Magician (58 page)

A guard took Carline by the arm and
began to drag her up the stairs. She followed, helpless in the man’s
strong grip, crying, “Roland!”

Grunts of exertion filled the dark
tunnel as the soldiers from Crydee dug furiously. Arutha had found
the Tsurani tunnel and had ordered a shaft sunk near it. They were
now digging a countertunnel to intercept the Tsurani, near the wall.
Amos had agreed with Arutha’s judgment that they needed to
force the Tsurani back beyond the wall before collapsing the tunnel,
denying them any access to the castle.

A shovel broke through, and men began
frantically clearing away enough dirt to allow passage into the
Tsurani tunnel. Boards were hastily jammed into place, jerry-rigged
supports, preventing the earth above from caving in on them.

The men from Crydee surged into the low
tunnel and entered a frantic, terrible melee. Tsurani warriors and
Roland’s squad of soldiers were locked in a desperate
hand-to-hand struggle in the dark. Men fought and died in the gloom
under the earth. It was impossible to bring order to the fray, with
the fighting in such confinement. An overturned lantern flickered
faintly, providing little illumination.

Arutha said to a soldier behind, “Get
more men!”

“At once, Highness!”
answered the soldier, turning toward the shaft.

Arutha entered the Tsurani tunnel. It
was only five feet high, so he moved stooped over. It was fairly
wide, with enough room for three men to negotiate closely. Arutha
stepped on something soft, which groaned in pain. He continued past
the dying man, toward the sound of fighting.

It was a scene from his worst
nightmare, faintly lit by widely spaced torches. With little room
only the first three men could engage the enemy at any one point.
Arutha called out, “Knives!” and dropped his rapier. In
close quarters the shorter weapons would prove more effective.

He came upon two men struggling in the
darkness and grabbed at one. His hand closed on chitinous armor, and
he plunged his knife into the man’s exposed neck. Jerking the
now lifeless body off the other man, he saw a jam of bodies a few
feet away, where Crydee and Tsurani soldiers pressed against one
another. Curses and cries filled the tunnel, and the damp earth smell
was mixed with the odor of blood and excrement.

Arutha fought madly, blindly, lashing
out at barely seen foes. His own fear kept threatening to overcome
him as primitive awareness cried for him to quit the tunnel and the
threatening earth above. He forced his panic down and continued to
lead the attack on the sappers.

A familiar voice grunted and cursed at
his side, and Arutha knew Amos Trask was near. “Another thirty
feet, lad!” he shouted.

Arutha took the man at his word, having
lost all sense of distance. The men of Crydee pressed onward, and
many died killing the resisting Tsurani. Time became a blur and the
fight a dim montage of images.

Abruptly Amos shouted, “Straw!”
and bundles of dry straw were passed forward “Torches!”
he cried, and flaming torches were passed up. He piled the straw near
a latticework of timbers and drove the torch into the pile. Flames
burst upward, and he yelled, “Clear the tunnel!”

The fighting stopped. Every man,
whether of Crydee or Tsurani, turned and fled the flames. The sappers
knew the tunnel was lost without means to quench the flames and
scrambled for their lives.

Choking smoke filled the tunnel, and
men began to cough as they cleared the cramped quarters. Arutha
followed Amos, and they missed the turn to the countertunnel, coming
out in the cellar. Guardsmen, dirty and bloody, were collapsing on
the stones of the cellar, gasping for air. A dull rumble sounded, and
with a crash, a blast of air and smoke blew out of the hole. Amos
grinned, his face streaked with dirt. “The timbers collapsed.
The tunnel’s sealed.”

Arutha nodded dumbly, exhausted and
still reeling from the smoke. A cup of water was handed to him, and
he drank deeply, soothing his burning throat.

Carline appeared before him. “Are
you all right?” she asked, concern on her face. He nodded. She
looked around. “Where’s Roland?”

Arutha shook his head. “It was
impossible to see down there. Was he in the tunnel?”

She bit her lower lip. Tears welled up
in her blue eyes as she nodded Arutha said, “He might have
cleared the tunnel and come up in the courtyard. Let us see.”

He got to his feet, and Amos and
Carline followed him up the stairs. They left the keep, and a soldier
informed him the attack on the wall had been repulsed. Arutha
acknowledged the report and continued around the keep until they came
to the shaft he had ordered dug Soldiers lay on the grass of the
yard, coughing and spitting, trying to clear their lungs of the
burning smoke. The air hung heavy with an acrid haze as fumes from
the fire continued to billow from the shaft. Another rumble sounded,
and Arutha could feel it through the soles of his boots. Near the
wall a depression had appeared where the tunnel had fallen below.
“Squire Roland!” Arutha shouted.

“Here, Highness,” came an
answering shout from a soldier.

Carline dashed past Arutha and reached
Roland before the Prince. The Squire lay upon the ground, tended by
the soldier who answered. His eyes were closed and his skin pale, and
blood seeped from his side. The soldier said, “I had to drag
him along the last few yards, Highness. He was out on his feet. I
thought it might be smoke until I saw the wound.”

Carline cradled Roland’s head,
while Arutha first cut the binding straps of Roland’s
breastplate, then tore away the undertunic. After a moment Arutha sat
back upon his heels. “It’s a shallow wound He’ll be
all right.”

“Oh, Roland,” Carline said
softly.

Roland’s eyes opened and he
grinned weakly. His voice was tired, but he forced a cheery note.
“What’s this? You’d think I’d been killed.”

Carline said, “You heartless
monster.” She gently shook him but didn’t release her
hold as she smiled down at him. “Playing tricks at a time like
this!”

He winced as he tried to move. “Ooh,
that hurts.” She placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder.

“Don’t try to move. We must
bind the wound,” she said, caught between relief and anger.

Nestling his head into her lap, he
smiled. “I’d not move for half your father’s
Duchy.”

She looked at him in irritation. “What
were you doing throwing yourself upon the enemy like that?”

Roland looked genuinely embarrassed.
“In truth, I tripped coming down the steps and couldn’t
stop myself.”

She placed her cheek against his
forehead as Arutha and Amos laughed. “You are a liar. And I do
love you,” she said softly.

Arutha stood and took Amos in tow,
leaving Roland and Carline to each other. Reaching the corner, they
encountered the former Tsurani slave, Charles, carrying water for the
wounded. Arutha halted the man.

He stood with a yoke across his
shoulders holding two large water buckets. He was bleeding from
several small wounds and was covered with mire. Arutha said, “What
happened to you?”

With a broad smile, Charles said, “Good
fight. Jump in hole. Charles good warrior.”

The former Tsurani slave was pale and
weaved a little as he stood there. Arutha remained speechless, then
indicated he should continue his work. Happily Charles hurried along.
Arutha said to Amos, “What do you make of that?”

Amos chuckled. “I’ve had
many dealings with rogues and scoundrels, Highness. I know little of
these Tsurani, but I think that’s a man to count on.”

Arutha watched as Charles dispensed
water to the other soldiers, ignoring his own wounds and fatigue.
“That was no mean thing, jumping into the shaft without orders.
I’ll have to consider Longbow’s offer to put that man in
service.”

They continued on their way, Arutha
supervising the care of the wounded, while Amos was put in charge of
the final destruction of the tunnel.

When dawn came, the courtyard was
still, and only a patch of raw earth, where the shaft had been filled
in, and a long depression running from the keep to the outer wall
showed anything unusual had occurred in the night.

Fannon hobbled along the wall, favoring
his right side. The wound to his back was almost healed, but he was
still unable to walk without aid. Father Tully supported the
Swordmaster as they came to where the others waited.

Arutha gave the Swordmaster a smile and
gently took him by the other arm, helping Tully hold him. Gardan,
Amos Trask, Martin Longbow, and a group of soldiers stood nearby.

“What’s this?” asked
Fannon, his display of gruff anger a welcome sight to those on the
wall. “Have you so little wits among you that you must haul me
from my rest to take charge?”

Arutha pointed out to sea. On the
horizon dozens of small flecks could be seen against the blue of sea
and sky, flashes of brilliant white glinting as the morning sun was
caught and reflected back to them. “The fleet from Carse and
Tulan approaches the south beaches.”

He indicated the Tsurani camp in the
distance, bustling with activity. “Today we’ll drive them
out. By this time tomorrow we’ll clear this entire area of the
aliens. We’ll harry them eastward, allowing them no respite. It
will be a long time before they’ll come in strength again.”

Quietly Fannon said, “I trust you
are right, Arutha.” He stood without speaking for a time, then
said, “I have heard reports of your command, Arutha. You’ve
done well. You are a credit to your father, and to Crydee.”

Finding himself moved by the
Swordmaster’s praise, Arutha tried to make light, but Fannon
interrupted. “No, you have done all that was needed, and more.
You were right. With these people we must not be cautious. We must
carry the struggle to them.” He sighed. “I am an old man,
Arutha. It is time I retired and left warfare to the young.”

Tully made a derisive noise. “You’re
not old. I was already a priest when you were still in swaddling.”

Fannon laughed with the others at the
obvious untruth of the statement, and Arutha said, “You must
know, if I’ve done well, it is because of your teachings.”

Tully gripped Fannon’s elbow.
“You may not be an old man, but you are a sick one. Back to the
keep with you. You’ve had enough gadding about. You can begin
walking regularly tomorrow. In a few weeks you’ll be charging
about, shouting orders at everyone like your old self.”

Fannon managed a slight smile and
allowed Tully to lead him back down the stairs. When he was gone,
Gardan said, “The Swordmaster’s right, Highness. You’ve
done your father proud.”

Arutha watched the approaching ships,
his angular features fixed in an expression of quiet reflection.
Softly he said, “If I have done well, it is because I have had
the aid of good men, many no longer with us.” He took a deep
breath, then continued, “You have played a great part in our
withstanding this siege, Gardan, and you, Martin.”

Both men smiled and voiced their
thanks. “And you, pirate.” Arutha grinned. “You’ve
also played a great part. We are deeply in your debt.”

Amos Trask tried to look modest and
failed. “Well, Highness, I was merely protecting my own skin as
well as everyone else’s.” He then returned Arutha’s
grin. “It was a rousing good fight.”

Arutha looked toward the sea once more.
“Let us hope we can soon be done with rousing good fights.”
He left the walls and started down the stairs. “Give orders to
prepare for the attack.”

Carline stood atop the south tower of
the keep, her arm around Roland’s waist. The Squire was pale
from his wound, but otherwise in hale spirits. “We’ll be
done with the siege, now the fleet’s arrived,” he said,
clinging tightly to the Princess.

“It has been a nightmare.”

He smiled down at her, gazing into her
blue eyes. “Not entirely. There has been some compensation.”

Softly she said, “You are a
rogue,” then kissed him. When they separated, she said, “I
wonder if your foolish bravery was nothing more than a ploy to gain
my sympathies.”

Feigning a wince, he said, “Lady,
I am wounded.”

She clung to him. “I was so
worried about you, not knowing if you lay dead in the tunnel. I . .
.” Her voice dropped off as her gaze strayed to the north tower
of the keep, opposite the one upon which they stood. She could see
the window upon the second floor, the window to Pug’s room. The
funny little metal chimney, which would constantly belch smoke when
he was at his studies, was now only a mute reminder of just how empty
the tower stood.

Roland followed her gaze. “I
know,” he said. “I miss him, too. And Tomas as well.”

She sighed. “That seems such a
long time ago, Roland. I was a girl then, a girl with a girl’s
notion of what life and love were about.” Softly she said,
“Some love comes like a wind off the sea, while others grow
slowly from the seeds of friendship and kindness. Someone once told
me that.”

“Father Tully. He was right.”
He squeezed her waist. “Either way, as long as you feel, you
live.”

She watched as the soldiers of the
garrison prepared for the coming sortie. “Will this end it?”

“No, they will come again. This
war is fated to last a long time.”

They stood together, taking comfort in
the simple fact of each other’s existence.

Kasumi of the Shinzawai, Force Leader
of the Armies of the Kanazawai Clan, of the Blue Wheel Party, watched
the enemy upon the castle wall.

He could barely make out the figures
walking along the battlements, but he knew them well. He could not
put names to any, but they were each as familiar to him as his own
men. The slender youth who commanded, who fought like a demon, who
brought order to the fray when needed, he was there. The black giant
would not be too far from his side, the one who stood like a bulwark
against every attack upon the walls. And the green-clad one, who
could race through the woods like an apparition, taunting Kasumi’s
men by the freedom with which he passed their lines, he would be
there as well. No doubt the broad-shouldered one was nearby, the
laughing man with the curved sword and maniacal grin. Kasumi quietly
saluted them all as valiant foemen, even if only barbarians.