Shapers of Darkness: Book Four of Winds of the Forelands (Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy)

by David B. Coe

  “She’s served me loyally for many years, Captain. I have as much faith in her and her counsel as I do in any soldier who’s ever served me, including the master of arms.”

  The man’s mouth twitched, but he nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Perhaps I should go,” the minister said, her pale skin looking sallow in the glow of the torches and ward fires.

  Tebeo shook his head. “There’s no need. In fact I was going to call for you. Two of my captains have suggested that I discuss with the regent terms for our surrender. I—”

  “Surrender?” she broke in, incredulous. “That’s nonsense! It’s far too soon to even consider such a thing.” She cast a dark look at Gabrys. “If this is typical of the counsel you’re receiving from your captains, it may be time to promote some of the other men.”

  Gabrys grinned, eyeing the minister. “It may be that I’ve misjudged her, my lord.”

  “I believe you did. Gabrys agrees with you, First Minister,” Tebeo explained. “I was speaking of two other captains.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Forgive me, Captain. I spoke rashly.”

  The man shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Minister. It is nonsense to speak of surrender. Had I been one of these other men I would have deserved your contempt and more.”

  “I have no intention of surrendering,” Tebeo said to Evanthya. “I was just asking the captain what I should be doing instead.”

  “And I’m afraid that I can’t offer much by way of reply, my lord,” Gabrys said. “The truth is, there’s little you can do just now. It’s always seemed to me that a siege is far harder on the defending noble than is any other form of combat. Victory for the besieged comes not from aggressive tactics or battlefield genius. Rather, it comes from simple patience. At most times, it’s best to do nothing at all. I believe many men find it more difficult to wait than to do something, anything, no matter what it might be.”

  Tebeo gave a wan smile. “Again, Bausef tried to tell me much the same thing, just before I sent him to attack the hurling arms.” He glanced at the first minister, then looked out toward the Solkarans again. “I believe you tried as well, Evanthya. Didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t know what would happen to Master DarLesta’s raiding party, my lord. Neither did he. He suggested that we respond to the regent’s attacks a certain way, and I agreed. That’s all.”

  “That’s a most generous interpretation of what happened, First Minister. I thank you.”

  “It’s the truth, my lord. No more or less. And if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I believe it’s time you stopped blaming yourself for the master of arms’s death.”

  The duke’s hands were resting on the ramparts, and now he gripped the stone until his knuckles whitened. He said nothing, however. Bausef’s head was still mounted on a pole high above the Solkaran camp, his sightless eyes seeming to stare directly back at the fortress, the flesh on his face blackened, his slack mouth hanging open, as if he were laughing at some dark jest. The man was a warrior. He had served his duke loyally, following orders regardless of whether or not he agreed with them. He deserved a better fate.

  “You both want me to do nothing. Yet the other captains spoke of possible desertions if our prospects for victory don’t improve. What do I do to raise the men’s spirits?”

  “Nothing,” said the captain. “They’re soldiers. They don’t need coddling and they deserve better than false assurances. Let them do their jobs.”

  “Do you agree with that, too?” he asked the minister.

  “I’m not certain. Can the other captains be trusted not to sow discontent among the men?”

  Tebeo turned at that. “A good question.”

  Gabrys cast a disapproving eye at the minister before answering. “The others are fools, my lord. They’re not traitors.”

  Evanthya raked a hand through her white hair. “They don’t have to be traitors to stir up trouble. All they need to do is speak openly of surrender, or of how poorly they believe the siege is going. The rest will take care of itself.”

  “Can they be trusted to be discreet?” the duke asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

  The captain grimaced. “I think I’d best speak with them, just to make certain.”

  “Please do, Captain. Sooner rather than later.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Gabrys bowed and walked away briskly.

  “He seems a good man, don’t you think?”

  The first minister nodded. “He does, my lord. Do you intend to make him your new master of arms?”

  “I think so. When all of this is over.”

  “Why wait?”

  Tebeo looked at her. “You think I should do it now, in the midst of all this?”

  “You wanted to know what to do for the men. It seems to me that giving them a new commander would go a long way toward demonstrating that you’re not about to surrender. And if your captains are in disagreement over how best to respond to the regent’s attacks, it might help to have them answering to a man who shares your resolve to fight on.”

  “You may be right. I had thought to wait a full turn, out of respect for Bausef, but that may not be possible under these circumstances.”

  “I believe the master of arms would understand, my lord.”

  Tebeo smiled again, intending to thank her. He never got the chance.

  Men cried out from beyond the castle walls. At the same time, several of Tebeo’s men called, “Look to the skies!” as they did each time the Solkarans began an assault with the hurling arms. Yet this time, when Tebeo turned his gaze skyward, he didn’t see one of the great fiery boulders or another of the dreaded carcasses. Instead he saw a large cluster of burning arrows blazing across the starlit sky. But it was the direction of their flight that made his heart soar. The arrows weren’t headed for the castle, nor had they been loosed from the Solkaran camp; they flew from the east, arcing upward from the shadowed recesses of the Great Forest. And they were aimed at the center of Numar’s army.

  “It must be Kett!” Evanthya said.

  The arrows rained down on the Solkarans, bringing shrieks of pain and frantically shouted orders.

  “I agree. Get the captain for me! Quickly, First Minister!”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  She ran to the tower, leaving him to watch a second volley fly from the wood. He hated this war. He despaired at every lost life, knowing that as the Aneiran armies weakened themselves, the Qirsi movement—the true enemy—grew ever stronger. Yet he could not help but rejoice at the suffering he heard from Numar’s men. After all they had done to his people, to his castle, he lusted for vengeance.

  “Let them kill the regent,” he whispered, shocked by the sentiment, but unable to banish it from his mind, and unwilling to forswear the words.

  More arrows soared into the night sky, and now the Solkarans launched their own assault in response.

  Tebeo heard footsteps. Evanthya and Gabrys.

  “You see them, Captain?”

  “I do, my lord. I agree with the first minister. The attack comes from the east; it must be Kelt.”

  “What do we do to help them?”

  “My lord, I’m not certain—”

  “Surely you don’t think that Kelt’s army can stand alone against the Solkarans. We have to help them in some way, press the advantage they’ve given us.”

  “Rassor’s army is still out there as well, my lord. If we send out our men, they could be trapped between the regent’s force and Rassor’s men coming to Numar’s aid.”

  “And if we do nothing, Ansis’s men could be destroyed by the combined might of the two houses.”

  As if prompted by their discussion, another cry went up, this one from east and south of the castle. Tebeo and the captain exchanged a look before all of them began running along the ramparts to the east wall. By the time they could see Rassor’s camp the duke’s heart was racing, not only with the exertion of getting there, but with elation at what was unfolding before him. Ra
ssor’s men were under attack as well, from the south.

  “Noltierre?” Evanthya asked, breathless as well.

  “Or Tounstrel. Or perhaps both. Right now I don’t care.”

  The minister smiled. “Yes, my lord.”

  “What say you now, Captain?”

  Gabrys gave a small shrug. “That we needn’t worry any longer about Kett having to fend off both armies. With Rassor and Solkara both engaged, they can’t combine their numbers against either of our allies. Nor can they simply resume their assaults on the castle. We’ve a respite, my lord. We should take advantage of it and do nothing at all.”

  More of the flaming barbs flew. Tebeo could hear the ring of steel on steel as the opposing forces met. He had been telling himself repeatedly since the siege began that he was no warrior. Yet he itched to strike at his enemies.

  “We’ll have our day, my lord,” the captain said, as if he could see the battle lust in Tebeo’s eyes. “Help has arrived. It’s only a matter of time before the siege is broken. But I believe that to attack tonight, before we have a sense of how many men Kett and Tounstrel have brought us, would be a mistake.”

  Bausef’s head leered at him, laughing at his uncertainty.

  “Very well, Captain.” It felt like a surrender. “But I want you to begin planning with the other captains. We should be prepared to strike tomorrow, at first light.”

  “My lord—”

  Tebeo raised a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not saying that we will, but I want to have that choice. I want to be able to give the order and have it carried out within the hour. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The captain left them once more, and the duke turned his attention back to the fighting in the forests surrounding the castle. Already the war cries sounded less strident and those he heard came from a greater distance. He didn’t see any arrows flying, nor did he hear as much sword combat. It almost seemed that his friends had sought to harry the armies of Solkara and Rassor just enough to give them pause, and to give the people of Dantrielle that respite of which Gabrys had spoken. Still, Tebeo couldn’t help but wonder if Ansis and Vistaan, or whoever it was had come to his defense, expected him to do more.

  “I should have considered this,” he muttered, thinking back on the time he had spent speaking with his allies prior to the commencement of the siege.

  “My lord?”

  He had forgotten Evanthya was even there.

  “It’s nothing, First Minister.” He glanced at her, forcing a smile, but she was intent on the shadowed woodlands before them. “What is it? Is something troubling you?”

  “No, my lord. I’d just like to know who’s out there.”

  Suddenly he understood. “You think it might be Brall. Do you sense Fetnalla?”

  She shook her head, looking wan and very young. “No, my lord. But I don’t know for certain that I would. Even a Qirsi’s powers don’t run that deep.”

  Tebeo shrugged, trying to conceal his disappointment. “Even if that’s not them, they will be here eventually. Brall gave me his word.” And he knows that we can’t prevail without them.

  Evanthya said nothing, her pale eyes still fixed on the forest.

  “The captain called this a respite,” the duke said. “We should use it as such. Get some sleep, First Minister. If you’re half as weary as I am, you need it.”

  “Is that a command, my lord?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And is it one you intend to follow as well?”

  Tebeo laughed. “I think I’d best. The duchess will have my head if I don’t.” As soon as the words passed his lips, he winced. After what the Solkarans had done, he would never again feel right using that expression.

  Evanthya, though, gave no indication that she had noticed. “Very well, my lord. Until the morning then.”

  She walked away, continuing to stare at the trees until she reached the tower stairway. After a few moments more on the ramparts, Tebeo descended the stairs as well, and made his way to the cloister, where Pelgia and their children had been spending the nights since the siege began. His family was already asleep, but Pelgia stirred when he sat beside her on her bed.

  “Is everything all right?” she whispered, sounding as if she might still be asleep.

  He stroked her dark hair. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

  She rolled onto her back and forced her eyes open. “Are you sure?” she asked, more intelligibly this time. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in here in days.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Actually, it seems that Ansis has finally arrived, and at least one of the others.”

  Pelgia’s eyes widened and she sat up. “Really?”

  “They attacked both camps before retreating back into the forest. I expect the fighting will be worse for the next few days, but we may be able to break the siege before too long.”

  She put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Gods be praised.”

  “Careful. You’re in Ean’s cloister. It might be dangerous to invoke the other gods here.”

  The duchess laughed, still holding him. “I don’t care.” She swiped at her eyes and Tebeo realized that she was crying.

  He took her by the shoulders and made her look him in the eye. Her cheeks were damp with fresh tears. “Are you all right?”

  She dabbed at the tears with her sleeve and nodded. “I’m fine. Or at least as well as I can be. I just want this to be over.”

  “If I could end it this moment, I would,” he said, thinking once more of Bausef and Gabrys, and wondering anew if he had been too quick to defer to the captain’s judgment.

  He kissed her gently and made himself smile.

  “You look so tired,” she said.

  She lay down again, and he beside her, closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would take him quickly. Instead, he remained awake for a long time, well past the ringing of the midnight bells. Every noise from outside the narrow window made him start, as if he expected Numar to renew his attacks at any moment. Eventually he did fall asleep, but awoke repeatedly, only to fall back into a fitful slumber. At last, when he awoke to the first pale grey gleaming of dawn, he rose, kissed Pelgia’s brow, and returned to the walls.

  Gabrys was already there—or perhaps he had never slept—speaking with the other captains. They all fell silent as the duke approached, the two who had spoken of surrender lowering their gazes.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Tebeo asked.

  Gabrys shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. We were discussing the preparations you asked me to make.”

  “Good. Report.”

  “We’ve created eight parties of forty men each. Sixteen archers, twenty-four swordsmen. We have them training right now. They’ll use the sally ports to leave and enter the castle, of course, and we’ll send them out two parties at a time. That way we’ll keep the men fresh, while striking repeatedly at the armies of Solkara and Rassor.”

  “Excellent, Captain.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” He faltered, but only briefly. “ should add, my lord, that these men will only be effective if the enemy is already engaged with the forces of Kett and Tounstrel. On their own, they won’t stand a chance.”

  “I understand, Captain. Thank you.” He glanced at the other two men. “And thank you as well. I’m grateful.”

  They bowed, muttering, “Yes, my lord,” but refusing to meet Tebeo’s gaze.

  After a brief, awkward silence, Tebeo nodded once. “Very well.” He turned to go.

  “My lord, a word please,” one of the other men said quickly.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “We owe you an apology, my lord. We shouldn’t have been so quick to speak of surrender.”

  “We shamed ourselves, my lord,” the other captain added. “We’d understand if you demoted us and named others captain in our place.”

  The duke shook his head. “I’m not going to do that. As I’ve told Gabrys already, I’m not well suited
to commanding armies. I’d be a fool to deny myself the services of men who were trusted and valued by my master of arms.”

  Again they bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “That said,” Tebeo went on, making his choice in that moment, “I have decided to name Captain DinTavo as my new master of arms. I’ll announce this formally in the few days, but for now, I want you to consider him your commander and respond to his orders appropriately.”

  The two men nodded, eyeing Gabrys. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Congratulations, Commander,” Tebeo said, turning to the captain.

  If the man was surprised, he hid it well. He merely knelt before the duke and lowered his head. “You honor me, my lord. I’ll serve Dantrielle to the best of my abilities.”

  “Thank you, Gabrys. I know you will. You may rise.”

  The man hadn’t been on his feet for a single heartbeat when the familiar cry sounded from the tower guards.

  “Look to the skies!”

  Before Tebeo could even turn, soldiers at the far end of the castle shouted the same thing.

  Looking up, Gabrys’s face blanched. “Demons and fire!”

  It wasn’t just boulders this time, though two were hurtling toward the castle, one from each of the camps. There were arrows approaching as well. Hundreds of them.

  “Shields!” Gabrys hollered.

  More shouts, from the wards this time.

  “The gates!” said one of the captains.

  The master of arms shook his head. “The sally ports.” He looked at the duke. “My lord—”

  “Go, Gabrys. Do whatever you must to protect the castle.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he said, and ran to the towers, followed closely by the captains.

  Tebeo heard cries go up from the camps; it seemed they were under attack as well. In a matter of moments all of Dantrielle had been engulfed in violence, as if a storm had erupted over the castle and city, bringing chaos. Swords and shields clashed, and battle cries rang out, the tumult echoing off the walls. Arrows pelted the castle like rain, and fire descended from the sky, blackening the castle stone and the grass of the wards.

  Gabrys and the captains were in the wards by now, shouting orders, with disturbing urgency. Had the Solkarans breached the castle’s defenses? Tebeo should have been down in the wards with them, consulting with his new master of arms, giving the commands himself. He should have been fighting alongside his men, despite his shortcomings as a warrior. But still he lingered on the ramparts, straining to see what was happening in the camps beyond the city walls. He could hear war cries coming from the forest, but he could see little through the trees.