Tigana Part 54

'Here they come,' Baerd said, looking north, a hand up to screen his eyes.

They had been waiting for this, and watching for it from the moment the wizards linked, but antic.i.p.ation was not reality and, at the sight of the picked men of Brandin's Guard moving swiftly down their hill and beginning to cross the ground between, Devin's heart began thumping hard. There had been war all morning in the valley below; now it was coming to them.

'How many?' Rovigo asked, and Devin was grateful to hear the tension in the merchant's voice: it meant he was not alone in what he was feeling now.

'Forty-nine, if he sent them all, and Alessan thought he would,' Baerd replied, not turning around. 'That is always the number of the King's Guard in Ygrath. It is sacred for them.'

Rovigo said nothing. Devin glanced to his right and saw the three wizards standing closely together. Erlein and Sertino had their eyes closed, but Sandre was staring fixedly downwards to where Alberico of Barbadior was at the back of his army. Alessan had been with the wizards but now he came quickly over to join the thirty or so men spread out behind Baerd on the ridge.

'Ducas?' he asked quietly.

'I can't see any of them,' Baerd said, with a quick glance at the Prince. The last of the Ygrathen Guard had now descended their hill. The vanguard were already moving rapidly over the uneven ground between. 'I still don't believe it.'

'Let me take my men to meet them below,' Ducas had urged Alessan, the moment the wizards had linked. Ducas had urged Alessan, the moment the wizards had linked. 'We know he will be coming after us.' 'We know he will be coming after us.'

'Of course we do,' Alessan had said, 'but we are poorly armed and trained. We need the advantage of height up here.'

'Speak for yourself,' Ducas di Tregea had growled.

'There isn't any cover down there. Where could you hide?'

'You are telling me me whether there is cover?' Ducas replied, feigning anger. His mouth widened in his wolfish grin. 'Alessan, go teach your fingers to know your fingernails! I was fighting running battles and ambushes in this kind of terrain while you were still numbering oak trees or some such thing in Quileia. Leave this to me.' whether there is cover?' Ducas replied, feigning anger. His mouth widened in his wolfish grin. 'Alessan, go teach your fingers to know your fingernails! I was fighting running battles and ambushes in this kind of terrain while you were still numbering oak trees or some such thing in Quileia. Leave this to me.'

Alessan had not laughed. After a moment though, he nodded his head. Not waiting for more, red-bearded Ducas and his twenty-five men had immediately melted away down the slopes of their ridge. By the time the Ygrathens sent the Guard, the outlaws were down below, hidden among the gorse and heather, the high gra.s.s and the scattered olive and fig trees in the ground between the hills.

Squinting, Devin thought he could see one of them, but he wasn't sure.

'In Morian's name!' Erlein di Senzio suddenly cried from the east end of the ridge. 'He is pushing us back again!' Erlein di Senzio suddenly cried from the east end of the ridge. 'He is pushing us back again!'

'Then hold! hold!' Sandre snarled. 'Fight him! Go deeper!'

'I haven't got any deeper to go!' Sertino gasped.

Baerd leaped from his crouch staring at the three of them. He hesitated, visibly racked by doubt for a moment, then he strode swiftly over to the wizards.

'Sandre, Erlein? Can you hear me?'

'Yes, of course.' Sandre's darkened face was streaming with perspiration. He was still staring east, but his gaze was unfocused now, inward.

'Then do it! Do what we talked about. If he's pushing all of you back we have to try or there is no point to any of this!'

'Baerd, they could be ...' Erlein's words came out one by one as if forced from his lips.

'No, he's right!' Sertino gasped, cutting in. 'Have to try. The man's ... too strong. I'll follow you two ... know where to reach. Do it!'

'Stay with me then,' Erlein said, in a voice leeched of all strength. 'Stay with me, both of you.'

There were sudden shouts and then screaming below them. Not from the battlefield. From the ground to the north. All of them but the wizards wheeled around to see.

Ducas had sprung his trap. Firing from ambush his outlaws unleashed a score of arrows at the Ygrathens, and then swiftly let fly as many more. Half a dozen, eight, ten of their attackers fell, but the King's Guard of Ygrath were armoured against arrows even in the blazing heat, and most of them pushed on, reacting with frightening agility despite the weight they carried, moving towards Ducas's spread-out men.

Devin saw three of the downed men get up again. One pulled an arrow from his own arm and stumbled resolutely on, pressing towards their ridge.

'Some of them will have bows. We have to cover the wizards,' Alessan snapped. 'Any man with any kind of shield, over here!'

Half a dozen of the men remaining on the hill rushed over. Five had makeshift shields of wood or leather; the sixth, a man of some fifty years, limped behind them on a twisted foot, carrying nothing but an ancient, battered sword.

'My lord Prince,' he said, 'my body is shield enough for them. Your father would not let me go north to the Deisa. Do not deny me now. Not again. I can stand between them and any arrows, in Tigana's name.'

Devin saw the suddenly blank, frightened look on many of the faces near them: a name had been spoken that they could not hear.

'Ricaso,' Alessan began, looking around. 'Ricaso, you need not ... You shouldn't have even come here. There were other ways to ...' The Prince stopped. For a moment it looked as if he would refuse the man as his father had, but he said nothing more, only nodded his head once and strode away. The lame man and the other five immediately placed themselves in a protective circle around the wizards.

'Spread out!' Alessan ordered the others. 'Cover the north and the west sides of the ridge. Catriana, Alais-keep your eyes on the south in case some of them make it around behind us. Shout if you see anything move!'

Sword in hand, Devin raced for the northwest edge of their hill. There were men fanning out all around him. He looked over as he ran, and caught his breath in dismay. Ducas's men were in pitched battle on the uneven ground with the Ygrathens, and though they were holding their own, taking a man, it seemed, for every one of them that fell, that meant that they were falling. The Ygrathens were quick and superbly trained and ferociously determined. Devin saw their leader, a big man no longer young, hurl himself against one of the outlaws and hammer the man flat to the ground with a blow of his shield.

'Naddo! Look out!'

A scream, not a shout. Baerd's voice. Wheeling, Devin saw why. Halfway to the other hill, Naddo had just beaten back an Ygrathen, and was continuing a fighting withdrawal towards a clump of bushes where Arkin and two others were. What he didn't see was the man who had flanked wide to the east and was now rushing towards him from behind.

What the running Ygrathen didn't see was the arrow that hit him, fired from the summit of the ridge by Baerd di Tigana with all the strength of his arm and the skill of a lifelong discipline. Far away, unbelievably far, the Ygrathen grunted and fell, an arrow in his thigh. Naddo whirled at the sound, saw the man, and dispatched him with a quick sword.

He looked up at the ridge, saw Baerd, and quickly waved his thanks. He was still waving, hand aloft in salute to the friend he had left as a boy, when an Ygrathen arrow took him in the chest.

'No!' Devin cried out, a fist of grief clenching about his throat. He looked towards Baerd, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. Just as Devin took a step towards him he heard a quick scrabbling sound and a grunt, and behind him Alais screamed, 'Look out!'

He turned back just in time to see the first of half a dozen Ygrathens surging up the slope. He had no idea how they'd got here so fast. He howled a second warning for the others and rushed forward to engage the first man before he gained the summit of the ridge.

He didn't make it. The Ygrathen was up and balanced, with a shield in his left hand. Charging at him, trying to drive the man backwards down the slope, Devin swung his sword as hard as he could. It clanged on the metal shield sending shock waves all along his arm. The Ygrathen thrust straight ahead with his own blade. Devin saw it coming and twisted desperately to one side. He felt a sudden tearing pain as the sword ripped him above the waist.

He let himself drop, ignoring the wound, and as he fell forward he chopped viciously for the unprotected back of the Ygrathen's knee. He felt his sword bite deep into flesh. The man cried out and pitched helplessly forward, trying, even as he tumbled, to bring his own blade down on Devin again. Devin rolled frantically away, dizzy with pain. He clawed to his feet, clutching his ripped side.

In time to see the p.r.o.ne Ygrathen killed by Alais bren Rovigo with a clean swordthrust in the back of his neck.

It seemed to Devin that he knew a moment of almost hallucinatory stillness then in the midst of carnage. He looked at Alais, at her clear, mild, blue eyes. He tried to speak. His throat was dry. Their gazes locked for a second. It was hard for Devin to absorb, to understand understand this image of her with a reddened sword in her hand. this image of her with a reddened sword in her hand.

He looked past her, and instantly the stillness was gone, shattered. Fifteen, perhaps twenty of the Ygrathens were up on the summit. More were coming. And some of them did have bows. He saw an arrow fly, to be embedded in one of the shields around the wizards. There was a sound of quick footsteps ascending the slope to his left. No time to speak, even if he could have. They were here to die if they had to, it had always been possible. There was a reason why they had come. There was a dream, a prayer, a tune his father had taught him as a child. He held his left hand tightly to his wound and turned from Alais, stumbling forward, gripping his sword, to meet the next man scrambling up the ridge.

A mild day, the sun in and out of the clouds pushed swiftly along by the breeze. In the morning they had walked in the meadows north of the castle gathering flowers, armfuls of them. Irises, anemones, bluebells. The sejoia trees were just coming into flower now this far south; they left the white blossoms for later in the season.

They were back in Castle Borso drinking mahgoti tea just past midday when Elena abruptly made a small, frightened sound. She stood up rigidly straight, her hands clutching at her head. Her tea spilled unregarded, staining the Quileian carpet.

Alienor quickly laid her own cup down. 'It has come?' she said. 'The summons? Elena, what can I do?'

Elena shook her head. She could scarcely hear the other woman's words. There was a clearer, harder, more compelling voice in her head. Something that had never happened before, not even on the Ember Nights. But Baerd had been right, her stranger who had come to them out of darkness and changed the shape of the Ember wars.

He had returned to the village late in the day that followed, after his friends had come down from the pa.s.s and ridden west. He had spoken to Donar and Mattio and to Carenna and Elena and said that what the Night Walkers shared had to be a kind of magic, if not the same as wizardry. Their bodies changed in the Ember Nights, they walked under a green moon through lands that were not there by the light of day, they wielded swords of growing corn that altered under their hands. They were wedded in their own fashion, he had said, to the magic of the Palm.

And Donar had agreed that this was so. So Baerd had told them, carefully, what his purpose was, and that of his friends, and he'd asked Elena to come to Castle Borso until summer's end. In case, he'd said, in case it was possible for their power to be tapped in this cause.

Would they do this? There would be danger. He had asked it diffidently, but there had been no hesitation in Elena as she looked into his eyes and answered that she would. Nor in the others when they agreed. He had come to them in their own need. They owed him at least this much, and more. And they too were living through tyranny in their own land. His cause in the daylight was their own.

Elena di Certando? Are you there? Are you in the castle?

She didn't know this mind-voice, but within its clarity she could sense a desperation; there seemed to be chaos all around him.

Yes. Yes, I am. I'm here. What ... what must I do?

I don't believe it! A second voice joined them, deeper, as imperative. A second voice joined them, deeper, as imperative. Erlein, you have reached her! Erlein, you have reached her!

Is Baerd there? she asked, a little desperately herself. The sudden link was dizzying, and the sense of tumult all around; she swayed, almost fell. She reached out and put both her hands on the high back of a chair. The room in Castle Borso was beginning to fade for her. Had Alienor spoken now she would not have even heard. she asked, a little desperately herself. The sudden link was dizzying, and the sense of tumult all around; she swayed, almost fell. She reached out and put both her hands on the high back of a chair. The room in Castle Borso was beginning to fade for her. Had Alienor spoken now she would not have even heard.

He is, the first man said quickly. the first man said quickly. He is here with us and we have terrible need of help. We are at war! Can you link to your friends? To the others? We will help you. Please! Reach for them! He is here with us and we have terrible need of help. We are at war! Can you link to your friends? To the others? We will help you. Please! Reach for them!

She had never tried such a thing, not by daylight nor even under the green moon of the Ember Nights. She had never known anything like this wizards' link, but she felt their power resting in her, and she knew where Mattio would be, and Donar; and Carenna would be at home with her newest child. She closed her eyes and reached out for the three of them, straining to focus her mind on the forge, the mill, Carenna's house in the village. To focus, and then to call. To summon.

Elena, what ...? Mattio. She had him. Mattio. She had him.

Join me! she sent quickly. she sent quickly. The wizards are here. There is war. The wizards are here. There is war.

He asked no more questions. She could feel his steadying presence in her mind as the wizards helped her open to him. She registered his own sudden, disoriented shock at the link to the other men. Two of them, no three, there was a third one there as well.

Elena, has it come? Have they sent? Donar in her mind, seizing at truth like a weapon to his hand. Donar in her mind, seizing at truth like a weapon to his hand.

I am here, love! Carenna's mind-voice, quick and bright, exactly the same as her speech. Carenna's mind-voice, quick and bright, exactly the same as her speech. Elena, what must we do? Elena, what must we do?

Hold to each other and open to us! the deep presence of the second wizard was there to answer. the deep presence of the second wizard was there to answer. We may now have a chance. There is danger, I will not lie, but if we hold together-for once in this peninsula-we may yet break through! Come, join us, we must forge our minds into a shield. I am Sandre d'Astibar and I never died. Come to us now! We may now have a chance. There is danger, I will not lie, but if we hold together-for once in this peninsula-we may yet break through! Come, join us, we must forge our minds into a shield. I am Sandre d'Astibar and I never died. Come to us now!

Elena opened her mind to him, and reached out. And in that moment she felt as though her own body was entirely gone, as if she were no more than a conduit, like and yet very unlike what happened on the Ember Nights. A clammy fear of this unknown thing rose in her. Defiantly she fought it back. Her friends were with her, and-unbelievably-the Duke of Astibar was there, and alive, and Baerd was with him in far-off Senzio, battling against the Tyrants.

He had come to them, to her, in their own war. She had heard him weep and had lain with him in love on a hill in the Ember dark after the green moon had set. She would not fail him now. She would lead the Carlozzini to him along the pathway of her mind and her soul.

Without warning they broke through. The link was forged. She was in a high place under a fiercely blazing sun, seeing with the eyes of the Duke of Astibar on a hill in Senzio. The vision rocked with stomach-churning dislocation. Then it steadied and Elena saw men killing each other in a valley below, armies grappling together in the heat like beasts in a convulsive embrace. She heard screaming so loud she felt the sound as pain. Then she became aware of something else.

Sorcery. North of them, that hill. Brandin of Ygrath. And in that moment Elena and the three other Night Walkers understood why they had been summoned, feeling in their own minds the punishing weight of the a.s.sault they had to resist.

Back in Castle Borso, Alienor stood by, helpless and blind in her uncertainty, understanding nothing of this at all, only knowing that it was happening, that it was upon them at last. She wanted to pray, to reach back towards words not thought or spoken in almost twenty years. She saw Elena bring her hands up to cover her face.

'Oh no,' she heard the girl whisper in a voice thin as old parchment. 'So strong! How can one man be so strong?'

Alienor's hands gripped each other so tightly the knuckles were white. She waited, desperately seeking a clue to what was happening to all of them, so far to the north where she could not go.

She did not, could not hear Sandre d'Astibar's reply to Elena: He is strong yes, but with you we will be stronger! Oh, children, we can do it now! In the name of the Palm, together we can be strong enough!

What Alienor did see was how Elena's hands came down, how her white face grew calm, the wild, primitive terror leaving her staring eyes.

'Yes,' she heard the other woman whisper. 'Yes.'

Then there was silence in that room in Castle Borso under the Braccio Pa.s.s. Outside, the cool wind of the highlands blew the high white clouds across the sun and away, and across it and away, and a single hunting hawk hovered on motionless wings in that pa.s.sing of light and shadow over the face of the mountains.

In fact, the next man scrabbling up the slope of the cliff was Ducas di Tregea. Devin had actually begun to swing his sword before he recognized who it was.

Ducas reached the summit in two hard, churning strides and stood beside him. He was a fearful sight. His face was covered in blood, dripping down into his beard. There was blood all over him, and wet on his sword. He was smiling though, a terrible red look of battle-l.u.s.t and rage.

'You are hurt!' he said sharply to Devin.

'I wouldn't talk,' Devin grunted, pressing his left hand to his torn side. 'Come on!'

Quickly they turned back east. More than fifteen of the Ygrathens were still on their summit, pressing forward against the untrained band of men Alessan had kept back to defend the wizards. The numbers were almost even, but the Ygrathens were the picked and deadly warriors of that realm.

Even so, even with this, they were not getting through. And they would not, Devin realized with a surge of exultation in his heart, rising high over pain and grief.

They would not, because facing them, side by side, swinging blades together in their longed-for battle after all the long waiting years that had run by, were Alessan, Prince of Tigana, and Baerd bar Saevar, the only brother of his soul, and the two of them were absolute and deadly, and even beautiful, if killing could be so.

Devin and Ducas rushed over. But by the time they got there five Ygrathens only were left, then three. Then only two. One of them made as if to lay down his sword. Before he could do so, a figure moved forward with an awkward, deceptive swiftness from the ring guarding the wizards. Dragging his lame foot, Ricaso came up to the Ygrathen. Before anyone could stay him he swung his old, half-rusted blade in a pa.s.sionate, scything arc, cleaving through the links in armour to bury itself in the man's breast.

Then he fell to his knees on the ground beside the soldier he'd killed, weeping as though his soul was pouring out of him.

Which left one of them only. And the last was the leader, the large, broad-chested man Devin had seen down below. The man's hair was plastered flat to his head, he was red-faced with heat and exhaustion, sucking hard for breath, but his eyes glared at Alessan.

'Are you fools?' he gasped. 'Fighting for the Barbadian? Instead of with a man who has joined the Palm? Do you want want to be slaves?' to be slaves?'

Slowly Alessan shook his head. 'It is twenty years too late for Brandin of Ygrath to join the Palm. It was too late the day he landed here with an invading force. You are a brave man. I would prefer not to kill you. Will you give us an oath in your own name and lay down your sword in surrender?'

Beside Devin, Ducas snarled angrily. But before the Tregean could speak, the Ygrathen said: 'My name is Rhama.n.u.s. I offer it to you in pride, for no dishonour has ever attached to that name. You will have no oath from me though. I swore one to the King I love before I led his Guard here. I told him I would stop you or die. It is an oath I will keep.'

He raised his sword towards Alessan, and gestured-though not seriously, Devin realized afterwards-to strike at the Prince. Alessan did not even move to ward the blow. It was Baerd whose blade came up and then swept downward to bite with finality into the neck of the Ygrathen, driving him to the ground.

'Oh, my King,' they heard the man say then, thickly, through the blood rising in his mouth. 'Oh, Brandin, I am so sorry.'

Then he rolled over on his back and lay still, his sightless eyes staring straight at the burning sun.

The sun had been burning hot as well, the morning he had defied the Governor and taken a young serving-girl for tribute down the river from Stevanien, so many years ago.

Dianora saw a man raise his sword on that hill. She turned her head away so she would not see Rhama.n.u.s die. There was an ache in her, a growing void; she felt as if all the chasms of her life were opening in the ground before her feet. He had been an enemy, the man who had seized her to be a slave. Sent to claim tribute for Brandin, he had burned villages and homes in Corte and Asoli. He had been an Ygrathen. Had sailed to the Palm in the invading fleet, had fought in the last battle by the Deisa.

He had been her friend.

One of her only friends. Brave and decent and loyal all his life to his King. Kind and direct, ill-at-ease in a subtle court ...

Dianora realized that she was weeping for him, for the good life cloven like a tree by that stranger's descending sword.

'They have failed, my lord.' It was d'Eymon, his voice actually showing-or was she imagining it?-the faintest hint of emotion. Of sorrow. 'All of the Guards are down, and Rhama.n.u.s. The wizards are still there.'

From his chair under the canopy Brandin opened his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the valley below and he did not turn. Dianora saw that his face was chalk-white now with strain, even in the red heat of the day. She wiped quickly at her tears: he must not see her thus if he should chance to look. He might need her; whatever strength or love she had to give. He must not be distracted with concern for her. He was one man alone, fighting so many.

And more, in fact, than she even knew. For the wizards had reached the Night Walkers in Certando by now. They were linked, and they were all bending the power of their minds to Alberico's defence.