Wolf's Blood (86 page)

“Yes. You could kill them all, all the humans on the ships and on the land and through the gates, but I know the price of that. You would bind yourselves then, for blood is binding, souls are binding. You would be free from those humans, but you would be forever bound to that course. Do you wish that?

“I thought not. How can you defend yourselves without incurring the bond of death and blood? Defend here without invoking it. You are mighty forces. I can sense that even through this thin thread of communication. Surely you have ways that are not those. I wonder if the mere sight of you might not be enough to frighten away those who thought to fight only a few isolated people they have convinced themselves are enemies. With your help, we can bring others who will join our battle here.”

As Firekeeper listened she could hear faint echoes of voices: voices of the sea monsters. She could not make out what they said, and yet she could. They were almost frantic in their desire to keep their freedom, but they knew the truth of what Grateful Peace had said to them. They knew that were they to fight for that freedom and slay but a single one of the creatures they thought of as “blood bearers” they would be bound. So it had been in the days long, long ago when they had first been bound to protect the little interruptions in their eternity of swimming that were the Nexus Islands.

When Virim had created querinalo, he had slain all the “blood bearers,” for only those whose blood held the ability to cast spells could bind the sea monsters. The sea monsters had returned to their freedom, but it could never be, as Peace had reminded them, a freedom such as they had known before, because the secret of how to bind them was no longer a secret.

Firekeeper was so locked into this wordless dialogue that she did not hear the commotions from the gateway hill, a commotion that announced that the long-awaited, long-dreaded attempt to invade through those carefully warded gates had begun.

She was unaware when the first probing attacks became breakthrough. She was unaware when her friends and allies began to die. Conversation between those who share the same form and the same language is difficult enough. When that conversation must span the gap between those with blood and those who are the elements embodied then it is slow, hard work indeed. Caught up in the fringes of that conversation, nothing could draw Firekeeper back into the world in which her body stood tense and unmoving, nothing, that is, but the fall and rise and rise and fall of the howling cry of one heart-beloved voice.

She snapped her head back so that she could listen more clearly and knew that she had stood motionless for long hours, for her neck was so stiff that the corded muscle within it felt like the cabled rope that held a tight-bound ship to the dock.

Blind Seer howled, “The hill! The hill! We have lost / are losing the hill! Retreat! Retreat! Else we will lose all and more! Else we will lose you as well.”

Blind Seer’s message was meant for the yarimaimalom, and with it rang, unheard until this moment, the blaring notes of trumpets giving the same warning signal to the human troops.

“Retreat?” Firekeeper said in dull shock, and she did not know what language she spoke. She looked around and saw that Edlin and Citrine stood out of earshot, bows drawn, attention riveted on the gateway hillside down the sides of which streamed the ragged ranks of the retreating Nexan army.

The raven Bitter, who sat haggard with feathers ruffled and beak red stained on the back of the bench where Grateful Peace still stared motionless over the crashing waves, gave the wolf-woman her answer. He spoke with measured cadence, as if he was speaking of something long ago and in another place.

“Our peoples fought well there on the hillside. The Mires gave us some trouble, for although their flock was small it fought like songbirds chasing the raven. Azure Towers gave us trouble, too, for if the Mires fought with its heart, the Towers fought with their minds, and clever minds they have there, quick in the ways and means of destruction.

“But we were betrayed, and that betrayal turned our hard-won victory to something more vile than mere defeat. From the gate leading to u-Chivalum marched in ranks of two trained soldiers armed and armored, well disciplined by their commander, and certain in the auguries.”

“Betrayed?” Firekeeper interrupted. “As I recall, Tiniel held watch at that gate.”

“Yes. Betrayed, by Tiniel, by the very youth for whom I gave an eye, in the pursuit of whose freedom my mate spent a night without wings and in purest pain. We were betrayed by Tiniel. Rather than giving warning, he let in the invaders. We know this as fact, for their commander boasted of it, boasted loudly so that we could know the Divine Five were with the invaders and had sent them sure auguries of victory.”

Firekeeper wanted to howl in despair and fury, but that would be wasted breath.

“Tell more,” she said. “I heard retreat sounded, so we must still have some forces.”

“We do,” Bitter said, “but we have lost control of the gateway hillside, and with those gates freely at their disposal our enemies will be able to summon reinforcements where we cannot. When Derian realized what was happening he sent Enigma through the gate to the New World so that those there would know what had happened. My Lovable went with him, since she can speak just a little to humans. They, at least, will be warned, and Derian told Lovable to remind Doc and Elise that they could ruin the gate rather than make invasion of the New World too easy.”

And we will be stranded here,
Firekeeper thought.
Unless we recapture the gates, unless we …

She looked to where Grateful Peace still conferred unhearing, unknowing with the sea monsters. She was about to go to the thaumaturge, to interrupt his trance so that he would know what had happened, when Blind Seer, running so hard and so fast that he was hardly more than a blur of grey, halted panting hard beside her.

“Firekeeper,” the wolf said, “you know?”

“I know.”

“Ynamynet believes she can create a wall around the gateway hill that will hold the invaders there a time. She came to ask me if you would lend us the Meddler for this.”

Firekeeper glanced up at the Meddler, and saw from the frightened expression on his lined features that he had understood.

“Meddler? You are not mine to lend or order, no matter what Ynamynet believes. Do you join this fight or do you die with us all?”

“I could,” the Meddler said, “follow Tiniel’s example and join the other side.”

“No,” Firekeeper said. “You could not. I would kill you myself before that could happen.”

The Meddler looked at her and smiled as if she had offered him her heart rather than a promise of his own death.

“I believe you would, and, more importantly, I believe you could. I have no desire to die, not at the hands of these invaders, nor at yours. I will help Ynamynet with her spells.”

Firekeeper nodded. “I must tell Grateful Peace what has happened.”

“Let Edlin and Citrine,” Blind Seer replied. “They know enough.”

Firekeeper nodded.

“Brother Edlin,” she called.

The young man turned and beamed his wide, foolish smile.

“What? I mean, I say. What?”

“Grateful Peace knows nothing of what has happened here. Bring him back and tell him what we face. I go, for just a little, with Blind Seer and the Meddler so that we may bind those invaders within their prize.”

“Right. I say, this is a bad turn, isn’t it?”

“Very bad,” Firekeeper agreed. “Very bad, indeed.”

XLII

  MORE THAN ANYTHING in the world, Derian wanted to grab Isende and press her to him. Her skin was too brown for her to be pale, but she seemed so just the same. The knowledge of her brother’s betrayal combined with the effort of raising the shield about the gateway hill had almost been more than she could bear.

Like an autumn leaf, washed to a skeleton by running water,
he thought.

But he couldn’t indulge himself. Isende was here not as his sweetheart, not as the adaptable young woman she had proven herself to be these last few moonspans, but as Ynamynet’s representative at this meeting to try to find some way the Nexans could continue to hold.

Ynamynet has sent Isende here to show everyone that the one twin should not be judged by what the other has done. My affection, for her, ironically, could be held against her.

So he settled for squeezing her hand just for a moment, then moving to take a seat on one of worn stone benches that had been set some unimaginable time ago to make a rough circle in a protected copse of the island’s twisted trees.

They had chosen to meet there rather than inside one of the buildings both for the convenience of the yarimaimalom, many of whom disliked going indoors, and because this way no precious moments would be lost if the invaders broke out of the shield that currently bound them on the gateway hillside.

When he looked back over his shoulder. Derian could see the shield shimmering pearlescent in the sunlight. When he looked out over the ocean he could see the towering masts of the blockading ships. Neither view was comforting, so he chose to concentrate on the faces of those gathered with him.

Skea sat one bench over, his helmet resting between his feet, his gauntlets beside him, but otherwise ready for action. Onion the wolf sat near, perhaps in conscious imitation of how Blind Seer would sit by Firekeeper. for as Derian understood it, Onion had become the yarimaimalom’s war leader, much as Skea was for the humans.

Wort, one arm in a sling, sat on the ground where he could lean against a tree. His face was drawn with pain, but nonetheless he was reviewing the lists of supplies, crossing off items with an almost vicious stroke of the charcoal stick he held in his uninjured hand.

Isende sat across from Derian, and as he let his gaze rest on her for a moment, he saw Firekeeper coming up to join them. Once again. Blind Seer was not with her, but she had the Meddler in tow. The Meddler showed something of the same exhaustion as did Isende, but where she looked defeated, he seemed positively perky.

The last one to join them was Plik, who eased himself onto a seat on the ground near Wort with a deep sigh.

“I’m here to help Firekeeper with translating,” he said.

Derian nodded thanks. Firekeeper looked pretty strained, and asking her to translate whatever the yarimaimalom had to say would probably not be a good idea.

No one was starting the meeting, so thinking wistfully of those days when before a major conference all anyone wanted from him was that he make certain Firekeeper showed up more or less clad, Derian cleared his throat. He didn’t bother with speeches or with telling everyone how well they had done. This wasn’t the time, any more than the time to admire a horse’s gait was when it was running away with you toward a low-hanging tree branch.

“I have a report from Zebel on injuries and deaths. Most of you already know the worst. We’ve lost about a quarter of our number, either to death or to injuries bad enough that they can’t help.

“The yarimaimalom may have lost even more—and they’re the reason more humans didn’t die. Many of the wolves are dead, as are several of the cats and a bear. Others are in bad shape, including a fox, without whose intervention I wouldn’t be here. We’ve lost fewer of the winged folk because they did their best to stay out of arrow range. They’re continuing to scout for us.”

Plik interrupted, “Several want to know if they can do more than scout. They’ve heard about the exploding stuff Azure Towers used at their gate. They wonder if they could use something similar on the ships.”

Skea frowned. “Possibly. We didn’t have whatever that was during King Veztressidan’s war, but it’s possible we might manage something with oil.”

He glanced at Wort. The quartermaster turned pages on one of his records.

“Possibly, but do we have time to design a delivery system light enough that birds could carry it?”

Derian decided it was time to rein this part of the conversation in.

“Later. It’s a good idea, but later. Right now, let’s hear what we have to work with. Isende?”

Isende brushed imaginary dirt off her trouser legs, and started talking fast, almost mechanically, her gaze fastened on a point somewhere near her toes.

“We have the gateway hill enclosed in a shield, and thanks to the Meddler, we’re going to be able to keep it up at least through midday tomorrow. Even so, the shield needs to be supervised. Most of that is going to fall on Ynamynet and Kalyndra. The rest of us don’t know enough.”

She looked up now, her gaze holding a mingled defiance and shyness that ripped into Derian’s heart.

“One good thing is that Ynamynet has discovered that if she—or Kalyndra—concentrates very hard, they can see what is going on inside the shield. The images are blurred, and there isn’t any sound, but its something. Urgana is going through the archives, looking for more information about this element in the shield. It’s not something we expected.”

“But it is something that makes sense,” Wort said excitedly. “I mean, the shield is something that would only be brought into operation if something dangerous came through the gates. Would you want to be kept from seeing in? I wouldn’t. I mean, eventually, you’re going to want to pull down the shield, and you’d better be prepared for what’s on the inside.”