"Mistakes."
"Yeah, Dez. Their mistakes. And Kell's plans."
CHAPTER 21
Gabriella stood on top of the gatehouse, put a spyglass to her eye and surveyed the Order's positions in the valley beyond. The twenty Knights had excellent support from the mercenary companies they had brought along, but Gabriella wasn't too worried about them. People could always bribe mercenaries, if it came to it. Then again, these were bands with old contracts with the Final Faith.
"Any thoughts?" Crowe asked, next to her.
"Preceptor DeBarres is on form, going by the dispositions. We're not going to fight our way out of here, even if I wanted to."
"At least it'd be a better death than burning. And some might have a chance."
"Come on, Crowe, you're a soldier. You know you can't just shove a sword in a serving wench's hand and expect her to take on experienced warriors. Especially not the Order of the Swords of Dawn."
"We can't leave them to it."
"Look, let's be blunt about this. These are ordinary people. Farmers, merchants, innkeepers, beggars… They're not soldiers and you know they can't be made into soldiers in a matter of hours."
"Believe me, Dez, I've noticed. Even Kell knew it would take years."
"Good. I'm glad you accept that, not that it matters, because even if it was possible, I wouldn't do it. I'm a Knight of the Swords. Those are my people out there."
"Your people are going to be trying to kill you, first chance they get."
"They're going to be trying to kill people around me."
"A battlefield's a confusing place, Dez."
"I know."
"In the heat of the battle, I promise you, they won't be able to tell you apart from this lot."
"Then I'm glad I have a better idea."
"Fighting our way through the Order's lines is not an option," Gabriella announced to the gathered people of Freedom. "But that does not mean we can't break through."
"How?" a man asked. "If we don't fight — "
"If you want to rely on force of arms, you go right ahead and give my regards to the Lord of All when you see him. You're not warriors. What we need to be relying on is speed and surprise. We'll lure the Swords' cavalry to a point where I can meet them for parlay. I'll be dressed like them, in a manner they'll recognise. While we negotiate with them, they'll not be covering the western pass anything like as strongly as they are now. At that point, you will break out there. Do not try to make for the archway and out through the sinkhole. It's a bottleneck. But by taking to the smaller canyons to the west and scattering up the slopes, they won't be able to follow you. That's your best hope to make it out."
"What… What should we do after that?" A woman said.
"Repent." Gabriella said simply. "If you were brought here by a friend or family member, then tell what they did to our Confessors. If you are truly repentant, and not a follower of the Divine Path, you will be welcomed back into the Final Faith."
"What about those of us who don't want to be part of the Final Faith."
"Then hide. Because our Confessors will find you and your souls will be cleansed of your unrepented sins, by fire."
"Won't you lead us?" a girl asked.
A mercenary scoffed. "So we'll all become good little Faith worshippers? You know that's not going to happen."
"Most of you will," Gabriella said. "Not all, I know. But most of you will see the light. Some of you will burn. Definitely, deservedly. But not today." She paused to let that sink in. "We move in an hour."
An hour later, Gabriella mounted her horse. She wore her surplice, with the Faith's crossed-circle, over a sleeveless tunic and short kirtle. Beside her, Crowe was also on horseback and, behind the pair of them, were the people of Freedom.
Gabriella looked up at the swollen globe of Kerberos and nodded to it in greeting. Truth to tell, she expected to be in its clouds in a matter of minutes, whatever happened. She would not fight her own comrades in the Order.
"Sinner?"
"I'm hanging on your every word, God-girl." Crowe snapped back.
"Be careful."
Then she spurred her horse forward.
On the raised mound where the soldiers had camped, DeBarres lowered his spyglass. He raised his hand and waved it in a circle over his head. "Two riders are heading this way. Let's go and meet them."
He lowered his helm and galloped on to the field, nineteen other Knights fanning out behind him.
The ground passed under Gabriella's horse with terrific speed, but she barely felt the bumpiness of the ride. It was as if the horse was gliding through clouds already. With no helm, she could feel the wind in her hair and it was exquisite. If this was to be her last living sensation, it was a good one.
She didn't even realise she was whooping with delight.
She waved at the oncoming Knights, gesturing northeast, and angling her mount that way.
Crowe felt much the same. So he would die here. It was as good a time as any. He was vaguely aware of his hand raising a pole with a white sheet tied to it, but he didn't really believe a helmeted Knight would even notice the sheet until it was too late.
He didn't realise he was screaming like a banshee either.
DeBarres lowered his lance, ready to drive it through the leading rider's chest. It was only a matter of seconds now… Something white flickered out the corner of his eye, and he realised it was a surplice just like the one he himself was wearing. It was a surplice of the Faith, of the Order of the Swords of Dawn.
Then he recognised the shock of copper hair and shouted.
"It's DeZantez!"
Hoping he wasn't too late, he let go his lance and made the signal to abort the charge.
The slipstream of the armoured Knights passing within inches of his side almost pulled Crowe from his mount. He looked across to see Gabriella standing in her stirrups, beckoning to one of the Knights.
He wheeled his horse around and moved to join Gabriella as the Knight approached. The other Knights were circling uncertainly and she was able to encourage them to continue moving slightly further north and east, towards the valley's steep wall.
The one to whom Gabriella had beckoned pulled off his helm and Crowe recognised DeBarres' pitted face.
"What took you so bloody long?" DeBarres yelled, astounded.
"Hunting Kell," Gabriella called back. "He's dead and so are his friends."
"I hope you've got a lot of quills ready," DeBarres grinned. "I'll want a full report and any intelligence you found in there."
"Preceptor!" Another Knight shouted. He pointed westward. "They're getting away!"
It was true. Men, women and children, both mounted and on foot, were swarming out of the gatehouse and running west. Some mercenaries were emerging from the Faith camp, but they were too far from the gatehouse to have a chance of intercepting the fleeing people.
"Gabriella?" DeBarres asked.
"Prisoners," she explained. "Slaves and victims of Kell and the Brotherhood."
DeBarres looked around one more time, then signalled to his men, who formed up around Gabriella and Crowe.
"Let's go, then!"
They galloped out across the field, heading for the Order's encampment and Crowe could already feel a familiar sensation. He could hear it too; the air itself buzzing. Everyone looked up at the sky. The heavens were parting.
"What the hell is that?" DeBarres roared.
"Hell is right," Crowe shouted over the din.
"Not hell," Gabriella shouted. "Heaven! Can't you hear it?"
Gabriella dismounted and fell to her knees in awe. She was only the first as they all followed.
The air was not just humming but singing, a high pitched trill that rose and rose. On the neighbouring peaks the snow was evaporating and rising up with the mountain's song.