But she was just a memory, and memories, by themselves, had no power.
A muffled drumbeat sounded just behind him and swiftly faded. Without looking over, Razkili reached across and squeezed his knee. Like a great beast in the darkness, the army lurched forward, eerily quiet but for the hesitant creaking of the chariots and the soft rhythmic impact of hooves and sandaled feet upon the earth.
It was the stuff of songs, Innowen thought, as he felt the breeze caress his cheek. Silent armies, midnight marches, battles by moonlight. But when a song was done, the singer collected his coin, picked up his drink, tuned his instrument, smiled at his audience, quite safe and quite alive.
He felt the wind on his face again. It urged him to dance.
Not yet,
he told it,
not yet.
The army moved smoothly over flat plainland until it reached the first foothills of the Akrotir Mountains. There, forces broke up into smaller waves which crested each hill and waited for the next wave to start up before descending. They progressed slowly in the darkness, careful to lose no horse or chariot wheel to unseen ruts or holes. No man spoke now, not even in a whisper. From any summit, the night could carry a voice a considerable distance.
The moon floated slowly above the eastern hills. Its weak radiance lit the hilltops and filled the valleys with shadow. Taelyn led the way down into blackness and up again into light. Finally, when they reached a place deep enough and dark enough to shelter all his troops, he called a rest. Waterskins were passed around and abandoned when empty; they wouldn't be carried into battle.
While others dismounted to rest, Taelyn rode quietly to the summit of the next hill. Innowen tapped Razkili's arm, and together they followed. Veydon, too, joined them.
"Another hour's march," Taelyn said in a low voice as they pulled up by his side.
"You've brought us a round-about way, Commander," Veydon whispered. "These hills are taking a toll on the men and horses both."
Razkili joined the discussion. "Is there no road or pass to this city of Parendur?"
"If you were the leader of a siege force," Taelyn answered with the patience of a father addressing a favorite son, "where would you most likely station your patrols and watchmen? Yes, there's a road, but I want to keep the element of surprise."
"So we come at them out of the foothills," Veydon said needlessly.
Innowen listened with half an ear, but his eyes turned toward the looming darkness of the Akrotir Mountains in the south. He felt their presence like a ponderous weight upon him, and they oozed an oppressive mystery into the air that he could almost smell. He inhaled deeply. Somehow, his sight seemed sharper, and he could make out the jagged outline that challenged the sky. All his senses took on a finer edge. The wind sang upon those far peaks.
"You're very quiet," Taelyn said to him.
"It's this place," Innowen answered reverently. "It commands quiet."
They grew silent and listened to the stillness, twisting with a strange conservation of motion on their horses' backs to gaze in all directions. Each pair of eyes, though, inevitably turned toward the Akrotirs and lingered there.
Razkili reached across the space between them, and his hand settled on Innowen's knee. "We'll have to separate soon," he said gently.
Innowen listened to the wind as it danced down from the mountains and flowed over the hills and valleys. He felt it coming like a delicate tide rippling the air before it, and smiled wistfully when it brushed over him. "When we find a high hill that overlooks Parendur," he whispered, "there I'll leave you and watch the battle." He gripped the hand on his knee and held it as he turned to Taelyn. "Give my horse to one of your footmen. I won't need it, and another cavalryman will do more damage than a hoplite."
Taelyn nodded. "My thanks, Innocent." He hesitated, considering his next words. "I know where your heart lies, that you would fight with us. But your friend has given the best advice. None of us questions your courage."
Innowen barked a short laugh, then choked it back. "I think your soldiers have more questions about me than they dare to ask even in private." He waved a hand when Taelyn started to protest. "That's not important now, and if there's anyone on the next hill, I bet they can hear everything we're saying."
Taelyn nodded again and wordlessly started back down toward his troops. Veydon followed, but Innowen clung to Razkili's hand for a long moment and stared toward the mountains. He drank in the awesome silence, inhaled it, filled himself with it until he felt as ponderous and unmovable as the ancient stone itself. Only that way could he keep from voicing his worry for his friend. He should be at Rascal's back, protecting him in the fighting. It was where he knew he belonged. But instead, he would watch from a distance, and Veydon would do his job for him.
He gazed hard and long into the Akrotirs. Then he squeezed Razkili's hand once, let it go, and turned his horse down the slope to rejoin the army.
Veydon intercepted him at the bottom. "I'll watch out for him," he said. There was an odd passion in his words, and his gaze bore piercingly into Innowen. "I swear. I will go down before he does."
Innowen's brow furrowed, and his lips drew into a thin line as he regarded Veydon. "Why?" he said irritably. "Why would you do that?"
Veydon smiled weakly and looked away. "Has it been so long that you've forgotten Shandisti? I know you, Innowen. I remember the harvest festivals of our boyhood." He looked back, and there was a softness in his eyes. "Most of the children were cruel to you because you couldn't walk, and I was one of them." He swallowed and glanced away again. Nearby, Taelyn's officers were rousing the soldiers to their feet. The rest break was over. It was time to resume the march. "Call it atonement that obligates me to look after your friend," Veydon continued in hushed tones. "I know how you must depend on him."
I depend on no one,
Innowen started to snap, but he bit it back. It would have been such an obvious lie. He stared at Veydon, trying to remember his face. He couldn't. There had been lots of children in Shandisti, and he had gone to the village only on holidays when Drushen would take him. Some had taunted and tormented him, but he'd never paid much heed. There'd always been too many wonders, too much going on during the festivals, even in such a small community, to hold his attention. He shook his head. Veydon held no place in his memory.
"Just guard his back," he said at last. "You could have nobody better at yours." He looked over his shoulder toward the summit of the hill where Razkili sat alone gazing into the distance. Innowen wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.
"We move," Taelyn said, riding up to him. Innowen and Veydon fell in beside their commander and climbed the hill again. Razkili merged into the line as they overtook him. The army resumed its relentless flow toward Parendur.
The Akrotir Mountains grew ever larger until they dominated the southern sky.
Taelyn held up a hand. His drummer remained silent, but the word quickly passed to halt. Two riders descended the hill before them and made straight for the front line.
Taelyn saluted his scouts. "Report."
"Parendur lies just over that ridge," one of them answered. "We still can't identify the army camped outside its walls, but Veydon's estimate of their number is probably correct. Two thousand men. Most are asleep in their tents now with only a token patrol on the perimeter."
The other scout spoke. "We left our horses on the ridge and bellied down as close as we dared," he said. "They are well armed, but discipline seems lax. We saw gambling and drinking, and a few arguments."
"Mercenaries?" one of Taelyn's officers suggested.
"It's possible," answered the first scout. "We heard a smattering of different languages. Isporan among them, so some, at least, are our own people."
Taelyn spat, then turned to his officers. "Tell the archers to ready their firepots and move them into position. Deploy the other units according to plan." He steered his horse around Razkili and whispered to Innowen. "Choose a place on our left flank where you can see," he said gently. "Razkili can go with you to bring your horse back. With the grace of the gods, we'll clasp hands again when this is over, Innocent."
Innowen took the older man's offered hand. "Razkili would tell you to trust in no gods, just your arm and your weapons. Osiri philosophy. It's good advice."
He pulled away and rode east along an old stream bed that had dried up in the drought. Razkili followed. They picked their way carefully in the darkness until Innowen turned right and started up the side of a high hill. He could still see Taelyn's army huddled in the valley behind him.
At the summit, he dismounted. Even in the darkness, Parendur took his breath away, just as it had the first time he saw it. It filled the next valley and sprawled out onto a narrow plain. Watchfires burned at intervals along the top of the city's defensive wall. The shadows that moved there, he knew, were soldiers at their posts.
The plain was also dotted with fires and the tents of Parendur's attackers. He had a good view into the camp. It was still and quiet. A few men huddled around the fires. A two-man patrol passed far below him, more visible by the shadows they cast than by anything else.
"Archers will set fire to their tents from there," Razkili said, pointing. "The confusion will give the chariots time to pull out of the hills and assemble on the plain."
Innowen held up a hand to interrupt him. "Let me watch it," he said. "That will be the best explanation."
"I just want you to realize it's a good plan," Razkili urged. "It will go well. Taelyn is a skillful strategist."
Innowen shut him up by embracing him. "To hell with strategy," he whispered. "You keep your spear level and your sword close at hand. Now get out of here, and take my horse. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can share a jug of wine in Parendur. The finest wine in the world is made right behind those walls. That's probably why these invaders want in so badly."
"Wine sounds great," Razkili answered. "I'll come back for you when the fighting's done. Gods willing..."
Innowen pressed a hand over Razkili's lips. "Trust no gods, Rascal."
Razkili grinned. "Osiri philosophy from you?"
"Forgive me," he said, stepping away. "My mouth didn't know what it was saying."
"It seldom does, my Innocent." Razkili swung up onto his horse and took the reins of Innowen's mount. "I like that name. It fits you." Before Innowen could respond, he wheeled away and rode down the hill.
Almost at once, a rain of fire streaked the night sky, and the darkness hissed, alive with the sounds of arrows streaming flame. Enemy tents began to burn, brightening the land with a deadly light. Still the arrows flew, and the wind conspired with Taelyn as it carried sparks and ash to the tents that arrows couldn't reach.
Men only half awake began to stumble into the open. Shouting and confusion rose in the camp, but noise alone could not hold back the deadly shafts or the hail of stones that plummeted upon them when Taelyn's slingmen joined the fray. Scores fell dead in their tracks with screams frozen on their lips and faces crushed.
Innowen watched in dreadful fascination as the enemy scurried like crazed ants whose hill had been trampled upon. Some ran wailing, directionless. Some dashed back into burning tents to snatch up weapons. A single officer raced back and forth bellowing orders that went unheeded, while flames reflected in the sweat of his bare back and in his wide eyes.
The storm of arrows and stones ceased. Aided by the light of the burning tents, he gazed expectantly toward the narrow plain.
The chariots hit with tidal force. The horses themselves were as deadly as the drivers' javelins. Men bounced helplessly off the animals' powerful shoulders, hooves pounded them into the earth, wheels crushed limbs and bones.
Behind the chariots came the cavalry. Again and again, long lances ripped streams of scarlet from the backs and bellies of Parendur's invaders. The fires made dazzling patterns on the riders' bronze helmets and on the tips of their weapons. Innowen looked for Razkili and found him easily. The pure burnished metal of his shield caught and magnified the fireglow around him. No other carried such a shield. It had to be Razkili.
Taelyn's hoplites swept out of the hills with crazed battlecries, running with their spears before them. Their fierce charge carried them deep into the heart of the camp. The enemy fell like ripe wheat before them as they lunged and slashed with ruthless efficiency.
The din of battle swelled like a terrible song over the field, and over that, a surging roar as fire raged through the encampment. The mountain winds rushed over the plain, whipping the flames to a frenzy. Streamers of burning fabric swirled into the air. Hot clouds of ash and smoke whirled into the night.
Innowen heard the wind, and suddenly, it scorched him like a hot breath as it flashed up the hill, bringing a maelstrom of glowing ash that gurgled and churned around him. He flung up his arms, expecting pain, yet not a spark touched him. The wind whistled in his ears, changing pitch as the gusts rose and fell. A searing snow whirled about him in elusive choreography.
It was madness. Men were dying down below. Razkili and Taelyn were risking their lives. Yet he reached up and drew a graceful arc with his arm. The wind sang, and the ash danced, and Innowen surrendered to it. He flung back his head. A long sigh issued from his lips. A thousand lives below him did a death-dance that sent a rhythm through the earth, and it flowed into him. He felt the pulse and the thrust of it. He moved, or it moved him.