Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

Ki looked around. “She’s facing away from your target.”

Arkoniel’s grin widened as he lit the tip of her arrow with a snap of his fingers. “You only think she is. Get ready to draw on my word, Tamír.”

He moved a few yards away and wove a pattern on the air with his wand.

A small circle of blackness appeared out of thin air near the tip of his wand. At his silent command, it dilated until it was about two feet across. He stepped back. “At this close range, that should be an easy target for a skilled archer like you. If you would?”

Tamír drew and let fly. The flaming shaft struck the black circle dead center and disappeared into it. The circle winked out of existence, leaving no trace of the arrow behind. It should have been quivering in the wooden wall a few yards away, but it had disappeared without a trace.

“Now, if you’d step back to the target,” Arkoniel said.

The burning arrow was embedded dead center in the wooden target, the shaft and fletching already charring black. The thick wood of the target began to smoke as they watched, then burst into flame.

“Saruel added a nice bit of magic to the oil,” Arkoniel explained.

“Yes, anything it touches once it is ignited will burn quite intensely,” the Khatme woman said. “It is very dangerous, not to be handled carelessly.”

“Bilairy’s balls!” Ki laughed. “So you can send an arrow anywhere you like, and it will set whatever it hits on fire? That’s a neat trick.”

Tamír took in the impossible trajectory of the shaft. “How is that possible?”

“It’s just the translocation spell. I visualize where I want an object to go and that’s where it comes out. A normal flame is snuffed out in the transition, but Saruel’s spell makes it strong enough to survive. Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“And you are certain it will work against the ships?”

Arkoniel rubbed at his beard, eyeing the burning target. “Reasonably so, based on the tries we’ve made so far.”

“Amazing,” Tamír said, genuinely impressed.

“That is his gift,” Iya said proudly. “He’s already come up with ideas I’d never have dreamed of. Or anyone else, it seems.”

“Even in Aurënen, no one has ever made such a spell as this,” said Saruel. “The Lightbearer has touched him with special sight.”

“How did my uncle ever dare to turn his back on that immortal?”

“We’ve seen what comes of that,” Iya said. “You are already healing the land and restoring Illior’s favor. And you have Sakor’s as well. They are the patrons of Skala, and you embody them both. That is no accident.”

There was no time to assemble their full force. Even if there had been, Tamír was unwilling to leave Ero completely open to attack on the strength of a single vision. She sent mounted messengers up and down the coast, raising the alarm and summoning more reinforcements from Atyion. There were three nobles with estates within half a day’s ride, but one was already here with his fifty men and the other two had made no effort to acknowledge Tamír’s claim to the throne.

She gathered her generals in Illardi’s library and consulted his maps.

“It’s deep water here where you think they’ll arrive, and a long smooth beach for landing,” Illardi said, pointing to the area in question. “Lots of room to beach longboats or ferry in horses. They’ll most likely rely on swordsmen and archers, and may shoot from the boats as they come in. They’re masters at that.”

“ If they come in,” said Ki. “If I found myself facing a massed army, I’d withdraw.”

“Not if you were a Plenimaran,” Tharin pointed out. “Their Overlord is unforgiving if his orders aren’t carried out to the fullest, no matter what the cost.”

Jorvai nodded. “That’s true. In any case, though, the open beach still works to our advantage.”

“We can mass our archers to the fore, with the cavalry behind,” said Tamír. “Their archers will be scattered and shooting from unsteady boats. No matter how skilled they are, that won’t help their aim. For all the history lessons old Raven gave us, I don’t recall one battle where the enemy won the advantage with that kind of assault.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Tharin warned. “I hate to praise an enemy, but I’ve fought them all my life and they come by their reputation honestly. They’re as fearless as they are brutal.”

“Then we’ll make certain the tide comes in red with their blood.” Tamír turned to the others. “With warriors like you at my back and Illior on our side, how can we fail?”

In the end, she decided on two hundred mounted archers and five hundred more armed riders. Jorvai and Kyman would lead the two wings. She would command the center, with Tharin and her Companions, together with Nyanis and her Atyion companies. Illardi would remain at Ero, to protect the city.

When they’d finished she sent the generals back to their camps but remained in the library with Tharin and her Companions, fanning herself with a folded map. The day had turned out hot.

“So, have you all found squires for yourselves?” she asked. “You’ll be needing them.”

“We have, Majesty,” said Nikides. “I’ll send for them and their kin, for the investiture.”

Iya had suggested privately that it would be wise to promote the kin of Tamír’s allies to the Companions. Tamír had agreed and was pleased to find Illardi, Kyman, and one of Jorvai’s knights all waiting solemnly in the sweltering hall. With them stood two boys and a girl, dressed in full armor in spite of the heat.

The first presented was Illardi’s eldest son, tall, dark-eyed Lorin. He was a good choice; she’d seen the boy sparring in the practice yard and he had skill. The other two were strangers, but looked steady and strong. They all seemed young, and none of them had earned their braids yet, but she’d been younger than them when she’d joined Korin’s Companions.

“Arkoniel had a word with them earlier, too,” Tharin whispered to her. “He was pleased.”

Not standing on ceremony, she joined them by the hearth. “Companions, present your choices.”

Nikides had precedence by birth. “Majesty, I present Lorin, son of the Duke Illardi, and humbly request you accept his service as a squire among the Companions.”

“Do you desire to serve in this manner?” she asked the boy. Lorin immediately fell to one knee and presented his blade. “With all my heart!”

“Duke Illardi, do you give permission for the bond?”

“I do, Majesty,” Illardi replied proudly.

“Then I accept your son into my service. Rise, Lorin, and join hands with your new lord for the bond.”

Lorin clasped hands with Nikides. Duke Illardi unbuckled his sword belt and wrapped the long end around the boys’ hands. “Serve well, my son, your lord and your queen.”

“I swear by the Four,” Lorin vowed solemnly.

“Lord Nikides, I ask that you care for my son as your retainer.”

“By the Four, he will be as a brother to me.”

Una was the next in rank and presented a sun-browned girl with wild blond hair caught back in an unruly braid. “My queen, I present Hylia, daughter of Sir Moren of Colath. She’s one of Ahra’s riders, and we’ve fought together since I joined. I humbly request you accept her service as a squire among the Companions.”

Ki grinned. “I’ll vouch for her, too. We grew up near each other and used to wrestle every time we met.”

The vows were given and Sir Moren gave his daughter a kiss on the brow.

Lynx presented his candidate next, a boy of fourteen named Tyrien, a nephew to Lord Kyman. “His father’s dead and his mother is at home, but I speak for him,” said Kyman, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Tyrien was a head shorter than Lynx, but wiry-looking and strong, and had a hint of Aurënfaie about him, with his large grey eyes and fair skin.