They spent the rest of the day forming their plans. Lytia's inventories were encouraging; even accounting for the provisioning of Tamir's army, it would still leave enough that it would take Korin months to starve them out. Two companies would remain in the garrison; two thousand foot and five hundred horse would go with Tharin. The rest, nearly ten thousand of the best foot, archers, and one hundred cavalry, would take the mountain route with Tamir, with Mahti as their guide.

 

Tamir and the Companions had just entered the hall for the evening meal when Baldus came pelting through the crowd toward her, dodging between startled servants and courtiers.

 

"Majesty!" he cried, waving a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

 

He came to a breathless stop before her and bowed quickly. "I found this—under your door. Lady Lytia said to bring it to you at once. He asked her for some clothes—Lord Caliel—"

 

"Hush." Tamir took the parchment and opened it, recognizing Caliel's elegant hand at once.

 

"He's gone, isn't he?" said Ki.

 

Tamir read the brief message through and handed it to him with a resigned sigh. "He's taking Tanil back to Korin. He wanted to be gone before he could hear our plans."

 

"Damn him!" Lutha cried, clenching his fists in frustration. "I should never have left him alone. We've got to go after him."

 

"No."

 

"What? But he's mad to go back!"

 

"I gave him my word, Lutha," she reminded him sadly. "It's his choice. I won't stop him." Lutha stood a moment, a mute entreaty in his eyes, then stalked away with his head down.

 

"Tamir?" Barieus said, clearly torn between duty and his friend.

 

"Go on," Tamir said. "Don't let him do anything stupid."

 

When the war council was over, Arkoniel took Mahti back to the Oreska hall and gathered the others in the courtyard to make their own plans.

 

"Hain, Lord Malkanus, and Cerana, I ask you to ride with me. Melissandra, Saruel, Vornus, Lyan, and Kaulin—I give you charge of the castle and the rest of the wizards." He glanced over at the children, who were huddled together on the grass beside him. Wythnir gave him a heartbroken look. It pulled at Arkoniel's heart, but there was no help for it.

 

"I'm to stay behind, but that goes?" Kaulin demanded, jerking a thumb at Mahti, who sat on the grass near the children. "Is he one of us now?"

 

Arkoniel sighed inwardly. Kaulin was his least favorite among the wizards. "He was guided to Queen Tamir by visions, just like the rest of us. Whether it was by his own gods or ours,, he is one of us for as long as he serves her. You were with us in the mountains; you know the debt we owe to Lhel. Honor her by honoring this man. We can no longer let ignorance divide us. However, Kaulin, if you wish to come with me, you are welcome." He looked around at the others. "All of you are here by choice. All of you are free as always to choose your own paths. I am master to no free wizard."

 

Kaulin backed down. "I'll go with you. I can do a bit of healing."

 

"I'd prefer to accompany you, as well," Saruel said.

 

"I'll take her place here," Cerana offered.

 

"Very well. Anyone else?"

 

"You've portioned us wisely, Arkoniel," Lyan replied. "There are enough of us in both places to harm the enemy and protect the innocent."

 

"I agree," said Malkanus. "You have led us well, and you were the closest to Mistress Iya and shared her vision. I see no reason to change things now."

 

"I appreciate the fact that you are all still here and willing to support the queen."

 

"I suppose Iya had her reasons for leaving, but we'll surely miss her strength," Cerana sighed.

 

"Yes, we will," Arkoniel replied sadly. He'd told them simply that Iya had finished her part and gone away by her own choice. Tamir needed their loyalty, and those ties were still too tenuous to risk the full truth right now.

 

"You forgot your sword, Cal," Tamil noted as they rode north along the high road in the waning dusk. He ducked his head, looking guilty. "I lost mine."

 

"It's all right. We don't need them," Caliel assured him.

 

Tanil had left Atyion willingly, eager to see Korin again. Thanks to Tamir's generosity, they both had decent clothing and a bit of gold, enough for a pair of horses and food enough for the journey.

 

"But what if we meet up with the Plenimarans again?"

 

"They're gone, Tamir drove them away."

 

"Who?"

 

"Tobin," Caliel amended.

 

"Oh—yes. I keep forgetting. I'm sorry." He was plucking at that severed braid again.

 

Caliel reached over and pulled his hand away. "It's all right, Tanil."

 

Tanil's body had recovered, but inside he was broken, leaving him vague and easily confused. Caliel had considered simply taking him away, disappearing, but he knew that Tanil would never cease longing for Korin if he did.

 

And where would I go that I could forget him?

 

Caliel didn't allow himself to dwell on what his own welcome was likely to be at Cirna. He would take Tanil back to Korin, as a last act of duty and friendship.

 

No, he silently amended. Let my last act be to kill Niryn, and set Korin free,

 

Bilairy could have him after that, with no regrets.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 43

 

  

 

 

 

Nalia had seen very little of Korin since he'd learned of her pregnancy. He did not come to her bed at all any longer—a welcome respite—and spent each day planning and organizing for his war.

 

Nalia watched the activity in the encampments and the constant coming and goings in the fortress yards below from her balcony. The air was filled with the steady din of armorers and farriers, and the rumble of carts.

 

She was not forgotten, however. Korin sent her little gifts each day, and Tomara went to visit him each morning with word of Nalia's health. In those rare moments that he did come to her, he was kind and attentive. For the first time, Nalia actually looked forward to the sound of his step on the stairs.

 

Korin was not thinking of Nalia as he and his men rode down the switchback road to the harbor. Before he'd come to Cirna, it had been nothing but a tiny fishing village. Over the course of the summer it had been transformed. Rows of makeshift houses, crude taverns, and long barracks houses had sprung up on the steep slope that stretched between the cliffs and the shoreline.

 

A brisk sea breeze stirred through Korin's black curls, drying the sweat on his brow. Summer was waning day by day, but the skies were still clear. Duke Morus' ships rode at anchor in the deep harbor, joined now by more than a dozen others. There were thirty-three in all. Some were little more than large coasting vessels or fishing boats, but he had twenty fine strong carracks, capable of carrying a hundred men each.

 

As Korin reached the stone jetty, the stink of hot tar and fish mingled with the salt tang in the air. "I wish we could sail with them," he said over his shoulder to Alben and Urmanis. "They'll be in Ero in a few days' time while we're still plodding along on the road."

 

"Yes, but you'll command the larger force," Alben replied.

 

He and Urmanis were the last of Korin's original Companions, and the last of his friends. He'd also raised Moriel to Companion. As Niryn pointed out, the Toad had proven his worth these past months, and though Niryn had been loath to release him from his own service, he'd had to agree that there were few enough properly trained young men left to fill out the ranks. Alben had always spoken well of him, and Korin found himself wondering why he hadn't taken him on sooner.

 

Morus greeted him heartily. "Good morning, Majesty. How is your lady today?"

 

"She's very well, my lord," Korin replied, clasping hands with the man. "How is my navy?"

 

"We'll load up and set sail as soon as you pour the libation. With a good following wind, we should make harbor above Ero in three days' time and be ready to close the vise on Atyion as soon as you arrive."

 

Moriel smiled at that. "You'll catch Prince Tobin like a nut between two stones."

 

"Yes." Korin's heart felt like a lump of ice in his breast every time his cousin was mentioned. He'd never hated anyone the way he hated Tobin. He haunted Korin's dreams, a pale and taunting figure, twisted to a dark-eyed specter. Only last night Korin had dreamed of wrestling with him, each one trying to take the crown the other wore.

 

Tobin had fooled half the country with his mad claims and even had a few victories to impress them. Those galled Korin, and jealousy ate at his heart. Now the little upstart had even stolen Caliel away. He would never forgive any of them.

 

Niryn spoke darkly of the wizards who were gathering to Tobin's court. Few had come to Cirna, and the handful of Harriers who'd come north were a worthless lot, as far as Korin was concerned, good for little more than burning their own kind and scaring the soldiers. If the rumors were to be believed, Tobin's had greater powers. By the Flame, how he hated that brat!

 

"Korin, are you unwell?" Urmanis whispered close to his ear.

 

Korin blinked and found Morus and the others staring at him. Alben had him by the elbow and Urmanis stood close on the other side, alarmed.

 

"What are you all staring at?" Korin covered his momentary lapse with a glare. In truth, he felt a bit dizzy, and his clenched hands ached to strike out at something. "Come, summon your men, Morus."

 

Morus gave the signal to one of his captains. The man raised a horn to his lips and blew the assembly call. Within moments other signalmen on the ships and up the hillside were echoing the call. Korin sat on a mooring post to wait, watching as rank upon rank of men poured out of the barracks and marched to the jetties. Longboats skimmed in over the smooth face of the harbor to meet them.

 

"Are you better?" Alben murmured, staying close to him and shielding him from the sight of the others.

 

"Yes, of course!" Korin snapped, then, with a sigh, "Was it a long one, this time?"

 

"Only a moment, but you looked ready to kill someone."

 

Korin rubbed at his eyes, trying to fend off the headache that was building behind them. "I'll be fine once we're on the march."

 

This time he would not show weakness or make mistakes. This time he would be his father's son.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 44

 

  

 

 

 

Korin came to Nalia the night before his departure, dressed in his armor and a fine silk tabard bearing the royal arms of Skala. Nalia had not seen him dressed so since that first night he'd come to her. He'd been haggard and dirty and covered in blood then, a terrifying stranger. Now he looked every inch a king, with a shining helmet banded in gold under his arm.

 

"I've come to bid you farewell," he said, taking his customary seat across from hers. "We leave at first light and I have much to do before then."

 

She wished he'd sit closer and take her hand again, but instead he sat stiffly in his chair. He'd never kissed her, either, except on the hand. Nalia's mind strayed for just a moment to memories of Niryn and the false passion they'd shared. She quickly willed such thoughts away, as if they could somehow harm her child.

 

As much as she'd feared pregnancy, she felt fiercely protective toward the tiny life growing inside her. She would not be like that other wife. She would keep the child in her womb and it would be born healthy and beautiful. Her long-dead rival had kindled only boys, or so Tomara said. Surely Illior would let a girl child live.

 

"I may be gone through the winter, if we have to lay siege," said Korin. "I'm sorry your new chamber isn't complete yet, but it will be very soon. And I'll make certain there is an even better one waiting for you in Ero. Will you write to me?"

 

"I will, my lord," Nalia promised. "I will tell you how your child grows." Korin stood and took her hand. "I'll make offerings to Dalna and Astellus for your health and our child's."

 

Our child. Nalia smiled and touched her pearl necklace for luck. "As will I, my lord, and for you."

 

"Well, that's good then." He paused, then leaned down and gave her an awkward kiss on the forehead. "Goodbye, my lady."

 

"Farewell, my lord." Nalia stared after him in amazement as he went out. Yes, perhaps there was hope.

 

She went out to the balcony when he was gone, knowing that she wouldn't sleep. She kept her lonely vigil there, wrapped in a shawl against the damp. Tomara slept in an armchair, chin on her breast, snoring softly.

 

Nalia settled by the parapet, chin resting on her hands. On the plain to the south, columns were forming in dark, shifting squares and rectangles against the moonlit grass. Watch fires burned everywhere and she could see men passing in front of them, making the flames wink and twinkle in the distance like yellow stars.

 

As the first light of the misty false dawn brightened in the east, Korin's guard formed up in the yard below. When Korin mounted his tall grey horse, Nalia couldn't help a sigh. He looked so handsome, so dashing.

 

Perhaps it is only on account of the child that he's grown kinder, but I don't care. I'll bear him many children and bind his heart to me. He doesn't have to love me or think me beautiful, so long as he's kind. Without wanting to, she'd begun to hope.

 

Thinking that, she was surprised to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She rose and stood in the balcony doorway, listening with mounting dread. She knew that light step.

 

Niryn entered and bowed to her. "Good morning, my dear. I thought I'd find you awake. I wanted to say my farewells."

 

He was dressed for traveling and looked almost as he used to when he visited her in Hear. She'd yearned for his arrivals then and thrilled at the sight of him. The memory made her ill now. He looked so ordinary. And how could she ever have thought that forked beard attractive? It looked like a serpent's tongue.

 

Tomara stirred, then rose to curtsy to him. "My lord. Shall I make you some tea?"

 

"Leave us. I want a moment with your mistress."

 

"Stay," Nalia commanded, but Tomara went out anyway, as if she hadn't heard.

 

Niryn closed the door after her and locked it. When he turned back to Nalia, his look was appraising, and there was the hint of a smile on his thin lips.

 

"My, my. Childbearing does agree with you. You have a certain glow about you now, just like those pearls your dear husband gave you. That was my suggestion, by the way. Poor Korin has rather a tragic history when it comes to getting heirs. Every care must be taken."

 

"Is it true, that all his other women miscarried monsters?"

 

"Yes, it is."

 

"What will become of my child, then? How will I protect her? Tomara said Illior's anger blighted those other babes."

 

"A most convenient explanation, and one I was more than happy to foster. The truth lies a bit closer'to home, I'm afraid." He came to her and stroked her cheek with one gloved finger as Nalia stood frozen with loathing. "You needn't fear for your child, Nalia. She will be perfect." He paused, and then traced the birthmark that marred her cheek and weak chin. "Well, perhaps not perfect, but no monster."

 

Nalia recoiled. "It was you! You blighted those other babes."

 

"Those that needed blighting. Young girls often lose the first one, without any assistance. As for those others, it was a simple matter, really." "You're the monster! Korin would burn you alive if he knew."

 

"Perhaps, but he never shall." The man's thin smile widened maliciously. "Who would tell him? You? Please, summon him now and try."

 

"That spell you put on me—"

 

"Still in force. I have you quite nicely surrounded with spells, all to keep you safe, my dear. You mustn't bother him with trifles when he has so many more important things to worry about. He's quite terrified of battle, you know."

 

"Liar!"

 

"I assure you, it's true. I had no hand in that; it's just his nature. He's served his purpose admirably with you, though. He always excelled at rutting."

 

"That's why you found me and kept me hidden away all those years," Nalia murmured.

 

"Of course." He went out onto the balcony, beckoning for her to follow. "Look out there," he said, gesturing grandly at the massed army. "That's my doing, as well. An army, ready to secure your husband's claim once and for all. And so they shall. His mad cousin hasn't half so many."

 

Nalia lingered in the doorway as Niryn leaned on the parapet.

 

"Korin will win? You've seen this?"

 

"That hardly matters now, does it?"

 

"What do you mean? How could it not matter?"

 

"It is not Korin I see in my visions, dear girl. It is the child in your womb. I misread them for a long time, and it cost me considerable effort, but now it's all come clear. The girl child I foresaw is your daughter. As it is, the people now must choose between a usurper king, damned by Illior, or a mad girl spawned of necromancy."

 

"Girl? Prince Tobin, you mean?"

 

"I'm not entirely sure what Tobin is, nor do I care. No one can contest the true blood and true form of your little daughter when she arrives. She is of the purest royal lineage."

 

"What about my husband?" Nalia asked again as cold fear crept over her. "How can you, of all people, call him usurper?"

 

"Because that's what he is. You know the prophecy as well as I do. Korin, and his father before him, were useful placeholders, nothing more. Skala must have her queen. We shall give them one."

 

"We?" Nalia whispered through lips suddenly gone dry.

 

Niryn leaned over, watching the activity below with evident amusement. "Look at them down there, bustling around with visions of victory. Korin thinks he'll rebuild Ero. Already he sees himself playing with his children there."

 

Nalia clung to the doorframe as her knees threatened to give out under her. "You—you think he's not coming back."

 

The sky was much brighter by now. She caught the sly, sidelong look he gave her.

 

"I have missed you, Nalia. Oh, I don't blame you for being angry with me, but appearances had to be maintained. Come now, you're not going to tell me you're in love with him? I know his heart, my dear. You're nothing to him but a pair of legs to lie between, a womb to fill."

 

"No!" Nalia covered her ears.

 

"Oh, he flatters himself that he has a warm heart. See how he's feathered your little nest up here. It was more for his conscience than your comfort, I assure you. We agreed, he and I, that you had just enough spirit to try and scamper away, given the chance, so it was better to keep you safely caged up here, like your pretty birds. Though he's never called you pretty."

 

"Stop it!" Nalia cried. Tears filled her eyes, blurring Niryn to a dark, menacing shape against the sky. "Why are you so cruel? He does care for me. He's come to care for me."

 

"You have come to care for him, you mean. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. You're young and romantic, and Korin's not a bad sort, in his way. But I'm sorry you've become attached to him. It will only make things worse in the end."

 

Nalia went colder still. "What are you saying?"

 

Nalia could hear Korin greeting his men and calling out orders. He sounded so happy.

 

"You should take a good look at him now, while you can, my dear."

 

"He's not coming back." Darkness threatened to close in around her.

 

"He's done his part, albeit unwillingly," Niryn mused. "Think how cozy it will be; you the mother of the infant monarch, and me, her Lord Protector."

 

Nalia stared at him in disbelief. Niryn was waving at someone below. Perhaps Korin had looked up and seen him.

 

She imagined Korin trusting Niryn, just as she had.

 

She imagined her life stretching out in front of her, a voiceless pawn in Niryn's game, silenced by his magic. And her child, her little unborn daughter, looking up into that false face. Would he someday seduce her, too?

 

Niryn was still leaning on the parapet, one hip hitched up on the edge as he waved and smiled that false, empty smile.

 

Rage too long banked flared in Nalia's wounded heart, catching like wildfire on the tinder of her pain and betrayal. It scalded away the numbing fear and drove her forward. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord as she rushed at Niryn and pushed with all her might.

 

For an instant they were face-to-face, almost close enough to kiss. That false smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look of disbelief. He clawed the air, catching her by the sleeve as he tried in vain to pull himself back from the tipping point. But he was too heavy for her and instead dragged her over the edge with him.

 

Or nearly so. For an endless instant she hung over the edge, and saw Korin and his riders there below, their faces pale ovals with open mouths. She would land at Korin's feet. She and her child would die there in front of him.

 

Instead, something caught her and pulled her back from the brink. She had one last sight of Niryn's disbelieving face as he fell, then she tumbled back onto the balcony and lay there in a quivering heap, listening to Niryn's brief, truncated scream and the cries of those who saw him fall.

 

I have you quite nicely surrounded with spells, all to keep you safe, my dear.

 

Nalia let out a disbelieving laugh. Trembling, she rose unsteadily and peered back over the parapet.

 

Niryn lay sprawled like a child's rag doll on the paving stones. He'd landed facedown, so she could not see if that look of dismay was still there.

 

Korin looked up and saw her, then ran inside the keep.

 

Nalia staggered back into her room and collapsed on her bed. She would tell him the truth, spilling out every detail of the wizard's treachery against them. He would understand. She would see that fond smile again.

 

Moments later Korin burst in and found her lying there. "By the Four, Nalia, what have you done?"

 

Nalia tried tell him, but the words stuck in her throat, just as they had before. She clutched at her throat as the tears came. Tomara came in and ran to take her in her arms. Lord Alben was there, too, clutching Korin's arm, and Master Porion and others Nalia did not know. In the courtyard below someone was wailing. It sounded like a young man.

 

Nalia tried again to tell Korin the truth, but the horror in his eyes silenced her as harshly as the magic still stopping her tongue. At last she managed to whisper, "He fell." "I—I saw—" Korin stammered, slowly shaking his head. "I saw you!"

 

"Close that door," Porion ordered, pointing beyond Nalia to the balcony door. "Close it and make it fast. Bar the windows, too!" Then he was pulling at Korin, drawing him away from her before she could find the words to make them understand.

 

He was evil! He was going to cast you aside as he did me! He was going to take your place!

 

The words would not come.

 

"I saw you," Korin gasped again, then turned and strode from the room. The others followed and Nalia heard Korin cry out angrily, "It's the madness. It's in the blood. Guard her! See that she does no harm to my child!"

 

Nalia collapsed sobbing in Tomara's arms and wept long after the sound of horses and trumpets had faded away outside. Korin was gone off to his war. He would never smile at her again, even if he did return.

 

I'm free of Niryn at last, though, she thought, consoling herself with that knowledge. My child will never be tainted by his touch or that false smile!

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 45

 

  

 

 

 

The late-summer sky overhead was blue as Zengati lapis the day Tamir led her army forth from Atyion. In the vineyards that lined the road women were cutting heavy bunches of grapes into deep baskets. In the distant meadows hundred of fine young foals gamboled among the vast herds, and the fields of grain shone like gold.

 

Tharin rode beside her, not yet ready to bid her farewell.

 

Behind them ranks of men-at-arms, archers, and mounted fighters marched under her banner and those of more than a dozen noble houses from Hear to Erind.

 

Others, who had been levied from the towns and farms, had only knives, sickles, or cudgels, but they held themselves as proudly as the lords who led them.

 

The Companions all wore long blue tabards with her coat of arms emblazoned on their chests, and the baldric of her house.

 

Lutha and Barieus rode proudly, if a bit uncomfortably, talking happily with Una, who'd returned the day before with several regiments from Ylani.

 

Mahti rode with the wizards for now, with his oo'lu across his back in place of a sword. Word of their strange guide had spread quickly, soldiers' gossip being what it was. Word of their queen's sudden affection for the hill folk spread like wildfire. There was muttering, but their lords and captains kept everyone in line.

 

At midafternoon Mahti pointed inland toward the mountains. "We go that way." Tamir shaded her eyes. There was no road, only rolling fields, meadows, and wooded foothills beyond.

 

"I don't see any pass," said Ki.

 

"I know way," Mahti insisted.

 

"Very well, then. We'll go west." Tamir reined in to make her farewells to Tharin.

 

He gave her a sad smile as they clasped hands. "This time it's you riding away, rather than me."

 

"I remember how that felt, watching you and Father leave. We'll have some good tales to tell when we meet again."

 

"May you hold the Sword of Gherilain before the snow flies." Raising his sword, he shouted, "For Skala and Tamir!"

 

The army took up the cheer, the words rolling back down the long line like a tide.

 

With a final wave, Tharin and his escort wheeled their horses and galloped back toward Atyion.

 

Tamir watched him go, then fixed her gaze on the mountains.

 

Che following day brought them to the foothills, and the next to the forests that covered the foot of the range.

 

Late that afternoon, Mahti pointed out a game trail leading through a thick patch of wild currant bushes.

 

"Is that the start of your secret road?" asked Tamir.

 

"Soon come to," Mahti replied. He spoke rapidly to Arkoniel.

 

"We follow this trail for a day, then follow a stream up to a waterfall," Arkoniel told her. "The hidden trail starts just beyond it. He says the way is easier after that. We'll reach the first hill folk village within two days."

 

"I didn't realize there were any living so close."

 

"I not know these Retha'noi, but they see my oo'lu and know I be witch." He spoke to Arkoniel again, evidently wanting to be certain that Tamir understood what he said clearly. Arkoniel listened, his face going very serious. "The moment you see any hill folk you must call an immediate halt and stay still. He'll go ahead and speak with them on our behalf. Otherwise, they're likely to attack."

 

Mahti disappeared into the underbrush for a moment. When he returned, he was wearing his own clothing and the animal-tooth necklace and bracelets. Climbing back onto his horse, he nodded to Tamir. "Now we go."

 

The forest closed in around them, tall firs that scented the air and choked out the undergrowth. They saw no one that day or the next. The terrain grew steeper, and the wooded hillsides were strewn with large rocks. Mahti led them to the stream he'd spoken of and reached the small waterfall that afternoon. The faint game track they'd been following seemed to end at the pool beneath it.

 

"Good water," Mahti told them.

 

Tamir called a halt, then dismounted with the others to fill her waterskin.

 

Mahti drank, then took his oo'lu from its sling and began to play. It was a short, hooting song, but when he was done Tamir saw a well-worn path leading away from the pool's edge that had not been there before. The trees on either side were marked with faded handprints like the markings she'd seen around Lhel's abandoned camp.

 

"Come!" Mahti set off briskly up the new trail. "You be in Retha'noi place. Keep promise."

 

As they made camp that night Arkoniel joined Tamir and the others around their fire.

 

"I've just spoken with Lyan. Korin's fleet tried to land at Ero. Tharin had word from the wizards and coastal lookouts that they were making for the port, and Illardi was waiting for them, with the wizards. He used the few ships you had there, setting them ablaze to trap Korin's ships. The flames spread, and our wizards used their own spells to help things along. All the enemy vessels were destroyed or captured."

 

"That's very good news!" Tamir exclaimed. "But no word of an attack by land?"

 

"Nevus is bringing a sizable army south. Tharin's already heading out to meet him."

 

"Sakor bring him luck," Ki said, casting a stick onto the fire.

 

Lying in her blankets that night, watching the branches sway against the stars, Tamir sent up a silent prayer of her own for Tharin, hoping that he wouldn't be taken from her, too.

 

Che next day the way grew steeper, and there was still no sign of a village. Just before midday, however, Mahti raised a hand to halt the others.

 

"There." He pointed up at a jumble of fallen stones on the right.

 

Tamir signaled a halt. It took a moment to make out the man squatting on the highest rock. He was staring straight back at her and had an oo'lu pressed to his lips.

 

Mahti raised his own horn over his head and waited. After a moment the other man lowered his and shouted something to him.

 

"You stay," Mahti told her, then climbed nimbly up the rocks to join the stranger.

 

"We're not alone," Ki whispered.

 

"I see them." At least a dozen more Retha'noi were visible, watching them from either side of the divide. Some had bows, others long horns like Mahti's.

 

No one moved. Tamir clutched her reins, listening to the low murmur of the two witches talking. Now and then the stranger's voice rose angrily, but presently he and Mahti climbed down from the rocks and stood on the trail. "He talk to you and oreskiri," Mahti called out to her. "Others stay."

 

"I don't like this," Ki muttered.

 

"Don't worry, I'll be with her," Arkoniel told him.

 

Tamir dismounted and gave her reins to Ki, then unbuckled her sword belt and handed that to him, too.

 

She and Arkoniel walked together toward the witches, hands outstretched to show they were unarmed.

 

This man was older than Mahti and missing most of his teeth. His witch marks showed clearly on his skin, warning that he had some sort of spell in place.

 

"This Sheksu," Mahti informed her. "I tell him you come to bring peace. He ask how."

 

"Arkoniel, tell him who I am, and that I will tell my people to stop their persecution, as long as the Retha'noi are peaceful toward us. Tell him we only wish to pass safely through his valley. We do not come to conquer or spy."

 

Arkoniel relayed this, and Sheksu asked a sharp question.

 

"He asks why he should believe a southlander girl who hasn't even known a man yet."

 

"How did he know that?" Tamir hissed, trying to cover her surprise. "Tell him I will swear by all my gods."

 

"I don't think that will convince him. Prick your finger and offer him a drop of blood. That will be proof that you aren't trying to hide anything from him. Use this." He took Lhel's needle from his purse.

 

Tamir pricked her forefinger and held it out to Sheksu. The witch caught the droplet and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. He shot a surprised look at Mahti and asked him something.

 

"He said you have two shadows," Arkoniel murmured.

 

"Brother?"

 

"Yes."

 

Sheksu and Mahti spoke again.

 

"He's explaining about Lhel," Arkoniel whispered. "He say to see mark," Mahti said at last.

 

"The scar? I'll have to take off my armor. Tell him I need his word that this is not a trick."

 

"He say no trick, by Mother."

 

"Very well, then. Arkoniel, can you help me?"

 

The wizard managed to get one side of her cuirass undone and held it while she pulled off her tabard.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" Ki called, starting forward.

 

Sheksu raised a hand at Ki.

 

"Ki, stop! Stay where you are," Arkoniel ordered.

 

"Do as he says," Tamir told him calmly.

 

Ki stayed put, scowling. Behind him, the other Companions remained tense and alert.

 

Tamir took off her hauberk and pulled down the neck of the padded shirt and the linen undershirt underneath to show Sheksu the scar between her breasts. He ran a finger over the faded white stitch marks, then looked deeply into her eyes. He smelled of grease and rotten teeth, but his black eyes were sharp as a hawk's and just as wary.

 

"Tell him that Lhel helped me so that our people could make peace," Tamir said.

 

Sheksu stepped back, still eyeing her closely.

 

"It might help if Brother made an appearance," Arkoniel whispered.

 

"You know I can't make him come and go as I please—"

 

But suddenly Brother was there. It was only for an instant, long enough for him to let out a low, mocking hiss that stood the hair up on her neck and arms; but for that instant she thought she felt another presence with him, and the scent of freshly crushed leaves lingered on the air. She looked around quickly, hoping for a glimpse of Lhel, but there was only the feeling of her, and the scent.

 

Sheksu appeared satisfied as he spoke to Mahti and Arkoniel.

 

"He believes you, because no Oreska wizard could make that kind of magic," said Arkoniel. "Brother just did you a great service."

 

"Not Brother. Lhel," she replied softly. "I wonder if he saw her."

 

"He see," Mahti told her. "She speak for you."

 

Sheksu spoke to Mahti again, gesturing at his people still standing overhead, then down the trail in the direction they meant to go.

 

"He say you can pass with your people, but you must go quick," Mahti explained. "He will send song about you to next village and they send to next. He say he not—" He frowned and looked to Arkoniel to clarify.

 

"You've been granted safe passage, and Sheksu will relay your story on, but he can't promise you will be welcome, only that he has spoken for you."

 

Sheksu said something else and Arkoniel bowed to him. "He was impressed that you offered your blood, and by what he read from it. He says you have favor with his goddess. If you keep your word, you should be safe."

 

"I am honored by his trust." She took a gold sester from her purse and presented it to him. The coin was stamped with Illior's crescent moon and the flame of Sakor. "Tell him that these are the symbols of my people. Tell him that I call him friend."

 

Sheksu accepted the coin and rubbed it between his fingers, then said something that sounded friendly.

 

"He is impressed," Arkoniel murmured. "Gold is very scarce here, and highly prized."

 

In return Sheksu gave her one of his bracelets, made with the teeth and claws of a bear.

 

"It will give you strength against your enemies and mark you as a friend of the hill folk," Arkoniel interpreted.

 

"Tell him I am honored to wear it."

 

Sheksu bade her farewell and quickly disappeared among the rocks.

 

"Go quick now," Mahti told her. Tamir put her armor back on and strode back to the Companions.

 

"That seemed to go well," Ki murmured, handing her sword back to her.

 

"We're not over the mountains yet."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 46

 

  

 

 

 

Niryn's death and the manner of it cast a pall over Korin's heart. As he led his army east, he could not shake off a sense of foreboding.

 

Nalia had killed Niryn; of that he had no doubt, despite her stammering assertion that he had only fallen. "Are all the women of the royal line cursed with madness?" he'd ranted to Alben as Niryn's broken body was carried away. Moriel had followed the litter, wailing like a woman over his former master.

 

"Mad or not, she bears your child. What are you going to do with her?" Alben asked.

 

"Not just a child. A girl. A new queen. I've sworn before the altar of the Lightbearer that she will be my heir. Why am I still cursed?"

 

He'd questioned the priests about it before they marched, but there were no Illiorans left in Cirna, and the others were too frightened of him to offer anything more than hollow assurances. The Dalnan priest assured him that some women went mad while they were pregnant, but grew calm again after the birth, and gave him charms to heal her mind. Korin sent them up to the tower with Tomara.

 

Thoughts of Aliya and the monstrous thing she'd died giving birth to came to haunt his dreams again, as well. Sometimes he was back in that birthing chamber with her; other nights it was Nalia in the bed, her marred face twisted in agony as she pushed out another abomination.

 

Tanil and Caliel used to calm him after such nightmares. Alben and Urmanis did their best, bringing him wine when they heard him wake.

 

And then there was Moriel. The farther Korin got from Cirna, the more he found himself wondering again why he'd finally agreed to give the Toad a commission, knowing he'd been Orun's creature and Niryn's lackey.

 

Despite all these concerns, he felt increasingly lighter as the days passed. He'd been lax with himself since Ero, he realized with some chagrin. He'd let sorrow and doubt unman him, and depended too much on Niryn. His body was still hard, his sword arm strong, but his spirit had grown weak with lack of use. These past months seemed very dark, as if the sun had never shone on the fortress.

 

He turned in the saddle and looked back over the thousands of men at his back.

 

"It's a brave sight, isn't it?" he said to Master Porion and the others, looking proudly at the ranks of cavalry and foot.

 

Thanks to Duke Wethring and Lord Nevus, almost every noble between there and Hear was either with him, dead, or under edict of execution. He would deal with the latter as soon as he'd taken care of Tobin and seized Atyion.

 

Tobin. Korin's hands tightened on the reins. It was past time to be finished with him, once and for all.

 

Korin was too honorable in his own mind to recognize the jealousy that lay behind his anger—a bitter, corrosive undercurrent fed by the memory of his own failures, thrown into stark contrast by his little cousin's natural valor. No, he wouldn't allow himself to think of that. He'd put those days behind him, as errors of his youth. He would not falter this time.

 

They left the isthmus and struck north and east toward Colath. The rains came, but spirits remained high among the ranks, and the Companions, as well. In a few days they would be in sight of Atyion, within striking distance of all the fine resources there—horses and granaries, and the wealth of the treasuries. He'd had little more than promises to hold his lords; now they had great spoils nearly at hand. He would raze Atyion and use her great wealth to rebuild Ero in greater glory.

 

That afternoon, however, one of his advance scouts came riding back at a gallop on a lathered horse, with another rider close behind.

 

"Boraeus, isn't it?" Korin said, recognizing him as one of Niryn's chief spies.

 

"Majesty, I bring you word of Prince Tobin. He's on the march!"

 

"How many with him?"

 

"Five thousand, perhaps? I'm not sure. But he isn't coming along the coast. He's sending another force to meet you, under the command of Lord Tharin—"

 

"Tharin?" Porion murmured, frowning.

 

Alben chuckled. "So Tobin sends his nursemaid after us. He must have learned to wipe his own nose at last."

 

"Tharin served in your father's Companions, Majesty," Porion reminded him, shooting Alben a warning glance. "He was Duke Rhius' bravest captain. It won't do to underestimate him."

 

"It's only a feint, Majesty," the spy explained. "The prince is taking a secret route through the mountains, to outflank you from the west."

 

"We'll see about that," Korin growled.

 

He called a halt and summoned his other generals, then made the messenger repeat his news before them.

 

"That's excellent news! We'll overwhelm that paltry advance force like a storm tide and take the city in your name. Majesty!" Nevus exclaimed, eager to avenge his father's death.

 

Looking around, Korin read the same hungry, vengeful gleam in every eye. They were already counting the spoils.

 

Korin went very still inside as he listened to all their arguments, and his mind grew ever dearer. "Lord Nevus, you will take five companies of cavalry and meet the eastern force. Catch them between Duke Morus' forces and crush them. Bring me Lord Tharin or his head."

 

"Majesty?"

 

"Atyion is nothing." Korin drew the Sword of Gherilain and held it up. "There can only be one ruler of Skala, and that is the one who holds this sword! Pass the order; we march west to crush Prince Tobin and his army."

 

"You're dividing your force?" Porion asked quietly. "You may be dooming Morus' ships. There's no way to get word to them now."

 

Korin shrugged. "He'll have to fend for himself. When Tobin falls, Atyion will fall. That is my will and those are your orders. Send out scouting parties at once, north and south. I don't want them taking Cirna under our very nose. The consort must be protected at all costs. We'll be the ones to surprise the prince, my lords, and when we do, we will crush him and put an end to his pretense once and for all!"

 

The generals bowed deeply to him and rode off to pass on his orders.

 

"That was well done, Majesty," Moriel said, offering him his wineskin. "Lord Niryn would be proud to see you now."

 

Korin turned and brought the tip of his blade under Moriel's chin. The Toad went a shade paler and froze, staring at him with frightened eyes. The wineskin fell and splashed its contents on the trampled grass.

 

"If you wish to remain a Companion, you will not mention that creature to me again."

 

"As you say, Majesty," Moriel whispered.

 

Korin sheathed his sword and strode away, heedless of the resentful glare that followed him.

 

Porion noticed, though, and cuffed Moriel sharply on the ear. "Be thankful for the king's patience," he warned. "Your master is dead, and I'd have drowned you years ago if it had been up to me."

 

 had hoped to meet Korin on the road, but there was no sign of an army or its passing. They rode all the way to the isthmus road with no sign of him, and Caliel learned in the villages they passed that Korin had turned back and gone south to meet Tamir on the western coast.

 

They rode on for a few miles, and Caliel could see the marks of an army's passage in the trampled fields, churned roadways, and deep ruts from heavy wagons.

 

"Why did they go west?" Tanil asked. "There's nothing there."

 

"I don't know." He paused, and looked Tanil over. The boy was still a bit vague, but the closer they came to Korin, the happier he seemed.

 

He's in no condition to fight. I should take him to Cirna and leave him there somehow, to keep him safe. But the longing in Tanil's eyes as he looked west was like a mirror of Caliel's own heart. They were Korin's men. Their place was at his side, no matter what.

 

He forced a smile and nudged his horse into a walk. "Come on, then. Let's catch up with him."

 

"He'll be surprised to see us!" Tanil laughed.

 

Caliel nodded, wondering again what his reception would be.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 47

 

  

 

 

 

The last of the passage through the mountains took four long, tense days. The trail ran along the banks of rushing rivers and up through stony divides that opened into small green valleys where herds of goats and sheep grazed. There were signs of catamounts and bears, and at night lynxes screamed like dying women.

 

Only in the valleys could Tamir assemble all her force at once, rather than strung out like a broken necklace. Nikides rode back one day and reported that it took two hours for them to pass a given point.

 

Word of Tamir's approach preceded her, just as Sheksu had promised. Several times each day Mahti would disappear ahead of them, taking a side trail up to some hidden settlement. Those that were visible from the trail were made up of a few stone huts with roofs of stretched skins. The inhabitants either hid or fled, but there was smoke from abandoned cooking fires and flocks of goats or chickens wandering among the silent huts.

 

On Mahti's advice, Tamir left gifts by the trail at each village: coins, food, rope, small knives, and the like. Sometimes they also found baskets of food left for them—greasy smoked goat meat, foul-smelling cheeses, berries and mushrooms, and bits of crude jewelry.

 

"They hear good of you," Mahti informed her. "You take gift or give insult."

 

"We wouldn't want that," Nikides said, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he and Lorin inspected the contents of a basket.

 

"Don't be so squeamish," Ki laughed, gnawing at a bit of leathery meat. Tamir took some, too. It reminded her of the food Lhel had given them.

 

Now and then the local witch man or woman came out to see them, but they were wary even of Mahti and watched the intruders from a distance.

 

The weather closed in as they crossed a high pass and started down for the western coast. Heavy clouds and fog hung low over the narrow divide. Freshets trickled down through the rocks and made the trail into a stream at times, dangerous underfoot with shifting stones. The trees were different here, the quakeleaf still green and the underbrush thicker.

 

Rain came in gentle, persistent showers and soon everyone was soaked to the skin. Tamir slept badly in the scant shelter of a tree, huddled for warmth with Ki and Una, and woke to find a pair of newts playing tag across the toe of one sodden boot.

 

The next day they passed close to a large village and saw three witches on a rise just above the trail: a woman and two men with oo'lus at the ready.

 

Tamir reined her horse aside, accompanied by Mahti, Arkoniel, and Ki.

 

"I know these," Mahti said. "I go."

 

"I'd like to speak with them."

 

Mahti called out to them, but they kept their distance and made signs at him.

 

"No, they say they talk to me." He went forward alone.

 

"It's downright eerie," Ki muttered. "I get the feeling there are a lot of eyes watching us without our knowing."

 

"They haven't attacked us, though."

 

Mahti returned a few moments later. "They not hear of you. Afraid of so many and be angry that I be with you. I tell them you—" He paused, and asked Arkoniel something. "They don't know what to make of an army passing through without attacking them," Arkoniel explained.

 

Mahti nodded as they set off again. "I tell them. Lhel tell, too. You go, and they send on song."

 

One of the witches began playing a low drone as they rode past.

 

"I wouldn't think people this far into the mountains had ever seen a Skalan," said Lynx, keeping an uneasy eye on the Retha'noi.

 

"No see, but hear of, like you hear of Retha'noi," said Mahti. "If keesa be—" He stopped again, shaking his head in frustration, and turned and said something to Arkoniel.

 

The wizard laughed. "If a child is naughty, the mother says, 'be good or the pale people will come for you in the night.' I told him Skalans tell their children the same thing of them."

 

"They see you have great people, but you not hurt or burn. They remember you."

 

"Could they hurt us if they wanted to?" asked Ki, also keeping a wary eye oh the witches.

 

Mahti nodded emphatically.

 

last the trail led steadily downward, back into forests of fir and oak overhung with mist. On the afternoon of the fifth day they emerged from the low-hanging clouds and looked out over a descending expanse of forest and rolling grassland. In the distance Tamir saw the dark curve of the Osiat.

 

"We made it!" cried Nikides.

 

"Where's Remoni?" asked Tamir.

 

Mahti pointed straight ahead and her heart beat a little faster. A day's march at most, and she would see that harbor. In her dreams she and Ki had stood above it, a breath away from a kiss. She hadn't had that dream for some time now, not since Afra.

 

And we have kissed, she thought with an inward smile, though there had been no time for such things in days. She wondered if the dream would be different now.

 

"You have good thought?"

 

Mahti stood by her horse, grinning up at her.

 

"Yes," she admitted.

 

"Look there." He pointed back the way they'd come and Tamir saw with a start that the brow of the ridge was lined with dark figures, perhaps hundreds, watching the long line of foot soldiers passing by.

 

"Your people safe, if you do not try come this way again," Mahti explained. "You make your fight and go to your own land by another trail. Southland trail."

 

"I understand. You're not leaving us yet, though? I don't know how to find Remoni."

 

"I take you, then I go home."

 

"That's all I ask."

 

Arkoniel's heart had also leaped at the sight of that distant coastline. If the visions were true—and if this campaign succeeded—he would soon reach the place where he would eventually end his days. It was a strange but exciting thought.

 

Once beyond the narrow confines of the mountain trail, the way became easier. The trail was well-worn and wide enough in places for two horses abreast.

 

The rain came and went, but there was wood to burn that night, letting the Skalans take more comfort than they'd had in days. While the others made a fire and prepared the evening meal, Arkoniel drew Tamir aside under an oak. Ki followed, sitting down close beside her.

 

Arkoniel tried not to smile. They both tried to hide it, but something had changed between them since that night at the keep. They didn't look at one another with the eyes of a friend anymore, and they imagined that no one else could see it.

 

"Arkoniel, have you found Korin?" she asked. "That's what I'm about to ascertain. Will you let me cast the wizard eye on you both?"

 

"Yes," said Ki, clearly eager to try it.

 

Tamir was less enthused, as always. Arkoniel had always regretted how he'd clumsily scared her, the first time he'd tried this spell with her. Nevertheless, she gave him a terse nod.

 

Arkoniel cast the spell and focused his mind on likely routes. "Ah! There." He held out his hands to them.

 

Tamir reached for his hand, braced for the inevitable jolt of vertigo she experienced whenever he tried to show her something this way. It was no different this time. She squeezed her eyes closed as she felt herself swept up into the spell.

 

She saw a rolling expanse of countryside far below, and an army encamped beside a broad bay. A sea of watch fires stretched across the darkened plain. "So many!" she whispered. "And look at all those horses! Thousands. Can you tell how close he is to us?"

 

 

"That appears to be the Bay of Whales. Perhaps two days' march from where we're headed? Maybe less."

 

"He could have been in Atyion by now. Do you think he got word of my movements?"

 

"Yes, I'd say so. Let go for a moment. I'm going to widen the search."

 

Tamir opened her eyes to find Ki grinning at her.

 

"That was amazing!" he whispered, eyes shining.

 

"It has its uses," she admitted.

 

Arkoniel rubbed at his eyelids. "That spell does take an effort."

 

"Korin will have scouts out looking for us," said Ki. "Did you see any sign of them?"

 

The wizard gave him a wry look. "I was lucky to find an army."

 

"We don't need magic to tell us that," Tamir said. "We'd better move on quickly, before he decides to come find me himself."

 

Far to the east, Tharin sat his horse, counting the banners of the force spread out across the plain before him. He had two thousand men at his back, but Nevus had at least twice that many. He'd caught them within a day's ride of Atyion two days earlier and had not been surprised when Nevus had refused any sort of terms short of battle.

 

, Drawing his sword, Tharin held it high, and heard a thousand blades singing from their sheaths in answer, and the rattle of hundreds of quivers. Across the field, Nevus did the same.

 

"I'll see your body hung beside your father's," Tharin murmured, marking him. Rising in the saddle, he shouted, "For Tamir and Skala!"

 

His army gave back the cry and their voices rolled over the plain like a tide as they charged.

 

Tamir spent the next day riding back along the line with some of her Companions, to take stock of her warriors. Some had taken sick during the cold wet nights, and a few had been lost in falls along the high passes. There had been some blood feuds settled, and a handful of others had simply disappeared. There was grumbling about them having been taken by the hill folk, though desertion or mishap were more likely. Wineskins were empty, and rations were running low.

 

Tamir paused often to speak with captains and common soldiers, listening to their concerns, promising them battlefield spoils, and praising their endurance. In return, she was warmed by their loyalty and their determination to set things right. Some were a bit too eager, offering to bring her Korin's head on a pike.

 

"Bring him to me alive, and I'll pay his ransom in gold," she told them. "Willfully spill the blood of my kinsman and you'll have no reward from me." "I bet Korin isn't making that distinction," Ki observed. To which Tamir wearily replied, "I'm not Korin."

 

The air grew warmer the farther they got from the mountains. There was ample game, and archers were sent out to supplement their dwindling food supplies with venison, hare, and grouse. Her scouting parties found no signs of habitation.

 

They reached the coast late that afternoon, and Tamir savored the sweet salt air after so many days inland. The rocky coastline was deeply cut with steep-walled bays and inlets. The dark Osiat stretched away to the misty horizon, dotted with a scattering of islands.

 

Mahti turned north. Open grassland between forest and the sea spread on endlessly before them, flanked on the east by forest. Deer grazed in the meadows, and rabbits broke from cover before their horses.

 

The land rose, until they were high above the water on a grassy headland. Cresting a rise, Tamir caught her breath, recognizing the place even before Mahti pointed down and said, "Remoni."

 

"Yes!" There was the long, deep harbor, sheltered by the two unmistakable islands.

 

She dismounted and walked to the cliff edge. The water lay hundreds of feet below. In her dreams she'd seen her reflection there, but that had only been an illusion. In reality, there was a sizable expanse of level ground at the base of the cliffs, just the place for a harbor town and jetties. The trick would be to make a passable road up to a citadel on the heights.

 

Ki joined her. "You really dreamed this?"

 

"So often I lost count," she replied. If there hadn't been so many eyes on them, she would have kissed him, just to make certain Ki didn't disappear and she didn't wake up.

 

"Welcome to your new city, Majesty," said Arkoniel. "It needs a bit of work, though. I haven't seen a decent tavern anywhere." Lynx stood shading his eyes against the slanting light as she stared down at the harbor. "Uh—Tamir? Where are the 'faie ships?"

 

In her excitement at finding the place, she'd overlooked that important detail. The harbor below was empty.

 

They made camp there, setting out pickets to the north and east. As Mahti had promised, there were a number of good springs, and ample wood for a while.

 

It was several hours before the entire column caught up, and stragglers continued to drift in for hours.

 

"My people are exhausted, Majesty," Kyman reported.

 

Jorvai and Nyanis reported the same when they arrived.

 

"Tell them they've earned a rest," Tamir replied.

 

After a meager supper of stale bread, hard cheese, and a handful of wizened berries from the hill folk, she and Ki walked among the campfires, listening to the soldiers brag of battles to come. Those who had fresh meat shared it with them, and in return she asked their names and where they hailed from. Spirits were high, and word of her vision of Remoni had gotten around during the march. The soldiers were taking it as a lucky sign that such a place actually existed and their queen had led them to it.

 

The waning moon was high in the cloud-wracked sky as they started back for her tent. A fire was burning brightly and her friends sat around it. Still hidden in darkness, she paused, committing the sight of their smiling, laughing faces to memory once again. She'd seen the size of Korin's force; in a few days' time they might have little to smile about.

 

"Come on," Ki murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "I think Nik might have a little wine left."

 

He did, and the warmth of it lifted her spirits. They might be hungry and footsore and damp, but they were here. She was about to turn in for the night when she heard the low, throbbing drone of Mahti's horn somewhere nearby.

 

"Now what's he up to?" Lutha wondered aloud.

 

Following the sound, they found the witch sitting on a rock overlooking the sea, eyes closed as he made his strange music. Tamir approached quietly. The song was filled with strange ups and downs, croaks and vibrations that reminded her of animal sounds, all strung together on an endless stream of breath. It blended with the cries of night birds and the distant yelp of a fox, and the voices of her army, laughter, singing, and the occasional angry shout or curse, but she didn't feel magic in it. Relaxing for the first time in days, she leaned her shoulder against Ki's and gazed out at the moon-washed sea. She could almost feel herself out there, bobbing on the waves like a leaf. She was nearly asleep on her feet when the song ended.

 

"What was that?" Ki asked softly.

 

Mahti stood up. "Farewell song. I bring you to Remoni. I go home now." He paused, looking at Tamir. "I make a healing for you, before I go."

 

"I told you before, I don't need any healing. I wish you'd stay with us, though. We'll soon need your skills."

 

"I not make to fight as you do." Mahti gazed at her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I dream of Lhel again. She say don't forget your noro'shesh."

 

Tamir knew that word meant Brother. "I won't. I'll never forget her, either. Tell her?"

 

"She know." He took up his little bundle and walked with them back to the fire to say his good-byes to Arkoniel and the others.

 

Lutha and Barieus clasped hands with him.

 

"We owe you our lives," Lutha said. "I hope we meet again."

 

"You be good guides. Bring me to girl who was boy, just as I say. Bring her to my people. You are friends of Retha'noi." He turned to Arkoniel and spoke to him in his own tongue. The wizard bowed and said something in return.

 

Mahti shouldered his horn and then sniffed the breeze. "More rain come." As he walked away, his feet made no sound on the dry grass and the shadows between the campfires soon swallowed him up as if he'd never been there at all.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 48

 

  

 

 

 

Korin dreamed of Tobin nearly every night, and the dreams were much the same. He might be walking through the great hall at Cirna, or in the palace gardens of Ero, and he would spy a familiar figure ahead of him. Each time, Tobin turned to smile tauntingly at him, then ran away. Furious, Korin would draw his sword- and run after him, but could never catch up. Sometimes the dream seemed to go on for hours and he would wake tense and sweating, hand clenched around an imaginary hilt.

 

The dream was different this time, though. He was riding along the edge of a high cliff, and Tobin was waiting for him in the distance. He didn't run when Korin spurred his horse forward, just stood there, laughing.

 

Laughing at him.

 

"Korin?"

 

Korin started awake and found Urmanis bending over him. It was still dark. The watch fire outside cast long shadows up the walls of his tent. "What is it?" he rasped.

 

"One of the southern scouting parties found Tobin."

 

Korin stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was still dreaming.

 

"Are you awake, Kor? I said we found Tobin! He's about a day's march south."

 

"On the coast?" Korin murmured.

 

"Yes." The other man gave him an odd look as he handed him a cup of watered wine.

 

It was a vision, he thought, downing the morning draft. He threw off the blankets and reached his boots. "He came through the mountains, just as we were told," Urmanis went on, handing Korin a tunic. "If he tries to march on Cirna, we can easily cut him off here."

 

Glancing out through the open flap, Korin saw that it was close to dawn. Porion and the Companions stood waiting.

 

Korin joined them. "We aren't going to sit waiting for him any longer. Garol, have the trumpeters raise the camp. Prepare to march."

 

The squire sprinted away.

 

"Moriel, summon my nobles."

 

"At once, Majesty!" The Toad hurried off.

 

Korin downed the last of the wine and handed the cup back to Urmanis. "Where are the scouts who found him?"

 

"Here, Majesty." Porion presented a blond, bearded man. "Captain Esmen, Majesty, of Duke Wethring's house."

 

The man saluted Korin. "My riders and I spotted a large force on the coast yesterday, just before sundown. I went forward myself and spied on the pickets as soon as it was dark. It's definitely Prince Tobin. Or Queen Tamir, as we heard him called," he added with a smirk.

 

Wethring and the other nobles joined them, and Korin had the scout repeat his news. "How large a force does he have?"

 

"I can't be sure, Majesty, but I'd say considerably less than yours. It's mostly men-at-arms, not much in the way of cavalry. Perhaps two hundred horse?"

 

"Did you see any standards?"

 

"Only Prince Tobin's, Majesty, but the men I heard talking mentioned Lord Jorvai. I also heard them complaining of being hungry. I didn't see any sign of a baggage train."

 

"That would explain how he got across the mountains so quickly," said Porion. "He was foolish to come with so little support, though."

 

"We're well supplied and rested," Korin mused with satisfaction. "We'll press our advantage. Assemble my cavalry and signal for a quick march."

 

Captain Esmen bowed again. "Begging your pardon, Majesty, but I've more to tell. There was mention of wizards, too."

 

"I see. Anything else?"

 

"No, Majesty, but some of my men stayed behind to bring word if he starts north."

 

"Well done. Lord Alben, see that this man is rewarded."

 

"Will you send a herald ahead, King Korin?" asked Wethring.

 

Korin smiled darkly. "The sight of my standard is all the warning my cousin will get from me."

 

Mahti had been right about the weather. Misty rain rolled in off the sea during the night, damping the watch fires and soaking the already exhausted soldiers. Barieus had been coughing all evening, though he was doing his best to hide it.

 

"Sleep in my tent tonight," Tamir told him. "That's an order. I need you fit tomorrow."

 

"Thanks," he rasped, stifling another cough behind his hand. Lutha gave him a worried look. "Take my blankets. I won't need them on watch."

 

"You should get what rest you can, too," Ki told Tamir.

 

"I will. But not just yet. I need to speak with Arkoniel."

 

"I know where he is."

 

He lit a torch and led her back to the cliffs. Arkoniel was there with Saruel, kneeling beside his own small fire. They were both hollow-eyed from casting seeking spells, and as Tamir approached, she saw Arkoniel cough raggedly against his arm.

 

"You're ill, too?" she asked, concerned.

 

"No, it's just the damp," he replied, though she suspected he was lying.

 

"Any sign of the 'faie yet?" asked Ki. "I'm afraid not."

 

"It's the beginning of the stormy season on this sea," said Saruel. "They could have been blown off course."

 

"What about Tharin?" asked Tamir.

 

Arkoniel sighed and shook his head. "There is no siege at Atyion. That's all I can tell you. Lyan has sent no word."

 

With nothing to do now but wait, Tamir let Ki lead her back to her tent and attempted to catch a few hours' rest. Her damp clothes and Barieus' intermittent coughing prevented deep sleep. She dozed fitfully and rose before dawn to find the world shrouded in fog. The rain was still falling, cold and persistent. Lorin and Tyrien were on watch outside, huddled under their cloaks as they fed wood to the smoking fire.

 

Tamir walked away to relieve her bladder. She still missed being able to simply open her trousers. As it was, the fog spared her the necessity of going very far.

 

The world was all grey and black around her. She could make out the edge of the cliff, and the dark shapes of men and horses, but it was indistinct, like the landscape of a dream. She could hear people grumbling, talking, and coughing as they stirred around their fires. Three muffled figures stood at the edge of the cliff.

 

"Be careful of your footing," one of them warned, as she went to join them.

 

Arkoniel and Lord Malkanus both had their eyes closed, lost in some spell. Kaulin stood with them, holding each by the elbow.

 

"Has he been at it all night?" Tamir asked quietly.

 

Kaulin nodded.

 

"Any sign?" She could already guess the answer.

 

Lord Malkanus opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, Majesty, but I still don't see any sign of ships. It is very foggy, though, and it's a very large sea."

 

"That doesn't mean they're not out there somewhere." Arkoniel sighed, opening his eyes. "Not that it matters now. Korin is breaking camp. I cast a window spell earlier. I still can't focus it on Korin, but I was able to find his generals. There's talk of moving south. I suspect he knows you're close by, to be moving so suddenly."

 

Tamir rubbed a hand over her face and back through her dirty hair, trying to ignore the empty rumbling in her belly. "Then we don't have long."

 

She walked back to the tent, where her marshals and the others were waiting. Ki handed her a roasted grouse, still hot on the stick it had been cooked on. "A gift from one of the Colath men."

 

Tamir pulled off a bit of the breast meat and handed it back. "Share it around. My lords, Korin is coming, and he's only a day or so away. I say we choose the ground and be ready when he gets here rather than going on to meet him. Nyanis, Arkoniel, and the Companions will ride with me. The rest of you rouse your companies and spread the word. And warn them to keep away from the cliffs until this damn fog lifts! I can't spare anyone to mishap."

 

The rain slowed to a drizzle as they rode north and the breeze picked up, pulling the fog to tatters around them.

 

"Korin has numbers on his side, and a large force of cavalry. We must find a way to cut down his advantage," Tamir mused, eyeing the countryside as they went.

 

"Your greatest strength is in your archers," Nyanis noted.

 

"What if Master Arkoniel cast a window spell and you shot at Korin through it, like you did with the Plenimarans?" asked Hylia.

 

Tamir frowned at the young squire. "That would be dishonorable. He and I are kin and warriors, and we'll meet as warriors on the field."

 

"Forgive me, Majesty," Hylia replied, reddening. "I spoke without thinking."

 

The ground fell away beyond their camp, and the forest closed in on the cliffs, leaving a space of open ground less than half a mile wide between trees and the sea. Farther on, the ground rose sharply beyond a little stream.

 

Tamir dismounted there and let her horse drink. The ground underfoot was soft. She jumped the stream and walked around on the far side, stamping her feet. "It's boggy over here. If Korin's cavalry comes galloping down, they're likely to find poor footing."

 

She crossed back and mounted again, then galloped up the hill with Ki and Nyanis to survey the view from the crest. The ground beyond the hill was firm and dry for as far as she could see. The forest was not so close here. From this direction the field grew narrower the farther down one went.

 

"If he charges from here, it'll be like peas into a funnel," she mused. "A broad line would end up bunched and crowded in on itself unless Korin narrows his ranks."

 

"If you were marching from the north, this would look like a good place to take a stand," Nyanis said. "You'd have the high ground."

 

"That's best for defense, though. We need to bring them down to us."

 

"Korin won't think anything of charging foot soldiers," said Ki. "There's a good chance he could break our lines, too, if he has as many people as you say, Arkoniel."

 

"That's just what he'll think," said Tamir, already seeing it in her mind's eye. "What we need is a herald, and a hedgehog."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 49

 

  

 

 

 

Cutting west to the Osiat coast under a grey sky, Korin turned south with his cavalry, leaving the foot with orders to catch up quickly.

 

Keeping the sea in sight, they rode hard all day, passing through open grasslands and skirting deep forest.

 

"Rich-looking country," Porion remarked as they stopped to water their horses at a river ford.

 

But Korin had no eye for bottomland or timber stands. His gaze was fixed on the distance, already seeing in his mind's eye the apparition of his cousin. After all the months of uncertainty and delay, it was almost beyond comprehension that he would finally face Tobin and decide the fate of Skala, once and for all.

 

It was midafternoon before the first of the scouts returned with word of Tobin's army.

 

"They've moved north a few miles, Majesty, and seem to be anticipating your arrival," the rider informed him.

 

"That will be his wizards' work," said Alben.

 

Korin nodded grimly. How was it that Niryn and his ilk had never been of such use?

 

They were about to set off again when Korin heard a rider coming up from the rear at a punishing gallop. The man hailed him and reined in.

 

"Majesty, two riders have been captured at the end of the column. One of them claims to be your friend, Lord Caliel."

 

"Caliel!" For a moment Korin could hardly get his breath. Caliel, here? He saw his own amazement on the faces of the remaining Companions, all but Moriel, who looked disconcerted.

 

"He begs your indulgence to see him and the man he brought you," the messenger said.

 

"Bring them to me at once!" Korin ordered, wondering what could have possibly brought Cal back. He paced restlessly as he waited, fists clenched behind his back while Alben and the others watched in silence. Was this some trick of Tobin's, sending the man back to spy? What could he hope to gain this late in the game? Korin could not imagine why else Caliel would risk execution to return. Revenge, perhaps? But that was simply suicidal, given the circumstances.

 

Presently an armed escort arrived and Korin made out Caliel in their midst, riding with his hands bound before him. Someone else rode beside him. As they came closer, Korin let out a shocked gasp as his heart turned over in his breast. "Tanil?"

 

The escort halted and four men brought the prisoners down from the saddle and marched them to where Korin and the others stood staring. Caliel met his gaze levelly and fell to one knee before him.

 

Tanil was pale and thin. He looked terribly confused, but broke into a beautiful smile as he caught sight of Korin and attempted to come to him, only to be restrained.

 

"My lord, I found you!" he called, struggling weakly. "Prince Korin, it's me! Forgive me—I got lost, but Cal brought me back!"

 

"Release him!" Korin ordered. Tanil ran to him and fell on his knees, clasping Korin's boot with his bound hands. Korin loosed the rope and wrapped his arms awkwardly around the boy's shaking shoulders. Tanil was laughing and sobbing at the same time, babbling apologies over and over again.

 

Korin looked past him to find Caliel watching with a sad smile. He was filthy and pale, too, and looked on the verge of collapse, but he was smiling. "What are you doing here?" Korin asked, still not quite master of his voice.

 

"I found him in Atyion. He wouldn't rest until he came back to you, so I brought him."

 

Korin freed himself from Tanil's embrace and walked over to him, drawing his sword as he went.

 

Caliel didn't flinch or show the least fear, just kept his gaze fixed on Korin.

 

"Did Tobin send you?"

 

"No, but she honorably let us go, even knowing that it was back to you."

 

Korin leveled the blade under Caliel's chin. "You will not speak of him like that to me, do you understand?"

 

"As you wish, my lord."

 

Korin lowered the tip of his blade a few inches. "Why did you come back, Cal? You're still under the order of execution."

 

"Then kill me. I've done what I came to do. Just—please, be kind to Tanil. He's suffered enough, for the love of you." His voice was hoarse and hollow by the time he finished, and he was wavering on his knees. Korin thought of the flogging he'd endured and wondered how he'd survived at all. It hadn't mattered much at the time. Now he felt the first stirrings of shame.

 

"Untie him," he ordered.

 

"But Majesty—"

 

"I said untie him!" Korin barked. "Bring food and wine for them, and decent clothing."

 

Caliel rubbed his wrists as he was released, but stayed kneeling. "I don't expect anything, Korin. I only wanted to bring him back."

 

"Knowing that I would hang you?"

 

Caliel shrugged.

 

"Who is your allegiance to, Cal?"

 

"Do you still doubt me?"

 

"Where are the others?"

 

"They stayed in Atyion." "But not you?"

 

Caliel fixed him with that direct gaze again. "How could I?"

 

Korin stood a moment, wrestling with his own heart. Niryn's accusations against Caliel seemed so hollow now. How had he believed such things of his friend?

 

"Do you swear yourself to me? Will you follow me and accept my course?"

 

"I always have, Majesty. I always will."

 

How can you forgive me? Korin wondered, astonished. He held out his hand and drew Caliel to his feet, then caught him as the other man's knees buckled under him. He felt thin and frail through his tunic, and Korin heard his muffled groan of pain as Korin's hands grasped at his back. The tufts of Cal's severed braids mocked him.

 

"I'm sorry," Korin whispered, so only Caliel could hear. "So sorry."

 

"Don't!" Caliel's hands tightened on Korin's shoulders. "Forgive me for giving you reason to doubt me."

 

"It's forgotten." Then, to those who stood staring at the spectacle he was making of himself, he said gruffly, "Lord Caliel has redeemed himself. He and Tanil are Companions once more. Alben, Urmanis, see to your brothers. Make them comfortable and find them arms."

 

The others gently helped Caliel to a seat by the stream. Tanil stayed by Korin, but his eyes kept straying back to Caliel. Moriel hovered near them, and Korin saw the look of naked hatred Caliel gave him, and the one he got in return. "Moriel!" he snapped. "You go see to the horses."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 50

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir had worked everyone tirelessly since dawn, preparing for Korin's arrival, and Ki stayed close by her side. The fog lifted by midday, but the clouds hung low and rain blew in off the water all that day, keeping clothing damp and making the fires smoke and die. The archers looked to their bows, tightening slack strings and rubbing them well with wax.

 

The entire army moved north, massing at the edge of the open ground she'd chosen. Ki and several of Nyanis' best archers took their bows up to the crest of the hill and let fly toward their own side of the field, arching some and sending others straight on to test the range. The other Companions carefully marked where the shafts landed and Tamir planned their lines.

 

"Korin's had the same lessons we did," Ki fretted as he rejoined her. "Don't you think he'll wonder why you're ceding him the advantage?"

 

Tamir shrugged. "We'll take our position and stay here until he comes to us."

 

Gathering her commanders by the stream, she took up a long stick and began scratching her plan into the soft ground. "We must draw him."

 

She set sappers to work their mattocks, digging trenches and holes to founder charging horses, while others cut small ditches along the stream to spread the water and make the ground softer. The archers went into the forest to fashion stakes.

 

As the morning passed and afternoon came on, Ki noticed how often Tamir looked south, watching for the lookouts she'd left behind at Remoni. There was still no word of the 'faie.

 

They were talking with the sappers, when some of the men behind them let out a shout and pointed up the hill. Ki caught a glimpse of a horseman before the intruder wheeled and galloped back out of sight.

 

"That'll be one of Korin's scouts," said Ki.

 

"Shall we go after him, Majesty?" Nyanis called.

 

Tamir grinned. "No, let him go. He's spared me the trouble of sending a messenger. Nikides, fetch your pen and call for a herald. Lutha, you and Barieus ride back to the lookouts. And tell Arkoniel I want to speak with him."

 

"They've done well," Ki murmured, watching the pair swing up into the saddle and gallop off. Lutha had let Ki see the stripes on his back that morning. They were healing well enough, but a few of the deeper cuts had pulled open and bled on the long hard journey over the mountains. Barieus wasn't faring any better. Both were wiry and stubborn as ever, though, and would have taken another flogging rather than utter a complaint.

 

Tamir followed them with her eyes, too. "Korin is a fool."

 

Che sun was sinking behind the clouds when Korin neared Tobin's line. Caliel was still weak, but had insisted on riding with him. Tanil, though left a bit simpleminded by what the Plenimarans had done to him, was just as stubborn.

 

Korin called a halt and rode ahead with Wethring and his guard to assess the ground.

 

Topping a rise, he saw Tobin's army encamped a mile or so on, between the cliffs and the forest.

 

"So many," he muttered, trying to estimate the numbers with her. It was difficult in the waning light, with them all bunched together like that, but it was a larger force than he'd expected. "Not many horse, though," said Porion. "If you claim this high ground, you have the advantage."

 

"Tamir, look there," Arkoniel said, pointing toward the hill again.

 

Even through the rain, Tamir knew Korin by the way he sat his horse, as much as by the standard flapping in the breeze behind him. She recognized Caliel beside him, too. Without thinking, she raised a hand to wave to them. She knew Korin wouldn't see her, on foot among the others, but she still felt a pang when he wheeled his horse and disappeared over the crest of the hill. She closed her eyes as a tumult of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Sorrow and guilt struck deep as memories of all those happy years together flooded back. That it should come to this!

 

A warm hand found hers and she looked up to find Arkoniel close beside her, shielding her from the eyes of the others.

 

"Steady, Majesty," he whispered, giving her an understanding smile. She felt strength return to her, though she couldn't be sure if it was his magic doing it or his friendship.

 

"Yes. Thank you." She squared her shoulders and waved the herald over. "My cousin the prince has arrived. Carry your message and return with his reply."

 

Korin and his generals sat their horses at the forest's edge, looking out at his cavalry spread across the grassy plain above the sea. Beyond them, lightning forked down from the lowering clouds over the water. A moment later the distant rumble of thunder rolled in.

 

"This is no sort of weather to be fighting in, with night coming on," Porion advised.

 

"You're right. Give the order to make camp." Out of the gathering murk, a lone rider dressed in the blue-and-white coat of a herald appeared, holding his white baton aloft. Alben and Moriel rode out to meet him and escorted him to Korin.

 

The herald dismounted and bowed deeply to Korin. "I bring a letter from Queen Tamir of Skala, to her beloved cousin, Korin of Ero."

 

Korin scowled down at him. "What does the false queen have to say?"

 

The herald drew a letter from his coat. '"To my cousin, Korin, from Tamir, daughter of Ariani, of the true line of Skala. Cousin, I stand ready to do battle with you, but know that I make you this last offer of amnesty. Put aside your anger and your arms. Give up your claim to the throne and let us be friends again. You have my most sacred oath, by Sakor, Illior, and all the Four, that you, your lady wife,, and the child she bears will be held in proper honor among my court, as Royal Kin. The nobles who follow you will be granted clemency, and retain both lands and titles. I call upon you, cousin, to put aside your unlawful claim and let there be peace between us.'"

 

The herald offered him the letter. Korin snatched it away, holding a corner of his cloak over it to shield it from the rain. It was Tobin's hand, and his seal. He looked to Caliel, expecting some comment, but his friend just looked away, saying nothing.

 

Korin shook his head and let the parchment fall. "Take back this answer, herald. Tell my cousin I will meet him tomorrow at first light at the point of my sword. All who fight in his name will be branded as traitors and forfeit all lands, titles, and their lives. No quarter will be given. Tell him also that I come without wizards. If he is honorable, he will not employ his own against me. Finally, give him my thanks for allowing Lord Caliel and my squire to return to me. They fight at my side. Tell him this message comes from King Korin of Skala, son of Erius, grandson of Agnalain."

 

The herald repeated the message and took his leave.

 

Korin pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned to Porion. "Pass the order to set up tents and serve hot food. We'll rest dry tonight."

 

Tamir assembled her marshals and captains before her tent to hear Korin's reply. Everyone was silent for a moment when he'd finished.

 

"Cal's in no shape to fight!" Lutha fretted. "And Tanil? What's he thinking?"

 

"If's out of our hands." Tamir sighed, equally dismayed at the thought of meeting them in battle. "I wish now I'd locked them up in Atyion until this was over."

 

"You wouldn't have been doing either of them any favor," Lynx replied. "They're where they wanted to be. The rest is with Sakor."

 

"Do you believe what he says, about having no wizards with him?" she asked Arkoniel. "I can't imagine him leaving Niryn behind."

 

"We've seen no sign of him, or any magic around Korin, beyond the wards Niryn has had on him all these months," Arkoniel replied. "Wait! Surely you don't mean to honor his condition?"

 

"I do."

 

"Tamir, no! You're already outnumbered—"

 

"How much could you really do?" she asked, looking around at the wizards. "I haven't forgotten what you did for me at the gates of Ero, but you told me yourself that it took all your combined strength for one great assault. I saw how it exhausted you."

 

"But a focused attack, as we did during the second raid?"

 

"Are you offering to assassinate Korin on the field for me?" She shook her head at their silence. "No. I won't win the crown that way. You wizards have been a great help to me already. Without you, I would not be here. But Illior chose me, a warrior. I'll meet Korin honorably, and win or lose honorably. I owe the gods and Skala that, to wipe clean the sins of my uncle." "And if he is lying about having wizards?" Arkoniel demanded.

 

"Then the dishonor is on his head and you can do as you like." She took his hand. "In all the dreams and visions I've had, my friend, I have not seen magic giving me victory. 'By blood and trial,' the Oracle said. Korin and I grew up together as warriors. It's only right that we settle this our way."

 

Tamir drew her sword and held it up before the others. "I mean to trade this blade for the Sword of Gherilain tomorrow. Herald, tell Prince Korin that I will meet him at dawn and prove my claim."

 

The man bowed and strode off for his horse.

 

Tamir looked around at the others again. "Tell my people to rest if they can and to make offerings to Sakor and Illior."

 

As they saluted and went their separate ways, she leaned over to Ki and muttered, "And pray to Astellus to bring us those damn Gedre ships!"

 

Saruel and Malkanus drew Arkoniel away from the watch fire to speak privately.

 

"You don't really mean for us to stand idly by, do you?" the Khatme asked in disbelief.

 

"You heard what she said. We serve at the queen's pleasure. I can't thwart her in this, no matter how I feel. The Third Oreska must have her trust. We can't use magic against Korin."

 

"Unless he does so against Tamir. That's how I understood her," said Malkanus.

 

"Perhaps," Arkoniel agreed. "But even so, as she pointed out, we don't have the power to do more than cause a momentary disruption."

 

"Speak for yourself," Saruel muttered darkly.

 

The foot and baggage train arrived at nightfall, and Korin ordered wine to be distributed among the men. He feasted with his generals and Companions that night around a warm fire, sharing bread brought down from the north and roasted venison and grouse as they laid out their strategy.

 

"It's as we thought," Porion told him. "Tobin lacks a decent cavalry. With your stronger force, you should be able to break their lines and overwhelm them."

 

"We'll scatter them like a flock of chickens," Alben vowed, saluting Korin with his mazer.

 

Korin took a long sip from his own, trying to numb the fear lurking deep in his heart. It had been the same in Ero, but he'd imagined that somehow this time would be different. It wasn't. His bowels went loose at the thought of charging down that hill, and he kept both hands tight around his mazer when he wasn't drinking, to quell the tremor there. Now that the moment was at hand, memories of his shameful failures ate at him, threatening to unman him once again. The bold certainty of Tobin's message had scorched his pride.

 

For the first time in a very long time, he could not drive away the memory of that night in Ero, when his father, lying wounded as the battle worsened, had called on Tobin, not his own son—put his confidence in that raw boy rather than him. That had been the proof of what Korin had always suspected, and his father's cold refusal to give him command when Tobin was gone had set the seal on his shame for all to see.

 

His father had died, the best generals had fallen, and there had been nothing left to do but put his trust in Niryn and flee, leaving Tobin to triumph once again.

 

Once he might have confided his thoughts to Caliel, but his friend was silent and pale, and Korin had seen genuine pain in his eyes as Tobin's message was given.

 

As they retired for the night, he paused, drawing Caliel away from the others. "Niryn wasn't completely wrong about you, was he? You still love Tobin."

 

Caliel nodded slowly. "But my love for you is greater." "And if you meet him on the field?"

 

"I will fight for you against anyone," Caliel replied, and Korin heard the truth in his voice. It cut like a knife with the memory of Cal's bloody back.

 

He retired with only Tanil for company, and the boy fell into an exhausted sleep almost at once. Korin wondered how he could convince him to stay behind tomorrow. He was in no condition to fight.

 

The only comfort left to him was wine. Only that took the shame and fear away, or at least drowned them in numbing warmth. He would not allow himself to be drunk, though. He was an experienced enough drinker to know how much it took to keep the fear at bay.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 51

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir and her army spent an uneasy night on the plain. Fog rolled in off the sea again, so thick it blotted out the moon and made it hard to see from one watch fire to another. Eyoli crept down through the forest from Korin's camp, having survived among the army long enough to travel back with them. He brought not only dire confirmation of the numbers on Korin's side but word that Caliel and Tanil both planned to fight.

 

"Tanil can't be strong enough yet," Ki muttered.

 

But Lutha exchanged a sad, knowing look with Tamir. Only death would keep Tanil from Korin's side now.

 

Rolled in her damp blankets, Tamir tossed fitfully, caught in vague dreams of the rocky place in her vision. It was foggy there, too, and she could make out dark forms moving around her, but not who they were. She woke with a start and tried to sit up, only to find Brother straddling her, holding her down with one icy hand wrapped around her throat.

 

Sister, he hissed, leering down into her face. My sister with a true name. The pressure on her throat increased. You who would not avenge me.

 

"I sent her away!" Tamir gasped.

 

Through a haze of dancing colored stars she saw that he was naked, gaunt, and dirty, his hair a tangled mass around his face. The scar on his chest was still an open wound. She could feel the cold blood dripping on her belly, soaking through her shirt to chill her skin. He ran an icy finger over the scar on her chest. I will be with you today. I will not be denied.

 

He disappeared and she struggled up, gasping for breath and shaking all over. "No!" she croaked, rubbing her throat. "I'll fight my own battles, damn you."

 

A shadow crossed the tent flap and Ki ducked in. "Did you call?"

 

"No, just—just a bad dream," she whispered.

 

He knelt beside her and stroked the hair back from her brow. "Are you coming down sick? There's fever in the camp."

 

"No, it's just this damn fog. I hope it clears for tomorrow." She hesitated, then confessed, "Brother was here."

 

"What did he want?"

 

"The same. And he said he'd be with me today."

 

"He's helped you before."

 

She gave him a sour look. "When it suited him. I don't want his help. This is my battle."

 

"Do you think he might go after Korin, like he did Lord Orun?"

 

Tamir searched the shadows for the demon. The memory of Orun's death still sickened her.

 

"Korin is Erius' son, after all, and he's in your place."

 

"He didn't have anything to do with what happened to Brother and me." She threw back the blankets and reached for her sweat-stained tunic. "I might as well get up. Do you want to sleep for a while?"

 

"I couldn't if I tried. I managed to find this, though." He pulled a slack wineskin from his belt and shook it, sloshing the scant contents. "It's wretched stuff, but it'll warm you."

 

She took a long pull and grimaced. It had been too long in the skin, but it dulled the hunger pangs a little.

 

She went to the open flap and gazed out at the sea of watch fires beyond. "We have to win, Ki. I wore them out, trekking over the mountains, and now they've all got empty bellies. By the Flame, I hope I didn't make a mistake, dragging them here."

 

He stood just behind her, looking over her shoulder. "Korin may have more men, but we have more to lose. Every man and woman out there tonight knows we have to win or die trying." He grinned again. "And I know which I'd prefer."

 

Tamir turned, pushed him a step back into the tent, and kissed him awkwardly on his unshaven cheek. His skin was rough, and left the taste of salt on her lips. "Don't die. That's my order to you."

 

She tightened her arms around his waist as their lips met again, overcome by pleasurable warmth that had nothing to do with bad wine. It almost felt natural now, kissing him.

 

"I hear and obey, Majesty," he replied softly, "as long as you promise to do the same." He stepped back and gave her a little push toward the door. "Come sit by the fire. You'll only brood in here."

 

Most of the Companions were sharing cloaks with their squires to keep warm. She longed to do the same, and would not have thought twice about it in times past. Still warm from his kiss, she felt too self-conscious in front of the others.

 

Hain, Lord Malkanus, and Eyoli were with them.

 

"Where are the others?" she asked.

 

"Kaulin is working with the healers," Eyoli replied. "Arkoniel and Saruel are still looking for signs of the Aurenfaie ships."

 

Barieus was dozing on Lutha's shoulder. He stirred, then let out a hoarse cough and sat up, blinking like an owl.

 

"Are you feverish?" asked Tamir.

 

"No," Barieus replied a bit too quickly, and then coughed again. "There's a grippe spreading among the ranks," said Nikides. "The few drysians we have are hard-pressed."

 

"I've heard muttering that it's some illness put on us by the hill folk," Una said.

 

"Typical!" scoffed Ki.

 

Tamir looked out at the watch fires again. Too many nights in the rain and too little food. If we lose tomorrow, we may not be strong enough to fight again.

 

A freshening breeze signaled the coming dawn, but the sun stayed hidden behind banks of dark clouds.

 

Tamir gathered her wizards, marshals, and their captains and made a final sacrifice. Arkoniel joined them. There was still no sign of the 'faie.

 

Everyone sprinkled the dregs of their wineskins on the ground and threw wax horses and other offerings into the fire. Tamir added a handful of owl feathers and a large packet of incense Imonus had given her.

 

"Illior, if it is your will that I rule, give us victory today," she prayed, as the sweet smoke billowed up.

 

When the prayers were finished, Tamir looked around at their haggard faces. Some of these, like Duke Nyanis and the Alestun men, had known her since childhood. Others, like Grannia, had followed her for a few short months, but in every face she saw the same determination.

 

"Don't you fret, Majesty," Jorvai said, misreading her concern. "We know the ground, and you've got the gods on your side."

 

"With your permission, Majesty, my wizards and I have prepared a few spells to help protect you today," said Arkoniel. "That is, if you don't think it will be breaking your word to Korin."

 

"I promised not to use magic directly against him. I don't think this counts, do you? Go on."

 

The wizards went to each marshal and Companion, casting spells to secure their armor and quell the hunger gnawing at every belly. They did the same for the captains. Arkoniel came to Tamir and raised his wand, but she shook her head. "I have all the protection I need. Save your strength for the others."

 

"As you wish."

 

Tamir turned to her marshals. "It's time."

 

"Give us the order, Majesty," Nyanis said.

 

"Give no quarter unless they surrender outright. Victory or death, my lords!"

 

Manies loosed her banner and shook it out to catch the breeze as the cry was taken up. Her trumpeter gave a short, muted call and the signal went out to all the others.

 

Arkoniel embraced her, then held her at arm's length, as if he wanted to memorize her face. "This is the moment you were born for. Illior's luck be with you, and Sakor's fire."

 

"Don't look so grim," she chided. "If the gods truly want a queen, then what is there to fear?"

 

"What indeed?" Arkoniel said, trying to smile.

 

Ki embraced him next and whispered, "If things go wrong, I don't give a shit for Korin and his honor. You do something!"

 

Torn, Arkoniel could only hug him back.

 

Like a great beast waking, Tamir's army coalesced and moved up to their initial positions, the ranks bristling with spears and pole arms. No one spoke, but the clink and rustle of armor, the rattle of thousands of shafts in hundreds of quivers, and the step of thousands of feet on damp grass filled the air.

 

Tamir and the Companions shouldered their shields and bows and walked up to the center of the forward line. Their horses were left behind with the young boys of the camp; they would fight on foot at first.

 

The fog slunk around their feet in tattered shreds as the two main wings formed up. It hung in the nearby trees like smoke as the standards were unfurled on their long poles. Tamir and her guard had the center, with a company of Atyion archers on either side and three companies of men-at-arms just behind. Kyman had the left flank, with the cliff on their left. Nyanis' wing stretched to the trees. Both wings had blocks of archers on the outside and men-at-arms toward the center, bracketing Tamir's archers. Jorvai's fighters formed the reserve wing, to the rear, but his archers would send their shafts over the heads of those in front of them.

 

Each marshal had his banner, and each captain. Once battle was joined, each company would rally to their own standard, to move as one in the inevitable noise and confusion.

 

Tamir's front line was just out of bowshot range of the hill. They could hear the sounds of Korin's army approaching.

 

"Archers. Set stakes," she ordered, and the captains passed it on down both sides of the line.

 

Half the archers in each company set their pointed stakes into the ground at an angle facing the enemy. It formed the "hedgehog," a widely spaced hedge of sharp points hidden among their ranks like quills in fur.

 

They were still busy putting the last deadly touches to the points when a cry went up from the rear ranks.

 

"We're being flanked! Tell the queen, we're being outflanked!"

 

"Hold your positions," Tamir shouted, then started for the rear.

 

"Damn it, he must have moved people through the forest," Ki said, following as Tamir shouldered her way back through the lines.

 

The mist had thinned. They could see the dark mass of an army approaching, preceded by four riders coming on at a gallop.

 

"Could be heralds," said Ki. He and Lutha stepped in front of her to cover her with their shields nonetheless.

 

As the riders drew closer, however, she recognized the foremost. It was Arkoniel, and he was waving and shouting. She didn't recognize the others, but saw that they were armed.

 

"Let them come," she ordered, seeing that some of the archers were nocking shafts to their strings.

 

"They've arrived!" Arkoniel shouted, reining in. "The Aurenfaie. They're here!"

 

The other riders with him swept off their helms. It was Solun of Bokthersa and Arengil, together with an older man.

 

The stranger bowed in the saddle. "Greetings, Queen Tamir. I am Hiril i Saris, of Gedre. I have command of the Gedre archers."

 

"I have a company from Bokthersa. Forgive us for coming so late," said Solun. "The Gedre ships stopped for us, then we had foul weather on the crossing."

 

"It threw us off course. We landed down the coast from your harbor yesterday," Hiril explained.

 

"We've brought you food and wine, and two hundred archers from each clan," said Arengil. He took a small scroll from inside his tabard and handed it down to her with a proud grin. "And I have the permission of my father and mother to become a Companion, Queen Tamir, if you'll still have me?"

 

"Gladly, but for today, I think it would be better if you stand with your own people."

 

Arengil looked a bit crestfallen at that, but he pressed his hand to his heart, Skalan style.

 

Tamir quickly explained her plan to Solun and Hiril and had them position their archers in the center of the third rank.

 

As she and the Companions returned to their position on the front line, the sound of a great commotion came from the hill. Korin's men were beating their shields and shouting war cries as they advanced to their places. It was a daunting sound, and grew louder as the first ranks appeared out of the morning mist. "Answer them back!" Tamir shouted. Ki and the others drew their swords and beat them against their shields, shouting, "For Skala and Queen Tamir!"

 

The battle cry spread through the ranks in a deafening roar that continued as Korin's army massed above them.

 

When the shouting died away the two armies stood facing each other at last. Korin's banner was at the forefront of his line and Tamir could see his red tabard.

 

"Isn't that Duke Ursaris' banner over there?" said Ki. "The one you sent packing?"

 

"Yes," Lutha replied. "There's Lord Wethring's banner, on the left. That's Duke Syrus and his archers on the right. Korin's sure to rely mostly on horse, though, and his men-at-arms, since he has the most of those."

 

"Where's General Rheynaris?" asked Ki.

 

"He fell at Ero. Caliel said that none of these others are near the tactician he was."

 

"That's good news for us, then."

 

"He still has Master Porion," Barieus pointed out.

 

"Bilairy's balls, I hope none of us will have to face him!" Barieus murmured, speaking for all of them.

 

"Shit," Lutha muttered, still staring up the hill.

 

"What is it?" Tamir asked.

 

"On Korin's right. Don't you see them?"

 

Tamir shaded her eyes and looked. "Shit!"

 

Even at this distance, she recognized the golden-haired rider.

 

It was Caliel. And there, between him and Korin, was Tanil.

 

"Lutha, you and Barieus have my leave not to fight him, or Tanil," Tamir told them. "I won't ask that of you."

 

Lutha shook his head grimly. "We'll do what we must, when the time comes."

 

Korin's herald cantered down to the base of the hill, and Tamir's went out to meet him. They spoke briefly, exchanging intentions, then rode back to their lines. "King Korin requires that you surrender or fight, Majesty. I gave him the same message to carry back as you instructed."

 

Tamir had expected nothing less. "You may withdraw."

 

"Illior give you victory, Majesty." The herald saluted her and rode off down the line. Heralds were sacred in battle, as well, and would observe the combat and carry word of the outcome.

 

Caliel sat his borrowed horse in his ill-fitting armor, his torn back sore under the rough shirt he'd been given. He cared nothing for the discomfort, though, as he gazed down at the opposing line with a heavy heart. He found Tamir at the center, just as he'd expected, and on foot. There were Ki and Lynx, too. Hoping against hope, he searched the other faces close to her, and his heart sank as he found Lutha.

 

Closing his eyes, he sent up a silent prayer to Sakor, Keep me from them on the field.

 

He owed Korin his loyalty, but he owed Lutha and Barieus his life, and Tanil owed his to Tamir, though he still did not grasp that they were facing her. Korin had tried to leave him behind with the baggage train, and even considered tying him up, but Tanil had wept and pleaded, thinking it was because he'd been disgraced.

 

"Let him come," Caliel said at last. "He's strong enough to fight. And if he falls? That's kinder than leaving him as he is now. At least he'll die a man again."

 

Looking at Tanil now, he knew Korin had been right to agree. He looked more alert and alive than he had since Caliel had found him again.

 

As he watched Tamir's banner fluttering below, however, his own doubts warred with duty, making him Vaguely ill. Korin would not hear the truth about Tamir, and Caliel's oath kept him silent. But what if she is a true queen? His conscience spoke with Lutha's voice. What does it mean for us if we go against the true queen?

 

He looked at Korin again and sighed. No, he'd made his choice. He would stand by it, come what may.

 

 at Tamir's right hand, Ki's heart swelled as he looked around. Lynx, Una, Nikides, and their squires formed a square around them, every one of them fearless and ready. He saw the same determination in the faces of the soldiers. Grannia and the women of her guard gazed fiercely up at the other army—an army they would not have been welcome in. He wondered where Tharin was, and if he'd been victorious. Only the thought of Caliel and Porion in that other line gave him pause, but he pushed regret aside. They'd all made their choices.

 

A hush fell over the field. He could hear men talking in Korin's ranks, the sound of coughing from their own. The rising sun was a faint white disk behind the clouds. In the forest, birds were waking up, their songs mixing with the measured sigh of the sea against the cliffs. It was strangely peaceful.

 

An hour passed, then two as Tamir and Korin waited for the other to make the first move. In his lessons on battle, their old teacher Raven had said that this was one of the hardest parts of a battle, the waiting. Ki had to agree. The day was turning heavy, making him sweat in his damp clothing. His empty belly rumbled under his belt and his throat felt sore.

 

Another hour passed, and the two sides began to trade taunts. But Tamir stood silently, gaze fixed on Korin, who'd dismounted to consult with some of his generals.

 

Nyanis walked up the line to join them. "He's not going to move."

 

"Then we'll just have to make him," Tamir replied. "Ready your archers. Grannia, pass the word down to Kyman's wing."