Bloodstone (27 page)

"This Kane was with Kethrid on that final voyage from which no man returned. And the passage I've translated was penned by Kethrid over four centuries ago. As you say, Asbraln... what manner of man do we fight!"

Ovstal broke the silence. "Interesting, milord. Ominous, even. But of dubious practical worth to us. I'm more concerned with this Krelran weapon Kane means to use against us. Do your books tell us anything here?"

Dribeck shook his head. "Such information is more the province of sorcerous lore, where my tastes do not run. I'm hoping the Temple may know something of Arellarti--the priestesses of Shenan boast of occult knowledge, though their talents lie more in political intrigue and the amassment of wealth. I tried to get Gerwein here this morning but got a curt reply to the effect that the high priestess grants audiences, she is not summoned to them. You tell me what to do.

"Succinctly, our knowledge of Kane's plans, his power, his defenses all lies in what Teres has told us. You've all listened to her story. So what do we know? Kane has rebuilt a fortress within Kranor-Rill. He commands an army of around a thousand or more Rillyti. In addition, he controls a weapon of unknown but obviously formidable power, which at present has reached only a fraction of its potential force. Kane plans to embark on a conquest of the Southern Lands... and Shenan knows to what greater extent his dark ambitions will lead him.

"What may we infer? Kane's power is limited--at least, for the present--so that he fears the combined might of Breimen and Selonari. Hence his efforts to reduce our strength to proportions he can overwhelm with his initial strike.

"Our course, gentlemen, is evident to us all. We must gather what strength we can, and invade Kranor-Rill. We must destroy Kane and the evil he has released there before Bloodstone attains power such that neither magic nor steel can stand against Kane!"

"A difficult siege," Ovstal speculated. "The Rillyti are awesome opponents to face in battle. We must cross an impenetrable morass to reach them. Once we're there, Arellarti will be a most imposing fortress to breach, and a lengthy siege is out of the question. Shenan knows what diabolical weapons Kane can use for defense."

"Well, we know it's going to be a costly battle. Still, Kane must be vulnerable, or he wouldn't have plotted so craftily to prevent this sort of attack. We can advance along the roadway his creatures rebuilt to invade us, so we'll be able to bring up siege machinery. We've no choice. Give Kane the time-he needs to complete his work there, and then there'll be no army that can stop him. Every hour we delay brings victory closer to Kane!"

"And Breimen?" Asbraln reminded.

"We fight a common cause. Likely we fight for the freedom of mankind! Our quarrel is pointless now--in fact, Kane was the instigator of our war. I'm relying on Teres to convince Malchion of this. Knowing the truth of Kane's deception, the menace he poses to both our lands, Malchion can only accept truce, unite with us in destroying Arellarti. Our combined strength is the very force Kane has feared all along. Let us sincerely hope his fears were well founded!"

Later that afternoon, Teres critically readjusted the harness of her stallion, for Dribeck had ordered him saddled, although she preferred to see to this task herself. The warhorse nickered a pleasant greeting, and Teres's eyes grew bright as she threw an arm about his gray neck. Her sword and other captured gear hung at his saddle. It was more than reunion for her; it was a return to the familiar face of existence she once had known, before Kane had drawn her into his own shadow world.

As she swung onto the saddle, she noted that Dribeck had started to offer a hand, then thought better of it. "Dribeck," she stated gravely, "If I never have a better reason, I'll always remember you with kindness for taking care of Gwellines for me. I trained him myself, and he's the best damn charger this land has ever bred."

"He is a magnificent animal," Dribeck agreed, reflecting that these were about the first civil words Teres had ever volunteered to him. "I'd have ridden him myself, but he damn near killed the first of my men who tried to mount him."

"Got my sword back, too," Teres murmured. Its balance and smaller hilt had been painstakingly crafted to her specifications. "Hell, you even got my boots fixed last night! You know how long it takes to get a pair of boots to fit just right? No better friend when you've broken them in just so. Dribeck... thanks."

He almost betrayed his astonishment. It had been his hope to win her confidence; why, then, did he find her unexpected warmth so unsettling? He muttered some depreciatory formula. "I had hoped you might have better memories of Selonari hospitality this time, though these are grim days that have found us. I dislike your immediate departure when you've barely rested, but in view of this crisis I can't but admire your endurance.

"Did these garments suit you? You cut a rather nice figure astride that stallion." That wasn't necessary to add.

Teres frowned slightly. "I'm told my face is a memorable one," she retorted with more bitterness than she intended. She thought again of Kane, but roughly pushed the image from her mind. She had made her decision.

Dribeck shrugged, unaccountably crestfallen at her rebuff. "Well, my men will escort you to the border; beyond there, the other prisoners I've released should be enough guard to get you to Breimen. I've got archers posted by the few of Kane's gateways we know of, but there's a chance he might break through elsewhere and try to waylay you. Doubt if he'll try anything, but I'm ready to expect the unexpected from that man.

"Good luck with Malchion. I'm counting on your testimony to carry the truce through. Let me know what aid he'll send to us here. An attack on Arellarti is going to call for everything we can marshal against Kane. You know better than any of us what defeat will mean."

"I know," said Teres in a low voice. She touched her heels to Gwellines.

Teres gaped dumbly, wondering if her ears had lied to her--or whether her father had lost his senses. Her hearing was not at fault. Malchion drained his mug, clashed it against the table, and repeated, "We do nothing." Cosmallen refilled the mug and smiled uncertainly at Teres, who put her hand over her own cup.

"I don't understand," Teres declared in confusion.

It had been a taxing day. At her unexpected return to Breimen, Malchion, looking more dissolute than she remembered, had nearly cracked her ribs in a welcoming hug. On Kane's word he had assumed his daughter to be dead, and to find her alive and safe in his keep... truly this demanded a celebration. Teres had with great difficulty impressed upon him the gravity of her information and finally succeeded in conferring with Breimen's master in private.

Once she had her father's attention, to finish her narrative had been a major ordeal. With every new disclosure, Malchion would explode into a furious denunciation and shout hasty orders to Embrom, whom Teres would have to forestall until she had a chance to explain subsequent events. Malchion interrupted continually--missed points, made her repeat constantly, jumped ahead of her narrative, fired pointless questions. Her own temper blazed when, the Wolf flatly refused to believe certain parts of her story.

Somehow Teres had finished the tale, untangled matters so that even Malchion could understand all that had transpired. She thought that her father even believed her narrative--at least, far enough to recognize the genuine threat to his rule. But then his seemingly irrational response: "We do nothing."

"You don't believe what I've told you?" she queried. Malchion grunted and wiped his mustache on the back of his hand. "No, I believe you--at least, so far as Kane plotting some foul sorcery in that ruined city, and Dribeck ready to piss in his boots, for fear of what those toads will do to his army. Never did trust Kane, anyway--just used him as I could. No, I trust your word, Teres--it's just that you let that Selonari weakling twist your judgment to suit his schemes."

He hunched forward and stuck out his finger toward her. "Look, Teres. You say Kane provoked this war between us and. Selonari. Well, maybe he did goad me into attacking sooner than I might have, maybe he did set the both of us up. Point is, I'd planned to invade Selonari sooner or later, anyway; you know that, and as I recall, you were restless to get on with it. Selonari has lands and wealth our people need, and those black-haired runts will always pose a threat to our frontier. If Wollendan is going to be the power in the Southern Lands, we can't have independent city-states like Selonari in our midst, that's all. What we've got here is a cultural conflict, and sooner or later, theirs is going to have to be swallowed up by our own."

"But Kane means to conquer the entire continent--Thoem knows what else he plans!" argued Teres, not wishing to dispute her father's statements.

"Well, now, maybe Kane does, or maybe he doesn't. Not wanting to disparage your judgment, Teres, but all this talk of Kane's invincible sorceries... we just have your word on how powerful this really is. Now, don't scream at your sire! Tell me, how much do you know, realistically, about elder-world races and cities and weapons and magic? Hmmm? All right, then, you just have Kane's word how real and powerful his forces will be and Kane's word isn't worth the spit it takes to speak it. And what man wouldn't boast and bluster, trying to impress a gullible girl, anyway--under the circumstances?"

"Damn your thick skull! I saw what he could do with just that ring! He butchered damn near fifty men!"

"Because none of those Selonari had balls or brains enough to step behind cover, take out an arrow, draw back on the bow, and kill that bastard dead as they get. Now, I'm not saying Kane isn't dangerous. The Rillyti alone should make a rough bunch to meet in open combat, from what I hear. What I'm saying is we don't really know that Kane stands as any real threat to Breimen or the rest of Wollendan. "But we do know Kane threatens Selonari, and so Dribeck comes begging for us to help him. Well, bullshit! Of course he tells you mankind's in mortal danger; he wants our soldiers to fight his battles. Afterwards we'd find out how genuine Selonari's talk of peace really is. Well, the Wolf didn't rule this long to play the fool for that weak-armed schemer! Kane and Dribeck can fight it out as best they can--even Dribeck ought to be able to defeat one man and a lot of slime-eating toads. If they kill each other off, so much the better; I'll erect a monument to Kane's memory. Figure if Kane does make a decent fight of it, Selonari is going to come away too crippled to do much more than lick its wounds. Under those happy conditions, I doubt if there'll be much resistance to our army when we march south to avenge our earlier setback. Now do you see the Wolf's logic, cub?"

"Plainly. What happens if Kane defeats Dribeck and conquers Selonari for himself?" asked Teres darkly.

Malchion waved for another cup, his mood exuberant once more. "Dribeck's worry, not mine. Then we'll just take Selonari from Kane, is all. I mean, even if Kane's weapon makes him as dangerous a force as you make him out, he's still going to take a beating from Selonari before he can crawl out of his swamp. Fact of geography: it's a long march from Kranor-Rill to Breimen, and Selonari is between. He'll have to take Selonari before he moves north, or risk their cutting off his retreat and then have to fight on two fronts. If Kane gets past Selonari, it's a long dry march for a battle-weary army of toads to get to Breimen. By then, we can be ready. And if Kane turns out to be a genuine threat to Wollendan... well, there'll be a lot of swords and husky lads to swing them, waiting to show Kane how real men can fight!"

"Then you'll not even agree to a truce?" Teres's tone was dismal.

The Wolf made a flourishing gesture. "Sure, I'll accept Dribeck's truce, since that pleases you. Why not? I'm not prepared to renew the war just yet. Let Kane do our fighting for us. Afterwards... well, of course we'll know how to play that one, after the others have cast their dice. Never been a truce made that wasn't made to be broken sometime."

"Then I'll take your word to Dribeck: you agree to a truce, but you can spare no troops to invade Arellarti, since you're concerned first with Breimen's own defenses." She added hopefully, "Shall I say we'll be prepared to fight Kane, should he threaten our borders?"

"Say it however you like. Damned if a stay with those guileful bastards hasn't polished your tongue. But there's no reason for you to say anything to Dribeck; I can easily send some brittle-boned ambassador." He landed a whack on Cosmallen's bare thigh, causing the girl to slosh wine across the table.

"I'd rather go myself," Teres said dully.

"Well, I'm never one to deny my cub her whims, even when they're clearly pointless. And since that settles this 'grave crisis,' how about some serious drinking? After your adventures, the Wolf thinks Breimen should celebrate his cub's return in the proper manner."

"I'd rather not," Teres begged off. "These past days have been a grueling ordeal, and all I want to do now is stretch out on my own bed and sleep a few days through."

He gazed at her in surprise. "As you wish--not like you to drag away from a good night of raising hell, though. Well, I'll celebrate for the both of us."

"I'm sure," Teres acknowledged, and took her leave. Cosmallen met her at the door. "That's a beautiful shirt, milady. May I feel the silk?" Her slim fingers caressed her shoulder.

Teres decided her mind was tormented by too many thoughts, too many memories to reflect upon throughout the night. "Bring us some wine, and come along, Cosmallen. Perhaps I'll let you try it on."

Night lay deep upon Arellarti, the moon and stars dim and distant. Hidden from their wan light the city crouched beneath the mist, its rubrous walls rising in perfect geometry, alien beauty in a rotting land. To the moon's affrighted eye, Arellarti appeared as some monstrous and deadly spider, its misshapen form tinted and obscured by the iridescent bubble of blood in which it hung. The causeway stretched off to the forests like a filament of web, holding Arellarti suspended over the poisonous tarn. Slowly the spider was ascending its web, reaching out to the sleeping land beyond.