49

THE EARTH KING STRIKES

Binnesman rode over the heath toward Gaborn and Iome, beneath the cloud of dirt and pollen raised by the feet of hundreds of thousands of men and cattle.

Gaborn stared at the wizard. It was the first time he had seen him in full daylight. His hair had gone white, and the baggy robes he wore had turned from a forest green to shades of scarlet and orange, like leaves that had changed color.

Gaborn rode so close to Iome that at times her knee touched his. He dared not try to call a halt as the wizard neared, his mount speeding over the purple heather. Too many people and animals moved in the great throng. Yet Gaborn wanted to talk to Binnesman, wanted to hear his report.

Binnesman stared at Gaborn’s troops for a long moment, wheeled his horse to a near halt, and at last asked in surprise, “Do you plan to feed Raj Ahten’s army with all these cattle, or trample him with them?”

“Whatever he desires,” Gaborn said.

Binnesman shook his head in wonder. “I heard the startled cries of birds here, felt the earth groan under the weight of feet. I thought that you had conjured an army. I thought it fortunate that I’d gone to the trouble of destroying the old Harm’s Gorge Bridge, blocking Raj Ahten’s hopes for reinforcements from the west.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” Gaborn said. “What can you tell me? Have Raj Ahten’s reinforcements been spotted?”

“No,” Binnesman said, “nor do I think they are close.”

“Perhaps luck is with us,” Gaborn said.

“Perhaps so,” Binnesman said.

On the horizon, just along the line of green hills covered with trees, the blackness flashed again, much more fiercely than ever before—a line of blackness that split the sky from horizon to horizon.

Then a great pillar of fire roared slowly into the air, an explosion so massive, Gaborn had never seen the like. Something terrible was happening.

“Gaborn,” Binnesman said. “Close your eyes. Use your Earth Sight. Tell me what is happening.”

Gaborn closed his eyes. For a moment, he felt nothing, and he wondered if Binnesman had erred in asking him to use the Earth Sight.

Then, faintly, he felt the connections, felt the invisible lines of power between him and his people. He had only consciously chosen his father. Now he realized that he’d been choosing people for days. He’d chosen Myrrima that morning in the market, and he’d claimed Borenson. He’d chosen Chemoise when he saw her helping her father in the wagon, and had chosen her father.

Now, he felt all those he had claimed—Borenson, his father, Myrrima, Chemoise and her father. He felt . . . danger. Terrible danger. He feared that if they did not fight now, they would all die.