dominion. They nearly succeeded; they would have had it not been for the betrayal of one man.” He regarded them all. “Carthach,” he said, echoing the name that resounded in Nitara’s mind, no doubt in the minds of all who had assembled around him.
“I speak his name not to open old wounds, but to remind you of how close we once came to victory, and of how long we have waited for redemption. For nine hundred years we have suffered for his treachery. For nine hundred years we have waited to fulfill the promise of that first Qirsi army. Today our long wait finally ends. Today we cleanse our history, we wipe away the stain of Carthach’s treason. Today, we begin anew. From this day forward we will rule the Forelands, just as we should have so long ago. Together, you and I will remake the world.” He raised himself out of his saddle, standing in his stirrups. “We fight for the glory of Qirsar!” he shouted, drawing a mighty roar from his warriors.
“Our magic is yours, Weaver,” Jastanne said, after the din had subsided. “Weave us well.”
Dusaan nodded once. “Into your units,” he said. “It’s time to ride.”
The Qirsi quickly returned to their brigades, and were soon thundering southward across the Moorlands. Nitara and Yedeg, Jastanne’s other commander, rode just behind the chancellor; Rov and Gorlan followed Uestem. Two more Qirsi had joined them during the night. One, a tall, thin man with an angular face, Nitara understood to be the archminister of Aneira. The other was a lanky woman with a haunted look in her pale eyes. Both of them were shapers; they took positions in Gorlan’s force.
At the head of the army rode the Weaver, his white hair flowing in the wind like the great mane of a god. From all that Nitara had ever heard about war and armies, she knew that the morn of a battle was the most difficult time for a warrior. This was when thoughts of death entered a soldier’s mind, when fear took hold of the heart. But none of the men or women around her seemed frightened. With the Weaver leading them, they appeared confident, at ease. It was as if he was already using his magic to impart to them his courage. Nitara doubted that the Eandi soldiers awaiting them on the plain felt so certain of their fates.
After only a brief ride the Qirsi encountered a small force of Eandi soldiers, all of them wearing the white, gold, and red of Braedon. One of the men, a captain no doubt, rode forward from the others, most of whom were on foot. He had his hand raised in greeting, as if calling for a parley.
“The remnants of the emperor’s army!” the Weaver called, a grin on his face. “Shapers!” he said, turning toward Uestem’s force. The captain reined in his horse, a puzzled look on his face.
“High Chancellor?” he called to Dusaan.
The Weaver offered no reply, and an instant later, the Eandi fell, his body appearing to break like a child’s toy. The Qirsi rode on, bearing down on the other soldiers who now tried to flee. Many of them died without drawing their weapons. The Weaver and his warriors didn’t even bother to slow their charge.
A short time later, the Qirsi army topped a small rise, and Nitara saw before them the armies of the enemy. Confident as she was, the minister couldn’t help but be daunted by the size of the Eandi force. There were thousands of them, their helms and armor glittering in the sunlight. They were spread wide across the plain, in a vast crescent, so that they appeared ready to block a Qirsi advance in any direction. Already, the Weaver and his warriors had defeated armies far bigger than their own, but never had they faced anything like this.
After a moment, Dusaan raised a hand and his riders halted. He turned in his saddle, glancing back at Jastanne and Uestem, and beckoned them forward.
“Commanders,” Jastanne said quietly, as she spurred her mount forward.
Nitara and the others followed, stopping just behind Dusaan.
“What do you see, Chancellor?” the Weaver asked.
Jastanne eyed the Eandi armies for a moment before responding. “None of them are on horseback.”
“Meaning?”
“We’ll have to fold those with language of beasts into the other units.”
“Yes, those with other powers of use to us. Very good. What else?”
“They’ve spread the archers along the breadth of their lines,” Uestem said.
“Yes, they have. Why?”
“To keep us from using a single wind against them.”
“I expect so. Jastanne, we’ll have to keep the winds turning, give them no time to adjust.”
“Yes, Weaver.”
Dusaan looked back at Nitara. “Commander, I understand that you may find yourself leading the chancellor’s army for a time.”
“But my unit-”
“Your unit may be blended into the others, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a commander, and that you possess mists and winds, as well as language of beasts. You should be prepared to lead the others. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her throat suddenly dry. “Yes, Weaver.”
For a few frenzied moments Nitara and Jastanne divided those Qirsi who had been in the minister’s unit among the other brigades. A few, those who didn’t have mists, or shaping, or fire, were told to remain behind, but the others quickly took their places behind the other commanders. Nitara remained with Yedeg and Jastanne.
“The enemy has been clever,” the Weaver said, when they were ready. “No doubt the Qirsi among them-all of them traitors to our people-aided the Eandi with their preparations. But none of what they’ve done changes anything. Mounted or on foot, spread wide or clustered like a herd of drel, the Eandi can’t defeat us. These are the last desperate measures of a foe we’ve already defeated.” He pulled his sword free and raised it over his head. “We ride to war!”
With a full-throated cry, the other Qirsi kicked at their mounts and rode forward, following Dusaan and pulling their weapons free as well. Nitara had time to remark to herself how curious a gesture this was, considering that the only weapon the Qirsi hoped to use was their magic.
And then everything began to go horribly wrong.
They were quickly closing the distance between themselves and the Eandi lines. Nitara was eyeing the bowmen to her right-the closest of the Eandi archers-waiting for them to launch their first volley of arrows, when she felt a sudden pulse of heat. She looked to her left in time to see several of Rov’s riders fall to the ground flailing at flames that had engulfed their hair and clothing. In front of her, Dusaan halted, incredulous and enraged.
“What in Qirsar’s name is happening?” he demanded.
“We’re under attack!” came the reply, although Nitara never saw who it was who spoke.
An instant later, she heard a rapid succession of muffled cracks and then howls of pain. On the far side of the Weaver’s army, where Gorlan sat at the head of his brigade, at least a dozen more warriors fell, many of them writhing in pain, a few completely motionless.
It did seem that they were under attack. She was about to say so when her horse reared and at last she understood the nature of this assault, though she didn’t know how the enemy managed it. For as she toppled off her mount, landing hard on the ground and just barely missing a hulking boulder, Nitara realized that she had unhorsed herself. Or, to be more precise, someone had used her magic to make the beast throw her.
Someone other than her Weaver.
* * *
That it was such a simple question did nothing to diminish its brilliance. It had never even crossed Grinsa’s mind, though he had been thinking of nothing but the coming war for longer than he could say. But Tavis had a nimble mind and a unique way of looking at the world. And in this instance, he had given them cause for hope, slim though it was.
“Is it possible,” he had asked Grinsa the night before, “for a Weaver to use the magic of another Qirsi even if he doesn’t want you to?”
The answer, of course, was yes.
It wasn’t easy. A Qirsi who knew that the Weaver was about to try such a thing could close his or her mind and resist the intrusion. But a Weaver could usually overcome the defenses of a less powerful sorcerer, and on those occasions when the sorcerer wasn’t prepared there was little he or she could do to ward off a Weaver’s assault.
He and the young lord had gone to Kearney immediately, and Grinsa and the king had spent much of the night devising their strategy for this day’s fight. It was simple really-there remained little for them to do against so formidable an enemy. But with the archers spread as Grinsa had recommended earlier in the evening, it was
