‘We cannot cause hurt to him. Only the Flower-Gem can make him go away.’
Ghworg smashed his fist against the frozen ground with a hideous snarl.
Sparhawk held up one hand. ‘Cyrgon has called Klæl,’ he said. ‘Klæl has joined Cyrgon to cause hurt to us. Let us cause hurt to Cyrgon now, not by-and-by. If we cause hurt to Cyrgon, he will fear to aid Klæl when the Flower-Gem goes to cause hurt to Klæl and make him go away.’
Ghworg puzzled his way through that. ‘Your words are good, Anakha,’ he said finally. ‘How might we best cause hurt to Cyrgon now?’
Sparhawk considered it. ‘The mind of Cyrgon is not like your mind, Ghworg, nor is it like mine. Our minds are direct. Cyrgon’s is guileful. He threw your children against our friends here in the lands of winter to make us come here to fight them. But your children were not his main force.
‘Cyrgon’s main force will come from the lands of the sun to attack our friends in the city that shines.’
‘I have seen that place. The Child Goddess spoke first with us there.’
Sparhawk frowned, trying to remember the details of Vanion’s map. ‘There are high places here and to the south,’ he said.
Ghworg nodded.
‘Then, even further south, the high places grow low and then they become flat.’
‘I see it,’ Ghworg said. ‘You describe it well, Anakha.’ That startled Sparhawk. Evidently Ghworg could visualize the entire continent.
‘In the middle of that flat place is another high place that the man-things call the Tamul Mountains.’
Ghworg nodded in agreement.
‘The main force of Cyrgon’s children will pass that high place to reach the city that shines. The high place will be cool, so your children will not suffer from the sun there.’
‘I see which way your thought goes, Anakha,’ Ghworg said. ‘We will take our children to that high place and wait there for Cyrgon’s children. Our children will not eat Aphrael’s children. They will eat Cyrgon’s children instead.’
‘That will cause hurt to Cyrgon and his servants, Ghworg.’
‘Then we will do it.’ Ghworg turned and pointed toward the landslide. ‘Our children will climb Klæl’s stairway. Then Ghnomb will make time stop. Our children will be in the high place before the sun goes to sleep this night.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘Good hunting,’ he growled, turned and went back to join his fellows and the still terrified Trolls.
‘We still have to proceed as if things were normal,’ Vanion told them as they gathered near the fire a couple of hours past noon. The sun, Sparhawk noted, was already going down. ‘Klæl can probably appear at any time and any place. We can’t plan for him – any more than we can plan for a blizzard or a hurricane. If you can’t plan for something, about the only thing you can do is take a few precautions and then ignore it.’
‘Well spoken,’ Queen Betuana approved. Betuana and Vanion were getting along well.
‘What do we do then, friend Vanion?’ Tikume asked.
‘We’re soldiers, friend Tikume,’ Vanion replied. ‘We do what soldiers do. We get ready to fight armies, not Gods. Scarpa’s coming up out of the jungles of Arjuna, and I’d expect another thrust to come out of Cynesga. The Trolls will probably hamper Scarpa, but they can only move out a short way from those mountains in southern Tamul Proper because of the climate. After the initial shock of encountering Trolls, Scarpa will probably try to go around them.’ Vanion consulted his map. ‘We’ll have to have forces in place to respond either to Scarpa or to an army coming out of Cynesga. I’d say that Samar would be the best location.’
‘Sarna,’ Betuana disagreed.
‘Both,’ Ulath countered. ‘Forces in Samar could cover everything from the southern edge of the Atan Mountains to the Sea of Arjuna and be in position to strike eastward to the southern Tamul Mountains if Scarpa evades the Trolls. Forces in Sarna could block the invasion route through the Atan mountains.’
‘His point’s well taken,’ Bevier said. ‘It divides our forces, but we don’t have much choice.’
‘We could put the knights and the Peloi in Samar and the Atan infantry in Sarna,’ Tynian added. ‘The lower valley of the River Sarna’s ideal for mounted operations, and the mountains around Sarna itself are natural for Atans.’
‘Both positions are defensive,’ Engessa objected. ‘Wars aren’t won from defensive positions.’
Sparhawk and Vanion exchanged a long look. ‘Invade Cynesga?’ Sparhawk asked dubiously.
‘Not yet,’ Vanion decided. ‘Let’s wait until the Church Knights get here from Eosia before we do that. When Komier and the others cross into Cynesga from the west, that’s when we’ll want to come at the place from the east. We’ll put Cyrgon in a vice. With that sort of force coming at him from both sides, he can raise every Cyrgai who’s ever lived, and he’ll still lose.’
‘Right up until the moment he unleashes Klæl,’ Aphrael added moodily.
‘No, Divine One,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘Bhelliom wants Cyrgon to send Klæl against us. If we do it this way, we’ll force the issue in a place and time that we choose. We’ll pick the spot, Cyrgon will unleash Klæl, and I’ll unleash Bhelliom. Then all we have to do is sit back and watch.’
‘We’ll go to the top of the wall the same way the Trolls went, Vanion-Preceptor,’ Engessa said the following morning. ‘We can climb as well as they can.’
‘It might take us a little longer,’ Tikume added. ‘We’ll have to push boulders out of the way to get our horses up that slope.’
‘We will help you, Tikume-Domi,’ Engessa promised.
‘That’s it, then,’ Tynian summed up. The Atans and the Peloi will go south from here to take up positions in Sarna and Samar. We’ll take the knights back to the coast, and Sorgi will ferry us back to Matherion. We’ll go overland from there.’
‘It’s the ferrying that concerns me,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Sorgi’s going to have to make at least a half-dozen trips.’
Khalad sighed and rolled his eyes upward.
‘I gather you’re going to embarrass me in public again,’ Sparhawk said. ‘What am I overlooking?’
‘The rafts, Sparhawk,’ Khalad said in a weary voice. ‘Sorgi’s gathering up the rafts to take them south to the timber markets. He’s going to lash them all together into a long log-boom. Put the knights in the ships, the horses on the boom, and we can all make it to Matherion in one trip.’
‘I forgot about the rafts,’ Sparhawk admitted sheepishly.
That log-boom won’t move very fast,’ Ulath pointed out.
Xanetia had been listening to their plans intently. She looked at Khalad and spoke diffidently, almost shyly. ‘Might a steady wind behind thy logs assist thee, young Master?’ Xanetia asked Khalad.
‘It would indeed, Anarae,’ Khalad said enthusiastically. ‘We can weave rough sails out of tree-limbs.’
‘Won’t Cyrgon – or Klæl – feel you raising a breeze, dear sister?’ Sephrenia asked.
‘Cyrgon cannot detect Delphaeic magic, Sephrenia,’ Xanetia replied. ‘Anakha can ask Bhelliom whether Klæl is similarly unaware.’
‘How did you manage that?’ Aphrael asked curiously.
Xanetia looked slightly embarrassed. ‘It was to hide from thee and thy kindred, Divine Aphrael. When Edaemus did curse us, he did so arrange his curse that our magic would be hidden from our enemies – for thus did we view thee at that time. Doth that offend thee, Divine One?’
‘Not under these circumstances, Anarae,’ Flute replied, swarming up into Xanetia’s arms and kissing her soundly.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_9afafbc2-ed87-5bdf-9f18-59bcfb95382b)
The log-boom Captain Sorgi’s sailors had constructed from the rafts was a quarter of a mile long and a hundred feet wide. Most of it was taken up by the huge corral. It wallowed and wobbled its way south under threatening skies, and it was frequently raked by stinging sleet-squalls. The weather was bitterly cold, and the young knights who manned the raft were bundled to the ears in furs and spent most of their time huddled in the dubious shelter of the flapping tents.
‘It’s all in attention to detail, Berit,’ Khalad said as he tied off the rope holding the starboard end of one of their makeshift sails in place. ‘That’s all that work really is – details.’ He squinted along the ice-covered line of what was really much more like a snow-fence than a sail. ‘Sparhawk looks at the grand plan and leaves the details to others. It’s a good thing, really, because he’s a hopeless incompetent when it comes to little things and real work.’
