A Crown for Assassins

by Morgan Rice

  “As you say, my lord,” the man said, clearly not comprehending a word of it.

  “A siege, though… a siege is a symphony.”

  It rang as one in his ears. From the first low notes of the cannon to the high screams of a population being terrorized, it was there. But there was more to it than that. A siege meant planning. It meant performers playing their parts as he had written them, acting on time and to best effect. He was the conductor, naturally, a whole orchestra of violence laid out for his direction.

  One part of that violence played out beyond the docks, as frantic people took small boats and large out from Ashton, seeking safety wherever they could find it.

  “Fools,” the Master of Crows said, with contempt for those who did not understand that their part in all this was to die. Still, that would come. He looked out to the horizon. “Right about… now.”

  Perfectly on cue, his ships swung into vision, having tracked his army down the coast. They descended on those who tried to flee in their own motif of cannon fire and crunching wood, which probably sounded like cacophony to anyone other than him.

  “Have men advance on the outer city,” he ordered. “Be aware of traps. Kill anyone you find. Other cities we can hold, but I want Ashton empty by the end of this.”

  “Yes, my lord,” his aides chorused.

  He watched his men start to march forward, the rhythm of their feet adding to the symphony of the violence. They spread out, moving into the outer city at a dozen points, and the screams from it followed. Not as many as he’d hoped though; someone had done a good job of getting people into the inner city in time. Still, that just meant that, if the siege wore on, hunger and disease would be even worse in there.

  “There’s a bright side to everything,” he said with a faint smile.

  The Master of Crows spread his awareness. Through the eyes of his crows, he could watch a dozen points of slaughter. He watched men dying on the deck of a sloop filled with people trying to escape, some jumping into the water in the hope that the sailors striking down with bill hooks wouldn’t notice them…

  He watched a family cowering in a house hiding behind the door, while boots crashed against it, and finally, men burst in with blades. He saw the father rush forward with a knife and manage to stab one of them before he went down, then heard the children’s screams…

  He saw one of his cannon crews pushing forward in advance of his command, apparently anticipating their assault on the inner city’s walls. He saw the flash of one of Ashton’s cannon, heard its roar, and saw the bloody explosion of steel, wood, and flesh as the shot struck…

  Wherever he looked, people died. He watched men and women cut down in the streets because they had been too foolish to seek safety elsewhere when they had a chance. He watched them killed as they surrendered, or as they tried to fight; it made no difference. He watched a squad of his own men cut down by musket fire, a cluster of Ashton’s soldiers racing to their next defensive point. They didn’t make it. A cannon shot took them before they even made it halfway.

  “Let them die,” the Master of Crows said, not caring if his men heard. They would probably assume that he was talking about the enemy anyway. In truth, it only made a little difference to him who died, so long as the power from those deaths surged into him.

  “Our men report heavy resistance in the outer city,” an aide said, lifting a message as if the Master of Crows could not see the fighting with a thousand sets of eyes.

  “Very well,” the Master of Crows said. “Pull them back and sound another bombardment.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the man said, looking faintly pleased by it. It seemed like too much concern for his fellow soldiers, so the Master of Crows made a mental note to put the man on the front line soon. He had no time for those who were weak.

  Still, he’d anticipated this. A siege was not a thing composed of a single moment. Instead, they ebbed and flowed, waves of violence coming with a rhythm that most people could only anticipate once they’d been in too many to survive. The Master of Crows had, and he could feel the flow of this one, even before he reached out to his crows again to send his next orders.

  “Target their defenses,” he said, his words croaking from the throats of his birds. “Destroy the spots where they have placed their cannons first.”

  His men rushed to obey, and now the Master of Crows watched the artillery duel unfolding. His forces had more and bigger cannons, but the defenders had the height of the walls on their side, and built up emplacements using earth and sand, defending their weapons as they fired back. He saw men on both sides dying, and settled in to enjoy the violence.

  “I want an assault prepared on the river gate before dawn,” he commanded his aides. “They will defend it, but it will draw them in,” he said. “I want an artillery barrage prepared to target the gate when they come to fight.”

  “But won’t that kill our men too?” the same aide as before asked.

  “They will do as they are commanded,” the Master of Crows said. “They will trust that their actions are part of my larger plan. You trust that, don’t you?”

  “Y…yes, my lord,” the aide said.

  “Good, because you will be leading the assault. Deliver the orders. I will be watching.”

  The man swallowed, and looked as though he might have said something if he didn’t know that the Master of Crows would kill him for any disobedience. He hurried off, and the Master of Crows set one of his birds to watch him.

  The siege would wear on, step by step, day by day. They would bombard the walls. They would make forays into the city to kill those who still hid. They would attack by water and by land, again and again, with death the only outcome. The perfect outcome, as far as the Master of Crows was concerned.

  So long as they maintained the pressure on the city properly, no one would escape. The outcome of the battle was already certain. The only element of skill involved was conducting it methodically, making sure that it produced all the carnage his crows required. The pounding of the cannons would continue, the pop of muskets and the clash of blades. Eventually, the city would fall. Eventually…

  The flicker of power within the city caught him by surprise. He knew that the sisters were not there now, but it felt like their strength, their energy. Could he be mistaken? Could it just be some witch left in the city whose powers shone out? No, this was too much power to be anyone ordinary, almost too much power to comprehend.

  “Find them,” the Master of Crows said, sending the command out to his crows.

  They flew, spreading out around the city, and he felt for the power, trying to pin it down, trying to find who was at the heart of it. The search led his crows in the direction of the palace, where through their vision it seemed that the building shone white with the energy contained within. Soldiers on the roof shot at them, shot most of them down, but some made it through. One flew in through an open window…

  There was a child there, lying in a cot and giggling in spite of the battle raging around it. Power shone from the child, uncontained and unfathomable.

  “What a feast you will be,” the Master of Crows said.

  He sent his crow forward. It hopped to the edge of the cot, looking down at the child. The baby reached up, and the crow prepared itself to peck…

  The Master of Crows found himself cut off, his awareness flung back into his body. It didn’t matter though, because now he’d seen the prize that lay within the city. It was a prize that was worth more than the rest of it put together, and one that he could not, would not, wait to seize.

  Now, the siege was no longer a symphony; it was an irritation.

  “Gather men,” he commanded. “I want a route punched through to the palace, whatever it takes. I want every man thrown at one point on the wall. Nothing else matters!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Will ducked out of the way of stone shards as a cannon round struck a nearby wall. He felt something graze his cheek, and his hand came away wet with blood when he
touched it. He didn’t have enough time to check how deep the gash was though, because Lord Cranston would be waiting for the latest information on the progress of the siege.

  “Looks as though this could be a tough one, your highness,” a soldier from Lord Cranston’s regiment called out, gesturing with his musket. It took Will a moment to decide that the man wasn’t making fun of him, no matter how uncomfortable he might be now at being a prince by marriage.

  “It will be even easier than taking money from you at cards, Johannes,” Will called back.

  The man laughed, and looked as though he might be about to say something, but in that moment another cannonball struck. Will threw himself flat, feeling more than hearing the shrapnel flying overhead. Johannes wasn’t as quick.

  “A physiker!” Will started to call out. “We need a physiker over here!”

  He did it by instinct, but that instinct faded when he saw the mess of blood and meat that was left of the other man. Any physiker who could put that back together would be a magic worker more powerful than either Kate or Sophia.

  Right then, Will both wished that they were there, and was grateful that they were not. Kate in particular, because there would be no way she would be able to keep herself from charging into the midst of the enemy, and the thought of her doing that terrified Will. It was almost enough to cut through the blank horror he felt at seeing a man reduced to this in front of him.

  He snatched up Johannes’s musket, which was somehow still intact even when the man who had held it was not. On instinct, he popped up over the ramparts, firing at the mass of enemies below.

  “Die!” he yelled out to them, as if that would make it happen. The truth was that he couldn’t even make out if his shot hit or not.

  Will ran on toward Lord Cranston, who strolled amongst the men as if nothing more strenuous than a garden party was happening. It seemed an utterly mad image, but then, there was nothing sane about what was happening right then. Will stopped in front of him, snapped to attention, and offered a salute.

  “I think we can dispense with that, Will,” he said. “What news from the artillery crews?”

  “They’re taking a battering,” Will said, “but their emplacements are letting them weather it, at least. They think they’ve hit a couple of the enemy’s positions.”

  “Good,” Lord Cranston said. “They need to keep it up. If we can deprive the enemy of his cannons, he’ll have to get into the city the slow way.”

  “I don’t know if we can get them all,” Will said.

  Lord Cranston shrugged. “If a man aims for perfection, he may at least attain excellence. I’d settle for half of them going silent.”

  “I’ll relay the orders,” Will said.

  “I think they know for the moment,” Lord Cranston said. “I’m more concerned with you.”

  “I’m fine,” Will said automatically.

  Lord Cranston raised an eyebrow. “I may not be the mind reader that your wife is, young Will, but even I can tell that is a lie.” He touched his cheek in the same spot Will had been struck.

  “It’s nothing,” Will said. “Not compared to… Johannes is dead.”

  “I saw,” Lord Cranston said. “I’d say he was a good man, but from what I remember he was the most terrible cheat at dice.”

  Somehow, that cut through everything Will was feeling. “How can you make jokes?”

  Lord Cranston spread his hands. “A man must do something to contain the horror of war,” he said. He gestured to some of the men huddled together on the wall. “Some find strength in camaraderie. Some find it in loyalty to their flag or their cause. Some find it in drink if they can’t find it elsewhere. I believe you’ve been finding it in anger. Shooting over the wall was a foolish move, Will.”

  “I had to do something,” Will said. “I had to make his death mean something.”

  “By firing out at random?” Lord Cranston countered. “I appreciate the sentiment. I even share it, but you should not risk your life for a petty revenge on men who probably fired the fatal shot at random.”

  “That doesn’t make it better,” Will said.

  Lord Cranston shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”

  He gestured, and Will followed him, moving just in time for cannon fire to strike the spot where they’d been standing only moments before. Will stared at the patch of ramparts in horror. Lord Cranston seemed as calm as ever.

  “How…” Will began.

  “Simple arithmetic,” Lord Cranston said. “We would have been targeted the moment you saluted me. A minute to load, and perhaps another to aim… still, it gives us one thing. We know where that cannon is.”

  One of their own weapons boomed, and out on the fringes of the city, a gunnery emplacement exploded.

  “You’re using yourself as bait?” Will said, horrified. “My lord, if we lose you…”

  “Oh, I’m being as careful as I can,” Lord Cranston assured him. “Besides, you are hardly being more cautious.”

  “I’m not the one who can come up with the plans to save us!” Will insisted.

  Lord Cranston shrugged, and then led the way into a tower with a good view out over the battlefield.

  “There isn’t much to it,” he said. “Sebastian is doing an admiral job with his parts of it. I suspect that you would do all that was required as well.”

  “Even so, the men look up to you,” Will insisted. “Your presence means too much to them to risk that way.”

  “And you mean too much to Kate to risk yourself by carrying my messages,” Lord Cranston countered. “Compared to how angry she would be if I let anything happen to you, walking in front of a few cannon seems practically safe.”

  Will guessed that he had a point. Even so, he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

  “I have to do my part,” he said. “The whole city is on the line.”

  “And it will continue to be on the line for some time to come,” Lord Cranston assured him. “This is a siege, not some hasty ambush, over in an hour. Do you think that you can win this by yourself?”

  “I’ll be more careful,” Will promised. He looked out over the battlefield. “What will happen now?”

  “Attack after attack,” Lord Cranston guessed. “They will make forays over the next few days, seeking to establish where we are weakest, where we are slow to respond. They will pound the walls with their cannon day and night, and set sappers to try to destroy our walls, although anyone stupid enough to try to dig under a city this close to the coast deserves to drown for his efforts.”

  “You make it sound like… like it’s boring,” Will said.

  “Because it will be,” Lord Cranston assured him. “There will not be heroic charges or glorious duels. This will be a slow affair, with us waiting to see if we have any allies left in the world, and our foes waiting to see if they can starve us into submission. The only way that the enemy can breach our walls is by committing everything they have to a single point, and their losses would be horrendous. I do not see even the Master of Crows engaging in that kind of foolishness.”

  Will supposed that he should be reassured by Lord Cranston’s assessment. After all, sooner or later, help would come, even if right then he couldn’t think where it might come from. Maybe Kate would return with an army she’d commandeered at sword point. Will wouldn’t put it past her.

  All they had to do was hold out. As Lord Cranston had said, taking the city in a rush would cost the New Army far too many men. Will could feel… not safe with that, because he’d already seen just how unsafe the siege was, but at least as though they had a chance.

  Then he heard the trumpets beyond the wall, and saw the New Army start to reposition. Lord Cranston was staring at it as well.

  “What are they doing?” Will asked.

  “I… don’t know,” the older man admitted.

  Cannon fire slammed into a point on the wall not far from the palace, all the enemy’s weapons seemingly targeting one spot. They didn’t even alter their fir
e when the cannons on the wall started to target them. Men started to march forward, and even when musket shots cut them down, they kept coming.

  “They’re doing it,” Will said. “They’re actually doing it.”

  He saw Lord Cranston swallow. “They are. But this... there must be something the Master of Crows wants very badly if they’re…” He paused.

  “What is it?” Will asked.

  “Get to the palace,” Lord Cranston commanded him. “Take men with you and hurry. I will try to hold them as long as I can.”

  “What’s happening?” Will asked.

  Lord Cranston pointed to the palace. “They’re coming for Sebastian and Violet, Will. It’s the only explanation. You have to hurry. You have to help defend them!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  “We know where they’re coming from,” Sebastian said as the first rays of dawn illuminated the palace’s roof. “Get every weapon we have trained on the point where they’ll breach.”

  “I will,” Will promised him. “But you have to think about running. You can disappear into the city.”

  “If I run, then people will lose heart and there will be a slaughter,” Sebastian said. He couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t let the people of Ashton be killed just so that he could save himself.

  “You need to think about Violet,” Will said.

  Sebastian knew that he was right. His biggest fear now was that something might happen to his daughter, but running wasn’t the answer to that. There were too many crows in the sky to slip out without being seen with her, and the thought of sending her away with someone else made Sebastian’s heart tighten in his chest.

  “All I can do is defend her with everything I have,” Sebastian said.

  The sound of cannon continued to come from beyond of the wall, pounding at it, damaging it. Sebastian could see fires inside the city now, people rushing through the streets as they tried to form bucket chains to the river. A part of Sebastian wished that he could be out there helping.