Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) (28 page)

“And just why is that?” said Corbould, his voice ice.

“Because I am only a blacksmith,” said Ark. “Not one of your tribunes, or one of your centurions, or one of your Legionaries. Only a blacksmith. You can’t command me.”

“Very well,” said Corbould. “Then I will order your men to follow me. The veterans are discharged and may do as they wish. But the Legionaries are bound by oath and law to obey the Lord Governor of Marsis.”

“Unless I tell them to stay,” said Ark.

Corbould scoffed. “You seem sure of yourself, blacksmith.”

“They followed me because they thought you were dead,” said Ark. “You failed them. Under your command, half of Marsis has fallen to the Istarish and the Kyracians. When they've been listening to me, they gave the enemy a bloody nose and sent them running.”

“I am their Lord Governor,” said Corbould.

“Some of them will follow you,” said Ark. “But most of them will follow me.” 

Corbould's voice was low, quiet, deadly. “This is a mutiny, blacksmith, and I will not tolerate it.”

“You don't have a choice,” said Ark. “Would you really split the men in the face of an attack? If you want, go north to Lord Hiram...and return to find us holding the gates.”

“You damned fool,” said Corbould, and for the first time Ark caught a hint of weariness in the old lord's voice. “I will return to find your men slaughtered and the enemy holding the walls. You have no way to fight the stormdancers and that blasted stormsinger. None. You might fight off an attack or two. And then Rezir will lose patience, the stormdancers will attack, and you will be defeated.”

“Stormdancers are mortal, like any other man,” said Ark. “They can be slain.”

He wished he believed it.  

“Perhaps,” said Corbould. “Or I could order the men with me to execute you here and now. What do you think would happen?”

Ark made himself meet the old lord's gaze. “Then we would have bloodshed. But why kill each other, my lord? The Kyracians will do it for us.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I could order you and every last one of your men crucified for mutiny,” said Corbould.

“Your lordship can hardly afford to lose several hundred capable veterans,” said Ark. 

“No,” said Corbould. “I cannot.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Corbould’s fist opened and closed, over and over again.

“All right, blacksmith,” said Corbould. “We will attempt to hold the northern gate until Lord Commander Hiram returns.” He raised a finger. “But when the battle goes against us, I will order us to withdraw north. Understood?”

Ark nodded. It was the best he could hope to achieve.

“And you've made an enemy today,” said Corbould. “I will not have my authority challenged. Certainly not by a blacksmith. If we live through this, you will regret your impudence dearly.” 

“If we live through this,” said Ark.

Corbould shook his head. “Fool. Why are you doing this? Because Halfdan ordered you to see to it that the city did not fall?”

Ark hesitated. Halfdan had ordered him to see that the northern gate remained open. But Ark did not care about Marsis. Tanya and Nicolai were here. And he would do whatever it took to save them, to make sure he did not fail them again.

Even if it meant dying at the northern gate.

Even if it meant having Lord Corbould crucify him as a traitor and a rebel after the battle.

“I do,” said Ark, “what I have to do. That is all.”

Corbould gave him a brittle smile. “As do we all, blacksmith. Give the orders.”

Ark shouted the command, the men falling into formation.

###

A short march later, they reached North Gate Plaza and the northern gate at last.

The walls of Marsis stood forty feet high, gray and thick and scarred from ancient battles. The towers of the gatehouse rose twice that, topped with ballistae and catapults. The gate itself stood between the towers, wide enough for four horsemen, and the Plaza itself was the size of Foundry Square. 

Radast took one look at the siege engines and headed toward the towers. 

Looking at the gates brought up memories in Ark’s mind. He had passed through these gates five years ago, intending to look upon the sea one last time before he drank himself to death. On his way, he had come across some bandits attempting to rob a lone woman and driven them off.

The woman had been Tanya. 

A few weeks ago he had entered these gates with Halfdan and Caina, hot on the trail of Lord Naelon Icaraeus. 

And now Ark was going to die here.

Most of the remaining men of the Nineteenth and the veterans from the foundry had gathered below the gates. Tarver and Korbulus hurried to join Ark, and their eyes widened when they saw Lord Corbould beside Ark.

“Gods and devils,” said Korbulus, “is that...”

“Lord Governor,” said Tarver. “We thought you were dead.”

“I almost was,” said Corbould. “Our bold blacksmith came along in the nick of time.” He looked at Ark. “I suggest you make ready to defend the gate. We shall need to hold until Lord Commander Hiram Palaegus arrives to realize us.”

Ark wondered if the others heard the challenge in the old lord’s voice. 

“Get some men onto the ramparts,” said Ark. “There will be crossbows in the gatehouse's armory. Rip down whatever walls and dig up whatever cobblestones you have to, but get an earthwork built halfway across the Plaza. Make sure to leave a gate – we'll want to make sure Lord Hiram's men can enter when they get here. And have Radast target those engines at the Avenue of Champions. The biggest mass of enemy forces will come from that direction.”

Tarver and Korbulus ran to carry out his orders.

“You seem sure of yourself,” said Corbould.

“I'm not,” said Ark. “But you cannot show doubt in front of the men.”

Corbould gave a slow nod. “I learned that lesson myself. Long ago.” He titled his head. “The men are gathered here, and I am their Lord Governor. What would you do if I commanded them to execute you and follow me out of the city?”

“Die, I suppose,” said Ark. A flash of insight came to him, something that Caina would have said. “But you won't.”

“And just why not?” 

“Because of all the things you said about the history of House Maraeus,” said Ark. “You are Lord Governor of this city. And is it not beneath the dignity of a scion of House Maraeus to lose his city to the enemy?”

Corbould glared at him for a long moment.

“You Ghosts,” he said, “are a damnably clever lot.”

Ark nodded and went to take charge of the defensive preparations. Lord Corbould followed him like a black shadow, nodding magisterially, and the troops saluted him. Ark kept expecting him to take command, to push aside Ark and order the Legionaries out of the city.

But he never did.

Chapter 20 - Infiltration

Caina looked with dismay at the Istarish troops flooding into the Great Market.

Some of the Istarish troops bore wounds, and many more had the hunted look of soldiers fleeing a battlefield. That meant things were not going Rezir Shahan's and Andromache's way. But the sudden influx of panicked soldiers would make far harder to take Nicolai. 

She looked toward the ruined merchant stall where Nicolai lay bound. A large knot of Istarish soldiers stood there, arguing with one another. Caina edged closer, hoping to avoid their argument. Then an inspiration struck her. If their argument devolved into a fight, she could use the distraction to seize Nicolai and make her escape. 

Or she might get killed in the resultant brawl. 

Caina took a deep breath and started closer. 

“This is madness, Harzim,” said one of the soldiers, a squat man in bloodstained scale armor. “We should return to the Plaza of the Tower at once! The emir is not kind to deserters!”

“The emir has led us to die in a foreign land, Karzon!” said Harzim, a tall figure with a gaunt face. “You saw what happened when we marched to the gates. The emir promised us that the enemy had been defeated. Yet the damned Legionaries were everywhere!” Harzim shook his head. “They sprang at us from the alleys and cut us to pieces. Everywhere we turned there was another foe with steel in his hand.” 

Karzon spat. “You are as craven as a woman, Harzim. Run home and hide behind your mother's skirts.” He slammed a fist against his armored chest. “Myself, I will follow the emir. When we drive out the Imperial dogs, the spoils of the city will go to those who were loyal! Cravens like you can toil on their farms.” 

“Gold and women are no good to a dead man,” said Harzim. “Go and die, if it pleases you.” He looked at the other men. “We should go to the harbor and steal a ship. Then we can make our way to the Free Cities and leave this foolish war behind.”

Karzon laughed. “Do you even know how to sail a ship?” 

Caina decided upon Karzon. He looked to have the shorter temper. 

“Follow me, lads,” said Karzon. “We'll whip these Imperial dogs, and take their treasure and their women for ourselves.”

Caina let out a long laugh, loud and derisive. 

The men looked at her, Karzon's expression thunderous. 

“Spare me this rot,” said Caina in Istarish, keeping her voice gruff and harsh. “You talk big, Karzon, but your sword is weak. I saw you at the battle. When the first Legionary came out of the alley, you turned and ran.” 

“Lying dog!” bellowed Karzon, stepping towards her. 

“You ran faster than the emir's messengers,” said Caina, glaring at him. A nervous laugh went from the assembled men. “In fact, you ran even faster than those Kyracian stormdancers! Pity you couldn't use that speed against the enemy.” 

“Close your lying mouth!” said Karzon, drawing his scimitar. 

“Why?” said Caina. “If I look at you harshly, you'll drop that sword and start crying.”

Karzon did neither. Instead he charged Caina, scimitar drawn back for a slash. Caina saw the blow coming and dodged. As she did, one of Harzim's followers punched Karzon. The blow caught Karzon in the side of the head, and he staggered to a stop, gaping in astonishment at the man who had struck him. 

“Is that it, Harzim?” said Karzon. “You're such a craven you'll attack your own countrymen instead of the enemy?”

“Don't be absurd,” said Harzim. “I...”

Karzon rushed him, and soon the two men were locked in combat. Their supporters joined the melee. In the sudden chaos, Caina was forgotten. She circled around the melee, making for the ruined merchant stall. Another few yards, and...

“Halt!”

The voice rang over the fighting, and an Immortal strode toward Caina. For a terrified instant Caina wondered if her disguise had proved inadequate, if the Immortal had discerned her true identity. 

But the black-armored soldier stopped a short distance away, and bellowed again.

“Halt!” 

Those watching the fight came to attention. Karzon and Harzim stopped fighting, their eyes wide with alarm.

“Miserable fools,” said the Immortal. “At the first sight of the enemy, you turn your backs and flee?” 

“I didn't flee,” said Karzon. “I...”

“Silence!” said the Immortal. “If you did not flee, it is curious to find you in the Great Market.” The Immortal shook his head in disgust, blue light glimmering in the depths of the skull-masked helm. “The lot of you should be flayed alive for your cowardice. But the emir has need of you. He has commanded that the Immortals distribute themselves among the infantry and serve as your officers, to show you how true warriors fight. You will form up, and you will march to the Plaza of the Tower. Now!”

The Istarish soldiers hastened to obey, and Caina had no choice but to follow suit. If she tried to run, the Immortal would order the soldiers to kill her. Or the Immortal would simply kill her himself – she could not outrun an Immortal's alchemy-enhanced endurance. 

She took her place in the rear of the formation. Karzon and Harzim stood a few ranks ahead of her, glaring daggers at each other, but neither man dared defy the commands of an Immortal.

“We march!” said the Immortal.

The soldiers started forward. They passed the ruined merchant booth, and Caina caught a brief glimpse of Nicolai, still bound and alone, forgotten in the midst of the chaos. 

And then the company passed the row of booths, and he disappeared from sight.

Caina gritted her teeth. She had come so damnably close. 

Plan after plan flitted through her mind, and she discarded them all as too dangerous. There were too many troops in the Great Market now, too many eyes. 

The Avenue of Governors was her best chance. While the streets branching off from the Avenue of Governors were not as narrow or twisty as the alleys in the dockside district, they would still give Caina plenty of locations to hide. She squinted at the sky. It was late afternoon, the sun dipping closer to the western horizon. Soon tangled shadows would fill the streets, giving Caina the chance to use her shadow-cloak to great effect.