by Kal Spriggs
She had resigned herself to that fate, he realized, to being the wife of a man selected for his prospects rather than any connection. A marriage built upon calculation rather than respect, affection, or even love. He could picture her, ten, fifteen, or even fifty cycles from now, married to a man she secretly despised in order to preserve the lands and people of Masov.
An impulse took him then and he stepped forward. Before she knew what had happened, he took her in his arms and brought his lips to hers. A wave of warmth washed through him, then, and he felt her body melt against him as she returned the kiss. It was not a gentle kiss, but one of raw need and no little lust, and Aerion finally broke it off and stepped back, feeling breathless, lightheaded, and very much alive.
“What was that?” Katarina said. He could hear the unsteadiness in her voice, the same tremble which made his own heart flutter and his hands tingle.
“That was what I should have done at Southwatch,” Aerion said, his voice pitched low. Behind her, he saw Bulmor shake his head in disapproval, but at this moment he didn't care. “And for all the calculation and logic you've applied to this... tell me that isn't something real and important.”
She looked away, clearly unable to find a reply and Aerion continued to speak, “We're both intelligent people. We will find a way through this... one that doesn't require the sacrifice of the Duchy of Masov or possible civil war as a result.” He shook his head, “To say that we can't be together is to throw aside logic. There are too many unknowns, so much could change in only a few days. For all we know, we'll lose this fight and be dead come sunrise tomorrow, or you'll have to go into exile in Marovingia... in which case, why would it matter if you've taken me as a lover?”
Katarina looked back and met his gaze. He could see tears on her pale face and her blue eyes looked tormented in the dim light. “You're talking about living in the moment, Aerion,” she said. “But I have to think three, five, ten moves ahead in this game. Yes, we could both be dead come sunrise... but I shouldn't be wanting that. I can't be thinking about sneaking away somewhere to be in your embrace. I have to be focused, I have to continue to think about this game I have no choice but to play. If I fail, if I don't make these calculations right... people die. Not just you and me, but hundreds, potentially thousands or tens of thousands. If the Armen sack Longhaven next summer, that will rest upon my head... and how can I live with myself if that happened because I couldn't keep control of my impulses?”
Aerion bit back a sigh. “There's got to be some compromise,” he said even as he tried to calm himself. He just felt so frustrated, frustrated that things felt so clear for him in this one regard, and frustrated that he couldn't have the one thing he wanted. I know it is selfish of me... he thought, but at the same time, I feel like we both deserve more.
“Now is not the time,” Katarina said, “We will find a way through this, but this is neither the time, nor the place.” Despite her words, her voice sounded almost desperate, as if she .
Aerion bit back the words he wanted to say. He let out a deep breath, “Fine, but we do need to resolve this. We can't continue like this... it's stupid and childish.” He wished, then, that he could let her go, but he couldn't. He'd tried that. Tirianis saw my feelings, he thought, and she hadn't even seen me around Katarina. The reminder of the Wold Princess made him feel guilty again. How could he speak so much about how he felt for Katarina when he had slept with the other woman? How do I know for certain, he wondered, what I feel for Katarina isn't just lust or some impulsive attraction?
“I agree, but focus on the fight we face in only a few hours,” Katarina said quickly. “If you die because you're distracted about this... about me, I'll never forgive you.”
Aerion snorted at that, but he gave her a nod. “Very well, my Lady.”
He stood silent as she turned away. Behind her he saw the disapproving gaze of Bulmor. The Armsman had his reasons, Aerion well knew, but he couldn't help but think that his situation with Lady Katarina was different from that of Bulmor's past. He slept with Lady Alexia, Aerion thought, after she was already married, knowing full well the problems it would cause. Aerion wouldn't dream of sharing that secret though, especially since the potential implication was that Lady Katarina might not be Duke Peter's daughter after all. She is the rightful heir, Aerion thought savagely, even though some part of him secretly hoped that she wasn’t, that she would have to give up her fight and that they might make some future together as a result.
Aerion rubbed a tired hand over his face and took a deep breath. He needed to brief his squad. After that, he needed to ready them for their part in the attack. Later there would be time for further thoughts about Katarina. He owed it to his people to give them his attention, to make them ready for the coming fight.
Aerion turned his attention to that and away from his own problems.
***
Chapter Eight
Piotr Anhar
The Ryftguard, Duchy of Masov
22nd of Martaan, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Piotr stretched tiredly as he paused in his patrol. The brisk breeze off the Ryft chilled him a bit as he paused. It wasn't nearly so cold as the winter, when the Ryft Peaks seemed to siphon icy air from above and funnel it right into the Ryft, but it was cool enough to make him shiver a bit.
He spat over the rampart and didn't miss how his spittle landed in the water only a few feet down. He shivered for a different reason then, as he remembered how quickly that water had risen. He knew it was the Ryft-tide, an event that happened every few months when Eoriel's currents matched the tides... but it still reminded him far too much of the dangerous waves that sometimes swept in off of Storm Break Coast, near his home. The scholars said those waves came from undersea quakes, but all he knew was that those rogue waves swept in with little warning... other than the way the water would withdraw suddenly, just before the wave hit.
That was how the Ryft-tide worked too, save that the water had come back more gradually until, as now, it frothed and boiled only a few feet below the rampart that overlooked the small harbor basin. Normally that rampart was thirty feet or more above high tide, but now Piotr almost feared it would be drowned just like the small harbor basin. They'd pulled the two inspection boats up and sent the supply ship out before hand, but he knew it would still require a great deal of work to repair and clean up the dock area when the water finally receded.
Piotr looked over as he heard what sounded like wood grinding against stone. He frowned at that, for while the Ryft-tide had brought flotsam with it, he hadn't seen any large logs or anything like that.
A soft clank behind him caused him to spin. The looming shadow behind him froze him, for just a moment, before his hand went reflexively for the signal horn he carried. Before he could complete the move, however, he felt a sudden sharp blow to his sternum.
Piotr pawed at the horn on his belt, but he had sudden difficulty making his fingers work. A hand caught him as he fell sideways and hands lowered him to the ramparts. Piotr gasped and coughed, suddenly having difficulty breathing. He looked up at the man who'd killed him and he felt a shock as he saw the one blue eye staring down at him. Some kind of demon, he thought, even as his vision faded.
***
Sergeant Aerion Swordbreaker
Aerion said a quiet word for the man he'd killed as the guard went limp. Killing a man from surprise like that felt wrong. Worse, in a way, even though the man wore Hector's colors, he wasn't one of the Usurper's mercenaries. He was just another man, one who had signed on to defend his home... and ended up dying far away from it.
Aerion pushed that thought to the back of his mind and gave Millar a nod, “Good job.” The man had ground his oar against the rampart as a distraction so that Aerion could get close enough to kill the man. Hopefully, no one had heard the guard's faint cry over the sound of the water.
Millar gave him a nod in return, but Aerion didn't miss the other man's hesitation. Whether that was over how they had to kill the
guard, because he wasn't up to taking another man's life, or for some other reason, Aerion didn't know. There's no time to worry over whether they can fight at this point, Aerion thought, best to treat them like they can and go from there.
He moved down the rampart to the watch tower and paused at the door, while he waited for his remaining soldiers to unload from their boat. Across the boiling water he could make out vague movement on the other rampart, where the other boat had gone in. Since he hadn't heard any kind of warning yet, he had to assume that Corporal Gerhing's squad had succeeded as well.
As Millar and Trynosky came up behind him, Aerion waited until they readied themselves, then he kicked the door open and swept into the lit room beyond. The one guard present was seated at the table and before he could rise or reach a weapon, Aerion kicked him, hard enough to topple his chair back. A single glance around the room showed no signs of anyone else and Aerion put his sword to the guard's chest. “Move and I'll kill you.”
The man wore Hector's colors, but he barely looked old enough to wear them. He froze, his eyes wide with shock, and he provided no resistance as Trynoski came forward to bind him.
“Give the signal,” Aerion said to Millar as he checked the room again. A single set of stairs led downwards, but the water had flooded them to within a few feet of the top. Aerion wasn't certain if that was because the door had failed or if the guards simply didn't care what damage the water might do to the stone.
Millar took the lantern and moved up the ladder. A moment later, he threw back the trapdoor and Aerion glanced at Trynosky, “Is he secure?” At the other man's nod he continued, “When Millar gets back down the two of you follow on with the rest of us.”
At the other man's nod, Aerion left the watch tower and closed the door behind. The darkness of the early morning was a shock compared to the well-lit tower and he had to feel his way along the rampart for some distance while his night vision returned.
“Aerion?” a voice asked from ahead.
He recognized Walker and after a moment, saw his shape, “Yeah. Everyone ready?”
“As ready as they'll ever be,” Walker said, his voice sharp. Have to have a word with him about building morale, rather than breaking it down, Aerion thought. Criticizing them right before the fight wasn't likely to help.
“They're ready for this,” Aerion said, his voice loud enough to carry to the men gathered on the rampart. “You took the guard tower?”
Walker hesitated, “We did. Gorich is holding it along with Morag. There was no one there.”
“Right,” Aerion said. “Until the sloops pull along-side, we'll move there and hold position.”
The guard tower was the only direct connection from the small harbor to Ryftguard itself, from the maps that Lieutenant Steffan had provided, it was a single long staircase that connected to the lowest storage levels of the fortress. The sheer scale of the place daunted Aerion. Right now, they had almost fifty fighters in the harbor area and they would soon have the second section and Lady Katarina's escort as well, for over a hundred and twenty people... yet Ryftguard was massive. The fortress had held out against entire armies and it was over a mile in length, just in the section that spanned the Ryft, from one sheer cliff face to the next. The main road then tunneled through both mountains to connect to the fortifications at either end that guarded the approaches. The entire place, from what he had heard, could easily house a thousand soldiers, much less the single company that Lord Hector had spared for its defense. In truth, the place almost guarded itself and if the defenders were given enough warning, they could secure the gates and utilize murder holes, hidden sally ports, and a variety of magical and mundane traps to slaughter any attackers.
Which is why we are trying to be sneaky, Aerion thought, as he came up on the guard tower. Inside, he found Gorich and Morag. Gorich had his eyes locked on the inner doorway, almost as if he expected a hundred enemies to boil out of it, while the big Earthblood, Morag, stood silent and apparently without concern.
Aerion pointed men to their positions and waited until Walker signaled him. They only waited for the sloops to come along-side the ramparts. That would allow the rest of his squad along with all of the rest of Third Company to disembark. Aerion didn't know much, if anything, about ships or boats, but it had been difficult enough to get their longboat into the harbor at night, he didn't want to think about how difficult it might be to get the two long sloops into position.
The wait seemed to drag on, until finally Walker gave him a wave, “They're alongside, our squad is coming up now.”
Aerion nodded and he gestured for Morag and Gorich to open the doors. “Remember,” Aerion said, “From here on out, we can't stop. Straight on to our objectives, understood?” He swept his gaze over each of them, his single eye bored into them until he got a nod from each man. “Right,” Aerion nodded, “Let's move.”
The hallway went straight for over a hundred feet before it ended at two sets of doors. The right one, he knew, was a lift, to move supplies up to the storage levels. The left should be the stairs. Aerion led the way at a jog. As they'd hoped, the door to the stairs was unlocked, to allow the guards to go up them when their shifts ended. If they had more people here, Aerion thought, they'd have a guard in place on the other side to control who enters or leaves. This was the weakest part of the fortress's defenses or so Bulmor had explained at their briefing.
The Ryft-tide had allowed them to avoid the harbor's normal defenses and make it to the ramparts, but if there had been a guard here or if there was another guard at the top, then things would be much harder. Morag and Trynosky, his two biggest men after himself, both carried heavy axes to cut through any doors they couldn't open. Though if they needed to do that, it would start to get messy very fast, he knew.
Aerion led the way up the stairs. While speed was important at this point, he took the stairs at a steady rate. He was painfully aware that at any point, someone might look out from the fortress and notice the two ships moored at the harbor and sound the alarm. The broad stairs wound upwards for over four hundred feet, carved out of the stone of the mountain. He kept his pace even, but even so he heard several of his men start to gasp and a glance over his shoulder showed that several had begun to lag behind. He paused and waved them past until he got to Walker. “Take the rear, make certain any stragglers stay with the rest,” Aerion said.
Walker gave him a nod and Aerion started back to the front again. At least, he thought, the steps are even and level. It reminded him, a bit, of the mountain paths that he had used from the Eastwood, several of those hidden trails had seemed to go on forever up the sides of mountains.
He murmured encouragement to a couple of men who looked to be struggling as he moved back to the front. When he finally reached the front, he slowed his pace a bit and then, as the next set of doors came into sight around the bend, he paused. This was the spot that worried him most. His men were tired, he was a bit winded, and while the bottom had not been guarded, this set of doors still might be.
He gestured at the others to wait and he went up to the doors. Aerion tugged on the handle and the door rattled a bit but didn't open. He bit back a curse and pulled harder and the door shook. Beyond it, he heard a voice, “Hold on, damn you, I'm coming!”
Aerion glanced back, tempted to call his squad forward now, but if they could get the guard to open the door without giving the alarm, it would be better. He knelt and peered through the crack between the doors. He could just make out part of a well-lit room and he could see the legs of a guard as he came forward, “Shift change isn't for another hour, what are you doing up here already?”
Aerion hesitated and then he spoke in a low voice, “I slipped, hit my head, the Sergeant told me to come up early.” He was acutely aware of the arrow slits to either side and the murder holes above, from which the defender could drop rocks or, if they were ready, boiling oil.
The other man snorted at that and Aerion stood and backed away a bit, sword ready in his h
and.. “Captain Renhard won't be happy with him. We're short handed enough as it is...” Aerion heard the sound of the bars being lifted and then the right door came open.
Aerion caught the edge and pulled hard. The guard stumbled as the door swung wide. Before he could say anything, Aerion thrust hard with his sword. The blade punched through his leather jerkin and the man grunted in shock and pain. Aerion didn't wait for him to fall, he waved over his shoulder at his squad and rushed through the door. The guard room on the other side opened on one side to the lift shaft, with a large crank nearby. To the other side a corridor led deeper into the fortress. There was no one else present and Aerion rushed down the corridor to the far end, past the doors to the storerooms. The stairs upwards were straight and he saw no sign of guards.
Two of his men caught up to him and he gestured at two of his men near the back to man the crank. “Walker, take those two, start bringing up the others.” Hopefully the cranks were properly warded from spirits, else two men might not be enough, he knew.
He led the way up the stairs, steadily working his way up, level after level. The sheer size of the place still stunned him, even compared to Southwatch, the fortress was simply massive. It was also a maze and Aerion stumbled to a halt as this stairwell simply ended at a landing without any doors, merely stone walls with nowhere to go but back the way they'd come.
He turned, ready to tell his squad to turn around when he heard a shout down the stairs. A moment later he heard a scream and then more shouting. Clearly someone amongst the defenders had stumbled on them and even as he thought that, he heard the sound of the alarm going out.
Aerion brought his shield over his shoulder and adjusted it on his arm, even as he bounded down the stairs to join the fight.
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
Katarina winced as a man in Hector's colors came flying down the stairwell to smash, head first into a stone wall. The sickening crunch of bone was enough to tell her he was no longer a threat, even if the way his body went limp hadn't. I've my share and more of death in my life to recognize a corpse, she thought darkly.
