Bone Magic (18 page)

She ran the
horse along the grass parallel to the wall, giving more goblins an
opportunity to shoot. Bolts smacked into the grass, most of them
ahead of her. The goblins were excited, shooting too soon, every
bolt coming in at long range while the closest goblins could only
watch her gallop past as they reloaded.

Goblins farther
along the wall must have learned from that example, because the
long shots began to die down. She started getting bolts at closer
range, and the accuracy increased significantly. A bolt tore
through the horse's mane, sending up a cloud of hair. A moment
later blood came welling out, pouring down the sides of the mare's
neck. A bolt passed so close in front of Tira's face that she
flinched back, rocking against the high cantle of her saddle.

By the time she
was a hundred feet from the road, the barrage of fire stopped. The
crossbows seemed to be concentrated at the main gates, where the
cavalry would likely be thickest. Tira reined in the horse and
turned her around. She wanted to give the mare a chance to catch
her breath, and give herself a break from mortal terror, but the
mare just pranced beneath her, refusing to rest. Tira waited
another thirty seconds, giving the closest goblins time to finish
reloading their crossbows, and went galloping back toward the
gate.

A bolt slammed
into Tira's ankle, and she screamed. She looked down, and saw the
bloody head poking through her boot. There was a cut in the horse's
side, and a fresh trickle of blood. She would have to stop heeling
the horse with that leg, or she would half kill the poor
animal.

"Hiya!" she
said instead. "Hiya!" Not that the horse needed urging. The gallant
animal was galloping for all she was worth, ignoring the bolts that
rained down all around her.

Something
jerked against Tira's shoulders. She still wore the empty quiver on
her back, and it seemed to have collected a bolt. Another bolt flew
past her hand so close that the feathers brushed her skin. She
crossed the road and kept going, giving the goblins on the far side
a chance to join in the fun.

At last the
shooting petered out and she reined the horse to a stop. The mare
was panting and blowing, flecks of foam flying from her muzzle, and
Tira reached down to pat the side of her blood-streaked neck.
"You're a fine, brave horse," she said. "I can't believe we
survived that."

The horse made
a noise deep in her chest, a sound of suffering, and Tira looked
backward. There was a bolt jutting from the horse's hindquarters,
just behind the saddle. The bolt was buried so deep only the
feathers were showing.

"Oh, no." She
leaned forward, patting the horse's quivering neck. "Oh, I'm so
sorry. This was never your fight."

A bolt flew
from the wall beside her, missing her chest by inches. She'd given
the goblin time to reload, and to line up a nice, careful shot.
Tira thought about retreat, but it was already too late to save the
horse. She gave the gallant animal another pat and said, "What do
you think, girl? Can you manage one more run?"

The mare
nickered, and Tira, conscious of the bolt sticking out of her boot,
drummed her other heel against the mare's ribs and shouted,
"Hiya!"

She was just in
time. Another bolt cut through the air behind her as the horse
exploded into motion. The goblins seemed to be getting better, and
the mare was moving slower. Bolts slashed through the air, closer
and closer. A bolt sliced into the shoulder of her shirt and hung
there, caught in a wrinkle of fabric. Tira thought she'd escaped
injury until she felt blood trickle down her chest. The pain came a
moment later. It was just a nick, though. Compared to her ankle it
was nothing at all.

A bolt grazed
the leather guard on her wrist and bounced away. Another bolt
buried itself in the pommel of the saddle in front of her, and she
glanced up. She immediately regretted it. The goblins were jammed
shoulder to shoulder along the top of the wall, so thick they
terrified her.

The road was
nine or ten yards in front of her when the mare stumbled. Tira
clutched the pommel of the saddle as the mare managed a couple of
more steps, and then collapsed on her side. Tira managed to get her
foot out of the stirrup in time, but she couldn't pull her leg up
fast enough. The full weight of the horse came down on her foot and
ankle, pinning her to the grass.

Three or four
bolt slammed into the horse's side, and more bolts hit the grass
all around Tira. There was an explosion of pain in her forearm, and
she saw the feathered end of a bolt jutting from the sleeve of her
jacket halfway between her wrist and elbow. The bolt had passed
between the bones of her forearm, pinning her arm to the
ground.

She braced her
foot against the mare's saddle, heaving with all her strength,
trying to pull her leg out. Agony ripped through her ankle. The
trapped ankle was the one with a bolt through it.

The mare
twitched, then rolled off of Tira and stood. The mare's eyes, so
warm and intelligent just a moment before, were cold and blank as
they stared at Tira. Then the dead horse rose up on her hind legs,
front hooves lifted high to crush Tira.

It was the
goblins who inadvertently saved her. A barrage of bolts rained
down, tearing into the body of the horse, and a key bone or tendon
must have given way. The mare collapsed, and Tira lifted her arm,
pulling the bolt through the wound in her forearm, hissing with
pain as the feathers dragged through her flesh. Then she rose to
her feet, ignoring the agony in her ankle, and set off at a
hobbling run for the wall.

The mare tried
to bite her as she passed. A few more bolts hit the grass around
her, but most of the closest goblins seemed to be reloading. She
reached the base of the wall without further injury, put her back
to the stone, and took her weight off of the injured ankle.

The mare
continued to thrash on the grass, and Tira closed her eyes, not
wanting to see it. She had been a brave horse, and she had deserved
better.

A wave of
dizziness washed over Tira, and she opened her eyes, then blinked
in surprise as several crossbow bolts came tumbling down and landed
on the grass near her feet. She grinned despite her pain as she
realized what was happening. Goblins were leaning far out and
trying to fire directly downward at her. The string of a crossbow,
though, didn't keep tension on the bolt before it was fired. If you
tilted the weapon too far, the bolt would simply fall out.

She looked up,
scanning the top of the wall above her. There was no overhang to
protect her. She could see goblins directly above her, looking
down. Soon they would start looking for something heavy to drop on
her. She told herself that she should move, make herself a harder
target, but she didn't have the strength.

Voices bellowed
somewhere nearby, and she heard the clash of steel on steel. A
large shape tumbled from the top of the wall several feet to her
right, and she flinched. It wasn't a missile aimed at her, though.
It was a goblin, blood streaming from a wound in his chest. He
landed hard on the edge of the road, close to the main gates, and
kept straining to reach the sword that had landed a few feet from
his outstretched hand.

Another goblin
fell from the walls, and then the main gates of the city came
swinging open. Men and goblins spilled out. For a moment there was
milling chaos on the road, men and goblins hacking at each other.
The ground trembled, and Tira turned her head as hundreds of
cavalry came sweeping in. A few crossbow bolts flashed down from
the city walls, but the horsemen poured into the city and the
crossbows stopped.

The horses were
moving quickly, but it seemed to take a long time for the last of
the riders to go past. The sounds of battle were already fading as
Tira put one hand on the wall for support and hopped along on her
good foot, heading for the gates.

The dead were
thick on the ground at first, most of them goblins, but a fair
number of troopers as well. She saw a man with a crossbow bolt
through his breastplate, a man on either side of him holding his
arms as he struggled. She could see another trooper among the dead,
his arms and legs severed and lying beside his torso.

A warhorse
stood abandoned near the base of the wall. The horse laid his ears
back as Tira approached, but she made soothing noises and gave him
a gentle pat on the shoulder. Eventually he calmed down enough to
let her drag herself up into the saddle. She rode slumped over,
clinging to the pommel of the saddle, fighting alternating waves of
dizziness and pain. She could hear sounds of battle in the
distance, and she saw human faces peering at her from windows, but
the streets were empty.

It was not easy
to find the row house she was looking for. She finally had to
return to the castle and trace her steps backward from there. But
at last she found the right building, and began the painful process
of wriggling down from the saddle.

The front door
was open, and she leaned on the doorframe, listening. She heard
only silence. She limped down the corridor, cringing at the noise
she made as her injured foot dragged on the floor behind her. The
stairs defeated her until she dropped to her knees and crawled
upward. She found a splintered door, the room beyond littered with
the shattered remains of the chair that had been wedged under the
knob. There were also three dead goblins.

She looked up
at the steep, narrow staircase leading to the attic and knew she
would never make it up there. It was too late, anyway. She could
see only darkness at the top of the stairs, hear only silence. Tam
and Elanyn were dead.

"I'm sorry,
Tam," she murmured. "I did my best." Then she sagged to the floor
and surrendered to a rising darkness.

It might have
been moments later when she felt gentle fingers on her shoulder. It
might have been years. The fingers tapped at her, then shook, then
shook harder. Then someone turned her over onto her back, and she
opened her eyes.

"Tam. Are you
dead?"

He gave her a
tired grin. "No, but it was a near thing. It looks like I had an
easier time of it than you did, though. You're a mess."

Elanyn leaned
into her field of view. "Open your mouth."

Tira
instinctively pressed her lips together.

The elf held up
a small glass bottle. "You need to drink this."

The bottle
seemed to shine in her hand, a green glow that bathed her fingers
and made them look like the stalks of a strange plant. Tira kept
her lips closed tight and shook her head.

"It's a healing
potion," said Tam urgently. His eyes flickered across her body.
"Believe me, you need it."

"No magic," she
said.

"Tira, please!"
he said. "Be reasonable. She gave me one. It helped."

Tira thought of
all the horrors she had seen that day, and shook her head. "No
bloody magic," she said. "Not now, not ever. Is that clear?"

Tam's face
filled with sorrow. Elanyn nodded her understanding, and Tira let
her eyes slide shut. The pain from her wounds was fading. She could
hear Tam and Elanyn arguing over something, their voices a distant
hum, like bees in a sunny meadow. It was a pleasant image, and she
smiled, feeling herself begin to drift away from the room, the
city, and all of the suffering and regret that went with it.

"No, Tam, you
cannot do-"

Hard fingers
pried Tira's mouth open, and a cool liquid splashed onto her
tongue. For a moment it was bitter, and then an ecstatic sweetness
seemed to coat her entire mouth. She swallowed, and the sweet
warmth traced its way down her throat and into her stomach. After a
pause it exploded outward, filling her, consuming her, and suddenly
every one of her injuries was on fire. She cried out in pain, but
by the time her lungs were empty of air, the pain was gone.

She opened her
eyes. Tam was looking down at her. The sorrow was gone from his
face, replaced by uncertainty. Elanyn was looking at him, her mouth
tight, a frown creasing her forehead.

"You need to
rest now," said Tam. "It takes a lot out of you. Lie still."

She wanted to
tell him how angry she was. She wanted to yell, or slap his face,
but she felt as limp as wet laundry. She stuck her tongue out at
him instead. For some reason that made him smile, and she made a
mental note to slap him later. Then she surrendered to the rising
darkness and let the world slip away.

The road was a
dark ribbon with a wall of thick forest on either side. Tira rode
alone, making better time than she was used to without Daisy to
hold her back. She smiled to herself. She almost missed the
mule.

She missed Tam,
as well. He was a day's ride behind her, at Raven Crossing. He and
Daisy were dedicating themselves to the rebuilding of the village.
"I'm needed here," he had told her, and she had agreed.

When he
suggested that she could stay as well, she had hastily declined. It
was becoming clear to her that ten years of adventuring had changed
her, spoiled her for the rustic life. She wasn't sure she was ever
going to return to the farm that had been her own home, a lifetime
ago.

At any rate,
there was a job that had to be finished before she could make that
choice. Sometimes she still felt Sari's little arms around her
waist as she rode. Sari was at rest now, but there would be other
little girls. Tira had to put an end to the necromancer. It was
just that simple.

She made camp
in a clearing beside the road, unsaddling her horse, setting the
saddle and bridle on a fallen log, and draping her new cloak over
it all. It was a distinctive saddle, instantly recognizable to the
king's cavalry, and she didn't want to be accused of horse theft.
She felt she'd earned the horse, but she would breathe easier once
she was out of the kingdom.