in fact.”

“I would give you my word.”

“You would understand my not taking it.”

“Yes. A deceiver hates to be deceived.” Nefrai-kesh nodded slowly. “As you will, then. I grant you this. No Aurolani troops will you see here until spring. The Svoin basin is yours for now. In the spring you will be divested of the city.”

Caro frowned. “You’ll forgive me, but this makes no sense. We can and will reinforce this city. Chytrine might think we are restocking a larder for her, but she will find it a difficult one to open.”

Thesullanciri snorted. “None of you are stupid. What purpose do you think Svoin served for us? What purpose do you think it serves? You cost us three thousand troops and asullanciri. The latter hurts, but the former? A fraction of the host we have assembled. And what did you win but five thousand mouths that cannot feed themselves? Bring in your food. Bring in your troops, your carpenters and masons, your merchants and exiles. What they will see will turn their stomachs.

“Every one of them will consider how his family will fare when we come to take his home city. You might never capitulate—you are military men, warriors. But merchants who pay taxes? Minor nobles? Other people of influence, when they are given a choice between facing this living death or negotiating a peace, what will they do? You won a victory, but your prize is a viper’s nest. If we had defeated you, that would have served our purpose. Losing to you did as well.”

All Adrogans’ thoughts about what he would have done came flooding back. He closed his eyes for a second, then shuddered. Finally he opened them and put an edge in his voice. “But we did win, Nefrai-kesh. We killed asullanciri. That will give people heart. And we have Svoin.”

“No, Markus Adrogans, you do not have Svoin.” Nefrai-kesh slowly swept his gloved right hand out to encompass the city. “The purpose the city will serve for us now, this we have discussed. And, General Caro, your estimation of Svoin having been a larder is not incorrect. It is also incomplete.”

Phfas hissed. “Poison.”

“Yes, little Zhusk, poison was our aim. We poison the soul of the people, and we poison the soul of the city.” Thesullanciri raised his right hand and splayed his fingers out. They closed ever so slightly, as if he were feeling for something ephemeral. He found it and his hand contracted into a fist. Yanking back hard with his right hand, he pulled something ethereal from Svoin.

Adrogans saw the entire city shimmer for a moment, as if he were viewing it across a desert plain. Something thin and white drifted from the city. It resolved itself first into a beautiful young woman of dazzling white, but she quickly aged and took on the dark color of a thunderhead. Her dowager’s hump forced her to keep her eyes low, and she moved more unsteadily than a cart with a broken wheel.

“Yes.” Thesullanciri’s word came with a hiss. “This is theweirun Svoin. What was once proud has been brought down, as shall all who oppose Chytrine. You have your victory, General Adrogans, but you have won nothing. You cannot heal Svoin before spring. This spirit is broken, all but dead. So is Svoin, and all attempts to change that will fail.”

Nefrai-kesh opened his fist and theweirun dissipated into a grey fog that stole back into the city. Adrogans could not suppress the shudder caused by the fog’s cold caress. Phfas’ skin had become tinged with green, and Caro had paled.

Thesullanciri reined his mount around and trotted off several yards before the flames flared and dragon’s wings sprouted. He rose into the air, then turned and tossed them a salute. “Come spring we will duel, our armies our weapons, Okrannel the prize. I welcome the contest.”

Adrogans said nothing, but returned the salute. In silence he watched the Dark Lancer rise into the sky and head north to Svarskya. He spat in that direction, then spurred his horse forward and kicked over the truce flag.

Caro growled. “He’s not the only one who welcomes the contest.”

“I don’t.”

Caro looked at Adrogans wide-eyed. “You don’t?”

“No. We saw here that our friend will be anything but a gracious loser.”(<

Caroran fingers back through his white hair. That’s true. He’s right about Svoin. There’s nothing we can do to save it.“

Adrogansnodded. “Iconcur.That leavesusone course.”

“I’m not following you.”

“That speaks well of you, then, General Caro.” Adrogans turned to look at Svoin. “Our course is simple, yet difficult. The only thing for Svoin now is for us to put it to the torch.”

Will had been in the ratlines studying the Loquelven ship when the scream sounded from the captain’s cabin. He’d slid down to the deck by the time the sailors and Resolute had dragged the Loquelves out into sunlight. The first had gone grey, and his skin had gotten all scaly. The Loquelf shook a lot, and pieces of his flesh flaked off, littering the deck. His lips had been pulled back to expose his teeth, but it looked about as unlike a grin as possible.

The other Loquelf was able to move, but his hands had been contorted and locked like claws. They’d also been blackened, maybe even burned; to Will, they looked a lot like charred branches.

The thief was pretty sure the first Loquelf was a deader, which surprised him, since he didn’t think elves could die. The second appeared to be in a lot of pain. Resolute sat him down and the Loquelf just rested his forearms on bended knees, tears streaming silently down his face.

Will looked at Crow. “What about Orla?”

Crow just shook his head. He signaled to the ship alongside theWhite Shark. “You need to take these two back, get them to Rellaence. Hurry, we can’t help them here.”

A half-dozen elven sailors poured up over the side, leaping from their lower deck to the wales of the pirate vessel. The first two hesitated on seeing the state of the magickers, then an officer moved to the fore and issued orders in Elvish. He asked a question and Resolute answered. The officer seemed surprised when Crow nodded in agreement with the Vorquelf’s reply.

The elven officer and his crew helped the two magickers into the Loquelven galley. Will got a chance to study the ship, which rode lower in the water, resembling a shark more than it did a human ship. It had been made of silverwood, which Will learned was rare based on the prices he knew a small box made of the stuff could command. He’d never actually had his hands on any, but there was always brisk trade in elven artifacts among men, so Marcus had always urged his charges to be alert for such things.

The elven ship had a stout ram at the bow, which rode below the water level. The decks sloped up and then flattened out, save where they rose to the forecastle. The main deck had places for rowers, though the ship had no oars, nor any place to put them. The single mast split the distance between forecastle and afterdeck, and the ship’s stern tapered back and down. Will saw no rudder, though the wheel was clearly visible on the afterdeck. How the ship moved he wasn’t certain, but the rowers pulled hard to move the ship off and the ship did leave a well-churned wake to mark its passing.

The Loquelves had left a harbor pilot on board to guide the ship into Rellaence. Will wondered if the elven homeland was akin to Gyrvirgul in that one could not find it unless invited. The idea seemed to make sense until he remembered that Vorquellyn had been conquered by the Aurolani, and he was pretty sure no Vorquelves would have guided Chytrine’s troops to the island’s shores.