'Death,' said Duvodas coldly. 'And it is but the beginning.'
The Pearl at his side was forgotten now, as was his mission, as slowly he began to walk towards the new forest. Trees and roots shrank away from him, creating a path.
'Where are you going?' Capel called out.
'To destroy the Daroth,' said Duvodas, striding on faster now.
And the forest closed in around him.
Leaving his lieutenant in charge of the convoy, Capel made the seven-mile ride to Corduin to report the bizarre events of the day. Despite the imminence of the Daroth threat, the Duke felt compelled to ride out to the scene of the slaughter. With Vint, Necklen and twenty lancers, the Duke arrived at the scene just before dusk.
The group drew rein at the edge of the forest. The bodies of the Daroth horses hung, skewered into the tree-tops. The Daroth corpses had withered away to dry skin, flapping in the evening breeze.
'I have never seen - or heard of - anything like it,' said the Duke. 'How could this happen?' No one answered him.
'I wish the sorcerer had come back to Corduin,' said Vint. 'We could certainly use him there.'
'Who was he?' asked the Duke.
'A harpist, sir. He sang at the Wise Owl tavern. I heard him once or twice; he was very good.'
'His name is Duvodas, my lord,' put in Capel.
The Duke turned his hooded eyes on Capel. 'My apologies, Captain, for doubting your story. It sounded incredible. But here is the evidence, and I do not know what it means. You had best rejoin the column, and I wish you good luck on your journey.'
Capel saluted. 'And may good fortune be with you, sir,' he said. Then he swung his horse and galloped off towards the south.
The riders reached Corduin just after dark and the Duke summoned Karis to his private chambers. The warrior woman looked drawn and tired, and there was about her a nervous energy that concerned Albreck. 'I hope you are getting enough rest, General,' he said, offering her a seat.
'Not a lot of time for rest, my lord. Apart from the attack on the convoy, our scouts report the main Daroth army is camped less than a day's march from the city.'
'So close? That is unfortunate.'
'They halted their march at the same time as the forest miracle,' said Karis. 'I would imagine the scale of the slaughter has given them a nasty shock. They would have had no reason to believe that any human would have such power.'
'I am rather shocked myself. How could this man have accomplished such a feat?'
'Vint is questioning the tavern-keeper, Ceofrin, and I have had a long conversation with Tarantio. It seems that Duvodas was raised among the Eldarin, who taught him many secrets of magic. Tarantio is stunned by the events; he maintains that Duvodas was a pacifist, wholly opposed to war and violence.
He also told me a strange tale concerning Sirano.' Karis told the Duke of the attempted rescue of Sirano at the monastery, the coming of the Daroth and the recovery of the Eldarin Pearl.
'Sirano was right,' said the Duke, bitterness in his voice. 'The Pearl is a fearsome weapon. Why did this harpist not bring it to us? We could have destroyed the Daroth utterly!'
'Perhaps it is best that he did not,' answered Karis. 'Ever since Sirano unleashed his magic against the Pearl, nothing has been the same. And we cannot spend valuable time concerning ourselves with speculation. Perhaps within a day the enemy will be upon us. That must be our prime concern.'
Albreck offered Karis a goblet of wine, but she refused. 'I must leave you, my lord. I am meeting Ozhobar at his forge.'
'Of course,' said Albreck, rising with her. 'But first tell me how your plans are progressing.'
She shrugged. 'That is hard to say, sir. The weapons are untried against the Daroth, and much depends on the strategies they adopt.'
'And what of your strategies, Karis?'
She gave a weary smile. 'In war it is best to act, and therefore force your enemy to react. We do not have the luxury of such a strategy. To attack the Daroth on open ground would be suicidal, therefore the first advantage is his. When you add to that the simple fact that our enemy is telepathic, and many times more powerful than any human warrior, our problems become mountainous. Because of their mental powers I cannot even explain my tactics to my commanders, for fear that the Daroth will discover them. All in all the prospects are bleak.'
'You sound defeatist,' he said.
Karis shook her head. 'Not at all, sir. If the Daroth act as I suspect they will, then we have a chance to hold them. If we can beat off their first attack, we will further sow the seeds of doubt in them. The miracle of the forest will have worried them. If we stop them without magic, it will worry them further. And doubt is a demon that can destroy an army.'
Duke Albreck smiled. 'Thank you, General. Please continue your duties.'
Karis bowed and left the room. Moving through to the rear of his apartments, the Duke lit two lanterns and stood staring at the armour hanging on the wooden frame. It had been his grandfather's, and had been worn by his father in several battles. Albreck himself had never worn it. The helm of iron, polished until it shone like silver, was embellished with the golden head of a roaring lion. The image of a lion had also been added in gold to the breastplate. It was altogether garish and hideously eye-catching. Albreck had always viewed it with distaste.
'A ruler has to be seen by his warriors,' his father had told him. 'And seen in battle as a colossal figure, head and shoulders above other men. A leader must be inspirational. This armour you sneer at, boy, serves that purpose. For when I wear it, I am Corduin.'
Albreck remembered the day his father had led the army from the city. He had watched, with his mother and brother, from an upper balcony in the palace. And that night, when the victorious Duke had returned, he had understood his father's words. In the moonlight his father had looked like a god.
The memories brought a sigh from him, and he drew the longsword from its scabbard. It was blade-heavy, a knight's weapon, designed to be wielded from the saddle, striking down at enemy foot soldiers.
Albreck returned it to its scabbard.
A servant entered bearing a tray. 'Your supper, my lord,' he said.
'Set it upon the table.'
'Yes, my lord. Very fine armour, my lord.'
'Indeed it is. Tomorrow have it returned to the museum.'
'Yes, my lord.'
Albreck returned to the main room and sat down by the fire, leaving the meal untouched. He fell asleep in the chair. His night servant found him there, and covered him with a soft blanket.
Avil had never achieved any promotion. He had been a scout now for six years, and had done his job as well as any man. He had just been unlucky. Anyone could have missed a small raiding party coming through the Salian canyon; there were any number of branch passes along the route. It had been so unfair to be forced to carry the blame. Had they known he had been asleep during the raid he would have been hanged. But then a man had to sleep, and Avil felt no guilt about the incident.
But this new woman general, she knew his worth. She had spoken to him personally about this mission, and Avil intended to prove himself to her. She had summoned him to her private quarters, and given him a goblet of fine wine.
'I have been watching your progress,' she said, 'and it is my belief that you have been wrongly overlooked for promotion.' Even Avil had started to believe the stories of his carelessness. Now, however, someone in authority had seen his true worth. 'I need a good scout to give me an accurate estimate of enemy numbers,' she had said. 'I want you to observe them. See how they make camp, observe their actions.'
'Why is it important to see how they make camp?' he had asked.