From her ramp-stoked point of view, it was like strolling through a waxworks. The manikins she weaved around and slashed at were sluggish, dull-witted creatures, too inept in their responses and too slow to fall. It seemed to her that hacking at scarecrows would have provided more of a challenge.
Curiously, one part of her mind remained disengaged from the task at hand. A morsel of her consciousness was like a bird in a gilded cage, looking out at events with the detachment of a spectator, and whatever unpleasantness might be occurring all around, much of it prompted by her crimson blade, the world had a certain fetching quality. She was particularly taken by the lovely green and purple shimmer around the edges of her vision.
A face appeared in the centre of her dream. She would have swatted at it with her steel scourge, and made it go away like all the rest, except there was something familiar about the image.
‘Serrah! Serrah!’ Reeth was shaking her roughly. ‘Come on, Serrah!’
She focused and looked around. They were surrounded by corpses and groaning wounded.
‘The others are coming,’ he told her. ‘We have to move!’
He grabbed her arm and all but dragged her away from the tower’s base. There was an outcry behind them, and the sounds of pursuit. Caldason pulled her towards the line of tethered horses they’d seen from above. Somebody loomed in their path, an axe raised. A bout of hacking cleared the obstruction and added another wash of red to the trampled snow.
A mob was at their heels. Caldason’s intention had been for them to take a horse each, but he wasn’t sure if Serrah could handle one in her state, so he untied a single mount, bundled her on and swung into the saddle himself. Arrows were flying again. Ducking to avoid a hit, he spurred the horse meanly.
They galloped out into a grey, cold new day.
A group of riders, around a score, chased them towards the redoubt. But at the halfway point they fell away, reasoning perhaps that expending such resources on two people was hardly cost effective. And doubtless taking comfort from the fact that their quarry would soon share an inescapable fate.
On their sprint back to the redoubt they saw great black columns of smoke rising from various points along the coast. The islanders, it seemed, were putting up a spirited defence. On the plain facing the redoubt itself, enemy forces were massing. Not the full strength of the empires’ armies, which must surely be on their way, but advance troops, though still numbering many hundreds.
The demilitarised zone surrounding the redoubt was ample enough to allow Reeth and Serrah to get in. They were lucky; from now on it would be impossible.
Inside, all was abuzz. People were dashing in every direction, and men and women bolstered weak points in the defences with sandbags. Teams of sorcerers sealed entrances with charms and prepared their magical munitions.
There were no non-combatants anymore. Weapons were being distributed to the old and lame, and children took up positions on the battlements, clutching spears twice their height.
Pallidea rushed from the crowd. She embraced Serrah and Reeth, and delivered the thanks there had been no time for earlier.
‘Any sign of Darrok?’ Caldason wondered.
‘Yes, he got back too, thank the gods. Actually, I was just trying to find him.’
‘There’s Karr,’ Serrah said.
They excused themselves and pushed their way to him. The ageing patrician was with Goyter. They were accompanied by Disgleirio and a quartet of Righteous Blade swordsmen. When he saw Caldason and Serrah, Karr’s relief was palpable, even given all the other concerns weighing on him. He looked drawn and unwell. ‘To think that we were once talking about currency and roads,’ he mused sadly. ‘Now we can only think of how to achieve a quick, dignified death.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ Goyter informed him sternly. ‘It’s not like you to give in to pessimism, Dulian, so don’t start now.’
He smiled, grateful for her strength. And despite her austere manner, Goyter was clutching his hand.
‘You look a little wild, my dear,’ she told Serrah, not unkindly. ‘I hope everything’s well with you.’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ Serrah noticed that the older woman was wearing a sword. ‘Looks good on you, Goyter. What’s the news on Tanalvah?’
Goyter’s expression darkened. ‘The girl’s still troubling us all. Something’s not right there. I wish we could afford to spare more people to be with her and take the pressure off Kinsel. Not that he’d agree to such a thing.’
‘I’ll go and check on them.’
‘Try to get them to move deeper into the redoubt. With what’s going to be happening here they could be safer.’
Reeth took Serrah aside. ‘Don’t be long,’ he said.
‘No. I’ll just see how things are. Somebody’s got to make sure they’re all right.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I could still kill a lion with my bare teeth.’
‘That’ll pass soon. You won’t feel like it, but try to eat something. It’ll help mop up the ramp.’
Serrah nodded. ‘I’ll be back,’ she promised.
No sooner had she left than Kutch and Wendah appeared.
‘You two shouldn’t be here,’ Caldason told them. ‘Get yourselves to a bolthole.’
‘We have magic,’ Wendah said.
‘We can help,’ Kutch added. ‘Phoenix has assigned us to one of the defence covens.’
‘It’s dangerous,’ Caldason stressed.
Wendah pointed. ‘There are kids much younger than us on the walls over there.’
He couldn’t argue with that. ‘All right, but be careful you don’t-’
A roar went up from the ramparts, then alarm bells were pounded.
‘To your positions!’ Karr ordered, his voice magnified by a booster glamour.
Disgleirio and his men were making their way past Caldason. ‘Where are you stationed?’ the Qalochian asked.
‘We’re roving. Filling holes where needed.’
‘I’ll be doing the same. Good luck.’
The redoubt had catapults, admittedly few in number, and they began a bombardment of the advancing forces. Uncertainty spells and terror hexes were unleashed from the battlements, and archers fired off streams of bolts in deadly arcs. When the first besiegers reached the walls, scalding oil and blisteringly hot sand was poured through the fortress’s murder holes.
Caldason was never still. He attended every breach, helped beat back many incursions. Like all the defenders, he fought tirelessly, and watched as comrades fell with arrow wounds or from searing sorcery.
None of it made any difference. The enemy were at the gates in shockingly little time. Their numbers and force of arms, and superior magic, paid off, and now they were breaking through.
Disgleirio had Karr and Goyter pulled back to safer reaches, the pair of them protesting bitterly. As the gates and walls succumbed to a human wave, the rebels began a pre-planned retreat. Some made for reinforced outbuildings, while others fell back to the main house, with its labyrinth of corridors, hideouts, keeps and subterranean tunnels. They could at least make it a costly prize.
When he saw that no more could be done to defend the walls, Caldason joined the withdrawal. Even as he made his way down, the gates were yielding. There was organised chaos in the courtyard below. The first of the enemy were trickling in, fortifications were being scaled.
Kutch and Wendah hadn’t got very far.
‘Come with me,’ Caldason said.
‘We’re supposed to be with the defence coven,’ Wendah protested.
‘Forget that. We have to fall back. Come on.’ He led them to one of the redoubt’s stables as the invaders began to flood in. His thought was that a horse might give him an advantage fighting off the invaders, or that he could direct a stampede their way. He also hoped to find somewhere for the two young people to hide, but all he could really think about was Serrah, and the possibility of them dying apart.
There were no horses that he could see. They must have been used in the battles being fought on various parts of the island, or more likely there was a shortage, just as there was of everything else.