Trailing behind, half dressed, Zaraki shook his head, attempting to apologize. Andelko motioned the men near him away so they would not hear the confrontation coming.
“Your Highness—”
“Andelko, have Evka saddled,” she said over him, brushing her gaze out over the yard.
For once, Andelko truly understood what Zaraki faced for all those years, trying to protect her from herself. Checking they were alone, he said, “Leisha, no.” He tried to keep a measure of respect in his voice, but she could be so damned infuriating in these moods.
“Andelko,” she began again, a warning in her words.
“No.” Now he sounded angry, and took a step forward to tower over her. “Don’t ask or pretend you’re riding out of these walls to watch a goddamn battle. You,” he jabbed a finger at her, “are staying here.” He pointed at the ground.
Leisha stared at him, dumbstruck to hear him speak to her that way, and he regretted the necessity of his words. Though he always admired the way she took an interest in all aspects of her kingdom, things changed starting today. She had to face this new reality, defer to him and let him lead his army without interference. It would be a hard lesson for her to learn, but he had no time to explain this now. As she fumed, he took the chance to turn on his heel. Marching across the yard to his horse, he left her standing on the steps. Apologies would come later.
Outside the city walls, a small contingent of soldiers and archers waited. Once he and the captains arrived, orders were given and they began moving towards the rocky beaches which lay south of the city. The Tahaerin soldiers, boys some of them, marched smartly and kept their ranks tight, but nervous laughter and raised voices reminded Andelko of their greatest weakness at the moment—inexperience. Leisha’s careful handling of the lords meant her army had seen no fighting in over eight years. Hells, her Lord Constable had not seen any battles in that time, and already Andelko worried about his lack of experience. Ignaci, at least, came from the northern border and skirmished with the tribes and bands of wild men inhabiting the lands there.
If their enemy brought seasoned fighters, Andelko knew they would start at a disadvantage.
They marched until the rolling plain stretching south of the city began sloping gently towards the sea. Scouts riding ahead reported the Deojrin started putting men ashore only an hour or so before.
By the time they arrived, the enemy had landed perhaps thirty men. Andelko and other captains called a halt to watch as small dinghies rowed to shore and disgorged ten or eleven black-robed figures. From this distance, they looked like priests. Only a few soldiers came ashore with them, obvious in their polished armor.
Beside him, his Guard Captain crossed his arms on his pommel and leaned forward over them. “Are those their uniforms?” Ignaci asked.
“I don’t know,” Andelko said, shaking his head. “I can’t say for sure from this distance, but they look like the robes their mind reader wore yesterday.”
The other man beside them scowled. Fillip captained the city guard and normally reported to the city leaders, but now found himself conscripted into the army. “Do you think they’re all mind readers then? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Though surely by this time, the Deojrin had noticed them, they gave no indication and made no move to react. They seemed unconcerned by the archers and soldiers assembling on the grassy hills rising up from the sea above them.
Andelko watched, troubled. “Something’s not right.”
“Perhaps they pray walls down?” Fillip volunteered. They all laughed, trying to shake off some of the tension.
“That’s why we’re here—so there aren’t any surprises once they attack the city. Let’s see what they can do.” Feeling far more confident than Andelko, Ignaci signaled his lieutenants and they ordered the men forward.
From their vantage point on the rise, Andelko watched as the archers moved close and formed into long ranks, with soldiers lined up in front to defend them.
Finally, the Deojrin took notice. The soldiers on the beach began issuing orders and the black-robed men reacted instantly as word passed amongst them. They stopped moving or speaking and stood still, like statues, watching the advance of the Tahaerins.
Just as the archers reached a spot where they would be in range of the enemy on the beach, Andelko thought he saw one fall to his knees. Then suddenly the whole line was in motion, toppling over, collapsing where they stood. The enemy had no archers as far as he could see, and yet holes appeared in the Tahaerin ranks as more and more fell.
With horror in his eyes, Andelko looked at Filip and Ignaci. “Call them back,” he ordered. Though he knew what Leisha could do, had seen it himself the night she learned to do it, he never considered the implications of other mind readers doing the same thing. Her ability seemed miraculous and magical, something which made her incredibly special. But forty or fifty who could kill without weapons? Who could reach out and murder with a thought? They had no defense against this sort of attack.
Signal flags went up to relay his order. Down the hill, the ranks started to break as their men watched those around them die. At first, unable to explain or understand what killed their companions, the Tahaerins reacted slowly. Shouted orders got them moving.
On the beach, the Deojrin followed, advancing in neat ranks, keeping themselves in range of the retreating archers and soldiers, picking off stragglers. They moved forward like the tide, inexorable, unhurried, silent. Orders passed amongst them through thoughts—images and words.
Andelko and his captains called for their men to retreat up the hill and out of range of the silent killers. They watched as the Deojrin halted and returned to the beach, leaving the bodies of Tahaerins lying on the rocky ground. As his captains tried to drag order from the chaos, Andelko watched as boat after boat landed and disgorged more of the black-robed killers. This skirmish changed everything, and now he had to figure out how to get his queen to see reason.
***
Standing on the stairs, refusing to move, Leisha vibrated with anger, furious at being defied and her orders ignored. Andelko had never spoken to her that way before. No one had. Zaraki finally convinced her to come inside and prepare for the meetings with the city leaders. That pierced the black mood, and she allowed herself to be cajoled back up the stairs.
As soon as they reached their apartments, Danica appeared to help her change into a more formal brown and gold gown trimmed in fur. Once dressed, though, Leisha took to standing and staring out tall windows looking out over the courtyard, body straining forward, waiting for the first glimpse of her Lord Constable and her army. She hated waiting and she loathed not being in control.
Seeing Andelko and his captains race into the courtyard, Leisha reached out to pluck memories from his mind. She saw the robed enemy assembling on the beach—so many of them—and felt Andelko’s misgivings. Then she saw the unfolding horror as archers died one after another, all without being touched. His mind showed small parties of them landing even as their companions fought and slaughtered her men. So many, she thought, stunned to imagine such a thing.
“What’s happened?” Zaraki demanded, hearing her gasp. “What did you see?”
Leisha turned horrified eyes to him. “On the beach, they had mind readers who can do what I can—kill. I saw our men dying.”
“Go get ready for the meeting with the guildsmen. I see them on the way up the hill, already.” Zaraki pointed out the window to the carriages rolling in the streets below, bringing anxious and unsettled city leaders to Branik. “I’ll find Andelko and we’ll all meet together as soon as you’re free.”
***
Late in the afternoon, Leisha finally sent the last of her guests back down into town. They had spent the day discussing the meeting with Gerolt, the threat he posed and how best to calm the citizens. They wanted reassurances she could no longer give—the invaders would be repelled, the city saved, their wealth and businesses protected. Ins
tead, she talked to them about the reality of a protracted siege. As they left, she knew riders would flood the streets soon, racing out of Lida and across the mountains, taking coins, gems, documents, and children to safekeeping in other cities.
As they finished up with their own meetings, Symon and the others filtered into her receiving room. Looking exhausted, Aniska flopped down into a chair, her clothes rumpled and hair spilling out its normally tidy braid. “I’d appreciate those bastards giving me a chance to nap. But they keep finding my spies and killing them. I’ve lost three that I know of.”
Because, of course, the mind readers would be able to pick Aniska’s spies out and kill them from a great distance. Leisha felt her anxiety and frustration mounting again. How could they fight something like this? They had only one mind reader, and the last time she used her gifts in any meaningful way, it left her comatose for three days.
Zaraki came next, with Symon close behind. “I just saw Andelko headed this way from his rooms,” he said as they found seats. “How are the guildsmen?”
“Frightened, of course.” Leisha frowned, feeling something odd coming from all them.
Before she could look too closely at their thoughts, Andelko and two of his captains strode into her receiving room, grim and determined expressions on their faces. Furtive, secretive glances passed between the others Leisha barely caught.
“I’m ordering a retreat to Moraval,” the Lord Constable said without preamble, not asking for opinions or permission.
Leisha looked stunned and then angry. After this morning, she was in no mood for his orders. “No. I’m not abandoning Lida,” she barked.
“Lei—,” he interrupted himself, mindful of his men in the room. With others present, he had to maintain some formality. “Your Highness, this invasion has changed dramatically. We do not know what they can do with all those mind readers they brought with them. We don’t know how to fight them. We don’t know how many they brought. We need time to think and plan.”
No, she wanted to shout at him. She loved Lida, loved its long straight streets, loved the suspicious, mistrustful citizens she had won over. “This is my city. I’m its protector. There has to be some other way than just abandoning it—just opening the gates and leaving it to them.” Another thought sprang up, unwelcomed. Outside the castle walls, her refuge, her safety, she could be captured, tortured.
“I can think of a number of different outcomes worse that abandoning Lida, Your Highness. Think about it. They brought at least a hundred mind readers with them. Assuming that, like you, they can kill more than one man, tomorrow how many can they slaughter? Three hundred, four hundred? That’s all the men we have here right now. We’re vastly outnumbered and have no idea what they’re capable of. Branik is not a defensive castle. Moraval has always been the place to retreat to.”
She could barely believe how seriously Andelko felt about this. He knew she would fight him and she saw that he had prepared himself to simply pick her up and carry her out of Branik if required. Looking at the others in the room, she touched their minds and realized they already knew about this. They had met in secret to prepare for this retreat, planned it all morning, knowing she would reject it. Her opinion carried no weight with any of them, she realized belatedly. For the first time in her reign, they simply disregarded her and made their own plans.
Everything in her rebelled. This could not happen. She had overcome challenge after challenge to claim her throne and remake her kingdom into something different, something better. She had bested plots by scheming nobles, an assassination attempt and even being captured by her treacherous uncle, Staval. Now, in just a few days, her capital would fall and she would place it in the hands of invaders from across the sea.
Her pride, a deep, vast ocean, said no. It told her to fight, to reject this reality they tried to thrust on her. None of this seemed possible. But neither did a man sitting on her docks threatening to torture her to death or an army of her kind, attacking her city and slaughtering archers on the beach.
Leisha wanted to feel betrayed. Her closest advisors, her friends, her husband had all conspired against her and had all learned to keep secrets from her. She wanted to feel betrayed, wanted to be furious and rage and scream at all of them to get out and let her decide how this war would be fought.
But the queen understood that this invasion, this coming of war, changed the landscape of her reign. From the moment Gerolt and his men appeared on their horizon, Andelko commanded her kingdom. He would make decisions that she would have little input or insight into, and she would follow his decrees because she knew nothing about armies, war, or battles. She understood all of this but had trouble accepting it.
And she knew now why Andelko’s captains stood with him, shifting uncomfortably. She would make less of a scene with outsiders present. “How long do we have?” she asked, numbed, knowing she could not fight them all.
Silent until now, Zaraki said, “We ride out in the morning.”
***
Chaos erupted as Symon and his clerks began issuing orders. Trunks and chests emerged from the undercroft, castle guards and stable hands, cooks and bookkeepers dashed through the courtyard and castle. All around, mundane items suddenly turned precious. Bed linens and forks, cooking pots and sewing kits all disappeared into leather packs or pouches or ornate carved cases. Some people fled to their homes in the city, but most stayed to help.
After a somber dinner, Symon asked Leisha and Zaraki both to come to the small suite of rooms he kept as offices. They sat down together and began the painful task of deciding what to bring and what to sacrifice. For generations, Leisha’s family lived in Branik, filling it with treasures, art, and jewels, but also history. Books filled with laws, surveys of Tahaerin lands, and the genealogy of the royal family that legitimized her rule lined the shelves of the library. Furniture commissioned to commemorate great victories and tapestries woven to mark an ancestor’s ascension to the throne occupied parlors and halls.
“We have to save what we can,” Symon advised as they began. “Anything here in Lida is lost if we can’t carry it out. Your castles and lands will fend for themselves, Leisha. Zaraki, the horses. If these invaders turn south, they’ll surely plunder the farm. Do you want to try to save that? It makes you a sizeable income. Protecting the stock should be a priority, though I’m not sure how to do it.”
Perched on the edge of a lovely old chair with a red velvet cushion embroidered with the crest of her great-grandfather, Leisha grimaced and glanced at Zaraki. Of all the things they would lose, she could see this pained him most of all. Her sweet, ruthless husband, who killed for her, loved his horses. Six years ago, her gift changed him from an orphaned spy with no ties to Tahaerin into a landowner with an independent income and a place to call home. He sold his Aulerons all over, even into neighboring kingdoms.
Grimly he said, “I’ll send a couple of riders. They can tell my men there to drive the herds into the mountains. It’s not the best solution and I’ll lose some stock, but maybe they can save enough to rebuild once this is all over.”
Leisha took his hand in hers.
“Very good,” Symon said, and made a quick note. “I’ve already sent men to Achym with letters of credit for all your accounts in the banks here. I’ve located all the deeds to your various businesses here in Lida. Leisha, most of your funds are tied up in your land holdings, but you did have some accounts here. Those have been dealt with as well.
“That covers both your personal holdings. As for the kingdom, I’ve gathered all of the important papers, deeds, laws, decrees and books of accounting. As you ordered, I’m only sending down your jewelry to the baggage train. No art, paintings, or books. Tonight, you both need to decide what personal belongings you wish to bring.”
“Thank you, Symon,” Leisha said, attempting to keep her voice steady. Inside, she fought to keep her temper in check as every part of her protested against this leaving, this retreat, this surrender of her city and her castle
. Taking her hand, Zaraki led her back down the hallway to their apartments so they could begin packing.
Their allowance of space in the baggage train outstripped anyone else’s. Leisha’s wardrobe had to be accounted for. As much as she would have liked to use that space for other more important things, the truth was, she had to look like a queen. She could not appear in old or worn clothes. Wars were as much about image as they were about battles, so trunks of her gowns went into the train.
She made sure her maids knew to pack the tiny, enameled box that held the white powder, made from farfollen flowers, that prevented pregnancy. But Leisha found it difficult to be overly sentimental about her personal possessions. Clothes, shoes, scepters and crowns, combs and lovely smelling perfumes, these things flowed through her hands like water. They came as gifts from people she never met, gowns worn to functions could never be worn again, and her father alone owned ten different crowns when he died. Eight years after her mother’s death, Leisha still wore dresses pieced together from ones Shola had made for herself. The loss of most of her things meant little because there would always be new ones.
Gems and jewels, however, represented her wealth, and she wore them to demonstrate substance and power. She could use items from her collection to reward her vassals. Stones could easily be pried out of their settings and sold to pay for food for her army. They would bring all they could carry, and Leisha directed her maids to fill to brimming the ironbound trunks with complicated locking mechanisms built into the lids. Despite their weight, servants would drag them from camp to camp and castle to castle, for as long as this war lasted.
Zaraki, on the other hand, grew up with nothing of his own except what Cezar, the man who raised him, had provided. The death of his family and the privation that followed meant he grew up terrified of being poor or hungry. Frugal to a fault, even now he had few possessions he treasured.
As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2) Page 6
