The Rift War (29 page)

Grego activated the devices, showing the shoreline of Lygroes projected in the air a
handspan above the surface of the table. Several nobles reacted with gasps and mutters and
curses, and it took a moment for Baedrix to see what they saw. He was first amazed to realize
that a good three-quarters of the land mass of Lygroes below the Wayhauk Mountains was no
longer there. Then he shuddered as the implications struck him. True, much of the Encindi land
was gone, meaning a wide-scale annihilation of the tribes. But that meant those who had
survived the cataclysm were infuriated, with nowhere to go but over the barrier that had held
them back for the last four generations. They had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. A
thousand desperate, revenge-driven warriors could do far more damage than ten thousand
semi-disciplined troops.

"Blood magic is stirring," Mrillis said, drawing the attention of everyone at the table
without raising a hand or standing. "Graddon and I felt it when we were halfway to the
mountains. Edrout is even now drawing on the power of all those lives lost, gathering his
strength to launch against us. We have one advantage he cannot anticipate."

"Only one?" Lord Garvon grumbled.

"We have managed to surprise him on several fronts," Meghianna said. "But even our
bag of tricks will be empty after a time. We must strike him while he is still wounded. His flaw is
that he still has his
imbrose
. He must depend on other enchanters to control blood
magic, and weave it in with his
imbrose
to use against us. If you cut off a serpent's head,
all the rest will be in disarray and perhaps rendered impotent once and for all."

"At the very least," Graddon said, his words spaced out slowly, giving them emphasis
without his needing to raise his voice, "the whiplash of the blood magic flowing back on his
underlings will cause more damage throughout the land. The southern portion fell into the sea
when the dome fell because so much blood magic and
imbrose
was woven into the land,
shielding it, controlling the very minds and flesh of the people. Cut enough strings in the net
holding your supplies in a rocking ship, and everything is scattered."

"What is this advantage, then, that Edrout can't anticipate?" Lord Obaran asked. He had
lost his usual façade of a reasonable man being oppressed by unreasonable and immature
bullies. Baedrix decided to take that as a good sign. At the very least, other members of the
council would take note and decide to be more cooperative.

"We captured the ships with the power siphon technology," Karstis said. "Sooner or
later, our political enemies from Moerta will try to capture it. If Edrout learns why the other
navies are out there, what they're after, he'll either try to destroy the technology, or take it for his
own use. We make him come to us."

"Bait in a trap." Lord Garvon nodded. "Simple. Simple is always best. Less chance of
errors endangering us all."

"Poisoned bait," Athrar said.

When the council dispersed, shortly after midnight, they were in agreement on the
basics. Every noble had a section of Lygroes' shore to patrol with their personal household guard,
to watch for invaders. Signal fires, as well as Valors strong enough to push through the
cacophony in the Threads, would be woven into a net of communication. For every soldier who
patrolled the shore, either on foot or on a ship, two would go to the Wayhauk Mountains, to
reinforce the sentinel towers and create a barrier of weapons and magic to hold back the Encindi,
if they hadn't already begun the first push into Quenlaque's territory.

Meghianna took her followers with her, along with the women of Wynystrys, to go to
the Stronghold and empty the storerooms of refined star-metal, both what had been shaped into
items for use, and the untouched lumps and bars. Emrillian had five friends among the Archaics
who were also skilled in metalworking. If they had time, she would train them in working
star-metal into simple rings and bracelets, so everyone would have something to boost their
imbrose
.

* * * *

"I remember when we came to Quenlaque the first time." Emrillian gestured at the faint
shimmer in the distance, where the castle and the sprawling town that surrounded it remained
safe inside the first defensive shield Mrillis and Meghianna had woven around it.

Baedrix had made the suggestion that since there was so much star-metal woven into the
foundations of the castle, and since the shield had remained solid when the dome fell and
disrupted so much magic, Quenlaque would be the best strategic spot for facing down the enemy
navies. They had broken camp just after sunrise, boarded the Directorate's ships, and headed up
the coast to the port city, the center of civilization on Lygroes. Over the years, more than
two-thirds of the entire population had settled around Quenlaque, leaving much of the land to grow
wild, creating as wide a barrier as they could between the ordinary populace and the
Encindi.

"How old were you?" Shalara said.

The two of them stood in the prow of the larger of the two Directorate ships, the
morning breeze slapping their faces. Graddon, Karstis, and Grego were in charge of the other
ship. Mrillis had elected to ride to Quenlaque with Ynfara and Athrar, for appearances, to
reacquaint himself with the countryside, and to keep an eye on the nobles who would be busy
discussing what had been learned and decided in the council session the night before.

"Three, going on four. I was born in the Stronghold, and it was my entire world for so
long. It wasn't safe for me to live anywhere else." She braced her hands on the railing and tipped
her head back as she took a deep breath of the salt air. "Mama and I rode in disguise. I remember
how funny I thought it was, to know one of the lady soldiers was dressed up as Mama. She
carried a piglet wrapped in blankets to make someone think I rode in her arms. Grandmama was
so brave. She would have been killed as an afterthought if someone attacked, just because she
was there, but she rode out in the open to enforce the illusion, and make people think that the
Warhawk's queen and his child were there, those two people."

"Your grandmother?"

"Queen Glyssani." Emrillian laughed when Shalara closed her eyes and shook her head.
"What's wrong?"

"Sometimes it just hits me...what we're doing, where we are. You say names out of
legend so easily, as if they're real people."

"They were." She sighed and slumped forward, resting against her arms now crossed on
the top of the railing. "I know what you mean. For a while, there were two different sets of
people in my mind. The people I remembered and loved, and the people from the legends, who
had the same names but very different lives."

"What is it like? To know the fables, and to know the truth? Does it hurt, to hear people
insist your mother was unfaithful and a traitor, and that your father slept with his own
sister?"

"I decided long ago to feel sorry for them, to be so confused by lies, and to be so
poisoned in their minds that they enjoy believing evil about others they had never met. And... I
vowed to myself that one day, the truth would be revealed, and all the lies would be destroyed."
Another sigh. "No matter what it takes."

"Do you remember Lycen? He was so tragic, so heroic. So doomed," Shalara added with
a wry chuckle. "I suppose most of the stories we've been told aren't true?"

"Most of them. The truth is that enemies cast spells on him and Mama, to try to force
them together, to destroy them both and through them hurt Papa. Uncle Lycen loved his wife
very much, and that gave him the strength to resist.

"He used to hold me in front of him on his horse and take me on what I thought were
terribly exciting, mad gallops in the fields around Quenlaque. I think Aunt Ilianora wanted a
daughter very much, so they spoiled me whenever they could."

After a moment of thought, Emrillian concentrated hard, fracturing the sunlight caught
in the sea spray kicked up by the wind. Her breath caught in her throat in unanticipated pain as
the images of Lycen and Ilianora and young Garad, as she last remembered them, floated in the
air a meter out from the prow of the ship. Lycen sprawled on a chaise by the firepit in their
quarters, reading aloud from a scroll, while Ilianora worked on embroidery and Garad sat on the
floor at his father's feet, carving something from a block of wood.

"He was making a toy horse for me," she said, after they had both stared at the moving,
silent image for several moments. "If the war hadn't ended as it did, if the dome hadn't been
necessary and Papa hadn't been wounded... I adored Garad, and our parents hoped we would
marry someday."

"Amazing," Shalara whispered. She nodded, staring unblinking at the image. "And
Baedrix is his grandson. But how could your parents want you to marry? You were
cousins."

"No blood relation. Aunt Meghianna adopted Lycen. She raised Papa and Uncle Lycen
as brothers, so my uncle was technically my cousin." She chuckled when Shalara rolled her eyes
and stuck her tongue out. "I anticipate having a great deal of fun endangering the sanity of quite
a few troublemakers among the Archaics, chopping all their ridiculous theories and scenarios out
from under them."

"If you ever return to Moerta," Kayn said from behind them.

How long he had been standing there, listening to them talk, Emrillian had no way of
knowing. It was reassuring seeing the four guards, two Quenlaque Valors and two Archaics, who
were assigned to watch over every move he made. She noted how Kayn kept looking past her, at
the image that remained in the air even when she stopped consciously maintaining it. She
gestured, turning her hand over and closing her fist--a totally unnecessary motion, not linked to
the illusion at all--and it compressed into a bright spot in the air, then winked out. She and Grego
had decided that impressing Kayn was the best way of controlling him, rather than with threats.
As long as he thought he had something to gain through cooperation, he wouldn't attack.

"Master Kayn." Emrillian mentally shoved the relaxed time of foolery into the back of
her mind and turned to face the next task on her long list for the day. "Has all the equipment been
repaired, or at least rigged to give us a fully functioning ship?"

"You're being a fool." He visibly avoided looking at Shalara. "Putting my ship back
together, letting me work on it, letting me be in contact with my people."

"We share some of the same goals. The Warhawk does not want the warring nations of
Moerta to touch Lygroes' soil or steal power from the Threads. Neither do you. Now that the
technology has been invented to siphon away star-metal energy, there is no way of preventing
others from following the same path and doing the same thing. Partnership will protect the
interests of both sides. I have much loyalty for Goarlotte-Welcairn. My family's former
kingdoms," she added, and was delighted to see Kayn wince at the reminder.

"What do you want from me now?" He sounded more tired than irritated.

She decided that was progress in their rocky relationship. "We have determined that
Edrout has moved out into the sea. We aren't sure which nation he has made contact with, but
once he learns that they are here to capture these ships and this technology, he will come to claim
it himself."

"The enemy of my enemy is my ally," Shalara said. She managed to hold back the smirk
that tugged at the corners of her mouth, when Kayn glared at her, then made a point of turning
his attention back to Emrillian. "You have to decide who is a bigger threat to your dignity and
your plans, Kayn. Edrout or the Warhawk? A despot who uses death to increase his
power--which certainly sounds like some of our less pleasant neighbors--or the man who essentially
controls all the star-metal in the world."

"Your people told me the star-metal was in the Stronghold, which is under the control of
the Queen of Snows," Kayn retorted. He didn't sound nearly as argumentative as expected.
Another good sign.

"Who happens to be my father's sister," Emrillian said.

"Keeping it all in the family, aren't you? I'm not a fanatic about the legends of Athrar
like you Archaics, but if Edrout is real, doesn't that make him your brother?"

"Cousin, actually. The son of Megassa, but not of Athrar." She gestured up at the control
cabin of the ship. "Will you serve with us as an ally, and with my promise that you will be given
tamed star-metal to experiment on?"

"How much?" he asked quickly.

"One kilo. And I'll let your scientists watch as I teach my friends how to work
star-metal," she added, following her gut instinct that said knowledge was an even stronger lure for
Sevron Kayn than paranoia or patriotism.

He cracked a smile for the first time since he had stepped out of the boat, dripping and
bruised, onto the shore by Wynystrys. "Mistress Rakkell, you have a deal."

"Queen Emrillian Warhawk," Shalara corrected.

"Peace, Shar." Emrillian smiled, amused by her friend's quick response defending her
rank, and pleased that she had indeed read her adversary correctly. "Besides, with my father
returned to Lygroes and in command, I am merely a princess again."

"Merely," Kayn said with a snort. "Royalty was outlawed..." He looked her up and
down, and she could have sworn he searched for a sign of her star-metal armor showing from
under her traveling cloak, jacket, loose trousers and calf-high boots. "I keep forgetting we are in
another world and time."

"Not quite. Quenlaque has been pulled forward into your world and time, Master Kayn,
and you--whether you want to or not--are part of the effort to bring peace and cooperation and
prosperity to everyone involved." As she had calculated, he relaxed and looked a little more
cheerful at her use of the word "prosperity."

* * * *

Just past noon, word came from the sentinels along the coast and the spy ships that had
been sent out across the sea. One large battleship had broken away from the continuing brief
battles and maneuvering of the Moertan navies. Graddon confirmed that he sensed blood magic
at work, combined with
imbrose
and an energy he had never sensed before, shielding
the battleship from magical and physical senses. Quenlaque's defenders had many advantages:
the Archaics' understanding of technology as well as magic, Graddon's presence on the ship and
his link with Mrillis. And the increasing interest and cooperation of the Directorate's people.
Quenlaque's defenders weren't blind. Technology augmented by magic caught movement and
solid mass on the sensors, even if light still bent and sound waves swerved around the shielded
enemy. The presence of blood magic proved that Edrout had reached out and either allied with
the approaching enemy or had taken them in thrall.