Daughter of Dusk (35 page)

“Malikel!” Tristam ran to his commander’s side.

The older man groaned. “It’s not as deep as it could have been,” he said. “Must have glanced off one of my ribs. Help me bind it.”

Darylene came forward with a strip of fabric she’d torn from the bed linens. Tristam thanked her and set about wrapping Malikel’s chest.

“Quickly, Tristam,” said Malikel. “Did anyone see what happened to Willem?”

“He ran, with the two Red Shields after him,” said Darylene.

Malikel exhaled sharply through his nose as Tristam pulled the makeshift bandages tight. “All four of the guards were loyal to Willem?”

“I don’t think so,” said Darylene. “Three of them were, and the fourth chased Willem when he fled.”

Tristam secured the bandages, and Malikel gripped his arm. “A hand, please.” Tristam had doubts about whether his commander should be standing and moving, but he obeyed. The Defense
Minister regained his feet and nodded toward the door. “We need to get word to the Council.”

Darylene took the hard-earned box of evidence, and Tristam ducked under Malikel’s arm. They slowly made their way out, Tristam sneaking surreptitious glances at his commander to see how he
fared. Malikel moved as if it pained him, but at least he was supporting much of his own weight.

Tristam drew his dagger as they stepped into the corridor. It was eerily silent in Willem’s house. As they made their way down the staircase, Tristam caught sight of a few servants running
away. As he neared the front door, Tristam heard noises from outside—shouts, yells, and the clash of weapons. Malikel frowned.

Tristam stopped. “With your permission, sir, I’ll go scout.”

Tristam wished he had his sword. The dagger wasn’t going to do much good against enemy soldiers. Willem’s doorman was long gone, so Tristam reached for the doorknob and hoped for the
best.

He opened the door to a battle in full swing. Soldiers clashed swords while Palace staff did their best to flee the fighting. Tristam looked around in confusion as battle cries and screams
assaulted his ears. Were they invaded? Had the enemy breached their walls so easily? But then he realized what had really happened. The three Red Shields who’d attacked Malikel were obviously
not the only traitors in the compound.

There was a cluster of four soldiers fighting just a short distance away. At first, Tristam had trouble distinguishing sides because they all wore Forge livery. Then he saw that two of the
soldiers had blue armbands. Edlan blue.

I need more funds to gain the cooperation of Palace scribes, as well as key members of the defense forces,
Willem’s note had said. Tristam had thought it a roundabout way of
swaying Council votes, but Willem had actually been using the bribes to hide Edlan troops within Forge. There had been such confusion in the Palace lately, with the extra conscripts from the city.
A few well-placed bribes to scribes and Red Shield commanders, a few altered documents…
The more of our own that we have within the Palace, the safer our position will be.

A body sporting a blue armband lay beside one of the pathways. Tristam swallowed against his disgust and took the man’s sword. Its balance was different from his own, but it would have to
do.

The men outside Willem’s house were still fighting. One of the true Red Shields had fallen, and his comrade was backed against a shrub, trying to fend off two enemies. Tristam cut one of
the traitors down from behind. The remaining Edlan soldier turned to gape, and the cornered Red Shield ran him through. For a moment, Tristam and the Red Shield stared at each other, catching their
breath.

“Thank you,” said the soldier.

“That was an impressive fight. I’m Tristam of Brancel,” said Tristam.

“Claren of Forge.”

They looked to the neighboring courtyard. There, five Red Shields closed in on three Edlan fighters. A line of soldiers rounded the corner, and Tristam raised his sword, only to cautiously lower
it again when he saw no sign of Edlan blue. Forge soldiers still outnumbered the Edlanese, at least in this part of the Palace.

“How widespread is the fighting?” asked Tristam.

“All over the Palace grounds. There must have been some kind of signal.”

“The Defense Minister is wounded,” Tristam said. “Can you help?”

They rushed back to Willem’s house. Tristam had just thrown the door open when he heard new shouts.

“Forge men, to the city wall! Edlan’s army is at the gates!”

Kyra waited out the morning as close to the city as she dared. She climbed a tree overlooking the main road and ducked behind the trunk whenever a traveler passed by. She tried
not to dwell on her worries, but it became harder as the sun climbed steadily overhead. What had become of Tristam? Would the Council believe him? She had ample time to think up worst-case
scenarios, but she didn’t dare go into the Palace, at least not until dark. The last thing they needed was for her to create more trouble by getting impatient.

She heard footsteps approaching, not from the main road, but from the forest below her. Kyra froze stock-still. There wasn’t nearly as much cover for her in the winter. She hoped whoever
was coming would not think to look up.

It turned out to be another one of Willem’s forest patrols. Kyra stayed silent as the men passed below her, and they were none the wiser. She watched them gather on a plot of farmland just
outside the forest boundary. There they stood, waiting. Some tended to their weapons, while others simply milled about. After a while, Kyra turned her attention away from them and resumed watching
the main road.

It wasn’t until a second group came and joined the first that Kyra began to wonder. And then a third, fourth, and fifth group came as well. Soon there were a hundred men standing on that
field. Kyra watched as a man came walking from the opposite direction—the owner of the farm, Kyra guessed, and she was suddenly scared for him. The gathered soldiers had also noticed the
farmer, and one of them went out to meet him. Words were exchanged. Kyra couldn’t hear them, but they were obviously not friendly. The soldier drew his weapon and Kyra stifled a gasp, but he
didn’t strike. The farmer retreated.

As the one soldier rejoined the rest of the group, Kyra gave up completely on watching the main road and focused on these men. They were taking tunics out of sacks now and putting them on. The
tunics were colored deep blue. Edlan blue.

This time Kyra did gasp, and it was only the men’s lack of attention that kept her from discovery. Puzzle pieces fell in place in her mind. She remembered the group of soldiers who had
stumbled upon her family with Pashla and Adele in the forest. They’d looked like seasoned soldiers instead of peasants. One had told Kyra that “His Grace” didn’t want people
in the forest. It was a funny way to put things, since Forge citizens almost always referred to the Council as a whole. The man had been an Edlan soldier hiding under the guise of Willem’s
Demon Rider offensive. Did Willem know about this? If Willem had betrayed the city, what had happened to Tristam and Malikel?

The gathered soldiers were dressed now, and they began to march toward Forge. Kyra waited until they had gone some distance, then came down from her hiding place and trailed them. When she came
out of the trees, her heart almost stopped. From her vantage point, she had only seen one group of soldiers. But now that she was in open farmland, she could see multiple companies taking up
formation and converging on the main road. The muted thuds of their boots carried over the fields.

Kyra shielded her eyes and squinted toward the city. The gates still looked to be open. Did the Palace have any idea what was happening?

No, they likely did not.

In front of her, the soldiers marched at a quick pace, and people took notice. Those on the road and fields ran, some retreating into their houses and others running for the city gates. One
older man shouted defiantly at the troops. Two Edlan soldiers cut him down.

Finally, the call of bugles drifted from the city, and the gate began to close. Soldiers, just dots from this distance, ran along the parapets. Kyra breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had
sounded the alarm.

But the Edlan troops continued to march.

Disgraceful. That was how Malikel had described Forge’s response to the attack. Yes, they had been betrayed. Yes, they’d had little warning of Edlan’s
approaching troops. But still, the Palace’s forces had been far too slow to react. Messages between wall sentries and the Palace had gone astray. Commands had been dithered over and
questioned. Tristam himself had been shocked at how greatly the forces’ discipline had fallen short of what it should have been. Part of it was due to Malikel’s removal from command.
Part of it had been the confusion sowed by Willem’s schemes. But whatever the reason, the city was in dire straits.

The watch had barely managed to close the city gates in time, and archers were still running to their stations. Tristam stood on the parapets next to Malikel, surveying the scene outside the
city. The main road led out from the gates. On a normal day, Tristam would have been able to follow it with his eyes as it passed houses, then farmland, until it disappeared into the forest. Today
though, the road was blocked by Edlan soldiers. Rows of them, lined up in formation on the road and spilling into the farmland on either side. Scouts had confirmed that Edlan had blocked the roads
to the south as well. Groups of people fled their homes with hastily wrapped bundles on their backs, some running for the protection of Forge’s walls, and others for the forest.

“Edlan could have taken the city,” said Malikel. “If they’d wanted to, they could have marched right in.” There had been some confusion about who would act as Head
Councilman after Willem’s defection. The laws indicated Malikel, but none of the laws took into account what to do if the second in line was currently under investigation. In the end, Malikel
had been given temporary authority until the Edlanese were defeated.

“Why do you think they didn’t?” asked Tristam.

“Willem is a man of Forge at heart. He doesn’t want to see it looted or damaged.”

“Do you think he made it out of the city?”

“I think so. I believe you forced his hand, Tristam. He most likely didn’t mean to trigger any attack until after the forest offensive began. He could have picked off or captured our
own soldiers in the forest with his own, and we would have blamed the Demon Riders. Once we were sufficiently weakened, he would have sprung his trap. Our position now isn’t good, but at
least we have our forces intact within the city.”

“What do you think Willem wants?” Tristam asked.

“He’ll tell us himself, soon enough.”

An hour later, several riders rode toward the city, escorted by a contingent of Edlan soldiers. They came to a halt just outside of arrow range and raised a flag of parley.

“Come with me, Tristam,” said Malikel.

Malikel assembled a contingent of ten guards, and Tristam took up ranks with them. The gate was pulled open, and they rode out. Tristam did his best to ride proud. Not the easiest thing to do
when an entire army was spread out in front of him, but he had to trust his comrades on the wall behind him to watch for signs of betrayal. At least the skies were clear today, and they had an
unimpeded view.

As they came closer to the other party, Tristam finally made out their faces. Lord Alvred, the Defense Minister of Edlan, led the party on a giant black war stallion. And next to him was
Willem.

Traitor.
Tristam looked over at Malikel, trying to see his commander’s reaction, but the fur lining of Malikel’s cloak blocked his view.

“Alvred,” Malikel said pleasantly. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Was our hospitality not up to your standards?”

Alvred’s mustache twitched humorlessly. “We both serve our cities, Malikel. You know that as well as I.”

“If we’re dispensing with pleasantries, I’ll address my former Head Councilman directly,” said Malikel. “What do you want, Willem?” Malikel spoke loud enough
to be heard by all nearby, and Tristam wondered whether it hurt his wounded ribs.