Part 49 (1/2)
Liende paled.
”Just for the archers and the hors.e.m.e.n,” Anna emphasized. ”Then we'll have time for the loyalty spell.”
She tried not to wince. . .but she didn't trust Dencer, even under a loyalty spell, and Dencer didn't deserve mercy. You're the avenging angel now? She pushed away the thought, and cleared her throat, going through the simple 'polly-lolly-pop” vocalise on her knees. It didn't feel right. She had to cough and clear out her throat. ”I need to stand up.”
Fhurgen and Rickel locked s.h.i.+elds.
”When I tell you, you'll have to step to the side,” Anna said.
”Yes, lady.” Ehurgen grinned grimly. ”But not until then.”
Another arrow clattered, this time against the safety wall.
Behind her, a ragged warm-up tune followed as she struggled to clear her cords.
Three more arrows bounced from various angles onto the ledge. A heavier clank announced a crossbow bolt that skidded almost to Anna's feet.
”Now!” snapped Anna. The arrows would only get more accurate.
”The flame song. On my mark. Mark!”
The tune was ragged, but not too bad, Anna hoped as she launched into the spell.
”Turn to fire, turn to flame those below who reject my name.
Turn to ash all tools spelled against my face and those who seek by force the Regency to replace...”
Another volley of arrows arched over the wall, one sticking into the s.h.i.+eld Fhurgen held, several others clattering against the stone of the cliff above and around the arch of the tunnel entrance.
”Turn to fire, turn to flame...”
Fiery spikes of flame seared out of the sky, more like lances of flame than arrows, and the harmonic chord that only Anna seemed to hear strummed deeply, once, twice.
Anna winced as the screams rose from below, as another volley of arrows clattered on the stone, and as more lances of fire slashed. from sky to valley.
57.
STROMWER, DEFALK.
The angular Dencer peers down at the clouded image in the gla.s.s-an image that shows a woman standing on a road and singing at a rock face. Behind her are the even more shadowy figures of players.
”Where is she?” demands the Lord of Stromwer. ”I know she works sorcery. She always works sorcery.
But where works she this sorcery?”
”We will try, ser.” The sweaty-faced man in tan linens gestures to the three players and begins to sing: ''Now show in the s.h.i.+ning light of song where the sorceress may be found...”
The singer coughs and the images s.h.i.+ver back into silver mists.
”Show me! Now!” snaps Dencer.
The seer coughs again, then repeats the refrain, the violinos matching his thin voice.
This time the cloudy image shows hors.e.m.e.n along a narrow trail.
”Not much better. Thank the harmonies I know my lands.” Dencer glances at the seer. ”Cannot you do better than that?”
”Ser...She is powerful.”
”What use are you all? Worthless! Why have I only the weak and worthless?” The lank-haired lord knocks aside the seer with his gauntleted left arm and strides from the room. ”Gortin! Zerban! Form up the archers! Now!”
Dencer still yells commands as he rides from the stables and closes with the waiting Dumaran captain.
'Are your men ready?” The Lord of Stromwer gestures toward the gate to the south. ”Zerban! We ride!”
”I have followed your orders, Lord Dencer, but I see no sorceress.”
”Had we waited until we saw her, too late would it have been. Are all you Dumarans so stupid?” Dencer urges his mount toward the gate. ”Archers! Ride to the west! After me!” The gates groan open, and the armsmen in tan leathers flank Dencer as he rides out through the gates and along the berm road to the west.
Gortin gestures to his own lancers and smaller number of mounted archers, then follows the gawky- looking Lord of Stromwer through the gates and across the flat gra.s.s of the high berm toward the cliffs to the west of the keep.
”Why here?” asks the Dumaran officer when he finally draws his mount alongside that of Dencer, more than halfway to the base of the cliff.
”The b.i.t.c.h uses sorcery, and if she succeeds, she will make her way through that low point in the cliffs.”
Dencer draws his blade and gestures. ”There See you not the rock steaming?”
Gortin half ducks as the weapon swirls by him, then looks to the cliffs ahead and overhead. As Dencer has said, steam or mist-something boils off the rock nearly a hundred yards up from the base of the cliff.
”She will level that mountain, if it takes that, to get to us. She is already calling on dissonance to support her attack.” The tall lord reins up and half turns his mount. He stands in the saddle easily, despite his awkward appearance, and gestures with the long blade. ”Form up the archers! Here! Now! Right before me!”
Gortin gestures, and the Dumaran archers begin to form to the south of the tan-clad forces of Stromwer.
Dencer watches as the archers tumble off of mounts and form on the long gra.s.s before him.
Above them and to the west, a dull rumbling fills the midday air, and gray clouds of dust spurt from the cliff's side.
”A tunnel... . The b.i.t.c.h has created a tunnel.. Proves she's not all-powerful.'' Dencer gestures with the long blade again-toward the gray-and-red layers of the cliff that lies less than a hundred yards from where his archers prepare.
The gray mist swirls away in the light breeze, revealing a rock-walled balcony jutting out of the cliff.
Gortin's jaw drops momentarily, but he closes his mouth quickly and glances toward Dencer.
”Your lord-did he not realize the danger this sorceress poses?'' Dencer's voice oozes with irony. ”The great Lord Ehara....he did not realize?”