The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3) (25 page)

There was an audible sigh from the crowd as men began filing through the inner doors of the gates. Men dressed in ragged clothes, some showing purple disfigurations from recent beatings. Some bore scars from torture. Her heart clenched with pain as she watched them file out . . . some barefoot, some with tattered shoes. Richard and Jon Tayt awaited them with chests full of clothes: tunics, boots, liveries with her colors. Some of the ragged men had long beards and hair, their faces tight and drawn with suffering. Some were bone thin and weary and had trouble even walking. Some were proud and defiant. One thing united them . . . and they came to her in droves.

Captain Carew brought up his soldiers to shield Maia, but she waved his men aside and allowed the former prisoners to approach her. Men shuffled toward her to give her some form of salute, whether a nod or a humble bow. There were even a few women who had chosen to suffer in prison with their husbands rather than be parted from them. Some kissed their own hands and then gestured toward her, as if they were too ashamed and rough to kiss her coronation ring. Her heart welled with compassion for these suffering people. The numbers kept pouring forth, dazzling to behold.

One man in the crowd particularly caught her gaze. She recognized him from her coronation day. The knight named Hove who had challenged her right to rule. She noticed him because he was replacing his black-and-white tunic with a royal one. It made her smile. It made her hope.

Suddenly, a shout sounded from outside the crowd, and a rider came charging down the far side of Fleet Street, moving toward the portcullis. He was shouting as he rode at breakneck speed. He dismounted when he reached the gate and the lord mayor met him on the city side of the gate.

“The army is behind me,” the rider panted. “Schuyler’s army. They are marching toward Ludgate this instant!” His eyes flew to Maia, still mounted on her horse, then to the crowd behind the gate. He did a double take when he realized the numbers of their force had perhaps doubled. “By the Blood, where did all these come from?”

Jon Tayt and Richard pushed through the crowd to reach Maia’s side. “Get back to the palace,” the hunter growled. “The fighting is about to start. You will get word on what happens here. Go.”

Maia looked down at him and shook her head. “No, Jon Tayt. I must stay.” She leaned down in the saddle so that they both could hear her. “There are Leerings on the walls. They are part of the city defenses. They will help repel Schuyler’s army.” She reached down and clasped Richard’s shoulder. “Send Suzenne, Jayn, and all the mastons you can find to the city’s gates. Have them start summoning the Leerings to protect us. I will invoke these.”

A confident smile stretched across Richard’s face. “As you command. But what about you?”

“There may be mastons in Schuyler’s army. A few, probably. I will stay in case they try to silence the Leerings. I think we all know we will fail if we do not hold Ludgate.”

Richard shook his head in wonder. “I do not think the Medium will let us fail. There is a certain feeling . . . yes, I do not think we need worry about failure.”

She felt the shuddering of the cobblestones beneath their feet. The men milling around the gate yard felt it too, and everyone began to turn. Jon Tayt gave her a crooked smile and drew two of his throwing axes, one for each hand. He looked . . . frightening . . . in the armor, helm, buckler, and blades. Without another word to anyone, he marched back toward the gatehouse.

Maia looked up and saw the front ranks of Schuyler’s army of thousands as it began to march toward Ludgate.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Remorse

A
rough hand suddenly gripped Maia’s arm, and she looked down to see the lord mayor’s eyes gazing up at her. “Back to the castle, Your Majesty. You are vulnerable here. We will face this rabble.”

Maia shook her head sternly. “They will fight harder if I am here. Patience, Justin. The battle begins.”

He shook his head worriedly. “It may take them several days to breach Ludgate.” The street was full of men who were hastily donning armor and weapons, as well as members of the city watch, who were already prepared for the coming battle. Archers lined the battlement walls, waiting for orders to fire down at the crowd. Beyond the gates, Schuyler’s army was assembling, filling the air with their chants and cheers. The air was fraught with anticipation.

“When it begins,” Justin said with emotion, “it cannot be controlled. There will be death and blood on both sides, my lady. Go back to the castle! Captain Carew, help me persuade her!”

Maia watched as the captain’s stallion nudged its way through the floodwaters of people. His eyes glinted with dark emotion as he stared at the army massing beyond the wall. “He is right, Lady Maia. The streets will be difficult to cross, especially if the men flee.”

Maia shook her head. “It is you who do not understand.” She wished Richard was still with her, but she had sent him to summon the other mastons. “A moment longer, please. You will see.”

“A moment longer,” Carew said, “and someone may throw a rock at you and knock you from your horse. You just unleashed all the prisoners in Ludgate. Many are violent men who may not have fancied your pretty speech.”

It was getting more difficult to hear his words above the shouting. The prisoners-turned-soldiers were up near the front of the gate, jeering and yelling at Schuyler’s troops on the other side. Jon Tayt was among them, trying to keep them in check, but the situation was growing more and more precarious. There was wisdom in the idea of retreating to safety, but she could not abandon her people. She had seen bloodshed before. While it sickened her, she did not think it would overwhelm her.

“Lady Maia, please!” Justin implored.

“No,” she stated firmly. “The gatehouse has more protections than you know. I am here to invoke them. How much of the army do you think has arrived?”

Someone jostled her horse accidentally and the animal snorted and stomped. She nearly slipped off the saddle before she managed to right herself and calm her horse.

“Only the first half,” Carew said, gazing from his perch over the heads of the men. “They will not need the full force to—”

“It is enough then,” Maia said, interrupting him. “I am going to invoke the Leerings on the gatehouse. They are waiting to help us. The Medium is on our side, gentlemen.”

She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the ruckus closing in on her and calm her thoughts and mind. She felt the Leerings embedded in the gatehouse thrum to life. It was as if a deep horn blew from the midst of a vast lake, sending ripples throughout the water. The horn was not a physical sound . . . it was something that echoed inside her heart and throbbed within her bones. She felt it to her core. With her will, she directed the force of that power outside the gates, thrusting the power at Schuyler and his army. When she finally looked at them, the eyes of the Leerings burned white-hot with heat and intensity.

The chanting and jeering subsided immediately, as if a clap of thunder had come from a clear sky. Maia could tell that even her own soldiers felt the power of the Leerings, although it was not directed at them. They stood at the gate in mute wonder, weapons held at the ready, as they watched the impact on their adversaries.

The Leerings blasted into the thoughts of the opposing army, filling their minds with dread, fear, and hopelessness. There was confusion on the other side. Then the army started to peel away, shrinking and shriveling before the mental blasts like children afraid of the dark. One by one, the soldiers who had been rushing against the gates began to fall back, their eyes white with terror.

The soldiers loyal to Maia began to stomp their boots in unison. It started with a few men and then spread to others. Maia shut her eyes once more and gripped the reins of her horse, feeling the weight of controlling so many Leerings at once. But they continued to respond to her, obeying her summons to defend the city.

The tempo of the stomping increased. Then a chant began, voices low and rough but growing in volume and energy.

“Long live Queen Maia. Long live Queen Maia. Long live the queen!”

Soon everyone in the street with her was echoing the chant. She opened her eyes, feeling the edges of her vision blur under the force of the power she was channeling. Pressure built in her skull. It felt as if a mountain were perched on her shoulders, but somehow she had the strength to keep it there.

She glanced down at her defenders, at their beards and scars, their crisp dark uniforms and tattered rags. It was a motley force, but she felt their willingness and enthusiasm.

There was shouting at the gates. The opposing force continued to melt away before their eyes, but the men who were trying to flee were blocked by the men arriving. It was a jumbled mess of limbs. Through it all, the Leerings from the gatehouse continued to blast their chords of fear into their minds.

The shouted words began to register, and Maia realized the speaker was Kord Schuyler himself, mounted on horseback. “It is only a trick!” he shouted at his soldiers with obvious fury. “Back, I say! Back to the gate! There is nothing to fear!”

Maia could barely make him out, but she could see well enough to know his army was disintegrating before his eyes. A sudden burst of hope swelled in her breast. They were outnumbered fifteen to one. Yet Schuyler’s army was fleeing before the first blows had even been struck. Perhaps it would be possible to weather this storm without blood pouring into the streets.

“Back, you cowards!” Schuyler screamed. “It is your minds that are weak! Fight! You must fight! Kranmir! Kranmir! Where are you! Do something!”

Maia felt a gentle push against her will. Another mind was trying to silence the Leerings. She felt the weight of the opposition, but that opposition could neither sway her, nor force her to release her dominion.

I will not yield, Ely Kranmir,
Maia thought angrily.
You must
bend
me. If you can.

She could sense slivers of Kranmir’s thoughts in the bursts of effort he sent toward the Leerings. But it was like a child pushing against an adult’s hands. Kranmir, with all his years and experience, could do nothing to make the Leerings obey. The Medium would not heed him. It would give him no notice whatsoever. She felt his heart quail with dread as he realized she was not forcing the Medium through a kystrel. She had submitted to its will, and it opposed Schuyler and his army. It opposed Kranmir. She felt his mind buckle under the terrible realization.

The pressure stopped abruptly as Kranmir yielded to the impulse to flee. In her mind, she could see him whipping his horse, nearly trampling the soldiers around him as he tried to escape.

Maia fixed her gaze on Schuyler through the gates. “Lord Mayor!” she called out in a booming voice. “Order the watch to open the gates. After them! Do not let the leaders escape!”

Justin’s eyes blazed with triumph. He could feel the victory in the air, even though a single blow had not been struck. With a whoop of delight, he shouted to his captain to fulfill the order. A hurrah broke through the chanting, and the hinges and chains of the portcullis began to groan. The men strained with impatience, especially the newly released prisoners.

Maia watched Kord Schuyler wheel his horse around as the gates opened. As soon as the jagged teeth of the portcullis had lifted enough to provide them with an exit, a flood of prisoners and watchmen spilled into the street.

Schuyler slapped his stallion’s flanks and joined the ranks of his fleeing men.

Before the day was done, the people had named it the Battle of Ludgate. Stories spread through the city like wildfire, each telling more exaggerated than the first. Maia had to wonder what the wise Maderos would write in his tome about it—she herself had already heard a half dozen conflicting tales. She sat in the same main audience hall in the castle—the very same cavernous space where she had sat restlessly through her coronation dinner not long before. A constant influx of soldiers and guests arrived at the hall throughout the day to pay homage and respect to her as their queen.