Sorcerer's Moon (71 page)

Conrig was in a thunderous mood as he swung into the saddle, ignoring the greetings of his sons, his General Staff, and the reinstated Royal Intelligencer. He'd slept very badly and his head pounded as though he'd overindulged in the infamous national beverage of Didion. Two windspoken messages delivered to him as he broke his fast with poached eggs and dry toast had not helped his recovery.

The first came from Archwizard Chumick Whitsand, speaking for King Somarus. The monarch was adamant that his countrymen would not cross into Tarn and risk being trapped there for the winter. Crown Prince Valardus had been ordered to demobilize his men and send them home from Lake of Shadows on the following day.

The second disturbing piece of news came from Lord Admiral Hartrig Skellhaven, commanding the Joint Fleet which now stood at the entrance to the Firth of Gayle. Tarnian patrols from Yelicum and other ports along the vast estuary had reported that only small numbers of Salka had been met with and dispatched. The most authoritative shamans at Donorvale, the capital city, insisted that there was no way fifty thousand monsters could conceal them selves from the myriad of seagoing scriers probing for them at the water's surface. No spell of couverture was strong enough to hide such huge numbers of swimmers from scrutiny at close range.

High Sealord Sernin, stonefaced and adamant, had told the Sovereign that he was now forced to conclude that the amphibian host was not invading by way of the Firth of Gayle after all. The creatures who had been seen and killed there earlier must have been participants in a suicide mission, a daring feint that had successfully deceived humanity.

After a brief discussion with the Tarnian leader, Conrig told the crestfallen assembly of generals that he had agreed to divert the Joint Fleet from the firth and send it southward. Meanwhile, windsearchers of Tarn and Cathra would renew their search of other potential invasion beachheads at Shelter Bay, Foul Bay, and Goodfortune Bay in Tarn.

And most especially at Terminal Bay in Didion.

* * *

Casya Pretender walked along the bank of the little subarctic river, watching greyling rise to sip a late hatch of little winged
insects and wondering if she'd be able to catch any fish for lunch. After two meals of venison and hardtack in a row, she was heartily sick of reindeer. The iridescent purplish fish with their lovely sail-like dorsal fins and delicate flesh that tasted faintly of thyme would be a welcome change.

She located a likely pool at last and set about preparing. A trimmed sapling made an improvised pole; her belt-wallet yielded a coil of line, a hook of sharpened bone, a cork bobber, and a fatty piece of leftover meat, which she cut into pieces. Greyling weren't finicky feeders. These big ones who lived in the far north even gorged themselves on mice . . .

Greetings to you, Casabarela Who-Would-Be-Queen.

She gave a small shriek and dropped the hook she was baiting. Not four ells away
from her the fantastically ornamented head of a Morass Worm hung in the misty air as though it were decapitated, almost resembling one of the demon-shaped box kites that the Green Men used in their Spring-Welcoming ritual.

'You startled me!' she admitted. 'Is it you, Vaelrath?'

The rest of the great female dragon's body emerged from an invisible subtle corridor and settled into a coil on the riverbank. The worm's mental voice was gratified and her fierce mouth expanded into what might have been a smile.

So you do recognize me. Too many of your kind - and the Green Ones as well - think we all look alike.

'That's ridiculous. You're particularly beautiful.' Casya set aside the fishing gear and came closer, extending her open hand. The worm's tongue caressed it lightly. 'Did you hear me calling out to you in my mind?'

We knew you were here,
came the ambiguous reply.
Up until now, there seemed no good reason to acknowledge your presence.

'Oh.' The girl tried not to let her hurt feelings show. 'Well, I'm very glad to see you. I have a very important request -'

We know that the New Conflict has begun,
Vaelrath interrupted.

We know that the Salka have once again mounted a great invasion, coming ashore on lands you should
rightfully rule, which are nevertheless at afar distance from our own cherished home. We are willing to listen to your plea for help, and then decide whether it should concern us.

'Thank you, Vaelrath,' Casya said humbly.

The Morass Worm rose to her full height, towering over the young woman. Moving slowly backward, so that her sinuous tail and hindlegs vanished through the unseen portal, Vaelrath extended a forelimb armed with terrible claws.
Take hold of me. We will go to my people.

'But a human friend accompanied me here, a dear old man who waits in the trading post -'

He must continue waiting until the decision is made. Will you come?

'Yes,' Casya said, and stepped forward, and disappeared.

* * *

The warning bell down in Karum village began to ring not long after the noble prisoners had finished the midday meal served to them in their comfortable prison. The sound came faintly through the thick glass of the casement, but its ominous nature was unmistakable. Nyla dropped the book of Didionite tales she had been reading aloud to Orrion and started up from her chair, her face drained of blood. 'Oh, no!'

Trailed by Countess Orvada, who was still finishing her wine, the young lovers rushed together to the window that overlooked the harbor and the settlement at the foot of the cliff. The docks, the quayside, and the twisting lanes were crowded with the tiny figures of frantic people, but at first no obvious cause for alarm was to be.seen.

Then Orrion said quietly, 'Look at that large schooner and the three sloops tied up at the third slip. Their decks are awash and they're listing. Sinking!'

'Some of those fishing smacks also seem to be going down,' Nyla noted in consternation. 'People are cutting loose the mooring lines from the bollards. Why would they do that?'

'To keep the entire dock structure from being torn apart,' Countess Orvada suggested. 'But I fear it's too late. Look how the slips are starting to disintegrate! Every boat of size seems to have mortal damage. They're all settling to the bottom.'

'Great Zeth!' Orrion murmured. 'Those seven great pirate vessels anchored out in deep water - they're foundering, too.'

The tall masts of the frigates tilted crazily. Some ships subsided at the stern while others sank bow-first faster than seemed possible. The few seamen left aboard on watch tried without success to launch lifeboats, then plummeted into the water where they splashed and struggled for a few minutes before being pulled under, perhaps by the suction of the doomed ships, perhaps by something else . . .

The bell continued its melancholy tolling.

Nyla gave a cry that mingled fear and pity, turned away from the horrid sight, and burst into tears. Orrion ran to the locked outer door of their apartment and began to pound on it, shouting, 'Guards, open up for the love of God! The Salka monsters are here. They'll come ashore any minute now and start their slaughter. Open up! I have a plan to save us. Summon Lord Rork before it's too late!'

Nothing happened. The countess took her sobbing daughter in her arms. She said to Orrion, 'Do you think we've been abandoned, sir?'

He left off hammering the door and gave her a despairing glance. ‘I hope not. Our host seemed to have a certain vestigial chivalry tempering his venal nature. But he won't be able to defend his castle
against the Salka using conventional tactics. I've got to convince him to -'

The door was flung open abruptly and Rork Karum stood
on the threshold wide-eyed and carrying a sheathed longsword. He tossed the weapon to Orrion, who caught it awkwardly. 'Use it to defend your women, my prince ... or to grant them merciful release when the devouring devils fall upon us.' His teeth gleamed in a fatalistic grin. 'And now you may rightfully say, "I told you so!"'

Orrion placed the sword on the dining table. 'My lord, there may be a way to save all inside this castle without the use of weapons.'

Rork laughed. 'Not bloody likely! My house-wizard has received desperate messages on the wind from resident magickers in the other corsair castles ringing Terminal Bay. All of them report that their tall ships and larger sailing craft are sinking because of huge holes that appeared inexplicably in their hulls. The Salka must have done it slyly in preparation for their invasion. But at least we can die fighting! Shall I help you buckle on the sword?'

'Nay - only listen to me. This plan of mine could save us. First, you must have your wizard notify Dennech-Cuva of this attack. Implore the duchess to order her windspeaker to relay the tidings to the Sovereign without delay.'

The pirate-lord shrugged. 'Very well. My ransom scheme's a goner anyhow. But what's your plan?'

'It's simple. Barricade your castle entrances, shut up its windows and gunports, and let no living person be visible on the battlements when the Salka horde comes ashore. All inside the castle must remain quiet. Make no defensive move. None at all! Shoot no arrows at the Salka if they ascend your precipice. Fling no tarnblaze
firepots at them with your catapults. Above all, don't use your cannons. If you make no resistance at all, I believe the monsters might pass us by.'

'But my castle is crammed with booty!'

'Their primary goal is to gain as much ground as possible before encountering significant human opposition from the
Sovereign Army. As I told you, the Salka don't seek plunder. They relish the taste of human flesh, but I fear they'll find victims aplenty amongst the unfortunates left outside your stronghold gates.'

'But what about that terrible weapon of theirs you described?' Rork protested. 'The thing that annihilates with green fire! Why wouldn't they use it against us whether we fight back or not?'

‘I believe the Salka weapon is a magical moonstone of great power,' Orrion said. 'Doubtless it's capable of bringing down your castle walls about our ears. But I know for a fact that such high sorcery is not without peril to its user - who must pay a price of atrocious pain each time the moonstone is wielded. In my opinion, the Salka will not call on this weapon except in cases of absolute necessity. If we don't provoke the monsters, they may let us be.'

Beads of sweat had sprung up on Rork Karum's brow. 'What if you're wrong?'

'Hope that I'm right,' Orrion retorted.

Countess Orvada, who still stood at the window with Nyla, looking outside, turned and said, 'Numbers of village people are running up the cliff track toward the castle. Women and children are among them. You must give those poor souls safe refuge, my lord.'

The pirate frowned and set his jaw stubbornly, whereupon Orrion said to him, 'Such an act of mercy would redound to your credit when the forces of my royal father come to our rescue.'

'And when will that be?' Rork sneered. 'And how will it be accomplished?'

'In truth, I don't know,' Orrion replied. 'What I am sure of is that we have no chance of survival at all unless you hold off attacking these invaders and instead prepare to endure a silent siege. What's it to be?'

'Listen to him, my lord,' Orvada urged.

At the window, Nyla gave a soft moan. 'Look! They're coming. Rising from the water and swimming toward shore. The bay is alive with Salka as far as my eyes can see, thou sands upon thousands of hideous monsters

Orrion, the countess, and Rork Karum came to look over her shoulder in shocked silence. The ships that formerly lay at anchor had disappeared and the once calm surface of the water was a shimmering mass of sleek bodies, as though some titanic rock had been lifted to reveal a squirming nest of noxious dark grubs beneath.

The first wave of Salka reached the quayside and surged ashore. The true size of them only became apparent as they pursued their terrified human prey and brought them down. Moving with astonishing speed even on dry land, they easily overtook people running for their lives. The panicked fugitives were plucked screaming from inadequate hiding places. Locked doors delayed bloody death only for brief moments as the enormous amphibians demolished the walls of cottages and warehouses by using their massive bodies as battering rams.

'Come away,' Orrion said, gently herding Nyla and her mother from the appalling scene. Both wept helplessly.

Grey-faced, the pirate-lord called to one of the
guard officers who still waited outside in the passage. 'Captain Seba, mark my words well: Hasten with your men and tell the gunnery commander that no cannons, missiles, or arrows are to be fired at the Salka attackers. Anyone who disobeys will be thrown down to the monsters. Prepare the castle for a silent siege.'

The man saluted and went off at a run. Rork beckoned to Orrion. 'My prince, I think you'd best join me whilst I give other necessary orders. Then we'll find my wizard and you can dictate the wind-messages he must send. As for your women -'

Nyla stepped forward. Her face was still wet with tears but a new look of determination brightened her eyes. 'If it please you, my lord, my mother and I will take charge of the refugees from the village. Some at least will be able to make it here safely.'

Rork Karum swept her a deep bow. 'Come along, then. There's not much time left, but we'll get as many of them inside as we can.'

* * *

The Supreme Warrior and the Master Shaman crouched together on a flat rock, one of several that rose out of the harbor waters at the mouth of the broad, slow-flowing Dennech River. To the north the ruined port village lay beneath a pall of smoke. The remains of its buildings and wharf still smoldered from the attack by troops armed with Firestarter sigils. Not a human inhabitant was left alive. A few scavenging ravens and gulls flew about, but there was little for them to find but cracked and scorched bones.

Kalawnn still suffered the ill effects of Destroyer's double pain-debt. He watched the swimming warriors speed by on their way up the river with only an occasional comment. Ugusawnn, on the other hand, was in a transport of joy over the success of the initial assault, and now and then he uttered loud whoops of encouragement to the fighters or urged them on with windspoken cheers. A scant three hours had gone by, and already nearly five thousand Salka had penetrated inland all the way to the confluence of the Dennech with the Rime River, which drained the high mountains dividing Didion from Tarn.