Chapter 31: A Chill Wind

A chill wind blew in over the Grasslands from the distant ocean. Rank after rank of Harmonian infantry marched down the road. Hundreds of pairs of boots pounded on the dry dirt path, kicking up dust. A long column of fast-marching soldiers snaked between rolling hills as the sun slowly set. They stretched across a large area, marching four abreast through the narrow saddle between the hills, hours from Walu River. They were well trained. If necessary, upon a moment's notice they would form up in battle formations and defend themselves.

Caesar watched the soldiers through a shield of leafy branches, belly pressed to the ground. Behind him, hidden among the bushes and in the folds of the hillsides, Rina lay in wait with a hundred handpicked warriors, ready to spring their trap. They had to bring that column to a halt, here, where it would stop up the flow of the Harmonian troops. If they could just plug that passage, delay the Harmonians for long enough... Then they would stand a slim chance.

Caesar fiddled with his hair. His hands were damp, his heart pounding like a kettle brought to boiling. At times like these, he considered taking up another profession. An actor, perhaps? Or a farmer planting cabbages and carrots in some runes-forsaken field? The insatiable Silverberg inquisitiveness was bred into his bones, no two ways about it, but books on strategy were a far cry from the real thing. His hands now held the lives of countless men and women in them, and they would not stop shaking. No matter how his tactics turned out, people would die because of the order he gave. With any luck, it would be mostly the Harmonians who did the dying today.

Even if the attack should succeed, Caesar knew their chances of victory here were dismal. He could only hope that Albert was too confident in his read of the enemy tactician, that he would fall victim to his own prejudice. The retreat up to this point had been marked by bold feints and crafty escapes. Albert would expect much of the same. An outlander tactician, someone who would rein in the Grasslanders' savage courage - 'foolish bravado' is what Albert would call it. He would not expect a foreign tactician to order an ambuscade at a time like this, when everything hung in the balance.

At least, that's what Caesar hoped. He had prayed—to the Zexen goddess, to the Grasslander spirits, and to all the godlings he could think of—that Albert had not sent scouts to comb the hills before the army passed. Such a precaution would have slowed the army's march.

So far, it seemed Caesar's prayers had been heard.

A large contingent of soldiers rounded the bend in the road leading up to the narrow passage, led by an officer on horseback. Caesar squinted against the setting sun, making out their uniforms, noting them as heavy infantry, formed from first-class citizens. Harmonian elites, sent ahead with the vanguard to form the core of a front line push. He examined the officer, tried to make out his markings of rank.

Caesar's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his eyes. A bishop's robe and bonnet. Bishop Sasarai had joined the vanguard in person! It was enough to make Caesar a little religious. Even the gods could not grant such a boon! The Bishop's True Rune had the potential to sway the battle heavily in the Harmonian general's favor, but the presence of the bishop on the front lines would cause chaos among the ranks as they scrambled to protect their sacred leader. The fact that Albert had allowed Sasarai to take this risk shocked Caesar. What was he thinking? A single well-placed arrow, and it would all be over!

Caesar bit his lip, frowning at the bishop. Was it an illusion? But no. Albert would only use such a ploy if he expected an attack. And if he expected an attack, then why give away that fact by resorting to illusions? Albert had to know that Caesar would draw this very conclusion. For a moment, his mind spun as he considered the twists and turns of a trick-within-tricks.

He turned to Rina, who crouched beside him. War paint marked the chieftain's cheeks. Her eyes were hard as ice.

"It's Bishop Sasarai," Caesar said. "Or an illusion."

Rina shook her head grimly. "No illusion. I can sense it. The True Earth Rune. It pulls on my Mother Earth Rune like a chain on a beast's collar."

Caesar's mouth dried up. "Can he sense your rune?"

Rina's brow furrowed. "Not unless I draw upon it. I think."

Caesar waited until the column of the vanguard was a dozen ranks into the hills before he gave the signal.

Motion rippled through the crowd of hidden warriors as they all stood. Grim faces, hands tight on shields, swords, daggers, spears. Karayans, Saarak, Gani-Bara, even a few young farmers from Chisha who'd equipped themselves with rusted heirloom blades, weapons little better than sharpened scraps of furniture. Caesar imagined blood on their faces as they started into motion, and he shuddered. Rina led the assault, Lilly by her side. As they crested the hill and burst from the trees, the chieftain bellowed a battle cry so fierce it made Caesar jump.

Chaos erupted through the Harmonian column, rippled from rank to rank as the soldiers turned in confusion to face the threat. It only took a few seconds for their archers to pull their bows out and draw back the loaded strings. Arrows arced up the hillside, first one, then a handful, then a hail of feathered shafts. Arrows pierced dirt, snapped on rocks, but some stabbed flesh. Grasslander warriors cried out in pain, fell to their knees, and tumbled down the hillside. The survivors held for a few moments longer, hollering battle cries. Another volley of arrows sailed up the hillside. More warriors fell.

The Grasslanders hesitated, then seemed to break, turning as one, rushing back up the crest, chased by archery fire. Several more fell as they burst through the treeline and into safety. Most of the warriors had remained hidden, never showing themselves.

From the hill on the opposite side of the road, a chorus of roars sounded. Another mass of Grasslander warriors emerged from the hilltop to flank the Harmonians. The warriors formed up around a core of Kinese archers who unleashed a hailstorm of arrows upon the confused soldiers below.

The Harmonians had been held back at the initial charge of warriors from Caesar's hilltop, committing only their archers to the defense. They had seen through the feint, recognizing it as the favored tactic of the Grasslander tactician and guessing that the true attack would come from behind. Now, the Harmonian officers reacted with decisiveness. Caesar watched with equal parts relief and satisfaction as a large force of infantry peeled off from the scrambled column in pursuit of the Grasslander force ensconced on the hilltop. The soldiers raised shields and jogged forward in formation, weathering a rain of arrows. Behind them, the Harmonian archers formed a column and followed in their wake. Caesar's heart was pounding like a damn drum. He wiped sweat from his brow and stared at Sasarai.

The ranks of soldiers around the bishop thinned, as the lion's share marched off to join the fight. Caesar thought he was dreaming. He had to blink, twice, and take it all in again. His eyes had not deceived him - only a skeleton crew of elites remained with Sasarai, guarding the Bishop's nervously prancing horse. It didn't make sense. Not with Albert in charge. Caesar's brother was handing him a gift on a silver platter. Such a thing just didn't happen. Albert didn't make mistakes like that. Caesar's mind worked furiously, considering all the angles, the schemes within schemes he'd trained from childhood to unravel. He couldn't make sense of it. He feared a trap, but it didn't fit. If Albert had anticipated this, why bother with a trap? He could have simply formed up his troops to encircle the hills, then crush the Grasslanders.

Caesar shook his head. There was only one thing to do. He turned his head and raised his hand in signal.

Rina let loose another gut-wrenching bellow. Her warriors answered, and came surging through the treeline and down the hill. Sasarai wheeled his horse around behind a thin line of soldiers, seeing the oncoming warriors charge.

The true battle had begun.

The interior of the tent lay in shadows, but Lucia could see the afternoon sun glow against the canvas. She sat with her legs doubled over and her hands tied behind her back. Her limbs were sore and ached with the stiffness of inaction. But the physical discomforts of captivity paled next to the suffering in her heart. From outside, the distant sounds of battle reached her. The low roar of a hundred voices raised in battle's passion. The occasional clash of steel, loud enough to carry from the battlefield. Her people were dying. Lucia could think of no torture worse than to sit here, caged animal forced to listen as her kin bled and died. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear at her bonds in mindless frustration. But she held her strength in reserve. She waited.

There came a rustle behind her as someone brushed the tent flap aside. Light spilled from the opening, and a shadow danced against the canvas. Lucia stiffened, straightening her back. Her lips twisted in distaste. Who would it be, this time? Since her capture, near a dozen Harmonian officers had sought her out, taking the opportunity to ogle a Karayan chieftain in bondage. Laughing, leering, each man sought to provoke her. She had decided not to give them the satisfaction, no matter how demeaning their insults. And they had the gall to call her people barbarians!

"Come to gloat, is it?" she asked. The intruder still hadn't spoken. Lucia suddenly wondered at the silence. There had been no salute, no mumbled words exchanged. Where were the guards?

A hand slipped over her mouth from behind.

"Quiet, chieftain," Nash whispered into her ear. The sudden voice, so close, put goose flesh on her skin. She bit down on the fingers, hoping to break the skin and draw blood.

Nash cursed and yanked back his hand. "Damn it, woman, I—"

"Spirits damn you, spy," Lucia snarled. She twisted her head, trying to catch sight of the man. "I will speak if wish. Why are you here? Where are the guards?"

Nash walked into her field of view. He held his hands up in an offering of peace. His clothes were scuffed, his hair disheveled. Blood smeared his cheek - someone else's blood, she thought. "By the Absolute One," Nash said, "Hear me out, woman." He knelt before her, looking weary and haggard. "I'm getting you out of here."

Lucia hesitated. "What game are you playing, spy? Why would you free me?"

"There's been a disturbance in the camp. There's chaos out there…" Nash grimaced, clearly uncertain about how much to tell her. "The Masked Bishop is initiating a coup. He means to assassinate Bishop Sasarai and assume command of the army."

Lucia snorted. "Good riddance. Bishop Sasarai kills my people, razes my villages. If my hands were freed, I would aid the Masked Bishop in the attempt."

Nash glared. "Foolish woman. The Masked Bishop means to have you killed. You're worth nothing to him. Only Bishop Sasarai's mercy keeps you alive."

Lucia looked at Nash's face. She saw the blood there as if for the first time.

"The Masked Bishop tried to have you killed."

Nash flinched. "He must have known Bishop Sasarai had me watching him. I'm lucky. He underestimated me. Sent amateurs to do it. The Bishop's adjutant, Dios, wasn't as fortunate."

"Dead?"

Nash shrugged. "Missing. But I fear the worst. Only Dios could stop this. The other soldiers would never interfere in a fight between two Bishops."

Lucia snorted. "So you came here out of the kindness of your heart, Nash Latkje, to set me free? Or, perhaps you aim to use me as a decoy to get yourself safely out of camp. Why should I trust you?"

Nash licked his lips. He took a long time to spit out his next words. "I need your help, Chief Lucia. The Masked Bishop is powerful. A True Rune bearer. I don't know if I can defeat him on my own. And, he has powerful allies. I will release you, let you go, if you promise to help me save Bishop Sasarai."

"A True Rune bearer!" Lucia's heart sank. If the Harmonian army possessed yet another True Rune, the hopes that had seemed bleak before now looked black as night.

Nash dug into his pocket and produced something small, balled up in his fist. "There's also this," he said, and held his hand out to Lucia, opening it to reveal a feathered earring.

Lucia sucked in her breath. She recognized the ornament at once. "That belonged to Chief Zepon!"

Nash nodded slowly. "Taken from his dead body, if I'm not mistaken. I found this in the tent of the Masked Bishop's retainer, a swordsman named Yuber. Some kind of trophy, I suppose."

Lucia stared at the earring. An eagle's feather, frayed with generations of wear and tear. Tiny specks of blood marred the sacred feather. She felt the world spinning on her decision at this moment. Was Nash playing a game? Was he lying to her? Could he be the one who slew Chief Zepon? She met his eyes, tried to read something from those piercing blue orbs. His eyes revealed nothing. She reminded herself that he was a spy, that his training would make him excel at deception. But searching her heart, Lucia had to admit that she did not believe Nash was Chief Zepon's slayer. A swordsman named Yuber… the name rang familiar in Lucia's mind, but the connection eluded her.

Lucia made her decision. "Release me," she said.

Nash hesitated only for a moment before pulling a knife from a hidden sheath and severing her bonds.

Lucia straightened, worked loose her limbs, rolled her shoulders. She cracked her neck, stretched out her legs. Then she slapped Nash's face as hard as she could.

He didn't see it coming. He reeled back, almost stumbled, his eyes rolling in their sockets from the blow. He clutched at his cheek, grimacing.

"I suppose I deserved that."

Lucia saw scarlet bloom from Nash's lip. This time, the blood that ran down Nash's chin was his own.

Rina watched Bishop Sasarai wheel his horse around and raise his hand. She watched the Bishop's guards, the Earth's Fist, form up around him, locking shields. A dozen men, stalwart, but few. Against that iron wall, javelins struck and fell, shafts cracking. Grasslander warriors drew blades and surged downhill, a hundred men with the setting sun at their backs.

The True Earth Rune flared to life, its glow piercing even the crimson glare of the setting sun. The earth wrenched beneath Rina's feet. Sasarai drew upon the power of the true rune, and the ground quivered at the bishop's command. Rina could read the force blossoming to life. Sasarai would not content himself with scattering the Grasslanders. The Bishop meant to turn the earth below them, and break them. He meant to plunge the hill and everyone on it into the cold, dark depths of the earth.

Rina shivered. Desperately, she drew magic to counter the Bishop's attack. The True Earth Rune upon her hand flashed, and power surged through her skin and blood. She remembered the clash of wills at Chisha. She remembered agony. She thought of her people, saw their deaths.

Rina thrust her powers against Sasarai's. Their wills struck together like anvils. Searing fire lanced through Rina's body.

The light of the setting sun gilded a horrific scene in crimson and gold. A soldier knelt, his helmet lost, and stabbed his spear into the twitching body of a fallen Saarak. A Karayan warrior fell upon an armored Harmonian infantryman, slitting his throat. A guardsman of the Earth's Fist slammed an oncoming Chishan with his shield, skewering another with his sword. He did not see the third man who snuck around his back and thrust a knife through a chink in the guardsman's armor and drove the point into his back.

Into this madness, Luc walked. All around him, men fought and died. The Masked Bishop gave them no thought. When a combatant strayed too close, he flung the man aside with his Wind Rune, sending him crashing into a tree.

The duel taking place at the heart of the battle held Luc's attention. Bishop Sasarai matched his True Rune against the Safir Chieftain. Luc remembered the woman's from his time with Lady Leknaat in Dunan. One of Lord Riou's early companions. No more than a handful of words had been spoken between them, and Luc could scarcely reconcile the full-bodied seductress from the traveling troupe with the rune bearer leading the remnants of the Grasslander forces.

Rina fought bravely, but the contest hardly seemed fair. Even at a distance, Luc saw Rina convulse, staggering and shaking as the power of the True Earth Rune hammered against her mind and body. Rina had sunken to one knee, arm bracing against the hillside. Her chest heaved with each breath. Sasarai sat calmly astride his horse, arm raised casually, as if the contest bored him.

Rina's power checked the Bishop, prevented him from using his rune to instantly annihilate the Grasslanders. But she could not fully contain the True Rune's power. Bishop Sasarai reached out tendrils of power, slowly turning the tide of the battle. Here, he opened the ground beneath a Saarak, burying the shrieking and thrashing warrior in the tumbling earth. There, he speared three charging Karayans on spikes raised from the soil.

Slowly but surely, Bishop Sasarai turned the battle. The Grasslanders were losing. And once Rina's strength faltered, the Bishop would wipe them out in an instant.

Unless, of course, someone intervened.

Luc stood ten paces behind Sasarai when he struck. He uttered no warning, raised no cry of triumph. He simply called upon the True Wind Rune, allowed the howling maelstrom of madness to invade his body, and unleashed its power.

Bishop Sasarai reacted instantly. Unfortunately, instantly was too late. The whirlwind sledge hammered into the Bishop and sent him flying. He landed sprawling on the grass, rolling to a stop. He got to his feet, shakily, clothes dirty and disheveled. Luc hammered him again, sent him skidding uphill through dirt, snapping branches and crushing bushes.

Luc summoned the wind rune's howling fury and erected a wall of gale-force winds, shaping a cylinder to cage them both inside. The wind wall rose a hundred feet high. Nothing could pass by it, and anything that tried to enter would be torn to shreds by razor winds.

Bishop Sasarai stood. "Masked Bishop… You betray me after all. After Chisha, I had thought the chance to win a True Rune would keep you loyal." He glanced at the howling barrier. "Now I see you have no need of the True Fire Rune." He started towards Luc. "Albert arranged this, did he not?"

Luc inclined his head. "A carefully arranged series of missteps, all designed to lead you into a trap. I had hoped the Grasslanders would finish you off."

Sasarai smiled. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Masked Bishop. You play the game of Crystal Valley well. Bringing the true rune back will win your great influence."

Luc almost laughed. "Bringing the rune back to Crystal Valley is the last thing on my mind."

Sasarai looked puzzled. He moved closer. "Then what? Revenge? Do you mean to ruin me?"

Luc hesitated before speaking. Such ignorance. He decided to educate the Bishop. "Fifty years ago, Hikusaak sent his firstborn child from Crystal Valley at the head of an army. This army was to retrieve the True Fire Rune stolen from Hikusaak's vault."

Sasarai blanched at the mention of the High Priest's name. His mouth tightened. "You blaspheme, Masked Bishop. Who is this child you speak of? The Absolute One has never fathered children."

Luc smiled at the Bishop's ignorance. He truly knew nothing. "He did not," Luc said. "And yet there are those who carry Hikusaak's blood. Clones. Copies."

Sasarai hesitated, then said, "You're saying… This person of fifty years ago was a clone of the Absolute One?"

"A Vessel, to bear the True Fire Rune."

"The rune that was stolen." Sasarai's brow knitted. The bishop was thinking furiously, now. And Luc understood that the thought planted in his mind could bear only one kind of fruit. Sasarai understood. But he still doubted.

"Yes," Luc said. "It was stolen before the process could be completed. And so the Vessel was an incomplete creature, divorced from its birthright. Never fully whole."

"You are saying this 'clone' led the punitive expedition in the Fire Bringer War. There are no records supporting this idea."

Luc shook his head. "Your whole life is a lie, bishop. Tell me, earlier today, you felt a wrenching sensation, as if something was severed from you?" Bishop Sasarai did not speak, but Luc read the truth on his face. "What you felt," Luc said, "Was the death of the Vessel. The prototype for Hikusaak's clones. A patchwork of fire runes to hold the True Rune. A tortured child bereft of purpose."

"Thirty years ago, Hikusaak created a second batch of clones. Again, the design was flawed, but this time, it worked."

Sasarai's face had turned red. "This is blasphemy. A filthy lie!"

Luc put a hand on his mask, loosened the straps that held it in place. It had played out its usefulness. "No," he said. "I speak the horrible truth." He flung the mask aside with finality, laying bare his face.

"Brother," Luc said.

Bishop Sasarai's face took on a series of expressions ranging from confusion, to shock, and finally horror.

"No, this can't be…" Sasarai staggered back, drawing on his True Earth Rune as if for comfort. "This is… an illusion…"

"You know it is not," Luc said softly. Sasarai said nothing. He didn't have to. Resignation showed clear as day on his face. Luc almost pitied his wretched brother. They were both slaves to Hikusaak's ambition. But more than that, they were slaves to the True Runes chained to their souls. But there was one difference between them. At Luc's birth the rune sages had examined his body and found him flawed. He had been rejected, cast into the darkest dungeons beneath the palace in Crystal Valley to be forgotten, while Hikusaak heaped honors upon his twin. Sasarai. But Luc did not hate his ignorant brother. The flaw in Luc's soul-bond had made him vulnerable to the Voice of the True Wind Rune. Its collected thoughts, memories, and dreams. Even now the rune raged with endless images and feelings, pouring through the depths of his consciousness. Like water dripping on rock, it slowly wore away at his mind. But the waking world was nothing next to the agony of sleep. His flaw meant he saw the rune for what it truly was. An instrument of slavery.

"I've come for your rune, Brother," Luc said. "I've come to set you free."

Sasarai threw the full strength of the True Earth Rune against him. It was too late. With a thought, Luc collapsed the wind wall and sent its scouring force inward, against Sasarai. The bishop threw up his arms in a futile defense. The winds tore into him, savaged his body. A tornado lifted him up to spin in mid-air, then flung him helplessly down.

Sasarai hit the ground without even a grunt. He lay limp and defenseless when Luc approached to stand above him.

Kneeling by his brother's side, Luc began the process of extracting the True Earth Rune from Sasarai's motionless body.

The gale had died down, but a chill wind was blowing.