“In case you missed it,” I told him, “our Trumps aren’t working anymore. We can’t go anywhere. It’s time to stand and fight.”
“What?” He paled. “You’re wrong! The Trumps always work!”
“Try one,” I said, “and you’ll see. Neither Freda, Dad, nor I could get them to work.”
The servants carrying the trunk had reached the bottom of the stairs, and he motioned for them to set it down. They did so, and he flipped open its lid. I peered over his shoulder and saw stacks of cards . . . there had to be hundreds of them.
He picked up the top one, which showed me . . . it was the same card he’d been painting in his room earlier.
“Do you mind?” he asked me.
“Go ahead.”
He stared at it intently, frowning, but I felt no sense of contact. From his frustrated expression, I knew it wasn’t working for him, either.
With a low moan, he dropped his arm and looked at me. His face had gone ashen; his hand trembled.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt a little guilty for having him try the Trump when I’d known it wouldn’t work. Making Trumps seemed to be his one great talent, and it had been rendered useless right now.
“I can’t believe it,” he said.
“We’ll think of something else,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Dad has whole rooms full of magical stuff. He must have something that can help us.”
Aber tossed the card back into the trunk, then slammed down the lid. Motioning for the two men to pick it up again, he told them to put it with the rest of his belongings. They started off down the hall.
“Well,” he told me philosophically, “I’ll just have to fall back on my other plan, I suppose.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Hide until the danger’s past!”
I laughed, and he gave me a weak smile. At least he still had his sense of humor.
The lightning stopped half an hour later, with the coming of night, but I suspected it was a temporary reprieve. Perhaps whoever had sent the cloud needed daylight to direct his attack. I had little doubt but that the blasts would resume at dawn.
Our father remained locked in his workshop, leaving the rest of us to care for the castle. It was late by the time we had everyone bedded down for the night, from family to servants. The guards bravely walking the battlements were the only ones outside.
Freda, Blaise, and I retired to the audience hall, waiting for Locke and Davin to return. We didn’t have much to say to each other, but the company was better than being alone.
The silence outside seemed ominous.
Finally, toward midnight, I heard horses in the courtyard and rose to check.
“It’s Locke and Davin,” I told my sisters.
“About time,” Blaise murmured.
Locke left the horses with Davin and hurried inside. He looked grim when he saw us.
“What news?” I asked.
“The men are now a safe distance from the castle,” he said. “I don’t think the lightning will reach them. What have I missed? Where’s Dad?”
“Locked in his rooms,” I said unhappily. “He’s not answering to knocks.”
Freda added, “We moved everyone to ground level, and they are settled for the night.”
“I saw the lightning strikes,” he said. “Perhaps we should move everyone out to the fields as soon as possible.”
“I think that would be a mistake,” I said. “They’re trying to drive us into the open. Despite the lightning, we’re better off in here. Although the top towers will fall, the closer the walls get to the ground, the stronger they become. We’ll be all right for a while yet.”
“Good enough.”
“If you’re going back out tomorrow morning,” I said, “you might want to do it before daybreak. I think darkness stopped the lightning.”
“I will.” He glanced around. “Where are we camped out tonight?”
I rose. “I’ll show you.”
My sleep was deep and restful, for once. Even though I shared the chamber with a dozen others, most of whom snored, exhaustion took me. No bad dreams plagued me, no visions of evil serpents or dying men on stone altars, no skies of ever-shifting patterns nor towers made of human bones.
I woke a little before dawn, listening to the first stirrings of life, thinking back to events of the previous night. It seemed unreal, somehow, almost like a bad dream. Clouds didn’t swirl in the sky, loosing thunderbolts upon helpless people. It seemed impossible, and yet I knew it had happened.
A silent figure crept into the room. I tensed, hand reaching for my sword. It was one of the castle guards. Another assassin?
Silently, like a ghost, he padded to Locke’s side. I prepared to shout a warning and launch myself at him, but he only stretched out his hand and shook his general’s shoulder.
Locke came awake with a start.
“You asked me to fetch you before dawn, General,” the man said. “It’s time.”
“Very well,” he said softly. “Wake Davin.” Rising, he began to dress.
I too sat up, stretching. My muscles ached a bit from my workout the previous afternoon, but I felt much refreshed . . . ready to fight, if need be, to protect Juniper. The hell-creatures would not take the castle easily, I vowed. I began to dress, too.
Locke picked up his boots, noticed me, and gave a quick jerk of his head toward the door. Rising, I grabbed my own boots and followed him out. We headed toward our father’s workshop.
“What are your plans for today?” I asked when he paused to pull on his boots. I took a moment to do the same.
“Prepare the men for battle,” he said grimly.
“I don’t think it will come today.”
“Why not?”
“Why rush? Let the lightning work on our morale.”
He nodded. “You’re right. That’s what I would do, too.”
We headed for our father’s rooms again, but the guards there lowered their pikes, blocking our way.
“Apologies, my Lords,” said the guard on duty with an audible gulp. “Prince Dworkin said not to let anyone disturb him. Not even you, General.”
Locked sighed. “I know you are only doing your duty,” he said. “But I must do mine as well.”
He hit the man twice, fast and hard, with the flat of his hand; the poor fellow slumped to the floor. It happened before the other guard could so much as move.
Locke glared across at him. “Remove your friend,” he said, “or I will remove you both.”
“It means my life, Lord,” the man pleaded, eyes wide and desperate. He barred the way with his pike and raised his chin, then pressed his eyes shut. “If you please.”
Locke nodded. Then he hit him twice, too, and when he slid to the floor, Locke and I stepped over the bodies. We had gone well beyond the point of fooling around.
Dworkin had left the door unbarred, so we didn’t have to kick it in. Locke glanced over at me, then pushed it open and entered.
Our father sat with his head down on the table nearest us, snoring. Three large bottles sat before him. Two had been completely emptied, plus half of the third.
I picked up the half bottle, sniffed once, set it down.
“Brandy,” I said.
“Dad! Wake up!” Locke shook his shoulder.
Dworkin lolled to the side and would have fallen to the floor if I hadn’t reached out to steady him. We didn’t get to much as a whimper. He was dead to the world.
“Typical,” Locke said.
“He’s done this before?”
“Once that I know of, when he got kicked out of the Courts of Chaos.”
“Kicked out? Why?”
“Well, that’s not exactly how he tells it. He usually says he left because he grew tired of life in the Courts. But I know the truth. He forgets that I was there, too.”
I leaned forward. “What really happened? Every time someone tells me, I get a different story.”
“The truth?�
�� He gave a sad smile. “He seduced King Uthor’s youngest and favorite daughter. Got her with child, in fact. Once that happened, it was hard to hide their involvement.”
“Couldn’t he have married her?”
“Unfortunately, she was already betrothed. Had been, in fact, since birth. Dworkin knew that, too, and he didn’t care.”
“Then . . . all this could be King Uthor’s doing?”
“Could be?” He chuckled. “Oh, Uthor may not be leading the attack, but I see his hand in it. I had hoped we could outrun or outlast him. He is old. And all this happened forty years ago, as time goes in the Courts.”
Forty years . . . long before my birth. I stared down at our father’s unconscious form. If Locke told the truth—and I believed him; why should he lie?—then Dad had brought ruin upon himself. And upon the rest of us.
I pushed him back onto the table. He could sleep off his drunk there. Foolish, foolish man.
“Leave him,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll accompany you today. I don’t want to spend the day in the castle, listening to falling rock. And if I get a chance to swing my blade a few more times in the right direction—”
“All right.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do.”
The grooms had emptied the stables during the night. Our horses were penned with the cavalry’s mounts outside in the main camp. Davin joined us in the courtyard, now littered with fallen stone, and together the three of us walked out toward the military camp.
The sky grew lighter. I saw that the clouds still swirled endlessly overhead.
Halfway to the army camp, the lightning started again behind us. I glanced over my shoulder at the castle, as bolt after bolt of blue lanced from the sky, striking the tallest towers. More stones fell, raising clouds of dust. I didn’t envy those still inside. I knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant day for them.
Ahead, horns began to sound.
“That’s an attack!” Locke cried, recognizing the call to arms and sprinting for the pens of horses.
Davin and I followed on his heels.
NINETEEN
y the time we reached the horses, the grooms had already saddled Locke’s black stallion. Locke mounted without hesitation and took off at a gallop. Davin and I waited impatiently for our own horses to be readied.
“Does anyone know what’s happening?” I called, but none of the grooms or the soldiers at nearby tents spoke up. The soldiers were grimly putting on armor and buckling on their weapons.
Finally our horses were ready, and we took off after Locke. It didn’t take us long to find the command tent, and when we ducked through the flaps, we found our brother barking orders.
“They’re marching on our men to the north,” he said to Davin.
“The recruits?” Davin paled. “They’re not ready!”
“They’ve just become our front lines. Muster the Wolves, Bears, and Panthers. We need archers at the fore. Put them . . . put them at Beck’s Ridge.”
“Got it.” Davin turned and ran.
Locke looked to me. “You said you fought them for a year. What advice can you give me?”
“Are they on foot or mounted?” I asked.
“Tell him,” Locke said to one of the captains standing before him.
The man turned to me. “Both,” he said. “They have two lines of creatures with pikes marching at the fore. Horsemen with swords ride behind. No archers that I could see.”
“That sounds right,” I said. I swallowed at the sudden lump in my throat. It was just like Ilerium all over again, only larger. There, we had lost battles steadily for a year, and we had been able to fall back as necessary. Here we had a castle to defend. A siege seemed inevitable. And yet, with the lightning blasting the castle to ruin, we would find no safety within its walls.
To Locke, I said, “Their mounted troops are the biggest danger right now. Their horses breathe fire, remember, and they kill men as readily as the riders do.”
“Then I’ll have our archers take out as many horses and riders as they can,” Locke said.
“Fight the horsemen with two weapons,” I continued. “Keep a knife pointed at the horse and it won’t come too close. The riders are strong and like to beat down their opponents, so keep moving and keep them off-balance. Fight two or three on one.”
“What weapons are best?” the captain asked.
“Spears, pikes, and arrows.” I glanced at Locke. “How many archers do you have, anyway?”
“Five thousand, more or less.”
I whistled. “That many!” For the first time, I felt a surge of hope. “It may be enough.”
“Best guess at their numbers?” Locke asked the captain.
“Maybe ten thousand, from what I saw. We outnumber them.”
Locke frowned. “That’s too few,” he said. “There should be more. They’ve scouted us. They know how many we have.”
Horns began to sound again outside. A runner came through the flaps.
Gasping for breath, half bent over with his hands on his knees, he managed to say: “More of them marching against us, General! From the east and the south! Thousands!”
Nodding like he’d expected it, Locke rose. “Sound the ready call. We march in five minutes. Split the forces evenly in thirds. Archers to the front, pikes and spears behind. I’ll lead the west, Davin the east. Oberon, will you take the south?”
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded. “We’ll pick off as many as we can with the archers. Keep falling back around the castle. If necessary, we’ll regroup there and make our stand.”
“All right,” I said.
“Parketh,” he said to one of his aides, “find Lord Oberon some armor. Move!”
* * *
The number of men assigned to my command—nearly twenty-five thousand infantry, with spears and pikes, plus two thousand archers and a thousand cavalry—seemed impossibly huge, and yet as I rode down the assembled ranks, I couldn’t help but feel it wouldn’t be enough. This attack had been well orchestrated . . . the hell-creatures knew our numbers, and still they came. Somehow, I thought we had missed some important detail.
Then I glanced up at the sky, at the swirling black mass of clouds over Juniper, and I wondered if they counted on the lightning to help destroy us. If we fell back around the castle, we would certainly be within its range . . .
No sense worrying about retreat now, I thought with a sigh. If we carried the day, we wouldn’t have to worry about getting too close to the castle.
I reached the end of my troops, raised my sword, and cried, “On to victory!”
The men gave a cheer, then began to march forward, heading south across the fields.
As we neared the woods, troops began to pour from the forest silently, waves of hell-creatures armed with pikes. I saw no sign of their horsemen yet, but I knew they wouldn’t be far behind. We couldn’t wait for them—our archers would have to take out their first wave of attackers.
“Archers ready!” I called, and the bugler sounded my commands so all could hear.
Our front lines dropped to one knee, giving the archers room to aim.
“Fire!” I screamed.
They began to let loose their arrows, huge volleys of them. The front line of hell-creatures fell, but more swarmed from the trees in a seemingly endless black wave.
My archers continued to shoot, but there were too many of the hell-creatures. For every one that fell, five more took his place, advancing on us at a run. And then, behind them, I saw lines of hell-creatures on horseback making their way steadily toward us.
“Sound the call for the pikemen!” I said to the bugler, as their first men neared our lines.
He blew the call, and our archers dropped back. The line of pikemen rushed forward, screaming fierce battle cries. The archers raised their bows and fired over the pikemen’s heads, killing more of the hell-creatures to the rear.
“Hold some arrows back for their horses!” I shouted. “Aim
for their mounts whenever you have a clear shot!”
Both sides met in the middle of the field, a huge writhing mass of bodies. From my vantage point on my horse’s back, I saw still more hell-creatures pouring from the forest, although there had to be tens of thousands already fighting.
Our archers kept firing as they found targets, but I held our horsemen back. Their mounts shifted impatiently, eager to charge.
“Steady . . . steady . . . ” I murmured.
The battle slowly turned in the hell-creatures’ favor. Half my troops had fallen, and the remaining half seemed badly outnumbered. The archers had begun to fall back; they couldn’t pick out targets easily. I knew the time had come to send in my horsemen.
“Sound the charge,” I said, raising my sword.
To the wailing call of the horn, I spurred my own mount, and together with my two thousand cavalrymen, I rode into the battle.
It became a blur of slashing, hacking, and chopping. Around me, I saw horses and riders from both sides pulled down and then hacked to bits. Still I fought on, my sword a blur as I killed hell-creatures by the dozen. Soldiers began to rally around me, and together we cut a wide swathe through the enemy’s lines. I screamed my war-cry and rode, smeared in blood and gore, fighting as I had never fought before, taking a wild joy in the feel of metal slicing through armor and flesh, of killing those who had destroyed my life and my love and my home.
Suddenly, it was over. I heard the wail of enemy horns, and the hell-creatures turned and began their retreat. Archers fired at their backs, taking down dozens, then hundreds more. The men around me began to cheer.
I sagged in my saddle, grinning madly, exhausted beyond words. As I turned, taking in the battlefield, I saw bodies everywhere, human and hell-creature alike, piled three and four deep in places.
My arms trembled. My head ached. I had never felt so tired before in my entire life.
And yet I felt a wild elation—it had been a victory of epic proportion. Although two-thirds of my men had fallen, dead or wounded, we had still won the battle. And we had killed twice as many of them as they had killed of us.
Roger Zelazny's The Dawn of Amber Page 20
