No One's Chosen (67 page)

She grabbed a young man as he went jogging past and
asked him what had drawn so many.

"A hanging, of course." He laughed and pulled away
from her, jogging to join the rest.

"A hanging?" Óraithe said to herself. But there was
no posting.

She found herself running without having told her
body to do so. The crowd was thick toward the center of the square
and she could not see over the elves ahead. She cursed herself for
the second time, this time for the length of her legs, and made for
the side of the square and the thinner crowds. The elves at the
sides were still too tall. It was hopeless unless she pushed her
way closer and so she dug into the crowd, shoving complaining
bodies to the side.

As she shoved her way through a hush fell over the
crowd and she could hear the magistrate begin to read the charges
against the damned.

"The elf before you stands accused of the murder of
two of his kind in cold blood."

A muttering around her drowned out the voice of the
magistrate, but she was near enough. Not much farther and she would
be able to see. The last of those in her way was a fat man and his
wife. She forced herself between the pair and against a gate that
had been erected at the foot of the gallows.

She heard the scoff of the woman she had pushed pass
and then nothing. The world went quiet when she saw Cosain standing
upon the small stool that had taken so many elves from the world.
When the sounds of the square returned to her ears, she could not
make sense of the words.

"He has admitted by his own words to the undue murder
of these men and has chosen to forgo any trial in exchange that his
name be cleared of posthumous shame. The great and generous Treorai
of Fásachbaile has agreed to such terms in her leniency. We will
now hear the final words of the damned."

Cosain's voice cracked as he looked out over the
crowd. "I did kill those men. They had taken from me a bag of coin
that was meant to be given in equal share for our work in the theft
and destruction of the warehouse of goods from Spéirbaile."

No. That was her work. She had done that. What was
Cosain saying? Had they made him say it? They must have. The High
District elves. They must have agreed… but how had they found
Cosain?

"In addition to his confession, a vial marked with
his particular brand was found on the floor of the alehouse wherein
the two men did expire." The magistrate held the vial aloft. It was
the same that Óraithe had been handed. She remembered now. The bald
man. After she had poured the poison onto him, she had let the vial
fall.

The magistrate continued to talk but Óraithe heard
none of it. Cosain found her as he scanned the crowd and looked at
her with gentle eyes. She could not bear to look at him but she
forced herself not to look away. She had put him here. She had. And
his kindness had as well. He smiled the briefest of smiles as the
magistrate finished speaking. Behind him, the executioner stood
from his rough wooden chair. The large, masked elf knelt and just
before the block was pulled away Cosain mouthed a single word at
her.

"Live."

The rope pulled taut and his face turned red. Within
seconds his eyes began to bulge and his tongue swelled. Óraithe
could take no more. She turned and clawed at the flesh of the
spectators around her. She raked and gasped and pushed her way
through the crowd in any direction she could manage. Around her the
spiteful onlookers hissed and booed and some among them threw
rotten foods.

"No," she thought. "No, it was me. Cosain was a
gentle man."

Even if she had yelled the words, they would not have
listened. She tore free of the crowd and stumbled to the alley
beyond, collapsing to her knees. The sounds of the crowd behind
were deafening. She heaved and wretched but nothing came. When the
muscles in her stomach finally relented, she pulled herself against
the wall of the alley. It was hot in the sun of the Saol
morning.

She did not feel the heat against her skin. She felt
nothing but a cold, dense pit in her stomach and the jerking pain
of her sobs.

The trek had taken them a day and a half and Rianaire
had made no attempt to hide her forces or keep her march on the
city a secret. Her force had grown with each city they had passed
and now numbered just over two hundred. Rianaire rode at the front
of the column, flanked by Gadaí with Síocháin and Inney just
behind. The trip had been more revelrous than anything. They could
have been easily confused with a traveling party of merrymakers on
their way to some grand feast.

At least it had been for the whole of the first day.
It was nearly midday on the second day and the gathered fighters
had become quiet. The mountain of Spéirbaile had come into view.
The column was no longer filled with song and cheers but had turned
to silent mutterings and occasional prayers. They made the
outskirts an hour after the mountain came into view and some of
Gadaí's more loyal had come forward to announce that there had been
deserters when they reached the outskirts.

The Cnoclean high road's end was near and the gate
was in plain view. A few few dozen elves in ragged armor knelt at
the side of the road as she passed and joined into the column. The
gates to the city were shut and there was no guard at the front.
Rianaire called a halt to the column a fair distance from the gate
and rode forward with Síocháin and Inney. Gadaí stayed back
claiming she did not wish to be pierced by some weapon before she
had been given the chance to dismount at least.

The gates loomed large overhead and no bodies
appeared on the outer bridges to either greet her or ward her off.
Surely Spárálaí's scouts had informed him of her ride.

"I order the gates of the city opened by the
authority and right of the Treorai of Spéirbaile." There was no
response from the wall though the light clanking of armored feet
could be heard from the arrowslits along the stairs on either side
of the gates. "If the gates are not opened, I will be forced to
burn them and any found to have disobeyed me will have their heads
struck from their bodies as traitors to the province."

There was still no reply though the shadows beyond
the arrowslits shifted near imperceptibly. Rianaire watched them
closely and when they had set into place she heard heavy footsteps
on the bridge above the gates. A prickly looking elf with cropped
hair and a crisp uniform marking him as a member of the Binse's
division of guard and protection. She did not know him by name, but
she had seen that puckered face before. He was one of Armire's men.
So they held the outer gate at least.

The elf pulled himself with a snap to face Rianaire
below. He was flanked at either side by three crossbowmen. She
could imagine at least one to each arrowslit.

He spoke in a confident, authoritative voice. "We
will not be fooled by your tricks, impostor. The Treorai has been
killed by a traitorous band of raiders and you are nothing more
than a ploy to see them inside the city." She could hear murmurs
from the column behind. Certainly he had said it loud enough for
the front lines to hear. "The Binseman Spárálaí is kind and offers
that if you go from this place, leaving behind the traitor who
dares wear the face of our Treorai, you will all be granted
clemency. That is all. The choice is your own." He smirked down at
her and walked away, having delivered his ruse to her gathered
forces.

Rianaire laughed loudly. Armire's man stopped and
looked down at her. "Indeed, I am just some poor raider girl with
the face of a ruler. I suppose I ought to be easy enough to kill,
then. Or does Armire keep your manhood tucked away too neatly for
that? She must be awfully tight to inspire such obedience. Tell me,
does she scream your name or Spárálaí's when you fuck?"

The man on the bridge reddened and his face twisted
into a pure rage. "Fire! Fire on that traitor this very minute!" He
spit the words over the edge of the bridge and pointed down at her.
The twang of crossbows sounded a half second before a thunderous
scream from Rianaire. The air around the three froze. A dozen bolts
splintered around the women as though they had struck solid stone.
The hate and rage in his face turned to terror as she finished her
shout and looked up at the elf. Just then, she heard the clattering
of steel from the arrow slits. The sound drew the attention of
Armire's little servant and he turned to the side. A dozen armored
elves stormed out onto the bridge. It was over in less than half a
minute. Spárálaí's elves dropped their arbalests as soon as they
realized what was happening, but only two had managed to draw steel
before the armored attackers were upon them.

When the work was done, she saw a flash of bright
blue-green silk move onto the bridge. Mion appeared there above
her, dressed in a flowing, skin tight dress adorned with clear
crystal in a wave pattern down from the shoulder.

Rianaire laughed when she saw him. "You are ill
dressed for a battle, Mion."

"That's as may be, but I will leave a more beautiful
corpse than any of you." He laughed and leaned on one of the low
merlons of the bridgeway. "I will see to the gates if it please
your Grace."

"It would please me greatly."

Mion disappeared from the bridgeway and, after a
moment, Rianaire could hear the gears of the outer wall's gates
grinding. The door opened slowly and the column moved up to close
the space behind the Treorai. Rianaire rode through with Síocháin
and Inney in tow and Mion waited on the ground there. The three and
Gadaí broke off from the main column as it filed into the edge of
the Outer Crescent.

Rianaire leapt on Mion and squeezed him tightly. She
pulled back and looked him in the eye. "You have my eternal
gratitude, Mion." She kissed him deeply and then motioned to Gadaí.
"Ah! And I've made a new friend."

"I see that." Mion grabbed the satyr's hand and gave
it a gentle kiss. Gadaí, for her part, raised a curious eyebrow. He
smiled at her. "I am Mion and it is my most singular pleasure to
look upon such a regal beauty."

"She is quite alluring, isn't she?" Rianaire added.
"I had thought it was almost a shame we needed to be so business
like."

Mion did not take his eyes off the satyr. "She is.
Gadaí, if you are ever in need of pleasure, you need but call my
name." He smiled a lecherous smile and turned to walk away. "You
ought to keep up with your column. I have much to see to."

"Keep yourself safe," Rianaire called after him. "Or
at least your cock."

She heard him laugh as he rounded a corner. The four
mounted and as they pulled back to the West Road, burning arrows
launched into the sky. From all around the city, Rianaire heard a
great cry rise up. Mion had arranged for cells of fighters all
across the city.

As the four rejoined the column, they picked up speed
to move to the front. One of Gadaí's soldiers ran alongside them
and they slowed. The fighter reported that the Outer Crescent had
little in the way of forces willing to battle them but that they
expected greater numbers toward the Bastion.

A rhythmic pounding sounded as they neared the walls
of the Inner Crescent. A great ram had been assembled in two yard
long segments at the massive gates. From a distance, Rianaire could
see that there was a thick leather cover running along the middle
of the ram. It was scarcely wider than the ram itself and from the
different colors of material it was plain to see the pieces had
been assembled separately and put together on the site. As Rianaire
drew nearer she could hear the thudding of bolts against the tented
overhang. It was barely wide enough, however, and there was blood
under the ram where quarrels had found the legs of the operators or
perhaps their bodies before the covering was put into place.

Each time the ram hit the wall the canopy shook
violently. The inner wall was much better defended than the outer
and even with the gate torn open it would not be easy to push
forces through in great numbers. It did not seem to worry the elves
at the ram. The huge rolling mallet struck the wood of the gates
again and again until there was a great cracking noise. The wood of
the gate had finally begun to buckle. A great cheer went up and the
elves at the base moved closer to loose arrows toward the
arrowslits and any foes that might be on the bridgeway. The thump
of bolts assaulting the leather covering of the ram slowed and
after another great crack screamed out from the wood of the gates,
it stopped entirely.

A few more great heaves and the bottom of the door
bowed in. Steel pipes holding the top shut screeched and popped,
sending the door shaking awkwardly but opening fully. The ram had
been formed in a wide, bottom forward edge. It gave them the
leverage to push the doors free. It was a strange design for a ram
but it had done beautifully. Rianaire caught herself thinking she
ought to fine the designer but screams and cheers and the sound of
steel clashing brought her back to reality. She was incredibly
close to the gates now and near the middle of the road.

She rode through the gates with Síocháin, Inney, and
Gadaí still close. Fighting was truly in every corner and alley of
the West Road. It was a scene of utter chaos as far as she could
see. The Inner Crescent had flushed to her side of the city to meet
the bulk of Spárálaí's loyal elves. As Rianaire watched them cut
down in the streets she could not help but wonder if it was coin
that turned them or a true belief that she was an impostor. It
seemed a terrible thing to do but the Treorai could find no love
for them in her heart.

A clearing formed at one intersection and Rianaire
brought her horse around to face her three followers. "Gadaí, I
would have you take a small group of your best and clear the wall.
It is long and no doubt well entrenched with Spárálaí's own. The
sooner the other gates have been opened, the sooner this will be
done. Inney, find every member of my Binse that you can and kill
them. Síocháin will aid you in seeking them out." She looked to
Gadaí and Inney in turn. "I do not wish to hear about mercy given
to traitors when this is done."