“I think he has other worries tonight,” Selinda said, praying she was right. She never knew what would set him off. Usually it was when she dared to show any kind of bravery. It made her sick again to think she might have foolishly endangered herself and her child because she could not control herself.
“Oh, what a fool I am,” she whispered before sinking to the floor on her knees.
“No, my lady. You are very brave,” Hanit told her.
“I do not feel brave, Hanit. I feel the coward. Like my father. Oh gods. That’s what he is, Hanit. A coward. He hides behind others. Let’s another man rule in his stead while he … he fornicates with his mistress and … and … I do not even know what he does! Usually he hunts, but with the Redoe here he cannot even leave the city! If not for the snows, the Redoe would probably stay camped outside and simply claim the farmlands as their own! A city right on top of our city! Dethan is right. The Redoe are only a breath away from taking these walls down and taking Hexis for themselves. We are a weak city led by a weak man. A puppet king with a vicious puppet master’s hand up his ass!”
“My lady!” Hanit gasped. Then she tsked and shook her head. “But you are right. You are only speaking aloud what everyone in this fortress and city knows is the truth. I only fear the reprisals you will face for it.”
“As do I,” Selinda breathed.
Grannish was not angry about Selinda’s little outburst. It actually amused him. She could really be a little spitfire when she wanted to be … for all the good it would do her. Her father didn’t listen to her now any more than he had before. He never would. All that Grannish needed right then was for Dethan to fail … and he had that quite taken care of already.
By this time tomorrow he would have his city safe and securely his again. Dethan would be dead and this time Grannish would insist on being married to the little bitch immediately. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done so sooner. It was his only secure way of ever becoming grand. But it had been a bitter pill, the idea of hooking himself up to that sniveling, scarred whore. The idea of having to fuck her to get his sons on her …
Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Especially now that he knew he could beat her into submission and she was quite adept at hiding it. She would do anything he asked, so long as the well-being of her father and brother could be brought to bear against her.
He considered seeking her out … paying her back for her little display. But the fact of the matter was he was in too good a mood. He might consider it later, as a way of blowing off steam while he waited for darkness to fall.
He walked into the belly of the rearmost part of the city wall, an old rusted gateway that had long been shut off and disregarded by the city guard. And even if the guard were there, he would have seen to it that his men were on watch. The gateway was blocked by a rockslide for the most part, but there was a small gap that allowed for a single man to work his way through with a little effort. Two such men, tall and red-skinned, had done just that as Grannish approached.
“Kru Mods,” he greeted the Redoe equivalent of a general. “Are your men prepared?”
“Yes. They have trained hard and we have made much armor for them. It is heavy and weighs us down. We do not like it.”
“But trust me, it will be for the best,” Grannish said. “It will give you the advantage over these farmers. I just wanted to make sure we are very clear. When you overrun the city you are not to harm the ruling family. The citizens will not follow you willingly if you harm their grand and his family. But once you have put me in charge of the city, we will, as I have said for these past months, all prosper in the end. You will have a city to sack and all the grain and goods you want. Just leave the gold and the government to me when you are through. Am I understood?”
“I do not understand why you help to ruin your own city,” Mods said, his dark eyes judgmental.
“My motivations are my own. Just remember you wouldn’t have gotten this far without me. You are my army. We have been planning this for months. Just because there is an army does not change things. They are nothing but a bunch of inexperienced mud farmers. You will lay waste to them easily.
“This city will be mine again when you are through … and we will have our agreement that every year you will be given a stipend of grain after the harvest. All I need is for you to soundly beat back the army, as you have done so many times in the past, and see to it their leader, General Dethan, is killed. Feel free to do it slowly and painfully,” Grannish said with a smile. “But I want his head by the end of the day.”
“We will do this,” Mods agreed. “With this agreement you will be free to tend your fields and we will not encamp upon them. If you break this agreement, we will return and we will overrun your city again, and this time we will keep it for our own.”
“I have made the agreement and I will abide by it. It benefits us both that I do so. Now remember, they are planning to attack you at dawn. You must attack the city before then, when they least expect it. When they are asleep in their beds. It is unfortunate that you failed to tunnel through to the city walls, but that makes no difference. Knowing when they are going to attack gives you the advantage. The moment they open the gates to release the army, you will attack them from all sides. Keep your forces under the cover of darkness until the very last minute. Do that and you will be victorious, and then you will have the run of the city.”
“And what keeps me from taking the city and keeping it for myself?” Mods asked dangerously, his entire presence, with its inked tattoos and its piercings run though with bone, trying to intimidate.
“Because you don’t know where the gold is and your people have no interest in staying here when the cold comes.”
Mods laughed roughly. “True. You northers are insane, staying in your stone and wood buildings and in the stark white of winter. Too much longer and we would have broken camp already and made for the summer lands.”
“You mean the desert,” Grannish scoffed.
“It’s warm and arid, beautiful and golden. If only we could grow grain there to feed the people … we would never leave.”
“You’ll have your grain. Just do as we agreed and you will have a summer campground any time you like as well.”
“We will do as agreed. We will kill your general. We’ve seen him on the walls … always staring down. We will make him fall from his high perch and onto our waiting spears.”
“Good. Now go. Make ready. I will see you by day’s end tomorrow.”
Grannish watched the leader of the Redoe leave, a smile toying at his lips.
After this, he would have that little cunt to wife and would be grand shortly after. No one would stand in his way.
No one would dare.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Dethan went among the men as soon as his face was passably healed so that no one would question the level of his scarring. It was only two hours before dawn and the men had prepared all the night through.
“Are we ready?” he asked Kyran once he found him.
“As ever we will be. So it’s still dawn, then? Because we are ready now if you wish it.”
Dethan thought about it a moment. “No. We go as planned. Are they ready at the wall?”
“Awaiting your word, General.”
“Good. Let me address the men, and then we will see what these Redoe are made of.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Yes, General,” Dethan stressed to Kyran. “I am no lord.”
“You will be once you claim your prize,” Kyran said, his smile almost impish. Dethan moved to cuff him, but Kyran ducked out of reach. “Come now, my lord. It is time you face facts. One night in her bed and you’ll be royal.”
“I can promise you this, Kyran. I will be no more royal then than I am now.”
Kyran chuckled. “If you say so, General. Go on. Speak to the men. Some are scared and can use the—What’s this, now?” Kyran had moved to the window and was looking out into th
e fairgrounds. The men had been milling about, loosely assembled, awaiting direction from Kyran and Dethan, but now they all seemed to be in a single press of bodies, all their attention rapt in one direction.
“What is it?” Dethan asked, coming to the window.
“I don’t know,” Kyran said.
“Let us go find out, then.”
Dethan pushed past Kyran and strode out of the room. He had armored himself of all but his breastplate, putting off bearing the weight of it against his still-raw skin until the last moment. As he went out into the brisk, dark air and headed for the gathering of his troops, a single voice could be heard in the vastness of the night.
“You do me great honor,” she said loudly, looking down on them from high on the dais, where she had been sitting at the time of his shivov fight. For so small a creature in the face of so many, she seemed strong and regal and powerful. “I have done little to deserve your loyalty, I know. All I am is the daughter of a king. You fight for your homes … your lands … and to protect me and mine. I do not forget that. I will never forget that. You men, you brave, strong men!” She raised her fist into the air, clenching it tightly. “You are my arm! You will swing my sword! You will fight back the beast at our gates!”
The men cheered her, a loud roar of approval.
“And there are none stronger and braver anywhere in this vast world of ours. I swear it!” There was another roar of approval. “For we have the fire of the eight hells in our bellies … and at our helm!” She pointed to Dethan, taking him by surprise. He had not realized she had taken note of him, that she could even see him from where she was standing. “There is your leader! Though not born from Hexis, he was belched from the hells themselves and sent among us to scorch the Redoe in their tents! To chase them back once and for all! To see they know never to darken our doorsteps again!”
The clamor of men turned into a chaos of noise, and Dethan could do nothing but marvel at her. It was just the sort of speech he would have made … only from her it was more powerful than he could ever have imagined. He had thought her courageous before, but now he thought she was simply stunning. She was still holding her hand out to him and the crowd of men parted between them, allowing him to come up to the dais, exactly as he had when he had first come to claim his reward from her. Only this time the prize was something he wanted far more than gold … far more than anything. Burning in the hells, he had imagined any number of things in his efforts to escape his torment, but never had he come close to envisioning something so perfect. So truly heavenly. If Xaxis had given birth to him, then surely Grimu, god of the heavens, had given birth to her.
“My queen commands me,” he said, his voice resonant and deep. He did not shout. He did not need to. The sea of men had grown quiet, waiting expectantly for her to give him her blessing. “And I willingly obey.”
“General Dethan … as they are my arm, let you be my hand, and together you shall crush the throat of the Redoe between our fingers!”
Enthusiastic cheers ripped through the crowd around him, bodies leaping up, weapons thrusting up into the air. Within a heartbeat they were chanting her name.
“Selinda! Selinda!”
But Selinda had eyes only for him.
“I will be on the walls at dawn,” she said to him. “I will watch you win me.”
“Know this … Everything I do come the dawn is solely for that goal,” he said. “It has been all along.”
“I know. That was our agreement,” she said.
“No. This goes beyond that agreement,” he said, all the while knowing that he shouldn’t. “I do not wish to win you to gain a crown … though I will not pretend that is not my goal. But I could easily leave, get an army, defeat this city, and become ruler of it that way. I do not need you to do it. But I do need you. I do want to win you.”
As he spoke … as he watched … he saw tears well in her eyes. She nodded and the tears skipped down her cheeks.
“I understand. And I do not want you to win me just to rescue me from a horrible fate otherwise. I could just as easily opt out of my life altogether.”
“Do not say such things,” he said darkly, moving closer to her and pulling her down from the dais. He drew her close the instant her feet were on the ground. The roar of the crowd around them gave them a sort of privacy and they felt encapsulated within it. He reached to touch gloved fingers to her face, wishing they could be skin-to-skin. She had the softest skin imaginable and he longed to feel it. “You must fight, Selinda. If for some reason I do not come back to you, you must promise me to fight Grannish. Fight him or leave. Before you consider simply taking your life, consider that there are a dozen new lives awaiting you beyond these walls.
“But I know you and know you do not wish to abandon your people. Be strong for them, as you are being strong right now. Listen to them call your name. They love you, fight for you, and would do so at any moment. Ask them to overrun the fortress and string Grannish up for you, and they will. They are your arm … I am your hand … we will not let you down.”
“Please don’t,” she whispered, running her hand over his broad chest, smoothing his shirt. “Please come back to me.”
“I will. Do not be afraid.”
“I am not,” she lied, holding her chin up. “Now, where is your armor? Your breastplate?”
“Inside my headquarters,” he said with a chuckle. “Never fear. I am immortal but not stupid. I may not die from many blows, but they can take me down and the army with me. I will not let that happen. And I like my head firmly attached, so … my only choice is to win and come back to you.”
“Good.” She moved away from him, as hard as it was, and went to her horse. He helped her into the saddle, and she looked around at the incredible force of men Dethan had put together. “I will be on the wall. I will watch from there.”
“Be careful,” he warned her. “If they have archers, you are to get inside immediately.”
“I will.”
She encouraged her horse and rode away slowly, reaching to touch hands with the press of men who followed her progress away.
They loved her, Dethan thought, marveling over her. But then again, she was easy to love. She had done much to gain their devotion. She had conquered this city in a fashion previously alien to him. He had always used force … but she had used gentility and kindness. She had not sat on the power of her birthright alone. She had given to her people everything she could in spite of the limitations Grannish imposed upon her.
He had faith that she would find another way, should something happen to him. He did not want her to have to fight anymore, but if she had to she would.
“Tonkin, my arm—”
There was a scream that cut him off. Then another. The sound of whistling air and then solid thumps and clangs rose up all around him.
“Archers!” he shouted, knowing the sound all too well. The rain of arrows came faster and thicker. “Kyran! Get the men against the wall!” He looked up at the wall and saw city guardsmen falling, riddled with arrows, or fleeing away from them. “Tonkin, get Selinda inside! Remember, I am depending on you! Kyran, I want a contingent up on the wall immediately! I want to see what they are doing!”
Not that they could see much in the dark of night. But they would see what they could. The question was not so much what they were doing but why they were doing it. Why then? Why, after all these weeks of simply sitting out there, content to lay siege, did they just happen to attack … mere hours before Hexis was scheduled to do the same at dawn. Now the element of surprise had been lost and instead they were the ones taken by surprise.
The city was utter chaos within minutes. Civilians and soldiers both were running around in panic. The screams of women filled the air. Dethan rushed up the steps of the dais and shouted for the men’s attention until he had a large portion of it, the immediate crowd calming. He issued orders sharply, splitting his forces—into those who would wait against the wall and those who would be at the gate—and c
alling forth his archers. He then ran for the wall. He thundered up the stairs alongside a group of archers. By the time he came out into the open air of the wall the initial panic had come to a halt. He could hear Kyran’s voice and the voices of other commanders corralling the attention of the men below.
“Archers, make ready!” Dethan said, his voice booming out. The command was echoed up and down the wall, and the sound of fire catching was heard as the archers lit the ends of their arrows. The Redoe lived in tents made of fabric … fabric treated with wax to keep the rain out. Fire was their worst enemy, and Dethan was about to rain it down on them.
“Loose!” he shouted.
As a single entity, the archers closest to him released their arrows. The command echoed down the wall and one group of arrows after another went flying from the wall. It would have been better if they could have seen their targets, but that was not to be for another two hours.
“Ready again!” he shouted.
But before they could release, an answering wave of arrows came sailing over the wall. Before he could take cover, an arrow hit Dethan squarely in the left shoulder. He went down with the force of it and he cursed viciously from the pain. But he had suffered much worse, and he recovered quickly. The men could not see him wounded or perceive that he was out of the battle in any way. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow in his hand and with a mighty pull yanked the thing free of his flesh.
“Gods!” he hissed, taking the pain of it on his knees for a minute, throwing the arrow down. Then he was up on his feet and commanding his men once more. “Loose!”
There was a moment’s hesitation as the men absorbed the sight of him shrugging off his wounds. But then, immediately after, a volley of fiery arrows left the top of the wall.
The two forces traded arrows like that for the better part of half an hour. The Redoe tried to send flaming arrows back at them, but very few made it over the wall, proving that they had no experience in shooting them. Flaming arrows were heavier at the head and required adjusting for the weight of them.
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