“Kara!” Sarth shouted. He alighted again, smoke streaming from his cloak. “The runehelms are surrounding you! You must pull back!”
“It can’t be,” she murmured. She veered around several Shieldsworn working together like a wolf pack to bait and dart at another of the runehelms, and rode clear of the fighting to take stock of how the battle proceeded beyond her own small piece of it. With a sick shock, Kara realized that the sorcerer was right. Despite the desperate efforts of Wester’s shield and Larken’s too, the runehelms had simply plowed through the Hulmaster soldiers and were turning to one side or the other, systematically cutting down all in their path. The Council Guards following the runehelm assault poured through the breach, shouting in triumph.
For a moment, Kara hesitated. Part of her insisted that by redoubling their efforts, holding where she now stood regardless of the cost, she might yet throw back the runehelms and the Council Guard … but her center was smashed beyond repair. If she pulled her army back, she’d lose the encampment at the very least, and the retreat might very well turn into a rout. Without supplies or shelter it would only take a day, perhaps two, before her army disintegrated entirely.
Sarth read the indecision in her eyes, and came to stand at her stirrup. “Kara, there is always tomorrow,” he said. “If Geran and I succeed tonight, we will defeat the runehelms for you, but we will need your army to deal with the Council Guard.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Kara looked around a moment longer, hoping that she’d find some opening or opportunity that would let her salvage the day without abandoning the camp-but each moment she delayed, she knew that she decreased the chances of getting an intact army away from the battle. With a growl, she wheeled and waved her sword over her head. “First and Third Shields, pull back! Icehammers, pull back! Back to the rallying point! Brother Larken, I want the Second Shield to hold in the camp. You’re our rearguard!”
The cleric glanced over at Kara, and gave a grim nod. Not many of his soldiers would fight their way free, but if they could slow the runehelms and the Council Guard enough for the remaining companies to break off, their sacrifice might be worth it. Brandishing his mace, Larken turned back to the fray, shouting orders at his soldiers; Kara wondered if she would see him again.
More of Rhovann’s constructs flooded forward; Sarth and Kara had to back up to stay out of their reach. All around them, Shieldsworn were yielding ground, an orderly fighting withdrawal through their own camp. “Thank Tempus that we practiced this in maneuvers,” she breathed aloud. So many battles ended with one side or the other in panicked flight. “Sarth, see if you can’t persuade the merchant cavalry to keep their distance. I don’t want our soldiers ridden down as we retreat.”
The tiefling nodded. “Will you be able to hold on your hilltop there?”
“What choice do we have?” Kara answered. “We’ll hold somehow. Now go!”
Sarth leaped into the air and arrowed off toward the Icehammers as they withdrew before the merchant coster riders. Kara swallowed her bitter disappointment at the outcome of her first meeting with Marstel’s forces, and turned her attention to the challenge of extricating her army from the murderous strength of the wizards’ runehelms. She’d lost the day, but the war wasn’t over yet-the next move was Geran’s.
TWENTY-TWO
14 Ches, the Year of Deep Water Drifting (1480 DR)
Dusk was falling over Hulburg as Geran led his horse into the small barn behind Mirya’s house and quickly stripped off the saddle and harness. He knew he ought to give the animal a good rubdown and look after it with more care, but he had little time to spare and he doubted he’d need to come back for the gelding. If he needed a mount in the next few hours, he’d borrow or steal one close at hand.
By the time he finished with the saddle and blankets, Mirya was waiting in the yard with a shawl around her shoulders. “Are you ready?” she asked.
He nodded, and they set off for Erstenwold’s. It was a little shy of a mile away, on the other side of the Winterspear. From Mirya’s lane they hurried down River Street, skirting the Tailings proper. Geran did his best to keep his stride quick but confident, maintaining a cool distance from Mirya. He’d already established for himself that his disguise was good enough to protect him in Hulburg’s streets, but now that he was accompanying Mirya, it felt far more risky. Mirya was a known friend of his, of course, and anybody who noticed her going about on the streets when most folk were taking to their homes might wonder why she was dealing with some foreign mage. Worse yet, if one of Marstel’s soldiers or spies saw through his disguise, they’d also catch Mirya. She could hardly deny that she was in league with loyalists if they were caught together, and he feared it would go hard with her.
I should have left her safe in her house, he told himself. This is far too dangerous.
They turned on Cinder Way and came to the Middle Bridge. Half-a-dozen runehelms stood guard over the span. Geran steeled himself to walk past them, feigning the same sort of dismissiveness he’d shown before. But Mirya’s steps faltered as they drew closer to the towering creatures. He risked a quick glance at her, and realized that she was shaking. Her lips moved softly, saying something he couldn’t hear, and her eyes were fixed on the nearest of the clay warriors. She’s terrified! he realized with horror. He hadn’t expected that, but then again, there was a difference between flouting the authorities with a secret meeting and brazenly walking down the street in his company.
Geran grimaced. It was already too late to go back the way they came without being conspicuous about avoiding the monsters. And even if they did, they’d have to cross the Winterspear at the Lower Bridge or the Burned Bridge to get to the west bank and Erstenwold’s, and they’d run into more of the runehelms at the other bridges. He sidled up as close to her as he dared. “Courage, Mirya!” he hissed under his breath. “You’ve walked past these things a hundred times before. Just ignore them and keep on!”
She didn’t reply, and her steps slowed even more. In desperation Geran reached out to take her arm, gently pulling her along and doing his best to ignore the hulking creatures looming around them. Human guards would certainly have suspected something by now, but these were automatons, endowed only with the power to execute the orders they were given. They possessed no intuition, no empathy; they might not notice Mirya’s distress or the solicitude of a foreign wizard toward her.
He put his arm around her shoulders and urged her on more forcefully. But as they drew abreast of the first pair of runehelms, she stopped suddenly in her steps. With a dull, sick look on her face, she looked up at the blank visors of the tall creatures, now regarding them both in silence. “Mirya!” he hissed again. “Come on!”
Looking up at the runehelms, Mirya said clearly, “Tell Rhovann that this is Geran Hulmaster. He is here with me.”
Geran stared at her in horror. Mirya did not just betray me, he tried to tell himself. But she had. She stood, frowning at the monsters around them, not paying any attention to him at all. And the runehelms were already swinging into motion, swiveling to face him as their massive black halberds lowered.
Somehow he found the presence of mind to step away from Mirya, so that she wouldn’t be hacked down by a careless swing of those terrible axes, and drew the shadow sword from its scabbard. If he could teleport out from the middle of these creatures, he might have a chance to elude them-but the monsters were on him before he could even draw breath or seize the calm focus he needed to wield magic. Automatically he ducked beneath the first halberd, twisted away from a second, and lunged wildly at a third. Umbrach Nyth gleamed with an eerie purple radiance as it slashed deep into the gray flesh of the runehelm, and this time a great gout of thick black vapor spurted from the cut. The creature sank to the ground as the enchantment binding it frayed and failed under the shadow sword’s touch.