The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [196]
“To me!” King Boreas was shouting. “Do not be fooled by witchcraft and trickery! To me!”
A few more heeded the king's call, gathering around him, but they were not many. The shouts of men and the pounding of hooves drowned out his commands, while Teravian's voice continued to ring out as though it issued from the sky itself.
At last Aryn reached Lirith and Sareth. The two gripped the saddle of her horse to keep from being swept away. Aryn tried to speak, but her voice was lost in the din. She abandoned mundane speech in favor of the Weirding.
What's happening? Is it really a sign from Vathris?
No, sister, came Lirith's reply. Can you not feel it? It has its source in the web of the Weirding.
Aryn closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise and confusion around her. The threads of the Weirding were pulled taught, vibrating like the strings of a lute. Something was drawing a river of magic from the great web. Something or someone.
The bull is a form of illusion, isn't it? Aryn spoke in her mind.
Yes, but one forged of enormous power. Last summer, in Falanor, Grace, you, and I were able to part the fog that covered the village green. But this bull is far larger than the cloud of mist we affected, and its shape is formed with great skill. I know of no witch who could have conjured such a thing. There was a pause. No female witch, at least.
Aryn clenched the reins of the horse. It's Teravian. This is why they wanted him to come full into his power last night—so he could do this.
Remember what Mirda told us—he is more powerful than any witch.
Save for one, Aryn thought. However, she did not spin these words over the Weirding.
She opened her eyes. The greater part of the army had abandoned its position and raced across the field, falling in behind Teravian. A chant of “Vathris, Lord Vathris!” rose from the men, as well as, “Teravian, King Teravian!”
No more than a quarter of the army had remained with King Boreas. In a way, Aryn was heartened so many had stayed at all. The bull still snorted and tossed its head in the sky. What man would not follow in answer to the call of his god? But at least some men had put loyalty before faith.
Only they were not nearly enough. It was to be father against son, warrior against warrior, and King Boreas's side was too small. There was no hope it could win. All the same, the victory over their brothers would exact a terrible toll on the force that had flocked to Teravian. When the battle was over, half the army of Vathris would lie dead on the field, and many of those who remained would be wounded. No more than a small force would be left to march north to Gravenfist Keep—if it marched north at all. Surely that had been Liendra's plan all along.
But where were Liendra and her witches? Aryn gazed over the field, but all she saw were the men gathered behind Teravian. The prince had ridden forward, so that he was now twenty paces before his army. Duke Petryen and Sai'el Ajhir still rode beside him, the banners they held snapping in the wind. Aryn remembered how solicitous of the prince both had been since the first attempt on his life. The two lords must have been in on this treacherous plot from the beginning.
A silence fell over the battlefield. In the sky, the bull lowered itself on one knee, as if bowing to the prince below.
“Hear me, King Boreas!” Teravian's voice rang out over the land. “There is yet hope for you. Throw down your sword and surrender yourself, and you will be forgiven your deeds!”
The prince's words elicited a string of curses from Boreas. The knights gathered around him shook their swords in anger. However, Aryn hardly noticed. A realization came to her, along with a sudden thrill.
Lirith! she said, spinning a thread out to the other witch. Teravian is powerful, there's no doubt of that. But no matter how powerful he is, he can't be weaving two spells at once. He can't be creating the illusion of the bull and magnifying the sound of