The Oracle's Queen (23 page)

Just as she was certain she was going to fall, the man who had her foot suddenly let go and fell away. Righting herself in the saddle, Tamír looked down to see Brother's pale face among the press. Men falling dead without a blow marked his wake as he disappeared again.

Then Ki was with her, screaming with rage as he and Tharin cut down the Plenimarans still clinging to Tamír's legs and harness. Her other Companions soon caught up and cleared a circle around her.

Lynx was struck in the shoulder by a pike and nearly toppled from his saddle, but Tyrien rode the pikeman down. Just beyond them, Una and Hylia were fighting side by side, widening the swath of open ground around Tamír. Kyman and his riders were pushing the enemy back on her right. In the distance she could make out Jorvai's banner waving above the fray.

“Fight through and wheel!” Tamír shouted, brandishing her sword toward the thin line of enemy soldiers that stood between them and the beach.

They cut their way through and turned to crash into the enemy line again. They might be outnumbered, but their horses gave them the advantage and their first charge broke the lines. They swept through the disorganized men
like a scythe through a grainfield, cutting them down and trampling them under their horses' hooves.

“They're breaking!” Tharin shouted.

Tamír heard a wild shout of victory and looked to see Nikides—bloody-faced and cheering—brandishing his darkened blade, with young Lorin beside him, grim and equally blooded.

“To me!” Tamír called, rallying them for another pass.

The enemy broke, trying to flee back to the boats they'd come in on. Ships were anchored here, too, and Tamír had no wizards to burn them.

Tamír and her riders rode the fleeing warriors down, driving them into the water, then pulled back and let Kyman's archers finish them off and burn their boats. Some managed to escape, rowing back into the darkness, but behind them the corpses of their fallen comrades littered the sand and rolled in the swell of the incoming tide.

They rode back to the beach where Nyanis' archers stood ready to resume their attack. Tamír dismounted by one of their watch fires.

“The dogs have gone back to their kennels for now,” he reported, looking her over. She was covered in blood, and her tabard was stained and torn. “You look like you had a good time.”

“A bit too good,” Tharin said softly, glowering at her. “You left your guard behind and came close to losing Ki in the bargain.”

“Then you'd all better learn to ride faster,” she retorted. He was right, of course, but she wasn't about to admit it.

He held her gaze a moment, then pursed his lips and looked away, knowing better than to say more in front of the other nobles.

The wizards joined her by the watch fire and they stood in silence a moment, marveling at their success.

“What do you think they'll do now?” asked Arkoniel. “They still outnumber us, and it's too soon to expect our reinforcements.”

Tamír shrugged. “If they come in again, we'll fight them again. They've lost the element of surprise and they know it. I think they'll ask to parley.”

A
s the misty dawn broke over the water, she was proven right. The Plenimaran flagship raised a long white banner. She gave orders for her standard-bearer to answer in kind, then summoned her entire force to mass along the beach in plain sight.

A longboat bearing a smaller version of the parley banner was lowered and rowed ashore. The Plenimaran commander was a black-bearded giant of a man, dressed in ornate black leather and mail. His surcoat bore the device of a noble house. Half a dozen grim-looking men accompanied him, all unarmed.

They splashed from the boat, but the commander left the others at the water's edge and strode without escort up the beach. When he saw Tamír standing there in her crowned helm he hesitated, perhaps surprised not to meet a more formidable foe.

“I am Duke Odonis, General of Plenimar and Admiral of the Overlord's fleet,” he announced gruffly in thickly accented Skalan. “With whom do I speak?”

“I am Tamír Ariani Agnalain, Queen of Skala,” she replied, removing her helm so that he could see her face better. “You parley with me.”

His bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Queen?” he scoffed. “Skala has no queen now. Who are you, little girl?”

Little girl!
She was still enough Tobin in her own mind to be doubly offended by the jibe. She drew herself up sternly. “I am Tamír, daughter of the Princess Ariani, daughter of Agnalain. My uncle, the usurper king, cursed of Illior, fell to your first assault on the capital. I stand in his place now, the chosen of Illior Lightbearer. The priests of Afra will bear witness to this.”

Odonis was still regarding her with some skepticism.
“You lead this—” He took in the small size of her force and arched an eyebrow at her again. “This raiding party?”

“I do. Do you mean to carry on with your assault? My army and my wizards stand ready to fight you.”

“Wizards? Ah, Orëska. Toothless wanderers.”

“They are not so toothless,” Tamír replied calmly, pointing out at the burning ships. “That's their work. Allow me to convince you.”

Arkoniel cast the spell once again and she shot a flaming shaft neatly through it. Across the water, the mainsail of Odonis' ship caught fire.

Odonis no longer looked so smug. “What is this?”

“This is the work of my Orëska, and they will do so to your entire fleet if you do not leave our shores at once.”

“You do not fight us in an honorable way!”

“Was it honorable for the commander who came before you to sail out of the teeth of a gale with no challenge and fall on a sleeping city? It was a cowardly attack and he was defeated with all his force, at Illior's will, by Skalan warriors and Skalan wizards. Their ships lie at the bottom of Ero harbor now. The rest of your ships will suffer the same fate if you do not withdraw and go home. Go back to your Overlord and tell him that a daughter of. Thelátimos rules again, and Skala is once more under the Lightbearer's protection.”

Odonis considered this, then gave her a stiff bow. “I will carry your words.”

“I'm not done,” Tamír snapped. “I demand reparation for Ero. I will keep ten of your ships. You will surrender them at once and leave them here at anchor.”

“Ten!”

“You may take the crew away with you. I have no time to deal with them. Leave the vessels with their stores and take the rest of your ships. Otherwise, I will burn them all out from under you and kill every Plenimaran who makes it to shore.”

She had no idea if the exhausted wizards could carry
out her threat, but then, neither did Odonis, and he had little reason to doubt her.

She could see his jaw working through his beard as the man gritted his teeth in frustration. At last he bowed again. “As you say. Ten ships, with stores but no crew.”

“You will surrender your banner, as an acknowledgment of your defeat here today. Before these witnesses, I place you under my sacred protection if you will leave my shores now. Land again, and I will leave none of you alive. I suggest you go at once, before I change my mind.”

Odonis made her a last grudging bow and walked quickly back to his waiting boat. Tamír's people jeered at his retreat.

Tamír stood watching until he was well away, then sank down wearily on a stone as the night's work caught up with her. “Tharin, pass the word that everyone is to rest a little before we head back. All of you,” she added, giving the Companions a meaningful look. Grinning, they spread out around her, lying on their cloaks on the beach.

Ki stretched out beside her, leaning back on his elbows. He still had blood on his face, but a long stalk of wild oat hung from the corner of his mouth and he looked well content with the world.

“That was a nice bit of fighting, Your Majesty, except for you charging off without us,” he said, just loud enough for her ears.

“I thought you'd all keep up.”

The stalk bobbed against Ki's lip as he sucked on it in silence for a moment. “Now that you're my queen, can I still tell you that I'll kick your ass from here to Alestun if you do that again?”

The last of the day's tension dissolved as she let out a laugh and punched him roughly on the shoulder. “Yes, I think you still can.”

Ki grinned up at her. “Well, since you managed to survive it, I guess I'll tell you that I've heard what some of the
warriors are saying. They think you're god-touched by Sakor and the Lightbearer, all at once.”

“I'm beginning to think so, too.” But she hadn't forgotten that glimpse of Brother in the fray, either. It was the second time he'd aided her in battle, and she silently thanked him.

A
rkoniel was grateful for the respite. He'd never cast so many spells in such a short space of time before. Even Saruel was pallid beneath her markings as they retired to get their breath.

Glancing back, Arkoniel saw Tamír and Ki sitting together down the beach. The way they were talking and smiling, they looked almost like the two young boys they'd been.

Seasoned by tragedy and battle, and not yet sixteen
. But she was not the first queen to take the throne so young, and others had been married and bedded at her age.

And then there was Ki. He'd turn seventeen soon. As the wizard watched, he leaned over to Tamír and said something and they both laughed.

Arkoniel felt another bittersweet tug at his heart as he allowed himself to lightly brush Ki's mind. He loved Tamír with his whole heart, but there was still great confusion there.

Still mindful of his promise, the wizard turned away without touching Tamír's thoughts. Joining Saruel and Kiriar above the beach, he sprawled on the coarse grass there and closed his eyes. Every spell took its toll, but he'd never experienced a sense of depletion like this. What good would they be to Tamír in a real war if a single battle used up all their strength?

T
he sun was just peaking over the horizon when a horn call roused him from his doze. The wizards rose with a collective groan. Arkoniel gave Saruel his hand and helped her to her feet.

To his surprise, warriors and captains reached out and patted their backs and saluted them as they mounted and joined the others.

“By the Light, that was a neat bit of magicking you lot did!” Jorvai exclaimed.

Tamír gave Arkoniel a genuine smile. “The Third Orëska proved its worth today. We lost less than twoscore. I wonder what it would be like, to settle all disputes so easily,” she mused.

Jorvai snorted. “Wouldn't leave us warriors much to do, now would it?”

Arkoniel couldn't imagine magic ever supplanting war, and doubted if it would be a good thing if it did. War gave men like Jorvai purpose.

O
utriders carried the news of their success back to Ero and Tamír returned to find her people lining the roads, waving flowers and bright bits of cloth and chanting her name in an endless roar.

At Illardi's gate she drew her sword and proclaimed, “This victory belongs to Illior, protector of Skala!”

They rode a circuit of the camps and Ero's ruined eastern gate. She poured a soldier's libation there for the spirits of all who'd died in the last battle and again gave thanks to Illior.

They ended at Illardi's courtyard and the soldiers took their leave. The commanders dismounted and followed Tamír into the temple of the stele, where the three masked priests of Afra stood waiting to greet her.

“Tell me, my queen, do you now believe in the visions of the Lightbearer?” Imonus asked.

“I do,” she replied, presenting him with the captured Plenimaran banner. “I present this trophy to Illior as a token of my gratitude. The vision was true, and saved many lives. We were not taken unaware this time.”

“It is a sign, my queen. The covenant that was broken by Erius has been restored.”

“I will uphold it as long as I rule.”

T
amír held a victory feast the following night and sent ale and victuals out to the camps. Bonfires burned across the plain well into the night.

Arkoniel was pleased to find himself and Iya at the
head table once again, with the other wizards in places of honor among the nobles.

Tamír entered the hall when all the others were seated. She wore a dark blue velvet gown embroidered with silver, with her sword hanging at her side. The golden circlet shone on her brow, contrasting with her black hair.

“She looks rather pretty, don't you think?” said Iya.

Arkoniel had to agree although she still strode like a man. Ki was at her side, looking older and very noble in his dark velvet tunic. His long hair was drawn back in a braid, with the two thin warrior braids still loose on either side of his face. Arkoniel took a closer look at the other Companions and saw that the others had done the same, except for Nikides, who wore his hair pulled back in a simple queue.

“Tamír's idea, I believe,” Iya murmured. “I like it. Signifies a change.”

Between the meat and fish courses, Tamír stood and poured the libation to the gods, then toasted her commanders. When the cheering had subsided, she turned to the wizards and saluted them with her mazer.

“My friends,” she began, and Arkoniel's heart skipped a beat as those dark eyes lingered on his face longer than the rest. “My friends, once again you have proven your great value and skill. Skala thanks you! No wizard who serves the Third Orëska will lack a roof over his head or food to eat in my city.”

As they returned to their meal, Arkoniel leaned over to Iya and whispered, “Do you think we're forgiven at last?”

“I hope so. To protect her, we must remain close to her.”

The feast broke up late in the evening, but Arkoniel lingered, hoping for a word with Tamír. She was about to retire but excused herself from the others and drew him across the hall to an unoccupied corner.