Part 30 (1/2)

Her words, blunt and incontrovertible, hung in the cool dawn air. Someone had finally said aloud what everyone had been thinking, and no one objected or protested. It was simple fact.

Cvinthil, though, was staring out across the plains, his arms folded. ”Our friend Alouzon has her battles,” he said softly. ”And we have ours.”

He fell silent. Kyria looked up from Santhe's arms, followed the king's gaze, and gasped.

Alouzon had tried to convey something of the destruction that had been wrought on the land, but as the sun rose higher and lit the rolling downs and meadows with the warm light of late August, it showed her words inadequate. Destruction, waste, devastation: all these were paltry descriptions when applied to fields that lay burnt to a uniform grayness as though by acid. Forests-Kyria had to guess that they were forests-were no more than heaped and tumbled ruins crisscrossed by the tracks of napalm and bomb strikes, and even the rivers and streams appeared to have dried up where they were not clogged with dust and eroded topsoil.

The men and women of the army stared in shock and dismay, and the Vayllens huddled together like frightened children. They had thought that they knew what lay ahead. But their thoughts had never grappled with such absolute, terrible negation of life.

”Speak to us, sorceress,” said Cvinthil. ”Do you have anything to say that might help the kings of Corrin and of Gryylth?”

”It is . . .” The sun lifted into the sky over blank plains. Kyria felt her powers overshadowed by the magnitude of what she was seeing. ”It is what are called defoliants, mostly,” she said. ”Things that . . . that kill the plant life.”

' 'Will it go away in time?''

Kyria stared. She knew the answer. She was unwilling to say it.

Cvinthil turned to her. His eyes were sad. ”Please, sorceress. Advise me.”

”It will take years, I fear.”

Darham was frowning. His big arms were folded, and his eyes were fixed on the horizon as though trying to peer across the distances. If this was Gryylth, then what of Corrin? ”Can you make it fertile again?”

Kyria felt herself sag. Could she make it fertile again? With mighty powers she could blast B-52s out of the air. With more subtle energies she could heal.

But turning a desert the size of England into a garden was something else.

Cvinthil was waiting. Kyria shook her head, overwhelmed. ”I . . . will try.”

Her uncertainty was obvious, and therefore her words gave no comfort. Cvinthil pa.s.sed his hands over his face. ”It has been a very long and a very hot night,'' he said in a whisper.' 'We should rest. I am . . .” His voice broke, then firmed. ”I am sure that it is not safe to travel by day in this place. We will start at twilight.” He lifted his head. ”Harpers and healers of Vaylle?”

A senior priestess dismounted and came forward. She was a solid, matronly woman, and her blond hair, though shot with gray, was bright in the dawn. ”What do you wish, King Cvinthil?”

The king spoke with courtesy. ”Dindrane has stayed behind with Alouzon. I have no authority over you or your harpers. May I ask you if you are willing to stay with us and obey our commands?''

The priestess considered. Loyal and trusting, the Vayllens had followed Dindrane into the company of warriors and through Los Angeles, but in Gryylth they faced not only the horrors of war but also the obscenity of a defoliated and wasted land. And now Dindrane was gone.

But the priestess nodded at last. ” 'Tis certain I could say, lord, that we have very little choice. But our trust for our High Priestess goes beyond her presence or absence, and since she thought it fitting that we aid you, then surely we will. We ask only that you do not look to us for fighting or killing, for sworn against such things we are.”

Cvinthil bowed to her. ”Our deepest thanks, priestess.”

Together, Cvinthil and Darham gave orders for a camp to be set up, and for the wagons to be a.s.sembled in preparation for an evening march. ”And what of Hahle?” said Darham. ”Is he not to meet us here?”

”He will be here soon,” said Cvinthil. ”I wish now that I had listened to the man more, but I know him well enough to say that.”

But Cvinthil fell abruptly silent and turned again to the gray and blackened plains. Kyria read his thoughts. He was responsible. He had ignored Hahle, he had trusted Helwych, he had forsaken his land.

”Lord,” she said softly, ”you could have done no more than Helwych against the Specter.”

”I know,” he said after a time. ”And perhaps I and all my people went to Vaylle in order to bring back a sorceress who can defeat such weapons.”

Kyria felt herself grow warm. As Cvinthil and the others had once looked to Alouzon, so they now looked to her. ”My king,” she said with a faltering curtsy, ”I will in all ways strive to do what is best for our land.”

Cvinthil's face was deeply troubled. ”Gryylth,” he said softly, ”has been destroyed. It will take the hand of a G.o.d to restore it.”

Kyria was afraid that his words were true.

Something was wrong.

It was not that the prying, omniscient eyes had suddenly disappeared from Helwych's inner sight, though that, in fact, was disturbing enough. Nor was it that the Grayfaces and hounds in the land were suddenly s.h.i.+fting their loyalties to him almost without effort on his part, though that was indeed raising his suspicions. No, it was rather that his perception of the land, the subtle sensation he carried with him as he carried his own name and ident.i.ty, had abruptly s.h.i.+fted.

He swept his disembodied vision over the face of Gryylth and, impossibly, caught sight of troops and wagons, of men and women in armor, of bright Vayllen garments and vestments, of s.h.i.+ning harps and harpstrings, of swords and consecrated staves of healing.

And there was something else, too. Robed in deep blue, a cl.u.s.ter of silver stars at her shoulder, a woman rode at the head of the army, and her brooch bore the arms of the king of Gryylth. She carried no staff, for her hands and her mind and her will were enough; and when she appeared suddenly to become aware of his scrutiny, black eyes that had nothing to do with the void of the Specter or the Worm met his, and Helwych sensed power and determination. Her pale hands went up then, and his sight was suddenly clouded.

The vision vanished, and though he tried to will it back, it would not return; Alarmed, he summoned energies to himself, and the Grayfaces and hounds across the land lifted their heads and turned instantly to do his bidding. At an inward command from the young sorcerer, they set out for Kingsbury.

A day, and they would begin to arrive. Another day beyond that, and the army and its pale sorceress would find themselves pitted against both magic and enormous reserves of weaponry.

He opened his eyes. About him in the Hall were his personal Grayface guards and the one or two soldiers that he still permitted to attend him. The young man who now wore the ensign of the captain of the King's Guard noticed his movement and saluted. The sorcerer could not remember his name, but that was unimportant. He asked only that his orders be obeyed.

”Send to the troops in the other refugee towns, captain,” said Helwych. ”Send with all possible speed. Tell them to make for Kingsbury immediately.''

”But lord,” said the lad, ”the Specter. The battles. What if-”

Helwych was on his feet instantly, raging. ”Do not tell me about battles, sir. The only battles in the land will be the ones that I will fight to save your miserable skin. And I will save Kingsbury if I have to raze it to the ground. Go! Fetch your men and tell them they are to hold the city against-”

He caught himself. Against whom? Against the rightful king? He could not say that.

”Against whatever comes,” he finished lamely, and, with an impatient gesture, he sat down. The young man ran to follow his orders.

Kingsbury Hill could be defended against conventional forces with a handful of men. And magic, bullets, and bombs would settle the sorceress. It was only a matter of time and effort.

He sat back, annoyed to discover that he was shaking. He hid his trembling hands in the sleeves of his robe, and when he looked up, Seena was standing in the shadows close to the wall.

”What do you want?” he snapped.

Seena only regarded him levelly.

”Go attend to your children, Seena.”

The queen of Gryylth turned away. ”Yes,” she said. ”I will attend to them.”

Something about her tone made Helwych uneasy.

As Cvinthil had expected, Hahle arrived as the camp was being broken in the early twilight, bringing with him a score of men from Quay. With the exception of a few youngsters like Myylen, they were almost all older fishers who had some skill with a club or an axe. But though they had traveled much of the day, they fell in with the a.s.sembled columns without comment, for their king needed them, and a night without sleep was a small thing compared to a usurper on the throne of Gryylth and a dead land.

But what took even Kyria by surprise was the appearance, an hour after the army had started off into the falling shadows, of four riders silhouetted against the indigo sky. Side by side, a hint of threat in their manner, they blocked the road where it climbed a low rise.

Cvinthil signaled a halt. ”Who comes?” he said, his voice even, his hand hovering near the pommel of his sword.