Eric Flint - Much Fall Of Blood

"If the river queen can't deal with them, what can?" asked Dana.

"I think it is more a case of 'won't' than can't," answered the wolf-king. "But they could." he looked at the two wyverns, peering doubtfully at the island fortress.

The two wyverns looked at the water.

"It's wet,"

"And cold.

"And runs too fast."

"On the bank it would be a different matter."

"You are a pair of babes," said Dana. "You fly."

"Not over running water. Not if we can help it."

"All forms of magic have their natural limitations, and it is likewise with magical creatures," explained the wolf-king

"Then we'll just have to deal with it ourselves," said Vlad. "What are the Vila's limitations then?"

"Iron. Fire. And they need to breathe air."

"We could drown the island. Block the river with an earthquake."

"That's not something used lightly," said Angelo. "Earth ties to earth. Move one piece and another must move too."

"We could take the knights in boats…"

"They'd sink the boat."

Dana spoke up. "I am able to affect the flow of the water. Let us stop it."

"And then?" asked Vlad

Dana smiled at the Wyverns. "You two don't mind still water do you? "

They exchanged one of those speaking glances, first with her, then with each other. "Not fond of it. But we can fly over that, yes."

Vlad stood up. "I will go and see the priests."

"Priests?"

"As the wolves have explained by their desire to appear gypsies: people fear the unknown. They do not trust real dragons here. With reason, they are wary of the old powers. They were strong here once. So let us give them something else to believe responsible. I will have the priests on the shore exorcize it. During the night you two can fly over and deal with our green-haired naked women. Then in the morning we can go over and find that prayer worked. And who knows: It may even do so."

Dana liked the idea. "I think we should get the townspeople to sing hymns across the water from the island too."

Vlad nodded. "The more involved they are, the more they will believe."

In the dark of the night two batwinged shapes flew across the still water. The Vila, sitting combing her long, greenish tinged blond hair on the battlements did not see them come. She was too taken up with her narcissistic admiration of herself.

"Fshhh." The wyvern said, taking the end of the blond hair in a taloned forepaw and a slashing another claw across the rest, with a movement more like scalping than cutting. The Vila, shorn, screamed. First in outrage, then in horror, realising what she was facing, as the wyvern shifted colors. She tensed to run.

"Where are you going to run to?" asked the wyvern. "The water won't hide you. And the forest will not give you shelter. You've traded one off against the other for too long."

"And anyway, you will run straight into me," said the other wyvern.

By the next day, when Dana and a small delegation of priests and knights went across, the island was a peaceful place, and very empty.

The only sign of the terrifying women was a large hank of wet, greenish blond hair, next to the battlements.

Dana was close to being considered a local saint. It seemed some measure of fear was a prerequisite for the Drac, but his little sister… she could be a lot better than she actually was.

"The land on the other side of the river-it seems sparsely populated," said Erik.

"Yes. It's Slav land. Nominally ruled by King Emeric too," said Vlad.

"I wonder…" said Erik, tentatively. "Is there ny chance of getting a messenger across it, down into north Eastern Illyria? It can't be more than five or six leagues… to the village of Gorlac."

"Dangerous for a man," said Angelo. "Easy enough for a wolf. We can do it one night."

"Would you please?" Erik asked politely

The King of the wolves nodded. "From what I hear we owe you for saving the girl."

So, at long last, Manfred was able to send a detailed report of his whereabouts and the situation in the lands of the Golden Horde. It included a statement from Tulkun, and Bortai, in Mongol script, destined for the Ilkhan.

Erik was willing to bet few sword strokes could wreak as much havoc as those sheets of paper would. Of course it might take until next spring to get them to where they might do some good.

The winter, having being fairly mild, turned into a harsh season, with more snow. Vlad was able to do little more than consolidate, drill a little, and wait for spring.

To the east, the Golden Horde put aside inter-clan warfare in favor of keeping warm, and, of course, passing the time. A lot of babies would be born nine months later. And, naturally, a lot of stories were told. This was the time of year to strengthen and maintain the core of Mongol tradition, mostly by word of mouth. The story of Tortoise Orkhan was a popular one, across the White horde, and the unaffiliated and disaffected part of the Blue Horde. It was repeated, more clandestinely, even among the women folk of the clans closest to Gatu.

The orkhan called a meeting of his closest advisors. "It is like being pecked to death by sparrows. Every day we get more demands about having a kurultai to choose a new khan. Do they not think that I know what they're doing?"

"In spring…"

"We cannot wait until spring. If we wait until then, we seven in this ger will be the last left," Nogay said glumly. "We've spread gold like water. And all she has spread is this story. And they prefer tradition and stories. The women coo about the romance of it."

"Besides," said another adviser, "they have made an alliance, or at least a truce, with the khan over the mountain. He has let them pass through his territory. They can flank us or raid our gers while we try to fight the White Horde."

"Let us call for a new kurultai," said Gatu thoughtfully.

"You might have lost an election then, Orkhan," said General Nogay, "which is why we took the actions we did. You would definitely lose an election now.

"Yes," said the orkhan. "But you have told me that we have a skilled assassin. Borshar has brought us nothing but trouble so far, not the help we were promised. So let us see if he can be of other use."

Nogay looked thoughtful. "Kildai was supposed to die with the spell that knocked him off his horse. The ancestral tengeri look after that one. He would have to be killed in such a way that no suspicion fell on you, Orkhan."

After Emeric dismissed Count Mindaug, he felt some anxiety over his offer of employment. Mindaug had taken the offer-and gratefully, to all appearances. But the king of Hungary could not help but be somewhat worried.

Emeric's grasp of magic was rudimentary, compared to that of Elizabeth's. In the past, the countess had seen to it that competent practitioners whom Emeric could co-opt were few and far between. She had killed anyone who might rival her, and taken into her own employ those like Mindaug who posed no threat but were highly skilled.

The result was that Emeric had no good way to oversee the work of someone like Mindaug. He didn't know enough, himself. He would have no choice but to trust the count's word for such things-and trust was not something that came easily to the king of Hungary. It didn't come at all, actually.

Still…

He decided he was fretting too much. Elizabeth had never given any indication that she feared treachery from Mindaug, after all. The count's faults were those of fear and timidity-hardly the traits one would expect from an ambitious schemer. Emeric would simply have to see to it that, in a crisis, he over-rode Mindaug's inevitable hesitations.