He lifted one precise eyebrow. "I... see. Would you mind riding to the side? The army is coming this way, and I don't want you blocking the path."
He doesn't believe me. Or if he does, he doesn't know what to do about it. For that matter, neither do I. "I came out a side gate, just a few minutes ago. I left it open behind me."
That caught his attention. He questioned her closely, and she described the location of the gate as best she could. She could see skepticism in his face, but he gave messages to several of his men and sent them galloping off. Then he gestured to a couple of cavalrymen.
"Fishman. Tighe. I want you to take this young woman aside. Disarm her, and detain her until after the battle. I'll speak with her again then." He turned away, and the troopers in question closed on Tira.
She could see the battle unfolding in her mind's eye. The army had too much momentum to stop, too much weight to alter its plans. They would storm the walls, confident that their breastplates would keep them safe from any goblin arrow. But a crossbow at close range was quite different from the light bows goblins usually carried. Cursed crossbow bolts would punch through their armor, and chaos would spread through the attacking army. The battle would rage all day, inside the walls and out, and if Tira ever made it back inside it would be nightfall at the earliest. It might be the next day, or the day after.
There wasn't much chance that Elanyn and Tam still lived, she knew. But she was the only person looking out for them. If they yet lived, they needed an intervention. They needed a successful attack, not the debacle that was building.
One trooper leaned sideways in his saddle, reaching for the bridle of Tira's horse. The other man was coming up beside her. "I'll need your sword," he said.
Tira wanted to comply. She desperately wanted her part in this struggle to be over. She wanted to sit on the sidelines, under casual arrest, and wait for the battle to end. She could let her wounds close properly. She could eat, and have something to drink. It came to her suddenly that she was fiercely thirsty. Above all, she could get through this day without killing again. And she would be spared the heartbreaking experience of fighting her way back to the row house where she'd left Tam, and learning that she was too late.
Instead, she gave a sharp yank on her reins. The mare twitched her head to the side, and the trooper's hand, reaching for the bridle, closed on air. Tira dug her heels in, and the mare sprang away from the two troopers. She wheeled the horse around and galloped back toward the city.
Chapter 12
The troopers behind her cursed, and for a short time they gave chase. They quickly gave up, and she slowed her horse to a walk. She was filled with an urgent need to do something, to make a difference, but she wasn't sure quite what to do.
Far to her right, a column of riders galloped ahead of the main force, looping wide around as if to approach the city from the south. There were forty or fifty riders in the column, and she thought she recognized the lead horse. It was the officer who had interrogated her, no doubt going to investigate her story of an unlocked side gate. She allowed herself a bit of optimism. If those riders could fight their way through to the main gate, the attacking army might still prevail.
Her mind kept returning to the cart full of cursed bolts she'd seen, though. It was probably not the only such cart. There could be hundreds of cursed bolts waiting on the walls, or thousands. When the cavalry rode up, a mass of men pressed shoulder to shoulder, the goblins would hardly be able to miss.
One rider, though. A solitary rider was a much tougher target. The goblins had wasted a couple of dozen bolts shooting at her as she rode away. They had proven themselves to be excitable and to be very poor shots. How many more bolts might they waste if she came back?
She peered over her shoulder. The sun was getting higher and higher. Its blinding effect would only decrease, and it wouldn't be long before the mass of cavalry reached the walls. If she was going to commit a spectacular suicide, she'd best be getting on with it.
Doing her best to put the grim thought out of her head, Tira nudged her horse into a faster walk. She wanted to get to the walls, but she wanted the animal ready to run.
Closer and closer they came, the walls looming higher and higher. She could see the faces of individual goblins peering at her between the crenels, resting bulky crossbows on the stone before them. Soon she could make out their eyes peering out from beneath helmets of leather or iron. She was close enough to see one goblin flare his nostrils when the first crossbow fired.
The bolt hit the ground a few feet in front of Tira, and the mare pranced, whinnying nervously. Tira dug in her heels. "Hiya! Come on, you nag, let's see if you can run. Hiya!"
The horse sprang forward, charging straight at the walls, and the goblins launched a fusillade of bolts. Most of them thudded into the ground behind her. When she was a dozen feet out from the wall, Tira turned the horse to the left. The barrage of bolts had ended, and she realized the goblins needed time to reload.
She ran the horse along the grass parallel to the wall, giving more goblins an opportunity to shoot. Bolts smacked into the grass, most of them ahead of her. The goblins were excited, shooting too soon, every bolt coming in at long range while the closest goblins could only watch her gallop past as they reloaded.
Goblins farther along the wall must have learned from that example, because the long shots began to die down. She started getting bolts at closer range, and the accuracy increased significantly. A bolt tore through the horse's mane, sending up a cloud of hair. A moment later blood came welling out, pouring down the sides of the mare's neck. A bolt passed so close in front of Tira's face that she flinched back, rocking against the high cantle of her saddle.
By the time she was a hundred feet from the road, the barrage of fire stopped. The crossbows seemed to be concentrated at the main gates, where the cavalry would likely be thickest. Tira reined in the horse and turned her around. She wanted to give the mare a chance to catch her breath, and give herself a break from mortal terror, but the mare just pranced beneath her, refusing to rest. Tira waited another thirty seconds, giving the closest goblins time to finish reloading their crossbows, and went galloping back toward the gate.
A bolt slammed into Tira's ankle, and she screamed. She looked down, and saw the bloody head poking through her boot. There was a cut in the horse's side, and a fresh trickle of blood. She would have to stop heeling the horse with that leg, or she would half kill the poor animal.
"Hiya!" she said instead. "Hiya!" Not that the horse needed urging. The gallant animal was galloping for all she was worth, ignoring the bolts that rained down all around her.
Something jerked against Tira's shoulders. She still wore the empty quiver on her back, and it seemed to have collected a bolt. Another bolt flew past her hand so close that the feathers brushed her skin. She crossed the road and kept going, giving the goblins on the far side a chance to join in the fun.
At last the shooting petered out and she reined the horse to a stop. The mare was panting and blowing, flecks of foam flying from her muzzle, and Tira reached down to pat the side of her blood-streaked neck. "You're a fine, brave horse," she said. "I can't believe we survived that."
The horse made a noise deep in her chest, a sound of suffering, and Tira looked backward. There was a bolt jutting from the horse's hindquarters, just behind the saddle. The bolt was buried so deep only the feathers were showing.
"Oh, no." She leaned forward, patting the horse's quivering neck. "Oh, I'm so sorry. This was never your fight."
A bolt flew from the wall beside her, missing her chest by inches. She'd given the goblin time to reload, and to line up a nice, careful shot. Tira thought about retreat, but it was already too late to save the horse. She gave the gallant animal another pat and said, "What do you think, girl? Can you manage one more run?"
The mare nickered, and Tira, conscious of the bolt sticking out of her boot, drummed her other heel against the mare's ribs and shouted, "Hiya!"
She
was just in time. Another bolt cut through the air behind her as the horse exploded into motion. The goblins seemed to be getting better, and the mare was moving slower. Bolts slashed through the air, closer and closer. A bolt sliced into the shoulder of her shirt and hung there, caught in a wrinkle of fabric. Tira thought she'd escaped injury until she felt blood trickle down her chest. The pain came a moment later. It was just a nick, though. Compared to her ankle it was nothing at all.
A bolt grazed the leather guard on her wrist and bounced away. Another bolt buried itself in the pommel of the saddle in front of her, and she glanced up. She immediately regretted it. The goblins were jammed shoulder to shoulder along the top of the wall, so thick they terrified her.
The road was nine or ten yards in front of her when the mare stumbled. Tira clutched the pommel of the saddle as the mare managed a couple of more steps, and then collapsed on her side. Tira managed to get her foot out of the stirrup in time, but she couldn't pull her leg up fast enough. The full weight of the horse came down on her foot and ankle, pinning her to the grass.
Three or four bolt slammed into the horse's side, and more bolts hit the grass all around Tira. There was an explosion of pain in her forearm, and she saw the feathered end of a bolt jutting from the sleeve of her jacket halfway between her wrist and elbow. The bolt had passed between the bones of her forearm, pinning her arm to the ground.
She braced her foot against the mare's saddle, heaving with all her strength, trying to pull her leg out. Agony ripped through her ankle. The trapped ankle was the one with a bolt through it.
The mare twitched, then rolled off of Tira and stood. The mare's eyes, so warm and intelligent just a moment before, were cold and blank as they stared at Tira. Then the dead horse rose up on her hind legs, front hooves lifted high to crush Tira.
It was the goblins who inadvertently saved her. A barrage of bolts rained down, tearing into the body of the horse, and a key bone or tendon must have given way. The mare collapsed, and Tira lifted her arm, pulling the bolt through the wound in her forearm, hissing with pain as the feathers dragged through her flesh. Then she rose to her feet, ignoring the agony in her ankle, and set off at a hobbling run for the wall.
The mare tried to bite her as she passed. A few more bolts hit the grass around her, but most of the closest goblins seemed to be reloading. She reached the base of the wall without further injury, put her back to the stone, and took her weight off of the injured ankle.
The mare continued to thrash on the grass, and Tira closed her eyes, not wanting to see it. She had been a brave horse, and she had deserved better.
A wave of dizziness washed over Tira, and she opened her eyes, then blinked in surprise as several crossbow bolts came tumbling down and landed on the grass near her feet. She grinned despite her pain as she realized what was happening. Goblins were leaning far out and trying to fire directly downward at her. The string of a crossbow, though, didn't keep tension on the bolt before it was fired. If you tilted the weapon too far, the bolt would simply fall out.
She looked up, scanning the top of the wall above her. There was no overhang to protect her. She could see goblins directly above her, looking down. Soon they would start looking for something heavy to drop on her. She told herself that she should move, make herself a harder target, but she didn't have the strength.
Voices bellowed somewhere nearby, and she heard the clash of steel on steel. A large shape tumbled from the top of the wall several feet to her right, and she flinched. It wasn't a missile aimed at her, though. It was a goblin, blood streaming from a wound in his chest. He landed hard on the edge of the road, close to the main gates, and kept straining to reach the sword that had landed a few feet from his outstretched hand.
Another goblin fell from the walls, and then the main gates of the city came swinging open. Men and goblins spilled out. For a moment there was milling chaos on the road, men and goblins hacking at each other. The ground trembled, and Tira turned her head as hundreds of cavalry came sweeping in. A few crossbow bolts flashed down from the city walls, but the horsemen poured into the city and the crossbows stopped.
The horses were moving quickly, but it seemed to take a long time for the last of the riders to go past. The sounds of battle were already fading as Tira put one hand on the wall for support and hopped along on her good foot, heading for the gates.
The dead were thick on the ground at first, most of them goblins, but a fair number of troopers as well. She saw a man with a crossbow bolt through his breastplate, a man on either side of him holding his arms as he struggled. She could see another trooper among the dead, his arms and legs severed and lying beside his torso.
A warhorse stood abandoned near the base of the wall. The horse laid his ears back as Tira approached, but she made soothing noises and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Eventually he calmed down enough to let her drag herself up into the saddle. She rode slumped over, clinging to the pommel of the saddle, fighting alternating waves of dizziness and pain. She could hear sounds of battle in the distance, and she saw human faces peering at her from windows, but the streets were empty.
It was not easy to find the row house she was looking for. She finally had to return to the castle and trace her steps backward from there. But at last she found the right building, and began the painful process of wriggling down from the saddle.
The front door was open, and she leaned on the doorframe, listening. She heard only silence. She limped down the corridor, cringing at the noise she made as her injured foot dragged on the floor behind her. The stairs defeated her until she dropped to her knees and crawled upward. She found a splintered door, the room beyond littered with the shattered remains of the chair that had been wedged under the knob. There were also three dead goblins.
She looked up at the steep, narrow staircase leading to the attic and knew she would never make it up there. It was too late, anyway. She could see only darkness at the top of the stairs, hear only silence. Tam and Elanyn were dead.
"I'm sorry, Tam," she murmured. "I did my best." Then she sagged to the floor and surrendered to a rising darkness.
It might have been moments later when she felt gentle fingers on her shoulder. It might have been years. The fingers tapped at her, then shook, then shook harder. Then someone turned her over onto her back, and she opened her eyes.
"Tam. Are you dead?"
He gave her a tired grin. "No, but it was a near thing. It looks like I had an easier time of it than you did, though. You're a mess."
Elanyn leaned into her field of view. "Open your mouth."
Tira instinctively pressed her lips together.
The elf held up a small glass bottle. "You need to drink this."
The bottle seemed to shine in her hand, a green glow that bathed her fingers and made them look like the stalks of a strange plant. Tira kept her lips closed tight and shook her head.
"It's a healing potion," said Tam urgently. His eyes flickered across her body. "Believe me, you need it."
"No magic," she said.
"Tira, please!" he said. "Be reasonable. She gave me one. It helped."
Tira thought of all the horrors she had seen that day, and shook her head. "No bloody magic," she said. "Not now, not ever. Is that clear?"
Tam's face filled with sorrow. Elanyn nodded her understanding, and Tira let her eyes slide shut. The pain from her wounds was fading. She could hear Tam and Elanyn arguing over something, their voices a distant hum, like bees in a sunny meadow. It was a pleasant image, and she smiled, feeling herself begin to drift away from the room, the city, and all of the suffering and regret that went with it.
"No, Tam, you cannot do-"
Hard fingers pried Tira's mouth open, and a cool liquid splashed onto her tongue. For a moment it was bitter, and then an ecstatic sweetness seemed to coat her entire mouth. She swallowed, and the sweet warmth traced its way down her throat and into her stomach. After a pause it exploded outward, filling her, consuming her, and suddenly ev
ery one of her injuries was on fire. She cried out in pain, but by the time her lungs were empty of air, the pain was gone.
She opened her eyes. Tam was looking down at her. The sorrow was gone from his face, replaced by uncertainty. Elanyn was looking at him, her mouth tight, a frown creasing her forehead.
"You need to rest now," said Tam. "It takes a lot out of you. Lie still."
She wanted to tell him how angry she was. She wanted to yell, or slap his face, but she felt as limp as wet laundry. She stuck her tongue out at him instead. For some reason that made him smile, and she made a mental note to slap him later. Then she surrendered to the rising darkness and let the world slip away.
Chapter 13
The road was a dark ribbon with a wall of thick forest on either side. Tira rode alone, making better time than she was used to without Daisy to hold her back. She smiled to herself. She almost missed the mule.
She missed Tam, as well. He was a day's ride behind her, at Raven Crossing. He and Daisy were dedicating themselves to the rebuilding of the village. "I'm needed here," he had told her, and she had agreed.
When he suggested that she could stay as well, she had hastily declined. It was becoming clear to her that ten years of adventuring had changed her, spoiled her for the rustic life. She wasn't sure she was ever going to return to the farm that had been her own home, a lifetime ago.
At any rate, there was a job that had to be finished before she could make that choice. Sometimes she still felt Sari's little arms around her waist as she rode. Sari was at rest now, but there would be other little girls. Tira had to put an end to the necromancer. It was just that simple.
She made camp in a clearing beside the road, unsaddling her horse, setting the saddle and bridle on a fallen log, and draping her new cloak over it all. It was a distinctive saddle, instantly recognizable to the king's cavalry, and she didn't want to be accused of horse theft. She felt she'd earned the horse, but she would breathe easier once she was out of the kingdom.
Bone Magic Page 13
