Morticai's Luck (29 page)

“She’s not taking this very well, I am afraid,” Morticai said, moving to the bed stand to turn up the lamp.

“Well, it’s not every day that someone you know has a miracle performed on him,” Nelerek replied.

Keeping his back to Nelerek, Morticai replied, “I think there’s a bit more to it than that, Nelerek. Are … are you ready for this?”

“Of course,” Nelerek replied, confused.

Morticai turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. Nelerek stared, taking in a deep breath.

“Not quite what you expected?” Morticai asked.

“Ah … I knew they were violet,” he said, and he moved closer, pulling the chair beside the bed around and sitting down in it.

Morticai smiled dryly. “It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“Well, I, uh, well … yeah,” he finally answered. “But,
gods
, Dyluth, if Glawres has grown them back, I suppose he has the right to make them whatever color he wishes.”

“I know. And in truth, I don’t mind. I’m so thankful just to be able to see again. But I’m a little worried about what people are going to think. I’m afraid they’re gonna’ think I’m a freak.”

Nelerek scowled. “I’m not certain that will be a problem, Dyluth. I mean, yes, it is a very unusual color, but I do not believe that you can judge it by our reaction.”

“Huh?”

“Both Heather and I have known you for many years, Dyluth—with
blue
eyes. I think that may be affecting our reactions. You may discover that when you meet people for the first time they will quickly accept this as just an unusual shade of violet.”

“I hope you’re right,” Morticai replied, though he noted that Nelerek seemed unable to stop staring.

“After all, it’s not any stranger than your hair,” Nelerek added with a smirk.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Morticai complained.

“Well, Dyluth,” Nelerek asked gently, “how many corryn do you know in Watchaven with black and silver hair?”

“Uh,” Morticai began. “Well, they say it’s not that uncommon in Lorredre.”

“That may be, but here it is. My point is that I don’t think people are going to stare at you any more for your eyes than they already do for your hair.”

“There is something else I need to show you,” Morticai said slowly.

“Yes?”

Morticai unlaced the cuff of his nightshirt and showed Nelerek his wrists.

“No scars!” Nelerek exclaimed. “Almighty Aluntas—then, you are completely healed? Heather did not tell me this.”

“Well, you’re almost correct,” Morticai replied. “I’m a little stiff, but it’s not too bad, and I still get an occasional twinge here and there, but it could be a lot worse. There are no scars—except for these.”

Morticai shoved back the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the brands he had received during the ritual. Nelerek blinked, and then gently took Morticai’s wrists, turning his arms so they were more in the light. On the underside of each forearm, a dark, indented scar defined with frightening exactness the brands that had been used.

“If Glawres could grow back my eyes, and remove every other scar, including some I’ve had since I was a child, why did he leave these?” Morticai asked.

Nelerek’s serious eyes met his. “I suppose he intended to leave them,” he said slowly.

“I’ve thought that also. Mother Edana believes that he changed the color of my eyes to mark me as his, and that he may have left the brand of his own symbol for the same reason. But she didn’t know why he left the Arluthian symbol, and that scares me, Nelerek. Did he leave it because he doesn’t mind me being an Arluthian—or did he leave it because he
doesn’t like
me being an Arluthian?”

Nelerek sat thoughtfully a moment before replying, “You’ve been an Arluthian a long time, Dyluth. And, it was being an Arluthian—not a very bright one, I must admit, but nonetheless being an Arluthian—that got you into this mess. If Glawres didn’t approve of your belonging, I wouldn’t have thought he would have grown your eyes back.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Nelerek nodded. “So do I. I must admit, that scar may cause a few problems.” Nelerek shrugged, “I don’t think they would send you to the gallows for it …”

“What about the Arluthians?” Morticai interrupted. “We’re supposed to keep this symbol secret.”

“Well, by now you should realize that it is not a very well-kept secret—after all, the Droken certainly knew of it. And I am certain that the Faith knows of it as well.” Nelerek grinned, wickedly. “You shall just have to make certain the ladies leave your shirt on, my friend.”

Morticai snorted. “Now, that’ll be a challenge!”

Nelerek laughed. “It is so good to have you back.”

“At least for tonight,” Morticai said.

“Hmm?”

“I leave with the Inquisitor a couple of hours after dawn.”

“What?”

Morticai took a deep breath. “We have to catch up to King Almgren—
”

“What!”

“We have to, Nelerek!”

“Good gods, Dyluth!” Nelerek exclaimed. “You’ve not even had your eyes back a day and you’re talking about traveling?”

“Nelerek,” Morticai said, lowering his voice, “you don’t understand—the Inquisitor is going to try and forewarn King Almgren about the Droken army. If all has gone well with Coryden, proof of the army should have been given to Almgren, but we can’t count on that. Now, Heather found out that the king’s fourth son, uh, Edris, was the one that issued that order against me. She broke into his chambers —
”

“Heather?” Nelerek asked, incredulously.

“Yes, Heather. Remember? She is my Arluthian ward, after all. Well, she found out two interesting things about Prince Edris. First, he took some things that one wouldn’t normally take off to war, like his prized ivory collection. But she found somethin’ more important than that.” Reaching to the table beside the bed, Morticai handed Nelerek a paper.

Nelerek studied it, his frown deepening the longer he stared at it. “This isn’t one of the Cities,” he stated.

“You’re correct,” Morticai said softly. “At least, it’s not one of
our
Cities.”

Nelerek looked up slowly. “Cuthaun? You think it’s Cuthaun?” Stories of the hidden Droken kingdom had been told since before either of them had been born.

Morticai nodded. “That I do. Heather took the map to a mapmaker, and he confirmed that it’s not anyplace he’d ever seen. Heather had him make two copies of it. I’m keeping one copy, and I’m giving you the other copy to take to the Arluthians. Rylan will deliver this one to King Almgren.”

Nelerek let out a long breath. “Dyluth, do you realize how long people have searched for this place?”

Morticai nodded. “But that map still doesn’t tell us where to find it. I mean, yeah, it’ll be nice to have a street map once we can find it, but ’til then, it’s not much help. But because of this,” Morticai gestured to the map, “we’re certain Edris is involved. I’ve mentioned it to Rylan, but he says we don’t have enough proof. I’ve got from now until we reach Almgren to figure out how to prove Edris is involved.”

Nelerek sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

Morticai looked down. “Nelerek,” he said in a whisper, “while I was strung up in that damned temple I did a lot of thinking. If there was anything that I wanted more than my sight, it was a chance to stop the damned demon Droken! Glawres has given me back that chance—I’m not going to disappoint him. I’ve got to see it out to the end.”

Nelerek’s hand fell softly on top of Morticai’s.

“Look at me, Dyluth,” he said.

Morticai met his gaze, and was surprised to see that his Arluthian mentor was close to tears.

“I understand,” Nelerek began. “I still fear for you, but I understand. However, I will not let you go alone. Too much has happened, and you have suffered far too much for me to allow it. Let me go with you.”

* * *

Coryden gave a final nod to his sergeants. Luwaren, Nildan, and Berret nodded in return, and they raised their right hands. Coryden looked away from them and raised his own right hand as he watched Kirwin, who was sitting at the far end of the column.

The half-corryn captain swallowed and took one last deep breath. It had been a long time since he had performed a cavalry charge at Kirwin’s command. The Northmarch had the largest cavalry organization in the known world but, as far as Coryden knew, a cavalry charge of this magnitude had never been carried out—anywhere.

Watchaven’s force was arrayed just below the crest of the hill, one thousand strong. Dynolva’s was similarly arrayed on the backside of the hill on the opposite side of the valley. Lord Seabrook, with his own force of one thousand, was also somewhere on the other side, well out of Coryden’s sight, but within Kirwin’s, he was certain.

On the other side of the hill, most of the huge Droken army had already passed through the valley that lay between the forces of the Northmarch. Lord Seabrook had waited until fully half of the huge force had passed through the valley to give the order for his own forces to take their positions, this to be certain the Droken scouts had already passed well beyond them.

As Kirwin dropped his hand, so did every captain and sergeant down the column. Down the line, every fifth man lit a torch. Coryden spurred his horse forward, staying stirrup to stirrup with the man on either side of him.

By the time they reached the crest of the hill, he could hear nothing but the unnatural thunder caused by the hooves of a thousand charging horses. Coryden saw the Dynolvan force on the opposite side of the valley, and he felt awed at the sight, even as his horse carried him along in a unit that was just as large.

They achieved complete surprise. The Droken force beneath them looked up in horror at the charging Northmarchers, and panicked. Some of the drivers
whipped their teams into motion, running down their own soldiers as they tried to flee the coming destruction. A few in the front would probably manage to escape, but Coryden lost sight of them as the Northmarchers closed in on the remainder of the supply train. He braced himself against the high-backed saddle as his lance impacted a draft horse before him.

He abandoned the embedded lance and drew his sword. He cut down two men and was heading for a third when the sound of Northmarch horns echoed above the din of swords, horses, and screams. Coryden pulled back on his reins and wheeled his steed around.

He glanced over his shoulder to see if he could spot any of his men. He could see Luwaren, but the rest were lost in the smoke of burning wagons and the dust stirred by the huge mass of horses. Spurring his horse, he charged back up the hill they had descended. There would be time to count their losses later.

* * *

Prince Luthekar carefully directed his horse through the still burning wreckage. At first, some of his men had attempted to extinguish the blazing wagons, but Luthekar had stopped them. There was no sense in it. They had lost what they had lost. The wagons had been fully ablaze within moments of the attack.

A quarter of his supplies had been destroyed. As long as nothing else went wrong, they would still have enough. He had stashed emergency supplies along the back march, should a retreat become necessary, but now it would be a long march without supplies to reach that stash—unless he ordered the army to turn around immediately.

He pushed the distasteful thought away. They were too close to victory. Never before had an army made the thousand-mile trek from Cuthaun. It had taken years to build up and train the army, and to cache enough supplies to support the long journey. It would be a disgrace to turn back now, without a single real battle fought.

Luthekar stopped and stared at a body that lay beneath a dead horse. General Wilfram, who rode a few feet away, expressed the thought that had already raced through the prince’s own mind.

“Northmarch!” General Wilfram exclaimed.

The prince narrowed his eyes and surveyed the hills to either side.

“It should not be a surprise,” Luthekar said. “No one, besides ourselves, has that many cavalry.”

“But how did they know we were here?” Wilfram asked. “If they did not know, why are they this far north?”

Luthekar considered his questions. Indeed, this would complicate matters greatly. They would need to send their scouts out in all directions. He’d have to
change the marching order so his cavalry could guard the remaining, precious supplies. It would slow them when they could least afford it.

“See if you can find a Northmarch survivor,” Luthekar ordered. “Give orders to rearrange our order of march—we cannot afford to be caught so, again. I shall go back to the vanguard.”

* * *

Coryden leaned against the large rock and closed his eyes. He and his men had hardly recovered from their forced ride to the northern border when they had been given the order to break camp and prepare for the assault against the Droken army. His men had paid for that lack of rest.

Out of his thirty-man patrol, he had lost two men, both of them from Berret’s squad. Six more had been wounded, and four of them were from Berret’s squad. It was a gamble he had been forced to take, though he’d known that the odds had not been in his favor. Weary men make mistakes, and they die for it.

At least, he could thank the Levani that none of the others’ wounds had been immediately fatal. With further luck, their wounds would heal cleanly.