Stormed Fortress (41 page)

And Tharrick, and Jinesse, and Fiark
'
s wife, prayed the mate, alongside the lunatic, outside hope, that time with the children might prevail against his beloved
'
s bed-rock sense of loyalty.

Autumn 5671

Stirrings

In the Kingdom of Tysan, buried under the ruin that once housed Avenor
'
s state treasury, a wrecked coffer enclosing the skulls of four hatchling dragons settles in the debris; and as their singed silk covering crumbles, a wakened flicker of energy spins out a tendril that is
almost
a thought
. . .

The same hour that a drifter gifts a weanling colt sired by Isfarenn to Althain Tower, Asandir struggles against driving sleet inside of Scarpdale
'
s grimward; he still holds the shade of his stallion secured between his cupped palms, though he slips as the footing shifts to glare ice, and a lightning flare blinds his bearings . . .

While onloading contraband provisions from a fishing lugger, Alestron
'
s roving war fleet hears rumours of the Alliance assault, with Keldmar s
'
Brydion burned alive with his field-troops amid Lysaer
'
s first onslaught, and through raging grief, Parrien swears to wreak a revenge that will grant the invaders no quarter .
.
.

Autumn 5671

VII. Siege

A fortnight beyond the initial assault, the entrenched siege gripped Alestron in deadly earnest. Lysaer was not making a second mistake.

His troops maintained their fall-back position, past reach of an offensive strike. The duke
'
s massive trebuchets poised, unused, while their idle crews huddled against biting sea-wind, under the diligent eyes of the garrison. Sentries and armed companies stayed alert at the crenels. They held their posts, watch upon watch, prepared for assault, but offered no useful target. Day upon day, the white-and-gold standards flapped over the Alliance war camp, a view that mocked them with immobile serenity, and a drawn line that enforced their captivity.

No forays occurred, night after stilled night. Upon the stripped earth, the enemy drilled troops and exercised fractious horses. They sprawled and caroused in their invasive pavilions, while the mewed-up defenders watched their manoeuvres from the cold, distant height of the parapets. To stand down was to risk being taken off guard. Any dark, cloudy night, the Light
'
s Lord Commander might launch a sneak attack against the watch turrets at the harbour-front. To endure each patrol, hung in fraught expectation, became an agony in itself. The empty hours sawed at the nerves, until the misery of endless inaction blunted the senses like a dull knife.

Routine begat the worse poison of boredom. Time was the weapon to break steadfast will, while the stockpiled food in the warehouses dwindled, and tight rationing eroded resolve.

The wait bore hardest of all on Sidir. Not the shrinking portions, which ended each meal on the pinch of unsatisfied hunger. Hard winters had shown him gaunt seasons before. His experience weathered such short-falls in step, and his touch with the fretful and crying children could rival a mystical healer
'
s. But his lifelong venue had been the free wilds. The enclosure of walls and stone-paved streets wore down his forest-bred spirit: first to short words, then to deep silences, which extended into reclusive retreat atop the swept crags overlooking the bay-side defences. He was not wont to brood. Since the bow stolen from Lysaer
'
s camp was sub-standard, and the offered replacement from Alestron
'
s armoury never suited his exacting taste, Elaira found him stirring a glue-pot over a frugal fire. Beside him, spread out on a dry wrap of leather, he had laid out the composite laminates: sinew and shaved strips of ox-horn to bond with the frame for a recurve bow.

'
Where
'
s Fionn Areth?
'
the enchantress inquired.

Sidir looked up, his metallic eyes piercing.
'
Should I care?
'

'
Yes,
'
said Elaira.
'
You
'
ve been avoiding him.
'
Against a sovereign imperative, she did not have to add:
this
clansman
'
s expression of polite reserve was as good as a spoken rebuff.
'
Why?
'

Sidir
'
s eyebrows lowered in bristled offence.
'
You have to ask that?
'

'
I shouldn
'
t,
'
Elaira agreed.
'
Which is the reason I must.
'

Gusting wind streamered the bronze braid she had tied with plain cord and blushed cheekbones that showed the first edge of privation. Despite the pervasive stench of hot glue, she sat on a mossy rock by the verge, where the cliffs dropped sheer to the closed defences that sheltered Alestron
'
s cove harbour.

Sidir
'
s obstinacy kept him stirring his pot, while the rudely hacked ends of his greying, dark hair lashed at his weathered face.
'
Did you think an encounter should be so easy?
'

Direct to the point of brutality, he inferred the raw pain left from Daon Ramon Barrens, and the horrific cost of the Araethurian
'
s royal rescue. Earl Jieret had died to draw Arithon clear, as well as eight of the remaining Companions, adult survivors of Tal Quorin
'
s massacre, who had seen a generation of children put to slaughter by Lysaer
'
s troops.

Yet the astute awareness of Koriani training saw past the convenient -
the obvious -
shield spun from grief: this clansman
'
s hands were too steady, immersed in his work.

Elaira shivered.
'
You aren
'
t that squeamish, concerning your dead.
'

Sidir
'
s jaw tightened. He looked away then, his spare, rugged profile stamped against sky. His reluctance ran deeper than recent resentment; was no wounding due to Tal Quorin, or Daon Ramon, after all. He braced before speaking.
'
You weren
'
t at Vastmark when -
'

But she had been.
'
Look at me, Sidir!
'
Exposed to his searching regard, Elaira incited his birth-gifted insight for truth: that she
had
been made witness to the horrors that Arithon
'
s hand had unleashed in that mountain campaign. She also knew every twist that occurred in his Grace
'
s deadly, flawed reasoning.
'
I shared my beloved
'
s traverse of the maze under Kewar.
'

The clansman unlocked his penetrating stare in discomfort.
'
You saw most. But not everything.
'
Attention fixed back on his task, he added,
'
Not what was done to keep your man sane, through the back-lash and during the aftermath.
'

The soft phrase stayed dangling, a warning that failed. Elaira leaned forward, flipped the hide over the fitted bow frame.
'
You will answer this!
'
Shown his taut offence, she shoved to her feet and rode over clan stubbornness.
'
Sidir! Without distractions.
'

This weapon can
'
t equal the ones that are shaped, lashed onto forms for a year,
'
the Companion disparaged. Never inclined to swear over set-backs, he relinquished his glue stick and swung his bubbling pot off the fire. "That boy
'
s an errant, wild spark,
'
he declared.
'
Sets his stormy, emotional blazes without care for anyone
'
s dignity.
'

'
Perhaps that
'
s why Arithon wants his loyalty grounded,
'
Elaira allowed without compromise.
'
Volatile, he
'
s a danger to all of us. The weak link too likely to fracture.
'

Sidir surveyed her.
'
Fionn
'
s not so foolish as that, or so angry he won
'
t listen to Talvish. And yet, to hand such a one my prince
'
s deepest vulnerabilities feels like a stark breach of trust.
'

Elaira had no grounds to argue that point. Faced by the livid, disfiguring weals on the wrists of a man who was already war-scarred, she said gently,
'
Do you know of another way?
'

Sidir
'
s recoil was instant.
'
Arithon didn
'
t,
'
he snapped, now annoyed.
'
I protest because I don
'
t like it.
'

The root reason
would be
some uncanny awareness garnered through his gift of Sight. Patience might coax his disclosure; or not. Sidir was a tiger, for principles. Elaira gave him space. Further speech was not needed. Sound carried, even to these wind-swept heights: the relentless clash of practise engagement, and the boom of the drums, as the Light drilled its troops through the boredom of deadlocked warfare.

'
I don
'
t trust the heart of that young man,
'
Sidir relented at last.
'
He has never been sure of himself, even at home with his herding family. He does not know, at his core, who he is. Which drives him to count coup, and hold grudges. To look outside, seeking for positive proof that his loyalties are not misguided.
'
Now came the tortured admission:
'
If I answer his questions, Fionn Areth will use what he knows. Not to stand firm on his chosen ground but to hurt and tear down for advantage.
'

Elaira faced away, watching the eastern sun scatter chipped-diamond reflections across the water below: a view, in these days, unendingly smudged by the smoke from Sevrand
'
s troops, manning the signal turrets. Into the punishing pause, she said carefully,
'
Fionn
'
s potential betrayal of Arithon feels altogether too much like disloyalty
t
o all that I stand for!
'
Sidir had not stopped listening after all. Though her calm tone stayed flawless, he unfolded his tall frame. Hands set on her shoulders, quite firmly, he spun her around.

Her vivid tears streamed. His callused touch a contrite apology, he brushed her wet cheeks with a finger.
'
You feel responsible.
'

Which was too accurate.
'
I
helped change that boy
'
s features,
'
Elaira said, bleak.
'
By my Prime
'
s directive, I laid that fate on to a child just barely six years of age.
'
And burning, unspoken:
should anyone wonder why this Araethurian does not understand who he is?

She permitted Sidir
'
s stringent grip. Let him bundle her into a chaste embrace that did little but break the harsh wind.

'
I will meet with your goatherd,
'
the clansman allowed.
'
Not so much for my liege
'
s royal command, but as your service, done without asking.
'