by Morgan Rice
“We’re easy targets like this,” Cora said.
“I can’t see a way out,” Hans said. “Emeline, can you ask Sophia for help?”
“I can try,” Emeline said. Cora saw her concentrate for a moment. “I’m not even sure if she heard me.”
Cora had to hope that she had. The alternative was that they had to sit there while the cannon killed them. Yet who could come to their aid? Kate and Lord Cranston’s men had gone off in a bid to help Sophia, and Cora had no idea if they’d succeeded. Ulf and Frig were supposed to be coming in with forces through the river gate, but there was no sign of them. Several ships had just sailed away in the build-up to the fight. They were alone.
Then, suddenly, they weren’t.
Figures crashed into one of the groups of soldiers, strangely dressed and moving oddly. Some of the soldiers seemed to freeze in place while they attacked, their minds caught, while others ran in fear they probably couldn’t explain. One young man flung a soldier who appeared to be twice his weight with barely any effort.
Cora recognized the warriors of Stonehome at once. Asha and Vincente were at their heart, Asha striking out with a pair of slender blades, Vincente with something more like a cleaver. They cut into the group of soldiers as easily as they’d cut into the villagers who’d tried to burn her and Emeline. There weren’t enough of them to win alone, though.
“We need to attack!” Cora said.
Hans nodded, forcing himself to his feet in spite of his wound. “Forward!”
They charged, and Cora had to fight to keep from ducking every time the boom of a cannon came. They slammed into the soldiers blocking the street, and now the fight turned into a press of bodies and hacking blades. Cora lashed out at anyone wearing the colors of one of the nobles, not having time to think, or block, or do anything other than hope the fighting would be done soon.
In all the chaos, Cora found herself cutting down a soldier, only to find herself face to face with Asha. The Stonehome leader briefly looked as though she was considering cutting Cora down, then stood back to back with her instead, striking at any soldiers who came close.
“You followed us,” Cora said. “You came to help.”
“We came to track down our secret,” Asha said.
“But you’re fighting anyway?”
“Perhaps this will be good for Stonehome,” Asha replied. “Perhaps having one of us on the throne will help.”
“It will,” Cora assured her, parrying a blow from a soldier. “When you meet Sophia, you’ll understand.”
“Don’t think that this means I like you,” Asha said. “This isn’t over. You left with our secret intact. I mean to take it. Just not yet.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lucas moved through Ashton alone, slipping silently through the deadliness of the battle toward the spot where the river’s entrance was barred by its great gates. Every time he saw a knot of soldiers below, a part of him wanted to leap down from his rooftop path and join in the fighting, but he controlled himself. Official Ko had always taught him that the key was to fight the few battles that mattered.
The battle for the river gate mattered.
It should have opened in the first rush of the battle to let their forces into the city. The men Sophia had sent to do it should have been able to shorten the fight for Ashton by allowing Ulf and Frig a way into the city. Yet it had not opened, and Lucas could see their forces now, pinned against the shore by arrows and cannon fire. If they stayed there much longer, Lucas feared what might happen to his cousins.
He could see the river gate now, standing ahead in a solid wooden barrier. Soldiers crowded around its winching mechanisms, controlling them and making sure no one could attack from outside or from the street. The bodies of at least a dozen Ishjemme men lay scattered about, obviously those Sophia had sent to take the gate.
Lucas found himself considering the river instead, and the boats that stood largely abandoned in it, their owners seeking safer spots to hide once the battle started. He slipped down from the roof he was on, took a breath, and ran for the riverbank.
His first leap landed him on the deck of a boat with a rattle of timbers. Lucas caught his balance smoothly and ran, keeping the momentum going. He jumped the gap to the next boat as if it were the space from one stepping stone to another, and didn’t stop. The third gap was larger, and for a moment he thought he might not make it, but his arms grabbed the side of the barge he was jumping for, and he managed to pull himself up.
Lucas heard a shout from the far bank and he sped up, knowing that there was no more time. An arrow flashed by him as he ran, and Lucas sensed the attention of a musketeer in time to duck as a shot came. He didn’t stop, though, taking the final leap to the far side of the river even as he drew his curved swords.
Men came at him, and Lucas guessed then that all those hours spent with his sword masters had not been aimed at making him fit to be a king; they’d been preparing him for this moment. Official Ko was more than cunning enough to see it coming. Lucas ducked under a sword blow, slashed at a man’s arm, and kept running, not letting even the battle slow him as he raced for the gate mechanism.
A man came at him and Lucas threw him aside, wheeling him over his hip. Another came forward and Lucas thrust his right hand sword through the man’s heart, then hacked down a third with a backhand sweep. He swayed out of the way of another cut and kept moving, forcing his way onto the stone steps that led up to the mechanism.
Men came down toward him, and there was no way to avoid all of them. Lucas felt a pike graze his shoulder as he pushed upward, felt the sharp pain of a sword across his forearm. Yet those were minor wounds, and the ones he delivered in return more than paid for them. Lucas fought with a mixture of grace and control, every swing of his blades measured, every attack designed to move him forward.
Even so, it seemed to take forever before he reached the small space where the mechanism for the gate stood. Ropes held it fast, while three men remained between Lucas and his goal.
He feinted high and then cut low toward the first. As the man leapt back, Lucas turned and kicked the second in the chest, hard enough to send him tumbling over the wall. The third lifted a musket and Lucas threw his left-hand sword, sending it spinning end over end to bury itself in the man’s chest. He parried a cut from the third, then brought his remaining sword down hard on the ropes that held the gate’s mechanism in place.
Slowly, inexorably, it started to spin.
“You should probably run,” Lucas said to the soldier, who stared at him for only a moment before turning to do just that. Men fired at Lucas from the neighboring walls, but he kept the gate mechanism turning, and now he could see the gates starting to open.
People started to pour in through the gap. Ulf and Frig were there, charging into the waiting mass of Ashton’s soldiers, hacking and cutting. More of Ishjemme’s people poured in, and more. Lucas ran down to join them, retrieving his thrown sword before plunging into the fray.
In seconds, he was caught up in the violence, delving deep into its heart, moving and striking, blocking and cutting, never staying still long enough for enemies to get around him. He fought his way toward Ulf and Frig, who had managed to cut a clear space around themselves in the heart of the battle.
“Well done, cousin,” Frig called, as the royal soldiers started to pull back. “Now what?”
Lucas pointed with one of his swords. “Now we fight our way to the heart of this city, we join up with my sisters, and we take it!”
***
The battle on the beach was all but won by the time Kate reached Sophia. The men she and Sienne had killed lay where they’d fallen, well short of her sister. On the beach below, Sophia’s troops were fighting back the last of the foes who had tried to come in by boat, while Kate trusted no one more than Lord Cranston to finish the fight in the field behind them.
Kate threw herself forward, hugging her sister.
“Are you all right?” she asked Sophia. “A
re you safe? What were you thinking, going off like that?”
“I had to do it,” Sophia said. “Too many of our people might have died if I didn’t.”
“And you might have died here,” Kate pointed out. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if her sister had died. She wasn’t sure that she could imagine a world without Sophia in it. “It was a stupid risk to take.”
But I didn’t die, Sophia sent to her. You saved me.
You couldn’t know I’d do that, Kate pointed out.
“I didn’t,” Sophia said, “but I had to do it anyway. And now… now we have to take Ashton.”
Kate nodded. “We’ll do it together.”
She saw Sophia smile at that, rubbing the roundness of her belly. “I think it might be better if you went on ahead, little sister. You can move faster than I do.”
“Then I’ll make sure Ashton is waiting by the time you get there,” Kate promised. She hugged her sister again. “Don’t do anything dangerous while I’m gone?”
“I feel as though I should be asking you that,” Sophia countered. “I’ll be fine. My men and I will follow. Shall I expect the gates to the palace to be open when I get there?”
“Count on it.”
Kate laughed and ran over to where Lord Cranston’s men were waiting, standing in the smoldering remains of the wheat field. Their enemies were either dead or had run, leaving them in control of it.
“We need to get back to the city,” she said. “Are you all with me?”
Although they must have been exhausted by then, the cheer that came back was still enough to make Kate smile. She sought out the spot where Lord Cranston stood, his officers giving him reports.
“Lord Cranston, are you in a position to continue the assault on the city?”
He nodded. “Lead on, Kate. Men, form up! We’re going back into Ashton!”
It made Kate’s heart swell with confidence to see the speed with which they did it, ready and even eager for the next fight. She marched at the heart of them, not in the frantic race that it had been when she’d been trying to save her sister, but still moving quickly.
They reached the outskirts of the city again in minutes, and Kate tried to use her ears to pick out where the fighting was hardest. That would be the spot they headed for, because that would be the spot where they were needed.
“That way,” Kate said, pointing to the heart of the city.
She had her sword out ready for trouble as she advanced, a pistol primed against the violence that she knew had to be somewhere ahead. She led the way along cobbled streets and under lines of washing strung out between houses, the clamor of steel growing closer.
Ahead, she saw two forces caught in battle. One side wore the colors of Ishjemme, while the others had on a motley variety of noble colors. Kate stood and watched the violence for a moment, her eyes picking out a young man at the heart of it, whirling and cutting, moving with the kind of grace and deadliness that could only mean one thing.
Lucas?
He looked up, his eyes seeking hers out across the battlefield. Even at that distance, Kate saw him smile.
Sister, you’re here.
I will be, Kate sent back, and then gave a battle cry as she charged forward to join the fray, knowing without having to ask that Lord Cranston’s men would join her. The rearmost ranks of the enemy started to turn as they ran forward, but by then it was already too late. Kate fired her pistol into the nearest of their foes, cut into another, and plunged deep into the melee.
She cut her way toward her brother and could see Lucas ahead, scything his way toward her in turn. The men caught between the two of them didn’t seem to know which way to turn, and many of them settled for running down side streets, trying to get away from the pressure on both sides.
Like storm clouds blowing away, the royal forces scattered, leaving Kate facing the young man she’d seen across the battlefield. She could feel the connection to him instantly, and threw her arms wide, drawing him into an embrace made careful only by the presence of so many blades.
“Brother!”
“Sister,” Lucas replied with a smile. “I have met you before, of course, but hopefully this time there is not a witch possessing your body, trying to make it kill me.”
“I’m only interested in killing one set of people today,” Kate assured him. “And most of them are in the palace.”
“Then we should head that way,” Lucas said. “Is Sophia not with you?”
“She’s following on,” Kate said. “And I want to make sure that the city is well and truly safe before she gets here.”
“A fine plan,” Lucas agreed.
Kate looked across to the palace. She had no doubt that the Dowager’s forces would have reinforced it by now, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. They were inside the walls of Ashton now, and soon, it would be theirs to give to their sister.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sophia could see that her flagship wouldn’t be refloated in a hurry; the journey to the beach had torn holes in its hull near the keel, leaving gaping wounds that would take the attention of a team of shipwrights to heal. It made it look like a beached whale that had been scavenged by gulls down to the bone.
Some of the smaller vessels had shallower draughts, though, and she stood watching while her men started to push them back into the water.
Sienne didn’t seem impressed by the prospect, mewling as Sophia made for the waterline.
“I know,” she said. “But it’s only one more boat trip, then we’ll be back on land.”
The forest cat still didn’t seem impressed, but hopped up into the boat. Sophia managed her entry to it with less grace, but the sailors there were on hand immediately, helping her to board. Soldiers piled onto the boats, crowding them since there were fewer available and readying themselves for the prospect of another hard battle.
“Get us back to the city,” Sophia ordered. “As quickly as you can.”
“Yes, your majesty,” one of the officers replied, and oarsmen on the boat started to work it out into the water, while sailors brought up the sail. There were even fewer ships now than there had been on the way in to the beach, but Sophia wasn’t afraid. She’d done what she came to do. She’d bought her forces time.
Sophia could still see enemy ships in the distance, but they seemed to be hanging back now, as if realizing that their part in the battle was over. Perhaps they were hoping they could still run for cover. Sophia was glad of that, because she and the others there were still vulnerable as they made their way back toward the city. There was still a lot of open water to cover.
There was no one to attack them on this short journey, though, and it wasn’t until Sophia neared the city that she heard the sounds of battle again, saw the last engagements in the ship-to-ship battle in the harbor. With most of the ships there following her, it seemed that the ones that had stayed to defend Ashton were being overwhelmed. Even as she watched, Sophia saw a ship listing sharply, toppling with surprising speed into the waters around it. Another ship was aflame, turned into a kind of floating beacon by the violence.
Sophia’s ships slid forward to join the fray, two of them moving close to a larger enemy ship, the crew throwing grappling hooks to pull them alongside. They swarmed over its deck like ants, the crew overwhelmed by the new arrivals even as it tried to engage the ships that were already there.
Sophia’s ship stayed out of the violence. It held back, and she guessed that its captain was trying to protect her. If so, he obviously hadn’t learned the lesson of everything they’d just done: she didn’t need to be protected, not if it meant that more of her people died.
She saw the river gate starting to open and knew this was her chance to act.
“There,” she ordered, “into the city.”
Already, Sophia could see ground troops making their way inside, pouring in to quell any resistance at the gates. Even so, she knew that the key would be to get as many soldiers as possible within Ashton’s inner
walls as soon as they could. Her ship turned to approach the river gate, and so did all the others in her fleet.
The ship slid into the city like a shark darting into a fisherman’s net to steal their catch. Around Sophia, the air was thick with smoke and the sounds of violence. As the ship got close to the shore, pulling up tight to the riverbank, Sophia hopped off it more gracefully than she’d gotten on, Sienne joining her and men hurrying to keep up.
“You men, help to secure this side of the river so that the others can land,” she ordered, pointing. “You, take a detachment and make sure we’re not about to run into a counterattack. I want scouts on the rooftops, and messengers sent out to my cousins to find out where in the city they all are.”
Finding Kate was easier, because it just meant reaching out with her gift.
Kate, Lucas, Emeline, where are you all?
Lucas and I are on the royal parade, Kate sent back.
We’re on our way there too, Emeline sent.
We’ll join you there, Sophia replied, then turned to her troops, raising her voice. “We’re heading for the royal parade. Stay together, and stay disciplined. I want no looting, no innocent people hurt. We’re freeing this city, not conquering it.”
She probably didn’t need to say it, but she wanted to make sure. She set off through the city, soldiers moving around her in a broad ring of protection. Sophia could see faces at the windows of some of the houses, some of them glancing out briefly and darting back, others staring in obvious fear. Sophia could understand that: they didn’t know who she was, or that they were safe. All they would see was an invading army, come from across the sea to take their city.
She needed to do something about that.
“Send out groups of criers and messengers,” Sophia said. “Have them shout who we are, and that we’re here to free them from the Dowager’s rule.” A thought came to her; the most important thought of all, in a lot of ways. “And have them shout that there’s a reward for any information that lets us find Sebastian safe.”
