The mages were bunched in small groups protected by archers, many of them arranged in steps on the great observation platform. To his magical senses they floated at different levels in the air depending on where they stood on the platform. Each mage appeared in his magical vision as a series of bead groups; these glittered with an overlay of Yanjingyi magic. He felt the clash between the magic and the wood’s own power: Didn’t the Yanjingyi mages understand how much more powerful their spells would be if they worked with their materials?
He picked at the alien spells for a moment, curious, then gave up. Whatever they did, it was dedicated to the destruction of the Gyongxin army and the kind of pain that had made Rosethorn scream. He was going to do his best to do some damage to them and to the mages who wielded them.
Briar gave one set of beads a mage’s tap. It released the magic that had been forced on them: The wood was already dry and brittle from lack of care. The beads shattered; the oak ones spraying splinters into the mage’s face, the tough gingko beads cutting the string on which they were threaded. Briar searched for the next cluster of beads, creaking under their magical burden, and tapped them until they broke. When he found a mage who had strung his beads on cotton or linen, he coaxed the fibers to part and gave the beads enough strength to roll out of all reach. Each time he parted a mage from his beads, Briar immediately turned his attention to the next one, hoping to stop any of them from making Rosethorn suffer again.
Briar was deep in a mage trance at her side when Rosethorn sat up with a moan. Riverdancer and her fellow shamans sat close by, sharing dumplings.
“The work here continues,” the translator said, motioning to a group of shamans who danced at the front of the army. Mages in the robes of different temples were nearby, also busy with spell signs and gestures. “There were more of the zayao bombs, one batch over our eastern flank and one over the road behind us. The shamans called up a very strong wind high in the air. It blew half of the zayao balls aimed at our eastern flank onto open ground.” She touched her clasped hands to her head and lips in a prayerful gesture. “The general ordered our people off the road, thinking the enemy might strike there, so the bombs did not kill as many as they could have done. Now they have stopped the zayao bombs, because someone put too many trees in the way.”
Rosethorn cursed bombs and the enemy under her breath. On the slopes below she could see screaming horses and the slumped bodies of soldiers. How many of the wounded and dead were men and women she had joked with, or healed, before? And when would she be able to help the healers again? She felt wrung out. The wind blew the stench of scorched meat and the dark, bleak scent of black powder into her face. Her stomach rolled.
She looked up, and her blood quickened. There was something … off … about the gigantic observation platform that had been at the heart of the imperial army. She got to her feet, shielding her eyes from the sun. Sections of the steps on the platform had collapsed, as if worms had eaten the wood. She could not see well enough to tell if there were bodies on them or not. And part of the entire platform listed sharply to the east. It looked as though a hole had appeared there, knocking the whole monstrous structure off balance.
To the west, on the open field, the city gates opened. Warriors dashed from Garmashing to attack the Yanjingyi army’s western flank; Gyongxin and Kombanpur troops charged past the resting shamans to fight on its southern front. Arrows flew in three directions. The translator was right: So many trees now grew between the observation platform and the Gyongxin army that it was impossible to target it with boulders or zayao bombs. The trees obstructed all vision for the remaining, more distant catapult engineers. They had as much chance of dropping a bomb or boulder on their own troops. Now the battle was down to archers and warriors. Everything was shrieking, bloody chaos, with no way to tell who was winning.
She took a breath and entered her mage’s trance. She would look for wood beads among the enemy’s mages, and see if she could turn them on their masters.
Evvy and Luvo had run out of catapult stones to turn to gravel. Evvy wasn’t tired in the least. Working with Luvo seemed to keep her strong. She wanted to do as much harm as she could. Turning her attention to the land, she filled as many middle-sized stones with power as she could and shook her magic. The stones were loose on the ground, having been stepped on by humans and horses and rolled over by carts and wagons. They moved easily at Evvy’s urging. Warriors and horses alike lost their footing. They backed up, crowding those behind them. Some fell as they discovered the ground in back of them or to the side was no more stable than that on which they stood.
Evvy heard screaming. She opened her eyes, back in her body again. A reddish cloud rolled toward them from the imperial lines.
“What is that?” she whispered.
It swept over part of Sayrugo’s troops as they fought a Yanjingyi company. When it cleared, the group of warriors — Yanjingyi and Gyongxin, as well as their horses — lay on the ground, their bodies twisted in agony. Evvy whimpered.
The shamans and their guards ran into the clear space in the middle of Sayrugo’s, Parahan’s, and Souda’s troops. Those with gongs rattled them all at once. As they did, the shamans spun counterclockwise. They then came together in a circle and turned counterclockwise again, chanting an eerie, deep-toned spell. They halted; those with gongs pounded them. The shamans whirled. Then they entered their circle and turned counterclockwise, chanting. With each repetition the earth boomed and the air shivered.
With the fourth repetition the red cloud stopped in its advance. It, too, began to spin counterclockwise, pulling in on itself and rising. Slowly, so slowly at first that she couldn’t be sure, the funnel retreated, or advanced on its own army. It had become a tornado.
The Yanjingyi soldiers directly in front of it panicked. They ran, fighting with fellow soldiers who were in the way. Some of the officers, mounted on horses, rode them down, lashing them with whips. Others galloped out of the tornado’s path. The cavalry farthest from the panic charged forward.
Taking advantage of the enemy’s confusion, Parahan led a charge of horsemen at the imperial lines. Evvy threw herself into the stones underground and raced ahead to help. She grabbed for sandstone: There was much more of it under the flat plain than in the hills. Finding pieces of it, she called the quartz crystals in it to her. They popped free of the other minerals and followed her as stone after stone went to pieces. Suddenly the Yanjingyi cavalry horses were charging in sand.
Evvy was dizzy. She left her crystals and returned to her body. She was aware enough to do that. There she made the discovery that she was too weak to move or call for help. She squinted down at the field. Sayrugo’s and Parahan’s soldiers were cutting a huge gap in the Yanjingyi lines. On her left, soldiers were pouring out of Garmashing. They smashed into the imperial army. Everything on that side was a mess. The Yanjingyi warriors were retreating if they could. The tornado was chopping the side of the imperial army on her right to pieces. Now it was shrinking, too. Dead soldiers and horses lay everywhere.
Where was Luvo in her magic? She groped with her power and found a rope that seemed to lead to him. It took her to a side of the observer’s platform that was falling into a hole in the ground. Since she hadn’t caused that, and his rope led her there, she wondered if Luvo was responsible. The Yanjingyi soldiers wouldn’t like seeing their generals tilting sideways.