Authors: Michael A. Stackpole
"If I might intrude here for a moment," I announced cautiously. I looked over at where Shijef squatted in deep conversation with Lomthelgar. "I have something I would like to say, and I can think of no other group of witnesses I would rather have present."
Everyone quieted and looked at me. "Shijef, I have not been a perfect master, nor have you been a perfect slave. You have disobeyed me as often as I have given orders that should not have been obeyed. While desiring my death, which would mean your freedom, you have ever kept me safe. And in my most recent misadventure, you saved Marta when I could not."
The Dreel stared up at me, his garnet eyes unblinking. "Shijef, we embark on a war to forestall forever the domination of one race over another. Into such a war, for such a cause, I will not take a slave. I free you now from any and all obligation you have to me. Go, you're free." Shijef dug at the earth with a claw, but said nothing. I smiled at him. "Go, go on, get out of here. Go home."
The Dreel frowned. "No more my master are you?"
"I am not your master. Go home."
"If no more my master, why orders give me?"
Mild laughter rippled through our assembly. Aarundel, frightening in his dark, sharp-cornered armor, pointed off east toward the hills of Irtysh where I first met the Dreel. "You may go away now. You are free."
"Free I am, free I have been." The monster pawed his own chest. "Stupid I am not, you I understand. Understand you me. I not the Reithrese love. What they would do to Men, they do to Dreel will. Slave I have been, and have no more, ever. If Elves will have a Man in their army, a Dreel they will have."
The Elves, along with me, were speechless. Shijef tapped his chest, then walked over and pounded my breastplate over my heart. "Have the same heart, we do, you and I. Pledge, do I, to you what compelled was before. My line and your line, friend and allies are, for all time."
I reached up and held his paw to my chest. "We have the same heart, you and I. I accept your service in return for mine and that of my line."
The Dreel laughed, which made Blackstar shy; then Shijef pulled away and sat down again with Lomthelgar. I saw Aarundel's parents and Marta gathered near him, and other families saying their farewells to their warriors. I felt utterly alone and isolated for a second; then I heard her voice and reined Blackstar around.
"Neal." Larissa smiled up at me. "I have something for you. A gift for a gift."
I noticed, as she extended her hands toward me, she wore the bracelet I had given her. She held a braided circlet of golden hair up to me. I pulled my gauntlet from my right hand and leaned down. She slipped the circlet around my wrist and, using the blue ribbon that had been woven into the braid, knotted it in place.
I raised my hand and caught the scent of her from the hair and the ribbon. "I thank you, my Lady. Its medicinal properties are working already."
She raised an eyebrow at me. "Medicinal properties?"
"Clearly you have woven some of your healing Arts into it, for it eases my heartache straight away." Reluctantly I again shut my hand away in its prison of leather and steel. "Just remember, we have had forever together."
Larissa nodded carefully, "If you come back to me, we will have it again and again."
"It wouldn't be enough."
"No, but it would be superior to any alternative." She took a step back and looked over at Finndali. "I should bid him farewell."
I nodded and watched her go to him. As she walked over to him, she began to move stiffly, and they seemed to treat each other very formally. Yet, at the end of their conversation, he bent over—to kiss her, I suppose. I don't know because I turned away and started to concentrate on the horrible realities of the coming war.
A thousand miles separated Cygestolia from Alatun, and we crossed it at what could almost be described as a leisurely pace. Elven foot soldiers, by virtue of their longer legs, make better speed than their Human counterparts, but even so we planned on taking two months to make the journey. With every step closer to Reith we knew the Reithrese were preparing for us, but that was as we intended it to be.
Our ranks swelled when we reached the rendezvous in the southwestern bulge in the Elven Holdings. There our fighting force grew to over twenty-five legions, making it more than triple the Man-force that had rebelled against the Reithrese. For every three individual soldiers, two other Elves came along with us as support. They handled everything from the preparation of food and tending the sick, to sharpening our weapons and shoeing our horses.
After five weeks we had penetrated halfway into Batangas. In that time I had learned a great deal of Elven and Dreel—one of necessity, and the other so Shijef and I could both stave off boredom when the Elves ignored us. About that time Elven scouts came back and reported a mounted Human force approaching from the northeast. They said the warriors rode beneath a banner with a left-handed glove and mountain rune on it. Finndali granted Aarundel and me leave to ride out to the Human force, and we welcomed the Emperor's Own Steel Pack to our number.
Their arrival actually solved a problem I had caused for Finndali and other Elven leaders. While they were bound to have me with them, they had severe reservations about having me in combat. Even the creation of a lanyard to keep Cleaveheart with me did not seem to address their concerns. When the Steel Pack arrived, they installed me at its head and then designated my unit as reserve.
There was grumbling about that in the Pack, but it died down as we drew closer to Reith. The weather turned cold, but very little snow fell on the plains. Ahead of us, dead to the south, we saw the mountains of Reith, but not well because of the heavy clouds cloaking them. During the day not being able to see our destination helped lower tension by keeping it distant. At night, even a hundred miles away, Reith became very close and very threatening.
In the dead of night bright, brilliant flashes of light would transform the clouds into luminiferous beasts with wispy tentacles just waiting to pluck us from our saddles. Lightning, red and green and other colors unnatural and unusual, shot through the sky. Distant thunder echoed and rumbled toward us, turning Reith into a land where the very stones seemed to be preparing to grind us down.
Aarundel reported that the light and noise, according to Elven sorcerers, were meant to make it difficult to read the truly powerful spells being woven by the Reithrese. When I likened the show to the magical equivalent of gilded parade armor, my men took to watching it as if it were a drama being unfolded on a distant stage. Each night they wove a different folktale around what they saw and by the time we had gotten near enough that thunder sounded close by when lightning flashed, even the Elves seemed to have some respect for the bravery my Men exhibited.
We entered Reith through a mountain defile that the Reithrese should have defended. They stationed scouts in and among the mist-haunted rocks and canyons, but they never struck at us. I do not know if they felt we were not vulnerable, or if some twisted sense of Reithrese honor demanded they allow us to assemble on the battlefield before Alatun, but they missed an opportunity to slow us down and hurt us. It was not until the final battle was joined that I saw why they did not meet us there and, perhaps, why they did not feel they needed to.
Though only fifty miles separated us from Alatun, the clouds prevented us from seeing it. We posted small forces out in front of our host to warn us of any Reithrese attack. Those troops knew that if the Reithrese did press us, they would die well before any help could reach them. The Elves given those missions appeared to accept them without question, and I gathered it was something of an honor by the way Finndali rejected my offer to take a turn as we moved forward through Reith.
For two days we advanced cautiously. Fog shrouded us every inch of the way. Tinged with yellow and smelling of rotten eggs, I decided it was not wholly natural, and the testy nature of some Elven sorcerers told me I was not wrong. The last night we camped not ten miles from Alatun, but aside from thunder and a lurid red glow pulsing through the night, we had no way of telling where the city was.
I looked up as Aarundel entered my tent. I held out two letters for him. "I wouldn't want this battle to go any differently from any other. You will see these are sent?"
"As always, though I trust you will take them back from me and see to it yourself." Aarundel pulled up a camp stool and seated himself. "I want you to know I have argued with Finndali to let your unit go with mine in the first twave. I did all I could, but I could not convince him."
I shrugged. "He could open a chicken and read in its guts that my leading will make all the Reithrese fall down and die of laughter, and he'd not let me go first. He has his reasons."
"I know. I just did not want you to believe I had reasons why I did not want you along with me." He clasped his hands together and looked down at them. "There have been times, my friend, when words I have spoken have betrayed what I feel in my heart for you. It is not easy to shed centuries of thoughts and ideas. I know I have hurt you in this, and I wish to apologize."
"No apology necessary, because there are times when your words have told me exactly what was in your heart. In Jammaq, when you told me to run and again when you asked me to save Marta. In those two things I heard what you truly believe." I reached out and grabbed him by the back of his neck, then brought my forehead to rest against his. "We are brothers beneath our skin. We're not perfect, but brothers nonetheless, which means, I'm thinking, we understand."
Aarundel smiled, then sat back, and my hand slipped from his neck. "Then you will understand when I tell you that upon our return, I will do all that is possible to see to it that you and my sister can finally be together."
I couldn't speak around the lump in my throat, so I just nodded to him and smiled, all the while fingering the braid circling my right wrist.
Morning came cold enough to make fog when I breathed, and I thanked whichever god made wool that I had clothes to place between me and my armor. Over the quilted jacket and breeches I wore full plate. It had been made for me in Cygestolia, so bore the spikes and spurs the Elves favor. In addition, the face mask I wore had been fitted to me perfectly on the inside, but on the outside I appeared to be a snarling wolf. I had smiled when I first saw it, and even now it prompted a grin, because in this brass-washed, steel suit I truly became the Dun Wolf.
The Elven host assembled along a front over a mile wide. The battlefield sloped gently up toward Alatun over harsh ground. The earth, which had been baked by the summer sun, developed a thin film of slippery red clay because of the heavy fog. The plants that grew there were all needles and spikes, though some sprouted yellow or white blossoms. Big boulders dotted the battlefield. While insufficient to form a breastwork, around them the battles would swirl and eddy, and in their shadow, bodies would pile up.
Elven pikemen held the center, with cavalry wings and archers to back them up. Our supply train retreated, but not too far. Had there been sun, it would have glinted from a hundred thousand helmeted heads. As it was, the fog ebbed and flowed, revealing and stealing away whole portions of our line.
From the other side, out in the sea of fog, I heard a trumpet blare. As if a theatre curtain, the white fog began to lift, though in its wake rose up a bloody mist that hugged the ground. As the fog began to dissipate, I saw shadowy forms move through it. Without reference points I could not determine their true size, but that mattered less than trying to account for their odd shapes and strange gaits.
Then quickly enough there arose from our side a buzzing, as those who could see the Reithrese army communicated with those to the rear. As far back as I was, I could make out nothing of substance, and by the time I translated what was being said, I could see it for myself.
What the Reithrese lacked in numbers they made up for in incredible power. Creatures of every imaginable size lurked among their ranks. I saw giant figures carved from stone marching into place in the line among normal Reithrese soldiers. A whole company of scimitar-wielding cavalry skeletons brought their cadaverous mounts into place behind a unit of Reithrese Dragoons. Hordes of small, Man-like things nailed together from scrap wood and animated by magick held spears at the ready.
These were the least of the forces arrayed against us. As the fog burned away, I saw huge creatures with eight and ten legs, built of bones, hundreds and thousands of bits of ivory, bound together through magic. Hundreds of Reithrese archers, not all of them living by the looks of them, rode the spines of those behemoths. Similar but smaller things made of scrap armor and weapons walked upright like men, but were shaped like hedgehogs with swords and scythe blades forming their quills and claws. Just one of those animated, metallic creatures wading into an infantry formation would decimate it, at best costing the Reithrese the life of the sorcerer riding in the thing's chest, magickally commanding it.
Try as I might, I could not see Takrakor among the forces arrayed against us. I knew he had to be there, and I knew I would kill him, but locating him among fifty thousand of his countrymen would be no easy task. I would have thought he would command one of the bone-monsters, or a steel hedgehog, but discerning the identities of the sorcerers manipulating them would have to wait until the things had been destroyed.
Trumpets sounded loud and brassy amid the Elven forces, and the infantry began a slow advance. All along the line they moved as one. Green and gold pennants flew, emblazoned with Elven slogans and runes. The pikemen in the front lowered their pikes to accept any Reithrese charges, but the other side's cavalry appeared disinclined to engage the foot soldiers. Behind the infantry and flanking it, the Elven cavalry moved up.
The Steel Pack remained in place, and Shijef stationed himself twenty-five yards in front of us as if to fend off any Reithrese assault that got through the Elven host. Despite the nature of our opposition, I did not fear their winning through to where we waited. What I did experience came down more to a fear that treachery awaited the Elves and a general feeling that I would not be able to save them.