Accidental Sorceress (Hardstorm Saga Book 2) (35 page)

I moved toward him. “You know I must go and help.”

He made no sound, moved not a smidgen, just barred my way.

I stepped closer, a small thing against those strong arms and wide shoulders. The death cries of men in the distance twisted my heart.

“This is what I was called to do,” I said, standing but a hairsbreadth from him.

I put a hand on his chest, palm flat against his robe. I meant to gently push him aside, but I could have more easily moved a mountain. Unlike Graho and the soldiers, Orz did not wear a breastplate. The heat of his body warmed my palm.

He stopped breathing.

Then he put his tortured, scarred hand over mine and held it in place.

My heart constricted. I could barely whisper the words, “This is my destiny.”

His jaw worked. I held my breath. But all he said was, “Orz.”

And all I said was, “Please.”

He released me then and stepped aside. I opened the door and ran.

Of course, he was right behind me, always at my side from the moment I had found him half-dead in that ditch. At my side, rushing into battle to defend me, without armor.

The thought of losing Orz to an enemy sword stole my breath for a moment. I grabbed for his arm. “Be careful. Please.”

He had become important to me. A friend, for certain, and in some ways becoming as if my family, and in others… I could not think of that. My heart would belong to Batumar. Always.

And yet even in that, Orz and I matched. At times, I felt as hollow inside as he was. Maybe that was why we got along.

Prince Graho had offered me his heart, but I had no heart to offer back to him. Orz and I were both broken, just in slightly different ways. If we survived the war and I returned to my mother’s beach, set myself up as a healer… I was certain Orz and Marga would come with me. And with that thought, for the first time in a long time, the future did not fill me with dread.

But it did fill me with guilt the next moment. I wanted to love no other than Batumar, not even a little. Giving even my dust heart felt wrong, a betrayal he did not deserve.

Then we reached the fighting men, and I could have no other thought but healing.

Marga must have caught a whiff of my scent on the wind, because she came to me, bounding over dead bodies. I asked her for help, and she gave it, using her great strength to drag the wounded out of the way.

Orz too helped where he could but spent most of his effort on keeping the enemy far away from me. He cut down one Kerghi after the other—fierce blows, each lethal. His movements weren’t smooth—his tortured body could not give him that—but he had great strength.

I had so much to do, so much bleeding to stanch, so many broken bones to set, I barely noted when the fighting shifted. Suddenly we were surrounded.

The enemy had broken the outer wall in yet another place, and so many of them poured in, our men were pulling back behind the inner walls of the city.

I charged as many as I could with dragging the wounded with them, and I did the same, staggering under the weight. Marga helped. Orz fought with one arm while holding up a wounded city soldier with the other.

We made it inside the inner wall’s gate at the last possible moment. The wooden gate, as thick as my arm was long, was pushed closed behind us, then barred, giant beams dropped into place.

I glanced up at the stars as I collapsed with the man I held. The night was half-over.

I looked back, and I could see our men behind me on the safe side. There were more injured than hale. But at last, the spirits showed us mercy, for the Kerghi attacked no further. They took the remainder of the night to loot and burn the ground they had gained, then rest for the next day’s attack.

I healed what wounds I could with the help of the city’s herb women, then returned to my quarters after dawn, only when Orz picked me up and carried me, snarling at my commands to let me stay.

No sooner were we inside than Graho came, exhausted but unharmed. Orz withdrew stiffly to the balcony. The prince strode straight to me and drew me into his arms. I was too tired to resist.

He did not take me to task for leaving my quarters, as I expected. Instead, he said, “There is a secret passage from the palace to the back end of the harbor.” He drew back, still holding on to my hands. “A boat is waiting for you there. I want you to go to the Landrian royal castle.”

I shook my head.

“The enemy is focused on the siege,” he said more forcefully. “They have already burned the ships. They are no longer watching the harbor.”

I looked up into his face, which was lined with frustration. “Why don’t you go? You are the crown prince. Your life matters a great deal to a great many.”

“I will not be the craven prince of the ballads,” he scoffed.

“You must take the children.”

His expression darkened. “The children and I must stay.”

“To what possible purpose?” I cried, and when he would not answer, I asked, “Will your father send the navy?”

His jaw tightened. “He would have seen the smoke from the outer city burning. If he sent ships, they would already be here.”

“He does not know that you are in Uramit. If you send word with the boat—”

“Too late.” From around his neck, he pulled a gold chain that had been hidden by his doublet, on it a royal seal. Before I could protest, he looped the chain over my head. “This will allow you admittance to the Forbidden Islands. You will be treated as my princess.”

Whether or not he survives the battle
. I understood his unspoken words as clearly as the spoken.

“The Landrian navy will not let the islands be taken,” he said with confidence.

I offered a small smile. “I cannot be the craven sorceress of the ballads.”

“You never wanted to be a sorceress,” he argued with urgency in his voice. “Be a wise princess.”

“I must be who I am. I must protect what was given in my care.”

“A ragtag, mismatched army of peasants and soldiers?” His voice filled with frustration. “These are not Karamur’s walls.”

“And yet these are my people.” Sadness washed over me as I said the words, for I feared they would all perish before long. “I must stay with them. I must stay with the Gate. If we can only hold the temple square…”

“We cannot.”

I nodded, my heart twisting.

“Will you not go?” he beseeched me again. “There is nothing here but darkness. Save your light. Take it where it can make a difference.”

I smiled. “A Guardian once told me that it is the darkest room that most needs a candle.”

Graho dipped his head so suddenly, before I knew what he was doing, he had already brushed his lips against mine and was pulling back, letting my hands go at last.

He gave a quick bow. “I shall fight twice as hard, then, my lady. I pledge my life to your service.”

He was gone before I could scold him to do no such thing.

Even as I looked after him, all the day’s and night’s exhaustion hit me at once, and I swayed on my feet. Orz was there with a hand under my elbow to hold me up. He did not speak, but disapproval rolled off him in waves. I could not tell whether he disapproved of the prince or my refusal to escape.

He steered me toward the tub in the alcove, which the servants were quietly filling. He seemed ready to bathe me himself, but at the servant woman’s outraged shrieks, he let the women tend to me. Then, once I was clean and in my night shift, he used unmistakable gestures to order everyone out and carried me to the bed.

I fell into a dreamless sleep, dead to the world around me.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I awoke and knew some time had passed, as the sun was higher in the sky. I could hear the enemy outside the walls.

Marga was gone. She was probably fighting alongside the men. I had long since accepted that she had battle tiger blood. That she was untrained in war seemed to slow her little. When she was not with me, she could most often be found defending the Selorm soldiers.

For a moment, I caught a glimpse of Orz, sleeping sitting up at the foot of my bed, his sword on his lap. But as soon as I shifted, he was awake and on his feet. He checked the door, then strode to the balcony with his uneven gait.

I wrapped the covers around me and hurried over. The sky was gray, a storm coming from the mainland.

The part of the city that lay between the inner and outer walls was a charred wasteland. But at least the enemy was attacking without their siege machines. The outer walls, most of which still stood, were taller than the inner walls, so hitting the inner walls from the distance was near impossible, since they couldn’t see what they were aiming at. They were just as likely to hit their own troops as ours.

Yet the enemy force was overwhelming.

We would be overtaken. I could already see the tops of ladders brought to scale the inner walls.

For now, our soldiers shoved them back, but they could not keep up with them all, not for long. Sooner or later, the first of the enemy would be in the city proper.

As I turned to go and pull my clothes over the simple shift I had slept in, I caught something outside from the corner of my eye and gasped.

Many more ladders tried to attach to the wall in the south section.
Near the temple.

“The Gate!” I called to Orz, then dressed faster than I ever had and practically jumped into my boots that waited at the foot of the bed.

Orz had to remove the heavy table he had pushed in front of the door for protection. Then he swept some food from it into my old food sack and ran after me.

I rushed toward the Gate, running through the winding rows of the spice market. “Marga!”

I needed all the help I could summon.

She found me as I reached the temple square, loped by my side as I ran for the Gate, the giant stone circle.

“Guardian!”

I had meant to come to see him before this, but I never seemed to have a free moment.

He stood in the middle, leaning on his carved staff, his brown robe hanging on his bent frame, thinning gray hair streaming to his shoulders. He did not turn. Maybe he was working his gift—some spell, a protection. Hope tingled through me. I slowed and quieted.

But even as I circled him, I knew something was desperately wrong. And then I could see the blood on his robes. I stepped closer, fully facing him now.

He looked as ancient as our Guardian of the Cave. His eyes were glassy. The blood had run from his nose, a great deal. Only his staff, one end pressed into the ground, the other against his chest, held him up.

“Guardian?” I whispered this time, stepping even closer.

He seemed to be in some kind of trance. I was not certain if I should interrupt him.

Shouts sounded from the temple behind him, clamoring and banging on the doors. Something stopped me from going up the temple steps.

I sensed darkness behind the temple gate, coiled and waiting. A moment ago, I had been sweating from our desperate run, but now I suddenly shivered.

And slowly, the Guardian revived, looking at me. “You feel it,” he said in a gravelly voice. “You met Kratos before.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

“The old god has come back,” he said, full of disapproval. Then he drew breath, the first time I saw his chest rising since I had found him. “No matter,” he said. “His priests are sealed in. I am most accomplished in sealing gates. No dark priest will emerge from there, nor any dark spirit.”

But the slimy whisper filtered through the temple door and called to me.
Have you come for power, Sorceress?

The Guardian peered deeply into my face. “What does he say?”

I shuddered as fear turned my blood to ice. “He offers power.”

Orz moved between me and the temple.

The Guardian’s hand tightened on his staff. “He knows you.”

“We have met before,” I admitted as despair sliced through me. Nothing scared me as much as the old god. But had the heroes of legends not always marched toward fear?

My breath left me. Was this what I was supposed to do? Was my fate to serve the merciless god as my great-grandmother might have? She had taken the power for her own purposes. But if I took the power to save my people…

I had refused each offer of power thus far. Yet what did my refusals gain me? The god took and took from me anyway.
Kratos takes what he will.
If I did ask for power and saved the city, saved my people, what else could Kratos take?

“More than you are willing to give,” the Guardian predicted with a troubled gaze, as if he had read my thoughts.

A strangled laugh escaped my aching throat. “My life? To save my people, I would gladly give that.”

But the Guardian slowly shook his head, watching me as carefully as if measuring the weight of my spirit. “People who amass power rarely do it for the benefit of others, no matter what they tell themselves. One barely needs any power to be of great service.”

“How can someone powerless stop the great darkness that is the Emperor when he has a sorcerer in his service?” I challenged.

“If you have a strong spirit and a brave heart, and you use them to stand up for what is good and right, it is all you need to make a difference in the world.” The Guardian’s voice held no rebuke, only kindness.

“What do we do, then?”

“I have been holding the Gate closed so the Emperor could not send his troops straight into the heart of the city. When all hope is lost, I shall destroy the Gate,” he said.

I stared at him. Our Guardian of the Gate had to give his life just to seal our Gate, but our Gate was much larger, the Gate of the World. Holding this one closed did not require as much power, but destroying it would.

Yet the Guardian did not seem perturbed. “I shall fulfill my fate. You go and fulfill your own fate, Tera of the Shahala.”

How did he know my name? I had not the chance to ask.

Take your power, Sorceress,
the dark god hissed.
Serve me.

I shuddered.

He laughed.
Safe passage for you and yours,
he promised.
Will you pay the price, of your own free will?