by Simon Brown
But it has not all gone our way, he reminded himself. After all, the Chetts had managed to get over the wall. There seemed to be as many slain defenders as there were Chetts, and a large number of them had been struck by those terrible Haxan missiles. He shouted for archers to shoot at the retreating Chetts, but even as he did so the now familiar sound of more metal thwacking against the wall made him duck below the parapets. He made his way to the tower and then down the stairs where he was met by a frantic Farben.
'Have you seen the queen?' the secretary demanded.
Galen looked blankly at him for a moment. 'No, I…' For a moment panic took him and he felt his muscles start to lock. 'She must be here somewhere…'
'I haven't seen her!' Farben cried frantically. People were starting to look at them.
'Calm down!' Galen ordered, and saying it helped him calm himself. He grabbed a passing captain. 'Have you seen the queen?'
The captain shook his head. 'Not since the attack began. She was on the walkway—'
Galen did not let him finish. Despite his armour he sprinted back up to the walkway, Farben close behind. Keeping low, they turned over every dead defender, their hearts in their mouths, but found no sign of her.
'She must have made it back down,' Galen said, breathing a sigh of relief.
'Unless she was knocked off the wall,' Farben countered.
They returned to the ground and started searching among the heaps of dead and wounded. They had almost given up when Farben shouted and ran to a collection of three bodies. Galen could not see what had grabbed the secretary's attention until he drew closer and saw the glint of armour. He ran over and helped Farben pull off one dead guard and a headless Chett, And there was Charion, blood all over her breastplate and helmet, her face as pale as a winter sky.
'Oh God…' Galen muttered and lifted her in his arms, Farben whimpering beside him. By now other defenders had gathered around, recognising who it was. Galen took off her helmet, but though there was a lot of dirt and blood matting her hair, there appeared to be no injury. He then took off her breastplate, and again there seemed to be no source for all the blood she was covered in.
It must all belong to the Chett, Galen told himself, hoping it was so.
Gingerly, Galen unlaced her jerkin and lifted her shirt. Half her chest was covered by a purple bruise that was rimmed with blood. He felt the skin tenderly. 'Two broken ribs, at least,' he said aloud. Charion moaned in pain, and Galen let out his breath. Farben looked ready to faint.
'She will be alright,' Galen told the secretary, 'as long as she is looked after. Get her to the palace. I will take over here.'
Farben did not even question the knight, but ordered some of the guards to make a stretcher with spears and cloaks and ordered another to find a doctor.
When they were gone Galen went about making sure there were enough guards put back on the west wall, using some of his own knights to make up the numbers. Then he visited all the wounded, determining whether or not they were fit for duty or needed to be withdrawn. Before he finished he was joined by Magmed.
'We lost seventeen knights,' the nobleman reported. 'Most of them were trying to hold the stairs against the Chetts.'
'I've put another fifty on the wall. That leaves us just over two hundred.'
'The odds are getting worse all the time,' Magmed said levelly.
Galen could only nod.
'As good a place as any to die, I suppose,' Magmed continued. 'I wish to God I could have a charge at Prince Lynan, though.'
'You may yet get your wish,' Galen returned. 'Because I have no intention of going down with the city should it fall.'
Magmed eyed him with surprise. 'You're not going to—'
'Run?' Galen finished for him. 'Of course not. But if the city is lost we have to break out. I will not let my knights be slaughtered in the streets and in the buildings. If worst comes to worst, we still have Kendra to defend.'
'Do you want us ready at the palace again?'
Galen nodded. As Magmed turned to leave, Galen held him back by the arm. 'And tell Farben to ready the queen. I don't know how fit she is to travel, but if we leave her here she will die at Lynan's hands.'
Magmed looked shocked. 'Even Lynan would not do that!'
Galen laughed. 'Did you see what he did to Sendarus? Why would he stop at killing something as petty as a provincial ruler if he would not hesitate to slaughter his own sister's husband?'
Magmed nodded. 'Alright. Where will you be?'
'Here. With Charion gone, someone has to take charge of the defence.'
'Do you think the Chetts will assault the west wall again?'
'Charion told me they would attack at this point at least twice, and the second time they almost made it to the main gate. They'll try again.'
Ager was visiting the trenches opposite the north wall when he heard the war cries of Eynon's warriors as they started their third assault on the west wall. He sent a silent prayer for them, but forced himself to concentrate on his task. Captain Waylong had asked him to come and was pointing out new work, mentioning the names of sappers who had performed exceptionally, detailing where they would go next.
'And the tunnels?' Ager asked. 'How's the mining operation going?'
Waylong looked particularly pleased. Keeping low behind barricades and mantlets he led the way to one of the tunnel entrances.
'We have four of these, three old ones and this new system.'
'New system? How long will it take you to get to tie wall from here? More time than we have, surely?'
Waylong shook his head. 'We're not digging completely new tunnel, only a new entrance. We've used this to intercept one of the old tunnels the enemy thought they had destroyed. They certainly caved in most of the early work, but they didn't finish the job. I takes us closer to the north wall than any other tunnel.' Waylong licked his lips. 'An hour ago we were no more than four paces from under the crooked section of the north wall.'
'Already?' Ager's voice rose with excitement. 'How long before you can set off the mine?'
'We're preparing the work as we go. By now they should be under the wall, but they're working as quietly as possible. The attacks your Chetts are carrying out against the west wall make it hard for any counter-miners to hear the work, so that's when we do most of the close digging.'
'How long before you can set off the mine?' Ager asked again, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
'Late this afternoon,' Waylong answered. 'You might want to wait until tomorrow morning—'
'This afternoon? God, why didn't you tell me this yesterday? We could have called off this morning's assault—'
'Because we didn't know yesterday!' Waylong interrupted. 'We only intercepted the old tunnel last night. And I told you we need the noise of the assault to finish the dig without being detected.'
Ager took a few deep breaths and nodded wearily. 'I'm sorry. But we won't wait until tomorrow morning. Prince Lynan will want to try this afternoon. I need to know exactly when you can fire the mine.'
'An hour before sunset. No earlier.'
'Can you promise that?'
Waylong swallowed. There were so many things that could go wrong in a dig—counter-mining, a tunnel collapse, a miscalculation about tunnel length or an angle—but he knew Ager was not interested in hearing excuses. 'We'll get it done,' he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. 'I'll be there myself to fire it one hour before sunset.'
Ager smiled grimly. 'If you do this, I can promise you Lynan will be very grateful.'
Waylong could not help swallowing again. He was not sure the pale prince's close attention would be a welcome thing. He felt more comfortable in his trenches and holes than being too close to someone that important. Or, he admitted to himself, someone so terrible.
'I'd better get back to it, then,' he mumbled, then half bowed, half saluted and scrambled off.
A good officer, Ager thought to himself. We'll need someone like that in the futur
e. I'll have a word to Lynan about him.
He found it strange to be thinking so highly of a captain from Haxus. He had spent most of his military career fighting men just like Waylong—had even been a captain himself once. When it came down to it, there was no difference between them really, except opportunity. It was ironic that he and Waylong were working together against a Kingdom city.
He shook his head. Such thoughts did no one any good. There was a battle to be won, and enemies to kill Thinking too deeply on it would send a man crazy.
Queen Charion had regained consciousness once since being brought back to the palace. She made some comment on being without a shirt in front of so many men, then passed out again. Doctors had spent hours with her, making sure there were no serious internal injuries other than the three cracked ribs they had found. Unguents were placed on her bruising and her right arm put in a sling to stop it from moving. Galen had visited whenever he could. And all the time, never leaving her side, sat Farben. He amazed himself by not fretting. For the first time since the war had started, he found some kind of calm. His queen had been injured, and for Farben nothing else mattered. Charion was the centre of his world, and when he found her wounded he thought his world had collapsed. When he realised she was still alive he understood how unimportant was everything else in his own life.
Charion moved in her sleep, moaned with the pain it caused her. Farben dipped a cloth in warm scented water and used it to pat her forehead. Her features relaxed and she continued sleeping.
Outside he heard the jangling of armour. Galen's armoured squadron in the courtyard, ready for a last desperate battle. He knew Galen had effectively taken command of the city and was himself on the west wall where the greatest danger lay. Farben thought his queen had chosen well; that is, if she intended Galen to be more than simply her lover. He sighed heavily. She had had her fair share of lovers, none of them much good in Farben's eye: opportunists mostly, and one or two so stupid he thought Charion lucky to get anything at all from them. But Galen was noble born, and a natural commander, and Farben could tell he liked Charion.
Maybe, he thought, Galen even loves her.
He smiled. For many years he had thought he was the only person in the Kingdom who loved Charion. She was a short-tempered cow a lot of the time, but she was absolutely devoted to Hume and she always kept her word. It was easy being one of her secretaries, once you were used to the shouting and screaming.
The sound of fighting reached him. From the west again. How many more times would the Chetts throw themselves so bravely and bloodily against that wall? How long could Galen and the defenders resist?
Charion called out, crying in pain. Farben gently held her down, spoke soothing words to her.
Waylong lit the torch he had specially prepared with wood just turned from green and bound with dampened twine. He glanced one more time at the western horizon and entered the tunnel. For the first few paces he could almost stand, but as it made its way north and deeper into the ground he had to stoop lower and lower until he was crouching. Finally the tunnel widened enough for him to stand again, and on all sides his workers had stacked dry brush around the timber beams that kept the room from collapsing under the weight of the north wall directly above. As well, the workers had prepared two flimsy tables made from branches of dead trees, and on each table rested a la round bowl filled with fine flour. Two engineers were still there, slowly easing out the pegs that joined roof beams to wall stays. When they were finished he waved them out, knelt down and lit a special section of brush that led to the timber frame.
He had done this twice before in his life, and always the temptation was to stay to ensure the cavity collapsed, but discretion played a larger part in his makeup than curiosity and he moved as quickly as he could back through the tunnel. He had gone not more than forty paces when he heard the whooshing sound that meant the brush around the timber and makeshift tables had caught light. He tried to move even faster, knocking his head on the ceiling several times.
Waylong was nearly halfway through the tunnel when the tables collapsed, sending the flour into the air. The ensuing explosion sent a wall of air through the tunnel that whipped his hair and clothes around him, the heat burning against his exposed skin. He made sure not to breathe for a few seconds then took in great gulps of air. He could see golden daylight ahead. Smoke now curled around him. As the tunnel widened and he moved from a crouch to a stoop, he started running, imagining he looked something like Ager in full flight. The thought made him giggle and he almost dropped his torch.
He leaped the last few paces out of the tunnel, followed by a huge cloud of smoke that coughed into the air. Sappers gathered around him, patting the soot and dirt off his clothes, but he ignored them and peeked over the lip of the mantlet covering the trench to see the north wall.
He groaned inside. It was still there, its stone surface turning bronze in the late afternoon light.
Mally half dragged, half carried the water bucket up the stairs to the north wall. He stopped every twenty paces and lolled out three scoops of water for each guard until he finally came to the gatehouse and there let the bucket be so he could stand next to his grandfather. Brettin was sergeant in charge of the gatehouse, and Mally could not have been prouder.
'They're attacking the west wall again,' Mally told him.
Brettin nodded. 'But they'll not get through.'
'They did once,' Mally pointed out.
'And were massacred for their efforts.'
'Why do they keep on doing it?'
'Because they're barbarians, Mally, and know no better.'
Mally thought about that for a moment before saying, cautiously, 'I heard they had Haxans with them.'
Brettin looked down at him and frowned. To his mind, little ones like Mally should not be told things that might make them afraid. 'I've not seen any.'
'They digging the trenches and making the artillery.' Mally leaned closer and whispered to Brettin. 'And I heard they is mining, too.'
Brettin took Mally's hand, took him out to the walkway and pointed down to where their own trenches had been dug. Inside the trenches three men lay flat on their stomachs with their ears to the ground. 'See them?' Mally nodded. 'They can hear enemy miners at work. We've got listeners like them scattered all around the land walls. No one will get through.'
Mally said nothing, but even as he watched he saw two of the listeners look at each other and shrug. He may only have been nine years old, but he knew what that signal meant. They could not hear a thing above the din of the assault on the west wall, and the crashing of enemy missiles against stone.
A bright flashing light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and saw a fireball arc over the west wall and land in an avenue. It scattered embers and sparks, but there was nothing there to catch fire. Then another fireball swung over the wall. It landed as far in as the first, but further south. It disappeared through a warehouse roof. For a moment nothing happened, but even as Mally watched flames started licking up from the roof. Workers in the streets gave the alarm, and soon there was a chain of men and women passing water buckets. After a short while they seemed to be making progress.
'They're beating the fire, Brettin!' Mally called proudly.
'This time,' Brettin said quietly. He knew the enemy would shoot two or three fireballs at a time until they saw flames, telling them they had hit a good target. A moment later a cluster of fireballs followed the trajectory of the second, most of them hitting buildings of one kind or another. Even where he was, Mally could hear the screams of people caught in the sudden bombardment.
'They'll need more than buckets of water,' Brettin said lowly.
There heard a dull explosion and the wall seemed to shift.
'Was that from the warehouse?' Mally asked.
His grandfather's eyes widened. 'Mally, I want you to take a message to your mumma for me.' His voice was calm, but it sounded to Mally like Brettin was trying real hard to keep it that wa
y. 'I want you to tell her that I'll be home later than I thought. I'm on extra duty tonight.'
Mally looked at Brettin curiously. 'But you've been on duty since last night.'
Brettin took Mally's hand and dragged him to the stairs. 'In case you hadn't noticed, we're under attack!' he said angrily. 'Now go home and tell your mumma what I said.' He pushed Mally in the back to set him on his way. 'Hurry!'
Mally, confused by the sudden change in his grandfather, hesitated for a second, but Brettin pushed him a second time and he ran down the stairs as fast as he could. On the last two steps he thought he was going to fall because he swayed as though he would faint. Then his feet were on the ground and he was steady again. He looked back up at the wall to wave goodbye to Brettin, but he was not there. His feelings a little hurt he started to run, but stopped when he heard a sound like the grinding of giant teeth. He turned around and saw something he did not think was possible. The wall was moving. It was as if the white stones had become as wobbly as fat. At first he thought it was amusing, not understanding what it meant, but when he saw some of the guards fall off the walkway and plummet to their death, his heart froze with fear.
'Brettin!' he shouted and started running back, but even as he did so the wall leaned away from him and disappeared in a billowing cloud of dust and smoke, taking the guard tower with it. The cloud enveloped him, turning day into night. A stone ricocheted off the road and struck him in the head. He feel, bleeding, and knew no more.
Ager had not heard the mine explosion but had seen Waylong running out of the tunnel. He looked anxiously at the north wall; his heart sank when he saw nothing happen.
'Well?' Lynan demanded.
Ager could only shrug helplessly, but even as he did so a shout started among the sappers and his gaze shot back to the wall. For a moment he thought nothing had changed and was wondering what the commotion was about, then he saw that the top of the wall seemed to be waving slightly as if he was looking at it through a heat haze. Then it fell. His jaw dropped in amazement.
