DragonCrown Saga - The Grand Crusade Part 34

"But what would you know, Resolute? You are a child. You carry a Syverce, but you are not bound to a homeland. You cannot know the sort of duty that weapon confers on you." She turned and pointed back to Loquellyn. "I am bound to my home, and it tells me what I must do."

He arched a snowy eyebrow. "And are you being told that what you are doing is wrong?"

She faltered. "No."

Resolute rested his left hand on the sword's hilt. "You know that were I not meant to bear this sword, I could not touch it without pain."

"And I know enough of you to know you'd not show pain if you felt it."

"That may be true, but I don't feel pain. Oracle said I would have a sword from the hand of the Norrington. Will gave me this blade. That was just one more sign that we are right. Will is the Norrington, and the Norrington is the redemption of Vorquellyn."

The sea breeze tugged at her short locks. "You have such faith in that prophecy, Resolute, that I almost want to believe it, too."

"Why don't you? There is something here I don't understand."

She shook her head once, then fixed him with a one-eyed stare. "Haven't you ever wondered why we never took Vorquellyn back from the Aurolani?"

"Of course. I a.s.sumed it was because you felt no urgency. What are years and centuries to immortals?"

"It wasn't that. Our pa.s.senger down there, he looks peaceful in sleep, but wait until he awakes. You will see pure agony in his eyes." She rubbed a hand over her forehead. "You were perhaps too young to understand. I remember. We isolated the children because we feared what would happen. You didn't see it. When they took Vorquellyn your adults were hurt and heartsick, much as I am now. But when Chytrine desecrated Vorquellyn, the pain in their eyes, the way they shrieked... They were a people driven mad by a land that was dying.

"Don't you see, Resolute? We never took Vorquellyn back because it isdead. There is no redeeming it.

There can't be."

Her words shot through his middle like a crossbow quarrel. He thought back. Had he seen the pity he now read in her eyes in others? Had he been beguiled by the patronizing att.i.tudes of most elves? Had he somehow missed how they ached to be wrong, but how they knew they were not? How they ached because the lost children of Vorquellyn could never be redeemed?

Resolute's hands curled into fists and his lips pressed into a thin, grim line.

Fury built in him, sharply and quickly, but just as quickly he forced his hands open. He let his anger drain away.

"I understand what you have just told me, Princess. Thank you."

"How can you thank me for that? I've just told you that you're on a fool's mission."

"Yes, you have. You've also just told me why you never acted to free my homeland. It makes sense, which means I can release all the energy I've used up resenting Loquelves, Croquelves, and Harquelves.

That you are wrong doesn't matter."

"Wrong? Do you think we came to this conclusion without thinking about it? I was privy to councils. Our greatest minds-military, political, and magickal- say Vorquellyn cannot be redeemed. Even Adrogans saw that in Svoin, and burned the city to the ground. There is no relieving a place from the Aurolani taint."

Resolute's silver eyes became slits. "Just because you don't know how to do it doesn't mean it can't be done. If Chytrine spoiled it, there must be a way to change the taint."

"And if there isn't, what do you do then?"

"Doesn't matter, does it? At least the idea you hold in your head will be proven right or wrong. If you're right, I'm no better off, but the world is because Chytrine is dead. If you're wrong, then I will have a home and a future. Fool's quest or not, that's worth the effort."

"I don't know, Resolute, if you are just a child or a fool or both."

"Probably both, but when Vorquellyn is redeemed, I'll be neither." He gave her a half smile. "Keep the ship steady north and we'll be all the sooner learning the truth."

arkus Adrogans had not quite been prepared for the Aurolani reaction to his destruction of their regiment. He had expected one of three possibilities. The first was a major push into the border area where the regiment had disappeared, and perhaps further, into Winalia's domain. The second was a general reinforcement of border stations. The third, and the very least he expected, was an increase of patrols within the Aurolani holdings.

He got none of these. It was easy for him to suppose the regiment had been an independent command that was expected to operate on its own based on orders, but the lack of mentions of it in even the most cursory reports back from the border should have been cause for alarm. Had he been in the Aurolani commander's position, he would have sent orders for border forces to find the regiment and report back on its status.

The lack of reaction surprised him, but he found a reason for it: the wood kept flowing. His scouts reported seeing wagonload after wagonload of wood being brought into the domain, and in less than a week his forces had located the shipyards. While he accepted the veracity of the initial reports, he and Phfas went forward with scouts to spy things out.

The shipbuilding operation was far more ma.s.sive than he could have imagined. The old maps of Noriva called the city that had once been there Alcytlin. When Noriva had been an independent nation, that city had been a major trading port, and many said it was the finest deep-water port in the world. With the Boreal mountains as a backdrop, and white cliffs on either side of the harbor entrance, the naturally beautiful location would have screamed haven to any sailor.

Adrogans studied the shipyards from a hilltop to the north, and the hills upon which the old city had been built did shield much of the ruins from view.

It reminded him of what Svarskya probably would look like after decades of weathering. All immediate signs of violence had been erased, and the crumbled edges of once-proud buildings had softened. The whole city looked as if it had eroded, and aside from the port area, it showed few signs of life.

The shipyards were another thing entirely. That area had been rebuilt on a ma.s.sive scale. To the north were the foundries, mills, and curing houses for the wood. Beyond them were lumberyards, with small ships moving back and forth with loads. In the center and along to the south of the crescent bay, four shipyards were in full production, and the ships they were working on dwarfed anything Adrogans had seen before. Two of the ships would be ready to launch inside a week where, if the half-dozen behemoths already bobbing in the bay were any indication, they would be finished and made seaworthy.

Based on reports he'd had of the pirate attack on Vilwan, he a.s.sumed these big ships would carry dragonels.

In addition to the big ships, the shipyards also were working on a bunch of smaller galleys. The little boats would be fast and would keep southern ships away from the big transport craft. They would clear the way, and the big ships would shoot dragonels at ports while the small ships took battalions off and landed them onsh.o.r.e.

Further from the sea stood barracks. Because of the landscape, Adrogans could only see a couple and parts of a couple more, but he could guess that there were ten in all, and each would be capable of housing a full regiment. Unseen but also implied were warehouses bulging with food and supplies for these troops, as well as small shops for making barrels, sails, oars, and anything else they would need.

Adrogans made some quick mental calculations. He chose to estimate that each ship could carry a regiment. If three of them were to hit Lakaslin, three Yslin, and the others to raid selected ports, they would do serious damage to the war effort. The alliance would be shattered as nations fell or rushed to defend their homes.

The only logical plan would be for him to bring all of his troops up and stage an immediate attack. If the barracks were full already, his troops would be outnumbered two to one, and would be attacking an enemy already behind fortifications. The enemy would be able to bring dragonels to bear, and likely more than he could. He had visions of two or more of the ships-each of which looked as if it carried at least as many dragonels as his entire force-blasting his troops as they came in. The ambush in the road would be a raindrop to a flood when compared to that slaughter.

But to wait was to risk many other things. For all he knew, a half-dozen ships were already seaworthy, loaded, and out on trials. If they returned, there would be evenmoretroops and dragonels to deal with.

Waiting might also mean that if the barracks were not already full now, they would be later, and he would miss his only chance to destroy the fleet.

He snarled. "I need more information."

Phfas shrugged. "For a decision like this, is there ever enough?"

"No. At least we know now why the Aurolani commander isn't worried about a cavalry regiment on the border. It's not disrupting her supply of wood, and it is no threat here."

The Zhusk shaman looked at him oddly." 'Hersupply'?"

Adrogans frowned. No one had made any mention of the gender of the Aurolani commander, but in making his comment, he knew he had the right information. He searched his mind for how he had come to that conclusion, then slowly turned inward, seeking something.

In the past, that inward journey would have brought him to Pain. He would have felt her raking claws over his flesh and gnawing on nerve endings. Since leaving Okrannel, however, the touch of theyrunhad faded. As he looked inside himself, he expected to find nothing.

There was something there, however.

It came to him dimly and faintly. At first he thought it might be his connection with Pain returning, for the presence definitely was female, but quickly he realized it was not his mistress. The new presence did have claws and fangs, but felt far more feline. Her blatant sense of s.e.xuality surprised him, for Pain had always been intimate, but had never excited carnal interest-merely the perversion of same by subst.i.tuting pain for pleasure. Not so what he felt now. And, if he cared to draw a further conclusion, he would have said that the being he sensed was either currently involved in sating base desires or lingered in the afterglow of satiation.

Adrogans' eyes focused again. "Uncle, when we metsullanciribefore, did you have a sense of them through the vrwn?"

The old man shook his head slightly. "No. They had no connection to the old spirits."

"Then there is something different about the one down there, a.s.suming it is asullanciri"

"Safe to a.s.sume."

"I agree." Adrogans rubbed a hand back through his short hair. "This one has a bit of Pain in her. I can feel her, read some things. She seems very open. She has concerns, but none at the moment is military."

"You read her thoughts?"

"No, not yet, not in any organized sense. I get emotions and desires. It's as if, in listening to someone talk in his sleep, you tried to figure out what he was dreaming."

"This could be good." Phfas nodded. "And dangerous."

"I agree. I have to a.s.sume it will be possible for her to read the same from me. I will be careful."

"Good. Do not try to get into her mind."

"I wouldn't know how."

Phfas chuckled. "That would not stop you if you needed to. That mind will be the lair of nightmares."...

"How fitting." Adrogans looked back at the city. "She exists in a lair of nightmares I need more information, and I'm going to have to get it. Some of our people will have to take a load of wood in there and get back out with samples from the buildings."

"Choose volunteers."

"I will."

"Make sure they are orphans."

"Yes, Uncle, I shall." Adrogans raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Her goal and your goal are not the same." The little man smiled slowly. "Use her goal against her, and the road to yours will be much better."

fT] he three days spent hunting Bloodmasks were very harrowing. Erlestoke I halted his army and engaged, daily, in conversations with Sambell Malviston.

A. The two of them made quite a show of it, even having serious shouting matches. Erlestoke wished their interchanges had been sham discussions, but they were not. Even though Malviston had come to accept that Erlestoke had not murdered his father, the old Midlands resentment against Meredo still poisoned their relationship.

Erlestoke remembered Sambell from his youth, but only barely. After all, he was just a lordling from the Mids. The prince realized that when Malviston provoked him enough, he still thought of him dismissively in those terms. To his credit, he never voiced his outrage at the upland n.o.ble's berating him.If I do that, everything comes apart.

Malviston did have a great deal of anger to deal with concerning Erlestoke. The Midlands, and most of the country for that part, had hated having pockets of Aurolani forces in Oriosa. All the n.o.bles labored under the same burden his father did: fearing Nefrai-kesh or anothersullanciricoming to twist their heads off. They resented their fear and wanted to show their courage by opposing Chytrine, but to do anything overt would invite her wrathandthat of King Scrainwood.

Where Erlestoke was seen by many as having gone wrong was in abandoning Oriosa in favor of Fortress Draconis. There was a time when his service had made the nation proud, but that had all been twisted after Chytrine had smashed the stronghold. Erlestoke's return and his rift with his father, especially with an Aurolani army so close by, seemed designed to provoke the Aurolani to attack. From the point of view of people like Malviston, Erlestoke wanted to strike at Chytrine, and would sacrifice his nation to do it.

Malviston likewise berated him for not knowing his own people. "How they have suffered under your father has to be obvious. Could you not hear our laments in Fortress Draconis?" He reminded Erlestoke that even if he hated his father, he still had a duty to the people of Oriosa.

And Erlestoke had to allow that Malviston had a point: he had abandoned his people. The prince told himself he had done so for two very good reasons. The first was that he was needed at Fortress Draconis, and that Fortress Draconis performed a vital function in keeping Chytrine bottled up in the north. The second was that for him to return and oppose his father, directly or indirectly, would be to sp.a.w.n a civil war in the nation-or get me murdered.

Both of those reasons were true. Both of them were good. Still, the prince understood that neither absolved him of the duty inc.u.mbent upon him because of his blood. His father did have to be balanced and even opposed, and no one else in the whole world had the legitimate right or position to be able to lead that opposition. As much as he did not want to take a blood-drenched throne, better the throne should run with the blood of his father than the countryside with the blood of the citizenry.

Erlestoke resolved to deal with his father's control of Oriosa once he'd completed the war against Chytrine.If I survive it. He couldn't tell Malviston his decision, since that would be open treason, and sharing the idea would be an invitation to have Malviston join him. That would be delicate politically, for while Malviston could join him in opposing the Aurolani with no internal political difficulties, to join a rebellion would make him a target for all manner of grasping lordlings throughout the nation.

So while the two of them argued and rumors flew through both armies, Dranae, Nay, Borell, and the Addermages conducted their search for the Bloodmasks. Nay and Borell knew how to talk with crofters and herders, and even knew some of them from market days in Valsina. From them they learned how the Bloodmasks operated. The Addermages used spells both to repair some of the damage done and to gain impressions of the Bloodmasks.

Rumbellow reported their findings to Erlestoke in the early evening before they mounted their final hunting expedition. "The impression we have is of two groups of people. Some are soldiers, a company or so, and a similar number of mages. I'm sure they're Vilwanese, which, among other things, means they are wearing masks under false pretenses."

Despite his having been away from Oriosa for so long, that comment flared Erlestoke's nostrils. Muroso, Alosa, and Oriosa had long ago revolted from the Estine Empire, and those who led the revolution had worn masks to conceal their ident.i.ties. Their descendants had the right to wear masks to honor the sacrifices their ancestors had made to free their nations. For someone who had no right to a mask to wear anything but a courtesy mask was enough to sour the stomach of any true son of Oriosa.

The fact that their using masks had to have been sanctioned by his father made Erlestoke feel even more ill.

"They have tried to be crafty in how they work, but we have plotted their appearances." Rumbellow spread a map of the Midlands out on a table and used candlesticks to hold the corners down. "While they struck in a vast arc, making it look as if they were sweeping down from the north and around to the west, all of the strikes are a day's hard ride from this place here."

Erlestoke nodded. "Nyresina."

Rumbellow looked up. "You know it?"

"Yes. It was my mother's dowry. Before she died we would summer there, away from Meredo."

Erlestoke's hands convulsed into fists. "We're within striking distance, yes?"

"A day's ride. They know we're here, and they'd know we're coming." The Addermage shook his head. "I would guess they will leave soon, if they have not already gone. Don't worry, we'll find a way to track them."

"I don't want them tracked. I want themdead!' Erlestoke knelt by the chest in his tent and flipped the lid back. He pulled out his quadnel, pouch of shot, and powder horn. "We go tonight."

Rumbellow shook his head. "I and my fellow mages are good, but even we can't get us there that fast."

"I know." Erlestoke slung his sword belt over his right shoulder. "You can't, but Dranae can. Get your ten best combat mages. They'll be watching the roads for us, which means when we come in, they won't know what hit them."

Never having seen the estate at Nyresina from the air, it took Erlestoke a moment or two to recognize it.

He spotted the oxbow in the river as it reflected silver moonlight. The trees had been thinned, and it looked as if the vineyards to the north had been expanded, but the estate building itself had run to ruin.

The original tower at the northeast corner had partially collapsed and the old coach house's roof sagged.

Other than that, however, the boxy main house appeared to be habitable.

Dranae dove fast, then flared his wings, touching down softly in the courtyard on the west side of the main house, between it and a small lake where Erlestoke and his brother had sailed as boys. Since the road came in from the east and reached the house on the other side, they a.s.sumed any watchers would be most alert there. In reality, the sentries were stationed much further down the road witharcanslata, so they offered no warning at all to those in the house.

In an eyeblink Dranae shifted from dragon to manform. Erlestoke tossed him his draconette and a swath of cloth that the man fashioned into a kilt. The Addermages spread out before them, running for the house. None of them were willing to imagine that a dragon could land without notice, and they knew that magickal alarms need not make any sound. If they did have surprise on their side, so much the better.

Rumbellow smacked the door with an iron-shod baton and the weathered wood exploded inward. The Addermages poured into the building. Erlestoke followed with Dranae at his heels. The doorway admitted them to the kitchen, then a cut to the left brought them into the hallway that led to the Grand Hall.

By the time they got there, a thaumaturgical battle had begun to rage. Lurid red bats and glowing green eagles wheeled and dove, twisted and flapped within the room's vaults. Gouts of golden flame lit the room, and smashed impotently on magickal shields. A mage's hand opened, releasing a shower of sparks that transformed into blue arrows. The flight curved in at a Bloodmask mage who raised a shield that stopped all but two. They hit, spinning him and dumping him to the floor with smoking holes breast and back.

Erlestoke brought the quadnel to his shoulder, c.o.c.ked, and shot. The weapon's thunder echoed loudly, but the splash of flame was nothing compared to the magick. The lead ball caught one of the Bloodmasks over her breastbone, knocking her back before she could complete the casting of a spell. The energy that had been gathering in green tendrils around her clawed hands now consumed them, filling the air with greasy smoke.

Dranae shot as well, shattering a Bloodmask's leg. The shield he'd raised against a fiery torrent collapsed. The golden flame jet hit him solidly and burned away everything between hips and collarbones.

The prince shot again, then drew Crown. He parried a sword thrust by one of the Bloodmask soldiers, then slashed back again, opening the man's belly. The wounded man reeled back, clutching his midsection, and knocked another soldier askew. Erlestoke lunged, skewering the second soldier. Dranae shot again, snapping the head back on a third soldier, and those spattered with her brains turned and ran.

Erlestoke's third shot killed one more of the Bloodmask mages, but his contribution to the battle was almost unnecessary. Murosan sorcerers took great pride in their combat abilities, and their Vilwanese brethren were no match for them. As they went through the estate, room by room, they quickly killed those mages who offered resistance, and found several already dead by poison. They'd clearly killed themselves after sending out a message viaarcanslata.