by A. M. Manay
“Only if we can get through their wards,” Keegan countered.
“The wards on the individual trenches will be weak. Most of the men in them won’t be wizards. The towers will be well protected, but will they think of shielding the earth beneath them?” Shiloh argued. “Once they start to teeter, the ward casters lose focus, and we hit them with clingfire. Their men will panic when flaming towers start to fall.”
“We don’t want to catch the whole forest on fire, Your Grace,” Daved admonished.
“We won’t. They’ve chosen an open field in which to make their stand,” Barr answered.
“Besides, by the time the wards are down on the towers, the whole place will be Deadlands,” Shiloh pointed out, voice hollow. “Fire doesn’t spread on Deadlands.”
“You can heal them after it’s all over,” Silas assured her. “We brought the antenna.”
She nodded, but her shoulders slumped.
“We win decisively, then we liberate the castles,” Silas reminded them.
“They’ll have raped the women,” Hana said, voice full of pain. “Some of their families won’t take them back.”
“We must prepare to care for them,” Shiloh agreed. “Find safe places for them to go, provide healers and medicine. And execute their assailants.”
“And what of Gerne? You said the regent is claiming he has recalled Lord Vorren, that Vorren is holding our territory against his orders. Do we believe him?” Daved asked.
Silas shrugged. “I’m inclined to. He needs us to get rid of Vorren because he cannot do it himself. He hasn’t the men. If we lose, he loses his chance to keep Westan’s throne. Even if he supported Vorren, we currently have neither the gold nor the footing to support invading Gerne in retaliation. Perhaps we should consider trade sanctions, but that is a question for after the killing is done.”
Silas looked around the table and locked eyes with Shiloh, inviting her to speak.
“If we don’t drive the Gernish out, they will keep gnawing away at our territory, mile by mile. They will keep enslaving our people, one village after another. If we don’t crush Lord Speckley, another will think he has a shot at stealing himself a crown. Bryn lives or dies in the next three days, as do all of us and our own personal fortunes.” She stopped and smiled. “And I cannot think of a group of men I would rather have at my side. May the Gods have mercy upon us. May they bless us with victory. May they protect us all, body and soul.”
“May it be so,” the assembled murmured, even Silas and Hana.
Shiloh lifted her goblet.
“For Bryn.”
The screaming and the smell—that was what Shiloh would remember all her days. The smoke that rose from clingfire was more acrid than ordinary wood smoke, and, combined with the smell of burning flesh, it had her vomiting from the back of her dragon upon the unfortunate souls below.
Lord Vorren’s assault towers proved as foolish as Shiloh had asserted. Two had fallen clean over, and three others teetered at terrifying angles, dropping flaming debris upon the doomed. She prayed her own men were well clear; it was hard to tell through the smoke.
The retreat was easy enough for her to see, however. Several dozen men on horseback broke toward the road, heading west in the direction of Northgate Castle. I’ll bet Lord Vorren is among them, leaving his men behind to die for him. If he gets away, reaches the castle ahead of us, all the people he’s kidnapped are as good as dead. We’d have to besiege the castle, and they’d be hostages. And what of those in the smaller castles scattered about? When would we be able to reach them if we’re bogged down with a siege?
Gritting her teeth, she shot up a flare and pursued them, her metal birds following her in a “V” like so many geese. She knew Silas would see and think to give chase as well.
The horsemen failed to notice her approach until she was nearly upon them. Half of them were thrown by their horses when her birds dove at them, screeching like the Gods’ own vengeance. Shiloh kept herself aloft, always moving to throw off their aim, in case they tried to curse her in return. Her mouth moving over the words of her hexes, the curses shot from the metal beaks of her creations, a hundred strikes at a time, again and again, until their wards were destroyed and the men began to fall.
When she saw that no one remained standing, she allowed the birds to land. She wanted to do so herself, to verify that she had gotten her quarry, but she knew Silas would be horrified by the very idea of her further placing herself in harm’s way. Therefore, she remained aloft, eyes alert for any sign of movement.
After what felt like an age, she heard hoof beats below her and turned to see Silas and his squad of cavalry. She watched, heart pounding, as they searched the bodies, taking the weapons and tossing them to the side. Finally, Silas waved to her, and she landed.
“Did I get him?” she asked, running to his side.
“I believe you did,” he replied, reaching for her hand and clasping it to his heart. “But please don’t make a habit of scaring me like that.”
“I had to at least slow them down!” she protested. “What if he had gotten away?”
“I know, Your Grace. I know.” He smiled with relief. “You should get back into the air. The remains of his forces are retreating this way, pursued by our own. And who knows when Speckley’s men might come fleeing in our direction. I’ll give you Vorren’s head so we can have Gare confirm his identity, and so his troops can see that it is over. That is, if you can stomach the task.”
She swallowed heavily and nodded. “Just put it in a sack and hang it on Spike for me so I don’t have to look at it.”
Silas bowed. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
In minutes, Shiloh was ready to take off with her gruesome cargo.
“I’ll see you soon, my lord,” she told him and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he replied.
She mounted her dragon and turned to give him one last smile before leaping into the sky.
Our Triumphal Return
“Stay close to me, poppet,” Edmun reminded Shiloh when she exited the mine at sundown. “The men from the other villages might not see your hair color in the dark.”
“Yes, master,” Shiloh replied, weary to the bone.
The work in the daytime was bad enough, but the night brought different dangers. With multiple villages called up at the same time, and a score of overseers chosen for their lack of compassion, the dark was an opportunity for bad men to prey on girls they’d never have to face again. Parents kept their children close and taught them never to step away from the fires alone.
But all the precautions in the world couldn’t prevent a midnight call of nature. Shiloh was walking to the latrine, wand in hand, when she heard the sound of muffled pleading. Heart pounding, she slowly walked toward the sound.
She found one of the overseers tearing at the clothes of a girl her own age. It was only after Shiloh had cursed the man unconscious that she realized the girl was Meegan. Her shirt was torn. Her lip was swollen and bloody; tears and snot covered her face.
She bent to make sure Meegan’s assailant was still breathing. An empty bottle of moonshine lay next to him, and he reeked of it. She hoped he would assume he’d blacked out from drink when he woke up with a headache in the morning.
“Come on,” Shiloh urged her one-time tormentor. She grabbed Meegan’s sleeve and led the girl back to the tent she was sharing with Poll. “Don’t worry. My da’ll sleep through anything,” Shiloh assured her.
Shiloh lit a magic lantern and tended to Meegan’s wounds, healing her split lip and the cuts on her back from where the rapist had pressed her back against a pile of broken rocks.
“Did he manage to . . . do you need something to keep you from falling pregnant?” Shiloh whispered.
Meegan shook her head. “No, y’were just in the nick of time.”
“Thank the Gods for small favors,” Shiloh answered.
Meegan wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Why’d
ye help me?”
“I didn’t know it was you. But I’d have done it even if I had,” Shiloh replied. “I don’t like you, but you don’t deserve that. Nobody does.”
“Thanks,” her old bully managed.
“We must both keep our mouths shut, Meegan. No one can know I attacked an overseer.”
“I’m not likely t’go spreadin’ the word I was almost dishonored,” Meegan scoffed.
“Do you want to sleep here?” Shiloh asked.
Meegan stared at her as though she’d grown an extra head. “Ye may have helped me, but yer still Unclean. I’ll run fast and take me chances.”
With a heavy sigh, Shiloh watched Meegan head back into the night.
The sight of their lord’s head on a pike was enough to prompt the remaining officers to order a surrender. Silas accepted their offer and sent a group of men to liberate the captives in Northgate Castle. Then they began the messy business of tending the wounded and burying the dead, not to mention marching the prisoners toward the Gernish border and healing the Deadlands.
Shiloh knelt next to her portable steel tower. A few men had just finished screwing together the pieces. It rose above her about twenty-five feet, ending in a point, a giant magic wand that rose into the evening sky. She placed her hand upon it, closed her eyes, and began her work.
Cheers rose up, and she felt the ground soften beneath her knees. She opened her eyes to find every man within sight kneeling with her, their lips moving over prayers.
She rose. “Thanks be to the Gods, and may they bless you all,” she told them, smiling. “We’d best all get back to work.”
A cry went up that men had been sighted coming from the east. Shiloh was strapping on her helmet when she got word that the men were flying Blackmine and Redwood banners.
Relieved, she walked toward the road, guards trailing behind like ducklings. She met Silas on the way. “Our boys?” she asked.
“So my scout says,” he answered. “Stay back until we’re sure, Your Grace, if you would be so kind.”
She held up her hands in surrender and stepped behind her guards until she saw Daved’s white-blond hair and grin. His arm was in a sling, but he looked quite pleased with himself.
“I trust you have good news for us, my lords?” Shiloh asked as they dismounted.
“We have a gift for Her Grace,” Robben bragged, holding up a bloody sack. “I’m afraid it isn’t much to look at, though.”
“Speckley never was too good looking, even in life,” Silas replied. “Well done, my lords. Well done. And his men?”
“We took their weapons, made them swear fealty to the queen, and told them to walk home,” Daved answered. “They were all Brynish. No foreigners. We don’t have the supplies to feed them, and we didn’t have the heart to murder a bunch of our own cowherds.”
“Good. Let’s hope they don’t cause too much trouble on their way home. Speckley’s remaining sons?” Shiloh asked.
“Don’t know. We couldn’t find them among the dead or the living,” Daved admitted.
“They’re pretty young. Delk is the older, and he’s only ten. Speckley may not have brought them along,” Robben pointed out.
“All right. In the morning, we’ll have to send someone to Speckley Castle, to secure it and take custody of the boys. The rest of us will make for Northgate and escort the Gernish prisoners to the border,” Shiloh declared.
“And tonight?” Daved asked.
Shiloh grinned. “Tonight, we celebrate.”
“The castle is filthy beyond comprehension,” Silas informed her. “We can’t sleep there tonight. I’ve had them make up the room at the very top of the watch tower down by the barracks, along the border wall. That’s where Vorren’s top man was staying, so it’s not in such bad condition. I’ll post a few guards outside the door, and the knights can take the other floors for tonight.”
“That’s fine,” Shiloh replied, then yawned. “You may have to carry me up, though.”
“I was hoping you would carry me,” he retorted.
With some groaning, they both managed to ascend the five flights of stairs to the top of the tower. Silas threw himself onto the bed and was asleep before Shiloh even finished removing her boots and jacket. She turned to see him breathing softly, his hair a mess, looking far more boyish than he ever did awake.
Poor thing. Asleep with his armor still on.
She crawled into bed beside him and closed her eyes with relief.
Some hours later, a flash of light startled her awake. Sitting bolt upright, she reached for her wand and lit a lantern with it just in time to see a flash of movement outside the window. She reached over to shake Silas awake.
“Silas? Silas, I saw something.”
He didn’t awaken.
Her breath froze in her chest. “Silas?” She looked down at him and shook him harder. “Silas!” she yelled. “Silas!
His chest looked far too still. Please, Gods, don’t let him be dead. She reached for his neck and felt a faint pulse, thready and uneven. Don’t you dare die, Silas Hatch.
The guard, having heard her scream, pounded at the door, and Shiloh unlocked it with a flick of her wand, nearly taking it off of its hinges in her state of panic.
“Get his armor off,” she ordered the man, and not yet knowing what curse had been used, she began chanting the all-purpose countercurse she used on the Deadlands.
At last, the guard managed to strip Silas of his jacket and mail, and Shiloh could see the hexmark—a dagger in a circle. “Lawsin’s Curse,” she whispered. “Kile, bring Master Jonn. Tell him it’s Lawsin’s Curse. Then rouse the men you trust most to search for anyone running to the road or the border wall. Someone’s tried to kill my husband.”
“You saved his life,” Jonn told Shiloh. “Not that he is out of danger. His heart rate is still quite erratic. Nevertheless, if it weren't for the power of the charms you sewed into his jacket, he'd have been dead before you even woke up.”
“If only I had remembered to put a strong ward on the window. We were just so tired, and I forgot.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead as she fought back tears. Hana put a comforting arm around her waist.
“That is an understandable mistake, Shiloh,” Jonn assured her. It touched her heart that he used her real name. She heard it so seldom now. “For heaven's sake, you were five floors up. Who do you know who could scale those walls and fit through that tiny window?”
A terrible certainty came over her. The look on her face must have been frightening, for Jonn took a step back.
“Hana,” Shiloh said, her voice dangerously soft. “Bring me to Lord Blackmine and his two brothers.”
“I'll go take a turn with the countercurse. Riah will be getting tired by now,” Jonn said, and he disappeared back into the hospital tent.
Soon, Robben and Jerr stood before Shiloh in their tent, bleary-eyes and dressed only in their linen.
“Where is Zenn?” Shiloh asked.
Jerr looked around in confusion and pointed at a bedroll. “He was here when I fell asleep.”
Alarm filled Robben's eyes. “Your Grace? What is wrong?”
“Someone tried to kill Lord Northgate. Whoever it was climbed five stories of rock walk to shimmy through a small window. Do we know anyone with such skills, my lords?” Her voice was colder than the Teeth in winter.
“Oh, Gods,” Robben breathed. “He couldn't have.”
“Now, I hope that his being missing is a coincidence, and he's merely snuck off for a drink or to answer the call of nature. But we have men combing the camp and village for him, and if we do not find him, I am inclined to assume he has fled out of guilt.”
Jerr was in tears, and Robben was white as a ghost.
“Please, Your Grace, you can't think we knew anything, that we were a part of some treasonous scheme—” Robben began.
“I do not. You're not stupid. You two would be long gone if you were conspiring with him,” Shiloh answered
, feeling a bit of pity for the boys in spite of her anger.
“Are you going to arrest us, Your Grace?” Jerr whispered. The sensitive boy shook like a rabbit.
Shiloh softened. “I am not inclined to punish people for the sins of their kin. Gods know I have suffered too much for my mother's. But we need to find him. Alive, preferably.”
“So you can execute him?” Robben asked, a touch of defiance creeping into his voice. “After Hatch tortures him?”
Shiloh raised an eyebrow. “Lord Northgate does not torture children. You can verify that with Lord Redwood. And I haven't decided on his punishment. I suspect that someone put him up to this. Given his youth, that could be a mitigating factor when it comes time to discern his fate.”
“Someone must have given him the idea. Zenn isn't much for ideas of his own,” Jerr agreed, clinging to his queen’s words as though they were a lifeline.
“That has been my perception. Whoever that mastermind is, they won't want your brother talking, will they? He is safer with us than he is out there,” Shiloh declared. “Where would he go?”
“He knows no one up here,” Jerr protested.
“If I were him, I’d sneak across the border with the Gernish soldiers we’re sending home,” Robben suggested.
Shiloh nodded. “Yes, I’ve warned the men who are supervising the deportation to keep their eyes open for him. I’d like for you to help them. There is no one else with as good a chance of picking him out of a crowd.”
The young men hesitated.
“I could order you as your queen, but I think you know that if his puppet-master is in Gerne, your brother is as good as dead if he crosses that border,” Shiloh pointed out.
“Of course, Your Grace. We will do our duty,” Robben capitulated, his face grim.
Daved entered the tent. “We found him, Shi—Your Grace.” His eyes flicked toward Robben and Jerr. “I’m sorry, my lords, but we found his body in the woods, just off the road, near the border wall.”
