Dragonsword #3 1 страница

Sheltered by the earthworks that ringed the town, Hahle watched it, frowned doubtfully, readied his bow. " Myylen. "

Myylen was thickset, with muscles that were used to heaving on ropes and gathering sails: a seaman, like his comrades, dragged out of his boat and into battle. " Here, councilman. "

" Your eyes are younger than mine. What do you see in that boat? "

Myylen crept carefully to the edge of the rough par­apet. The breeze freshened. Spray wetted his long, dark hair. " Two men, " he said after some time.

A boat. From Vaylle. But why so small a boat. . . and so few passengers?

" Alive, Myylen? "

Myylen squinted. The boat drew nearer. Hahle felt a chill that had nothing to do with his bare scalp or his years, that sprang rather from the intuitions of an old warrior: it was going to be a hard march, and a worse bivouac. And comrades would die. In fact,

Hahle was afraid that comrades had already died, and that among them was one of his students.

" Such a fine young lad, " he murmured to himself. But no; the lad was gone. His place had been taken by a woman. And now she...

Myylen shook his head. " They do not move. "

Driven haphazardly by the wind, the boat turned and ran broadside onto the gently sloping shore a stone's throw from the parapet. It rocked in the lap of waves for a moment, then, as though suddenly sure of its footing, it heeled over and was still.

Not a sound from the boat. Not a movement.

" Who comes? " shouted Hahle. He had fitted an arrow to the bow string, and his strong right hand was covering the nock: three fingers taking the string on the pads, the shaft gripped lightly between the index and middle. " Who comes to Quay? "

The wind died, then came up again. The sails rattled as though petrified. Behind Hahle and Myylen, crouch­ing in the shelter of the earthworks, men drew swords and readied pikes with a set to their faces that told of frantic battles against weapons for which they did not even have names. Ten days before, Quay had been struck by a thing from the sky. The lady Kyria had labored mightily, but though she had healed the wounded, the dead were nonetheless dead, the houses were burned, the streets were choked with rubble and filled with the sweet odor of decay.

And now this boat.

" Sir, " said Myylen, " we can—"

His words were interrupted by a faint, choking sound that grew abruptly into a forsaken wail. Hahle flinched and started to draw his bow, but he realized then that what he heard came not from any hound, nor from a thing in the sky, but rather from the throat of a man. Compelling as the voice was, though, he re­sisted the urge to run to the boat. " Myylen, Stahn, " he said. " Follow me. With caution. "

The three climbed over the parapet as the others

kept a lookout, and in a minute, they stood on the damp sand. The wailing continued, and now it took on the shape of words:

" For the love of the Gods, help me! "

Again, the urge to run. Hahle fought it in himself and quelled it in his men with a sharp glance. " But I know that voice, " said Myylen. " The one called Helwych. "

" That waterfly? But-"

The voice: urgent, compelling, almost command­ing. " Help me! "

Myylen and Stahn stumbled forward as Hahle, his cautions sticking in his throat, ran to catch up. When they reached the boat, they found that Myylen was right: there were two men there. One, a stranger, ob­viously Vayllen, was dead. Helwych, though, was alive.

The lad seemed cut in a hundred places, burned over what little skin was not cut, and so bruised and bat­tered that it was hard to recognize him for the swelling and discoloration. He was bleeding furiously from a gash in his forehead, and his eyes peered frantically from out of a blood-drenched face.

" The Vayllens, " he gasped. " All smiles and favors until we reached their city, and then—" He broke off, coughing.

Hahle and his men vaulted into the boat. Myylen and Stahn bent over the sorcerer. Helwych shook, choked, vomited a mixture of blood and bile.

" —and then they turned on us, and... "

Helwych seemed in danger of bleeding to death as he spoke. Myylen and Stahn cut strips from the sail and attempted to bind up the worst of his wounds, working quickly as he choked and retched; but Hahle felt the cold again. " We need more than sailcloth here, " he said, his throat as tight as the grip of his hand on the bow. " Stahn, run to the town and fetch what physicians we have. "

Stahn nodded and, shouting for the physicians,

vaulted over the gunwale. But his weight caused the boat to shift and roll, and it pitched Hahle backwards and onto the corpse of the Vayllen.

Myylen looked up, startled. Hahle stared at the dead man. The skin of the body was lined and tan, and its blond hair was bleached nearly white by the sun. Such as you betrayed my people. Such as you will pay dearly.

Helwych was gasping through a froth of spittle and blood. " And they. . . and they... "

Frowning at his clumsiness, Hahle climbed to his feet and made his way to the young sorcerer. " And the others? "

" Dead. " Helwych choked, winced at Myylen's rough ministry.

" All of them? No survivors at all? "

Helwych blinked, his mouth working. " All dead. " There was an odd tone to his voice, and his eyes shifted a little in their bloody sockets. " I alone escaped to tell you. "

As the days had slipped by into mid-February, the weather about Kingsbury had grown milder. The storm three weeks ago had spent the last of the winter's strength, and the winds had shifted to the southwest, bringing a warmth that presaged the coming of spring.

In the house of the king, Seena nursed her infant son, the tender expression of a young mother warm on her face. Her heart was full. She had her children and her husband, and Gryylth was changing in wonderful ways. Nearby, Relys watched as Ayya played with a toy broom, wielding it with childish carelessness; and though the girl might sweep some day in earnest, she would, Seena knew, never learn the bow of subservi­ence, and Vill would never know a time when his sis­ter was not his equal, save perhaps in strength.

But the sun was setting, and with nightfall would come things less of wonder and more of horror. Ban-don had been destroyed in the night, and though that

slaughter had not been repeated in Gryylth, still dark­ness brought with it the distant baying of spectral and murderous hounds and a curious, eager snuffling that visited many a door both within the town and without.

The light faded. Seena shuddered and held Vill closer. The infant mumbled, his soft hands padding at his mother's breast.

What would happen, she wondered, if the hounds and the things from the sky came to Kingsbury in ear­nest? Ayya might never learn the bow. . . but she might well never learn it because—

Seena jerked herself away from her thoughts. No. Alouzon had gone off to Vaylle, and if there were any­one capable of bringing that renegade land to heel, it was the Dragonmaster. The younger men might mock her behind her back because she was a woman, but those who had fought with her regarded her almost as though she were a God who had deigned to come to Gryylth to help Her children, face-to-face, hand-in-hand.

A heavy step at the door. Relys looked up from Ayya, and her hand went to her sword; but the guards outside murmured greetings, and Cvinthil's soft tenor carried into the house. In a moment, Seena's husband had entered. He shut the door behind him, took off his cloak, and hung it on a peg.

Seena smiled fondly. Another man might have de­cided that a king should have servants to attend to his garments. Not so Cvinthil. He had been a warrior. He still was. He would hang up his own clothes.

Now he bowed to her. " Wife. "

" Husband. " Seena nodded in return. She and Cvin­thil had separate duties, perhaps, and different strengths, but they were equals nonetheless. It was a good thought.

Cvinthil greeted Relys, who had risen, and mo­tioned her back onto her stool. Ayya ran to him, and he swept her up in his arms and made faces at her until she laughed.

" How is it in the wide world, husband? " said Seena.

He bent, Ayya still in his arms, and kissed her. " Well. . . " He looked toward the door almost un­easily, as though at any moment the matters he had left at Hall Kingsbury might suddenly burst in. " Well. . . " He shrugged. " The farmers are saying it will be a good year, and the shepherds—thanks to Karthin's advice—have more lambs than they know what to do with... " He offered a careworn smile. "... though I am sure they will think of something. Karthin has done much good for Gryylth. Tireas, he said, once called him a hayseed. If so, then let there be more hayseeds in this land, for they seem to be a good lot. "

" And. . . Alouzon. . . ? "

Cvinthil's smile faded. Silence grew about him. He sat down on a stool next to Relys and put Ayya on her lap. For a moment, Relys looked almost terrified, and Ayya added to her confusion by kissing her on the cheek. Relys set her on the floor nervously, and the girl laughed and resumed her sweeping.

He spoke at last. " No word has come. Indeed, I fear that no word will ever come. "

" Surely you do not—"

He shook his head quickly. " The hounds have made travel dangerous. The messenger that came from Quay ten days ago with word of Alouzon's departure was attacked on the road by a pack. He barely escaped. I imagine it is worse now. ''

He stared into the fire for a time, all the care that had come to him since he had assumed the kingship plain on his face. " O wife, " he said softly. " I was never meant for the duties of king. Marrget, I think, would have been the better choice. "

" Marrget is a woman, husband, " said Seena.

" Aye, that she is. And a brave one. And a wise one. Gryylth could do much worse. "

Relys lifted her head. " My king, " she said softly, " if I may speak, I believe the captains made a good

choice. And Marrget would have refused the title. You know that. "

" Aye. Aye. "

" And, much as I am unwilling to say it, this land is not ready for a woman's rule, and will not be ready for a long time. " Relys spoke dispassionately, but her words obviously pained her.

" Speak, Relys, " said the king. " You seem to know more of the results of my reforms than do I. Captains and councilors sometimes tell a king no more than he desires to hear. What can you tell me? ''

' 'The reforms? '' Relys shrugged. ' 'I can tell you what I see, and what my women see. I can tell you that Wykla was almost raped. I can tell you that the young men from the country, new to their soldier's livery and their station, laugh and snigger at the First Wartroop. I can say that women are threatened daily in the mar­ketplace by men who care little for decrees and laws, but only for old custom. There are many among your own Guard who would wish to see me bow to them, or at least... " She smiled thinly. "... have me provided with a good husband who would make a proper wife of me. ''

Cvinthil sighed. " You tell a grievous tale, lieuten­ant. "

Relys was impassive. " I am sorry to bear ill tidings, my king. But I would be so bold as to remind you that custom is hard to change. But it is changing. "

The king shook his head. " I wonder if it is perhaps changing on the surface only. ''

Vill finished nursing, and Seena laid him on her shoulder and patted his back. " Time, my husband. "

Cvinthil looked as though he wondered how much time would be given him, but after a moment, Seena realized that he was listening to the horns of the guard posts along the road up Kingsbury Hill. Closer and closer they sounded: a messenger was climbing the switchback trail up to the town.

Relys went to the door, opened it, and slipped out

into the fading light, her hand on her sword. Another horn, a different note: the messenger had reached the gate to the city. Seena rose and sent Ayya up the stairs to the loft, then took the seat beside her husband. She was queen. Timid she was, and sometimes she even longed for the old ways, but now her place was here, with Cvinthil.

Horse hoofs clattered on the hard-packed earth of the street, splashed in puddles. Exclamations from the guards outside. Relys cried out: " By the Gods, man! Your arm! "

" My arm is but a little thing, and it will heal, " said a voice with a coastal accent. " I would see King Cvin­thil. "

The sound of a clumsy dismounting, and then Relys flung the door open to admit a tall man. His face was dark with sun, and his hair was dark too, and long. He wore a heavy cloak against the cold, and as he crossed the threshold, he pulled it closely about his left arm as though to hide it. Phosphor smoked on the thick wool, and more smoke came from his hidden arm.

He bowed deeply to Cvinthil and, after a moment's thought, to Seena. " My lord. . . and lady, " he said, " I am Myylen. I am from Quay. Hahle sent me with tidings of Alouzon Dragonmaster and her compan­ions. "

Cvinthil nodded. " Speak. Quickly. "

Myylen's face had already told the story. " They are dead, my king. All of them save Helwych. The Vayllens pretended friendship until our company was de­fenseless, and then they attacked with magic and weapons. Even the lady Kyria was helpless. "

Cvinthil had turned very pale. Seena clutched Vill as though by doing so she could keep away hounds and flying death and fire. " And. . . and Helwych? " said the king.

" Badly injured, my king, " said Myylen. " He killed

a Vayllen boatman and made for Gryylth so as to warn us of our danger. ''

Cvinthil rose and bowed stiffly. " Our thanks to you, sir. " But he stood wavering. " Relys, " he called un­certainly. " Relys, are you there? "

" Here, my king, " came her clear, cold voice.

" Call my advisors and captains to the Hall, " he said, his voice distant. " And you come also, and bring Timbrin with you. You are now captain of the First Wartroop, and Timbrin is your lieutenant, and your king is in desperate need of counsel. "

" It shall be done, my king. " Relys's icy calm did not thaw in the slightest. Marrget had been not only her captain, but her friend. Relys was, Seena knew, planning revenge and war even now. Terrible war. War without conscience or quarter.

And so was the king.

Darham sat on the simple stool that formed as much of a throne as he would allow in the king's lodge, listening to the messenger who had come from Cvin­thil. The man's tale was one of deception, murder, and a single lucky escape, but beneath the surface consid­erations that would lead—inevitably, Darham knew— to war with Vaylle, there were other matters. A much-loved member of the King's Guard of Corrin was dead, as was a trusted captain who had proved himself both in battle and in council, and also the young woman that he himself had adopted.

The messenger finished. Darham hung his head. He had counseled for caution, and this was the result. " I cannot believe that they would have been so careless, " he murmured, though he knew that the blame lay upon his own shoulders. " What madness made them walk, open-eyed, into a trap? "

Tylha, the commander of the women's phalanxes, was frowning. " The Vayllens seem to control poten­cies that even Tireas would have envied, " she said. " Perhaps our people did the best they could. "

The Gryylthan messenger, a young man, stared at Tylha as though surprised that a woman would raise her voice in council. Or perhaps he was irritated that she did. Darham marked his expression, recalled what Wykla had said of Gryylth's continuing difficulties with its women. And more than likely such as this tor­mented my brave daughter. " And what of Helwych, sir? "

The Gryylthan composed himself quickly. " Hel­wych is near death and far too weak to travel, lord. But the physicians of Quay have hopes that he will recover. "

" He stole a Vayllen fishing boat, you say. "

" Aye, lord. And to do so he killed the fisher who Downed it. "

Calrach, who commanded what few men Corrin still maintained, fought to suppress a smile. " It seems the lad had some teeth after all. "

His sentiment was echoed in the faces of the guards and attendants who stood about the lodge. Beneath it, though, ran a deep anger. Helwych had always been irritating and annoying by turns, and his unexpected valor was heartening. But Manda had been a friend to many, and Karthin's abilities were legendary. Corrin had lost two heroes.

Wykla's sweet face swam in Darham's memory— blue-eyed, amber-haired, frightened and brave both— and his arm still ached with the wound that she had given him. She had a family, but they had rejected her, and Darham had offered himself in their place. Though the lass had said neither yes nor no, Darham had thought of her as kin from that hour.

Dead? So quickly? His new daughter taken from him a fortnight since he had found her? Anger surged up in his heart, and he was about to stand and give the orders that would gather men and women and send them off to war, but he recalled Tarwach's hasty tem­per. . . and what had come as a result of it. He re­mained in his seat.

Something felt wrong. Tylha had trained Manda, and she had not trained her to be a dupe or a fool. Wykla had a steady way about her. Karthin was cautious. And Alouzon Dragonmaster, and Marrget, and Santhe— Gryylth's best. . . Darham knew how they fought. He had, in fact, fought against them.

Helwych alone had escaped?

Composing himself, Darham stood up at last. " Our thanks to you, sir, " he said to the messenger. " You have brought us grievous news, but we are thankful that you brought it. I fear, though, that we show our­selves poor hosts by making our guest stand and recite instead of sit and eat. " He turned to a member of his Guard. " Sandyhl, see that this man is given lodging and food. "

The messenger cleared his throat. " Does Corrin have a reply that I may take back to Gryylth? "

Anger. Wykla's sweet face. Manda's hot temper and her old sorrow. It would be so easy to lift a hand, to give the word.

But Darham steeled himself. " Not at present. I am sure that Cvinthil will agree that matters decided in haste lead to misfortune. I will consider this. "

Tylha's eyebrows lifted. " My king! Manda. . . Karthin... "

Darham eyed her. " Helwych, too. . . almost. " He allowed the last word to hang meaningfully. " San­dyhl. "

The guard came forward, bowed to the messenger. " Come, sir, " he said. He turned on his heel brusquely and led the Gryylthan out of the hall, his manner po­lite, but cold: he too had noticed the messenger's at­titude towards Tylha.

When the Gryylthan was gone, Darham turned his attention to other matters: petitions, judgments, de­crees—the daily business of a king. But he knew well that his captains and attendants were wondering at his caution. Raised eyebrows, murmurs, shaking of heads both in sorrow and in anger—all these and more told

him that those about him favored a quick and deadly invasion of the land across the sea.

Darham kept to the business at hand, kept his voice even and his mind clear. But when the business was done, when evening had fallen thickly over Benardis, when the attendants were leaving, he motioned for Tylha and Calrach to remain behind. Together, the captains stood before Darham in the empty hall and saluted.

Darham shook his head. " I will have no formalities now, friends. The day's work is done, and we farmers can take off our boots and warm ourselves at the fire all together. "

He gestured for them to bring stools and sit with him, and he himself threw another log onto the fire that burned at the side of the lodge. He called for wine, passed out full cups, and then sent the attendant away. " Well, friends, " he said, " what do you think? Cvinthil has been of a mind for invasion and revenge since the turning of the year, and only my advice made him reconsider. Now he sends a messenger who all but says to my face: Are you satisfied? Doubtless the king of Gryylth wishes to sail with the first sign of fair weather. He asks for aid. "

Calrach and Tylha exchanged glances. The woman spoke first. " I cannot blame Cvinthil. We ourselves have good reasons for invading Vaylle. "

Calrach shook his head. " Reasons, maybe. But there is the matter of wisdom. '' His hair was thin and blond, and his scalp showed through, gleaming in the fire­light. " I was with Tireas in the Heath, and I lost Flebas there. And I saw what magic could do in the last days of the war with Gryylth. We can help Gryylth, certainly, but would that do any good? "

" Hmmm. " Tylha was nodding, her round face thoughtful. " It might provide us with an honorable death, perhaps. "

Darham propped his feet on the warm hearthstones and stroked his big gold beard. Tarwach would have

acted already, would probably even now be personally seeing to the gathering of phalanxes and equipment, making lists, making plans. . .

Tarwach, maybe. Darham, no. " Calrach, " he said, " you know Helwych, do you not? "

Calrach's eyebrows lifted. " I know him. I suppose I know him as well as any, which is not saying much. "

" Does he carry a knife? Or a sword? "

Calrach looked puzzled. " He carried an eating knife with which to cut up chickens at table. Nothing more. Poor care he takes of it, too. "

Darham nodded. " Sorcerers doubtless have other concerns than the keeping of their cutlery, " he said. " But does he know the use of a knife—I mean, for matters other than cutting up chickens? ''

" Fighting? Nay, the lad is frightened to death of such things. "

" Ummm, just so. " Darham set his cup aside, picked up a stick, and poked it into the heart of the fire. The tip began to blacken. " I wonder, my friends. I ask you to wonder with me. Think of Helwych as you remember him, and then place that lad in the midst of a surprise attack that combines both magical and mundane weapons, an attack that kills Karthin, Manda, and even Alouzon Dragonmaster herself. A powerful sorceress, too, was there, and she did not survive. What would happen to Helwych under such circumstances? ''

" He would... " Tylha pursed her lips for a mo­ment. " He would drop like a slaughtered pig. If weap­ons did not kill him, fear would. "

" Aye, " said Darham slowly. " Yet now we hear that under just such circumstances did Helwych defend himself valiantly, escape, and with a weapon of which he did not know the use—and half dead from his wounds at that—kill a strong fisher and sail—"

His brows knit together of a sudden.

' 'When did Helwych ever learn to sail a boat? He is not from the coast. ''

And when Darham looked up, comprehension and suspicion were gleaming in the eyes of Tylha and Calrach.

Darham drained all but a mouthful of his wine, threw the remainder into the fire as an offering to the Gods, and stood up as the burning wood flared and hissed. " We cannot dismiss the possibility that Helwych's story is true, but I intend to delay my decision as long as I may, in hope that further knowledge might answer some of these questions. We might indeed send troops to Vaylle eventually, and we may indeed look for revenge, but my heart tells me that Vaylle may not be the target of our vengeance. "

" Do you suspect Gryylth? " said Calrach. " Or. . . " He fell silent, chagrined.

" Or Helwych, you mean? " Darham shrugged. " As of yet, we may not even know the name that might someday be mated with our suspicions. " He bowed to the warriors. " Friends, I bid you a good night. Let us all consider well what we have been told and what we think, but let us also keep silent for now. "