“He lives.”
“And Pegrine?” But even as she asked, she watched the final moments of the battle, watched Renda cradle the dying girl in her arms, watched the child’s body flash away to dust in the sunlight. She looked down, letting her tears spill down her cheeks. “I see.”
“It was she who destroyed Valmerous. Now she is at peace among the stars. You should be proud, Nara.”
“Proud and grateful,” she replied automatically, tonelessly. “I could have wished no more for Peg but to serve You so. Her victory is a victory for all Syon and all the world.”
“Not victory, Nara, not quite yet.”
Nara’s head tilted almost imperceptibly.
“Xorden keeps one place on Syon sacred to Him still.”
The nun stared through the battlement’s stone floor. “The east chapel.”
“Cilder consecrated it.”
“Aye, Madam, he did.”
“But not to Me.”
Nara nodded. “Since his death, we’ve not trusted it, and no one’s been to use it since. I’ve meant to see to it, but with the plague and the cardinal and all…”
“Consecrate it now. In My name.”
“Now?” The word escaped before the old nun remembered to Whom she spoke. But she did not take it back. She looked down worriedly over the army and over the huge battering ram they carried toward the castle gate. The gates would not stand against it long, certainly not long enough, and with no hale knights inside to hold them back, once the villagers breached the gates, the castle would be theirs.
She could do nothing to strengthen the metal of the gates. Such a thing would take the powers of a mage, or at the very least a priest of Glaiben, the Hadrian god of metalsmithing and gemmary. But perhaps she could still do something about the army.
She imagined the iron in their weapons, their armor and their blood, fired to a red glow. Even if she managed to stop but a few of them, the horror of it might be enough to hold the rest off for a time, certainly long enough to consecrate the chapel. The tight, dry skin of her ancient face wrinkled with a hard smile, and she lifted her hands toward them, anticipating for the first time in a season the full strength and glory of B’radik’s power flowing through her.
“Nara.”
The power dropped away cruelly, leaving her cold. With a little cry of anguish, she turned pleading eyes toward the heavens. “It’ll take but a moment.”
“Nara.”
She stood transfixed, watching the crisp phalanx of knights—Wirthing knights—form up around the battering ram the way the condemned man watches the axeman hone his blade. Presently, her hands dropped to her sides, and she bowed her tonsured head in submission.
“Praise B’radik. I will obey.” Then she turned away and made her way quickly down the battlement steps.
A new thought entered her mind, a plan at once simple and certainly possible. If she would obey her goddess without abandoning her duty to the sheriff, to the household, to all Syon, every moment mattered.
Willem, Barlow and Matow were gone, presumed dead with honor in the service to B’radik; Renda’s mind gave a eulogy for them as she rode, burying them, setting her honored dead at rest between battles as she had during the war, the better to clear her mind for what lay ahead.
She had freed their horses from silence and sent to graze, not wanting to be burdened with bringing them back to a beseiged castle. By sunset, when their knights did not return, the three horses would make their own ways back to Brannagh or, if that was not possible, to Damerien. By sunset…but sunset seemed so far away.
I only wish it could be over for you, too.
Renda lifted her chin and rode on, trying to shut out the terrible visions of Pegrine locked in her fiery battle with Valmerous. Pegrine had lived long enough to see the goddess’s enemy die first; hers was death in the service of B’radik, death with a kind of glory that filled a Brannagh Knight’s dreams and a bard’s belly. How insipid, indeed, to survive such a thing and make it mundane. This, Renda, Knight Commander of Brannagh, understood through every cell of her being. She only hoped her own death would one day prove as glorious.
But Pegrine had not been a Knight of Brannagh. She had not been forged into a weapon of war. She’d worn no armor and carried only a toy sword, the same sword which had been placed into Renda’s hand so long ago.
No armor.
She'd been so keen to return to battle, but not for want of excitement or glory. The armored knight, the military commander…this life came easily to her. But she had seen another part of herself, if only for a moment: the part she’d called Renda the Maid. And it terrified her.
Like Pegrine, this side of her hid nothing. It thought of simple, soft things like love and loss. Regret. This side of her wore no armor, and because of this, it could be hurt in ways she had never dreamed possible.
She’d hated that side of herself, and she would have happily destroyed it only months ago. But now, knowing that she was again at war and knowing this was not a side of her that could live in battle, she found herself missing it. After the farmers went back to their farms, after Maddock’s head was mounted on a pike, after they were sure of Xorden’s defeat…then she would sit in the gallery darkness and dwell on the horrors of this season and perhaps allow that side of herself to breathe.
For now, she had no time to dwell on what should have happened, what could have happened. They had won, and they were alive, which meant they—she—had to turn all thoughts back to Maddock and to the army that waited between them and the castle. The tunnel entrance was well hidden, and even if it weren’t, the army was most likely clustered near the castle gates. A careful approach and they should be able to get back inside. Then judicious use of the catapults should force the army back. After that, they had only to wait for cold and starvation to put Maddock in mind to negotiate.
Lord Daerwin’s arm was bound tightly to his body armor from the pauldron to his linen-wrapped hand, but still, each jolt of the ride showed in his face. Only his good hand peeked from beneath his heavy mantle to hold the reins, and he rode bonelessly in his saddle, occasionally slumping over Revien’s neck or leaning dangerously to one side or the other. Chul had used the last of the salve on the sheriff’s arm before they bound it to his side, only a tiny amount, so part of the injury burned on, gaining momentum against Lord Daerwin’s ability to stand the pain. Nevertheless, injured and unlikely to survive even the briefest battle, she watched him drive on by sheer force of will toward Brannagh.
She slowed Alandro at the crest of the foothills above the glade. From there they could see a thick, dark haze filling the valley below them, too much to be the dust of a dry season kicked up by the farmers’ boots, too dark to be anything but smoke. They could see neither the castle nor those who surrounded it through the haze, but suddenly the full magnitude of the battle became apparent to her. From the sound of it, the force arrayed against the castle was made up of thousands, far more than just the farmers of her father’s lands. But that made no sense.
She saw glints of light winking through the smoke and realization dawned on her. Those glints of flickering orange light were reflected by armor.
“Wirthing…” her father gasped. “The bastard.”
Low rumbles and roars of battle echoed up the foothills and filled the whole Brannagh valley below them, rumbles of battle, of resistance and of hope. Time was all they needed, time to gather Lord Kerrick and the handful of knights who had gone to Windale, time to find Gikka and Dith. Then they could stop this army and retake Brannagh. All they needed was for those walls to hold for a few days, a tenday at most. They’d done so before, during the war, against demon armies, against the Anatayans. Surely they had one more war left in them.
Suddenly a great flare of unnaturally white light erupted over the plateau, thick, black smoke billowing out in all directions, and Chul’s horse reared in terror. A few seconds later, barrages of flame and ice and otherworldly energies lit the smoke below. A great rumb
ling shook the ground and made the horses skitter to keep their footing.
Mages. An army of them, no less. How Maddock had managed to convince so many mages to join his cause against Brannagh, she could not imagine, but he had. Clearly she had underestimated him. With the last sounds of battle dying away, no doubt the last resistance giving way under the firestorm and smoke, Renda closed her eyes in defeat.
“Renda!” The sheriff’s face was twisted in a grimace of pain and rage. “To the tunnels! We cannot let them win!”
“It’s not up to us!” Renda shouted back at him. “Look!” As if at her command, another white-hot flare burst out over the land. “This is more than just Maddock and a few Wirthing knights. They’ve mages with them! We’ll never make it to the tunnels alive! Would you have us add three more bodies to the field?”
“Aye, to defend Brannagh!”
“No! If we die here today, it will mean the end of Brannagh for all time!” She looked back at the smoke filled valley. “Then who will guard Damerien? Who will guard Syon? Surely Maddock’s bargain with Wirthing and these mages goes beyond taking Brannagh!”
The sheriff sank over his horse’s neck, and his ragged voice scraped itself raw with anguish. “Glynnis…”
Renda’s mouth went dry, and she shut her eyes against the flood of pain. Her mother. Nara. Sedrik. Greta. All the priests, the remaining knights, even the villagers in the hospice. So many.
But her voice was clear and strong, the unconquerable war hero subdued for so long. “I’m sorry. For Damerien’s sake, we cannot.” She turned her attention north, toward the Bremondine forests. “For the sake of all Syon, we cannot.”
The sheriff watched fiery burst after fiery burst fill the valley below with thick, black smoke. “The gods are merciful,” he murmured bitterly, gritting his teeth against his grief and pain. “And because the gods are merciful, my Glynnis and the others are already dead.” He looked down, shaking. With one last sob of grief, he nodded to Renda.
They rode together to the northern cliffs. Slowly over the early morning hours as they rode, the shocked silence slowly melted away, and they began to formulate the beginning, just the bare beginning of a plan. Then, with a few reassuring words and a clap at the boy’s shoulder, the two knights rode down the steep cliff trail to the north and disappeared into the southern edge of the Bremondine forest. Lord Daerwin’s arm would need attention, and Renda had an idea where to seek it.
Chul watched them go. He looked out over the thick trees that covered their escape and raised his hand after them. Then he turned west and galloped away over the foothills toward Graymonde.
Glossary
Aidan Dhanani healer, serves Anado of the Hunt.
Alandro Renda’s brindle stallion, Brannagh Horse-at-Arms.
Anado of the Hunt Dhanani god of the hunt and mercy.
Anatayans One of two aboriginal tribes on Syon.
Ano- Prefix meaning “antidote for,” used with poisons.
Anton, Sir Knight of Brannagh.
Arnard B’radikite Priest.
Art Pure magic, also any magical art.
Bakti Chief of the Dhanani tribes. Full name: Bakti Ka-Durga Ba-Vinda.
Barlow, Sir Knight of Brannagh.
Belen Market village connecting the lands of several Knights of Brannagh.
Beridien One of Gikka’s many identities, wanted dead or alive in Durlindale.
Bernold of Avondale, Sir Knight of Wirthing.
Bilkar the Furred Bremondine god of winter, survival, self sufficiency.
Borowain, Sheriff of Brannagh Known as the Peacekeeper. Died 3324.
Boticlan (C. celeritanium) Also called “Mercy.” Swift, painless shock poison frequently used in suicides.
Botrain Farmer, co-leader of the villagers.
Brada, Duke of Damerien Called the Restorer. Son of Vilmar, father of Trocu. Died 3862.
B’radik Syonese goddess of enlightenment and truth.
Brannagh The sheriff’s castle and lands. Also the sheriff’s knights.
Brannford Large seaport city on the east coast of Syon.
Bremondine Central forest north of Brannagh lands, also the forest people.
Byrandia The continent east of Syon, ruled by King Cragen.
Cardon, Sheriff of Brannagh Called the Ruthless. Ended the first Bremondine Hadrian War. Died 1712.
Chatka Verdura witch, fortune teller in Belen.
Chul Vaccar’s son, exiled Dhanani. Full name: Chul Ka-Dree.
Cilder Bishop of B’radik
Coinworms Mythical forest worms that turn to gold when they die.
Colaris Lord Daerwin’s prize harrier hawk.
Corin, Earl of Wirthing Leader of the Knights of Wirthing, ally to Brannagh.
Crimson Lioness Renda’s order of knights.
Crocus, Autumn (C. autumnale) Seeds and corms used to treat gout.
Cuvien the Torturess Bremondine goddess of suffering, pain, catharsis.
Daerwin, Sheriff of Brannagh Leader of the Knights of Brannagh and the Resistance during the war. Father of Roquandor and Renda, son of Vilmar Damerien.
Dalthaz Mayor and judge of Montor.
Damerien The duke’s family name, also Castle Damerien.
Damping Mantle Cloak worn by B’radik’s high clergy to protect the faithful from Her radiance.
Dersea Glynnis’ mare, Brannagh Horse-at-Arms.
Dhanani One of two aboriginal tribes on Syon.
Didian Syonese god of weather, chaos, that which defies prediction.
Dilkon, Sheriff of Brannagh Ended the Dhanani-Anatayan War. Died 2682.
Dith the Merciless Also called the Impenitent, the Blasphemer. Sorcerer, hero of the Five Hundred Years War.
Doucetels (S. doucetelia) Small white flowers of the Sweet Savon tree, used in funerals for virgins and children, occasionally seen in royal weddings.
Dragon of Damerien Symbol of the House of Damerien, one of many nicknames given to the first duke.
Drikatsa rulers of any of five regions,
Drikatsara governing body for a large region.
Durlindale Large mining market town southwest of the Hodrache Range.
Farras Large city west of the Fraugham Mountains.
Feast of Didian The first day of warm weather, spring.
Finnig of Estrella, Sir Knight of Wirthing.
Fiona One of the keepers.
First Breath The daily challenge to the sun, the morning ritual of Dhanani warriors.
First Rite Ritual to pledge a child to B’radik’s service and to the knighthood.
Five Hundred Years’ War Struggle between the House of Damerien and Kadak the Tyrant for rule of Syon, 3324 to 3862.
Fraugham Mountains Mineral rich central mountains that cut through the Bremondine forests, object of many Bremondine-Hadrian wars.
Galorin Most famous sorcerer in Syon history, allied to the Liberator.
Geretous Hadrian of the religious caste from Montor.
Gikka of Graymonde Squire to Lady Renda, reformed thief and assassin.
Glaiben Hadrian god of gems, goldsmithing, wealth, generosity
Glasada Bremondine dance for the Feast of Bilkar, modeled, so the story goes, on the careful and agile steps of a person crossing ice. Also the name of Dith’s horse.
Glynnis of Brannagh, Lady Lord Daerwin’s wife, mother of Roquandor and Renda.
Golchok Dhanani duel of honor, a fight to the death.
Graymonde Gikka’s lands and mines, also Graymonde Hall.
Graetna A demonic spy dog used by Kadak.
Greta Brannagh kitchen mistress.
Haan Young Hadrian from Montor.
Hadrians A pale race of miners who inhabit the northern mountains of Syon.
Ha’guaka Long ax-like weapon with spikes on one side and a blade on the other, usually poisoned, used by Kadak’s demon guards.
Hallin of Graeme Bounty hunter from Durlindale.
Hero Roquandor’s sorrel stallion, Brannagh Horse-at-Arms.
/> Hodrache Range High volcanic mountains far to the north.
Invaders All those outside the Dhanani and Anatayan tribes.
Jadin, Dame Knight of the Crimson Lioness.
Jath Damerien stable boy.
Javelin Dog Large, swift rodent used by the Dhanani in javelin training.
Jero One of Sir Deny’s farmers.
Jurfaele A fine Hadrian alcoholic brew.
Kadak the Tyrant Called the Evil, the Destroyer, the Ravager. De facto ruler of Syon from 3324 until his overthrow in 3862.
Kadeta Ancient Dhanani goddess of motherhood, protection and combat.
Kanet Syonese god of fertility, flowers, the harvest.
Kano Old Rjeinarian cleric in Montor.
Katsa Priest-governors of the ancient Dhanani civilization, loyal to Xorden.
Katsara The governing membership of katsa for any city.
Keepers A band of mages sworn to protect the duke.
Kerrick of Windale Knight of Brannagh, son of Taynor, Viscount of Windale.
Kharkara Plains Flatlands northwest of the Bremondine forests, home to the Dhanani.
Laniel Abbot of the Abbey of Bilkar
Lexius, Sheriff of Brannagh First Sheriff of Brannagh, died 935.
Liberator Ildar, the first duke of Damerien who liberated Syon from Byrandian rule.
Limigar Hadrian child god of misfortune, mischief, bad luck, especially in mining.
Maddock Tanner from Belen, village leader.
Marigan Messenger from Farras.
Marketday The last day of the Gathering, also the first day of the Bremondine Feast of Bilkar.
Matow, Sir Knight of Brannagh.
Maze Winding Farras slums, Renda’s base of operations during the war.
Merina Roquandor’s wife, Pegrine’s mother. Died 3855.
Mohoro of the Underground Dhanani god of the underground, that which lies hidden.
Montor Hadrian town at the southern edge of the Hodrache Range.
Nara Nun of the Order of B’radik, Pegrine’s nursemaid.
Nekraba Dhanani goddess of the dead, change. Keeps the sun as a pet.
Nestor Damerien retainer, one of the duke’s Keepers.
Noti Ancient Dhanani god of entropy, decay and nihilism.
Sword of Hemlock (Lords of Syon Saga Book 1) Page 44