She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (31 page)

‘So they’re coming, are they?’ Tudor said, furrowing up his forehead and peering out over the wall’s edge.  ‘Now we’ll see what they have planned for us.’

The night was deathly cold and the soldiers all around stamped their feet or huddled by the fires to keep warm.  Clouds of tiny
,
winged insects gathered from the darkness to be
near
the fires and the men swatted at them irritably.  Occasionally, larger bugs zoomed into view and their wings buzzed about in the night.  The Paatin army made no attempt to come forward, and so they waited for several hours
,
while Samuel thumbed the ring in his pocket nervously.  Finally, a stirring in the pattern caught his attention.  Something had begun.

‘Magicians!’ he hissed, and Grand Master Tudor heard him and focussed his own senses into the distance.

‘Yes, you’re right, Samuel.  Magic is at work.  So we know they have summoned their wizards.  Now we shall see what kind of magic they have brought.’

Samuel continued staring out towards the Paatin.  They were still far, for the narrow paths would only allow them to approach in a single column, but with so many men in such close proximity together, he had no trouble discerning their presence.

‘Tell me, Samuel,’ the old man implored.  ‘What do you see?

‘They have spread out behind the mountain.’  Something high then caught his attention.  ‘They are climbing the rocks.’

‘Those rock faces are sheer and treacherous,’ Captain Ravenshood said.  ‘One or two skilled climbers could ascend them but
,
even so, the distance is far and there is no advantage to be had, except to
act
as lookouts.  The chasm is much too wide to do them any good.’

‘There
are
more than one or two, Captain,’ Samuel informed.  ‘I feel many.  There are hundreds
,
perhaps thousands.’

The young man looked confused.  ‘No.  It’s not possible.  And to what end, unless they plan to jump to their deaths?’

Time seemed eternal as they waited, each
scarcely
daring to breathe.  All along the walls and parapets of Ghant, men stood, cradling their weapons and waiting nervously.

A yell sounded from somewhere below and the metallic clangs of battle ensued.  After barely a few strokes, it seemed to have ended.

‘What’s this?’ Tudor
asked
, striding up and down the wall with concern.  ‘Have they breached
the citadel
?’

Similar sounds of battle came from another direction and this continued for longer.  Captain Ravenshood shouted commands and his banner-men signalled to General Mar up in his tower where he could oversee the defence.  Screams and shouts sounded from other parts of the citadel and the magicians continued peering all around and into the darkness, ignorant of any sign of Paatin troops or what could be causing the disturbances.  A flash of magic struck out from the heavens, and Samuel looked up towards Balten on his tower top.  More flashes followed, streaking out into the air high over the chasm.  With the clouds churning behind him, Balten looked like a god throwing bolts from the heavens.  It was then that one of the citadel guards came running up the stairs to shout the alarm.

‘They’re in the citadel!’ he said.  ‘All around!  They’ve crossed the chasm!’

Captain Ravenshood stepped forward to ask the man how, when they all received the answer to his question.  With a clacking sound, a dark-skinned Paatin soldier dropped from the blackness and landed atop the messenger, hacking him down with a long curved sword.

‘They fly!’ came a cry and it seemed to signal a rain of the Paatin upon them.  Soldiers drew their swords and desperately fought to defend themselves from the caped desert-men who had somehow crossed the chasm.  Tudor lashed out with azure streaks of magic that scorched Paatin cloth and flesh, and the Erics worked their spells feverishly, clearing the area of attackers.  Samuel had his magic ring in his hand, fearful of using it, for the relic seemed to be burning him before he had even put it on.

The first wave of attackers was light and the Ghant soldiers managed to defend themselves.  In the short calm that followed, Grand Master Tudor kicked over one of the smoking Paatin corpses and pulled back the man’s cloak with his staff.  Revealed beneath, growing from the man’s shoulder blades were two sets of folded wings that reached down to his knees, veined like
those of
a dragonfly.  The wings looked somewhat crushed beneath his body and they leaked a sticky
,
yellowish liquid that st
a
nk of squashed bugs.  A residue of magic seeped from the things, and Samuel could sense that they had been recently grown, perhaps only minutes before. 

It was only then that Samuel looked up, high into the darkness above the lights of the citadel, and his magician’s
sight
revealed a sky full of men, sailing across the gap between the mountains like bees scrambling between flowers.

‘Incredible,’ Eric gasped, still looking at the body before them.

‘Yes, very remarkable,’ Tudor agreed.  ‘I think now we can see how they intend to take the citadel.’

Samuel tugged the old man’s cloak and pointed to the sky above them.

‘Goodness,’ Tudor stated, looking up and was almost dumbfounded himself.  ‘Captain!’ he shouted, despite the young man being directly next to him.  ‘Signal General Mar!  The Paatin are airborne and landing all over the citadel.  Sound the full defence!’  The young man leapt to action and began shouting at his banner-men.  ‘You three, get to our Koian friends and defend them.  The Paatin could be throughout the whole place in moments.  They are landing everywhere.  If things look grim
,
remember our plan.’

The clacking of many wings gave them the slightest warning and another wave of winged Paatin invaders crashed down around them.  The men seemed unfamiliar with their new appendages and some landed sprawling.  Some broke their legs or arms as they fell hard.  Others had trouble with their balance and fought awkwardly once they had landed. 
Individually, t
he dark-skinned desert-men were felled easily, but they began landing in greater and greater numbers.  The soldiers on the parapet found themselves quickly being outnumbered, while Captain Ravenshood frantically called for more troops.  Again the magicians struck out with their magic while Samuel sheltered behind them.  He was forced to h
ave
back against the battlements when some movements caught his eye, causing him to spin
round
and face the chasm.

‘Grand Master!’ he called, and the old magician had to pull himself from the fray, striking
a
landing Paatin down with blasts of magic and peering out after Samuel’s pointed finger.

While the Ghant defenders had been busy fending off the winged assault, other desert-men had now been able to rush out onto the far ledge.  They carried large bows between three of them and they were hammering their devices into the stone.  Readied, some of the men began shooting cables fair across the wide gap
.
E
ach
one was
tipped with a barbed end that penetrated the fortress stone and dug in deep.  Dozens more ropes started leaping across the chasm and
,
as soon as the rope had been pulled taut, the Paatin began shimmying across.

‘Captain!’ Tudor called out, but the man was occupied, defending himself from a trio of snarling desert-men.

‘Withdraw!’ the Captain cried, for the numbers of Paatin on the parapet had now become overwhelming.

Unfortunately, the magicians were now separated from the cluster of soldiers and could not reach the stairs.  The Paatin had surrounded them, pinning them against the battlements.  Samuel ducked and weaved, under and aside, from sword stroke and thrust.  All his dexterity was tested as he moved from one magician’s stance to another, using his well-honed skills to move about as nimbly as a marketplace acrobat.

Spinning about and finally having a moment to spare, Samuel pulled the Argum Stone from his pocket and readied to put it on his finger.  He knew the power would be difficult to control and here, in this tight space, the results could be disastrous, but the Paatin had tested his patience, and he was going to blast them all—to hell with the consequences.

A flash of magic caught his eye just as Balten came crashing down like a bolt of lightning.  He landed amongst the pack of Paatin and those around him were thrown from their legs as the great wall shuddered beneath them.

‘Quickly,’ he motioned.  ‘I have more to do than look after you.’

‘Infernal fool,’ Tudor muttered.  ‘I was just about to do that.’

They darted down the stairs, leaving Balten to protect their backs.  The man struck out with lashes of magic that had the Paatin screaming and throwing themselves to the floor as blood erupted from their eyes and ears.

‘Off you go!’  Tudor instructed.  ‘See to the Koians.  I will guard the crossing bridge.  If the Paatin gain that, we will be in even greater trouble.’

They did as they were told, and Eric led the way, dashing through the halls and courtyards of the citadel as fast as they could.  Some rooms were thick with fighting and others were strewn with General Mar’s defenders or Paatin bodies seeping yellow fluid.  However, as they descended, the lower floors of the fortress seemed
not
to be infiltrated and the three magicians went largely unaccosted.

They spied a small group of blood
-
soaked soldiers guarding the hall and it took a moment to realise that one of them was Captain Orrell.  Another of the gore-encrusted men was Lieutenant Valiant.  When Orrell heard of their goal, he left Valiant to guard the passageway, while he accompanied the magicians to act in the defence
of the Koians
.

They made the hallway where the Koians had been lodged and, calling out, they were dismayed to find the rooms all empty—all but the last.  Lady River lay beside her bed, strewn on the rug with her limbs at bizarre angles, her hair fallen across her face. 

‘A broken neck,’ Orrell said, squatting down beside her.  He looked up at the magicians with suspicion.  ‘It’s strange they chose not to stab her.  The Paatin all have swords.’

A woman’s scream had them all running again and they followed the noises of battle into the dining room, following a trail of fallen desert-men.  Stone, the Koian attendant was sprawled on the floor and although
,
not quite dead, Samuel could see the man had scant moments left, such were his wounds.  A black shadow had nearly engulfed his life force and it marked his final breaths. 

Further sounds drew them out into the outdoor courtyard where Samuel had first pursued Doonan.  The Koians were there, surrounded by a group of Paatin.  Lady Leaf lay dead on the stone, mouth agape and eyes open, with Cloud splayed out beside her.  The woman had a single
,
deep gash to her middle, while Cloud had been stabbed countless times, as if his attackers had been afraid he would not stay dead.  Around them was a pile of dead and twisted Paatin.  Lady Wind and the god-woman stood in a corner hugging each other, with Horse standing defiantly before them, holding off the dozen or more Paatin.  His stance was low and his fists were held out in clenched knots.  His brow was dripping with sweat and his chest was heaving with pained exertion.

When the magicians came bustling in, some of the Paatin had turned their heads to see, and Horse acted like a released spring.  In a blink
,
he had leapt up and snapped a Paatin neck with his foot.  One hand reached out and pulled another towards him by the wrist, using the man’s sword to skewer one of his own.  He then broke that man’s neck with a reach and a twist.  Each one that died reeked with the same thick yellow fluid that had been saturated with perverted magic.

Captain Orrell watched on, for Horse had acted faster than anyone could believe, leaving them all standing as if rooted to the spot.  ‘Well
,
that answers our questions.’