John Dalmas - The Lion Returns

At any rate, today the Tigers had proven as hard and strong and athletic as the rakutur, and seemingly better trained.

Rillissa, back in Hithmearc, had been a female rakutu, with Kurqosz her father and some human woman her mother. In an old ylvin manuscript, he'd read that the rakutur weren't connected with the voitik hive mind, but Rillissa had definitely been. Some of the rakutur they'd just fought might have been, too. If so, the voitik high command knew of this battle. So when his Tigers had finished looting the rakutur's equipment and rations, and tethering the captive horses to a lead rope, Macurdy ordered them to move out.

His companies camped that night in the shelter of a dense stand of arborvitae-a "cedar swamp." Sentries were posted, the horses hobbled, and tarps strung up as lean-tos. Innumerable small warming fires were lit in front of them. They had no hay for their horses, but they did have corn and nose bags. And though few if any of the horses were familiar with arborvitae, after a bit some began to browse it. By morning many would, and take no harm from it.

Macurdy bedded down on the snow with Vulkan, without stringing a tarp. While waiting for sleep, he thought about Cyncaidh, whom he'd checked with the morning before, via the great raven connection. Each of the ylf lord's strike forces had averaged more than two raids a week, with casualties that were moderate for all the trouble he'd caused. Macurdy recalled his earlier doubts that the ylver could fight such a nonstandard war! So much for that worry.

He'd check with him again in the morning, he decided, and with the East Ylvin guerrillas. The Ozians were already in business, and the Kormehri and Kullvordi had left to begin harassing supply trains nearer the Deep River.

He'd thought about attacking Kurqosz's headquarters, to see what would happen, and had brought it up with Cyncaidh the day before. The ylf hadn't liked the idea; Kurqosz would probably have sorcerous traps in place. The thought was sobering.

Meanwhile, with Kurqosz's army having difficulties, what sorceries might the voitu be cooking up to deal with supply train raids?

Macurdy was rather good at not worrying until he saw a handle for the problem. Rarely did unacknowledged tensions ambush him with an anxiety attack; ordinarily he trusted his intuitions rather cheerfully. So he didn't dwell now on the possibility of sorceries. It had been a long day in the saddle, walking in the snow occasionally to rest their horses. His thoughts soon bogged down in vague semi-dreams, and he slept.

He didn't waken for hours. When finally he did, it was to sit bolt upright, from nightmare. Slowly he got to his feet, walked off a few yards, and urinated against a red maple, the smell pungent in his nostrils. Then he returned to his place beside Vulkan's bristly bulk. Lying down again, he tried to call back the dream, and examine it. It seemed important-something about Kurqosz-but beyond that it refused to show itself.

To hell with it, he thought. If it's important, the seeds are there. They'll sprout.

The next time he awoke, the sky was paling. Getting to his feet, he oriented himself, then roused his deputy, Captain Skortov, who sent an aide to roust the companies from their sheepskin blankets, and order the company officers and senior noncoms to a conference with the Macurdy.

While Macurdy waited, he described his intentions to Blue Wing, and asked directions. "Backtrack into the hardwoods," the great raven said, "then keep the new sun off your left shoulder." He paused. "Hiding Vulkan, you should reach Road B quite soon. Then go west until"-he paused; he still had trouble judging human travel time-"until sometime past midday. You'll pass four crossroads on the way."

His beady eyes studied Macurdy. "Just the two of you, going to beard the voitik troll in his lair. Hmh! I'd argue if I could suggest an alternative.

"Take care, my friend. I do not want to lose you. I hope you don't plan to knock on his door and introduce yourself."

Macurdy grinned ruefully. "Vulkan will cloak us. It seems to me his cloak will do the job even against voitar. When we get close, we'll probably leave the road, study the place from the edge of the woods. Then we'll decide how to go about it."

By that time his Tiger officers were arriving. When they were all there, Macurdy addressed them. "Tigers," he said, "I'm going to leave you on your own. Skortov will be in command. We can kill hithar and voitar and rakutur till spring, but if I can kill their leader, it'll finish this a lot quicker.

"He's likely to have his headquarters protected by major sorceries, so Vulkan and I are going to give it a try alone. Just the two of us; without even a horse. It's the sort of thing they're not likely to expect. If we don't pull it off, it'll be up to you. If you can bleed the voitar dry, that could win it. And if you can't bleed him dry, make him wish he'd never crossed the Ocean Sea."

It occurred to Macurdy that some voitik adept might sense the spells in his armor and saber, so before leaving, he traded the saber for Skortov's, and his hauberk and steel cap with two Tigers whose sizes matched his own. Then he shook their hands, climbed aboard Vulkan bareback, and left.

"What do you think?" he said to Vulkan as they left the bivouac behind. "Am I crazy?"

Vulkan snorted. ‹Not at all. I've been wondering when you'd make this decision. I'd almost decided to nudge you again.›

Climax And Aftermath

The greatest wizards and sorcerers of antiquity lived and studied under Sorthaelius Halfylvin at Beech Mountain. There a great library of magicks and sorceries was gathered, with extensive notes and commentaries by the masters.

Halfylvin was a powerful mage, but his greatest powers were of intuition, intellect, and discipline. He saw how things interacted, how matters remote to a problem applied to it, and how to test speculations.

He learned to enlarge greatly the power of circles, through configuration, amplification, and control. Configuration being how the members of a circle connected each with the others in the Realm of the Force. But perhaps his greatest advance was to create crystals of power. It is said that a crystal was formed layer on layer, each member of the circle contributing to the spell. Each such crystal contained the essence of each member's soul, harmonizing them all. And only they could use it.

Unfortunately the knowledge was destroyed by the earthquake and firestorm known as Fengel's Punishment.

From: History of Magicks and Sorceries.

Ylvin manuscript dating from the fifth century before Exile.

One of the powers Vulkan had that Macurdy didn't was an infallible sense of position and orientation. Thus they left without waiting for sunrise, and half an hour later reached Road B. Clouds were moving in, concealing the sun, and shortly afterward it began to snow. When it stopped, six hours later, the old snow had been covered by five inches of fresh white. It was the first substantial snowfall since the big storm in Eleven-Month. Meanwhile the air had warmed notably. At midday, it seemed to Macurdy, it wasn't a whole lot below freezing.

He preferred the weather they'd been having, bitter though it had been. With the new snow, Kurqosz could order out his entire cavalry to hunt and track raiders. Though knowing the Ozians, Kormehri, and Kullvordi, they'd no doubt take advantage of it to lead pursuers into ambushes.

Cloaked or not, Vulkan too left tracks. They were not, however, the only cloven tracks. There were both deer and elk around, and to inexperienced observers, Vulkan's prints could pass for elk. Even as Macurdy thought it, Vulkan left the road, to parallel it forty to sixty yards back in the woods. In the woods, of course, the old snow had not been packed by traffic, and travel was somewhat slower. But cloven tracks that went straight down the road for miles might inspire curiosity.