by Alex Raizman
Eupheme regarded her for a long moment. “It’s like a garden,” she said finally.
Tythel snapped her fingers. “Yes. Exactly like a garden.”
“If it was a garden, then, let me ask you something. If someone came to your garden, starving to death, would you deny them fruit from it?”
Tythel closed her eyes slowly, showing how deeply the question hurt her. From the way Eupheme winced, Tythel thought she understood. “It’s different. Fruit in a garden will regrow on its own.”
“Yes, it will. But if the city was starving, would you let them eat all the fruit, even though it meant you could not plant any more trees?”
Tythel put her face into the cloth in frustration. “I guess it’s not like a garden,” she muttered. “The analogy doesn’t work.”
“It doesn’t? Or you don’t like the analogy because it makes you uncomfortable?”
Tythel sat up fully. “Because it makes me uncomfortable, okay?”
“At least you admit it.” Eupheme said, rising to sit herself. She was frowning as she did. “I wish things had been done properly,” she muttered.
Tythel cocked her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Your books had little about my order, didn’t they?” Eupheme asked.
“I mean…yes.”
“What did they say?”
Tythel was failing to see the relevance to their conversation, but went ahead regardless. “They said you served Royal families. That you were guards against assassins and assassins yourself. Little else in terms of the general.”
Eupheme nodded. “We work hard to keep out of the books. Most authors don’t spend time describing the shadows cast by the figures they follow, and that is what we are.”
Tythel took a moment to regard her own shadow. It flickered in the torch they used for light, dancing on the cloth and stone. “Then…tell me what I need to know.”
“If things had been done properly, I would have been raised alongside you. Myself and at least three others, girls around our age. We would have been like sisters to you, although also not your equal. We would have spent our childhood learning your habits, your whims. The hope is you would have chosen one of us to adopt as a true sister in all but inheritance, your closest companion with whom you share your every thoughts.”
Tythel leaned down to rest her arms on her knees and her head in her hands. “That’s how it always was?”
“Always. It means you have an advisor you can trust implicitly, one who is even more trustworthy than your own siblings would have been, since she never would have a claim to the throne so no reason to betray you. And I – she – would have had a lifetime learning your moods, your thoughts, to the point where she could read your intent without you saying a word.”
“That sound wonderful,” Tythel said. “To have someone who knows you that well.”
Eupheme nodded. “It also would have meant I could have understood where you were coming from with this, Tythel. But I don’t. The wealth in Karjon’s hoard could fund the resistance for months, at least, and the books could be the key for cracking the cipher. I don’t understand how you can keep that to yourself.”
Tythel let out a low, tired breath and looked down at her feet. “It’s…it’s like making blades from his bones, shields from his scales. It’s like desecrating his grave.” She could feel her nictitating membranes wiping away the tears that were forming. “I don’t know of any other way to explain it.”
There was silence for so long, Tythel wondered if Eupheme had slipped away. Finally, the other woman spoke. “I suppose I can understand that.” Eupheme came over and put an arm around Tythel’s shoulder. “I won’t press you on it again. I just want to ask one thing. If he were alive, do you think Karjon would hesitate to spend that entire treasure to keep you safe?”
Tythel opened her mouth to speak, but the sound turned into a sob. She buried her head in Eupheme’s shoulder, and Eupheme held her and let her cry. “How many times do I have lose him?” Tythel choked out. “First to the Alohym, then the egg, and now his hoard…how many times do I have to say goodbye to my father?”
Eupheme didn’t answer her at first, just held her and ran her hand through Tythel’s hair and letting her cry. “Don’t think of it at losing him,” Eupheme said gently. “Think of it as letting him still help you. I wish I had known him so I could say this with certainty, but from what you’ve told me…don’t you think he would have wanted that?”
Tythel gave Eupheme a grateful series of blinks. “Yes. He would have.” She pulled away from Eupheme and wiped her eyes. “Light and shadow, I’m a mess. I hardly seem like a princess or a dragon, do I? Just a whiny girl.”
Eupheme smiled. “Your highness, if things had been done properly, my duty would have been to be the person you could whine to.”
“Well…guess you get to do that anyway.”
Eupheme laughed. “It is my honor to be able to do so.”
Tythel wiped her eyes again, knowing they would be red and raw but feeling as if a great weight had been lifted.. “Thank you, Eupheme.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, I’ll offer it as an alternative.”
Eupheme smiled. “Wonderful. And what, then, shall we do with tonight? More mournful staring off the walls?”
Tythel did laugh now, and shook her head. “No, not that. I think tonight I’ll spend among the others.”
Eupheme nodded in approval, and the two women headed to find what trouble Armin had gotten himself up to, or see if Ossman was able to step away from his duties. They would drink, and dance, and have altogether a wonderful time.
None of them had any way of knowing it would be the last chance they had time together for quite some time.
Chapter 6
Tythel’s sleep was shattered by the clamoring of alarms. She was on her feet before her brain was fully awake, cobwebs of sleep burning away as her heart jack hammered in panic. Her vision cleared from the fog of sleep as Eupheme tossed Tythel her hammer. Tythel snatched it out of the air and extended it, then grabbed her shield from where it rested at the end of her bed. “What’s going on?” She shouted to Eupheme over the warbling wail.
Eupheme just shook her head to show she didn’t understand, then she stepped into the space behind the door. Tythel heard air rushing into occupy the space that Eupheme had just vacated, then another rush of air as Eupheme returned. “Downstairs is clear.”
Tythel nodded and rushed out the door and the Inn in bounding steps. Eupheme simply walked through the shadows to beat Tythel to the entrance, scanning the horizon.
Dawn was just beginning to shine over the companion, the top of the sun just peeking over the wall that surrounded the ancient city of Hallith. The alarm continued to cut through the cool air, masking most other sounds from Tythel’s ears. She could barely hear soldiers rushing around, gathering their weapons and armor. Someone nearby was shouting orders, and although Tythel couldn’t make out the words, she recognized the voice – Tellias. Tythel began to run towards him, hoping he’d know what had triggered the alert.
Before she reached him, the alarm cut out, having done its job. It was then, in the silence the followed, that Tythel heard it.
The sound of grinding metal in the sky.
“Ships!” Tythel shouted to Eupheme. The other woman’s face turned into a grim frown, and she nodded understanding. Tythel’s heart continued to pound. We’re not ready for this. The plateau was still being fortified. It didn’t have anything that could withstand a direct assault from the sky, not yet. It didn’t have a way to fight back against that either. They were utterly exposed. Tythel didn’t even know if she could hope to generate enough ghostflame to even give the ship pause, let alone take it down.
“Is the tunnel finished?” Eupheme asked Tythel as they ran.
“I don’t know,” Tythel said grimly, pumping her legs harder. The troops around Tellias resolved into her vision. He was standing on a block of stone, barking orders,
clad in armor that glowed like the rays of an arcwand.
One of Armin’s pet projects over the past month had been converting some of the captured Imperiplate to utilize arc packs instead of unlight, so it could be effectively used against the Alohym. He called them arcplate, which Tythel thought was unimaginative but functional and clear. The commanders each had been given one of the dozen pieces of arcplate Armin had managed to finish working on. Armin was certain they would work, but they’d never before been tested in anything close to a live scenario.
The men around Tellias moved out of Tythel and Eupheme’s way as they approached. They were all his soldiers, men who had followed Tellias’ father during the Alohym Wars and continued to follow the young Baron after his father’s death. Many of them were hoisting arcwards, but a distressing number were still armed with unlight weapons – useful against the Alohym’s soldiers, but worse than useless if the Alohym actually took the field. Let's hope they know that.
“Tellias!” Tythel shouted when she was close enough. He whipped his head towards her. None of his usual smiles today – just a grim nod of acknowledgement. “How many?”
“Three ships, only one of which is heavily armed. The other two are transports. They’ll be here in minutes.”
“How did they get so close without being spotted?” Tythel asked, aghast the alarm had taken so long to sound.
“The Alohym flew them through the flathing canyon. We couldn’t see them until they rounded the bend.”
Beside Tythel, Eupheme swore, and Tythel felt herself go pale. The canyon that had protected ancient Hallith should have been a perfect defense – and it had been, in the days when a chariot was the peak of military technology. Those days were long past, and Tythel was kicking herself for overlooking that detail. “How many soldiers?”
“They’ll have a couple hundred each in the transports, and two or three dozen imperiplate troopers in the warship. Not counting any Alohym, of course.”
Tythel’s brow furrowed. The rebels here outnumbered the Alohym forces, but without any way to deal with the ships, it would be a losing battle no matter how the ground fight went. “The tunnels?” She asked hopefully.
“Armin grabbed every Magi we have,” Tellias said. “They’ve gone down to try and crack through. They might make it in time, but…”
Tythel nodded in agreement before Tellias could even finish the thought. “If we’re trapped down there like rats, they’ll cut us to shreds.” In those close quarters, the rebels numerical advantage would mean nothing, and with twice or more the plate wearers, the Alohym’s forces would crush them.
A shout arose from the back of the soldiers. “They’re here!”
Tythel turned to see an Alohym warship breach over the wall, like some horrible cross of squid and whale leaping from the ocean’s depths. The Unlight crystals on the tip of its weapon bent the sunlight as they passed through the dawn air, creating halos around each crystal that grew larger as they began to charge power. Tythel was struck with a sense of vertigo. It reminded her so much of the way the vessel that had killed Karjon had parted the clouds, and for a moment she was that scared girl again, standing atop a mountain as the greatest day of her life rapidly turned into a nightmare.
She missed part of what Tellias was saying as she got the panic under control. “-so they can’t focus us down. Groups of five at most. Don’t clump up.”
Tythel took a moment to piece together what he had said, then nodded agreement. “Eupheme and I will come with you,” she said.
The transports rose aside the warship and began to disgorge their soldiers on the surrounding earth. Tellias gave her a single quick nod. “We’ll protect you with our lives, your highness.”
“I’d prefer if you protected your own, but if you have to protect mine, do it with arcwards and keep your lives,” Tythel responded. Some of the large arcwands they’d set up began to open fire on the disembarking Alohym troops. “Let’s get to positions.”
Tellias gave her a wolfish grin, and they began to take cover in ruined buildings and behind stone walls. Of the soldiers tossed Tythel an arcwand. She’d gotten some brief training in their usage from Armin over the month. Her aim was terrible, but she’d be able to add to the general fire until the approaching soldiers got into dragonflame range.
Then the warship opened fire, and unlight beams began to lance across the battlefield.
Tythel popped over the wall, raising her arcwand and squeezing off three quick shots in the general direction of the Alohym’s approaching troops. Between their armor and her terrible aim, she was relatively certain it did nothing except make them keep their heads down, but that meant they weren’t shooting back. At least, I hope it’s doing some good.
The warship had taken out their heavy Arcwands, and it was now charging for another shot. The Alohym were keeping it far in the back, so it couldn’t focus on individual soldiers. A small blessing. It was still plenty close to target any building the rebels built up a strong presence inside, cracking centuries-old stone like it was rotten wood.
Tythel slid along the wall so she wouldn’t be poking her head over the same spot and then jumped up to fire again. Another three shots, and she ducked back down.
“Incoming!” one of the soldiers shouted, diving to the ground. A sphere fell out of the sky and exploded in a burst of unlight, sending shards of rock and steel flying among the men. Tythel felt some of the shrapnel bite into her arm and hissed in pain.
“They’re closing in!” Another shouted from a watchtower. “On the lef-”
His warning was cut off with a sudden gurgle, and Tythel watched the man’s body fall limply out of the tower. Cold rage washed over Tythel. She hadn’t even known the man’s name, and he was dead now. Go peacefully to the shadow. Your warning won’t be in vain.
Tythel crawled along the ground towards the left of their position. There was an archway over there, and three Alohym soldiers were running towards it, their unlight weapons raised. They saw Tythel and pointed, starting to charge directly at her.
They clearly didn’t know what she could do. She took a deep breath and let loose a gout of dragonflame, moving her head in an arc to catch as many of them in fire as she could.
Their screams joined the general cacophony of the battlefield, and Tythel turned away, just in time to see the part of the wall she had just vacated explode. A soldier in full imperiplate had hit the wall at a charge and burst through, sliding to a stop across from Tythel with an unlight axe raised.
“Get down!” Tellias shouted, leaping into action before Tythel could even begin to draw breath. His arcplate’s light dimmed as he got closer to the imperiplate, and the battlefield rang with the force of his blow against his opponent.
“Get free so I can breathe!” Tythel shouted, but Tellias was lost in the struggle. The two metal-clad men were now in a grapple, the unlight axe discarded at the moment of impact.
Tythel loosed her hammer and ran to join in their struggle. She leapt as she got close to the fight, using her feet to push off of Tellias’ shoulders and fly over the imperiplate soldier’s head.
Eupheme was on this side of the breach, and she vanished into Tythel’s shadow right before Tythel landed in a roll. Tythel whirled and swung with her hammer. It met the side of the soldier’s hip and the armor cracked where it landed.
Tellias broke free of the grapple, bringing back one gauntleted fist to slam into the soldier’s faceplate. His opponent was fast and more experience with imperiplate. He managed to move out of the way in time, sending Tellias off balance. For a moment Tythel thought Tellias would come stumbling into her, but he caught himself before he did, instead bringing his gauntlet around to hit the spot Tythel had weakened. She could hear something break deep within the imperiplate, and the soldier inside became more frantic.
