Voice of the Lost : Medair Part 2 (5 page)

"You've been given the job of looking after me," Medair said.  Her voice was small, a thread.

"Just so.  Come down, Medair.  Refusal is not an option."

Resistance, at least, was too much effort.  Medair allowed him to guide her down the stair and out Aerele Gate, all the time aware of walking through the blood of the people she had killed, stepping over outflung arms.  Only the gloom made it possible to pass, hiding the faces of the men and women whose lives had been taken by the Horn.

There was a patch of clear grass, close enough to the Kier to listen, and reaching it Medair refused to go further.  As more magelights were summoned she stared into the dark to have something to look at which was neither the Ibisians she had saved, nor the Farakkians lying still and bloody.

Those who approached were not riders, but a small army of riderless horses, most black or dark brown.  As the main body slowed, a distinctive pale grey horse led a small detachment forward to the city.  Each and every one of them trotted at least a foot above the ground, a fortunate thing considering the thousands of corpses. 

Although the deskai bore no saddles or bridles, each of them had an odd arrangement of cloth and leather slung around their necks.  The purpose of this burden became clear after the lead group had halted some thirty feet from the gate.  They underwent a swift, writhing twist which was less than pleasant to watch and suddenly there were nine men and women instead.  All were well over seven feet tall.  Each made identical movements to tie apron-like garments around their not-inconsiderable waists.  Their skin ranged from pink-pale to charcoal darker even than the people of the Farakkan's south-west.

The grey had turned into a dark young woman with short-cropped white hair.  Tanis Araina, Medair presumed.

"
Ekarrel
."  The deskai leader was smiling in open relief as she executed a precise bow.  "Praise to the Four, you are unharmed!"

"My thanks, Keris Araina
,"
the Kier said.  Nothing in Inelkar's face betrayed that she had not met this woman before.  But Keris Araina's entire race hadn't existed a day ago, and the Kier must be wondering what to say to her.  This was now no more Inelkar's world than it was Medair's.

A touch on her arm drew her attention and she found the Kierash, under Cor-Ibis' escort, at her shoulder.

"Keris an Rynstar," the boy began.  "I recognise that now is not the time, but I would like to speak with you, at your convenience
."

Medair's lips curved, though she doubted it was a cheerful expression.  She needed only one more push to shame herself with hysteria.

"There's so little to say, Kierash."  She lifted one booted foot, drawing attention to the blood-grimed soles.  "Would you ask me of Decia?  Of the south I knew, so staunchly prepared to support the Emperor in war?   Those Decians, Duchess Trienne, considered it a proud thing to die in battle for a cause in which they believed.  Where is the pride in being cut down by an enemy you cannot wound?  Do you want me to try and guess whether they felt their cause was just?"  She had to stop, or she would shout at him.

"That is something I will do on my own
,
" Islantar replied, with a gravity Medair would have thought unnatural in any Farakkian youth.  "I would ask you of them, though.  The Decians you knew, so different from those we deal with today.  And the Ibis-lar you knew, who brought down the Empire.  If I am–"  For the first time the boy hesitated, pale lashes dropping.  "If I am to heal the present, I must know the past
.
"

"You will need more than knowledge for that
,
" Medair said.

"Yes
.
"

It was simple agreement.  Islantar, raised to rule, probably had a better grasp of the problems he faced than she did.  The question of what came next, of how thousands of dead Decians could possibly help ease long-nurtured hatred, hung between them.  There was a long pause.

Cor-Ibis moved a hand sharply, and the air shook with a sudden concussion.

"Another gate?" Avahn turned, then his eyes went wide and disbelieving and he made a similar fending gesture.  "But who?"

The Keridahl didn't answer as the air about them thrummed, threatening to knock them from their feet.  Some of the deskai began to run toward Medair's location.  A woman nearer to the wall shouted and even Islantar joined the effort to stave off gate after gate.  The air blurred and seemed to twist.  The scent of hot metal drowned out the stench of blood.

And then it was too much.  Avahn stumbled.  Bright light washed over them, then darkness, and Medair felt abruptly weightless.  The ground shifted.

CHAPTER FOUR

Medair, on her hands and knees, found leaves and dirt beneath her palms.  Her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden absence of warm magelight, and in the aftermath of so many disrupted gates she was slow to process the sounds of surprise and distress.  Forcing herself to unsteady feet, she fetched up against rough bark.  A tree, where one had not been.  Or, rather, she was no longer outside the walls of Athere, where the flat swathe of grass was covered in blood and bodies.  Instead, the moon peeped through a thick canopy of leaves.  There was a steady murmur of magic, and a stiff, cold breeze carried the scent of wood smoke.  The knees of her trousers were damp and a drop of icy water scored her cheek.  It had been raining.

"Where are we?"  It was Ileaha's voice, as startled as Medair felt.

"Don't summon a light," Cor-Ibis said.  "Not until we know where this is."

This coming from a man who, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, proved to still be glowing steadily.  After a pause, the Keridahl continued.  "Who is here?
"

"I am," said Kierash Islantar, just the tiniest note of uncertainty in his voice.  Someone inhaled and even Medair felt a twinge of dismay to know that Palladium's heir had been stolen away to wherever this was.  He was so close Medair edged almost automatically away, then stopped, staring up through a break in the canopy.

"And I," said N'Taive, the Herald of the Mersians.  Medair had not seen her among the small group trailing Cor-Ibis and the Kierash, but she recognised the lilt of her voice.

"At your command, Keridahl," said Liak ar Haedrin, at the same time as Avahn's quiet: "Here."

"Kaschens las Cormar and an Serentel," said the voice of a stranger, confident and female.

"At your command," concluded a young man, presumably Kaschen an Serentel.  The gate had evidently scooped up a couple of soldiers.

There was a pause, and Medair knew they waited for her to speak.  She felt so remote from them, from everything.  She had admitted her name, she had used the Horn, and become an unspeakable thing, drenched in blood.  What was there left for her?

But remaining silent was no longer an option.

"I am here," she said, close to whispering.  "Here in Decia, if that truly is Castle Gyrfalcon."

Through the trees she could see a jagged hill, a sharply vertical mound of ragged stone and rubble surmounted by weirdly glistening black stone.  A dark castle whose myriad windows were outlined by an orange glow.  The shape of it was very like the castle where Duchess Trienne had received her so graciously.  Yet this was the stuff of nightmares: grim, unwelcoming and sinister.

"Falcon Black!"  The Mersian Herald's voice was stiff with dismay.

"Decia, but not imprisoned," Avahn said, rapidly reviewing the situation.  "Why did those summoned by the Horn spare Estarion?  And why, after sending us through a gate to Decia, did he leave us outside the castle and unguarded?"

"The forests around Falcon Black are bewitched," Herald N'Taive said.  Her voice, once so stalwart, quavered.  "Haunted, spelled, trapped.  No army dare approach the Cloaked South's stronghold."

"Even so, to leave us loose..."

"Possibly the many gates we disrupted skewed the one which succeeded," suggested Islantar.  The Kierash had recovered his equanimity, his voice steady.

"Sending us to the moat instead of the dungeon?"  Cor-Ibis did not seem convinced, but he moved on briskly.  "Only a supremely powerful artefact could have produced so many gates, and they are not always predictable.  Whatever the case, we are in unfamiliar territory, and our very appearance proclaims us enemy.  Avahn, Kel ar Haedrin, you will protect the Kierash.  Keris N'Taive, if this forest is trapped, we need to know as much as you can tell us about it, and quickly."

"Of course."  Herald N'Taive regained a little of her composure.  "My Queen sent me here several times, before Estarion broke the Compact.  To the south there is farmland and Taedrin City is not far to the east.  North and west, as well as immediately around the castle, is forest with a single road east, heavily guarded.  The last time I was at Falcon Black, there were wild stories that Estarion had started hunting criminals through the western forest.  More challenging sport than his usual fare.  It was true.  It pleased him to take me as witness–"  Her voice wavered.

"I have not seen Falcon Black from this angle, so I can only guess that this is the northern forest, which is denser, and forbidden to everyone.  A shield against invasion from the north.  It is said that the enchantments which protect the forest directly about the castle extend into the northern reaches."

Medair shifted uneasily.  It was as if the Mersian Herald didn't want to describe the dangers of the forest exactly, for fear of summoning them up.

"It has been a long time since any army approached from the north, not for fifty years or more.  There were few survivors from the attempt.  They spoke of losing their companions because of poor weather, and of something which snatched the soldiers, one by one, before they even came within sight of Falcon Black."

"What of smaller groups?  An army is a large target."  Cor-Ibis sounded distracted.  The glow which emanated from him was not powerful, just enough to make him visible, and she could not make out his expression as he turned his head to look up towards the castle.

"Of those known to have dared in the last ten years, only one has returned.  Five months after setting out, haggard, gravely injured and not remembering a moment after he ventured into the forest."

"Then the road's the safer way out," Avahn said, thoughtful but undaunted.  "It might be guarded, but it's better than trying to head north when it's obvious Decia has set powerful defences."

"Won't those defences be more concentrated about the castle?" Ileaha asked.

"Very likely," Cor-Ibis said.  "I agree that the risk must be less than venturing through this forest.  East to the castle's entrance – the point where the road begins to ascend.  We can hope that such a well-frequented place will prove to be less deadly."

"And beyond that point?  A well-guarded road is not so easy to pass as a set-spell whose trigger you can detect and avoid."  Cor-Ibis' glimmering form was briefly eclipsed as Avahn moved towards him.  "And past the road?  We are in Decia."

"The road must wait until daylight, at the very least," Cor-Ibis agreed.

"And I know of one who will aid us, in Taedrin City," offered Herald N'Taive.  "If we can reach her, we have shelter, resources."

"Is it at all viable to build our own gate, Illukar?" Avahn asked.

"Between us, when we have recovered, we could do that.  I have a rahlstone, though it must be nearing the limits of its use.  However, it is unlikely that we could complete a gate before being set upon, and we cannot even make an attempt tonight, nor, I fear, tomorrow.  Too much of our strength has been spent in battle.  Until then, we need shelter, a defensible position and more information with which to plan our next move.  Fortunately, we are not all obviously Palladian."

"And Estarion?" the Kierash asked, speaking after a long silence.  "Estarion, who is mad enough to summon wild magic when his plans for victory go awry?  Estarion who we believe holds an artefact capable of summoning gates of unlimited power and frequency?"

"And who may be hunting us as we speak," Cor-Ibis finished, composure steady in the face of so many obstacles.  "I have not overlooked his threat, but I wish to see the road first.  If its guards are easily avoided – as they may be, when Decia's forces are surely in disarray following the mass departure to war – then I will be able to send you on to Taedrin City while I attempt Estarion.  But your safety must come first, Kierash."

"Palladium must come first, Keridahl," Islantar said, stiffly.  "We cannot turn aside from Estarion's threat, not even if it were my mother's life at risk."

"Perhaps."  Cor-Ibis' tone suggested that Islantar would be sent to safety no matter what his objections.  "In either case, our first move must be to shelter."

"Falcon Hill is pocked with a maze of caves and caverns," N'Taive suggested.  "I saw dozens of entrances on my previous visits.  Estarion is rumoured to have chambers within, and I know that one entrance is guarded, near the top of the road.  I would not care to venture deeply into any of them, but there are enough shallow depressions to at least get us out of this damp."

"Where we can discuss this further," Cor-Ibis said.  "And, if you will agree to it, Keris an Rynstar, to examine the rest of the Hoard of Kersym Bleak."

"The rest–?" Avahn repeated.

"I took away more than the Horn, Avahn," Medair replied.  She knew Cor-Ibis well enough to have expected that he would stop ignoring the implications of the 'hoard' linked to the legend of the Horn when the situation required it.

"Of course."  Avahn's voice was rich with self-disgust.  "Well, I'll beat myself over the head about that later.  Shall we get on?"

"Close together," Kel ar Haedrin suggested.  "And slowly."

They moved towards the understated beacon provided by Cor-Ibis and it seemed to Medair that she had taken no more than two steps when the pulse of magic so densely present in the forest altered.

"It's reacting to us," Cor-Ibis said.  "Be alert for anything."

"Mist," said one of the kaschens, the no-longer confident female.  It closed around them with startling speed, a dense cloud rising from the ground, curling and twisting in the wind.