Dragon Sword Series - Dragon Sword Part 31

Without a word, Santhe opened his arms, embraced Marrget. "I am heartily glad you are still with us, my friend," he murmured into her hair. "Heartily glad."

Although Alouzon could sense Marrget's relief, her eyes were closed as if such intimate contact were nonetheless painful. "Even though . . . ?"

"Even though." He stepped back, clasped her hands. "I saw too much yesterday to let such questions concern me. We have fought together before. We will fight together once again. For Gryylth."

"Aye, Santhe." Her smile was open and genuine. "For Gryylth."

He held to her hands. "But your warriors, Marrget," he said softly. ' 'How are they? "

She glanced at Wykla, spoke without hesitating. "My women are well. They are the First Wartroop. The best in the land." The girl was blinking back tears of pride as her captain turned back to Vorya. "I offer counsel. If we stay here, we do no more than offer ourselves to the Dremords. I would we retreat to the Circle. There we may stand and make such a defense as our numbers will permit. As for the Tree . . ." She bowed to Mernyl as to an equal. "If the sorcerer will forgive past insult from me, I would ask his a.s.sistance."

Mernyl bowed deeply in return, gripping his staff with 270.

a thin hand. "As you wish, captain, and as my king commands."

The king spoke. "And what can five score do against the might of Corrin?"

"Maybe little," said Marrget. She looked at Mernyl. "Maybe not so little."

Marrget's counsel was not as simple as it sounded. Given the condition of the army, the Circle was a good two days' journey to the southwest, and the king and his councilors had to take into account supplies and the ability of crippled wartroops to transport them. Some of Santhe's men would need an extra day or two to recover from shock. Marrget's women required time to adjust to fighting in their new forms.

But plans were made quickly, and Dythragor's absence was noticeable in the smoothness with which they were discussed. Without his constant demand for control and agreement, the captains of Gryylth were left free to explore alternatives, to accept, reject, or modify ideas. Even Marrget's s.e.x was, for a time, forgotten, and her high, clear voice delineated pros and cons as factually as when, deeper, it had sounded at Hall Kingsbury.

Alouzon's dreams of the Grail had allowed her to face the morning's work with some optimism, and the war-troop's partial recovery gave her hope, but she was still haunted by the specter of the Tree. And the figures that the captains were discussing were absurd: Gryylth was outnumbered by a minimum of five to one. "Look," she said at last. "Is this all you have in mind? Standing there and slugging it out?"

"What alternative do you offer, Dragonmaster?" Marrget's voice was suddenly wary.

Alouzon spoke quietly and earnestly. This was Braith-waite's fantasy, the perfect war. But all he saw was the glory. She saw people, faces, a cl.u.s.ter of bodies at the edge of camp. "I know this isn't going to make me real popular, but I think we should consider the possibility of settling."

Silence. Cvinthil, who had come in during the plan- .

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ning session, regarded her sadly. Marrget was almost hostile. Even Mernyl shook his head.

"Five to one," she said. "Have you listened to yourselves? They'll slaughter you in a direct fight. Is there any chance at all for a settlement?"

Marrget had grown heated. "So, Alouzon, we are to bow to our conquerors. Perhaps your remark about the Dremord farmer last night was not in jest?"

She shook her head. "You know why I said that, Marrget."

"They will not settle."

"Yeah, they probably won't. But it couldn't hurt to ask." She wondered suddenly if Marrget were looking forward to battle as a final proof of her abilities ... or as an opportunity to die in combat: an honorable way out of an untenable situation.

Vorya's voice was soft, but it was heard. "The Dremords will not settle." His face was pale, as though he realized the implications of what he was saying. "Much damage has been done over the years. There is much hate on both sides. Now, at last, they are given a chance to conquer, once and for all. Why should they consider a settlement offer as anything more than a very poor jest?"

"Ten years ago we had a settlement," said Santhe. "They did not choose to honor it: they attacked across the Eastreach River."

Braithwaite's fantasy: her life. "I know. I just had to ask."

"If there were time, Dragonmaster, I might be inclined to do as you advise." The king touched his numb arm, shook his head. "But we must retreat immediately, else questions of settlement or surrender will become moot. The Dremords are advancing: my scouts say that they are but a half-day from us. We must flee to fight as we can. I would not spare even one man-" He caught himself. "One man or one woman ... for such an errand."

She nodded. "I didn't mean offense, Marrget."

"None taken, Alouzon. But will you hold yourself 272.

aloof from this fight? As I recall, you swore after the Heath that you would not shed blood again."

Alouzon looked to Cvinthil, who avoided her eyes. "I shed enough blood in Bandon to fill a swimming pool. A little more isn't going to matter."

"Bandon?"

"Kanol," said Cvinthil, "tried to enslave her."

"That dog! I will-"

Cvinthil interrupted. "Kanol is dead, as are many others. Alouzon's sword is keen: it is an honor to fight beside her.'' He bowed to her.

Alou/on touched the double-dragon hilt of her sword. "I didn't come here to give orders. I'll do what the king wills."

Marrget's eyes widened. Vorya was obviously moved. "Never before," said the king, "have I commanded a Dragonmaster." He rose unsteadily. "I am not sure whether to rejoice or mourn." He nodded to those a.s.sembled, and left the room. His guards followed.

Marrget laid a hand on her arm. "Dragonmasters have always commanded."

"No, Marrget. Get it right. Dythragorbzs always commanded." She gave a small, tense laugh. "I'm too d.a.m.ned afraid of getting people killed to try to tell them what to do."

"I will . . . consider what you have said, Alouzon," said the captain. "You are wiser than I, and perhaps, at another time ..." She paused meaningfully. ". . .1 will have much to learn from you. For now, I return to my women. We must prepare to ride." She turned to Wykla. "Do you wish to remain with the Dragonmaster?"

Surprised at the question, Wykla fumbled for a moment. "Aye, my lady ... my captain."

"Very well." Marrget clapped a hand on her sword hilt and left the tent.

Wykla stared. "Why did she ask, Dragonmaster?"

"Because she cares, Wykla. How do you feel?"

She shrugged. "I do not wish to kill myself, my lady. And Marrget's praise ..." She smiled painfully, squared .

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her shoulders. "I was honored before the peers of Gryylth. That means much to me."

"Hang in there. You'll make it."

Wykla did not seem convinced, but Merayl was coming forward. "Alouzon, I wish to speak with you. About Gryylth." His tone was urgent, but she was too preoccupied to notice.

"Yeah . . . sure ..." Santhe was leaving, as was Cvinthil. Outside, orders were being given, setting into motion the plans that had just been made. Marrget's horse clopped away, the sound diminis.h.i.+ng with distance. Battle lay ahead. Nice job, Braithwaite. Even the radical war protester can't stop it. "What about it?"

The sorcerer had dropped his studied formality as though it were a cape. "I am grown somewhat concerned these days about its connections with Solomon Braithwaite."

For a moment, the name and its speaker did not connect. Then, with a lurch that blurred her vision, she understood . '' You know ?"

"Truly, Alouzon, I wish that I did not. But I have seen things . . ." He seemed to shudder. ' 'It was an evil night of visions, but perhaps it was for the best. I learned. I have grown."

She was astonished by his comparative equanimity. Vorya, Marrget, and the others would have been shattered by the same knowledge. Mernyl was, instead, reflective. "So you know what a mess this place is."

He folded his arms inside his ragged sleeves. "I suppose that I pity the man," he said. "He was in great pain when Gryylth was formed. And . . ."He shook his head, smiled in spite of himself. "I suppose I show an overweening arrogance for presuming to understand and forgive the individual who created me."

Wykla was looking on without comprehension, and her young face was puzzled, almost alarmed at his words. Alouzon gave her a shake of the head to indicate that the topic being discussed was the concern of Dragonmasters and sorcerers only, that she did not have to bother herself 274.

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about it. Wykla nodded, folded her arms, and stood to the side like a warrior awaiting orders.

Taking Mernyl's arm, Alouzon turned him away from the girl. She spoke in an undertone. "I'm d.a.m.ned sorry you had to get involved in his problems."

Memyl looked resigned. "If we were not involved, Alouzon, we would not exist. Unfortunately, the world after which Gryylth was modeled oifers no guidance regarding certain difficulties."

"You're talking about the Tree?"

He nodded. "Tireas has used it, and he will use it again, whether he wants to or no. The Tree, being elemental and inhuman both, has its own needs, its own desires, and warps his will accordingly. I do not believe, for instance, that it was the sorcerer's intention to cause the ma.s.s death yesterday. I think the wartroop ..."

He glanced at Wykla. The girl had lapsed into thought, her head down, her eyes troubled.

"... was bis primary objective. The Tree turned the spell. Marrget now puts a great deal of faith in me and my powers, but I am not sure that is warranted."

"You can't do anything? But you're a sorcerer."

He sighed. "The power that confronts me from the Tree is unnatural-" He broke off, looked vexed. "No, unnatural is an absurd word. I must say new, and uncustomary. It can reach into the very core of being and alter it. You heard me say so at the first interview with Marrget. Such is beyond the normal powers of magic."

"But Tireas can do it."

"Tireas is using the Tree, and he has prepared for years to learn its use. I have had-what?-a week to think about fighting it."

"What about the Circle? Cvinthil told me that it was like the ... uh ... foundation of the land, or something like that."

"A relatively accurate description. The Circle is a monolith of preservation, like the stone of which it is made. The Tree, however, is creation and re-creation. Constant change. When it was in the Heath, it was simply a part of Gryylth, and it caused slow changes within the natural order. But now that it has been brought out as a weapon, Tireas can do with it as he wills. Even the Circle might not be able to stand, for much of its power is taken up with maintaining the existence of a very fluid and, shall we say, insubstantial world."

Outside, Cvinthil was shouting orders, arranging for the destruction of weapons and materials that the severely shrunken army of Gryylth could not transport. In spite of herself, Alouzon recalled how he had stood up for her and fought beside her in Bandon.

"So . . ." She did not want to say it, but she faced the words as she had once faced the police night sticks. "So we've lost already, then?"

"Nay, not so. I am not satisfied with my own pessimism. The Tree has its power, which has been demonstrated. The Circle has its own, which is yet untried. It may be able to stand very well. But I am afraid, Alouzon, that the best we can expect is a stalemate. The Tree and the Circle are emblems of Solomon Braithwaite's mind, of the mind of our . . ." He looked vexed again, as though unsure of his terminology. "Your race."

She understood. "Mernyl, regardless of where you came from, you're one of us."

"My thanks, Alouzon. I find myself in the novel position of being the only ghost in a world of ghosts who knows he is a ghost."

"You're real."

He nodded. "Our race, then. Whether one is stronger than the other, though . . . Well . . ." He pushed open the flap of the tent. "Here. Look. Do you see?"

Sunlight spilled in, and Alouzon blinked in the glare. Beyond the camp, beyond the still visible carnage that remained unburied, the land unrolled in greens and browns and yellows. Overhead, the sky was blue, and a lark ascended into the heights.

She understood his lesson. Change and stability. Two equal and balanced powers. They were at work everywhere, in the smallest plant, the largest mountain. This land-any land-needed both, in proper proportion, to survive.

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"I might be able to hold the Tree with the powers of the Circle," he explained, letting the flap fall, "but that is all. I cannot conquer. Nor can Tireas. And the continued conflict might strain the fabric of our reality. Normally, one fights a battle with the knowledge that, regardless of any magic involved, the world will still exist come morning. At present, however, we have no such certainty.''

The land could be destroyed. In one sense, she found herself confronting the idea with a sense of detachment, for, though she had been accepted by Gryylth, by its people, though she had partic.i.p.ated in the endless shedding of blood that characterized it, she did not feel herself to be so inextricably linked with it that she would share its fate. She was from another place. She could leave.

But though her personal existence was not in question, her life, her soul, that part of her which loved and felt pity, had been caught up forever. In spite of the horror she had found in Gryylth, she had also found a fulfillment for lacks that had pursued her since that May morning in Kent. And beyond that, there was the Grail, the finding of which was becoming a nearly physical urge. In the dissolution of Gryylth, the fulfillment, the promise of final wholeness and healing, would be lost forever.

Mernyl's black eyes were compa.s.sionate. It was as though he knew her thoughts, knew what the loss of Gryylth would mean to her. He had power, true, but within him she saw also an ocean of gentleness.

"You . . ."

"Alouzon?"

"If you know about Braithwaite," she said, "you probably know about me, too."

He nodded slowly. "Aye . . . Suzanne."

She did not mind hearing the old name, for he said it with the familiarity and the kindness of an old friend. She wondered what he had seen of her life. Probably everything. "So you know what a f.u.c.k-up I've been."

' 'I have seen nothing in your actions that has not been honorable. I am not the Dragon. I will give advice without being asked, and therefore I will say this: Treat your- .

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self with as much sympathy and healing as you treat others." He indicated Wykla with a tip of his head.

"But what good is it all if the whole world goes up?" d.a.m.n you, Braithwaite.

"It might not."

"You don't know that."

Something about his manner said otherwise, though. Mernyl's silence was as eloquent as his words. He was not one to hold out a hope of any sort unless it were real. It might not, "What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, and in that pause he reminded her too much of Silbakor. Choosing words. Filtering information. She wanted to scream, and her eyes threw the question at him: Tell me! To withhold even the slightest hope was the action of a s.a.d.i.s.t.

"If I knew for certain," he said, finally, "I would tell you. But premature words would cause irreparable harm: the loss of all."