by H. A. Harvey
At length, she made her way to the forward end of the room, where a walkway clear of holes stretched between the two doors leading to the outer wall. Built to be secured from a siege, both doors had heavy iron bars standing by to one side, for use in case an enemy managed to gain a foothold on the parapets. Autumn slid one bar into place quietly before moving to the other door and slipping out quietly.
Autumn ducked into the shadows beside the door and crouched down in her cloak, watching the sentry on the wall make his way toward the nearest tower. She sat motionless in her cowl of darkness, listening to the footfalls of the sentry overhead fade, then approach. By the time they started to fade again, the man on the wall was headed back toward her. She pulled the face of the hood as tight as she could around her and sat peering through a crack just big enough for her eye, barely daring to breathe as the sentry closed on her. Luck seemed to be with her, for as he drew close enough, Autumn could see his attention was on the flickering lights and sounds of merrymaking coming from the city’s heart, and he wasn’t looking overly close at the doorway and its misbehaving shadow.
She had just decided to take the opportunity to silence this target as well when she heard the footfalls overhead approaching again. Instead, Autumn sat in silence, cursing how often these Baedites could foul up a good plan without trying. She waited for the sounds above her to fade and grow again while the sentry in front of her turned and gained some distance. Then she braced her foot in the seam where the door frame met the wall and slid noiselessly up to perch on the mantle of the doorway.
As the sentry above again started to walk away, Autumn slid over the edge of the roof to fall in step behind him. When they reached the midpoint of the roof, she struck, stepping hard against his back and driving the blade of her dagger deep into his lung. She wrapped a willowy hand around the man’s throat and brought the other up to keep his torch aloft as he thrashed briefly and sagged in her arms. When the guard’s struggles and pulse had both ceased, Autumn drug him with some difficulty over to the parapets, propping him up between two and pinning the torch aloft in his collar.
Autumn walked back to the center of the roof and bent to recover the sentry’s bow, fallen when she had first struck. As she did so, she froze, hearing a man’s voice calling out below. One of the street patrols must have kept to his beat instead of joining the festival, and had noted the missing sentry. In a flash, Autumn dashed to the propped up corpse and snatched a fistful of arrows from the quiver on his back before sprinting to the inner edge of the roof. She was too late. As she nocked an arrow and looked down, the guard was stumbling back from the lit window in the door below, crying out in Human speech. She didn’t need to know the tongue to understand the call, and as she silenced him with an arrow in his throat, the call began to forward itself along the wall in both directions.
Cursing her Luck as she dashed back to drop down before the unbarred door, Autumn vowed to bury a coin in the road before trying anything like this again. As she landed, an arrow from the wall sentry thunked solidly into the door behind her, missing her only narrowly and pinning a bit of the trailing cloak to the door. Autumn answered with another arrow, catching the man in his leg as his comrades emerged from the tower beyond. At the edge of bow range, they were hardly worth lining up a serious shot. Instead, she quickly loosed her two remaining arrows into the thick of them, at least one raising a cry of pain as she spun and dashed through the door, tearing her cloak free as she slammed it closed.
Back in the inky black of the gatehouse, Autumn wished she’d grabbed the sentry’s torch instead of his bow. She fumbled in the dark until she found the bar and dropped it into place, then started to pick her way back across the room as quickly as she dared. By the time she reached the door to the guard room, she could hear the men on the wall outside battering at the door. It sounded like at least two axes were chewing their way through the thick oak planks. Autumn flew down the stairs and snatched the lantern from the guard’s table, ignoring the struggling youth now awake on the floor.
Returning to the gate room, Autumn hung the lantern on a nail near the middle of the room before looking desperately around the different gears and levers. She hauled on the large central winch, but could barely shift it a few inches before her strength gave out and it spun back, accompanied by a heavy thud from below. Refusing to fail so close to the end, she looked at the mechanisms again. Two large levers sat against either wall next to the main winch. Experimentally, she pulled on one. It took bracing against the floor and pushing with her whole body, but the lever eventually swung over to the far position and Autumn heard the turning of ropes and pulleys from the wall beside her.
Autumn cast a nervous glance to the barred doors as she crossed back to the second lever. Both doors were now being beaten upon, the first now starting to splinter slightly along the grain of its inner planks. The second lever was more stubborn than the first, and by the time she hauled it over, she could see axe blades glint in the lantern light as they bit through the wood of the first door. Autumn jammed her bow into the track of the second lever and snapped it off short before she rushed back to the main winch and, throwing her weight against it, tumbled completely over it as it spun easily with her. She rolled to her feet and hauled on the winch until she heard the doors below bump heavily against the stone walls.
Nimbly leaping over the murder holes, Autumn hurried to the forward arrow slits and saw the wolves already rushing down the road to the gate, some still discarding their gully cloaks and drawing weapons. She whirled to face the first door as an arm reached through a destroyed plank to tug at the iron bar. Snarling, she leapt to the door, burying her dagger deep in the man’s upper arm. With a wail of agony, the arm jerked back through the hole in the door taking the dagger with it. Drawing the sergeant’s sword, Autumn stood to the side of the door, hacking at anything that dared poke through and dislodge the bar. So intent was she on her defense of the failing door that she was caught completely by surprise when an arrow was loosed through the first crack in the far door, slicing open her cheek before it shattered against the wall beside her.
Autumn stumbled back in surprise and though she was quick to regain her feet, the damage was done, as the men outside her door managed to lift the bar in her brief absence. Determined not to let them shut the gate, Autumn pulled off her cloak, twining it once around her off-hand to use as a cloth shield as the two axemen burst into the room. The men both hesitated momentarily when their eyes fell on Autumn’s stark white form. She, however, was lightning quick and rushed forward, driving her sword deep into the first man’s stomach before twirling to shoot her leg out and catch the second in a vicious kick to the chest that sent him staggering against the front wall. Alas, she was forced to give up the momentum as another arrow sang through the far door, landing in the frame of her doorway. A man with a sword followed by a spearman pressed through next as the second axe wielder regained his balance.
The man with the axe circled wide to remove the second door’s bar as the swordsman pressed forward, covered by a powerful two-handed thrust from the one with the heavy spear. Autumn somersaulted over the point of the spear and drug the cloak behind her to foul the tip. She parried the next sword swipe with her blade and scissored the attacker’s legs, sending him tumbling back into the doorway as another of his comrades started through. Rolling to her feet in front of the spearmen, she drove the hilt of her sword into his groin and, letting the heavy blade fall, swept a dagger from his belt and drove it deep into his gut. She gave the wounded man a violent shove with her heel behind his own, sending him crashing into the axe wielder and the second doorway.
Autumn scooped up the fallen axe as she sprinted to the back of the room, bringing the heavy blade in a fierce cross-swing to snap the first lever off at half its length. She turned, winded and evaluated her foes. The spearman writhed on the ground in agony and would not be joining the fight tonight if he lived at all. Three swords and the man wit
h the axe worked their way up either side of the room, and she saw the archer who had marked her earlier stepping into the room behind them. Moreover, a heavy chopping axe was quite likely her least favorite weapon. She set her jaw defiantly and brought the axe down in a double-handed stroke on the main winch’s rope. Reading her actions too late to stop the strike, the archer whipped an arrow to his bow and loosed it at her.
Autumn’s feet were planted too solidly with her attack to hope to sidestep the arrow, and she watched it fly straight at her in the deadly slow motion of inevitability. It was from her left flank that motion exploded back into normal time as a round shield slid in front of her so closely that it caught Autumn in the jaw and sent her reeling against the stone wall. In a blink, she recognized Bjorn, Alpha of the Ice Wolf pack, as his huge, fur clad form straddled her. The big Njord did like axes, and demonstrated the fact by finishing his motion spinning a hatchet through the air to cleave the archer’s head nearly in twain. Three more wolves rushed into the room and dove on the other guards. The imposing form of Povo followed next, and he started to rush into the fray but pulled up short when his eyes fell on Autumn.
“Whut en th’ name o’ Ruin are ye doin’ girl?” He blinked as Bjorn helped her to her feet.
“I had to improvise.” Autumn explained, standing rather jauntily, “It’s nothing big, Fae are more comfortable with their bodies than Humans.”
“Yeah?” Povo pulled a bundle from its sling over his shoulder and the massive Dracis hurled it at her almost hard enough to take her off her feet, “Wull, Adair be Human. An’ if he e’er hearz we saw ya like this, he’ll gut th’ lot o’ us. Put yer armur on an’ have yer tree-nymph party on yer own time.”
Bjorn rushed on to lead the assault on the outlying towers while Povo stood close with his back to Autumn, quickly directing the wolves flowing up through one door or the other. Autumn quickly untied the bundle and started donning her armor. She wasn’t entirely sure if she’d simply spent too much time with Humans or it was the fresh memory of the sergeant’s unwelcome groping, but she wasn’t entirely as comfortable being exposed as she let on. When she was dressed and had her own weapons back, Autumn cut a strip from the tattered remnants of her stolen cloak and tied a makeshift bandage over her mouth to bind her cheek.
Outside, Povo dashed off to join the assault in the opposite direction from Bjorn while Autumn returned to the roof. Taking the sentry’s torch in hand, she waved it wildly to signal the packs’ success. She watched in awe as a stretch of the starlit scenery shimmered and vanished, revealing the main force of over four hundred mounted Tyrian troops lying in wait. A war horn’s baleful song drifted over the high, cold plain, sounding the charge and the tide of horseflesh surged forward. By now, Axios and the other mercenaries would have the Spireward gate under full assault or broken, and any troops not answering her accidental alarm should be mustering to that end of the city, leaving the main force a clear path to surge through the streets and up to the keep itself.
Autumn had planned on leaping down to join the assault on the keep, but the skirmish combined with holding the masque all day took more of a toll than she had expected. Instead, she perched on the parapet and watched the horses flow beneath her like a flooding river. She closed her eyes and listened to the deafening rumble, feeling it vibrate the stone parapet on which she was seated. Autumn imagined being in the midst of a great tidal wave or collapsing mountain until the rumble faded at last and she was alone in silence.
The fighting at the keep could be heard in the distance, and were she better at seeing in the dark, she might make out the wolves working their way along the walls. Somewhere below, likely inside the guard house, she was sure a few wolves stood sentinel to keep straggling troops from coming up behind. However, up here, on the roof, she was alone in the still and silence, wrapped in darkness. She opened her eyes at last and looked across the open plain. The night outside was serene and beautiful and the starlight bathed the quiet countryside in a soft, blue-white glow. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Autumn could see for miles from this vantage point. She let her gaze drift across the plain and the empty black of the Broadstone Quarry beyond. Then, as she looked further, she rose to her feet as the cool night air suddenly seemed to shift to a biting cold.
Out in the low wood beneath the Crescent Ledge, she could make out the flicker of a small camp fire. Above, back in the woods beyond the Baeden road, she saw a larger blaze glowing through the trees, a dark plume obscuring the starry sky for a great distance in either direction. Autumn leapt from the roof of the gatehouse to the city wall and ran along it until she passed a low roof. She bounded over the rooftops toward the dark keep, looking desperately for Malor or Captain Kaiden.
. . .
Baron Urdan sat staring into the camp fire, his heavy fur mantle drawn around him against the cold. To either side of his war pavilion, the camp of his army lay spread across the breadth of the narrow Irongate Pass and snaked along its length for more than a mile. He idly scratched the long, smooth scar along his right cheek as he drew plans in his head of coming battles. The Baron grew tired of these cold nights, especially in the narrow canyon of Irongate pass. The wind through the pass made it colder here than almost anywhere else. Still, it was best to exercise a bit more patience. The pieces were already in play, and it wouldn’t be long now.
Almost as though in answer to his thoughts, Ebal, his chief commander burst into the light of the Baron’s fire. Ebal strode briskly to stand before the Baron’s couch before kneeling.
“Lord Baron,” His gruff voice carried an eager note, “We’ve received word from Valous. Deepwood has fallen. They seized Earl Cirrus, and have confirmed tha Tyrians marched into Broadstone Valley a day ago. There was a peripheral force but they were herded into the forge as well. Valous’ men have secured tha Crescent Ledge.”
Urdan grunted satisfaction, “And Axios? Have we heard from tha defector?”
“We have indeed,” A hoarse voice replied as its owner, a Falon emerged wearing a flowing, white silk robe, and strode to join them from Urdan’s pavilion. “My apprentice confirmed that the Scourge of Shaleridge is with them, and that even now they have breached the city walls and will have the keep before dawn.”
The Falon’s wings were a deep brown along the outer layer, mottled with black, while a reddish brown hue dominated the feathers on each inner wing. His sharp features along the left side of his face, from near the crown of his head to below the color of his flowing robes were marred with a gnarled tangle of scarred flesh.
“Your plan, and your apprentice, have served admirably, Tyvus.” Urdan nodded to the imposing Falon, “What of my horses?”
“At least six hundred head, close to seven.” Tyvus replied, “Four hundred of those are guaranteed Tyrian cavalry stock.”
“Excellent. Ebal, prepare tha troops to march immediately, and send word for tha others to tighten tha noose.” Baron Urdan rose and gave a sharp whistle before turning to the Falon, “Tell your apprentice to ensure Baron Odare falls in tha fighting.”
8
Scourge
Autumn shifted her weight awkwardly. She felt dead on her feet, but somehow, sinking into a corner to sleep seemed wrong. Aside from Adair, and a few of the other Alphas she knew by reputation more than in person, she didn’t know any of the officers who stood on the upper levels of the keep. Malor and Captain Kaiden were bent over a shimmering bowl of water while the others peered at the dim light in the distance from the edge of the wall. The Malor looked ill, sweating profusely and pallid, while Kaiden’s expression was grim. Eventually, Malor let out a gasp and staggered backward. Autumn reflexively stepped forward to steady him.
“It’s a forest fire now,” Kaiden glowered, “But it started at the keep. Deepwood is ashes.”
“They had to have moved in right behind us to be there and gone so fast.” Malor looked at the company gathered about as he steadied himse
lf. “To move in so precisely without our scouts having seen them, they had to have known our marching path. None but the officers here and the leaders of the wolf-packs knew that in advance.”
“The packs didn’t breathe a word,” Autumn interrupted, “This task was handed down by the elders, even the brashest Alpha wouldn’t dare betray their will. They’d be hunted across Creation by the other packs, with nowhere to go to ground.”
The two men turned and blinked at Autumn. She realized by their expressions that she had inadvertently stepped into a council she wasn’t invited to and which was well over her rank. The prudent thing might have been to step back to Adair and the other Alphas. Looking between them, she decided to hold her ground.
“You can trust me. If I was working for Baeden, you wouldn’t have made it through the gate, and I told you about the fire.” Autumn looked between them, glad in the knowledge that her face wouldn’t look as sheepish as she felt. “What I said is true. Silvermane Wolves have only a few universal laws between the packs, but those that are there are absolute. A task from the elders is expected to succeed, or those who accept it to die in the attempt.”
“I don’t place much weight in a code among mercenaries.” Malor stated flatly, “And you may well have simply timed your information to gloat, or damage morale at a key moment.”
“No, Malor.” Kaiden held up a hand before the wizard, “The wolves have a reputation for reliability, especially when contracted through their brokers. The Earl had me negotiate the terms with their ‘elder’, so I believe her. And while the timing of this information is unfortunate, whatever force struck the keep is most likely now between us and the Tyrian border. If she were the traitor, it would have been best to let us be caught outside the walls of Broadstone.”