by David Drake
"You want my troop to attack the enemy from the rear, your highness?" Rowning said. There was nothing beyond quiet curiosity in his tone, but his eyes flashed instinctively toward the lines of bronze-clad People advancing on the royal forces. The contrast between those thousands of armored figures-at least ten thousand by now-and his hundred-odd was too marked for even a brave man to accept without qualms.
"No, we're just going to capture the temple so that Lady Tenoctris can cut off their reinforcements," Sharina said. "And I'm not sending you, Tenoctris and I are going along. There'll be fighting but not-well, suicide."
"Right, your highness!" Rowning said, noticeably brighter. "Though you understand, we're willing to do whatever the kingdom requires."
"Of course," Sharina said. She gripped the pommel of the horse she'd appropriated and swung back into the saddle. She reached down to help Tenoctris mount, but Lires was already lifting the older woman by the waist to where she could get her legs onto the pillion. "Ascor, you'll stick close to us."
She knew that Rowning wasn't speaking empty words when he said his men would've attacked a hundred times their number if she'd ordered them to. It didn't make any sense in a logical fashion, but it was true for the sort of people a kingdom needs to survive. Pray to the Shepherd that the Isles had enough of them, soldiers and old women like Tenoctris… and girls like Sharina os-Reise.
The Blood Eagles had mounted also. Rowning's men were horsemen from childhood. Some of the Blood Eagles came from cavalry regiments, but for the most part they were former infantry and often no more comfortable on a horse than Sharina herself. They'd learned to ride, but they were soldiers on horseback rather than cavalry.
Rowning led his troop in a wide circuit to the left around the back of the royal forces. Either he or one of the men with him in the lead knew the area, because when they cut across a field there was always a gate or a style on the other side.
The rear ranks of the royal forces were generally in sight; when Sharina's troop neared the left flank, Bolor's men were still falling in. The battle must've already opened on the right: the clash of weapons was unmistakable and the shouts were shriller and more urgent than those of men trying to find their proper places in the line.
Soldiers turned to watch with doubtful expressions as Sharina and her escort rode past. "Hope they don't think we're running away," one of the Blood Eagles muttered.
"Don't matter what they think, Onder," Lires said. "We're guarding the Princess. That's all we got to worry about."
That wasn't true, of course. These guards-these men-would've accompanied her even if she'd really been running away from the battle, but they wouldn't have been happy about it. The sort of men who joined the Blood Eagles-who wereallowed to join the Blood Eagles-were those to whom it was important not only to be brave but to be seen to be brave.
The Jezreal road got traffic only from the large villas and the market towns in the hills east of Valles. It was graveled, not paved with flagstones, and only indifferently leveled at that. Sharina's group struck it less than a furlong from the city walls, though, so the ruts didn't matter.
Normally there'd have been a squad of soldiers on duty at the narrow gate, but Waldron had withdrawn them. A pair of City Watchmen with knobbed batons stood there now, along with scores of civilians made nervous by trouble whose cause was a complete mystery to them.
Rowning rode through, barely slackening enough to let the frightened townsfolk get out of the way. One cried, "What's happening? Are the rebels attacking?"
The soldiers didn't reply. Sharina called, "There's no rebels. We're going to arrest a wizard, that's all!"
It was something the civilians could understand in a few words. The whole truth would've taken much longer to tell, without being in any real sense more informative.
Tenoctris leaned back and gripped the cantle of the saddle instead of clinging to Sharina's waist as Sharina would've done had their places been reversed. Tenoctris was a noblewoman who'd been taught the skills of her station from earliest youth. Age was the only reason she needed to ride pillion.
Smiling at the incongruity, Sharina wondered if the old wizard could sing courtly romances, accompanying herself on a lyre. Very possibly she could.
"Tenoctris?" she said. "Who's leading the People now that Hani's dead? He is dead, isn't he?"
They crossed the boulevard running inside the walls. Though choked with barrows of merchandize and poultry, it'd have been the simplest route toward the temple. Rowning's guide was taking them by back streets so they'd approach their goal from the rear instead of charging straight into the line of creatures marching to join the battle.
"Certainly dead," Tenoctris said, bending forward to put her lips close to Sharina's right ear. "When we have leisure, I intend to dispose of his body beyond risk of anyone raising him again, but I don't think there's much risk of that happening regardless. As for their leader-"
They rode down a narrow alley, scattering children and driving adults back from their stoops. Washing hung on poles from second-story windows on both sides of the street. The spears of the leading horsemen hooked the clothing, setting off shouts and curses from both the owners and the tangled soldiers. The troop rode on. There'd be time to pay for damages later, if there was time for anything at all.
"-I don't believe they have a leader, dear," Tenoctris continued, bending to pluck a child's tunic from the right stirrup and toss it back toward where it'd been hanging. "They have a purpose, is all. They intend to capture Valles, then conquer Ornifal and finally all the Isles. Not for any reason, but because that was what they were directed to do. In that sense they're rather like a flung stone, but far, far more dangerous."
The troop rode into a plaza with four unequal sides and a well-curb in the center. Civilians, mostly women, shouted frightened questions from doorways. The standard-bearer at Rowning's side held his pole crosswise over his head.
"Hold up!" Ascor translated in a shout. More quietly he explained, "They didn't use the horn like usual because we're trying to surprise them. Your highness."
The Blood Eagles led Sharina to Captain Rowning's side. The plaza was too small to hold the whole troop on horseback, but it provided enough space for the leading section to form without being trampled by the men behind them.
"We'll round that corner…," Rowning said, pointing down one of the five streets joined in the plaza, "and be right on top of them. I want you to keep well back, your highness, until we've got the temple cleared."
"No," said Sharina before Tenoctris could speak. "The temple can't be cleared until Lady Tenoctris is there to block the portal. She and I will go in immediately with our escort-"
She nodded to Ascor.
"-and set to work. You and your men will keep the creatures who've already reached Valles from attacking from outside."
Rowning and Ascor looked at one another. Both grimaced.
"No help for it, then," Rowning muttered. To his cornicene he said, "Sound Charge, Sessir. They'll know we're coming in a heartbeat no matter what."
The cornicene's horn was curled around his body. He put his lips to the bone mouthpiece and blew a quick tune. The trained horses lurched into motion at the first touch of their riders' heels-Sharina's included, and much more suddenly that she was expecting. The signaller repeated his call as the troop charged down the cobblestone street and around the elbow that put the east side of the temple directly ahead of them.
A line of People marched two abreast from the entrance of the small temple toward where the Northeast Road left Valles. The column was several blocks long, moving at a measured pace. Neither the sounds of battle beyond the city wall nor the residents openly gaping from roofs, windows, and even the street itself seemed to affect them. The invaders' first priority was to destroy organized military resistance; that they were about to do.
Captain Rowning and half a dozen of his troopers were ahead of Sharina; the Blood Eagles hedged her to either side. They burst out of the narrow st
reet and into the broader one which the temple faced. For a moment the People ignored them: then all the smooth bronze helmets turned at once. Their shields came up and their right hands drew the swords that they hadn't bothered to unsheathe before.
The mounted troopers rode through the straggling line, knocking down the invaders before they could form a shield wall. Horses won't charge home against a hedge of points, but trained cavalry mounts had no hesitation in using their weight and shoulders against individual men the way they'd have ridden through brush. Rowning reined his horse around to return to the temple, but many of his troopers continued their charge up the twisting street and out of sight.
The Blood Eagles dismounted at the temple steps and ran upward, hacking to death pairs of People as they met them. Sharina was a hair slower because she needed to hand Tenoctris to the ground. When she jumped down herself, the older woman was already climbing the steps, avoiding the sprawled, man-like bodies pouring their blood onto the worn marble.
Sharina curved her left arm around Tenoctris but didn't actually touch her. The support was there if the older woman stumbled, but at the moment Tenoctris appeared to be as vibrantly alert as Sharina herself. The Blood Eagles bunched briefly at the entrance, four of them trading strokes shield-to-shield with an equal number of People.
A Blood Eagle dropped dazed to his knees, his helmet falling to the temple porch, but then the People were thrashing in their death throes and the Blood Eagles were through into the sanctum. Sharina and Tenoctris followed. Behind them the sixth guard was wobbling forward again also though he'd forgotten to retrieve his helmet.
The interior was just as Sharina'd left it when she'd leaped to safety with Bolor and his fellow rebels. Stronghand's body, half-preserved by decades in a sealed coffin, sprawled hideously in Valgard's armor; Hani had decayed to a scattering of dust in his tunic and sandals. How old had the wizard really been before he roused the ghost of a vengeful warrior against him? she wondered.
Wilfus and Mogon lay on their backs, their eyes open and their faces distorted; both dead by Sharina's hand. The world was better off without them… but she'd pray to the Lady on their behalf if she survived this day, as she prayed for others already.
Two more People strode through the portal, swinging their swords at the Blood Eagles waiting for them. Both went down, but one had split Lires' shield from the rim to the boss. Lires stepped back, giving his place to a fellow, and traded his broken shield for the bronze buckler of a dead invader.
More movement through the portal. Swords and armor clashed, People went down. Eventually, though, the humans' blunted swords and tired arms would take their toll.
Tenoctris sat crosslegged and scooped the fallen ring from the dust of Hani's finger. She held it bezel-upward between her left thumb and forefinger while she rummaged in her satchel, still open beside the figure she'd drawn before Hani returned Sharina from the island.
Sharina drew the Pewle knife, as much for comfort as because she might need to use it. She glanced out into the street. Rowning's men had dismounted and formed an arc in front of the temple. They stood shield-to-shield, their horsehair-crested helmets a gay contrast to the People's smooth bronze.
A few humans were down, but for now the troop didn't seem seriously pressed by the People who'd turned to recapture the temple. The fact that the cavalry mounts were wandering loose, excited by the blood and clangor, showed how bad the situation really was, though: Rowning didn't think he could spare every fourth man as a horseholder.
Tenoctris began chanting. The figure she'd drawn in cinnabar on the floor had spun into a red smear when Hani opened the portal. Now it was spinning again, but this time sunwise. Wizardlight made spiteful blue crackles around the edges of the opening, but People continued to stride through and slash at the Blood Eagles before being cut down. The pile of leaking corpses grew, driving Sharina's guards back as invaders climbed over the tops of their dead fellows.
Ascor's foot slipped. He shouted a curse and went down. One of the People vaulted from the bulwark of corpses and stabbed him through the lower body. Lires hacked the invader from behind, knocking his helmet off but not felling him.
Two more People appeared at the top of the pile. The wounded one raised his sword to cut at Tenoctris, seated at his feet.
Sharina swung, judging the stroke as she'd have split kindling. The Pewle knife sheared through the invader's wrist. Hand and sword flew sideways. Lires finished the job by decapitating the creature with an angry curse.
Tenoctris hadn't flinched as the sword rose to strike her; Sharina wasn't sure she'd even noticed. She continued chanting, her eyes on the vellum codex on the floor beside her. A strip of lead held the pages open. The ring in Tenoctris' left hand snapped sparks of wizardlight toward the portal as she gestured with the split of bamboo.
Two People started through the portal. Ascor and two of his men were down, and another of the Blood Eagles wavered. He hadn't dropped his sword, but it hung at arm's length, pointing to the floor.
The portal flashed vividly azure like a sun-struck tile. The invaders in it vanished, flung backward by the same forces that'd been bringing them from Hani's island to Valles.
The portal were still shimmering wizardlight instead of the wall of polished granite it'd been before Hani started his incantation. The light sizzled, and the ring continued to spit blue sparks toward it.
"Sharina," Tenoctris said. Her voice was hoarse but there was an unfamiliar febrile brightness in her eyes. Normally a major spell left the old wizard drained almost to the point of being comatose.
"Yes, Tenoctris?" Sharina said, squatting to put their heads on a level. She hoped she was hiding the concern she felt.
Lires turned and looked at them. Toward them, rather, because his eyes were staring a thousand miles away. His helmet had taken several hard blows, and the shield he'd snatched to replace his own was hacked and battered into scrap.
"I said Hani's portal wouldn't take me anyplace I wanted to go, dear," Tenoctris said, forcing the human syllables through lips that'd twisted around words of power. "I was wrong. It'll send a person to Volita. I don't know why Hani created that passage, but I doubt it was something we'd approve of. I think your brother's in danger."
"What can we do?" Sharina said. "What?"
"I think the portal still focuses enough power to take us through," Tenoctris said, nodding toward but not looking at the quivering blue field. "If you'll carry me, I'll try-"
"Yes," said Sharina, wiping the Pewle knife clean on the tunic of the invader she'd dismembered with it. She sheathed the blade, then put her arms around the wizard's back and thighs. It was like lifting a bird, frail and much lighter than she unconsciously expected.
"Lires!" she said, speaking loudly to cut through the soldier's black reverie. "Pull some of these bodies out of our way!"
Lires dropped the ruined shield but he didn't let go of his sword. He gripped the topmost invader by an ankle and jerked him off the pile. He did the same with two more People, using a wrist and a throat for handles.
The other Blood Eagles were either wounded or helping their wounded fellows. They looked at what was happening, but they didn't have energy enough to speak.
Sharina mounted the bottom layer of twitching corpses. Behind her she heard human cheers and the brassy triumph of a dozen horns and trumpets: Lord Waldron's forces had broken the line of People and fought their way into the city, coming to the rescue of the survivors of Captain Rowning's troop.
"Ereschigal aktiophi berbiti…," Tenoctris said in a husky whisper. A fat spark spat from Hani's ring..The wall of blue fire went blank.
Sharina had no thought but that she would do what she could, for Garric and for the Isles. She stepped into the emptiness as Tenoctris in her arms spoke the remaining syllables of the spell.
CHAPTER 19
Mab stood facing Cashel in the center of Ronn's great rooftop plaza. Around them, none quite close enough for Cashel to touch with his staff, stood the ass
embled citizens. They filled the open area, all but the immediate circle.
Mab spread her hands, palms down. All sounds stilled, not naturally but with the suddenness of a vault door closing between Cashel and the crowd. For a moment Mab's fingernails blazed, spots of color brighter than the noon sun; then they went black and the wizard's body became a figure of wizardlight, flaring red and blue alternately in a rapidly increasing cycle.
She raised her hands, her mouth working. Cashel couldn't hear the syllables Mab spoke, but the scene beyond the two of them pulsed in his vision as she spoke.
The world flip-flopped. Cashel still faced Mab, but instead of being on the sun-drenched roof of Ronn they were in a city amid the ruins of buildings thrown down by earth-shocks. The sky above was black and the air choking with sulfur. A few double-paces away hunched men in armor, facing the distorted monsters who climbed and crawled from an acres-broad crater.
A wind, cold as the Ice Capes, howled across the land. Humans were screaming also.
Mab turned to face the crater and the thin line of soldiers standing against the creatures it spawned, then stepped into what'd been an arched entranceway. To either side was a square column base; the rest of the building had collapsed. Fluted columns lay on top of roof tiles, marble sheathing, and the brick core of the walls. Dust still rose from the wreckage.
"Very well," she said crisply. "Cashel, protect me as you did before. It may be harder this time."
"All right," said Cashel. He moved in front of Mab, planted his feet, and began to spin the quarterstaff sunwise.
Cashel didn't mind things being hard. This was one of those times when a man needed to stand up for what was right, no matter what it cost.
Mab raised her hands, gesturing in a pattern that thrilled Cashel when he glanced over his shoulder. He didn't understand what the wizard was doing, but he could see and feel the art of it. It was so pretty to watch that he had to remind himself that his business was looking out for Mab, not gawping like he had the first time he saw a city.