Shadow & Flame

by Mindee Arnett

  Alarm surged through Corwin. If he didn’t convince them now, he never would. But he clamped his mouth shut, resisting the urge to argue with her. I trust you, he thought. I always have.

  Kate turned in a slow circle, making it clear that she spoke to everyone present, and even those beyond. “It is true that sway is a most awesome and terrible magic. Lord Gavril used his sway to force my friends to do unspeakable things.” She gestured to Bonner. “Tom Bonner is an earthist, enslaved by Gavril nearly a year. During that time, Gavril forced him to fight to the death in Sevan Spectacles, to take life against his will.”

  She paused to motion to Nadira, standing next to Bonner. “Nadira has a spirit gift. She can make a heart start beating again and force a person to breathe even when their lungs have given up. She is a healer, and yet Gavril forced her to steal the life away from an innocent boy. He used his magic for evil and perversion at every turn.”

  Nadira nodded as Kate spoke, her expression hard as stone but her eyes glistening with tears.

  “I could do the same with my own magic,” Kate went on. She gestured to the collar. “If it weren’t for this, I could make you bow down before me. I could make you scream or dance or cry. I could steal from you every trace of free will—if I wanted to. But it’s not the power we possess that determines good or evil, but how we use that power. Long ago I vowed only to use my abilities for good, even if that good meant using it on my enemies, as I did during the Wilder War. But you are no longer my enemy. Rendborne and Magnar are my enemy, the Sevan threat. I will save my magic for them, and I will follow Corwin Tormane into battle. For he is my prince and my king.” She turned and bowed toward Corwin then, all eyes watching the movement.

  Warmth filled Corwin’s chest and spread through his body. He longed to reach for her, but remained where he was. The symbolism of her act must remain unsullied.

  The sound of a chair scraping against stone pulled Corwin’s gaze toward the dais. Lady Myrrh had stood, and now she slowly made her way around the edge of the table and descended the dais. Kate stood and stepped aside as the woman approached Corwin.

  Myrrh stopped before him and ran her gaze over the crowd. “I, for one, choose to stand with Prince Corwin. I have seen firsthand the threat we face, and I also see that Corwin and the wilders who stand with him are our only way to defeat the Sevan army. And so I pledge my loyalty and that of Penlocke to you, my prince, and I hope to soon call you my king.”

  Lady Myrrh bowed low to Corwin, and as she did applause broke out, quiet at first but soon growing louder. Corwin examined the crowd, watching as one by one the people bowed to him. The lords on the dais were the last, but they too soon took the knee.

  Corwin reached for Kate’s hand and squeezed, knowing in his heart she had been the force that turned the tide. And he swore then that somehow, once this was over, he would prove his love to her once more. She was the Wilder Queen, and he was determined to be her king.

  29

  Corwin

  THE DAY OF THE BATTLE dawned dim and gray, the cloud-crowded sky like dull steel. Although it was nearly summer, this morning felt like winter, ominous with the threat of coming violence.

  Corwin sat astride his warhorse feeling the weight of his armor and weapons, as well as the heavier burden of command. A force of more than four thousand waited on the hill below him, most of them foot soldiers, with less than a quarter mounted. He’d wished for greater cavalry numbers, but it wasn’t to be. The lords of Rime had brought all they could, but it was Norgard that had always held the strength of cavalry. Corwin could easily guess what Magnar would do with that force, and the idea of Sevan soldiers mounted on Norgard warhorses turned his stomach.

  For now though, no living thing stood between them and the white walls of Norgard. The Rimish forces had approached under the cover of night, the journey easier than it should’ve been with so few nightdrakes in the area thanks to the Ruin.

  “They’re surely ready for us by now,” Bonner said from Corwin’s right. Although he was wearing different armor, he was the Godspear through and through, his gaze fierce beneath his helmet and his manner calm but poised for battle.

  Corwin was glad to have him, but at the same time, he regretted Bonner’s lack of magic. There were only twenty earthists among the wilder forces, and less than half of them with an affinity for stone. The walls of Norgard weren’t mere mortar and rock, but were fortified with magist magic. They weren’t impervious, but Yaron had told him it would take considerable strength to break through them. Bonner seemed certain the earthists could do it, but they would be spent afterward. The idea of ripping holes in the wall of Norgard made Corwin feel light-headed each time he thought of it. But it had to be done. They didn’t have the time or resources for a siege, which could take weeks, maybe months.

  No, it was best to go straight through. And Corwin was certain Magnar would ride out to meet them the moment they pressed.

  Corwin shot Bonner a hard gaze. “I certainly hope so. We’ll be ready for them.” He reined his horse away from the soldiers waiting below to face the row of tents set atop the hill, where Lady Myrrh and the other nonfighting nobles would remain for the duration of the battle. Signe, Dal, and Kate were standing near the tent, the latter two dressed in armor and with their horses in hand waiting to be mounted. Signe would remain here, working to resupply their black-powder stores. Although there were few revolvers left, she had spent the last week working with the earthists to create other weapons with her black powder, including some capable of tremendous explosions.

  Dal pulled Signe into a long embrace, then reluctantly let go and mounted. He turned and rode toward Corwin. Kate remained a few moments longer to talk to Signe. Corwin could only hope it was a reconciliation between the two. He and Kate had had little time to talk this past week, both of them overwhelmed with the effort involved in mustering a force this large. True to what Corwin had experienced earlier, the wilders insisted on Kate’s presence or at least her approval in every decision made that affected them. Although they had declared allegiance to him, certain now that he’d succeeded in uniting the Rimish lords, that allegiance came with qualifications. He had found time to corner Signe though, and admonish her for being so hard on Kate for her use of sway. It hadn’t gone well. Stubbornness was a trait Signe and Kate both possessed in abundance, but watching them now Corwin thought maybe the talk had done some good. He certainly hoped so.

  “Are we ready?” Dal said, pulling up next to Corwin.

  “As soon as Kate is,” Corwin replied, not taking his eyes off her.

  Dal snickered. “If you look at her any harder, your head might explode, my friend.”

  Turning, Corwin smirked at him. “Like you’ve room to talk. I saw that embrace. You love Signe just as much as I love Kate. Don’t try to deny it anymore.” Even as he said it, though, Corwin expected Dal to argue. It was a long disagreement between them, the question of whether true love, the kind that endures forever, was just a sentimental and unrealistic ideal or a real thing. Dal had always insisted on the former. Now, though, he made no reply, merely steered his horse toward Bonner to wait.

  Once Kate finally joined them, a few moments later, Corwin led the way down the hill to the front of the army. Raising his hand, he called for the march forward. The sound of so many booted feet and shod hooves was like the pounding of some deep bass drum, one punctuated by the clang of armor and bits. They marched steadily, no need to hurry and weary the soldiers.

  Kate rode at Corwin’s left, and he caught his gaze drifting toward her. There were things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t with so many people around, all of them waiting for his command.

  As if she sensed his gaze, Kate turned to look at him, for once not avoiding his eyes.

  “I doubt Rendborne will join the fray,” Corwin said. He gestured to Kate’s side, where she wore the Hellsteel trident strapped to one hip, its distinctive shape disguised by a magestone to look like a dagger. Corwin didn’t think Harue
knew what the spell was meant to disguise when she’d created it. Despite Valora’s assurance that Rime would survive, Corwin was certain most of the wilders and magists with them would try to stop Kate if they knew what she planned to do.

  “He is a coward at heart,” Kate replied, shifting her gaze back to the city. “But once the way in is clear, I will find him.”

  Corwin nodded. They’d discussed as much in passing, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it. Now, with the city looming ahead, he couldn’t keep his mind off it, worry clouding his thoughts. It would be dangerous for her out here, among the fighting, but inside the city, she would be alone and surrounded by enemies.

  “Kate,” he said, drawing her gaze back to him. “Promise me you’ll do everything in your power to keep yourself safe.” He paused, fixing a fierce stare on her. “Everything, including using the full strength of your sway. Do what you must. Signe is wrong. I don’t fear your sway, and I don’t fear you. I trust you to always make the right choice.”

  Something strange flitted through her expression too fast for him to name it. “I will do whatever I have to,” she said. “I’ve no plans on dying this day.”

  Sensing her sincerity, he offered a smile. “That makes two of us.”

  Then he forced his attention ahead, able to focus on the coming battle now that he was reassured that Kate would be able to handle herself should anything keep him from following her into the city on her hunt for Rendborne.

  Before they’d come in range of the archers already filling up the parapets, the right side gate slid open far enough to allow a rider carrying a white flag to come charging through. Murmurs echoed down the line, and Corwin raised a hand to calm them. This was expected.

  When the rider reached them, he handed Corwin a piece of rolled parchment sealed with the Sevan crest, the wax still warm to the touch.

  “Be careful, your highness,” Yaron said, stepping out of line to ride over to him. “Even an apprentice magist can enchant parchment with any number of dangerous curses. Let me examine it first.”

  “There is no need.” For the moment, Corwin was still protected by the uror magic. Besides, he doubted Rendborne or Magnar would try such an ignoble attack. Magnar, at least, intended to rule Rime once the fighting was over, and he was too wise about the power of reputation to rely on such an underhanded tactic.

  Corwin broke open the letter and quickly read it. To his surprise it wasn’t signed by Magnar, but by Rendborne. He’d given his title as lord regent of Rime. Corwin frowned, wondering at the implications. A regent was appointed to rule in proxy of a monarch. The Godking had many such regents throughout his kingdom, but Corwin had been there when Magnar discussed who his regent for Rime would be—his eldest son, Mazen, not Rendborne. Had Magnar changed his mind or had Rendborne somehow forced him to do it? Was the Godking even still in the city?

  “What does it say?” Dal asked, leaning toward Corwin for a peek.

  Shaking off his speculations, Corwin crumpled the parchment and tossed it on the ground. “Terms of our surrender.” He turned to the messenger. “You may tell your lord that we do not accept his terms, but if he is wise, he will accept ours. Surrender now, and I will allow him and his men to retreat to Seva. He can return to his own country with some of his dignity. If he does not, he will die this day.”

  The messenger nodded, a look of fright on the boy’s face, and he spun his mount about, fleeing back to the city.

  “What now?” Dal said, a yawn stretching over his face as if he found the events boring.

  Corwin motioned toward the city. “Let the earthists make the way for us.”

  With the order given, four squadrons broke off from the main group, all the soldiers carrying large wooden shields nearly as tall as a man and twice as wide. Moving as separate units, they each approached the city from a different angle. Walking in the middle of the soldiers were five of the earthists each. Their purpose was simple—make as many breaches in the city walls as they could.

  The moment the squadrons were in reach, the archers atop the parapets let loose a volley of arrows, but the Rimish soldiers raised their shields over their heads, forming a cocoon of protection around themselves and the wilders. The group farthest to the east was slowest to react to the attack, but Corwin watched as one of the wilders among them raised his hands to the arrows and knocked them off course. The woman must’ve had an affinity for wood, her magic able to compel the arrow shafts to fly wide.

  As the squadrons drew near, Corwin called the order to march. Like a massive beast the Rimish force advanced, moving faster now. The horses, feeding off their riders’ tension, tossed their heads and tugged on the reins, some sidestepping in anticipation. Corwin’s own horse began to jig, the slow up and down as the gelding lifted each foot high and then dropped it jostling him. He tried to bring it back to a normal walk, but it was no use. The horse wasn’t Norgard bred, but a mount gifted to him by Lord Brogan. Corwin had no notion of its training, but expected it would pale to what a Norgard warhorse was capable of. He resisted giving the horse a name, knowing as he did that its chances of survival were slim. He gritted his teeth at the thought, hating the violence even as the anticipation of it sent a thrill through him.

  Ahead, the squadrons had come in reach of the walls, and although Corwin couldn’t see it, he pictured the earthists with their arms stretched out to the white stone as they attempted to break it apart. For a while nothing happened, but then slowly the sound of splintering stone began to rumble through the air. The Sevan soldiers atop the parapets grew frantic, unleashing more arrows on the figures below, with most landing uselessly against the shields.

  But then a new threat appeared atop the wall: magists in the gray robes of the Mage League. A moment later, they began to unleash spells, the magic exploding across the shields. The squadron under attack managed to take several of the volleys—the shields having been enchanted to resist magical damage—but soon they broke apart. Seeing an opening, the archers renewed the attack and the Rimish soldiers began to fall in the hail of arrows.

  The other archers nearby had watched and learned, reaching for the enchanted arrows they kept for nightdrakes. At first the arrows glanced off, but as the spell on the shields weakened, they began to penetrate. One of the Rimish soldiers beneath fell, but the others quickly patched the hole.

  Hurry, Corwin thought, worry building in his mind. The sound of splintering stone renewed, but above it he heard the creak of the gate opening.

  Corwin finally raised his sword and screamed, “Riders, charge!” He heeled his warhorse forward.

  The rest of the Rimish cavalry followed, leaving the foot soldiers under the command of General Thakur of Marared, Corwin’s second-in-command. Kate rode beside Corwin, her horse keeping pace with his. Dal, Tira, and Bonner followed just behind. Corwin tried to push thoughts of them out of his mind as a swarm of Sevan cavalry charged through the gates to stop the earthists. But the Rimish horses reached them first, deflecting the danger off the wilders.

  Corwin held his sword in front of him, the steel aglow with the magic the magists had placed on it. His armor gleamed as well, the spells offering him extra protection against both magical and physical blows. He met the first assault—a vicious swipe from a Sevan blade—and pushed the attacker back, knocking the rider off-balance. Corwin didn’t hesitate, but swiped at the split in the knee joint of the man’s armor, slicing through skin and muscle. The man screamed, and Corwin slammed his blade against the man’s breastplate, unhorsing him.

  Corwin turned to meet the next attack, slashing to the left with his sword, crossways over his body. He caught the oncoming soldier on the shoulder, his sword glancing off the man’s pauldron. The Sevan wore light armor, but it was still more cumbersome than the brigandine Corwin wore, which gave him an edge. Before the rider even had time to raise his arm again, Corwin had spun and slashed at him through the narrow opening in between the man’s pauldron and breastplate. The sword sank into flesh, soft and
yielding, and when Corwin pulled the blade back it came out red. Not waiting to watch the man fall, Corwin spun his horse and launched into the next attack.

  All around him shrieks filled the air, some shouts of battle rage and some screams of agony. At first the Rimish forces were handling the onrush of Sevan troops with relative ease, but within moments the enemies’ numbers swelled. Corwin was about to call the retreat—they needed to get clear before the Rimish archers could respond—but then he heard an earth-shattering crack. All motion on the battlefield seemed to halt as every head turned to the noise. A massive chunk of the western wall had collapsed, pulled down by one of the earthists. Distantly, the Rimish forces not yet engaged cheered in victory.

  The Sevans turned their attention to the earthists, and as Corwin and the others moved to intervene, another loud sound reached them—a breach forming on the wall to the east. There were two now, both easily large enough to let the Rimish armies into the city.

  The Sevan forces responded to the threat, more of them pouring out of the gate. But General Thakur was advancing the Rimish forces, and in moments the two met. What had been chaos before suddenly felt like the end of the world. For the majority of the wilders had been with the foot soldiers, and now they unleashed the power of the three hells.

  Fires erupted in long, hot blasts, incinerating whatever stepped in their path. Jets of water flew, swallowing enemies whole and drowning them on dry land. Gusts of wind knocked rows of soldiers over like toys. The earthists who were left rained down stones from the sky. Although the wilders did their best to focus their attacks on the enemy, many of the Rimish were caught in the crossfire. Corwin nearly lost his seat as his horse made an awkward leap over a hole that appeared in the ground before him without warning.