Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella (6 page)

“Too bad it’s only temporary. You know that’s
the only reason they voted to allow it.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be
permanent in the future. Your father had a place on the Council.
Why shouldn’t you as the next King’s Scholar?”

“I’m not my father,” she said. “Besides,
right now I have to be ‘First Lady’ and help Adare. The city needs
to be kept as calm as possible.”

He looked at her for a long time. “You
deserve it you know. First Lady. No one else would have done what
you did for my son or for Tredare.”

“But the second highest ranking woman in the
kingdom?” she asked. “It’s more than I want. Besides I’m only
seventeen.”

“Almost eighteen.”

She stood. “I promised Adare I’d join her
down in the city once the Council meeting was over. She’s setting
up the medical building. There are already some injuries.”

“There’s going to be more as time passes.”
His eyes clouded over with sadness. “We have to find a way to stop
this.”

Except for the soldiers Daric had assigned to patrol
the streets, the city was empty. Eerie. What only a week ago were
bustling streets full of people were now still, replaced by fear.
It was in the air, in the water, in the vacant eyes that peered
through half open windows.

Maren made her way to the market square where
they’d set up a medical area in an old store. It was drafty,
smelled of mildew, and the roof leaked, but it was something.

Adare stood directing the few volunteers
she’d been able to gather, mostly those too young or old to have
families to care for.

“How is everything?” Maren asked.

“Good.” Adare met her eyes. “For now.
Eventually, we aren’t going to have enough space. Or supplies. Or
help.”

Because Kern wasn’t going away.

And winter was only a few months off.

Adare sank onto a nearby stool. “How can we
possibly survive this?”

Maren dropped her head into her hands. “I
don’t know.”

“Maybe if Daric and I surrend—”

“No.” Maren grabbed both of Adare’s hands as
if they were only thing keeping her alive. “No.”

Adare’s expression softened. “But it would
end this. And what are two lives in exchange for thousands?
Especially when part of my heart is already gone?”

The sorrow in her friend’s eyes was almost
physical, but she pushed it away. “Your surrender wouldn’t end
anything,” she insisted. “Kern wants Daric to suffer, for his
kingdom to suffer. What better way than to kill his wife in front
of him and then make him watch the destruction of his country?”

A cannonball hit on the other side of the
city and the ground shook beneath them.

“I’ve already lost Philip,” Maren continued.
“And my father. And Justin. I can’t lose you and Daric too.”

“What are we going to do?”

Maren wished she had an answer.

Maren stood in front of her father’s study,
somewhere she’d avoided for almost two months. Since the day her
father had been killed. Even with her determination to stop Kern,
she hadn’t been able to bring herself here. She’d found excuses –
Daric needed her, Adare needed her, she needed to be in the city,
or at a Council meeting. But she was out of excuses.

She reached for the knob and hesitated. Then
she took a deep breath and stepped into the room. She was
immediately assaulted by memories and the smell of old books. The
first made her want to cry. The second…well, it also made her want
to cry.

The room wasn’t particularly large, or even
that well lit. It boasted only a few smallish windows along the
southern wall. The remaining three walls were lined with
bookshelves, many of which were now empty – especially the upper
shelves – their books scattered across the floor, the result of a
cannonball hitting too close. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit. The
windows were cracked but in tact. And there weren’t any holes in
the walls. Which couldn’t be said for other parts of the
castle.

In the center of the room was a large desk,
still littered with papers. She walked over, carefully avoiding the
place where she’d last seen her father’s body, and looked down. Her
father’s handwriting stared back at her and brought a lump to her
throat. He’d spent his entire adult life as the King’s Scholar.
He’d taught the children of nobility, he’d kept the king, both
Daric and his father, informed on anything of import, and he’d met
with neighboring kings – before they wouldn’t come anymore, before
Kern and magic, before tensions rose and alliances became strained.
And perhaps most importantly to Maren, he’d gathered all the books
he could find into this one small room.

The room where he’d died, and where she’d
last seen Philip before he disappeared.

She sank to her knees, glad she hadn’t come
here before. Even now it felt like it had happened yesterday.
Disappearance and death. She didn’t know which was worse. She
missed both her father and Philip with a pain worse than the
physical pain she’d endured – because this kind of pain was all
consuming.

At least she knew her father’s fate. Philip
was just…gone. She didn’t know where he was or if he was all right
or even aliv—

She shook her head. She hadn’t come here to
visit painful memories. She’d come for answers.

She walked along the walls, running her hand
over the spines of books she’d grown up with. She stopped in the
middle of the third wall and glanced up to the very top shelf. The
books that were once there now decorated the floor. She knelt,
picking up the closest, and holding it to her chest. Her father had
never allowed her to read these books, but she knew what they
contained: Magic. Spells, lore, history, whatever a person might
want to know. And probably a lot they didn’t.

If there was information on how to stop Kern,
it would be in these books.

She just had to find it.

Eight

A year. That’s how long they’d been trapped, and
things had progressively gotten worse.

After the first few weeks of chaos, Daric had
gathered his armies and anyone who would volunteer and tried to
fight. That had only led to hundreds of men cut down without mercy.
After that, they’d taken refuge behind the walls, waiting for the
inevitable onslaught by Kern. Only it never came. Eventually,
they’d realized Kern didn’t intend to kill them. At least not
quickly. He was content to surround the city, cutting off all
contact, all food supplies, everything that could keep them alive.
On top of that, Kern kept up his volley of cannon fire – torturing
the city in an entirely different way.

Maren was tired. Not the kind of tired a good
night’s sleep would cure, but deep down. In those dark places where
hunger is a constant companion and despair a daily reality.

And she still had no answers, no way to
defeat Kern.

She scooped another spoonful of oats into the
cup held out to her. Then she did it again. And again. And again.
The same as yesterday. The same as tomorrow. And the day after
that. And the day after that. Until there was nothing left to
give.

Signs of damage were everywhere. A house
here. A business there. All leveled by cannon fire. And all a
reminder that it wasn’t over.

It would only get worse.

Especially at night.

Nights had become truly dark. No fires. Not
even candles. It just gave Kern and his men a better target.

Maren pulled her cloak closer. Of all the
years, winter would come early this year. Many of the castle
windows had shattered, allowing wind to whip through the corridors.
It only contributed to the gloom that had descended over the
city.

As the cold crawled in, so had sickness,
intensified by low nutrition.

Adare stood next to her, handing out the few
blankets still unclaimed, always with an encouraging word, a kind
smile. She’d spent everyday here with her people. Eating what they
ate. Feeling what they felt.

They loved her for it. Finally. It took a
siege and fear and death.

Maren set the spoon back in the pot as the
last of the line disappeared. “What else needs to be done?” she
asked.

“Could you take this to the medical
building?” Adare handed her a jug of water.

She grabbed it with her left hand and then
quickly transferred it to her right.

Adare frowned, as if realizing something
she’d forgotten. “You’re still in pain.”

“Not really.” Maren shrugged. “It’s just…it
won’t ever be completely gone. But it’s better. I can live.”

“It’s still not the same.”

“It’s not the same for anyone now.” Maren set
down the water and sat down beside her friend. “When I was
fourteen, I fell off my horse when he spooked and took a jump I
wasn’t expecting. Ph—” She took a deep breath. She hadn’t allowed
herself to think of Philip in a long time. “Philip rushed over and
pulled me up. I hurt everywhere. I was crying and begged him to
take me home. He refused, instead leading me towards my horse and
signaling for me to mount. Which was the last thing I wanted to
do.

“I was afraid. More than afraid. I was
hurt.

“Then Philip said something I haven’t
forgotten since. ‘You have to forget the pain. You have to conquer
your fears.’” She took Adare’s hand. “It’s even more true today
than it was then. My pain doesn’t matter. It truly doesn’t. It’s
nothing. I wouldn’t even describe it as pain. More of an annoyance,
an ache that never goes away.”

Adare dropped her hand. “And it’s because you
tried to save my son.”

“No,” Maren insisted. “It’s because of Kern.
Everything is because of Kern.”

Nine

A rock flew at her head, and Maren ducked further
behind the table. Adare crouched next to her, arms wrapped
protectively around a small child.

“We must surrender!” a man yelled from the
crowd. “We will not spend a third winter here to die!”

It had been like that for an hour. People
swarming the streets, thinking with their hearts instead of their
heads, waving makeshift flags and adding more ruin to an already
devastated city.

They’d destroyed food and burnt down
buildings. Anything to bring the city even further to its knees, to
force the people to give up.

Another volley of stones crashed through the
window.

“We need to get to Daric,” Adare whispered
beside her. “This can’t go on.”

Maren agreed. She just didn’t see a safe way
of getting to the castle. Not with so many people in the streets
who weren’t going to be happy to see the queen. “Any suggestions as
to how?”

Adare only shook her head, pulling the child
closer.

They were in the medical building. It only
had one way out. Not an option since it led right into the rabid
crowd. There were no weapons, no rope, noth—

Maren crawled to a pile of filthy clothes in
a corner. Most of them were too ragged to wear, with more holes
than fabric. But worn over what they already had, they’d blend in
with the mob. She motioned Adare over.

“Put some of these on and dirty your face.”
She grabbed a handful of dust and rubbed it in Adare’s hair. Then
she did the same for herself. “We’re going to mix in with the crowd
until we can get away.”

“What about the child?” Adare said.

“You’re going to have to leave him.” Maren
felt heartless, but taking a child into that crowd was tantamount
to murder. “He’ll be fine. Once everything calms down, he can go
home.”

Adare crawled back a minute later, and Maren
looked her over from head to toe and gave a satisfied nod. She
didn’t look like a queen.

Maybe they’d actually make it back to the
castle alive.

Maren had never seen the market so packed, even
before the siege. Men and women, even children, huddled together,
waiting. Tense whispers floated in the air. Scared glances rolled
through the crowd.

It was calmer than it had been earlier, but
that was only due to the presence of Daric’s soldiers, something
that hadn’t made the underlying tension better – especially since
those same soldiers spent most their time stopping internal
disputes, and no matter how hard Daric had tried, too often that
led to intimidation and sometimes worse.

Daric climbed onto the makeshift podium and
raised his hands for silence. “To say the past two years have been
hard is the greatest understatement I could make,” he began. “We’ve
suffered death and sickness. More buildings have been destroyed
than remain standing. Nothing is as it was.”

“Then end it!”

Maren couldn’t tell who said it, but the
crowd seemed more in agreement than dissent.

“Surrender!” Someone else yelled.

Maren saw a quick flash of pain cross Daric’s
face, and then he was back to the composed king.

“I understand your fear,” he said, sounding
more defeated than Maren had ever heard him. “But I can’t surrender
to the man who murdered my parents and my son.”

Angry murmurs spread through the crowd like a
wave, threatening to crush anything in their way.

Daric raised his hands again. “However…” He
looked over his people and Maren felt tears prick her eyes at the
love she saw on his face. Others saw it too, and little by little,
the crowd quieted. “However,” he said again, “I can’t force you to
make the same decision I’ve made. Anyone who wants to surrender to
Kern may do so in three hours time. You need to decide now because
opening the gates at all is a huge risk. I will do it one time and
one time only. Decide carefully. Understand what surrendering to a
man like Kern could mean.”

Suddenly, the crowd was less certain, perhaps
more willing to take the hell they knew than to walk into one they
didn’t.

Daric looked over the crowd one last time. “I
want you to know how sorry I am. I don’t take responsibility for
Kern’s actions. Those were his to choose alone. But perhaps there
was more I could have done. I don’t know. And I hope you can
forgive me. For everything.”