More stones flew and the walls began to crumble. The woolspiders gained the battlements, looking not at all like sheep with their webbing played out. They affixed it to the crenels, then leaped away into the fight. The web lines tightened and whole sections of the walls flew outward. The woolspiders attacked anything that moved, proving an equal annoyance to the kwajiin as to us.
At one point, in fact, a kwajiin and I broke off our swordplay to each dispatch one of the spiders. He killed his with a quick thrust through the carapace. Armed with two swords, I scissored its head off. The kwajiin and I shared a smile, united in our joint efforts-an omen of how our collaboration could have been.
Then with a casual cut, I matched a slash on his throat to his thin gash of a smile.
“Master Soshir, this way!” Dunos stood in a small sally port, a dead spider before him. His eyes blazed and though his lame arm held one of my old swords weakly, the other blade dripped with dark fluid.
I cut down two of the kwajiin as I dashed for the opening. “Get back, Dunos! Close the gate.” I turned my back to it, ready to deny the kwajiin access. A firm hand on my sash yanked me backward. I stumbled over Dunos and went down, thinking all was lost.
Then bows sang and arrows filled that gap. The first kwajiin fell well shy of the gate, and at least a half dozen fell behind him. Then a giant warrior in the armor of the Virine Jade Bears slammed the gate shut and secured it with a stout bar.
Captain Lumel hauled me to my feet. “There is no holding this place. We’re withdrawing. Come on.”
I sped away with his men and Dunos. Deep in the fortress’ bowels I caught up with Deshiel Tolo, Ranai Ameryne, and other of the xidantzu that had fought by my side. With them waited Count Derael, his wife, son, and Prince Iekariwynal.
The count nodded as best he was able. “The fires have been started. Nothing can stop the destruction.”
“Then get clear. Captain Lumel, you see them out. Dunos, you guard the Prince.” I looked at the rest of the xidantzu. “You have seen the plans. You know the bottlenecks. We hold them as best we can, and when the fortress comes down, we kill the survivors.”
Fighting in the tunnels was not as fierce as I had expected. Nelesquin, happy that his ruse had worked, did not press us. While we killed more than a few kwajiin, they didn’t pursue. We withdrew back through the mountains. I emerged at an overlook above Tsatol Deraelkun.
Fire engulfed the fortress. Its blackened towers vomited fire and smoke like distant volcanoes. Then, one by one, they sank into the inferno. Sparks rose and hot wind issued from the tunnel through which we had escaped. Down below the kwajiin cheered the fortress’ death, but it sounded hollow.
I resheathed my swords and set my feet on the path north. I had beaten Nelesquin at Deraelkun once, and now he had defeated me. I tried to tell myself that this did not worry me, but there was no sense in lying.
Nelesquin had come back from the grave. That victory, and the taking of Tsatol Deraelkun, started a nice string of conquests. That might have been enough to satisfy anyone but Nelesquin. His ambition had been strong enough to return him to life, and I was uncertain if there was much I could do to stop him.
Chapter Fourteen
32nd day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat
Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th Year since the Cataclysm
Ixyll
Though all of the warriors in the Voraxan expedition wished to answer Empress Cyrsa’s call as quickly as possible, they agreed with Borosan that a delay, so he could make their mounts faster, would be a benefit in the long run. The inventor made changes to gearing and other aspects of the mounts, then produced brand-new mounts in the Tolwreen factory. The old ones would be used as pack animals-an idea that saddened Ciras, despite his continued ambivalence about the mechanical beasts.
Vlay found that idea rather amusing. “You are very like Jogot Yirxan, whose blade you bear.”
Ciras swung from the saddle of his new mount, which was bigger, wider, and stronger than the previous one, decorated with a silver filigree of flames and sleeping tigers. “You knew him?”
“Not well. I knew him before he joined the vanyesh.” The swordsman passed a hand over his shaven pate. “He came to jaedun through the sword, then his curiosity got the better of him. He learned much from Nelesquin and Kaerinus.”
Ciras slid his sword from the scabbard. Black sigils writhed over it. “He created this sword and the changing words?”
Vlay smiled. “He did. He was quite proud of it. He said the sword would be the bard to tell his tale.”
Ciras frowned. “I have been given to understand that Prince Nelesquin and the Turasynd struck a bargain.”
“True. Empress Cyrsa sent Virisken Soshir forth with a contingent to destroy the vanyesh.” He looked around at Tolwreen. “Apparently they did not succeed, but hurt them significantly.”
“When they showed us Nelesquin’s skeleton, there were no more than eighty-one remaining.” Ciras returned the blade to the scabbard. “I had an unusual experience the first time I used that blade. It was here, in Ixyll. I was working through the forms and as I imagined foes, they came at me. Turasynd, all of them save one. Why would Yirxan fight with the Turasynd if he was of the vanyesh and they were allies?”
Vlay’s eyes tightened. “As I said, I did not know him well, but I heard things of him even after he joined the vanyesh. I was told he retained his loyalties to the Empress. He was her agent among them. Through him, we learned of the alliance. No doubt the Turasynd would have taken a disliking to his show of allegiance.”
“And the Turasynd could not have reported back if they were all slaughtered.” Ciras nodded, thinking back to the exhilaration he recalled from that exercise. Jogot Yirxan had been exultant in his destruction of the Turasynd. He had likewise been magnificent, facing them fairly, striking them down.
“If this is true, I have to wonder at another thing I saw.”
“What was that?”
“Yirxan struck down a swordsman. He attacked him from behind, wounding him terribly.” Ciras closed his eyes. “I did not see the face of the man he struck, but the crest, it was of a black tiger hunting.”
“A black tiger hunting?”
The surprise in Vlay’s voice prompted Ciras to open his eyes, but he caught no emotion on the man’s face. “You know who that was? I ask because my master, Moraven Tolo, wore that crest. He also had a scar on his chest that corresponded to that cut.”
“You’re certain?”
“As best I can be.”
Vlay pursed his lips for a moment. “The black tiger hunting was worn by the Empress’ lover, the leader of the Imperial Bodyguards. You say his name is Moraven Tolo?”
“I can describe him for you, if you wish.”
The other man shook his head. “No need. If Nelesquin has survived, it stands to reason Virisken Soshir has as well. They were both men of great ambitions-the sort which you are wise to fear, Master Dejote.”
“But that makes no sense.” Ciras frowned. “My master was anything but ambitious. He was xidantzu, and though he was known to Princes, he had no pretensions or wild desires. He did not even want me as an apprentice, but his master insisted.”
“Perhaps I am mistaken, and the matter of crests is merely a coincidence.”
“But the mystery remains. If, as you say, Yirxan was loyal to the Empress, what reason would he have to attack her lover?”
Vlay smiled. “No mystery at all. Soshir was ambitious. The Empress was a means to destroy Nelesquin, his rival. If she made him Prince-consort, Soshir could become the Emperor in all but name. To rise to such heights from so lowly a start would have been remarkable. And yet, he could have risen higher. She ascended, after all, when she killed her own husband. Soshir could kill her, setting to rights the balance, restoring royal blood to the Celestial Throne. That was how Soshir would think.”