by Matt Heppe
Or what if he ran into the varcolac? Take them on, a dozen on one? With Morin it wouldn’t have been a fight. But alone?
How weak are you? Are you a knight of Salador? Are you Champion of Salador?
He remembered the eve of the battle at King’s Crossing. Hadde in her little camp by herself. They had talked of war and death.
What did I tell her? The way of the warrior is death. He took a deep breath. To die in a just cause, that is the way of the warrior. That is how I will die.
What would Hadde do? She is a warrior, knighted by the king. She would take on… He halted Storm. She would take on an army of varcolac. She would pursue them alone to the end of the world.
He turned his horse around. A chill went up his spine, but this time not from the cold. The rider on the road….
Hadde.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Hadde turned as cheers erupted from the far side of the bailey. It didn’t look as if they had broken down the door. What is it, then?
“Orlos! Orlos!”
“Hold here! Hold the gate!” she said to nobody in particular as she scrambled down the trap door and into the gatehouse. She flew down the stairs to the bottom floor.
If they have Orlos, they must have Enna!
Hadde sprinted through the door and across the bailey. Her booted feet splashed through deep puddles she didn’t bother to bypass. They had done it! They had freed Maret and the children.
And now we ride for Landomere!
Ahead, she saw that the Landomeri had abandoned battering on the keep’s doors. Most crowded near the palisade. Were they fighting? Have the Saladorans already surrounded the keep? Her newfound hope faltered.
Behind the Landomeri fighting at the palisade stood a small knot surrounding her father. He held a small child. Hadde’s heart lurched at the sight of them. One child.
“Father!” she shouted as she ran up to him. “Is it Enna?”
He shook his head and glanced up at the keep, his face twisted in fear and concern. “She’s still there. Maret threw Orlos to us.” Arno’s face writhed. “She was being attacked.”
Hadde’s heart sank at the words. “We have to get to her!” Her eyes desperately searched the keep for any hopeful sign. “Is that a rope?” She didn’t wait for a response, but put her bow across her back, and ran past them and scrambled up the broken castle wall.
“Arno! Help!” Maret’s voice called from above.
“I’m coming!” Hadde shouted.
“Hadde! They’ve taken Enna!”
Hadde ignored the fight raging just strides from her as Saladoran knights attempted to overrun the palisade. Without a thought she grasped the rope and started climbing. Nothing would stop her from saving Enna. Her boots slipped on the slick wall of the keep and she had to climb with arm strength alone.
After a few strides her toes found some purchase in the decaying walls and she lunged upwards. The open window was just ahead. I will fight them all. I will kill them all. Her rage made her forget her fatigue, and soon Maret was helping her through the window.
A bearded man in heavy armor lay dead on the floor. A mail-clad mercenary lay nearby. Hadde thought him dead as well until he moved to touch his head.
Hadde grabbed the crying Maret by the shoulders “Where is she?”
“They took her,” Maret said, tears in her eyes. “We tried, Hadde. We tried to save them both.”
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the open door and then there were men in the doorway. Hadde drew her sword.
The first man, backlit by a torch-bearing soldier in the hall, held a sword. He raised his sword in a guard as he scanned the room. Hadde recognized him as the mercenary captain.
“Where is she? Where’s Enna?” Hadde demanded.
“Gone. The queen’s varcolac took her,” Saunder said. “As soon as they had her they left.”
“Which way did they go?” Hadde said, as she put herself between Saunder and Maret.
“Why in Dromost’s name would I help you?”
Hadde raised her sword. “You did this! You took her!”
“Captain Saunder!” Maret said. “Kael is injured.” She knelt by him. “He almost died protecting us.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure he knew which side he was on.”
“Last warning,” Hadde said. “Get out of my way.”
“Stop!” Maret shouted. “You’re a mercenary, right?” She said to Saunder, taking her Spiridus Token from her dress and holding it out to him from where she knelt. “Here is your payment. Let me into the bailey, so that I can be with my son. And let Hadde out the sally port so that she can go after Enna.”
Saunder glanced at the golden medallion and then back to Maret. “Very well. We have a contract.” He brushed past Hadde and took the medallion from Maret, then turned to one of his men and said, “Tend to Kael. I’ll take them out.”
Hadde pushed into the hallway, but had no idea which way to go. She ran to the right.
“This way,” Saunder said from behind her.
Hadde ran past him. She turned a corner but the hallway split again. “Which way?”
“Right and down the stairs. But wait for me or my men might kill you.”
“Run then, damn you!”
Saunder looked at Maret. “But—”
“I can run,” Maret said. “Take us out.”
They ran down the hall and the tight spiral stair. At the base of the stairs they came across three Idorians and four dead Landomeri. None that Hadde knew. None from Long Meadow. She felt guilt at her own relief.
“I will take Lady Maret to the doors and we’ll manage to set her free.” He pointed to one of his men. “Take Lady Hadde to the sally port and let her go. Make certain the men know she is free to go.”
“I will, captain.”
“Good luck, Hadde,” Maret said.
“Get yourselves free and back to Landomere,” Hadde said. “I’ll be there soon enough. Go!”
Saunder took Maret by the elbow and led her away.
Hadde’s hand went to her quiver. Six arrows. She glanced to one of the nearby Landomeri dead. Hadde bit her lip, and bending down took a dozen or more arrows from his quiver. It is the Way of the Forest. He helps even in death.
She gave the Idorian a nod and he led her through the keep.
Four of Saunder’s mercenaries guarded the back door, or the hole where the back door had been. They stood well back from the opening. Spent arrows littered the floor. They warily eyed Hadde as she entered the room.
Hadde’s escort spoke to them in Idorian. One of the door guards shook his head and replied.
Hadde didn’t give them a chance to continue. She dashed toward the opening. An Idorian reached out to grab her, but she knocked his arm aside and ran into the rainy darkness.
Someone shouted behind her, but she kept running. They couldn’t catch her; all she feared was a crossbow bolt in the back. She made the corner of the keep and jumped past it. Only then did she stop and look back, but the Saladorans had not left the shelter of the doorway.
She was at the far side of the keep, away from the fighting at the palisade. It was quiet here—the towers and wall were dark and abandoned. Further away, toward the town, she saw Saladorans arriving from the north. If her father didn’t find a way out of the keep, they would soon be trapped.
But he knew it and would have to make his way. Her bow wouldn’t make a difference. And she had to get Enna back from the varcolac. If she didn’t, her daughter would be lost forever.
Hadde un-looped her belt as she made her way to the moat’s edge. The stream that fed the moat entered here and the current looked stronger. She raised her bow, quiver, and sword over her head as she entered the moat. It was deeper than on the other side of the keep, and she had to swim to make it across a few yards at its deepest.
She retied her belt and jogged north, away from the keep. Fifty strides ahead she spotted a horse standing in the open field. A figure sat on the ground next to it.
As Hadde approached, the person slumped to the ground, disappearing in the tall grass. It was a Landomeri. A wounded huntress.
“Bera, is that you?” Hadde asked as she rushed up to her stricken friend. Bera had a terrible gash along her side; she clutched at with both hands. Blood poured between her fingers. Her skin was white even in the dark.
“We tried to stop them Hadde. We heard a child.” Her face clenched with pain as she spoke.
Bera was dying. There was nothing Hadde could do. “I’ll get some help,” she said, knowing it was a lie. “You rest easy.”
“They went north. On foot.” Bera shivered and then grimaced.
“On foot?”
For a moment Bera smiled. “We took their horses when they entered….” Hadde couldn’t make out the mumbled last words.
“I have your bow, Bera. You’ll be part of saving Enna. You’ll be with me.”
Bera smiled. “Good. I…” And then she closed her eyes and was gone.
I am surrounded by death. The Wasting is over and I am surrounded by death.
Hadde folded Bera’s arms across her chest. “I will make your death mean something. I promise.”
Hadde mounted Bera’s horse and rode north. She stayed well clear of the narrow track the Saladorans had arrived on. But the going was rougher north of the keep than it was to the south. The rain had stopped and a low mist rose from the ground.
“Helna help me,” she said and cut over to the road. It would be more dangerous on the road, but she was certain the varcolac would take it. They are the queen’s varcolac. They will take Enna to her. And this is the path to the queen.
Hadde dismounted and knelt down on the road. There were tracks here, hoof prints going south. But on top of them were boot prints going north. It had to be the varcolac. It would be more dangerous taking the road, but she had to risk it. She had to catch up to them.
Hadde mounted. From out of the darkness, in the field across the road, a man appeared. He held a broad axe in his hands. Hadde’s heart thumped harder at the surprise. He crouched. Did he have a crossbow as well?
She put her heels to Bera’s horse and galloped north.
The Saladoran shouted something to her. Landomeri? Was it a warning? Calling for friends?
She wasn’t going to wait. She spurred her horse up the road, leaving him behind. He wouldn’t catch her.
She heard another shout behind her, but ignored it. Enna was in front of her, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“What will we do, Arno?” Maret asked. She clutched Orlos close to her. Someone had given her a cloak, and she sheltered her son under it, the hood drawn far over her face. The rain had stopped, but thunder rumbled nearby, and lightning flashed overhead. The storm threatened to rise again.
“We must break out before more Saladorans arrive.” He glanced up to the palisade and adjoining wall, where most of the remaining Landomeri stood. The Saladorans had broken off their attack for now.
Saunder had let her out of the keep as promised, but had barred the door behind her. There would be no escape through the sally port. But at least his men did not shoot into the helpless Landomeri on the wall below them. Across the bailey she saw more Landomeri at the gatehouse, but the Saladoran reinforcements held the the bridge against them.
The Landomeri were trapped. Maret’s freedom meant nothing if they could not escape the castle.
“Stay close to me,” Arno said. He motioned to a nearby huntress. “Go to the gatehouse. Tell them that we are going to break out. Ask four of them to hold the gatehouse. The rest must come here and help us save Orlos. Those four… they might not make it out. Make sure they understand.”
“I will.” She ran off.
“Landomeri!” Arno shouted. “We have Orlos, but now we must break free. Every moment more Saladorans arrive.
“I know your strings are wet and your arrows are few. I know the men facing you are in mail and helms, but if we do not do this deed, Landomere dies. Since the birth of time the Great Spirit has sheltered us and provided for us. We must save her. Without her, we are lost.
“There are still Landomeri beyond the walls. They will rally to us when we attack. Be bold! Strike hard! For Orlos!”
“Orlos!” they shouted.
Arno motioned for Maret to follow him closer to the palisade. “We go when the hunters from the gatehouse arrive,” he said to those nearby. “Share your arrows with those who have none. We will loose three volleys and then charge. Spread the word.”
They were just beginning to move into action when a hunter on the palisade called out to Arno. “A Saladoran wishes to speak with you. Across the moat.”
Arno climbed the short ladder to the palisade. Maret stood at the base of the ladder, just below him.
“Landomeri,” Grax’s voice called across the moat. Maret could hear him clearly. “This is your last chance. Surrender and your lives will be spared. All Landomeri may return to Landomere. There will be no reparations demanded. There will be no punishment.”
“All Landomeri?” Arno shouted back. “And what of Maret and Orlos?”
“Do not fear for them,” Grax replied. “They will live lives of worth and power in the South Teren.”
“To give Orlos to you is a death sentence for Landomere. I will die first.”
“And so you shall.”
Maret couldn’t see the Saladorans, but she heard their horns and the sound of their charge. Bowstrings thrummed as the Landomeri loosed into the attackers.
“One more time!” Arno shouted. “When they fall back, we go after them!”
“Orlos! Orlos!”
Maret backed away from the palisade as it shook from the onslaught. Men and women shouted in anger or cried out in pain. Landomeri fell back wounded and dead. Maret flinched from their bloody, terrible wounds.
I cannot fear. I must go over the wall when I have my chance.
“They have ladders,” someone shouted.
“Maret, back away,” Calen’s voice said, suddenly behind her. A crowd of Landomeri from the gatehouse were with him.
At the top of the palisade Arno swung his heavy axe down at the attackers.
“This way, Maret.” Calen took her by the elbow and led her away from the palisade. A dozen or more Landomeri crowded around them. “We won’t let them near you.”
A Landomeri atop the palisade cried out and fell from the palisade. In his place stood a Saladoran knight. In a moment Calen had an arrow nocked and loosed. Six more archers did as well, and the Saladoran fell into the bailey, but two more Saladorans climbed onto the wall.
Arno charged at them and the fury of his attack almost drove them back over the wall. But the nearest knight turned Arno’s blows on his shield and then attacked. The knight pressed Arno back, and it was all Arno could do to parry the knight’s sword thrusts.
Soon, the Landomeri were massively outnumbered. Arno was knocked off the palisade, and lost his axe as he tumbled to the bailey below. Others fell or jumped off in retreat.
The Landomeri around Maret loosed all their remaining arrows, and for a moment the Saladorans were held off. But the arrows slackened and the knights leapt down to the bailey. More climbed over the palisade behind them.
Calen stepped in front of Maret, a mace in his hands.
Maret pulled at his shoulder. “Don’t, Calen. I’ll surrender.” She couldn’t bear to see any more Landomeri die, and the knights in their armor would slaughter the remaining hunters.
Suddenly, there were shouts from behind them. A figure in black charged past Maret and into the advancing Saladorans, a black cloak streaming behind him. At first Maret thought him a brave Landomeri, but then she saw his black coat-of-plates and gauntlets that shone unnaturally bright in the night. His longsword moved like a thing alive. In the span of three heartbeats he cut down two knights, his blade cutting through their armor as if it were flesh.
Two more knights advanced on him. The black knight parried a polea
xe blow with an overhand block, and nearly severed the man’s leg with a downward slash.
The second Saladoran struck at the black knight, but he blocked the sword with his armored arm, and then he had the knight by the throat. There was a flash of silver light, and the man slumped to the ground.
They aren’t silver gauntlets. They are his hands.
Maret’s spine turned to ice. He was an eternal. Her mind flashed to when the eternal Gredoc had cut open Jenae’s throat on the balcony of the Great Keep of Sal-Oras. He had tossed her still dying form to the bailey far below.
The eternal leapt to the top of the palisade, landing amongst a group of knights. Before they knew what was happening he threw one into the bailey and knocked another over the wall and into his oncoming comrades.
Maret saw Grax on the palisade as well. Several knights separated him from the eternal. Grax shouted orders to those nearby.
But the eternal was too powerful. He ran a knight through, his sword held like a spear as he punched through the man’s coat-of-plates. Another the eternal felled striking with his sword pommel against the knight’s helm.
Thunder pealed overhead and a wind struck the keep. As if the thunder had broken them, the nearby knights fled. Even Grax had seen enough and leapt back over the wall.
The eternal turned to the Landomeri in the bailey below. “If you want your freedom, follow me! Fight, Landomeri!”
Maret gasped. She knew that voice. Morin. She knew he had become eternal, but never truly believed it until that moment.
“Forward, Landomeri!” Arno shouted as he raced for the palisade. Blood streamed down his face. He had recovered his axe and raised it high as he ran.
“Come, Maret,” Calen said. She ran with him to the ladder. She glanced up, but Morin was gone. Calen helped her climb.
From the top of the wooden palisade, Maret looked down to the bank and the moat below. Morin was there, and some Landomeri as well, the scene lit by guttering torches held by Saladoran squires.