The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

So.

She could abandon her mate, or she could follow the hunter and the daimone-creature, who claimed the hunter as mate just as she had many seasons ago claimed hers.

Wind rippled in the grass, singing softly in her feathers. The aetherical tides waxed and waned in every season, but the threads that bound the world were digging new channels; this she sensed. The world was in flux.

With her nest destroyed there could be no hatchlings this year. It would take an entire season to restore the nesting grounds, and she did not want to abandon her mate. Perhaps it was better to abandon the old ways for one season, to strike out into new territory, to follow the paths made by the thrumming lines of force as they wove into new patterns.

For as long as her mate remained a captive, she would follow the hunter.

Why not?

XXII

A NEW SHIP

1

“THEY know we are here,” said Stronghand to his assembled chieftains and councillors in the hall at Weorod, where Lord Ediki sat on the lord’s seat and presided over the servants and slaves who brought meat and drink around to each member of the gathering. “Yesterday, according to our allies, two Alban ships brought reinforcements to the island.”

Rain drummed on the roof. Under the eaves at each side of the hall, children and dogs huddled, watching. Some had been slaves, others the children of those who ruled here before, but Ediki had commanded that each one be given opportunity to prove themselves no matter their birth. It was the way of the Eika, their new masters, so Lord Ediki proclaimed, as well as the ancient way followed by his ancestors.

“We have no ships on this shore,” said Dogkiller. “How can we invade across the waters? It would be death to wade.”

“We must scout the waterways that empty into the sea,” said Flint. “Then our ships can sail in and attack from the north.”

“Scouts we will have and in plenty,” agreed Stronghand, surveying his company as he waited for Yeshu to finish translating into Alban. He himself spoke first in his own language and then in Wendish, but although he understood Alba well, he still stumbled over speaking it. “Manda, headwoman of the Eel tribe, has put fourteen boats and twenty-four skilled guides at our disposal. I need volunteers to search north.”

About three score men—RockChildren and human alike—had crowded into the hall to listen and, as Stronghand had expected, half of them lifted their voices, clamoring to go. They were the ones who sought honor and glory and riches, who gazed on Lord Ediki’s new holdings with envy, or who simply craved the danger.

Stronghand lifted a hand, and the voices stilled.

“Two men will go in each boat. A gold nomia to every man who reaches the sea and our ships. For every ship guided back through the fens to our position here, I will give another nomia.”

They were eager to start out, despite the dreary weather. As the company dispersed, he took Tenth Son outside. Many score soldiers had gathered to hear the council tidings, and they dispersed in groups, heading back to their tents and bivouacs or to make ready for guard duty. Tents had been thrown up within Weorod’s stockade while the rest lay scattered between the stockade and the dike, using wagons and recently dug ditches to create barriers in case they were attacked unexpectedly. Everyone was waiting for the next assault, with varying degrees of patience. As long as the queen lived, she ruled.

Stronghand ducked under the shelter of an empty byre and stood there with Tenth Son as rain drizzled down around them, leaking through the thatched roof, which was not yet repaired after the winter. Although the stalls had been cleaned out, clumps of manure pebbled the floor, and the smell of animal and dung clung to the earth.

“I will take two brothers with me, but I wish you to remain behind, not because I do not trust you, but because I do.”

Tenth Son nodded, accepting the statement—however startling it might be, since the RockChildren never spoke of trust between themselves.

“The standard stays with me. If I fall, then it will be of no use to anyone else. The magic is tied to my life.”

“Yes,” agreed Tenth Son. “If you fall, this army will splinter into a thousand spears, each one striking at the others. Why do you not wait for the ships?”

“If I wait for the ships, then the queen will know I am coming. If I go now, she will not expect a visitor. I will see this crown for myself. I must know what it is they hope to accomplish there. In my dreams …”

He trailed off. He rarely spoke of his dreams because RockChildren did not dream, but he knew that many secrets lay half revealed in the dreams he shared with Alain, more precious than gems and gold.

“What will you do when you get there?” asked Tenth Son.

“I don’t yet know,” he admitted. While most RockChildren would see the answer as weakness, Tenth Son could understand improvisation as a strength.

The rain let up as the gray afternoon darkened toward an early twilight. Clouds hung low and heavy. A child laughed. Nearby, Elafi and Ki squatted on the ground beside a small wicker cage. They had wished to see Stronghand’s camp and the size of his army, and had explored and poked around for much of the day, but now they turned to their own preparations for this night’s journey. Strangely, they were tying scraps of candles to the feet of two squawking pigeons. From the camp he heard the ring of a hammer beating out iron, but it was his companion who interested him most right now.

“Why do you follow me?” he asked finally.

Because they were littermates, Tenth Son was very like to Stronghand in looks, but although he, too, was rather more slender than most RockChildren, he had a hand’s height advantage over Stronghand and more bulk through the shoulders and chest. He was bigger and stronger, as most RockChildren were, but strength wasn’t everything.