On a narrow ridge east of Shenndeth, Siddonie sat on her horse watching a band of mountain elven driven screaming and fighting over the cliff. The pale little people grabbed at the soldiers’ horses and jabbed with their lances as her horse soldiers clubbed them. For three days her armies had been routing these small, hidden bands, working north from Lettlehem toward the main area of battle. Her troops had swept Lettlehem clean, as well as Pearilleth and now Shenndeth, leaving the villages stripped of life and food.
Below her a dozen winged lizards banked and dove at the bodies strewn along the cliff, lapping their blood. When a new lizard, a big male, heaved down out of the sky she held out her arm to it.
It wore a collar. It landed so heavily it nearly unseated her. Its eyes seemed still filled with the Hell fires from which it had just returned. Its long, slick body shone like ebony, its leathery wings glinted with black scales. It grunted a greeting, then spoke in a guttural hiss forced up through its long, narrow throat.
“Three rebel bands west of Cressteane,” it said, “hiding in the mountains.” It smiled a toothy grimace. “Fear touches them, the spirit of the dark beast has found them. It plays with their fear like dragons play with a lamb.” The lizard’s black tongue flicked with satisfaction.
Siddonie nodded. “And what else? What of the main rebel army? And what of the Catswold? What has the dark beast done to the Catswold?”
The lizard turned its face away, as if she would strike it. “The Catswold do not heed the dark beast. I flew all the way through that endless tunnel to Zzadarray. I saw the spirit of the beast lying like fog over Zzadarray darkening the streets and chambers, but the Catswold moved through it never seeing it, never aware of it.”
“That is not possible.
She did not speak of her fear at night as the dark beast came exploding into her dreams. She would not speak of that to a lizard. The dream filled her with rage.
The lizard gazed at her intently.
“Go back. Go back there and find out!”
“But I can tell you why.”
“Why, then? Speak up!”
“The primal dark has risen at your call, but that does not mean it is your servant, Queen Siddonie. You have summoned the dark that lived before the earth was formed. You have challenged it, but it goes where it pleases and it destroys only as it pleases. That beast will never be ruled by you.”
Her hand circled its throat. “I am its heir!
The lizard opened its wet mouth in a mirthless smile, and wriggled as her hand tightened. “You have found the power to summon it. It is drawn to you as surely as I am drawn to blood, but that does not mean it will obey you.
“The primal dark is not your slave, Siddonie. You are its slave.” It choked suddenly, strangled by her throttling grip; she cast it away from her. It dropped, then righted itself and flew above her clumsily.
“Go back,” she shouted. “Go back and learn more about the Catswold. I want to know why they resist.”
From the stone sky, the beast glared at her, then plunged away flapping.
Chapter 67
Zzadarray’s towers were airy, open to the Netherworld breezes. The city was built of pale stone, the pillars and stone facades carved into leaf and flower designs. The upper chambers let onto balconies, and the lower chambers onto small private gardens scaled to a cat. In the main city, preparations for war were under way, conducted as smoothly and seemingly without effort as the stalking of small game through Zzadarray’s grassy meadows. The Catswold from Marchell and Cathenn and Ebenth had joined those of Zzadarray, and they were heavily armed.
All the Catswold women had taken human form. They wore their finest silks and their sacred jewelry, golden anklets, amber necklaces, ruby and emerald girdles. Lapis and emerald combs were fastened into piebald locks, religious treasures all, brought down to the Netherworld in ancient times from the Celtic lands and from Egypt. In the white stone temple as the women knelt, their jewelry was blessed by the five Catswold priests, and their weapons and the weapons of the Catswold men were blessed. As midnight approached the Catswold nation prepared with feasting and then with spells and with prayer. Tomorrow they would ride against the dark queen.
