The Coming Storm (55 page)

Aranoc looked down at the burning first ring with something like sorrow.

“How much more will we lose?” he said.

“The second ring most certainly,” Elon replied. “We’ll have to make them fight for every inch of the first ring, and fight hard. Diminish their numbers. That will fall to the archers. But in the end, we’ll fight, hand to hand. Then the second ring. Probably around nightfall. If we lose the third ring we’ll be in dire straits. That must hold until help arrives. Pull the archers, have them concentrate on the gates. If the gates fall it will be a flood. Then have them hold as long as they can. Set other archers to give those who protect the gates cover against any that might come over the walls. If a single gate falls, pull them all back quickly. We dare not lose even a single one. If anything survives the fire the trolls and goblins will wreak havoc because that’s their nature. That will take time.”

“What do we do until then?” Gwillim said.

“Wait, save our strength while we can. For now, it’s a war of attrition, to whittle them down as much as we’re able. Every shot must count. Then we wait. The battle will come to us soon enough.”

The trolls and goblins had the advantage, since they had only to follow their trail through the rift. Ailith knew the way but it was a game of memory. Wisely, Colath stayed silent, allowing her to concentrate. Otherwise, he stayed on her tail and kept his bow strung and ready. Each time he saw a glimpse of goblins or trolls and he had a good shot, he took it.

Above them the sun had begun its downward arc but the rift widened and he had hope. The towering cliffs above them opened and spread. He saw the split of the exit ahead and glanced behind. A mass of trolls and goblins pursued them now in earnest.

He looked ahead.

There was something about this. Suddenly, it clicked. He’d simply never viewed this place from this direction.

“I know this place. Lothliann isn’t far.” Colath looked at her. “Our Hunters and the Woodsmen will come. Some of our people might as well.”

“To help Men?” Ailith asked.

“For Elon’s sake and Jalila’s and because I ask it. Some may come to fight goblins and trolls. Those creatures are known for treating our people less kindly even than men, those rare times when they’ve been able catch us. Lothliann has had much trouble with such, so close to the border.”

Exhaustion barely covered describing how Ailith felt, she quivered inside, her muscles twitched randomly. She glanced behind her. It seemed as if the goblins and trolls exploded out of the mouth of the Rift.

“Go then. I’ll lead them away.”

He gave her a look.

“You don’t want to lead them to Lothliann but if they follow me to the garrison it will go far toward substantiating my demand for help.”

Another glance behind him. “No more arrows, Ailith?”

She smiled. “Not if I can help it. Go. Elon and Raven’s Nest need all the help we can bring.”

Leaning into Chai, he urged her to more speed.

Ailith cast about for the garrison, the stars in her head a guide. A large number of people in a small location. She hadn’t been there before, there’d been no need. They used to run the Rift for the challenge, she, Aranoc, Evin and one of the cousins, when she was younger and Aranoc a Guard officer, before the relationship between their Kingdoms had cooled. Behind her the goblins let out a blood-curdling cry. There, one set of stars grouped outside another. A town, with the garrison outside it.

Now the goblins were in full cry. Smoke needed no urging, stretching out with open fields before him. It would seem they were following Colath for a short time until he disappeared behind the trees ahead. She they could see. With luck, they would follow only her.

She pulled her bow just in case, held an arrow loosely in place, uncertain whether she could keep her hands steady enough for a good shot.

A rolling hill, at the crest of it was the garrison, a small walled fort.

Smoke seemed to know where they needed to go, he never broke stride just turned in that direction. She sagged in the saddle, gathered what strength she could. Those on the wall saw them come, then the goblins breasted the hill behind her and she heard the alarm bells ring.

The gates flew open before her even as arrows took flight over her head from those on the wall above her.

The gates slammed shut behind her.

The garrison commander came out at a run, half dressed in a brightly colored Elven-silk shirt, pulling on his uniform jacket over it and her heart sank.

Who was this coxcomb with his fancy clothes? What manner of man did Daran name as commander these days? A second son, the spare heir of some heartland King?

Probably.

Drawing herself up to her full height, she leveled a gaze on him she hoped would sear him to the skin.

“I’m Ailith, daughter and heir of King Geric of Riverford and all its domains and I call aid for Raven’s Nest, it’s under attack,” she shouted, her voice pitched to carry even above the screams of the trolls and goblins beyond the walls.

“What?” the commander said. “What is it you say? Who are you and what are you doing bringing trolls here?”

“I say again, I am Ailith, heir to Riverford, calling aid for Raven’s Nest, which is under attack by what you see outside your walls. Are you the Commander here?”

The ululating cries faded, as the soldiers of the garrison cut the goblins and trolls down. 

Straightening himself unsteadily, the man nodded. “I’m Belac, son of Boren, King of Westland and Commander of this Garrison. This is a garrison of the High King’s army, we can’t simply go haring off at your word, Ailith of Riverford.”

The scorn in his voice told her much.

A girl barely of age, her limbs those of a child, came out in his wake, her eyes huge and frightened.

Westland. A small kingdom north of the High King’s seat. A second or third son, then, the garrison command a sinecure.

In the doorway behind him a woman, slightly above medium height, stood with her slender, muscular arms crossed. She looked with displeasure at Belac from behind his back. Ailith saw the eyes of the men cut to her. Here then was the true leader of this Garrison. Belac, however, was the named Commander, that one’s hands were tied.

Not for long.

“Do you say then that as the nearest garrison you won’t serve the people you’ve sworn to protect? Do you deny aid to those in dire need at Raven’s Nest? You see behind me what I’ve escaped, will you leave them to their fate?”

Her voice echoed off the walls. She was finding her second wind. Or third, perhaps.

The woman behind Belac stiffened and straightened. She knew where Ailith was going with this. Their eyes met over Belac’s shoulder.

“I say,” Belac said, “that we can’t go on only your word.”

With a flip of her wrist, Ailith tossed him her warrant, the gold coin with its crown regnant around the tower signifying her rank. It fell at his feet. He looked at it sourly and bent to pick it up. He would never hold one except for this, unless his siblings all died. He knew it, bitterly. She held out her hand for it. He handed it back sullenly.

“I say you can. Belac, son of Boren the King of Westland, Commander of this Garrison, are you saying  you won’t abide by the terms of the Agreement or the will of the Council? Does the King’s army not serve its people, as decreed by that Council? Do you defy both King, Council and the oath you took?”

His gaze shot to hers.

If he did, he would lose this command and any other like it. Whether he was suited for the position or not, he would find nothing else that would supply such uniforms as would impress young girls.

“I know each line of the code of the Agreement,” she said, coolly, “shall I quote you the ones you violate?”

She did, unlike many noble sons and daughters. Her father had made her learn it and repeat it. Every line. Plus every new one issued.

Turning Smoke’s head, she faced the men and women on the walls and along the front of the barracks. Most of them were pointedly not watching but all were listening.

“I’ve come,” she shouted, “to call aid to Raven’s Nest. As we speak they are under attack by those which pursued me to your gates. I ask you now, sons and daughters of the Kingdoms, will you allow them to be slaughtered? Whom do you serve? Your King and your people?”

Faces turned now, all of them looked at her.

“Raven’s Nest is surrounded. Even as we speak the walls are being battered and the gates give way. They are vastly outnumbered. There are children with families much like your own. They cry aid.” Her voice strengthened. “Will you answer their need?”

A voice shouted answer, “Yes.”

Another and another shouted, adding their voices.

She drew her longsword to flash in the waning sunlight and sent her voice ringing off the walls.

“I say again,” she shouted. “I go back to fight, who among you will go with me? Raven’s Nest cries aid. Will you answer?”

A massed shout rang from the walls, a hundred voices or more in reply, “Yes!”

Turning Smoke back to face Belac, she raised an eyebrow. “I say to you, Belac, will you answer the command of your High King and Council? Will you answer Raven’s Nest’s need?”

He was furious, his face a mottled red.

She’d made no friends here nor cared if she did. Elon was back there. Jareth and Jalila. Hundreds of women and children in jeopardy while this coxcomb in his half-buttoned tailored uniform stood around and prattled.

With a scathing glance in her direction, he spun on his heel.

As he passed the woman behind him, he said, “You have the command, Captain.”

He wouldn’t follow her but Ailith didn’t care. She wanted this woman.

With a neat incline of her head, that one said, “I’m Catra, Lady Ailith.”

At a gesture from her, people went running. Nothing else needed to be said. In moments the garrison bustled with activity.

Ailith said, “If you don’t call me Lady, Catra, I won’t call you Captain. We who rule in Riverford don’t stand much on ceremony.”

The woman looked at her, raised an eyebrow, nodded and smiled thinly. “Fair enough. Through the Rift? You know the way?”

“I do. We might have Elven Hunters and Woodsmen join us. There’s likely to be goblins and trolls awaiting us, with who knows what else. We’ve seen ogres and boggarts as well.”

Catra nodded as her people got themselves organized and someone brought her a horse.

She told that one, “Get torches as well, we ride through the night.”

“And some arrows,” Ailith called after.

Someone brought her some. Not Jalila’s expert work but she could probably hit something with them.

Turning back to Ailith, Catra said, “So what is the Lady of Riverford doing crying aid for Raven’s Nest?”

“We had villages attacked, we took them to Raven’s Nest, it was closer.”

“From pan to fire. I’ve heard the Hunters and Woodsmen have been hard-pressed of late. It seems these creatures are getting bolder.”

A neat column formed. Catra had trained her people well.

Ailith and Catra took the head.

As they rode out, Ailith said, “If the Elves and Hunters are there, I’ll take those that have Elven bred horses ahead. We’ll mark the passages so you can follow. We can move more quickly and harry their flanks until you arrive.”

“Is the need that desperate?” Catra said.

Ailith nodded. “It is. Raven’s Nest has always had Riverford as a buffer. Their Guard is more formality than function. The Hunters and Woodsmen came in and I brought some of mine with me. Even so, even with every able-bodied person on the walls, they haven’t enough to hold the city long. They’ll be lucky to hold through the night.”

The thought was piercing.

Both of them knew they would be lucky to make it that swiftly.

With a gesture of her arm, Catra had her people pick up the pace. “Not so fast that they’ll be worn when they get there but faster. If the need is so great we won’t tarry.”

Turning, she shouted back to her troops, “We need one who knows the Rift, have we anyone?”