Milo shrugged. "From what I understand, they don't think much of our chances at actually holding off Black Moon, so what they've decided to do is to try to corral them instead."
Rill thought back to the defenses he'd seen on the streets leading up to here. They made a bit more sense now. He'd seen a lot of barricades and other fortifications that were designed to impede a force's progress, but they were set up along side roads and alleys, rather than across the main thoroughfares themselves. He frowned. "So they're just going to leave the gate open?" He looked at the gate. "Won't that seem a bit, you know, obviously a trap?"
Milo shook his head. "Well, maybe not open, per se," he said, "but they're planning on making it really easy to get into."
Rill let out a long breath. He lowered his voice. "Do you think it's a good idea?"
Milo grinned. "It's that fire-stuff of yours that got them thinking this way."
Rill wasn't sure how he felt about that. He considered the idea, turning it around in his mind, getting a good look at every angle he could think of. He could understand the logic of such a plan. It did make sense to try to force the enemy into specific spaces if the idea was to douse them with flaming sludge, especially considering the fact that there was only so much of the stuff to go around. Still, the risks to the city and to the populace were great, should something go wrong. It wasn't something he would have tried.
"And you thought you'd come and help out?" Rill said, dropping the subject. "I thought they still had you playing messenger in the Keep?"
"They did," Milo said. His grin faded a little. "Black Moon's so close at this point, though," he continued, "that asking other people where they are is kind of moot." He turned his gaze to the North. "I can hear them now."
Rill raised his eyebrows. "You can hear them?"
Milo nodded, then furrowed his brow in concentration. "The dry air helps. The less water that's in the air, the easier it is to hear things a long way away." He turned back to Rill, his smile returning. "Plus, an army's a big thing, you know. They make a lot of noise."
Rill shook his head in amazement. Milo, both in his abilities as an air priest and in his constant optimism, was a constant source of wonder to him. "So," he said, cautiously, "can you tell how far away they are?"
Milo looked north again. "I'd wager they'll be here before noon tomorrow."
Rill took a deep breath. He'd known the army was coming, known the entire city was preparing to meet their attack, but actually getting an estimated arrival time from a man who could hear their marching feet made things suddenly a great deal more immediate.
Milo turned to the gate again. He seemed about to say something when Perra, the hawk that had been his frequent companion for the last few months, beat her wings and lifted herself into the air, soaring over the wall to the North.
They both watched her go. "I wonder where she's off to," Milo said after she disappeared.
"Well," Rill said, "if Black Moon's going to be here tomorrow, then I'd better get to it."
Milo nodded. "Go on, then." They shook hands again and Rill made his way up the ladder, following Daniel to the battlements of the outer wall.
When he got there, he saw Daniel inserting a small, metal rod into one of the half-dozen barrels that were stored up there. He also saw Aiella, the dark-haired girl who had spent so much time at Flamehearth recently. She was at the edge of the battlements, standing between the crenellations and staring out at the plains. She didn't seem to have noticed him yet.
He knew why she was there. "Still no sign of them?" he said.
She slowly shook her head, her dark hair waving in the slight breeze.
Rill still wasn't sure what he thought about Aiella. She'd appeared brusque and conceited when he'd first met her at Flamehearth, though she seemed different—quieter—lately. He'd heard her described as being the prince's woman, yet he never saw any evidence of that with his own eyes and ears. In fact, she'd come looking for him twice in the last couple of days, asking if he'd heard any news about the men who'd gone to meet Black Moon. Both times, her concern had seemed more for Caymus than for the prince.
He didn't think she and Caymus even knew each other that well. He'd considered trying to find out more, but prying into the affairs of an ambassador's daughter wasn't something he was terribly interested in doing.
He turned his attention back to Daniel. "How does it look?"
Daniel had just placed the rod on the ground and was striking a couple of sparks onto it with a hand-held striker. The oily substance caught, burned for a moment, then went out. The little rods were cut small enough that they wouldn't hold enough of the sludge to burn any longer than that. Rill smiled. He was glad he'd had time to modify the mixture a little, allowing it to be lit by sparks, rather than requiring a steady flame.
Daniel turned his face up with a grin. "First one's okay, at least."
Rill nodded, then pulled his own testing rod and striker from the pouch at his waist. "You check those," he said, indicating the two unchecked barrels closest to Daniel, "and I'll do these two."
Daniel grunted an acknowledgment and Rill set about his work, inserting the testing rod into the first barrel. He was immensely glad that they hadn't found any further evidence of tampering so far. Though Draya's leadership had managed to produce a greater amount of the sludge than anyone had thought possible, it still wasn't as much as Rill would have liked. He'd seen these krealites before, fought them before, knew how nearly-indestructible they were.
They didn't have any weapons, besides these barrels.
As Rill placed the metal rod onto the stone of the wall, a good distance from the barrels themselves, he silently hoped that the prince and his men—not to mention Caymus—had met with some success. He knew in his heart, though, that the fact that Milo could hear Black Moon's approach meant things couldn't have gone well. When he struck his flint, the rod caught the sparks and burned in a satisfactory way. Good. However Caymus was doing out there, at least there was one less barrel to worry about here.
"Do you think the plan will work?" Daniel said, starting another barrel.
Rill realized he'd been miles away. "What?" he said.
"This 'corral the bad guys down one street' plan," Daniel said, nodding towards the men working below. "Do you think it will work?"
Rill raised an eyebrow. "You could hear that from up here?"
Daniel affected a half-smile. "Like the priest said, the air's dry today."
Rill, now testing the final barrel, considered the barricades again. He had decided he didn't like the strategy at all. He didn't imagine that an invading horde could be funneled so easily, that a mass of soldiers and krealites would be deterred from making their way down a particular street just because there was a hastily-erected barricade in its way.
He couldn't volunteer a better idea, though.
"I hope so," he said. "At least, I'd say it's the best shot we have."
Daniel didn't say anything else. Rill was glad for the silence. He didn't have anything useful to add regarding the city's defenses, and he didn't want the soldiers down below to hear him give voice to any negative comments.
He found himself smiling when the testing rod from the last barrel caught, relieved that nothing further had gone wrong today.
He was brought to his feet quickly, though, when an urgent scream pierced the air.
He turned in a complete circle, looking about for the source of the cry. The noise appeared to be coming from the other side of the high wall, but that couldn't be possible, could it? Only when the sound came again did he realize that he was hearing the piercing cries of a bird, not a person. Was it Perra making that racket? He raised his head, scanned the sky, and found her white shape there.
In the next moment, after a brief sound of rushing wind, Milo was standing next to him. "Perra?" Milo said. Rill turned to see that he, too, was watching the hawk's form, his eyes shaded against the afternoon sun. She was still crying out, as though repeating the same alarm,
over and over. "What's wrong with her?"
Rill watched the small, white, shrieking form as it moved against the blue sky. He kept expecting it to get larger, for her to come closer, but she didn't seem to be moving toward them. "Can you see?" he asked Milo.
"She's circling," Milo said, confused. "I don't know why—"
"There!" Aiella yelled, jutting her hand out, pointing out into the distance.
Rill tried to follow her finger, but he couldn't make anything out except the dry grassland about them. "What?" he said, "I don't—"
But Aiella was already making her way down the ladder, a haste in her movement that Rill wasn't used to seeing in people. He turned to Milo. "Do you see what she's talking about?"
Perra was still crying out.
Milo didn't say anything. He, too, was obviously trying to see what Aiella had been pointing at. His face was a mask of confusion as he searched the landscape. Then, the confusion evaporated. "Oh, no," he said.
Rill was getting anxious. He didn't see what they saw, but his mind was forming a suspicion. "What?" he practically screamed.
"Down there," Milo said, pointing to something Rill still couldn't see. "That can only be Caymus." He turned his attention from the plains to look Rill square in the eye. "And there's only one other person with him."
Rill felt his breath catch in his lungs.
"Weren't there six or seven of them that left before?" said Daniel.
Milo nodded. Below them, Aiella had collected a handful of soldiers and was now leading them at a run out into the plain, along the dusty road that separated fields of dead and dying grass. "Come on," he said.
Rill didn't argue. He jumped down the lower half of the ladder, so great was his hurry, and nearly sprained his ankle when he landed. He paid the ankle no mind though, and he burst through the North Gate a moment later. He was several yards behind Aiella and her soldiers, but he made up ground in great strides, his legs conditioned for strength and speed by a month-and-a-half of running up and down the walls of the engineering yard. When he finally caught sight of the two shapes coming toward them, he had passed the armored soldiers. Milo, his lithe form dancing across the dust, was still in front of him, but not even the air priest was able to keep pace with Aiella on this occasion.
As they got closer, Rill finally saw what Aiella and Milo had seen: two figures, one smaller than the other. Milo was right that the larger figure couldn't be anybody but Caymus. Rill was relieved by that fact, at least. He wondered who the other shape was, though.
A few moments later, Rill was able to make out that Caymus was carrying a third form. It was then that the reality of the situation, that something terrible must have happened to the prince's party, finally struck him. Eight men, he knew, had ridden out to Falmoor's Pass; only three were coming back, and one of them was having to be carried. Rill tried to will his legs to run even faster, to try to help, but his efforts only caused him to trip and nearly fall headlong into the road, and so he forced himself to slow again.
By the time he was finally close enough to make out the men's faces, Aiella and Milo were already standing before them. Caymus and the man standing next to him—Rill hadn't met this man before—appeared exhausted, their faces red, their breathing labored. The body Caymus carried was Prince Garrin's. Rill couldn't tell for sure, but it looked as though the prince might be dead. Had Caymus really carried Garrin all the way back to Kepren from the Greatstone Mountains?
It was then the Rill saw Caymus's eyes: the colored parts of them seemed to be alight with glowing embers, as though his friend's skull was filled with glowing coals and that his irises were windows into them. There was an enormous sword strapped to his back too, which he had never seen before. As much as he might want to know where the sword had come from, though, and what had happened to the prince, the only thing Rill could focus on in that moment was his own wonderment at those eyes. What could possibly have happened to do that to Caymus?
"Is he alive?" Milo was saying.
Caymus, his face dirty and sun-scorched, seemed unable to speak. He sank down to one knee, as though a reservoir of strength had finally run dry. His mouth tried to form words around the panting and wheezing.
Aiella turned to the soldiers, who were only just arriving. "Water!" she said, her tone of confident authority unmistakable.
The soldiers produced a pair of flasks, which were handed to both Caymus and the other man. Caymus put the flask to the prince's lips before his own, and everyone took a collective sigh of relief when they saw Garrin's throat moving, swallowing the precious liquid. The Champion-Protector of Kepren was alive, and even appeared to be semi-conscious. Even Caymus seemed surprised, which made Rill wonder if his friend had even known whether he'd been carrying a person or a corpse all this while.
Rill was about to ask Caymus what had happened when the third man, the one Rill hadn't met before, collapsed while in the process of raising the flask to his mouth. One of the soldiers—the one who had handed him the flask, in fact—managed to break his fall, and two others rushed in to pick him up, then all three began carrying him back to the gate.
Rill, his concern beginning to outweigh his relief, looked at his friend's face again, trying to get past the orange-red eyes, to see just how tired he might be. "You'd better have a drink too, Caymus," he said. "We're going to need a lot more men if we're going to carry you the rest of the way."
Caymus's attention was still on the prince. Rill wondered if he'd even heard him.
Then, Aiella put a hand to Caymus's cheek. "Caymus?" she said, gently. "Are you with us?" The action surprised Rill. He hadn't known she was capable of such a display of empathy. Her words seemed to break through the fog Caymus was in, though, as he suddenly looked up. For a moment, he seemed confused, as though he was surprised to see all of them there. When the sun-cracked lips parted in a grateful smile though, Rill felt his heart sing. Caymus was still there.
"Hello, everyone," Caymus said, his voice harsh and raspy.
"Have a drink, Caymus," Aiella said.
Caymus looked back down. "The prince," he said. "I need to get him back."
The three remaining soldiers approached him. "We'll take him to the Keep, Sir."
Caymus looked up at the man who had spoken, suspicion in his face. The distrust slowly melted away though, and he nodded. "Be careful," he said. "He's badly wounded." The soldiers gently lifted the prince from his grasp. After two of them had placed Garrin's arms over their shoulders, they, too, slowly made their way back to the city.
"Caymus!" Aiella's voice was more insistent now.
Caymus turned and looked at her. He smiled. "Hello, Aiella."
The dark-haired girl actually smiled back—something else Rill had never before seen—and shook her head at him. She grabbed his hand, the one that still held the water flask, and pressed it toward his face. "Drink," she said, sternly.
Caymus looked at the flask, as though noticing it for the first time, then nodded and emptied it into his mouth. Rill and Milo looked at each other and smiled, glad to see their friend was still alive and healthy, if a bit delirious.
When Caymus took the flask away from his lips, wiping his face with the back of his free hand, he seemed more alert. Aiella let go of his hand, but then was surprised when he briefly took hers. "Thank you," he said, his voice still raspy.
She nodded, and he let go. "You are welcome," she said.
Caymus turned to look at Milo as he got back to his feet. "Do you know where I can find Be'Var?" he said.
"What," Rill said, "don't we get a hello?"
Milo actually laughed out loud. Aiella turned to Rill, her face full of sternness and disapproval, but the expression quickly melted away.
Caymus just gave a low chuckle as he looked back and forth between his friends. "Hello, Rill," he said. "Hello, Milo."
Milo grinned that impish grin of his. "I think I could track the old man down for you," he said.
"Caymus," Rill finally said, "what happened?"
>
Caymus's eyes turned solemn. "It didn't work," he said. "They won't be far behind us now." For a moment, he seemed lost in some terrible memory, but then he snapped out of it. He slowly began stepping toward the city. Rill, Milo, and Aiella fell in next to him.
"As for the rest of it," Caymus said. He turned to Aiella. "Can you ask your father to meet me?" he asked. "There's a lot to tell, and it looks like I'm the only one left to tell it."
"Better get the dukes together too, then," Milo said, shrugging.
"And the Keep-Marshal," Rill added.
Caymus nodded. "I guess we'd better just go ahead and get everyone."
***
"He will return the sword immediately!"
Be'Var felt like laughing, so ridiculous were the words coming out of Duke Korwinder's mouth. Holding back a sigh, the master looked around the room, trying to gauge the feelings of the others arrayed about him. Only the other two dukes, Fel and Chenswig, seemed to mimic Korwinder's outrage. Everyone else appeared to share his own astonishment.
When Milo had burst into the Reed Ward, a temporary hospital erected to house the sick and injured in the Reed District until the Black Moon threat had either passed or consumed them all, he'd announced that the prince and Caymus were back, that he'd better see them quickly—and in that order, too—and that he wasn't going to believe what had happened to Caymus.
He'd certainly been right about the order. Prince Garrin had his own physicians, of course, but the three men knew Be'Var well and had deferred to his particular talents regarding weapon injuries when he'd asked to take a look.
He'd actually cringed when he'd seen the rushed job that Caymus had done closing the wound. The boy had stopped the bleeding, yes, but he'd done it in the fastest, coarsest way possible, not giving any thought whatsoever to the connections of blood vessels or the organs that they might have fed. The first thing Be'Var had needed to do was open up a couple of the more important arteries again, then use his more delicate cauterization abilities to connect them back in their rightful configurations. Yes, Caymus's actions had probably saved the prince's life, but the imprecise way he'd gone about it would eventually have cost the man one of his kidneys and the entire left leg.
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