True Magics (51 page)

“Please,” said Thomas. “And thank you for helping us.”

“Our pleasure,” said Fenris. “Do try not to get killed.”

“They’re taking down one side of the barricades to let it through!” shouted the student on watch.

“Get ready!” Thomas yelled. “Is everyone at their post?”

“Yes, Captain!”

“The Academy and the king!” cried Graham.

Every student in the room raised their voice. “The Academy and the king!”

The ram slammed into the door with a BOOM that reverberated through the room and shook the door on its hinges.

“How long do you think the door will hold?” asked Jonathan.

“No idea,” said Thomas. “George?”

“Maybe ten blows,” said George. “If that.”

BOOM!

“We could open it first,” said William. “Time it to the battering ram.”

“And then what?” demanded Jonathan. “Get them all drinks?”

“I don’t know!” snapped William. “I was just thinking about saving the door!”

“Well, think about saving us!”

“We could charge their barricade,” said Michael. “If they’re attacking, we might be able to break their line.”

“We could drag in the ram,” said one of the smiths. “If it’s just a log on ropes, we could grab it and pull it in.”

BOOM!

That could work,
thought Thomas. “Michael, spread the word through the room so they know what’s happening. When the door opens, we charge. George, have your smiths brace the door.”

The smiths piled against the door, pushing on it and one another.

BOOM!

Thomas waited, counting under his breath.

BOOM!

About ten counts between hits.
Thomas kept his voice low and said, “George, get the bar off.”

George pulled the bar off the door and the smiths pushed even harder against it.

BOOM!

The door shook and moved, but only a little.

“On my call, everyone gets off the door,” Thomas said. “George, open it when I say! My squad and Carl’s attack from either side of the door. You and you,” he pointed at two smiths, “Get ready to grab the front of the ram when it comes in and pull it off its ropes. Try to pull it to the ground. We’ll kill the men holding it. Understand?”

“Yes, Captain!”

BOOM!

“Smiths away! Grabbers ready! Squads ready! We go through in twos!”

Eileen stood right behind him and the remains of the his company lined after. Carl’s squad lined up opposite, leaving enough space for George to open the door.

…Five, six, seven eight, nine,
“NOW!”

George hauled the door open, and the end of the log the men were using as a ram swung through, pulling the men holding it off balance. The smiths caught it on either side, pulling the ram forward and making the Church soldiers stagger. Two more smiths grabbed right behind them. Thomas thrust out, stabbing the closest soldier. The other troops outside tried to snatch the log back, but had to let go of the ropes and the end of it tumbled to the ground. Inside, two more smiths caught it and the six dragged it into the Broken Quill.

“Charge!” shouted Thomas. “The Academy!”

“The Academy!”

Thomas and Carl rushed out and the rest of their squads followed. Five Church soldiers fell in the first moments of the fight.

Maybe we can take the barricades!

Even as he thought it the Church soldiers rallied. The ones who had held the ram scrambled away over the barricades. The other Church soldiers advanced. Steel clashed and the soldiers, using their shields, pushed the students back. Past them, Thomas caught a glimpse of crossbow men on the intact part of the barricade, and saw the open part of the street filled with troops.

We can’t win this.
“Back! Everyone back!”

Carl fell with a sword in his gut as the words left Thomas’s mouth. The student behind Carl hit the ground a moment later, screaming and bleeding from a hacked-open leg. Thomas tried to grab him but the Church soldiers forced him back. Thomas cut and stabbed with his blade, trying to keep the soldiers back long enough for the others to get back inside.

He was nearly at the doorway when the crossbow bolt slammed into him.

It caught Thomas high in the chest, just beside his shoulder. His dagger flew out of his hand as he spun and slammed back against the doorframe. Thomas heard someone scream his name and then a large hand grabbed his cloak and yanked him inside. He stumbled and fell. George dragged him across the floor as a pair of smiths slammed the door shut. The rest of the smiths piled against it, pushing with all their weight. The door was hit hard from the other side and jolted in its hinges.

“Take him!” George shouted, and Eileen and Graham grabbed Thomas’s arms and hauled him to the barricades. Thomas yelled in pain as the bolt, still in his chest, grated against the bone and shifted as they pulled him.

George charged forward and slammed the bar into place on the door. “Smiths! Pick up that ram!” he shouted. “Jam it against the door!”

Eileen and Graham stopped pulling Thomas’s arms and the pain in his chest went down from unbearable to just excruciating. They propped him up against a table and Eileen knelt in front of him. “Thomas! Can you hear me? How bad is it?”

“I can hear you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how bad it…” He ran his hand up to the bolt and touched it. The pain flared worse and everything went red.

“Thomas!” Eileen’s voice broke through it. “Don’t you pass out! You hear me?”

“Get Madame Bright!” yelled Graham. “Now!”

“You have to heal yourself,” Eileen said. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. He looked at the hole in his chest. Blood soaked through his armour and the padding beneath it. “It’s bad.”

“It is,” said Graham.

Thomas looked away from the injury. “Who… else was hurt?”

“Carl’s dead,” said Graham. “Greg had his leg cut and fell. Michael was stabbed in the stomach.”

“Michael?” Thomas looked around. “Where?”

“Here, Captain,” said Michael. He was still standing, though barely. One hand was against his stomach. “Sword got through the chain mail.”

“How bad?”

“Not deep,” said Michael. “Hurts like mad, though.”

“Get him to the rest of the wounded,” said Thomas.

“Thomas!” Eileen sounded exasperated and scared. “Worry about yourself!”

“Oh, the Four protect us!” said Madame Bright, kneeling beside him. “That’s a nasty one.”

“We need…” the world started spinning. Thomas shook his head, trying to make it stop. “The bolt… out.”

“You’ll bleed to death,” said Graham. “I’ve seen these before. The artery is right underneath there.”

“I can’t heal it with the bolt there,” Thomas said. “Pull it out. Now!”

“You don’t want to…”

“George!” Eileen’s voice rang through the tavern. “Here! Now!”

George came at a run. “What?”

“Pull the bolt out. Fast.”

George hesitated, “Thomas, should I…”

“Do it,” Thomas managed through gritted teeth. “Hurry.”

George knelt, put a hand on Thomas’s chest, and grabbed the bolt. The world went red again and Thomas heard a sucking sound. For a moment the wound hurt less. Then the air hit it and Thomas yelled in pain. Blood gushed out of the wound.

“Heal yourself!” Eileen yelled. “Do it!”

Thomas slapped his hand over the wound. Blood slid through his fingers and down his chest. Thomas began chanting the healing spell—five words, over and over. White light flared from his hand and poured into his body. The pain of it drove his voice higher and louder, until he was screaming the words through clenched teeth.

Then everything went black.

29

Thomas came to his senses on the stage with the other wounded. He was propped up against the wall. His armour and shirt were both gone, and bandages wrapped his chest and shoulder. Pain pulsed in his chest in time with his heart, but nowhere near the agony it had been before. It took Thomas several tries to focus his eyes. When he finally managed it, he tried to push himself to his feet. A hand on his good arm stopped him.

“Don’t do it, Thomas,” said Angeline. “Not with a wound like that.” She held out a bowl and spoon. “Lucky you’re not dead, the way you were bleeding. Open your mouth.”

Thomas tried to protest, but the moment he opened his mouth the spoon went in and the broth on it was too good to resist. He let her feed him the whole bowl. The warmth of it spread through him and gave him strength. “Is Graham around?”

“He is,” said Angeline. “I’ll see about getting him.”

She went away. Thomas lay his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
I’ll just rest for a moment.

“Thomas?”

Thomas blinked awake. Graham, Eileen and George were all kneeling front of him. All three looked exhausted. Eileen put her hand on his. “How are you?”

“Hurting,” said Thomas.

“You should be worse, with a wound like that,” said Graham. “Dead, in fact.”

“You’re the second to say so,” said Thomas.

“Guess your magic worked,” said Graham. “Good thing. The Inquisitor will be very annoyed if he doesn’t get to torture you before he hangs you.”

Thomas’s eyes were focusing better, now. He looked around the room, saw weary students lying behind the barricades. There were no more wounded than the last time, at least. “How are things?”

“The same, mostly,” said Graham. “The front door cracked a bit in the last attack.”

“The last one?” Thomas tried to comprehend that. “How many have there been?”

“They’ve been coming at us all night.” Graham grimaced. “We drove off the last two attacks with boiling grease. Probably left some nasty marks. They’ll be back again soon, I expect.”

Thomas started to bring his feet under him. “Where do you need me?”

“Right where you are,” said Graham. “Get sleep. We’ll need you if they get through the door.”

Thomas wanted to argue, but the idea of sleeping seemed so good that he couldn’t think of anything else. “All right.”

“We’ll look in on you when they’re done.”

Thomas nodded, closed his eyes, and slept again.

“Morning!” Graham’s voice echoed through the room. “Those on duty stand down! Next group, to your posts!”

Students stirred themselves from sleep and groaned wearily as they stumbled to their spots behind the barricades. Thomas pushed up to his feet without thinking and, to his surprise, managed to stay standing. His chest was crusted with dried blood, and the wound still throbbed, but not nearly as much.

He spotted the company and Eileen by the front door. He stepped off the stage and headed for them.

“Captain!” Jonathan saw him first. “You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I was,” said Thomas. “I’m better.”

“Not enough to fight,” said Eileen. “Get back on the stage.”

“I can do more than just sit there.”

“Thomas!” Graham’s voice rang out across the room. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m better,” called Thomas, heading for him. Thomas wobbled a bit as he walked, but he managed to keep upright. “Where do you need me?”

“Sleeping on the stage,” said Graham.

“Well, I’m not going do any more of that.”

“Then go upstairs,” said Graham from behind them. “Take over watch at the front window. Eileen, help him up the steps, then get back here.”

“Right,” said Eileen. She grabbed Thomas’s good arm and put it over her shoulder. Together the two of them manoeuvred back to the stage. Eileen helped Thomas back into his armour, then up the stairs. The student in the front window stepped aside to let Thomas take his place. As soon as he was gone Eileen wrapped her arms around Thomas, and put her head on the uninjured side of his chest. “Oh, thank the Four.”

Thomas wrapped his good arm around her. “Don’t thank them too hard,” he said. “I barely made it up the stairs.”

Eileen kissed him. Passion and desperation pushed her lips hard against his. He pulled her close and kissed back just as hard. Tears streamed down Eileen’s face. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Not yet,” said Thomas. “We’re still all right.”

“For as long as the door holds,” said Eileen. “We’ll be fine.” She kissed him again and hugged him tight. “I’ve got to get back downstairs.”

“I know.”

“All right.” She hugged him once more and left. Thomas leaned against the wall, peering through the slats of the shutters. Morning light was shining down on the street, reflecting off the helmets of the Church soldiers beneath them.
I hope they’re all freezing.

The Church soldiers shifted in their positions, passing loaves of bread to each other. One soldier came by with by with a bucket that steamed, and poured hot mulled wine into the soldier’s cups. The scent of it reached up through the slats to Thomas. His stomach growled in response.
Too much to hope that breakfast will be any time soon.