Mercy's Prince (44 page)

“I
wish I had one,” he whispered.

“You
do.” Merry stroked his hair, hardly believing he was here.

At
that moment, trumpets sounded the call to battle. Drew jumped up.

“My
lady, I must go.”

Merry
caught his arm.

“Be
careful.” There was so much she wanted to say to him, but there was no time.

Drew
glanced with longing at Gwendolyn.

“I’ll
be back. I hope.” He unbolted the door.

“Wait!”
Gwendolyn kissed him soundly. Drew hugged her and then walked backward out the
door, watching her until the last possible moment. Gwendolyn secured the door
behind him.

“Ah,
Merry. Is this the end of all things?”

I
hope not
.
“We must have hope, Gwendolyn. Let me fetch my carry sack and then you must
take us to the infirmary.”

“What
about Sir Edmund?” Gwendolyn indicated the dragon perched on Rafael’s arm.

“Bring
him,” Merry said, “but put him in the cage.”

While
she waited for Gwendolyn, Merry tried to pray, but her anxious mind could not
form the words.

***

At
the sound of the alarm bell, Caelis ran from the armory and into the castle
yard. He stared up at the lookout tower, but couldn’t tell who was manning it. Probably
Hawk now that he’d returned; he had the longest eyes of anyone Caelis knew.

Anticipating
an attack, Caelis returned to the armory.

“Keep
working on those bolts,” he told the apprentices at the tables. “I must supervise
the placement of the soldiers.” He adjusted the armored plates that Murray had
designed to fit over his padded tunic. He felt invincible as he snatched up his
crossbow and quiver of bolts, slinging both over his shoulder. He climbed the
tower stairs two at a time and walked the perimeter of the battlements, making
sure there were standing quivers of bolts at close regular intervals.

By
the time he completed a circuit of the wall, the trumpet sounded for battle. Caelis
climbed to the lookout tower and found Hawk on duty.

“What
do you see?” he asked the young man.

“The
Horde, Sir Caelis, many more than we saw attacking Gateway Garrison.”

Caelis
searched the valley beyond the walls. A massed army moved rapidly forward, like
a swarm of ants.

“How
could they have gotten here so quickly?”

“They
must have run all the way from the plains.” Hawk frowned. “I still do not see
an end to their numbers.”

Caelis
had seen enough.

“We’ll
either stop them or die trying.” He raced down the tower steps and emerged on
the battlements. Soldiers rushed to their assigned posts along the wall.

“Wait
’til they’re in range,” he shouted to the men. “Make every shot count.” Caelis
glanced down in the yard to make sure the four catapults were aimed properly. He
would have to hope that Sir Brandon had things well in hand, for he had more
than enough to occupy his attention.

When
the Horde neared the Keep, they spread out to surround the three approachable
walls. Caelis saw no siege ladders, but he remembered how those at the garrison
had used their bodies to make living ladders. The garrison walls were much
shorter than the Keep’s outer defenses, and Caelis had put all his trust in the
fact that the monsters would be easier to cut down while exposed to the crossbow
archers. He just hadn’t realized there would be so
many
of them. There
would not be nearly enough bolts, even if the archers didn’t waste a single
one.

For
the first time, Caelis doubted they could survive this attack.

Shivering
in the cold air aloft, Valerian exulted in the abilities of the great dragons. For
the first time, he felt truly hopeful they could defeat the Horde’s swarm.

Then
something below chilled his heart. Though still many miles from the Keep, already
the swarm was visible below. Their massed bodies shimmered like a living carpet
blanketing the land all the way to the horizon.

My
lord Albinonix.

I
see them, my prince. I do not know if we have enough fire for such a great number
.

Have
they seen us?

I
do not think so. What do you propose?

What
if we fly ahead and meet them at the Keep, my lord dragon? I’m afraid if we
begin flaming here that by the time we reach the Keep it will be too late to
save my people
.

An
excellent idea, my prince. I will tell the others
.

Albinonix
communicated his intentions to the other dragons. He and Tetratorix would each
lead half the dragons and approach the Keep from two sides. Valerian hated to
be parted from Kieran, but it could not be helped. He caught Kieran’s attention.

“We’re
splitting up to attack. We will meet you at the Keep.”

Kieran
nodded and raised a hand in farewell. Then Tetratorix split off with half the
dragons, flying north. Albinonix took Valerian and the rest of the dragons south.

Flying
above the clouds made it impossible to see what was happening below, but
Valerian trusted the great dragon to make the best approach, and shortly they
descended below the clouds.

Valerian
gasped at the seething mass of Mohorovians surrounding the Keep. Their numbers
were so great they’d filled the moat with their dead fellows in order to reach
the high walls. Living siege ladders grew as the monsters gripped one another’s
arms, legs, and tails. From inside the castle yard, four catapults delivered
stones into the attacking swarm, but they were pitifully ineffective.

Hold
on, my prince! 

Valerian
gripped more tightly with hands and knees while Albinonix dove toward the Keep
with the rest of the dragons. Underneath Valerian, the rumbling inside the
dragon erupted in a roar as he blasted the enemy with a great spout of flame.

***

Merry,
Rafael, and Gwendolyn descended a stairwell one level below the throne room and
arrived in the empty infirmary. The low-ceilinged room was cave-like, with no
windows to let in sunlight or fresh air. Fortunately torches and candles
provided light, though the writhing flames made eerie shadows on the stone
walls. Gwendolyn placed the bird cage containing Sir Edmund on an empty chair. Two
men approached.

“What
are you doing here?” asked the younger man.

Before
Merry could frame a reply, Gwendolyn spoke up.

“This
is Lady Merry, the king’s ward, and I am Lady Gwendolyn.”

The
man folded his arms, frowning.

“That
still doesn’t explain why you are here, my lady.”

“I
am a Healer.” Merry lifted her carry sack off her shoulder.

“A
Healer?” The older of the two asked. “How can that be?”

“My
father was a Healer, and the gift came to me as I was assisting in childbirth.”

“We
don’t need a midwife,” explained the younger man. “We’ll be dealing with battle
injuries.”

Now
Merry was able to speak with confidence.

“I’ve
Healed broken bones, dealt with bleeding wounds, and sewn gashes. I’m sure I
can help you with battle injuries. I even brought my own supplies.”

The
older one silenced the younger with a gesture, before he could speak again.

“Let
her be. We can use all the help we can get.” He turned to Merry. “I am Weldon,
King Orland’s chief physician. If you’ll stay down here, it would free us to
work with the acute injuries. We’ll send you plenty of patients, unfortunately.”

The
two physicians hurried from the infirmary, and Merry took the opportunity to
familiarize herself with the room and its furnishings. She and Gwendolyn found
a cabinet stocked with clean cloths and empty basins.

“Gwendolyn,
would you please fill two of these with water? We should have a pitcher of
water on hand to give to the injured.”

“I
can do that, Sissy.” Rafael’s face was eager. “Remember how I helped you?”

“Of
course, love. You’re my best helper.” Merry hugged him.

While
Rafael left with Gwendolyn, Merry found a small empty table and used it to
organize the herbs from her carry sack. When she finished, there was nothing
more to do but wait.

In
the quiet room, a vibration began to shake the wooden floor, increasing in
intensity. What could it be? Was there an earthshake? Then the hairs on the
back of her neck prickled just as a terrible howl came from outside. Had the
Horde arrived?

Gwendolyn
and Rafael entered the infirmary carrying three buckets of water. Rafael set
his beside Merry’s table, and Gwendolyn put her two nearby.

“They’re
here, Merry.”

“Did
you see them?”

“No,
but I could hear them. We’re surrounded.” Gwendolyn’s face was drawn with
worry.

It
wasn’t long before a soldier brought them a young man, his foot wrapped in a
blood-soaked cloth. The soldier laid the injured man on a cot.

“Can
you help Brentley?”

“What
happened?” Merry asked.

“Stone
from the catapult dropped on his foot.”

“Yes,
I can help him.”

The
man nodded and hurried out.

Merry
gently pulled away what remained of Brentley’s leather shoe as he hissed
through his teeth. The bleeding worsened.

“I
need a wet cloth,” she said. Rafael dipped one of the cloths in the water
bucket and squeezed it out. Merry put the bloodroot in her mouth and bit down
on the tough fibers while she firmly wrapped the damp cloth around the foot,
taking care to realign the torn skin and tissues. Brentley moaned and flinched,
but he didn’t pull away.

After
she’d broken up the bloodroot, tasting sap, Merry applied it to the place with
the worst bleeding using firm but gentle pressure. She closed her eyes to
better
See
the damage in the foot. Several bones were broken, but only
two badly so. With her Healing power, she manipulated the pieces into place,
but held herself back from completely fusing them.

When
she opened her eyes, the bleeding had stopped. She was tired, but not drained. How
could she keep Healing if too many were badly injured? Somehow she would have
to hold herself back and save the actual Healing for those nearest death. With
her herbs, she could stop bleeding and ease pain, at least.

Brentley
opened his eyes.

“What
did you do, my lady?” he asked. “Light and warmth come from your hands.” Merry
helped him sit up so he could see his foot.

“Your
bones are set, but you must be careful not to turn the foot or put any weight
on it. I’ll fashion a splint for you, and you’ll need a crutch to walk with for
a while.” She smiled to reassure him.

“But
how can I fight?” Brentley glanced toward the door, distressed.

“You
can’t go back out there or you’ll reinjure your foot.”

“Where’s
my crossbow?” He groped around the cot.

“I
didn’t see one when the other man brought you in.”

Rafael
stepped forward with a cup of water.

“Are
you thirsty?”

The
young man focused on Rafael. Some of his panic eased and he nodded. Rafael
helped him drink from the cup.

Merry
wanted to say more, but a knight carried in another injured man whose face was
not visible beneath the blood that covered his head.

“Please,
help him.” The knight’s eyes pleaded with Merry through the slit in his helmet.
“The physicians sent me here. They said there was nothing they could do.” He
gently laid the wounded man on a cot and took a step back. “I must return to
the wall, but please save him, lady. He’s my squire.”

“What
happened?” Merry wet a clean cloth and tried to wipe some of the blood away so
she could see where to begin.

“He
got too close to the edge, and one of those monsters raked him with its claws. I
must go.” The knight fled.

Merry
gave up trying to wipe the squire’s blood and cupped his face in her hands. There
were three deep gashes, one of which had destroyed the left eye. It could not
be saved. But his torn nose and upper lip could be repaired, and Merry opened
herself to the Healing power to staunch the flow of blood, since there wasn’t
time to use the bloodroot on such a widespread area. Once the bleeding had
stopped, she was able to gently wash off his damaged face.

“Gwendolyn! 
I need balmflower tea for this man. Rafael knows how to make it.”

“Come,
Rafael, show me what to do.”

Thankfully,
the squire had not yet regained consciousness, for the many stitches Merry
would have to take would be painful. She threaded a needle and started to close
the gash that began on his forehead. He moaned but did not waken, and Merry
worked as quickly as she could. It was tricky making stitches in his eyelid to
pull it over the ruined eye socket, but the poor squire would have to wear a
patch over it anyway, once the injuries healed.

She
had cut another length of thread and was about to start on the second gash when
Rafael brought a steaming cup.

“Thank
you, love. Set it on the table beside the cot, please.”

Rafael
did so and stood close by, watching her intently.

“Can
you fix his face, Sissy?”

“I’m
trying, love. He’s hurt very badly, but he will live.”

By
the time Merry began stitching the third gash, which had torn his upper lip, the
door opened again. The soldier who had brought Brentley entered.

“My
lady, I came to bring Brentley’s crossbow, since some of the Horde have got
over the walls.”

She
nodded, but didn’t answer.

“That’s
not all. You will not believe it, but Prince Valerian has brought a whole flock
of dragons, and they’re flaming the Horde!”

Merry
startled as a mighty roar sounded just outside.

***

Caelis
was so focused on aiming his crossbow at the Mohorovians scaling the wall that
he jerked at the sound of an ear-shattering roar. Then a burst of flame blackened
a swath of the Horde below. A dragon. No, an entire flight of them!

His
excitement was short-lived when he saw who sat astride the largest dragon. Valerian?
No!
How had he managed such a feat? How could Caelis possibly discredit
the prince
now
?

In
blind rage, he loaded another bolt and aimed at Valerian. But the dragon veered
away, and Caelis lost his target. Blast! Somehow he had to keep the prince away
from King Orland and kill him before he could steal what rightfully belonged to
Caelis.

But
first, he had to stay alive. A Mohorovian head appeared between the battlements.
It gripped the stone, pulling itself up to gain the wall. Caelis shot the
monster in the eye, and it fell back, howling.

“We’re
running out of bolts,” someone shouted nearby.

“Use
your spears to push them from the wall.” Caelis had better than a spear,
however. He had the Horde battle-ax he’d used at the Brethren village. When he
ran out of crossbow bolts, he would still be well-equipped against the
Mohorovians. After all, only so many of them could gain access to the wall at
one time. With the dragons cutting down their numbers, Caelis was sure they now
had a fighting chance to survive.

He
just had to make sure Valerian didn’t get any credit for it.