Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (66 page)

Still, despite summers of habit, she could stop
diverting so much of her Source to keeping her youth and instead try to ambush
Jinzan. It would cost winters off her life perhaps—life extension was like a
dam, and unleashing it would cause much trouble that could not be quickly or
completely undone—but she could be a hero to Kadrin.

If we win
,
she amended to herself.

If things went badly, maybe she would consider his
offer.

*
* * * * * * *

[I grow weary,] Ni’Hash’Tk muttered, heeding the
warning G’thk had given her about remaining quiet to retain the element of
surprise.

She understood the logic of it and was rather enjoying
the sound of K’k’rt’s new toys, but it was
cold
outside, and while
dragons were warm-blooded and she was in no danger of hypothermia, as were her
minions, she longed for the comfort of volcanic caverns.

The city was peopled by humans, with their knights and
sorcerers, and according to Gkt’Lr at least, a demon. Aside from the last, the
rest barely registered as threats, and she did not fear the demon.

[Patience, Mighty One,] G’thk advised.

His lesser-ranked generals had taken over conducting
the battle as soon as she had arrived. G’thk had devoted his energies to trying
to placate her and keep her amused while her worshipers dallied about in their
conquest of the human city. There was nothing he could do—either by law or
through force—to stop her seizing his army from him if she tired of waiting for
him to deliver the city.

[We do not wish to waste any of our troops. Let the
tinkers’ weapons do their work on the K’drn’s defenses first.]

[Send for my masseurs. I wish my wings readied for
flight,] Ni’Hash’Tk instructed, thinking that once she felt up to it, she would
join the battle. It had been some winters since she last flew anything other
than lazy loops around her lair to enjoy fine weather or to awe her worshipers
on holy days. Her muscles ought to be worked loose before testing them in
combat.

G’thk relayed the order and added a few of his own. He
could sense her impatience, she could tell; he was an attentive and perceptive
minion. While Ni’Hash’Tk was utterly confident in her imperviousness, G’thk was
cautious and wished to conduct a proper military operation, with few risks and
total victory, or so he claimed. Goblins would need to live in that city when
they were done conquering it, and razing it with dragonfire was
counterproductive, or so he claimed.

G’thk plugged his ears.

Kthooom!
Kthooom!
Kthooom! Kthooom!

Ni’Hash’Tk clenched her jaw tight to keep from wincing
at the sound, which was beginning to wear on her as much as her general’s empty
claims. How many more such volleys would she have to put up with before she
took matters into her own claws?

*
* * * * * * *

“Wolves!” the shout came and then was carried down the
wall.

Defenders poked their heads above the ruins of the
wall, wherever they could find shelter. Brannis had ordered the evacuation of
the wall except for a handful of lookouts, who were posted on the highest
remaining points of the wall. Ladders had been moved into place based on where
there was still a place worth climbing. All four of the wall’s towers had been
damaged beyond the point where any sane soldier would man them; thus only a
handful remained stationed there, Iridan among them. The would-be warlock was
weary of being shot at by unseen engines of war and hungered to show off the
real trick his warlock father had taught him during his brief tutelage.

“Man the walls!” Brannis ordered.

Soldiers and militia alike took up spears and climbed
the ruins of the wall to gain the hilltop they now formed. Men helped one
another up by clasped wrists and knees used as stepladders, any method they
could find to get in place to finally face their enemy on the field of battle.

Those at the top saw what appeared to be a stampede of
wolves, black furred and near to the height of a horse. These were Ni’Hash’Tk’s
outriders, though none of the defenders could have known that. For the last two
days, the Raynesdark scouts who ventured beyond sight of the city walls were
overrun and killed by these same packs of monstrous wolves—and their riders.
The wolves carried the goblin equivalent of light cavalry, armed with spears
and daggers, and they were having no difficulty traversing the snow-dusted
plains that filled the void between the Kadrin defenders and the main goblin
host.

The wolves were equipped for battle, with steel
helmets that were fanned out at the edges to offer a semicircular screen for
the rider to duck behind for cover. Thick leather collars and vests protected
their vulnerable necks and underbellies. Goblins left little they dealt with
unimproved; their animals were no exception.

The wolves threw up great sprays of powdery snow as
they ran, seemingly extending the cloud of fog as they ran. But as the snow
fell back upon the earth, it revealed goblins on foot, following in the path
trampled by the wolves. The goblins did not hoot and cheer as humans might as
they charged into battle. Their tiny voices did not carry far enough or with
enough resonance to strike fear into enemies’ hearts, and they knew it. Thus
onward they came with just the panting of wolves as their herald, still too far
away to be heard by their enemies, yet closing rapidly.

Men upon the remains of Raynesdark’s battlements
shifted nervously and tightened grips on their spears. On the bit of walls and
tower that remained, archers arrayed themselves as best they could manage to
steady a shot.

“Archers, fire on the wolves as they come into range!
Save the enchanted arrows for now!” Brannis shouted.

Bows twanged as the archers took that for liberty to
begin firing immediately, and some of the arrows reached their mark.

*
* * * * * * *

The view from atop the avalanche wall was
breathtaking. Higher than even the top towers of the castle, Juliana could see
out over the entire battlefield—though she still could not see what was
concealed in the fog.

They must keep their command back there, and obviously
there are the cannons, but what else are they hiding? They must have some other
trick, or keeping the fog up is just a waste of aether.

The runes were damaged along a long stretch of the
avalanche wall. She had struggled with disabling the physical protections of
the surface long enough to damage the wards that bore the weight of the
Neverthaw Glacier above. She wondered how old the wall was. It was weathered
and water stained but in perfectly functional condition. She had never been a
strong student of history, but she had gathered that the wall was probably
nearly as old as the city itself—thousands of summers. Juliana felt a pang of
regret at what she might have just set on a path to destruction. One day,
history books might list her as the one who had destroyed Raynesdark’s ancient
wall, a monument to the early days of the Empire.

But will they see me as a vandal, recklessly toppling
a piece of the Empire’s heritage, or as the savior who was willing to place the
lives of everyone in Raynesdark ahead of the architectural richness of their
forebears.

She watched for a moment longer, fascinated by the
battle unfolding so far off. The forces arrayed on both sides looked like the
tiny ceramic figurines sold in the markets, little clusters of toy people and
goblins, too small to be real but so amazingly lifelike in their detail. It was
easy to ignore the fact that the figures breathed and bled and screamed, when
seen from so far away.

Suddenly the plains erupted in flame. A huge swath of
the pack of charging wolves turned into living flame. The charge broke off and
diverted around the destruction but kept coming.

Unless that worm Caldrax did that, Iridan must have
just cast that firestorm spell. That was no firehurling—not on
that
scale for sure. Just … be safe, please,
Iridan? You are not your father. Fate willing, you never will be
.

*
* * * * * * *

[I sensed that!] Ni’Hash’Tk snarled, sending G’thk and
the masseurs stumbling away from her reflexive shift to an alert posture.

[Mighty One, I understand your desire for combat. I
cannot see any reason you should not join the battle at your leisure. I know
you are supremely powerful, but please have care, Holy One. This human feels
powerful, and I do not wish to see you injured,] G’thk said, trying to instill
some thought of caution in his arrogant goddess.

She knew that she would be fine and wished that her
followers would show a bit more confidence in her power. G’thk, she suspected,
was more concerned over the damage she might inflict on his new city.

*
* * * * * * *

So it seems the demon has joined the battle. If the
great beast wishes to confront the thing directly, so be it. It seems strong
enough, though I imagine I could hold my own against it, if that is the extent
of its power.

Jinzan had spent most of the day pacing. He needed
access to the city and did not want to risk open battle if he could at all
avoid it. His mission was more important than the overall conquest. The Staff
of Gehlen was all that mattered.

Well, maybe not all that matters. The loss of the
Raynesdark mines will hurt the Empire, though not fatally. There is the girl,
too.

It was a silly, impulsive decision, he knew. Before he
had known she was a spy, he had bedded her because she was there and willing,
nothing more. But she was a captivating creature now that he knew more of her.
Comely enough to be sure, but she was devious and cunning, and did what it took
to survive. Oh, he knew that she came to his bed to gain his protection and
nothing more; that was simple enough to grasp. But she lied to him at every
turn, and did it well. Certainly she was not the same caliber of liar as that
snake Kyrus, but Jinzan also had resources that Denrik lacked.

Jinzan has studied her Source thoroughly as she slept.
He was no novice and could see subtleties in the swirls and whorls of the
aether that most others could not discern. He was able to pick up the signs of
extensive life extension taking its toll on the power of her Source. Oh, it was
healthy enough, but starved and weakened. If she was nineteen autumns, he was a
goblin.

But it was her deceptions and will to survive that he
admired in her. She was living the life she was given and making her way. He
would take her back to Megrenn as more than a trophy; his interest in her was
genuine. She might encounter some small hostility, being Kadrin-born, but
Megrenn was nothing if not accepting, and his standing was more than sufficient
to validate her among the elite of the kingdom.

Jinzan reached into his pocket, feeling the cold, hard
surface of the tiny cannon that was secreted away within. Another pocket held a
bag filled with tiny cannonballs, and a pouch contained black powder, wadding,
a powder horn, ram, and swab. He had pilfered the materiel from the goblin
batteries and used his magic to shrink them down. It was exacting magic, using
the aether to crush everything down equally and lightening it proportionally.
The little cannon kit moved awkwardly as he fiddled with the pieces; they were
intact cannon components, just compressed, and every bit of them was still
there. The portion of the spell that made them feel manageably light was not
quite as precise, and the pieces did not handle as if they were miniatures made
to be the size they were.

Awkward or not, they were the key to his plan. If anything
went wrong with the battle, he would not have to rely on the goblins giving him
the use of one of the cannons as they fought for their lives.

*
* * * * * * *

The first of the wolves reached the mountain road up
to Raynesdark. Unable to scale the low cliffs that separated the switchbacks,
they were forced to weave back and forth as the road wended its way up toward
the city gate. Built for defense, Raynesdark had only the one gate.

Arrows fired down from what remained of the wall,
expertly picking off the wolves as they ran sidelong to the wall. The armored
helmets for the reckless goblin cavalry were designed to protect them as they
mounted a frontal charge. The Kadrin arrows were finding flanks left bare to
allow for speed.

“Help me with him. Get him down to the ground,” one of
the lookouts said, holding a slumping Iridan under the arms.

His third firestorm had taken from his own Source for
aether and left him spent. He was conscious, but exhausted, and was ready to
fall off the wreckage of the tower he had taken up position on if no one else
was ready with aid.

Having seen the aid his magic had been, spearmen
rushed over to help lower Iridan to ground level, hoping fervently that he
would be able to rejoin the battle. The more of the goblins he slew, the fewer
that they would have to fend off. Iridan’s head lolled to the side as he was
handed down into the waiting arms of Duke Pellaton’s troops.

Brannis spared a glance after his friend’s well-being,
but he had to focus on the enemy and the command of his own troops.