Fayonne abruptly seemed unsure of herself, as if Jenoe's request was the last thing she had expected.
"You can do that, can't you?"
"I- I think so," she said. "I've never heard of it being done, but I can't see any reason why it can't."
Jenoe nodded once. "Good. Then do it. Now, quickly!"
The eldest still seemed hesitant. She turned to the other Mettai and held up her knife for them to see.
"More eagles," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The other Mettai didn't appear to be fazed by this at all. Except for the eldest's son, whose face went white. He said nothing, though, and a moment later all of the Mettai had soil in their hands, blood on their blades, and the softly spoken words of the spell on their lips.
Still more eagles screamed out in pain and tumbled to the ground. "Hurry, Eldest," Jenoe said. "There'll be none left before long."
The muttering of the spell seemed to go on for a long time, but at last the Mettai hurled their fistfuls of mud at the sky, and several dozen more
eagles began to rise into the air and soar toward the settlement. "Forward!" Jenoe shouted to the army.
Again the warriors started off at a run toward the Fal'Borna settlement. The white-hairs' assault on the eagles continued. The second group of birds glided toward the few remaining eagles first conjured by the Mettai.
When at last the soldiers of Stelpana were close enough to the sept, Jenoe called for a halt, his breath coming in great gasps and his face shining with sweat.
Tirnya was winded as well, but she felt fresher than her father looked. "Are you all right, Father?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," Jenoe said impatiently. "Archers!" he called.
It almost seemed that the Fal'Borna had been waiting for Jenoe's signal, so suddenly did the wind rise from the west.
Jenoe scowled. "Damn them!" He turned to Fayonne. "Find me their Weavers, Eldest."
"Yes, Marshal."
Once more, the Mettai began to conjure, and this time when they threw their mud in the direction of the sept, it turned into that silvery dust Tirnya remembered from their last encounter with the Fal'Borna. The white-hairs' wind didn't seem to slow the conjuring. It flew straight at the sept before settling over the shelters and garden plots like a fine mist. Almost instantly the entire settlement appeared to glow, as if the white moon had fallen to the ground with the latest group of slain eagles. Tirnya could see at least three faint glimmerings of yellow in the sea of white light.
"You see them?" Jenoe called to no one in particular. "Those are the Weavers! Concentrate your volleys on them! Fire!"
A thousand bows thrummed; a swarm of arrows rose into the air, only to be knocked back by the white-hairs' wind so that most of them fell far short of the village.
The second group of eagles was over the settlement now, but rather than diving toward the Fal'Borna or their horses, they swooped at the other eagles and began to attack them.
"No!" Fayonne whispered.
"Eldest!" Jenoe called to the woman. "What are they doing?"
"I don't know, Marshal. I wasn't really sure what they'd do, but I didn't expect this."
The rasping screams of the birds seemed to drown out all other sound. The second group of eagles now vastly outnumbered the first, and they attacked in packs of three and four, tearing at their victims with those enormous beaks and cruel talons. Several more of the birds dropped to the ground, dead or dying.
Tirnya could see the Fal'Borna pointing up at the eagles. A moment later, the white-hairs appeared to decide that they could turn their full attention to the approaching army. She could hear voices shouting, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.
` Try putting them to sleep," Jenoe said. "That seems our best chance at this point."
Fayonne looked at him. "The eagles?"
"No, the Fal'Borna. Your finding spell worked. This one works the same way, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Fayonne said. "If you mean the way it gets to them."
Jenoe didn't have a chance to answer. At that moment, several of the Waterstone captains shouted a warning. They were pointing in the direction of the sept. Dozens of the men behind them had broken ranks to flee.
Tirnya looked at the settlement, expecting to see Fal'Borna warriors on horseback, but at first she saw nothing.
"Gods save us all," she heard Enly mutter.
"What?" she said. "I don't see.."
But she did. Finally. And the sight of it turned her innards to water.
It looked like a breaker rolling toward the Aelean shore. But instead of the aqua waters of the Sea of Stars, this wave was made of fire. It was pale yellow, like the eyes of the angry young Fal'Borna Tirnya had spoken to in the last sept. That was why she'd had trouble seeing it at first. Now she could see nothing else. The wave grew as it approached the armies of Stelpana, until it towered over them.
Jenoe stared at the wave as if it were an army of wraiths, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. "Eldest!" he finally managed to say. "Can you do anything?"
"We can try" was all the eldest said.
She and the other Mettai were already bending to pick up dirt, their blades ready. They had spread themselves in a single broad row so that they stood in front of a good portion of the army.
The Mettai cut their hands, mixed the blood with the earth, and began to chant their spell. For once, Tirnya heard them distinctly. "Blood to earth," they said. "Life to power, power to thought…"
That was all. They stood utterly still, watching that rolling wave of flame. A strange silence settled over the plain. Everyone seemed to be waiting to see what that wave would do to them, and what the Mettai might be able to conjure to protect them.
"Eldest?" Tirnya's father said.
Fayonne raised her blade hand, as if to silence him, but she didn't say a word or take her eyes off the Fal'Borna's fire.
Tirnya could feel the heat of it on her face and hands. The air was growing hot enough to make it uncomfortable to inhale. She could hear the flame hissing, although as far as she could tell it had done nothing to burn the grass over which it passed.
Her father was watching the Mettai, clearly unnerved. She could tell that he wanted to say something-to demand to know what they were going to do, or to implore them to do whatever it was quickly. But she could see as well that he didn't dare. He was treading on unfamiliar ground, watching a battle of magic against magic. She had never seen him look more helpless.
And still the wave bore down on them, the heat striking at the Eandi armies like a war hammer. Tirnya thought that her clothes and hair and skin would burst into flame at any moment, and she felt certain that Fayonne and her people had waited too long.
But when at last the eldest called out "Now!," her voice sounded surprisingly calm.
"Earth to water!" the Mettai said in almost perfect unison.
At the same time, they hurled the dirt at that wall of flame, the small clods of mud looking pitiful against the Fal'Borna's fire. But instantly the mud turned to water; great torrents of water that appeared to surge toward that magical wave like Ravens Wash during the rains of the Planting. Tirnya didn't know how it was possible for the Mettai to conjure so much water from so little earth. But they did. And when that magical fire met the conjured flood of water, they produced an explosion of white steam that scalded Tirnya's face and knocked her, her father, and many of the captains standing with them ontc their backs. The Mettai were thrown back as well, and the steam rose into the air in a huge billowing cloud.
Tirnya could hear screams coming from the right and left, and she assumed that the Mettai had not been able to block entirely the Fal'Borna fire magic.
"Report!" Jenoe called, climbing to his feet. "I want to know numbers of wounded and dead!"
He turned to the eldest, who was being helped to her feet by her son. "The sleeping spell, Eldest! Please! Before they can attack us again!"