Sorcerer's Moon (76 page)

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Authors: Julian May

BOOK: Sorcerer's Moon
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There is that,
the Judge said.
A Destroyer sigil is most effective in limited catastrophic strikes. It's not a glorified cannon.

Ugusawnn sensed he had won a convert. 'Exactly! Now, our valiant warriors are advancing deep into Didion on a
two-pronged offensive. The force led by me and Kalawnn is well on its way up the Dennech River. No threat requiring the might of Destroyer stands in our way. Commander Rikalawnn's army will reach Lake of Shadows tomorrow, at about the same time that our host attains the critical river bend. Patch your broken heart, Wise One! We have a tough fight ahead of us, but victory will be ours. May I remind all Eminences that we were willing to invade the Green Morass without a Destroyer? Our courage, sagacity, and over whelming numbers will win the day. There's no reason to be concerned.'

Kalawnn spoke for the first time. 'If that's true, why are the Great Lights still silent? And why is our oversight unable to locate Conrig Wincantor? Furthermore, this morning I detected an anomaly in the fabric of our dissimulation spell. Human adepts may be meddling with it.'

'What does it matter if they can oversee us?' the Supreme Warrior scoffed. 'Our advance is now no great secret. Before long, the foe will view us with their own puny eyeballs! Be confident, colleagues. Anticipate triumph. This island will once again belong to us.'

Caped and hooded against the early morning rain in white leather emblazoned with his nation's heraldic black bear, Crown Prince Valardus Mallburn reviewed the ranks of his hastily reorganized army. He went afoot, unarmored, striding through the muddy pools of water dotting the rough parade ground, trailed by his senior generals and exuding invincible confidence, as a proper warlord of Didion should. He lavished honest praise upon the battleworthy and skewered sullen or slovenly troops with a blistering glare as his aides made note of offenders. These were not so numerous as they had been a few days earlier.

Nearly a thousand yeoman infantry of the prince's force
had faded surreptitiously into the dense forest south of Lake of Shadows when word reached camp that the Salka had invaded at Terminal Bay and were charging inland. The much-hailed demobilization had been abruptly cancelled. Not long afterward, a short, testy directive from King Somarus bade Valardus henceforth to follow the leadership of Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook without question. This prompted a second wave of midnight flits - mostly amongst horse-soldiers and knights from the lesser baronies, who hated the Sovereignty even more than the Salka.

Livid with mortification,
the Crown Prince had the absconders hunted down by Holt Mallburn's much-feared Palace Guard. A dozen of the most flagrant miscreants were hanged, cut down alive, and drawn and quartered. Others were dealt a few lashes, deprived of their warhorses, fined two silver marks, and returned to the ranks. But large numbers of men had escaped without a trace, and the Army of Didion had been reduced by another twelve hundred fighters.

Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook reacted to the news with a message of withering contempt.

So Crown Prince Valardus decided to show the Cathran whoreson a thing or two about Didionite bravery . . .

'The men look fit enough, considering,' he remarked, as he and the generals completed their review and dismissed the parade so the men could eat a quick breakfast. 'With the warped spears repaired and blades honed to a fresh edge, they're as ready as they'll ever be.'

'Some certainly are,' Duke Kefalus Vandragora said. 'I'm confident that the commands of timberlords such as myself and the forces of Boarsden, Riptides, and Mallthorpe are ready to meet the foe and acquit themselves with valor. Others are more problematical. I urge you, Highness, to reconsider your decision.'

The prince beckoned the noble officers to follow him into
his tent, where he set about to serve them mulled mead with his own hands. 'No, Lord Kefalus. My mind is made up. A host of devilish monsters is coming straight at us up the Shadow River. Beorbrook himself admitted they may arrive before his army can reinforce us.'

'A strategic retreat back to the Wold Road makes sense,' said Fano Boarsden.

Duke Azarick Dennech-Cuva, even his armor blackened in mourning for his murdered son and mother, disagreed. 'Should the Salka take control of the lake, they'll turn it into an underwater stronghold. If we keep them away from the shore until reinforcements arrive, we'll improve the odds for ultimate victory.'

'Beorbrook all but called us cowards,' Crown Prince Valardus said in a low, fierce voice. 'He impugned my own leadership ability. He has spit in Didion's face, demanding that we fall back rather than mount a holding action against the Salka. Even more damning, his strategy is wrong.'

'Yes!' said most of the others.

The prince drained his cup. 'We march in one hour.'

The vast encampment surrounding Castle Direwold was in a ferment on the morning after the great meeting. Already shaken by the death of Conrig, many of the Cathran generals had cavilled at the proposal of the tall, imperious girl known as Casya Pretender, believing an alliance with Morass Worms too outrageous to be tenable. Large numbers of the rank and file were even more dubious.

Fight beside dragons? . . . Entrust their lives to hideous carnivores even more frightful than the Salka? Creatures with uncanny talents that human alchymists and shamans knew nothing about? How could the Morass Worms be trusted? What if they turned on humanity?

‘I trust them,' Casya had said to the assembled battle-leaders.

They don't want the territory where humans live, only the most remote part of the Green Morass, their natural home. I've promised that when I'm Queen of Didion, they shall have it.'

'How do we know you're the heir to Honigalus?' Duke Nettos Intrepid had jeered, and many other Lords of the Southern Shore had echoed his skepticism. 'You're the Wold Wraith! Somarus put a price on your head.'

'I have ways of proving my claim to the Didionite succession - but not now. There's no time to waste. The Morass Worms trust my leadership because it was successful at Beacon Lake. They're willing to fight the Salka down here as well, but they can't win the war alone. We must work together with them. Will you do it or won't you?'

In the end they agreed. But only because the young hero. Prince Dyfrig, declared that he was ready to fight at Casya Pretender's side and would willingly entrust
his
life to the dragons of the Green Morass.

'You've just come back to me, and now you must go again,' Induna said, squeezing her husband's hand. Her eyes were dry but she wore a wistful, one-sided smile.

Deveron looked down from the saddle. 'I'm always with you, just as you will always be a part of me. You shared your soul and restored my life. All I can give you in return is my unending love.'

The two of them were in the midst of a great mass of mounted warriors. The sun had come out after the rain and shone on a scene that was not as confused as it might have seemed. Three hundred Knight Commanders of Cathra and Tarn were poised and ready, each heading a closely grouped company of twenty men armed with lances six ells long. Also part of each group were gun-crews comprising ten grenadiers mounted on massive destriers, who towed
compact tarnblaze mortars on wheels and small carts loaded with munitions. They waited.

Meanwhile, numbers of their fellow-warriors not involved in the operation were gathered in a great mob at a safe distance, eager to watch the dragons take their mates away. How this maneuver was to be accomplished was known only to the nine thousand volunteers of what had been dubbed The Pretender's Army.

Thus far, only Vaelrath had come into the sprawling Direwold encampment. Impressive as her appearance was, many of the men were disappointed that she had no wings. How, then, would the great dragons carry off the troops? Bets (some of them bizarre) were being made . . .

Casya, Dyfrig, and the battle-leaders sat their mounts in a small group at the edge of the formed companies, waiting for Deveron to deliver the windspoken message from Vaelrath signalling that the worms were on their way. The Royal Intelligencer and Induna had withdrawn out of earshot for a final conversation.

'If this action is successful, it won't take long,' Deveron said to his wife. 'But Vaelrath has warned me that we might have to lie in wait for hours in order to attack the foe most effectively. Keep alert for my windspeech. It may be faint if the Salka try to block it. You are the only one I can trust to inform Marshal Parlian of the outcome of this first encounter. I dare not let another adept have access to my mind. I know too many secrets, love, and my mental defenses are not as strong as I would like. My newly empowered sigils don't exact a pain-price, but they do take a toll on my physical strength and the keenness of my talent. Whatever tidings I send you, no matter how dire or welcome they may be, you must tell Beorbrook and him alone.'

'He's concerned about Prince Dyfrig,' she said. 'But very
proud, I think, that his son convinced our warriors to go with Casya and the dragons.'

'His earlier experience with the Morass Worms gave credibility to Casabarela's assertions.' Deveron looked away as a worrisome thought struck him. 'I wish our alchymists and shamans had been able to crack the Salka cover-spell. Still, the dragons seem to know where the brutes are, even if they can't predict what they intend to do.'

Induna said, 'The earl marshal was also disappointed that his agents were unable to discover useful tracks through the heath, aside from the overly perilous game-trail the Lord Lieutenant and his men followed in their shortcut from Karum Port to Direwold. The heavy cavalry could never travel that way. He told me we now have no hope of outflanking the enemy without the help of the worms.'

'It galls Earl Marshal Parlian, I think, that our strategy must rely so heavily upon
such strange and fearsome creatures. He's an old-fashioned warrior who would much prefer to fight in the good old-fashioned way.'

'Tell it to the Salka!' she said.

Both of them laughed. Then Deveron gave a sudden start. 'Leave me now, sweetheart. It's about to start.'

She ran off without another word. He kneed his mount and rode up to the Pretender, who was in close converse with Prince Dyfrig, and saluted them and the noble officers. They all wore helms and tough boiled-leather cuirasses but no mail, as did most of the troops. Vaelrath did not wish to overburden her people.

'Here they come, Your Majesty,' the intelligencer said. 'I've heard them on the wind.'

Casabarela Mallburn gave a command in a surprisingly resonant voice. 'Sound the horn!'

One of the aides lifted a silver trumpet. As the distinctive musical notes echoed over the heath, the watching crowd
fell silent. Then thousands of throats uttered an earth-shaking shout as the Morass Worms abruptly appeared, gorgeous and frightful, a dozen or so of them suspended in the air above each company of human beings. They drifted to the ground as lightly as thistledown, opened the invisible portals to the subtle corridors that they had frequented from time immemorial, and gently shepherded the mounted warriors and their equipment inside.

The process was swiftly done. Last of all, Vaelrath manifested herself above Casya and the officers.

'You're certain the Salka won't see us coming?' Prince Dyfrig asked with some sharpness.

The Morass Worm laughed.
Did you?

She descended and pointed to the portal. When every human had disappeared the dragons followed suit, leaving an empty expanse of barren moorland and a strangely subdued throng of onlookers.

A few minutes later other horns began to sound assembly. The troops of the Sovereign Army who were not already marching down the Wold Road toward Lake of Shadows began to break camp. Two hours later, they were on the way south.

* * *

Ugusawn and Kalawnn swam or slithered as little as possible to conserve their stamina. Taking advantage of Eminent Privilege, they skipped short distances up and down the long column advancing up the Dennech, making use of the Subtle Gateway worn by the Supreme Warrior. The pain-debt was very small. In this way they were able to supervise the troop movement closely and make certain that the spell of dissimulation stayed firm. The earlier interference had ceased.

This wing of the army, like the smaller one moving up the Shadow River, was in splendid shape, moving at top speed except during the infrequent rest stops. Adjacent wetlands
supplied the Salka with plenty of fish and waterfowl. They had gorged themselves on man-meat as they overran Dennech-Cuva, but until they reached the Wold Road and engaged the Sovereign Army, they had to make do with less appealing fare.

It was late afternon when the force reached a big bend in the river that was a relatively short distance from that great lake where a few thousand human warriors still tarried. At this point, a crucial decision would have to be made. Before long, the river would curve back to the west into empty country, then trend more directly northward again. The Eminences took their ease in a large marsh that spread along the eastern bank of the bend and discussed the situation. Thousands of warriors were already resting there.

Kalawnn wanted to continue to follow the Dennech for another two days, all the way to its headwaters near the upper Wold Road. If the Salka took possession of that all-important highway and the surrounding countryside, slaughtering what ever stragglers of the human army they encountered, it seemed likely they could force the human leaders to divert significant numbers of their men from the upcoming Battle of Shadows. If the humans swallowed the bait and came north again, their diverted warriors would be led a fatal chase into the bogs.

Ugusawnn, on the other hand, favored going overland to Lake of Shadows immediately, linking up with Commander Rikalawnn's army and forcing a climactic confrontation with the humans without any delay. To reach the lakeshore, the Salka would have to cross the marsh, then ascend a ridge that was mostly gravel and glacial till, sparsely covered with sedge clumps, low-growing herbs, and patches of heather. It was raining again and the Warrior's windsight seemed to show that the going would not be too arduous.

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