06 - Rule of Thieves (20 page)

“What? Did I smash your little trinket? Don’t worry. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it long anyway. Just as you will not live long enough to enjoy ruling this province.”

Impatient with her ridiculous games and petty ambitions, I snapped. “There is much more at stake here than who succeeds the Praetor.”

I had barely got the words out of my mouth when she flew at me, a darting shadow among the deeper shadows of the room.

I saw the glint of steel in her hand as she ran at me with a knife. But I anticipated her move and easily dodged aside, allowing her to slam headlong into the wall.

The wall gave way.

The tapestry hanging there had been concealing an open window through which Lady Morwena now plunged. Screaming, she fell to her death in the gardens below. Under the moonlight, I could just make out what remained of her crumpled form sprawled among the flowers.

There was nothing more to be done here. The althion sphere was destroyed beyond repair. Whatever fate and the Skeltai had in store for us next, it could not be prevented. Locking the door to the tower room, I made a silent vow never to return to the place. The knowledge and tools in that room held a strong fascination for me. One I suspected might draw me down the same path of twisted magic as it had pulled the Praetor if I did not fight the temptation. Best to lose the key and forget some secrets ever existed.

I expected to meet others running up the stairs on my way down. Lady Morwena’s scream should have attracted attention. But this part of the castle was as secluded as the private garden below. No one appeared to have heard or witnessed Morwena’s death. I decided to say nothing of it until her body was discovered.

I had bigger troubles to occupy my mind. With the loss of the althion sphere, there was now nothing to prevent the enemy portaling an army into our midst. The possibly of an attack on the city seemed likelier by the hour.

So I went down to the small storage room behind the kitchen where Jarrod slept. I roused the boy from his blankets and asked if he had delivered my message to the outlaws as instructed.

Drowsy and confused, he sat up in the darkness and gave a brief report of what he had accomplished that evening. It turned out Kiril was away, having left early the previous morning to inform Dradac I had secured the pardons. Kiril’s cousin had promised to send a pigeon with news of the impending attack on the city. But, the cousin had warned, he and Kiril had only recently begun using messenger pigeons to communicate with the outlaws. They had not proved a very reliable method because they were so often taken down by hawks before they could reach their forest destination.

The implication was clear. We could not be confident Dradac and the others would receive our news.

I debated but quickly dismissed the notion of riding out for Dimmingwood myself this very night. We could use reinforcements. But leaving was not an option while the city was in peril and I responsible for its protection. Thus far, my duty was unofficial and known only to me. But that did not make it weigh any lighter on my shoulders.

I returned to my chamber and tried to get some rest. I would need my strength for whatever the coming day brought.

As I tried to sleep, Praetor Tarius’s earlier words and my responses kept tumbling around in my head. He had been so sure I was “ruthless” enough to follow in his stead. I had informed him that particular quality was not one we shared. But what if, when he saw himself reflected in me, he wasn’t merely seeing what he wished to? Perhaps it was I who had closed my eyes to what I didn’t want to remember. Those long-banished memories rose now to taunt me through the small hours.

There was the time I had nearly sacrificed Terrac’s life in pursuit of my own aims. I had sent him helpless into a trap in order to create a diversion while I rescued Brig’s corpse from the enemy. I hadn’t been much more than a child at the time, and my intentions were born of a twisted notion of honor. But none of that changed the fact I hadn’t hesitated to gamble with Terrac’s life.

And that wasn’t the only time my single-mindedness had clouded my judgment. Not so long ago, I had justified the torture of a captured Skeltai warrior with the belief that good ends justified any means.

I shifted uncomfortably at the memory and tossed the blankets off me, suddenly overwarm. It was no use regretting the past. What mattered was, whether I liked to acknowledge it or not, Praetor Tarius had known better than I what I was capable of. He knew it because we shared the same blood. Blood that was clearly unfit to rule.

In the semidarkness, I rose, padded across the room, and concealed the Praetor’s letter and signet ring behind a loose stone over the fireplace. They were safe for now, but their future was as increasingly uncertain as my own.

____________________

Thick clouds shadowed the moon, creating a brief veil of darkness during the final hours before dawn. The waters of the lake, whipped by a light breeze, lapped gently against the pilings of the old docks. Wood creaked, and the few small craft tied up to the docks bumped gently against the piers. Atop the nearest span of city wall, a flag bearing the Praetor’s symbol of a rearing bear snapped smartly in the wind.

A lone watchman guarded this stretch of wall. Facing out across the lake, it was not a section requiring extreme vigilance. Breaching it would require swimming or sailing the long distance around the island from the closest shore, an effort no sane army would undertake.

But it wasn’t an army that scaled the lakeside wall now. It was a small party of a dozen warriors, their weapons strapped to their backs, their deathly pale skin glowing faintly beneath the shrouded moonlight.

Swiftly and noiselessly, the climbers slipped over the top of the wall. The guardsman dozing at his post was easily dispatched without sounding any alarm. The next watchman to block the intruders’ path was silenced just as quickly with an arrow to the throat.

The stealthy party crept along the wall, overpowering occasional resistance until they had circled half the wall and reached the shore-facing main gate and bridge.

Security was tighter here, with a dozen city guardsmen keeping the entrance, some stationed atop the gate and others below.

Again, Skeltai arrows flew true, and several of the city guard fell before realizing the enemy was upon them. The remaining defenders put up a fight as Skeltai warriors dropped down on them from above. Swords clashed against axes and spears. Shouts ripped through the still night, calling for reinforcements.

But the invading party had planned carefully, and now they used their window of opportunity, while the city guards were overwhelmed, to raise the gate.

On the near shore, an army of Skeltai had amassed, awaiting this very signal. As the massive gate groaned noisily open, the Skeltai army charged across the bridge. The pounding of thousands of feet rolled like thunder across the lake.

____________________

I started upright in bed, heart pounding, adrenaline surging. Even as the last images of the dream faded from before my eyes, I knew with certainty this was no vision of what would or could be. This was what was happening right now on the other side of the city.

The attack had begun. And we weren’t ready.

In a dazed panic, I dashed around the room, dragging my boots on and snatching up my knives. Not until my hand fell on my bow did a sudden calm pervade me. The weapon instantly hummed to life at my touch, as though it had been waiting for me. I shared its satisfaction. I had spent too many recent days living in a confused fog. Here at last was something I knew how to do.

Fight. Defend. Kill.

The bow’s sentiments echoed mine.

When I stepped outside my door, I found the castle in a state of chaos. Word from the gate had reached the keep, and the castle’s inhabitants were spilling out of their beds and swarming up and down the halls in confusion. Most of them were streaming toward the great hall. I got swept up in the current of bodies and pulled along with them.

The hall was packed with frightened nobles and their servants, all taking shelter for the moment when the keep, like the town, would fall under attack. The heat of so many bodies, the hubbub of voices, and the frightened wails of small children drifted up to the rafters.

I quickly escaped the crowded space, ran down the corridor, and found the open doors of the audience chamber. Here was a smaller assemblage, including counselors and a handful of soldiers. A panicked-looking Asmund Summerdale was attempting to issue orders in the absence of the Praetor. But the sudden death of their leader had everyone in disarray, and no one seemed certain who was in command.

Certainly no one was paying much heed to the pale-faced Summerdale as he paced the room looking like a wild-eyed, frenzied horse. Thinking of Lady Morwena’s efforts to destroy me, it was difficult to believe she had thought this weak man capable of leading a province in wartime. If news of her death had reached him yet, he didn’t appear grieved. In fact, no one seemed to notice the lady’s absence, leading me to assume her lifeless body had yet to be discovered.

Summerdale’s voice, strangely high-pitched, rose above the murmurs of the others. “We are outnumbered and must surrender to the savages!” he declared. “The Fists and the city guard will lay down their arms so we can bargain for our lives. Later, when we have mustered support and troops from the other provinces, we may reclaim the city.”

“Calm yourself, Counselor, and stop raving like a lunatic,” Torg Branek snapped. “Surrender with honor is not a concept the Skeltai understand. They will destroy every soul in the city, regardless of whether we choose to fight. And if we lose Selbius, we lose it for good, for neither the king nor the praetors of the other provinces will lend us their armies.”

I stopped listening to the counselors’ bickering and asked the nearest soldier in Fist armor where I could find Captain Terrac.

He couldn’t tell me.

“Then where’s Delecarte?” I demanded. I might have doubts about his trustworthiness, but the retired captain of the Fists was the next person I could think of who might be coolheaded enough to have a workable plan.

“On the battlements, preparing a defense,” came the answer.

I hurried there in search of the counselor.

Out in the open air, I could look down over the entire city stretched out before me. I saw fire and plumes of smoke rising from homes and warehouses that had been put to the torch. The gray light of early dawn revealed the main gate through which the enemy army had gained entrance, and I could see swarms of armed Skeltai overrunning the city. There were dead civilians in the streets and even more live ones streaming down the roads, making for safer parts of the town. They were coming here, I realized, hoping for protection within the walls of the keep. I doubted we could shelter so many.

I found a busy and distracted Delecarte directing what soldiers he had in preparation for when the enemy reached us. With the Praetor gone and the chain of command broken, Fists and city guardsmen alike defaulted to following the capable former captain.

But I was unwilling to wait for the fight to come to me. Not while people were dying in the streets below.

“Is anyone setting up an early line of defense in the town?” I asked Delecarte.

“It looks as though Captain Terrac means to hold the north gate outside the Common district,” he told me, drawing my attention to a small concentration of our soldiers around an arched gate. I took his word that Terrac was among them. To my eye, the soldiers were only small indistinct shapes in the distance.

Delecarte frowned slightly. “I don’t know why the captain chose that spot to dig in. It would be more strategic to protect the garden district as the main route to the keep. That would buy us more time up here.”

I said nothing. The impoverished Common district held the city’s largest and most unprotected population. Terrac would naturally move to make it safe over the less densely populated or heavily guarded areas. Fine houses and warehouses stuffed with goods could be replaced, but lives could not.

Unfortunately, the position Terrac had chosen was one it seemed unlikely he could hold for long. Not with the limited number of soldiers he appeared to have.

“Will you fight with us?” Delecarte was asking. “We could use an extra archer when the Skeltai reach our walls.”

“I’ll be joining the fight,” I agreed. “But not here. Terrac’s going to need all the help he can get at the north gate.”

Delecarte nodded as if it was the response he had expected, and we parted ways.

I abandoned the keep with its illusion of safety. Soon enough, those sheltering within would get their turn to play out the life-and-death battles already underway in the town.

I knew I would have to fight my way through the streets to reach Terrac and his men. But my first fight was with the crowds of civilians streaming up the lane. Carrying their children and other precious possessions, they fled from the very direction I was headed.

Once I got past them, I made quicker headway, ducking down side streets to follow the most direct routes. The streets of the Beautiful were eerily empty, the wealthy inhabitants of the garden district having evacuated as soon as the first alarm was raised.

I hesitated, rushing past the temple grounds, thinking of Hadrian and the handful of Swiftsfell magickers who were likely the most powerful weapon we had on our side. But I could not be distracted from my mission to reach Terrac. I must trust Hadrian to deploy the magickers where he thought best.

Approaching the heart of the city, I got my first close-up view of the invaders as I passed knots of fighting. The city guard here were making a stand against the onslaught. I fired occasional arrows where I saw easy targets but did not stop to join the defenders. The north gate was my priority.

When I neared the entrance into the Common district, I heard a commotion. Turning to look back the way I had come, I saw a carriage with the Praetor’s crest on the side careening down the street. Coming from the direction of the keep, the carriage traveled with reckless speed, whipping around corners, running down anyone in its path, defenders and Skeltai alike.