“Try it,” Kirra suggested, pointing at one of the empty supply wagons nearby. “See if you can demolish something without setting it on fire.”
Senneth made a huffing sound and threw her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous!”
“She said it could end the war,” Cammon said.
“I suppose if I kill her, all the fanatics might lose heart and surrender, but I don’t think I can! This doesn’t make sense to me!”
“Try it,” Kirra urged, taking Senneth’s shoulders and turning her toward the wagon. “Call up your power, but just hold the flame at bay. See what you can do.”
Senneth made a strangled sound but stood there a moment, scowling at the cart. Her white-blond hair was tangled and streaked with dirt; she was spattered with mud and drops of blood. She didn’t look remotely ridiculous.
Slowly she lifted both hands, fingers spread, palms flat to an invisible wind. Her scowl deepened; her gray eyes darkened. She suddenly clenched her fingers and then flicked them open hard.
The supply wagon shattered as if it had been smashed by a gigantic invisible boulder.
Cammon and Kirra yelled and applauded. Senneth stood for a moment, staring at the backs of her hands.
“That was strange,” she said at last.
“Could you feel it? What was it like?” Kirra demanded.
“It was a lot like flinging fire. Without the fire.”
“See? I told you.”
Senneth put a hand on Kirra’s cheek, and Kirra exclaimed aloud. Senneth said, “My hands are cold. It feels so odd.”
Kirra stepped back, and Senneth’s hand fell. “Do it again,” Kirra said.
Senneth glanced around. “What else should I destroy? I should pick my target fairly carefully, don’t you think?”
“Amalie’s pavilion,” Kirra suggested.
“Kiernan’s tent instead, perhaps?” Senneth replied.
“Maybe something less useful,” Cammon said. “There’s a tree stump right behind that tent. See if you can crush it to splinters.”
“Cammon, Cammon,” Kirra said. “Always the voice of reason.”
But Senneth had shifted just enough to align herself with the stump. Again, she concentrated a moment before attempting any destruction.
Again, the object in her way was pulverized by her magic.
“Oh, that was too easy,” Senneth said. “I need something bigger to see what I’m really capable of. A boulder. Maybe even a mountain.”
“Behind the camp about half a mile,” Kirra said. “The ground gets pretty rocky. Let’s go practice.”
“Not too long,” Cammon said. “You don’t want to wear yourself out.”
“When did she say she’d be back?” Senneth asked. “Tomorrow, but when?”
“Moonrise.”
Kirra glanced at the sky, where the waxing gibbous moon was faint against the blue. “Daytime,” she said. “Now why? Isn’t she stronger at night?”
“So the troops are all engaged,” Senneth guessed. “If I fall, my allies falter, and her troops move in rapidly for the kill. If she falls—same thing, only we’re victorious. A quick ending for certain.”
“Then we have a little time to get you ready.”
“I don’t like it,” Amalie said.
It was the first time she had spoken since Cammon had recounted Coralinda’s offer. As usual, her voice was so soft that it could have been hard to hear her, but there was so much intensity in her tone that it was impossible to ignore her.
“What don’t you like?” Cammon said.
Amalie was shaking her head, and the red-gold hair went flying. “Why today? Why now? If Coralinda Gisseltess wanted to destroy you with magic, why didn’t she do it before? Why even give you notice? Why not just bring you down while you were on the battlefield?”
They were silent a moment. “All very good questions,” Kirra acknowledged.
“She knows something about this duel that you don’t,” Amalie said. “She has a weapon that she hasn’t shown.”
Senneth nodded. “Maybe. But you must admit the offer is attractive. If I destroy her, the war is over. The fanatics lose their will to fight, and the mercenaries lose their employer. Battle ended.”
“And if she destroys you?” Amalie said.
Senneth shrugged. “The rest of you continue fighting.”
“Tayse won’t like it,” Amalie said.
“Tayse would take the same offer if she sent forth a champion swordsman,” Senneth replied. “Even if the man was half-mystic and imbued with magical powers.”
“You’re stronger than she is, aren’t you?” Kirra asked. “You’re stronger than anybody.”
Senneth shrugged again. “Who knows? Until recently we didn’t even know she had magic. I can’t guess how deep it runs in her. But it’s true I’ve never come across anyone else who was as strong as I am. I don’t see how she can defeat me.”
“I still don’t like it,” Amalie said.
Senneth smiled at her. “You don’t like the thought of anyone risking death for you,” she said. “But sometimes it’s the only risk worth taking.”
SENNETH and Kirra moved off to find fresh targets for Senneth to obliterate. Cammon and Amalie returned to the infirmary tents, but Amalie found it hard to concentrate. She smiled and spoke to the wounded soldiers, but Cammon could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. Lara’s presence was so powerful that he reasoned Amalie’s was not as necessary as it had been before, and so he convinced her to return to her pavilion before the sounds of battle had ceased for the day.
Amalie had been correct in surmising that Tayse would not like the offered deal, which Senneth explained as succinctly as possible that night in Amalie’s tent. The others were all heartily in favor of the encounter—as much as they could understand it, of course, though it was clear the concept of a magical duel was impossible for them to fully grasp. They did not, however, consider themselves bound to abide by an unfavorable outcome.
“If you die, we will not surrender,” Romar said.
“I don’t think she expects you to,” Senneth replied.
“Then she doesn’t expect to die,” Tayse said.
Senneth looked at him. They were sitting across the tent from each other, a half dozen others between them. Yet, Cammon thought, they were as connected to each other as if they stood wrapped in the closest embrace that their bodies would allow.
“You’re right,” Senneth said. “I don’t think she does.”
“Then she will not behave fairly or honorably,” he said. “Expect treachery.”
Senneth nodded. “I do.”
Even though Tayse was uneasy, Cammon realized, it wouldn’t even occur to him to ask Senneth not to accept the challenge. “I’ll stand with you tomorrow as you battle the Lestra,” Tayse said. “In case a sword will accomplish what magic will not.”
“There must be a way to take advantage of Coralinda’s absence from the field,” Kiernan said. “Ariane. Perhaps if we moved your troops around to the southern edge, and sent Brassenthwaite troops deep into the line—”
Talk of strategy went on much longer than Cammon had the stomach for. Indeed, he was sure that Kiernan and Romar and the others continued their discussions for some time after the conference ended. Tayse and Senneth had long since disappeared, no doubt conscious of the fact that this might be their last night together and unwilling to spend it brangling over military matters. The thought gave Cammon a peculiar feeling. Impossible to imagine a world without Senneth in it. Impossible to think a few vengeful sprays of magic from Coralinda Gisseltess could have the power to extinguish Senneth’s extraordinary warmth and light. But this was clearly the Lestra’s intent, so no matter how unlikely such an eventuality seemed to him, Coralinda Gisseltess must cherish real hopes of achieving it.
“Senneth might die tomorrow,” Amalie whispered to him late that night, as both of them lay awake long past midnight.
“No,” he said. “It simply can’t happen.”
&nb
sp; But he knew it could. He wrapped his arms even more tightly around Amalie, but somehow, fear managed to squeeze between them anyway.
CHAPTER
41
CAMMON was hardly surprised by the group that assembled in front of Amalie’s pavilion the next afternoon to accompany Senneth to her meeting with Coralinda Gisseltess. Tayse, of course, and where Tayse went, Justin was sure to follow. Kirra would not be left out of such an adventure, and Donnal naturally accompanied Kirra. Senneth argued that Amalie should stay behind, somewhere that danger was less likely to strike, but the princess was adamant that she witness the event. Cammon would have gone with Senneth in any case, just from a vague sense that if magic was necessary for this encounter, many mystics should be on hand, but it made his choice simpler that Amalie would also be present.
The raelynx sat on the ground at Amalie’s feet, its red tail curled around its paws, clearly ready to join them on any foray.
Ellynor and Valri had also elected to join their group, and Cammon had to admit he was surprised by their presence. Ellynor, he knew, had useful skills in any battle. But Valri?
“I am here to disguise the princess,” Valri said when Cammon sidled over to question her. “I don’t know what kind of weapons Coralinda Gisseltess intends to deploy. Perhaps this talk of a mystical duel is all nonsense and she is bringing in an elite troop to murder all comers. I do not want her to realize that Amalie is present. And Ellynor has agreed to help me spirit her away if necessary.”
Cammon glanced at the sky, where the lopsided moon was just making an appearance. “Then we are ready.”
He wondered how long they would have to wait for the Lestra’s summons, but two minutes later, Coralinda Gisseltess’s image wavered into view. Cammon felt his stomach tighten, and behind him he heard Amalie’s faint gasp, but no one else seemed aware of the Lestra’s presence.
“And these are all the companions Senneth Brassenthwaite has gathered to assist her in the greatest battle of her life?” Coralinda asked in a mocking voice.
Cammon moved in front of her, to remind her that he could see her even if no one else could. “If it is to be simply a duel between the two of you, she should need no assistance at all.”
“Witnesses, then,” the Lestra replied.
“And where are yours?”
Her ghostly shape gestured toward the south. “Assembled a mile from here, where my true body waits. Gather your friends and bid them follow me.”
He turned to alert the others and found them all staring at him. All except the raelynx. Its eyes were fixed on Coralinda Gisseltess; its tail lashed back and forth, whipping across Amalie’s legs.
Cammon waved at his companions. “Southward about a mile away,” he said. “She’ll take us there.”
Coralinda set a good pace, since she wasn’t actually treading on ground, and the rest of them had to hustle to keep up. Tayse and Justin pushed to the lead, swords at the ready. Cammon told them, “Just go straight, at least for a while,” and dropped back to join Senneth, Donnal, and Kirra.
He pointed at Senneth. “Take off your moonstone bracelet.”
She glanced down at her arm, as if surprised to find the jewelry still there. “Probably a good idea,” she said. But when she unfastened it and held it out, Cammon laughed.
“I can’t touch it!”
“Don’t look at me,” Kirra said, and Donnal smiled and shook his head.
“You can’t give it to Ellynor, either,” Cammon said.
“Well, I’m not just throwing it down in some passing field,” Senneth said. “Tayse! Take this!”
Tayse turned back willingly at the sound of his name, but only with some reluctance pocketed the moonstones. “I am sure somehow she can turn these against you,” he said.
“Not if they’re not touching my skin,” Senneth replied. She flexed her fingers. “So curious. Usually I’m not even aware of having the bracelet on, but once I take it off, I feel like fresh fire is running through my blood.”
“Good,” Tayse said. “The more energy you have, the better.” He lengthened his stride to catch up with Justin.
“She can’t realize just how powerful you are,” Kirra said. But she sounded nervous.
“Or she knows that I don’t realize how powerful she is,” Senneth replied.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Cammon said.
Indeed, within a few minutes, they had arrived at what was obviously the site of combat. Coralinda’s ghostly double had disappeared, but there was no need for her guidance anymore. They were in a shallow valley, the Lirreth Mountains rising up behind them and low foothills making a near circle around them. The ground was pink and green with spring flowers and new grass; sunlight sparkled through the air like tangible delight. The soil was coarse and rocky, but a species of low, dark shrubbery seemed to flourish in it, and so the whole valley ran with haphazard lines of its bushy olive-colored branches.
Across the way from them, a small group of people had gathered. Justin and Tayse had come to a hard stop and were clearly assessing the opponents.
“I make out more than a dozen men,” Tayse said. He glanced at Cammon. “Can you tell the precise numbers?”
“Give me a minute,” Cammon answered, but Donnal was already shifting and had lifted himself into the air to reconnoiter.
“How long do we stand here and wait?” Senneth said. “And what are we waiting for?”
She had barely finished speaking when a single shape detached itself from the group amassed across the valley. Short, confident, dressed in black and silver. The Lestra. “Senneth!” Her voice carried easily across the space dividing them. “Come submit your magic to the judgment of my goddess!”
“Time to fight,” Senneth said. She touched Tayse on the shoulder, kissed him on the mouth, and strode a dozen paces into the festive spring arena of the valley.
“I’m here, serra,” Senneth called back. She lifted her arms, graceful as a dancer. Sunlight busied itself in her white-blond hair and polished it to a halo shine. “Kill me if you can.”
Cammon heard Tayse catch his breath at that invitation, but there wasn’t much time for anyone else to react. Senneth clenched her fists and thrust her hands outward, and a great ball of light seemed to arc through the air. It landed on Coralinda Gisseltess with a flash so bright that everyone in her camp, everyone in Amalie’s, stepped backward a pace. A dozen voices cried out in fear and astonishment.
But the light dissipated, and Coralinda was still standing, pulsing with a dark fever of her own. She lifted her arms and snapped her fingers wide. It was as if lightning sizzled from her body, arrow-straight across the valley. It struck Senneth in the chest, and she went down.
Kirra screamed. Tayse was beside her in an instant, but Senneth was pushing herself up, to her knees, to her feet. She was shaking her head as if to clear it. “I’m all right,” Cammon heard her say to Tayse. “I’m all right. That was more than I expected.”
Just then a hawk circled down from overhead and came to land by Justin. Seconds later, Donnal appeared. “In her camp, she has twenty soldiers wearing the black-and-silver of Lumanen Convent,” he reported. “But a half mile away are another thirty men, waiting.”
Justin did a quick pivot as if to reassess their own small troops, but it didn’t take much analysis. “We need more swords,” he said. “Cammon? Can you call any Riders?”
Cammon’s attention was almost wholly on Senneth. She was on her feet but shaky, Tayse’s hand under her elbow. How could Justin think of anything else? “Uh—I don’t know. I can try—but I don’t know if I can give them directions here—”
“I’ll go fetch some,” Donnal offered. He was almost instantly a bird shape again, and just as quickly in the air.
“Step away from me,” Cammon heard Senneth warn Tayse. The Rider backed off a few paces, and Senneth moved forward. Cammon could sense her focus and her determination; so much heat rose off her body it warmed him from a couple yards away.
She ti
lted her head back and flung her arms in the air, and for a moment stood as though frozen by shock or magic. Cammon could feel the energy build inside her; his skin prickled with the charge. Then she flexed her fingers, and power poured from her in one long, continuous, undulating river of light.
Again, cries went up from both camps, but nothing broke the concentration of the two combatants. Again, Senneth’s assault reached Coralinda, bathed her in bright color, and left her unharmed. Indeed, the Lestra seemed suffused with Senneth’s light, engorged with it; her black hair sparkled and her skin seemed to glow. Her own arms lifted languidly, and almost as if she was batting away a troublesome insect, she pushed Senneth’s power aside. Pushed it back. Seemed to alchemize it into something darker, more sinister, laced with poisonous glitter, and redirected it toward its source.
Cammon saw that black stream of energy forcing its way against the ongoing current of Senneth’s attack. Senneth saw it, too, for he felt her redouble her efforts, brighten her own magic, pour even more of her power into the attack. At the halfway point between them, Coralinda’s shadowy river was halted, shoved back in her direction, and finally forced to disperse into the sunny air.
But only briefly. Cammon saw the gleaming blackness coalesce, gain force, gain substance, and slowly inch its way forward along that pathway of light, straight for Senneth.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Around him, he felt everyone straining forward, terrified and bewildered, and he realized that none of them—with the possible exception of Amalie—could view the battle as he did. Perhaps they saw streaks of light and darkness; perhaps not even that, just two women, widely separated, waving their hands and waiting.
Yet all of them could sense a grim and momentous struggle playing out just beyond the reach of their senses, and all of them were afraid.
The black light crept nearer, past the halfway mark again. Senneth dug up reserves of power and forced it back toward its creator. Again, the malevolent mass seemed to partially dissipate, then re-cohere, gather its strength, and ram itself hard against the implacable onslaught of light. At either end of that shimmering rainbow of light and dark, the two women stood, so rigid with power that they seemed to be statues of black granite and white marble, representations of night and day.