Stormed Fortress (48 page)

Inside a short interval, Vhandon drew alongside. His square-cut face had grown chiselled and gaunt, and his chin bristled silver with stubble. His greeting no more than a curt nod to Parrien, he said,
'
We
'
ve staked the harbour bed with cribs of stone and sharp logs to kill ships.
'
Beyond terse, he added,
'
We had no other way to send warning, except to lash these few prizes in place as a barrier. Stand down your armed crews. I
'
ve come to guide you into safe waters.
'

Too exhausted to cheer, and worn ragged by hunger, the battered war fleet regrouped, then rowed limping towards shelter.

* * *

Two hours passed. Sated on hot stew, with a draught of Sanshevas rum now warming the chill from his blood, Parrien s
'
Brydion sat in his steaming clothes inside the flagship
'
s stern cabin. Outside that haven, with its desk of spread charts and its lockers of varnished bright-work, the gale still lashed, unabated. It howled through the galley
'
s stripped masts, and rattled the winter-bare trees on the mainland.

Amid the fusty glue of close air, with his clan braid crusted with salt, Parrien lacked the words to measure his gratitude. His weary crews were sheltered and fed. After a night of unbroken sleep, the damage to worn lines, and worked seams, and torn sail could be assessed and mended.

Of the eighteen Alliance ships ambushed to grant his five galleys survival, Vhandon
'
s statement was bitter and brief.

'
We
'
ve been fugitives ourselves. Set too hot on the run from Lysaer
'
s foot-troops not to guess how sorely your fleet needed respite.
'
He paused, his competent, blunt fingers clenched on his mug.

Parrien weathered the interval, silent. Vhandon
'
s clipped speech and lined features often lent the misleading impression of gruffness. Without Talvish
'
s banter to strike the hidden spark, his taciturn humour and sensitive insight eluded most casual eyes. Yet Parrien s
'
Brydion had learned his every trick from the mentor, seated before him.

Yet tonight, the veteran officer
'
s ferocious stillness was utterly new.

'
You
'
ve met him?
'
Parrien pressed at last on brash impulse. No need to mention the name of
s
'
Ilessid
, self-styled as Prince of the Light.

Vhandon
'
s flint regard flicked away, loath as he was to answer.
'
I did not understand the dynamic charisma that walks in the man
'
s living presence.
'
A shiver raked him, not due to the cold.
'
What chance do those lost, blinded followers have? The logical fire of Lysaer
'
s convictions will admit to no creeping doubt. Mankind is born craving such absolute stability. Our mortal nature strives for a known order, though we tend to forget structured limits deliver stagnation that leads to sterility. Had we not met the s
'
Ffalenn half-brother first, would we ever have questioned? Dare we judge others who have fallen prey to the weakness that begs for a saviour?
'

'
You don
'
t like killing men who flock to die like tame sheep,
'
Parrien said with cut-glass acuity.

'
No.
'
Vhandon looked up. "That
'
s too dangerously simple.
'
The horror had eaten him down to the viscera.
'
The slaughter is ugly, but what lives is worse. I cannot stand by and allow this infectious dogma to grow entrenched. These are men, made as weapons that kill without conscience! Like the farmer who harvests his croft with the scythe, they raze down all that stands without quarter. Nothing is left to give voice to diversity. True freedom can
'
t thrive under one creed in conformity.
'
Now shaking, he set down his mug before he slopped the hot contents.
'
Did you never see Lysaer unleash his royal gift?
'

'
Not in his element,
'
Parrien admitted.
'
Years ago, he once ventured out hunting with us. He
'
d arrived in petition for an alliance of war, which required my brother
'
s good graces. His silken tongue wooed us with reason, then caught us short by the fears underlying our drive for security.
'
His mouth tightened, strained by a memory no belt of rum could erase.

'
Bransian swallowed the strategy, head first,
'
Vhandon murmured, not without sympathy.

'
We all did!
'
Parrien shot to his feet, jabbed to shame.
'
How do you withstand a statesman who leads his game with the cards of your wishful, self-serving agenda? You kiss his boots for saying what you
'
d like to hear, and before you think to examine the motive, you
'
ve sold yourself out! Bransian
'
s not wont to forgive that mistake. The humility
'
s not in him, to just walk away from the sting of being played by our whimpering short-falls!
'

Yet Vhandon
'
s rooted disquiet intensified. He covered his face, forced to stifle his impulse to weep.
'
You
'
ve never witnessed Lysaer
'
s destructive powers under sway of the Mistwraith
'
s directive.
'

Parrien sat. Tired frown and cold eyes, he measured the crisis that wracked his family
'
s most dependable field-captain. Vhandon was worse than shaken.
The grief that distressed him, somewhere, somehow, had caused his matchless character to falter in stride.
No care could approach what had crumbled his poise; yet the friend who observed had to try.

'
I
'
ve already heard the most damaging news,
'
Parrien opened with heart-sore reluctance.
'
That Lysaer immolated our outlying troop, and that Keldmar died at the forefront.
'
Since the hurt was too brutal, he asked the steward to fetch in the vintage brandy.

'
We stood witness to everything,
'
Vhandon said through shut hands.
'
All ten of us, trapped on reconnaissance inside the
s
'
Ilessid
field camp. Keldmar sent us, I think, as a misguided effort to keep us this side of Fate
'
s Wheel.
'

The rocked swing of the gimballed lamp was not kind, as the tears escaped those clamped fingers. Vhandon held on through the loss of his privacy, while

Parrien poured two restorative glasses. Yet alike as he seemed to the brother now dead, his vulnerability was not as Keldmar
'
s, which once had groped to find understanding through inept, but sincere camaraderie.

'
You
'
ll tell me exactly what happened,
'
said Parrien s
'
Brydion with fixated attentiveness.

No word, no touch, and no quickened breath moved his stillness throughout the dreadful report. By the end, he had heard every searing detail of Lysaer
'
s first assault on the citadel. Not to console for the ruin and lost lives, or to bolster shocked nerves, never that; presented the face of a curse-bound disaster, Parrien
'
s patience was as the adder
'
s, that coiled to strike back in cold blood.

late Autumn 5671

Responses

'
I acknowledge our debt to Rathain and Alestron
'
King Eldir declares as he hands his horse off to a groom; then makes disposition to the sea-captain, braving her distrust of stable-yards to petition for aid: "The Crown of Havish will grant supply for the besieged citadel, on condition that you and your crew on the
Evenstar
will arrange the delivery on your own merits . . .
'

Caught while detailing the drills for green troops, Sulfin Evend stands frowning, as Lysaer
'
s hound-faced valet reports that the Divine Prince
'
s sleep has been broken by a feverish dream that carried the name of the Spinner of Darkness . . .

Suffering a headache following his late rebuff by the Prince of Rathain, Bransian s
'
Brydion grinds frustrated teeth, until his overstrung duchess snaps first, and suggests the coercive option,
'
If his Grace has come here to safeguard Jeynsa s
'
Valerient, then she is the pawn in your fist, and your leverage to bring him to heel. . .
'

Late Autumn 5671

VIII. First Turning

The gale broke by sundown, blown out to feathered clouds, and a brisk change of wind that fore-promised new ice on the rain barrels. Cold to the bone, with her hands scoured raw from the handling of quicklime and mortar, Jeynsa left her mixing paddle and hand-cart to the relief at the change of the watch.

'
Enjoy your turn, butty
'
she said to the breathless boy arrived for his shift on the sea-wall.
'
No question, I
'
ve sanded my finger-tips raw!
'

Daylong, she had not questioned Talvish
'
s orders, or the call for brute labour that annexed her to his company. If the duke
'
s thwarted temper made him declare that the wharf-side embrasure required reinforcement, every hale person under s
'
Brydion protection was pressed forthwith to lay stone. Men cranked the winches and levered the cut blocks, while boys and strong women chipped facings and hauled in water and sand for the mixing troughs.

Jeynsa never minded the rough, outdoor work. Despite sore hands, she would have stayed on, even welcomed the diversion to thwart Sidir
'
s overbearing attention. Public presence alone averted the brangles that sparked, as she clashed with his tender authority.

Fionn Areth had less reason to make himself scarce, and no reservation against mouthing off his latest inflaming opinion. Crammed onto the lift with chilled sentries and bone-weary citizens, he declared,
'
I don
'
t see how more masonry can stave off the hour we die of starvation.
'

Talvish heard, slit-eyed, from his place by the seaward blocks. This pass, he chose not to silence the fool, but stood back and let his grizzled campaign sergeant slap down the offence.

'
That
'
s your grass-lander
'
s ignorance speaking!
'
challenged Cortend, who still wore his gauntlets.
'
If directed activity gives anyone hope, we are all better off.
'

'
Break our backs for a lie?
'
Fionn Areth shot off, while the turn of the winches caught up the slack, and the freight lift crawled under load up the cliff-face. The Araethurian stayed undeterred by the rancourous stir on the crowded platform. He shouted over the grind of taut chains. That
'
s the same hypocrisy played against the Light
'
s victims. Or so you lay claim as the cause for this war!
'

Now, more than one tired veteran bristled. Several muscular townsfolk rocked onto their toes, incensed enough to start fisticuffs. Talvish
'
s bark could have stalled the fresh fight.

Yet the sergeant laced in, ahead of him.
'
Let our honest craftsman find their sound sleep in the belief they
'
ve protected their families. Keep everyone busy, we won
'
t get betrayed by some man
'
s helpless rage, as he tries for relief by defection!
'

'
Defection?
'
scoffed Fionn,
'
Or just honest good sense, to dump pride and admit our position
'
s untenable.
'

The sergeant settled by cocking his fist. His battering right hook clipped Fionn Areth on the jaw, snapped his head back, and reeled him into Jeynsa
'
s startled embrace.

'
Serves the damned idiot right!
'
The sergeant flushed, unrepentant for blatant misconduct.

Talvish chose to laugh off the infraction.
'
Spared my knuckles a bruising against Araethurian flint, though you won
'
t win my praise for the effort.
'
Subjected to Jeynsa
'
s infuriated glower, he shrugged. Unsurprisingly, no one else moved to help her prop up the felled victim. The girl was left on her merits to choose whether to drop her unwitting charge in a half-conscious heap.

Perversity won. Jeynsa elected to shoulder the load, if only to champion the brash underdog. Now hazed by the surly regard of the onlookers, she denounced,
'
Even the stupidest gripe deserves kindness.
'

The scapegrace sergeant averted his glance, intent to avoid further trouble. The men-at-arms pinned under Talvish
'
s eye also kept buttoned lips out of prudence. But pinched hunger and exhaustion goaded the displaced craftsfolk to lash back.

'
Ought to chuck out that one
'
s whining carcass and give some joy to the feeding crabs.
'

A matron brandished an indignant fist.
'
I
'
ve a hog in farrow that
'
s much too thin to be tossing fresh meat off for carrion!
'

'
Bait
'
s a better idea,
'
yelled the gangling lad whose cousin walked rope for the chandler.
'
Rot the choice bits and set a few traps! We
'
d be better off dicing the free-loader
'
s liver to catch ourselves a fresh dinner.
'

Jeynsa shrugged.
'
I say the victim can level his own scores.
'

For already, the icy gusts nipped the grass-lander back towards groggy awareness. He moaned, eyelids fluttering, then struggled against the locked grip that propped up his half-buckled knees.

Wise enough for her years, Jeynsa clamped his weight, hard.
'
Stay still, you numb nuts!
'
she snapped into his ear.
'
Or get beaten silly. Sure
'
s fire, you
'
d be less of a threat to yourself, triced in chains in the citadel
'
s dungeon.
'

'
Except the duke
'
s puling justice just let the louse go!
'
a sharp-eared cooper denounced from the side-lines.

Jeynsa
'
s eyes widened.
'
When?
'

Her darted glance caught Talvish off guard and swearing. Since he would not answer, she spun and accosted the burly man who had gossiped.

'
What happened?
'
she demanded, while the rising lift jolted, and plunged Fionn Areth from sheet white to the green of incipient nausea.
'
What did I miss?
'

The loose-tongued cooper found himself cornered as the stopped hoist ground against the lift
'
s block and tackle, and now rocked, suspended. Since no one could debark till the hands on the ledge swayed the davit over firm ground, the fellow caved in to appease the clan huntress
'
s singeing attention.
'
Well, lass, the snippet
'
s no secret. Before dawn this morning, an armed escort wearing state dress was seen marching your pet through the public street. Looked like an arrest for a formal hearing. Since the bleating billy-goat
'
s here, yapping off, the duke must
'
ve suspended his sentence.
'

'
You say!
'
Jeynsa
'
s riveted interest transformed, an epiphany cut short as the Araethurian raised protest, that no such arraignment had happened.

'
Ath above, do you never know when to shut up!
'
Jeynsa spun the grass-lander face about and shoved his jelly-legged bulk to the rail.

Fionn Areth groaned, folded double and retching.

'
Heave up fast and be done!
'
Jeynsa hissed at a whisper.
'
My plan worked! His Grace of Rathain
'
s in Alestron, and I won
'
t waste the moment playing your nurse-maid.
'

The platform jerked as the team at the winch locked the drum. More sweating stevedores heaved on the lines and swung in the massive oak boom. Fionn Areth endured, grumbling.
'
Of course your dastardly prince would show up. He times his appearances for sensation, then leaves his friends to smooth over the ripe inconvenience.
'

'
And you don
'
t do the same?
'
Jeynsa crowed.

Fionn Areth paused, working his swollen jaw.
'
My front tooth
'
s chipped! Damn all to somebody
'
s sourpuss fist. Have you also lost your sense of humour?
'

But Jeynsa had no more patience. On one count, at least, the goatherd was right: the loyal band of Arithon
'
s allies already tightened their ranks.

Tall and dark as a scowling post, Sidir stood waiting to meet her. Before Talvish joined forces against her, she grabbed Fionn Areth
'
s fleece jacket and
jerked his groggy frame upright.
'
Come on, buffle-head! We can
'
t dawdle, even for you to be sick. Or we
'
ll both lose the bid for our destiny.
'

Yet as rudely fast as she elbowed her way down the lowered gangway, Sidir breasted the outbound shove of bodies and blocked her.

Nor was the Companion any less wind-burned from his thankless wait, standing vigil.
'
You can
'
t find him without me,
'
he declared forthwith. As Jeynsa took issue, he crushed her tirade.
'
Give way. Now! Take my offer of backing. In hindsight, you
'
re likely to thank me.
'

Talvish arrived. Prepared to use muscle, his jade eyes took the girl
'
s measure, then Sidir
'
s flint glance of warning.
'
Where is your liege waiting?
'
he asked with clipped tact. Never a glance, from those steel-sharp, cold eyes, as his reflex shot out a lightning fist and saved Fionn Areth from crumpling under the shock of his bruise.

Sidir held his tongue for an irritable moment, while the gusts lashed his shorn hair against his gaunt cheek.
'
Dame Dawr
'
s,
'
he revealed, and even for him, the admission was savagely brief.

Talvish stared, poleaxed.
'
Well,
'
he remarked with a lift of arched eyebrows,
'
we
'
re forewarned, if caught disadvantaged.
'
As the tired, impatient folk on the hoist rammed against his obstructive presence, he moved on, herding Jeynsa ahead of him.
'
Ill-dressed and unwashed as we are, it won
'
t matter. The field
'
s hand-picked and laid for the blood-bath.
'

Lest Fionn Areth try to duck out, the field-captain firmed his grip as he matched Sidir
'
s lead.
'
Since when has this Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn
ever
welcomed an encroachment upon his kept privacy? We may as well march in there, shamefaced, and see whether the s
'
Brydion dowager
'
s leveraged the bollocks to handle him.
'