There were others she recognized from her studies of that time, and from the tales told by Rina and her father. Mainly Ardek, an older man who had been the medic during the first Battle of Galatin. She remembered Rina saying he had been efficient and steady, had kept the thrice-wounded Tark on his feet, and she was glad to see him standing among those who would fight.
Shaina fought the urge to pace nervously. The light was fading rapidly, and she knew it would begin at any moment. Kateri stood to one side, watching, saying little. Shaina wondered if she felt a bit lost, now that her goal of stirring the population to resistance had finally been achieved.
“I wonder if they really expected a complete surrender so quickly.” Shaina mused aloud.
“They have gotten it before,” Rina said.
“Often enough that it is usually their first tactic,” Tark said.
“They will come back ruthlessly,” Kateri warned, stirred to speech at last. “What happened this afternoon was merely a testing.”
Tark nodded. “But they will not come in planning total destruction. They need some things intact, as a base.”
To go after Trios. He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to. She knew it, Lyon knew it, as did Rina.
And she knew as soon as darkness fell it would begin, and they’d had little time to plan. But Tark knew not just this building but the town and the surrounding area for miles, and he knew it well. And he had, it was clear, been thinking of this since he had become convinced the return of the Coalition was certain, because his commands were quick and decisive.
“I’ve set sentries here, here, and here,” Tark said, making marks on the map spread before them in the basement of the council chambers. It had served him as a command center in the last battle for Galatin, although it had clearly been ignored since then. “They will watch for any activity, ship landings, or other movement.”
Lyon was studying the map. Then he looked at the projection hovering above the table, Arellia and her three moons, with the positions of the Coalition vessels marked behind the outer one.
“Were it me,” he said thoughtfully, “I would come in from dark side to dark side.”
Tark shifted his gaze to Lyon. “As would I. Your father taught you well.”
“As did hers,” Lyon said, giving Shaina a wink. She felt her cheeks heat, she who was not easily discomfited.
“And if it were you,” she said hastily to Tark, “where would you choose to put down those troops?”
“It would depend on the size of my force. And the method of insertion.”
“I don’t think the Coalition has ever gone in for subtlety,” Lyon said.
Tark gave him another approving glance. “No, they have not.”
“A mother ship and transports, then?” Lyon asked.
“Assuming the mere sight of them arriving in such force will hasten the surrender?” Shaina added.
Tark leaned back slightly, looking at them, then at Rina. “You were right. They are everything you said they were.”
Shaina glanced at Lyon, saw in his face the same sort of pride she was feeling. That this man, of all men, thought them worthy to be at his side now was praise unmatched.
“I would put them down there,” Tark said, pointing to a large and apparently empty plain on the other side of the mountain they had so recently descended. “There is a pass into the city here”—he pointed to the northeast—“wide enough for a large force.”
Shaina studied the hologram intently, then looked at Rina.
“The spot where we met you,” she said.
Understanding the clipped query, Rina leaned forward slightly. Her navigation skills were not limited to space, Shaina knew, and in a split second she pointed to a spot on the image of the mountain, about halfway up.
Both Lyon and Tark waited silently for her to go on. She felt an odd sort of pressure—self-doubt—something she was not used to. There were many things she was not used to happening to her of late. But here she was, and she had little choice but to plunge ahead.
“Is there any place to cut them off?”
Tark frowned. “Only if you could get there before them.” He pointed to a spot halfway around the flank of the mountain, where the pass narrowed. “But they would be well past that point by the time we could get around the mountain from here.”
“What if we didn’t go around?”
She heard Lyon’s breath catch. “Of course,” he said.
“We aren’t even sure it goes through,” Shaina cautioned.
“Might.”
“Mordred.” The man was likely still alive, she thought, unless he had sizzled himself trying to get through the screen.
“Yes.”
“Still worth it.”
“Who?” was his only answer.
“Me.”
“Needed here.”
“You as well.”
They had reached an impasse. And only then was she aware that Tark was staring at them.
“Welcome to their world,” Rina said dryly.
Tark gave a shake of his head. But for a moment, he grinned. It changed his entire countenance, gave it a rakish sort of dash, and Shaina guessed they had had another glimpse of the man Rina had first met.
“Are you saying,” he said then, “that you found a way?”
“A tunnel. Inside the cave,” Shaina said. Then she added ruefully, “We should have checked. It went deeper than we explored.”
Lyon grimaced. Rina’s gaze sharpened. “Is that how Mordred came upon you unaware?”
“We were foolish,” Lyon admitted. “And we did not know it was him, then.”
“And you did not know this was coming,” Tark said, to Shaina’s surprise. “I will go and—”
“No.” Kateri cut him off. Tark shifted his gaze to her. “Whatever the Coalition plans for outside the city, they will send their prime force here. They know they must take Galatin to take Arellia.”
“Contention valid,” Tark agreed.
“The battle here will be fierce. You must stay.”
“You would have me hide?”
“Far from it. You must lead. Visibly. With the supreme confidence of the Captain Tarkson who held this city once before.”
Tark grimaced. Shaina wondered fleetingly if she would one day look back at her younger self the same way, with a ruefulness about that blissfully ignorant youthful confidence she had come here with. She had learned much these past few days, most of all how much she had yet to learn.
“They will stand with you now, Tark,” the older woman said. “They needed the three of you to begin, but it is you they need here now. They may not wish to remember, but it is your name they know, you who are one of them, you who saved Galatin before.”
Rina smiled at the woman’s words, then drew the conversation back to tactics. “Will it not take too much time to get there, when we don’t know if this tunnel indeed cuts through the mountain to the other side?”
“I heard talk Bratus has an air rover,” Crim said with a snort. “Keeping it hidden for his own escape.”
“That would get there quickly enough,” Shaina said. “I’ll take it.”
“I will,” Lyon countered.
“But—”
“You may be a better fighter, but I’m a better pilot. And I need no laser pistol.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but his steady gaze held her back. It was, she knew, nothing less than the truth.
“All right,” she said. “You fly. But I’m going.”
Once more Tark gave them a look of approval. Her father had always said half of victory was going with your strengths, the other half knowing your weaknesses. She supposed he had taught that to Tark as well.
“Take the north road. I will give you wh
at cover I can and draw their fire to the south, near the gates.”
“That will be all we need,” Shaina said. “We can check the plain as well, for any sign it’s been scouted or prepared.”
Tark nodded. “We will prepare a force to move upon your report,” he said. “I have a feeling there is more transport available. I doubt Bratus is the only one among those cravens hiding a means of escape.”
“And then we fight,” Kateri said with satisfaction.
“We do,” Tark said.
Chapter 44
“THEY’VE TAKEN my mansion,” Bratus said, his voice at a high pitch that told Rina the man was terrified. Not that there wasn’t reason, but he could at least try to hide it a little better. He was the mayor, after all. “The clock tower scout says they are setting up a command post there.”
“Good,” Tark said bluntly.
“Yes,” Rina said. Tark wasn’t given to explaining, but she saw those gathered exchanging glances and thought it might be wise in this instance. “I doubt they planned on needing one. They realize now this will not be an easy sweep, ended quickly. They thought to march over us. Now they now better.” She glanced at the man beside her. “And I suspect, by now, they know they face Tark.”
Tark looked startled. But the stir shifted to one of renewed confidence.
“He beat them before,” Crim said gruffly. “He will do so again.”
“But there are too many, they will kill us all—”
Tark cut off the mayor—and the man who had left him to die—with a sharp gesture. “If I don’t kill you first,” he warned. Bratus made a sound that reminded Rina of nothing less than a muckrat, and scrambled into the outer room much like that same creature.
The others grinned; the mayor was no favorite with any left in the room, although she doubted they realized Tark had even more reason to hate him.
Rina wondered if Tark even realized what his mere presence did here. They might have turned away from him, avoided him as a painful reminder of a time they wished to forget, but now that it was here again, they turned to the man who had saved them before as if he were their savior.
You don’t deserve him.
The thought was uncharitable, perhaps even vengeful, but she didn’t care at the moment.
“The cellar,” a young-sounding voice came from across the table, near where Ardek, their former medic, stood.
Tark’s head came up as the older men around the table, some from the council, those who had stood for resistance, hushed the speaker. Those who had advised immediate surrender were, at Tark’s orders, locked in the closet, where, he had said, they could continue to hide from reality.
“Let him speak,” Tark said.
The boy came forward, head up, refusing to be cowed. He was only a boy, but he reminded her of Tark nevertheless. He had the same fierceness, the same determination, the same air of a crackling intelligence and fire. She wondered if Tark saw it too, was reminded of the youth he’d been the first time he’d been asked to hold this place.
“Rayden, is it?” Tark asked.
The young man nodded.
“What cellar? I thought there were none in Galatin.”
“Because it gets wet, I know. But there is one.”
Tark set down the holo controller he’d been holding. “Go on.”
“My friends and I found it, one night, when we were behind the brewer—”
He stopped suddenly, glancing at the elders warily, looking for a moment nothing more than a mischievous child.
“So you’re the one who broke in and stole my lingberry liquor,” Wystan, who had run the distillery before becoming their armorer, said.
“We were exploring,” the boy protested. “We just happened across the vat.”
“And it likely made you sick,” Wystan said. “It was nowhere near ready.”
The boy grimaced at the memory. The others laughed then. And Rina suddenly realized she had seen this boy before. The night they had gone to the meeting of the watchers, he had darted out of that building, the old woman screaming after him. He clearly hadn’t curbed his wandering habits.
“The cellar,” Tark prompted, “where is it?”
Rina had already guessed, and she thought Tark probably had too, but he wasn’t going to deprive the boy of his moment. She loved him all the more for that.
“Under the mayor’s house. Under the kitchen. It’s full of wine and spirits.”
“Well, that fits,” Crim said dryly.
“I have been in that kitchen,” Wystan said. “There was no door except to the state room that I saw.”
“Get him back in here,” Tark ordered, and three men instantly sprang to do his bidding. The mayor was protesting vigorously, as if he thought he was being brought back so that Tark could make good on his threat.
“Your cellar,” Tark said as the man cowered before him.
The man gave him a blank look. “What? I have no—”
“Do not try my patience. How do you access it?”
The mayor glanced around, saw nothing of support, and answered weakly. “There is a hidden door, behind a cupboard. And a hatchway outside, for deliveries, but only the taproom keeper knows of it.”
“Afraid the masses might raid your wine, Bratus?” Crim said in disgust.
Tark turned back, and knelt to put himself at eye level with the child. “And you know where this outside entrance is?”
The boy nodded. “But it’s covered up with rubble now. From the explosions.”
Rina could almost feel Tark’s mind racing, yet he kept his focus on the boy, who was practically glowing that he had his full attention.
“And you have an idea about that?” Tark asked.
Again the boy nodded, excitedly this time. “I think those skalworms don’t even know it’s there.”
Tark nodded, giving the boy a slow smile that lit the young face with pride. The boy cared nothing for Tark’s scar, knew only that he was the hero of Galatin and it was the most exciting thing in his young life to be acknowledged by him. Rina could have hugged him. Or both of them.
“The best way to deal with the Coalition beast is to take the head,” Tark said. “They are lost without it.”
“And that head will be in the mayor’s mansion,” Rina said. “Taking the best for himself, because that is what they do.”
“Yes. Wystan, I need every bit of nitron you can spare, and then a little more. Fused and ready. Crim, you’re with me,” Tark said, his tone brisk. He looked at the men across the table. “I’ll need one more, if there’s anyone willing from your ranks.”
Bratus Onslow, Rina noticed, cringed backward. She nearly laughed at him. Would have, aloud, were the situation not so grim. This was, after all, the man who had left Tark to die in the mountains. Were it up to her, he would not be allowed to breathe the same air. In truth, if it were up to her, he would not be allowed to breathe.
“I’m with you,” she said.
He turned to look at her. Shook his head. “You must stay. You will be in charge here during this mission.”
Her hackles went up instantly. But before she could speak, he put a hand on her arm and took her aside.
“It is not to protect you,” he said quietly, so the others would not hear, “although I will not deny that is my strongest desire. But someone will need to rally them, should we not succeed. You were at my side in that first battle for Galatin, long ago, and you fought with Dax. They will follow you.”
She hated it, but saw the sense of it. She thought of telling him she should go in his place and he stay here for those same reasons, but she knew it wasn’t in him. She knew this man down to the bone, and he would never keep himself safe while sending others into danger.
And she did not allow herself to think about the grim truth buried
in that phrase, “should we not succeed.” That if they did not, it would mean he was dead. In truth, this time.
But there would be no moving him, she could see it in his expression, in the set of his jaw. “You will come back. I am not about to lose you again,” she ordered, her own jaw set.
He stared at her for a moment. “You will be fine, I want you to believe that. Better perhaps, if I don’t—”
“Looking for another slap? You once said what we want to believe does not change the truth. And you know the truth, Bright Tarkson.”
For a moment she let it all shine in her eyes, her face. She saw it register, even as she saw his doubt. She would wipe that doubt away, she thought. She would find the way to prove to him that he was not just more than worthy of her complete love, that he already had it.
She saw him take in a deep breath. He opened his mouth then closed it again, as if he could find no words. Since this was neither the time nor the place, she would take that as sign enough.
The chatter in the room was rising, and they turned back to the others.
“I’ll go,” Rayden said eagerly running up to them.
Tark looked at the boy. “I will need you to show us this entrance. But then you must come back,” he said. When the boy looked crestfallen, he added with a gesture at her. “She will need a lieutenant. I think you have earned that.”
Put in that light, the boy perked up.
“I am an old man,” Ardek said, “but my grandson here shames me.” Rina’s glance flicked from the old man to the boy; she hadn’t realized they were related. Rayden stood taller as he went on. “I have not stood by you as I should have, but I would join you, if you’ll have me.”
Tark met the man’s gaze across the holo table. “You held fast in the last battle for Galatin, Ardek. I would be honored to have you again.”
“The honor is mine,” the old man said with a slight bow of his head.
Rebel Prince Page 31