Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  'That's it!' Lynan shouted. 'Remove the barricade!'

  Haxan sappers used ropes and pulleys to pull down a section of the stake fence about a hundred paces long. Lynan kicked his horse into action through the gap, and without being told the warriors of the Red Hands and the Ocean Clan streamed after him. The field between the Chett camp and Daavis was filled with charging cavalry, their riders screaming war cries, and in front was the terrible White Wolf.

  Workers and civilians and soldiers who had rushed to the collapsed wall froze in place when they saw the tide rushing towards them, then with yelps of panic most of them scattered, trying to find some refuge. A small number of the soldiers tried to dress a line, but as the

  Chett charge drew closer their courage failed them and they too ran for cover.

  When the cavalry reached the collapsed wall the charge, for all its elan, faltered as horses picked their way through rubble and broken bodies. Hume archers on those sections of the wall still standing picked off a few of the riders. Lynan dismounted and ran for the nearest stairs, followed by those Red Hands who saw what he was doing, and started clearing the walkway of any enemy. One archer managed to shoot an arrow through Lynan's leg, but it did not slow him down. Terrified, the archer threw himself off the wall before Lynan could reach him. In a few short moments the entire section of the north wall east of the break to the next guard tower was clear of the enemy.

  Meanwhile the warriors from the Ocean Clan had got through the rubble and were quickly organising into troops, each troop directed by Ager down a different avenue or street to clear away any soldiers rushing to plug the gap caused by the fallen wall. Another group of Red Hands stormed what was left of the main gate, easily beating back the guards who were still in shock.

  By now Korigan had brought up the rest of the banners; as the Red Hands cleared guard towers they were ordered off their horses and up onto the walkways to hold the walls against any counterattack. Following Korigan came the Haxan sappers under the command of Captain Waylong, who immediately started clearing away rubble.

  As his Red Hands cleared the last guard tower on the north wall Lynan led them around to the west wall and slammed into the defenders still trying to beat off Eynon's fourth assault, unaware that the city had been breached from the north. The enemy soldiers panicked, and in their haste to escape the mad white prince jammed the walkway so that their fellows could not even defend themselves against the Chetts climbing the wall on ladders and ropes. The next few moments saw the bloodiest fighting of the siege, and in the fore was Lynan, using a short sword he took from a fallen Red Hand, stabbing at anybody that was in front of him, using his strength to throw enemy over the side. There was so much blood the walkway was slippery with it and the smell of it fillet Lynan's head. He did not want the slaughter to stop Behind him came a wedge of his Red Hands, screaming and snarling, desperate to ensure Lynan was not isolated from them. The final blow for the defenders was the appearance of Eynon himself, filled with a rage that matched Lynan's. On the wall for the second time, the deaths of so many of his warriors fuelling his anger, he fell on the Daavis soldiers like an avalanche. Together, the two leaders cut a swathe to the first guard tower on the west wall, cleared it of enemies and swept on to the next section of walkway, carrying all before them. More and more of Eynon's warriors clambered over the wall and down the stairs, killing all who were in their way.

  A moment came when Lynan was without an enemy to kill. He stood on the walkway, Chett warriors streaming around him, and looked out over the city. The sun was down and Daavis was dressed in a malevolent twilight filled with smoke and the cries of the dying. He could see his forces moving south from the north wall and east from the west wall, driving all before them, Houses, shops and warehouses were on fire. Bodies clogged drains and doorways. In the middle of the city he could see the palace and wondered what was going on in the mind of Queen Charion. Did she know yet that her city had fallen?

  As she left the darkness behind, the tails of her dreams slid against her consciousness. For a moment she remembered her misshapen tormenters with the kind voices of those she loved: her father scolding her, her first lover accusing her of betraying him, Galen calling her a slut, Farben refusing to carry out her orders. And over all of them a voice she had not heard before, male and female, coming from a great distance and speaking of blood.

  And then it was all gone, and in its place were new sounds no less terrifying but dramatically more immediate.

  Her eyes blinked open and she saw Farben's face looking down at hers with great concern. 'Your Majesty? How are you feeling?'

  'I'm feeling fine,' she wanted to say, but the words came out slurred. She tried to sit up, but pain rippled through her chest and her breath whooshed out of her.

  'Don't move,' Farben's voice pleaded. 'You're hurt.'

  'What happened?'

  'You fell defending the west wall.'

  'How long ago?'

  'Yesterday.' He looked out the room's only window.

  'I don't remember…'

  'You were unconscious, your Majesty. You are lucky to be alive. Galen and I brought you back here—'

  'Galen! Where is he?'

  'He took your place on the wall. He is a good soldier.'

  'Yes,' Charion agreed vaguely. Her eyelids fluttered.

  'You should get more sleep,' Farben told her.

  It was tempting. But something had woken her. Something was wrong. Then she heard the sounds again. 'What's happening?'

  'The Chetts are attacking again. Galen will beat them back.'

  'No. The sounds are closer than that—'

  'Galen will beat them back,' Farben repeated.

  She tried sitting up again, but once more the pain defeated her. 'What is wrong with me?'

  'You have some broken ribs. You are bruised from shoulder to hip.'

  Charion caught his gaze and said with sudden sternness, 'How would you know?'

  Farben blushed. 'When we found you we did not know if you had been cut or stabbed. There was so much blood—'

  'We?"

  Farben sighed. He could not believe he was having this conversation. Why did Charion always find a way to make him feel so foolish?

  'We?' she persisted.

  'Galen and I,' he snapped impatiently. Then he said something that surprised him even more than Charion 'And don't you pretend that he hasn't seen it all before.'

  She blinked in amazement. He went as white as her bed sheet.

  'What did you say?' she asked, more shocked than angry.

  'I… I…'

  He was saved by more cries from outside.

  'What is happening, Farben?' Charion demanded. 'And don't put me off this time.'

  'All I know for sure is that there was a fourth attack on the west wall.'

  'A fourth attack?'

  'The third was this morning. Unsuccessful. The fourth started not long ago.'

  'Help me up,' she ordered.

  'You must rest, your Majesty. You are in no fit state—'

  'Help me up!'

  There was no denying that voice. He shook his head, but put a hand behind the small of her back and helped her into a sitting position. She tried to put her hands down to help take the weight off him, but discovered her right arm was in a sling. 'What use is this?' she cried.

  'It's to protect you. The doctors were afraid if you moved that side too much you might send the end of one of the broken ribs into a lung.'

  'Oh.'

  With Farben's help she did sit up. With some effort and not a little pain she was able to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

  'Right. Now I want you to help me stand.'

  'No,' Farben said. 'You've been badly hurt—'

  'A few cracked ribs do not make for a serious injury.'

  'I have explicit directions from the doctors—'

  'And now you have explicit instructions from me.'

  Again, that tone of voice could not be disobeyed, least of all by Farb
en. He let her put an arm around his neck, and as he stood straight he brought her with him. For a moment they stayed like that, misshapen twins, until Charion eased her arm away and stood up by herself.

  'That's better,' she said, but could not stop the pain from edging her voice.

  A new voice, harried and exhausted, said: 'Thank God you're on your feet. We have no time to lose.'

  'Galen?'

  The Kendran stood before her and saw how pale she was. 'I am sorry, but we have to go.'

  'Go? What are you talking about?' Charion looked at Farben, who could only shrug.

  Galen licked his lips. 'Daavis is lost.'

  'No.'

  'The north wall is taken. They undermined it.'

  'But it would take them weeks to reach the north wall—'

  'Only if we found all the old tunnels,' Farben interrupted. 'Remember, your Majesty, they have Haxan sappers with them.'

  Charion swayed on her feet, and both Farben and Galen reached out for her.

  'And the west wall has gone now,' Galen continued. 'I barely escaped with my own life. Lynan is like a demon. No one can stand before him.'

  Charion shook off their hands. 'Then I will stay and fight for my city!'

  'You will die for your city,' Galen pointed out.

  'So be it,' Charion said simply, and then to Farben: 'Get me my sword.'

  'If you wish so much to die, then why not do it retaking Daavis at a later date?' Galen asked.

  'Sophistry,' she said. And then to Farben again: 'Did you not hear me? I said get my sword!'

  'No, your Majesty,' Farben said firmly. He turned to Galen. 'You will take her with you and your knights?'

  Galen nodded. 'We will ride through what is left of the north gate then head east.'

  'The Chetts will catch us,' Charion said, looking sternly at Farben.

  'The Chetts are too busy looting Daavis,' Galen told her.

  And then Farben saw something he never expected to witness. Tears came to Charion's eyes.

  'They are looting my city?'

  Galen nodded and dared to grip her arm again. 'You are coming with me now.'

  Before she could respond, Farben took her other arm, disregarding the sling and her yelps of pain, and between them they helped her through the palace and to the courtyard. The knights were all mounted, their horses edgy from the smoke hanging in the air and the nervousness of their riders. Magmed appeared with two horses, and Galen and Farben carefully lifted Charion onto one of them.

  'I am not dressed for riding,' she said weakly.

  'You will do,' Galen told her. He looked at Farben. 'You can ride with me, if you wish.'

  'No. You must ride swiftly. I will only hinder you.'

  'Farben, you cannot stay here,' Charion said.

  'Of course I can, your Majesty. Someone must make sure no one damages the palace.'

  Galen mounted. 'We will return with an army.'

  Farben nodded. 'I know. Look after my queen.'

  'I promise.'

  Charion leaned over to stroke Farben's cheek. 'I'm sorry.'

  Farben quickly kissed the palm of her hand. 'I look forward to your return. I will greet you here at this spot and you can shout at me all you like.'

  Charion laughed amid her tears.

  'Now go,' Farben told Galen.

  Galen and Magmed flanked Charion, and the troop set off. Farben watched them go, sighed heavily and returned to the palace.

  CHAPTER 14

  It was called the Castle Tower by those without respect, for it was as tall as a castle tower and seemed as well built. Tomlin, who had been in his profession his whole working life and who had inherited his position from his father, called it simply the Pigeon House for that is what it was. Situated within the grounds of the palace in Kendra but built as a separate structure, it gave Tomlin the grandest views of the city bar none. On this particular day the sun was high and bright, and a fresh southerly kept the air perfectly cool. Anyone other than Tomlin would also have said the southerly swept away the worst of the smell from the Pigeon House, but he no longer noticed the smell. Indeed, its source—the huge white cakes of bird droppings that settled at every level of the house—brought him the major portion of his income. Those who owned the city's market gardens loved the stuff, and he was more than happy to scrape it up and put it into small cloth bags and sell it to them.

  But Tomlin's real love was the pigeons themselves. He knew them all by name, and could recount their pedigree back generation after generation. His father had made sure he learned to write so be could keep perfect records in case his memory failed him, and these he maintained scrupulously.

  He had finished distributing the feed for the day and was checking the water in each coop, when there was a commotion in the fourth level.

  'Bloody One Leg!' he cursed, drew his Jong knife and rushed down the two flights of stairs to get to the level. But the terrible one-legged crow who regularly tried to catch his pigeons was nowhere to be found. Tomlin had almost caught the bloody black bird once, which is why it only had one leg, but it was a clever beast and seemed to delight in tormenting him. His first thought was the crow was teasing him, perhaps to draw him away from one of the other levels, but then he heard the commotion again in several of the coops on the north wall.

  That surprised him. He could have sworn they were empty earlier in the morning. Still, holding onto his knife he opened the little wooden catch to one of the coops and saw that indeed one of his pigeons had returned. 'White Wing!' he said in surprise, for there was no message on its leg. He opened another catch, and there was Chevron, also without a message. He peeked inside two more coops, and they were occupied as well.

  'All from Daavis,' he said aloud to himself, mystified.

  He sheathed his knife and went up to the sixth level to retrieve the feed bag and water flask and then back down to the fourth level to care for the returned birds.

  The routine helped to settle his mind, and slowly it unravelled the mystery. The answer gave him no comfort, however, for he knew what it meant for the Kingdom of Grenda Lear.

  Powl had stayed up most of the night composing a brief paragraph he hoped would do for the Book of Days. That morning, straight after prayers in the Royal Chapel, he went to the library with the piece of paper he had written on and copied the paragraph into the book in his best hand.

  'We must always strive to find God inside us,' he read softly as he wrote. 'To fill ourselves with nothing but our own life is to fall short of His expectation for us, and to fall short of all that we can achieve. To have God inside us is to be complete.'

  He sealed his ink bottle and put it and the pen back in his pocket. The piece of paper he put over a candle, letting it go only when the flames burned the tips of his fingers. Black smoke curled to the roof of the library, and he watched it until it had completely dispersed.

  I am like that, he thought, striving to reach God but disappearing into air instead. How can one reach Goi without knowing his name?

  He read again his first contribution to the Book of Days and realised it read more like the beginning of a sermon than something that was in itself complete. He had failed this test as well, and was embarrassed to think his priests would read it and wonder. Some would not understand the message and think it was their fault because they were not smart or holy enough. And yet Powl knew it would be his fault. His sin was multiplying, staining the innocent under his care.

  Father Rown entered the library carrying an armful of papers. 'It is almost time for the council meeting, your Grace. I took the liberty of bringing your papers.' He held out half his load.

  'Thank you, Father,' Powl said, accepting them. 'Have you studied the agenda?'

  'Yes, your Grace. The most important item concerns the raising of a new army. It is the first on the list.'

  'Yes,' Powl said vaguely. He wanted to say he had thought on the issue deeply. After all, the first army had come about largely because of his advice in council while still noth
ing but his predecessor's secretary. And because of that Sendarus is dead, he thought to himself, and then quickly, No! I wanted Olio to command it. It was not I who sent Sendarus to his death.

  'Your Grace?'

  'This will be the first council meeting since the death of the princess.'

  'Little Usharna?'

  'And your first as my secretary.'

  'Yes, and I thank you for the honour. I was not expecting—'

  'You must not be afraid to speak up,' Powl interrupted him. 'You are there to present your opinion.'

  'Thank you, your Grace, I will endeavour—'

  'But never forget you are the queen's subject, not the council's. Follow my lead on any vote. If for some reason I am not at a council meeting, Orkid will guide you, and you will have my proxy.'

  'Yes, your Grace.'

  'Very well. Lead on. We mustn't be late.'

  Father Rown hurriedly left; Powl lingered for a moment, glancing once more at the Book of Days and wishing he had not written his little paragraph.

  Orkid Gravespear had risked a great deal to rouse Areava out of her depression. He had worked hard to get her to call her council together, knowing that the work of the Kingdom was the only thing that would occupy enough of her time to stop her falling into grief every time she thought of her dead husband and child and her wounded Olio, or worse, falling into rage every time she thought of her outlawed brother, Prince Lynan. But now he knew Dejanus would put himself forward as commander of the new army Areava must create to defend the Kingdom, he wished the council was not meeting at all. Orkid had to support Dejanus or risk the constable revealing to Areava how they had murdered her brother to set her on the throne. After the initial shock of their last meeting had worn off he had believed Dejanus had been bluffing, but his spies reported the constable was drinking almost constantly, and a drunk Dejanus might do anything without fear of consequence.