“If you are willing to aid our fight against the trolls, I suppose I cannot turn you away,” she said. “But you will do exactly as my officers and I command, when we command it.”
“Of course.” I bowed low, and then remembered my decorum. “Rangatira.”
“Then follow us. We are pulling back to the stronghold.”
“But the trolls—” Mag began.
“Mag,” I said. She stopped short. “Do as she says.”
She cocked her head, and the corner of her lips twisted. She nodded to Ditra. “Very well, Rangatira.”
Ditra nodded and started off, and we fell into step beside her. “We cannot stop the trolls in the city,” she said. “We have given our people enough time to flee to the keep, if they mean to fight, or to the pass, if they do not. Our duty now is to consolidate our forces and hold the trolls.”
“How long do you mean to hold them?” I said.
Her eyes were grim. “As long as we can.”
Dotag stood in the middle of the burning city, his chest heaving, his breath coming out in loud snorts that turned to mist in the air. The humans had fled from their city. He had walked such a long road to get here, and now it was almost over. He could hardly have dreamed that he would be here one day, standing triumphant among the wreckage of the humans’ homes, leading a pack greater than any troll had ever commanded.
He roared, throwing his head back and slamming his fists into his chest. Several trolls around him recoiled at the sound of his voice, but when they saw him celebrating their victory, they raised their voices in chorus with his.
At last he subsided as one of the trolls brought him a handful of crops pillaged from one of the human’s homes. It was only the first of many tributes he would receive tonight. With a pack of two hundreds, Dotag could hardly imagine the mountain of goods that would be brought before him, for him to pick and choose from, sharing the tastiest morsels with—
Dotag stopped. His brows drew together, lowering over beady eyes as he swung back and forth, searching his surroundings.
Where had Gatak gone?
We made our way to the stronghold and found the gates open. Ditra’s company was the last to return, and the guards on the wall looked relieved when she ordered them to close the gates after we had entered. She had ordered the rest of her troops to divide and make their way back through the city piecemeal, like the squadron we had rescued before meeting her. The rangers had held the trolls off as long as they could to give the rest time to get away.
The moment we had entered the keep, Ditra turned to Maia. “Summon my councilors to the audience chamber immediately.”
“At once, Rangatira.” Maia gave us a half-smile and a quick nod before darting off to do as she said. It left the three of us standing in the center of the bailey, crowds milling around us, while Ditra studied Mag and me.
“If you would like—” I began.
“What? You could attend my council?” said Ditra. “How very magnanimous of you. But I do not require the advice of prisoners pressed into service for battle.”
“We could save lives.” I pointed back towards the city. “We already did. Rangatira,” I added, after just a moment’s too much hesitation.
“Then when it comes to battle again, I will summon you,” she said. “But you will pardon me if I do not consider your advice more useful than my advisors who have lived here their whole lives, and know our situation better.”
I bit back the argument that sprang to my lips. She was not wrong. I might have been her younger brother, but we were no longer children, and it was not my place to countermand her, no matter how I hated to hear the word useful on her lips. “As you wish, Rangatira.”
For a moment I thought I saw her expression soften. But she only turned away to stride off towards the keep.
“A shame,” said Mag. “I had hoped the prospect of nearly dying in battle might have bridged at least some of the rift between you.”
“Believe me, that was a far more civil conversation than our last,” I said. “Let us find Dryleaf and wait. Ditra may not want us to attend her council, but I want to know what is going on the second she comes out to tell everyone.”
Ditra strode into her audience chamber, pulling her leather gauntlets off. She winced as she flexed her fingers. They had gripped her axe and shield so tightly that she could hardly feel them now. For a moment she bent and uncurled them while she looked around the chamber. It had been empty of guards, but they were filing back in now as their lord prepared for her meeting.
She noticed something odd. The guards were filing in from the back of the room, from the stairway leading up to the nobility’s living quarters. They should have been out in the main bailey, directing the influx of citizens being pressed into fighting service. Ditra supposed they must have been drawn up to the walls to coordinate their defense, and taken the shorter route down to the council room. But she shrugged off such thoughts as Maia came hurrying up, nodding briskly to her.
“Everyone—”
“Vera,” said Ditra. “Did you check on her?”
He nodded. “She is safe. Her guards have not left their post since you sent them there.”
“Good. What else?”
“Everyone is here. All the captains, and the king’s representative.”
“Is she still here?” said Ditra with faint surprise. “I half thought she might try to sneak out with the refugees.”
Maia hid a smile, though it seemed a near thing. “She still has time. Many are still gathering to flee the city.”
Ditra nodded and went to her chair. The councilors gathered around the dais, looking up at her with stern, impassive faces. She saw no sign of eagerness in them, but neither did she see any doubt. They were ready to serve their lord.
“The trolls will not give us much time to rest,” said Ditra. “They are looting the lower city now, but it is only a matter of time before they push towards the stronghold. We must discuss the strategy of our defense.”
Callen, the king’s representative, took a hesitant step forwards. Her tongue crept out to moisten cracked lips. “Can we even hope to defend against them?”
“We have no choice but to do so,” said Ditra.
“Your forces have never faced so many,” said Callen. “Without reinforcements from the king—”
“The king has sent soldiers and oil in support,” said Ditra. “But the trolls attacked earlier than we thought they would, and it seems their strategy is to overwhelm us before any help can arrive.”
“Strategy?” scoffed Callen. “They are trolls! They barely have—”
Ditra stood from her chair. Every ranger in the room bowed their head. Callen fell silent, eyes wide.
“They have pushed into our territory. They have avoided our rangers at every turn. They even misled our scouts into believing they would attack at least a week later than they have. You do yourself no favors by assuming them to be mindless beasts, and you serve your Rangatira not at all.”
“O-of course,” stammered Callen. “Forgive me, Rangatira. But if the king’s forces may not even be coming, mayhap we should flee with the rest, for I do not see how we can defend Kahaunga forever.”
“The king has sent their army. We might be able to hold the walls until it arrives, or we might not. We cannot know for certain. But we do know that we cannot abandon Kahaunga. If the trolls face no opposition here, they will simply chase our people into the pass, where they will find them defenseless, and slaughter them. We who remain here are a rearguard, to ensure that does not happen.”
“You mean we remain here to die!” said Callen. “You have no hope or plan of escape!”
Ditra’s anger bubbled up, threatening to burst. But before it could, Maia stepped from her side to face Callen from a pace away.
“I have no intention of dying in Kahaunga,” said Maia. “But I will happily throw you over the wall to our enemies, if you see nothing but death in your future.”
Callen took a step back. Ditra
noticed that the guards at the edge of the room had pressed forwards, as if they were ready to intervene if things should come to a fight. Fools, she thought irritably. Callen would never dare to raise a hand against Maia—and if she did, he would have her on the floor faster than blinking.
“I have no wish to die,” said Callen, making an impressive attempt to rally. “That is why I counsel against this foolish course.”
“You serve me, and through me, the king of Calentin,” said Ditra, letting an edge creep into her voice. “If you think you serve us best by fleeing with the rest of the city’s people, then by all means, do so. Return to the king in Tara and tell them what transpired here. But if you do not wish to die, you might find that a foolish course of action. They have no great love for cowards.”
Callen took several deep breaths, each time seeming as if she was about to say something. Her eyes flew wildly about, as if searching for any words that she thought might spare her. At last she shook her head and gave a hasty bow with her fist raised.
“I … I think I will retire to my chambers. A new missive must be written and sent to the king about our situation, and I should send it along before all the city’s residents have passed us by.”
Ditra nodded in approval. Callen turned and began to push through the rangers on her way to the door, while Maia looked up and gave Ditra a wry look. She knew they were both thinking the same thing: Callen would doubtless decide at the last minute to deliver the message herself. She would be gone before nightfall.
Callen reached the back of the crowd, but suddenly she pulled up short before two of the room’s guards. Ditra frowned as she realized the guards had come even closer than before. Now the twelve of them nearly surrounded Ditra, Maia, and the six ranger captains who served on her council.
“What in the dark below are you doing?” Ditra barked. “Move aside and let her pass.”
The air filled with the hiss of drawn steel as the guards unsheathed their weapons.
Mag and I waited in the entrance hall outside. I paced back and forth in front of the doors, while Mag stood stoically, watching me walk by her each time. The hall was in chaos around us, with guards trying to give orders to their new army of recruits, while the new arrivals roved back and forth in great groups, trying to obey those orders but mostly just colliding with each other. Two guards were posted at the entrance of Ditra’s council chamber, and they eyed us suspiciously as we walked back and forth. Mag gave them a smile.
“Greetings, friends,” she said. “How are you on this fine day?”
Neither guard answered her.
“The Rangatira’s council should not take long,” I told her as I walked by on my next pass. “Once she has decided what she wants to do, we can determine how to help her.”
“I hope it is as quick as you say,” said Mag. “Or she will come out here to find a trench where she once had an even floor in her hall. Stop pacing.”
I stopped, but I glared at her. “I will, but only because I want to.”
“Of course,” said Mag.
“This is no time for jokes, Mag. People are already dying, and—”
From Ditra’s council chamber came shouts and the clashing of steel.
As one, Mag and I and the guards turned towards the doors. But while the guards were still staring in confusion, Mag and I sprinted for the doorway. At the last moment, the guards turned and crossed their spears to bar it.
“No one is permitted to—”
“Oh, be silent,” said Mag, snatching one of the spears and slamming the haft into the guard’s head. The woman reeled backwards.
“My apologies.” I struck the other in the face. He slammed into the door. With two quick jabs, Mag knocked her guard to the ground, senseless, and then took mine to the floor with a swift kick to the side.
We threw open the doors and rushed inside to a scene of chaos. Ditra’s ranger captains stood at the foot of her dais, facing outwards, blades in their hands. Only four remained, including Maia—three lay on the floor in swiftly spreading pools of their own blood. There, as well, lay two people in guard uniforms. But ten more guards remained on their feet, and they were pressing in towards the rangers with blades drawn.
“Ditra!” I cried.
Her gaze snapped up over the combat to see me. But she could not spare more than a glance, as the guards pressed forwards and the rangers tried desperately to hold them back.
Mag threw her spear before we reached their line. It impaled one guard straight through his chainmail. His hands scrabbled at his back, trying to grasp the thing. Mag reached him a blink later, planted a foot on his back, and dragged the spear out with both hands. Oku lunged, latching onto the leg of one of the other guards. The woman fell, and Oku’s jaws crushed her throat.
I had nocked an arrow. As Mag did her bloody work, I fired as fast as I could. Two of the guards fell to my arrows. Maia joined his lord on her dais and found his own bow, and he sank a shot into the eye of a third.
But the other rangers had fallen now. One of the guards leaped for Maia and swung her sword for his face. He managed to block it with his bow, which snapped in half.
The guard dragged a knife from her belt and plunged it into Maia’s shoulder. Then his gut.
His eyes went wide. His hands scrabbled for the guard’s face. But he only succeeded in gripping her helmet and pulling it off.
Kaita. It was Kaita.
Ditra and I froze in horror at the same time. And then Kaita plunged the dagger into Ditra’s chest.
She fell back, striking the chair and then the ground.
“No!” I screamed.
Kaita stepped forwards. She raised her dagger to strike again, to be sure.
The arrow flew from my bow. It pierced straight through her forearm. She cried out and dropped the dagger.
In shock, she looked up and noticed me for the first time. Then her gaze fell upon Mag closer by. There were only four guards left, and even as Kaita watched, Mag slew one of them.
Oku lunged at Kaita, bowling her over, and I heard her scream as his fangs sank into her already-wounded arm. Somehow she managed to throw him off. It gave her just enough time to rise and flee. One of the Shades saw her go, and he tried to follow. Together they ran for the back of the room, to the staircase that would take them up into the keep. Oku went after them, silently, hunting.
I sprinted forwards, already nocking another arrow. I loosed it at a Shade on the dais from only two paces away. Distracted as he was by Mag, he never even saw the shot that killed him. Mag slew the last one a moment later.
“Ditra!” I cried, falling on my knees beside her. I seized her shoulder and pulled her up.
She gave a deep groan, fingers clutching the front of my jerkin.
“Ditra!” I said again, my voice breaking. Sky above, she was alive. I seized her tabard and pulled it aside, trying to see her wound.
I saw only metal glinting up at me. Chain mail. Several of the links were bent and pressed into her flesh, but she would survive.
Lost for words, I could only take her shoulders and pull her into an embrace. But Ditra pushed me away.
“Maia,” she said, wincing as she clutched at her chest.
Panic had driven him from my mind. I looked over. He lay on his back, hands and arms twitching as he held the wound in his belly. I helped Ditra over to him.
“Albern,” said Mag, her voice toneless. “The weremage.”
“Go,” I told her. “Find her if you can.”
Mag started off as I joined Ditra by Maia’s side. But he looked up at me with wild eyes. “Vera.”
I felt a sickening lurch in my gut. “No. It is Albern. We are here.”
“No,” he said. His voice shook with pain, grunting between gasped words. His eyes found Ditra’s. “My—lord. Vera.”
All the blood drained from Ditra’s face. Her hands twitched, wanting to hold Maia, wanting to pull away. She looked wildly from him to the doorway through which Kaita had fled. Still unsure, she loo
ked back down at him.
“Maia—”
“Go!” growled Maia, glaring up at her in fury. “Get—out—of here.”
I wagered it was the first time in his life he had ever dared to give her an order. But Ditra obeyed it, bolting for the back of the room. Mag hesitated, looking down at me.
“Go,” I said. “Guard her with your life.”
Mag nodded and vanished.
The room settled to silence as I knelt by Maia’s side. A cloak close at hand was free from bloodstains. I ripped it from the corpse it had adorned and began to tear strips off it.
“Keep holding that wound,” I said. “I will stanch the bleeding from your shoulder.”
“Vera,” he gasped.
Another sickening lurch in my gut. “My name—”
“Not—you.” For a moment the pain increased, and he only winced and sucked in deep, desperate breaths. “Vera. Ditra’s—daughter. Forgive—me.”
My hands stilled, and I could only stare at him for a moment. But I forced my mind back to the task, trying to find any way I could to stop him from continuing to bleed.
“Never mind that now,” I said. “Just keep pressing that wound.”
“No—good,” said Maia, managing a smile. His teeth were bloodstained, and each breath came in a deep, hissing gasp. “Too—deep.”
“Stop talking,” I ordered.
“Seen—it,” said Maia. “Many—times. Too—many.” He gave a rasping breath that might have been an attempt at laughter. Flecks of blood came out.
“Dark take you,” I growled. The cloth I pressed to his shoulder soaked through with blood in an instant. I turned my attention to his gut wound. “A Rangatira needs her lead ranger. You are not relieved of your duty.”
“No—choice,” said Maia. “She—needs—”
“What she needs is for you to stop talking,” I said. “Lift your hands when I say. Count of four. One—”
He lifted one hand from the wound and seized my wrist, staining my skin red. I met his gaze. His skin had gone deathly pale. A thin bubble of blood protruded from his lips and then burst. Each gasp was shallower, but he forced the words out regardless.
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 52