“An opportunity,” Ansu said, with a hint of a cold smile. “Temnotta’s choice to invade the Winter Kingdoms brings their magic into our territory. Imri didn’t bother looking into how the last such invasion fared. The magic of the Sacred Lady works differently than the magic of the Volshe. Tomorrow is Sohan. The Temnottans do not celebrate it, and so they overlook it at their peril. It’s a festival of change, the change from autumn into winter.” Ansu’s smile broadened into a predatory grimace. “And on Sohan, souls compelled into a form against their will may be set free.”
Valjan straightened. “I don’t know much about magic, but are you saying that if we engage Imri’s forces tomorrow night, on Sohan, you and the mages can break his hold over the shifters he commands?”
Ansu’s eyes glittered with a cold light. “I believe so. The magicked beasts are also unnatural creatures, held together by the will and power of their creator. We may
well be able to break Imri’s power over his beasts. Once broken, such power is almost impossible to reestablish. Imri may find that his beasts are as ready to turn on him as on us.”
Gregor leaned back and crossed his arms, skepticism clear in his face. “Is Imri a fool? If he’s vulnerable, why would he choose now to attack?”
Ansu shrugged. “As I said, the Temnottans don’t celebrate Sohan, so the date would be of no consequence to them. Imri might not have had a choice in the date. We know now that Temnotta’s attack ranges from Isencroft to Eastmark. It’s likely that Imri is only a general under orders.” He paused.
“Then, as now, Temnotta’s arrogance may be its undoing. In its isolation, Temnotta has bothered to learn little about the lands around it. Always, the Volshe assume that their ways are best. It may never have occurred to them to explore the customs and magic of our people because the Volshe would have assumed them to be mere superstition, nothing of substance.” The cold smile returned. “We will prove them wrong.”
After another candlemark of strategizing, the weary generals finally took their leave of Valjan. Jonmarc was the last to leave. Gethin stepped ahead of him out of the tent and into the night air, and Valjan laid a hand on Jonmarc’s arm. “Even considering the circumstances, you looked a bit preoccupied in there. Anything I can help with?”
Jonmarc sighed and shook his head. “Afraid not. I’m just worried about Carina. It’s only another week until she’s due to have the twins, and it’s pretty certain I won’t make it home in time.”
Valjan nodded. “I was on campaign when both of my sons were born. I understand.” He glanced down at the scar from the ritual wedding that marked Jonmarc’s palm and back up to meet his gaze. “If she’s fiery enough to win that kind of commitment from you, I dare say she’ll be able to manage. Women do, you know. We men are much more essential at the beginning of a pregnancy than at the end.”
Jonmarc chuckled, but the laughter did not reach his eyes. “True enough, I suppose. Still, I’d rather be there, even if there’s little I can do.”
Valjan clapped him on the shoulder. “You left her with Lord Gabriel? Then she’s in good hands. Save your worries for the battlefield, my friend. The rest will take care of itself.”
When Jonmarc finally reached the privacy of his own tent, he pulled off his boots and sat on the edge of his cot, lighting a candle from the embers in the brazier. He withdrew the parchment from inside his pouch and broke the embossed wax seal. Inside, he found two letters, one inside the other. The outer letter was clearly from Gabriel; the inner one in Carina’s neat script.
He forced himself to read Gabriel’s short update first.
Jonmarc—I hope this letter finds you as well as can be expected. I have located someone I believe will be an asset to you in the war, a very old
vayash moru
named Ansu. It was difficult to find him, and even more of a challenge to give him a reason for him to involve himself, but in the end, his need for vengeance against the Temnottans won out. He’s a dangerous man
.Vygulf is headed your way with a dozen more
vyrkin.
Word spread among the refugees, and the newest among them insisted on joining the fight once they were well enough to do so. Take care, Jonmarc. The magic of Sohan night is powerful, and it weighs especially heavy on those of us for whom change is our essence. Look to Ansu and Vygulf to guide you. I know that you understand how greatly magic can affect war. I fear it will be even more so in the battles to come
.The manor and the holdings are secured. After we discovered and destroyed a small scouting party that had been dispatched by the Temnottans up the Nu River, we snagged the river near Dark Haven to prevent further incursions. When war is past, we can make the river navigable again, but for now, perhaps, you can sleep better at least on that accord
.Carina is in good hands, with Lisette and Sister Glenice looking after her. I fear that you will not be free of the war in time for the birth. If that is the case, know that I am pledged to the safety of Carina and your daughters. I pray to Istra that these times will quickly be behind us. Gabriel
Jonmarc rubbed his palm across his eyes. Outside, a gong sounded second bells. Jonmarc unfolded the letter from Carina carefully.
My dearest Jonmarc. I could not pass up the chance to send my note to you along with Gabriel’s more urgent letter. Things are going as well as can be expected, and both Lisette and Sister Glenice
are watching over me closely enough to drive a person to distraction. I’m very ready for the girls to be born, and have already set the servants to loosening every knot in the manor to speed the birth. Carroway and Macaria have pitched in to help with the refugees, doing even more than they did before, and Macaria has promised to play for me when my time comes, to ease the pain. It seems a minor triumph in the face of all that is going on, but Carroway’s hand is nearly as good as new, though it may always pain him in the cold. We may be under siege, but we have the best music in the Winter Kingdoms!I miss you terribly, and mind Berry’s absence as well, though I know you both have duties you can’t avoid. Think of me, but don’t worry overmuch. I’ll be waiting when you come home, with our daughters
.With all my love, Carina
Jonmarc blew out the candle and stretched out on his cot. Weary as he was, sleep proved elusive.
Despite the rout of the night before, the Principality army and its mercs rallied quickly. Jonmarc stood outside his tent, nursing a cup of black
kerif
and hoping the strong drink would make up for a night that afforded little sleep. He watched the preparations for the counterstrike and wondered exactly what—or who—would meet them on the battlefield. He looked out across the camp and spotted Exeter striding across camp, heading his way.
“I figured you’d be up early.”
Jonmarc shrugged and took another large gulp of the bitter
kerif
. “Sleep is for the dead.” He paused. “Any word on how our ships fared?”
Exeter scowled and let loose with a few choice curses that were creatively obscene, even for a mercenary. “Not well. Some of the
vayash moru
scouts came back last night, and we’ve gotten a few mortal runners in early this morning. Temnottan ships showed up from farther out at sea than we expected. Our ships were caught between the burning hulls in the bay and the attack. They fought their way out of the trap, but many of the ships were seriously damaged. We hope to have the seaworthy ships ready for the attack tonight, but I don’t like the idea of even more Temnottan ships out there.”
“And I’m betting these will have a mix of men and shifters,” Jonmarc replied. He drained the last of his
kerif
, grimacing at the dregs. “The beasts are too unstable—probably took a lot of magic just to keep them from tearing the ships apart.”
“Unless their mages can just make the beasts go to sleep until they’re needed.”
Jonmarc scowled at him. “Aren’t you just full of cheery ideas.”
Exeter shrugged. “Foreseeing bad outcomes is my job.” He stood in silence, watching the camp for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you think the mages can do it? Break Imri’s spell on his shifters?”
“Don’t know. If they can’t, we’re going to be in for a bad time of it.” Jonmarc shook his head. “Tevin and the other mages were going to huddle with the
Hojuns
and figure something out. Ansu said he’d join them at sundown, but by then, we’d damn well better have a battle plan.”
Exeter’s eyes were unreadable. “For all our sakes, I hope they know what they’re doing.”
The troops rallied in the late morning, summoned by the call of a horn. Jonmarc caught a glimpse of Gregor at a distance. Gregor wore a uniform coat, but from the way he sat his horse, Jonmarc wondered just how badly Gregor had been wounded the night before.
Gethin was waiting with the rest of Jonmarc’s division when Jonmarc and Exeter were ready to head out.
“I was hoping, now that you’ve made your point, that you’d head back to the palace,” Jonmarc said.
Gethin grinned. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m here for the duration. And so are the
Hojun
. They’re already in position, with the rest of the mages.”
Valjan’s soldiers were the first to march out, followed by Jonmarc’s division and then Gregor’s troops. As they retraced their path from the night before, the toll of the battle was clear. Bodies, human and otherwise, littered the slope, lying where they fell in the tall grass. Farther toward the coast, a wide stretch of land was burned bare, scorched and blackened. The smell of death hung over the battlefield.
“Where’s Gregor going?” Gethin scanned the ranks of marching soldiers.
“East of here, farther down the coast. The
vayash moru
scouts and the mages confirmed there were ships headed that direction.” The weather had turned colder and wet, roughening Jonmarc’s voice. “Damn Principality coastline—plenty of inlets and places for ships to hide. We don’t have enough scouts—or
vayash moru—
to search them all.”
Gethin watched him closely. “You think it’s a trap?”
Jonmarc shrugged ill-humoredly. “Could be. Gregor knows that. We can’t afford to have Temnotta land ships in those inlets and flank us.”
Gethin considered the possibility in silence for a moment. “What if the ships were just to draw us off, make us spread the resources too thin?”
Jonmarc acknowledged him with a grunt. “That’s the problem with battles. You only have one shot to get it right. Trust me, we argued half the morning. In the end, the evidence seemed strong that the Temnottans could be planning to land down the coast. It was as much of a risk to leave ourselves open to a flanking attack as it was to divert the resources.” He shrugged again. “We’ll know which was right when we win—or die.”
Throughout the night, the privateer vessels of the Principality merc navy had regrouped enough to harry the Temnottan ships, keeping them too occupied to land troops until the army could get into position. Jonmarc looked out over the beach and out to sea. The sunken hulls of the ships set afire the night before had burned down to the waterline. A fleet of Temnottan ships held the mouth of the bay, but the small, quick mercenary vessels used the morning fog to strike and retreat before the larger, slower-maneuvering ships could respond. The pirate ships had done their job keeping the Temnottan fleet busy.
“What makes you think they’ll attack again so quickly?” Gethin’s attention was on the battle that raged at the mouth of the bay.
“The longer they stay on those ships, the harder it’s going to be for Imri to control and feed his ‘creatures,’ ” Jonmarc replied. “They can’t sail farther west and land easily; the coastline’s too rocky and there are too many
cliffs. Go too far east, and they’ve got to march for days before they reach any kind of real target, like Principality City. They’d be vulnerable.” He shook his head. “No, they’ve got good reasons for wanting to land here—and we’ve got the same reasons for waiting them out.”
Once again, they were waiting for the battle to start. War, Jonmarc had long ago discovered, was mostly boredom broken up by short bursts of mortal terror. Given the choice, he decided, he’d rather face the terror.
When the fog lifted, the Temnottan ships hoisted their sails and broke the line of their blockade to go after the privateer vessels. Soon, only the masts were in sight from the shore, but by the look of it, the Temnottan commander had decided to put an end to the merc ships’ harassment. The soldiers watched grimly as the Temnottan warships hunted their prey, attacking the privateering ships with fire arrows, heavy iron balls hurled from small, on-deck catapults, and blasts of mage fire. Within two candlemarks, the privateering ships had scattered, and the Temnottan fleet sailed back to the bay, entering as far as they dared without snagging their hulls on the burned remnants of the sunken ships.
“I don’t like this,” Jonmarc muttered. “They can’t believe that we’ll just let them offload men and monsters without picking them off in the landing craft. Something isn’t adding up.”
Suddenly, shouting at the rear of the formation broke the quiet. Jonmarc dug his heels into his horse’s sides and rode to the rear to see what the commotion was about, with Gethin right behind him.
A ragged line of soldiers straggled across the fields toward them. Their uniforms torn and streaked with blood
and dirt, men limped and staggered until they reached the waiting army.