by Tanya Huff
“You’re the one who told me pregnancy wasn’t a disease.”
“I’m also the one who told you there’d have to be some changes in your lifestyle.”
“There were. Rescuing beautiful, arrogant men from execution and then waddling across the country with them was not something I’d previously made a habit of.”
Elica looked up and smiled. “If you still have enough energy to be witty, you’re doing all right.”
As compared to what? Annice thought as another contraction hit.
* * * *
The half-dozen horsemen, lances fixed, galloped wildly at the barricade under a rain of arrows. A horse screamed and stumbled as a feathered mountain-shaft penetrated a boiled leather crupper but managed to keep its feet.
“Hold your fire!” Lady Jura bellowed.
Tadeus Sang the command over the pass.
Behind one of the arrow slits built into the barricade, Pjerin stood, string at ear, triangular arrowhead centered unwaveringly on an approaching breastplate. He’d killed Otik with no time to think, no time to consider what he was doing. He’d tried to save Lukas; perhaps not as hard as he might have, but he’d tried. This was different. This was cold-blooded killing. Not a stag, not a boar, not a bear. A person. With a name and a family.
Who would destroy his name and his family if they could.
He’d told Annice he was tired of death. And he was. And it didn’t matter.
Just before they reached the planted spikes, when the Cemandian pulled his horse’s head around to wheel back the way he’d come, Pjerin loosed the string. At such close range, the arrow easily pierced the breastplate, the force of the impact lifting the Cemandian out of the saddle.
The body hit the ground, rolled, and lay still.
“Center it! I said hold your fire!” Lady Jura bellowed again. The guard had obeyed, but the people of Ohrid, following the example of their duc and less than willing to take orders from a Shkoder noble, continued to fill the pass with little effect.
The riderless horse wheeled and raced away with its companions. One of the remaining Cemandians swayed in the saddle and another carried a crossbow quarrel spiked through stirrup and leg.
One final flight struck sparks, metal against the stone, before the enemy was obviously out of range.
Glaring at the waste, Jura stomped to Theron’s side. “Sing this,” she snarled at Tadeus. “The next person who shoots after I’ve told them to stop is in more danger from me than from the Cemandians! And that,” she added, twisting around to face Pjerin as Tadeus began to Sing, dropping her voice so as not to be overheard “includes you, Your Grace.”
Pjerin stiffened. “Lady Jura, this is my land.”
“And your liege has given me battle command.” Under the edge of her helm, her pale eyes glittered dangerously. “If there’re Cemandians in that pass and I tell Your Grace to hold your fire, it would be in your best interest if you listened.” As he ground his teeth together, she caught his gaze and held it. “We haven’t time to turn your people and my people into one unit, but if we want to save your land and my land, we all have to be very clear on who’s in charge.”
“Your pardon.” He inclined his head, the motion in no way a surrender, at best a grudging acknowledgment of the truth. “It won’t happen again.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Point made, she nodded and looked away first, making it seem as though he had released her.
“What did Prince Rajmund hope to accomplish with that?” Theron asked, pleased with the way Jura had handled the duc. They had too few people to worry about inherited rank over ability, but it was equally important that the leadership they had not be undermined. And she says she’s no diplomat.
“He was testing us, Majesty,” she snapped. “Drawing our fire to build an idea of our strength and we gave him exactly what he wanted.”
“Testing us with the bodies of his own people?”
“Every army has a few hotheads who don’t believe they can be killed.”
“Well, now he has one less,” Pjerin said quietly.
* * * *
“Shallow breaths, Annice. You don’t want to push yet.”
“… why … not …”
“Because your body isn’t ready.”
“… tired …”
“I know.”
“… hurts …”
* * * *
Jazep shoved his way through the underbrush and out into the west end of the valley. The keep of Ohrid brooded in the distance.
By avoiding the kigh and tracking by more mundane methods, he’d managed to very nearly catch up with Annice and her companion. He only hoped he was in time. He hadn’t been able to Sing up a kigh since just after dawn. It wasn’t that they weren’t listening. There weren’t any around.
Breathing heavily, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of one grimy hand and let his pack slide to the ground. Then he blinked as a low wave ran the length of the distant fields; north to south and back again.
“This isn’t good.”
Dropping to one knee, he pressed both palms hard against the earth and Sang.
The wave paused, then slowly continued, the swell growing larger with each pass.
* * * *
“What the …?”
Thanking all the gods in the Circle that the sun had shifted enough to stop blinding them, Jura peered up the pass. “It’s called a tortoise. One of His Highness’ commanders probably picked it up from the Empire.”
Pjerin glared at the advancing square of overlapped shields and knew that the view from the battlements would be the same. “We can’t get arrows through that!”
Jura snorted. “That’s the idea, Your Grace.”
At that moment, the front rank parted slightly in three places and a trio of flaming arrows thudded into the barricade, splattering hot pitch against the wood.
Then three more.
Then three more.
“Leave them,” Jura barked. “Show yourself to put them out and they’ll put one in you. Tadeus, stones.”
Tadeus Sang and up on the battlements, Stasya turned and waved her fist in the air. Grinning broadly, Vencel set his bow aside, balanced a head-sized rock on one hand, then heaved. It arced up and over and slammed down onto the top of the shields.
A dozen followed, some smaller, a couple larger.
For a greater part of the night, those not building the barricade had loaded the battlements.
Under the second onslaught, the shield wall broke.
Jura nodded. “Now, fire.”
Four more bodies littered the pass.
* * * *
Elica forced her concentration back to Annice. There was someone hurt, dying. She could feel it even through Annice’s labor. Feel the loss of a life she could have saved.
* * * *
The rich topsoil of the fields began to heave.
* * * *
Bagpipes in one hand, tambour in the other, Jazep ran toward the pass, head down, short legs churning. With all her abilities thrown to earth, Annice was stronger than he thought. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he was afraid he was going to be too late to stop it.
“Stasya says there’s something going on. She can see a lot of activity all grouped in one place but can’t make out what’s happening.”
“What about the kigh?” Theron asked.
Tadeus shook his head. “I can’t make any sense out of what they’re telling me. His Highness seems to be building something.”
“Catapult?” the king wondered.
“Too complicated,” Jura growled. “He doesn’t care about the keep, he just wants us out of his way.”
“Battering ram.”
King and commander turned toward Pjerin. Jura nodded grimly. “Odds are good.”
* * * *
There was a rhythm to the pain and that was all that made it endurable. Her body Sang a scale, up and down then up again, never so high she couldn’t hit that top note, but every ti
During the high notes, her whole world narrowed to Elica’s voice soothing, supporting, keeping her focused on what she had to do.
Which was nothing.
Except ride the pain.
Sing the scale.
Endure.
During the low notes, when she could think a little, all she could think of was how totally her body had moved out of her control. All her personal boundaries had been breached. She felt as though she were being physically invaded.
And she didn’t like it.
* * * *
The valley stirred in answer to her Song. A hillock began to form in the cornfield, shoots growing out of it at odd angles as more and more earth moved into the shape.
A head.
Shoulders.
* * * *
Two more bodies lay sprawled in the pass. One had managed to crawl back far enough to be dragged to safety.
“What’s he doing?” Pjerin demanded, wiping his eyes as smoke and steam rose off the barricade. “He knows we can break up those unclosed turtles of his before the fire really catches. He’s wasting lives!”
“He also knows how long we had to prepare, that we have a limited number of missiles on the battlements, and a limited number of people to get more.” Jura explained without taking her gaze off the pass. “My guess is his ram’s nearly done and he wants to disarm us as much as possible before he brings it out. He’s forming up another square.”
“Then we’ll let it come!”
“We can’t risk a lucky shot actually burning down the barricade, Your Grace.”
“There has to be another way we can stop him then.” Pjerin spat the words out like a challenge. “Ohrid will not fall.”
“What about the kigh?” Theron asked, turning to Tadeus. “The Cemandians are terrified of the kigh. Couldn’t you Sing something at them?”
Tadeus shook his head, dark curls lifting slightly in breeze only he could feel. “We’re not allowed to use the kigh that way, Majesty. We’ve taken vows.”
“And if I release you from them?”
“Begging your Majesty’s pardon, but we didn’t make them to you.” All at once, Tadeus smiled. “But that does give me an idea. Captain!”
The troop captain, one leg straddling the top layer of logs, crossbow trained down the pass to cover the four guards attempting to put out the latest fires, grunted without turning.
“Does your troop know ‘Shkoder’s Glory’?”
He snorted and a couple of the guards glanced up at the bard with surprised expressions. “Of course they do. Why?”
Tadeus twitched his heavily embroidered, turquoise silk collar into place. “The next time that shield wall approaches, we’re going to give a little concert, your troop and I.” Turning the brilliance of his smile on Theron, he explained. “The Cemandians are so terrified of Singing the kigh that they have very little vocal music. A chorus of ‘Shkoder’s Glory’ by an entire troop of guard in this enclosed space ought to give them something to think about.”
Jura nodded approvingly. “Think about anything other than what you’re doing and a tortoise falls apart; not enough room in there for mistakes. Might work.”
“Sire?” The troop captain came off the barricade and stared up at the king.
“Best decide, Majesty,” Pjerin called. “Here they come again.”
Theron nodded. “Do it.”
Tadeus straightened and took a deep breath. His clear tenor rose over the noise around him. “Seven hearts and seven hands and seven lives are all that stand …”
Lady Jura laid a surprisingly strong alto under the bard’s voice.
“… shall we yield such hard bought land …”
One by one the guard joined in.
“… not while breath remains. Though no one lives to tell our story, we fight for greater gain than glory …”
* * * *
The left arm pulled itself free.
And then the right.
* * * *
“This is impossible.” When Terezka had given birth, although the kigh had been very present, they’d been no larger than usual. “Trust Annice.”
Eyes on the huge kigh forming between him and the keep, Jazep fell, somehow managing to avoid landing on either instrument. With one foot back under him, he paused. Over the sound of his breath scraping in and out of his lungs, he could hear singing.
The kigh cocked its massive head to listen as well.
* * * *
Vencel clutched at Stasya’s arm as the song echoed between the mountain and the keep. “What are they doing?”
The bard shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She knew the song. It was one of those patriotic death before dishonor anthems sure to be requested if there were two or more guards in the same inn.
“Is it bardic?”
“Not the way you mean.” She frowned down at the approaching Cemandians, tried just for a moment not to think about Annice, and almost understood.
“Why aren’t we stopping them?” Vencel scooped up a melon-sized rock in each hand. When they were gone, he had only three remaining. Along the battlements, other villagers began shouting similar questions.
Stasya waved at them to be quiet. Even if the words were in another language, surely they could hear what was going on.
The guard seemed to be throwing the song at the enemy.
This square was not as solid as the others had been. Cracks were definitely showing.
The first flaming arrow hit the barricade, but the second plowed into the dirt a body length away.
An answering arrow flashed from the barricade and into the space between two shields.
The song gained in defiant volume.
The square fell apart as those at the rear, without the press of bodies to drive them forward, broke and ran.
“Bows!” Stasya yelled. “Your duc’s quite a shot,” she added a moment later as a second Cemandian fell. Pjerin was the only one at ground level using a mountain bow.
Vencel grinned and notched an arrow. “We eat a lot of venison.”
* * * *
“All right, Annice, on this next contraction, I want you to push.”
Annice forced her eyes open for the first time in what seemed like days. “Push … what?” she croaked. She’d always thought that when it came to it, her body would know instinctively what to do. Her body didn’t have the faintest idea.
* * * *
The legs under the great curve of belly were short and took very little time to form.
* * * *
“I don’t expect that’ll work twice,” Theron pronounced as the song fragmented into insults and jeers hurled at the retreating foe. “Prince Rajmund has proven himself too well prepared to invade without someone around who knows how things actually work.”
“Albek,” Pjerin snarled.
Theron nodded. “Very likely. Tadeus, what’s wrong?” The bard had gone pale and his hands had come up as though he were … blind.
“The kigh. They’re gone.”
* * * *
Up on the battlements, Stasya groped at the air. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”
“What?”
“They’re coming with the battering ram!”
“So?”
She swallowed fear. This isn’t like it was in the hole. This isn’t like it was in the hole. “So we’re on our own.”
* * * *
“That’s it, Annice. Push.”
Screaming would take more than she had left.
* * * *
They’d had to cannibalize at least two wagons to hold the length and weight of the tree. A spiked metal cup hammered onto the head protected the men at the crosspieces from the archers behind the barricade while shields fixed to the ram covered them from above.
Iron-bound wheels struck sparks against the stone of the pass.
* * * *
“We can’t stop that,” Theron yelled. “Clear the barricade! Get ready for what follows!”<br />
“To horse!” Jura bellowed.
Pjerin fired one last arrow, then ran with the rest. It infuriated him that he had to turn his back on Cemandia if only for a moment.
The earth trembled.
Several of the guards were flung to their knees.
Someone on the battlements screamed.
Paying no attention to the tiny creatures around its feet, the huge kigh reached the barricade an instant before the battering ram. As the metal head shattered the spikes, it ignored the shards of splintering wood that slammed into its legs and the lower curve of its belly and reached down, wrapping both hands around the massive trunk.
Over surrounding sounds of disbelief and terror, came a wet crackling, and the two Cemandian soldiers caught under its grip stopped moving. The rest, unable to see because of the shield protecting them and unable to hear over the impact, felt the ram lifted skyward. The lucky ones let go.
“What is it?’ Theron demanded, shaking Tadeus by the arm.
“Majesty! I can’t see it!”
The kigh held the ram for a moment, then threw it back over its shoulder.
“Take cover!”
Corporal Agniya dove for the side of the track and hit the ground shrieking as a piece of jagged metal as big around as her thumb went through her thigh.
* * * *
“Push, Annice! I can see the top of the head!”
* * * *
Pjerin threw himself flat as a wheel whistled over his head, then crawled to Theron’s side.
“How do we stop it!”
“We can’t!”
“Jazep?” Tadeus twisted around and grabbed at the panting bard. “What are you doing here?”
“Was following Annice’s trail. She’s doing this.”
“Doing what?” Tadeus wailed.
“Near as I can figure, it’s a giant, uh, well, earth kigh.”
Pjerin rolled over and stared at the creature methodically stomping the barricade to kindling. He should have known. “I’ve got to get to her!”
“Hold it!” Theron snapped. “No one goes anywhere until we know what’s going on!” He jabbed a finger toward Jazep. “Bard?”
“Yes, Majesty.” Jazep swallowed, trying to catch his breath. “I Sing earth. Annice is …” He broke off, searching for the words. “Annice is earth right now.”
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