Gries wore a troubled expression. "I take it you can't control them any more than you could the wolves."
"That's right. But like the wolves, they can be slain with arrows or put to sleep with a spell."
"But until they are, they'll be killing indiscriminately. They won't distinguish between us and the Fal'Borna."
Fayonne regarded the Fairlea captain coldly. "No, they won't. On the other hand, I can assure you that the Qirsi will be quite precise with their killing. Have you heard tales of the Blood Wars, Captain?"
"Yes," Gries said thickly.
"Then you have some idea of what Qirsi shaping magic can do to an army when directed by a Weaver."
"What other creatures did your people use in those early battles?" Jenoe asked, drawing the woman's gaze once more.
"Serpents, bears, hornets."
The marshal's eyebrows went up. "Hornets?"
"As long as a knife blade and with enough venom to bring an Aelean soldier to his knees."
Tirnya felt herself blanch. Suddenly the blood wolves didn't seem so terrible.
"And you can conjure all of these creatures today?" Enly asked.
Fayonne shook her head. "Not all of them, no. I can conjure hornets, but not the kind that my ancestors used against the white-hairs. But the wolves and eagles I can summon are much the same as those used in the Blood Wars."
Jenoe was gazing at the sept again. Tirnya looked that way as well, but saw no evidence that the Fal'Borna were headed toward them. Was it possible that they hadn't spotted the army yet? Or had the white-hairs decided that they wanted to defend their settlement rather than face the Eandi on the open plain?
"Send the eagles," Jenoe said after a brief pause. "You can direct them toward the sept, can't you? They won't turn on us immediately."
"We'll move a bit closer to the settlement," Fayonne told him. "And we'll do everything in our power to send them to the Fal'Borna."
Tirnya's father didn't look satisfied with this reply, but he nodded, perhaps sensing that this was the most assurance he was likely to get.
One thing about the Mettai: Once they were given an order, they didn't waste time in carrying it out. No sooner had the eldest answered Jenoe's concerns than she led her people away from the army and toward the sept.
"I want archers ready to march as soon as these magical eagles are flying," Jenoe said. "And I want swordsmen just behind them. This will work best if the Fal'Borna have to fight off eagles and arrows at the same time."
"Yes, Marshal," Enly said.
He started shouting orders to the men of Qalsyn. Gries and two other captains from Fairlea hurried off to ready their army, and Hendrid's captains started back toward the men of Waterstone.
The Mettai, in the meantime, halted after walking about a hundred fourspans. They pulled their knives free, stooped to pick up handfuls of dirt, cut themselves, and finally gathered blood on the flat edges of their blades and mixed it with the earth in their hands. Tirnya couldn't hear them speaking, but she knew that the next step in this odd process was for all of them to mutter their spells. A moment later, acting in near perfect unison, they flung their clods of bloody mud into the air.
When the Mettai conjured the great wolves during their last encounter with the Fal'Borna, Tirnya had been disturbed by the way the dirt in their hands contorted and grew in those moments before the animals took form. This magic was no different. If anything, it seemed more alien to watch those small clumps of dirt sprout enormous wings and talons and heads. But in just a few seconds, nearly fifty eagles were soaring above the army.
They were larger by far than any bird Tirnya had ever seen. Even from far below, their hooked beaks and sicklelike talons appeared large and sharp enough to rend a full-grown rilda in two. The creatures circled once over the army, and when their shadows passed overhead Tirnya shuddered, feeling as a rabbit must when it finds itself under the gaze of a hawk. But whatever intelligence the Mettai had imparted to the great birds seemed enough to allow them to distinguish between friend and foe, or Eandi and Qirsi. After completing one turn above the soldiers of Stelpana, the birds wheeled toward the sept. They flew in a series of loose columns, like airborne warriors in formation. They gave only one or two flaps of their great wings, and then glided, their tails twisting slightly this way or that to keep them in line.
Fayonne and the Mettai watched them pass back overhead, and then the eldest turned to face Jenoe, as if to say, Now it's your turn.
Tirnya's father looked back at the captains. "Are we ready?" he asked.
"Qalsyn's archers are in place," Enly said. "So are Fairlea's. The men of Waterstone were a bit farther off. And the swordsmen aren't in formation yet."
Jenoe frowned, clearly displeased. "Well, we'll make do with what we have. Have the swordsmen mustered forward as quickly as possible."
"Yes, Marshal."
"Archers, advance!" Jenoe called to the men behind him, gesturing with a raised arm and at the same time spurring his mount to a canter.
A great shout rose from the men, and the bowmen of Qalsyn and Fairlea started toward the sept, their bows ready. Tirnya and the other captains followed the marshal on horseback. When they reached the Mettai, Fayonne and her people began to jog alongside the riders.
Somehow Enly had positioned himself beside Tirnya, though he said nothing to her. For her part, Tirnya barely allowed herself a glance in his direction. Instead, she divided her attention between the great eagles soaring toward the sept and the settlement itself. She still saw no sign that the Fal'Borna were making ready for battle; she saw no white-hairs at all.
"Something's not right," Enly said. "Where are they?"
"Could they have fled?" she asked. "They would have gotten word that we were coming. They may have abandoned the sept or joined forces with another settlement."
Enly shook his head. "There are still horses in the paddock. They're here. They're just waiting for something."
"You should stop here, Marshal," Fayonne called to Jenoe. "Language of beasts. They'll be able to reach you soon."
A moment later, Jenoe reined his horse to a stop and dismounted, though this, too, seemed to darken his mood. Hendrid, the captains, and the lead riders also halted and swung themselves off their mounts. They wasted little time in resuming their advance on foot.
By now the eagles were over the sept and were circling like great buzzards, each turn bringing them lower.
"Are you close enough for a finding spell?" Jenoe asked.
"Not quite," Fayonne said.
Tirnya's father nodded curtly. "They're too close," he said a moment later. "I wanted our archers to be in position before the eagles reached the sept. Now they'll-"
Before he could finish the thought, a harsh, piercing screech split the air, followed by another and another. Several of the lowest eagles suddenly began to thrash violently, their wings bent at odd angles, their talons clenched in tight balls. They struggled for an instant or two and then plunged to the ground. As soon as they landed, men swarmed around them, spears in their hands, their white hair gleaming in the sun.
"Damn!" Fayonne said. "They're using shaping magic."
"Can you send more eagles?" Jenoe asked.
The eldest looked at him and blinked once. "More?" she said, sounding simple.
"Yes! You conjured these eagles. Conjure another flock and send them-"
He broke off as more of the eagles screamed. All of them looked up into the sky in time to see several of the giant birds fall to the earth, their wings broken.
Jenoe faced the eldest again, appearing more desperate by the moment. "Send more of the birds to attack the sept. Perhaps that will allow us to get close enough for your spells and our archers to have some effect."