But now all that was gone, and he had failed in his first assignment for his new House. He didn’t know much about them, but he imagined that failure was not well-tolerated. Now, all he could do was watch, and wait for an opening that might allow him to scavenge something from this disaster.
Solomon looked bone tired, about to fall asleep on his feet, but he still went back down the stairs to tend to his friends. Thaddeus listened as Willow told him that Jediah was still there somewhere, and slid back into the deeper shadows as Solomon came up the stairs and moved past him to begin his search. Thaddeus knew where Jediah was, so he knew it would take a while to find him. Time enough to do a little damage control of his own.
As he snuck down the stairs, Willow moved to Lacy and got her to her feet. He could feel the magic flow from the Healer as she tended to Lacy’s injured shoulder. Together, they got Luke on his feet and half helped, half dragged him to the doors. It crossed his mind to cause the doors to slam shut again, if for no other reason than to hear them scream, but he resisted the urge. Better not to give Willow any sort of warning.
He followed them at a distance, walking as silently as only someone who was adept at getting in and out of places unseen could. They made it to the steps outside, carefully descending with Luke still between them. At the bottom, they rested for a moment.
Then, the dog, that damned Hunting Hound, showed up. It had obviously been left out there by Solomon, and now it was capering around the three others, looking for attention. Willow took a moment to pat it on the head, and then they all continued away from the tree.
Thaddeus concentrated, whispering words as he rolled a small piece of wood plucked from a rotting table between his fingers. Then, he cast the spell, and below him, Daisy’s ears pricked up at the sudden noise in the forest. Willow looked that way as well, then said something to Lacy, who moved off, supporting Luke on her own.
Daisy continued to stare into the forest, at whatever it was that had caught her attention. Thaddeus had no idea what that would be. The spell simply made Daisy think there was something there, something that posed a threat to them all. Knowing the Hunting Hounds, even one as unusual as Daisy should go after it. The beauty of the spell is that it would keep her thinking that whatever it was, it was always in front of her, never quite able to be caught.
Thaddeus’s true strength lay in magics of the mind. The light spell he had used on the stone was fine, and he had a few others like that, but really, he found playing with perceptions to be forever fascinating. Maybe that was why Subtle Hemlock had some use for him.
A moment later and the compulsion became too much. Daisy growled deep in her throat and took off like an arrow from a bow. Willow called out, but the dog paid no attention to her, and was out of sight in seconds.
Now was the time.
Not caring if he was seen, Thaddeus ran down the steps, the spell already forming. He shouted it out, the time for subtlety past. He needed to hit Willow with it like a hammer, put her down before she could shore up any defenses that she might have.
The Healer turned in surprise at the sound of his voice, her mouth open in an “oh”. But before she could say another word, the spell hit her, and she dropped like a stone. Thaddeus was there, pulling her limp body up into his arms before the other woman could react.
“Hey!” he heard Lacy shout, but ignored her. He took Willow under the arms and dragged her back to the tree. Now time was of the essence. Solomon could be returning at any moment, and the thought of what he would do if he saw Thaddeus dragging an unconscious Willow toward the tree lent strength to his limbs. He half ran, half stumbled, up the steps, and back into the darkness of the Rustling Elms tree.
He heard Lacy coming and knew that he only had moments. While he was sure that he could dispose of the human if he had to, it would cost him valuable time. Time that he might not have. He made it to the door behind the main stairs as Lacy rushed into the entry hall.
“Stop!” she shouted, but he still ignored her.
Thaddeus opened the door, stepped through, dumped Willow to the ground and slammed it home. It shuddered as Lacy hit the other side of it, but he was safe for the moment. He slid the bolt across, locking it, and took a minute to catch his breath and take his bearings.
The chamber he was in was nothing more than a broom closet. All houses had them, tucked away in a place like this, where the servants could access what was needed, but the nobility didn’t have to see them.
But what everyone didn’t know…Thaddeus ran his hands along the wall, looking for something that….ah, there it was. A small divot in the wood, not very deep at all. A gentle push in, turning slightly at the same time and….the wall slid aside, revealing a staircase leading up.
Years ago, when wars between the Houses were more common, the trees were equipped with secret passages that would allow one to escape, or to come out behind an enemy. Over the years, that need had faded, but the old passages were remembered and even occasionally used, usually by a young person seeking to leave the compound without being seen.
But now, this one would serve his purpose. It went straight to the third floor, so he could wait until he was sure Solomon was on his way down and pass by him, without him ever even knowing. From there, up again to the unruined levels, where he hoped he would find something that would help him get out there, or to contact House Subtle Hemlock for further instructions.
He looked at the staircase climbing into the darkness and sighed. There was no way to both carry Willow and have a stone light the way at the same time. But what must be done, must be, so he picked up the Healer under the arms again, and started dragging her up the stairs.
It wasn’t until he was almost at the top that he heard the door below him burst open. Far down, he could see a white glow, and knew that Solomon was coming and had the sword out again.
He swallowed hard and hurried faster, his arms and legs burning. Willow moaned and started to move. He cursed and tried to whisper the spell to keep her asleep, but he was breathing too hard and the light rapidly rising up the stairs made it too difficult to concentrate.
He gained the door and pushed it open, coming out into a darkened hallway, not far from the stairs leading to the clean area. He was almost there. The irony of him trying to make it the last few yards mirroring what Willow and Lacy had been doing was not lost on him, but he failed to find the amusement in it.
He could hear Solomon coming but he was going to make it. Willow said something and pulled against him, but he locked one arm around her throat and squeezed. She made a choking noise, but stopped struggling when he pressed harder.
“Good,” he said, his voice pitched low. “You keep still, I don’t cut off your air. Got it?”
Willow must have recovered more from his spell than he would have expected. She nodded, her chin digging into his arm. He squeezed her again. “Don’t try anything. Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
And really, he didn’t. He liked Willow, he always had, but he needed her in order to get away. There was no place for him at Whispering Pines anymore. Solomon would surely kill him if he stayed here, and Subtle Hemlock would require more proof of his abilities than what he had shown so far. He had no choice but to take her.
He kept his eyes focused on the door he had just come through, while shuffling backward, feeling for the bottom stair leading to the fourth floor. His heel hit the step as Solomon burst into the hallway.
“Stop!” he shouted, as Solomon turned toward him. “If you come any closer, I’ll kill her. I’ll snap her neck and you know I can do it!”
In truth, he didn’t know if he could or not. He had never tried to kill anyone like that before. But if he had to, he would try, and even if he only injured her, it might be enough of a distraction that he could get away.
Solomon didn’t say a word while he continued to walk forward, his eyes blazing in the light of the white flames curling along the sword. For a brief moment, Thaddeus wondered if some of that flame would cu
rl into the lantern if Solomon cut him with it. Or was that only for the Soul Gaunts?
“I mean it! Stop!” In his panic, he tightened his grip on Willow’s throat. She began to gasp and choke. “See! I’ll do it!”
“I believe you,” Solomon said, but he kept coming.
Thaddeus’s arm began to ache, the muscles cramping up. He thought it was from the tension he was keeping on it, but the pain started to get worse, feeling like the bone itself was breaking. He looked down, taking his eyes off Solomon, to see Willow’s hands on his arm. He heard the crack when the bone actually broke.
He shoved her toward Solomon with a scream, but was stunned as Solomon stepped aside and let her drop to the ground, making no attempt to catch her. Instead, he kept walking toward Thaddeus, his sword pointed at him.
Thaddeus cradled his arm to his chest. “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. They were going to do so much more to me. And they’re going to win, so I had to. You can see that right?’
He backed up, aware that he was babbling but unable to help himself. Solomon showed no sign of hearing him and didn’t answer. Willow staggered to her feet and turned to him as well. His magic had abandoned him, and he couldn’t remember a spell to save his life, even if he had ever known one that would.
“Don’t…” he begged, as Solomon neared and raised the sword.
Out of the corner of his eye, Thaddeus saw a tall man in all black, very much like the Advocate, step out of the shadows near the wall. A thin hand grabbed hold of him and yanked. He stumbled, there was a sudden flash of multicolored light and everything went dark.
CHAPTER 58
House Glittering Birch had moved up again, their soldiers still several yards back, but within easy striking distance of the Towering Oaks compound. Jamshir was showing his disdain for them. The Greenweald compounds weren’t designed to be defensible against a larger army. They never had to be. The “wars” between houses that took place with much more frequency in the past were really skirmishes, brought on by some imagined insult or slight, and over as quickly. One House proved their worth over another at the cost of relatively few causalities and they moved on, the defeated House usually paying some sort of tribute to the winner.
But for the last several centuries, even that had become much more infrequent. Now, disputes were settled between Houses by talking, and diplomacy. Given that, and the Folks love of the Greenweald, there were no true walls around Towering Oaks to block the views, or around any other compound. There was a low barricade, more like a fence to keep wandering animals out, with viewing platforms fashioned from massive stumps every so often. That fence would slow Glittering Birch some, but not enough to matter.
The only reason that Shireen could see why Glittering Birch wasn’t attacking already was because of the reputation of House Towering Oaks. While attacks within the Greenweald were rare, other lands outside of it were less genteel. The Hairy Men were just one. There were always border skirmishes, or invasions to repel, and her House took the forefront in those. Thus, their soldiers were the most experienced and well trained, their reputations well-earned.
That, and the fact that all Glittering Birch had to do was wait for nightfall. Then the Soul Gaunts would come, and neither the fence nor the reputation would slow them down at all.
She looked out from the viewing platform at the ranks of soldiers arrayed before them.
“We need to attack,” she told Lawrence.
“If we do, we give up any advantage that we have,” he protested.
“What advantage? The fence? What’s that going to do? Let’s take the fight to them, now, before the Soul Gaunts come.”
Lawrence didn’t answer, but continued to look out over the opposing army. He turned and regarded their own, assembled in the compound. There were many fewer than Glittering Birch had, but these were Towering Oaks. Shireen had no doubt they’d acquit themselves well, and even if the day was lost, they’d take a lot of the others with them.
"You're right," Lawrence finally said. “Proceed.”
Shireen gave a grim smile and turned back to her House. She raised her hand, let it drop and House Towering Oaks began to move.
First the bowmen moved forward, crossing the compound until they stood close to the fence. They raised their bows, arrows nocked, and waited for a signal.
On the other side of the fence, Shireen saw the first signs of cracks in the discipline she had noticed before. Now some of the Glittering Birch soldiers did react, glancing at the person beside them and whispering. Several had looks of incredulity on their faces, as if they couldn’t believe another House would actually defy them.
For her own part, Shireen hesitated. If she gave the signal the arrows would fly and the battle would be joined. There would be no going back from this. Then she looked further and saw Jamshir astride his horse, General Bragnold at his side. She remembered the madness in him, and his admission that it was he who had brought the Soul Gaunts here and eradicated House Rustling Elms.
She gave the signal and death flew through the air.
She had to give the Glittering Birch soldiers credit. They didn’t flee. Shields were raised overhead, even while they rushed forward, trying to get ahead of where the arrows would fall. Some succeeded, while others paid the price.
The arrows rained down, piercing armor and the flesh underneath. The air was filled with the sudden screams of the wounded and the noise of soldiers falling, never to rise again. She signaled again, and another round of arrows flew, causing even more damage. But now, Glittering Birch was running forward and there was no time for a third.
The archers had done their work well, and corpses littered the ground in front of the compound, but Glittering Birch had their own archers, and now they loosed, firing over the heads of their own attacking troops. While they weren’t as effective as the Towering Oaks marksmen, they still took a heavy toll.
Lawrence jumped down from the viewing platform and yelled for his horse. He vaulted into the saddle and led the counter-charge of Towering Oaks soldiers. The horses poured from the gate and leapt the fence, closing the distance between the armies in a flash. Shireen held back and watched as he lay about him with his sword, cutting a swath through the enemy.
The two armies came together with a crash. At first, House Towering Oaks was vastly outnumbered. But as more of them made it through the gate and over the fence, the numbers started to even. Only because all of Glittering Birch had not engaged. She looked over the battlefield, ignoring the cries and screams and saw that Bragnold had held fully a half of his army in reserve.
Even if Towering Oaks was victorious here, they’d have another fight equally as big in front of them, and that was to say nothing of the Soul Gaunts.
“Where are you?” she muttered, trying in vain to see Solomon arriving.
With a curse, she left the viewing platform and marched toward the fence.
“Not going without me, are you?”
She turned to find Orlando, his arm heavily bandaged, but holding his sword steady.
“What are you doing? Get back to the Healers!”
He laughed. “Not a chance. If you’re going out there, so am I. Besides, they’ll have more important things to do soon enough.”
Shireen glared at him, but then stepped forward and kissed him hard. After a moment, she drew back.
“Come on,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
Orlando smiled, that same expression that always made her heart lighter, and together they headed into the battle.
She had never killed so many before. Not when fighting the Hairy Men, or any other enemies of the Greenweald. It was as if she was stabbed in the heart every time she struck down one of her own race, or heard one of her own soldiers cry out. Her arm rose and fell, hacking into the meat of bodies that were trying to do the same to her. She took wounds herself, but hardly felt them.
Orlando fought at her side, protecting her back. When she had a mom
ent to glance at him, she saw the same stricken look on his face that she knew was on her own.
It went on and on, seeming to never end. More soldiers coming for her, more that needed to be killed. The smell of blood in the air was nauseating and she had to watch her footing in ground that was slick with it.
Then, there was an open space around her. Anyone she could see still ready to fight was in the colors of Towering Oaks, and the silver and purple of Glittering Birch was running away. She let her sword point sag and watched them go, panting and covered in gore.
A cheer went up from those around her, but most of them didn’t know what she did. That was only the beginning. She looked up at the sky and was surprised to find that not much time had passed at all. Maybe a half-hour at the most. They had held off the first wave, and did it in enough time that they were still safe from the Soul Gaunts.
She hurried back to the viewing platform, Orlando right there with her. She didn’t see Lawrence anywhere, and hoped that he had made it through the battle. Jamshir and Bragnold were riding forward through the remaining ranks of their army. They didn’t so much as glance down at the dead, and rode over them, both Glittering Birch and Towering Oaks alike.
When they were near enough, Jamshir stopped and called out. “Bravely done! My congratulations to House Towering Oaks on a stunning victory!” Then he laughed. “Or at least, for the moment. Still, you brought great honor to your House. I have a proposition. Who will hear it?”
Shireen looked around, waiting for Lawrence to respond, but there was only silence. Either he was unconscious or dead. Heads turned to look up at her, and she realized that they were expecting her to answer.
Behind her, Orlando muttered, “Go ahead. We’re with you.”
While she was grateful for his support, it did little to ease her uncertainty. She was a scout, nothing more. She had no right to speak for the whole House. And yet, everyone seemed to expect it.
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