The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (66 page)

“The Sturinnese are more dangerous,” Hanfor said. “They are better trained. The Sea-Priest put them closest to the road.”

Anna took a deep breath. “We’d better get ready.” She turned to Liende. “The first spell will be the flame spell. After that . . . we’ll see.”

“The flame spell,” Liende repeated with a nod.

“I don’t think that the arrow spell will carry far enough.” Anna doubted that the arrows would carry, even boosted by her spells.

“You rely heavily on sorcery,” offered Jecks.

“I know. But what else do I have?”

“I will have the archers form up near the north edge of the overlook. That is the closest to the Sturinnese armsmen.” Hanfor remounted and rode back toward where the last of the armsmen were emerging onto the mesa.

Jecks wrapped the mirror, while Anna replaced the lutar in its case. Liende mounted and rode back toward the waiting players.

“They have not moved from their positions,” Jecks said quietly. “I worry that the Sea-Priest may have yet another surprise. Is your shield yet enchanted?”

“It feels that way.” The faintest sense of an unseen spiderweb tugging at Anna remained.

“Good.”

Anna remounted and guided Farinelli toward the section of the mesa that formed an overlook, reining up a good ten yards back from the edge, marked by fissured white limestone, partly covered with the red dirt. The hills in the center of the Vale, dotted with green spots that were junipers and greenish blue splotches that were creosote bushes, seemed almost close enough to touch in the hot clear air.

After studying the Y-shaped line of hills below for a moment, the sorceress dismounted and handed Farinelli’s reins to Lejun. Fhurgen and Rickel dismounted quickly and stepped forward of Anna with their shields, one in front of each shoulder, so that they could close quickly to block any arrows or quarrels.

“Archers on the flanks!” Alvar ordered, and the armsmen who doubled as archers dismounted and formed a double row on either side of Anna and Jecks and the players who stood behind Anna and continued to tune their instruments.

“The warm-up song,” said Liende.

Anna edged closer to the edge of the overlook, and her guards moved forward with her.

The wind rose from the valley, carrying cooler air from
somewhere, air with the faintest scent of . . . something. Horses?

Without the mirror, the sorceress could see nothing but dirt and junipers, red rock and shadows—and the track of the road that traversed the seemingly empty Vale below.

After exhaling slowly, and trying to relax her shoulders, Anna turned to Liende. “The flame spell first.” She’d tried to craft the spell to cover the widest range, and it should work.
“Should” doesn’t mean it will
. Anna forced back the vagrant thought and concentrated on the vocalise. When she finished, feeling her cords firm, her throat clear, she nodded to the chief player. “Ready.”

“On my mark . . . mark!” Liende gestured, and then the notes of the clarinet-like woodwind joined with those of the other players.

Anna sang.

“Archers strong, armsmen strong,
enemies bathed in flame from this song,
against Defalk and you will burn . . .”

Anna shivered, suddenly tired from the short and full-voiced effort. Her eyes scanned the valley, but for what seemed an eternity, all remained as before, silent, except for the insects and the occasional unknown birdcall.

The points of fire flared across the closest range of hills . . . then faint cries followed. . . and more cries.

Anna looked away, her stomach turning, trying to rationalize it all.
You offered terms . . . warned them. . . . Would they be any less dead with an arrow through their chests . . . ?

The space around Anna, except for the breathing of horses, remained silent.

Jecks handed her a water bottle, and she drank, deeply. Then he offered her a chunk of bread and a small wedge of cheese. She ate both, and then took another deep swig of the lukewarm water.

As she finished, he gestured toward the Vale of Cuetayl,
where a single horseman in white galloped along the road, dust rising behind his mount.

“Archers!” called Alvar.

A rain of arrows arched out over the road, somewhat more than a half dek north and a good three hundred yards lower.

“The arrows curved,” snapped Jecks. “Shields!”

The rider turned from the road and continued to ride up the lower slope of the base of the mesa, aimed directly toward the overlook. Abruptly, he halted and pulled a spear from his lanceholder.

Anna couldn’t see what happened next because Rickel and Fhurgen stepped in front of Anna, blocking her from the charging wizard.

Still . . . she could feel a tingling—like a smaller version of the great chords she had called over Vult.

A second tingling seemed to fly from her momentarily, though she had done nothing, spelled nothing at that moment. Then a dark streak flew from Farinelli, crashing into something else perhaps three yards in front of Anna, before falling onto the red soil. A barbed javelin seemed to vibrate in the small spelled shield that had hurled itself from the open case attached to Anna’s saddle.

Both javelin and shield, bound together, inched across the bare reddish ground toward Anna. The sorceress retreated toward Farinelli and the lutar, trying to recall what spell she could use to stop the magic in the javelin.

Jecks flung himself from his saddle and ran toward the edge of the mesa.

Anna pulled the lutar from its case.

Moments later, Jecks straightened, lunging back toward Anna, and the still-vibrating javelin and the shield, but carrying a flat stone more than a yard long, struggling with the weight.

Fhurgen handed his shield to the guard mounted beside him. “Lejun, cover her!” The black-bearded guard followed Jecks’ example, sprinting for the rocks at the edge
of the plateau, while Lejun held the shield, edge to edge with Rickel.

Jecks almost eased his stone onto the still-vibrating javelin, then straightened slowly as Fhurgen added another stone. Two other guards added more stones, but the pile vibrated and inched toward the sorceress.

Anna fumbled with the lutar, her mind struggling for something she could adapt.

Fhurgen added yet another stone to the pile, but the stones shifted again as the javelin continued to vibrate toward Anna.

What frigging spell . . . Think! Think. . . .
Her mind seemed blank for ages, but it couldn’t have been that long before she swallowed.
The flame spell!

She began to strum the lutar.

“Javelin magic, javelin strong,

turn to flame with this song!”

The stones erupted in a cascade of flame. Liende and the players stepped back from the heat, as did Anna and Jecks and the guards. Hanfor mounted and rode closer to the overlook, surveying the Vale below with only a glance at the burning weapons.

By the time the flames died away, too quickly, it seemed to Anna, even the red stones were dust, and nothing remained of javelin or shield but rust and ashes.

She glanced at the road below, but only a line of dust remained, and the Sea-Priest had ridden somewhere out of sight.

“I’m glad I brought a few other shields,” Jecks said.

So was Anna. “I’m glad you insisted my spelling the shield.”

“I worried about something such as that.” His head inclined toward the ashes. “The Sea-Priests are well-known for their attacks on strong leaders. It is said that was how they brought down the Ostisles—with treachery such as that under a parley banner.”

“The burning . . . it is terrible. . . .” Yuarl, violino still in one hand, stood near the dropoff, pointing out across the Vale with her bow.

Anna edged forward, behind the shields carried by Lejun and Rickel. She could see thin columns of smoke rising across the nearer hilltops below.
Of course. . . . Fires just don’t vanish. . . .

Anna wanted to shake her head. How could there ever be peace with a land such as Sturinn where the Sea-Priests would try anything rather than admit that women were people? Where any trickery was acceptable for them, but where an honest attempt not to fight was condemned?

Anna continued to look for the Sea-Priest who had flung the javelin, but even the dust had settled.

“Why not the wizard?” murmured one of the players. “How did he escape?”

Anna knew, but didn’t explain. Her spell had been directed at archers and armsmen, not wizards. She’d gotten what she’d spelled, not exactly what she’d meant, and that had resulted in an angry wizard getting free.

“The Dumaran armsmen are retreating.” Jecks pointed to the northwest, at the puffs of dust.

“We cannot do much from here,” said Hanfor.

“We had best leave before they catch us on that trail,” suggested the white-haired lord.

“They could not reach us quickly, but I would agree with Lord Jecks, Lady Anna,” added Hanfor.

Anna nodded. “We’ll return to where we camped, and then we’ll see how we’ll enter Dumar.” Her vision was blurring, and sparks flashed before her eyes. She needed to eat, and rest.

Jecks exchanged glances with Hanfor, but neither spoke.

Anna could feel herself starting to seethe at the unspoken male questions, but she clamped her lips shut.

T
he dew had barely lifted from the grass along the shoulder of the road, a road churned the day before with the hoofprints of the retreating Dumaran forces, hoofprints since blurred by heavy dew or light rain.

“They retreat now, but Ehara must face you once more before he returns to Dumaria,” Jecks said.

“Politics?” asked Anna.

At the puzzled expression on the white-haired lord’s face that appeared and vanished as fleetingly as it had come, Anna added, “He won’t be able to face his lords or holders unless he does?”

“I would not think so.”

“Do we have any idea where?”

“I would guess that he would attempt to hold the Dumaran hills northeast of where the rivers join.” Jecks shrugged. “There he could make us attack uphill. Or he could make a normal host attack so.”

“That is another three days’ ride, four if not pressed,” pointed out Hanfor, riding to Anna’s left.

“Five—or six,” Anna corrected. “We aren’t leaving hostile towns behind us. Not large ones.”

Jecks and Hanfor’s eyes crossed.

“We need some loyalty here.” Anna slowed Farinelli as the Defalkan column neared the gray stone oblong by the side of the road. The dek-stone was clear enough: Finduma—3 d.

“Are you contemplating more sorcery?” ventured Jecks.

Anna surveyed the terrain. A small hill rose less than a half a dek north of the road and perhaps two deks ahead,
apparently overlooking the town itself. The hilltop had been grazed bare, or logged, or something, and grayish dots that were sheep grazed on the intermittent grass and vegetation.

“I can’t use a loyalty spell . . .”

“You did so at Stromwer,” pointed out Jecks.

“I almost didn’t live through that, and the next time would be worse. The backlash is . . . exponential.”

Jecks frowned again, briefly, and Anna was left with the feeling of strangeness . . . of being in a culture where certain terms and ideas just didn’t exist.

“The mirror shows no dangers, neither Sturinnese nor Dumaran armsmen,” said Jecks. “What have you in mind?”

“I don’t want Dumar to ever again present a threat to Defalk or Jimbob,” Anna said.
“Ever” or “never” are dangerous words
. “Not for a while, anyway.”

“I would have your armsmen take the town and request provisions. Then we should ride on,” suggested Jecks.

Hanfor reined his mount up. “The scouts say there are no armsmen. The town is shuttered.”

“Jecks thinks we should provision here, and leave them alone otherwise.”

“I would do the same. One never knows when provisions will be short, and country folk love best those leaders they see the least of.”

Anna smiled at Hanfor’s words. While she didn’t like the idea of leaving a potentially hostile town behind her, again, the alternatives were worse, and Finduma was small.

She turned in the saddle and gestured to Liende, riding at the head of the players and behind Anna’s guards. “Chief player?”

Liende urged her mount onto the shoulder of the road and around the guards. “Yes, Lady Anna?”

“Lord Jecks has suggested that we request provisions in Finduma, and then ride on.”

Liende swallowed. “Ah . . . after the Vale . . . ?”

“The Sturinnese died there, not people of Liedwahr. I’d be surprised if most people in . . . Finduma . . . here, even care that much. Most people don’t care who rules, as long as their lives don’t change.” Anna hoped she were right, but with a force as small as hers, a little less than five hundred, she couldn’t leave garrisons in every town that might be disloyal.

“Liende . . .” Anna said gently. “I’m trying to protect Defalk with as little loss of life as possible—on both sides.”
How many other leaders have said that, and then killed thousands?
“I want the players to stand ready in case something happens, but I don’t think it will.”

“That we can do.” Liende smiled wanly. “We will stand ready.”

“Thank you.”

Liende eased her mount back toward the players.

“Your players have experienced more than they expected,” said Jecks.

“Haven’t we all?” Anna shook her head, then coughed from the road dust, omnipresent despite the intermittent rains.

“Let me send a company into the town,” Hanfor said. “And the wagons.”

“We’ll wait here,” Anna said, “and try the seeking spell.”

As the arms commander rode off, Jecks looked at the sorceress. “It matters not to garrison Finduma, but have you thought of what you must do when you reach the Falche, and the larger towns?”

“The same as all other conquerors. Ask for surrender and allegiance, and destroy the town if it’s not forthcoming.” Anna found the words bitter in her mouth.

“That rests most heavily on your sorcery and players.”

“I’m relying almost entirely on my sorcery and players.” Anna laughed softly and ironically. “What else do I have?”