There was sweat on the young Mettai's brow, and his skin had turned ashen. His hand even appeared to be trembling. Still, he didn't stop. After some time Enly's color began to improve, as if Bian's grip on his heart had loosened. His face, which had been grey, now had a pinkish tinge. He looked pale still, but Tirnya could definitely see improvement.
"Mander?" Fayonne said, sounding frightened.
He raised a finger on his other hand, as if to silence her. "Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm not done yet."
He continued to heal Enly in silence, pausing once more a short time later to cut himself yet again. Then he resumed his conjuring.
Soon after, Enly's eyes opened and he looked up at the Mettai man. "Thank you," he said in a weak whisper.
Mander smiled faintly, but he didn't open his eyes or speak. He looked terrible.
At last, he opened his hand, glanced down at it as if to convince himself that it was empty, and then let it drop heavily to his side.
"By the gods," Jenoe said, looking at Enly the way he might have regarded a ghost. "I thought you were dead for sure."
"I'm not sure I wasn't," Enly said.
Tirnya's tears had started to fall again, though this time she couldn't keep from smiling.
"Thank you," he said to her, staring up into her eyes.
She swallowed, frightened by how full her heart felt just then. "I just wanted another chance to beat you in the Harvest Tournament. I wasn't going to let you get out of a rematch so easily."
He grinned, turning to Mander. "Thank you as…" He trailed off, his smile fading.
Tirnya looked at the young Mettai and gasped.
His eyes had rolled back into his head, and his face was the same color Enly's had been a short while before.
"Mander?" Fayonne said. "'Mander?"
The man swayed for a moment and then toppled over onto his side. "Mander!" the eldest screamed.
His mouth moved, but Tirnya couldn't hear what he said.
"What?" his mother said, bending closer to him, panic in her eyes. "What was that?"
"I told you there would he a cost," he said, his voice as soft as a Growing breeze.
"No!" the eldest sobbed. "No! Mander!"
But he didn't move again.
Some of the other Mettai led the eldest away. She was sobbing still, and though Tirnya was grateful beyond words for Enly's life, she grieved for the woman and her lost son.
Eventually Enly found the strength to sit up and drink some water, but he remained weak, his movements stiff. As it became clear to all of them that he really was going to survive, they began to realize just how many others had been lost. Scores of Stelpana's soldiers had been killed, and countless others lay wounded on the bloodied grass. The carcasses of the Mettai's creatures were scattered everywhere, but it seemed to Tirnya that none of the beasts remained alive.
Jenoe had ordered his archers back into position, but he stood near where Tirnya still knelt beside Enly, gazing across the plain at the Qirsi.
"What is it they're doing?" he muttered.
Tirnya laid a hand gently on Enly's arm before standing and walking over to her father. The Fal'Borna, she saw, had re-formed their lines. But they gave no indication that they intended to attack.
Gries joined them, looking as puzzled as Jenoe.
"Could they be waiting for us to start fighting again?" "Tirnya asked her father.
"I never would have believed that they'd do such a thing," the Fairlea captain said before Jenoe could answer. "But I think they are."
At that moment, four men rode forth from the white-hair lines. They bore no spears, and they halted halfway between the two armies.
"A parley?" Jenoe asked.
Cries shrugged.
"Get Hendrid," the marshal said. "The four of us will speak with them."
"What if it's a ruse?" Gries asked.
"Then I suppose we'll be killed."
Cries raised an eyebrow, and went to find Waterstone's marshal.
The two of them returned a short while later with their horses as well as Jenoe's and Tirnya's.
"You think this is wise?" Jenoe asked, taking the reins from Cries. "They're on horses," Gries said. "I believe it puts us at a disadvantage to face them on foot."
Jenoe looked at Tirnya.
She nodded, taking a breath. "I agree."
"So do I, actually," Jenoe said. He looked at Hendrid, who nodded in return.
They swung themselves onto their mounts and rode out to meet the enemy, halting a short distance from them and eyeing them warily. Three of the men who waited for them were clearly Fal'Borna. They were stout and broad, with golden-hued skin and long hair worn tied back. The fourth man appeared to Tirnya to be from another clan. His skin was as pale as bone and he was taller than the others, though just as broad. Actually, she'd never seen a Qirsi like him, and she found herself continually glancing his way.
The three Fal'Borna were of different ages. One of the men appeared old for a Qirsi, and the other terribly young. But it was the third man who spoke, breaking a lengthy silence.
"By all rights, you and your army should be dead by now," he said, his voice as deep and cold as ocean waters. "Those of your kind who trespass on our lands rarely live to see their homeland again."
Jenoe smiled thinly. "I've seen no evidence yet that you're capable of killing us. So perhaps you should skip the idle threats and tell us what you want."
The Fal'Borna narrowed his eyes. "Without your Mettai friends, you're nothing."
"And with them we're more than you can handle. So I'll ask you again, what do you want?"
"You were leaving before we caught up with you," the pale stranger said.
"Isn't that so?"
Tirnya's father regarded him with genuine surprise. "I've never heard such an accent before. What clan are you from?"
"I'm from the Forelands," the man said. "But I ride with the Fal'Borna, and I'll die with them if I have to."
Jenoe stared at him for another moment before nodding slowly. "Yes," he said. "We were leaving. We've come to see that we were wrong to start this war, and we wish to return to Stelpana. As you've seen, though, we're willing to fight if you force the matter."
"We won't," said the Fal'Borna man. "If you leave now, we'll allow you safe passage out of our lands. Raise a weapon against us again, and we'll unleash the full might of our magic."
"What about other armies we might encounter between here and the Silverwater?"
"I can speak to other alaqs-Weavers have that ability. I'll tell them to let you pass. But they'll be just as unforgiving if you break your word."
Tirnya thought that her father would reply in kind with a threat of his own, but he seemed to think better of it.
"All right," he said. "We'll need time to care for our wounded, but you have my word as commander of this army that as long as we aren't attacked, we'll do nothing to harm any of your people."
"Done," the Fal'Borna said. He glanced at his companions, wheeled his horse away, and started back toward his army. The other men followed, though the Forelander hesitated just a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply rode away with the others.
"I never thought I'd see this day," Hendrid said, watching them go. "The Fal'Borna agreeing to a truce; who'd have thought it possible?"
"Not me," Jenoe said. "Let's do what we have to and be on our way before they change their minds."
Chapter 25
There were many other wounded in the Eandi army besides Enly, and though none of them was as badly hurt as the lord heir had been, many of them were in terrible shape. Not long after Tirnya, Gries, and the two marshals returned from their parley with the Fal'Borna, one of the Mettai, a man Tirnya had never spoken to before, approached Jenoe. He was slight and shorter than Tirnya, and he had dark hair and dark eyes, like so many of the Mettai.