The Broken Throne

by Christopher Nuttall

  He was duelling with the remaining two magicians, trading dark curse for dark curse with a flexibility Emily could only admire. And yet, the magicians were working as a team. Cat could take either one individually, but as long as they were working together Cat wouldn’t have a chance to land a lethal blow. She braced herself, then summoned the nearest magician towards her. He spun in flight, his magic lashing out, but she’d already won. She heard a scream as Cat finished off the other magician. She ducked a fireball – her wards felt unsteady – and cast a spell of her own. The magician had no time to escape before her spell ripped him apart.

  There was a surge of magic, behind her. Emily threw herself to one side, instinctively, but she couldn’t move in time to dodge the entire curse. Pain surged up and down her arm as she stumbled, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. The fourth magician... she cursed her own mistake as she hit the ground, rolling over to see the magician walk towards her. He was dripping wet, but clearly still dangerous. She met his eyes, just for a second, and knew there would be no mercy. He lifted his hand...

  ... And she threw the strongest force punch she could at him.

  The backwash shoved her back into the stone, but the magician simply disintegrated under the force of the impact. Emily stared at where he’d been, trying to understand what had happened. It took her a moment to realize that his wards had been weakened too. She’d literally hit him with superhuman strength. There was nothing left of him.

  Good, she thought, forcing herself to stand up. An arrow hissed over her head and she ducked down, sharply. He won’t be a problem any longer.

  A figure landed next to her. Emily tensed, bracing herself for a hopeless fight before realizing it was Cat. He looked tired, but happy. Emily supposed he’d enjoyed trading spells with the magicians, even though there had been a reasonable chance of losing. Sergeant Miles would not have been happy. Cat had let himself be lured into a duel that played to their strengths and his weaknesses.

  “They’re mustering a counterattack,” Cat said. He looked her up and down. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve felt better,” Emily said, wryly. Gunfire crackled through the air. She saw a small guardhouse shudder under the impact of multiple cannonballs, then collapse into a pile of rubble. A couple of guards fell into the water, screaming. She hoped they’d survived, even though they were on the wrong side. “What about yourself?”

  Cat grinned. “Never better.”

  Emily rolled her eyes at his back as he turned and led her back to shore. The soldiers were advancing now, sweeping across the bridges and capturing the remaining castles and guardhouses. A handful of boats were still trying to sneak under the bridges, yet the remainder were pulling back. Emily suspected that some would try to get away when night fell in a few short hours, but it was unlikely that any of them would make it downriver. Alassa had magicians too.

  And they’ll also be lowering chains to close the river, she thought, grimly. The boats will be trapped in Winter Flower.

  Sergeant Rotherham stood by the battery of guns, directing cannonballs into the city walls. He looked remarkably cheerful for someone who’d been moved from place to place at the whim of his superiors. He nodded to them both, then continued to bark orders at his men. They weren’t very polished, but they were keen. Being a gunner carried a status of its own.

  “We should have the remainder of the bridges soon,” Sergeant Rotherham said. “And then... what?”

  Good question, Emily thought.

  It was a frustrating thought. Lord Burrows had stripped the countryside of every last scrap of food and drink. Jade’s most conservative estimate suggested he’d be able to keep his people fed for months – longer, perhaps, if he expelled useless mouths. Emily had no doubt that Randor would order him to expel the women and children. But his fighting men might rebel if they were forced to send their womenfolk to an unknown fate. Alassa might not feed them. Alassa might not be able to feed them.

  “We’ll see if we can talk sense into them,” Cat said, after a moment. “Who knows? They know they have no hope of relief.”

  “Unless they know something we don’t,” Emily said. Alassa had already sent a number of pickets east, but the landscape was so woody that Randor could sneak an entire army quite close to Winter Flower without being detected. “They may think there are reinforcements closer to home.”

  “They might,” Cat agreed. “It depends on how they react to Alassa’s demand for surrender.”

  Emily nodded and settled back to watch as the troops swarmed over the bridges, marching a handful of prisoners back to the camps while securing the remaining castles. She was dismayed, but not surprised, to see that the prisoners had been stripped of anything that might be remotely valuable. One man, wearing a tailored uniform that suggested he was a noble-born officer, was protesting loudly. Emily’s lips twitched, humorlessly. No doubt he’d expected to have his possessions looted by a better class of thief.

  And the thief will sell his gains to a camp follower at a grossly underestimated price, she thought, looking west towards the small collection of traders, prostitutes and everyone else who thought they could make money from the army. And the camp follower will make a huge profit.

  Another messenger materialized at her shoulder, looking tired. “My Lady,” he said. “Her Highness’s compliments, My Lady, and she’d like to see you in the Royal Tent.”

  “I see,” Emily said. She stood, then waved her hand at Cat to catch his attention. “Inform Her Highness that we’re on our way.”

  The messenger fled into the distance. Emily watched him go, then walked – at a more sedate pace – back to the camp. The siege was starting to take shape and form, the gunners setting up their cannons to bombard the city while the soldiers hastily put together a number of tortoises. A handful of siege engines had been captured during the Battle of Eagle’s Rest, but Jade had made it clear that Alassa’s army simply didn’t have anywhere near enough to mount a proper assault on a defended city. Lord Burrows had been building up his collection of siege engines for years.

  “Lady Emily,” Alassa said, as Emily entered the tent. Alassa was surrounded by advisors, from Imaiqah and the Levellers to Viscount Hansel and his brother. Iodine stood at the back of the tent, taking notes. “You did well on the bridges.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, wondering why Cat hadn’t been mentioned. Perhaps everyone had simply taken it for granted that he would do well. “The bridges are now secured.”

  “And so the city is isolated from the rest of the kingdom,” Alassa said. She looked down at the map, one finger drawing a circle around the city. “And we have to wait to see what they will do next.”

  “They will surrender, Your Highness,” Hansel said, sounding almost absurdly confident. It took Emily a moment to realize that he was sucking up. “You have them surrounded.”

  “It will be weeks before starvation really starts to bite,” Jade said. His voice was very calm, but Emily knew him well enough to know he was irritated. “By then, the king may muster a relief force and dispatch it to the city.”

  “We will send in messengers, of course,” Alassa said. “We will demand surrender and we will offer decent terms.”

  She turned away from the map. Her advisors drew back. “And then we will wait.”

  And see, Emily added, silently. But if they refuse to surrender, can we take the city by force?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “HERE THEY COME,” CAT SAID. “READY?”

  Emily nodded as the enemy troop advanced, a trio of magicians at the back. Two days of skirmishing around the city’s walls had taught the attackers that the defenders had no intention of giving up, while the defenders had realized that the attackers were serious about keeping the entire population penned up. A series of skirmishes around the bridges had made that clear. Despite the best efforts of the defenders, no attempt to get a message – or a boat – out of the city had succeeded.

  Although Lord Burrows probab
ly has a few chat parchments in his castle, Emily thought, as the arrows started hissing through the air. It had been a long time since the secret had leaked out into the wider world. Even a low-level magician could learn the techniques and start producing them.

  The magicians came closer, arrows bouncing off their wards. Emily’s eyes narrowed as she studied them, wondering just how many magicians Randor had under his command. She and Cat had killed... how many? And then there was the mystery assassin. There was no doubt that he was a magician himself. But then, Randor could afford to pay through the nose for good magicians. There were hundreds who might see the chance to serve a king as a tempting offer.

  “We move as planned,” she said. The magicians met their eyes and cast a blasting spell. “Now!”

  She jumped to one side as the spell slammed into the ground, throwing her one way and Cat the other. She’d planned for them to separate, when they’d discussed their possible options, but it was still a nasty shock. She landed on the rough ground and rolled over, hurling a series of spells back at them. The fireballs were a real threat, but the handful of prank spells might make them think she was incompetent. It would be nice if they underestimated her.

  But they didn’t, she thought, as she sensed them approaching. Their magic was already flowing together into a single entity, a net of spells that reminded her of the netting she’d seen earlier. They know who I am.

  One of the magicians leapt into the air, jumping over Emily and landing behind her. Emily had expected as much, but she still felt vulnerable. If the plan hadn’t called for letting him get behind her, she would have blasted him out of the air. Instead, she moved forward, throwing a series of spells ahead. They crashed into the network of spells and vanished...

  “Now,” the lead magician said.

  Emily gritted her teeth as the netting grew stronger, pressing down on her wards. The pressure grew rapidly, her handful of spells designed to keep them from crushing her splintering harmlessly against their spellwork. She pushed her magic as far as it would go, even as they started to tear her wards apart. They were winning...

  ... And then Cat blasted two of the magicians in the back.

  Emily took a gasping breath as the netting shattered into a thousand pieces, then hurled a killing spell at the third and final magician. He staggered back and collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. Emily nearly fell a moment later, her legs threatening to give out. She took a breath, then another, as Cat caught her arm. Moments later, arrows started whistling over their heads.

  “I think we got them,” Cat said, as they ducked low.

  “Next time, you let them snare you,” Emily said. She’d expected to be the primary target – Alicia had told her Randor had placed a huge price on her head – but it still felt unpleasant. If they’d screwed up, she would have been killed. It was no consolation to know that Cat would have avenged her death. “We need to devise a better counter to that spell.”

  “True,” Cat agreed, shortly. “But you’d have to devise a way to cast it while you were in the net. I think the net is designed to make it impossible to cast anything, save for a few basic spells. But it is worth a try...”

  He cocked his head. “Just don’t tell the White Council you’re trying.”

  Emily nodded in agreement. If the netting spell was devised to allow a set of weak magicians to capture a more powerful magician, the White Council wouldn’t thank her – or anyone – for finding a way to subvert the spell. And yet, it had already been used against her twice. The next time, she might be much less lucky. She needed a counterspell, and fast.

  I’ll find one, she promised herself. Perhaps if I angle the spellwork to slip into the chinks in their spellwork...

  She considered a series of options as she followed Cat back to the trenches. The magicians who cast the spell had to be very skilled at working together, to the point where their spellwork had to mesh perfectly. Emily doubted she could do it, even with her closest friends. Perhaps she could tear the netting apart from the inside if she found a crack in the spellwork. She sat down to wait for the next set of magicians, drawing her notebook from her pocket. If nothing else, she could pass the time working on her spells.

  The skirmishes raged on for days, each one sapping their strength without accomplishing much. Lord Burrows was firmly penned up inside the city and he had to know it, but he kept sending his men out to fight. Emily couldn’t help wondering, as the days slowly went by, if he was just trying to keep Alassa from mounting an attack of her own. It couldn’t be denied that the raids were making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. But, as the time wore on, Emily started to think Lord Burrows was just trying to harass them. It wasn’t as if there was anything else he could do.

  It was nearly a week before the defenders sent a messenger out of the city, begging for terms.

  Emily wasn’t too surprised. Lord Burrows and his men wouldn’t simply surrender, not as long as their honor wasn’t satisfied. They’d sooner promise to surrender in a month, if they hadn’t been relieved by then, than to concede defeat right from the start. Randor would certainly not be happy if they surrendered at once. Instead, they’d spent the week exchanging arrows with the attackers and making a handful of raids that kept the attacking forces on their toes. Alassa had ordered the cannons to bombard the city in response, but she hadn’t pressed the matter. She needed to keep a supply of cannonballs in reserve for the moment her father acted to lift the siege.

  The messenger was a young man, barely out of his teens. He was an aristocrat, but Emily didn’t know him. She couldn’t help wondering, as he walked across the barren ground between the city and the siege trenches, if he’d volunteered for the mission or if he’d been volunteered. A nobleman might have some protection, although Emily wouldn’t have cared to bet on it. Alassa’s army didn’t seem to care about rank and status. The messenger might wind up being executed long before he reached the Royal Tent.

  She stood and watched the messenger approach, reaching out with her senses to try and determine if he had magic. Or, for that matter, if he was under a spell. The young man was clearly terrified, to the point that she was surprised he didn’t turn and run, but otherwise... he appeared to be completely mundane. He wore a simple white tunic, rather than a suit of armor. Emily guessed it was an attempt to make him look as harmless as possible.

  Cat stepped forward. “Halt,” he said, with heavy menace. “Who are you?”

  The messenger seemed unsure, just for a moment, of how he should proceed. “I am Lord Tadd,” he said, finally. “I speak for Lord Burrows and his council of war. Please take me to the princess.”

  “The princess regnant,” Cat corrected, sharply. “Take my hand.”

  He cast a spell a moment later, blinding the messenger. Emily sucked in her breath sharply, wanting to say something... but knowing she couldn’t say anything when she might be overheard. It was customary to blindfold messengers, not blind them. Lord Tadd – somehow – managed to take it in his stride. Emily followed as Cat led him through the trenches, walking him around in circles several times before finally taking him to the Royal Tent. Jade was waiting at the door, looking grim. He searched the messenger thoroughly before allowing him to enter the tent.

  “Well,” Alassa said. She was seated on a raised chair, her hands resting in her lap. “You can undo the spell now.”

  Cat snapped his fingers. Lord Tadd started, one hand rubbing his eyes frantically, then hastily went down on his knees in front of Alassa. She studied him for a long moment before motioning for him to rise. The messenger seemed reluctant to look her in the eye, although his eyes lingered on her baby bump. Emily wondered if he had believed Alassa was pregnant.

  “I speak for Lord Burrows and his council,” Lord Tadd said. “They wish to discuss terms for their surrender.”

  “Indeed,” Alassa said, coolly. Emily saw a calculating expression cross her face, just for a second. “And yet, they didn’t come in person?”

  “No, Y
our Highness,” Lord Tadd said. “They wish to discuss an exchange of hostages first...”

  “I think not,” Alassa said. “Go back to your master – your masters – and tell him that he can present himself before me, if he wishes to discuss his surrender. I will grant him safe conduct as long as he doesn’t abuse my generosity. And tell him that, if he refuses to come to me, I will take his city and put his war council to the sword. He has no hope of being relieved within a reasonable space of time.”

  You hope, Emily thought. None of the pickets had reported anything – and Alicia had insisted that King Randor hadn’t dispatched any troops westwards – but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a relief force on the way. Alicia was hardly a member of Randor’s war council. She was in no place to be sure about anything. The king might already be bearing down on us.

  Lord Tadd bowed. “I will convey your message to my master.”

  Emily watched Cat escort the messenger out of the tent, then looked at Alassa. “Was that wise?”

  “There’s no relief force close enough to lift the siege and they know it,” Alassa said. Her voice was very sharp. “And if they try to hold out, all they’ll be doing is prolonging the agony. They know that too.”

  And keeping your forces tied down, Emily thought. Alassa needed to reach Alexis before Randor. And yet, if she let herself get sucked into a long siege, it would make it impossible for her to do anything of the sort. Lord Burrows may consider himself expendable, willing to die for his king, but do the others feel the same way?