The Fire Mages' Daughter (32 page)

“Have you investigated the island?” I asked. The commander shook his head. “Not at all? Do you fish in the lake?”

“No, Highness. Your report of your meeting with the
byan shar
was very clear that the island – indeed, the whole lake – is sacred to the Blood Clans. I would not lightly interfere with that.”

I turned to look at him, surprised by the emphasis in his tone. “You are a religious man, Commander?”

“Myself, no. The main Sun God festivals only. My sister is a Moon Temple priestess, however, and she is very insistent that every god should be respected. Besides…”

“Yes?”

“I am not privy to the Drashona’s intentions, but it is very possible that, in a year or two, this experiment may be abandoned, and all this land revert to the Blood Clans. I would not wish to give them a grievance by sullying their sacred places.”

I thought it likely they had plenty of other grievances. We had cleared a great many villages on our drive to the forward camp. But perhaps that meant less to them than the island.

“I am not privy to the Drashona’s intentions, either, but this was Bennamore land not too long ago,” I said. “All this area below the fortress, and the lake and island too. Perhaps we will keep it, whatever happens to the forward camp.”

“Perhaps we will,” he said equably.

“Commander,” I said, spinning round to face him fully. “You are an honest man, and I am sure you will answer a question without prevarication.”

“Highness, I will.”

“Well then, what is it that you – all the commanders – are not telling me? Something is amiss, I am certain of it. You are concerned about something.”

“Is that why you brought me here, alone?” He glanced at the bodyguard, then shrugged. “It is true, and you ought to know of it, and so I have argued. Here it is, then. The messages from the forward camp have stopped.”

“Stopped?”

“Yes. Every sun, the High Commander dispatches riders bearing three sets of messages. One for me, about supplies needed. One for the fortress, about soldiers sick or disciplined, that sort of thing. And one for Kingswell. Strategy, I suppose. And we send messages back to her. The journey takes several suns, but so far nothing has disrupted the procedure. However, for the last five suns – nothing has arrived.”

Five suns! That was a long time for the message system to be interrupted.

“What of the wagons? Have they been disrupted too?”

“Not so far. But for them the journey is slower, even for the empty wagons. Those that have recently arrived left the forward camp before the message riders that have gone missing.”

“What are your theories, Commander?”

“Bad weather is the most obvious. All this rain – the road washed away, or bridges, floods, mudslides. There are any number of possibilities.”

“Hmm. Or hostile action, perhaps?”

He hesitated. “We are at war, Highness. That is always a possibility.”

“When do you expect the next wagon convoy to arrive?”

“At any hour from noon onwards.”

“You will send me word when it arrives, if you please. And if it does
not
arrive, send me word at first bell tomorrow.”

“Very well, Highness.”

~~~~~~

There was no word that evening. The message was brought to me at morning board, very brief and to the point, much like the man himself:
‘No wagons arrived.’

This time, I took all the senior commanders from the fortress down to the encampment beside the lake, and the supplies commander spread his maps over the table, and marked with wooden tokens the likely position of every wagon convoy on the road between there and the forward camp.

“The road is a good one, I believe?” I said.

“Excellent,” the supplies commander said. “I have travelled the full length of it myself, and the surface is stone-covered, but with not a single weed growing between the slabs. Then there is a clear margin either side where no trees or bushes grow, just grass.”

“And the bridges are all in perfect order,” another said.

“I have sent riders out this morning to investigate what has happened,” the supplies commander said. “We will know in a few suns.”

“I may have a quicker way,” I said. “If I can persuade my eagle to fly that way, I shall be able to see the problem myself.” Their faces were carefully blank. “You are aware of my connection with the bird?”

One of them coughed. “We have been informed, Most Powerful.” The disbelieving tone was unmistakable. I could understand that. It was a very strange ability to have.

“Very well. Please do not talk to me for a while.”

I summoned the eagle. She screeched excitedly, swooping down from a rocky hill some distance away. Through her eyes, I saw the dreary rectangles and squares of the encampment, the Bennamorian flags the only spot of colour. “Find the road, my lovely,” I murmured. Obediently she circled, gaining a little height, crossing the western edge of the lake. There was the road cutting straight as an arrow through the twisted countryside. “That way. Follow the road.”

Off she went, great wings flapping lazily now and then, not rushing. I gazed down through her eyes, spotting first a group of riders moving at speed, then a wagon convoy on its way out from the supplies camp. The road was empty for a while, but eventually there was another line of wagons and their escort of riders, also heading westward. Then a third.

“I see nothing travelling away from the forward camp, and towards us,” I said. “The road is empty… oh! Wagons at the side of the road. Abandoned, I think. All the horses are gone.”

“Which direction were they moving?”

“I cannot tell. Now there is nothing on the road at all.”

For a long time, it seemed, the eagle flew on, and the road unfurled beneath her, clear and unmarked, with no sign of people or animals, living or dead. I turned my attention forwards now, for she was getting close to the camp.

“Smoke!” I cried. “There is smoke on the horizon.”

“The camp! That will be the cookfires.”

“No, I don’t think so. There is too much smoke. I can see— Oh!”

As the eagle drew near, the smoke moved, swirling and lifting. It resolved itself into a myriad of tiny black dots, rising up into the sky, their raucous squawks audible even from several marks away. Rooks and crows and ravens and vultures by the thousand.

The harbingers of death.

The camp was gone.

As the eagle spiralled lower, displacing clouds of irate birds, I could see the remains of pavilions, torn and trampled, and wooden buildings reduced to ash, threads of smoke still rising. Here and there stood a wall, or a flagpole, the colours still fluttering bravely, but most of the buildings were destroyed, debris scattered everywhere, wagons overturned. Amongst the wreckage, some darker shapes, motionless. I caught the occasional glint of a sword or spearpoint, abandoned where its wielder fell. And slinking here and there as they moved from corpse to corpse, the red fur of ghenack, the wild forest dogs. Scavengers, like the vultures.

I pulled abruptly back from the eagle’s mind, too distraught to watch any more. The commanders were gathered around me, faces anxious. Behind them, my scribes, mages and waiting women clustered. Arran pushed through the crowd to wrap his arms around me.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. I became aware of tears pouring down my cheeks. “Hush, hush.”

For a few moments I could do nothing but weep on his shoulder and shake from head to foot. It was too dreadful to speak of. But I had to compose myself, to force myself to tell them everything. They listened in silence to my halting description, still punctuated with occasional sobs.

When I stopped, the room was silent. From outside, I heard a captain berating one of his juniors, and the clack-clack of staves. Far away, a horse whinnied. Inside, no one spoke.

Eventually, the supplies commander drew a noisy breath. “The whole camp?” he said, in tones of disbelief. “How is it possible? Those were our very best fighters, well-trained, well-equipped.”

“And where is the enemy now?” said another darkly.

No one could answer. The commanders huddled around the map table, talking in low voices, while Arran led me unresisting to a chair.

Cal materialised from the throng and knelt at my feet. “Gods, Drina, are you all right? Do you want some magic?” He took my hand and stroked it. “Take whatever you need. Arran, maybe some wine?”

He would have rushed away to fetch it, but I clutched his hand with an incoherent sound. I couldn’t bear to let go of him. He clicked a finger at one of the scribes and sent him off for the wine.

“I am all right,” I whispered. “It was just… the shock.”

“Of course,” Cal said. “There is nothing to be done immediately, so I suggest—”

A scream of fear jerked me back into the eagle’s mind. She was rising, rising, her great wings fighting to gain height. Then she veered sharply away from the ruined camp, back towards the road. Every muscle was strained to increase her speed. She reached the road, passed over it, flew on over the forest beyond. Then she was rising again, up into the low hills beyond, making for a line of distant peaks.

Her fear was a palpable thing, but I could detect no reason for it. Nothing beneath her suggested danger in any way, yet she was terrified.

I let my mind roam free, through hers. What was she aware of? There! Something behind her, chasing her. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there, just as she did. Another eagle. No, several eagles. I could just make out their anger, dim but distinct.

They dropped away, wheeling about, deciding not to pursue. Sunshine turned her head to watch them go, and I saw them circling down, dropping away into darkness. The black-bark forest.

And then, very faintly, barely within the range of my consciousness, I heard a far-away whisper.

“Princess?”

~~~~~

Too exhausted even to think, I spent the afternoon in bed, with Arran watching over me. I woke at dusk, refreshed and fully alert. For three heartbeats I was contented, filled with happiness to see Arran’s smiling face, before I remembered and misery washed over me again.

“What news? Is there any news?”

Arran stroked my hair. “Riders have been sent to recall everyone still on the road, and word has been sent to Kingswell. Beyond that… I do not see what can be done.”

I bathed and dressed, and Arran arranged food for us, so that I could have a quiet evening. Tomorrow I would have to confer with the commanders and come up with a plan, but for tonight I could rest.

Sunshine had returned, agitated but unharmed, and the fortress commander had sent a gift to her perch on the roof: a fine haunch of fresh beef. She was contented after that, and slept.

As we nibbled at cold meat and fruit, Cal said, “Tell me how you talk to Ly-haam, Drina.”

“This can wait, surely?” Arran said, with a frown. “She is very tired.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s important, I think. But I don’t know how it works.”

“Tell me about every time it’s happened, then. Maybe we’ll see a pattern.”

“Very well. The first time was when the eagle first came. I could see into her mind, and through her to him. I could see through
his
eyes, too. And he could talk to me in my mind, as clear as my own thoughts. But I didn’t know how to talk to him, not then. A couple of nights later, he woke me up in the middle of the night. Dragged me up to the roof so that he could see me. It was very annoying, and so I told him.”

Cal laughed. “So you went all the way up to the roof, and then berated him for disturbing your rest? Through the eagle?”

“Something like that, yes. But after that, there was no contact.”

“Not even when you were kidnapped?”

“No, nothing, not until the summoning not long ago. But that was different. Strange. I don’t think it was aimed at me, particularly. He was calling to all his people, I think.”

“A summoning. Yes, I see. Gathering a war party, perhaps? To attack the camp?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps. Who knows. I don’t understand him, and that’s the truth. His ways are different from ours. I can’t predict what he might do. He
said
he was destined to be a war leader, but not until he reached the age of thirty. The years from fifteen to thirty are for… oh, what was it? Regeneration, I think. And learning. That was it.”

“Regeneration?” Arran said, raising one eyebrow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Lots of babies, yes, that’s what it means. He’s supposed to breed a generation of children with enhanced connections to beasts.”

“And then he leads them to war, I suppose,” Arran said.

“So is that why he’s drawn to you?” Cal said. “You’re part of the regeneration business?”

I frowned, pondering that. But it didn’t seem right. “I don’t think so. It’s more… that I suck magic into me. He has magic swilling about in him, and his magic is pulled towards me, like a stone to the earth. He can’t help responding to it. And when he touches me, I can’t help it, either.”

I glanced at Arran, hating to talk about such things in front of him, but he was paying attention to his bread and honey, not looking at me. It was no comfort that we’d been apart at the time, for it still felt like a betrayal.

For a while we all ate, Arran methodically, as he always did, eating the same foods in the same order every morning, while Cal picked and nibbled and then abandoned half of it. I ate some fruit, before losing interest. I had little appetite at the moment.

Cal pulled a piece of cheese onto his plate, and turned to me with a sigh. “Don’t you have
any
idea how it works, this mind-talking to Ly-haam?”

“I don’t know. I don’t
know,”
I said, throwing down my fruit. “I wish I did! But I think it is a common thing amongst his people. Or perhaps just for him, I don’t know. But when I first met him, at the village that used to be by the lake, I am quite certain his mother was giving him instructions. To his mind, I mean. He would pause, as if he was listening, in the middle of a conversation with me. But as to how it works, or why I hear him sometimes and not others, I have no idea.”

“But the first time,
you
made contact with
him
,” Cal said, leaning forward, and stabbing with one finger for emphasis. “You went into the eagle’s mind, and then you were able to get into his mind. You could see through his eyes.”

“Yes. So?”

“Well, if you could do that again, think how useful it would be!” he finished triumphantly.

I wasn’t sure about that. If I could see through his eyes, perhaps he could see through my eyes, and listen in to our planning meetings. Besides, I hated the thought of having him in my head again.

But I nodded, and said I would try.

~~~~~~

The planning meeting was difficult. The commanders were fractious, splitting into clear camps. One group was all for gathering a force and marching off down the Imperial Road to re-establish the forward camp, or at least to rescue any troops still surviving nearby. Another wanted to abandon the war altogether. The largest group contained the ditherers, who preferred to wait for further instructions from Kingswell.

I was not sure of the value of that. Yannassia had less experience in war than even the most junior recruit marching up and down the parade ground. How could she make a sensible decision? How could any of us do so? It all depended on Ly-haam, and what he planned next. Had he spent his anger on the forward camp and would now retreat to his inland sea? Or was he coming for us?

And, most importantly, where exactly was he?

“I should like to go up to the battlements,” I said. “To see the view.”

Wordlessly we all collected cloaks and tramped up the stone stairs, winding back and forth, back and forth. The commanders led the way, and the clump of heavy boots, the creak of leather and jingle of sword clasps, almost masked the softer tread of my shoes, the swish of the mages’ robes and the rattle of the scribes’ writing cases.

At the top, a cluster of juniors on watch startled to attention. The captain saluted smartly and handed over his seeing tube to one of the commanders. She held it out to me, but I waved it away and stepped forward to the parapet, gazing through a gap to the vista beyond.

The remnants of a rainstorm scurried away to the west, darkening the sky and leaving the air damp and chilled. A little way below me, the great ditch and earthen bank, with its palisade of sharpened posts, provided a defence for the fortress. Only a narrow gap with a wooden bridge allowed access.

Beyond that, the land fell away to the supplies camp and the lake, smooth as a mirror. The island hid itself in skirts of mist like a shy maiden. And further away, the dark smear that marked the start of the black-bark forest.

Had the eagles really come from there? And did that mean Ly-haam was in there, somewhere? Hiding, perhaps. Or making his way stealthily towards us. If he was, we would know nothing about it.

“Have any of you been into the black-bark forest?”

Long silence. Then the supplies commander gave a little cough. “I have, Highness. When the collectors first went in.”

“What is it like in there?”

Even longer silence. “It is very strange. I felt as if the trees were watching me, somehow.”

One of the other commanders sniggered, and I clucked at him in annoyance. “This may seem amusing to you, Commander, but if you had read any history at all, you would know the stories of the black-bark forest. Does the name Prince Borthen mean anything to you? He went ten paces into the forest after a deer. Never seen again. And Brind Lorton’s expedition, do you know that one? He entered the forest at its northernmost point, and emerged an hour later at the southern extremity. And those are just the well-documented cases.” They all stared at me, blank faced. “Please continue, Commander.”

His eyes were wide, but with another small cough, he went on, “I went a little way into the forest with the exploration team. They left people on the outside holding a string, and they unwound it as they went in. So they would not get lost. I swear we went no more than a hundred paces, Highness. But when we turned round to go back, the trees… they had changed. Where there had been a clear track, now there was just a tangle of roots as high as a man, almost impossible to climb over. It took us the rest of that sun to get back out again.”

“How do the collection teams manage, then?”

“They collect only from the outermost trees, Highness. But the bark is tougher, less valuable.”

“So that is why the collections have been less productive than expected. I understand.” I chewed my lip. “Would it be possible to travel through the forest, do you think? Using good maps and a navigation stone?”

“It would be very difficult. The tree roots get so tangled. The forest is all but impenetrable.”

Impenetrable to us, perhaps. But to Ly-haam, with his mind-contact and eagles? Would that work?

“Is the sky visible? Or does the canopy hide it?”

“It is pretty dark in there, even in the hours of sun. I think the leaves hide most of the sky. You are thinking perhaps it would be possible to navigate by the stars, Highness?”

“No, I was wondering if an eagle flying overhead could direct a person in the forest below. But if they could not see them, it would be impossible.” I sighed. “I cannot see any way that an army could move purposefully through the forest, not even the Blood Clans.”

But I couldn’t shake off the feeling that Ly-haam was there, somewhere in that dark mass of restless trees. That was where the eagles had come from, and where they had returned. And if he was there, and he could, in some unfathomable way, travel through the forest, he could emerge just across the lake. No more than an hour from the fortress, and less from the supplies camp.