Wolf's Blood (67 page)

After he explained how they had been forced to take the Nexus Islands, he did his best to explain why they had decided not only to hold them but to keep them a secret. Finally, he revealed the danger those islands were now in, and what the loss of the coming battle would mean to both the Old World and the New.

“And you’re sure about this invasion?” Elise asked at last. “The word of an untrustworthy ghost, dreams, and visions seem very little to go on.”

Derian spread out his hands so she could not ignore them, and looked her squarely in the eyes.

“So I might have said once,” he agreed, “but no more. I believe an invasion is coming, and indeed, we dreaded as much even before the Meddler came troubling Firekeeper. Remember, the New World knew little of these gates, but the Old World not only knew of them, they have had use of them for at least the last ten years. Do you think they would give them up lightly?”

“No,” Elise agreed. “They wouldn’t. You are fortunate to have absolute proof of your suspicions. I am sorry for having spoken without thought.”

Isende smiled. “It was hard for me to accept as well, Lady Archer. If Truth had not confirmed the validity of my dreams, speaking of certain things I had seen before I did, I might have doubted as well.”

“So you’ve become some sort of warlord?” Doc said hesitantly. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Not a warlord,” Derian said. “I leave the fighting to others. Rather I am something of a glorified administrator—a town mayor. We have very few adults, especially considering what we suspect we will face. All of us are doing two or three jobs, and when the time comes to fight, that will be all of our jobs—except for those who will be trying to save the lives of the injured.”

“I wish I could get there!” Doc said, clenching his hands into fists.

“If Firekeeper and Blind Seer succeed in their mission,” Derian said, “you could come across, but even the weakened form of querinalo can be deadly. I will not risk exposing anyone to it, especially one such as you who is certain to fall ill. You might help us for a few days, before the illness strikes you, but then …”

“Then I’d just be another invalid,” Doc said, “and one for whom you likely couldn’t spare the kind of careful tending that pulled you and Blind Seer and this ‘Plik’ you mentioned through the purely physical damage the fevers would have done.”

“Knowing what you’re up against,” Elise said, “I can understand why Firekeeper went looking for this Virim, but Derian, is it wise? The Plague freed those without magic from domination by those who some chance of birth gave power. Is that right?”

Tiniel spoke for the first time other than to correct some point in Derian’s account, and his voice trembled with barely suppressed fury.

“How can you say that, ‘Lady’ Archer? What did you do to earn your titles other than be born into the right family? What is the difference?”

Elise blinked at him, astonished by the violence of his attack.

“I suppose the difference is,” she replied slowly, “that I have responsibilities that come with my social position. The sorcerers had nothing but competition between themselves to rein them in.”

“You only have those responsibilities,” Tiniel said, “because you find it convenient. I’m sure not every noble in your land is so ethical. I’m sure there are peasants and commoners who live pretty miserable lives because the ones who own the lands on which they labor think of them as nothing more than another resource to exploit.”

“Tin …” Isende said, resting a hand on her brother’s arm. “Calm down.”

Tiniel did not. “It makes me want to spit, the way these northerners talk as if magical ability—especially spellcasting ability—makes a person automatically into a horror. You’re not, ’Sende. I wouldn’t have been. Our father told different stories, stories about how wonderful it was to live in a world where magic made all sorts of things possible. The hypocrisy of this woman makes me sick. Here she sits, cradling a baby that probably would be dead if she hadn’t been lucky enough to have a husband with a powerful magical healing ability, and she has the gall to question the wisdom of letting magic return to the world.”

Elise was aghast, Doc clearly furious. Derian tried to interrupt, but Tiniel turned his anger on to him.

“Don’t try and tell me anything. Querinalo only improved you, refined you, and yet I’ve had to watch you moping about as if your transformation makes you some sort of monster. Do you think the Nexans would follow you like they are if you weren’t Once Dead—blessed with many gifts? I promise you, they wouldn’t. I wonder if Isende would be mooning after you like she’s been if you weren’t Once Dead—you and her both!”

A painful silence fell, broken by Elise speaking in proper drawing-room tones quite incongruous in a woodland camp.

“Well, I see there are many ways of viewing this matter, are there not? No matter. You have made your choice, Derian, but I think you should realize that not everyone is going to think you made the right choice.”

“I will deal with that,” Derian said, “if and when it becomes an issue. However, I think you now realize why I requested that you and Doc keep secret what we have confided in you. I actually have thought about the ramifications of our decision. However, when you see a flood coming, you don’t usually sit around and worry how the pits from which you’re digging the dirt and gravel with which to build a dam may breed mosquitoes after the spring rains.”

“No,” Elise said. “I can see that.”

“So now you know what has kept me from my duties to Ambassador Sailor,” Derian said. “I think I made the right choice.”

“I think you made the only choice,” Elise said, “given the options open to you.”

“Thank you.”

Doc looked at Elise. “How long before we must return to the city-states?”

“We have a moonspan or so,” Elise said. “I told Ambassador Sailor not to expect us until Dog Moon, and, I can continue to send him letters so he won’t fret too much.”

“Then I’d like to stay here,” Doc said, “or rather there, in the twins’ stronghold, if they’ll have me as a guest. I may not be able to cross to the Nexus Islands, but perhaps I can help from there. There must be herbs I can gather, medical preparations I can make.”

Elise nodded. “That’s a good idea. We might be able to help in other ways, too. You mentioned children and a few invalids. Before you feared to evacuate them because you could not spare those needed to watch them. Why not let Doc and I do so?”

“That’s a lot to take on,” Derian warned.

“Maybe some of the yarimaimalom would help,” Elise said. “You mentioned that most of them cannot cross to the Nexus Islands because only those who were imprisoned there and survived know they can cross safely. However, some of the other yarimaimalom must feel a desire not to see the Nexus Islands fall to those who treated their kin with such cruelty.”

“That’s a thought,” Derian admitted. “I can’t imagine a single Nexan who wouldn’t fight better and harder for knowing that their children were safe.”

“What if everyone wants to retreat?” Tiniel said.

“No one has asked to yet,” Derian said, “and the option has always been there. I think that all of us know retreat isn’t really an option. What safety that could be won would only be an illusion, a long waiting for the day that the Once Dead break through some gate, somewhere.”

“True,” Tiniel said. “I keep forgetting. Short of destroying all the gates, that isn’t an answer.”

“And we can’t destroy all the gates,” Derian said. “The Nexus Islands are just that, a nexus, a crossroads, but there are other gates. We’d miss something, and then any advantage we have would be lost.”

Elise said softly, “I can tell you have thought a great deal about this—not only about the present, but about the future as well. I’ll remember that when the time comes to speak before whoever rules in Bright Haven.”

Derian shrugged. “Thank you, but that future seems a long time away. Right now, I’m thinking I need to get back to the Nexans. For all we know, the invasion began while we sat here talking.”

“Wait until morning,” Doc suggested. “You’ve already had a long day.”

Isende touched his arm. “Derian, you know that Enigma, at least, would manage to get you news. Trust Ynamynet. We’ll go back tomorrow bringing very good news.”

Derian allowed himself to be convinced. They spent the darkening hours in quiet conversation, and even Tiniel’s mood brightened over good food and drink.

Derian slept that night in a roll of blankets near the fire, but although Isende slept just a few feet away, his thoughts were not of her, but rather of Firekeeper.

Hurry back, Firekeeper. Bring us what we need. Otherwise, I fear you will find no one left to come back to. I fear …

But his fears were so terrible and shapeless, Derian dared not give them shape, even in thought, and so Fear wearing charred bones and the sound of cracking stone followed Derian into sleep and twisted through his nightmares.

FIREKEEPER KNEW SOMETHING of what to expect from a sorcerer’s stronghold. Good Queen Elexa of Hawk Haven had told her many stories that featured this hero or that sturdy peasant or this valiant princess braving such places to win some treasure or honor or lover from the mysterious and powerful figure who dwelt within.

Then, too, Firekeeper had twice visited the far northern land of New Kelvin. As far as the wolf-woman knew, in all the New World, perhaps in all the Old World as well, New Kelvin was the one land in which the loss of magic had been mourned rather than celebrated.

New Kelvin had done its best to preserve not only the ways and manners of the sorcerers of old, but also their architectural styles and whims as well. From what she had seen there, Firekeeper had come to expect sorcerers to reside in high-jutting towers topped with sharp spiraling cones or jagged battlements or even both. She had come to expect heavy stone worked in elaborate and fanciful patterns, windows of brilliant, jewel-toned glass, and doors that seemed designed to encourage the idea that giants rather than mere humans dwelled within.

From the outside, Virim’s stronghold fulfilled many of these expectations. It had towers of various heights, most topped with crenellated battlements rather than spires or cones. The door they approached was enormous, able to admit four or five humans on horseback, or a pack of wolves or a herd of elk. The windows were also large, set with heavy glass, clear central panes framed with deep borders of sky blue or forest green.

Yet for all the familiar elements, Virim’s stronghold, studied now in the strong light of midday, rather than in the pale light of the Meddler’s dream vision, seemed a bit peculiar.

For one, rather than being freestanding as was typical of human structures, it was built into the face of a granite cliff that served as the northeastern border of a tree-lined river meadow. The cliff itself was clearly a rough remnant of the mountains to the east, a massive mound of pale grey stone that was not quite a mountain, but was certainly far more than a hill.

The naked grey stone of the cliff was speckled with darker inclusions that Firekeeper realized were rough garnets running in erratic veins and clusters through the rock. These garnets were often in company with some mineral that gave back the sunlight in erratic sparkles. The effect was elegant, but distinctly muted.

“I wonder,” she said aloud, “that this Virim did not make his lair more elaborate. I like the color of that stone well enough. It is good rock, solid and yet with interest for the eye. But the spellcasters we have heard of, whose relics we have seen, their tastes were like a raven’s, favoring what was bright and shining.”

The enormous honey-gold bear who headed the escort that now led them toward Virim’s keep made a grumpy, grumbly sound that nonetheless sounded like pride.

“Virim made himself champion of the non-human world. Why would he share the spellcasters’ tastes for gaudy display any more than he shared their other traits? He made his den as we Beasts do, a place for need, not display.”

Blind Seer huffed soft laughter. “Need? I think you are righter than you admit, bear. Mother wolves den when their pups are small and weak and need protection. Rabbits build elaborate dens, but not for show. Those many tunnels are meant to delay the weasel and the badger, not because they impress the mole. I think Virim built as a Beast would—for need, and his need was defense, not display.”

Firekeeper nodded. “You’re right, Blind Seer. I was distracted by my memories of New Kelvin, but in some ways this place reminds me of Eagle’s Nest Castle in Hawk Haven. Queen Elexa told me that no force of arms could take that castle, but that she who would become the first ruler of Hawk Haven took it by stealth and trickery.”

“So Virim was not quite certain his curse would work,” Blind Seer mused, sitting down and scratching vigorously behind one ear while he studied the looming grey-stone structure. “Not only did he bind the Bound to protect him and his, he took the time to make these walls in case they failed.”

The bear did not like this turn of the conversation at all. He had paused when Blind Seer sat—there was no Beast who did not know the discomfort of a difficult-to-reach flea—but now without signal or comment, he dropped to all fours and loped forward.

Those others of the Bound who had made themselves part of the escort followed the bear’s lead, and rather than cause themselves any difficulty—after all, they wanted to go to the stronghold—Firekeeper and Blind Seer joined the group.

Elation had taken wing when they had come to open ground, and now she shrieked a question.

“Where are the creatures?” she asked. “There are no signs of them, not even the little ones even the poorest humans always keep for themselves: the chickens, ducks, and pigeons.”

“The falcon thinks with her belly,” Blind Seer said, breathing deeply as he scented the wind, “but she has a good point. If Virim and his people do not travel, I can understand why there would be no horses, but I don’t even smell a pig or a cow. There are no sheep either. What do these humans do for clothing and food? Do you Bound hunt for them?”

The black-ticked wolf looked at Blind Seer in contempt.