Bone Magic (17 page)

Tira blinked.
It looked like several points of light, now. She kept watching, and
the lights multiplied until there were more than she could count.
She kept her hand against the side of her face, blocking out the
glow of impending sunrise to the east. There seemed to be a river
of tiny lights flowing toward her.

It had to be
the king's army, riding to retake the city. She smiled, feeling
some of her weariness fall away. Her ordeal might be nearly
over.

A horn pealed
somewhere above her, a lookout high in the keep giving the alarm.
She heard a goblin shout from a window somewhere high above, and
footsteps clattered on the cobbles to her left. She stepped back
into the keep, peering past the door frame.

Three goblins
came into view. They had a small cart, one goblin holding the
shafts and pulling, the other two pushing from behind. The cart was
piled with crossbow bolts, the red glow of magic shining above
them.

Tira cursed
under her breath, thinking furiously as she waited for the cart to
roll out of sight. Her bow, useless now that her arrows were gone,
was down in the dungeon with the remains of the creature.
Otherwise, she would have tried shooting all three of them and
setting fire to the cart. Injured and with only her sword, she
didn't have a chance.

The edge of the
rising sun appeared over the horizon, and a rooster crowed in
excitement. That made Tira think of animals. Surely the keep had
stables. With a horse, she might be able to fight her way out of
the city and warn the approaching army about what they faced.

She headed down
the steps and walked around the bailey, peering through the gloom,
trying to spot a building big enough to contain horses. She
actually passed the stables without seeing them, but the
unmistakable smell of horse manure stopped her. She turned, looking
in every direction, and finally headed for the bailey wall. The
stables were built from the same gray stone as the wall, invisible
in the half-light until she was almost upon them.

Sheathing her
sword sent twinges of pain through her shoulder. Heaving a saddle
onto the back of a horse nearly killed her. In the darkness of the
stable, the animals were anonymous black shapes. She might have
been saddling a cow for all she knew. Only when she led the horse
out into the bailey did she see that she had chosen a handsome
brown mare with a proud arch to her neck.

There was a
mounting block in front of the stable, and Tira led the mare over,
glad there was no one to see her. The horse stood placidly while
Tira climbed on the block and got a leg across the saddle, feeling
the scabs on her thigh tear open. Blood trickled down her leg as
she worked her feet into the stirrups.

As she rode out
the gate of the bailey and into the street, she had to pull up as a
squad of goblins hurried past, heading for the wall. A couple of
them gaped at her, and she stared back with all the arrogance she
could muster. Somehow it worked. The goblins kept marching, and she
fell in behind them.

The goblins
turned left at a cross street. It looked like they were heading for
the main gate, so Tira turned the other way. She needed to find a
smaller gate, something with only a token guard.

Near the east
wall of the city, Tira found herself riding down a narrow street
with shabby, older rowhouses looming on either side. The wall was
to her left, just on the other side of the houses. She heard an
occasional shout from goblins on the wall, but she was hidden from
their sight.

She reined in
the horse when an opening appeared between a candle shop and a
bakery. It was an arched walkway at ground level. Above the arch,
the second floor of the building continued uninterrupted. The arch
formed a dark tunnel leading toward the city wall.

Tira climbed
down from the saddle and drew her sword. She led the horse into the
dark tunnel, the horse ducking its head to follow. There was no way
to move quietly, not with the horse's hooves clopping on
cobblestones and splashing through puddles behind her.

A gap of only a
few feet separated the back of the row house from the city wall.
There was a small gate set in the wall just past the end of the
tunnel. A solitary goblin was there, seated on the cobbles with his
back against the gate, sound asleep. Tira slid the point of her
sword into his neck just below his chin, and the snores went
silent.

For a long
moment she just stared down at the corpse, feeling tired. With his
head curled forward, hiding his face, the goblin looked childlike
and pathetic, and she felt an unexpected remorse. If she never saw
death again it would suit her just fine.

The gate was
solidly made, banded with iron so thoroughly that the wood barely
showed. No fewer than five thick bolts held it shut, and Tira slid
them back, one at a time. Her shin was pressed against the goblin's
side, and she could feel the warmth of his body through her
trousers. She did her best to ignore it, reaching down and pushing
the goblin over so she could reach the last bolt.

Beyond the door
she found a short tunnel, five feet or so long, leading under the
wall. There was another door at the far end, bolted as thoroughly
as the inner door. She opened the bolts, eased the door open, and
peeked out across the grass.

Nothing moved
that she could see. She returned to the horse and led the reluctant
animal through the narrow gap between the row house and the wall.
It took some urging to get the mare to step over the corpse, but at
last she led the horse through the stone tunnel and onto the plain
beyond.

She darted back
through, straightening the corpse, making it look as if he still
slept, and closed the inner door. She pulled the outer door shut
and climbed into the saddle.

The wall loomed
above her. She tensed when a goblin shouted above her, but no green
faces peered down. She was on the south wall, and everyone's
attention was fixed on the east.

Tira rode along
the base of the wall, so close her knee brushed the stone, and
waited for the alarm to sound. Surely someone had to spot her soon!
But the seconds crawled past and she remained undiscovered. The
southeast corner of the city was before her, the bulk of a tower
jutting out, and she caught occasional flashes of movement from
goblins atop the tower. None of them were looking her way,
however.

At last she
reached the base of the tower and circled around it. The sun was
mostly up, the bottom edge just touching the horizon, and she
lifted a hand, shading her eyes as she looked at the approaching
army. There were hundreds of cavalry rolling across the grass
toward her, still distant but closing rapidly.

Tira took a
deep breath, trying not to think about the number of goblins lining
the walls above her. Just one crossbow bolt would be enough to
snuff out her life and change her to an animated corpse, a meat
puppet for the necromancer.

Well, the
odds aren't getting any better as I sit here. They've got the sun
in their eyes right now. It's time to go.
She dug her heels
into the mare's sides, leaned forward, and went charging across the
plain.

The horse made
a dozen galloping strides before the first shout went up behind
her. The horse made another dozen strides before the first bolt
went flying past. A cold fist clenched in Tira's stomach. There was
nothing she could do, though, except lean in close over the mare's
neck and whisper encouragement as they thundered forward.

The goblins,
she found, were quite bad archers. A dozen bolts flew past her,
none of them coming closer than six or seven feet. The rising sun
was blinding for Tira, and it had to be much worse for the
nocturnal goblins. Shooting at a downward angle was tricky, she
knew, and crossbows were not a weapon goblins traditionally used.
In well under a minute the archers gave up, and Tira slowed the
horse to a trot.

A squad of
cavalry came out to meet her ahead of the main force. The officer
in charge reminded her of Carmody, a precise and upright young man
who looked her up and down as she reined in before him. "You need
to get out of the way," he said. "We're retaking the city."

"There's a
necromancer," she said. The words poured out of her in a rush.
"They've got crossbows, the bolts are cursed. If they kill you with
one of their bolts, you turn. You'll be fighting your own men as
soon as you reach the walls. I've seen it before, it'll be carnage.
You need to be careful."

He lifted one
precise eyebrow. "I... see. Would you mind riding to the side? The
army is coming this way, and I don't want you blocking the
path."

He doesn't
believe me. Or if he does, he doesn't know what to do about it. For
that matter, neither do I.
"I came out a side gate, just a few
minutes ago. I left it open behind me."

That caught his
attention. He questioned her closely, and she described the
location of the gate as best she could. She could see skepticism in
his face, but he gave messages to several of his men and sent them
galloping off. Then he gestured to a couple of cavalrymen.

"Fishman.
Tighe. I want you to take this young woman aside. Disarm her, and
detain her until after the battle. I'll speak with her again then."
He turned away, and the troopers in question closed on Tira.

She could see
the battle unfolding in her mind's eye. The army had too much
momentum to stop, too much weight to alter its plans. They would
storm the walls, confident that their breastplates would keep them
safe from any goblin arrow. But a crossbow at close range was quite
different from the light bows goblins usually carried. Cursed
crossbow bolts would punch through their armor, and chaos would
spread through the attacking army. The battle would rage all day,
inside the walls and out, and if Tira ever made it back inside it
would be nightfall at the earliest. It might be the next day, or
the day after.

There wasn't
much chance that Elanyn and Tam still lived, she knew. But she was
the only person looking out for them. If they yet lived, they
needed an intervention. They needed a successful attack, not the
debacle that was building.

One trooper
leaned sideways in his saddle, reaching for the bridle of Tira's
horse. The other man was coming up beside her. "I'll need your
sword," he said.

Tira wanted to
comply. She desperately wanted her part in this struggle to be
over. She wanted to sit on the sidelines, under casual arrest, and
wait for the battle to end. She could let her wounds close
properly. She could eat, and have something to drink. It came to
her suddenly that she was fiercely thirsty. Above all, she could
get through this day without killing again. And she would be spared
the heartbreaking experience of fighting her way back to the row
house where she'd left Tam, and learning that she was too late.

Instead, she
gave a sharp yank on her reins. The mare twitched her head to the
side, and the trooper's hand, reaching for the bridle, closed on
air. Tira dug her heels in, and the mare sprang away from the two
troopers. She wheeled the horse around and galloped back toward the
city.

The troopers
behind her cursed, and for a short time they gave chase. They
quickly gave up, and she slowed her horse to a walk. She was filled
with an urgent need to do something, to make a difference, but she
wasn't sure quite what to do.

Far to her
right, a column of riders galloped ahead of the main force, looping
wide around as if to approach the city from the south. There were
forty or fifty riders in the column, and she thought she recognized
the lead horse. It was the officer who had interrogated her, no
doubt going to investigate her story of an unlocked side gate. She
allowed herself a bit of optimism. If those riders could fight
their way through to the main gate, the attacking army might still
prevail.

Her mind kept
returning to the cart full of cursed bolts she'd seen, though. It
was probably not the only such cart. There could be hundreds of
cursed bolts waiting on the walls, or thousands. When the cavalry
rode up, a mass of men pressed shoulder to shoulder, the goblins
would hardly be able to miss.

One rider,
though. A solitary rider was a much tougher target. The goblins had
wasted a couple of dozen bolts shooting at her as she rode away.
They had proven themselves to be excitable and to be very poor
shots. How many more bolts might they waste if she came back?

She peered over
her shoulder. The sun was getting higher and higher. Its blinding
effect would only decrease, and it wouldn't be long before the mass
of cavalry reached the walls. If she was going to commit a
spectacular suicide, she'd best be getting on with it.

Doing her best
to put the grim thought out of her head, Tira nudged her horse into
a faster walk. She wanted to get to the walls, but she wanted the
animal ready to run.

Closer and
closer they came, the walls looming higher and higher. She could
see the faces of individual goblins peering at her between the
crenels, resting bulky crossbows on the stone before them. Soon she
could make out their eyes peering out from beneath helmets of
leather or iron. She was close enough to see one goblin flare his
nostrils when the first crossbow fired.

The bolt hit
the ground a few feet in front of Tira, and the mare pranced,
whinnying nervously. Tira dug in her heels. "Hiya! Come on, you
nag, let's see if you can run. Hiya!"

The horse
sprang forward, charging straight at the walls, and the goblins
launched a fusillade of bolts. Most of them thudded into the ground
behind her. When she was a dozen feet out from the wall, Tira
turned the horse to the left. The barrage of bolts had ended, and
she realized the goblins needed time to reload.