BACK A GASP as he emerged in the Chamber of the Marasoumië beneath Darkhaven, his heart constricting with a sharp pain as the node-point closed, hurling his form back into the framework of mortality, stumbling and shaken, his senses blurred with the speed of his passage.
"Steady, cousin." Vorax's deep voice reassured him, a solid hand on his elbow, anchoring him in time and place. Tanaros blinked, waiting for his vision to clear, every bone in his body aching at the abrupt transition. The world seemed preternaturally
slow
after traveling the Ways. He stared at the Staccian's beard, feeling he could number each auburn hair of it while the fleshy lips formed their next sentence. "Did the Sorceress consent?"
"Aye." Seizing upon the question, he managed an answer. His chest loosened, normal breathing returning. "The lady and the dragon consented alike."
"Well done." Forgetting himself, Vorax thumped his shoulder with a proud grin. "Well done, indeed! His Lordship will be pleased."
Tanaros winced as the edge of his spaulder bruised his flesh. "My thanks. What has transpired here, cousin?"
"General." A Fjeltroll stepped forward, yellow-eyed in the pulsing light of the chamber. One of the Kaldjager, the Cold Hunters, who patrolled the vast network of tunnels. "We have scouted passage to Lindanen Dale. We may pass below the Aven River. An entrance lies less than a league to the north. Kaldjager hold it secure. We took pains not to be seen."
"Good." Tanaros collected his wits, which were beginning to function once more. "Good. And Vorax, on your end?"
The Staccian shrugged. "I am in readiness. A chamber has been prepared, fit for a Queen. As for the rest, there's a fast ship awaiting in Harrington Bay, and a company of my lads ready to outrace the Ellylon to it, posing as Beshtanagi in disguise."
"Good," Tanaros repeated. "And the Dreamspinner? Did he succeed?"
"Well… don't go a-walking in the wood, cousin." Vorax grinned. "Does that answer it for you?"
It did.
IT WAS A PLAN, A simple plan.
Tanaros considered it as he lay in his bath.
The difficulty lay in gaining access, for the full might of the Rivenlost would be turned out to safeguard this wedding; aye, and the Border-guard of Curonan, too. And unless Tanaros missed his guess, the Duke of Seahold would have a contingent present as well. Every inch of ground within a dozen leagues of Lindanen Dale would have been scouted and secured,
Except the tunnels.
It was a pity they could not make use of the Marasoumië, but that would come later. Merely to hold the Ways open for so many would require two of the Three, taxing them to their utmost, and Ushahin was needed for this plan. The tunnels would be slower, but they would suffice.
It was a pity, a grave pity, that he could not bring the entire army through them with sufficient time to assemble. That would put an end to it. The army of Darkhaven was not so vast as Men believed it; that was Ushahin Dreamspinners work, who walked in the dreams of Men and magnified their fears, playing them into nightmares. But it was vast enough, Tanaros thought, to win in a pitched battle. Under Lord Satoris' protection, the numbers of the Fjel had grown steadily throughout the centuries. Not enough to rival Men, who held nearly the whole of Urulat as their domain, but enough. And Tanaros had trained them.
On level ground, on the open field… ah, but the Ellylon and the sons of Altorus were too clever for that gambit. Once, it had worked. Long ago, on the plains of Curonan. He had donned the Helm of Shadows, and led the army of Darkhaven against the forces of Altoria, bringing down a nation, securing a buffer zone.
Altoria had had a Queen, then. He had never met her, never seen her. He wondered, sometimes, if she had resembled his wife. In the adamance of her pride, at the urging of her advisors, she had poured all the resources of her realm into that war, until nothing was left. In the end, Altoria lost Curonan and the throne,
"Steady, cousin." Vorax's deep voice reassured him, a solid hand on his elbow, anchoring him in time and place. Tanaros blinked, waiting for his vision to clear, every bone in his body aching at the abrupt transition. The world seemed preternaturally
slow
after traveling the Ways. He stared at the Staccian's beard, feeling he could number each auburn hair of it while the fleshy lips formed their next sentence. "Did the Sorceress consent?"
"Aye." Seizing upon the question, he managed an answer. His chest loosened, normal breathing returning. "The lady and the dragon consented alike."
"Well done." Forgetting himself, Vorax thumped his shoulder with a proud grin. "Well done, indeed! His Lordship will be pleased."
Tanaros winced as the edge of his spaulder bruised his flesh. "My thanks. What has transpired here, cousin?"
"General." A Fjeltroll stepped forward, yellow-eyed in the pulsing light of the chamber. One of the Kaldjager, the Cold Hunters, who patrolled the vast network of tunnels. "We have scouted passage to Lindanen Dale. We may pass below the Aven River. An entrance lies less than a league to the north. Kaldjager hold it secure. We took pains not to be seen."
"Good." Tanaros collected his wits, which were beginning to function once more. "Good. And Vorax, on your end?"
The Staccian shrugged. "I am in readiness. A chamber has been prepared, fit for a Queen. As for the rest, there's a fast ship awaiting in Harrington Bay, and a company of my lads ready to outrace the Ellylon to it, posing as Beshtanagi in disguise."
"Good," Tanaros repeated. "And the Dreamspinner? Did he succeed?"
"Well… don't go a-walking in the wood, cousin." Vorax grinned. "Does that answer it for you?"
It did.
IT WAS A PLAN, A simple plan.
Tanaros considered it as he lay in his bath.
The difficulty lay in gaining access, for the full might of the Rivenlost would be turned out to safeguard this wedding; aye, and the Border-guard of Curonan, too. And unless Tanaros missed his guess, the Duke of Seahold would have a contingent present as well. Every inch of ground within a dozen leagues of Lindanen Dale would have been scouted and secured,
Except the tunnels.
It was a pity they could not make use of the Marasoumië, but that would come later. Merely to hold the Ways open for so many would require two of the Three, taxing them to their utmost, and Ushahin was needed for this plan. The tunnels would be slower, but they would suffice.
It was a pity, a grave pity, that he could not bring the entire army through them with sufficient time to assemble. That would put an end to it. The army of Darkhaven was not so vast as Men believed it; that was Ushahin Dreamspinners work, who walked in the dreams of Men and magnified their fears, playing them into nightmares. But it was vast enough, Tanaros thought, to win in a pitched battle. Under Lord Satoris' protection, the numbers of the Fjel had grown steadily throughout the centuries. Not enough to rival Men, who held nearly the whole of Urulat as their domain, but enough. And Tanaros had trained them.
On level ground, on the open field… ah, but the Ellylon and the sons of Altorus were too clever for that gambit. Once, it had worked. Long ago, on the plains of Curonan. He had donned the Helm of Shadows, and led the army of Darkhaven against the forces of Altoria, bringing down a nation, securing a buffer zone.
Altoria had had a Queen, then. He had never met her, never seen her. He wondered, sometimes, if she had resembled his wife. In the adamance of her pride, at the urging of her advisors, she had poured all the resources of her realm into that war, until nothing was left. In the end, Altoria lost Curonan and the throne,
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