“Closer to five,” corrected the Speaker. “It will go lower still.”
“But how? Why?”
Elendar’s voice took on a note of pride. “The clerics of Silvanost are second to none in the esteem of the gods. I commanded them to work a mighty conjuration-
Vixa was stunned. “To lower the river?”
He nodded with satisfaction. “In two more days the Thon-Thalas will be half its normal depth. In six, it will be a muddy gutter. If the Dargonesti remain, they will dry in the sun like so many beached fish.”
Vixa felt light-headed. That such power was available to the Speaker of the Stars … she could only shake her head in wonder. It was incredible. That she was here to witness it was a blessing. The Qualinesti princess bowed her head. “Great Speaker, forgive me for doubting you,” she murmured.
He grinned at her. “Nonsense, Cousin. Would not the Speaker of the Sun do as much for Qualinost? Master Gundabyr, to what end would your High King go to deliver Thorbardin from danger?”
“Fight to the last axe and shed his very last drop of blood,” the dwarf said solemnly. He brightened. “But don’t I feel like a dolt! Here the princess and me were breaking our, uh, backs to come to your aid, and you have ol’ Coryphene in the palm of your hand!”
“Things are not quite that certain, my friend. This Coryphene is resourceful, and his army can still do great harm.”
Vixa knew the truth of that. She thought of how remorselessly Coryphene had pursued the chilkit, obsessed with exterminating them root and branch.
“When he realizes the river is falling, he will rethink his strategy,” she said. “I fear the worst may still be ahead of us.”
The Speaker rubbed his smooth cheek. “Do you think so? I would have thought that when things looked hopeless, he would retreat to save his own skin.”
“Any ordinary general would, but Coryphene has a heavy burden that prevents him from running away-that prevents rational thought,” she finished. The other two quizzed her with wordless looks.
“Uriona,” she said. “He is bound up in her visions, bound up in his love for her. He will never give up.”
The night watch roamed the quiet streets of Silvanost, as they had for more than a thousand years. This night, they were reinforced by bands of royal guards. Marshal Samcadaris knew he didn’t have enough warriors to guard the entire perimeter of the great city. Until the levies arrived, he was forced to rely on two methods of defense: all the towers and gatehouses were strongly fortified and garrisoned with archers, and the remaining foot soldiers and dismounted cavalry were formed into flying corps, which would rush to the scene of any attack. In the Speaker’s words, they would “plug holes in the Ship of State from the inside.”
The sky had just turned from indigo to deep purple when the sentries atop Red Rose Gate heard a commotion in the southern forest beyond the wall. The previous fire and subsequent battle had done great damage to the ornamental gardens located by the edge of the forest. More than enough trees remained, however, to screen Dargonesti movements from the sharp-eyed sentries.
A herald was dispatched to Marshal Samcadaris, who was standing at the head of a thousand warriors in a street next to the Quinari Palace. Word of the enemy activity filtered through the ranks. The Silvanesti stirred nervously.
Speaker Elendar, Vixa, and Gundabyr were with Samcadaris. The Speaker said, “What do you think, Marshal?”
“A few soldiers can make a lot of noise,” the young warrior replied. “I counsel that we wait.”
A few minutes later, a second courier came running from Red Rose Gate. “Sir! Enemy in sight!” he cried. The warriors in the neat ranks began to murmur softly.
“Wait. We must wait,” Samcadaris repeated, shaking his head slowly.
Back at the southern gate, the nervous Silvanesti defenders watched as a double line of Dargonesti elves, fresh from the river, marched forward in closed ranks. On their shoulders, they bore long poles, which the archers took to be scaling ladders. The cry of “Escalade!” went up among the Silvanesti. The archers lofted a few arrows at them, but the Dargonesti halted just out of range.
The air was alive with the sound of snapping wood. The Silvanesti looked on in confusion as a giant ball of tree limbs and brush appeared out of the trees. The ball was fully twenty feet across and was being pushed forward-straight to the gate-by gangs of captured Silvanesti.
At the palace, Vixa heard the report of this and said immediately, “Coryphene means to burn down the gate.” She explained that the long poles the archers had taken for ladders were probably firelances.
“You say water won’t put out this gnomefire?” Samcadaris said. Gundabyr nodded regretfully. “Well, what will extinguish it?”
“Only smothering will douse a gnomefire. Dirt, sand, that sort of thing,” said the dwarf.
Samcadaris gave orders that certain items be collected and taken to the gate. A few hundred warriors scattered to obey.
The archers atop the wall held their fire as the brush ball rolled slowly toward them. The Dargonesti were careful to keep behind it, beating their captives with sticks to ensure that the ball continued its forward momentum. Pairs of firelancers left the line and followed in the wake of the brush ball. Careless Quoowahb paid with their lives as the archers picked off any who strayed too far from the rolling shield.
Samcadaris’s troops, a hundred fifty strong, arrived at the threatened gate. The special items they’d brought were passed up to the defenders on the wall. Tense, the Silvanesti waited.
The ground sloped upward to the gate, so the last few yards were slow going for the captives pushing the brush ball. When the ball drew near enough that the Silvanesti archers at last had a shot at those behind it, they realized the only targets available were their own countrymen. The Dargonesti slashing at the captives with seaweed whips were protected by a wooden mantelet. This shield had been fashioned from house timbers, doors, and any other bits of wood scavenged from Brackenost and the surrounding forests.
The Silvanesti archers ground their teeth in anger at this sight. Samcadaris had sent word they were to hold their fire. The marshal had a plan, and killing the unfortunate captives was not part of it.
Amid much cursing and shouting from the Dargonesti, the huge mass of tinder was shoved up next to the oaken gate. Then the mantelet retreated, but only to provide cover to the advancing firelancers, who readied, then cast their heavy projectiles into the brush.
For land fighting, Coryphene’s armorers had modified Gundabyr’s original design. The pot containing the paste was divided in half, one side containing gnomefire paste, the other filled with water. When the pot shattered, the two mixed, the paste exploding into flame.
Smoke boiled out of the brush pile. Two, three, four firelances were hurled against it. Liquid flames ran down the green saplings in the ball and pooled on the ground.
From the gate roof, many Silvanesti voices shouted, “Now!”
Down came grappling hooks on ropes. This was the special equipment ordered by Samcadaris. The hooks easily snagged the tangled brush. The elves heaved on the long lines, raising the burning heap off the ground. Flames shot up over the battlements, forcing the archers back. Once the ball had sufficient height, the ropes were cut. The momentum of the falling brush ball caused it to roll down the slope away from the gate, directly toward the Dargonesti line. With the jeers of the defenders ringing in their ears, the sea elves scattered before the hurtling blaze.
Back at the palace, everyone enjoyed a good laugh when descriptions of the Battle of the Bush arrived. No one, however, believed the night’s fighting was over.
More wooden mantelets appeared from the woods. Behind these makeshift shields, gangs of Dargonesti crept toward the wall. Arrows immediately began dropping down on them, but the attackers pushed on. Nearly twenty mantelets, covering several hundred Quoowahb, reached the foot of the wall and Red Rose Gate. The tall, powerfully muscled sea elves cast spears up at the defenders as other Dargonesti, equipped with captured tools, attacked the gate. Chips flew, but the oak barrier was ten inches thick. Behind it stood another gate, this one of rock crystal, magically cast in the days of Silvanos. The defenders let the Dargonesti waste their time and energy chipping at the wooden gate, secure in the knowledge that the crystal barrier could not be breached. All the while,
