David Coe - The Dark-Eyes War

Upon seeing them riding back toward the army, Jenoe called a halt. Tirnya, who as usual rode between Stri and her father, glanced at Enly, her cheeks flushed. He couldn't tell if she looked eager or frightened.

"Report," Jenoe said, as the two men stopped in front of him.

They were both young soldiers from Qalsyn-Enly assumed that they came from Stri's company, or maybe Tirnya's. One of them had a wispy beard and mustache that were blond, like his hair, and barely visible. The other one appeared too young to manage even that much.

"There's a village up ahead, Marshal," the bearded one said. "Very small. But a village jes' th' same."

"It's called a sept," Gries said quietly.

The others looked at him briefly.

"Well, whatev'r i' is, 't's small. Can' be more 'n hundred people."

"All septs look small to men who come from the larger cities of the sovereignties," Gries told them. "Most of our soldiers can only compare the settlements to their homes, and its not a helpful comparison."

"You seem to know a good deal about the Fal'Borna, Captain," Jenoe said.

"My father has taught me much, Marshal. Perhaps he knew that this war would come eventually."

"How big is the paddock?" Enly asked.

Cries looked at him and nodded approvingly at the question. The scout appeared puzzled. "Th' what?"

"The paddock," Gries said, facing the man again. "How many horses are grazing beside the… the village?"

The young soldier turned to his companion and shrugged. "I don' know. D' you?"

"A lot," the other man said. "Couple o' hundred a' least. Bu' we didn' see any white-hairs. No' one."

"They're there," Gries said. "They wouldn't flee the sept and leave their horses behind. More likely they spotted these two or learned of our approach.

They'll be ready for us."

"Do you have any idea how many warriors this sept might have?" Jenoe asked him.

"With that many horses, they'll have several hundred people in their sept."

Jenoe nodded. "So roughly half of them would be warriors."

"No," Cries said. "The Fal'Borna are as patriarchal as any clan in the Southlands. But you're about to attack one of their septs. Every person in that settlement who's old enough to carry a weapon is a warrior. And every one of them past his or her fourth four will be able to wield magic."

Jenoe and Tirnya exchanged a look.

The marshal faced the scouts again. "Well done," he said. "I need for one of you to go to the back of our column, find the leader of the Mettai, and bring her to me."

Before either man could respond, Enly said, "I'll get her."

Jenoe furrowed his brow. "Really, Captain, I was hoping that you'd remain here and help us devise a strategy."

"I doubt that I have much to offer, Marshal. I trust Captain Ballidyne to speak for me."

Tirnya couldn't have looked more surprised.

Jenoe, however, seemed to understand. "Very well, Captain. Please bring her to me as quickly as possible."

"Of course." Enly turned his mount and rode at a brisk canter back past the other soldiers to the small cluster of Mettai villagers. The villagers were all sitting on the ground, despite a light covering of snow from a squall the previous night. Seeing him approach, Fayonne rose. After a moment, her son did as well.

"You're looking for me, I assume," the eldest said.

"Yes. The marshal wishes a word with you. Our scouts have spotted a sept ahead. It looks as though we'll be facing the Fal'Borna before the day is through."

Fayonne didn't look formidable in any traditional sense. She was small, so thin as to be almost waiflike. The years had whitened her hair and left deep lines on her face. But at the mention of the Fal'Borna she didn't quail, or widen her dark eyes, or betray any hint of the fear that Enly himself felt. He couldn't help but admire her courage.

"I'd like to bring my son," she said in an even voice. "I believe he'll be of value in any discussion of tactics."

Mander's expression didn't change. He stared back at Enly as if daring him to refuse the eldest's request.

"Of course," Enly said. "Please follow me."

He turned Nallaj, his bay, and began to lead the two Mettai toward the front of the column. He noticed that soldiers from all the armies were watching them, their eyes seemingly drawn to the Mettai like moths to a flame. There was fear in the looks they gave the woman and her son, and hostility as well. Once again, Enly wondered if this alliance Tirnya and Jenoe had forged with the sorcerers would work. Allies were supposed to trust one another. And he saw no trust at all in the way Stelpana's soldiers regarded these two.

By the time they returned to the front of the column, Jenoe, Tirnya, and the others had dismounted and were standing in a loose circle. Seeing them approach, Jenoe stepped away from Marshal Crish and the captains, a smile fixed on his youthful face.

"Eldest," he said. "Thank you for joining us. Did Captain Tolm tell you why we stopped?"

She nodded. "He said there's a sept ahead."

"That's right. We believe it's a large one, with several hundred Fal'Borna warriors. Their paddock is full, but our scouts saw no people at all." Fayonne made a sour face. "You gave yourselves away."

The marshal bristled, and Enly wondered if he'd reply in anger. After a moment, though, he merely said in a tight voice, "So it would seem."

"That's unfortunate," Fayonne went on. "It will make this more difficult.

They'll raise a mist and I'd imagine they'll try to unnerve your horses with their magic. And when you're close enough, they'll use shaping power against you."

"What would you suggest we do?" Jenoe asked.

She looked at her son, who was staring at the ground, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

But to Enly's surprise, he was the one who answered.

"There are about fifty of us," he said, "and I think we'd be best off dividing ourselves into three or four groups. One group can use fire against their shelters. Another can use a finding spell. And still-"

Enly held up a hand. "Wait. What's a finding spell?"

Mander grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "It's magic that seeks out other magic. We can spread it over the village and if the white-hairs are hiding, it will show where they are."

"Can it be used to find a specific kind of magic?" Gries asked. Mander and his mother exchanged looks.

"I don't know," the man said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Can it find Weavers?" Gries turned to Jenoe. "If we could identify the Weavers by sight, it would make fighting them much easier. We could have our bowmen concentrate all of their fire on the leaders. If we kill them, defeating the rest would be easy."

"Can you do this?" Jenoe asked the Mettai.

Mander looked uncertain. "We can try."

"There was more," Tirnya said. "You weren't done telling us which magics you'd use."

He nodded. "Right. The last thing we should do is conjure wolves, and send them in along with the army."

Jenoe frowned. "Wolves?"

The smile returned to Mander's face. "Not just any wolves. B-" Fayonne touched his arm and shook her head.

"Enchanted wolves," Mander went on a moment later, still eyeing her. "Intelligent, powerful, and immune to language of beasts. The white-hairs wouldn't be able to confuse them with their magic."

"You've done this?" Gries asked.

"We know how to do it," Fayonne said. "Some spells have been passed down for generations. This is one of them. It was used long ago, early in the Blood Wars."

Fairlea's captain shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing." He looked at Enly. "Have you?"

"It doesn't matter if you've heard of it," Tirnya said before Enly could answer. "This is just what we've been hoping for. We've known all along that early in the Blood Wars things were different. The Eandi did well against Qirsi magic. Now we know that some of the spells used back then survive to this day. We should use them all."