Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) (31 page)
What he predicted at Nevyssan has been remembered, mostly correctly, the years since. “Don’t dream that this conflict will stop at the gates of Cordyssa. If we lift our hand against Queen Athryn in the city, she’ll bring us a fight that will cover Aeryn in blood. We won’t be freeing one city if we take up arms against her. There’ll be no end to the war once it’s begun, until Athryn’s throne is fallen or we’re all dead on the pyre, smoke in the wind. The Wizard will come north and all will be ruin.” The words did no good. The decision was to make war, and at last Kirith Kirin, out of weariness, agreed.
Neither he nor any of the others returned to camp following this gathering. Instead, the Nivri and the Jhinuuserret were dispatched to perform various tasks. Pel Pelathayn and Kiril Karsten formed parties to inspect the perimeter guard, the permanent encampments of soldiers who kept watch on entrances into Arthen. Kirith Kirin rode east to country near Drii to confer with King Evynar. Mordwen Illythin rode south to Maugritaxa where he took charge of intelligence gathering, while Ren Vael and his entourage returned to Cordyssa.
Not long afterward, Prince Imral followed Ren to the city with battalions of the Woodland army.
Uncle Sivisal was one of the soldiers picked for that journey and so was his companion Rel. When the orders for the soldiers to march reached camp, I said good-bye to the two of them, wondering what they were being sent to do. At the time, we weren’t even certain they were headed for Cordyssa. We only knew the north was in uproar. Hardly a day passed without fresh rumors about violence in Cordyssa.
This was in summer. Riots continued through the season and the military ruler found it impossible to keep the peace. Word had come that General Nemort would be marching within the year at the head of an army to reinforce the city garrison in Fort Bremn. But Kirith Kirin’s soldiers had reached the city ahead of the news. Soon after, Imral’s troops stormed the fortress during a series of food riots in the outer city.
The riots had been prompted by yet another increase in the price of grain. The city garrison in Bremn, weakened by losses incurred in attempting to keep order during summer tax collection, was caught by surprise, with half the Blue Cloaks in the streets trying to control a mob in the market. The soldiers trapped in Bremn offered resistance but were slaughtered. Imral and the Woodland Guard were said to have fought savagely, with Ren Vael and the Cordyssans at their side.
Word of the massacre soon spread. The mobs and Cordyssan soldiers finished off the Blue Cloaks in the streets. No one from the garrison survived to carry the word that the fortress had fallen. The mob hanged the tax collectors from the walls of the city. Flesh-eating birds killed those who did not die immediately.
When news of the Cordyssan revolt finally reached camp, some weeks after I learned of the event at the lake shore, one would have thought the encircling mountains had tumbled into the sea. Nearly every soldier had relatives or friends in Cordyssa, or else had visited the place once, so every tent housed an expert in Cordyssan politics and civic character.
From this initial victory there was no turning back. Imral marched quickly to attack Fort Ithlumen, on the road south of Cordyssa, before word of the massacre could reach the garrison there. The northern army gained entry into Ithlumen by the following ruse. Imral Ynuuvil composed a message to Ithlumen’s commander, giving it to the Bremn garrison’s military scribe for copying, the scribe’s life having been spared for this purpose. Imral himself signed the document, imitating the handwriting of the former military governor’s second-in-command, the governor having perished in the fray; and the letter was sealed with the dead commander's ring. The letter was dispatched by a Blue-Cloaked messenger and a portion of the army followed, cloaked in the garrison’s own blue weave. The rest of Imral’s army marched behind this force.
The forged letter detailed the latest riots in the city and the loss of Fort Bremn, differing from the actual course of recent events only by claiming that a certain number of Bremn’s soldiers had escaped and were presently marching toward Ithlumen in advance of rebel forces.
The fortress commander saw soldiers in blood-stained blue cloaks for the survivors of the garrison that had secured Cordyssa for Queen Athryn, and the force following as their pursuit. The fact that the fortress commander recognized few faces did not surprise her in the time that was left her to register surprise. Fearing the rebels who were said to be chasing the remains of the garrison, she ordered the gates opened.
Inside, the Cordyssans threw aside their Blue Cloaks and slaughtered the soldiers in the gatehouse, reinforcements already in sight. The fortress was thrown open and the soldiers taken unawares, many having no way of recognizing friend from enemy. The southerners perished to the last soldier. With control of Fort Ithlumen, Imral Ynuuvil won control of the whole Thynilex territory, including the mines and armories.
At the same point King Evynar, following the advice of Kirith Kirin, dispatched soldiers to besiege Brisnumen, the fortress that guards the road from Cordyssa to Drii. Imral sent an army under command of Ren Vael to besiege Fort Cunavastar, near Lake Rys. This fortress secured the approach to Svyssn and Listrenen.
Imral and those with him marched south from their victory at Ithlumen, scouring the road between Cordyssa headed toward the last of the fortresses, Gnemorra, which sat at the north end of Angoroe. Soon he reached Gnemorra and placed the fortifications under siege.
With a larger body of soldiers Imral might have broken the garrison’s back at once. But one body of the Woodland Guard was marching north to reinforce the Cordyssans at Fort Cunavastar, where it appeared the Blue Cloaks were ready to surrender. Another force was marching to catch the Fort Bresnomen garrison, which had fled westward under cover of night, before it reached Fort Gnemorra.
Kirith Kirin, at the time, was in Maugritaxa, keeping an eye on Nemort and the Fifth Army in Genfynnel. He was also trying to learn the whereabouts of Drudaen, who was variously rumored to have turned back to Turis, to have encamped on the east shore of Lake Dyvys or to have occupied Kursk, the city that lies at the joining of the Deluna and the Rovis. Some of the Anynae had rioted there, which made sense, since if the Queen was squeezing the north for silver, she was squeezing the south as hard. Gaelex sent a messenger to the Prince, informing him that she was assigning a thousand soldiers out of main camp to the pursuit of the Bresnomen garrison, and that she was leading the troops herself till Kiril Karsten could be summoned to take command. It was vital to catch the Bresnomen soldiers to prevent them from reinforcing Fort Gnemorra.
The dispatch of this many troops left camp mostly barren. I had come to a lull in my training, a point where the lake women rested me from the strain of being so often out of real time. My lessons at Illyn were easy and brief. The women were preoccupied with the completion of the cloak they had been weaving, the magical fabric on which they had labored since I first came to the shore. The loom no longer appeared in the golden grass. A huge worktable replaced it, ludicrously large in comparison to the small wagon that had, presumably, carted the table to the meadow. On it was heaped the unending, shimmering cloud of cloth the Diamysaar had woven, a heap glittering like a starlit night, predominantly violet-blue-black in color, though occasionally swimming with other hues, plumage like rare birds, hearts of fire, fields of flowers. I gazed into the fabric with the same fascination with which one stares at burning fires, at waterfalls and vast abysses. Faced with an excess of beauty the mind can often only drink.
When I asked what the cloth was, I was told it was to make a cloak in which the magician Yron would work magic. Beyond that it was none of my business, and they were very busy getting it started, since once Yron arrived the cloak would be urgently needed.
I had the feeling he was near, and they were busy preparing. In fact, several mornings running the women dismissed me with barely a lesson, and I noted from strains in their conversations that the Sisters were disagreeing about something and didn’t want me to know about the argument.
As a consequence I had some free time, and since I was resolved not to spend my small leisure in worrying about whatever secret they were keeping, I went abroad aggressively, seeking out such company as I knew from the few hundred folks left in camp.
In the month of Ruus, high summer, General Nemort and his army departed from Genfynnel. I learned of this march in the company of the lake women. As for Drudaen, his presence remained clear to the Sisters and me. He was still in Vyddn, the province round Montajhena. One saw him from fifth level as a black cloud descending, the land beneath him gone dark, runneled with blood, the cloud itself brooding and boiling, its power turned upon itself. Had he been aware of what was happening in the Fenax, he would have been more active, it was thought, but one could not be sure. He should have been able to see the armies marching, if he wished. Nor could one but guess what he was doing, encamped in the countryside near the city he had dreaded for so long.
News reached camp that Karsten had joined Gaelex and the thousand soldiers and was subsequently successful in turning the Brisnumen garrison northward from its march toward Gnemorra. Both armies were heading into the Anrex Valley, with Venladrii soldiers also in pursuit. But this news was old to me as well. At the time camp learned the news, the Battle of Anrex was already being fought. Karsten ambushed the Queen’s garrison at a bridge on the Mymitur River, at the east end of the valley, two detachments of cavalry sweeping down from the hillsides after archers had softened the Blue Cloak advance from cover of the trees. The Venladrii squadrons arrived to find the Brisnumen garrison in full retreat, and the Blue Cloaks were cut to pieces between the Venladrii and the Woodsfolk. A handful of southerners survived to be marched to Drii as prisoners of war.
The remaining northern army divided into two forces, one headed to Fort Cunavastar to aide the Cordyssans with the siege. The second army was hurrying south to join Imral Ynuuvil whose army was encamped at the north end of Angoroe, awaiting General Nemort.
Shortly after, Cunavastar surrendered, its half-starved garrison taken without bloodshed, marched off to Cordyssa as prisoners. This left only Gnemorra of the Queen’s northern forts; but that garrison would never surrender knowing Nemort was on his way.
Nemort himself crossed north Turis, anticipating no more than a leisurely march toward Cordyssa while the Fenax weather was not so forbidding.
I had heard the Sisters speak of these matters so often it was hard to remember what I was supposed to know, and I found myself continually biting my tongue — particularly at supper one night, when Fethyar the assistant groom (who was in charge of the horses left in camp while Thruil rode with Lady Karsten) declared that he had heard from a good source in the merchant sector that the Brisnumen garrison had escaped Karsten and was within four days march of Fort Gnemorra. The rumor was false, but I was forced to listen to him while he passed on his incorrect information to a dozen unsuspecting souls. With the rest I feigned horror at the appropriate places, and hoped Karsten could catch the Blue Cloaks in time.
By now we were entering late summer, with autumn and last harvest coming fast. A few days before the end of Ruus, those of us who remained in Suvrin Sirhe received orders from Kirith Kirin to strike camp and march with all speed to Nevyssan’s Point.
4
The order for the move was brought to us by the Nivra Vaeyr of Cordyssa, who was accompanied by Inryval son of Thorassa, one of Gaelex’s aides familiar with the routine of striking and moving the tent city and wagonloads of equipment. Vaeyr was, as I had learned, one of the Nivri with a reputation for practicality and efficient administration, and no one questioned his competency or that of Inryval; still, this second move did not proceed as smoothly as the first.
I supervised the dismantling of the shrine and the taking down of the tent following sunrise on the day we were to march. Two householders gave me some help, but as to how to do it I was left to my own memory. No disaster overtook the cumbersome shrine, nor did lightning strike anyone involved in the task, so I guess we did all right and YY-Mother was not offended.
When the shrine was packed, I pitched in wherever I was needed, once I made sure my own possessions (including the necklace in the leather pouch and the Book of Suuren, which had been in my care since Mordwen left camp) were safe and secure. Axfel I turned over to the dog master, who packed him in a traveling wagon. One does not like to watch one’s dog enter imprisonment, but we would be many days marching, and the hound was not yet sufficiently accustomed to Woodland life to be content following the column. If Axfel strayed into Arthen and were lost, my last link with my family would have vanished. I wanted nothing less, these days when my fear for my mother’s well-being grew and grew.
The lake women were cryptic when they learned of Kirith Kirin’s orders. But when I told the Sisters camp was leaving shadow country (knowing, as I did, that they were aware of the orders to march before I had been), they behaved curiously. Commyna, Vella and Vissyn watched each other with expressions that could only be described as mischievous, and Commyna said, “I can just imagine two hundred tents in the middle of a cliff in Nevyssan. Charming place for a camp.”
