Lady Knight (11 page)

Dom gathered his soldiers with an ear-piercing whistle. Kel heard the clatter of boots as the men of the Own ran for their waiting mounts. Dom clapped her on the shoulder and murmured in her ear, “You sound just like Lord Raoul.” Kel grinned, then returned her attention to the enemy as Dom raced down the stairs. Connac hand-signalled Sergeant Oluf and his squad to join the attack. Horn calls soared from Haven’s trumpeters, telling Merric his part of the plan.

Numair’s spell had done its work: flames rose from the ground at the enemy’s rear. There was no sign of either shaman in that large blaze. He’d burned them out of existence.

The Scanrans milled at the foot of the high ground as the north wall archers pelted them with arrows. When they started to draw back, Kel thought they were about to run, but she was wrong. They regrouped, sent half their number to try the road in the east, and prepared to climb directly to the gate once more.

“Hold your arrows,” Kel shouted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a soldier grab Fanche’s bow arm to stop her from shooting again. In the distance she heard Merric’s horn call: he was ready.

She nodded to Sergeant Connac, who bellowed, “On the gate!” Timbers creaked as a handful of civilians hauled one leaf of the massive gate open just wide enough to allow two riders to pass at a time. Dom and Sergeant Oluf led the charge through the gate while trumpeters signalled their attack. From the woods to Kel’s left she heard Merric’s trumpeter reply. His patrol squad streamed out of the woods at the gallop, Merric, fully armoured, in the lead, his sword unsheathed. He smashed into the Scanran flank. The attackers from Haven rode down to hammer the enemy from the front. The tide of battle had turned against the enemy.

Screams tore the air. Kel whirled, putting the spyglass to her eye. Soldiers and civilians alike hacked at black, insect-like arms as they reached over the top of the east wall. One soldier’s hand flew into the air, cut from his arm. The screams and shouts of warning came from those who didn’t need all their air to fight.

“Crossbow,” said Kel. She thrust the spyglass at Connac.

The sergeant didn’t wait to ask questions. He took the spyglass, unslung his quiver, and gave it and the crossbow to Kel. She handed over her longbow and quiver, then raced down the walkway, heart pounding in her throat as the domed helms of two killing devices showed above the eastern wall.

6
DEFENCE PLANS

Other civilians and soldiers on the walkway had turned to see what was happening. Kel shoved one corporal back towards the wall. “Keep your post!” she yelled, doing the same to a pair of civilians who stood gawping. “Do you want the enemy to come up this way while you stare?”

She barrelled down the wall, shoving those who didn’t listen back into their places, ordering them to watch the enemy outside. The crossbow was already set, a bolt in the notch. She wasted a breath on regrets for her griffin-fletched arrows, which seemed to aim themselves, and made the turn on to the eastern walkway.

“Move!” she snapped, thrusting onlookers aside. Ahead, a knot of soldiers and civilians battled the killing devices. It was disastrous. The things were quick, and the fighters had almost no protection against them. A man went down, gutted by a dagger-hand. A soldier flew off the walkway to the ground twenty feet below.

Kel yanked civilians and soldiers away from the closest device, which was only half over the wall. She levelled her bow at its helm, just five feet away, and pulled the trigger. Crossbow bolts, heavy enough to punch through armour, were devastating at such short range. This bolt slammed into the head-dome of the device to punch through the thick iron. Kel lunged within the reach of the three-jointed arms, prayed, and grabbed the bolt, yanking it out of the device. It left a small, round hole.

Something white and vaporous flowed out of the opening, crying like a child. The wind shredded the spirit as the device went dead in a clatter of metal and chains.

Kel fumbled for her quiver, dropping two bolts before she finally grasped one. “Get back!” she yelled at those who fought the remaining device. “Now!”

They obeyed. One refugee wasn’t quick enough; the device cut him lengthwise from behind as he turned to flee. This monster had made it on to the walkway. Sparrows fluttered around the narrow pits that served as its eyes, confusing it. Kel shot from just six feet away, but the thing turned its head. The bolt hit at an angle and bounced off, leaving only a scratch in the metal. The device shook its head and faced Kel. White-lipped, she grabbed the quiver and sought another bolt with trembling fingers.

“Look out!” Saefas shouted from the far side of the thing. He’d got a big axe and was guarding civilians until they could make it down the nearest stair. “Lady, lookup!”

Kel glanced up and threw herself back. A sledgeload of logs, raised from the ground by magic the colour of glittering black fire - Numair’s Gift - hung over the killing device. As Kel dodged, Numair’s magic dropped the logs. They slammed the metal creature and the walkway on which it stood down into the ground behind an unoccupied barracks.

Wasting no time, Kel raced down the flight of stairs behind her, where the walkway was undamaged. She set a bolt in the crossbow’s notch and yanked the heavy string to the trigger as she reached the heap of logs. It shifted. A claw hand shot out of a gap; logs rolled and tumbled as the device fought its way out from under them. As soon as she saw the head dome, Kel shot and hit squarely. She lurched over the treacherous logs until she could yank the bolt free. The trapped spirit that fuelled the killing device escaped, crying for its mother. Once it had fled, the logs and the thing under them were still.

As she was about to remove her helmet, Kel remembered that this wasn’t the only fight she had to worry about. She ran towards the gate, trying to ignore trembling knees and rolling stomach as the effect of fighting the devices hit her. They could have cut her to pieces, mail shirt or no. They had cut up some of her people.

Connac, still at his post over the gate, was looking for her. As soon as he saw her, he gave the hand sign for “battle won”. Kel sagged for a moment, relief making her giddy. But it would not do for her people to see her falter, even if they were safe for now. Somehow she found the strength to walk on to the gate. Tobe met her halfway, a water flask in his hands. Until she saw it, Kel hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. She drained it and smiled at him. It was good to know that when she needed him, Tobe was always there without argument or complaint. Part of his eagerness to help was still his worry that she would vanish, she knew, but she also liked to think it was because the little old man in him approved of the way she did things.

“I don’t know how I managed before you came along,” she said, handing the empty flask back to him. “I did a good day’s work when I hired you.”

Tobe swiped at his face with one hand, embarrassed, and went for more water as Kel dragged herself up the stairs to the watch post. Below, her men were checking the enemy on the ground. They gave the mercy-stroke to those too badly hurt for the healers to tend and to those Scanrans who begged for it. None of them wanted to be made a prisoner. Like Kel’s Yamani friends, Scanrans thought surrender was a loss of honour that could never be recovered. Most preferred to die fighting.

To hide the trembling of her fingers, Kel polished the lens of the spyglass with a handkerchief. She accepted a ladle of water from Sergeant Connac and drank it, then returned her gaze to the field below. Merric, his patrol, and the squad of soldiers from Haven were on their way up the inclined road. Dom hand-signalled Kel, asking for permission to check the north woods. Kel signalled for him to go ahead but take care. Connac was right. This battle was done.

“Nets,” she said abruptly, turning to survey the camp. People were laying out those who had been killed when the devices came over the wall. “Maybe nets would do it.”

“Milady?” asked Connac.

“I want nets made,” she said as Tobe reached her with a newly filled water flask. She gulped half of it. “Hemp, yes, but metal, too. Chain, wire, rods… Let’s salvage what we can from those devices for a start. The nets should measure twenty feet by twenty feet, and we’ll keep two for each side of the wall. And I want five pickaxes for each wall, equally spaced, where folk can get at them.”

“You think they’ll help with the devices?” Connac wanted to know.

“Those things can cut hemp, but metal woven into it ought to slow them down,” she said, putting the stopper into her flask. “Gods willing, it’ll slow them a bit so that someone can get close enough to crack their heads with the pickaxe, and let the magic out.”

“It’s a good idea,” Numair said. He looked dishevelled and sweaty but lively enough. Kel handed over her flask. The mage drained it. “I’ll help make the nets.”

“You’ll have to train the soldiers on them,” Fanche pointed out as she unstrung her bow. “Drill them. They’ll only get one chance to trap ‘em, those devices move so fast.”

Kel nodded. “We’ll drill them till they drop,” she promised absently, watching as Merric and his fighters rode through the gates. “And not just the soldiers. Anyone who can fight.” The new refugees who weren’t helping to carry the wounded to the infirmary or weeping for those killed on the road thanked the soldiers who’d saved their lives.

Perhaps now was the best time to speak to the newcomers and to the other civilians, Kel thought, before they learned that a fifth of their soldiers would be returning to Fort Steadfast in the morning. Kel looked at Tobe. “Would you tell Master Zamiel - that’s the new head clerk - I need four of his people, with note-taking materials, at the flagpole?” she asked. “I’ll need them to write up training rosters.”

The boy nodded and ran to do her bidding. Kel looked at Fanche, who observed her with a crooked smile.

“Amused?” Kel asked, feeling tired. “I could use a joke.”

Fanche shook her head. “I was just thinking that maybe you’re worth your feed.” She poked Saefas in the ribs with an elbow. “Let’s get our folk over to that pole.”

Saefas waved to Kel and trotted down the stairs after Fanche.

“Kel?” Merric called from the gate below. He’d removed his helmet to empty his water flask. His normally copper hair was dark and matted with sweat. His bright blue eyes glittered in his pale face. “I’m taking another patrol out for a look at the south woods.”

“Go, and be careful,” Kel told him. Merric nodded and began to reassemble his men.

After a moment spent watching them, Kel began to walk around the upper wall, talking to each person there, soldier and civilian, thanking them for their service as she took the opportunity to inspect the ground. She didn’t want any more surprises. Fortunately, none seemed to be available. When she reached the gap in the walkway, she climbed down the stairs, walked around the tumbled heap of logs atop the device, and climbed up to finish her inspection of her people and their surroundings.

One of the Goatstrack refugee girls found Kel after she had returned to the walkway over the gate. “Mistress Fanche says they’re waiting,” she said, panting from the trot up the stairs.

Kel followed her to the flagpole, Jump at their heels. As she made her way through the cluster of refugees, she listened to the trumpet signals that came over the wall. Patrols had found no more of the enemy lurking in the north or south woods. A knot she hadn’t noticed in her gut loosened. She’d been afraid there would be more Scanrans out there, waiting for them to relax after they’d beaten off one attack.

Kel stepped up on to a bench so everyone could see her, nodding to the four grey-robed clerks who stood nearby. “If each of you will take a place at one of the stocks?” she asked them. The clerks obeyed as Kel waited for the people around her to quiet down. When she had their attention, she called, “How many of you shoot bows?” she asked. “Raise your hands. I want anyone over the age of ten or so, no matter if your shooting is good or bad.”

Hands went up in response. “All of you, sign up with…” Kel pointed to the female clerk at the southern stocks.

“Hildurra Ward,” the woman said, getting to her feet to bow.

“When I’m done talking, give Mistress Hildurra your names,” Kel ordered them. “How many can use a sling?” More hands went up, including those of girls and boys who looked to be under thirteen. Mountain children, who watched the family herds, learned to use slings to fight off predators. She assigned those people to a clerk, then did the same for those who could wield a staff or pitchfork. Anyone who was skilled with more than one weapon, Kel directed to sign up on the appropriate lists. “No doubt you’re wondering why I ask this,” Kel went on, looking into the many faces turned up to her. “Or perhaps you’ve guessed already. Tomorrow, after breakfast, we start holding weapons training for you.” A moan went up from the refugees. Kel waited for them to be quiet, taking a drink from her water flask as she did so. When they were silent she continued, very much aware of the soldiers watching from the ramparts. “Training can’t be put off. We’re not a fort, we’re a refugee camp. That means we don’t have as many soldiers as the forts, and one quarter of our men will always be out on patrol. If we’re to defend ourselves properly, we need everyone who can use a weapon. I’ll put your training group assignments up in the mess hall in the morning.” She smiled ruefully. “I had meant to give you time to settle in, but as you see, the enemy had other plans.” A mutter of curses ran through the crowd. “One more group I need,” Kel went on, “young people who are good with horses, who can saddle them. Hands.”

Hands shot up all through the gathering.

“Sign up with our neglected clerk,” she said, pointing out a boy not much older than Tobe, who wore the blue ribbon trim on his sleeves that indicated he was an apprentice. “You saw how little warning we get. The moment any of you who work horse detail hears the signal for an attack, drop whatever you’re doing, head for the stables, and start saddling horses. You’ll have a trainer when you report to the stable tomorrow, someone to check your work and teach you better ways to do it. Soldiers shouldn’t waste time saddling up and finding their weapons. Understood?”