The Glass Throne (Legends of Ansu Book 4)

by JW Webb

  “I was coming to that. They are fled.”

  “Fled? They are not cowards!”

  “No. But they are fools. The three led a party of good fighting men from my walls under cover of darkness, against my strictest orders, their aim being to take out the king himself, thus cut off the head of the beast. I warned them against such a rash and foolish venture. Despite my words, they stole from the city and took a hundred fighting men with them.“

  “Well, what became of them?” Shallan had that crushing feeling that she already knew the answer.

  “We’re not sure,” put in the young officer, who appeared much more sympathetic than his overlord. “Though we suspect they’ve been captured, my lady. They’re brave lads and fiery too, and when they saw what those bastards did to that girl…”

  “What girl?” Shallan’s stomach was turning and she was feeling faint. Just when she thought her heart had taken all the hits it could. Now this.

  “They tortured a poor lass outside the walls. A score or so took part. It —”

  “Enough Ralian, such details are irrelevant. This is war.” Starkhold’s hard face revealed nothing. This Starkhold was one cold bastard, Shallan decided.

  “But we don’t know they’re dead, do we?” Barin loomed from the wall. Like Shallan and Zukei, he had no fondness for Starkhold’s attitude.

  “They are alive for certain,” Starkhold replied. “Haal will pick a time to end their lives, doubtless in front of the walls for all to see. Such is the way he plays things thus far. I am sorry, my lady. But truth will out.”

  “Then we rescue them!” Zukei snapped at the general.

  “And join them on the gallows pole,” Starkhold laughed without mirth. “You are a naïve girl.”

  Zukei’s left hand found her kariya’s hilt and she tugged, but Shallan stopped her.

  “Enough Zukei! The general is right; such rash action would merely play into the enemy’s hands. Now kindly leave me, all of you! I need time to be alone!” Zukei looked askance at Shallan, whilst Barin hung his shoulders and the other men looked awkward. Starkhold nodded and rose from the fire.

  “Take your time. Ralian and this soldier will accompany you to the fortress main when you are ready. They will wait within earshot. I take my leave from you for the time being.” Without further word Lord Starkhold turned briskly on his heels, raised his hand, and bid his men follow him out the room.

  After a few awkward moments, Taic nudged Sveyn’s arm, and together with Cogga, the three slunk out into the corridor that led to the barbican where Captain Ralian and the guard had pulled up chairs beside a table.

  “Fancy a game of dice?” The captain asked them. This Ralian at least was making an effort, thought Taic, as he pulled a chair alongside.

  Barin looked at Zukei who shrugged and made to leave the room.

  “No stay, both of you please.” Shallan bade them take seats with her by the fire. “I need your thoughts and wanted that…man out of the room. I do not like him.”

  “He’s a bastard,” nodded Zukei seizing a chair and grinning at Shallan, happy to be part of her conspiracies.

  “He is, however a fine tactician and reputable soldier.” Barin squatted into a chair way too small for his girth. It was a sight that made Zukei giggle like a girl and Shallan manage a wan grin. “Bloody thing’s uncomfortable,” Barin snorted. “Well lady, what are you thinking—how to rescue your brothers?”

  “There has to be a way, Barin. You and Zukei have taught me how to fight. There has to be a way to save them. But I don’t want Starkhold to know.”

  “He’ll not know from us,” hissed Zukei. “Let me go, I can slip inside their camp under the cover of darkness, silence their guards and lead them out. Such contracts were once my profession.”

  “I know, but if we do this, we do it together,” Shallan said. “They’ve been gone a week. That’s a long time to be a captive of Leeth. You saw what Redhand did in Vangaris.”

  “I know Redhand, Shallan. He will not damage your brothers permanently. Starkhold’s right about that much. Redhand and his father will use them at some key point in some foul manner. Until then, I suspect they have them strung up for sport somewhere in their camp.”

  “Which is small comfort, Barin.” Shallan struggled to her feet. “Spread the word to Cogga and the others. We’ll discuss this further tonight once we know the lay of this city. And Barin...make sure Taic and Sveyn keep their lips together.”

  “They will,” Barin assured her, and feeling slightly better, the three left the room and were met by Ralian and co in the barbican.

  “Ready to see the city, my lady?” Ralian flashed her a grin.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be, Captain. Lead on!” And so they began the long cold trudge back to the inner walls of Car Carranis.

  She’d always assumed Car Carranis was huge, but the reality was beyond her wildest imagination. Ralian (whose empathy and social skills were in pleasant contrast to his commander’s) informed her that the entire rear side of the city had been abandoned for nearly a hundred years.

  When Starkhold arrived, one of his first acts had been to destroy the empty buildings that spread between the outer rear walls and the inner walls, thereby creating a killing zone. Should any enemy (very unlikely as few folk even knew it existed) find the back gate and break through, they would be exposed and trapped by archers watching from the inner wall.

  During the long peace of the Tekara, Car Carranis’s population had depleted, as most folk preferred the warmer climes around Kella City and Kelthara. So what remained was a third of the original fortress city, the walls of which were now looming ahead.

  “We scarcely patrol the outer wall,” Ralian explained as they approached the second barbican that led into the occupied part of the city. “I send a scout out every now and then just in case any of the bastards have found a way up to the gate. It’s sheer from the east and west, with the only access across the mountains. We’ve had some refugees find that door like yourselves, but most came before the horde arrived outside the main gates.”

  Shallan explained that Barin, who was striding ahead of them, had known about the back gate from earlier days, but had expected it to be manned.

  “We are spread too thin.” Ralian smiled sadly at Shallan. “I’m sorry that you come to us at such a time, my lady.”

  “I appreciate that Captain. I would that your general shared those sentiments.”

  “Judge not Lord Starkhold too harshly. He is a good man. Strong, though pragmatic and dour. He has seen much horror in his time, and little surprises him.”

  “And he will doubtless see more yet. Lead on!”

  As the inner barbican loomed close, Shallan saw evidence of earthworks, trenches, and all manner of spikes and barbed wires, strewn about to slow an invading force. Ahead of the walls, a wide muddy moat with floating ice covered the ground from east to west. Its eastern end was stopped by the base of a mountain wall; the west end was walled by stone, outside of which there was a sheer fall of two hundred feet.

  A large drawbridge spanned the moat leading through to a heavy portcullis, with murder holes and arrow slots all forming part of this second and much larger barbican. Barin strode toward the drawbridge like thunder. A guard yelled challenge but Ralian raised his hand and Barin’s pace remained unchecked.

  “What’s with him?” Zukei asked Taic as they walked behind Shallan and the captain.

  “He wants to see the enemy camp,” Taic said. “Uncle Barin gets a bit stressed when he knows Redhand’s about.”

  “What happened between those two?”

  “It’s a long story—I’ll tell you one day.” They watched as Barin’s bulk disappeared inside the barbican. Minutes later Shallan, Zukei, and Barin’s men followed Ralian and the guard through the barbican and arrived in winter sunlight to gaze on the city of Car Carranis.

  Shallan’s first impression was how stark and bleak it looked. She remembered Calprissa with its gardens, harbor, and white glist
ening walls. Car Carranis was greyer and grimmer than any place she’d encountered. There was scant beauty here. But there was strength.

  Everywhere she looked, Shallan saw barracks, paddocks studded with archery butts, and fighting pits. She saw stables and tanneries and taverns and armouries—all the drab grey of winter cloud.

  Ahead loomed the great walls that famously overlooked the Gap of Leeth. To her left, a mile away at least, a shoulder of mountain shielded the city from attack, whilst on the other side, the walls terminated at a natural cliff face, a sheer drop of over two hundred feet, looking down on the tiny ribbon of the main route threading between the city and distant Vangaris—the way they would have come in more peaceful times.

  As Shallan walked beside Ralian, she was aware of many eyes watching her. Not only soldiers, gazing curious from street and tavern, but civilians too. Most she suspected were her countrymen; these gaped wide-eyed at Barin and then at her and her friends.

  At last she reached the base of the great wall. Looking up, Shallan saw that Barin had almost reached the ramparts over sixty feet above.

  Ralian rested a polite hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you are ready for this, my lady? It’s not an easy sight to digest.”

  “I want to see what we are up against, Captain.”

  “Very well, but mind your feet on the steps, some are quite worn.” Zukei’s dark eyes flashed at Shallan who smiled slightly in return. Clearly Captain Ralian was unaware of whom he addressed. Shallan was a huntress these days, not a “my lady.” It was a humourous moment in an otherwise bleak, scary day.

  Snowflakes danced around Shallan’s face as she crested the parapet walls and joined Barin to gaze in horror on the army waiting below.

  “Looks busy,” Taic said as he joined them. Shallan felt her heart shrink inside her chest like a fragile bird trapped in a shrinking cage. She hadn’t know what to expect, but the sheer magnitude of what massed below drove the new warrior inside her far away for a good few minutes. Zukei’s face was arid.

  “Take a long time to kill that lot,” she said.

  “There must be a million murderers down there.” Shallan steadied herself against the parapet wall. How could they ever survive these odds?

  “Nope.” Barin awarded her a savage grin. “’Tis only a hundred thousand or so, don’t fret, lass!”

  “But this fortress—mighty though it is—cannot hold back that storm, Barin. That’s only common sense. I realise now that I’ve brought you all here to die, as Starkhold said. I’m sorry—I really am.” Shallan felt giddy as a wave of fear, loathing, and dread washed through her.

  Barin rested a meaty hand on her shoulder. “You’re too hasty lady. I’m not planning on dying here and nor should you be. Not dying yet—eh, Taic…Sveyn?”

  “Nope,” Sveyn grunted whilst Taic grinned at his uncle. “Not until I’ve learnt to beat you at dice!”

  “What say you, Zukei?”

  “Death is just another gateway.” The dark-woman shrugged as if the question was irrelevant. “Everyone passes through, and even the gods must fade in time. What matters is how you shine during the time you’re here. That said, I do not intend to die on the end of some fat barbarian’s sword.”

  “Oh, well that’s good.” Barin looked a bit puzzled by the extent of Zukei’s answer; he’d been expecting nothing more than a grunt. He smiled at Shallan. “You see, no one else in this little crew is planning on ending their days at Car Carranis. So stop moping, lass. Instead let’s find a dark quiet place where we can discuss in private how to rescue your reckless brothers.”

  Shallan reached up on her tiptoes and kissed Barin’s beard. “Thank you,” she said.

  Afternoon waned and snow settled on the camp inside, whilst beyond the walls and all across the Gap of Leeth, dark fires blazed like a million eyes winking around the tents of the Leethmen. Shallan gazed out on the enemy for over an hour. Barin had departed below for ale, as had Taic and the others. Zukei remained, though she said little. Shallan’s peruse was interrupted by a small voice.

  “You’re pretty.” A girl stood behind her, perhaps nine or ten years old. She was dressed shabbily and looked thinner than she should. Despite that, her eyes were large and blue and her smile rather cheeky.

  “Hello.” Shallan reached down and parted the girl’s tawny thatch so she could better see her face. “And so are you!” Shallan winked at the girl who giggled back. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Sorrel.”

  “That’s a pretty name too.”

  “It’s a plant,” the girl snorted as though she didn’t approve of being named after a plant. “What’s your name?”

  “I am called Shallan.”

  “Is that a plant too?”

  “It might be—I’m not sure.”

  “She’s a very special lady. And an important one too.” Zukei’s dark eyes flashed warning at the girl.

  Sorrel blinked and hopped back when she saw Zukei. “You’re scary.” Sorrel didn’t look scared however. “Not from ‚round here, are you? You look half savage.”

  “Cheeky little bitch.” Zukei made to swipe the girl, but Sorrel jumped sideways and stuck her tongue out, and Zukei laughed at her. “You are a little survivor—I’ll give you that.”

  “Where are your parents, Sorrel?” Shallan licked a finger, leaned down and wiped a smudge of muck from the girl’s left cheek. “That’s better.”

  “Dead.” Sorrel glared back at her.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. My parents are dead too. Have you any family here?”

  The girl shook her head. Later, Shallan discovered that she had been one of a large party of Morwellan refugees that had fled the countryside south of Vangaris during the raids by Hagan’s mercenaries before the arrival of the Leethmen. Sorrel’s family had been murdered during that time, a debt Shallan vowed she would repay Hagan Delmorier, should ever she see him again.

  “Well, Sorrel, how would you like to shoot a bow and throw knives and punch things that attack you?”

  “Very much!” Sorrel grinned up at Shallan, revealing a missing tooth.

  “Good!” Shallan winked at Zukei. “Can you show this one some tricks?”

  “Excuse me?” Zukei wasn’t impressed by Shallan’s proposition. “I’m not a fucking magician.”

  “That’s rude!” Sorrel pointed a grubby finger at Zukei.

  “Yep, and you had better get used to it if you want to be a warrior and not a little madam.” And so things passed, until evening found Shallan and Zukei huddled in the gloomy corner of a tavern with Barin, Cogga, and the other two. As for young Sorrel, she was in her cot down by the stables. Her dreams that night were fighting dreams of warrior maidens despatching big hairy men with sharp pointy things.

  Meanwhile, in the far corner of the tavern, Barin clung to his tankard like a broody hen, his face despondent and wan. “There has to be a way to get outside these walls without anyone noticing.”

  “Fly?” Zukei suggested unhelpfully.

  “And we can hardly bribe the guards at the main gate. They’re all shit scared of Starkhold.” Cogga looked miserable too. Everyone was for a night raid on the enemy camp. A bold cunning plan to rescue Shallan’s brothers and maybe gut a few Leethmen too. But it wasn’t a promising start when they couldn’t find a way out of the fortress without waving a flag announcing their departure.

  Shallan felt weary and sleepy. She glanced about the gloomy tavern. It was one of three taverns in this part of the fortress, and like the others, mostly empty due to soldier duties being doubled and Starkhold’s rationing of ale. Barin was still grumpy about having been restricted to two pints only, which he had complained to the proprietor wasn’t enough to wet his lips.

  As they hunched brooding, Shallan noticed a hooded figure sipping ale at the far end of the room. She hadn’t noticed him before, and it looked like he’d just come in from the cold. The man caught her eye and grinned at her, and Shallan recognised Captain Ralian.

  “I
think we’ve been rumbled,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes. It was depressing to know that there was nothing she could do to help her brothers. Barin and Cogga’s suggestions as to how they vacate the fortress undetected had verged on the ridiculous, and now it seemed their ruse was discovered by the shrewd eyes of Captain Ralian, who’d just happened to come along.

  “May I join you?” Ralian pulled up a chair before anyone answered. Shallan wondered why he hadn’t joined them earlier but had instead sneaked at them from the far corner. Could no one be trusted these days? “I hope your room is adequate, my lady?”

  “It’s fine, yes—thank you.”

  “When do you expect them to attack, Captain?” Barin rubbed his nose and sneezed. He now suspected he was getting a head cold brought on by lack of sustenance.

  “Hard to say—they are in no great rush. They’ve built siege towers a-plenty and have a stack of ladders, so they could attack tomorrow. But it’s like their king wants to break our resolve. Every morning he shows us trophies.”

  “Trophies?” Shallan’s face darkened, thinking of her brothers.

  Ralian nodded and changed the subject. «The soldiers are worn out with this endless waiting. There’s too much time to think and not enough ale to drink. They’re good tough lads, but morale is ebbing fast. They need a victory—however small. Some kind of heroic stunt pulled against the foe. But who could do such a thing?”

  Shallan’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been eavesdropping, Captain Ralian.” The others pinned him with their eyes until Ralian shrugged.

  “Forgive me, my lady - yes. And you others too, but I make it my business to know the mood in this city. I knew you’d want a way out so you can save Tolemon, Vorreti, and Danail. They are fine men and I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “But instead you spy and then report us to your superior,” Zukei hissed at him. Beside her, Shallan was almost in tears after hearing her brothers’ names for the first time in weeks.

  Ralian’s lips tightened. He clearly had no fondness for Zukei. “I am loyal to my lord, yes. But I am also aware that we need to do something—and fast. This city is rotting from within.