Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Bring him to me alive, and I’ll pay his ransom in gold,” she told them. “Willfully spill the blood of my kinsman and you’ll have no reward from me.”

“I bet Korin isn’t making that distinction,” Ki observed.

To which Tamír wearily replied, “I’m not Korin.”

The air grew warmer the farther they got from the mountains. There was ample game, and archers were sent out to supplement their dwindling food supplies with venison, hare, and grouse. Her scouting parties found no signs of habitation.

They reached the coast late that afternoon, and Tamír savored the sweet salt air after so many days inland. The rocky coastline was deeply cut with steep-walled bays and inlets. The dark Osiat stretched away to the misty horizon, dotted with a scattering of islands.

Mahti turned north. Open grassland between forest and the sea spread on endlessly before them, flanked on the east by forest. Deer grazed in the meadows, and rabbits broke from cover before their horses.

The land rose, until they were high above the water on a grassy headland. Cresting a rise, Tamír caught her breath, recognizing the place even before Mahti pointed down and said, “Remoni.”

“Yes!” There was the long, deep harbor, sheltered by the two unmistakable islands.

She dismounted and walked to the cliff edge. The water lay hundreds of feet below. In her dreams she’d seen her reflection there, but that had only been an illusion. In reality, there was a sizable expanse of level ground at the base of the cliffs, just the place for a harbor town and jetties. The trick would be to make a passable road up to a citadel on the heights.

Ki joined her. “You really dreamed this?”

“So often I lost count,” she replied. If there hadn’t been so many eyes on them, she would have kissed him, just to make certain Ki didn’t disappear and she didn’t wake up.

“Welcome to your new city, Majesty,” said Arkoniel. “It needs a bit of work, though. I haven’t seen a decent tavern anywhere.”

Lynx stood shading his eyes against the slanting light as she stared down at the harbor. “Uh—Tamír? Where are the ’faie ships?”

In her excitement at finding the place, she’d overlooked that important detail. The harbor below was empty.

They made camp there, setting out pickets to the north and east. As Mahti had promised, there were a number of good springs, and ample wood for a while.

It was several hours before the entire column caught up, and stragglers continued to drift in for hours.

“My people are exhausted, Majesty,” Kyman reported.

Jorvai and Nyanis reported the same when they arrived.

“Tell them they’ve earned a rest,” Tamír replied.

After a meager supper of stale bread, hard cheese, and a handful of wizened berries from the hill folk, she and Ki walked among the campfires, listening to the soldiers brag of battles to come. Those who had fresh meat shared it with them, and in return she asked their names and where they hailed from. Spirits were high, and word of her vision of Remoni had gotten around during the march. The soldiers were taking it as a lucky sign that such a place actually existed and their queen had led them to it.

The waning moon was high in the cloud-wracked sky as they started back for her tent. A fire was burning brightly and her friends sat around it. Still hidden in darkness, she paused, committing the sight of their smiling, laughing faces to memory once again. She’d seen the size of Korin’s force; in a few days’ time they might have little to smile about.

“Come on,” Ki murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I think Nik might have a little wine left.”

He did, and the warmth of it lifted her spirits. They might be hungry and footsore and damp, but they were here.

She was about to turn in for the night when she heard the low, throbbing drone of Mahti’s horn somewhere nearby.

“Now what’s he up to?” Lutha wondered aloud.

Following the sound, they found the witch sitting on a rock overlooking the sea, eyes closed as he made his strange music. Tamír approached quietly. The song was filled with strange ups and downs, croaks and vibrations that reminded her of animal sounds, all strung together on an endless stream of breath. It blended with the cries of night birds and the distant yelp of a fox, and the voices of her army, laughter, singing, and the occasional angry shout or curse, but she didn’t feel magic in it. Relaxing for the first time in days, she leaned her shoulder against Ki’s and gazed out at the moon-washed sea. She could almost feel herself out there, bobbing on the waves like a leaf. She was nearly asleep on her feet when the song ended.

“What was that?” Ki asked softly.

Mahti stood up. “Farewell song. I bring you to Remoni. I go home now.” He paused, looking at Tamír. “I make a healing for you, before I go.”

“I told you before, I don’t need any healing. I wish you’d stay with us, though. We’ll soon need your skills.”

“I not make to fight as you do.” Mahti gazed at her, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I dream of Lhel again. She say don’t forget your noro’shesh.”

Tamír knew that word meant Brother. “I won’t. I’ll never forget her, either. Tell her?”

“She know.” He took up his little bundle and walked with them back to the fire to say his good-byes to Arkoniel and the others.

Lutha and Barieus clasped hands with him.

“We owe you our lives,” Lutha said. “I hope we meet again.”

“You be good guides. Bring me to girl who was boy, just as I say. Bring her to my people. You are friends of Retha’noi.” He turned to Arkoniel and spoke to him in his own tongue. The wizard bowed and said something in return.

Mahti shouldered his horn and then sniffed the breeze. “More rain come.” As he walked away, his feet made no sound on the dry grass and the shadows between the campfires soon swallowed him up as if he’d never been there at all.

Korin dreamed of Tobin nearly every night, and the dreams were much the same. He might be walking through the great hall at Cirna, or in the palace gardens of Ero, and he would spy a familiar figure ahead of him. Each time, Tobin turned to smile tauntingly at him, then ran away. Furious, Korin would draw his sword and run after him, but could never catch up. Sometimes the dream seemed to go on for hours and he would wake tense and sweating, hand clenched around an imaginary hilt.

The dream was different this time, though. He was riding along the edge of a high cliff, and Tobin was waiting for him in the distance. He didn’t run when Korin spurred his horse forward, just stood there, laughing.

Laughing at him.

“Korin?”

Korin started awake and found Urmanis bending over him. It was still dark. The watch fire outside cast long shadows up the walls of his tent. “What is it?” he rasped.

“One of the southern scouting parties found Tobin.”

Korin stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was still dreaming.

“Are you awake, Kor? I said we found Tobin! He’s about a day’s march south.”

“On the coast?” Korin murmured.

“Yes.” The other man gave him an odd look as he handed him a cup of watered wine.

It was a vision , he thought, downing the morning draft. He threw off the blankets and reached his boots.

“He came through the mountains, just as we were told,” Urmanis went on, handing Korin a tunic. “If he tries to march on Cirna, we can easily cut him off here.”

Glancing out through the open flap, Korin saw that it was close to dawn. Porion and the Companions stood waiting.

Korin joined them. “We aren’t going to sit waiting for him any longer. Garol, have the trumpeters raise the camp. Prepare to march.”