‘You want me to take that shit? When you know what it did to Eithne?’
‘I’m not suggesting this lightly, Serrah.’
‘Why the fuck are you suggesting it at all?’ she hissed.
‘Because I can’t think of anything else that might get us out of here alive,’ he replied calmly.
‘Oh, yes, taking a dangerous drug’s really going to help in this situation, isn’t it?’
‘Think. When you were in the CIS you faced gangs who used this stuff. Remember how greatly their stamina was increased? How aggressive they were?’
‘They were bandits. Scum.’
‘That’s not the point. Ramp can give you an edge that just might make the difference.’
‘The damn stuff took so much from me.’
‘Then let it give you something back.’
‘I notice you’re talking about me taking it. What about you?’
‘Which one of us has a form of near immortality? Which of us gets berserk rages? Who needs ramp most to get us out of here?’
‘I’m scared,’ she confessed, eyes misting.
He embraced her. ‘Of course you are. But did you think I’d ask you to do this if there was any other way?’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘No more so than facing what’s outside without it.’
She pulled away. ‘All right, I’ll do it. But right now, and don’t say anything more, Reeth. I don’t want any reason to change my mind.’
‘Give me your hand.’ She was shaking slightly. ‘I’m with you,’ he assured her. He poured a quantity of the crystalline substance into her open hand.
She stared at it.
‘Here, wash it down with this.’ He passed her the canteen. ‘You know how it goes, don’t you? You’ll roar for a couple of hours before it wears off. After that you’ll feel pretty washed out, but otherwise you should be all right.’
‘I may never forgive you for this, Caldason.’ She lifted her hand to her mouth and lapped the crystals, then she pulled a face. A swig from the flask gave her a brief coughing fit. ‘What now?’ she said huskily.
‘We wait. It should take effect soon.’
‘How will I know?’
‘You’ll know.’
31
‘Oh.’
‘What is it?’
‘My heart,’ Serrah said, laying a hand on her chest. ‘It jumped.’
‘Take a couple of deep breaths,’ Caldason advised.
She did.
‘All right?’
‘I’m fine.’ Her eyes looked strange.
‘We should put the armour back on.’
‘Nah, fuck it.’
‘I think the ramp’s working, Serrah.’
She massaged her forehead for a few seconds. ‘You could be right.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘I feel…I feel light-headed. I feel like I want to be sick, and dance. Or fight, run, cry, laugh…I don’t know.’
‘Yes, it’s working.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Soon you’ll start to feel a surge of energy, and well-being. Your reflexes are going to get faster. A lot faster. And you’ll probably feel reckless. That’s something you have to be careful about, Serrah. This isn’t a situation where either of us can afford to be careless.’
‘Uh? Sorry, my attention drifted. What were you saying?’
He spoke deliberately. ‘Ramp changes the way you think. It can affect your judgement. Do you understand?’
‘Gods, but I’m spoiling for a fight.’
‘I think you just answered my question.’ He took her firmly by the shoulders. ‘The ramp gives you stamina, and it’ll make you fight savagely if it comes to a brawl. But given the odds, it’s better using that extra energy trying to run for it.’
‘You’re no fun.’
‘We’ve got to act soon, Serrah. We need a plan.’
‘To run? How much of a plan do we need for that? We should–Oow!’ Her face clenched.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think it just kicked in harder.’
‘It’s going to get more intense before you reach a peak.’ He looked to the breaking dawn. ‘We need to move soon, before it gets much lighter. How are you with that?’
‘All right. What do we do?’
‘We keep it simple. What we want is a diversion to give us the chance to get clear, and ideally grab a couple of their horses.’
‘What kind of diversion?’
‘I thought we could use this.’ He was rummaging in a pocket again.
‘You’re a cornucopia. Is it something else Darrok gave you?’
Reeth brought out a small cloth-wrapped bundle. ‘No. This is thanks to you, actually.’ He opened the package and showed her.
‘Dragon’s blood? It needs salt water to set off. Got any?’
‘No. But does it have to be sea water?’
‘I don’t know, we’ve never tried it with anything else.’
‘Maybe it’d work with any liquid, and we’ve got the brandy.’
‘What about salt? Do you happen to have a ration of that on you?’
‘No, but you have.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You do in a way. The ramp raises your body temperature quite a bit. Unless you’re different to everybody else who’s ever taken it, you’re going to start perspiring soon.’
She smiled, just a little manically. ‘Sweat and brandy. Cute. It might just work.’
‘You still all right?’ He was studying her closely.
‘Gods help me, Reeth, but this stuff is nice. So hurry up. I’m finding it hard keeping a grip.’
‘The drug’s making you restless. Do some more deep breathing while I sort out the dragon’s blood.’
He tapped a little heap of the powder onto two thin strips of cloth, then added a couple of masonry chips for weight. Finally he wrapped and tied them.
‘So we lob those out to keep them busy below, then…what?’ Serrah asked. ‘I mean, we’ve got a bloody great bell blocking the only entrance. How do we get out of this place?’
‘Down the outside.’ He nodded at the bell frame. ‘There’s plenty of rope.’ He began unwinding it. ‘You might use up some of that energy by giving me a hand.’
When they had two sufficiently long lengths secured, she said, ‘So what are we waiting for?’
‘Hold still.’ He touched one of the packages to her forehead. It came away stained with damp. He did the same with the other, and handed it to her. ‘Ready?’
She nodded.
He took the flask of brandy and doused the packages. ‘You throw from this side, I’ll throw from the other. We go over the wall there.’ He pointed. ‘All right?’
Her expression had grown severe, her eyes hard. ‘Let’s just do this, shall we?’
Their bundles started to smoulder.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘We forgot to put the breastplates back on. Too late now.’
‘They’d only slow us down,’ she stated matter-of-factly.
He kissed her. ‘Right? Go!’
They tossed their combustible packages over the low wall, then immediately grabbed the ropes. A loud report rang out, accompanied by a dazzling flash. Instantly, it happened again.
‘Now!’ he yelled.
They rushed to the wall and looked over. As they’d hoped, most of the invaders had dashed to the other side of the tower to investigate the explosions. There were only a handful of men below, and not too far beyond them, a string of horses. Time was in short supply. Reeth and Serrah vaulted over the wall and began to abseil down.
Caldason thought they were going to get down unspotted, almost to the point where their feet touched ground, but then things got messy.
Somebody shouted. Another voice joined in, and another. As they were releasing the knots on their ropes, a dozen men or more swept in to face them, and any idea of slipping away under cover of chaos was shattered. Rapidly drawing their blades, they moved forward to mee
t the enemy.
It was no time for finesse. Caldason met his first opponent with direct brutality, felling the man with a single, massive blow to his head. Without pause he ploughed into the next two, dealing them wounds that were grievous if not fatal. He worked like some kind of automaton, designed for no other function than butchery. Foes were cut down ruthlessly, pumping blood, shedding severed limbs.
Serrah fought just as mercilessly. To those trying to stop her, it seemed she moved at almost eye-blurring speed. She countered blows with ease, apparently anticipating attacks before they were made, and simply engaging her blade was too thorny a task for most of the men trying to block her way.
From her ramp-stoked point of view, it was like strolling through a waxworks. The manikins she weaved around and slashed at were sluggish, dull-witted creatures, too inept in their responses and too slow to fall. It seemed to her that hacking at scarecrows would have provided more of a challenge.
Curiously, one part of her mind remained disengaged from the task at hand. A morsel of her consciousness was like a bird in a gilded cage, looking out at events with the detachment of a spectator, and whatever unpleasantness might be occurring all around, much of it prompted by her crimson blade, the world had a certain fetching quality. She was particularly taken by the lovely green and purple shimmer around the edges of her vision.
A face appeared in the centre of her dream. She would have swatted at it with her steel scourge, and made it go away like all the rest, except there was something familiar about the image.
‘Serrah! Serrah!’ Reeth was shaking her roughly. ‘Come on, Serrah!’
She focused and looked around. They were surrounded by corpses and groaning wounded.
‘The others are coming,’ he told her. ‘We have to move!’
He grabbed her arm and all but dragged her away from the tower’s base. There was an outcry behind them, and the sounds of pursuit. Caldason pulled her towards the line of tethered horses they’d seen from above. Somebody loomed in their path, an axe raised. A bout of hacking cleared the obstruction and added another wash of red to the trampled snow.
A mob was at their heels. Caldason’s intention had been for them to take a horse each, but he wasn’t sure if Serrah could handle one in her state, so he untied a single mount, bundled her on and swung into the saddle himself. Arrows were flying again. Ducking to avoid a hit, he spurred the horse meanly.
They galloped out into a grey, cold new day.
A group of riders, around a score, chased them towards the redoubt. But at the halfway point they fell away, reasoning perhaps that expending such resources on two people was hardly cost effective. And doubtless taking comfort from the fact that their quarry would soon share an inescapable fate.
On their sprint back to the redoubt they saw great black columns of smoke rising from various points along the coast. The islanders, it seemed, were putting up a spirited defence. On the plain facing the redoubt itself, enemy forces were massing. Not the full strength of the empires’ armies, which must surely be on their way, but advance troops, though still numbering many hundreds.
The demilitarised zone surrounding the redoubt was ample enough to allow Reeth and Serrah to get in. They were lucky; from now on it would be impossible.
Inside, all was abuzz. People were dashing in every direction, and men and women bolstered weak points in the defences with sandbags. Teams of sorcerers sealed entrances with charms and prepared their magical munitions.
There were no non-combatants anymore. Weapons were being distributed to the old and lame, and children took up positions on the battlements, clutching spears twice their height.
Pallidea rushed from the crowd. She embraced Serrah and Reeth, and delivered the thanks there had been no time for earlier.
‘Any sign of Darrok?’ Caldason wondered.
‘Yes, he got back too, thank the gods. Actually, I was just trying to find him.’
‘There’s Karr,’ Serrah said.
They excused themselves and pushed their way to him. The ageing patrician was with Goyter. They were accompanied by Disgleirio and a quartet of Righteous Blade swordsmen. When he saw Caldason and Serrah, Karr’s relief was palpable, even given all the other concerns weighing on him. He looked drawn and unwell. ‘To think that we were once talking about currency and roads,’ he mused sadly. ‘Now we can only think of how to achieve a quick, dignified death.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ Goyter informed him sternly. ‘It’s not like you to give in to pessimism, Dulian, so don’t start now.’
He smiled, grateful for her strength. And despite her austere manner, Goyter was clutching his hand.
‘You look a little wild, my dear,’ she told Serrah, not unkindly. ‘I hope everything’s well with you.’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ Serrah noticed that the older woman was wearing a sword. ‘Looks good on you, Goyter. What’s the news on Tanalvah?’
Goyter’s expression darkened. ‘The girl’s still troubling us all. Something’s not right there. I wish we could afford to spare more people to be with her and take the pressure off Kinsel. Not that he’d agree to such a thing.’
‘I’ll go and check on them.’
‘Try to get them to move deeper into the redoubt. With what’s going to be happening here they could be safer.’
Reeth took Serrah aside. ‘Don’t be long,’ he said.
‘No. I’ll just see how things are. Somebody’s got to make sure they’re all right.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I could still kill a lion with my bare teeth.’
‘That’ll pass soon. You won’t feel like it, but try to eat something. It’ll help mop up the ramp.’
Serrah nodded. ‘I’ll be back,’ she promised.
No sooner had she left than Kutch and Wendah appeared.
‘You two shouldn’t be here,’ Caldason told them. ‘Get yourselves to a bolthole.’
‘We have magic,’ Wendah said.
‘We can help,’ Kutch added. ‘Phoenix has assigned us to one of the defence covens.’
‘It’s dangerous,’ Caldason stressed.
Wendah pointed. ‘There are kids much younger than us on the walls over there.’
He couldn’t argue with that. ‘All right, but be careful you don’t–’
A roar went up from the ramparts, then alarm bells were pounded.
‘To your positions!’ Karr ordered, his voice magnified by a booster glamour.
Disgleirio and his men were making their way past Caldason. ‘Where are you stationed?’ the Qalochian asked.
‘We’re roving. Filling holes where needed.’
‘I’ll be doing the same. Good luck.’
The redoubt had catapults, admittedly few in number, and they began a bombardment of the advancing forces. Uncertainty spells and terror hexes were unleashed from the battlements, and archers fired off streams of bolts in deadly arcs. When the first besiegers reached the walls, scalding oil and blisteringly hot sand was poured through the fortress’s murder holes.
Caldason was never still. He attended every breach, helped beat back many incursions. Like all the defenders, he fought tirelessly, and watched as comrades fell with arrow wounds or from searing sorcery.
None of it made any difference. The enemy were at the gates in shockingly little time. Their numbers and force of arms, and superior magic, paid off, and now they were breaking through.
Disgleirio had Karr and Goyter pulled back to safer reaches, the pair of them protesting bitterly. As the gates and walls succumbed to a human wave, the rebels began a pre-planned retreat. Some made for reinforced outbuildings, while others fell back to the main house, with its labyrinth of corridors, hideouts, keeps and subterranean tunnels. They could at least make it a costly prize.
When he saw that no more could be done to defend the walls, Caldason joined the withdrawal. Even as he made his way down, the gates were yielding. There was organised chaos in the courtyard below. The first of the ene
my were trickling in, fortifications were being scaled.
Kutch and Wendah hadn’t got very far.
‘Come with me,’ Caldason said.
‘We’re supposed to be with the defence coven,’ Wendah protested.
‘Forget that. We have to fall back. Come on.’ He led them to one of the redoubt’s stables as the invaders began to flood in. His thought was that a horse might give him an advantage fighting off the invaders, or that he could direct a stampede their way. He also hoped to find somewhere for the two young people to hide, but all he could really think about was Serrah, and the possibility of them dying apart.
There were no horses that he could see. They must have been used in the battles being fought on various parts of the island, or more likely there was a shortage, just as there was of everything else.
Caldason was about to tell Kutch and Wendah to find another hiding place when the sound of a door slamming came from their rear. He turned, hand on sword.
Devlor Bastorran swaggered into the stable. The freakish looking meld accompanied him, and another, younger man, in uniform.
‘How very gratifying to see you again, Caldason,’ Bastorran announced. ‘I do hope you’ll be able to find the time for a little chat.’
Kutch was transfixed, but not by the paladin. His astonished gaze was set on the young officer with him; and the officer stared back in apparent amazement.
Caldason hid his own shock. ‘Always happy to accommodate someone who’s travelled so far to see me,’ he replied casually. ‘Let’s hope your visit’s not going to be too much of a disappointment.’
Bastorran grinned as he reached for his blade. ‘I doubt that.’
Hurrying along one of the redoubt’s many corridors, Serrah passed an open door and noticed that someone had left a tray of food on a table inside. She had no appetite, but remembering what Reeth had said, went in. The tray must have been there for a couple of days, and the meat and fruit looked suspicious. She contented herself with a hunk of stale bread, washed down with water. The effects of the ramp were starting to wear off, and she was feeling weaker, but this was no time to give in to energy loss. She forced down a couple more mouthfuls.
There were noises outside. Dimmed by distance and thick walls, but unmistakable all the same: the onslaught had started in earnest. Serrah discarded the powder-dry crust and continued her journey at a faster pace.
The Diamond Isle Page 33
