Karak was approaching, the deity ambling across the dead valley, followed by a massive phalanx of soldiers.
“Shit.”
It seemed the spellcasters from Drake saw as well, and they unleashed a fresh barrage of flame against the siege tower. The light was blinding, and amid its roar Patrick heard a loud creak, followed by a series of heavy cracks. Those atop the tower, those trying to force their way onto the wall walk, teetered along with the tall wooden construction. They dropped their weapons and held their arms out to their sides to keep their balance, but it was no use. The siege tower crumbled in an inferno of red and yellow light, swallowing those standing atop it and crushing those still lingering beneath. The remaining soldiers on the ground dropped their shields and fled the trailing barrage of arrows and magic, staggering across a dead valley that was now illuminated by the crackling flames engulfing the destroyed tower. Karak stopped his march halfway across the valley, the glow of his eyes dimming as the god squinted.
Cheers erupted from Mordeina’s defenders, each and every man standing up tall and beating his chest in victory. Patrick was caught up in the moment, embracing anyone who came within reach of him, and in the thrill no one seemed put off by his deformities. Even the normally stoic Judarius had a hint of a smile on his face as he worked his way down the line, congratulating his charges. Preston clapped Patrick on the back, and Tristan wrapped him up in a mighty hug. Though it did seem strange to feel so much elation over the deaths of nearly one hundred men, Patrick thought it beat the alternative. We could all be dead instead.
His delight waned when he spotted Ahaesarus standing on top of a merlon, not taking part in the celebration. The Master Warden’s expression was dour, the roaring flames giving his flesh a frightening, almost demonic tint. Patrick shrugged off one of the spellcasters who was trying to embrace him. Wedging his foot into the nook between merlons, he pulled himself up until he stood next to the Warden. Night was fully upon the land now, and everything beyond the dying flames coming from the destroyed tower was a deep blackness against a slightly less black foreground. Karak had turned about and was leading his phalanx back to the camp.
“Why so glum?” he asked, hoping Ahaesarus would shudder and begin smiling. “We won.”
Ahaesarus gestured toward the campfires of their enemy.
“We killed barely a hundred men and lost twenty of our own,” he said. “Including a caster from Drake and a fellow Warden, Castiel. Tell me, Patrick. . which of our armies is better trained, and which can better withstand such losses of skilled men?”
Patrick frowned, looked back across the tens of thousands of skilled soldiers arrayed against them.
“Well,” he mumbled. “When you put it that way. . ”
CHAPTER 4
The girl entered the solarium of the Brennan estate with a baby nestled in her arms, the door closing softly behind her. While the girl waited to be noticed, Catherine Brennan sat behind her desk, dropped her quill into the inkwell, and stroked its hawk feather as she blew across the words she’d written on the wrinkly parchment. Only after it was dry did she look up.
The girl was young, seventeen at most, and the spacious solarium made her look dainty standing there. Her hair was dark and quite curly, contrasting with her crystalline blue eyes, which seemed inhumanly bright, sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She’d given birth recently; of that Catherine had no doubt. The mother’s breasts looked swollen, and she retained some of her baby weight, her midsection pushing against a burlap shift that was too small for her. Despite that, Catherine could see the girl was quite attractive. In fact, she looked much like Catherine herself, with round, ruddy cheeks and thick lips. It was no surprise that her dear departed Matthew had bedded the girl.
“Sit down,” Catherine said.
The girl did as she was told, moving sheepishly toward the desk and plunking herself into the chair opposite Catherine. The girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat, refusing to look Catherine in the eyes.
“Luna Glover, is it?” Catherine asked.
The girl nodded.
“Do you know why I sent for you, Luna?”
The girl shook her head.
“Come now. You might be a whore, but you aren’t stupid. I repeat: Do you know why I sent for you?”
Luna finally brought up her gaze and spoke so softly it sounded like a slight breeze leaving her lips.
“I do, Miss Brennan,” she said.
“And why is that?”
“Because I. . because I was. . with your husband.”
Catherine tilted her head and pointed an accusatory finger at the girl. “You were not with my husband. You fucked my husband. For coin.”
“It is just an expression,” Luna mumbled. “I meant no offense.”
At that response, Catherine smiled. “Of course not. Please, Luna, I need you to understand something. We are both women in a man’s world, and there needs to be trust between us-that is, if you want us to remain friends. You want us to be friends, don’t you?”
Luna hesitantly nodded.
“Good.” Catherine sat back in her chair, pinned up her hair, and adjusted her bodice. “Now answer me this, Luna. How did you meet my poor Matthew?”
The girl’s face scrunched with uncertainty before she replied. “He paid for me in a brothel in Tarrytown. Said he was stopping in on his way to Veldaren, for business.”
“Tarrytown is near Felwood, is it not? A long ways away. How did you end up in Port Lancaster?”
Luna bit her lower lip as the baby squirmed in her arms.
“Luna, you can tell me,” Catherine said. “Remember, there must be truth between us women.”
For a moment Catherine thought she’d still remain silent, but then the words came forth in a great rush, like water pushing through a broken dam.
“The big man came, the one who brought me here today. . he paid Madam Pritchard a bag of gold and put me on a wagon. He said Master Brennan wished to have me near. Of course, to a woman like me, it’s obvious what a man means when he says something like that.”
“Interesting.” The big man was Bren Torrant, Matthew’s old bodyguard and the one Catherine had paid to turn on her husband; he was the high merchant of Port Lancaster and the self-appointed lord of freight in all of Neldar. Of all the girls she’d questioned, this one was the first to admit Bren had a part in her coming to Matthew’s bed. “And did Matthew greet you in your cottage by the wall, or did you come here?”
“Both, Miss Catherine. Sometimes he would come to me, but other times a man would take me on a boat to a tunnel and lead me to a big room with lots of beds.”
“When was the last time you visited this tunnel?”
“A long time ago, Miss Catherine. Maybe two years?”
“I see. And when was the last time he took you?”
Luna didn’t answer.
“Tell me, Luna. Tell me now.”
The girl glanced nervously at her child, then back at Catherine. “Three months ago, just after our. . just after my baby was born,” she said softly.
“At the cottage he placed you in?”
“Yes.”
Catherine stewed. Even as things were going to shit around them, even after the attempt on his life that she had secretly paid for, Matthew had still risked sneaking out on his own for a midnight tryst. There were times when Catherine regretted having him killed, but now was not one of them.
“And how old is the child?” she asked.
“Five months, Miss Catherine.”
“Does it have a name?”
Luna nodded, and tears began to dribble down her cheeks. “Mattia, Miss Catherine.”