The Sorcery Within

XII

ASLONAL AND HIS COMPANIONwatched, the riders wheeled and charged toward the target again. The westerner, as usual, seized the lead, her cowl flapping wildly, spilling some of her dark tresses. She let go of the reins, guiding the oeikani with her knees, and reached toward her quiver. In one motion she pulled an arrow free, cocked it back, and fired. The bundle of hide jerked on its pole as the arrow struck. The other archers were only a moment behind. The bundle spun and flopped, bristling like a pin cushion from this and previous passes. The ground nearby was littered with spent shafts, both those that had missed and those that had been flung free by subsequent impacts. The target nearly shredded, the riders pulled up, dismounted, and began to sort their arrows from the rest.

"Impressive," Lonal's companion said, nodding toward the stranger. They watched as she tucked her hair back into her cowl. The clan of T'krt had been joined by the T'lan and the Ena during the past day, and formal wear was necessary. In fact, Lonal and Ulnam, war-leader of the Ena, had never seen each other's faces, though Lonal was betrothed to marry Ulnam's daughter when she came of age. "Is the other one that good?"

"Possibly, but Tebec doesn't show off like that."

"Four hits out of ten," Ulnam added. "He must have started young."

"No," Lonal said. "Actually, Yetem tells me that in his country, they only use the long bow. It is forest country. They hunt large animals, which they approach in stealth, and need the extra power to bring them down. Not like us, who have to hit, from oeikani-back, the small creatures that scurry from rock to rock. He neglected to learn the bow until he arrived here; those in his land required too much upper-body strength."

"He does have narrow shoulders for a warrior," Ulnam admitted.

"Where they come from, it is the men who have teats and nurse the babies after the women give birth," Lonal said gravely.

Ulnam held his composure for almost the count of five, then the facade cracked. They shared a hearty guffaw. It did Lonal good to joke. Too many within the recently arrived clans had been displeased to hear the story of Tebec and Yetem. Outside of the T'krt clan, loyalty to Lonal was not as entrenched, and a few voices dared to speak of heresy. None, of course, would challenge Toltac's word, for he was opsib over them all, but people muttered all the same. Ulnam and Lonal had always been on good terms; it was gratifying to see that this had not changed.

In some ways, it was easier for Lonal than for the westerners themselves, who were once more the center of attention. All the T'lan and the Ena wanted to view firsthand this man-who-didn't-look-like-a-man.

The contest was over, and the participants left to join their families. The reunion celebrations that had taken up the past day would have to yield to the necessity of movement. The most desolate, most dangerous portion of the migration lay just ahead of them – the journey through the Pass of Hattyre. Lonal and Ulnam surveyed the low, blistered hills to the east.

"When do you expect it? As we enter, or at the fork?"

"I never know what to expect where the Buyul are concerned."

"True."

Grim, they parted, each off to their responsibilities as war-leader, Ulnam looking after his clan, Lonal the authority over all three. Lonal rode back to the rear of the clan. His war-seconds could handle the front well enough; his greatest worry was the stragglers. A dragging end could put the caravan in danger, should the raid happen at the wrong time. They had to make speed over Hattyre.

Things were proceeding well. Soon virtually every member of the clan was under way. The only exceptions were two women, one elderly, the other in late youth, who stood several hundred paces behind the departing end of the caravan. The old one was removing her clothes and handing them to the other. When she was naked, she sat her frail body down in the dirt beside the trail. The younger woman bundled the clothing in her arms and headed back toward the caravan. The old woman bowed her head and did not look up again.

Lonal watched respectfully, as he had done many times. The old woman left behind was Mada's grandmother. He had foreseen this. She had barely kept up in the flat; she couldn't be expected to maintain the pace needed through the pass. He nodded to Mada's wife, the woman carrying the clothes, as she reached his position.

Lonal turned back to his duties, inevitably thinking of the time when he might be in the old woman's place. Of course, as a Po-no-pha, he would keep his garments – his weapons, too, if he were selfish – and would hear the high Ah-no-ken recite the hour-long rite of death, but he would wait in the desert all the same. The fact that he would return one day to the world, and the woman would not, was slight comfort. He couldn't decide which was better – a sudden death in battle or, like Mada's grandmother, to be able to choose the time and place.

He worked his way gradually through the procession. The broad, amorphous columns of the earlier part of the journey were consolidating toward the gap in the hills ahead. Soon they would be able to travel only two or three abreast. Then they would be vulnerable.

Shigmur joined him.

"The first night's watch has been assigned," the war-second reported. "What about them?"

He pointed not far ahead. There, Tebec and Yetem walked beside Fumlok, their wives and children following. Having lost their oeikani to Kulam, the twins had to travel on foot. They owned two other animals, but they were of the drelb breed and suitable only as pack animals. Yetem had already returned the mount she had borrowed for the contest.

"I want them to participate, but I want eyes on them. Put Tebec on guard at the pens for the first watch, the same for Yetem, late watch. I'll think of something else tomorrow."

"Yes, war-leader."

Tonight's camp should be secure, Lonal calculated, but there was no certainty. He prepared himself for the first of several sleepless nights. When would the Buyul strike?

There was no incident. They reached the first campsite and, unlike previous stopovers, staked out the tents before nightfall. Lonal was pleased. The location was large enough for everyone, and all approaches were plainly visible. He stood beside the firepit, where the ritual flame had yet to be built, and stared farther up into the hills, wondering what threats they held. His first wife brought him some broth.

Tebec soon strolled up.

"Nannon abat se,"Lonal said.

The other replied smoothly in Zyraii, then reverted to the High Speech. "Fumlok has explained that we are in danger of attack by another Zyraii tribe."

"Yes. The Buyul."

"Each time he tries to explain why they would want to attack us, I don't understand."

"It's simple. The Buyul don't like us."

"Why not?"

Lonal shrugged. "Before I became war-leader, this pass was Buyul territory."

Tebec nodded slowly. "Then wouldn't another way be safer?"

"This is the best route. I wouldn't have taken it if I didn't intend to keep it."

Lonal began to stir the coals of the long-dead campfire. He frightened a small scorpion from its lair in the shade of one of the hearthstones. Its brood clung to its back. He flipped the creature over with a charred faggot, dumping off the little ones, and swiftly picked it up by the tail, holding it just short of the stinger.

He waved the arthropod in front of Tebec, swaying it so that it would not crawl up his fingers. His free hand indicated the orange markings spotting an otherwise dull yellow body.

"Not poisonous," he explained, and threw it back onto the charcoal. The offspring, grey as the sand and rock of the area, swiftly crawled back aboard. "It is called dukham, after the greatest sinner of all Zyraii. As punishment for his godless life, Dukham was reincarnated into the first of this particular species of scorpion, a creature so lowly it is denied even the luxury of a powerful venom."

Tebec, however, was not going to let the earlier topic be dropped.

"Why did you take the pass from the Buyul?"

Lonal considered telling him, but that would take far too long, and there were more important tasks for the moment. He settled for the simplest reply.

"Because I don't like them."

The apprehension thickened throughout the next day, as the three clans of the T'lil made their slow progress up the hills. The way was not difficult; it was simply impossible to hurry. Each stray noise brought palms to the hilts of demonblades. They stopped only when the heat was fiercest and continued on in spite of the sweat and the taxing climb. They saw a pair of the rare wild sheep of the region, several hawks, many snakes – but no hostile Po-no-pha.

"Do you suppose they've lost their balls?" Ulnam asked Lonal, after one of many patrols had returned with the same news: the Buyul were not to be found, nor were there any fresh traces.

"They haven't forgiven me yet," Lonal answered, and sent out more scouts.

The war-leader was near the westerners as they travelled through the pass. As they topped the crest, their view of the land suddenly expanded eastward. Ahead, the relatively easy road they had followed up the western slopes transformed into a twisting, double-backed aisle, cutting through a gradually receding series of parched ridges. Somewhere in that desolation the road forked, one way heading south, toward Buyul lands, the other east, to T'lil ground. That was the point of greatest danger. Lonal stared at the peaks that concealed it.

But the twins looked farther, past the hills to the incongruous sight near the horizon.

"Norym,"Yetem gasped.

It took Lonal a moment to translate from the High Speech. "Trees," he corrected. Small wonder that the Ah-no-ken had not yet taught them the Zyraii word. In this land, the term only had true meaning in the valley beyond the hills. They were so far away that any hint of green was distorted by the atmosphere into a kind of blue-grey, but the westerners obviously knew they were viewing a forest. The foliage meandered from north to south, a languorously winding track a league or more wide, occasionally thickening or narrowing, with several islands. Had Lonal not been preoccupied with his duties, he might have shared their awe. They were witnessing the lifeline of Zyraii.

"Ahloorm," Lonal said.

"How long until we get there?" Tebec asked.

"Five days."

They continued to gaze at the river, transfixed, until their family had left them well behind and they had to hurry to catch up. Lonal remained at the crest, where he could reconnoiter. Soon Shigmur came to report.

"We have been up and down the hills well past the border, and the odor of the Buyul is exceptionally faint. I don't understand it."

"Neither do I," Lonal answered, checking the low sun in the west. "As soon as camp is made, I will go to Toltac. It is time to undertake the Trance of the Searcher."

Toltac's words were a measured drone. Lonal was no longer consciously aware of their content. He breathed deeply, and then more deeply still, the oxygen stimulating therashemi in his lungs. He relaxed each muscle group, one by one, unsure whether this was at the Bo-no-ken's command or his own idea, and not caring which. His body felt heavy; it was too much effort to move it. He went numb.

And he was out.

Below him, he saw his own body, with Toltac hovering dutifully over it, still uttering his monologue. The haze of smoke from the brazier made the tent hazy and ill-defined. He lifted farther up and found he was outside. The camp lay below him, on a shelf of land a mile east of the pass, dotted with cooking fires and filled with the bustle of early evening activity. Though it was night, he could see the people, tents, and hills as if the sun were still up.

He began to float. Suddenly, the camp was no longer below. In rapid succession, his ethereal eyes sought out and found the places of his concern. He scanned the ridgetops that overlooked the road, checked the woodless dells and nullahs where groups of men might hide. Time meant nothing; it seemed to him as if he arrived at each new spot the instant he left the previous one. He recrossed the ground his scouts had patrolled the past two days and cast deeply into Buyul land. He followed the route the caravan would take out of the hills all the way to its end. And finally, he felt the tug in the small of his back. He had to return. In what seemed to be the next moment, he opened his eyes.

Toltac leaned over him, looking concerned.

"How long?" Lonal asked.

"Four hours," the high priest stated. "Most of the camp is asleep. You should get some rest. Any luck?"

"None," Lonal said in answer to Ulnam the next morning.

"Where are they? Why are they invisible?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps they are waiting simply to make us nervous."

Lonal took out his demonblade and applied the whetstone. "The longer they wait, the less advantage they have. We will reach the fork before noon."

"What I wouldn't give to be riding through this pass with nothing but my best Po-no-pha." Ulnam sighed, glancing at the ranks of women, children, animals, and goods. "We could clear the hills in one forced gallop."

"Under those circumstances, the Buyul wouldn't be interested in attacking."

"That's the trouble with enemies."

The war-leader of the T'lan joined them. He had nothing more to report. Where are they?Lonal thought. He mistrusted the evidence of the trance, though it merely corroborated the physical reconnaissance of his scouts. He knew the unpredictability of travel in the astral form. He might have been viewing some strange parallel world, or perhaps it was the actual Pass of Hattyre he had seen, but in some other time. Perhaps the Buyul had clouded his vision, in the unlikely event that they had found a sorcerer so powerful. He wished they had the services of the Zee-no-ken. Though Toltac was well-schooled, the Zee-no-ken were the only true magicians of Zyraii. But the Zee-no-ken rarely devoted themselves to such mundane matters as military spying.

The Buyulhad to be out there.

For the most part, they made good speed. Much of the way was downhill, and at each high place they were spurred to new hope by the tantalizing sight of the Ahloorm. Soon they reached the fork. The road split, passing to either side of an eroded mountain. Massive piles of rocks and three shallow box canyons provided plenty of places for ambush. The caravan took the left fork, continuing east. Each step along that route took them farther from Buyul territory.

Lonal hovered near a T'krt family as they transferred gear from a pack animal that had caught its leg between two rocks and broken it. One of the owners was already honing his butcher knife. Though infrequent, each such small delay rasped on Lonal's nerves. Each time, the war-leader expected to hear the cry of Buyul raiders. This time, as before, he worried for nothing. The animal was cut into large sections, most of the meat bartered to other families, and the caravan crawled onward. They made camp that night well down the fork. Lonal slept poorly for the third night.

They poured out onto the valley floor in the afternoon of the next day, having forsaken the midday rest in order to gain speed. They could no longer see the river on the horizon – their elevation was too low – but they were now well within traditional T'lil holdings. To either side, promontories thrust out into the flatland; once beyond these, they could see an enemy coming for miles. Lonal waited at the rear of the column, alert for any pursuit from the pass behind, but the last of his people had reached the plain and the anxiety was lifting off his shoulders. They were safe.

Then, directly ahead, where no scouts had thought to patrol, a horde of white-robed men rose from behind shrubs or out of the trenches they had dug, brought their oeikani out of concealment, mounted, and charged the front of the caravan at full gallop.

"Torovet!"Lonal cried. He cursed. Almost all of his Po-no-pha, like himself, were toward the rear or along the sides, guarding from attack from the promontories. The front was exposed. They hadn't expected attack from their own land. T'lil demonblades whisked into palms and the warriors sped to meet the assault.

They were too late. The Buyul line splayed out into singles, each rider plunging between the retreating ranks of women, children, and elderly, toward the locations where livestock were gathered. Flails struck, shouts rang out, and soon sheep, goats, and oeikani panicked and began to bolt. Just as quickly, the Buyul disengaged and, though driving the animals farther from the caravan whenever the opportunity arose, drew weapons and prepared to meet the warriors.

The invaders separated as widely as possible, likewise the defenders. The raid fractured into dozens of individual contests. Demonblades flew. Some went wild. Some were blocked by shields. Blood splattered the field, part of a Buyul ear falling with it. Then a T'lil went down. As the demonblades were exhausted, scimitars replaced them.

Lonal hurried forward in vain. He was too far to the rear to make a difference. He reined up. He could spend his time more effectively being a war-leader, and organizing his people's disrupted defense.

But now, the Buyul were in full retreat. If forced, they traded slashes, but in the main, they sought to escape. The raid evolved: now the objective of the Buyul was to drive livestock further afield, and that of the T'lil to prevent it.

Lonal got the women and old men into tight formation, keeping the animals that remained securely in tow to thwart a possible second wave. Those of his Po-no-pha who, like himself, had been caught at the far rear, he ordered back to position, suspecting that a contingent of raiders might appear there yet. Then he scanned the conflict once more.

He saw it immediately. Six choice purebred oeikani, unsaddled and fleet as the wind, had been driven by their fear far from the caravan. Riders of both tribes pursued them, the Buyul in the lead. However, well ahead of either group of riders, actually gaining on the oeikani, were two lithe figureson foot.

Elenya narrowed her eyes to keep out the grit kicked up by the oeikani. She and Alemar were only a few body lengths behind the panicked animals. Her lungs were on fire, her legs throbbing, and her amulet fiercely radiant, but they had the momentum. She sidestepped a shrub that appeared abruptly out of the dust. Alemar split away, approaching the oeikani from the right side. She took the left.

She was even now with the rearmost animal, but she ignored it, as did Alemar. One by one, they caught up with the others. As the lead beast veered to the left, she leaped onto its back and seized it by the mane.

For several moments, all she could do was hold on. The run had winded her; she had no strength left to deal with a terror-stricken mount. She let it run freely, allowing it to become accustomed to her presence. When she dared, she glanced back and saw that Alemar had successfully landed on the second oeikani.

Finally she gripped the mane and tugged. All six animals veered. She pointed them back toward the caravan.

Immediately, the party of Buyul pursuing them began to close the gap. Elenya tried to circle, to buy time. The Buyul were themselves being chased by T'lil warriors.

Inevitably, the Buyul bore down. But the raiders' mounts were not as fresh as those they chased. Elenya and Alemar started to pull away. The lead Buyul flung his demonblade, forcing Alemar to duck. In a few more moments, however, the Buyul were too far behind, and were forced to break off in order to avoid their own pursuit.

Elenya and Alemar raced for the caravan, only to be blocked by two more Buyul who had left the main battle. The latter waited. Elenya knew there was no point in trying to circle them. Instead, the twins charged straight ahead. The Buyul spurred their oeikani and met them at full run, scimitars extended.

Elenya drew her rapier. As the warrior thrust out with his weapon, she jabbed him in the forearm. He dropped his weapon. She quickly glanced back. Alemar simply blocked his opponent's slash. The Buyul did not attempt to engage again. Like the rest of their tribe, they retreated southward. The twins reached the lines before other enemies could bother them, the six oeikani rescued.

Only when they were safe did Elenya feel the pain in her shoulder. She had been too slow. The Buyul's scimitar had bitten her. She clapped her hand over the cut and forgot about it. There was still a fight going on.

Lonal had watched most of the twins' adventure, though occupied with his responsibilities. The raid was nearly over. A Buyul leaned far down from his saddle and scooped up a lamb. Another had lassoed a oeikani and was pulling it in tow. The others either had their prizes or were in full flight. Lonal shouted orders, sending the warriors whose animals were the fleetest out to the pursuit, keeping the others in reserve to protect the women and goods. Then he saw Yetem riding out, the cloth against her shoulder stained a dark crimson, with a quiver on her back and a bow already strung.

"Na tet!"he yelled at her, but she was oblivious, already racing to catch up with the Buyul.

Lonal heard Tebec shout also. The westerner started after her, but stopped almost immediately and reached within his collar. Lonal saw him withdraw something attached to a gold chain, the actual object hidden in his fist. He pressed it to his forehead. Green light flickered through his fingers.

Yetem suddenly relaxed her arm, even as it had been drawing back an arrow, and reined up. She stared back at Tebec. He held his fist to his forehead for a moment more. Strangely subdued, she started back toward the tribe.

Lonal, eyes riveted to Tebec, waited until the latter had restored the chain inside his garments. He hurried to check the status of his tribe.

All told, three of his Po-no-pha were dead, several more wounded, one mortally. The Buyul had left five on the field, and as many more had hung limply from their beasts as they fled. More dead than there should have been, had he not been taken unaware by Buyul guile. His mood was black as he rode over to the twins. Tebec was bandaging the wound near his sister's collarbone.

"Do you want to start a vendetta?" he asked sternly.

"Is this a war or not?" she demanded, equally sharp. "We could have quadrupled our effectiveness with arrows!"

"So could the Buyul. This istorovet. We must conduct ourselves with honor."

"They attacked us! How honorable is that?"

"If the Buyul had let us by unmolested, they would have had to concede that the pass belonged to the T'lil."

"I don't believe it. This whole fight happened just so you could all prove your manhood."

Lonal was so angry he could barely continue to use the High Speech. "I should have realized one such as you would not understand."

She started to retort.

"No," he said. "If you are without honor, you aren't free to judge us. Until you learn the laws of battle, keep out of it. Stay with the women."

He didn't permit her to respond. Tebec prevented her from following, pressing her down firmly in order to finish tending her wound. Lonal wanted the tribe mobile. They would make a forced march into the valley, deeper into T'lil territory, where they could lick their wounds and he endure his shame in peace.