Chapter Twenty
17 Shelet
We reached Colosse late this afternoon to find the Helvirite Army already in position. Actually, they’re several miles away from Colosse, and this sparked a huge argument between Mattiak and Raewyn Garatssen. I was riding with him and Cederic when we neared the camp, and heard him swear. “They’re out of position,” he said, and kicked his horse into a gallop. That left us behind, because I don’t trust myself to stay on Thistle at a gallop, and Cederic wasn’t going to leave me behind. So we missed the first part of the argument. When we got to the Helvirite camp, we could hear Mattiak’s raised voice and it led us to Garatssen’s command tent. We couldn’t hear her voice at all, though there were pauses in Mattiak’s speech that told us someone was responding to him.
“You are stretched too thin and unprepared to meet attack,” Mattiak was saying when we entered the tent.
“We’re in a perfect defensive position for a small force to engage with a much larger one,” Garatssen said in a level voice. They were both speaking Castaviran, and I was impressed that Mattiak had gotten fluent enough to have a loud argument in a language not his own. “Since we had no idea when our reinforcements would arrive and our scouts say the former Empress is less than a day away.”
“Reinforcements?” Mattiak bellowed. “You are third our size! If anything, you reinforce us!”
“It’s our capital we’re defending, General,” Garatssen said. Now her voice was strained. “We’re grateful for the assistance—”
“It is capital for both of us, if we win,” Mattiak said. “Or do you suggest we are not as dedicated to defend it because we are Balaenic?”
“Generals, please take your seats,” Cederic said calmly. “We need to strategize, and quickly, if we are to face the enemy so soon.”
Mattiak scowled at Cederic, but found a seat. Garatssen sat down as far from him as she could get. The other generals and Cederic and I joined them. “I see I was unclear as to our combined armies’ command structure,” Cederic continued. “General Garatssen, I have made Mattiak Tarallan Commander General of the Army of Castavir and Balaen, as most of our forces are Balaenic and do not speak Castaviran. General Tarallan, General Garatssen commands the largest division of the Army and is an experienced leader. I expect the two of you to extend respect to one another and to contribute equally to the plan for our defense of Colosse.”
Mattiak scowled again, but nodded. Garatssen’s nod was much smoother and respectful. “General Garatssen, I appreciate your preparations,” Cederic said. “I take it the strategy will change now the entire Army is present?”
“Of course,” Garatssen said. “And we’re glad you arrived when you did. We’re lucky to have gotten here before Renatha Torenz. The word is that her Army’s progress was slowed because she’s been ‘pacifying’ the cities in her path, and she’s had to pass through the new forest as well. Even so, we don’t have much time. I contend this is the best ground to make our stand—or do you still disagree with that, General Tarallan?”
“No,” Mattiak said, reluctantly, “it is as good as we hope for. Forest to south hems in potential for attack on that side, which lets us concentrate on western and northern defenses. We will split Balaenic forces into divisions and assign positions, giving them flexibility of acting independent. We have five divisions, General Garatssen,” he said, addressing her, “and I think Helvirite Army serves best by covering west, given that it is larger than any two divisions combined.”
“I agree with that, General Tarallan,” Garatssen said. “We are equipped to handle a frontal assault, if that’s what Renatha Torenz chooses.”
“Then we plan our defense,” Mattiak said. That was where I chose to make my escape, because there’s nothing I can contribute to that kind of planning. I hope Mattiak and Garatssen can learn to get along. I know he can overcome his prejudices if he tries, but I don’t know how much of a problem Garatssen’s obvious competence will be—I don’t think he’s the sort of person who feels threatened by anyone as good as he is, but with her being a woman, I don’t know.
I checked on Terrael’s group briefly, making sure they had what they needed. They’re set up pretty far back from the rest of our camp, so the fighting won’t interrupt them. Terrael was confident but distracted, which told me he was deep in thought about the problem. That was a relief.
Then I went back to where the rest of our mages waited and divided them, with Jeddan’s help, into five groups and told them which division they’d report to in the morning (not six, because the Helvirite Army has its own battle mages, and that reminds me I have to go talk to them and make sure they understand magic really is diminishing and it’s not just them). Everyone was very alert and determined to make a difference, even the Balaenics who don’t have a personal attachment to Colosse. I didn’t assign Jeddan or myself to one of the groups, reasoning we might be needed elsewhere, and I won’t know that for sure until I’ve talked to Mattiak in the morning. I figure that’s enough time for them to decide on a strategy and give me our instructions.
I hate going to war. But I hate even more the thought of the God-Empress overrunning all of us and then Colosse. And I’m so worried we’re (the mages) going to be completely ineffectual, if magic continues to diminish. Right now I’m praying Terrael’s group comes up with a solution soon enough to benefit us.
18 Shelet
We’ve been fighting for maybe eight hours and it’s dark enough that the enemy’s withdrawn for now. They did exactly as Mattiak and Garatssen predicted—made assaults on the north and south like a giant pincer, trying to envelop us. So far we’ve been successful at driving them off. The southern forces (Gray and Brown) even managed to push them back against the forest—those ones withdrew quickly. Kalanik says the Blue Army, which is on the west in front of the Helvirite Army, barely saw any fighting at all. Garatssen says this will likely change in the coming days, as soon as they feel they’ve softened us up.
I stayed with the Helvirite Army and felt totally useless all day, since nobody passed the Blue Army to reach us. Mattiak says it’s a deep defense, though I’m not sure what that means other than they aren’t strung out along a single thin line. I spent a lot of time going back and forth between Terrael’s group, flitting until I was sick of it. They’re still not making progress. I eventually had to stop going there because I was so impatient I was afraid I might shout at them. I tried the binding pouvra while one of the mages was working the revelation pouvra—still nothing. I felt even more useless after that.
19 Shelet, early
Exhausted. The God-Empress started hammering on the Blue Army two hours ago even though it was still full dark—war wagons and mages summoning fire. I went to join the Blue Army mages and we managed to disable most of the war wagons, but the Blue Army is in shambles and we’re not sure they’ll be prepared to meet a full assault at dawn, which is almost certainly what’s going to happen. Lots of shifting around, lots of me reassigning mages. It’s not much comfort to know the enemy doesn’t outnumber us by a lot, given how much of an advantage the war wagons give them.
I have to sleep for a while now. I know they need me, but I don’t have any more to give right now. Working pouvrin feels like hauling a ship into dry dock with a rope and my own two hands and nothing else.
Hah. I must be lightheaded, because I just imagined those little blobs of magic actually being alive, and me coaxing them with breadcrumbs like they were ducks.
19 Shelet, forty minutes later
Damn. I was just lightheaded. The stupid blobs aren’t alive, and we can’t coax them to move any faster. Or, we sort of can, but it takes so much magic to do so it’s a net loss. Now I really am going to sleep.
19 Shelet, afternoon
Taking advantage of a lull in the fighting to eat something and write for a bit. I haven’t seen Cederic for a while, but I know he’s still at the back of the Helvirite Army since I’m near the front. We can’t risk both of us. (Cederic doesn’t want to risk either of us, but he knows where I’m needed. I should probably find him and reassure him I’m all right.)
The assault shifted this morning to the western position. The God-Empress is still sending her troops out on both sides in that pincer formation, trying to engulf us and take the center from behind, but those divisions are all holding firm. The Blue Army, to my surprise, is also holding firm, though they’ve moved back somewhat and the Helvirite Army has moved forward some. As exhausting as working magic is, our mages are still effective, can still act in concert unlike the God-Empress’s battle mages, and morale is high. I haven’t been to talk to Terrael today—no time. Maybe I’ll do that after I eat and find Cederic.
19 Shelet, sundown
Cederic was happy enough to see me I know he’d been close to going out to look for me himself. “Please come to me every four or five hours,” he said after hugging me so tightly it almost hurt. “I need to know you are not dead.”
“I will, if I can,” I said.
“That is not reassuring,” he said.
“I mean I can’t leave the battle if I’m personally engaged in a fight,” I said. “I’ll return as often as I can.”
“I wish I could go with you,” he said.
“You could visit Terrael,” I said, “if you need something to distract you. And I’m sure you’d be more useful there than on the front lines.”
“I dislike feeling helpless, Sesskia,” he said, but he came with me to talk to Terrael. I wish he’d been able to give me better news, but they still hadn’t made any progress; everything they try just soaks up magic and can’t direct it anywhere. I’m so close to telling him to give it up and bringing our mages forward to help in the battle. But we need this. It’s taking us far too long to work pouvrin, and the Castaviran mages are having to scribe th’an several times before they’ll activate. It’s small comfort the enemy battle mages are having the same difficulties.
19 Shelet, after dinner
After I wrote the last and the fighting stopped for the night, Cederic and I had dinner and then he said, “I have decided to aid Terrael in his efforts. I am little more than a figurehead here, and I think I have been stupid not to remember I am still Kilios and should not be wasting those talents.”
That eased the knot in my stomach quite a bit. “I’ll join you,” I said. We found Terrael, who was in the middle of his own meal and very happy to see us.
“I haven’t wanted to draw you away from your other duties, Cederic,” he said, “but honestly, I could use your perspective.” He set his plate aside and led us to where they’d laid out the kathana circle. It’s not so big as the one we drew in that field, but it’s still big, and I know it took them a long time to make it. They dug a shallow trench about two inches wide and filled it with scrap metal, forks and coins and some pewter cups someone managed to cut into strips. Then they used th’an to melt everything until it ran together. That means it’s mottled silver and copper and gold and has this strange beauty to it. Terrael, of course, only cares that it’s circular and uninterrupted.
“We draw the th’an as thickly as we can around the circle, leaving only the smallest gaps,” Terrael said, kneeling down and drawing a few th’an on the ring as an example. “It’s like penning the magic inside the circle. When they activate, they repel the magic. It’s like filling a cup with water and then freezing it; if you try to add more water, it just runs off. Then we try as many th’an and pouvrin as we can to make the magic come together. But the best we can do is get them to deflect each other. At worst, the th’an and pouvrin absorb the magic and activate. Eventually we’ve used it all up and have to start over. But we’ve eliminated dozens of possibilities. I haven’t given up hope.”
“Is it possible to attract more magic before…penning it?” Cederic said. “If it masses thickly enough—”
“It’s too thin on the ground,” Terrael said. “We’ve found we can attract it with pouvrin by working one and letting it draw magic to it, then releasing it before the magic can activate it. But it takes so long, by the time we’ve collected some magic, more of it has drifted away.”
“I have some ideas for that,” Cederic said. “I apologize for not joining you sooner. I am afraid you will have to bear with me as I ask questions for which you have already found solutions.”
“You’ll see things none of the rest of us have seen, though,” Terrael said, grinning, “and it really is only a matter of time.”
I was going to stay with them, but I was so tired—I’m falling asleep as I write this—so I left the two geniuses at work and came back to our tent. I can hear the sound of the remaining war wagons going off and wish we had some of our own. Garatssen hadn’t even heard of them. I guess they’re a new weapon only the main army has. The main army and the Viravonian Army, that is.
I wish I knew what was going on down there. We haven’t been able to decide what to do about Viravon when this is all over. Cederic wants us to give them independence, which I’d agree with if not for the Balaenic cities within Viravon’s borders, especially Calassmir, who are going to have a hard enough time with a new ruler of their own country without being told they’re now part of a completely different one.
I don’t think we’re going to win.
I don’t think we’re going to succeed at bringing magic together.
I can only admit this in the privacy of these pages, but I feel so discouraged. Maybe it’s being so tired all the time, but it feels as if the God-Empress has endless troops to pour into this attack and it’s only a matter of time before we’re overwhelmed. But I’m going to put on a brave face and be confident. These people need to know their rulers have faith in them and in our cause. And I do. I’m just not sure faith is enough.
20 Shelet, noon
Keonn collapsed this morning and won’t wake up. Two other mages succumbed an hour later. I made everyone stop for a rest, sent runners to the other armies with the same instruction and told them to send any mages who collapsed to the rear of the Helvirite Army for care. I really just want them under my eye because if this means they’re permanently unable to work magic, I want to know about it. Enemy mages still pounding away, damn them.
20 Shelet, evening
I sent everyone back to the front (fronts) with more instructions: no more than half an hour working magic of any kind, then half an hour rest and something to eat. I have no idea if it will help at all. Three more mages collapsed. None of them have woken yet, though the surgeons assure me their breathing and heartrates are normal.
I didn’t do any magic this afternoon, just observed the mages in my group. I never realized before that some of them are struggling less than others. It’s as if they’re—I don’t know what to call it. Stronger, I think, because it reminds me of how some people (Jeddan) can lift the corner of a laden wagon off the ground, and others (me) are lucky to be able to haul a fifty-pound backpack, well-balanced, for more than a mile or two without becoming exhausted. At any rate, I think there’s a connection between that strength and who’s collapsing, as if people are simply coming to the end of what they can handle and then trying to exert themselves past that. I wish I knew if there were some signal that could tell someone she’s reaching that point, but no one seems to know. The best I can do is make them rest frequently and hope they’re replenishing themselves, as if this really were a question of physical endurance, which I’m not convinced is true.
Went to see Terrael and found Cederic there too, but neither of them had much attention to spare. Cederic said they were making progress, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me, but Terrael’s been saying the same thing and he wouldn’t lie to me either and damn it we’re not making progress.
21 Shelet, afternoon
So very tired. The northern flank—the Black Army, I mean—collapsed under the assault and let the God-Empress’s troops past. The Green Army was barely able to hold until the Helvirites came charging in to the rescue, at which point the main force of the God-Empress’s army made a push through the center. We were able to repel them, but the northern front is barely holding and has been pushed back by that arm of the pincer. Five more mages collapsed during the assault, and I pushed myself and the others to our limits. Found out the closer we are to each other, the weaker we get, and I realized it’s because we were using up each other’s supplies of local magic. So that’s it for concentrated attacks in unison. Small comfort that my fires are as large and devastating as ever and Saemon’s trick of throwing battle mages into each other still works. He’s more cautious than the rest of us about exerting himself, but then he’s already collapsed once in battle and knows
Oh, I’m so stupid. I should have him explain how to know what it feels like when you’re reaching your limit.
22 Shelet
Cederic and Terrael had me try the binding pouvra again. They seem convinced, since it’s the only magic that incorporates both Castaviran and Balaenic (being a pouvra based on th’an) it’s more likely to have the right effect. So tonight after dinner I stood in the middle of the kathana circle and watched the blobs of magic become visible around me. They really are ugly. I hope the restored magic is prettier.
“All right, Sesskia, work the, mmm, the walk-through-walls pouvra, then release it before it activates,” Terrael said. I did as he asked and watched the blobs drift toward me. It’s strange to keep the shape of a pouvra inside you without it doing anything, like when you tug on your hair but not hard enough for it to hurt, but it’s everywhere. I released it before any of the blobs could reach me and saw them continue to drift through my body. It looks strange, but you can’t feel anything.
“Now,” Cederic said. All the mages began scribbling th’an on the metal circle as fast as they could. Blobs floated in that direction both from inside and outside the circle, and soon it began to glow, here and there, until the metal was lit softly along its whole circumference, like moonlight. I saw muddy blobs bouncing off it and off each other—or near each other; they still never touch.
“Sesskia,” Cederic said, “you will need to work the binding pouvra and maintain it for as long as possible.”
“It will just activate when the magic touches it. Or not activate, since it doesn’t do anything,” I said.
“Try to see it not as the fire pouvra, but the walk-through-walls pouvra,” he said. “Make it into a container.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I said, but I bent my will to the pouvra and felt it take shape around me. Blobs drifted in my direction and I could feel it when they reached me, felt the pouvra absorb them. I kept myself relaxed, though the temptation to exert my will was enormous. I’m so impatient for success I want to make it happen, and I know that’s not how pouvrin work. The pouvra continued to absorb magic and the pressure of being tugged on from all directions increased. “I can’t,” I began, and the pouvra fell apart without doing anything. Just like it always does.
I shook my tingling fingers and toes out and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do any better than that. If I try to force it, it will only fall apart faster.”
Cederic rubbed out some of the th’an and the silvery light vanished. “We need to try once more,” he said, “this time with the concealment pouvra.”
So we repeated the whole thing, and this time I couldn’t keep the pouvra from activating once the first magic touched it. I was discouraged, but Cederic and Terrael seemed pleased. “I promise we’ve learned something important,” Terrael told me, “but if I try to explain it to you, you’ll just soak my head again.”
“If I had any energy left,” I said, but it cheered me up. So I’m going to sleep now, and hope things look better in the morning.
23 Shelet, afternoon
Cederic,
I hope you never see this letter. With luck, I’ll be back in a few hours, and I’ll tear this page out and destroy it. But if, as you’ve often put it, my God-given reserves of luck have finally run out, I want you to know why I did this.
For a long time, I believed the former God-Empress’s death wasn’t my responsibility. That there were others who could make it happen, and that it wouldn’t keep her generals from continuing to fight. But this morning I stood and looked out at her banner in the middle of her army, and I thought about why we’re fighting this war. Someone’s going to win, and that person will rule our two countries—our unified country.
I know from what Mattiak said that we’re still evenly matched, so there’s no way to know what will happen in the next few days. But if we lose—I’m trying not to be superstitious about writing that—an evil woman is going to take the throne, and our country is going to suffer. And I can’t let that happen.
If the God-Empress is dead, it will throw her generals into enough confusion you’ll be able to defeat them. All those excuses I made are no longer valid. Right now I’m the only one who can safely cross this battlefield and get close enough to her to kill her. And I’m probably the only one who can survive doing it.
I know you don’t think I’m a killer—truthfully, I don’t think I am either. But I am the Empress-Consort, and this is how I can serve our country. Serve all those people who don’t deserve to be ruled by a madwoman. So it’s what I’m going to do.
I know what you’re thinking, and it occurred to me too: if magic is so hard to work, I might not have the ability to conceal myself and work the see-inside and mind-moving pouvrin. That’s the chance I have to take. I’m still the strongest mage we have, and if anyone can manage it, I can. I don’t think that’s bragging. You know I always think things through, and I’m confident that I’m coming back from this. I believe in preparing for the worst, and I know this letter represents the worst.
I’m leaving all my books behind, just in case. I know someday you’ll be able to read Balaenic, and I hope you’ll read this record and it will give you comfort, as much as that’s possible. Every moment of our life together is in these pages, right from the first time we met and you twisted my arm behind my back and looked so smug and superior I wanted to slap you.
All those first times—I’m sorry it also has our last times, and that I didn’t know they were last times. I didn’t know when I kissed you this morning before going to the front it would be the last kiss. I’m sorry the last thing I said to you was “You have butter on your chin.” So this can be my last thing, instead: I love you. I wish I could elaborate on that, but I think you already know everything I mean, and if I write anything else it will sound stupid. So it’s just—I love you.
Rule wisely. Be patient. Never forget me.
Sesskia