The Dark-Eyes War

Chapter 15

It happened without much fanfare, just as Grinsa had hoped and expected it would. The morning after he walked in the n'qlae's dreams, he heard from Q'Daer that the a'laq had decided that the Mettai were to be spared for the time being. When Grinsa asked the young Weaver why E'Menua had chosen to keep the men alive, Q'Daer shrugged as if the decision were of little consequence, and said, "We're preparing for war. Right now nothing else matters. And I think he believes we can learn something of Mettai magic from them."

If the young Fal'Borna knew more than he was letting on, he did a good job of concealing it. After ending his conversation with Q'Daer, Grinsa hurried to the Mettai's z'kal. Besh and Sirj were inside, both of them looking grim.

"They're not letting us out of here," Besh said, as soon as Grinsa stepped into the shelter. "They say that we're prisoners and we're not to set foot outside."

"I'll see what I can do about that," Grinsa told him. "Believe it or not, you're better off than you might have been. E'Menua had every intention of executing you both. I've seen to it that he won't, but for now you are prisoners. There was nothing I could do about that. I'm sorry."

Besh shook his head, looking sad and old. "It's not your doing."

"They're going to want you to tell them about Mettai magic," Grinsa said.

Sirj looked up sharply. "What about it?"

"How it works. How to combat it."

"And if we refuse?" the younger man asked.

Grinsa shrugged. "I don't know what they'll do. I'm not telling you this because I think you should answer their questions. I just thought you should know that they'll be asking you about your magic."

Sirj nodded but said nothing more.

Grinsa didn't stay with the Mettai for long. The entire sept had begun preparations for the coming war, and though E'Menua and the other Weavers had made it clear to him that Weavers weren't to labor with other Fal'Borna, he felt that he should do something. Men and women were shaping spear shafts while children sharpened the heads for the weapons. Others were gathering food for the sept's warriors, and still others were collecting blankets for the warriors to carry with them on the journey. Surely there was work enough that all needed to contribute.

But Grinsa soon learned that it wasn't just the Weavers who felt he shouldn't stoop to menial work. Nearly all the Fal'Borna seemed uncomfortable with the idea of a Weaver helping them. Mostly he sat outside his z'kal playing with Bryntelle while Cresenne worked. Twice a day he carried his daughter to the tanning circle and let Cresenne nurse her before taking her back home. He occasionally went to check on Besh and Sirj, to see if they needed anything and to make certain they were being treated well. But his conversations with the Mettai remained strained.

That was where he was on the third day after his conversation with the n'qlae, when a young warrior found him and informed him that the a'laq wished to speak with him. Immediately, he took Bryntelle to the older Fal'Borna girls who usually cared for the young children of the sept. Then he made his way to E'Menua's z'kal.

He found the a'laq sitting outside the shelter with D'Pera, Q'Daer, and L'Norr. At least two dozen younger warriors, most of whom Grinsa didn't know, stood around their small circle, clearly listening to their conversation. He guessed that these men were a'jeis, leaders of small hunting parties who answered to the a'laq's Weavers. It seemed logical that in times of war the a'jeis would take on responsibilities similar to those of captains in an Eandi army.

"At last," E'Menua said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Forgive me, A'Laq. I was-"

"I know where you were," E'Menua said coldly. He indicated a space next to Q'Daer at his right. "Sit down."

Grinsa sat. The other Weavers hardly spared him a glance, but the young warriors stared at him, some merely with curiosity, others with open hostility.

"I've spoken with other a'laqs on the plain," E'Menua began, casting a quick look Grinsa's way. "All are preparing to drive back the Eandi invaders. Our warriors are to meet those of the other septs east of S'Vralna. We have enough spears to arm every man and woman in the sept, and we have horses for every able warrior. Even now, U'Vara." He glanced at Grinsa again. "My daughter. She is directing the children of the sept as they pack sacks of dried rilda meat and raw silverroot. We have skins for water, and plenty of blankets."

"You've prepared well, A'Laq," Grinsa said, and he meant it. He'd seen Eandi lords in the Forelands task their quartermasters with readying an army for battle, only to have those preparations take days and days. Yes, E'Menua's army was small compared to those of Eibitharian dukedoms, but still, Grinsa thought, many Eandi nobles could learn a thing or two from the Fal'Borna about readying their people for war.

"You expected less of us?" E'Menua asked testily.

"I didn't know what to expect. I'm very impressed."

E'Menua frowned, as if disconcerted by the compliment. "Each of you will be leading a party of riders, aided by six or seven a'jeis. L'Norr and Q'Daer, you'll take those with fire magic. I intend to take the shapers." He turned to Grinsa. "You have experience with mists and winds?"

Grinsa smiled, remembering his and Cresenne's sea voyage to the Southlands, when he had used the power of winds to steer their ship through a violent storm. "Yes, A'Laq. I'll guard our men from the arrows of the Eandi bowmen."

It was E'Menua's turn to sound surprised. "You've done this before?" the a'laq asked.

"Yes. A war was fought in the Forelands just before we left. On more than one occasion I had to summon winds to defeat the arrows of Eandi attackers."

"Very well then," the a'laq said.

Several of the warriors appeared to regard Grinsa with even more enmity. He wondered if these were men with magic of mists and winds who would have to take orders from him.

"There will be many septs on the plain, and many a'laqs. You'll take orders from me, and no one else."

Grinsa stared at the ground, refusing to be the one to ask the obvious question. Eventually Q'Daer found the courage to ask it.

"And… and if you should fall, A'Laq?"

"Then you'll be in command," E'Menua told him. "And upon completing our victory, you'll become a'laq."

"Thank you, A'Laq," Q'Daer said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How soon do we ride?" Grinsa asked.

"Tomorrow, at first light. We'll be pushing the horses hard. We want to reach the other septs in no more than three days."

Grinsa nodded.

"What can you tell us about Mettai magic, Forelander?" E'Menua asked. He wore a sly smile on his lips. It seemed to Grinsa that the a'laq thought he'd refuse to answer.

"I can't tell you much," he said. "Just a turn or two ago I didn't even know that Mettai still existed. All of you probably know far more than I do." He paused, eyeing the a'laq, who merely stared back at him, silent, waiting. "They use blood and earth," he went on eventually. "And they have to recite their spells, either out loud or to themselves. So they can't attack with their magic as quickly as we can. On the other hand, they can do things we can't."

"Like what?" one of the young warriors asked.

"Well, I saw Besh, the old Mettai man, conjure a living fox from blood and dirt. I've also seen him create a swarm of hornets. When was the last time you saw a Qirsi do anything like that?"

"You expect them to attack us with foxes?" E'Menua asked, laughing, and drawing chuckles from the others. "Do you think that a swarm of bees will be enough to defeat the combined might of a dozen Fal'Borna septs?"

"Of course not, A'Laq," Grinsa said evenly. "You asked me about Mettai magic and I'm telling you what I've seen. If they can conjure foxes and hornets, they can summon other creatures as well."

E'Menua's mirth faded slowly. "Yes," he finally said. "All right. What else?"

"What else do you want to know?"

"Can they combine their magic as we can?" L'Norr asked.

Grinsa shook his head. "I don't see how they could. But I may be wrong."

"They can't," E'Menua said, sounding sure of himself. "That's our greatest advantage. That's why, even with the Mettai on their side, the dark-eyes can't defeat us."

E'Menua stood and the other Weavers scrambled to do the same, even the n'qlae.

"I want every a'jei to prepare his riders," the a'laq said. "Tell them what I've told you here today. We ride at dawn. I'll expect all of you to be ready. That's all."

The warriors bowed to E'Menua and said, "Yes, A'Laq," in near unison. Then they moved off, leaving the Weavers still standing in a loose circle. E'Menua turned to Grinsa. "I want a word with you."

Grinsa nodded, having expected this as soon as the man told them that he had been speaking with other a'laqs.

"Leave us," E'Menua said to Q'Daer and L'Norr.

The two young Weavers glanced at Grinsa before walking off. By now, he was sure, they were used to the a'laq sending them away so that he and Grinsa could continue their running feud. E'Menua and D'Pera shared a quick look. A moment later she ducked into their z'kal. E'Menua began to walk, and Grinsa followed.

"I take it I've angered you again," Grinsa said.

"You walk in the dreams of my fellow a'laqs, offering gifts in my name that I never intended to give. You dare to walk in D'Pera's dreams in order to turn her against me. Why should I be angry?"

"I didn't try to turn the n'qlae against you. I asked her to intervene on behalf of Besh and Sirj. What you did to them the other day was wrong. I was determined that you wouldn't use the words you coerced out of Besh to justify killing them."

"That doesn't excuse it!" E'Menua said, his voice rising.

They were still in the sept, and several people stopped what they were doing and looked at the two men as they walked by.

"She is my wife," the a'laq went on, his voice dropping once more. "You had no right to approach her in that way. You had no right to come betw-" He stopped, pressing his lips in a thin line.

Grinsa knew better than to point out what E'Menua had so clearly recognized himself. He kept his gaze lowered and said, "You're right, A'Laq. I had no right trying to come between you. I did what I thought was necessary, but I was wrong to do it. I'm sorry."

For several moments neither of them said anything.

Finally, E'Menua said, "As for speaking to the other a'laqs.." He broke off and shook his head. "You were surprisingly clever."

Grinsa grinned. "Was I?"

"Yes," E'Menua said, looking at him. "They were all so grateful to me. At first I didn't know why, but then one of them said something and I began to piece it together." He faced forward again. "D'Pera told me why you did it. You may well be right. Whatever my doubts about the Mettai, their spell might save Fal'Borna lives. I should have passed it on to the other septs, or at least to their a'laqs so that they could decide for themselves what to do with the dark-eye magic."

"Thank you, A'Laq."

"How many a'laqs have you contacted?"

"Perhaps twenty," Grinsa said.

E'Menua looked at him again, his eyes wide. "Twenty?"

"I haven't been sleeping much," Grinsa said, smiling sheepishly.

The a'laq didn't appear amused. "You'd better sleep tonight," he said. "We'll be riding hard come morning, and I don't know how close the Eandi are. You'll be of no use to me if you're half asleep."

"Yes, A'Laq."

They walked in silence for several moments, until Grinsa began to wonder if E'Menua wanted him to go away.

But abruptly the a'laq asked, "What creatures?"

Grinsa blinked, not understanding the question. "I'm sorry?"

"You said before that if the Mettai could conjure foxes and hornets, they could conjure other creatures, too. What kind?"

"I don't know. Anything, I would think. I assume it would have to be something real, something that actually exists in our world. But I don't even know that for certain."

E'Menua halted, as did Grinsa.

"Are you saying that they could summon creatures from legend?"

"I'm saying that I don't know what they can do. You laughed when I mentioned the fox and hornets. I wanted you to understand that this power they possess is no trifle."

The a'laq rubbed a hand over his face, looking deeply troubled. "There are tales of monsters-creatures of myth, demons from Bian's realm. Our magic would be powerless against them."

Grinsa wasn't sure what to say. "It may be that they can't do this, A'Laq. I just don't know."

"I want to speak with them," E'Menua said, starting back toward Besh and Sirj's z'kal. "I want to speak with the Mettai immediately."

Grinsa hurried after him. He didn't expect that Besh and Sirj would have any interest in speaking with the a'laq, but he knew better than to argue. And he knew that he had to be there when the a'laq questioned the two men, if for no other reason than to protect them when they refused to answer.

F or the past few days, Besh had spent most of his time sleeping or fighting off the interminable boredom. In the best of times, Sirj was not one for idle conversation. Since discovering that they were prisoners of the Fal'Borna, the younger man had retreated into a sullen, brooding silence. Besh could hardly blame him, but it did make for long, tedious days.

At first, just after the a'laq's betrayal, Besh had been too angry to sit still. He'd paced around the tiny shelter, seething, trying to think of some way to retaliate. Soon, though, he came to realize that there was no way. He and Sirj were powerless here. It wasn't that the Fal'Borna had taken his blade. As Lici had shown him all too clearly while she was still alive, a Mettai needed only a bit of malice and sharp fingernails in order to conjure. But it didn't matter whether he and Sirj could draw upon their own blood; whatever magic they might have been able to do was nothing next to the power of the Fal'Borna. They were being held by a foe they could not defeat, menaced constantly by magic that could overwhelm their own.

After three days, he had surrendered to despair. Even his faith in Grinsa and the Forelander's ability to protect him, which had led him to this sept in the first place, had now vanished. He knew that Grinsa wanted to help them, that he was trying still to win their freedom. But he no longer believed Grinsa could succeed.

So it was that he was asleep again when the flap covering the shelter's entrance suddenly was thrown back, flooding the small structure with light.

Besh sat up so quickly that his head began to spin. His heart was racing and he felt disoriented.

"Come out here!" a voice commanded. "I want a word with both of you."

"It's the a'laq," Sirj said quietly. "Do you think he means to kill us?"

"I'm here, too."

That voice Besh recognized. "Grinsa?" he called.

"It's all right," the Forelander said. "You're in no danger."

Besh and Sirj shared a look.

"All right," Besh called.

Sirj stood and pulled Besh to his feet. Then both men stepped out into the daylight.

It was just the two of them: Grinsa and the a'laq. The Forelander appeared calm, which Besh found reassuring. E'Menua, on the other hand, looked unnerved and agitated. Besh was pleased by this, too.

"I want to know more about your magic," E'Menua said. "I want to know what it can do."

"You mean," Sirj said, "you want us to help you defeat the Mettai who are marching against you."

"That's right," the a'laq answered. "You claim that you mean my people no harm. They may be harmed by the magic these other Mettai use against us." Besh laughed, drawing a hot glare from the Fal'Borna.

"Forgive me," Besh said. "But I have to ask: What would you call a Fal'Borna prisoner who helped his captors in a fight against you? A traitor? A demon? Or would you dispense with name-calling and simply kill him?"

The a'laq looked so angry that for a moment Besh thought the man might strike him. Instead, he showed the first true sign of weakness Besh had seen in him.

"I… I could free you. If you answer my questions, I can release you, send you back to your people."

Something had the man deeply frightened.

"That would be even more of a betrayal," Sirj said. "I won't buy my freedom with the blood of other Mettai."

"I can use my magic against you!" the a'laq said. "I can make you answer!"

Besh smiled bitterly. "You can make me say a lot of things. You've already proven that."

The a'laq's face colored.

"If I was in your position, I wouldn't answer, either," Grinsa said. "But I don't think any good can come of a defeat for the Fal'Borna, or a defeat of the Eandi for that matter. We need to find some way to drive this army back across the Silverwater without too many people being killed. Any information you can give us might help with that."

Sirj let out a sharp laugh. "So you count yourself as one of them now?"

"Sirj," Besh said, laying a hand on the man's arm.

"It's all right," Grinsa told him. He looked at Sirj. "I deserved that. I promised that I'd keep you safe, and I've failed. I'm sorry." He took a breath. "Yes. In this war, I consider myself Fal'Borna. If the Eandi and the Mettai reach this sept, they won't stop to ask where I come from or how long I've lived on the plain. They'll see my white hair and my yellow eyes, and they'll kill me. And then they'll do the same to Cresenne and our daughter."

Sirj dropped his gaze.

"You think you can prevent this war?" Besh asked.

Grinsa shook his head. "The war's probably started already. But I'm hoping that we can find a way to end it before too much damage is done. And as I see it, the only way to stop the war is to drive the Eandi back. If they manage to retake any of these lands, it could mean another century of warfare. The Fal'Borna won't waste any time in trying to take back the cities and lands they've lost. More Eandi will come, and before long fighting will spread all across the Southlands."

"So you do want us to help them," Besh said, unable to keep the despair from his voice. He understood the Forelander's reasoning, and he could hardly argue with the progression of events Grinsa had laid out. The history of the Southlands was littered with battles and failed campaigns that began much the way this latest invasion had. But he couldn't help feeling that Grinsa had betrayed them in some small way.

"I want you to help me. The a'laq will leave us, and we can-"

"I will not!" E'Menua said, glaring at the Forelander. "They're my prisoners! I'll stay here and question them for as long as I see fit!"

"You just offered to free them," Grinsa said.

"If they were to tell me what I want to know!"

"And Sirj has already said no to that," Grinsa said. "I'm offering a compromise. They'll talk to me, and I'll carry the information they give me into battle. If any of what they tell me can save Fal'Borna lives, I'll share it with you. But other than that, what the three of us discuss here will remain secret." He turned to Besh and Sirj. "Is that acceptable?"

"It's not acceptable to me!" the a'laq said.

Grinsa regarded him placidly. "Then you'll learn nothing from them at all."

"There are other ways!"

"None that I'll allow you to use."

The two Qirsi stood staring at one another, the a'laq clearly enraged, Grinsa calm, but resolute.

"You tricked me," the a'laq finally said. "You planned this all along."

"It was your idea to come here, A'Laq. I simply followed, and I planned nothing. But I won't apologize for turning your choice to my advantage. You tricked all of us the other day. You deserved this."

"I should have known better than to trust you."

"You can trust me," Grinsa said. "I meant what I said a moment ago. If any of what I learn from these men can help me save even one Fal'Borna life, I'll tell you immediately."

E'Menua didn't look mollified. "I won't free them."

"It wouldn't be safe for them to leave the sept right now anyway. Let them remain here as your guests. Allow them to leave their z'kal and wander freely throughout the settlement."

"Another compromise," the a'laq said, contempt in his voice. "You talk like an Eandi."

"I talk like a man of the Forelands, as I always have." He looked at Besh again. "Will you agree to this? Will you answer my questions?"

Besh glanced at E'Menua. "Will he allow us to leave our shelter?" Grinsa looked at the a'laq, too, raising an eyebrow.

E'Menua nodded reluctantly. "I want to know what their kind can do," he said. "I want to know what they can conjure."

"I understand, A'Laq. I want to know those things, too."

Still the a'laq eyed him, finally shaking his head and saying, almost under his breath, "You're a most difficult man." He cast a dark look at Besh and Sirj and then stalked off.

"I'm still not sure we should help you," Sirj told Grinsa, once E'Menua was out of earshot. "I don't like the idea of working to defeat other Mettai."

"They deserve defeating," Besh said.

Sirj looked at him, clearly surprised.

"We have no business in this war. Our people haven't fought against the Qirsi since the earliest days of the Blood Wars. What kind of fool would choose to start fighting again now?" Besh could see that Sirj had no answer for him, so he turned to Grinsa. "What is it you want to know?"

"You conjured a fox," the Forelander said. "I'll never forget it. And I saw you conjure hornets as well. What other creatures can you summon in that way?"

Besh nodded. "A good question. I'm not sure I can answer. There were spells that our people did long ago, back in the days when we fought. Many of them have been lost to time, though tales of them remain."

"E'Menua fears that you can conjure creatures from myth and legend."

"Of course he does. No one wants to face a creyvnal in battle, much less a score of them."

Grinsa frowned. "A creyvnal?"

"A beast from the ancient stories. It has the body of a lion and the head of a wolf."

"Can you conjure such a thing?"

Besh smiled, but quickly grew serious again. "No, I can't, but you're asking if our people can. And that's a more difficult question."

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ground. As a rule, his people were reluctant to speak with outsiders about their history, their magic, or their traditions. This was one of the many reasons he thought it so odd that Mettai had chosen to fight alongside the Eandi army. It wasn't just that his people valued peace; over the centuries they had also come to embrace their isolation.

There were stories of the early Blood Wars that had been passed down by generations of Mettai. These weren't the tales that parents told their children at bedtime, or that had been turned into songs sung around fires on cold nights during the Snows. These stories were told in hushed voices and were intended as warnings. Many people doubted that they were true, either because they couldn't believe that Mettai magic had once been so powerful, or because they didn't want to believe that Mettai men and women could be so evil.

Besh had been among those who thought the stories more fanciful than accurate. But he had also seen that the stories served a purpose. Magic had its place, these tales cautioned, but those who wielded it were responsible for its consequences. A Mettai did not conjure carelessly or without good reason. Blood and earth were not to be wasted on trifles, nor were they to be taken up in anger except as a last resort. These were the lessons passed on to children as they came into their power. And the tales of ancient evils gave weight to those lessons.

Now, though, he could see that there was a darker side to these stories. For those Mettai looking for glory or gold or land, the old tales might actually encourage them to march to war. Because it was told that once, centuries before, Mettai magic had been a mighty weapon. Qirsi had trembled at the mere thought of some Mettai spells. Eandi had come to see Besh's people as one of their greatest assets when they marched to battle. If it hadn't been for the Mettai, some of the tales said, the Blood Wars might have ended hundreds of years earlier; they might never have been fought at all.

It was so hard to credit. And yet, hadn't Lici found a way to kill hundreds with her magic? Back in the warm, hazy days of the late Planting, before Lici left Kirayde and began spreading her plague across the land, Besh had never imagined that Mettai magic could harm so many. He never thought that it would start another war. But it had. Was it such a stretch, then, to believe that these old stories were true? If Lici could conjure her pestilence, couldn't the ancient Mettai have created evil creatures and bound them to their service?

"There may have been spells that could do such things," Besh finally said. "But if they existed at all, most of them would have passed out of memory long ago."

"You don't even know if they were real?" Grinsa asked.

"No. I want to believe that they weren't. They were… they could do terrible things."

"What kind of things?"

"It was said that the Mettai of old could kill hundreds at a time with a single conjuring. They could send poison at their enemies. They could conjure animals, birds, even dragons."

"Dragons?" Grinsa repeated. "But surely…" He stopped himself.

Besh had some idea of what he was thinking. He'd asked about the creyvnal, and Besh had said, in essence, that he didn't know if the beast could be conjured. But if it was even possible, then so was a dragon, or any of the demons and beasts said to live in Bian's realm.

"You've never believed those tales," Sirj said.

"No," Besh said. "I haven't. But I never thought that a Mettai could conjure a killing plague, or, for that matter, that I could create a spell that would defeat such a plague."

"You say that these spells have been lost to time," Grinsa said. "But are you certain of that? Is it possible that some Mettai still remember them?"

Some Mettai. The Mettai who had joined with the army of Stelpana.

"I suppose it's possible," Besh said. "Like the Qirsi clans and the Eandi sovereignties, different Mettai villages have different traditions. We may well remember different things."

Grinsa frowned. "But the way your magic works, can't you simply come up with an incantation and summon that beast you mentioned before?"

"The creyvnal, you mean?"

"Yes. Couldn't any Mettai do that?"

Besh shook his head. "It's not that easy. Not nearly. The phrases have to be right, and they have to be spoken in the correct order, but that's the least of it. I can't create something that I can't picture in my mind. When I conjured that fox for you when we first met, I knew exactly what it would look like. I've seen hundreds of them. I have some idea of how a creyvnal should look; at least, I think I do. I've heard the legends. I can imagine a wolf's head on a lion's body. But that's not the same as knowing how the creature would move and sound."

"What about the blood wolves?" Sirj asked. "Or one of the other battle creatures?"

Grinsa looked from one of them to the other. "Blood wolves?"

Besh glanced at Sirj, wishing the younger man hadn't mentioned battle creatures.

"There are stories-the same ones that speak of the poisoning spells. They tell of creatures conjured by the Mettai during the early years of the Blood Wars. Great wolves, unnaturally quick and canny. Other beasts as well. Snakes, falcons, wild cats. Blood creatures, they were called." He took a breath and exhaled through his teeth. "These creatures might be easier to conjure than that poisoning spell. I might even be able to do it. I haven't seen them, but I've seen wild wolves. I know how they behave. I could create something like them, but bigger, stronger, smarter. They might not be exactly like the blood wolves of old, but they'd be close enough."

"Do you think these Mettai who have joined the Eandi army would use them?" Grinsa asked.

Besh nodded. "I think that once this war begins, and the full power of Fal'Borna magic is unleashed against this army, they'll use every spell they can think of. Wolves might well be the least of it."