“I have,” Sianna answered, and the woman returned her gaze to her. “And your name?”
“I am Irralith, youngest daughter of the great frost hag Hephynore, slain by this one many years afore you were even a squirt of your sire’s seed.”
“Oi, watch yer mouth!” the gaoler snapped, raising his mace threateningly.
“It’s all right,” Sianna said with a calming gesture. “I understand Master Creel also showed mercy upon a young child and spared your life in the hopes you’d deny your nature.”
“Foolish hope, was it not?” Irralith asked, giving Creel a challenging look.
“That remains to be seen, but thus far you’ve done naught to acquit yourself,” Creel replied, his voice nearly a growl.
“I told you before—after I was captured, the demon wench and her thugs would have struck off my head right where I stood. Is it such a sin to make oneself useful in the hopes of having your life spared?”
“It is if you throw your lot in with the ‘demon wench,’ as you so colorfully put it, the same creature who slaughters and burns her way across the continent.” Sianna rested her chin on a fist, trying to decide how she felt about the changeling as she studied her.
Irralith sat straight with shoulders back, returning her gaze calmly, her demeanor not that of a broken woman. She certainly wasn’t reducing herself to groveling or trying to charm her way out of her predicament. Defiant, if nothing else. She believes she did no wrong.
“As with any gamble, one wins or one loses. And this round, I’ve lost.” Irralith shrugged. “Not a choice I would have made had a sword not been held to my neck, however.”
“My counselors advise that I should hang you from a gibbet in the town square,” Sianna said. “Others would prefer you beheaded, quartered, and then burned.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered that I would warrant so much effort to see me dead. All of that would make quite the crowd-pleasing spectacle, I should imagine.” Irralith sounded amused. “And what does Your Majesty wish to do with me?”
Here goes. “I have decided to heed the counsel of the minority and would spare your life—on the condition you use your considerable talents to aid me and my armies during the upcoming battle.” Creel had argued for this course of action and, surprisingly, Taren had added his support as well, showing compassion for Irralith’s plight.
Irralith’s eyebrows rose, and she leaned forward slightly. “Is that so? And if I then acquit myself admirably?”
“Then I might be inclined to issue a pardon and turn you loose.” Sianna glanced at Creel, who nodded almost imperceptibly though he maintained his steady gaze on Irralith. “Think it over. I’ll need an answer this eve.” She turned to go.
“From all the celebrating, I would have thought the battle already won.” Irralith looked genuinely puzzled.
“Your ‘demon wench’ has a second host marching north,” Creel said.
Irralith didn’t look pleased by that news. “I see. Then this decision requires little thought. I agree to your terms.”
Sianna smiled to herself before turning back to the changeling. “If you think to deceive me or not honor our bargain in any way, there is still the noose. Or the spectacle in the town square if you prefer.”
“I would expect nothing less, Your Majesty.” Irralith rose, causing the gaoler to raise his mace threateningly. Then she surprised Sianna by kneeling. “I throw myself on your mercy.”
“Very well. I shall summon you before the battle.” Sianna gave her a nod and stepped outside the cell, walking a few paces away. I hope this bargain isn’t a foolish decision.
“It seems I owe you my gratitude once again, monster hunter.” Irralith’s voice was still audible from the cell.
“Aye, you do,” Creel replied. “Don’t make me regret this.” He walked out into the hallway.
The gaoler followed and locked the door.
“Do you truly think this the right decision?” Sianna asked Creel as they made their way out of the dungeon.
“Irralith’s magic can be a powerful arrow in your quiver, no doubt about that. And in this next battle, you’ll not have the same advantages as the prior one—any chance to gain an edge should be wielded. Yet be on your guard, for her loyalty wavers like a weathervane.” Creel shrugged. “But you know my views about her. Perhaps given a chance to make amends, she’ll do so. I daresay life under a Nebaran regime that employs the Inquisition wouldn’t appeal to one such as her any more than the rest of us.”
“I hope you are right.” Yet in her heart, Sianna felt she’d made the right decision.
***
Good cheer around the castle following their military victory was short-lived, for word arrived later that afternoon by scout that the second Nebaran host had abruptly veered sharply eastward in their march. That had set off a commotion among Sianna’s military advisors, for it was generally speculated Nesnys would not seek to test their might a second time and instead was moving to either sack Llantry or at least take control of the capital. With Mayor Calcote’s betrayal, the gates would be thrown wide open for Nebaran occupation. The thought of having to besiege and retake her own city in a bloody battle gave Sianna a sick feeling in her gut.
“We must march at once!” General Turpen shouted. “Every moment we tarry brings them one step closer to Llantry.”
Lord Lanthas frowned. “Even if the army was ready to march this very instant, we’d have virtually no chance of cutting them off. This latest intelligence of their change of direction is already two days old.”
The general ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Aye, you’re correct, milord. Forgive me for being hasty in my assessment.”
“So we’ve no chance of catching them?” Sianna asked in frustration. After their previous victory, she had been confident they could take on this second force as well, and now in one fell blow, she’d found out they might very well lose the war without even crossing swords with the second host. “We can’t send word to anyone to muster some men and try to delay their march?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Lanthas replied grimly, rubbing at his jaw. “Any significant forces we might muster would be in the command of the northern lords, and they are no closer than we. Farther, in fact. A cavalry unit could possibly reach them in time, though, as you are well aware, our horse stock is depleted, but perhaps with some harrying tactics, we could slow their march…” He didn’t look hopeful at the thought. “Apologies for my failure to anticipate the Nebaran warlord’s next move. I fear I’ve failed you.”
“Nonsense, Cousin. The only reason the kingdom has held together this long and still has any of its army remaining is due to your actions. I fear my father squandered our men’s lives.”
Silence descended over the council as the ugly truth hung heavy in the air. Officers pored over the maps, but from a casual glance, Sianna could see as well as they that any action they took would be hopeless. Their best hope would be to march immediately and hope they could somehow overtake the foe or at least reach them before they fortified their position in Llantry—and also pray that whatever small unit of cavalry they could deploy might slow their march.
“Your Majesty, I may have an idea,” Taren spoke up, surprising Sianna, who’d nearly forgotten he was even in the room, for he’d remained silent until then. She had invited him, valuing his opinion, and after he’d acquitted himself so well during the previous battle, all had welcomed the young mage’s presence.
Sianna listened to his proposal, and a slow smile spread on her face. The chance to turn the tables on Nesnys was enticing indeed.
Whereas before, the room had been filled with uneasy silences and grim faces, now the men murmured excitedly and smiled at the chance offered them.
“Get the word out,” Lanthas told the military men. “I want everyone in position by first light, men and supply caravans both. If you need to start packing wagons and lining up men before midnight, then make it happen. The fate of Ketania depends on us getting
this right.”
“Iris, will you schedule an urgent meeting with my counterparts?” Sianna asked. “I hope they will agree to accompany us even with this change in plan.”
Iris nodded and left the room.
Sianna caught Taren’s eye and mouthed a thank-you. He responded with a smile that made her heart rate increase. She was reminded of their precious moments alone that morning, such a luxury for her of late.
She forced herself to focus on business and cleared her throat. “What else do we need to get done before we march?”
Chapter 35
“For the hate of Shaol and all that is unholy! How can this be?” Nesnys rubbed her eyes, thinking at first she was seeing things that weren’t there. But the army arrayed on the plains below stubbornly remained, solidly barring her own host’s path to Llantry, the capital a mere couple days to the east. Neat ranks of infantry, both human and dwarven, along with groups of elven archers and skirmishers spread across the snowy fields below like a rippling lake of steel.
As she circled high above the ground, her shock swiftly turned to fury at having been outmaneuvered yet again. She had thought to steal a march and seize the capital city, Llantry, while the mortals were licking their wounds following the first battle. Yet somehow the mortals had managed to reposition their army—that same mongrel host that had handed her the past defeat—more than a week’s march east of their last position in Carran.
You are beginning to really anger me, Taren. How else could these mortals with their feeble mages move an entire army?
She cast a minor spell that allowed her to detect the residue of the tremendous amount of magic expended to transport the army. By her calculation, the enemy had been in position for hours, perhaps as long as a day, choosing their ground and digging in. Along with the residue of Taren’s gate spell, she sensed low-level magic being employed sporadically throughout the enemy forces, likely clerics and mages fortifying their forces as best they could. Nowhere among the activity was any magic currently being employed on a scale that would indicate Taren’s presence.
Have they recruited more troops in the interim? Or received reinforcements? Despite her own forces getting smashed on the field, the mortals hadn’t prevailed unscathed. They had incurred substantial losses as well, yet somehow their numbers looked to be an even match for her own eleven-thousand-plus men, most of them fresh save for the thousand or so surviving rabble from the first conflict she had ordered to supplement Elyas’s host.
Her keen eyes were drawn to the colorful pennants fluttering in the wind atop a rocky bluff with a commanding view over the field below. Flurries of snow swirled, and the figures positioned around the pennants clutched their cloaks tightly from the cold. As during the previous battle, most of the cowardly nobles and officers commanded their host from well out of harm’s way.
They merely think themselves out of harm’s way… yet harm shall find them nonetheless. The thought momentarily brightened her mood, but it quickly soured once more when she failed to locate Taren among them.
She snarled a curse at the memory of their previous clash. Not only had Taren and his allies wounded her and forced her withdrawal, but he had nearly singlehandedly destroyed her entire army afterward, teaching her a hard lesson to never underestimate the boy again. In fact, she had donned the magical belt she wore in anticipation of facing him one on one.
Our next duel shall have a much different result. Where are you, mageling?
Her plan to dispatch that wretched illusionist to kidnap Taren had evidently failed, and the bitch had somehow slipped her collar. She would strangle the creature with her own entrails if she was fortunate enough to encounter her again.
Nesnys did recognize Sianna Atreus among the nobles and officers huddled on the hill. The urge to strike at the girl right at that moment was very tempting, but she was wary of a ruse in the event her sister’s cursed whelp expected such a strike and had laid a cunning trap. She noted several human clerics present on the bluff, along with a handful of elven mages and priests. Yet nowhere did she see Taren or discern any hint of magical traps.
“Mistress, what are your orders?” Elyas’s thoughts appeared in her mind, projected through the Soulforge armor tethering them. “The enemy is in sight.”
She banked and flew back toward her own army, where she could see Elyas at the head of her host as they swarmed over the last of the rolling hills like a column of angry ants. The battle would be joined in less than an hour.
I truly think the boy is not here. The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she felt a thrill of excitement. The group of mortal commanders congregating atop the rocky bluff was too tempting a target to pass up, and the chance to deal a devastating blow to their morale a boon. If I can’t have the mage, I’ll crush their leadership. I’ll celebrate our victory by drinking the girl-queen’s blood from my chalice.
Her thoughts of Taren had brought to mind one of his earliest applications of magic, one she rather fancied, and the prospect of turning a similar act against his friends was delicious irony.
“Advance and engage at once,” she ordered Elyas. “Send a light force of cavalry to attack the bluff with their commanders.” She sent a mental image of the battlefield layout to her champion. “They shall be a feint to enable my own decisive strike.”
***
The battle was underway, and although it was too early to judge progress, the forces seemed evenly matched. Visibility was somewhat limited by the flying snow, though it was mostly light flurries. The thin layer of snow covering the ground had swiftly been trampled to mud. Time hadn’t allowed the allies to prepare any ambushes or other defenses as in the prior encounter, and they didn’t have Taren’s potent magic to rely upon, so Sianna knew this would be a hard-fought affair with devastating losses, even if they should win the day.
She thanked Sol for even giving them the opportunity to win a victory for the kingdom. If Taren hadn’t been there to open a magical gate for the army to march through, they would have had no chance. The well-organized troop movement had been a marvel to watch. Lanthas and the military officers had done their jobs superbly by having everything prepared so the instant Taren opened the gate right at dawn, they had marched through posthaste: infantrymen, archers, cavalry, and supply wagons all. Humans, elves, and dwarves together had moved with alacrity and precision. Even with all their preparation, the entire process still took a couple hours to move the entirety of men and supplies through, and she had seen the strain on Taren’s face from holding the gate open such a long time.
Briefly, she wondered if Iris was well. She had dispatched her friend with a small escort and some fast horses several hours earlier to attend to some other necessary business.
Please grant us all your protection, Almighty Sol—not only the brave men of this army, but also Iris and her guards and Taren and his companions, wherever they might end up.
She watched with nervousness gnawing at her gut as allied archers and crossbowmen pounded the Nebaran column, felling scores with each volley, but her foes were disciplined and determined, taking cover behind their effective shield walls and returning fire. Her own troops and those of her allies inevitably fell during each exchange.
Then the advancing Nebarans met the Ketanian and dwarven infantrymen head-on. The clash sounded like thunder, with the collisions of armor and bodies and with battle cries shouted from thousands of throats and screams wrenched from many others.
Her eyes were drawn to the path of one towering man in black armor at the head of the Nebaran host as he carved a swath through the center of the Ketanian lines. She could make out little detail from her position but had a sinking feeling she was seeing Taren’s cousin in action. Elyas cleared a path and waved onward those behind. A number of those following moved with the inhuman gait she had seen during the first battle. Automatons battered their way through the ranks with seemingly little resistance, casting broken bodies aside, their advance barely slowed.
The entire experi
ence felt surreal, as if she were watching exercises of men marching and drilling on the practice field. Such a distance from the combat gave her an isolation she wasn’t sure she liked. She was spared the sight of the gore, but men’s lives were being expended in great numbers as she watched, looking like little more than the toy soldiers her brothers had loved to play with as children.
Nardual and Shalaera both stood nearby with their guards and advisors. The queen had agreed to take part in this second campaign as well after their resounding victory in the previous battle. Sianna was happy to have the Silverwood elves’ participation once again.
Sioned and Rukk were both commanding their forces from the front lines, which she admired greatly.
I should be with the men, she thought for the fourth or fifth time. I don’t want to be a queen who finds it acceptable to give the order to expend precious lives without the resulting consequences weighing on my soul. Despite her desire to be closer to the fighting, she had no illusions that she was a skilled enough fighter to survive in the thick of battle, as the dwarven monarchs were.
“Order the reserve to intercept that force of cavalry,” Lanthas crisply ordered a courier, drawing her attention back to her companions on the bluff.
Sianna turned and saw a group of Nebaran riders had broken off from the rear of the column, flanking the bulk of the battle and charging the bluff she and the others stood upon. About fifty or so mounted soldiers were riding hard toward them. The approaching riders presented enough of a threat to her and the other royals that Lanthas was taking no chances with their safety.
A few moments later, a group of cavalry led by Sir Edwin rode out from behind the bluff and charged the force of advancing horsemen, seemingly appearing from out of the hillside. The reserve had been concealed by one of Irralith’s illusions so that their surprise deployment would prove more effective. Sianna was surprised to see a handful of robed mages among the Nebaran riders, for fire and lightning crackled from the pack, the spells engulfing many of the reserve cavalry.
Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3) Page 30