There isnt much point to discussion after youve already let them go, your Grace.
You know, that very same thought occurred to me.
They encountered the opposing force in the broad valley of the River esos just to the south of the Zemoch town of Basne thirty leagues or so to the west of the Astellian border. The reports of the scouts and the information gleaned from the captives proved to be accurate. What faced them was not so much an army as it was a mob, poorly armed and undisciplined.
The preceptors of the Four Orders gathered around Patriarch Bergsten to consider options. Theyre members of our own faith, Bergsten told them. Our disagreements with them lie in the area of Church Government, not in the substance of our common beliefs. Those matters arent settled on the battlefield, so I dont want too many of those people killed.
I dont see much danger of that, your Grace, Preceptor Abriel said.
They outnumber us about two to one, Lord Abriel, Sir Heldin pointed out.
One charge should even things out, Heldin, Abriel replied. Those people are amateurs, enthusiastic but untrained, and about half of them are only armed with pitchforks. If we all drop our visors, level our lances and charge them en masse, most of them will still be running a week from now.
And that was the last mistake the venerable Lord Abriel was ever to make. The mounted knights fanned out with crisp precision to form up on a broad front stretching across the entire valley. Rank after rank of Cyrinics, Pandions, Genidians, and Alciones, all clad in steel and mounted on belligerent horses, lined up in what was probably one of the more intimidating displays of organized unfriendliness in the known world. The preceptors waited in the very center of the front rank as their subalterns formed up the rear ranks and the messengers galloped forward to declare that all was in readiness.
That should be enough, Komier said impatiently. I dont think the supply wagons will have to charge too. he looked around at his friends. Shall we get started, gentlemen? Lets show that rabble out there how real soldiers mount an attack.
He made a curt signal to a hulking Genidian Knight, and the huge blond man blew a shattering blast on his Ogre-horn trumpet. The front rank of the knights clapped down their visors and spurred their horses forward. The perfectly disciplined knights and horses galloped forward in an absolutely straight line like a moving wall of steel.
Midway through the charge the forest of upraised lances came down like a breaking wave, and the defections in the opposing army began. The ill-trained serfs and peasants broke and ran, throwing away their weapons and squealing in terror. Here and there were some better-trained units that held their ground, but the flight of their allies from either side left their flanks dangerously exposed.
The knights struck those few units with a great, resounding crash. Once more Abriel felt the old exulting satisfaction of battle. His lance shattered against a hastily raised shield, and he discarded the broken weapon and drew his sword. He looked around and saw that there were other forces massed behind the wall of peasants that had concealed them from view, and that army was like none Abriel had ever seen before. The soldiers were huge, larger than even the Thalesians. They wore breastplates and mail, but their cuirasses were more closely moulded to their bodies than was normal. Every muscle seemed starkly outlined under the gleaming steel. Their helmets were exotic steel re-creations of the heads of improbable beasts, and they did not have visors as such but steel masks instead, masks which had been sculpted to bear individualized features, the features, Abriel thought, of the warriors who wore them. The Cyrinic Preceptor was suddenly chilled. The features the masks revealed were not human.
There was a strange domed leather tent in the center of that inhuman army, a ribbed, glossy black tent of gigantic dimensions. But then it moved, opening, spreading widetwo great wings, curved and batlike. And then rising up from under the shelter of those wings, was a being huge beyond imagining, a creature of total darkness with a head shaped like an inverted wedge and with flaring, pointed ears. Two slitted eyes blazed in that awful absence of a face, and two enormous arms stretched forth hungrily. Lightning seethed beneath the glossy black skin, and the earth upon which the creature stood smoked and burned.
Abriel was strangely calm. He lifted his visor to look full into the face of Hell. At last, he murmured, a fitting opponent.
And then he clapped his visor down again, drew his warlike shield before his body, and raised the sword he had carried with honor for over half a century. His unpalsied hand brandished the sword at the enormity still rising before him. For God and Arcium. he roared his defiance, set himself, and charged directly into obliteration.
8
To say that Edaemus was offended would be the grossest of understatements. The blur of white light that was the God of the Delphae was tinged around the edges with flickers of reddish orange, and the dusting of snow that covered the ground in the little swale above the valley of the Delphae fumed tendrils of steam as it melted in the heat of his displeasure.
No! he said adamantly. Absolutely not!
Oh, be reasonable, Cousin, Aphrael coaxed. The situation has changed. Youre holding on to something that no longer has any meaning. There might have been some justification for eternal enmity before. Ill grant you that my family didnt behave very well during the war with the Cyrgai, but that was a long time ago. Clinging to your injured sensibilities now is pure childishness.
How couldst thou, Xanetia? Edaemus demanded accusingly. How couldst thou do this thing?
It was in furtherance of our design, Beloved, she replied. Sephrenia was more than a little startled by the intensely personal relationship Xanetia had with her God. Thou didst command me to render assistance unto Anakha, and by reason of his love for Sephrenia, I was obliged to reach accommodation with her. Once she and I did breach the wall of enmity which did stand between us and did learn to trust each other, respect and common purpose did soften our customary despite, and all unbidden, love did gently creep in to replace it. In my heart is she now my dear sister.
That is an abomination! Thou shalt not speak so of this Styric in my presence again.
As it please thee, Beloved, she agreed, submissively bowing her head. But then her chin came up, and her inner light glowed more intensely. But will ye, nil ye, I will continue to think so of her in the hidden silence of my heart.
Are you ready to listen, Edaemus? Aphrael asked, or would you like to take a century or two to throw a temper-tantrum first?
Thou art pert, Aphrael, he accused.
Yes, I know. Its one of the things that makes me so delightful. You do know that Cyrgons trying to get his hands on Bhelliom, dont you? Or have you been so busy playing leap-frog with the stars that youve lost track of whats happening here?
Mind your manners, Sephrenia told her crisply.
He makes me tired. Hes been cuddling his hatred to his breast like a sick puppy for ten thousand years. The Child Goddess looked critically at the incandescent presence of the God of the Delphae. The light-show doesnt impress me, Edaemus. I could do it too, if I wanted to take the trouble.
He makes me tired. Hes been cuddling his hatred to his breast like a sick puppy for ten thousand years. The Child Goddess looked critically at the incandescent presence of the God of the Delphae. The light-show doesnt impress me, Edaemus. I could do it too, if I wanted to take the trouble.
Edaemus flared even brighter, and the reddish-orange nimbus around him became sooty.
How tiresome, Aphrael sighed. Im sorry, Xanetia, but were wasting our time here. Bhelliom and I are going to have to deal with Klael on our own. Your tedious God wouldnt be any help anyway.
Klael! Edaemus gasped.
Got your attention, didnt I? She smirked. Are you ready to listen now?
Who hath done this? Who hath unloosed Klael again upon the earth?
Well, it certainly wasnt me. Cyrgon had everything going his way, and then Anakha turned things around on him. You know how much Cyrgon hates to lose, so he started breaking the rules. Do you want to help us with thisor would you rather sit around and pout for another hundred eons or so? Quickly, quickly, Edaemus, she said, snapping her fingers at him. Make up your mind. I dont have all day, you know.
What makes you think I need any more men? Narstil demanded. Narstil was a lean, almost cadaverous Arjuni with stringy arms and hollow cheeks. He sat at a table set under a spreading tree in the center of his encampment deep in the jungles of Arjuna.
Youre in a risky kind of business, Caalador shrugged, looking around at the cluttered camp. You steal furniture and carpets and tapestries. That means that youve been raiding villages and mounting attacks on isolated estates. People fight back when you try that, and that means casualties. About half of your men are wearing bandages right now, and you probably leave a few dead behind you every time you try to steal things. A leader in your line always needs more men.
I dont have any vacancies just now.
I can arrange some, Bevier told him in a menacing voice, melodramatically drawing his thumb across the edge of his lochaber.
Look, Narstil, Caalador said in a somewhat less abrasive tone, weve seen your men. Be honest now. Youve gathered up a bunch of local bad-boys who got into trouble for stealing chickens or running off somebody elses goats. Youre very light on professionals, and thats what were offering youprofessionalism. Your bad-boys bluster and try to impress each other by looking mean and nasty, but real killing isnt in their nature, and thats why they get hurt when the fighting starts. Killing doesnt bother us. Were used to it. Your young bravos have to prove things to each other, but we dont. Order knows who we are. He wouldnt have sent you that letter otherwise.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Believe me, Narstil, life will be much easier for all of us if were working with you rather than setting up shop across the street.
Narstil looked a little less certain of himself. Ill think about it, he said.