Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar v(-101 Read online

  This were the most clever and the closest to actual intelligence and Tarma was very glad that she and Kethry were not the ones directly facing the things. They were not coming out of this unscathed, that much was certain, too. At the end of each battle, they were at the very least completely exhausted. And the injuries they got were quite real. Yes, Nanca could and did heal them almost immediately, but they did hurt, and they did incapacitate.

  But Tarma, at least, was finding something exhilarating about this. It was like having the perfect training scenario. You didn’t learn anything in fighting by not getting hurt, after all.

  And the closer they got to the “endgame” as Nanca called it, the more cheerful she became. “If we can pull this off as a draw,” she said finally, “I will be happy. Quite, quite happy, actually. Coming into this handicapped—”

  “I am not settling for a draw.” Tarma had opened her mouth to declare something of the sort, but Kethry, to her astonishment, beat her to it.

  “Eh?” the Swordsworn said, looking curiously at her partner, who was at the moment looking rather the worst for wear, with her robes more than a bit cut up, her hair straggling out of its tail, and the beginnings of a black eye that was just one of the many sets of bruises they had both collected. Bruises, after all, were not incapacitating, and Nanca’s reserves of healing energies were limited.

  “I am not settling for a draw. I think we can win this one. But I’d like to suggest a strategy change myself.” Kethry settled an unsheathed Need across her lap. “Am I right in thinking we are going to encounter your opponent in this endgame?”

  Nanca nodded. “Absolutely. And rather than relying on the constructs going through their patterned moves, he’ll be directing some of them personally.

  “That’s what I thought.” Kethry looked over at her partner. We’ve been taking out the weakest of the constructs first, then concentrating the fighting of all three of us on the strongest. This time I think we should ignore all that. Instead, we all converge on this mage-friend of Nanca’s and take him out. Once he’s down, the game is over. Right?”

  “Right!” Nanca pounded a fist into her cupped hand with delight. “And that is the last thing he is going to expect, because we’ve been doing the opposite of that until now. The essence of what is going to work is that we can’t be predicted!”

  “Is there any way you can give us an overview of the battle site?” Kethry asked.

  “I don’t—” Nanca began, and then—her eyes fell on Warrl. And she began to grin.

  Mind-mate, Warrl said, with alarm, backing up a pace, I am not at all certain I like where this is going—

  I knew I would not like where this was going, Warrl complained bitterly, as he hovered in place, four paws dangling limply in midair. If the gods had intended us to fly, they would have made us gryphons.

  “Hush up and practice.” Tarma admonished him. “Just do what Nanca told you to do; run as if you were running on the ground.”

  It’s undignified. He protested, ears laid back flat, but obeyed.

  Finally even Nanca was satisfied with what he was doing. “You’re no Tayledras bondbird, but you’ll do,” she said with satisfaction. “Now just make sure Jendran doesn’t see you, and you’ll be fine.”

  I’m doomed, Warrl said bitterly. I’m a calf-sized flying predator. How is he not going to see me?

  But he galloped clumsily up into the sky anyway.

  Tarma closed her eyes and concentrated on what Warrl was showing her. The layout of the troops. The disposition of the “special” constructs that their opponent would be operating himself. And most importantly, the whereabouts of Jendran himself—

  Ack! bleated Warrl, as suddenly crossbow bolts from three separate units came hurtling toward him.

  And Warrl came hurtling back at top speed, now displaying a great deal more agility than he had going out.

  Or at least, agility in the air. He landed like a sack of wet sand, three crossbow bolts sticking out of his improvised battle-armor.

  And he glared at Tarma.

  If you ever ask me to do that again, he said savagely, I will bite you. I will remove a very large piece of your flesh. And forever after you will be known as “Tarma the Half-A—”

  “They know we’re coming,” Tarma said hastily. “The advantage of surprise is over. Let’s move, people.”

  The victory feast was very real. It was held outside the game-world, in no small part because what was inside the game-world was not entirely real. Jendran had a small, but comfortable Keep literally on the threshold of the Gate terminus, complete with several servants and a really good cook, none of them constructs.

  “Brilliant!” he kept saying with delight. “I don’t know when I’ve had a better game! But, of course, now we’re going to have to agree to ban all other players from the field except the two of us, or agree to incorporate an even number on both sides.”

  Jendran was a small, wiry fellow in person, not at all formidable. But Tarma had immense respect for his ability to think on his feet and strategically deal with the unexpected. They had won, but it had been a very near thing, and only the last-minute appearance of Warrl, who body-slammed the mage from the rear, knocking him off his feet, had given them the victory as quickly as they had it.

  Warrl was inordinately proud of that fact. Tarma was more than inclined to let him bask.

  “I just want you to keep us in mind at some point in the future,” she said, polishing off a second slice of apple tart. “Being able to practice large-scale strategy like this—”

  “It will be a while before we can manage something that is not so predictable,” Nanca put in. “But—well, I, for one, would value your input. And that of any other fighter you feel you can trust.”

  The discussion went on long into the night hours, and in the morning, fully resupplied and with their fee jingling in the pouches, they rode off towards Kata’shin’a’in and hopefully, some work.

  But their did remain one small question in Tarma’s mind.

  Did you really mean what you said about biting me if I ever made you fly again? she thought hard at Warrl.

  The kyree did not look back over his shoulder, but she got the distinct impression of a glower.

  :You are feeling, precisely, how lucky?: was his only response.

  And on reflection she could only come to one conclusion.

  Not that lucky.

  NOVELS BY MERCEDES LACKEY

  available from DAW Books:

  THE HERALDS OF VALDEMAR

  ARROWS OF THE QUEEN

  ARROW’S FLIGHT

  ARROW’S FALL

  THE LAST HERALD-MAGE

  MAGIC’S PAWN

  MAGIC’S PROMISE

  MAGIC’S PRICE

  THE MAGE WINDS

  WINDS OF FATE

  WINDS OF CHANGE

  WINDS OF FURY

  THE MAGE STORMS

  STORM WARNING

  STORM RISING

  STORM BREAKING

  VOWS AND HONOR

  THE OATHBOUND

  OATHBREAKERS

  OATHBLOOD

  BY THE SWORD

  BRIGHTLY BURNING

  TAKE A THIEF

  EXILE’S HONOR

  EXILE’S VALOR

  VALDEMAR ANTHOLOGIES:

  SWORD OF ICE

  SUN IN GLORY

  CROSSROADS

  Written with LARRY DIXON:

  THE MAGE WARS

  THE BLACK GRYPHON

  THE WHITE GRYPHON

  THE SILVER GRYPHON

  DARIAN’S TALE

  OWLFLIGHT

  OWLSIGHT

  OWLKNIGHT

  OTHER NOVELS

  THE BLACK SWAN

  THE DRAGON JOUSTERS

  JOUST

  ALTA

  SANCTUARY

  THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS

  THE SERPENT’S SHADOW

  THE GATES OF SLEEP

  PHOENIX AND ASHES

  THE WIZARD OF LONDON

&nb
sp; And don’t miss:

  The VALDEMAR COMPANION

  Edited by John Helfers and Denise Little

  FB2 document info

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  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 2.2.2012

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  Document authors :

  Milhent

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