The trek took them a quarter of the way around the lake, then back down into the domain of the Seegg family. They were welcomed most profusely, both because the Seeggs and Yreeus had something of a rivalry going, and because several urZrethi from that duchy had served at Fortress Draconis, including one of the duchess’ cousins. No word had been heard as to her fate, but everyone seemed hopeful.
Silide-tse explained that the next day they would complete their journey through Bokagul and head northwest to Muroso. “I will not be able to accompany you, but I will wish you the best on your journey.”
Because she was going to be leaving them, the company made certain their meal in the guest cork was in her honor. Much food was eaten and much wine drunk, then various among them gave her gifts. Will presented her with a sapphire ring he’d taken from the castle of the Pirate Queen of Wruona. Resolute gave her one of his bladestars and Kerrigan took a piece of wood and magically shaped it into a bracelet that had a rune for each of them on it.
Perrine’s gift was the best, however. She plucked a brown feather from the leading edge of her left wing and offered it to her. “With you as our guide, we have flown through Bokagul. When it is time for you to fly, I shall be your guide.”
The assembled urZrethi all fell mute. Silide-tse’s eyes teared up and her mouth quivered. She said nothing for a long time, then glanced down at the table. “Save for you, I would be long dead. My life is yours, so it shall be lived in your honor, my friends. I shall make you proud.”
Will had to swallow hard, but managed to squeeze that lump out of his throat. He raised his cup. “You’ve called us friends. You’ve shared your home with us. I don’t know about proud, but I couldn’t feel more honored.”
Everyone drank to that, then the urZrethi offered toasts and another choir started singing. Resolute, whose pained expression suggested he was close to killing something, suggested that in lieu of another song, perhaps Will would tell the tale of how he got the ring he’d given Silide-tse. He did, with Silide-tse translating, and their hosts were mightily entertained.
Exhausted, Will finally rose from the table and, from the state of his clothes the next morning, assumed he had fallen asleep before his body actually hit the mattress. The next morning, however, the condition of his clothing mattered little, for he woke with a furious thundering in his head. He clapped his hands over his ears by reflex and discovered two things.
His head did not hurt as if he was hungover, and the thunder wasn’t coming from inside. He opened his eyes and rolled off his bed just in time to hear shouting. He poked his head out and heard another thunderous blast.
“That sounds like…”
“Dragonels, yes.” Resolute growled as he emerged from his hole and strapped on his sword.
Just then Silide-tse came running into the cork. “Hurry, my friends; to arms!” She pointed back the way she had come. “The Aurolani have breached the Seegg gates. They have invaded Bokagul!”
41
Though Neskartu said they would travel by traditional means from his Conservatory to Muroso, the seven-hundred-and-twenty-mile journey lasted less than a week. Drearbeasts drew their sleighs and pulled them swiftly through snow and over frozen ground. The massive ursinoid creatures, with their curved, daggerlike fangs, thick white fur coats with light blue striping, and long claws in flat paws, were feared by many—including most of the students Neskartu had brought with him. But Isaura had seen drear-beasts gamboling as cubs, so felt little dread in their company. As draft beasts they served strongly, though their prickly nature made them a danger to their handlers when either was fatigued.
The journey south did disappoint her in one aspect. Their little caravan swept past Fortress Draconis at night, during a snowstorm, so she never got the chance to see it. For so many years she had heard tales of it, and from childhood it had been the forward post of all evil, harboring troops who would someday stab northward into her mother’s realm. That it had been brought low pleased her, and she would have liked to see it so humbled.
As they neared their goal, they found much evidence of the victorious Aurolani legions that had overrun Sebcia. They had been led by two sullanciri: Anarus and Tythsai, who had once been known as Aren Asvaldget and Jeturna Costasi. Myra’mara had dealt with securing the countryside, and while there were pockets of resistance, Isaura was assured they were shrinking. The day before they reached the front lines around the Murosan town Porjal, one of the kryalniri was assigned to their company and gave them the news.
Isaura found the snow-furred mage pleasant company, especially when a, they conversed in Elvish. He called himself Trib, which was short for Retribution. Having been born on Vorquellyn, choosing such a name was his right—though, as he noted, that was quite a mouthful to shout in the midst of combat.
They reached Porjal, on the northern coast of Muroso, in the middle of the night. The city was located on the western bank of the Green River, which flowed from Bokagul to the Crescent Sea, forming the border between Muroso and Sebcia. As had the refugees before them, the Aurolani forces crossed over the frozen river with ease. They took up positions that cut the city off from the land and prepared to lay siege to it.
As the morning dawned, Isaura got her first glimpse of the city and was surprised at how small it seemed. At its heart were walls that rose up a hundred feet, with towers at hundred-yard intervals going up another thirty beyond. The walls formed a crescent that ran from shore to shore. There were many buildings outside the walls, but they mostly appeared to be slums. The lack of smoke rising from the chimneys suggested they had been abandoned.
Despite that, the pennants flying from towers provided a colorful contrast to the snow. Isaura, strolling along the lines with Trib, pointed to a cross-hatched banner in yellow and red. “That one is very pretty.”
“It marks the presence of the Duke of Porjal. The red shows his blood ties to the royal family. His grandfather and the king at the time were brothers.”
She regarded him in surprise. “You know Murosan history, then?”
The kryalniri shook his head. “You will see that Murosans take great delight in announcing their lineage before entering battle. At least, the mages do, and the duke’s retainers are rather accomplished in that regard as well.”
“I do not follow you.”
Trib let his left hand shade his sapphire eyes, then pointed to pair of black basalt dolmen set on either side of the main road. “Throughout Muroso, you will see structures such as those. They are the stations where wizards stand before engaging in a duel. Our troops have engaged many wizards—some young, some old—who are defending their towns. They advance, announce themselves, then fight. I have lost several of my siblings that way.”
Isaura rubbed a gloved hand over his shoulder. “I am sorry to hear that.”
Trib shook his head. “I had many littermates, Princess, and the best have survived. Ah, look, here comes someone now.”
A little door in the city gate opened and a single figure stepped through. He wore a scarlet robe belted with a white cord and carried a stick that was longer than a baton but shorter than a full staff. White breath trailed back from his mouth as he marched along the road. His blond hair appeared almost as light as the snow, and the mask he wore matched his robe in hue. Above and behind him a number of people peeked out through the wall’s crenellations.
The man moved to the westernmost of the black stones and stood with his back against it. His voice came loud and strong through the crisp air. The gibberers in the camp quieted as he spoke, shifting around to watch him.
“I am Gramn Lyward, son of Con Lyward, Magister of Porjal. I am an Adept, learned in the ways of the Muroso Academy. I will slay all those who come to oppose me.”