Reader And Raelynx

CHAPTER 40

KIERNAN was hoping for a surrender flag, he told them at dawn, as their own troops were stirring and they prepared themselves for the day. They were all in Amalie’s tent, both exhausted and elated, having listened to Kirra’s somewhat edited account of the night’s slaughter and trying to guess how it changed the fortunes of war. Even Ariane Rappengrass and Mayva Nocklyn had been invited in to hear the news. Cammon was yawning through the meeting, since he had returned to bed quite late. He had woken Amalie to tell her the story, but the others hadn’t learned it till now.

Romar said, “I don’t know if we can count on surrender, but at the very least I would expect some of the foot soldiers to run. Rayson and Halchon dead! They will be thinking about what they have given up to fight for their marlords. They will be thinking about their families back home, undefended now. They will desert in droves if they believe the war cannot be won.”

“I would let those common men go,” Amalie said in her soft voice.

“Amalie, they’re traitors to the throne,” her uncle said. “Not to be trusted.”

She shook her head. “Conscripted by their lords. Ambitious, maybe, and hopeful of reward, but peaceful enough men in the general run of things. Let them escape under cover of night. We won’t chase them down.”

Kiernan shrugged. “But any Thirteenth House noble who threw in his lot with the traitors deserves either a quick death on the battlefield or imprisonment in Ghosenhall,” he said. “You want the common men to go free-very well. I disagree, but I will back you. But the nobles should be punished. They could have more easily supported you than betrayed you.”

“And there will be the matter of Gisseltess and Fortunalt,” Ariane said. “How shall we keep their heirs in check? Shall we assign advisors to Halchon’s sons and Rayson’s daughter?”

“Don’t savor your victory before the enemy has laid down his arms,” Tayse warned.

Kiernan turned his gaze on the Rider. “There is no one left to urge them to fight,” he said somewhat impatiently. “Nothing left to fight for.”

Senneth spoke up. “The foreign mercenaries are still being paid,” she pointed out. “But as for our homegrown rebels, don’t forget that some of these soldiers rode to war with no hope of political gain or riches.”

Tayse nodded at her. “Men will fight for faith sometimes harder than they will fight for a king.”

Senneth was watching Amalie. “And who knows what stories have started to circulate about the princess?” she said. “If any of our own soldiers were spies and have run back to tell tales-well, clearly Amalie has some odd powers. Coralinda could have capitalized on that. ‘Look, your princess has a strange kind of magic! This woman will sit on the throne unless you fight her to the death!’ A fanatic is always more dangerous than a mercenary.”

“Then let’s go slipping into the camp tonight and slit Coralinda’s throat,” Ariane said. She sounded serious. “Anything to be done with this!”

“Magic won’t serve us this time,” Senneth said regretfully. “I don’t think even Donnal could get close to her undetected. Too many moonstones.”

“Well, I have some archers who are very good,” Ariane said. “I will have them train their arrows on her.”

“In any case, we still have a fight on our hands,” Kiernan said.

That, unfortunately, proved to be true.

Cammon could sense a renewed sense of purpose emanating from the upstart Gillengaria men during the day’s long and ferocious fighting. Coralinda must have whipped the soldiers to a frenzy that morning as she sent them off to war. Another of your marlords felled by magic! Are you not afraid of a princess who commands power like that?

Cammon shivered a little. Perhaps it was even more frightening. Perhaps she didn’t even need words. Perhaps her own magic was so powerful she could inspire men to fight, force them to fight, enflame them with a battle lust they could neither resist nor comprehend.

If so, they were in for a long and grueling war.

“This has been our deadliest day so far,” Kiernan said heavily that night as they all convened in Amalie’s tent. “Coralinda is proving to be a better general than her brother, even-or at least a more reckless one, with more power to sway her troops.”

“And yet, as far as I know, she does not want the throne,” Romar said thoughtfully. “Maybe there is something else we can offer her. Would she be open to a parley, do you think?”

Cammon almost laughed when “No” came from so many people all at once-Senneth, Tayse, Kirra, and Ariane. He suspected that if Ellynor had been in the tent, she would have repeated the negative in an even more heartfelt voice. Coralinda was not the kind of woman who negotiated. She was used to having everything her own way-and she had no qualms about destroying anyone who opposed her.

“Then what do we do?” the regent demanded.

Kiernan stood up, resettling his weapons belt around his waist. “We fight again tomorrow.”

AS it turned out, Romar Brendyn had not been so far off in his suggestion. For the very next day, Coralinda did come to the royal camp, looking for a way to end the war.

It was mid-afternoon. Cammon had escorted Amalie to the hospital tents, where wounded men were being brought in by the dozens, so fierce was the day’s fighting. Valri, Ellynor, and Kirra traveled slowly between the pallets, kneeling beside each fallen soldier, laying their hands on the flushed cheeks, the gouged rib cages. Four of the Carrebos mystics could also be glimpsed moving inside the tents or kneeling beside the hurt soldiers.

Another woman, a stranger, paced between the beds and paused at each one to bend down, touch her fingers to a man’s face, and move on without speaking.

“Who’s that?” Amalie asked. “She hasn’t been here before.”

Ellynor, who was close enough to hear, stepped over to answer. Her dark hair was plaited into a long braid down her back; the bright dye of the clan pattern showed through in random snatches. “I don’t know her,” Ellynor replied, “but she was here this morning when I arrived. I think she was here all night.”

“Is she a mystic?” Amalie asked.

Ellynor nodded. “Oh, yes. But she has a kind of skill I’ve never seen before-very different from mine and Kirra’s. It’s like she places her hand on a man’s body and his cuts instantly start to heal over. They brought a man here this morning-his head was practically severed, and I know they just brought him here to die. She put both her hands around his throat and it was like the flesh just knit itself back together. We were all gaping. A few hours later, he was sitting up and drinking water.”

“What’s her name?” Amalie asked.

“I asked. She didn’t answer.”

But Cammon knew. He was watching the placid, thick-limbed, brown-haired woman make her way slowly down the avenues of fallen soldiers, her face so expressionless as to seem entirely indifferent. “Lara,” he said.

Amalie glanced at him quickly. “You know her?”

“Met her once last year. She has a strange kind of magic, all right-very powerful. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before, either.”

Amalie gathered up her skirts. “Well, then, I’m glad she’s here tending our soldiers. I’m going to thank her.”

“I don’t know if she’ll actually hear you,” Ellynor warned. “She seemed very distant. Almost not present.”

“I understand,” Amalie said. “I will thank her anyway. It would be rude not to.”

Soon enough, Amalie and Ellynor were back among the soldiers. Cammon loitered nearby uncertainly, ready to run errands if necessary, ready to relay information if any came. Sensing the grimness in both Tayse and Justin, he could tell this day’s battle was not going well. Once again, the rebels were flinging themselves into combat with zeal and abandon.

Cammon glanced at the sky. The half moon was already out, more proof that the days were rushing by. They had been engaged in war a week and a half already; how much longer would they have to endure?

He turned his eyes back toward the battlefield, as if from this distance he could actually see the swipe and clash of blades, and instead he saw Coralinda Gisseltess.

She was standing a few yards away from him, a short, stocky figure dressed in black and silver. Her form was insubstantial enough that Cammon knew it wasn’t her true body. He had never heard of someone sending her spirit walking through the world, but obviously such a thing was possible-and Coralinda had mastered the trick. He could see the solid shapes of tent poles and supply wagons through the shimmering outline of her body. She was not strictly corporeal, but she was definitely there.

On her square face she wore a frown. She swept her gaze around her, seeming to dismiss everything she encountered, and pivoted slowly on her heel. She lifted one hand and tapped a finger to her mouth, as if considering.

Cammon glanced back at the tents, but Amalie and Kirra were out of sight. No one else was close enough to call.

He pressed his lips together, then strode over to the apparition, which had already moved a few paces on.

Cammon planted himself in her path. “Looking for somebody?” he asked.

By the way she jerked upright to stare at him, he could tell she was startled. Her face showed no alarm, however, merely narrowed to a look of calculation. “You can see me?” she replied.

He nodded. “I’m probably the only one who can.”

She sneered. “A boy with mystical ability, no doubt.”

He almost laughed at her. “You have mystical powers of your own, it seems.”

“No,” she said sharply. “The Pale Mother has lavished gifts upon me, but they are not magic. Magic is an abomination.”

“All magic flows from the gods, even yours,” he replied. “It is all sacred.”

Her face showed revulsion, and she waved a hand as if to brush away his words. “The Pale Mother reviles creatures such as you,” she declared. “You and all your sorcerous friends.”

“And is that what you have come here for,” he asked, “to look for mystics?”

“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.

“Coralinda Gisseltess. You call yourself the Lestra of Lumanen Convent.”

“I have come here to offer a bargain.”

A chance for a parley, after all? “I can summon Romar Brendyn,” he offered.

“No,” was the instant reply. “He means nothing to me. The goddess disregards him.”

“You want Senneth,” he said slowly.

Majestically, Coralinda nodded her translucent head. “Senneth Brassenthwaite,” she repeated. “Yes. She’s the one to whom I would make my offer.”

Sen. I need you, he sent the message out at that instant. Blessedly, she was not far, having left the battlefield for a brief respite. He knew she would receive nothing more than a vague but powerful sense of urgency that would nonetheless send her instantly running in his direction. But it took only a few seconds to send a second summons, distinctly worded in language that would be understood.

Amalie. Get Kirra. Come find me. I’m near the tents on the north side of camp.

Casually, as if he had not just called for reinforcements, he said, “And what offer would you make to her?”

She studied him, seeming to debate whether or not he was worthy of hearing her confidences. “A way to end this war quickly and decisively, taking on a single opponent.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

There was no sound, but he could feel Amalie and Kirra hurrying up behind him. From Kirra, he felt only bewilderment, but Amalie registered a sense of shock. So she, too, could perceive the spectral visitor. Don’t come any closer, he told her. I don’t want her to see you.

“A duel of sorts,” the Lestra replied. “Between Senneth-and me.”

He reared back at her words. “How would that work? She would try to scald you with flame while you tried to keep from catching on fire?”

“Simpler than that,” Coralinda Gisseltess said. “We would merely try to destroy each other.”

He heard running footsteps and knew that Senneth was almost upon them. “I don’t understand.”

Coralinda turned her head; apparently she had heard Senneth’s rapid approach as well. “Tell her I will meet her tomorrow at moonrise,” she said, and disappeared.

Cammon heard Amalie’s cry of wonder, Kirra’s quick questions, and the sound of Senneth’s voice, all coming at once. They had enveloped him in a small feminine circle before he could even turn around to seek them out.

“Cammon!” Amalie exclaimed. “How did she get here? What did she want?”

“Who? What? What in silver hell is going on?” Kirra exploded. “Senneth, why are you here?”

Senneth was still breathless from her race through camp. “Cammon called me. I don’t know why. Amalie’s not in danger?”

“I’m fine,” Amalie said. “Coralinda Gisseltess was here.”

That caused all sorts of commotion, and Cammon had to raise both hands to silence the others. “It wasn’t really her,” he explained. “It was her ghost or something. I think her body was back in her own camp, and she was just here looking around.”

“I couldn’t see her,” Senneth said.

“No, neither could I,” Kirra replied. “But Amalie could.”

Amalie nodded. “Very distinctly.”

“That’s not entirely surprising,” Senneth said, “if Amalie has the same kind of magic as Coralinda.”

“I’ll have to try to learn such a skill,” Amalie remarked. “It seems most useful.”

“She says she doesn’t have magic,” Cammon said.

Senneth smiled grimly. “Let her call it what she will, it’s magic. I’m just surprised she hasn’t used this particular talent before.”

“She has,” Cammon said. “I’ve seen her here a few times before. Just glimpses. Never to talk to.”

He saw the look Kirra exchanged with Senneth, but Senneth didn’t take time to laugh. “What did she want?” Senneth said. “This time?”

“To duel with you.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“And what does that mean?” Kirra said.

“I don’t know! She said she would make a bargain with Senneth. They would try to destroy each other. I asked if that meant Senneth would try to burn her up, and she would resist, but she said it was simpler than that. I have no idea what she was talking about.”

He looked at Senneth hopefully, but Senneth seemed mystified. “So-what? I’m supposed to throw my power at her without using fire? How will that work?”

“I think that’s probably exactly what it is,” Kirra said slowly. “It’s like the first time I tried to change someone other than myself. It was like I was shoving the magic outside of my body. I knew where it was going, but I was using it in a different way. I could almost feel it leaving my fingertips.”

“But I’ve never done anything like that!” Senneth exclaimed.

“She said she’d be back tomorrow,” Cammon said helpfully.

Senneth sent him a wrathful look, as scorching as true fire. “And then what? We wave our hands in the air and try to knock each other over simply by intention? I’m going to feel like an idiot!”

“Try it,” Kirra suggested, pointing at one of the empty supply wagons nearby. “See if you can demolish something without setting it on fire.”

Senneth made a huffing sound and threw her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous!”

“She said it could end the war,” Cammon said.

“I suppose if I kill her, all the fanatics might lose heart and surrender, but I don’t think I can! This doesn’t make sense to me!”

“Try it,” Kirra urged, taking Senneth’s shoulders and turning her toward the wagon. “Call up your power, but just hold the flame at bay. See what you can do.”

Senneth made a strangled sound but stood there a moment, scowling at the cart. Her white-blond hair was tangled and streaked with dirt; she was spattered with mud and drops of blood. She didn’t look remotely ridiculous.

Slowly she lifted both hands, fingers spread, palms flat to an invisible wind. Her scowl deepened; her gray eyes darkened. She suddenly clenched her fingers and then flicked them open hard.

The supply wagon shattered as if it had been smashed by a gigantic invisible boulder.

Cammon and Kirra yelled and applauded. Senneth stood for a moment, staring at the backs of her hands.

“That was strange,” she said at last.

“Could you feel it? What was it like?” Kirra demanded.

“It was a lot like flinging fire. Without the fire.”

“See? I told you.”

Senneth put a hand on Kirra’s cheek, and Kirra exclaimed aloud. Senneth said, “My hands are cold. It feels so odd.”

Kirra stepped back, and Senneth’s hand fell. “Do it again,” Kirra said.

Senneth glanced around. “What else should I destroy? I should pick my target fairly carefully, don’t you think?”

“Amalie’s pavilion,” Kirra suggested.

“Kiernan’s tent instead, perhaps?” Senneth replied.

“Maybe something less useful,” Cammon said. “There’s a tree stump right behind that tent. See if you can crush it to splinters.”

“Cammon, Cammon,” Kirra said. “Always the voice of reason.”

But Senneth had shifted just enough to align herself with the stump. Again, she concentrated a moment before attempting any destruction.

Again, the object in her way was pulverized by her magic.

“Oh, that was too easy,” Senneth said. “I need something bigger to see what I’m really capable of. A boulder. Maybe even a mountain.”

“Behind the camp about half a mile,” Kirra said. “The ground gets pretty rocky. Let’s go practice.”

“Not too long,” Cammon said. “You don’t want to wear yourself out.”

“When did she say she’d be back?” Senneth asked. “Tomorrow, but when?”

“Moonrise.”

Kirra glanced at the sky, where the waxing gibbous moon was faint against the blue. “Daytime,” she said. “Now why? Isn’t she stronger at night?”

“So the troops are all engaged,” Senneth guessed. “If I fall, my allies falter, and her troops move in rapidly for the kill. If she falls-same thing, only we’re victorious. A quick ending for certain.”

“Then we have a little time to get you ready.”

“I don’t like it,” Amalie said.

It was the first time she had spoken since Cammon had recounted Coralinda’s offer. As usual, her voice was so soft that it could have been hard to hear her, but there was so much intensity in her tone that it was impossible to ignore her.

“What don’t you like?” Cammon said.

Amalie was shaking her head, and the red-gold hair went flying. “Why today? Why now? If Coralinda Gisseltess wanted to destroy you with magic, why didn’t she do it before? Why even give you notice? Why not just bring you down while you were on the battlefield?”

They were silent a moment. “All very good questions,” Kirra acknowledged.

“She knows something about this duel that you don’t,” Amalie said. “She has a weapon that she hasn’t shown.”

Senneth nodded. “Maybe. But you must admit the offer is attractive. If I destroy her, the war is over. The fanatics lose their will to fight, and the mercenaries lose their employer. Battle ended.”

“And if she destroys you?” Amalie said.

Senneth shrugged. “The rest of you continue fighting.”

“Tayse won’t like it,” Amalie said.

“Tayse would take the same offer if she sent forth a champion swordsman,” Senneth replied. “Even if the man was half-mystic and imbued with magical powers.”

“You’re stronger than she is, aren’t you?” Kirra asked. “You’re stronger than anybody.”

Senneth shrugged again. “Who knows? Until recently we didn’t even know she had magic. I can’t guess how deep it runs in her. But it’s true I’ve never come across anyone else who was as strong as I am. I don’t see how she can defeat me.”

“I still don’t like it,” Amalie said.

Senneth smiled at her. “You don’t like the thought of anyone risking death for you,” she said. “But sometimes it’s the only risk worth taking.”

SENNETH and Kirra moved off to find fresh targets for Senneth to obliterate. Cammon and Amalie returned to the infirmary tents, but Amalie found it hard to concentrate. She smiled and spoke to the wounded soldiers, but Cammon could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. Lara’s presence was so powerful that he reasoned Amalie’s was not as necessary as it had been before, and so he convinced her to return to her pavilion before the sounds of battle had ceased for the day.

Amalie had been correct in surmising that Tayse would not like the offered deal, which Senneth explained as succinctly as possible that night in Amalie’s tent. The others were all heartily in favor of the encounter-as much as they could understand it, of course, though it was clear the concept of a magical duel was impossible for them to fully grasp. They did not, however, consider themselves bound to abide by an unfavorable outcome.

“If you die, we will not surrender,” Romar said.

“I don’t think she expects you to,” Senneth replied.

“Then she doesn’t expect to die,” Tayse said.

Senneth looked at him. They were sitting across the tent from each other, a half dozen others between them. Yet, Cammon thought, they were as connected to each other as if they stood wrapped in the closest embrace that their bodies would allow.

“You’re right,” Senneth said. “I don’t think she does.”

“Then she will not behave fairly or honorably,” he said. “Expect treachery.”

Senneth nodded. “I do.”

Even though Tayse was uneasy, Cammon realized, it wouldn’t even occur to him to ask Senneth not to accept the challenge. “I’ll stand with you tomorrow as you battle the Lestra,” Tayse said. “In case a sword will accomplish what magic will not.”

“There must be a way to take advantage of Coralinda’s absence from the field,” Kiernan said. “Ariane. Perhaps if we moved your troops around to the southern edge, and sent Brassenthwaite troops deep into the line-”

Talk of strategy went on much longer than Cammon had the stomach for. Indeed, he was sure that Kiernan and Romar and the others continued their discussions for some time after the conference ended. Tayse and Senneth had long since disappeared, no doubt conscious of the fact that this might be their last night together and unwilling to spend it brangling over military matters. The thought gave Cammon a peculiar feeling. Impossible to imagine a world without Senneth in it. Impossible to think a few vengeful sprays of magic from Coralinda Gisseltess could have the power to extinguish Senneth’s extraordinary warmth and light. But this was clearly the Lestra’s intent, so no matter how unlikely such an eventuality seemed to him, Coralinda Gisseltess must cherish real hopes of achieving it.

“Senneth might die tomorrow,” Amalie whispered to him late that night, as both of them lay awake long past midnight.

“No,” he said. “It simply can’t happen.”

But he knew it could. He wrapped his arms even more tightly around Amalie, but somehow, fear managed to squeeze between them anyway.