Sunrunner's Fire Part 30

"Excellent." They remounted and rode slowly down the steep slope, not wis.h.i.+ng to provoke general alarm. A pair of guards galloped up from their regular patrol and, recognizing Ostvel, heard him out. But by the time he had explained everything to the commander and the stabled horses were being readied as quickly and silently as possible, the moons were on a swift descent. Donato remained outside to receive Sioned's message. When preparations were well underway, Ostvel joined his anxious wait.

"Tell me about the rings," Donato said suddenly.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked before now."

"You had other things on your mind. Tell me, Ostvel."

"It happens to Riyan as well. When sorcery is being done, usually nearby."

Donato gave him a sharp look. "To Riyan-not to Sioned or other Sunrunners?"

"Only to those with diarmadhi diarmadhi blood as well as Sunrunner gifts," Ostvel said levelly. "Lord Urival was one." blood as well as Sunrunner gifts," Ostvel said levelly. "Lord Urival was one."

A short silence. "Sweet Mother of All-you're telling me I'm-"

"You have the heritage. So does my son, through his mother. You knew Camigwen. Was she a sorcerer? Was Urival? Is Riyan?"

"Am I?" Donato asked bitterly. Then he stiffened and his eyes lost focus. Ostvel was long familiar with the sight of a Sunrunner at work. He held his breath while moonlight seemed to glow brighter around Donato's weary face. When it was over, the man stumbled against Ostvel.

"It-it was Sioned-but Andry more than she-G.o.ddess, you've no idea of his power-"

"Donato!" Ostvel shook him.

"He just-he wove himself through the light, treated her as if she was a single thread in a huge tapestry that was only him-"

"d.a.m.n him!" Ostvel snapped. "Tell me what was said!"

Donato straightened a little, breathing heavily. "Sorry-they turned me inside out." He raked the hair back from his face and went on more calmly, "Before he entered the weaving, Sioned told me about the Sunrunner in Gilad. She's dead, Ostvel-purposely shadow-lost."

"Oh, no," he breathed.

"Rohan took the decision about her away from both Andry and Cabar. Andry's furious, of course. And then he was there, like a blanket smothering us both. He knows everything. I got the feeling he'd been waiting for this. Before I was flung out of the weave-and I'd love to know how he did it-he said something about taking care of it himself. Sioned seemed . . . trapped somehow. Almost helpless." His bewildered eyes met Ostvel's. "I've known Sioned since she was at G.o.ddess Keep. I know how strong she is. Andry was late into the weaving, but he took it over as if we were both first-ring novices. He took us completely by surprise."

"And he says he'll handle things? How can he, from Stronghold?"

"I don't know. But he seemed absolutely confident of it."

"I can't trust him," Ostvel muttered. "I can't believe he can work at such long range."

"Sioned did, years ago."

"I know. I watched her do it. But I can't believe Andry would risk what she did. Look at the moons. They'll be down in only a little while. What light can be used then? Donato, I don't trust trust him!" him!"

"Then let's get busy with our own work."

"You're too exhausted to stand, let alone ride."

"After that nightmare of a journey here from Castle Crag, don't you tell me what I can or can't do. Come on."

Mounted troops rode out of the stables in groups of three and four, harness m.u.f.fled by rags. Archers slipped silently down the valley in slightly larger groups and disappeared up the vine-planted slopes into the woods. Ostvel, a black Radzyn stallion under him and a stiff drink inside him, cantered out of the stables last along with Donato and Jofra. Chandar had gone on ahead with Laros.h.i.+n, the guards commander, to organize things.

Will it work? Ostvel kept asking himself. He couldn't trust Andry to defend Dragon's Rest-didn't think he could. could. He had witnessed Sioned's weaving that had protected Rohan from treachery years ago, during the battle with Roelstra. With her at Skybowl, he had watched as Tobin and even the newborn Pol, barely Named that very night, were helplessly caught in Sioned's working. At the field of battle, Andrade and Urival and Pandsala had been used, too, as Sioned grasped at all the power she could reach. But hers had been an act of desperation, an instinctive creation of starlight to raise a dome around the combatants. He had witnessed Sioned's weaving that had protected Rohan from treachery years ago, during the battle with Roelstra. With her at Skybowl, he had watched as Tobin and even the newborn Pol, barely Named that very night, were helplessly caught in Sioned's working. At the field of battle, Andrade and Urival and Pandsala had been used, too, as Sioned grasped at all the power she could reach. But hers had been an act of desperation, an instinctive creation of starlight to raise a dome around the combatants.

Andry had no such stake in protecting Dragon's Rest. A defeat for Pol would be a vast satisfaction to him, especially after his humiliation over the right to judge the Sunrunner in Gilad. What motive could he possibly have for keeping this great symbol of Pol's power and prestige safe?

By the time the riders had a.s.sembled at the hillside guardhouse, word came that the archers were well on their way to their a.s.signed posts. As Donato dismounted, the last moonlight transfixed him.

Eighty men and women watched wide-eyed as the Sunrunner was caught in a powerful weaving. Ostvel feared it might be Andry again, but when Donato returned to them, he was smiling.

"The High Princess relays word from the High Prince. He approves our plan, but has a refinement of his own to add if we think it wise."

"Anything," Laros.h.i.+n grunted. "In fact, I wish he was here!"

"So does he, to hear her grace tell it. But we have his orders, if not his sword."

Rohan's suggestion was that the archers attack from the rear, driving the invaders up through the narrows in as much confusion as they could cause. As they burst into the valley, they could be pounced on from either side and slaughtered, with no retreat possible.

The commander chewed his mustache and nodded. "His grace knows tactics."

"He's had experience in war that he never wanted," Ostvel said.

"But here's the best part," Donato went on. "Not just arrows but Fire will chase them forward. Sunrunner's Sunrunner's Fire." Fire."

Ostvel looked at him worriedly. "Are you up to it? It's been a h.e.l.lish trip and you've been using yourself up tonight at speed."

"Are you saying I can't manage to place a bit of Fire where it'll do the most good? I'm not old and feeble yet!"

"Sorry." Ostvel grinned suddenly. "Jofra, escort our lord Sunrunner here to a suitable spot for Fire-raising."

When they were gone, Laros.h.i.+n surveyed his troops. "It'll take a while. Well after moonset, I'd say. Let's divide up now and make ready for the flood. But if Prince Halian's nails are so much as scuffed, I'll have the culprit strung up by the short hairs. His grace has quite a few things to answer for and I want him in shape to do so." He glanced at Ostvel. "Agreed, my lord?"

"Agreed." Ostvel glanced around as a squire came up and offered him a sword. He shook his head. "I'll stay to the rear, if you don't mind. I was never much good with a sword."

"That's not what I hear," the commander said. "All of us know about the battle for Stronghold."

"That was many years ago."

Laros.h.i.+n grinned at him. "How old is your younger son? Not quite two?"

Ostvel couldn't help laughing. "Success with that that sword has nothing to do with this kind!" sword has nothing to do with this kind!"

"It's my experience that a man who wields the one with excellent results isn't too old to use the other."

"Well, if you put it that that way. . . ." He accepted the fine blade, tested its weight and balance, and nodded his satisfaction. The exchange was a useful antidote to nerves among the soldiers; Ostvel had played along for just that reason. It was suicidal, really, pitting eighty mounted troops, the same number of archers, and Sunrunner's Fire against an army of many hundreds. But surprise was a useful weapon, too. He hoped the G.o.ddess would be interested enough, amused enough, or impressed enough by this crazy undertaking to lend her considerable support. way. . . ." He accepted the fine blade, tested its weight and balance, and nodded his satisfaction. The exchange was a useful antidote to nerves among the soldiers; Ostvel had played along for just that reason. It was suicidal, really, pitting eighty mounted troops, the same number of archers, and Sunrunner's Fire against an army of many hundreds. But surprise was a useful weapon, too. He hoped the G.o.ddess would be interested enough, amused enough, or impressed enough by this crazy undertaking to lend her considerable support.

When the moons vanished over the hills, everything was in readiness. Ostvel looked up at the stars, remembering once again the night after Pol's birth. Kneeling on the lip of Skybowl's crater on a night of no moons, listening to Sioned Name the child after the stars themselves. Watching the infant's face as she wove his raw strength into the starlight and flung it hundreds of measures away to where Rohan battled Roelstra. Holding the terrified baby in his arms after the work was done. Realizing only then what he and she and Tobin had done by taking this child of Rohan's body and Ianthe's-and trying not to think about the moment when he'd plunged his sword into Ianthe's breast.

Someday Pol would find out. Ostvel had argued for revealing the truth while he was still young enough to be flexible, to understand in a child's terms: "We wanted you and loved you too much to let her keep you from us." "We wanted you and loved you too much to let her keep you from us." But it was too late for the simple love that would have eased a little boy's understanding and acceptance. Pol was a grown man now. The rea.s.surance of being loved and wanted more by Rohan and Sioned than by Ianthe would not be enough. He would see politics and power, be shocked by the years of deceit, feel betrayed unto his soul. But it was too late for the simple love that would have eased a little boy's understanding and acceptance. Pol was a grown man now. The rea.s.surance of being loved and wanted more by Rohan and Sioned than by Ianthe would not be enough. He would see politics and power, be shocked by the years of deceit, feel betrayed unto his soul.

He should have been told long ago. But somehow Ostvel could not help wis.h.i.+ng that his own part would never be discovered. Pol would eventually forgive his parents and Tobin. Ostvel doubted he would forgive his mother's executioner.

A murmuring among the waiting troops took him gratefully from his thoughts. He looked toward the narrows and concentrated. There-a faint yellowish glow, the distinctive pale gold of Sunrunner's Fire.

"Ha! There it is! Too early and the wrong direction for sunup," Laros.h.i.+n whispered smugly.

Ostvel nodded, watching in fascination as the radiance slowly intensified. And there were sounds now, shouts barely heard on the night breeze, distant hoofbeats. He s.h.i.+fted his grip on the sword and told himself that young son or no young son, his thrust with this kind of blade wasn't what it had been. He would be fifty-five this summer, not twenty. He'd keep well to the rear of the battle, knowing that Alasen would skin him alive if he came home with so much as a scratch. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he didn't come home at all.

Stampeding horses and mountain ponies had entered the narrows; the thunder of their pa.s.sing echoed off the rock walls. Ostvel jumped as the swiftest burst into the valley and his Radzyn stallion snorted at this invasion of his home turf. Laros.h.i.+n signaled his soldiers to hold. They'd wait until the army itself came running through, chased by Fire and arrows. But it was a long, tense wait and Ostvel felt the muscles knotting in his shoulders.

The runaway horses galloped past. They probably wouldn't stop until they reached the lake at the top of the valley. As their hoofbeats pounded into the distance, there was a period of almost-quiet, punctuated by the cries of arrow-shot men and women. From the echo, they, too, had reached the narrows.

"Hold, hold," Laros.h.i.+n breathed. "Wait till they're in position."

The first enemy troops staggered into the valley, followed by scores of others as arrows and Fire pushed them into the trap.

"Hold," came the low-voiced order. "Not long now. Look at that, we can herd them like stray lambs!"

"I never saw a lamb that brought its own sword along to the slaughter," Chandar muttered.

Many of the fleeing soldiers indeed carried weapons. That they had s.n.a.t.c.hed up swords even in their panic spoke well for their training. Ancient years though he had claimed for himself earlier, Ostvel's blood heated at the prospect of a fight. Bred to war, the horse beneath him stirred and quivered, eagerly catching his excitement.

No longer harried by arrows, a knot of invaders paused to regroup. One of them shouted for the rest to gather around her. About a hundred scattered troops a.s.sumed formation and started warily forward.

"d.a.m.n," Laros.h.i.+n growled. "If she inspires them to disciplined battle, the rest will join as they arrive." He lifted one arm to signal imminent attack.

But the Meadowlord soldiers abruptly stopped cold. They broke ranks and fled shrieking to collide headlong with the main army now pouring from the narrows. The defenders watched in stark amazement as waves of people pushed forward by arrows and Fire and panic struck some invisible barrier and fell back screaming in horror.

"What in all h.e.l.ls-?" Ostvel forgot his self-imposed strictures about staying to the rear and urged his horse down the slope. Chandar swore and followed, and then Laros.h.i.+n and the rest of the troops. But it was not a charge into battle Ostvel led. There would be no blood shed tonight.

He rode closer and closer, gaping at the spectacle. He ignored Chandar's plea to ride back to safety. He was as safe here as in his own bed at Castle Crag. The rush forward and terrified ebb backward fascinated him. It was as if men and women were being flung against a great gla.s.s wall that nothing could break through.

Trapped between the a.s.sault behind and the eerie barrier ahead, the army of Meadowlord collapsed in on itself like a castle with its support beams torn out. The defenders of Dragon's Rest had nothing to do but watch.

"The High Princess' work?" Laros.h.i.+n asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps." He glanced upward. No moons; only stars to work with. Stars that were a diarmadhi's diarmadhi's source of power and light. source of power and light.

Chapter Twenty-two.

Stronghold: 34 Spring.

Sunrise heralded a new spring day, warm and glowing and perfect. Andry was exhausted by the night's work, but was d.a.m.ned if he'd show it, especially not to those gathered in the Summer Room. None of them had slept; all of them looked grim.

"You let it happen!" Pol was saying furiously. "You knew knew Dragon's Rest would be attacked, and you let it happen!" Dragon's Rest would be attacked, and you let it happen!"

Andry shrugged. "And what could you have done from here? Pol, we've been over this at least ten times."

Oclel, seated at his side and silent until now, said, "My Lord is correct, your grace. There was no time to send troops from Stronghold. The only hope of discouraging the attack was through devri devri means." means."

Sioned, opposite Andry with Chay and Tobin flanking her, lifted her gaze from contemplation of her hands. "Let us talk about your means," she suggested quietly.

"You saw. You were part of it-though I didn't mean for you to be caught up in the weaving. Nor you, Pol."

The young man stood beside his father's chair, glowering. "I'd like to hear your explanation. You learned this from the scrolls, of course."

"Of course. It's a subtle variation on certain Sunrunner techniques."

"Subtle?" Pol burst out. "You grabbed onto every faradhi faradhi mind in range and forced us to partic.i.p.ate in G.o.ddess knows what? That's your notion of subtlety? A thing so powerful that it turned scores of people into babbling half-wits?" mind in range and forced us to partic.i.p.ate in G.o.ddess knows what? That's your notion of subtlety? A thing so powerful that it turned scores of people into babbling half-wits?"

"A consequence of strength on the weak-minded. I don't understand why you're arguing the methods, Pol. They contacted the barrier and what they saw there has temporarily-"

"It had d.a.m.ned well better be temporary," Pol snapped.

"And what about your soldiers' arrows and swords? How temporary is death? My way, they're alive and will probably recover."

"Probably." Sioned let the word fall into a heavy silence.

Andry shrugged again, annoyed. He'd saved Dragon's Rest, and now they were quarreling over the outcome. But what else should he have expected? he asked himself sourly. "Normal ways of defense wouldn't have worked. My way was the only way. Fewer died, the invaders were so frightened that no one will ever approach Dragon's Rest again, and they were all very neatly trapped. I understand Ostvel will be conducting interrogations today. I'll be very interested in how Chiana explains herself-not to mention Geir of Waes. Oh, and your own va.s.sal, Lord Morlen, who caused the army to be a.s.sembled within Princemarch itself."

Pol stiffened at the veiled insult, but his voice was silken as he replied, "I'm more interested in why so many plots and so much sorcery went undetected, even though regular observations are conducted from G.o.ddess Keep."

Andry narrowed his gaze, hating Pol just as much as Pol hated him. "You seem to be calling me a spy-and an incompetent one at that. It also sounds as if you'd prefer to see your palace gutted rather than accept help from a Sunrunner."

Chay intervened before they could start shouting at each other. "I think we all simply want to know what was done and why, Andry."

"I told you, Father. It's an old technique used by Lady Merisel in battle against the diarmadh'im diarmadh'im long ago. It worked for her-and it's worked for me, G.o.ddess be thanked." long ago. It worked for her-and it's worked for me, G.o.ddess be thanked."

"The idea, my lord," Nialdan said in respectful tones, "is that-"

"I want to hear it from my son." The quicksilver gaze never left Andry's.

He'd thought the time long past when his sire could make him feel twelve winters old again. He kept resentment from his voice as he answered, "There are fears in everyone. This particular weaving is constructed to provide a mirror. It's not unlike what I did to Marron. Only that reflected his own spell back at him. With the technique I used last night, visions of fear, no matter how deeply hidden in the mind, are reflected at the one who encounters the barrier. The formal name for it is ros'salath, ros'salath, the warrior's wall of dreams." the warrior's wall of dreams."

"Nightmares," Pol corrected sharply.

"Andry. . . ." Tobin's eyes looked tortured. "I saw what happened. You and Nialdan and Oclel caught me up in it, too. But I don't understand why you could do this thing so readily."

"I'm sure you knew about it before now, Mother. Even if Maarken and Hollis said nothing, Pol has his spies, too."

Pol forced himself to stand immobile. He ached to smash that sarcastic half-smile off Andry's face, but willed his body to absolute stillness. There would be other, more satisfying, ways of revenge. He told himself to be patient.

Rohan had been silent this whole time. Now he got to his feet, and Pol watched with his usual awe-and a little envy-as his father effortlessly commanded all eyes. How does he How does he do do that? that? Pol marveled. a.n.a.lyzing the sheer force of his father's presence, Pol realized it came mostly from the way he held himself-straight, proud without arrogance-and from his eyes: clear, watchful without wariness, giving away nothing. This was a man one could not impress with wealth or power or blandishments, only with qualities of mind and character. At times like this his power was an almost visible thing. Whether one was his enemy or his ally, this man's respect was a thing to be coveted. Pol marveled. a.n.a.lyzing the sheer force of his father's presence, Pol realized it came mostly from the way he held himself-straight, proud without arrogance-and from his eyes: clear, watchful without wariness, giving away nothing. This was a man one could not impress with wealth or power or blandishments, only with qualities of mind and character. At times like this his power was an almost visible thing. Whether one was his enemy or his ally, this man's respect was a thing to be coveted.