Eric Flint: This Rough Magic

"A matter of opinion," said Benito angrily.

"Not really," said the nymph. "We see deeper into the spiritual side of you humans than you can. And our sister Juliette would not allow harm to come to Alessia. Since her mother sacrificed herself for the island, we of nonhuman kind feel repayment to her child is the great Goddess's justice."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a poplar tree to fell. The first part of my justice."

The nymph plainly realized just which tree he was speaking about. She winced. "Retribution won't help, Benito. And you will hurt many of those who are trying to help the child. Our kind depend on the protection of the Mother Goddess. Maria is the living embodiment of that Goddess."

Benito shrugged. "That's what you say. As far as I can work out, De Belmondo at best helped Maria kill herself, deprived Alessia of her mother and me of my anchor. I don't look on what I am going to do as revenge. I'd call it prevention of this ever happening again. As for the nonhumans: You're long-lived. Don't tell me this hasn't happened before. Don't tell me it was always a case of siege and starvation. You let probably miserable women do this, time and again, leaving broken hearts and spirits in their wake-for your benefit. You were content to benefit from their misery. You just let it pass. You had your chance to do something. You didn't. Now you must suffer the consequences."

The Crenae-nymph wilted back somewhat from the sheer force of his bitterness. There was some justice in what he said. Most of Aidoneus' brides had gone to him deeply unhappy.

"If we arranged it so that you could speak to Maria… you could see that we and the priestess spoke the simple truth. Would that be acceptable to you? She isn't dead, Benito Valdosta. Just beyond the reach of mortals, creating life and light into the shadow world so that it may be reborn into ours."

Benito shook his head. "I only look stupid, nymph. I'm not gullible. You nonhumans are masters of illusions. I'd want to see, touch and be sure this was Maria, before I trusted. And then I'd bring her home."

The nymph bit her lip. "You could try. She-like you-doesn't belong in the Kingdom of the Dead. Aidoneus can do nothing to stop you. She is there by her choice. And while glamour may work on other people-we know it doesn't work on you. You can see us."

"Probably because you choose to be seen. The honest truth is that I don't trust you, I certainly don't trust that priestess of yours, and I don't trust this great Goddess cult. Show me and I might change my mind. It's not likely, though."

The nymph nodded. "Very well. We'll arrange it. You will need to take a boat to the Acheron and then go to Acheroussia, the lake of lamentation."

"You tell me where and when, and I'll be there," said Benito. "I'll have to break out of here, and I'll have to take a bit of care about that. I've got responsibilities now."

The nymph lifted a shoulder. "Then why don't you wait? The Venetian fleet is coming tomorrow and with it your brother, the mage Marco. You can give Alessia into his care."

"Very well. I'm going to go and read up on this Acheroussia and this Aidoneus. I never saw the sense in book-learning before. I'm beginning to understand its purpose. Your tree and your temples have a respite. But it is a temporary one. And I'm going to take steps to see that just killing me won't get your lot off the hook." His expression left no doubt about the reality of that threat.

In shrines across the island, women enacted the rites of spring, danced the star dances, to the sound of the reed-pipes. And this year the embodiment of the great Goddess, She who is fertility and new life, responded with a vigor not seen for many a century.

Renate had the satisfaction of knowing that the new avatar was the strongest for many years. The women who had gone as willing brides weren't usually of the caliber of Maria.

She also knew that Maria had brought a dark cloud to rest over the old religion's centuries of invulnerability. From time immemorial the great Goddess's place had been something immovable in the face of changing times.

Now it met a force that would not be stopped.

"I told you I would help," Maria said, stubbornly, but with no little pride.

He laughed; she was a little startled. She hadn't expected a laugh out of him. "So you did," he said. "So-you, whose magic is of the earth and life-what is it that you think you can do in war?"

Maria paused, and thought, and remembered a certain legend she'd heard, sung by a troubadour at Kat's wedding-feast. The man had run out of love songs, and, in desperation, was trotting out some wildly inappropriate ballads.

This one was about Saint Joseph of Arimathea, and his staff, and a thorn-tree.

"I'll show you," she said, taking a deep breath, and gathering in her power.

She began on land, for everywhere in Emeric's camp there was wood. Tent-poles, wagon-wheels, gun-carriages. Where the blessed rain fell on them, she reached with her power, woke up the wood, and reminded it that it had been alive once, and growing. She passed over the land with her power, and His, stretched out in a great shadow behind her. And where her shadow fell, whatever could grow, did. Whatever had once grown, grew again. On the plains of desolation, a carpet of flowers grew.

And trees. Many of them. Growing out of what had been Emeric's weapons of war. Which he would not be moving again any time soon, if at all-for out of life, comes death, and his mighty cannons were not faring well at all beneath her rains.

Now she turned her attention toward the siege on the water. True, water was not her province. But eventually, all ships come to land-or have earth aboard them, in the form of ballast. And where earth was, so was she…

Beside her, the Lord of Shadows laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Emeric looked at the stream of muddy water creeping into his ornate gilded pavilion and swore. It had been raining now for five days. Sometimes it had slacked off to a drizzle. But mostly it had just poured. The homunculus Elizabeth had provided had plainly been destroyed. Emeric had to regard any magician who could do that with respect. The resultant rain was making the siege into a disaster. The Spianada was a quagmire. The accursed Venetians used the chaos ensuing when the Hungarian cannon were turned on Emeric's own men, and the burning of the camp by raiders, to retake the outer curtain wall.

They probably couldn't hold it… if the rain let up. But the rain was altering everything. The rain had flooded the mine; it had also flooded the gap between the moles, washing one away and making the other unstable. Emeric had insufficient tents for his men after the fire, and the mosquitoes had used the rain as a time to catch up on a winter's worth of breeding. The night-air hummed with them. Emeric could only hope the Venetians in the Citadel and the insurgents in the mountains were suffering just as much. But apparently the sea breezes gave the Citadel some relief, and the higher places were never as bad.

What was truly worrying were the reports of disease starting to break out in the crowded quarters. It appeared to be some sort of cyclic fever. What the locals called "malaria." It was apparently something they'd mostly lived through as children. Emeric's troops largely came from areas where it didn't occur. Without that childhood immunity, the soldiers who caught it often died.

A rider came galloping up through the rain. "Sire, the Venetian and Imperial troops have landed in Sidari. We think at least twenty thousand men."

Emeric closed his eyes. "Call the admiral."

"He is coming up the hill, Sire."

Emeric and the admiral looked at the hulls of the galleys. They wouldn't be sailing anywhere in those vessels.