THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (25 page)

The first dozen steps took them nearly half an hour of sweaty, painstaking work.
Meghianna fought to grasp the handfuls of sizzling, loose, writhing Threads after Mrillis had
untangled them from the knots that kept them caged. He slowed his work to help her, to try to
control the recalcitrant, torn ends to allow her to work. Sweat filled his eyes and soaked his hair
and beard, then down into his clothes. He had to close his eyes or be blinded by the stinging salt
and fatigue poisons that filled his sweat.

Meghianna let out a shout of triumph, weary and broken with laughter. Mrillis paused in
his divided battle to look at her, six steps behind him. A gap of writhing, poisonous green and
black and red-streaked Threads, three arms' length wide, lay between him and Meghianna. Then,
over and around her, and extending behind her for nearly an arm's length, a pale blue, solid wall
of woven Threads shimmered serenely. The contrast between the two sections of the tunnel set
off a clanging dissonance in the Threads that only emphasized the foulness of the magic that held
the rest of the tunnel in thrall. She traded grins with him, both of them with their physical eyes
closed, so they saw only in the magical realm of the soul. Then she gestured at the leading edge
of the weaving.

Do you see? All it takes is a little friendliness and kind persuasion, and everyone
wants to play.

Mrillis nearly let go of the Threads he held in submission, as he changed his vision so
he could see more clearly. For a moment, he couldn't quite comprehend. Were the Threads
weaving themselves? It was easier to be certain of the change of color, slowly creeping along the
Threads. After the poisonous green and red faded into pale green, then blue and white, he could
see roundness fill out the flattened strands of magic, like water moving through the stems of
plants after rain ended a drought. Then--he gasped aloud, earning another chiming burst of weary
laughter from her--Mrillis saw the blue-white Threads twist around each other, weaving together
as if of their own volition.

"Perhaps they are even more sentient than we imagined. They choose to act, rather than
simply to cooperate," he murmured.

The sound of his voice, faint as it was, hurt his ears. That was a clear enough sign of the
physically draining effort they both expended.

I can help you now with the untangling,
Meghianna said.
I still need to
guide the weaving, but the more clean weaving we have behind us, the more it all works together
to help.

Then let us continue. I wonder what sort of tale this will make in the archives when
we are finished.

Lord Mrillis?
The somberness of her tone made him look over his
metaphorical shoulder again.
Perhaps this is something that should not be recorded.
Otherwise, someone will try such a thing in the future and use it against us.

It will be tried. There will be tales of this, simply because so many soldiers have
come here and have heard about it. Better that we have facts recorded, so that some young fool
doesn't destroy himself and half the star-metal in the entire World, attempting to rediscover the
secret.

True. But then he--or she--will simply destroy a quarter of the star-metal trying to
improve on what was done here.
Her tone was sour, but Mrillis felt the chimes of unvoiced
laughter than rang out through her, energizing the healed, rewoven Threads.

Their laughter helped ease the foulness of the long, writhing tunnel ahead of them. The
untangling grew easier with every ten steps they took, and the reweaving gained speed, so that
the gap between poisoned Threads and purified Threads grew smaller. Meghianna devoted more
of her attention to helping Mrillis dismantle the tunnel ahead of them. Soon, their pace increased
to a leisurely stroll, then the steady trot of a nobleman's servant on an errand. Then their feet
moved with some urgency.

How much longer?
He sent his thoughts out of the tight, protective circle he
and Meghianna had formed for the sake of their work, to ask the Valors who supported and
protected them.

You're nearly here,
Kettin answered from the other end of the tunnel.
We
couldn't hear you until you were halfway done with the re-making. I hope Timark is terrified and
doesn't know what we're doing. If you open your eyes, you can see our perch in the cliffs facing
the tower.

Mrillis opened his eyes, nearly blinded by the sweat that had dried into a crust of salt
and blood poisons, and muffled a curse. He had acted without thinking, a bad sign of just how
exhausted he had become.

We're both tired,
Meghianna offered.

Don't make me feel even more old and doddering than usual with your
sympathy,
he retorted.

That earned a snort from her. With an extra burst of effort, they shredded the last arms'
length of tunnel and stumbled through into open air, free at last of the enervating influence of the
warped Threads. A shout rang from the tower of Tantagar.

The Valors in front of them responded with a volley of arrows enhanced with Threads,
so the thick metal shafts penetrated the stonework at the top of the wall. The Valors behind
Meghianna and Mrillis leaped forward, sending another volley of arrows on either side of the
precise line. All the arrows had thin cords hanging from them. Half the Valors protected their
fellows with magic and with more arrows, while the other half leaped forward to grasp the
trailing end of the cord from each arrow and pull, drawing thicker cords up and through the loop
near the head of each arrow. Only magic could release those arrows from the stone, and now
thirty ropes hung down, allowing thirty warriors to climb up the walls to penetrate Tantagar.

Efrin led the charge of his soldiers that streamed through the now-friendly tunnel,
spilling out into the cleared space around the tower. Five war horns blared in dissonance before
anyone in Tantagar had time to respond. That boded well for their first assault on the tower.

Meghianna and Mrillis linked arms, supporting each other, and she led the way to the
crevice that formed a natural staircase, which allowed the spying team to climb to the top of the
cliffs facing the tower. Kettin and his Valors met them at the bottom, saluted Mrillis, and leaped
out to join their fellows at the leading edge of the battle.

"I don't suppose you'll let me go fight," Markas said, staying back. His face twisted with
longing as he watched the Warhawk's forces stream from the rewoven tunnel, to surround
Tantagar.

"You've played Castles enough, Highness," Mrillis said, giving the boy a bow of equals.
As he intended, that visibly soothed some of the prince's discontent immediately. "What is the
best tactic when you are surrounded by the enemy, when you thought it impossible for them to
penetrate your defenses?"

"Oh, that's easy--Oh." He nodded, his face settling into mature, grim understanding.
Mrillis agreed with the assessment of the others--this boy would make a strong, good king. If
Meghianna's visions were true, and the third drop of blood, Efrin's heir, would come from a
marriage with Queen Glyssani, then the safety of the next Warhawk could depend on the loyalty
and wisdom of his elder half-brother. "Take out the king piece. Destroy any reason for the rest of
the pieces to keep fighting." He sighed. "If he's desperate enough to kidnap Mother, then he's
stupid and desperate enough to try to kill me. And I'd be an idiot to make myself a target,
wouldn't I?"

"I'm sorry, Highness," Meghianna said. She slid an arm around the boy's shoulders and
hugged him, just briefly. "I think you are wise enough, discrete enough, I can trust you with a
confession."

"Lady?" Markas took a step back. The faint blush on his cheeks made Mrillis bite his
cheek to keep from chuckling. If Meghianna wasn't careful, the boy would have an embarrassing
crush on her.

"Haven't you wondered why Timark chose now to kidnap your mother, when he's been
so subtle all these years in trying to convince her to marry him?"

"She made a vow. On star-metal. Even if she said she would marry him, she wouldn't be
allowed to until I take my father's throne." The boy nodded, eyes half-closed as he thought.
"Something happened after you arrived." His head snapped up and his eyes opened. "You had a
vision, didn't you? That's why you fainted when you took Mother's hand. And Timark had some
spies in the castle walls, and they overheard you tell someone. Princess Megassa, I
suppose."

"Exactly." Meghianna gestured at the crevice leading upwards to their spying nest. "We
should find a more secure place to speak, so we aren't overheard and so we can defend ourselves
if some of Timark's men should come upon us. They have an unnerving talent for being where
they aren't expected."

Mrillis had seen the positioning of the spying place in the cliffs, and had already
determined it would make an advantageous spot to watch the siege of the tower and provide any
assistance Efrin and his soldiers needed. He had learned long ago that his mere presence was
enough to encourage the common soldiers and warriors, and give them the confidence that no
matter how hard the battle became, no matter what foul defenses the enemy threw against them,
they would ultimately succeed. The Valors were there to provide the magical support that was
usually required, and they were trained to work with the army, whereas Mrillis had not
participated in a real battle in many years. Still, he rode out on many strategic campaigns for
simple reasons of morale. The safe spot in the cliffs would make good staging, should he need to
make his presence known to the enemy.

The three climbed up the natural staircase with Markas leading the way, taking the part
of guide and host, Mrillis supposed.

He was already predisposed to like the boy, simply because Meghianna and Megassa
both thought highly of him. The young heir of Welcairn carried himself with dignity and
common sense, but not with the heavy, stiffening dose of pride that many others in his position
sometimes resorted to. Mrillis decided that was Glyssani's influence on her son. He smiled to
think of the son the Queen of Welcairn and Efrin Warhawk would produce together.

Markas reported to them the activity inside the tower the spies had witnessed and
speculated on since Meghianna, Megassa, Pirkin and Ynessa left to meet the approaching army.
He confessed that none of them were sure if the fortifying activities were in response to Timark
bringing Glyssani there as prisoner, or if the inhabitants of the tower knew the Warhawk's army
approached.

"Do you think there's any chance I can train as a Valor?" the boy asked, when they
emerged onto the wide, sheltered ledge half a bowshot deep, that faced the tower and kept them
in shadows.

"You need some touch of
imbrose
," Meghianna said. "According to the reports
sent by... well, we can't really trust your regent's reports, can we? But as far as we know, you
haven't shown any signs of magical talent."

"I've never been tested. And he doesn't allow any star-metal into the castle at all. Hates
it, like he thinks it will bring a plague inside the walls." The boy nodded for emphasis and sat
down on a slab of rock someone had made into a bench with two folded blankets. "How can I
know if I have any magic if there hasn't been any star-metal to... to, what do you call it? Give
me the energy? Awaken it?"

"He already knows more than some Valors when they first arrive for training," Mrillis
said with a chuckle.

He glanced at Meghianna, a question in his eyes, and she bowed her head, effectively
giving her support to whatever he chose to do. They had worked together in concert like this only
a few times before, and it gave him a warm feeling of satisfaction and completion that he hadn't
known in many years, each time it happened. They would make a strong partnership, defending
Lygroes and the Warhawk's throne, for many years to come.

He found some comfort in that knowledge. Too many others he loved had been ripped
away from him, so he felt far too much alone.

It took a moment of thought, assessing what he knew of the boy, studying his hands and
wrists to be sure of his choice. Mrillis estimated Markas still had a growth spurt or two ahead of
him. Markas the Elder had been a tall, broad-shouldered man, graceful despite his heft and
muscle, and the son showed the promise of being his father's image. That decided Mrillis.

He took a ring out of his belt pouch, one of several star-metal trinkets he carried
whenever he traveled to Moerta, for just such purposes. Holding out his hand, he waited until the
boy gave his hand into his grasp, then slipped the ring on his thumb. It wasn't a good fit, but that
simply meant there was still room for growth. A single blue spark leaped from the boy's thumb
to Mrillis' hand as he released him.

"Ah." Meghianna smiled wearily and nodded.

"What does that mean?" Markas asked. His eyes widened and he stared at his hand,
meaning he saw the faint blue glow spread, surrounding the ring and then creeping across his
flesh to cover his entire hand, from fingertips to wrist. His grin was purely boyish delight. "I
have
imbrose
?"

"You do indeed," Meghianna said. "And the first thing we should do is teach you a
simple protective spell against poisons. That's a coward's most effective weapon."

"But when the Warhawk wins the battle, Timark will be deposed, and Mother and I will
be safe from him. Won't we?"

"How do you think your regent grew secure enough to kidnap your mother?" Mrillis
asked. "He has many supporters. Chopping off the drakag's head doesn't mean his claws will not
remain poisonous and scratch you at the worst possible time, when you least expect it."

"Ah." Markas nodded, sorrow dimming his joy.

A shout rang across the gap between tower and cliffs, and they watched as the second
wave of soldiers climbed the ropes to the parapet, protected from Timark's soldiers by a
shielding rain of arrows and blinding blasts of light from the Valors. In perfect, practiced unison,
they swung over the top and unsheathed their swords before their feet touched the stones.
Timark's men screamed and attacked, too stunned to realize they were outnumbered, with almost
too little room for fighting. The thirty soldiers quickly overwhelmed them and drove them
through the two doors, down into the tower.