The Lightstone: The Silver Sword: Part Two. David Zindell
Madhvam up against the White Mountains, with the domain of Virad partially squeezed in between. He told us then what Duke Rasham and Lord Nicolaym supposed would be Count Ulanu’s strategy for the conquest of Yarkona.
‘Khaisham is the key to everything that Count Ulanu desires,’ Rinald told us. ‘Other than Aigul, it’s the strongest domain in Yarkona, and Virad, Sikar and Inyam all look to the Librarians to lead the opposition against the Count. If Khaisham falls, the whole of the north will fall as well. Count Ulanu already has the west under his thumb. Hansh, too. The middle domains – Madhvam and Sarad, even Karkut – can’t stand alone. And once Aigul has swallowed us all up, it will be nothing for the Count’s army to take the Nashthalan.’
His words encouraged us to finish our brandy in quick swallows. And then Maram said, ‘Ah, well, I should think that the Count’s invasion of Sikar would lead all the free domains to join against him.’
‘That is my lord’s hope, too,’ Rinald said. ‘But I’m afraid that many lords think otherwise. They say that if Count Ulanu’s conquest is inevitable, they should join with him rather than wind up nailed to crosses.’
‘Nothing’s inevitable,’ Kane growled out, ‘except such cowardly talk.’
‘That is so,’ Rinald said. ‘Even Sikar’s fall is uncertain. If only Khaisham’s knights would ride to its aid …’
‘Will they?’ I asked.
‘No one knows. The Librarians are brave enough, and none better at arms. But for a thousand years, they’ve used them only in defense of their books.’
‘Then what about Virad? What about Inyam?’ I asked, naming the domain north of Virad and between Sikar and Khaisham.
‘I think they’ll wait to see what Khaisham does,’ Rinald says. ‘If the Librarians stay behind their walls and Sikar falls, then likely they’ll sue for peace.’
‘You mean, surrender,’ Kane snarled.
‘Better that than crucifixion, many would say.’
Because Kane’s flashing eyes were difficult to behold just then, I turned toward Maram, who was looking for reasons to abandon his courage.
‘If the Red Dragon desires the conquest of Yarkona so badly,’ he said, ‘I don’t see why he doesn’t just send an army to reduce it. Sakai isn’t so far from here, is it? What could stop him?’
‘Niggardliness could,’ Atara said perceptively. ‘I think the Lord of Lies is very careful: he hoards his forces like a miser does gold.’
‘Just so,’ Rinald said. ‘For him such a conquest would be an expensive campaign.’
‘How so?’ Maram asked.
‘If I had a map, I would show you,’ Rinald said. ‘But there’s no good route from Sakai to Yarkona. If a Sakayan army tried the Red Desert, the heat would kill them like flies if the Ravirii didn’t first.’
‘What about the direct route through the mountains?’
‘That would be even more dangerous,’ Rinald said. ‘The White Mountains, at least the stretch of that range between Yarkona and Sakai, is the land of the Ymanir. They are much worse than the Ravirii.’
He went on to say that the Ymanir were also called the Frost Giants; they were savage men nearly eight feet tall and covered with white fur, who were known to kill all who entered their country and eat them.
‘Frost Giants, is it now?’ Maram exclaimed as he shuddered. ‘Oh, too much, too much.’
I felt my own insides churning as I looked at the war-torn landscape to the east and tried to make out the great White Mountains beyond. In the haze of the burning distances, I saw a golden room whose great iron door was slowly closing like that of a vault. We had to enter the room safely and get out again before we were trapped inside.
‘Val,’ Maram said to me, ‘I don’t have a very good feeling about this land. Perhaps we should turn back before it’s too late.’
I looked at him then, and the fire in my eyes told him that I wasn’t about to come within inches of fulfilling the quest simply to turn back. This same fire blazed inside Kane and Atara, and in Liljana, Alphanderry and Master Juwain. It smoldered, too, beneath the damp leaves of Maram’s fear, even if he didn’t know it.
‘All right, all right, don’t look at me like that,’ Maram said to me. ‘If we must go on, we must. But let’s go soon, okay?’
And with that, we finished our little meal and thanked the goatherd for his hospitality. Then Rinald helped us finally decide our route: we would cut through Karkut and Madhvam toward the northeast along the line of the Nashbrum River. And then turn southeast through Virad’s canyon lands, coming eventually to a little spur running down from the White Mountains that separated Virad and Inyam from Khaisham. There we would find a pass called the Kul Joram, and beyond that, Khaisham.
‘I wish you well,’ Rinald said to us as he mounted his horse. ‘I’ll remind Lord Nicolaym to keep a few rooms empty for your return.’
We watched him ride off toward the rocks above us and the castle that we couldn’t see. And then we turned to mount our horses as well.
All that hot afternoon we rode along the line that Rinald had advised. We found the Nashbrum, a smallish river that ran down from the mountains and seemed to narrow and lose substance to the burning earth as it flowed toward the Nashthalan. Cottonwood trees grew along its course, and we kept their shimmering leaves in sight as we paralleled it almost all the way to Madhvam. We were lucky to come across none of the traitorous lords or knights who had gone over to the Kallimun. We made camp along the Nashbrum’s sandy banks, keeping a careful watch.
But the night passed peacefully enough; only the howling of some wolves pointing their snouts toward the moon reminded us that we were not alone in this desolate country. When morning came, clear and blue and hinting of a sweltering heat later in the day, we set out early and rode quickly through what coolness we could find. It was good, I thought, that we kept close to the river; the sweating horses made free with its water and so did we. By the time the sun crested the sky, we decided to break for our midday meal beneath the shade of a great, gnarled cottonwood. No one was hungry enough to eat, but at least we had some cover from the blistering sun.
But soon enough, we had to set out again. Toward mid-afternoon, some big clouds formed up and let loose a quick burst of thunder and rain. It lasted only long enough to wet the ursage and dried grasses and the sharp rocks that tore at our horses’ hooves. It was a measure of our desire to reach Khaisham that we still made a good distance that day. By the time the sun had left its fierceness behind it in the waves of heat radiating off the glowing land, we found ourselves in the domain of Virad. To the north of us, and to the east, too, the knifelike peaks of the White Mountains caught the red fire of the setting sun.
‘Well, that was a day,’ Maram said. He wiped the sweat from his dripping brown curls and dismounted to look for some wood for the night’s fire. ‘I’m hot, I’m thirsty, I’m tired. And what’s worse,’ he said, pressing his nose to his armpit, ‘I stink. This heat is much worse than the rain in the Crescent Mountains.’
‘Hmmph,’ Atara said to him, ‘it’s only worse because you’re suffering from it now. Just wait until our return.’
‘If we do return,’ he muttered. He scratched at some beads of sweat in the thick beard along his neck as he looked about. ‘Val, are you sure this is Virad?’
I pointed along the river where it abruptly turned north about five miles across the rocky ground ahead of us. I said, ‘Rinald told us to look for that turning. There, we’re to set our course to the southeast and so come to the pass after another forty miles.’
Directly to the east of us, I saw, was a large swelling of black rock impossible to cross on horses. And so, at the river’s turning, we would ride up and around it.
‘Well,