Sunset of Lantonne (87 page)

Deep down, Raeln wondered if the Turessians actually wanted to be seen, to let the city know and dread what was coming.

*

“How much time do we have, if they come straight here?” asked Phillith, prodding at the dying fire with a long stick. “You said you’ve seen them move before—how fast can they reach the gates?”

“Four hours, maybe less, if they march as a group for the northern gate,” Raeln told him, getting a nod of agreement from Greth. “I’d say we have almost a day before they can circle the city. They probably won’t attack until the other groups get closer, and they’re still a ways out. I doubt they’ll wait until the city is completely surrounded, but they will wait until the additional forces are close enough to stop anyone who flees.”

Raeln looked up at the star-laden sky and guessed they still had at least five hours until dawn. If the Turessians wanted to, they could attack with first light.

“When will the army come back?” Greth asked Phillith after a short lull.

“Assuming they’re alive, maybe another day or two. They left a while back, probably two weeks by now. If they spent a full day fighting and two days recovering, I’d say the dawn after this is the soonest they might show up.”

“There’s no way we won’t be neck-deep in walking corpses by then,” admitted Greth. “The Turessians aren’t stupid. If they see those troops coming back, they’ll rush in. Maybe if we go over your supplies again, we could find some way—”

“We’re going to be fighting hand-to-hand with them, and we’ve already done all we can to slow the rate they can get in,” cut in Phillith, tossing the stick into the fire and sending up sparks. “Supplies don’t make a difference…numbers of soldiers do, and that’s not something I can shit out.

“You two won’t do me any good if you spend the next day telling me what I already know. Bed down and get some rest. I need you both at your best for when the attack comes. We need to be ready from the earliest moment they could strike.”

Greth seemed ready to argue, but then lowered his head and softly agreed with Phillith. He glanced toward the small barracks nearby where many of the archers were resting.

“We’ve filled that place,” noted Phillith, without looking up. “Got two dozen able-bodied civilians in there with weapons, trying to convince themselves they can help. Take one of the stalls in the abandoned stable over there. The place is all I can offer you other than sleeping in the street, but it’s clean and quiet. I think there’s hay in there to sleep on, so it’s better than the street.”

Raeln stared at the dying fire, trying to think about what he could do. He intended to go to bed at some point, but he wanted to think things through a little longer. He was so wrapped up in contemplation of the ways into the city that he jumped a little when Greth took his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“He gave us an order, Raeln,” the man told him, dragging him toward the stables. “You and I are supposed to fight together, so I expect you to sleep if I’m going to. I don’t want you getting me killed.”

“I won’t,” Raeln promised, pulling his hand free but following Greth. “I’ll get you out of here one way or another. I know you have a life to get back to. I just don’t know how, but I will get you back to the mountains.”

Greth threw open one of the stalls near the entrance to the dark stable. The large sheltered area was filled with dry straw, but Phillith had been right: it was clean and had even lost most of its smell. The place had obviously not been used in some time.

“I’ve got a life, sure,” Greth said as he closed them in. “It’s here. I should have died fighting for my pack, but they’re gone. Everyone I know or care about is here in Lantonne. Going home doesn’t mean much if everyone’s dead.”

Raeln sat down on the hay off to one side of the stall, trying to give Greth room on the other. He flopped onto his back, not really sure what else to say. His mind raced through scenarios of combat, making relaxing difficult. Each thought led back to how he would get Greth out of the city.

“You have someone to go home to,” Raeln finally said once Greth had lain down on the far side of the stall. “I overheard you talking with Ilarra. I’ll do whatever I can to get you back to her alive.”

“To Ilarra? I’m really confused right now. Did you hit your head?”

“No, to whoever you have back in the wilds. I swear to you I’ll find a way to have you set foot in the mountains again.”

“Raeln, I don’t have anyone. I already told you, everyone I know to still be alive is here, and it’s usually my job to watch your back, not the other way around.”

Raeln propped himself up on one elbow to look over at Greth, though he could barely see him in the dark stall. “You told Ilarra that you were going to leave, to be with someone, and you were sending her and I home.”

Greth snorted and laughed. “Spying is rude. You’re also awful at it. Stick with kicking people in the head—you do that a lot better.”

They lay there in silence for several minutes until Raeln settled back down, confused but not willing to push the issue further. He had already said more than he should have and had likely made Greth uncomfortable, especially admitting that he had listened in on his and Ilarra’s conversation.

As Raeln started to drift off, he realized Greth had moved and was in the process of lying down at his side. He tensed and listened for an attack or other reason for Greth to have gotten up, but heard nothing but the creaking of the stable.

“I’m only cold, so don’t get any ideas,” Greth said unconvincingly, putting an arm over Raeln’s chest and burying his face against Raeln’s neck. “If you say a word, I will claw your face off. We’ll talk about this if and when we live through the siege. Understood?”

“Does this mean…?”

“Claws. Face. I’m serious about that,” Greth warned again, tapping his claws on Raeln’s chest for emphasis. “Go to sleep.”

Raeln opted to keep his mouth shut at that point and accept the company. Whether it meant anything or not, he was happy to have Greth close, knowing they would likely both die as soon as the undead attacked.

*

Raeln woke late in the morning to a loud kick to the stall door. As he came to, he realized he had his arms around Greth and quickly let go before Greth was fully awake. There might be regrets on Greth’s side of things as it was, and there was no reason to compound the problem.

“We’re awake,” Raeln called out, though a mumbled remark from Greth sounded as though he were disagreeing.

“They’re forming up,” came Phillith’s voice outside the door. “Looks like the other groups are pushing hard to circle the city. Main force could be marching down our throats inside of three hours, but we’re probably looking at eight or more before we’re trapped. You have time, but I want everyone on alert in case there are surprises.”

Raeln looked over at Greth, who had just begun to open his eyes and look around. He nodded and reached for his weapons, clearly having heard what was said.

“We’re ready,” Raeln answered, digging his own weapons out of the hay. “Let’s see what we have going for us today.”

Stumbling out of the stall, Raeln found Phillith leaning against the wall outside. The man gave Raeln a grim stare, then shoved a thumb toward the stall.

“You two good with whatever happens today?” he asked softly. “Made peace with the possibility of losing each other?”

Raeln’s fur went up and he tried to find some way to explain away anything Phillith had seen, but the old human raised a hand to stop him.

“I have four sons and a daughter, Raeln,” explained Phillith. “The girl and two boys are married and churning out kids. One son only wants to be in the army and couldn’t care less about anything else. The other boy, him and his husband moved south a couple years back.

“Every soldier looks for someone to comfort them on the night before war,” he added. “The married ones go see their wives. The unmarried ones find a whore. The ones that don’t do either usually end up sharing a bed. I’m too old to be ignorant of how things are, and by my old bones, I couldn’t care less. I need my men to think straight, no matter what it takes for them to get ready.”

“This isn’t a problem, then?” asked Raeln nervously. “Are you sure?”

“It’s not a problem for me,” Phillith answered, laughing dryly. “If it’s a problem for you, then you two have a lot of explaining to do to each other when this battle is over. Now get your fuzzy ass out to the gate before I drag you by the scruff like I did when you were still smaller than me.”

Starting to turn but then stopping, Raeln debated whether to bring up what plagued his conscience, but Phillith’s expression seemed to say
Out with it, already
. “When did Lantonne begin enslaving people?” he asked, lowering his head to avoid the confused and upset look Phillith gave him. “I’ve seen the camps.”

“It’s…well, they tell me it’s temporary. Only foreigners and only until everyone’s sure they aren’t working with the enemy. They aren’t really slaves—”

“I’ve been in a camp,” objected Raeln firmly, noticing Phillith’s shoulders dipped slightly. He must know what was going on there and had tried to convince himself it was something it was not. “Hundreds of hardy people that would give anything to stand at our sides and fight their enemies and ours. They’re all going to die out in those camps when the undead overrun the city. Even if they aren’t allowed in the city, we should be putting weapons in their hands and setting them free to fight for their lives.”

“I know, boy. Trust me, I know. I’ve sent at least a dozen messages to the king, but his bloody regent keeps telling me to worry about the army, not the foreigners.”

“Phillith, I’ve seen you punch the king’s messengers in the face for delivering bad news. Would you let a regent order you to do the wrong thing? There are people out there who know how to fight, who have skills we need. While I was there, I met one of the most skilled healers I’ve ever seen…and we both know we’re going to need healers when this battle starts. We need those people.”

The old man’s frown deepened to the point Raeln worried he might hurt himself. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ll send men down there immediately to arm the prisoners and bring them in through the south gate before the regent can argue. Get yourself to the wall before I change my mind.”

Raeln thanked Phillith, then hurried from the stable before he had to face Greth, who he could hear moving around in the stall. He had no idea what to say and worried any argument or confrontation about the night might put them both at risk in the upcoming battle, so made his way to the gate alone to head off any discussion.

When Raeln arrived at the gates, he was somewhat pleased to find there were more soldiers than there had been during the night. They were still spread thin along the walls, but from the looks of things, dozens of men and a few women from the populace had come to aid the armored soldiers. Some appeared to be hunters or at least moderately trained to use the weapons they carried, while others were eyeing their bows as if they might bite. Still, more people armed and willing to fight was a good thing, even if they were not trained. These people knew what was at stake and were willing to stand at the front line, and that was certainly something.

The barricade that had been set up at the gate had been heavily reinforced during the night. All the gaps and openings a zombie might crawl through had been closed off with stones or barrels taken from around the district. The only way anything was coming through the gate was down the narrow passage between the toppled wagons and any defenders waiting there, while the people on top of the wall fired down on them.

Raeln made his way into the gap between the wagons and sat down with his sword across his lap. He closed his eyes and waited, forcing himself to relax through meditation and calming himself for what was to come.

“What armor or weapons do you need?” asked a young elven man minutes later, stopping near Raeln with a cart piled high with mismatched armor, shields, and weapons. “A sword, pants, and a shirt aren’t a good way to face this.”

Raeln stood up and looked over the cart’s contents, trying to decide how best to help himself. He preferred fighting without the bulk of armor, and weapons were unneeded when he fought living beings, but he knew this was going to be very different from past battles. Weapons would give him reach against the undead, and he would need to minimize the injuries he sustained if he was to keep fighting.