The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [195]
Now shouts rose from the men, some of protest, but others of outrage. Some of the knights around Aryn appeared as angry as the king, but many more cast odd looks at Boreas, their lips curling in disgust.
It's part of the spell, sister, Lirith's voice spoke in her mind. The words Ajhir and Petryen speak—they do more than simply pierce the air. They are piercing men's hearts and minds as well, twisting them. Only I don't know how they're doing it. Can you see anything from up there?
Aryn gazed around, but she saw only the great host of warriors, and the empty plain, and the red clouds that boiled in the sky. The air behind Teravian, Petryen, and Ajhir shimmered as though it were hot instead of bitterly cold.
“This is madness!” Boreas called out. He wheeled his horse around, his eyes casting off sparks. “Do not listen to them! I know not why, but they seek to turn us from our purpose, to prevent us from riding against the darkness.”
However, the king's voice sounded small and weak compared to the stentorian tones of Petryen and Ajhir. His words were drowned out by the angry voices of the warriors, though there were shouts of doubt and protest as well.
How can we know if this is true? many of the men called out, and others took up the cry. How can we know it is the prince who is to lead us? Show us a sign!
A chant rose from the men, quickly growing in strength as it raced across the army like a wave over the ocean.
Show us! Show us!
Teravian guided his white horse forward, and the chanting ceased as a silence fell over the army.
“I will show you a sign,” the prince said, and though his voice was low, every ear heard his words, and every soldier held his breath as he raised his arms over his head.
Aryn clutched the reins of her stolen horse. What was he doing? Then she felt the hum of magic along the threads of the Weirding.
“Show them, Lord Vathris!” Teravian called out, his voice booming like thunder now. He thrust his hands above his head. “Show your followers what they wish to see!”
A new sound rose from the army: cries of fear, and of exultation. Men pointed at the sky, and shouts of “Vathris! Lord Vathris comes!” rang out.
Aryn gazed upward. The molten clouds above the army roiled, then all at once broke apart. Out of the gap emerged a gigantic shape, as large as castle, as ruddy as the dawn. The thing charged across the sky, tossing its gigantic head and snorting fire from its nostrils.
It was a bull, terrifying and beautiful, born of the red clouds of morning.
44.
A deafening cry rose up from the army. Five thousand men surged in a crushing tide. At first Aryn thought the soldiers were fleeing at the sight of the enormous bull floating overhead. Then she heard Teravian's voice—clear and thunderous—ringing out over the din.
“To me, Warriors of Vathris! To me, Men of the Bull!”
The soldiers weren't crying out in dread, but in rapture. They broke from their formations and raced across the field, answering Teravian's call, gathering around him, swords and spears held aloft to catch the light of the dawn.
In the sky, the bull had wheeled around, and now it halted above the prince. A morning wind sprang up, blowing the clouds to the east, but the bull held its place. It was as large as a mountain now, gleaming red-gold. Wisps of fog curled away from its body like the steam of sweat.
Some of the knights spurred their horses, racing across the field toward Teravian's banner. Aryn fought to retain control of her horse as it was buffeted from all sides. Where were Lirith and Sareth? They would be trampled.
She caught sight of them not far from the king. He rode beneath his banner, shouting orders, his face as red as the bull in the sky. A tight knot of men on horse and on foot surrounded him, and Lirith and Sareth were among them. Aryn pulled on the reins of her mount, trying to guide it toward the king, but men and horses crashed into them. Her mount's eyes were wild with terror.
Get out of my way!
Aryn directed the words along the Weirding with the full force of her will.