The Broken Throne

by Christopher Nuttall

  There had been fewer wounded among the attackers than she’d thought, they discovered as they set up a makeshift hospital in a warehouse and went to work. The vast majority of wounds had been lethal, at least partly because the men had kept fighting instead of dropping out of line and seeking medical help. Not, she supposed as she carefully healed a man who’d been stabbed in the leg, that she would trust the chirurgeons to treat her.

  “Keep busy,” Emily ordered Alden, sternly. Hard work would keep his mind off the man he’d killed. “I want you to really flex that magic.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Alden said, sullenly.

  Emily had to fight to keep her expression blank. It wasn’t really funny... but it was, in a way. She owed him her life, at least to some extent. Maybe it wasn’t a full life-debt – she could have saved herself – but she owed him something. Most magicians would be gleefully calculating what they could demand from her in exchange for saving her life. But Alden was too preoccupied with what he’d done to care.

  She turned her attention away from him as the first handful of townspeople entered the chamber. She’d known, intellectually, that an occupation was never clean, but it was the first time she’d ever come face to face with the results. Men who’d been brutally beaten, women who’d been raped, children who’d been kicked around casually by the men who’d invaded their town... it was sickening. It was easy to understand, suddenly, why the locals had been reluctant to show themselves. They had no reason to believe that Cat and the Levellers would be any better.

  And we can’t tell them that we’re going to be better because they won’t believe us, she thought, as she fixed a young girl’s broken arm. Her mother insisted that one of the soldiers had snapped it, purely for shits and giggles. We’ll have to prove it by being better than them.

  Night was falling when Cat walked into the warehouse and nodded to her. “How’s it going?”

  “Poorly,” Emily admitted. They’d lost more patients than she cared to admit. “We’re short on just about everything.”

  “I know.” Cat motioned for her to follow him outside. Cool Waters was dark, only a handful of lights visible behind covered windows. “We got lucky today, Emily.”

  “Yes,” Emily agreed. “But we also won.”

  A glint of light caught her eye. She stared at it for a moment, then realized that one of the guards was having a smoke. At least he wasn’t asleep on duty. Or smoking near the gunpowder, for that matter.

  “Against a town that was weakly defended.” Cat spat into the gutter. “Gars was right about one thing, Emily. If we’d tried to take a castle, we’d have been slaughtered.”

  Emily nodded in understanding. Cat was a combat sorcerer, not a general. He’d been taught how to give orders, but not how to lead masses of men into war. Gus had even less experience, while neither Gars nor Tobias had ever commanded so many men. The weight of command had fallen on Cat’s unprepared shoulders. Emily didn’t blame him for finding it heavy.

  “Don’t tell the men that,” she advised, finally. “Let them enjoy their victory.”

  Cat smiled. “Good thought. But it won’t be long before we have to fight again.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A BODY HUNG FROM THE GALLOWS, twisting in the wind.

  Emily frowned as she saw it hanging outside Cat’s HQ, surprised even though she knew the body was there. The young man – scarcely more than a boy – had raped a woman, perhaps in the belief she wouldn’t dare complain. But she had complained and her rapist had been tracked down and – after a brief trial – executed. Emily found it hard to feel sorry for the rapist – the troops had been ordered to treat the civilian population decently – but she didn’t know why Cat had left the body hanging in the open. It would inflame tensions.

  Unless it’s his way of saying he doesn’t care about inflamed tensions, Emily thought. And it is a hell of an object lesson.

  She sighed to herself as she stepped through the door. Gars, oddly enough, had argued that the rapist should be beaten savagely, but not executed. He’d been concerned about the effects on morale if the army’s leaders hung a common soldier. Gus had been torn between the need to maintain discipline, particularly when it would help to win over the local population, and fears about what his people would do if they thought the rapist had been executed unjustly. Cat had forced through the trial, ensuring that everyone knew the young man had crossed the line. Emily just hoped they’d been listening. Their army was too young to suffer a schism.

  “Ah, Emily,” Cat said. “We’ve had some bad news.”

  He was seated at the table, looking at a map. Gars, Gus and Tobias were sitting next to him, their faces grim. A young man was standing beside the wall, his back so straight that Emily wondered if he thought he was trying to hold the wall upright.

  Emily glanced at the map. “They’re coming?”

  “They’re coming,” Cat confirmed.

  He motioned for Emily to sit next to him, then tapped the map. “Lord Burrows is on his way,” he said. “The exact headcount is uncertain, but at least four thousand infantry and five hundred cavalry.”

  “Some of those infantrymen will be archers,” Gars said, quietly. “And there will be a magician or two amongst them.”

  “Yes,” Cat said. “And they’ll be here in two days, at the latest.”

  “He must have been marching already,” Emily observed. Lord Burrows was supposed to be competent, but even he would have trouble getting an army that size on the move in less than two days. “I suspect he intended to march through Cool Waters and strike directly at Eagle’s Rest.”

  “Probably.” Cat looked up, his gaze moving from face to face. “Do any of you believe that it’s possible to hold this town against a determined attack?”

  “No,” Gars said. “There is no way this town can be held. We’ve proved that ourselves.”

  “But we told the people that we would protect them,” Gus protested. “We came to their assistance and...”

  “And nothing,” Tobias said. “If we stay here, they will either storm the town and slaughter everyone or simply lay siege to the walls and wait for us to starve. Either way, we lose the army. We have neither the defenses nor the supplies to make a stand, not here.”

  “No,” Cat agreed. “We’ll start pulling the army out today, I think. And we’ll evacuate the entire town. The population can come with us.”

  “Or go running into the countryside,” Emily said, although there seemed to be fewer wild places this close to Winter Flower. “If they can get out on their own, let them go.”

  “Many of them will be hunted down,” Tobias said, flatly.

  “We’ll tell them that,” Cat said. “Gus, I want you to speak to the mayor. He’s to prepare his people for evacuation. They can take a single bag each, if they can carry it, but otherwise they’re to leave everything behind unless we can find a use for it. If they have time to bury or otherwise hide their possessions, let them do it. Make sure he knows that anyone who remains behind does so at their own risk.”

  “I can try,” Gus said, sullenly.

  Cat took a breath. “Gars, I want you to go through the town and consider what – if anything – we should do to make it useless. Should we burn it to the ground ourselves? Or set up traps with gunpowder? Or... anything, really.”

  Gars smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”

  “Tobias, I want you to take a letter back to Eagle’s Rest,” Cat added. “Tell them what’s happening and why.”

  Emily blinked in surprise, although she supposed Cat had a point. Tobias was a good horseman. If anyone could get a message back to Eagle’s Rest in less than a day, Tobias could. And it would keep him out of Cat’s hair while he planned and carried out the evacuation.

  “I’ll organize a handful of raids to slow Lord Burrows down,” Cat said. “Unfortunately” – he pointed at the map – “there are no handy bridges to destroy. It’s very frustrating.”

  “A handful of attacks will make them car
eful,” Gars assured him.

  Cat nodded. “You have your orders. Go.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows as the other men left. “You called for me?”

  “Yes,” Cat said. “Ethan? Tell Lady Emily what you saw.”

  The young man standing by the wall came forward. Emily blinked, then kicked herself mentally. She’d honestly forgotten he was there. He’d been so quiet. She forced herself to study him as he saluted, noting his short hair, calm demeanour and horseback livery. A mounted rider, but not a cavalryman. He didn’t have the right attitude.

  “The army is advancing steadily along the King’s Road,” Ethan said. His voice held faint hints of an aristocratic accent. “They’re making a good pace, for all that they’re being careful. They had enough pickets out to worry even me” – he allowed himself a laugh – “and it was hard to get a good look at the main body. But I stand by my estimate.”

  Emily listened as Cat bounced questions off the younger man, sometimes asking a question herself. Ethan was a good observer, with a sharp mind and eye. It was just a shame he hadn’t been able to get really close. Lord Burrows was too old a dog to let an enemy scout close enough to get an accurate count of his men.

  “Thank you,” Cat said, when Ethan had finished. “Go get yourself something to eat, then report to the cavalry.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Ethan said.

  “That’s not good,” Emily said, once they were alone. “I hoped we’d have more time.”

  “Lord Burrows clearly doesn’t believe in letting the grass grow under his feet,” Cat agreed, dryly. He leaned forward and kissed her, gently. “I was wondering if you’d like to do something more... interesting than healing the sick.”

  Emily hesitated. She disliked healing, and it was leaving her feeling tired and drained, but there were people who needed her help. And yet, if there was something else to do...

  “Perhaps,” she said, careful not to commit herself. “What do you want?”

  Cat took a long breath. “That army is tough and professional. And the only thing between it and this town is distance. There are no natural barriers, nothing we can use to do more than harass them. That distance is getting shorter every second. Lord Burrows won’t reach Cool Waters and stop, Emily. He’ll give chase as soon as he realizes that our army is retreating towards Eagle’s Rest, burdened by hundreds of refugees. And we do not want a pitched battle if it can be avoided.”

  “They may not have firearms,” Emily said, quietly.

  “It would be optimistic of us to assume they don’t,” Cat reminded her. “Randor has had plenty of time to raise quite a few regiments of musketmen. There were powder mills springing up everywhere over the last two years. There’s a good chance that Lord Burrows has muskets, even if they’re slightly outdated.”

  Emily wasn’t so sure. Lord Burrows wasn’t the real Baron of Winter Flower. Alicia was and she had plenty of reason to hate Randor. The king would be foolish to let her get her hands on modern weapons, even if he thought her husband could keep her under control. But it probably didn’t matter. Even without firearms, a tough, professional army could slaughter the Levellers if they caught them on the move. Lord Burrows would understand the opportunity dropped in his lap. Of course he would. The chance to crush an entire army piecemeal was one that could not be allowed to just slip out of his hands.

  Unless you happen to be General Howe, who was either a rebel sympathiser or a very poor general, Emily thought. It was amusing, but pointless. She doubted Lord Burrows would side against the king. No, he’ll come after us as soon as he realizes we’re on the move.

  “We’ll see,” she said, finally. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Slow the army down,” Cat said. “Can you do that?”

  Emily felt her blood run cold. Slow the army down? She could destroy it. The nuke-spell could obliterate a hundred armies, perhaps a thousand. And yet, it would be far too devastating... and revealing. The one time she’d used the spell, there had been a cover story just waiting to be put in place. This time... she shook her head. Cat wouldn’t expect her to unleash so much devastation. He didn’t even know it was possible.

  And if I use it here, too many sorcerers will try to work out what I did, she thought. And one of them will stumble over the truth.

  “You mean scare them to death,” she said. She remembered Sergeant Miles talking about sorcerers sowing deadly chaos in the enemy rear. She could do that, although the sergeant had also told her that sorcerers caught sowing chaos tended not to live long enough to be ransomed. “It might not slow them down for very long.”

  “I’d be happy with a few hours,” Cat told her. “Emily, we’re out on a limb here.”

  “I know,” Emily said. Cat would probably prefer to go himself, or accompany her, but he was needed where he was. There was no one he could trust to take command without causing problems further down the line. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Very good,” Cat said. He pointed a finger at her. “Consider yourself on detached duty from this moment onwards. Eat a good meal, build up your energy, then sleep. Ethan will take you to the enemy camp when darkness falls.”

  “Of course, we don’t know where they’ll be camping,” Emily mused. She studied the map for a long moment, trying to pick out a prospective campsite. If she could get there first, she could hide and wait... no, there were too many possibilities. “Did you prepare a bed?”

  “Of course,” Cat said. He gave her a toothy grin. “I had no doubt you’d want to go.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “And you knew that how?”

  “You walked into a necromancer’s den,” Cat said. “I’m sure Lord Burrows isn’t quite so dangerous.”

  “True,” Emily agreed. She met his eyes. “And what should I do if I get a clear shot at him?”

  Cat hesitated. “Emily... kill him.”

  Emily swallowed, hard. She could see the logic – Lord Burrows was a skilled commander who was unlikely to switch sides – but she didn’t like it. And yet, who knew how many soldiers and commoners – men whose names she didn’t know – were going to die when the two armies met? If killing one man would stave off the chaos, at least for a few days, wouldn’t it be worth it? Cold logic said yes, arguing that Lord Burrows needed to die; emotion said no, insisting that she wasn’t an assassin. And besides, there was no guarantee she’d even get a shot at the man. Alicia’s husband would be extremely well guarded.

  “I’ll see what happens,” she temporised.

  Cat gave her a long look, then called for dinner. A tired-looking servant entered, carrying a tray of sandwiches and a large bottle of wine. It was simple food, the same salt beef and rough bread that the soldiers would eat, but there was a lot of it. Emily said nothing, despite a pang of guilt. She would need to eat a great deal to charge her magic before going into the enemy camp. The beef was tough, flavoured with a seedy mustard that burned her tongue, but at least it was edible. She took a sip of the wine and grimaced. Removing the alcohol had done absolutely nothing for the flavour.

  “Keep eating,” Cat said, as he nibbled a sandwich. He drank the sour wine without complaint. “You can have more if you like.”

  “I’m going to start wondering if you’re trying to fatten me up,” Emily said. The sandwiches were edible, but a handful of them were more than enough. They were sitting uneasily in her stomach. “Is that the plan?”

  “I’d have to keep you from using magic, then,” Cat pointed out. “And that wouldn’t be very helpful at all.”

  Emily had to smile. “I suppose not.”

  She forced herself to eat a final sandwich, but her appetite was gone. Whitehall had always provided a towering smorgasbord of food for its students, with tastes to delight every palate, ensuring that the magicians ate and drank until they could eat no more. The bland sandwiches made it harder for her to keep cramming them in her mouth, one by one. She made a mental note to ensure that she stocked up on food before she left, after she had her nap. Whatever happ
ened, she would need to eat after raiding the enemy camp.

  “Come on,” Cat said, standing. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  Emily followed him up the stairs and into a bedroom. A bed, barely large enough for her, sat against one wall; a chest of drawers and a mirror sat against another. Emily couldn’t help thinking that it was a child’s bedroom, perhaps one that had once belonged to the merchant’s daughter. It was small, but – compared to Imaiqah’s childhood home – the lap of luxury. A small chamberpot sat under the bed, next to a pair of towels. The bed itself had clearly been changed only a few hours ago.

  “Get some actual sleep,” Cat ordered. He cast a light-globe, then closed the heavy wooden shutters. “Or I’ll come back and tie you to the bed.”

  “I’m sure you’d enjoy that,” Emily teased. She’d half-expected Cat to offer to stay with her, suggesting he’d had something in mind that wasn’t actually sleeping. But he was more practical than that. “Wake me up when it starts getting dark.”

  “Of course, My Lady,” Cat said. He put on a sweet voice that grated on her ears. “Your wish is my command, My Lady.”

  Emily made a rude gesture, then took off her boots and clambered into bed. It was surprisingly soft, although the mattress had clearly been designed for someone a little smaller than her. Cat waved to her, then snapped the light-globe out of existence and left the room, closing the door behind him. The room plunged into darkness.

  Time to sleep, Emily told herself firmly. Her insides were churning, even though she knew she could do the mission. Cat was right – she had walked into Heart’s Eye, knowing there was a necromancer at the far end – but she’d come up with the plan on the fly, without time to sit back and consider just how horribly dangerous it was – or how many things could go spectacularly wrong. This time, I have all the time in the world to think about the dangers.