“Preposterous.” Count Brayan stepped out into the aisle beside Ragen. “With the road south closed, Harden’s Grove is the biggest food producer in Miln, and their crop has barely sprouted. You would have us simply surrender it?”
“Is the crop more important than the Grovers’ lives?” Ragen knew that to many at court who had investments in the Grove, the answer was yes, but as suspected, none dared voice such a cold thought. “New moon is just a few days away. If the corelings need to press to the city walls by then, they will not let the Grove stand. We must evacuate.”
“Nonsense,” Brayan said. “The Grove has survived a thousand new moons. Its wards are strong.”
“Not so strong as His Grace’s way stations,” Ragen said. “The Mountain Spears had no women and children with them, no crops to protect, yet they fell. What hope do the Grovers have?”
“What hope do any of us have if we give up our winter stores?” Brayan asked. “And who will take them in? The Grove is home to more than five hundred souls, Neocount. Will you fill Morning County with them?”
Tresha crossed her arms, and Ragen knew it was above his authority to make such a promise, but Elissa stepped forward and gave her a pinch.
Countess Tresha eyed her daughter for a moment, then cast an equally dim gaze over the room. “If the other counties are too greedy to take in their share, Morning County will see it done, and let the Creator judge.”
“The Countess of Morning is generous,” Euchor said. “But this is premature. The Count of Gold is correct. We cannot give up the Grove without a fight.”
Brayan crossed his arms in satisfaction and Ragen grit his teeth. “Your Grace, Count Brayan’s words would seem like sense, but I do not think any who have not witnessed it can appreciate how dangerous the corelings become at new moon.”
“Agreed.” Euchor thumped his bracer against the metal arm of his throne, sending a clang through the room. “The Neocount of Morning will lead the defense of Harden’s Grove.”
Ragen looked from Euchor to Brayan as he felt the jaws of the trap close. This had been their plan all along, and he’d walked into it. “I am no soldier, Your Grace.”
“You are Neocount of Morning,” Mother Jone said. “Oath-bound to raise your spear when called upon by the throne.”
“Perhaps the neocount is considering sending his aged mother-in-law in his stead,” Brayan said, and there was laughter in the court.
Ragen gave a stiff bow. “How many Mountain Spears will I command?”
“You may have two hundred,” Euchor said.
“Your Grace…” Ragen began.
“Levy your own countymen if you need more,” Euchor said. “Or better yet, the Grovers themselves.”
“Indeed,” Brayan said. “Rally the peasants like your adopted son did the Angierians. He defended Cutter’s Hollow with less than a hundred men, it is said.”
Ragen drew a deep breath, thankful Yon was not there to hear. “As Your Grace commands.”
—
Yon was waiting by their carriage as they exited the duke’s palace.
“I’m coming with you,” Elissa said, the moment the carriage pulled away.
“The Core, you are,” Ragen said.
“You need me,” Elissa said.
“Comin’ where?” Yon asked.
Ragen ignored him, keeping his eyes on Elissa. “Miln needs you more. This is just the beginning. The demons will lay siege to the city. Someone has to stay here and prepare.”
“Ay!” Yon cried. “Someone want to tell the rest of us what’s goin’ on?!”
“The way stations have all been destroyed,” Elissa said. “With new moon three days away, Euchor has sent Ragen to hold Harden’s Grove.”
“Hold?” Yon asked. “Ent no way to hold a place like that on new moon. Got to get those folk out.”
Elissa glared at Ragen. “Don’t you ripping die out there.”
Ragen blew out a breath. “What do you want me to say, Lissa? I’m not the Creator. Someday something’s going to kill me. Or you. It can’t stop us from trying to live right. The Grovers need me right now, and Morning County needs you. The law says we can levy a militia. Yon and his Cutters can stay and train—”
“Piss on that,” Yon cut in. “Ent lettin’ ya go off to Harden’s Grove without us.”
“This isn’t your fight, Yon,” Ragen said.
“Is,” Yon said. “Everyone’s fight. Deliverer said so himself. Don’t care if ya ride down to the Core itself. Long as I’m around yu’ll do it with Cutters at yur back.”
Ragen wanted to argue further, but he knew there would be no swaying the man, and he could not deny he felt safer knowing Yon Gray would be at his side when the fighting started.
“It isn’t going to be enough,” Elissa said. “You cannot hold Harden’s Grove with two hundred Mountain Spears and less than twenty Cutters.”
“I’ve already called reinforcements,” Ragen said as the carriage pulled into the courtyard of their manse.
Guildmaster Malcum was squeezed into armor he hadn’t worn in twenty years, standing at the head of fifty Messengers and another hundred caravan guards. All wore polished armor and carried long spears of warded steel.
Derek stood with a score of Warders. More used to a quiet workshop than the open road and naked night, these carried spears awkwardly, but Ragen knew their contribution to the defense would be greater than the warriors’, if they did their work well.
Lieutenant Woron was waiting with Sergeant Gaims.
“Are you sure you’re up to this, man?” Ragen asked. “You barely made it back alive.”
“We’re alive thanks to you,” Woron said. “Euchor called for volunteers among the Mountain Spears. Every man you brought back is coming with us.”
These men, Ragen had spoken to at court recess and expected.
He hadn’t expected Keerin.
But the herald was there in the yard, surrounded by a knot of apprentices as they struggled through the complex progressions of Halfgrip’s music. Ragen went over to him, and Keerin called a halt to the playing. “We don’t have a lot of time to rehearse, Guildmaster.”
“Euchor will fire you, if he learns…”
“I resigned,” Keerin said. “I’m going with you.”
Ragen felt a lump form in his throat. Less than a month ago, he’d despised this man. Now…He glanced at the apprentices. More than a few had fear in their eyes. “Are they ready?”
“I can’t say with honest word that I’m ready,” the Jongleur said. “My wife thinks I’m mad. But for fifteen years, I’ve been taking credit for the deeds of Arlen Bales. Night, I had my apprentices beat him for daring to speak the truth of it to a crowd.” A few of the apprentices looked at their feet at the words, but did not deny them.
“I saw what you saw on the road,” Keerin said. “The demons are coming. We started this together when we brought Arlen Bales here from Tibbet’s Brook. A good story demands we end it together, as well.”
“Nothing is ending,” Elissa said. “If you don’t think you can hold after the first night of new moon, you get those people out of there and bring them to Miln. I don’t care if they eat us out of house and home.”
“I’m no martyr,” Ragen said. “I’ve no intention of dying for Euchor’s pride.”
—
“Ragen,” Amon Grove said. “Thank the Creator you’ve come. Demons are nipping at the wards like they’re on tampweed. Half the town’s ready to desert after what happened to Way Station One.”
Ragen nodded, but he did not dismount, turning Twilight Dancer this way and that, surveying the area. “It may yet come to that, Amon.”
The old man gaped. “You brought almost as many soldiers as we have folk in the whole corespawned town. Sayin’ that ent enough?”
“I’m saying it would be smart to start packing bags in case we need to leave in a hurry,” Ragen said. “Nothing heavy. Just food and clothing. If we need to go, they’ll need to make the walk in a single
day.”
“Night,” Amon muttered.
“That’s not the worst of it.” Ragen slipped down from the horse and pulled a map from his saddlebag, opening it so Amon could see.
“Crops’ve barely sprouted,” Ragen said. “Makes our job easier. We’ll need your plowmen to cut greatwards into your fields.”
Amon leaned in, rheumy eyes squinting, and then they suddenly widened. “That will ruin half the crop!”
“Twenty-seven percent, by our estimate,” Derek said.
“Ay, only twenty-seven?” Amon threw up his hands. “That makes it all sunny, don’t it?”
“We don’t lose that twenty-seven percent, there won’t be anyone to eat those crops, Amon,” Ragen said. “I’m not here to petition the town council. I’ve a writ from Euchor himself to levy your men and fortify this town. Do us both a favor and make it easy for me, ay? Daylight’s wasting.”
Amon eyed Yon and the column of soldiers. “Ent got much choice, do I?”
“There’s a good man,” Ragen said.
The evenly spaced wardposts in the fields and orchards were a perfect grid to work off, and the Warders quickly plotted the greatwards, directing the Grovers’ plows. Malcum’s caravan guards followed after with shovels, filling the furrows with powdered limestone, the white stone a sharp contrast to the dark soil. They took what care they could, but Ragen could tell their estimates of crop loss to trampling were low.
Lieutenant Woron had the Mountain Spears digging trenches inside the outer fence so they could fire from relative safety and succor. The inner wall was just high enough to shoot over, should they be forced to retreat.
—
For three days they worked, waiting at the ready each night, expecting a demon to strike that never came.
They’re waiting for new moon, Ragen realized.
The third night was the beginning of the cycle, and as the sun dipped low in the sky Ragen and Yon climbed the bell tower of the Grovers’ Holy House to look out over the defenses. The greatwards were sharp and clean, a powerful forbidding, but would it be enough?
“Know the feelin’,” Yon said as he watched Ragen pace back and forth.
“Ay?” Ragen asked. “I’m not sure I know myself.”
“Like you got an itch you can’t scratch,” Yon said. “Dreadin’ what’s to come so much yur eager to be on with it.”
“A bit,” Ragen conceded. “But what if the corelings don’t care about Harden’s Grove at all? What if they’re about to strike the walls of Miln while we’re off chasing fairy pipkins?”
Yon shrugged his heavy shoulders. “That kinda talk ent gonna help anyone. Know yur worried, but folk are lookin’ to ya right now.”
Ragen looked down again. Not at the defenses, but at the men and women working them. More than one set of eyes glanced up at him.
He straightened, forcing himself to look more confident than he felt. “What would Arlen be doing about now?”
Yon chuckled. “Givin’ one’a those speeches o’ his, tellin’ folk they’re all Deliverers or some demonshit like’at.”
“You don’t believe that?” Ragen asked.
Yon shrugged again. “Mr. Bales was always a humble feller. Folk ’preciated that. Liked bein’ told they could make a difference, ’cause Creator knows they can. But there’s only one Deliverer.”
The last of the light slipped away, and the wards on Ragen’s helm activated, his eyes slipping into wardsight as the demons began to rise.
“I’ve never been one for speeches.” Ragen turned and headed for the stairs. “Everyone knows their part.”
—
“Dive!” Ragen cried.
As the Mountain Spears scattered, a young Warder’s apprentice drew an impact ward that shattered the boulder before it could roll over the greatward and mar the lines. Several defenders could not get clear in time, caught in the shock wave and pummeled by stone.
Ragen did not see what else the young woman could have done, but she stood staring in horror at the men her spell had injured, too transfixed to see that another demon had gotten a bead on her.
“Cara!” Ragen raised his stylus, but she was crushed before he could form his first ward. The Warders were increasingly adept at using hora magic, but they did not yet have experience on the battlefield.
Something bashed into Ragen then, blowing the breath from him as he was borne to the ground. There was a rush of air as a stone flew past.
Yon eased off him, easily pulling Ragen in his steel armor back to his feet. “Might be best you step away from the front. Demons got ya marked.”
Indeed, every time Ragen revealed himself, the corelings seemed to fixate on him. They knew to focus fire on the Warders, but not even Derek drew the attention Ragen did. He let his warded cloak fall around him and backed slowly away until he reached the area of protection Keerin and his apprentices cast in front of the inner wall.
Three of the greatwards circling Harden’s Grove were destroyed, each next to the one before it. The demons were dismantling their defense deliberately, opening a wide field of attack instead of narrow, defensible corridors. They weren’t ready to make a full-scale push for the wall—yet—but already the defenders were hard-pressed.
The Mountain Spears had stopped firing, conserving ammunition for defense of the inner wall. Half had affixed bayonets and joined the close fighters while the rest took position at the wall.
Hundreds of Grovers followed in the fighters’ wake, using farm tools painted with wards to aid in finishing off the coreling wounded.
Already, the feedback magic had begun to tell upon some of them. Amon Grove no longer leaned on his rake. The old man swung it into a prone field demon as smoothly as his younger self might have into tough ground. Piercing wards on the tines tore through the demon’s belly.
Younger Grovers were growing overconfident as the night strength took them, stepping into active combat. Ragen might have called them brave, but he knew it was a mix of fear, adrenaline, and demon magic. A mixture that could get folk killed if they weren’t strong enough to master it.
A shock wave of magic knocked over a group of defenders. None was seriously injured, but as they struggled back to their feet a few of them stiffened, then began turning weapons on their fellows. Mountain Spears, mostly, firing flamework at Messengers on horseback, but regular folk as well began to turn rakes and hoes on people they had known all their lives.
Ragen could see the victims had lost the warded headgear that protected their minds. He scanned the area, but there was no sign of a mind demon. Just looking made him dizzy…confused.
He shook himself, raising his stylus and drawing wards to summon a wind aimed at the powdered limestone that had been shoveled into the furrows of the now inert greatward. The wind kicked up a cloud of dust, and there in the middle of it was a humanoid shape, no larger than a young man, with a bulbous, conical head.
“Mind demon!” he boomed, and drew a lectric ward, powering it with as much of his stylus’ reserve as he dared.
The bolt of lightning struck the demon dead center. The mind was knocked onto its back, the distortion field around it falling. Derek and three other Warders joined the bombardment, but a field demon scampered forward, growing with every stride. Its scales thickened into the hard carapace of a rock demon as it stood over its master and took the blows while it recovered.
“Concentrate fire!” Ragen shouted. Arrows and crank bow bolts gave the mimic a hedgehog’s spine as Warders drew freezing wards. Bullets from the Mountain Spears sent cracks spiderwebbing through the frozen armor.
Ragen emptied his stylus with one last impact ward, shattering the tortoise shell the mimic had formed, but by then it was too late. The ruin of the mimic revealed no sign of its master.
The mind had fled the field.
The change was immediately apparent in the demons—tactics shifting back to animal ferocity over organized assault, even as their resistance to Keerin and his players waned.
The
Jongleurs cast an air of confusion over the compromised fields, and Yon, Malcum, and Woron were quick to capitalize on it, surging beyond the protection of the greatwards in brief sallies that left the vulnerable demons crippled or killed.
The move bought them time, but it was not enough. Before long the mind recovered, and organization returned to the enemy ranks. Another hour, and they were forced to fall back to fortify the inner wall.
Derek found him as he passed through the gate. “I sent the Warders to rest. They can’t take much more of this.” He held up his stylus in shaking fingers. “Neither can we.”
Ragen nodded. He, too, was feeling the burn of channeling too much magic. He pulled out his watch. Another hour and the sky would begin to lighten, sending the minds fleeing. Two, and even the boldest demons would begin to dissipate.
“Hold the wall!” he shouted, drawing wards to echo his words throughout the town as he raced back to the front. “Dawn is coming! Stand fast for your homes, for your families, and we will all see the sun!”
“Rock!” one of the guards cried. Ragen ran up the stairs to the walltop, seeing the rock demon readying a throw. He raised his stylus, but a wave of dizziness overtook him and he mangled the warding. The stone smashed into the gate, bending steal and shattering one of the hinges. The gate hung partially suspended, crumpled on one side.
Mountain Spears opened fire as corelings rushed the gap in the wards, but they would not hold for long.
“To the gate!” Ragen cried. He shoved the stylus into a pocket beneath his armor as Twilight Dancer was brought forward with his spear and shield.
Keerin and his apprentices appeared, but the rushing demons were not deterred by their music. They struck the weakened gate, tearing it from its remaining hinges under their combined weight.
They switched instead to another tune, this one peppered with jarring, discordant notes that left the demons off balance as the defenders charged.
Ragen lost track of time as the battle wore on. More breaches opened in the wall, and he raced Twilight Dancer from one to the next, rallying the men.
The sky was beginning to lighten when they were forced to abandon the wall and retreat to the town square where the wards still held. The Jongleurs’ music was overwhelming in the small space, and the demons, funneled between warded buildings, were easy targets.
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