Chapter 9 #5
Meaning the magic that allowed their connection and his ability to chase the thoughts of another’s mind also translated what they were hearing, in much the same manner as the magic that made me a strega had translated the thoughts and replies of animals.
Garran nodded and glanced at Damon. “Can you remove enough of his shackles to allow speech?”
Damon immediately peeled the threads of magic away from the Rayabar’s eyes, nose, jawline, and mouth. He spat in response. Damon stepped back before the globule could land on his boots.
“Are we good to start?” Garran asked, also taking several steps back.
“Yes,” Damon replied.
Herron immediately clambered up the ladder and placed his hands on either side of the Rayabar’s head.
The Mareritt’s gaze narrowed in concentration, and the threads of magic clustered around his neck brightened, suggesting they were reacting to whatever he was doing—which was no doubt an attempt to shake free of the unwanted touch.
“Proceed with your questions,” Gisele said. “While Herron is connected, he will understand exactly what you say, no matter what level of understanding he has of our language.”
Garran immediately said, “What does the fog moving down from the Ghost Forest toward the Mareritten encampment at our gates hide?”
The Rayabar’s reply very much sounded like swearing to me. After a few long seconds, Gisele said, “It hides the mages, fire-protected acid tubes, and several carts containing the acid.”
Was that all? Something within doubted it. The fog stream bleeding down was just too large to be concealing only a few carts and mages. Unless, of course, his version of several meant hundreds rather than a couple.
“What about the acidic globes?” Garran asked.
The Rayabar snarled. Gisele said, “They have no globes. The riders keep them.”
“Why is that?” Damon asked.
A pause, then: “They wished us to test their viability against our stone walls. They offer no more.”
“But they have more?” Garran asked.
The Rayabar didn’t reply, but Gisele nevertheless said, “Yes, but he knows not what they plan. He cares not what they plan. He wishes to kill with hand and weapon, not magic or from a distance.”
All Mareritt had that mentality, though most of their “general” warriors were not against a bit of magical help—we’d seen the evidence of that multiple times.
“Here’s hoping they don’t intend to rain the fucking things down on us from that force they’re building near the Sheer,” I said grimly.
“The orbs are not for us,” Gisele said into the brief silence. “Though he knows not what they do intend.”
I crossed my arms and lightly rubbed them, though it didn’t do much against the growing pulse of impending doom. “Meaning that, for all he knows, they could be intending to rain them all down on the surrounding mountains and bury the whole damn fortress under all the damn rubble.”
“There is no honor in such a victory, but he would nevertheless rejoice in our defeat and dedicate our remains to his gods,” Gisele intoned.
“I’m afraid rejoicing isn’t something that lies in his future,” Garran said. “Where do the gilded riders come from, Rayabar?”
This time he answered, and his expression was mocking. It wasn’t hard to guess he believed it didn’t matter if we knew.
“Grie-i-ton lies far to the northeast,” Gisele said. “Neither your fleet nor your winged beasts will reach it in time to stop what comes. We will lay your fortresses to waste and claim your lands as our own.”
“Grie-i-ton is the name our captured rider kept giving us when I asked for his homeland,” I commented.
The old man’s breathing began to rattle.
The magic that allowed him to do this was now taking its toll on his strength.
Either this sort of mind reading was far harder than reading the minds of animals, or the Rayabar was fighting internally and causing our cipher to use more strength than he normally would.
“Three more questions,” Gisele added. “After that, we must stop.”
Garran hesitated. “What waystations are the riders using aside from Jakarra and Ezu?”
The Rayabar didn’t reply, but Gisele said, “He does not know, but he is aware that the Islands were not the first of the free lands to fall to their soldiers.”
“Meaning our suspicions might be right, and they are behind Reydia’s urgent missive,” I said.
“He recognized that name,” Gisele said.
“What of the barges?” I asked. “Where do the Stymphalian gather in the Eastern Seas?”
Given Stymphalian was the name our captured rider had used for the birds, it was likely the name the Mareritt knew them by.
More foul language from the Rayabar.
“He is not a mariner and cannot give you coordinates, but they are an hour’s flight from the Shatter to the northwest of K’Anor.
” Gisele paused, her eyes narrowed as she listened to the old man.
“The Shatter being their name for the area of the range that ends in the Sheer. One more question, and then we must end this session.”
Garran hesitated. “Why do the riders gather on the Sheer?”
The Rayabar spat another reply, glaring hard at Garran.
“He knows not, he cares not,” Gisele intoned. “But this land of yours will be ours. It is our destiny and our right.”
I snorted. “If he believes the riders will allow the Mareritt to come in and claim our continent, he and his people are bigger fools than I’d imagined. Ask him what he knows about the fog creeping down from the Ghost Forest.”
Which was in fact a fourth question, but after a few seconds, she replied, “Nothing,” Gisele said. “It is not his purview.”
“Or he’s not important enough to warrant knowing,” I commented.
The Rayabar bared his teeth, his sharp canines gleaming in the wan light filtering in from the tubes behind us.
“You will die. You will all die; your winged beasts cannot save you. Nothing can save you,” Gisele intoned. “We will dance on your bones and raise your hearts on the spears of victory.”
She paused, but he continued, spitting his venomous words our way, spraying spittle in his fury.
“Pray to your gods. Enjoy your wine and your women while you can. Death comes for these lands, and she is hungry.”
“How hungry?” Damon asked evenly.
“Days,” came the vicious reply. “Your souls will be hers in days.”