“The three armies were to have launched this attack yesterday morning. By now the issue should have been resolved,” he declared, feeling a twinge of annoyance that he couldn’t claim to know what his army had accomplished during his absence.
“We will pray for the best, of course, and know that, if courage and ingenuity can prevail, your army will have crossed successfully,” said Sir Martin, offering a toast.
“I have seen the barricades and breastworks in the street,” Jaymes noted, awkwardly changing the subject. “How well are you prepared to stand against another attack?”
The duchess nodded at Lord Martin, who wore the tunic of a Sword Knight with the golden epaulets of a high-ranking officer. “Bartholomew, can you summarize our situation?” she prompted.
“Most of the wall, and the other two gatehouses, are still intact. But the destruction at the west gate has created a tremendous vulnerability, as you no doubt saw today. We have established command posts at inns, stables, and warehouses within the area of devastation and committed most of our reserves to holding those streets. But if the fire giant comes like before, I don’t know how we can expect to hold anywhere.”
That bleak assessment, all too realistic, cast a pall over the rest of the meal and conversation. But finally the food was eaten and the other guests departed. The duchess rose and indicated two soft chairs near the large, currently chilly, hearth.
“Please understand that your visit here has boosted morale,” she began, taking one of the chairs and gesturing him toward the other. “My morale, in any event. I’m pleased you have risked coming. And I am intrigued about this magical tool you speak of possessing. What more can you tell me about it? I pray it gives us a fighting chance.”
He shook his head ruefully. “It is not a weapon. At best, it will allow me only to learn certain things about this creature. I have to believe that this knowledge, this intelligence, will lead to a winning tactic. I can’t promise any more than that.”
The serving girl returned to the room, bringing a fresh bottle of red wine-a rare vintage that, Jaymes suspected, the duchess had been saving for a very long time.
“That will be all, Darcy,” the duchess said after the last plates of dinner had been carried away. “But you may leave the bottle.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said the maid, curtsying politely then closing the door behind herself as she departed.
“So you were a friend of Dara Lorimar’s?” Jaymes asked, settling into the chair beside her.
“Yes, and of Selinda du Chagne’s. I come from Palanthas but spent summers on the plains. Lord Lorimar’s estate was a favorite refuge of mine, and I do remember seeing you back then, when you worked for the lord as his guard captain. Dara was a little bit in love with you, I think. I’m beginning to understand why.”
“She was only a girl,” he said. His tone was cold, cutting off further inquiry. “And she died too soon to know anything about love.”
“You are a strange man,” Brianna rebuked him sharply. “Cold and frightening, but frightened in your own way, as well.” Then she smiled almost coyly. “Don’t you think I know that you killed my husband? That you stole the Jewels of Garnet from his wagon?”
He blinked, momentarily taken aback, before shrugging. “I didn’t come here to apologize. He deserved to die. And I needed the jewels-for Solamnia,” he replied.
“Yes,” she said tersely, “you are right. The duke did deserve to die. He was a coward, venal and greedy at heart. And he abandoned his city when his people needed him the most. I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Of all the possible reactions, that is not what I expected to hear from you,” Jaymes allowed softly. “To be honest with you, I must tell you the rest of the story-the whole story. I killed your husband to punish him for a terrible crime. But, as it turns out, he didn’t commit that crime. Someone else did. Someone who remains free.”
“You killed him because you thought he killed Lord Lorimar?” asked Brianna, smiling thinly. “Yes, I heard that. But I know he didn’t have the courage for such a deed.”
“He had a reputation as a splendid swordsman; he’d faced men in duels to the death and always won. Except that last time, of course.”
“But he fought you because you challenged him; usually he was very careful to arrange his duels so that he couldn’t possibly lose.” She shrugged. “So he died for something he didn’t do, when there were many things he did do for which he deserved punishment. But enough of this talk-I don’t want to reminisce about my late husband.”
Jaymes looked at her with fresh, wondering eyes. She was indeed a rare woman.
The duchess leaned forward with the decanter and filled his glass with wine, rich and full and almost the color of blood. Then she added enough to her own so it, too, was full. She raised it to him, and he followed suit.
“You, my dear Lord Marshal, are just what this nation needs-if it’s ever going to be a nation again. You don’t lose your head in battle, and men seem to follow you, even die for you. Lots of men.” She smiled again. “And some women, too, I would dare to venture.”
He shrugged. “For the most part, I do things by myself. I act alone.”
“Tonight,” she said, sliding into his willing arms. “You will not be alone.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BATTLES ANEW
‘The Solamnics have crossed the river at the south ford-using a bridge made of pontoon boats-and have established a strong position on the east bank,” Captain Blackgaard reported. He was still covered with dust from his long ride but had wasted no time in reporting to Ankhar when he reached the army’s position outside Solanthus.
“Can they be pushed back into the river?” growled the army commander.
“Doubtful, my lord. Very doubtful,” reported the veteran officer and former Dark Knight. “At best, the goblins might be able to hold them for a few days. And Rib Chewer’s warg riders will harass them well as they advance. But there are now at least a thousand knights on this side of the river. They can go where they will, and I suspect they soon will be coming here.”
“This bridge-how did they build it so quickly?”
Blackgaard described the pontoon and plank operation, and Ankhar frowned, shaking his head. “Ingenious, I admit. And this ‘bridge’ was sturdy enough for armored knights to cross?”
“Indeed, lord. And they used magical concealment, a conjured fog, to slip it across without our men detecting their activity.”
“Huh! But it is clear they are acting with desperation,” the half-giant reflected. “They must have heard about our pet and the attack that has left Solanthus vulnerable. I wonder how they are able to obtain such information so soon. Well, no doubt about it, the elemental king has captured the full attention of the knighthood.”
“You are right, lord-they are desperate. The marshal threw his whole army at us in three great attacks. The Solamnics suffered heavy losses, but they seem determined to forge ahead.”
“All the more reason why we must smash the city now,” the half-giant concluded. He addressed several goblin runners who were standing by, waiting for orders. “Summon Bloodgutter, and that hob Spleenripper. Also Eaglebeak Archer. Bring the Thorn Knight and my mother to me as well. I will go to await them at my watchtower.”
Within a few moments, Ankhar’s key lieutenants had joined him on an observation hillock just out of bowshot range of the former West Gate. The half-giant stood on the earthen rampart, high above the level of the plain, his fists braced on his hips. He glared across the gap created by the elemental’s swath of destruction and studied the still-standing walls of Solanthus. The Cleft Spires rose from the center of the city, the twin monoliths outlined clearly as the morning sun rose from the horizon beyond the city.
The captain of the Lemish Ogres arrived, having followed a covered trench back from the ruins of the West Gate. “Have the attack paths been cleared?” Ankhar asked Bloodgutter, one of his most trusted captains, a cunning and savage warrior.
“Three routes are ready,” the captain replied. “Two more will be open by tomorrow.”
“We can’t wait until tomorrow. We attack today.”
“Yes, my lord,” the ogre replied, snorting aggressively. “We’re ready to kill.”
“I know that. Here is the plan. You will send a third of your troops up each attack route. Push past the human defenses and seize the buildings immediately inside the walls and the towers to either side.” He turned to another subcommander, one who had been part of his great horde ever since they had first descended from the Garnet Mountains some three years earlier. “Spleenripper, I want you to send a thousand hobs and gobs after each group of ogres. When you get into the city, spread out and drive the humans before you.”
Spleenripper cackled, gesturing to the ranks of brutish warriors already gathered behind the hillock. “We are already in position. Give the word, lord, and we will move!”
Ankhar nodded, turning to the captain of his goblin archers. “Eaglebeak, your companies must shower the humans on both sides of the gap with arrows. Shoot as fast as you can-don’t worry about using all your arrows. By tonight, we will be able to pick them up from the streets of Solanthus!” That worthy warrior, too, pledged his obedience.
Finally the half-giant turned to Laka and Hoarst. The Thorn Knight in his ash-gray cape stood there, listening stoically, while the old shaman, for her part, hopped back and forth on her feet. She barked with mirth as her stepson asked to see the small, delicate box. The rubies lining the cover and sides sparkled brightly in the midday sun.
“The king is ready, my lord-my son!” she crowed. “I will release him upon your command.”
“Good.” Ankhar looked at Hoarst, who nodded and pulled his cape back, just enough to reveal that he gripped the slender wand, the tool that barred the elemental from attacking them, ready in his right hand. The half-giant nodded, satisfied.
“Eaglebeak, assemble your archers. As soon as they launch the first volley, my mother will open the ruby box.”
The morning light heightened Brianna’s gaunt features, and as she blinked herself awake, Jaymes couldn’t help but see she was close to starvation. But she smiled at him, and warmth in her eyes softened her thin face and seemed to give life to her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. He had been propped up on an elbow, preparing to rise, but now he lay still, regarding her.
“You’re an admirable woman,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You didn’t deserve to suffer a man like Rathskell, and yet now you’re doing his job far better than he ever did. The people of Solanthus are fortunate.”
“I… I’m not usually like this,” she said, sitting up and demurely holding the blanket to conceal her nakedness. “But… I needed-”
“I needed something too,” the man replied, touching her cheek. “I understand and I’m glad that it happened.”
“So am I,” she said before abruptly popping out of bed with the blanket draped, toga style, around her. “Now you have to get out of here.” She glided to the wall and pushed on a panel, revealing a dark passage behind a door he had not noticed before. “This will take you back to your room-hurry,” she said.
Jaymes returned to his bedroom along the secret hallway. It was already past dawn, and he could hear the sounds of footsteps and dishes rattling in the kitchen, all proof that the ducal palace was astir. He dressed quickly and was slinging Giantsmiter in its heavy scabbard over his shoulder when someone knocked, rather insistently, at the door.
“Come in,” he barked, picking up one of his miniature crossbows, making sure the spring was cocked, ready to receive one of the lethal bolts into the firing groove.
A courier in golden epaulets, one of the officers who had been at dinner the previous evening, opened the door and bowed his head briefly. “Forgive the intrusion, my Lord Marshal, but there is activity in the enemy camp. The duchess has been informed as well. She suggests we observe from the tower nearest to the ruin, atop the city wall.”
“I’ll be right with you.” The lord marshal prepared his other crossbow and settled both of them in the straps at his belt. “Take me straight to the wall,” he said.
They proceeded at a trot past many of the defensive breastworks that had been set up in streets, at intersections. Jaymes glimpsed archers assembled atop flat-roofed buildings and a walled courtyard where a small company of armored knights had gathered, holding the reins of their horses. They arrived at the base of the city wall, where four Sword Knights stood guarding a small door. The four knights stepped aside to let the two men pass so they could head up the interior stairs.
A few moments later, Jaymes climbed, slightly breathless, onto the top of the tower nearest to the ruined gatehouse. He was rather surprised to find the duchess already there. Brianna looked at him in welcome, though he saw no trace of the soft familiarity that had been in her eyes when he left her. She gestured to the plain beyond the city.
“They will be coming very soon now,” she said in a tone of icy calm.
She was right, Jaymes saw immediately. Huge columns of ogres, three thick formations, had moved to within a few hundred yards of the city, remaining just beyond longbow range. To either flank, even larger formations of goblins advanced, but where the ogres held to their massive columns, the gobs formed a series of long lines ranked parallel to the city wall. These were archers, and their bows were strung.
Inside the area where the West Gate had stood, Jaymes could see several wide, smooth paths through the rubble, each of them protected by steep, high walls of rocks to either side. Those attack routes emerged into the plaza that had once been directly inside the gate. In that open square, the city’s defenders had erected a series of wooden barricades and stone breastworks. The line was manned by able warriors, their spears and swords bristling, but they were a paltry substitute for the fortress wall that no longer existed.
“I need to go down there among the defenders,” Jaymes said. “I must get ready to meet and face this monster, in close quarters, when it comes.”
“But you won’t be able to see through all the chaos,” Brianna countered. “Shouldn’t you stay up here until it materializes and then take up your position?”
“No, it will attack there,” he said, pointing at the manned barricade across the plaza, utterly confident in his ideas. “And I need to be blocking its path, right in front of it.”
“Go, then, and may the gods grant you protection and success,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. For just a moment her eyes softened, and he saw the warmth, even a hint of the need for intimacy that had filled her face last night.
“Thanks,” he said, nodding and holding still for her touch. Finally Jaymes turned and started down the tower’s interior stairway. A moment later he emerged at the base and proceeded to follow the street just inside the city wall until he came to the plaza.
Looking around the plaza, which was busy with defenders rushing back and forth, he loosened the flap on the pouch holding the helm. But as yet he didn’t put on the helm.
“You look like an able-bodied bloke; take up a place here on the left flank,” said a Sword Knight, apparently the captain of this section of the line. “Can you use that big blade you’re carrying?” the knight asked skeptically.
“Yes. But I want to be in the middle of the line,” Jaymes said.
“Suit yourself,” the man replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hey, are you the lor-”
“I’m a warrior and a swordsman, and I’m here to do my job like everyone else.” Striding past the officer, the lord marshal made his way to the center of the long breastwork. The barrier consisted mainly of overturned wagons and carts all nailed together with long sections of planking. Here and there, large square stones had been stacked together to make a more solid barrier. The men who were holding this line were gaunt and sallow soldiers, with some citizens mixed in. All wore determined faces.
The battle began as a faint stirring of noise that first came from sections of the city wall to either sid
e of the plaza. Jaymes watched as a shower of arrows materialized, high in the sky. The missiles clattered along the parapets, many of them skipping off the stones to plummet into the city streets. He hoped the duchess had ducked inside; the tower where he left her was the target of a particularly dense volley.
Arrows flew outward as well, launched by the defenders lining the walls, but the volley was meager compared with the shower of missiles that flew from the goblins. At the same time, a steady drumming became audible; the ogres were on the march. The sound rattled the very ground Jaymes stood on, swelling in volume with the tempo.
“They’re comin’ at a goodly clip,” one gray-haired veteran declared sagely, to the nods of the men and boys around him. “Be here real soon, that’s my guess.”
But they had even less time than that before a monstrous shape appeared, towering over the piles of rubble that marked the site of the gatehouse. The king of the elementals was as tall as the city walls, Jaymes realized. The creature bore closer with a steady, ominous gait. Its two eyes burned outward from a massive face that resembled nothing so much as a craggy cliff.
Several of the defenders, boys too young to shave probably, began to cry softly as the monster neared. “Reminds me of Mina’s red dragons at Sanction,” the old veteran said conversationally, taking the time to spit on the ground. “Lotsa noise and fuss-they was really something to see, I tell you. But they’re just critters like the rest of us. Critters what can kill, but critters what can be killed too.”
The boys listened, wide eyed, and the man’s words seemed to calm some of their fears. Jaymes didn’t feel any need to dispute the fellow’s claim, though the king of the elementals seemed different than any “critter” he had ever witnessed.
Its torso looked to be solid rock. Its arms lashed about, supple as tentacles, translucent in color-and clearly powerful, as one reached out to smash at a chimney that had somehow survived the ruin of the gatehouse. Smacked by that limb, it crumbled like a toy.
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