Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

For a moment, nothing.

Then a frog broke the surface of the water, and sprang into Isaiah”s cupped hands.

Another one broke surface, and likewise leaped into Isaiah”s hands, and then another, and

another, and another.

Soon the surface of the water was boiling with frogs as they leaped frantically into the

river god”s hands. As soon as they had made the leap successfully, they bounded up his arms

where, one by one, they faded and vanished as they were absorbed into Isaiah”s body.

When Isaiah finally made his way back to the palace, the river was empty of the Song of

the Frogs.

He went to Ishbel”s chamber, kissed her, apologized for not being there when she woke,

then went back to his own quarters where, reverently, he packed the Goblet of the Frogs into the

saddlebags he would carry with him.

CHAPTER THREE

The Eastern Plains, Gershadi

Jelial, Lord Warden of the Eastern Plains Province of Gershadi, could not credit what he

saw. His mind simply would not process the information. He sat his horse, growing colder by the

moment, staring ahead at what had been his home base, the castle and town of Hornridge.

It lay in smoking ruins. These tumbled ruins might have been a stark black scar against

the snow-covered plains save for one thing—it was covered in something gray, and red, which

undulated as if it were a sea of pale insects.

“Skraelings,” muttered his lieutenant, sitting his horse alongside Jelial.

He and his party of fifteen armed men had been away for six weeks, attending court at

Hosea to discuss the escalating military conflict with the Outlands. Jelial had returned to

Hornridge mainly to marshal his forces to join Fulmer in his push south against the cursed

Outlanders, who were pushing north and threatening to lay siege to Hosea.

Now it looked very much as if Jelial might not have any forces left to marshal.

In fact, it looked as if there was not very much left at all.

“Skraelings?” Jelial whispered. He could see it was Skraelings. There was a small herd of

them not fifty paces away, snuffling around in the remains of a pig herder”s hut and pens, but his

mind still could not comprehend the enormous numbers of them that it must take to completely

cover Hornridge and the surrounding countryside for miles about.

It reminded Jelial of something he”d seen as a boy when his father had taken him to hunt

the snow deer that lived in the borderlands of the Frozen Wastes. Every year the snow deer

migrated south to the rich pasturelands of the lower Sky Peaks in massive herds of million upon

millions of animals.

That was what this sight reminded him of, save the migration consisted of million upon

millions of Skraelings.

And they were heading south.

“My lord!” his lieutenant hissed, and Jelial looked to where he pointed.

Out of the mass of Skraelings investigating the pigpens came a man. Dressed entirely in

black, and with a black cloak billowing out behind him, he appeared to be crossing the snow

toward Jelial and his party with supernaturally long strides.

Jelial—as did all his men—drew his sword.

“I will not harm you,” said the man, halting a few paces away from Jelial.

He was of striking appearance, exuding power and confidence, and even though he

appeared unarmed, Jelial knew that if it came to blows, even a thousand men at his back,

bristling with weapons, would not protect him against this being.

“My name is Lister,” said the man. “I am Lord of the Skraelings.” His mouth twisted a

little, and his light brown eyes glinted. “As you can see, I command considerable strength.

Hornridge is gone, Jelial. Your family is gone—”

Something tore apart in Jelial”s chest, and he thought it was probably his heart, breaking.

“Eaten,” Lister said. “Consumed. The Skraelings are hungry, I am afraid.”

Jelial tried to speak, but couldn”t. Incomprehension and grief had utterly swamped any

anger he may have felt.

“Everything is very bloodied at Hornridge,” Lister said, his voice quiet now, his eyes

fixed on Jelial. “Quite congealed, in fact. I wouldn”t even attempt an entry, if I were you. My boys remain hungry, and Hornridge could get bloodier still.”

“I…” Jelial said, and could get no further.

“We”re heading south,” Lister said, one arm sweeping out in that direction, making his

cloak billow and heave in the wind. “As far as we can go. I have a massive army—”

Jelial wondered why he called it an army and not a herd. His mind, now utterly shocked,

kept trying to return to the memory of the migrating herds of snow deer.

“—and it is so very, very hungry. It will eat everything in its path, Jelial. Everything. I

suggest you return the way you came, and spread the news.”

Then he was gone, and Jelial and his men were left sitting their horses in the cold

wasteland, looking at the great mass of Skraelings heaving and swelling over what was once

their home.

And their families.

Lister, Eleanon, and Inardle stood to one side of the pigpens, cloaked from the vision of

Jelial and his party, watching as, eventually, they turned their horses” heads away from

Hornridge.

“Thank the gods,” Eleanon said. “I thought they might have actually tried to enter

Hornridge.”

“Grief is a strange beast,” said Lister, watching the group as they rode away, “and when

coupled with shock it can make men do foolish things.”

“I wish we could have saved Hornridge,” Inardle said. “No one deserved to die as those

people did.”

They fell silent, remembering the horror as the Skraelings overwhelmed the castle and

town, tearing terrified men and women to shreds.

No one had escaped.

“The entire world is going to be destroyed in far more horrific circumstances,” Lister said

eventually, “if we cannot manage the impossible.”

“Do you think the southerners will listen to Jelial?” said Eleanon. “Do you think they will

heed your warning?”

“I hope so,” said Lister, “for there is little else I can do to save them. It is not as if I have

ever controlled the Skraelings, is it?” He gave a bitter little laugh. “My title of Lord of the

Skraelings is completely useless, although I suppose it has served me well to this point. But, oh,

gods, how glad I shall be when I can slough it off my shoulders, and leave these disgusting

creatures far behind me, and assume my true face.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Dependency of En-Dor, the Tyranny of Isembaard

Maximilian”s party emerged from the FarReach Mountains into the very northern

reaches of the Dependency of En-Dor. Here Maximilian and StarDrifter and the rest of their

group farewelled BroadWing and the other three Icarii. It was an emotional good-bye,

particularly for Maximilian and StarDrifter, but everyone had come to like the Icarii and would

miss them.

It was too dangerous for the Icarii to remain with the rest of the party. No one knew what

kind of reaction they would elicit in Isembaard, and neither Maximilian nor StarDrifter wanted to

risk it, no matter how useful the Icarii would have been.

“We will go north,” BroadWing said, embracing first StarDrifter, then Maximilian, “and

wait for news. Be safe, and snatch back that bride of yours, Maxel. Stars, she will be making you

a father soon!”

Then he had grinned at StarDrifter and Salome. “And hide those growing hunchbacks of

yours under cloaks. The next time I see you, I expect it to be among the clouds.”

Travel through En-Dor was easier than anyone had expected. Maximilian had not exactly

known quite what to expect—Isembaard was such an unknown quantity—but the northern parts

of the dependency were sparsely populated (indeed, many villages were completely

deserted)—and those very few occupied small homesteads they did happen across were

relatively friendly.

Language was not a problem. Like the kingdoms north of the FarReach Mountains, the

Isembaardians spoke a version of the ancient common trading tongue. They spoke a different

dialect, and their intonation was very different, but neither presented an obstacle to

understanding.

When they did meet with Isembaardians, Maximilian let Venetia and, to a lesser extent,

Serge do the talking. Both were fairly dark, and both had come into contact with Isembaardians

in the past: Venetia from her conversations with Isembaardian witch-women she”d met in the

borderlands of the Land of Dreams, and Serge in his younger and wilder days, when he”d been

an assassin for hire, and had spent time in Isembaard.

Whenever their party neared a homestead, Maximilian sent Venetia and Serge in to buy

or barter for food, while the rest of them hung back. Maximilian supposed Venetia used a little of

her witch-woman skills in order to obtain the cooperation of the villagers, but he did not inquire

too closely, and was grateful for whatever food and information Venetia and Serge brought back

with them.

One day, a week after they”d farewelled BroadWing and his companions, Venetia and