‘What did the man look like?’
‘About as tall as a Holdings man but with paler skin.’
‘Like Belinda.’
‘Yes,’ said Nyane, beginning to walk towards the front door. ‘Also, he has red hair, like some of the Kellach Brigdomin.’
Karalyn accompanied the herald to the entrance of the townhouse. Gerald was standing by the door, and opened it as they approached. Outside on the front steps stood the two squads of imperial troopers that Nyane had brought. Several passers-by were glancing at them, and Karalyn noticed a few curtains on the street twitch.
Nyane faced her. ‘These troops are at your disposal.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt,’ Nyane said, her eyes softening for a moment. ‘I know the Empress would have told Dyam.’
Without another word, Nyane turned away and descended the steps. Out on the road a carriage was waiting, and the herald boarded. Karalyn watched as the carriage was pulled away, then glanced at the soldiers on her front steps.
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said one, a handsome Kellach. ‘I’m the sergeant in charge of this lot. Where do you want us?’
Karalyn smiled. ‘Hello, sergeant. Would you all like some tea?’
The soldiers grinned, and followed her into the house. Gerald’s eyes widened as they tramped through the hallway.
‘Could you get them some tea, please?’ Karalyn said, opening the door to the reception room where she had left Laodoc.
‘Certainly, ma’am,’ said Gerald.
Karalyn strode into the large room, the soldiers following her. Laodoc and Corthie were sitting at a table, where exercise books were spread amid pencils and scraps of paper. Corthie glanced over, and his jaw fell open.
‘Some soldiers have come to visit,’ she said. She glanced at the troopers. ‘There’s two missing.’
‘Aye,’ said the sergeant. ‘I took the liberty of posting a couple of guards at the front door, ma’am.’
Corthie pushed his work aside and jumped to his feet, a grin on his face. He raced over to where the soldiers were standing, their armour shining in the light from the windows. Half of the soldiers were Holdings, and Corthie was taller than most of them.
‘Who’s this strapping young lad?’ said one of the Kellach troopers, a broad smile on her face.
‘Corthie Holdfast,’ he said, his cheeks reddening as he gazed at her.
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirteen,’
‘No way,’ said one of the Holdings troopers, shaking his head.
‘Aye,’ laughed the Kellach trooper, ‘and he’s already taller than you.’
‘Alright, Corthie,’ said Karalyn, ‘go on, back to your lessons.’
‘It might get a little noisy in here for lessons,’ said Laodoc. ‘Perhaps we should go elsewhere.’
‘I hope we’re not intruding,’ said the sergeant.
‘No,’ said Karalyn. ‘This is the only room that will fit you all. Maybe Lord Laodoc can continue the lesson in the Green Room?’
‘A sensible solution, I feel,’ said Laodoc.
‘But I want to stay with the soldiers,’ said Corthie. ‘Maybe I can ask them questions, and that can be my lesson?’
‘I admire your ingenuity, my boy,’ said Laodoc, ‘but you’re a little behind on your geometry and I would rather we used the time for that.’
Corthie’s face fell. ‘That sounds so boring.’
‘And I should put some clothes on,’ said Karalyn to the troopers. ‘Make yourselves comfortable.’
Before anyone could reply, a thunderous noise came from the hallway of cracking beams and splintered wood. The soldiers tensed. The body of a trooper went flying past the entrance to the reception room, as if thrown.
‘Protect the civilians,’ shouted the sergeant, drawing his sword. ‘We’re under attack!’
A man appeared in the doorway as the soldiers were pulling their shields and crossbows into position. A man with red hair. Karalyn shoved Corthie behind her and backed away towards Laodoc, the two squads between them and the door.
The man’s eyes scanned the room.
‘Get down on the ground!’ the sergeant cried at him, as the other soldiers aimed their crossbows.
‘Where is Belinda?’ the man said, ignoring the massed weapons arrayed against him.
The sergeant edged forwards.
The man frowned, and raised his hand. Karalyn heard the high whine of flow powers being readied, but before she could react, the man swept his hand from left to right, and blood exploded from the eyes and ears of every trooper in the room. Karalyn felt the wave of power rip towards her, but her mage skills turned it aside. She tried to reach out to protect Corthie and Laodoc, but it was too late; both were covered in blood. She put her arms round her brother, screaming.
‘I’m alright,’ Corthie said, his eyes opening, his voice a whisper.
Karalyn wiped some of the blood from Corthie’s face. It wasn’t his own. They turned at the same time towards Laodoc, but the old man was dead. His head was slumped on the table, a pool of dark blood forming under him, red holes where his eyes had been.
The man stared at Karalyn and Corthie, his mouth opening in surprise. He walked between the bloody, sprawled bodies of the troopers.
‘I saw you in the Empress’s mind,’ he said. ‘It was you who attacked Belinda. What are you?’
Karalyn and Corthie backed away, blood dripping from them onto the rich carpet. Karalyn was grasping onto Corthie’s arm, keeping herself between him and the approaching man. She sent her powers out towards him, but his eyes were shielded, just like Lady Belinda’s had been.
‘Where is she?’ the man said. He leant over and picked up a sword, plucking it from the fingers of a dead trooper. ‘Answer me, or you will both die.’
Corthie let out a howl of rage, his face twisted, his tears mingling with the blood on his cheeks, and Karalyn heard another sound – the low thrum of battle-vision. Corthie pushed his sister out of the way.
‘You killed Laodoc!’ he screamed.
The man laughed, and raised his sword.
Corthie leaped forward, battle-vision speeding his movements. He dodged under a swing of the man’s sword, then picked up the heavy, glass ashtray from the table and battered it down onto the man’s skull. The man stumbled, a hand going to his head, but Karalyn could see that he was already starting to heal. Corthie stared at him, his teeth bared in a grimace of rage and aggression. He sprang at the man, knocking him off his feet, and pounded the ashtray down into his face, smashing his nose. And again, as Karalyn watched, horror freezing her to where she stood. And Again. Again, until the body of the man lay still, his head split open, his brains spilling out onto the floor.
Corthie dropped the ashtray, let out a wracked sob, and collapsed onto the ground next to the red-haired man.
Calder barrelled into the room, a short sword in his hand. He stared at the carnage, his eyes wide. Belinda ran in after him, rushing through the bodies towards where Karalyn stood. She stopped when she saw Laodoc at the table, and Corthie on the floor, and began weeping, hot tears falling down her face. Karalyn embraced her, and they knelt down next to Corthie. Karalyn put a hand on his neck, and listened for his breathing.
‘He’s alright,’ she whispered, forcing the words out as tears came to her own eyes.
Belinda cradled Corthie’s head on her lap, her hands wiping the blood from the boy’s face. Calder joined them.
‘The man Nyane was talking about,’ he said, his voice choked.
Karalyn left them both by her brother and staggered towards Laodoc. She sat at the table next to where his body was slumped. She took his hand in hers and held it to her face, weeping. A few minutes before, he had been a living being, with a heart full of love and kindness. What would she do without him?
For Karalyn, the next hour passed in a slow, grinding fog of pain and grief. She continued to sit at the table, oblivious to the arrival of more
troopers, and officials from the Great Fortress. The bodies were taken away, and Corthie was carried unconscious up to his room. Some people tried to talk to her, but she could barely hear the words they were saying, as if her mind were cut off from her body. When they came for Laodoc, they had to prise her hands from his, an act which she felt was happening to someone else.
Someone put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. Her eyes flickered open, and she saw Nyane sitting next to her, worry creasing her brow.
‘I’m sorry,’ the Rahain woman said.
Karalyn stared at her.
‘Poor Laodoc,’ Nyane went on, ‘and all those soldiers.’
Karalyn glanced around the room. All of the bodies were gone, and only a few servants were present, scrubbing at the stains on the carpet. A pair of soldiers stood at the door, and she could hear more out in the hallway.
‘Drink this,’ said Nyane, handing her a mug.
Karalyn drank, tasting a mixture of coffee and whisky.
‘Can you talk?’ Nyane went on.
‘Aye,’ she whispered.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
‘He killed everyone.’
‘Was he looking for Belinda?’
‘Aye.’
‘And then?’
‘Corthie smashed his head open.’
‘What?’ said Nyane. ‘It was Corthie that killed him? How could a boy of thirteen…?’
‘He has battle-vision,’ said Karalyn. ‘I had no idea. I don’t think he knew either.’
Nyane’s tongue flickered. ‘A Kellach Brigdomin with battle-vision?’
‘He’s half-Holdings,’ Karalyn said, frowning.
‘Of course,’ said Nyane. ‘Sorry. I know that, I was just… This is all a lot to take in. And Lord Laodoc, I can’t believe it.’
Nyane lowered her eyes, and Karalyn could see she was fighting to keep the tears at bay.
‘I couldn’t protect them in time,’ said Karalyn. ‘It was all so quick.’
‘But Corthie survived,’ said Nyane. ‘Your mage powers must have protected him as well as you.’
‘No,’ said Karalyn. ‘It was too fast. All I was able to do was defend myself. If I could have, I would have shielded them both.’
Nyane took her hand, her eyes narrow. ‘Look at me Karalyn,’ she said. ‘Are you sure?’
Karalyn nodded.
‘Then how is Corthie still alive?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We should move you all to the Great Fortress immediately, in case more of them come.’
‘More of them?’ said Karalyn.
Nyane nodded. ‘The man Corthie killed was looking for Belinda, and right now, I’m not taking the chance that they don’t have any other friends. Let’s just say that I don’t feel it’s safe for you or Belinda to remain here. Where is she now?’
‘Downstairs with Calder, I think.’
Nyane stood, and extended her hand. Karalyn took it and got to her feet. She glanced back down and her eyes caught sight of the pool of Laodoc’s blood staining the tablecloth. She heard a lamenting wail of grief and loss, then realised it was coming from her.
Chapter 10
A Test of Faith
Rainsby, Imperial Plateau – 3rd Day, Second Third Spring 525
The volume of noise was deafening. Voices from both sides cried out, in rage or agony; flung missiles whistled overhead, delivering enormous fragments of rubble and stone that exploded into the town of Rainsby. Fires were raging throughout the outer suburbs between the massive new walls and the more slender old town walls, causing smoke to billow through the air, choking the soldiers and making it difficult to see anything more than ten yards in front of them. For four days, the Lord Protector of Rahain had thrown every available force into the assault against the town. Every inch of wall was under attack, from the thick fortifications on the plains, to the palisade defences that ran up and across the mountain spurs. Regiment after regiment of Rahain soldiers were throwing themselves at the imperial battlements, scaling the walls, and dying in the deep ditches that ringed the town. The Army of Pyre had been kept back until that morning, and had been unleashed at dawn; four thousand of the best soldiers in the world against the exhausted and starving defenders of Rainsby.
Desperation pushed the attackers on. Everyone knew that that winter storms were finally over, and the town harbour was open once again. Any day, the sails of the imperial fleet would come into view over the horizon, and if that happened before the town was taken, then the faltering Rahain war effort was as good as over.
On the southern approaches to Rainsby, the Rahain bombardment had been focussed for days on a stretch of curtain wall to the east of the main gates. A fire there thirds before had weakened the defensive structure, and the army commanders had judged it the likeliest place for a breakthrough. Few soldiers in the Army of Pyre had slept the night before as they had waited to attack, the whine and crash of the boulders thrown at the wall not ceasing until dawn, by which time a stretch thirty yards long had been reduced to rubble. Beyond, the streets and houses of Rainsby were visible at last.
As soon as the whistles had been blown, the Army of Pyre had charged, swarming towards the half-destroyed stretch of wall before the defenders could re-group their crossbow companies. Within minutes they were scrambling over the mounds of rubble, shot at from the intact battlements on either side, and from the arsenal of catapults and mangonels stationed in the town’s outer suburbs.
Lennox led his squad into the inferno of chaos and death, his voice useless in the roar of battle. The squads and companies were getting out of formation in the confusion of rubble and smoke, but Lennox and his team were near the centre of the advance, and he kept them together as they clambered over the fractured rocks and bodies. Soldiers cried out as crossbow bolts riddled them, and to Lennox’s left, an entire squad was taken out by a direct hit from an imperial stone-thrower, the boulder pulverising them in a second.
‘Come on!’ he screamed, though he doubted anyone could hear. He reached the top of the mound of rubble, Libby a foot to his left, her raised shield punctured with multiple bolts. Over the top, the town of Rainsby beckoned. At the bottom of the mound, Holdings troopers were rushing to seal the breach in the walls, but the Army of Pyre had a momentum that none could withstand, and the leading companies smashed through the imperial lines as they were still forming, cutting down any trooper in their way.
‘We’re in!’ cried Cain in his ear as they watched the soldiers ahead of them advance into the town. Lennox turned to his old friend. His eyes were lit with a wild fire, his mace poised in his hand. Without a word, Lennox scrambled down the slope, the squad following amid the crowds of soldiers cramming through the breach.
Imperial troopers were counter-attacking from either side, in the wide space between the wall and the first houses and streets of the outer suburbs. While companies of Army of Pyre on the left and right were manoeuvring to face them, the central mass, including Lennox and his squad, pushed on through the gap in the middle, charging into the town.
‘Push the bastards into the sea!’ cried the voice of an officer, loud enough for Lennox to hear.
The soldiers roared as they responded, reaching the lines of houses. A captain was standing by the road, pointing towards the Old Town.
‘To the harbour! To the harbour!’ she was screaming as she directed the soldiers onwards.
Ahead of them, civilians and small groups of imperial troopers were fleeing through the narrow streets, where over a dozen fires were blazing. Lennox coughed as he ran, tears coming from his stung eyes as the smoke swirled around them. Soldiers were racing in every direction, the streets like a maze amid the fire, smoke and noise. Lennox’s squad emerged into a small square, where a broken and dried-up fountain sat. Dozens of wounded imperial soldiers were lying on the ground, being tended to by civilians. The squads in front of Lennox were the first to reach them. The soldiers battered their way through the injured troopers, their maces b
ludgeoning them where they lay. Lennox turned from the sight. He glanced around for an officer but saw none. The Army of Pyre kept moving, streaming through the streets, their momentum slowing as companies fractured and split in the confusion of backstreets and twisting lanes. Lennox followed another squad down a narrow road, the houses on either side closed and quiet. The roar of battle was fading into the distance as they ventured further into the town.
The squad leader ahead of Lennox turned.
‘Is this the way to the harbour?’
‘Fuck knows,’ said Lennox, ‘we were following you.’
The two squads paused, their breath gasping. Lennox wiped the sweat from his face. The armour was weighing heavy on his shoulders and legs, and his left hand was cramped from clutching the handle of his shield. He glanced around. Thick banks of smoke were lying over the nearby streets, but apart from the two squads, no one else was visible.
‘Keep moving,’ Lennox said, eyeing the shuttered windows on either side of the street.
The other squad leader grunted, then nodded, and they set off again, running down the road, their boots thumping on the cobbles. They turned a corner and halted. In front of them, shielded by a curving wall, was a battery of mangonels – three great wooden machines, their arms swinging one after the other as they hurled chunks of rubble towards the Rahain positions outside the walls. Holdings troopers were operating the machines, and more were guarding the wall protecting them. Before Lennox could say anything, the other squad leader cried aloud, raised his mace, and charged, his squad rushing after him.
‘Wait,’ shouted Lennox to his own squad as they formed into a line. ‘Now!’
Lennox sprinted forward, his shield interlocking with Libby’s on his left and Cain’s on his right as they followed the other squad. Ahead, the Holdings soldiers were ready for them. Crossbow bolts hit the leading squad like a swarm of dark flies, puncturing their steel breastplates and piercing their shields.
‘Back!’ cried Lennox as the first squad fell, their squad leader dying with a bolt in his eye.
The squad retreated. Leisha kicked down the front door of a closed-up shop, as the defenders of the stone-throwers turned their aim towards Lennox and his squad. Leisha grabbed Denny, and hurled him through the entrance, then the rest of the squad followed. Lennox was the last in, his shield taking two hits as he backed through the door.
The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6) Page 14