“Walk fast, don’t run. I’ll go ahead,” Hendrik whispered.
Aclan nodded and followed him. He had to fight the urge to run. His body vibrated with the need to escape. They took another branch heading down. Soon the sound of metal, creaking leather and the occasional Rugian oath could be heard coming fast behind them. Hendrik grabbed Aclan’s hand and began a slow jog. Sweat dripped down his face. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. The noises built to a crescendo. Aclan and Hendrik pressed themselves against a wall. His legs shook. Torchlight flickered down the branch they’d just exited. They edged farther away, careful not to make any noise.
Rugian after Rugian marched by. When the last had passed, Aclan sank into the ground, suddenly more exhausted than he’d ever been. “They’re heading to the battle. Then that is the way out and now we’re trapped.” Defeat edged away all other emotion.
“Stay here.”
Hendrik melted into the darkness. Aclan leaned his head against the wall. It wasn’t as if he had the energy to do anything else. They would die in the tunnels or outside the castle walls. Did it matter?
His tutor appeared a moment later. “They took a newly made tunnel.”
“How do you know?”
“There is still crumbling rock on the ground and the cuts are jagged.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because it means the old tunnel is still here somewhere. We can still escape.”
Relief cooled his brow, followed by guilt. He was a king. He needed to act like one. Tears pricked his eyes. His father was dead. A sob built in his throat. He cleared it. There was no time for mourning yet. “How much time has passed? How long have we been down here?”
“Not long. Time feels different in the dark.”
A hand wavered in front of him. Aclan reached for it and let Hendrik pull him to his feet. “You spent time in the dark?”
“More years that I care to ponder.”
A dozen questions entered Aclan’s mind but he dismissed them all. “Then let’s find the old tunnel that leads out and hope it bypasses the fighting.”
* * *
In good spirits, Meryn’s officers joked about the weak Rugians and puny southern kings, many of the men with flasks in hand. Ilythra dismounted and looked around. The attack on the castle was progressing. There was resistance to the onslaught but not enough. She could almost sense Bredych’s gaze. She’d never been in a battle such as this, but something felt odd. She walked behind the reserves and tripped on a discarded branch sheared from one of the many battering rams the men fashioned. She caught herself with her hands against the muddy ground. The earth trembled. She stared at the castle and back at the men. Sudden realization dawned. “Meryn!”
The king was a distance away, astride his mount, looking with satisfaction on the siege.
“Meryn!” Ilythra yelled again.
The king pivoted, his gaze questioning.
“Pull back!” she screamed.
His eyes grew wide then narrowed.
Damn, she didn’t have time to explain.
A great rumbling sounded, followed by a crash. Large sections of earth rose between the army and the camp. Chunks of mud and trampled vegetation fell to the ground as Rugians poured from the earth.
* * *
“My lord, here is the man who tried to keep us from capturing the boy.” One of the Rugians dropped the unconscious steward at his feet.
Bredych moved from where he watched the battle but ignored the fallen man. His Rugians had just surprised the Isolden army. They were caught between the castle and his hordes. It would be short work now. He was not averse to throwing his power around, but he preferred subtle and sometimes even more satisfying solutions.
Soon, his troops from the mountain would storm onto the field and Ilydearta would be his. He tracked her efforts to use the stone. She’d improved, yes, but if she had made it to the Siobani, Ewen had miscalculated. She was not battle ready. More and more he wondered if they’d turned her away or if she’d gone to Isolden after leaving Elston. It was possible the queen sent her to her relatives.
“Have you found him yet?” he asked.
“No. We have searched the castle. We’re now searching the tunnels.”
“Good. Bring him to me. Alive.” Damn brat. He should probably let him go. The boy had no skills, no way to survive. He’d turn into a beggar. It might be fitting. But too many strings had unraveled and he didn’t want another one loose.
He retrieved the water pitcher on a small table and emptied it on Konrad’s head.
The steward sputtered and moaned, writhing on the stone.
“I have no patience, so I’ll ask once. Where’s the boy?”
“What boy?”
Bredych kicked Konrad in the stomach. The steward grunted and curled in on himself. “Today is not the day to toy with me. My Rugians will find him with or without you.” Bredych hauled Konrad to his feet. He dragged him to the battlements and made him look at the battle below. “Do you see that? That is my victory. Your choice is easy. Slow death or fast?”
“Long live King Aclan,” Konrad said.
Bredych gripped the steward’s jaw and brought Konrad’s gaze to his. He exerted his will. “You pride yourself on your loyalty. Very well. Go fight for your king.”
The steward’s eyes widened and then glazed. He blinked slowly.
Bredych turned to a Rugian. “Give him a sword and put him on the front lines. Maybe Ilythra will be the one to kill him.”
* * *
The Isolden troops rushed to meet the challenge with a shout. The assault from the walls redoubled and men fell screaming to their deaths. Swords clashed under the afternoon sun as all jocularity disappeared. Ilythra didn’t need to urge Melior into the fray; the horse knew his job. Gripping with her knees, Ilythra retrieved her bow, emptying her quiver into the throng of Rugians emerging from the ground.
Still, they came.
She pulled out her sword. Meryn fought two Rugians nearby.
“The bonfires!” Ilythra yelled. “The tunnels will be braced with wood!”
Several Isolden men moved toward the bonfires, some adding to the carnage on the field. Soon more followed, throwing burning embers into the Rugians’ faces as they emerged from the tunnels. Supports caught fire, trapping the Rugians inside. Their screams echoed beneath the battlefield. Flames shot from cracks in the earth until it seemed as if the earth was on fire.
Still, the Rugians multiplied.
Trapped between the castle and the Rugians, the Isoldens attacking the walls collapsed into a circle. The enemy surrounded them. Meryn screamed orders, directing his men into a spear formation to rescue those near the castle and defend their flank. Step-by-step, the Rugians pushed Meryn’s army away from the castle. The sun began its descent, throwing ghostly shadows on wounded and dying men.
A shout rose on the field. Thunder sounded from the mountain pass, and the earth began to tremble again. Ilythra stared to the east. The sun framed a dark blue banner with a single white bird soaring in the center.
Her heart swelled. The Siobani.
The ranks of men seemed to ripple. The Isolden army pressed forward with renewed vigor. Rugian troops paused, costing many their lives, staring in wonder as a people out of legend swept onto the field.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Another dead end.” Hendrik’s voice sounded muffled in the dark.
Aclan took a deep breath, then another one, and slid down the rough rock wall to a sitting position. The air was stale and dusty. “We took a wrong turn somewhere. We need to backtrack.” But the thought of standing up again was almost too much for him. He didn’t know if his body would obey.
“Prince, that’s easier said than done in complete darkness.”
Aclan
nodded but knew Hendrik didn’t see him. “So you want to tell me how you know about caves and tunnels?”
In the silence, he could hear his own breathing.
“I was a prisoner. Worked the mines.” His voice sounded distracted and from farther away than it had previously.
Aclan struggled to rise to his feet, panic strumming his heart. It was bad enough being lost here in the dark. Being lost alone... He shuddered. “Hendrik?”
“Relax. I’m not going to leave you. I swore to protect you. I haven’t done a very good job, but my word still means something to me.”
Aclan’s stomach rumbled. He didn’t remember a time he’d ever been hungry. He didn’t like it. “Why were you a prisoner?” He found it a little odd that the answer didn’t matter to him much.
Hendrik shoved something into his hand. It was a water skin. “I stole food to feed my family.” There was suppressed emotion in his voice. “Just a little taste. It’s all we have.”
Aclan sipped. The water coated his tongue, easing the ache. It was all he could do not to empty the contents into his mouth. He handed the skin back to Hendrik. The silence stretched. He didn’t have the heart or the energy to ask Hendrik about his family. Maybe he didn’t want to know what horrors had befallen the man in the name of Aclan’s father.
He heard Hendrik sit next to him. “I propose we rest for a bit. Exhaustion doesn’t help you in the dark. It causes mistakes.”
Aclan didn’t protest. He curled up on the cold ground. Before today, he’d have scoffed at being able to sleep on bare earth. Now he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He didn’t ask, because he already knew. Hendrik wouldn’t sleep. He would keep guard until Aclan woke up. He was awed and humbled by such loyalty. He vowed if he lived, he would see it rewarded.
* * *
Ilythra moved across the battlefield. She didn’t have the healer powers of the Siobani, but she did what little she could to ease the suffering. Her body ached with exhaustion. She’d never used the stone on such a large scale. It was everything she could do not to find a shelter, curl up and sleep.
The Siobani had turned the tide and the Rugians retreated into the castle. The fading light sent shadows before her as she searched the carnage for survivors. Torches soon flared to life, the light infusing the scene with nightmarish properties. Ilythra glanced to Meryn’s tent, where the king and Arien counseled. The tent walls glowed from light within, revealing the silhouette of two heads bent together. She wondered what they were saying, then found she didn’t care. The moon rose, full and bloated, lending the castle’s stone a bluish cast. Was Aclan still inside? Cassia? Erhard? She knew Bredych was there. Crioch’s tortured melody had not dimmed.
Crows, which had been circling above, began moving among the dead or wounded too weak to drive them off. Ilythra ignored them or shooed them away when possible. She found the men who were still alive, wrapped wounds, set bones or closed the eyes of the fallen. A few Siobani trailed her, taking men to the healing tents or moving them into a wagon for transport.
She froze. Exhaustion clouded her mind as she stared at a dead Siobani. She had done this. Called the legend out of the north, and now their blood seeped into foreign soil. Did he have a wife? Children? Would the Siobani hate her now? She couldn’t blame them.
One of the Siobani healers gently lifted the dead comrade and took him from the field. She turned back toward camp, mentally reviewing the herbs in her bag and those she would need.
“Mercy,” a barely audible voice croaked.
Ilythra glanced down then fell to her knees. “Konrad?” He wasn’t wearing armor. She checked him from head to toe, then carefully rolled him over on his back. The steward coughed, red spittle flying from his mouth. A jagged hole pierced his tunic. Ilythra removed the material, inspecting the wound.
“I’m dying.” Resignation tinged Konrad’s tone. His hand moved toward her. She grabbed it.
“Bring him some water.” Without turning, she knew the closest Siobani did as he was asked.
Ilythra dripped water into the steward’s mouth, then brushed the mud-caked hair out of his face. “The king?”
“Dead. Aclan. Hiding—” Konrad coughed.
Ilythra recognized the sound by now. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Konrad lay staring unseeing into the heavens, a thick line of blood trailing from his mouth.
Ilythra stared at the castle. Hiding where? She thought of the prince. Aclan was king now. Where was he? She arranged the steward’s hands over his chest. Closing his eyes, she turned to the Siobani. “Bring him with the others.”
The warrior placed the steward’s body on the travois. Ilythra walked alongside to keep his arms from flailing.
Stepping over mangled forms that once lived and breathed, a weariness such as she’d never known washed over her. It could have been so much worse. The Siobani had turned the tide, but at what price? She stared at the formidable castle. And the question that would not leave her: why hadn’t Bredych fought back with Crioch? The answer came to her in a rush. Because he hadn’t had to. Had he used the stone today, he would have been as tired as she was now. And there was no need. The Rugians should have finished them and he would have won Ilydearta in fair battle. A shudder rippled her body and she began to shake. It had been that close. Whom would he have given the stone to?
And then dread washed over her. He wasn’t weary. She was. What surprises did he have for them in the morning?
* * *
Conversation stopped when Ilythra pulled back the tent flap. Candles lit the dim interior, revealing the tired faces of the men within. Meryn, Arien, Cavin and one of Meryn’s commanders sat on low pillows. If the interior lacked the last council’s finery, the men didn’t seem to notice.
“Ilythra, please join us.” Meryn rose to his feet. “We were reviewing what happened on the battlefield today and discussing our options for tomorrow.”
Arien’s gaze found hers. His dark eyes were searching. “You’ve been with the wounded?”
“Yes. Too many. Healers tend to them now. I’ve done what I can.”
His gaze softened slightly. Ilythra felt as though he saw beyond the exterior to what lay behind. One of his father’s talents. She couldn’t hide how tired she was, or why, and found she didn’t want to.
“You were about to tell us what happened at the crossroads,” Meryn prompted Arien.
“Yes.” Arien’s gaze found the king. “We didn’t intercept scouts but several thousand Rugians. They moved without caution toward Greton. The battle was brief. They didn’t expect us.”
“If the Rugians had arrived instead of your army, we would not have won the day. Many more lives would have been lost,” Meryn said. “But what about tomorrow? King Erhard won’t feign weakness tomorrow.”
“King Erhard is dead.” Ilythra met the gaze of each man. “Bredych leads the army. Erhard’s steward was wounded. I don’t know why he was on the front lines. He was not a warrior. Before he died, I spoke with him. I think Bredych always planned for Erhard’s reign to be short. He leads this war and he would only pretend to be weak long enough to get you close enough he could kill you himself.”
Ilythra and Arien’s gaze met and held. “He didn’t use Crioch today,” she continued. “He will not be weary tomorrow.”
Arien’s gaze grew distant. “In small ways, he may have. You said you didn’t know why the king’s steward was out in the field. It may be he was compelled. Him and others.”
“It will not be enough to weary him. Tomorrow he will be strong.”
“You said the first resistance was weak and unorganized.” Arien turned to Meryn. “They were probably men he was willing to have slaughtered. He was relying on the Rugians to finish us. We have thwarted that plan.”
“There will be more Rugians to contend with tomorrow. We didn’t slaughter them all.” M
eryn shook his head.
“And he will be at full strength,” Ilythra added.
“And you are not.” Arien took a deep breath.
Meryn stared at Ilythra. “You possess some kind of Siobani magic.”
She shook her head. “No, not magic, but we have an advantage that I used today. I am tired. Unfortunately, our enemy is not.”
Meryn’s brow wrinkled. “That would have been nice to know going in.”
“Would you have listened to me more than you did?” she asked.
The king wiped his forehead with a grimy hand. “No. I just thought you were an excellent tactician.”
Ilythra shrugged. “Then let’s leave it there.”
“But Bredych didn’t use his...advantage today?” Meryn asked.
“Not that we’re aware, no,” Arien answered.
“Had you not arrived when you did, he would have defeated us or at least sent us in retreat.”
Arien’s gaze again found Ilythra’s. For an unguarded moment, fear shone from the golden-brown depths.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t use it tomorrow too,” Meryn continued.
“Our archers can attack without nearing the walls. Most of your siege machines are operative,” Cavin spoke when the silence lengthened.
“Yes. And we must prepare for more traps,” Arien said.
“Why would there be any more traps?” Meryn’s second in command asked. He was an older man, his gray hair caked with mud. Creases lined his face but his shoulders were broad. “If this Bredych leads, his plan was to catch us in a three-sided attack. From behind, in front and to our flank. He would have herded us like goats. Had the Siobani not destroyed the Rugians, he would’ve won. Why would he bother with a secondary plan?”
“He’s confident, too much so. It’s to our advantage,” Meryn agreed.
“Never trust a cornered animal. Bredych may be confident, but he’s not a fool. We’ll be on guard,” Arien said.
Journey of Wisdom Page 29