He left the room a half hour later, climbed the ladder to the ramparts. Hands clasped behind him, he stared at the green of the Zemstvi.
A beautiful land, he thought. About to be sullied with blood.
Fate, with a malicious snicker, had squandered the land's last hope.
Torfin followed him. "They're not sure. She just led them out."
"Probably doesn't matter. It's too late. Unless. ..."
"What?"
"We smash the snake's head."
"What? He's going to die? You can't stop it?"
"No. And that leaves Shirl."
"You saying what I think?"
"She has to die."
Torfin smiled thinly. "Friend, she wouldn't let you do it. And if she couldn't stop you with the Power, I'd have to with the sword."
Tain locked eyes with the youth. Torfin wouldn't look away. "She means a lot to you, eh?"
"I still love her."
"So," Tain murmured. "So. Can you stand up to her? Can you bully the others into behaving themselves?"
"I can try."
"Do. I'm into this too deep, lad. If you don't control her, I'll try to stop her the only way I know." He turned to stare across the Zemstvi again.
Though the Tower wasn't tall, it gave a view of the countryside matched only from the Toad. That grim formation was clearly visible. The rain had cleared the air.
Someone was running toward the Tower, Beyond, a fountain of smoke rose against the backdrop formed by the Dragon's Teeth.
A distance-muted thunderclap smote the air. "That's your place," Torfin said softly.
XVII
A man in black, wearing a golden mask, rounded a knoll. He paused above the Palikov stead. Bloody dawnlight leaked round the Toad. It splashed him as he knelt, feeling the earth. It made his mask more hideous. The faceted ruby eyepieces seemed to catch fire.
Thin fingers floated on the air, reaching, till they pointed westward. The man in black rose and started walking. His fingers led him on.
He went slowly, sensing his quarry's trail. It was cold. Occasionally he lost it and had to circle till he caught it again.
The sun scaled the sky. Kai Ling kept walking. A gentle, anticipatory smile played behind his mask.
The feel of the man was getting stronger. He was getting close. It was almost done. In a few hours he would be home. The Tervola would be determining the extent of his reward.
He crossed a low hilltop and paused.
A shepherd's stead lay below. He reached out....
One man, injured, lay within the crude sod house. A second life-spark lurked in the grove surrounding the nearby spring.
And there were six riders coming in from the southwest.
One seized his attention. She corruscated with a stench of wild, untrained Power.
"Lords of Darkness," Kai Ling whispered. "She's almost as strong as the Demon Princess." He crouched, becoming virtually invisible in a patch of gorse.
Five of the riders dismounted. They heaped kindling round the timbers of a partially finished house.
A man staggered from the sod structure. "Shirl!" he screamed. "For god's sake…"
A raider tripped him, slipped a knife into his back as he wriggled on the earth.
Kai Ling stirred slightly as two blasts of emotion exploded below.
A child burst from the grove, shrieking, running toward the killer. And the wild witch lashed the man with a whip. He screamed louder than the boy.
Kai Ling reeled back from the raw surge. She was as strong as the Prince's daughter. But extremely young and undisciplined.
He stood.
The tableau froze.
The boy thought quickest. He paused only a second, then whirled and raced away.
The others regarded Kai Ling for half a minute. Then the witch turned her mount toward him. He felt the uncertainty growing within her.
Kai Ling let his Aspirant's senses roam the stead. The barn stood out. That was his man's living place. But he was gone.
Faceted rubies tracked the fleeing boy. Lips smiled behind gold. "Bring him to me, child," he whispered.
The raiders formed a line shielding the woman. Swords appeared. Kai Ling glanced at the boy. He waited.
She felt him now, he knew. She knew there had been sorcery in the Zemstvi. She would be wondering....
A raider wheeled suddenly. Kai Ling could imagine his words.
He had been recognized.
He folded his arms.
What would she try?
The fire gnawed at the new house. Smoke billowed up. Kai Ling glanced westward. The child had disappeared.
The witch's right arm thrust his way. Pale fire sparkled amongst her fingertips.
He murmured into his mask, readying his defenses.
She was a wild witch. Untrained. She had only intuitive control of the Power. Her emotions would effect what little control she had. He remained unworried despite her strength.
Kai Ling underestimated the size of the channel fear could open in her. She hit him with a blast that nearly melted his protection.
He fell to his knees.
He forced his hands together.
Thunder rolled across the Zemstvi. The timbers of the burning house leapt into the air, tumbled down like a lazy rain of torches. The sod house twisted, collapsed. The barn canted dangerously.
The cow inside bawled.
The witch toppled from her horse, screaming, clawing her ears. She thrashed and wailed till a raider smacked her unconscious.
The Caydarmen looked uphill. Kai Ling, though unconscious, remained upon his knees. Golden fire burned where his face belonged. They tossed the witch aboard her horse, fled.
Kai Ling eventually fell forward into the gorse, vanishing.
Then only the flames moved on the Kleckla stead, casting dancing color onto the man whose dreams were dying with him.
XVIII
Tain pushed the roan. He met Steban more than a mile from the Tower. The boy was exhausted, but his arms and legs kept pumping.
"Tain!" he called. "Tain, they killed Pa." He spoke in little bursts, between lung-searing gasps.
"You go on to your mother. She's at the Tower. Come on. Go." He kicked the roan to a gallop.
Steban didn't reach the Tower. Rula, having conquered Tain's mule, met him. She pulled him up behind her and continued toward her home.
Tain saw the Caydarmen to the south, but didn't alter course. He would find them when their time came.
It was too late now. Absolutely too late. He had switched allegiance from peace to blood. He would kill them. The Witch would go last. After she saw her protectors stripped away. After she learned the meaning of terror.
He was an angry, unreasoning man. Only craft and cunning remained.
He knew he couldn't face her wild magic armed only with long and shortsword. To do so he had to resume his abandoned identity. He had to become a soldier of the Dread Empire once more. A
centurion's armor bore strong protective magicks.
What amazing fear would course through the Zemstvi!
He pulled up when he topped the last hill.
The after-smell of sorcery tainted the air round the stead. The familiar stench of the Dread Empire overrode that of the Witch....
He hurled himself from the horse into the shelter of small bushes. His swords materialized in his hands. His emotions perished like small flames in a sudden deluge. He probed with Aspirant senses.
They had come. Because of the civil war he hadn't believed they would bother. He had fooled himself. They couldn't just let him go, could they? Not a centurion with his background. He could be too great a boon to potential enemies.