Reader And Raelynx

CHAPTER 34

AND then war came.

Spies had ridden in every hour to update the regent on the position of the enemy forces, but for days before they actually arrived Cammon had felt the march of thousands of feet. There were too many-he could not sort most of them into individuals-but a few broke through and made distinct patterns in his mind. Coralinda Gisseltess was as clear to him as if she stalked through the royal camp, her long black-and-silver braid streaming down her back. Twice he thought he actually saw her, standing amid the ranks of Riders, glancing around, counting up men. When he looked more closely, she was gone.

He did not have nearly as clear a picture of Halchon Gisseltess, but the force of the marlord’s desire was so strong he projected an intense and smoldering hunger, and Cammon was always aware of him.

There were others-possibly Rayson Fortunalt, possibly some of the captains of the various armies, or maybe just particularly fervent soldiers who lived for battle. Except for tracking how close the army was coming, Cammon tried to shut them all out.

And then the soldiers arrived, and it was impossible to think, to feel, to know anything except violence and rage.

That first day was horrific. He and Amalie had promised Romar that they would stay far behind the line of combat, and so they loitered near the pavilion that had been set up to accommodate the princess. Amalie could not sit still. She paced through the sprays of new grass, she swung herself onto one of the horses that had been saddled for her-in case she needed to make a hasty escape-and tried to force her eyes to understand the ebb and flow on the battlefield.

“What’s happening now?” she asked him every three minutes, jumping back to the ground.

He told her what he could piece together, but there was an onslaught in his head. Nightmare images chased each other through his mind-bloody swords, crashing bodies, horses trampling inert forms, whole lines of men giving way to a berserker wedge of attackers. He could not always be sure who was the enemy, who was the friend. He could not tell who was falling, who was fighting back. Battle lust settled like a red mist over both gathered armies; it was impossible to distinguish between them.

His responses were incomplete and halting. “Your uncle has successfully beaten back an attack… Tayse is surrounded on all sides-no, Justin is there to aid him… A troop of Brassenthwaite men is giving way to an assault from-I’m not sure-it must be the soldiers from Arberharst…”

“But are we winning? Are we losing?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t tell.”

Frequently he heard Jerril’s voice in his head, strangely composed, conveying information from Romar to Amalie. Once he received an urgent but shaky message from the mystic assigned to Kiernan Brassenthwaite, sending an alarm about a flanking maneuver that was allowing enemy soldiers to breach a thin line of defense. Cammon didn’t know how to respond, so he broadcast the cry for help to all the Riders. He felt Justin and Tayse charge through the clashing ranks of soldiers and instantly engage.

He got no more pleas from Kiernan Brassenthwaite.

“What’s happening now?” Amalie asked a few minutes later.

“Riders have redeployed on the-the north side, I think. Holding the line there.”

“Where’s Senneth?”

He pointed. “There’s another spout of fire.”

Senneth’s day had been as rough and disjointed as Cammon’s. He could feel her frustration, her exhaustion, and her fury, all rolled into a hot ball of magic. She had known that her form of sorcery would only work intermittently on this particular foe, but he could tell she had hoped to have more success. Almost certainly in a move to thwart her, the Arberharst men had been strategically interwoven with the Gisseltess and Fortunalt forces; their imperviousness to magic had made it very hard for her mystic fires to take hold. Early in the battle, she had conjured up a line of flame right through the middle of the oncoming enemies, and that had caused turmoil for a short time. Yet somehow the Arberharst men were able to put the fire out, or hold the fire back-they created portals in the conflagration that allowed Gillengaria soldiers to pour through. So she let that fire die down, studied her ground, and flung up another one a half acre away.

Again, it was effective only briefly; again, the imported soldiers were able to beat it back just enough to open safe passage for native men.

She didn’t give up, though. Circling dangerously close to the front lines, she continued to fling fire randomly into the ranks of soldiers. Twice she was able to locate supply wagons that held only domestic grains and rations, and these she sent burning to the ground. More than once she isolated pockets of Fortunalt men, or Storian soldiers, and surrounded them with walls of weaving fire; many went screaming to their deaths.

But the effort was immense, and Cammon could feel her losing energy and strength as the awful day progressed. She could sustain a single fire for hours, but she was not used to having to call up fresh flames over and over. Cammon almost thought that she felt every stamping foot, every suffocating hand, as the Arberharst soldiers doused her fires. For her, it was a battle as physical and draining as a duel with swords.

“Where’s Donnal? Where’s Kirra?” Amalie wanted to know.

“At the back of the enemy army. They’re taking out men one by one. Kirra’s a lioness. Donnal’s a wolf. They’ve backed off a little, though-someone must have spotted them. That means someone’s defending the rear of the army.”

Both of them glanced at the raelynx, sitting at the edge of the pavilion in an alert position. Its narrow red face pointed straight toward the battle; its expressive tail slowly twitched from side to side.

“I’m afraid to let him loose,” Amalie said softly. “I’m not sure he can tell who is protecting me and who is endangering me. And I can’t direct him from this far away.”

“I think your uncle would prefer that you keep him beside you,” Cammon said. “In case any enemies break through and get close.”

She nodded, but she looked haunted. If enemies drew that close, they had surely lost already.

“Where are the Lirren men? Can you tell?”

That made him smile. “No! But about half an hour ago, I felt this-this outpouring of terror and surprise from a troop of Fortunalt men. I think the Lirren contingent had crept around to one side of the attacking army and just began slaughtering soldiers. No one saw them coming.” His smile faded, for emotions in that particular skirmish had been so strong that he had felt almost every blade and blow. “They killed a lot of men.”

Amalie’s face tightened. “Good.” Then she turned away and swung herself back up into the mare’s saddle.

There was no need to ask where Ellynor was. They had set up a hospital of sorts off to one side, and it was staffed by Ellynor, Valri, and a couple of the Carrebos mystics. Any wounded soldiers whole enough to move had staggered back there as the day wore on, and Ellynor had called upon her midnight goddess to help her heal them. Another few dozen, closer to dead, had been carried back by their bloodied comrades. Hundreds more still lay in the trampled fields, because no one could reach them, or because no one had time to drag them to shelter.

“I can’t see anything,” Amalie said impatiently, and slid out of the saddle. “What’s happening now?”

That was how the entire day went.

THEY convened in Amalie’s pavilion that night, when it was too dark to fight, when both armies had withdrawn to count their losses, see to their wounded, and revise their strategies. Cammon thought “pavilion” was a grand word for a rather large tent erected over a raised wooden floor. There was a low bed, a washstand, a brazier, a few tall stools, and a pile of rugs on the floor to blunt the chill from the ground. Still, on the battlefield, this space constituted civilization, and so here they gathered: Tayse, Justin, Senneth, Valri, Kiernan, Romar, and Romar’s captain, Colton.

“Could have gone worse,” was Kiernan’s terse assessment.

“Could have gone better,” Romar shot back. “We lost a platoon of men in that flanking maneuver!”

Kiernan shrugged. “Would have lost half the camp if we hadn’t been able to communicate.” He nodded in Cammon’s direction. “Mark my words, that boy’s going to keep us in this game no matter what the odds.”

“What were our losses?” Amalie asked.

Colton reeled them off. Hundreds dead, more wounded. Cammon saw Amalie flinch at the totals.

“Brassenthwaite suffered the heaviest casualties,” Romar said. “So tomorrow we redistribute the forces. I will put some Merrenstow soldiers under your command.”

“Let’s discuss strategy,” Tayse said. “Can we expect a similar straightforward assault tomorrow as well, or do you think they’ll try a different approach?”

“I’d guess they’ll come at us straight on for another few days,” Kiernan said coolly. “Wear us down first through sheer numbers. When we’re weary and whittled down, then they’ll try new tactics.”

“I agree,” Romar said. “I expect our approach tomorrow should be much as it was today. Form a line, hold fast, and disrupt them where we can.”

Kiernan nodded at his sister. Senneth had taken a seat on the floor and leaned her head against the low mattress. Cammon could feel the pain in her skull as if it was inside his own. “Can you perform more of the same tricks tomorrow?” Kiernan asked her. “I don’t know how many days in a row mystics can call on their magic.”

“I can,” Senneth said, her voice hollow. “But I am disappointed to have had so little effect.”

“Well, you had a lot of effect as far as I could tell,” Justin answered. “I just looked for your flames and then I led a charge in. The other soldiers were so confused by the fire that we were able to cut down a dozen with hardly a fight.”

“What heartening news,” Senneth said. Cammon could read the struggle going on in her head. I am using my magic to kill men, something I never wanted to do. But how can I let Halchon Gisseltess usurp Amalie’s throne? Not as coherent as that.

“You might conserve your power,” Tayse suggested in a grave voice. “We do not want you wan and wasted by pouring out all your magic in a single day.”

“Can that happen?” Kiernan demanded. “You’re one of our most potent weapons. We do not want you rendered useless in case we need you later.”

“I’ll strive to bear that in mind,” she replied. “I will use flame only judiciously tomorrow.”

Romar pointed at Tayse. “What about the Riders? Our other impressive weapons. What damages did you sustain?”

Tayse shook his head. “None.”

Romar nodded. “Then the first day did not go so ill after all.”

They talked awhile longer, but Kiernan and Romar had plenty of other business to occupy them, and they soon ducked out through the door flap of the tent, Colton behind them. Cammon, who had been sitting next to Amalie on one of the stools, rolled to the floor beside Senneth and peered up into her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was practically gray with exhaustion.

“Go somewhere and sleep,” he told her. “You look ready to disintegrate.”

“Head hurts too much to sleep,” she mumbled. “And I need to eat something. Or I really won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

Tayse dropped to the floor on her other side and pulled her against him. “I’ll work on your headache,” he said. “Cammon, maybe you could see about getting us food?”

“It’s been ordered,” Amalie said. “I thought you would all come here so I-”

She hadn’t finished the sentence when Kirra poked her head through the tent flap. “Is it safe to join you? All done talking strategy?”

“The regent’s gone, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cammon said.

She made a face at him, then came inside. She was carrying a tray of food, and Donnal, behind her, carried another. A cook came in bearing pitchers of water. Kirra glanced around, but there was no table large enough to hold everything, so she shrugged and laid her burden on the floor. The others followed suit.

“Eat,” she said. “Justin, I’ve already had the cooks take a tray to Ellynor. She told me that whenever she performs a great deal of healing, she’s absolutely starving.”

He was biting off a huge chunk of bread, but he nodded. “I’ll go to her as soon as we’re done here and try to get her to sleep tonight,” he said. “But my guess is she won’t leave the wounded.”

Kirra nodded. “Senneth, what should I do?” she asked. “Return to the battlefield and fight, or stay with Ellynor tomorrow and heal?”

Senneth was lax in Tayse’s arms; her face was loose with relief. His hands had chased away at least most of the pain, Cammon thought. “Ask Valri,” she said.

The dark queen stirred, though she had been so quiet during the earlier conference that it had almost been possible for Cammon to forget she was there. Almost. “There are more wounded than we can care for, Ellynor and I and those other mystics. We could use your magic.”

Kirra nodded and glanced at Donnal. “Then if I’m not with you, you have to be particularly careful tomorrow.”

He grinned at her, his teeth white through his dark beard. “Serra, I always am.”

Cammon scooted across the rugs till he was beside Amalie’s stool again. “Majesty, you must eat,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, I-I think I’ll throw up if I do.” She glanced around the tent, her face apologetic, tears welling up. “I’m sorry. I know-I know it was much worse for all of you today. But I-these terrible things-and people dying-and more people dying tomorrow, and I-I feel so much at fault. People are dying for me. And with a few words, I could stop it, I could say, ‘Very well, I give it all up. Here is the crown, I will sail for Karyndein tomorrow.’ ”

“And the armies who have gathered in your name will be leaderless and lost, and have no will to fight, and Halchon Gisseltess’s men will swoop in and slaughter them all,” Tayse said quietly, speaking over Senneth’s shoulder. “Because marlord Halchon will never trust a Brassenthwaite man, or a Helven man, or a Kianlever man, and he will find it easier to dispose of them now than to let them disperse back to their Houses and plot against him once he’s on the throne.”

Valri nodded sorrowfully. “One of the reasons I left the Lirrens was because there was so much conflict between the clans,” she said. “So many feuds between families-all of them pointless. But, Amalie, I believe there are times you must defend not only what is yours, but what you have been called upon to protect. Gillengaria has been put in trust for you-the land is your responsibility. You think you could save it by walking away, but instead you would betray it. And I know you could never bring yourself to do that.”

Amalie sniffled and shook her head and looked around for a handkerchief. No one had one immediately handy, so she sniffled again. “No. I won’t. I’ll be strong. I just-I want to be strong in whichever way is right.”

Kirra leaned over and handed her a square of lace and cotton, clearly manufactured on the spot. “Here. Blow your nose on that. And I’ll calm your stomach so you can handle food. You need to eat, Majesty. We all do. We have another grueling day ahead of us tomorrow.”

THEY dispersed quickly enough after the meal, some of them instantly seeking their beds. Cammon had hoped Amalie, too, would try to sleep for a while, but she said, “I want to go with Justin to see the wounded.” Naturally, Cammon accompanied her, and Kirra came with them.

The hospital consisted of two tents, each about the size of Amalie’s, and a few acres staked out by a fence of slow-burning torches. The light was poor, but this wasn’t a sight that invited close inspection. The gravely wounded were housed in the tents, both of which glowed with their own interior firelight. Those who needed less care had been assigned pallets on the ground outside. There were hundreds of them.

Moving through the rows of injured men was almost as bad as watching the battle itself, Cammon thought. All of them, all of them, were wracked with pain, horrified by memories, nauseated, wretched, afraid. Some were thirsty, some were delirious, some were desperate-and even those who lay on their blankets mute and miserable seemed to be yelling and moaning in Cammon’s ears. There was a clamor in his brain; he held his breath and tried to shut down, close them out, but they were still hammering at the edges of his mind.

“Sweet gods,” Kirra muttered, and just sank to the ground beside one of the suffering soldiers. She put her hand on his forehead and spoke a few words. Cammon felt the shouting in his head grow quieter by a single voice.

Justin glanced around. “I thought we brought Ghosenhall doctors with us, as well as mystics.”

“We did,” Amalie said in a soft voice. “I expect they’re in the tents with the men who are the worst off.”

“Well, I’ll go see if they need any help holding down someone who needs surgery,” Justin said, and picked his way carefully through the bodies.

Amalie stood still for a moment, as if gathering her strength, and then stepped up purposefully to one of the wounded men. “What’s your name, soldier?” she asked, bending over to see his face better in the bad light. A lock of her red-gold hair fell over her shoulder and brushed his cheek.

The soldier opened his eyes. He looked about Cammon’s age, but beefier and rougher. His eyebrows were knitted together in pain, but when he saw the princess stooped over him, his expression cleared and he seemed touched by awe. “Majesty,” he whispered. “You came to see us.”

“I did. Tell me your name.”

“Benton, Majesty.”

“I’m proud of you, Benton. You fought well for me today. I am lucky to have soldiers like you in my army.”

“Majesty, I was glad to fight.”

The man was filthy, and streaks of blood still colored his face, but Amalie impulsively put her palm against his cheek. “Heal quickly,” she said in her soft voice. “May your pain be gone.”

As if he were that soldier lying on the ground, Cammon sensed the heat of her touch, experienced a jolt of magic along his bones, a golden sparkle, then darkness. Benton’s voice was thick with wonder. “Thank you, Majesty.”

She nodded, straightened up, and moved to the next bed. Again, she asked for the soldier’s name; again, she laid her hand against his skin and offered a quiet benediction. Again, Cammon felt that flare of magic, felt the pain ease back, grow tamer, more bearable. This soldier turned his head and pressed his lips against her wrist. “Thank you, Majesty,” he whispered.

At the third pallet, it was the same. At the fourth, Cammon caught her before she could speak to the soldier. “Amalie, what are you doing?” he murmured in her ear.

She turned toward him; the footing was so tricky that she practically had to lean against him to reply. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t even realize it. “Your touch. It’s acting like a narcotic. You’re taking away the pain-and I think you’re helping the healing begin. You’re dusting them with magic and it’s having a true effect.”

She was pleased. “Really? Is that why my hands tingle?”

“How did you learn to do that?”

“I don’t know. I saw Kirra lay her hands on a soldier’s face, so I thought I would just try it. I didn’t think it would do any good.”

He was indecisive. “I don’t want you to wear yourself down, using up magic you don’t even know you have.”

“Yes, but if I can give a few soldiers some comfort-after they have earned their wounds fighting for me!-I should do that, don’t you think? For as many as I can?”

“Maybe for the ones who hurt the most.”

She glanced around. “How can I tell that?”

He smiled a little grimly. “Oh, I can help you there.” He thought a moment. “Give me your pendant.”

Willingly, she reached up to unclasp it, but her expression was inquiring. “Why?”

“I have a strange kind of power,” he said. “Sometimes I can feed it to others. Especially when I hold something that belongs to them. Well, it worked once with Kirra. Maybe it’ll work with you.”

“I bet it would if I had my moonstone necklace,” she said, handing him the pendant.

His fingers closed around the braided circle of gold. “I bet it would, too.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! I felt that! What did you do?”

He smiled in the half-light. “Just-directed a little energy your way. I think if you use my magic in addition to yours, you won’t be so exhausted by the end of this exercise.”

She turned away from him. “All right. Tell me, then-who needs me the most?”