Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (47 page)

I’d climbed in the midpoint of the party, so when I reached the crest there were nearly forty men and women stretched prone on the icy rock. Quatervals beckoned me to join him, but — hand held palm-down, pressing repeatedly — keep low. I slithered like a serpent until I was beside him. I slowly raised my head, looking over the edge and then down to where the pass began.

Below, concealed behind rocks, our ambushers waited. They were dotted in outposts at the pass’s mouth and the rest drawn up in an attack formation in a small vale. Further up the road there was a tight knot of men in red tunics and it looked like a bloody dot on the stone. There would be Cligus and Modin. Son or not, I wished for the powers of a great Evocator and the ability to cast one single lightning bolt.

“How in the hells did they get ahead of us?” I muttered aloud.

“Blasted if I know, my Lord, ” Quatervals said. “Not that it matters none, now does it? P’raps they used magic or more like there’s more’n one route. Orissa’s got more’n one highway to
its
gates, now don’t it?”

It was as good an explanation as any. We crawled back to where Janela waited. We quickly held a war council as to what our plans should be. We must move quickly. I asked Janela why Modin’s magic hadn’t spotted us and she looked worried.

“Again I’ve sensed some great presence over these mountains, enough so I feel my magical senses somewhat befuddled. My guess is that Modin’s powers have also been reduced.”

“My Lady,” Quatervals said, “then would that mean this presence is friendly? If it’s keepin’ Modin from kenning us out, I’d certainly name it so.”

“I’m not sure I’d use that word,” Janela said. “Nor would I call it an enemy. Someone... is watching us with interest is the best assessment I can make.”

We had not time to debate whether this aspect was good or evil, having definite enemies not a mile below. I looked along the ridgecrest. Could we follow that, staying clear of the pass, until we passed out of view?

I didn’t need to ask Quatervals or send out scouts, since I saw several rifts that cut through the mountain range’s thumb. We could go no more than another quarter mile or so before we’d have to descend and use the pass.

“Are there any spells you
could
attempt,” I asked. Janela considered.

“No. Wait. Perhaps yes. An earth spell, something that would call to local phenomenon,” and she muttered on, pulling her purse around and fishing for materials. She took out two small mirrors, tinder, steel and a bit of powder that she sprinkled on the tinder.

“Yarrow,” she explained, half-smiling. “It’s for fertility. A multiplier. I think it’ll work like that anyway.”

She found a indent in the rock where an icepool had formed perhaps a quarter of an inch deep and put the tinder on that. She made certain arcane motions over the tinder, then struck the steel and sparks flew into the tinder. She blew the tinder into a flame and as it flared up she held one mirror so it reflected the flame and the second near her mouth. Then she chanted:

Feel the warmth

Feel the spring

Water rise

Whence you came

Lift and grow

Spread and roll

Then follow the earth

Follow it down

Follow it down

Obediently the ice melted and steam rose. As it did, she exhaled into the mirror, fogging it completely.

“One reflects the other and back and forth,” she murmured. “Now we should do whatever comes next because there’s little point in waiting for a spell that may not work.”

She considered a minute, looking up at the range that rose above us and the pass, then went back into her purse and brought out some more items.

“These,” she said, “might help later so I’ll have them ready. She grinned. “Let’s go, Amalric,” she said, “I’m freezing on these rocks.”

Her apparent unconcern was another thing she had in common with Janos who had seldom showed dismay when trapped by an enemy that seemed to be overwhelming.

We went along the crestline as far as we could until the crevasse blocked our way. As yet there was no sign Janela’s spell was working. I thought to ask her what exactly it was supposed to do, then reconsidered. If there was some force blocking magic here it would do little good to bring attention to it, either by words or thoughts, and so I tried to think of other problems. Unfortunately, there were more than enough of those.

One more time ropes went down the side of the rocks and we slithered back to the road’s level. We tried to hide in the crevasse as much as possible but it wasn’t big enough for more than sixty people. I bade the others to crawl out and lie still along the rocks until the order was given to move.

Luckily our furs had been chosen for their mottled appearance, drably fitting in with the stones and snow. Once more Te-Date smiled and we were undiscovered. Our chance now was to move as quickly as possible on up the pass until we’d be lost to sight. At that point we’d drop off rear scouts and travel on, knowing that sooner or later our evasion would be discovered.

But it did not happen that handily. The way was hard, breaking through virgin snow almost to the waist. And we’d gone but half a hundred yards when I heard a dim commotion from behind and we were discovered.

There was no point in silence now so I began issuing commands, keeping my voice calm and controlled.

Quatervals and the others followed suit: “All right now... Don’t waste energy looking back... We’re movin’ as fast as they are... Pay ’tention t’ yer footin’ an’ help yer mate... There’s no cause t’ fret, we’ve got a long lead on ’em.”

But we did not have much of a lead. I stopped and let the column stumble past. My duty was to be at the rear of the formation, facing the Wardens, Modin and Cligus and his Orissans. Quatervals saw me and he and Otavi fell out of line as well. Janela and Towra stayed at the head of the column, setting as fast a pace as possible.

I desperately wanted to see some curve in this pass or places where debris had fallen we could use for shelter to fight a holding action that might give us time to break free. But the Old Ones had built well — the pass ran straight as an arrow’s flight nearly halfway to the summit before it curved left at the first knuckle. There were but few boulders that’d fallen — the road had been cut cleanly through the rock as if a red-hot blade were making a deep vee-slice in butter.

There was no shelter, nor could we even dream of fleeing up the sides of the cut for safety.

The others went past, gasping with effort as they forced themselves onward a step at a time. I doubt if many of them noticed me. Their eyes saw no more but a patch of snow... a foot lift... come down... and come up again, trying to carry on, trying to keep from falling. I saw with dismay that the sailors, the least experience at moving on land, were beginning to drop back. I shouted for Janela to slow the pace and ordered Quatervals to name the rear guard.

He bellowed commands as the last man, Mithraik, came even with me. I noticed the look on the pirate’s face, pale, terrified, although he didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. I wondered why he wasn’t at the front where it would be the safest for the longest time. I wondered what had broken him on our long journey — he’d seemed more than brave fighting the half-men back in the jungle city or the crocodiles of the river.

“Hold, you,” I ordered, trying to shock him out of his fear. “Stand and fight with us.”

His eyes widened and he seemed about to protest, but then he firmed up his lip.

“Aye, Antero,” he said, and there was no pretense of humility in his voice. “As you say. If here’s the place, then here’s where I’ll leave my mark.”

I was looking past him toward Cligus’ army. It’s all too easy to sneer at soldiers in pretty uniforms and say they probably know nothing more than bashing the parade square or shining their brass and assume so-called elite formations are such in name only. But these Wardens deserved their reputation, no matter how murderous and criminal their behavior had been in Irayas.

In the few minutes since we’d been sighted they’d broken out of their ambush positions, formed up and started up the snowy road after us. They marched in three ranks with flankers in front and I heard the shouting of their warrants and officers for more speed to catch those damned renegades.

They were climbing faster than we were, even though there were several hundred of them.

“Quatervals, you’re the expert. What can we do?”

“’Tisn’t but one thing,” he said. “We’ll split the party. I’ll stay with, say a third of the men and we’ll hold ’em as long as we can. Meantimes you an’ Lady Greycloak streak for the pass. Once over, try to go to ground. Move on when you’re sure you’ve evaded ’em.”

I started to protest and Quatervals shook his head. “And I don’t want to be hearin’ any gods-damned bleedin’ about how you should stand here an’ fight. You an’ the lady make a pair an’ it’ll take the both of you to win through. Now don’t be six kinds of a fool, my
Lord,
and kindly get your arse forward and keep on movin’. Put up a plaque or somethin’ in Orissa for us when you make it through.”

Otavi had come up beside him and was listening. He nodded his head in agreement.

“He’s right, m’lord. An’ this appears to be as good a place to die as any.” He spat on his hands and swung his huge ax back and forth, warming up.

There were others coming back down the mountain to join him and my eyes blurred as I saw they were my best — Kele; Chons and Maha, my other two stalwarts who’d battled the demon that was Lord Senac; the Cyralian brothers; and others I’d known and traveled beside for years. Even Pip stood among them.

He saw I’d noted him and looked abashed. “Times a wee lad’d rather do
anythin’
but wear his footers out on these demon-bless’t rocks. An’ I’m hopin’ you pays death benefits prompt like y’ promised, or m’ old bitch’ll be on yer like stink on shit.”

Brave men and women all.

Then there was a windrush and I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye. I flung myself flat, heard a loud crunching thud and blood spattered the snow.

I lifted my head to see Chons’ body tumble, nearly cut in two by a monstrous iron bolt.

Quatervals swore. “They’ve brought engines!”

And they had. I saw small groups of men winding large pedestal-mounted crossbows, lifting iron darts nearly the length of a man into their troughs. They were firing over the heads of the advancing infantry. Another bolt hummed in and shattered against the rock wall, and yet another.

Archers below chanced their first volleys but they fell yards short of us.

“Lord Amalric,” Quatervals ordered. “Get you gone, sir! Now!”

I turned to obey, feeling like a coward but knowing Quatervals was right. The enemy was now only a hundred yards or so away and now their arrows were beginning to land among us, even though they weren’t aimed well by those hard breathing men in red below us.

A man shouted agony and one of the Cyralian brothers stumbled forward, hands feebly plucking at the arrow that stood out from his lungs. Blood frothed, buried his pain and he fell face down.

We still had the advantage of height and our own arrows volleyed up and then dropped full into their forward ranks. It was impossible for any of my men to miss, firing into the packed mass of Cligus’ still-charging troops.

They were close enough for me to hear one of their sergeants bellow: “Take th’ old man one alive! Lord Cligus wants him for hisself,” and found a moment for a wry grin — if he did capture me, which I had no intent of allowing, he’d certainly not recognize his father who now looked some years younger.

If I didn’t manage to escape, most certainly I’d be slain by one of the soldiery in ignorance. I slogged away to rejoin the rest of my retreating party, suddenly aware I had a great duty to Janela. If we did not escape, I must not allow her to fall into Modin’s hands.

Just behind me came an animal bellow and despite myself, I spun.

It was Mithraik, roaring like a beast.

“Antero! Antero!” and I could barely distinguish the words. “Here is the place! You’re sealed to me! You and yer cow!” and he began changing, writhing, growing until he reared tall, as tall or taller than Lord Senac and his furs ripped, revealing a body that was red, raw, like a flayed man, slime oozing from its pores.

The demon that had been Mithraik, the demon that had been set to betray us from within roared defiance at all men — Cligus’ as well as my own. Otavi hurled his ax but the demon brushed it aside.

The beast was nearly twenty feet tall and I could smell its stink from where I stood. It had clawed feet and two arms, each pincered like those of a marine animal. But its face was the worst, a protruding forehead with bulging eyes like a man strangling, skin hard pulled back over its cheeks to reveal gross fangs that reached up almost to its nose-slits and down to where a chin should have been.

Hair hung in clumps from the monster’s face and roaring, roaring, incoherently as it completed its transformation, it started toward me.

An arrow hummed past, cutting deep into its cheek, sending ichor flying and the creature turned, screaming anger and no doubt a promise to kill its attacker as soon as it finished me. Not ten feet away, just below it, was Quatervals. He held the bow of the fallen Cyralian, aiming upward.