The Tenth Power (27 page)

Tonno andTrout could only watch helplessly as one of the warriors picked up a stick and poked it at theWall. Instantly, his whole body stiffened and jerked as the current of protective magic rushed through him. He fell to the ground, rigid and lifeless, his blood frozen in his veins. The other warriors leapt back. Some turned to stare accusingly at Briaali and her friends.

They tried to give you warning! Oh, my brothers, do you not see the
madness of this attack?
Briaali berated them, and she kept up a stream of remonstrance all through the afternoon as the warriors cut down trees around the clearing. The forest rang with the thud of stone axes and the crash of timber.

What are you doing, my brothers?
Briaali lamented.
What is the
purpose of this slaughter? How can you condemn the Voiced Ones for
mistreating the forests when you yourselves kill the trees without reason?

We have our reasons, old mother,
replied Sibril grimly.

The felled trees were piled high near theWall, though not touching it. It was soon clear that the warriors intended to make a huge bonfire to melt the ice. The wood was too green and damp to burn readily, and when the Tree People first ignited a stick from their fire-pot and poked it deep into the pile of fuel, there was no result but a cloud of smoke. But the warriors did not give up. They fed the first tiny flames with kindling, and coaxed the fire to grow, twig by twig, branch by branch.

Trout shook his head unhappily, and Briaali’s words echoed his thoughts.
If they are patient they will melt this ice, and we cannot stop
them.

Tonno widened his eyes at Briaali and jerked his head toward theWall.

Briaali understood him.
Yes. I have spoken a warning to your friend
within, and the other chanters inside the thicket. I cannot tell if they have
understood, and it will not prevent the fighting. But it is all that we can do.

ALL THAT DAY
and into the night, the warriors felled trees to feed the bonfire, until the flames blazed up in a roaring, crackling inferno.The captives were forced back into the forest to shield themselves from the heat.Tramping feet and dragged logs had churned the clearing into mud, and theWall glistened as the flames shot high into the clear sky.

Briaali had given her warning to Mica and the Daughters of Taris, but there was no sign they had heard her. As night wore on, the captives huddled together in despair, while the warriors dragged log after log into the blaze. Briaali stared ahead, her wrinkled face set like carved stone in the glow of the fire.
Foolish children!What can you hope for?When the soil is muddied
with your own blood and the blood of the Voiced Ones, will you be content?
But her words were more sorrowful than angry now, and her followers beat their breasts with their bound fists in a slow, dull rhythm of grief.

Sibril flung out his hand, and his triumphant words rang through all their minds.
See, my warriors! The thicket is melting!

The surface of theWall was dripping now; steam wreathed through the clearing, and puddles spread from the foot of the Wall, mingling with melted snow to further muddy the ground. Slowly, theWall behind the bonfire was shrinking.

Prepare, warriors of the Spiridrelleen!
cried Sibril.
Prepare to take
back our homeland from the Voiced invaders! Prepare for battle!

The warriors left the fire to care for itself while they daubed their faces with white and red war paint, and sharpened their spearheads and stone knives for the fight.

Trout nudged Tonno in the ribs. A faint noise could be heard above the roar of the fire: the sound of voices. Sibril heard it too; his head swivelled round, and the rest of the warriors froze, listening intently.

Briaali’s words sounded in the minds of the captives and the approaching chanters.
Be warned! The warriors of the Tree People
await you! Take care, take care!
And she showed them a mind-picture of the fire, and the preparations in the clearing.
This
battle must be stopped!

The sound of singing faltered, then rose again, stronger than before. A gust of wind swept around the clearing; the bonfire guttered wildly so that the warriors had to dodge the flames.Tonno gaveTrout the thumbs-up at this sign of Mica’s presence, and Trout nodded, grimacing through his gag.

The warriors hefted their spears to their shoulders, preparing to rush through the Wall when the gap appeared. But the chantment of the priestesses was mending the breach, building and firming the ice that had dissolved. For a time the two groups struggled in a tense balance, invisible to one another, the warriors frantically feeding the fire to melt the Wall down, and the sisters singing to rebuild it.Trout fidgeted with the rope that bound his wrists.Why didn’t the priestesses simply put out the flames instead of fussing with the Wall? Tonno was pacing, two steps one way and two steps back, as far as the rope would take him.

Then, suddenly, a compelling cry sounded in the mind of every person there. It was Briaali, her words vibrating with emotion, a command that was impossible to ignore.

Look up! It is the sign, the Star of the New Days!

One by one, the warriors halted and stared upward, openmouthed. The captives shuffled out from under the trees, faces turned to the sky.

An enormous, white-hot star was racing across the sky, with a long tail of green and blue fire. It burned a trail across the vision of those who watched, until they were unable to distinguish the true star from the ghostly image it left behind.

Tree People, both warriors and captives, priestesses of Antaris, windworker, fisherman and scruffy youth, all stood as if they’d been turned to stone, faces lifted to the sky. The priestesses’ song of strengthening died away. For a few moments, except for the roar of the fire and the hiss of steam, there was silence in the clearing. Then a murmur rose from the chanters beyond the Wall. ‘A portent, the Star of the Goddess – the coming of Taris – the Goddess flies down from the skies – ’
For shame, to shed blood in this place, and under this sign!
Briaali’s words were a heart-torn whisper.
Whatever happens under the light of
this star will spread across the whole of Tremaris …

The warriors hesitated, looking about for Sibril, confused and uncertain. Tonno clenched his fists with a savage hope. Perhaps Briaali could convince them to abandon this senseless attack after all…

But then Sibril’s words shrieked inside his mind.
Attack, my
brothers!
The warrior leader leapt onto a tree stump, brandishing Tonno’s knife, his face fiercely striped with white and red.
Kill the chanters!

Even before the words were out, a volley of spears and arrows was whistling over the Wall, into the midst of the priestesses gathered on the other side.The women cried out in pain and fear. Some sang chantments in retaliation, and a hail of huge ice-stones rained down on the attackers, knocking some of them to the ground. But the strong cohesion of the priestesses’ chantment was dissolving into chaos.

At long last someone did what Trout had been waiting for all night, and sang a chantment to douse the bonfire.With a deafening hiss and cloud of steam, the flames went out.

But as soon as the fire was out, Trout realised why no one had done it before: now there was nothing to prevent the warriors from pouring through the gap in the Wall, and the sisters could not mend the breach fast enough to keep them back. As the tall, silent warriors of the Spiridrelleen leapt across the remains of the fire and inside theWall, the sisters screamed, some in fury and some in terror. The war of the Tree People had begun.

‘
HALASAA!’

It was Keela’s voice, low and urgent. Halasaa struggled to wake from a deep sleep as Keela shook his shoulder. ‘Halasaa, I saw something while I was fetching the wood. It was a shooting star, but – oh,
huge
, and so bright! I’ve never seen a star like it!’

Halasaa knew the legend of the Star of the New Days, the omen that foretold sweeping change for the whole world. But somehow he was sure that Samis, or Calwyn, or both, were responsible for what Keela had seen. Her eyes were enormous as she stared at him in the dim light from the open fire-pot. She whispered, ‘I think we should wake Darrow.’

Halasaa hesitated.
No. Let him sleep.

Keela bit her lip. ‘All right. But, Halasaa – it was a wondrous thing. It must mean something. I wish you’d seen it.’ She replaced the lid on the pot and extinguished the faint glow. In the darkness she settled herself under a pile of furs, and soon her breathing slowed and deepened.

But Halasaa lay staring into the dark, waiting.Time passed; perhaps he drowsed. And then a whisper at the back of his mind made him jerk upright.
My sister? Is that you?

Halasaa, my brother!
Calwyn’s words were faint, but unmistakable.

My sister, are you hurt?What has happened?

I’m as well as can be!
Her words fizzed with a wild, irrepressible happiness.
Where are you?

Darrow and Keela and I have travelled downstream, on the river that
flows through Spareth.

Yes – yes. I’m following that same river upstream. I will reach you soon.
Already Calwyn’s voice was stronger, as if she was moving toward them very swiftly indeed.

What of Samis? Is he with you?

No.
Some powerful emotion stirred beneath Calwyn’s words, an emotion that Halasaa found difficult to read.
Samis
is gone. How is Darrow?

Halasaa wanted to spare her pain, but he had to be truthful.
He is weaker, my sister. He can no longer sing any chantment.
Halasaa hesitated.
Come quickly.

There was silence, and at first he thought that the connection between them had been broken. But then he heard Calwyn’s voice again, less elated than before, and unsteady.
Speak to me, Halasaa. It will help me to find you.

Yes, if you will speak to me. Tell me what has happened.

As Calwyn sped through the freezing night on her silver sled, singing a throat-song of chantment that trailed behind her in a white mist, she told Halasaa in mind-speech everything that had happened in Spareth. She told him of becoming the Singer of all Songs. She told him about mending the Wheel, and of her vision for the healing of Tremaris. But she did not tell him she and Samis had kissed, nor of the strange bond that formed between them. If Halasaa sensed gaps in her story, he did not question her. And while Darrow and Keela slept, he told her howTrout,Tonno, Briaali and the others had set off for Antaris, and of the change in character that had overcome Keela.

Calwyn’s words became stronger and clearer until Halasaa sensed the flame of her presence flickering through the forest. She was moving so swiftly that he thought he must be mistaken.When Darrow had sped the sledges with ironcraft they had never travelled so fast. He crawled from the tent and gazed down the river. There she was, a slim, dark figure in the moonlight, a blur of shadow skimming along the ice. She raised her hand in greeting, and now he heard the hum of chantment that drove her on.

In a moment she had leapt off the flat silver sled and come running to embrace him. Keela poked her tousled head out of the tent. ‘Darrow’s awake,’ she whispered.

‘Good,’ said Calwyn briskly. Her eyes were very bright. ‘We must leave for Antaris at once.’

Halasaa shook his head.
My sister, we have been travelling down
this river for ten days. Even if you speed our sled with chantment, we can’t
hope to reach Antaris more quickly than that.

Calwyn laughed aloud. ‘We’ll reach Antaris by morning, my brother!’

‘Calwyn?’ Darrow stood behind her, a sleeping-fur clutched about his shoulders. As she turned, he flung up his hands instinctively to ward her away. Her eyes locked with his. Deliberately, she raised her arms to embrace him through the sleeping-fur.
My love
, she said in mind-speech.
Be brave, be strong.
I know what we must do to make you well.

‘My heart – ’ Darrow lifted a hand to touch her hair, her new queenly hair, then dropped it to his side. He gave her his old lopsided smile. ‘Too late, I think.’

‘No,’ said Calwyn. ‘It is not too late. I wouldn’t say so unless it was true.’

Keela arched an eyebrow. ‘Antaris by morning? Is that true, too?’

‘Climb onto the sled, and hold on tight.’ Calwyn threw back her head, and her eyes blazed. ‘Leave the tent, leave it all! We are going to fly.’

TONNO
COULD NOT
block out the clamour of the fighting, much as he wanted to: shrieks and sobs; the sickening, meaty thud of spearheads into flesh; high, panicked singing; the gurgle of blood in the throats of the dying. But then, through it all, he heard Mica’s voice, howling in pain and rage.Without thinking, Tonno ran, forgetting that he dragged all the other prisoners in a stumbling line behind him. He didn’t know what he intended to do, or how he could possibly help Mica, tied and gagged as he was; he only knew that he had to find her.

Wait!
called Briaali.
The fire – we can free ourselves!

Trout had heard Mica’s voice, too, and he understood Briaali at once. He flung himself down by the remains of the bonfire, where some coals still glowed, and held his bound wrists as close to the embers as he could bear. With a swift flare of flame, the vines shrivelled black and fell away, and Trout tore his gag free. ‘Mica!’ he shouted. ‘We’re coming!’

Tonno threw himself on his knees and copied Trout, then he was up and staggering through the gap in theWall and into the thick of the battle.

The struggle was fierce and bloody. The priestesses were fighting with chantment. Blinding snow flurries swirled everywhere, blown by Mica’s songs of windwork, while a hail of sharp ice fragments rained from the sky. Even through the driving snow, the warriors hurled their stones and spears with deadly accuracy. Injured women lay moaning on the ground, tangled in their dark cloaks; bleeding warriors writhed in the mud, gashed with razor-edged shards of ice.The warriors were gaining ground, as they forced the sisters back into the woods, further and further from theWall.