Hidden Warrior (54 page)

The Palatine was crowded with the wounded and refugees from the lower wards, and with livestock driven there in case of siege. Goats and sheep bleated at them from villa gardens, and pigs were rooting along the elm-lined avenue beyond the gate.

Scattered cheers greeted the Companions as they hurried on. The palaces and most of the villas were dark as Mourning Night, but watch fires burned everywhere. The open grounds and gardens where they’d trained now looked like a battlefield. People huddled around fires, cloaks pulled over their heads against the rain. The smells of smoke and cooking were heavy on the air. Tobin could hear children crying in the dark, horses nickering, and, on all sides, the steady murmur of worried talk.

The pavilion was brightly lit. Inside, officers and nobles milled about nervously, keeping a hushed watch.

A smaller group was gathered around a table at the center of the enclosure. The other Companions hung back as Tobin and Korin went to join them.

“My princes, thank the Four!” Hylus called, as they approached. “We feared you were lost.”

Erius lay on a table, his face white, eyes closed. He was naked from the waist up and Tobin saw that his right
side was badly bruised, and his arm splinted. The Sword of Ghërilain lay at his left side, the blade black with blood.

General Rheynaris was with him, and Niryn stood at the foot of the table, looking grave. Officers and servants stood close by and Tobin saw Moriel among them. He was dressed for battle and his surcoat was stained with soot and blood. He met Tobin’s eye and saluted him. Surprised, Tobin nodded at him, then turned back to the king.

Korin’s face was pale in the firelight as he leaned over his father. “What happened?”

“A necromancer’s spell struck the wall near us soon after we last saw you, my prince,” Rheynaris replied. His face was bloody and his left eye was swollen shut. “It shattered the wall and fragments struck your father down.”

Korin clasped the king’s good hand. “Will he live?”

“Yes, my prince,” a grey-haired drysian replied.

“Of course I will,” Erius rumbled, opening his eyes. “Korin—What news in the city?”

Rheynaris caught the prince’s eye and shook his head.

“The fight goes on, Father,” Korin told him.

Erius nodded and closed his eyes again.

Tobin stood with them for a while, then went back to join the others around one of the braziers near the stairs.

They’d been there for some time when a familiar voice cried out, “There they are. They’re alive!”

Nikides and Lutha emerged from the crowd below and ran to embrace Tobin and Ki. Barieus was with them, but there was no sign of Ruan. They were as filthy as everyone else, but appeared to be unhurt.

“We thought you’d died with Zusthra at the gates!” Tobin replied, relieved beyond words to see his friends alive.

“Where’s Ruan?” asked Ki.

“Dead,” Nikides said, and his voice was hoarse with emotion. “A Plenimaran came at me from behind and Ruan got between us. He saved my life.”

Ki sat down heavily on the steps beside Lynx. Barieus sat with him and pulled his cloak over his head.

“Oh Nik, I’m sorry. He died a hero,” Tobin said, but the words were hollow. “Orneus is dead, too.”

“Poor Lynx.” Lutha shook his head. “That’s three more of us gone.”

T
he drysians must have done their work well, for when they’d finished the king refused to be carried to the palace, but instead demanded a chair be brought. Moriel and Rheynaris helped him into it and Korin placed the Sword of Ghërilain across his father’s knees. Niryn and Hylus stood behind the makeshift throne like sentinels.

Erius leaned heavily on the arm of the chair, fighting for breath. Erius gestured for Korin to kneel by his side and they spoke for a while in low voices. The king gestured to Niryn, Rheynaris, and Hylus to join them, and the debate went on.

“What’s going on?” Tobin whispered to Nikides. “Your grandfather looks worried.”

“The reports are bad. Our warriors managed to block the east gate again, but there are still Plenimarans loose in the lower wards, and word came in a while ago that another group has broken through at the south gate. Their necromancers are worse than any of the stories. The Harriers are all but useless against them.”

Lutha glanced over at Niryn. “Seems all they’re good for is burning wizards and hanging priests.”

“Careful,” Tobin warned.

“What it comes down to is that we can’t hold them off,” Lutha said, keeping his voice down. “We just don’t have enough men.”

Nikides nodded. “No one wants to say it yet, but Ero is lost.”

The rain had stopped at last and the clouds were breaking up and scudding west. Patches of stars showed
through, so bright they cast shadows. Illior’s crescent hung over the city like a sharp, white claw.

Food was brought out from the palaces and temples, but the Companions had little appetite. Wrapped in their cloaks against the cold spring night, they sat on the stairs and sharpened their swords, awaiting orders.

T
ired beyond words, Ki finally gave up and put his back against Tobin’s, resting his head on his knees. Caliel and the remaining Companions sat with them, but no one felt like talking.

We wanted battle, and we got it
, Ki thought dully.

Lynx had moved off by himself and sat staring at a nearby fire. Nikides was grieving silently for Ruan, too, but Ki knew it wasn’t the same. A squire was pledged to die for his lord. To fail in that was to fail in everything. But it wasn’t Lynx’s fault; it had been madness on the walls.

How much comfort would that be for me, if I’d lost Tobin?
he thought bitterly.
What if that arrow had hit him in the throat instead of the shoulder? What if Iya hadn’t shown up when she did? At least then we’d all be dead together
.

As Ki watched, Tharin emerged from the darkness and went to Lynx, draping a blanket over the younger man’s shoulders. He spoke quietly to him, too soft for Ki to hear. Lynx drew his knees up and hid his face in his arms.

Ki swallowed hard and rubbed at the sudden stinging behind his eyelids. Tharin understood better than any of them how Lynx felt right now.

“What will happen to him?” Tobin whispered, and Ki realized he’d been watching, too. “Do you think Korin will let him stay a Companion?”

Ki hadn’t thought of that. Lynx was one of them, and one of the best. “Not much for him to go home to. His father’s a lord, but Lynx is the fourth son.”

“Maybe he could be Nikides’ squire?”

“Maybe.” But Ki doubted Lynx would welcome such
an offer just yet. He hadn’t just been loyal to Orneus; he’d loved the drunken braggart, though Ki had never understood why.

In the pavilion behind them the generals were still talking with the king. The Palatine was eerily quiet, and Ki could hear the steady drone of prayer in the Temple of the Four; the smell of incense and burnt offerings seemed to permeate the air. Ki looked up at the cold sliver moon, wondering where the gods had been today.

The wind shifted soon after, carrying the smell of smoke and death up from the harbor, and the faint sound of enemy voices singing.

Victory songs
, thought Ki.

A
touch on his shoulder startled Tobin out of a doze.

It was Moriel. “The king is asking for you, Prince Tobin.”

Ki and Tharin followed silently, and Tobin was glad of their company.

Tobin could smell brandywine and healing herbs on the king from ten feet away, but his uncle’s eyes were sharp as he motioned for Tobin to take a stool at his feet. Hylus, Rheynaris, and Niryn were still there, and Korin, too. All of them looked grim.

Erius extended his left hand for Tobin’s and looked into his face so intently Tobin suddenly felt afraid. He said nothing, listening to the rasp and hitch of the king’s breathing.

After a moment Erius released him and sank back in his chair. “Pigeons were sent out this morning to the coastal cities,” he whispered hoarsely. “Volchi has been worse hit by this pox. They have no one to send. Ylani can raise some men, but the garrison there is small to begin with.”

“What about Atyion? Solari must be on his way by now.”

“There’s been no reply,” Hylus told him. “Several birds were sent, but none has returned. Perhaps the enemy intercepted
them. Whatever the case, we must assume Solari has not heard the news.”

“You must go, Tobin,” the king rasped. “We must have Atyion’s might! With the standing garrison, Solari’s men, and the surrounding towns, you might be able to raise three thousand. You must bring them, and quickly!”

“Of course, Uncle. But how will I get there? The city’s surrounded.”

“The enemy doesn’t have enough men to completely hem us in,” Rheynaris told him. “They’ve concentrated their main force along the eastern wall and at the gates. But they’re stretched thin between, especially on the north and west sides. A small group could get out. My scouts found a likely spot near the northwest wagon gate. We’ll lower you through a murder hole. You’ll have to find horses once you get outside.”

“What do you say, Tharin?” the king asked.

“Assuming we can find fresh mounts along the way, we could be there by midday tomorrow. But the trip back will be slower, with so many marching. It might be three days before we get back.”

“Too long!” Erius growled. “Force march, Tharin, as we did at Caloford. If you don’t, there’ll be no city left to save. Ero is the heart of Skala. If it falls, Skala falls.”

“How many should I take with me?” asked Tobin.

“The fewer the better,” Rheynaris advised. “You’ll be less likely to be seen.”

“Even less so if they go dressed as common soldiers,” Niryn said.

Tobin gave the wizard a grudging nod. “Tharin and Ki will go with me.” He paused, then added quickly, “And my guardsman, Koni. He’s one of my best riders.”

“And me! Take me!” his other men clamored from the shadows outside the pillars.

“I’ll go.” Lynx shouldered his way past the others and strode over to kneel at Korin’s feet. “Please, let me go with him.”

Korin whispered to his father and Erius nodded. “Very well.”

“And me!” Lutha cried, struggling through the press.

“No,” Erius said sternly. “Korin must take my place in the field tomorrow and needs his Companions around him. There are too few of you left as it is.”

Abashed, Lutha bowed low, fist to his chest.

“That’s it, then. You four accompany Prince Tobin,” Rheynaris said. “I’ll see that you have plain garments and an escort to the wall.”

Erius raised his hand as they turned to go. “A moment, nephew.”

Tobin sat down again. Motioning him to lean closer, Erius whispered, “You’re your father’s son, Tobin. I know you won’t fail me.”

Tobin caught his breath, unable to look up.

“No false modesty now,” Erius croaked, misreading him. “I’m going to say something now that I shouldn’t, and you’re not to repeat it, you hear?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“My son—” Erius leaned closer, grimacing in pain. “My son is not the warrior you are.”

“No, Uncle—”

Erius shook his head sadly. “It’s true, and you know it. But he will be king, and tomorrow he faces the enemy in my place. Hurry back with those reinforcements, then stay close to him, now and always. It will be you standing in Rheynaris’ place when he wears the crown, won’t it? Promise me, Tobin.”

“Yes, Uncle.” The memory of his mother’s face the day she’d died made the lie come easier. But as he hurried away to change clothes, he could not meet Korin’s eye.

K
orin couldn’t hear what his father was saying to Tobin, but something in his father’s expression troubled him. His unease deepened when Tobin would not look at him.

“What’s the matter, Father?” he asked, going back to
the king. “Don’t worry, Tobin won’t fail. And I won’t either.” Kneeling, he held out his hands for the sword. “Give me your blessing, Father, that I may lead as wisely as you.”

Erius’ grip tightened on the hilt and his eyes hardened. “You’re overly hasty, my son. Only one hand wields the Sword of Ghërilain. While I have breath in my body, I am still king. Be content with proving yourself worthy of it.”

Only Niryn was close enough to hear the rebuff. Korin saw the wizard’s faint smile and swore revenge. “By the Four and the Flame, Father, I won’t fail you.”

Erius placed his left hand on Korin’s head. “By the Four and the Flame, I bless you. Keep Rheynaris with you and listen to his counsel.”

Korin bowed to the king and strode away. Rheynaris followed, but, still stinging from his father’s harsh words, Korin stubbornly refused to acknowledge him.

W
ith Rheynaris’ scouts to guide them, Tobin and his small force hurried on foot through the deserted streets. His own guard and a dozen of the king’s armed men came with them to the north wall, but they met no resistance. The houses were shuttered on all sides. No light showed.

Climbing to the hoarding, they looked out through the arrow slits and noted the scattered watch fires below. The main concentration was along the harbor, but Tobin could see a chain of such fires scattered up the coastline, as well.

The land beyond the walls was flat, with little cover. The moon was down, but the stars gave enough light to make out the pale line of the high road.

In order to move quickly, Tobin and the others had left their heavy armor and shields behind. Clad in plain coats of studded leather, they wore their scabbards strapped on their backs and carried their bows in their hands.

“Here, Prince Tobin,” one of the scouts whispered, lifting a trapdoor over a murder hole. It was a dizzying drop, fifty feet or so. Rheynaris’ men readied the ropes they’d brought.

“I’ll go first,” Tharin whispered. Passing a knotted loop over his head, he tugged it securely up under his arms and sat down with his legs over the edge of the hole. He gave Tobin a wink as three brawny soldiers lowered him through.

Tobin lay on his belly and watched as Tharin reached the ground and melted quickly into the shadow of a nearby hedge.

Lynx went next, then Koni and Ki. Ki gave him a sickly grin as he slid off the edge and disappeared with his eyes squeezed shut.