Ember Falls (The Green Ember Series Book 2)

by S D Smith

  It would be a slaughter.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BEAR THE FLAME

  We have to get back out there!” Picket shouted.

  “Hold, Lieutenant!” Helmer called, panting. Picket saw that his fur was wet with sweat and blood and his leg was badly injured.

  “Heather,” Picket said. Jo, Coleden, and Perkinson were all gasping for breath, eyes darting, looking forward out the tunnel and back toward the citadel. “We need a medic. I’ll get her.”

  “Hold!” Helmer shouted again. “Remember your wits, bucks. What’s our duty?”

  “Secure the lord,” Perkinson said. “Defend the citadel. Beat back the advance.”

  “That’s right. Picket,” Helmer shouted. The din from outside was awful. “You and Perk get in there and secure vital personnel!”

  “What about you?” Picket shouted.

  “Obey your orders, bucks!”

  Picket heard and obeyed. Leaving their three companions, two of whom were hurt, he and Perkinson raced toward the citadel. One backward glance showed Picket that Helmer was sending Jo inside, probably for treatment, while he and Coleden charged back into the fight.

  Once inside, Perkinson turned right, rushing for Lord Ramnor’s rooms. That’s when Picket realized what his true duty was. “Go on!” he shouted. Perk had a wild look in his eyes but nodded quickly. He barreled through the corridor and was gone.

  Picket charged back toward the hospital. Toward Emma, daughter of King Jupiter the Great, whose life he had sworn to protect.

  * * *

  Heather couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A wolf! Inside Halfwind Citadel. She was shocked, but her shock quickly gave way to anger. She sped back into the room and seized a large burning brand from the fire. Gripping the unlit end, she rushed back into the hall, a wild anger driving her on.

  The wolf was gone.

  The tunnel began to fill with screams, with the sounds of scattering rabbits, with the half-disciplined scurrying of a citadel under siege. She had seen this once before, at Cloud Mountain. But that had been a trap, a ruse. This might be a full-scale attack.

  Terror rose within her, but she fought it down. She scolded a few whimpering rabbits nearby, reminding them to do their duty. They nodded and ran on. Then she remembered that she herself had a duty. She ran toward the hospital, still carrying the flaming brand. She bore it like a torch and raced through the dirt-packed walls of the warren, stopping for nothing.

  Rabbits gave way before her, and she shouted encouragement to everyone she passed. “Fight! For the Mended Wood and Jupiter’s heir!”

  * * *

  Picket reached the hospital and quickly joined in the fight, taking on a wolf near the main door. With some help from another soldier, he soon had the better of the invader and drove him out, wounded. Picket surveyed the large room. The stone pillars and artful arches held up the ceiling of a wide room, usually tidy and serene. But all was chaos now. Patients huddled in a corner while a few soldiers tried to contend with several wolves. He scanned for Emma and spotted her. She was standing in front of a frightened group of sick younglings, her arms spread out in front of them. It would do little good.

  Three wolves came for them, loping past the side door and trapping her and her patients in a corner. Heyna Blackstar lay on the floor nearby. She wasn’t moving.

  Picket was attacked again. He did his best to break free, but this wolf was a terrific scrapper, and Picket had to fight hard just to stay alive. He swung his sword at the wolf, but his stroke was blocked. The wolf lashed out with his powerful claws and knocked Picket back, bloodied and dazed.

  Picket rolled over and stole a glance at the side door as the wolf closed in on him. He saw Emma, magnificent in her defiance. She was every ounce a princess then. No one could doubt it if they looked at her now. She didn’t budge an inch as the three wolves attacked. Then Jo was beside him, and together they drove back the wolf. Picket turned and charged for the far corner. He knew he would be too late.

  Then he saw her.

  Through the side door came Heather, with fury in her face and a fiery brand in her hands. She lunged for the three wolves, smashing the burning brand into the nearest. It broke over his head, and as he fell an explosion of sparks and flaming splinters spread over the next wolf.

  That slowed them down, at least for a moment. The first, howling in rage as his singed fur sizzled, turned on Heather and sprang at her. But Picket was there, deflecting his deadly stroke and silencing him with his own flashing blade. Jo met the second with the same result, and Emma was faced with only one attacker. She didn’t flinch, only stayed in front of the younglings, whispering assurances to them as the wolf sprang.

  Picket leapt and met him in midair, a rending crack sounding as they spun and fell, sprawling on the ground. Jo led an eager band to secure the wolf.

  Heather was by Emma’s side. “Are you okay?” she asked. Picket sprang to his feet and joined her.

  “Are you all right, Emma?”

  “I’m fine!” Emma said, shaking her head and checking the younglings. “Thanks, you two.”

  Heather and Picket stood dumbly beside Emma. She frowned. “We all have work here. Let’s get to it.”

  Picket realized that she was telling him to leave her alone and do his duty. She doesn’t know who she is or how important her life is. She would give it away in a moment if it meant saving someone else.

  Emma stared at Picket and Heather for a moment, then pushed past them to Heyna, bending to tend the fallen doe.

  Heather and Picket put their heads together.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “We have to protect her, first of all.”

  Captain Frye came in, eyes darting back and forth, a gang of soldiers with him. When he saw Emma, he sighed with relief, then ordered his soldiers to secure the room. Picket ran to him.

  “What now, Captain?”

  “She’s safe,” he said, wheezing terribly. “I can’t find Lord Ramnor, and the battle is all but lost. It’s awful out there.”

  “What should we do?” Picket asked.

  “Emma’s okay, but stay close to her, Heather,” he whispered. “Try to find Lord Ramnor and then get the princess out of here.”

  “And me?”

  “Back to the battle!” he shouted, and he ran off.

  Picket hugged Heather, then handed her his sword. “To protect yourself,” he said. “And Heather, protect it, too.”

  Heather nodded and ran off down the warren’s winding tunnels. Picket bent and grabbed a sword left by a fallen fellow soldier. As he turned to follow Captain Frye, his eyes met Emma’s. She smiled at him, a weary, wonderful smile. He felt in that moment that he would gladly lay down his life for her.

  And perhaps he would. Perhaps this day.

  He caught up to Captain Frye as they reached the outside tunnel, and they followed it until it issued into daylight. Horrible sounds filled the air. Picket broke through the tunnel wall, Captain Frye behind him. They scanned the field. A cold breeze was blowing, and the sky was grey. The rabbit line was crumbling. The wolves advanced. A last huddle of rabbits held the ground surrounding the tunnel gate. Picket and Captain Frye rushed to join them. Picket knew it was hopeless.

  “To the end of the world!” Captain Frye shouted.

  Picket believed it was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AN END AND A BEGINNING

  Heather dashed toward Lord Ramnor’s rooms, hoping that he might have returned. There were wounded rabbits everywhere, and she didn’t know what to do. She ran on, aiming for the least awful thing. Her life was dedicated to healing. She didn’t like the feel of the sword in her hands, but she would do what she had to do.

  At last she drew near the ready room and, hearing an agonized cry from within, rounded the final curve and bolted inside. She saw Perkinson, kneeling over the fallen form of Lord Ramnor. A scream escaped her mouth, and she dropped Picket’s sword. The blade
clattered on the stone. Perkinson turned, a panicked expression on his face. He blinked, stammered for a moment, and then shouted, “Heather! Help him!”

  Heather knelt by the wounded lord. At a glance, she could tell it was bad. A wound bloomed on his chest, and Heather knew at once he would never rise again. She turned to see Perkinson pacing, a pained expression on his face.

  Lord Ramnor coughed, then tried to speak. Perkinson rushed over.

  “What is it, lord?” Heather said.

  “There it...” Lord Ramnor wheezed, “lies...” He seemed to be trying to move his hand, but he lacked the strength. He could only stare at his useless fingers.

  “The poem?” Heather whispered, tears burning her eyes. “The poem from this morning?” she asked.

  But he was gone. She bowed her head.

  “Is he—?” Perkinson asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Silence followed. How long, Heather couldn’t tell.

  Finally Perkinson spoke again. “A mighty lord has fallen,” he said. “Now who will lead us?”

  * * *

  Picket leaned into the battle with all his remaining strength. However many moments were left to him, he would spend them here on this field fighting for the cause he loved, for those he loved. He found Helmer, rushed to fight beside him, and sent his sword flying at the enemy. He saw Helmer’s Fowlers’ patch, that emblem of a flying rabbit, and the sight saddened him. All of their preparations, their gallant plans to take the war to their enemies on the heights. For what? He would die in a muddled mass of soldiers crowded on the ground.

  The clamor of battle resounded through the field, and he was vaguely aware that they were being driven back on all sides, that the rabbits were all but beaten. Despair flooded his heart.

  Snow began to fall, light flakes drifting down in slow, swaying arcs.

  Then came a tremendous shout and a rumbling of horns. Picket tried to think through the battle fog. What could make such a sound? It resonated in his heart like hope.

  Then he saw them—an army of black-clad rabbits, armed with flashing lances and wearing silver breastplates. They were hurrying toward the battle. In the fore ran a large rabbit, gleaming in silver armor, a silver crown upon his head. Above him flew a black star-filled banner.

  Picket’s tired mind didn’t know what to make of it, but he remembered the scouts’ report. He wondered if this was the last devastating piece of the puzzle, the attack that would finish all of Halfwind. But—no. The tall rabbits moved toward the wolves with force, not beside them as allies. With speed and fury, they attacked them as enemies.

  Picket leapt for joy.

  The new rabbit army fell on the wolves like a crushing wave, driving into them, and through them, with such force that Picket and his comrades felt an immediate relief in their own brutal contests. The wolves were turning, falling back. Helmer’s eyes widened, and Picket, exhausted and lightheaded, began to laugh. They sagged, gulped precious air, then joined in the last incredible push against the wolf army.

  It happened fast. Picket searched for the Silver Prince, saw him blazing away in the thickest part of the battle. A special guard of rabbits surrounded him, all armored in black with silver stars on their shields. They were the deadliest fighters Picket had ever seen. Together they formed an impenetrable pocket around their prince, and while his flanks were so well protected, he fought with wild confidence.

  Picket gaped in wonder. Who was this rabbit who fought like a god beneath a banner of stars? Was it King Jupiter back from the grave? Who else could fight like this? Who else could command so deadly a force?

  Then he saw that all the Halfwind rabbits watched in awe, resting on their swords as the Silver Prince and his black attackers drove the wolf army back in a terrific advance. The Halfwind rabbits cheered, and Picket joined in, as the last wolves were forced into a corner.

  “Who could they be?” Picket called out to Helmer.

  “I don’t know,” Helmer wheezed. “But they have certainly saved us all. It reminds me of long ago.”

  “In King Jupiter’s day?” Picket asked.

  “No,” Helmer said, “from before.”

  Picket frowned. What can he mean? Picket was about to ask when he remembered Emma, Heather, and Lord Ramnor. “Emma!” he said, and he dashed back toward the tunnel. Helmer followed him in, limping as he went.

  They passed by the gate, now wrecked, and charged through tunnel after tunnel until they came to the hospital. Picket ran inside and saw that more wolves had entered. Once again, Emma and the younglings were threatened. Picket saw Heather beside her, sword in hand. While Emma kept her vigilant guard, five massive rabbits in black armor dispatched the last of the wolves. Actually, Picket noticed, they weren’t all so large. The middle rabbit was not much bigger than himself, but like the fierce captain out in the battle whom Picket thought of as the Silver Prince, this shorter rabbit also wore a silver crown. A small crown made of silver stars. With two warriors on his right and two on his left, this second Silver Prince delivered the final blow to the defeated wolves and turned, breathing hard, to Emma. He seemed to be checking on her safety. She was unharmed, though her face was frozen in alarm and confusion.

  Now Picket saw the rabbit who had saved her. He saw a familiar face. He saw the gold-and-silver fur, so like his own. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Kyle?” Emma said, dumbfounded.

  One of his black-clad companions bowed, took off his helmet, and spoke. “This is Prince Kylen, son of King Bleston, Second Lord of Terralain, and the heir of all Natalia.”

  Kyle smiled, that old winning smile, with only the faintest hint of embarrassment. He looked at Emma and the Longtreaders. “I’m glad to see you, old friends.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A NEW ORDER

  For three days and two nights the after-battle work occupied Heather’s every waking moment. There was so much to do—care for the wounded, bury the dead, adjust their routine to the new order that arrived with their surprising victory.

  Heather and Picket walked the halls, headed for an audience with Prince Bleston, the long-absent brother of King Jupiter the Great. The citadel was calling him the Silver Prince. They now knew that for years he had been ruler of the hidden city of Terralain, a place once believed to be legendary. But Terralain had been real after all. At least Kyle didn’t lie about that.

  Heather was tired, and her heart was full of confused emotions. She was so happy the citadel had been saved, so grateful that those she loved most had been preserved. But she was brokenhearted about Lord Ramnor, terribly sad that she had been there at the end but could not save him. Perhaps Doctor Zeiger or Emma could have saved him, but not her. He had been her particular friend, was like family to her. She couldn’t even figure out what his last words meant. “There it...lies.” There what lies? It bothered her.

  Still worse was Kyle. Or Prince Kylen, as he was now called. He had betrayed Smalls to Morbin and had invited an attack on Cloud Mountain. Many good rabbits had lost their lives. Yet he walked through the halls of Halfwind Citadel as an honored hero. And hero he was, she had to admit. He had saved Emma, herself, and many others. His army had won a tremendous victory, rescuing Halfwind from certain doom. But beyond the betrayal of the cause and the community at Cloud Mountain, Kyle had lied to her. He had been her friend, and he betrayed her. She was ashamed that this was what angered her most.

  “How are we supposed to go in there and say thank you to Kyle?” Picket asked. “I can’t do that.”

  “Captain Frye believes it best if we just go along with things for now,” she answered, “until Smalls and the other lords get back.”

  “Is Captain Frye even in charge?”

  “He is to me,” she said. “But it’s a good question, Pick. Prince Bleston has occupied Lord Ramnor’s ready room. He calls for audiences, and we come when we’re called. So you tell me.”

  “Seems like he’s in charge.”

  “And his son,” she said, smirking.
r />   “I can’t believe Kyle is really a prince, that he really came from Terralain. He’s Smalls’ cousin!”

  “I don’t know what to believe.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m glad we’re alive, but I want to sleep for a week and wake up when the world makes sense.”

  “Since Lord Ramnor is dead, doesn’t that mean Captain Frye should lead?” Picket asked.

  “Yes. Emma says that the senior captain is supposed to take temporary command until the lords in council appoint someone to replace the fallen lord.”

  “The truth is,” Picket said, lowering his voice as he looked around, “Emma has some claim to lead here.”

  “If she only knew who she was,” Heather said, rubbing her head again. She felt so tired and confused. She just wanted this audience to be over so she could sleep.

  They walked on, winding through the halls now occupied by a mix of Halfwind rabbits, votaries, and soldiers and the large newcomers from Terralain. The new rabbits were clad in black and wore bright silver breastplates.

  “These Terralain rabbits are tough,” Picket whispered. “They almost never talk, but you can see how strong they are. They move with power and purpose. You can’t imagine how they fought, Heather. It was amazing. Especially Bleston. He was unbeatable, even against wolves.”

  “I seem to hear nothing but praise from everyone about him.”

  Picket smiled. “It was astonishing. You know how we used to dream of seeing King Jupiter in his glory? Well, I think now I know what it must have been like. I mean, Bleston is the old king’s older brother, and if Jupiter was anything like Bleston, then I understand why everyone was in awe of him.”

  “But Bleston hated Jupiter,” Heather said, her brows knitting. “I mean, Bleston left, right? That’s what Uncle Wilfred said. He said that when their father, King Walter, passed over Bleston to give the Green Ember to Jupiter—to make him his heir—Bleston nearly started a war. He didn’t, in the end. He left with a company of malcontents.”