Siege of Macindaw (29 page)

By now, the defenders at either end of the west rampart had retreated into the two corner towers. Horace inspected the solid oak door of the southwest tower and frowned. It would take a small battering ram to break through. And he assumed the northwest tower door would be no easier. Below, he heard shouting voices and the sound of running feet. Peering over the edge of the walkway, he saw members of the garrison streaming out of the towers into the courtyard. They were heading for the main gateway, where the fortified gatehouse would give them shelter from the attackers.

The way down through the two towers was blocked. But Buttle himself had shown them another route to the courtyard. Horace gathered the Skandians around him. Several had been wounded during the fighting, and he left two of them to look after Trobar. The others were still fit for battle. He led them down the narrow steps beneath the trapdoor that Buttle had used. As they reached the courtyard, he knew their tendency would be to stream after the retreating garrison in an undisciplined throng.

He restrained them by sheer force of will until all of them were down the stairs. Then, forming them into an arrowhead formation, with himself at the tip and Gundar and Nils to his left and right, he led them at a steady, disciplined jog toward the fleeing defenders, currently jostling each other to get through the narrow entrance to the gatehouse.

Hearing the battle chant of the Skandians as they approached, those inside the gatehouse slammed the ironbound oak door shut, leaving nearly twenty of their comrades locked out, backs to the wall, facing their attackers. When there was less than ten meters between the two groups, Horace raised his right hand and called the order to halt. He had the natural gift of command, and it never occurred to the Skandians to ignore him.

"Form a line," he told them, and the arrowhead formation spread out into one line, facing the terrified enemy.

"I'll give you one opportunity to surrender," he told the members of the garrison. "That opportunity is now."

Keren's men eyed the Skandians fearfully. In normal circumstances, they would have surrendered readily enough, but this battle was far from normal. They knew these savage sea wolves were in league with supernatural forces. They had all seen the terrifying apparitions that had risen from the mist in the south. If they surrendered, they had no idea what would become of them. Perhaps they would be sacrificed to the huge warrior they had seen, or the red-faced demons who had soared into the night sky. This was more than a normal battle. They were pitted against the forces of the underworld, the black evil of sorcery, and no sane man would willingly surrender himself to such an enemy.

A long silence greeted Horace's challenge. None of the garrison would take the responsibility. None wanted to single himself out. Finally, Horace shrugged.

"I gave them a chance," he said softly. Then he turned to the wolf-ship skirl. "Gundar, can you take care of this?"

Gundar, who had recovered his ax and was anxious to use it again, snorted in derision. "This ragtag bunch?" he said. "Nils and I could do it on our own. You go and help the Ranger, General."

Horace nodded. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and stepped out of the line.

Gundar waited until one of the other Skandians moved into the space Horace had vacated, then he raised his battleax and roared out the time-honored Skandian battle command.

"Follow me, boys!"

There was a roar from twenty-three throats, and the battle line surged forward. They hit the defenders with a crash of steel, driving the terrified castle garrison back against the stone walls of the gatehouse. Horace watched for a second or two, then turned to run toward the keep tower.

In the tower, high above the courtyard, Alyss had heard the first shouts from the sentries on the south wall and moved to the window in time to see the enormous images Malcolm was projecting into the night sky. She recognized the giant, shadowy warrior as the apparition that Will had described to her. Then the other images appeared, followed by the amazing sight of the demon's head rockets soaring into the sky and exploding. She quickly realized that such an elaborate display must have a definite purpose behind it, other than being designed to simply terrify the castle's garrison. The attack on the castle was under way.

Alyss had a shrewd idea as to how the images were generated, and she knew that they were harmless. The cries and shouts that drifted up to the tower window told her that the men on the ramparts were well and truly alarmed by the mysterious sights they were seeing.

Alarmed and distracted.

The tower window faced to the south, and she looked down to the south wall below her, quelling the misgivings she felt as she peered down from such a great height. She could see the two end towers on the wall, and as she watched, she saw men moving from the west wall to the south wall, where Malcolm's light show seemed to pose a visible threat. But she realized that all this light and sound was a diversion. The real attack would come on the west or north or east wall.

And it would come soon.

She looked around the room, wondering what she could do to prepare for the attack. Will would come for her, she knew that much. But which way? The tower stairs would be easily defended by a few men. That left the outside. He had come that way once before, scaling the wall in an unsuccessful rescue attempt when she had first been imprisoned in the tower. Then, her fear of heights had triggered her refusal to climb back down with him, and her stomach tightened at the thought that this time, it might be the only way out of the tower. Then she set her jaw firmly. If Will asked her, she would do it – fear of heights or no fear of heights.

She examined the two center bars on the window, tugging at them gently. They were held by the barest thread of metal now. The acid she had been pouring onto the bars each night had corroded the iron so that now it was nearly eaten away. The acid flask, hidden on the deep lintel above the window, was still a quarter full – more than enough to finish the job.

She heard renewed shouting and she peered down at the walls, moving to the side of the window to try to see more of the west wall, where the sounds seemed to be coming from. As she watched, a group of men began running along the wall to the southwest tower. Now she heard the distinctive sound of weapons – swords clashing on swords, axes slamming into shields. Her heart soared as she realized that there were attackers on the west wall. She shifted from one foot to the other in an agony of frustration, wishing she could see farther along the west wall to where the fighting was taking place. But the southern aspect of her window defeated her. She could only see the southwest tower and the first few meters of the walkway. She would have to simply wait to see what transpired.

She walked quietly to the chair by the table. Deliberately pulling it out, she sat, hands in her lap, feet together, breathing deeply to calm herself. She closed her eyes and felt herself relax. She must put her trust in Will. She knew he would never let harm come to her.

Just as her accelerated heart rate started to return to normal, the door to the room slammed back on its hinges and Keren dashed in, sword in hand.

Now, in the confusion of the moment, with his castle under attack and his men folding before the assault, there was no sign of the charming, easygoing persona he had assumed over the past weeks.

She stood up quickly, the chair going over backward behind her. As they faced each other for a second or so, her hands went behind her back, her fingers seeking the reassurance of the stellatite pebble in her cuff. But Keren was across the room in a flash, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward him. As he pulled her right arm and hand from behind her back, he dislodged the tiny star stone pebble from its hiding place, and it clattered to the floor, bouncing toward the table. Keren glanced around at the tiny rattling sound but saw nothing. Alyss let out a little cry of alarm and tried to go after the stone, but Keren was too strong for her. Swinging her by the arm, he half dragged, half threw her into a corner of the room.

"Get over there, damn you!" he said. He was fiddling with the hilt of his sword, and her eyes dropped to it to see what he was doing. There was a soft leather cover over the pommel, held in place by a leather thong. He was scrabbling at the knot, undoing it. Alyss drew herself up to her full height, her chin high and her back straight. She smiled at the renegade. All his easy self-assurance was gone. He could feel the hangman's noose around his neck – the reward for treason.

"It's over, Keren," she said calmly. "Any moment now, Will is going to walk through that door, and your little plan will be finished."

He looked up at her, and she could see the hatred in his eyes. Hatred for her personally, because she had rejected him, and hatred for her position, as a representative of the country and King he had betrayed.

"Not quite," he said. He had finally undone the knot and he removed the cover from his sword hilt. She let out a gasp of fear as she saw it.

The pommel of the sword was the blue gemstone he had used to mesmerize her. He thrust the sword toward her, hilt first, the glowing blue stone raised to eye height.

"Just relax, Alyss," he said soothingly."Just let yourself go and give in to the beautiful blue."

In spite of herself, she could feel the stone taking control of her, feel the sense of warmth and well-being that it generated. She tried to see Will's face, but there was only the blue stone... the beautiful blue... the blue of the ocean... the... no! Ignore the stone, she thought. Think of Will!

But the blue is so gentle... think of when we were children and we... the stone really was beautiful... Beautiful, blue, pulsing light and peace and quiet and relaxation and... Will! Where are you? Forget Will, the stone whispered. Will is gone. I am here. The blue is here.

A little flame of resistance in her mind, a flame that fought desperately against the soporific effect of the blue stone, slowly flickered and died. The stone had her. Completely.

" Take the sword," Keren told her, and she did. She held it upright, like a cross, her hands on the blade a few centimeters below the crosspiece. The pommel was level with her eyes, and she gazed into the depths of the blue stone, seeing other shimmering dimensions. Seeing a flow of movement and color that amazed her and warmed her and enveloped her.

"You're going to help me get out of here," he told her.

Very slowly, she nodded. "I am," she agreed.

The stone was closer to her than it had ever been before. Holding it like this, she could peer into its depths, admiring the way the light swam and shifted as she moved the stone slightly from side to side. She wondered how she had ever lived without this wonderful blue in her life. She loved it. She smiled at it.

She was still smiling when Will quietly entered the room.

He felt a surge of relief as he saw her unharmed and apparently unconcerned. As he had made his way up the staircase, keyed up and ready at any time for a further attack, he had been terrified at the thought of what he might find. Keren, knowing his rebellion was over, might well have killed her as a last gesture of hatred and spite. And the thought of a world without Alyss in it left an enormous black hole in Will's heart. He knew if it came down to it, he would allow Keren to escape if it would keep Alyss safe. His gaze swept the room, and he saw the renegade knight backed into a corner. Somehow, Alyss had contrived to take his sword away from him. Although now she was holding it in a strange position, blade down and the hilt at eye height, the way a knight might hold his sword if he were about to swear an oath on it.

He felt the first twinge of uneasiness. Something was wrong. Keren was smiling too.

"Alyss?" Will said softly. There was no response. She seemed fascinated by the sword.

"Alyss!" His voice was louder, sharper this time. Still there was no response. He saw Keren moving, glanced at him as the knight drew a broad-bladed dagger from the sheath on the right side of his sword belt.

Will had entered the room with his bow ready, an arrow nocked on the string. He brought it up now, coming back to half draw, a heartbeat away from drawing and loosing.

" That's enough," he said, his voice harsh. He wasn't sure what was happening here, but he knew something was very, very wrong.

Keren's smile widened, and he allowed the dagger to slide back into its sheath, showing his open palms to the Ranger. This was working out very well. He knew that if he had tried to use Alyss as a shield, threatening her with the dagger, Will could have picked him off with consummate ease. Keren was well aware of the skills that all Rangers possessed with the longbow.

This way, however, he could nullify Will's ability without any risk to himself. Will would undoubtedly be willing to shoot him. He would never be able to shoot Alyss.

"Alyss?" Keren said pleasantly.

Her eyes flicked away from the stone for a second as she answered, then returned to it. "Yes, Keren?" "Will is here," he said.