Redemption (Book 6) (27 page)

“Maybe you have,” said an older, bearded farmer wearing an ill-fitting hauberk. “But the rest of us aren’t you.”

A nervous mumbling rippled through the line of riders.

“Order in the ranks!” Beckett thundered. “We’ll not have any insubordination here.”

“What the General’s asking is
suicide
,” the tanner said again. He pointed a shaky finger at the distant fort. “We can’t get through that. The Jombards will cut us to pieces.”

Kendril drew his rapier.

The murmuring and muttering ceased instantly.

Kendril held the blade out to one side. Rain dripped down the sharp steel. “You think those Jombards will stop at Stockade?”

No one spoke. Thunder rumbled off to the northwest.

Kendril spurred his horse to the side, riding down the line of men. “You think you’ll be any safer back in Redemption?” He pulled his mount to a halt, and pointed his rapier out at the besieged fort. “Once those Jombards burn Stockade, they’re coming for Redemption. For your homes, your businesses.” He looked each rider in the face as he trotted his horse back down the line. “They will come for your wives and your children. We are the only hope that they have.”

“Then we should go back,” said a brave soul towards the back. “Defend Redemption.”

There was a subdued but definite chorus of agreement.

Beckett raised himself in his saddle, straining to see who had spoken.

“If we go back now,” Kendril said, his voice as cold and hard as iron, “then Redemption is already lost. We don’t have the men to defend the town.” He glanced back at Stockade. “We need those dragoons to man the town walls. We need the supplies and arms in that fort. And that’s where we’re going to go. We don’t have a choice.”

There was silence from the line of riders. The horses shuffled uneasily, snorting and pawing the field. The wind gusted heavily, slanting the driving rain almost sideways.

“We can’t break the siege,” Kendril said after a moment. “But we can break through their lines. We have surprise and shock on our side. We will get to the gates, then get inside.”

“Then what?” said the bearded famer. “We’ll be trapped inside with the dragoons.”

“Then we take the dragoons and break back out.” Kendril swept his rapier back in the direction of Redemption. “We cut our way through to the town and make our stand there.”

“But what if the dragoons don’t open the gates for us?” came a shaking voice from the left of the line.

“And what if there’s more of those werewolves?” a strong voice shouted from the back of the riders. “What do we do about
them
?”

“Here now,” Beckett started to say, his face tight with anger, “You—”

Kendril grabbed his lobster helmet and tore it off his head. Rain pounded down on his unprotected head. “You know my face,” he called out. “Now look at it!”

As if by some miracle of timing, lightning flashed at that exact moment. The red and twisting scars on Kendril’s face were clear for half a second.

The men shifted uneasily in their saddles. A few glanced at each other. Others looked down at the ground.

“I got these scars at Vorten!” Kendril yelled above the whistling wind and booming thunder. “When I destroyed the goddess Indigoru and closed the gate to the Void. Now I’m here, fighting for my country and my home.” He sheathed his rapier. “I will not see Redemption burn, not while I still draw breath.”

No one spoke. The rain increased even harder in tempo, drumming against the grass and mud of the field.

“If any of you want to turn tail and run back, go ahead.” Kendril turned his impatient horse around. “But as for me, I’ll cut my way through to Stockade, even if I have to do it alone.”

Lightning flashed across the field again, revealing each man’s face for a split second.

“Who’s with me?” Kendril asked.

The distant sounds of chanting and screaming from the barbarians came again, blown on the wailing winds.

Wilkes spurred his horse forward. “I’m with you, sir. Right to the end.”

Kendril nodded. “Good lad.”

The gray-haired tanner urged his horse forward a step too. “Regnuthu take it, I’m with you too. Show me which way to ride, General.”

“Me too,” came another voice. Another rider moved forward.

“And me.” A third rider trotted out.

There was a sudden explosion of voices. Almost as one, the horses of the riders moved forward. No one was left behind.

Kendril gave a grim smile, even though the darkness hid it from his men. He lifted the heavy helmet back onto his head. Rain tinkled off the metal. “All right. Form a flying wedge formation, on me. We’re going to cut through those Jombards.”

Beckett barked out a few commands.

The troopers quickly formed into a triangular shape, with Kendril at the head.

Beckett rode back up next to Kendril. He hunched his shoulders against the relentless wind. “Formed up, sir.”

Kendril nodded. “Follow my pace.”

Beckett pulled his horse in closer, and dropped his voice so that only Kendril could hear over the storm that raged about them. “Close run thing, sir.”

“That?” Kendril shook his head, responding in the same low voice. “That was nothing. Just wait until we get to Stockade.” He straightened in the saddle and looked behind him. “For Redemption!”

“For Redemption!” came the crashing reply from the troopers.

Kendril kicked his horse into a light trot.

The other troopers followed suit. Beckett pulled his horse in next to Kendril’s.

And in front of them, another unearthly howl rose above the screams and wails of the barbarians.

A wooden chair shattered through a window on the street twenty feet ahead of Joseph and Kara. It crashed into the boardwalk and splintered apart.

From inside, someone screamed.

Joseph grabbed Kara’s arm and pulled her into a nearby doorway. “Not that way,” he breathed.

Kara pushed herself up against the solid wooden door, trying to find whatever shelter she could in the slim doorway. She was absolutely drenched, her short red hair plastered to her skin and speckled with mud.

Lightning and thunder boomed almost directly overhead. The sound of more breaking glass came from further down the street.

“We need to stay sharp,” Joseph said. He kept one hand firmly on the hilt of his rapier. “This town is coming apart at the seams. We’ll never find Kendril in all this.”

“We have to try,” Kara insisted. She glanced back down the street. “What about the alleyway there?”

Joseph gave the darkened side street a skeptical look. “All right,” he said at last. “But I go first.”

He pushed past Kara, and huddled his shoulders against the driving rain.

A whistle sounded from somewhere up the street, followed by angry shouts.

Joseph ignored the commotion behind them. He stepped cautiously into the alley.

It was dark, and the mud was thicker here even than out on the street. Something small scurried away amongst a mound of foul-smelling garbage. The air was dank and sour.

Kara coughed. She pulled her cloak up over her mouth and nose.

Joseph took a deep breath, immediately regretting it. He stepped forward into the sucking mud.

They both ambled along the alley, practically feeling their way in the darkness. The opening to the next street loomed ahead of them.

“Almost there,” Joseph said over his shoulder. “Just stay with me.”

Kara tightened her grip on the man’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, even if—”

A dark, man-sized shape lunged out of the darkness to the left.

Almost at the same moment another came out of a darkened doorway to the right.

Kara fell back and reached for the hilt of her dagger. She already knew there was no room in the alley to try for her bow, even if she had been able to see well enough to shoot.

Joseph’s rapier whispered out of its sheath.

There was a snarl, and a squishing of booted feet in mud.

Kara pulled her dagger loose. She strained to see in the darkness of the confined space.

A strong hand gripped her wrist and twisted it hard.

Kara gave out a cry of pain. She dropped her weapon into the black morass of mud below. She could sense someone standing close beside her. The hot rancid breath in her face smelled of onions and whiskey.

Something hummed through the air.

The man beside her in the dark gasped and fell back into the mud.

Kara grabbed her sore wrist. She crashed back into the side of one of the buildings. Rain pelted down onto her face.

A dull clang of steel echoed off the alley walls. Two shapes moved in the dark, quickly and confusingly.

Kara reached for her bow, even though she knew it was almost useless.

There was another clang, then a soft sucking noise.

A man screamed in the dark. Something flopped down in the mud of the alley.

“Kara?” It was Joseph’s voice.

“Here,” she said. She relaxed her grip on the bow.

A strong yet gentle hand came out of the darkness and grasped her arm.

“Come on,” Joseph said.

They moved forward, out of the alley and onto the boardwalk of the next street over.

A steady stream of refugees was fleeing down the middle of the muddy avenue towards the causeway that led down to the harbor.

Joseph pulled Kara halfway down the street, then checked behind them to make sure that no one else emerged from the alleyway.

Kara melted back against the front of what looked to be a tobacco shop. She cradled her wrist.

“Are you all right?” Joseph glanced quickly in all directions as he spoke to her, searching for any threats. His rapier was out in his hand.

Kara nodded. “Fine. Just...surprised.” She glanced back at the entrance to the alley. “What exactly happened back in there?”

Joseph slowly lowered his rapier, but kept his eyes darting around. “Bandits, muggers. I don’t know, and I don’t care. The town’s falling apart, and things are getting worse by the minute.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off the end of his rapier.

Kara felt her empty sheath. “I lost my dagger.”

Joseph gave the alley a weary glance. “We’ll never find it in there in the dark. Have to wait until morning.” He rubbed the rain out of his eyes. “Not that I’m exactly rearing to go back in there again.”

Kara nodded. ”No more alleys, I think.”

“I think that sounds good.” Joseph turned, but didn’t sheathe his rapier. He lowered his voice a bit. “Kara, we don’t have the slightest clue where Kendril might be in all of this. Every moment we’re here we’re in more danger.” He looked back through the wind-driven rain towards the crowded causeway that led back to the shore. “I think—” He gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulder. “I think we might want to start getting out of here ourselves.”

Kara slumped back against the slimy wet wood of the store. She lowered her head, feeling the rain thrum against it repeatedly. A gust of wind caught her green cloak and made it flutter wildly.

Joseph held out a hand. “Come on, Kara. We might still be able to find a ship out of here.
Anywhere
has to be better than here.”

“Kendril’s still here.” Kara raised her head, shuddering as the cold wind cut through her wet clothes. “I know he is. We can’t leave him, Joseph. He needs us.”

Joseph turned his eyes back to the street. He didn’t say anything.

Kara stepped out from the wall, and glanced around the street they were on.

To the northeast, above the line of wooden buildings, rose the tall bell tower of the temple of Eru.

Kara stared at it, transfixed. Even in the darkness and with the rain hammering against its side, it looked exactly the same as it had in her dream.

Joseph shook water off his hand. He shivered. “All right, Kara,” he said at last. “Where do we go from here?”

“
There
,” Kara said without thinking. She pointed up at the tall tower. “The temple.”

Chapter 16

It took agonizingly long to ride across the shallow valley.

The blowing wind and pelting rain were constant, and lashed the horses and men. Lightning flashed and thunder exploded overhead every few minutes. The storm had turned into an all-out gale.

Everyone was soaked to the bone, and splattered in mud and filth. In the darkness it was almost impossible to see the ground ahead except in the brief flashes of lightning. The horses were nervous, and whinnied constantly. The riders were half-frozen. Ungloved hands shook so badly that many of the troopers had difficulty holding on to the reins.

And ahead, always ahead, the great fortress of Stockade loomed on top of the hill. The chants and screams of the barbarians only grew louder as the under-strength cavalry troop approached. Occasionally the lone howl of something that was not human broke over the tumult and noise.

Even Kendril, who had killed two of the inhuman beasts, felt shivers go up and down his spine at the sound.

The flash and roar of cannon fire came from the fort ahead. The chanting of the barbarians increased in ferocity.

Kendril gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes focused on the black ground just in front of him. Like the other troopers, he was sopping wet and shivering underneath his buff coat and steel armor. He wanted to kick his horse into a gallop, to draw his rapier and lead the charge. But he knew that he and Beckett’s troopers were still too far away from the barbarian lines to make an effective charge.

And so he and the other troopers continued to saunter forward at a maddeningly slow trot, the hooves of their horses clopping noisily into the sucking mud of the field.

It was a long, wet, cold ride. Long enough for Kendril to second guess every decision he had made up to this point. What if they couldn’t break through to the gate? What if Yearling and his men refused to open the gates, or didn’t get them open in time? And even if they did, what if the dragoons refused to come back to Redemption?

And then, of course, they would have to break
out
of Stockade again. And that would not be nearly as easy as breaking in. The Jombards would be expecting it. All in all, it sounded more and more like a suicide run.