Wolf's Blood (87 page)

Isende actually smiled, and Derian felt himself warmed by this return to her normally outgoing self.

“Another good thing,” she continued, “is that Enigma managed to get back after carrying warning to Doc and Elise in the New World. That means we have his ability on our side, and the assurance that warning did get to them. If the invaders decide to push through, they’re not going to have an easy time of it.”

Plik interrupted again. “Absolutely not. Enigma reports that the yarimaimalom in the New World are gathered and willing to take on any who come through. They even have evolved a plan to bury the gate, if they believe that is necessary.”

And even if it strands us here,
Derian thought, but the thought came with an odd cheerfulness, for he knew that even if he never saw them again, his friends and family would be safe.
For now. Only for now. If we fail here, how long before the invaders open another of the New World gates? I hope Elise thinks to have some warning sent. At least the Liglimom would believe. I think my people would, too.

He shook himself from these thoughts, knowing he had enough trouble without borrowing more. He forced himself to concentrate as Wort reported on their stores of weapons. It boiled down to what Derian had expected. They had hand weapons, but supplies of arrows were growing thin. Some bows would need to be retired for lack of appropriate-sized shafts.

When Wort finished, Skea nodded his thanks.

“My report has pretty much already been covered. We’ve done our best, and we might have held but for circumstances no one but Truth might have foreseen.”

Skea didn’t look at Isende as he said this, nor did anyone else, but the marked way they avoided reminding her that Tiniel’s actions had given the battle to the invaders was almost as painful as a direct reminder would have been. Derian saw how her fingers dug into her skin through the loose fabric of her trousers, as if physical pain might somehow balance the agony of her heart.

To his surprise, he saw Firekeeper reach out and grasp the other woman’s hand tightly in her own, stroking it as she might have the fur on Blind Seer’s shoulders.

Pack animals
, he thought.
They know there is no shame in offering comfort. I wish humans were so wise.

Plik broke in again, and turning to give the new speaker his attention, Derian saw that Truth now sat on the ground alongside the maimalodalum.

“Truth asks me to apologize for her inability to predict what Tiniel would do. She says that she knew that his actions were key, but she could not see past what she calls ‘swirling’ to see exactly what he would do. From this, I gather that perhaps there was less certainty on Tiniel’s part than we might imagine. Some force might have been applied to him about which we do not know.”

Skea nodded. “Does Truth have any other advice for us?”

“She says that we should not do other than raise or lower the shield. Any futures where we attempt to penetrate it from this side—to send in a small force, for example—end in tragedy. Other than that, she says there are a few unpredictable elements that, until they resolve, create too much conflict for her to give good advice.”

No one argued with this pronouncement, even though Derian was certain that he was not the only one who longed to be told what precise course of action would lead to them pulling a victory out of what seemed like—at best—a delayed defeat. They had all lived beside Truth long enough to know the risks the jaguar took in offering even this much counsel.

We risk our lives,
Derian thought
, but she risks not only her life, but her sanity as well.

He was about to ask Skea what tactical suggestions the general might have to offer when he felt a rhythmic rumbling. He looked around, thinking Eshinarvash might be galloping up with some message, then realized that the sound was not a sound at all, but a sensation felt in his bones and sinews, that vibrated in his very marrow.

The others were looking about now, too, glancing from side to side. He felt a mist or drizzle touch his skin, saw Wort bend over his notes to protect the writing. Then came a screeching roar, as might arise from the throat of some enormous bird of prey or from that of a hurricane suddenly gifted with thought.

Derian had risen to his feet, although he had no memory of doing so, and had both arms wrapped around one of the twisted tree trunks, but although there was a sound as of great wind, there was no wind. Instead, out in the ocean, there were now monsters.

They were sea foam and ice storm, waves crashing and sheeting rainfall. They were something like horses and something like cliffs, something like lizards and something like fish.

Derian’s head hurt as he tried to make the shapes his eyes saw into something his mind could understand; then he ripped his gaze away. That was when he saw Grateful Peace staggering up the slope to join them.

Peace was soaked to the skin, his long robes clinging to his limbs as he walked. He leaned hard on Edlin’s arm, and the expression in his pale eyes was haunted and haggard. Citrine walked on his other side, carrying both her and Edlin’s gear. She studied Peace’s face, and evidently what she saw there did not reassure her, for Derian saw the tears that splashed her cheeks.

“The fleet will not land,” Grateful Peace said, sinking onto the bench Skea vacated for him. “Arisen once more are the sea monsters of which legend speaks. They will not attack the fleet—they have their reasons and I will not attempt to argue them away from them—but I have managed to make them understand that if they wish to maintain the freedom they lost when the Old World sorcerers bound them to protect these islands, then they must throw in their lot with us.”

“In return for what?” Skea asked.

“Continued freedom,” Grateful Peace said. “They are very unlike us, but they are enough alike to understand taking away of something they value.”

Firekeeper’s husky voice spoke for the first time.

“And you give?” she asked. “What?”

“Nothing but an explanation,” Grateful Peace said, offering her a shadow of a smile. “These had more to lose than did the Dragon—and less to earn by taking.”

“They fight only to maintain a freedom they already had?” Skea said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Edlin frowned at him. “Can’t you understand that? I say! Is that any different from what the rest of us are doing? I mean, they may look a fright, but that doesn’t make them any less human, don’t you know.”

Citrine punched Edlin, but Skea was nodding.

“Sometimes I forget,” he said, “that shape matters very little. In the end, all that lives values similar things, and we will risk losing them to keep them. However, even without the fleet to fear, I do not see how those of us who remain can hope to defeat those who hold the gateway hill. Once the shield is down—and surely the invaders will find a way to bring it down—they can bring through reinforcements until there is not a one of us left standing.”

Firekeeper surged to her feet in one lithe movement, hauling the Meddler up with her. He looked distinctly discomfited, as if he had some idea what Firekeeper was about to say.

“But if I bring more to fight for us,” she said. “Is this enough?”

“Who? From where?” Skea said.

“They is called the Bound,” Firekeeper said. “Yarimaimalom, but very fierce. Also, I think not risking querinalo. for Virim would have made sure those who serve him not get his sickness. I go through gate on little island—Meddler can open it for me. Peace, will the sea monsters let us go there?”

“I think they will,” Grateful Peace said. “They have no desire to harm anyone, but they intend to make the waters sufficiently rough that passage over them would be fatal. I believe I could explain why you need safe passage.”

“Then I go,” Firekeeper said, “and the Meddler with. Peace, you need come with?”

“I can make my request from here.” Grateful Peace said. “They thunder within my head, even now.”

Derian wanted to draw Firekeeper aside, but this was not the time nor place to leave others wondering what secrets he might have, nor what he wished to say to her that he did not wish them to hear. Instead, he spoke his concern aloud.

“Firekeeper, can you trust him? The Meddler, I mean.”

She shrugged. “What choice is there? Without help, we die. Even with help, maybe we die. Gate is fast, and I think the Bound will be close. Maybe we be coming back almost before we is gone.”

“Why not bring someone else to work the gate?” Derian urged. “Enigma or Blind Seer.”

“I wish much for that,” Firekeeper said, “but Ynamynet needs them, and wherever I go, I must have this Meddler with me because—as you say—he is one who needs watching. He say he help me. Now I give him chance to do this.”

Derian shrugged surrender.

The Meddler gave a wide smile. “Now I shall prove myself worthy of her,” he declaimed.

Firekeeper tugged his arm, and as she trotted him off down the hill toward the water, Derian heard her raise her voice in a mournful howl and knew she was saying farewell to Blind Seer.

KING BRYESSIDAN GLOWERED at the pearlescent white wall that stood between him and absolute conquest of the Nexus Islands.

Behind him, closer to the wedge-shaped buildings that held the gates, he was aware of the troops, their mood a dangerous mixture of restlessness and relief as they waited to learn whether their leaders would declare the battle won with the resumption of control of the gateway hilltop.

He had called a meeting of his associate commanders to discuss this very matter, and was waiting for them to join him in one of the small gardens laid out between the clusters of gates.

Bryessidan knew his own feelings without a doubt. For him, the battle would never be over until the entirety of the Nexus Islands were under the control of the allied forces.

“So close!” he grumbled. “So close! Amelo!”

His Once Dead advisor hurried up from where he had been consulting with others of his order.

“Any thoughts on how we can break through this thing?”

“I already have archivists in all the allied lands researching the problem, Your Majesty,” Amelo replied briskly. “The Once Dead gathered here concur on one thing. This shield is not the result of a simple spell. Rather, it seems to be generated from an artifact built into this facility and dormant to this time. As none of our number knew of the existence of this shield, we conjecture that it must be a relatively new discovery to our enemies as well.”

Bryessidan had thought of this already. “Else why go to all the trouble of setting up the iron gates. Yes. I wonder how they discovered it? Doubtless they stumbled upon something in the records here. We can ask them—if any of them are alive to ask when we’re done with them.”

Aurick of Pelland strolled over from where he had been conferring with his subcommanders. Nodding casual greeting to Bryessidan, he reached out and poked at the opaque whiteness with one fingertip—or rather he tried to do so. The stuff had an unnerving trick of pulling away from you so that you felt like you were touching nothing. This led you to poke more deeply and was the prelude to another, nastier trick. For a moment Bryessidan was tempted to let Aurick discover that trick for himself, but such would be behavior unworthy of a commander in chief of such a large armed force.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bryessidan said, hoping rather nastily that Aurick would persist. After all, Bryessidan had already issued an order forbidding anyone to touch the shield. The troops had the sense to obey, but Aurick might want to test his will against Bryessidan’s and right now Bryessidan didn’t mind if he chose this way to do it.

Aurick had conducted himself with great valor during the fighting, as had his troops. They had been the first to adapt to the attacks of the various beasts in the enemy forces, and Aurick himself had slain an absolutely enormous wolf in single combat.

Despite the protests of Aridisdu Valdala, who claimed the thing was intelligent, and therefore due the same civilized treatment that would be accorded to a human opponent, Aurick had instructed his personal guard to drag the brute’s corpse back through the gate to Pelland so he could have it either stuffed or turned into a cloak.

However, Aurick decided to obey Bryessidan and pulled his finger away short of letting it penetrate the edge of the swirling whiteness.

“What does it do if you touch it?”

“It lets you get close, then surrounds whatever member you put into it and starts sucking the blood out, right through the skin. Amelo conjectures that’s one of the ways the shield gets extra power to maintain itself.”

“People will poke.” Aurick agreed, “even if told they are not to do so. I now recall the order you sent around soon after this shield went up. Very wise.”

“We learned what the shield could do when one of Queen Iline’s nephews thought to show his valor by bashing into the shield,” Bryessidan explained. “He flung himself into it shoulder first, like you would into a door. The shield let him in, then engulfed him. It still hasn’t released him, though there’s a bulge where he went in.”

“Like a giant constrictor swallowed him,” said Aridisdu Valdala, coming up to join them. “We learned about the blood draining ability when one of the man’s comrades tried to pull him out and almost lost a hand.”

“Nasty,” Aurick agreed, obviously impressed. “Surely the design shows the work of our ancestors. They did not hesitate to be ruthless where such ruthlessness was needed.”

Bryessidan didn’t know whether to be repulsed or reassured by Aurick’s attitude. They were at war, and so ruthlessness was a necessary quality, but this shield made his skin crawl just to look at it.

Or maybe I’m just offended at being thwarted,
he thought, but he knew that revulsion rather than anger was at the heart of his reaction.

“Did we get any messages from the fleet before this shield cut us off?” asked Aridisdu Valdala.

Bryessidan shook his head. “None of my Once Dead have reported any such contact, nor did those from Tavetch. Amelo is questioning the others, just in case a quick mind-link was established, but I think any so contacted would have had the initiative to report.”