Zandru's Forge (68 page)

“He thought he could come to me over the bodies of my kinfolk—of
you,
Carlo—and that I would fall at his feet in gratitude when he offered to make me his queen,” she replied with quiet spirit. “I felt ashamed that once I had believed in him, even defended his actions, denying his true nature. I knew then that I—I felt—”

She stumbled, then gathered herself. “I will not have it said that I turned away from Rakhal when I saw the war went badly for him and chose you instead, because I desired the crown so much I would take whichever man could give it to me.”

Maura’s voice faltered on the last few words. She sat upright in the saddle, and in that moment, she looked both courageous and forlorn. Carolin reminded himself that she was no frail, simpering lady, but a trained
leronis
and
Comynara
in her own right. She had maintained her commitment to the virgin Sight against all of Rakhal’s blandishments, and then had outraged her Keeper and the very formidable Lady Liriel Hastur by training her own
verrin
hawk. In the camp, she had fed and tended the sentry birds with her own hands, had ridden and lived with the men without a hint of scandal.

Why should she care what people thought?

Moved by wordless impulse, Carolin reined Sunstar close to Maura’s horse and reached for her. She came into his arms as if she had always belonged there. He lifted her into his own saddle. Joy swept through him.

He had set aside all hope of this dream of love, had never looked for it, had thought it impossible since the night he realized he could not feel anything beyond respect for his own lawful wife. He had always loved Maura, but the love had grown from the affection of childhood to this shining transcendent moment.

“I am sorry I teased you about Tramontana,” he murmured into the silken braids of her hair. “I should have known—I was not sure you felt—as I do—”

She shifted deeper into his embrace and her mind brushed his. All doubt fell away. His heart seemed to fill his entire body. He closed his eyes, unable to speak.

Sunstar pranced, shaking his head to send the bridle rings jingling. Carolin calmed him with a touch of the reins.

“In these uncertain times, we must seize what happiness we can,” Maura said, “and treasure each moment together. You were right, though, about the Sight. We are still at war with Rakhal, and we cannot afford to discard any resource. No matter what our hearts may yearn for, we must act rationally.”

At that moment, there was no greater gift she could have offered him. She understood the demands of his rank, of the oath he had sworn, just as she, too, was bound by what she knew to be right.

“I will not have you as anything less than my queen,” he whispered.

“Do not say that, beloved. We neither of us know what the future holds. What we have today,” she smiled up into his eyes, “must be enough.”

A tenday later on the road, the weather turned gray and drizzly, with little spats of gusty rain slashing across the plains. Even when the clouds broke, the wind remained high. Cloaks and tents became soggy. Tempers frayed. The horses plodded on through the churned mud, and now and again, a wagon became mired.

Every passing hour brought the battle closer. The day felt closed in, as if, Carolin thought, they were marching blind.

He sent word to fly a sentry bird. It must stay low enough to spy through the mists, even though it was not their nature, for he needed to know where Rakhal’s armies moved.

Romilly, riding apart with Ranald and Maura, guided the sentry bird, the one she called Diligence, eastward to where they had last seen the enemy forces. In rapport, Carolin flew high over the ranges, soaring on strong pinions.

Rain slanted from the northeast. Flight became a slow, sullen effort, each wing stroke forced against the bird’s stubborn wish to fly home and huddle in damp misery upon her perch.

Through a break in the clouds, Carolin scanned the deserted land blow. Low on the horizon, smoke rose, as from an encampment of men.

Through the bird’s eyes, he saw the outskirts of the enemy camp ... men and horses, tents and supply wagons. One wagon in particular drew his interest, although the bird instinctively shied away. Sensed through his
laran,
something black and acrid hovered about it like a miasma. With a sickening wrench, Carolin recognized the foul taint.

Clingfire!
May Zandru curse him a thousand times, Rakhal has brought clingfire to the battlefield!

Closer...
he heard Romilly urge the sentry bird,
closer ...

Too late, the bird’s attention veered to the arrow speeding toward her. As if a red-hot wire suddenly seared her breast, Diligence swerved, wings beating, screeching in pain, fighting to stay aloft, to stay in rapport ...

Carolin slumped in the saddle, his breath catching in his chest. He struggled to orient himself again, to separate himself from the dizziness and the pain. Linked through Romilly to the bird, he had felt the creature’s death as if it were his own.

Romilly’s anger, swift as a plummeting hawk, swept through him. He heard a voice, Ranald‘s, saying, “I am so sorry ... you loved her,” and Romilly’s heated retort, “I hate you all! You and your accursed wars, none of you are worth a single feather from the tip of her wing.”

Ah, Romilly!
Carolin thought, sick at heart.
What have I asked of you? And what more must I ask?

When next he met with Romilly, he struggled to put his own feelings into words. “I am sorry about Diligence. But can you not look at this from my point of view, too? We risk birds, and beasts, too, to save the lives of men. I know the birds mean more to you than they ever can to me, or to any of us, but I must ask you this: would you see me or Ruyven or Orain die instead of the sentry birds? Would you not risk the lives of the birds to save your own Swordswomen?”

At first, he saw the conflict within her, the burning wish to throw his words back at him, to demand what harm the birds had ever done to Rakhal that they should pay with their lives.

A wave of sadness passed through him. “This is what every commander of men must face, weighing the lives of some against the lives of all. I wish I need never see anyone who follows me die ... but I have no choice. I owe my very life to those I am sworn to rule.”

She dipped her head and agreed to fly the one remaining sentry bird as Carolin required. So it was that, several days later, he had advance notice of the impending attack.

Rakhal’s army swept down over the brow of the hill and Carolin’s own forces charged to meet them. After the first tremendous shock of encounter, the field exploded in frenzied action. Men on foot and horseback hurled themselves forward, captains shouted commands, trumpets blared.

From the ground, all was confusion. Linked with the sentry bird, seeing partly through avian eyes, partly through Romilly‘s, and partly his own, Carolin directed his forces to where they were most needed.

“There!” he shouted, pointing out the black wagon. “We must seize the
clingfire
before it can be used against us!”

Through the bird’s eyes, Carolin saw the picked group of men leave the main body of Lyondri’s army and sweep toward his own blue fir-tree banner.

Sunstar! Carry my king to safety!
Romilly’s mental cry reached both man and horse.

The great black stallion reared, lashing out with his front hooves, and thundered away. Carolin’s men followed, maintaining a compact group around him.

The party Carolin had sent after the
clingfire
wagon drew nearer their target, through the thickest part of the fighting. A flight of arrows arched upward, toward the main body of Carolin’s forces. Their tips glowed like molten orange fire.
Laran,
twisted and tainted, shocked through the air. Carolin flinched under its touch, even before the first arrow found a living target. Sunstar threw his head up, pulling at the bit.

The din of battle drowned out the screams, but Carolin felt each one as a fiery arrow through his own flesh. Beneath him, the black stallion recoiled, then gathered himself.

Leave the wounded to us!
He heard Maura’s voice as clearly as if she stood beside him.

He started to cry out, to warn her back from the killing frenzy. She was
leronis,
a trained monitor, and could help those men as he could not.

Above it all, Romilly’s sentry bird wheeled, sending Carolin images of his own men moving ever closer to the black-shrouded wagon. From this height, he could not make out Maura in the cluster of fallen men, but he sensed her presence, the clear blue flame of her power, the sure movement of her hands.

“Carlo!” Orain shouted out a warning. Lyondri had sent out another charge. There were more of them this time, slashing through the foot soldiers. Orain’s mount went down. He scrambled up, fighting on his feet.

Carolin wrenched free of rapport with the sentry bird. The next moment, he was fighting beside his men. Sunstar bellowed out his own battle cry. Men and beasts screamed, swords clashed. The reek of blood and sweat mingled with the stench of burning flesh.

A horseman slammed through Carolin’s guard, laying about him with an enormous battle-ax. Blood smeared his helmet and the armor that gleamed through the rents in his tunic. Lyondri’s badge flashed on one shoulder. His huge yellow horse plunged forward, ears pinned back, jaw dripping bloody foam. The horse reared, neighing. The ax swept up.

Carolin raised his sword as he reined Sunstar into place so that he could strike. The black stallion lost his footing in the churned mud and almost went down. Carolin glanced up at the falling ax. Sun glinted red along the curved edge.

Orain hurled himself between Carolin and the axman. The ax came down on his sword, deflected, steel skittering over steel. Orain staggered under the impact, but did not give way.

The next instant, Sunstar scrambled to his feet. His powerful hindquarters flexed and he sprang forward. Reflex aimed Carolin’s sword, for there was no time to think, only to act.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the warhorses collided. Carolin’s sword tip curved upward, under the assailant’s breastplate. He felt it slide in. Sunstar swerved, pulling the sword free.

Two of Carolin’s guards grabbed the axman even before he toppled. One held the yellow horse as Orain scrambled onto its back. Orain’s lean face was a mask of blood and dust and smoke, but fire lit his eyes. He lifted his own sword in salute, then wheeled the yellow horse to face the next onslaught.

Carolin could no longer fight a defensive position. The battle hung upon a thread and the key was the clingfire. The dreadful arrows were far fewer now, but still they came. Whatever they touched, flesh or bone or leather, grass or wood, ignited. Each man that fell was either dead or, worse yet, spread the unquenchable fire to any who sought to aid him. In the end, no matter how great the courage of the men or the healing of Maura and the others, the
clingfire
would defeat them.

The force Carolin sent to take the wagon battled on bravely, but met fierce resistance and heavy losses.

“With me!” He shifted his weight. The stallion reared, pawing the air, drawing the eyes of all his surrounding guard. “Ride with me now!”

“King Carolin! King Carolin!”

Sunstar bounded forward, a torrent of sleek black power. Orain spurred his yellow horse ahead, clearing the way. A stride or two later, more men streamed to join them.

Through the eyes of the sentry bird, Carolin spotted his target. The wagon had come to rest, defended by a circle of soldiers. At Carolin’s approach, his own men redoubled their efforts.