Sovereign (19 page)

In the courtyard of the palace what was left of the knights of the Twenty Houses, about three hundred heavy cavalry, waited impatiently for the call to action. Among them was Serefa, still haunted by images of his companions left behind at the outpost from which he himself had barely escaped with his life. He wanted revenge against the Chetts, but for the moment all he could do was listen to the sounds of the assault on the west wall. He gripped his reins and prayed to God that he would let the Chetts win over the wall so the knights could be called into action, and at the same time felt terribly guilty that his wish might be granted.

After what seemed hours of listening to someone else's fight, the tone and pitch of the battle changed noticeably. It seemed closer, more desperate, and Serefa could feel in the sound the unmistakable current of panic. His heartbeat and breathing picked up and he started sweating under his breastplate and helmet.

A messenger appeared at the courtyard entrance, looked around frantically until he found Galen and ran to him. The two exchanged terse words and the messenger left. Galen turned to his knights, raised his mailed fist and waved it in the air. Serefa could not help grinning—God had granted him his wish.

They stayed at a walk until they had left the courtyard, then moved to a trot on the broad avenue leading directly west. The whole area was deserted. Ahead they could see small, ant-like figures on the west wall and smoke starting to column into the air. Galen drew his sword, and the knights eased into a canter, the sound of their horses' hooves and their jangling armour echoing in the city, their formation easing into four lines to give the maximum frontage. Serefa found himself at the far right of the second line, and he could see the enemy on the ground, overwhelming desperate defenders trying to stop them getting to the main gate in the north wall. Galen lowered his sword and the knights went from canter to gallop. The sound they made turned into a pounding that could be heard above all other noise, and the Chetts looked up and saw with terror what was bearing down on them. Some tried to form some kind of defensive line but the knights were on them too quickly. Swords swung, smashing through skull and limb, horses bit at faces and their hooves beat down on fallen bodies. The Chetts panicked and routed back to the stairs, but some of the knights, first among them Serefa, beat them to it and held them back while their fellows pressed in from the front.

One Chett, larger and more ferocious than the rest, made his way to the front and ducked under a slashing attack from Serefa before darting under his horse. Serefa heard his mount scream in pain and then it collapsed in a heap and he found himself standing, his feet astride the dead animal. Before he could react the Chett was behind him. A huge arm locked around his throat and pulled him back, and he felt a blade slide against his neck. He tried to struggle free, shouting for help, but the blade bit deep. He felt no pain, just a warm flood and a dark curtain falling over his eyes, and as he fell atop his slain horse the last thing he saw was the Chetts scrambling past and up the stairs in a desperate bid to escape destruction.

Galen cursed loudly as the last few Chetts managed to get down the other side of the wall before his knights could reach them, but as he looked down at the fleeing enemy he realised how few there were: a hundred perhaps, but not many more. Then he looked down on the other side at the Chett dead heaped against the stairs and the inside wall. They had fought with amazing ferocity and bravery, but in the end there was nothing they could do against his armoured knights.

But it has not all gone our way
, he reminded himself. After all, the Chetts had managed to get over the wall. There seemed to be as many slain defenders as there were Chetts, and a large number of them had been struck by those terrible Haxan missiles. He shouted for archers to shoot at the retreating Chetts, but even as he did so the now familiar sound of more metal thwacking against the wall made him duck below the parapets. He made his way to the tower and then down the stairs where he was met by a frantic Farben.

'Have you seen the queen?' the secretary demanded.

Galen looked blankly at him for a moment. 'No, I…' For a moment panic took him and he felt his muscles start to lock. 'She must be here somewhere…'

'I haven't seen her!' Farben cried frantically. People were starting to look at them.

'Calm down!' Galen ordered, and saying it helped him calm himself. He grabbed a passing captain. 'Have you seen the queen?'

The captain shook his head. 'Not since the attack began. She was on the walkway—'

Galen did not let him finish. Despite his armour he sprinted back up to the walkway, Farben close behind. Keeping low, they turned over every dead defender, their hearts in their mouths, but found no sign of her.

'She must have made it back down,' Galen said, breathing a sigh of relief.

'Unless she was knocked off the wall,' Farben countered.

They returned to the ground and started searching among the heaps of dead and wounded. They had almost given up when Farben shouted and ran to a collection of three bodies. Galen could not see what had grabbed the secretary's attention until he drew closer and saw the glint of armour. He ran over and helped Farben pull off one dead guard and a headless Chett, And there was Charion, blood all over her breastplate and helmet, her face as pale as a winter sky.

'Oh God…' Galen muttered and lifted her in his arms, Farben whimpering beside him. By now other defenders had gathered around, recognising who it was. Galen took off her helmet, but though there was a lot of dirt and blood matting her hair, there appeared to be no injury. He then took off her breastplate, and again there seemed to be no source for all the blood she was covered in.

It must all belong to the Chett
, Galen told himself, hoping it was so.

Gingerly, Galen unlaced her jerkin and lifted her shirt. Half her chest was covered by a purple bruise that was rimmed with blood. He felt the skin tenderly. 'Two broken ribs, at least,' he said aloud. Charion moaned in pain, and Galen let out his breath. Farben looked ready to faint.

'She will be alright,' Galen told the secretary, 'as long as she is looked after. Get her to the palace. I will take over here.'

Farben did not even question the knight, but ordered some of the guards to make a stretcher with spears and cloaks and ordered another to find a doctor.

When they were gone Galen went about making sure there were enough guards put back on the west wall, using some of his own knights to make up the numbers. Then he visited all the wounded, determining whether or not they were fit for duty or needed to be withdrawn. Before he finished he was joined by Magmed.

'We lost seventeen knights,' the nobleman reported. 'Most of them were trying to hold the stairs against the Chetts.'

'I've put another fifty on the wall. That leaves us just over two hundred.'

'The odds are getting worse all the time,' Magmed said levelly.

Galen could only nod.

'As good a place as any to die, I suppose,' Magmed continued. 'I wish to God I could have a charge at Prince Lynan, though.'

'You may yet get your wish,' Galen returned. 'Because I have no intention of going down with the city should it fall.'

Magmed eyed him with surprise. 'You're not going to—'

'Run?' Galen finished for him. 'Of course not. But if the city is lost we have to break out. I will not let my knights be slaughtered in the streets and in the buildings. If worst comes to worst, we still have Kendra to defend.'

'Do you want us ready at the palace again?'

Galen nodded. As Magmed turned to leave, Galen held him back by the arm. 'And tell Farben to ready the queen. I don't know how fit she is to travel, but if we leave her here she will die at Lynan's hands.'

Magmed looked shocked. 'Even Lynan would not do that!'

Galen laughed. 'Did you see what he did to Sendarus? Why would he stop at killing something as petty as a provincial ruler if he would not hesitate to slaughter his own sister's husband?'

Magmed nodded. 'Alright. Where will you be?'

'Here. With Charion gone, someone has to take charge of the defence.'

'Do you think the Chetts will assault the west wall again?'

'Charion told me they would attack at this point at least twice, and the second time they almost made it to the main gate. They'll try again.'

Ager was visiting the trenches opposite the north wall when he heard the war cries of Eynon's warriors as they started their third assault on the west wall. He sent a silent prayer for them, but forced himself to concentrate on his task. Captain Waylong had asked him to come and was pointing out new work, mentioning the names of sappers who had performed exceptionally, detailing where they would go next.

'And the tunnels?' Ager asked. 'How's the mining operation going?'

Waylong looked particularly pleased. Keeping low behind barricades and mantlets he led the way to one of the tunnel entrances.

'We have four of these, three old ones and this new system.'

'New system? How long will it take you to get to tie wall from here? More time than we have, surely?'

Waylong shook his head. 'We're not digging completely new tunnel, only a new entrance. We've used this to intercept one of the old tunnels the enemy thought they had destroyed. They certainly caved in most of the early work, but they didn't finish the job. I takes us closer to the north wall than any other tunnel.' Waylong licked his lips. 'An hour ago we were no more than four paces from under the crooked section of the north wall.'

'Already?' Ager's voice rose with excitement. 'How long before you can set off the mine?'

'We're preparing the work as we go. By now they should be under the wall, but they're working as quietly as possible. The attacks your Chetts are carrying out against the west wall make it hard for any counter-miners to hear the work, so that's when we do most of the close digging.'

'How long before you can set off the mine?' Ager asked again, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

'Late this afternoon,' Waylong answered. 'You might want to wait until tomorrow morning—'

'This afternoon? God, why didn't you tell me this yesterday? We could have called off this morning's assault—'

'Because we didn't know yesterday!' Waylong interrupted. 'We only intercepted the old tunnel last night. And I told you we need the noise of the assault to finish the dig without being detected.'

Ager took a few deep breaths and nodded wearily. 'I'm sorry. But we won't wait until tomorrow morning. Prince Lynan will want to try this afternoon. I need to know exactly when you can fire the mine.'

'An hour before sunset. No earlier.'

'Can you promise that?'

Waylong swallowed. There were so many things that could go wrong in a dig—counter-mining, a tunnel collapse, a miscalculation about tunnel length or an angle—but he knew Ager was not interested in hearing excuses. 'We'll get it done,' he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. 'I'll be there myself to fire it one hour before sunset.'

Ager smiled grimly. 'If you do this, I can promise you Lynan will be very grateful.'

Waylong could not help swallowing again. He was not sure the pale prince's close attention would be a welcome thing. He felt more comfortable in his trenches and holes than being too close to someone that important. Or, he admitted to himself, someone so terrible.

'I'd better get back to it, then,' he mumbled, then half bowed, half saluted and scrambled off.

A good officer
, Ager thought to himself.
We'll need someone like that in the future. I'll have a word to Lynan about him
.

He found it strange to be thinking so highly of a captain from Haxus. He had spent most of his military career fighting men just like Waylong—had even been a captain himself once. When it came down to it, there was no difference between them really, except opportunity. It was ironic that he and Waylong were working together against a Kingdom city.

He shook his head. Such thoughts did no one any good. There was a battle to be won, and enemies to kill Thinking too deeply on it would send a man crazy.

Queen Charion had regained consciousness once since being brought back to the palace. She made some comment on being without a shirt in front of so many men, then passed out again. Doctors had spent hours with her, making sure there were no serious internal injuries other than the three cracked ribs they had found. Unguents were placed on her bruising and her right arm put in a sling to stop it from moving. Galen had visited whenever he could. And all the time, never leaving her side, sat Farben. He amazed himself by not fretting. For the first time since the war had started, he found some kind of calm. His queen had been injured, and for Farben nothing else mattered. Charion was the centre of his world, and when he found her wounded he thought his world had collapsed. When he realised she was still alive he understood how unimportant was everything else in his own life.

Charion moved in her sleep, moaned with the pain it caused her. Farben dipped a cloth in warm scented water and used it to pat her forehead. Her features relaxed and she continued sleeping.

Outside he heard the jangling of armour. Galen's armoured squadron in the courtyard, ready for a last desperate battle. He knew Galen had effectively taken command of the city and was himself on the west wall where the greatest danger lay. Farben thought his queen had chosen well; that is, if she intended Galen to be more than simply her lover. He sighed heavily. She had had her fair share of lovers, none of them much good in Farben's eye: opportunists mostly, and one or two so stupid he thought Charion lucky to get anything at all from them. But Galen was noble born, and a natural commander, and Farben could tell he liked Charion.

Maybe
, he thought,
Galen even loves her
.

He smiled. For many years he had thought he was the only person in the Kingdom who loved Charion. She was a short-tempered cow a lot of the time, but she was absolutely devoted to Hume and she always kept her word. It was easy being one of her secretaries, once you were used to the shouting and screaming.