He looked up, seeking her approval. But he was old enough and wise enough not to need it. She didn’t need to validate his decisions any longer. She couldn’t. He needed to begin standing on his own.
Instead,she said,“Very well,Lord Presumptive of Rhyssal House.You should make your wishes known to the Phalanx and the rest of the House.”
Fedaureon stood uncertainly, then departed, Daevon bowing formally and falling in behind him. She heard her son issuing orders before he’d reached the end of the hall, his voice sharp with confidence, all of the uncertainty gone. She nodded to herself, pleased, then moved to the table to pick up parchment and quill, dipping the nub into the bottle of ink to one side.
Fedaureon may not be able to do more without some further sign of aggression from Lotaern and the Order, but the Ilvaeren had no such political bounds.
She began to draft a letter to the ladies of those Houses allied most closely with Rhyssal. Halceon Nuant and Sovaeren Baene needed to be apprised of the situation as soon as possible. Perhaps they would be able to help. She wasn’t certain how, just yet, but as Tamaea, she’d learned long ago to keep her options open.
“We have to get word to GreatLord Kobel immediately,” Gregson said as soon as they entered the town of Cobble Kill. “Terson, begin drafting a missive as soon as you get back to the garrison. Curtis, Ricks, send out the alarm and begin gathering the rest of the Legion in the commons, along with anyone in town with a sword or who knows how to fight. And someone fetch the councilman.”
Terson nodded sharply and took off ahead of them, Curtis and Ricks following a horse-length behind, cutting past the few people who lined the street and the commons. Jay-son watched them for a moment, then turned to find Greg-son looking at him.
“What do you and the boy intend to do?” the lieutenant asked.
The question sent a jolt through Jayson’s body, prickling along his spine and shoulders. He involuntarily straightened in the saddle and sucked in a sharp breath. The numbness he’d felt since seeing Lianne’s body shuddered through him, and he glanced quickly toward Corim. He hadn’t permitted himself to think since they’d left Gray’s Kill, Gregson not even allowing them time to burn or bury the bodies. As soon as they’d verified that Lianne and Corim’s parents were dead, he’d ordered them back on horseback and herded them toward Cobble Kill. Jayson hadn’t protested and it never crossed his mind to stay behind. There was nothing left of Gray’s Kill, even though his mill remained standing. There were no farmers now, no one to bring grain to be milled.
But he hadn’t considered what he would do in Cobble Kill either.
“I don’t know,” he said and caught Corim’s eye. “I . . . I haven’t had time to think.”
Gregson nodded. “For now, I want you to stay here,” he said, and Jayson realized they’d stopped before Ara’s tavern. “Ara will put you up at the GreatLord’s expense. I’ll need to speak with the councilman of Cobble Kill. He may want to speak with you himself. And perhaps some of the other dignitaries in the town. After that . . . well, we’ll see. I may have to send you and the boy to Temeritt to give them your own accounting of what happened.”
“Temeritt?” Jayson swallowed. “I’ve never been farther than Jenkin’s Peak.”
Gregson’s eyebrows rose.
He jumped when a bell suddenly clanged, shattering the afternoon stillness. All heads in the commons turned toward the noise, including Gregson, who hadn’t even flinched.
“That’s the call to arms,” the lieutenant said.
On the stone plaza, men and women traded quick glances, women herding children back toward their homes, their errands forgotten. The men’s faces turned grim, hustling off in the direction Terson and the others had taken.
The doors to one of the main houses that looked out onto the square abruptly fl ung open and an elderly man stepped out onto the street, glaring toward the sound. Two other men appeared in the doorway. The man spat on the ground to one side, then noticed Gregson astride his mount before the tavern. His expression twisted into a grimace and he headed straight toward them.
Gregson sighed,but straightened in his saddle.“Councilman Darren.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the councilman growled as he approached, motioning toward the clamor from the garrison. “Why are you summoning the Legion? I have visitors, merchants of significance to two trading houses, including one Signal. This interruption to our business is intolerable!”
Jayson’s gaze shot toward the two men who had sidled out onto the front steps of the stone manse, looking after the councilman curiously. They were dressed in the vests of the trading companies, although the dark blue of the man on the right was obviously of finer quality, even from this distance. He must be the Signal.
Gregson’s eyes darkened.“Your business dealings are of no concern to me, Councilman. The safety of this town is.”
Darren spluttered. “I fail to see how the safety of the town is threatened at the moment.”
“Have you not heard?” Gregson said stiffly. “The village of Gray’s Kill has been razed to the ground, nearly all of the villagers slaughtered.”
The councilman stared at the lieutenant, eyes wide, mouth open.
Doubt had just begun to filter through the initial shock in the man’s eyes, changing almost instantly into disbelief and rage, when Jayson heard a hiss followed by a thunk as something struck the councilman in the chest.
Jayson’s heart lurched even as the councilman staggered, gaze dropping to the black arrow that protruded at a sharp angle just below his heart. Blood already stained his shirt, seeping downward. One hand rose to clutch at the shaft of the arrow, tugging at it weakly.
The councilman turned a confused look toward Greg-son. “What—” he began, his voice no more than a whisper.
Then his legs gave out and he thumped down to his knees.
Jayson gaped, frozen, unable to process what had happened. The arrow didn’t make any sense; it had come from nowhere.
Then Gregson kicked his horse forward, his narrowed gaze shooting toward the rock promontory that overlooked the town.
Jayson looked just in time to see a figure stand and draw, the bow black against the blue sky, tufts of clouds scudding along behind him. Then he gasped, jerked forward, encumbered by his seat in the saddle, but managed to grab Gregson’s arm and haul him backward.
The arrow shot past Gregson’s shoulder and sank into the flank of his horse.
The animal screamed and reared, wrenching Gregson from Jayson’s grip and throwing him from the saddle, before charging across the commons, trampling the councilman as it passed.
“Diermani’s balls!” Gregson spat as he scrambled to his feet. On the promontory above, ten more archers had appeared. “Those aren’t dwarren,” he whispered. “They’re Alvritshai.”
Arrows lanced down into the commons, breaking the tableau as women shrieked and men dodged toward cover. Gregson’s horse had vanished down the southern road.The two tradesmen stared in shock at the councilman’s body, the attackers hidden from their sight by the councilman’s manse. Jayson couldn’t think, his breath coming in short huffs, his entire body humming. Reaching for Gregson had been pure instinct, nothing more.
Gregson suddenly spun.“Warn Terson,”he barked,then slapped Jayson’s horse on the rump.The animal lurched forward, nearly throwing Jayson from the saddle. He cried out, hissing as the muscles in his legs spasmed, but caught himself. He heard Corim’s frantic shout from behind him, twisted in the saddle in time to see Gregson hauling the apprentice down from his horse moments before two arrows sank into the animal’s neck. It reared, screaming shrilly, feet kicking, but Gregson and Corim were already sprinting toward the protection of the tavern’s corner, the Legionnaire roaring warnings at the men and women caught in the open square. Jayson’s heart seized as three men and one woman fell to the cobbles, and then something skimmed across his own back, tracing a line of fi re from shoulder to side, tugging at his clothing. He spun in his sea
t, grabbed at the reins and leaned forward over the horse’s neck as it careened through the fleeing people of Cobble Kill. More arrows rained down, shattering on the stone of the roadway. He heard a roar of rage, saw a man spin as an arrow took him in the throat, saw a woman dragging her daughter’s body into the cover of the stable yard, blood glistening bright on the stone beneath her—
And then the erupting chaos of the commons was left behind as his horse galloped down the southern road. Jay-son gasped at the sudden calm that descended, although he could still hear the screams from the town behind. His heart thundered in his ears, the horse’s body thudding into his chest beneath him. His thoughts flickered from Corim to Terson to Gregson, torn between responsibilities and he choked with indecision.
“Gregson has Corim,” he whispered to himself, voice ragged. He swallowed against the sudden sourness in his mouth and throat.
And then the garrison appeared ahead. Men were already gathered in the roadway, some of them pointing back toward the town with their swords, bellowing questions. Three of them surrounded Gregson’s horse, holding it steady as Terson jerked the arrow from its flank. It whinnied and shied away from him, but the Legionnaire ignored it, frowning down at the bloodied shaft in his hand.
At a shout from one of the men, Terson glanced up, caught sight of Jayson’s horse charging toward them, and stepped directly into the animal’s path.
Jayson’s bit back a curse and pulled hard on the horse’s reins to bring its frantic bolt to a halt. As it dug into the road, he rose in the saddle and roared, “The town is under attack!”
“From where? By whom?”The cries came from all directions, but Terson caught Jayson as he fell from the saddle, others stepping forward to calm his horse.
“Archers,” Jayson gasped, his body trembling with adrenaline. “Archers are on the promontory overlooking the town. They’re firing down into the commons. And they aren’t dwarren. They’re Alvritshai.”
Terson shot him a strange look,then bellowed,“To arms! Every man who’s here, grab your swords and form up! Curtis,sound the alarm.This isn’t a call to assemble any longer; it’s a call to war. Now move! Move, move, move!”
The entire group of men broke and scrambled, some charging toward the garrison that wasn’t much more than a wooden outpost on the side of the road with a stable in the back. The steady clang of the bell suddenly changed, another joining it, the combined sound now frantic. Ricks barreled out of the garrison, still fully armored from the ride to Gray’s Kill.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Get the men armed and organized here on the roadway as quickly as possible, then we’ll head toward Cobble Kill.”
The young soldier dashed off toward the stables, shouting orders as he went.
“Tell me what you saw,” Terson ordered, turning on Jay-son.
“I only saw archers on the rock bluff overlooking the town. They nearly got Gregson before he ordered me to warn you and sent me here.” He tried not to think about Corim, about the others caught in the square.
“Are these the same men who attacked Gray’s Kill?”
“I didn’t see any Alvritshai or archers that night. I only saw the creatures and the dwarren.”
Terson swore. Behind him, men were struggling into armor, additional horses being herded from the stable to the road by a group of stableboys, saddles hastily being cinched tight. “Cobble Kill isn’t designed to withstand an attack,” Terson growled as he watched. He suddenly motioned toward Ricks. “Get me a spare sword. Now!”
When the soldier returned, he handed the weapon to Jayson. “Have you ever used one before?”
Jayson took the sheathed blade in both hands as he shook his head, surprised at how heavy it felt. He swallowed once, his heart already quickening. He couldn’t seem to clear the sourness in his throat. “No.”
Terson grunted and slapped him on the back. “Do the best you can.”
He shoved Jayson toward his horse and turned to the rest of the men, most of them ready and waiting. Jayson hastily began belting the sword around his waist.
“I want Curtis to take you four and try to circle up to Grant’s Overlook and deal with those archers. The rest of us are going straight into Cobble Kill. Got it?”
The entire group broke out with a “Yes, sir!” Curtis motioned his selected men to one side. Someone brought Terson his horse and he mounted, Jayson drawing his horse to the side of the road and swinging up into the saddle. The sword felt awkward and cumbersome at his side, but he held onto its pommel with a death grip. He could hear his pulse pounding in his head, sweat causing his shirt to stick to his back. His upper shoulder stung and he reached back with his free hand. He felt nothing except a rent in his shirt, but his fingers came back with traces of blood.
He suddenly recalled the lancing pain he’d felt as he’d raced from Cobble Kill. He must have been grazed by an arrow.
The thought sent a shudder through his muscles, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Terson suddenly ordered the group forward. Heels dug into his horse’s flanks and he charged down the road toward the town at the back of the group of soldiers. After Curtis’ band broke away, heading into the forest to one side, he counted no more than thirty men remaining, only twenty of them Legionnaires, the rest commoners.
He had a moment for his stomach to roll in apprehension, to notice that the others had already drawn their swords—
And then they were passing the outskirts of the town, cottages and buildings appearing along the sides of the road amongst the trees a moment before the forest gave way completely and they broke into the wide commons.
The flagstones were littered with bodies, but otherwise empty.
Arrows shot into the group instantly, the man next to Jayson crying out as one took him in the shoulder. He spat curses as he wrenched the shaft free without slowing. Through the clamor of the horses’ hooves on the stone, he heard Gregson bellow, “Over here!” and saw a fl ash of movement from the direction of the stable yard.
Terson swung toward the lieutenant, the rest of the men following in a tight, disordered group. Gregson stood at the door to the stable’s barn, two other men holding the doors wide open. They charged through into the straw-scented shadows within, the barn barely holding all of them. Jayson twisted in the saddle as men drew the doors of the barn closed behind them, scanning the people within, searching for Corim. He saw the two merchant men from the trading companies, a woman with two children clutched close to her side, Ara from the tavern, and an assortment of other men and women, maybe seventy townsfolk in all. Someone close was muttering, “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,” the litany repeating over and over. Jayson tried to turn his horse but the quarters were too cramped. In frustration, he yelled out, “Corim! Are you here?”
“I’m here!”
Corim thrust through a huddle of women and elderly men to one side, fighting his way to Jayson’s side.
A heaviness around Jayson’s heart eased. “Thank Diermani,” he muttered.
“Report,” Gregson ordered as soon as the barn doors closed.
Terson shoved his way to the front of the barn. Nearly everyone quieted, hushed and panicked voices falling silent to listen.
“I’ve sent Curtis and a small group up to the promontory to deal with the archers. The rest of those who’d managed to gather at the summons are here.”
“You didn’t see any other Alvritshai? No other attackers besides the archers?”
“None.”
Gregson frowned. “There must be another group somewhere nearby. They wouldn’t have archers watching the town otherwise.”
“Perhaps we spooked them by ringing the bell,” Ricks said to one side.
Gregson glanced around at the townsfolk huddled in the stalls and loft of the barn. “If that’s the case, then we’d better get everyone out of here as soon as possible, before the main force arrives.”
This brought frightened murmurs from everyone, the unease
of those still on their mounts transferring to the animals as they jostled against each other.
Ara pushed to the front of the group. She carried a scythe in her hand, and Jayson noticed that many of the others had makeshift weapons gathered from the barn. “What about those who sought shelter in the taverns or the other shops? And where do you think we’ll be going? This is our home. I’ll not be leaving without a fight.”
A few of the men grumbled agreement.
“Cobble Kill wasn’t designed to be defended,” Gregson barked,before the murmurs had grown too loud.“Our only real advantage is that no one can approach it easily through the forest. They’ll likely come by the roads, but we can’t hold those with the hundred people here, only twenty of those trained Legion, the rest with scythes and pitchforks! We couldn’t hold them even with the entire town gathered— men, women, and children!” The grumbling quieted.
“We have to flee,”Gregson continued.“There’s no other choice. Terson, we’ll use those mounted to protect the rest of the townsfolk as we leave. I want everyone to gather in the center of the barn, the horses to either side. When we open the doors, the Legion will go out first and then the rest will follow. Take the southern road. Did everyone hear? Take the southern road once we’re out and keep on going! Don’t stop for anything—food, clothing, nothing! Our only chance is to reach Patron’s Merge. Their town is walled and is protected by the rivers.”
At the fear-sickened murmurs that followed and the sudden shifting of bodies as everyone tried to follow directions, punctuated by curses and low sobs, Gregson nodded, then drew Terson, Ricks, and a few of the other Legion to one side. Jayson had been jostled close enough to overhear.
“We need to forewarn the surrounding towns,” the lieutenant muttered.“As soon as we get free of Cobble Kill and hit the crossroads, I want Tirks and Vanson to break off and head toward Ulm’s Kill and Farriver. Warn them and order them to continue spreading the word.”
Leaves of Flame Page 33
