I was both pleased and distressed. Pleased because people cared enough to look out for me, distressed because my situation had become so bad. I glanced at my hands. Unconsciously, I had strung the bow and laid an arrow across. Part of me was on maximum alert too.
Everyone eyed the weapons, but no one asked. I suspect stories were making the rounds. Strange that my comrades did not corner me to double-check.
The Rebel arrayed his forces carefully, methodically, beyond the reach of our weapons. Whoever had taken charge had restored discipline. And had constructed a whole armada of new engines during the night.
Our forces had abandoned the lower level. All that remained down there was a crucifix with a figure writhing upon it... Writhing. After all it had suffered, including having been nailed up on that cross, the forvalaka remained alive!
The troops had been shuffled. The archers were upon the third level now, Whisper having taken command of that whole tier. The allies, the survivors from the first level, Catcher’s forces, and what not, were on the second level. Catcher had the center, Lord Jalena the right, and the Howler the left. An effort had been made to restore the retaining wall, but it remained in terrible shape. It would be a poor obstacle.
One-Eye joined us. “You guys hear the latest?”
I lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
“They claim they’ve found their White Rose child.”
After reflection I responded, “Dubious.”
“For sure. Word from the Tower is, she’s a fake. Just something to get the troops fired up.”
“I figured. Surprised they didn’t think of it before.”
“Speak of the devil,” Goblin squeaked. He pointed.
I had to search a moment before spotting the soft glow advancing along the aisles between enemy divisions. It surrounded a child on a big white horse, bearing a standard of red emblazoned with a white rose.
“Not even good showmanship,” One-Eye complained. “That guy on the bay is making the light.”
My insides had knotted in fear that this was the real thing after all. I looked down at my hands, wondering if this child was the target the Lady had in mind. But no. I had no impulse to speed a shaft in that direction. Not that I could have gotten one halfway there.
I glimpsed Raven and Darling on the far side of the pyramid, hands going zip-zip. I headed that way.
Raven spotted us when we were twenty feet away. He glanced at my weapons-. His face tightened. A knife appeared in his hand. He started cleaning his nails.
I stumbled, so startled was I. The knife business was a tick. He did it only under stress. Why with me? I was no enemy.
I tucked my bow and arrow under my left arm, greeted Darling. She gave me a big grin, quick hug. She didn’t have anything against me. She asked if she could see the bow. I let her look but did not turn loose. I couldn’t.
Raven was as restless as a man seated on a griddle.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” I demanded. “You been acting like the rest of us have the plague.” His behavior hurt. We had been through some shit together. Raven and I. He had no call to turn on me.
His mouth tightened to a tiny point. He dug under his nails till it seemed he had to be hurting himself.
“Well?”
“Don’t push me, Croaker.”
With my right hand I scratched Darling’s back as she leaned against me. My left tightened on my bow. My knuckles turned the color of old ice. I was ready to thump the man. Take that dagger away and I stood a chance. He is a tough bastard, but I’ve had a few years to get tough myself.
Darling seemed oblivious to the tension between us.
Goblin stepped in. He faced Raven, his stance as belligerent as mine. “You’ve got a problem, Raven. I think maybe we better have a sitdown with the Captain.”
Raven was startled. He realized, if only for a moment, that he was making enemies. It’s damned hard to make Goblin mad. Really mad, not mad like he gets with One-Eye.
Something died behind Raven’s eyes. He indicated my bow. “Lady’s leman,” he accused.
I was more baffled than angry. “Not true,” I said. “But so what if it was?”
He moved restlessly. His gaze kept flicking to Darling, leaning against me. He wanted her away, but could not put the demand into acceptable words.
“First sucking up to Soulcatcher all the time. Now to the Lady. What are you doing, Croaker? Who are you selling?”
“What?” Only Darling’s presence kept me from going after him.
“That’s enough,” Goblin said. His voice was hard, without a hint of squeak. “I’m pulling rank. On everybody. Right now. Right here. We’re going to the Captain and get this talked out. Or we’re unvoting your membership in the Company, Raven. Croaker is right. You’ve been a pure ass lately. We don’t need it. We’ve got enough trouble out there.” He stabbed a finger at the Rebel.
The Rebel answered with trumpets.
There was no confab with the Captain.
It was obvious somebody new was in charge. The enemy divisions came forward in lockstep, slowly, their shields arrayed in proper turtle fashion, turning most of our arrows. Whisper adjusted quickly, concentrating the guard’s fire on one formation at a time, having the archers wait till the heavy weapons broke the turtle. Effective, but not effective enough.
The siege towers and ramps rumbled forward as fast as men could drag them. The Guard did their best, but could destroy only a few. Whisper was in a dilemma. She had to choose between targets. She elected to concentrate on breaking turtles.
The towers came closer this time. The Rebel archers were able to reach our men. That meant our archers could reach them, and ours were better marksmen.
The enemy crossed the nearest ditch, encountering massed missile fire from both levels. Only when they reached the retaining wall did they break their formations, streaming to the weak points, where they had little success. They then attacked everywhere at once. Their ramps were slow arriving. Men with ladders rushed forward.
The Taken did not hold back. They threw everything they could. Rebel wizards fought them all the way, and, despite the harm they had suffered, for the most part kept them neutralized. Whisper did not participate. She was too busy.
The Lady and her companions arrived. Again I was summoned. I clambered aboard my horse and joined her, bow across my lap.
They came on and on. Occasionally I glanced at the Lady. She remained an ice queen, utterly without expression.
The Rebel gained foothold after foothold. He tore whole sections of retaining wall away. Men with shovels hurled earth around, building natural ramps. The wooden ramps continued their advance, but would not arrive soon.
There was one island of peace out there, around the crucified forvalaka. The attackers gave it a wide berth.
Lord Jalena’s troops began to waver. You could see a collapse threatening even before men turned to eye the retaining wall behind them.
The Lady gestured. Journey spurred his horse forward, down the face of the pyramid. He passed behind Whisper’s men, through them, stationed himself at the edge of the level, behind Jalena’s division. He raised his spear. It blazed. Why I don’t know, but Jalena’s troops took heart, solidified, began to push the Rebel back.
The Lady gestured to her left. Feather went down the slope like a daredevil, winding her horn. Its silver call drowned the blare of Rebel trumpets. She passed through the third level troops and leapt her horse off the wall. The drop would have killed any horse I’d ever seen. This one landed heavily, gained its balance, reared, neighed in triumph as Feather winded her horn. As on the right, the troops took heart and began driving the Rebel back.