“Ian!” she cried into the emptiness, but he was gone, and the loneliness he left behind swept over her with startling intensity.
“Linsha,” a different voice said. A hand fell on her shoulder. Tired as she was, she came instantly awake and her reactions responded with the speed of a striking adder. Her left hand clamped on the offending wrist, and her right hand snatched the dagger from her belt. She opened her eyes and looked into the imperturbable brown gaze of the old plainsman. She blinked in surprise; she had expected blue.
His deep-sunk eyes gazed at her steadily, unshaken by the dagger inches from his chest. “Remind me just to kick you the next time you are dreaming,” he remarked.
She collapsed back to the wall and let her dagger drop. Her heart galloped madly under her breastbone; her breath came in long drawn gulps. “Gods, that was a dream.” She groaned. “It was too real.”
Falaius studied her curiously. The tribes of the Plains of Dust believe in the power of dreams and in the realities revealed in their interpretations. “Who is Ian?” he asked, his voice calm and deliberately soothing.
“He was an assassin sent by the Dark Knights to infiltrate Lord Hogan Bight’s inner circle and kill him.” She said it as if listing Ian’s sins would help her put things back in the right perspective.
“He is dead then. His spirit came to you?”
She hesitated, then said, “It was just a dream. His spirit is gone… wherever Dark Knights go when they die.”
The older man pursed his lips. “Not necessarily. Our mystics have found that many spirits have not left this world yet. Something appears to be blocking their departure. Perhaps this Ian found a way to come to you. Would he care enough to do that?”
Linsha stared at him. Was he serious? Spirits of the dead still haunting the world? Why? Did that mean her grandmother was still out there somewhere? Was her friend Shanron? That could not be true.
“It was only a dream,” she said softly, insistently.
“Are you sure?”
Could it be possible that Ian still cared enough to find her and warn her about someone? But if he had truly come to her, why hadn’t he given her a name? Why did he have to be so mysterious? The mere thought made her head swim. No, this was not some spiritual visitation. This was just a dream wrought by her exhaustion and fear. Who else would her imagination pull out of her collection of memories to haunt her at a time like this?
Several messengers arrived just then with urgent news for the commander. He winked once at Linsha and hurried down the stone steps to speak to them.
Feeling irritable, she climbed to her feet and decided to find something to eat. The Brutes beyond the wall did not seen to be in a hurry to kill them, so perhaps she would have time for a quick meal.
“Lady Linsha,” Falaius called her over. “I’ve received word from Lanther. He is at the North Gate. He is looking for you. He wants you to come if you can.”
“Did he say why?”
At the commander’s nod, the messenger answered. “He captured two men from Thunder’s forces. They told him some things he thought you should hear.”
Her eyebrows rose. “He just went out and captured two men in the middle of an attack?”
The messenger shrugged. “You know Lanther.”
“That section of the wall and the gate are still holding fast,” Falaius said, “but we have received word that portions of the Northern District and the Artisans District have been overrun. The militia is falling back out of the ruins to more defensible positions. Be careful where you go.” He walked with her a short way beside the city wall before he said farewell. “You fought well at my back, Rose Knight.”
“It was an honor to join you,” she replied.
He twisted a grimace into some semblance of a grin and said, “We may not be here tomorrow, so I want to take the opportunity to invite you to join the Legion of Steel.”
It was an honor, and Linsha knew it. She flushed at the genuine regard in his voice. “I think,” she said slowly, “if I had not grown up on the stories of my uncles and my grandfather’s friend, Sturm Brightblade, I would have joined the Legion instead of the Knighthood. I remember Sara Dunstan with fondness.”
The Plainsman’s dark eyes warmed at old memories. “I remember her, too. The invitation stands ready at any time you want to accept it. We’ll waive the apprenticeship.”
Linsha thought about the impossibility of their situation and suddenly laughed. “It could be the shortest membership in the history of the Legion.”
“Then so be it,” he replied. He touched his fingers to his heart in salute, bowed to her, and left to return to his duties.
The city wall on the northeast side of the Missing City was one of two large sections that had been rebuilt. Twenty feet high it stretched from the harbor seawall for nearly four miles around the Port District and well into the Northern District. It reached as far as the old North Gate and its two squat guard towers. For about one hundred yards, the wall extended beyond the North Gate where it came to an end in scaffolding, piles of rock, and heaps of sand for mortar. There was nothing left of the original wall beyond that but scattered stones and the old foundation, but since most of the Northern District had never been rebuilt, no one thought it necessary to rush into rebuilding the walls in that area. The other portion of wall had been-rebuilt from the southwestern side defending the Garden District and Iyesta’s Lair. The original idea had been to build the two sections of wall around the city and eventually join them on the northwest side, making the rough circle complete. Unfortunately, Thunder had surprised everyone.
When Linsha finally worked her way to the North Gate, she found the defenders there in much the same state as the soldiers at the Legion Gate. They had suffered hard fighting with Thunder’s army and had fallen back to the Gate to recover. The worst of the wounded lay in makeshift shelters and were tended by townspeople and healers. Many of the walking wounded had returned to the city for rest and care, but a few sat where they could find shelter and waited for the next attack. Those who were still unhurt stood on the walls and kept watch on the distant enemy.
The forces of the blue dragon had paused all along the line, whether to rest in the heat of the day, regroup for a new onslaught, or pause while Thunder instigated another part of his plan, no one was sure. They were just grateful for the respite.
Lanther saw Linsha first as she came striding along the path that paralleled the wall. He jumped up from his resting place in the shade of an awning and limped to meet her.
They surveyed each other from battered heads, down blood-stained clothes, to dusty boots and finally grinned at each other like two survivors who had found each other against hope.
“You made it,” Lanther said. “I knew you would not stay in the safe house. Is that blood yours?”
She glanced down her white linen shirt now smeared and filthy with blood, dirt, soot. “Only some of it.” She pointed a finger to the chain mail and the sword slung across her back. “Falaius allowed me into the Legion armory.”
“He’s a good man,” Lanther said, taking her arm. “Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.”
She fell into step beside him and felt his companionship slowly dissolve the ache she still felt from her dream. While she felt no desire for Lanther, she liked his company, and after the disastrous relationship with Ian, that’s all she wanted from any man she had met so far. Maybe her heart would thaw one day, but Linsha hoped it would not budge any time soon. Her choice of men had been less than advantageous, and with two of them it had proved almost fatal.
“What’s happening in Mirage?” she heard Lanther say, and she had to shake herself to clear her muzzy mind.
Quickly, she told him of the Brutes’ landing and how the streets of Mirage were now in their control. She described the fighting in the streets, between the buildings, and beside the city wall, and she told him as best she could of the Legionnaires who had fallen.