He felt the heat of the dragonfire at his back and smiled. The warriors before him were too slow. He spoke a word, and fire leaped around him to lash at their backs, impelling them forward. For a moment he was bathed in fire, and he cackled.
As he strode behind his onrushing horde, he listened to the cries of the earth, searching for the painful harmonies of the Gatekeepers' seal and the stifled chorus behind it. Softly, he began to hum his part of that entropic chorus, a song of madness that would unmake the seal-the song that would soon unmake the world.
Lit by the fire behind them and roaring what she guessed was the proper name of their leader, the barbarians charged into Rienne's whirling storm. They were tall, even the women, towering head and broad shoulders above her-which made it easier for her to move them around, crashing them into each other or throwing them sprawling to the ground where Maelstrom could finish them easily. Black hair fell in matted tangles over their shoulders. The men wore old scars instead of beards, and the women too were disfigured by scars that gave them an almost demonic appearance. Their armor was leather or hide, and most of them used heavy, two-handed maces or axes that left them off-balance after a clumsy but powerful swing.
She could have closed her eyes-she was not seeing, but feeling the rhythm of their approach and their attacks. She dodged and ducked almost effortlessly, and Maelstrom was a blur of steel and blood in the air around her. The barbarian wave crashed upon her and broke against solid rock, unable to move her.
But it could flow around her. She glanced to one side as a great bear roared in pain, and she saw it go down under the press of warriors. Other barbarians were already sweeping over the lines of militia behind her, pushing them back toward the ancient druids' seal. Rienne could hold her ground, perhaps indefinitely, but she would soon be a lone island in a stormy sea, and her defiance would mean nothing. She began a slow retreat, letting the tide carry her closer to the other defenders even as she continued her deadly dance.
She began to see some variety among the onrushing barbarians. She had heard that the Blasphemer united many disparate tribes to form his horde, and she started noticing differences that might be tribal. Some wore the black feathers of carrion birds and proudly bore the sores and scars of plague on their skin. Others wore patches of scaled black hide on their shoulders and thighs, and bone needles pierced through the skin of their cheeks and bare chests. A few had taken the scarification of their faces to an extreme, actually stripping away skin and muscle to expose their teeth in a hideous grin. She even saw a small pack of shifters, presumably traitors from the Eldeen Reaches, since she had never heard of shifters among the Carrion Tribes before.
No matter how many she killed, more kept rushing at her, around her, past her. If they recognized her as a serious threat, they didn't show it-wave after wave of barbarians crashed around her, undaunted by the corpses around her and the dead she left in her wake. They never spoke, except to chant their leader's name with their last living breaths. As more and more of them came at her and died at her feet, a weight descended on her heart. These barbarians-these people were weapons in the warlord's hands, their wills utterly subsumed to his. Could they have stopped fighting if they wanted to? Could they have avoided an obviously superior foe? Were they capable of giving a thought to self-preservation, or were they just animals herded to the slaughter? Rienne was the instrument of their slaughter, and she did not relish the role.
She also, with some shock, realized that she was getting tired. How long had she been fighting? The first dragon, the gold one, had come in the darkness of night, what seemed like hours ago. A hint of morning tinged the sky-had she been fighting all night? Her shoulder burned where the gold dragon's teeth had torn her flesh, and a hundred other cuts and bruises gnawed at the distant ends of her nerves. The barbarians rarely landed a blow on her, but fatigue alone was wearing her down.
Just as that realization settled upon her, two dragons fell from the sky. Barbarians scattered away from her as the dragons-one scaled in blood red, one plated in iron-settled to the ground on either side of her.
"The Blasphemer wants to know," the red one said in a whispering hiss, "why you aren't dead yet."
"The Blasphemer wants you dead," the iron dragon added, rumbling and loud.
Rienne tried to steady herself, calm her pounding heart and relax the muscles clenched in her shoulder and legs. "Then he'll have to kill me himself," she said.
CHAPTER 19
Why all the interest in the Lyrandar?" Thuel demanded. "I always knew Kelas had an interest in the Prophecy of the Dragons," Aunn said. "It seems that was an interest he shared with Nala."
"And he's supposed to play some part in this prophecy?"
"It makes me dizzy." Aunn stared into the fire in Thuel's office. "Kelas sent me to help get Gaven and Haldren out of Dreadhold. As far as Haldren was concerned, Gaven was important only because he knew so much about the Prophecy. He thought Gaven would help him and Vaskar achieve their goals-get the Eye of Siberys, find the Sky Caves of Thieren Kor, and turn Vaskar into the Storm Dragon. That's not what happened, and somehow I think that's never what Kelas meant to happen. Or Nara."
"What did they intend to happen?"
"I think they always knew that Gaven would become the Storm Dragon."
"And he did."
"Yes."
Thuel folded his arms and looked intently at Aunn. "And what does that mean, exactly?"
Aunn rubbed his temples. He had been talking with Thuel for hours, and he was exhausted. "I'm not entirely sure. I know he came back from the Sky Caves much more powerful than he was before-beyond what I've read about other Siberys heirs of House Lyrandar. He defeated the Soul Reaver at Starcrag Plain, the leader of all the monsters that spilled from the earth there. Then he went to Argonnessen, and ended up at the Dragon Forge, and Kelas stripped his mark from him. I'm afraid I don't know much more than that."
"And Nara wants him for some kind of reunion."
"That's what she said."
"And what does he want to do? What's he doing right now?"
Aunn looked to the window and saw the dark evening sky. He and Thuel had talked long past the time he was supposed to meet Gaven and the others back at the Ruby Chalice. He shot to his feet.
"What's the matter?" Thuel said.
"I was supposed to meet him for dinner, along with Ashara and Cart. I came here to get him some traveling papers."
"Sit down. We're not finished here."
Aunn looked at Thuel, keenly aware of the threat in his voice. He sank back in his chair, wondering what Gaven was doing. "Where's he planning to travel?"
"He wants to go to Stormhome."
Thuel's eyes went wide. "An excoriate and a fugitive? To Stormhome? Why?"
"He and Rienne were separated in Argonnessen. He doesn't know where she is, and he's desperate to find her."
"Why Stormhome?"
"They had magic tokens to transport them back to Stormhome. If she made it back from Argonnessen, she probably went there."
"Interesting. I had a report that she was held briefly in a jail in Thaliost last week."
"What? Really?"
"Yes. Traveling without papers, suspicion of stowing away on a Lyrandar galleon. And of course assisting a fugitive."
"But she was only held briefly?"
Thuel snorted. "House Kundarak and House Lyrandar declined to press charges, and her fines were paid. Very heavy fines were paid."
"Who paid them?"
"A Lyrandar pilot, if I remember correctly."
"Is that all? Do you know anything more? Where they might be now?"
"I haven't received any further word. However, before you get too excited, let me remind you that what Gaven does at this point is a matter of national security. He doesn't have much choice in the matter, and I don't think that having him travel to Thaliost or Stormhome or anywhere else at this moment is in anyone's best interest."