The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (32 page)

"Dahren?" Kaila looked over at Kreg.

Kreg laughed. "After all his posturing, it's Dahren who turned coward."

Kaila smiled wryly.  To the page, she said, "Tell Shillond that we too repulsed our attack with losses.  Bid him hold as he is able and we shall do likewise."

"Aye, Your Grace." The page bowed to her and left.

Kreg noticed Bertan hovering by his elbow. "Is something on your mind?" he asked.

"Kreg," Bertan said hesitantly, "I'm sorry...I..."

Kreg looked from Bertan to the body of the man he had killed. "The first man you ever killed?"

"Aye." Bertan stared at his boots. "I had not thought I'd turn coward."

"You didn't turn coward," Kreg said. "It's not uncommon to freeze after something like that." He pointed at the body with his sword. "It happened to me my first time."

"You?" Bertan looked up at him.

"Me," Kreg said. "And all through the battle, all through all the battles I've been in, I've been terrified."

"But...but you're a hero."

Kreg shrugged. "Maybe.  That's for others to judge, not me.  For the most part I've been trying to stay alive, that's all.  The point is, being afraid does not make you a coward." Again, he pointed at the body. "And never, never be ashamed that killing is not easy.  Sometimes--all too often--it's necessary, but it should never be easy.  Do you understand?"

"I...I think so."

Kreg smiled. "Another time, Bertan."

Kreg looked up at Kaila.  She nodded at him.  A moment later, she said, "I am going to send the guards down in shifts to rest.  They will fight the better for it, methinks."

"Good idea," Kreg said. "I could use a rest myself."

"Aye," Kaila said. "It was my thought that you be in the first group."

Kreg opened his mouth, but Kaila said, "Nay.  No protests.  You are tired and we cannot afford your loss."

Kreg decided he was too tired to argue.

Seeing acquiescence in his expression, Kaila nodded. "Bertan, guard him well."

"With my life, Your Grace."

Kreg descended the ladder considerably more slowly than he had climbed it.

#

"Here they come!" Someone shouted.

Kreg stood on the battlement as he watched the second wave of the attack begin.  This time the few incoming arrows all rose from the ground.  Siege towers were not so easily replaced as the ladders.

Near him stood Kaila and Bertan, along with a soldier in armor without surcoat or crest to helm.  Whether squire or man-at-arms, Kreg could not tell.  A little farther along the wall stood others, knights and squires and men-at-arms mixed with archers and those of the peasant levies steady enough to stand on the wall.

An instant before the first ladders swung up against the wall, Kreg glanced back at the other armored figure near him.  Squire, he thought.  He seemed somehow familiar.

Just as that thought crossed Kreg's mind, the attack began in earnest.  A ladder came up near them and Kreg ran to be ready to push it over.  Bertan helped him, using a long pole to continue the push beyond arms' reach.  The pole was necessary.  The Schahi had learned from their previous attack and had set the ladders with their bases somewhat farther from the wall.  Still, the ladder went over.

"The city burns," Bertan cried, pointing.

Kreg glanced over his shoulder.  In the distance, thick columns of black smoke rose.

"Kaila?" Kreg said. "Would Shillond have fired the town for any reason?"

"Nay," Kaila paused to thrust through the faceplate of a Schahi soldier who had reached the top of the wall. "What purpose would it serve?"

"Then the Schahi have broken through."

"We must hold," she shouted back to him. "Shillond may yet be able to close the breach.  It is our only hope."

Kreg did not answer.  Instead, he placed one foot on a ladder and shoved, pushing it away from the wall, where Bertan with his pole could keep it falling, and shoving himself back so that he faced another Schahi.  Steel rang on steel and the Schahi died.

The attack continued as the afternoon wore on.  Kreg fought until he could barely lift his arm to swing his sword.  Still the Schahi pressed on.

During a momentary lull, Kreg let his sword arm drop to his side while he gulped in huge lungfuls of air.  He looked around.  Bertan still fought nearby, his sword red and dripping clear to the hilts.  Kaila and the unknown squire fought to his other side.  The wind had risen from the west, carrying the smoke from the burning city to them.  Kreg's eyes teared and his breath caught in his throat as a gust brought a particularly acrid billow to him.  He turned back to the fight, coming to Bertan's aid.

As the Schahi fell, Kreg started to turn back in the other direction.  Before he had halfway completed the turn, he caught a glimpse of motion that brought him spinning the rest of the way around.

The squire had crouched and lunged, catching Kaila in the waist with his shoulder.  He continued the lunge, sweeping her off the edge of the battlement.

As Kaila fell, Kreg leaped to the edge of the wall.  Below, he could see Schahi swarming around her.  As Kreg watched, helpless, he saw them carry her, still struggling, away.

His scream tore from his throat, cutting like broken glass. "Kaila!"

#

"Traitor!" Bertan dashed past Kreg and slashed at the squire with his sword.  The squire leaped back and parried Bertan's blow, then made a slash of his own.

When Bertan parried, the squire twisted his wrists in an unusual way and his blade pivoted under Bertan's.  His slash turned into a thrust and struck Bertan in the shoulder.  Chain mail rings broke.  Blood spurted.  Bertan fell, clutching his shoulder.

Kreg had seen that technique before. "Dahren!"

The squire, no, the knight Dahren, turned to face Kreg, his sword held at high guard.

"What, no taunts?" Kreg smiled grimly as he raised his own sword into guard.

Dahren remained silent.

Kreg lunged, fatigue forgotten.  Dahren parried but before he could counter, Kreg snapped his sword back around in a low slash, aiming at the knees.  Again, Dahren parried and again, Kreg pressed the attack before he could counter.

Twelve attacks Dahren parried without making one of his own.

Kreg kept close watch on Dahren's movements even as he pressed his attack.  He did not want to give him any opportunity to escape.  Not now.  Not with Bertan's blood still staining the battlements.  Not with Kaila dead or a prisoner.

Dahren dropped one hand from his sword.  Kreg, wary, leaped back while Dahren reached behind his own back.

Dahren's hand whipped from behind his back, Kreg twisted and a thrown dagger glanced off his breastplate, ripping his surcoat.

"Is that the best you can do?" Kreg asked.

"Who are you?" Dahren asked. "What are you?"

"I am Kreg," he said, his voice calm in his own ears. "I am your death." It sounded fatuous in his own ears.

They closed again, more warily this time.  They circled, each watching the other for any hint of weakness, any opening in his guard.  Slight shifts of position countered slight shifts by the other.

Kreg struck first.  Dahren parried and backed.  Kreg followed.

Kreg's next blow caught Dahren in the wrist.  Although his sword did not penetrate the mail, Kreg heard bone crack.  Dahren dropped his sword.

Dahren dropped to his knees. "Mercy!  I beg you!"

"Like you gave Kaila?" Kreg's lunge took Dahren in the throat, rupturing the mail.  Blood sprayed as Dahren sank to the stones.

Kreg glanced around him.  Others had repulsed The Schahi attack while he fought Dahren.  A knight approached.  Kreg did not recognize the device on his surcoat.

"Where is the Duke Kaila?" the knight asked.

"Taken," Kreg said.  No need to discuss the details.  Morale would be low enough already and talk of treason would only make it worse.

"Taken?" Kreg could hear fear in the knight's voice.  A moment later, he said, "You are Sir Kreg, are you not?"

"I am," Kreg said.

"Then tell us.  What must we do?  The knight pointed at the army encircling the city. "They will be back." He pointed back at the rising plumes of smoke.  Smoke had already begun to choke the air even from this distance. "Methinks the city might already be falling."

Kreg stared at the knight.  The knight was looking to him for leadership.  Kreg wanted to scream.  I'm not ready for this.  And yet, the knight waited. "Get the wounded down off the wall.  Leave them under guard of those wounded who can still walk." He nodded toward the smoke columns. "If the Schahi have indeed broken through, they may need the protection.  We might also have problems with looters but I don't see that we can do anything about it." He paused for a moment. "Arrange rest breaks in rotation, but keep everyone close.  We may need them swiftly if, no, when, the Schahi attack again."

"Yes, Sir Kreg." The knight flipped up his visor, nodded once, and slapped it shut.  He turned and strode off.

Kreg knelt by Bertan's still form.  Bertan still clutched his shoulder.  As Kreg flipped up Bertan's visor, his eyes flicked open.

"I tried to stop him, Sir Kreg," Bertan said. "I couldn't move fast enough."

"It's okay, Bertan," Kreg said. "I wasn't quick enough either." His eyes narrowed. "I got the bastard though."

Bertan nodded and winced. "Am I going to die?"

Kreg glanced down at Bertan's shoulder.  Blood still leaked in pulses from under Bertan's hand: too much blood. "I don't think so," he lied. "Let me see the wound."

Bertan moved his hand.  More blood spurted from the gash.

Kreg immediately clamped his own hand over the wound and pressed hard, hard enough that Bertan gasped in pain.  With his free hand, Kreg drew his dagger and hacked a swath of cloth from the hem of his surcoat.  Fumbling one-handed, he folded it into a pad.  Finally, he released Bertan's shoulder long enough to shove the pad through the rent in the armor and against the wound before clamping down on it again.

"Here, Bertan," Kreg took Bertan's hand and placed it on his shoulder in place of his own. "Hold that and press hard."

Using Bertan's sword belt and another strip of cloth cut from his surcoat, Kreg strapped Bertan's hand in place to keep pressure on the wound.

Sometime during Kreg's ministrations Bertan stopped breathing.

#

"Kreg?" Kreg looked up at the sound of that familiar voice.  His arms, his shoulders, his back, all throbbed from his effort to revive Bertan.  Kreg did not know how long he had worked over Bertan but in the end he had collapsed in exhaustion.

Shillond stood next to him.  He nodded down at Bertan's body. "Is he?"

Kreg nodded. "I tried, Shillond," Kreg said. "Gods, I tried but I couldn't save him."

Shillond laid a hand on Kreg's shoulder and squeezed.

Kreg wiped at his eyes. "I thought you were handling the defense of the other side of the city."

Shillond shook his head and reached up to rub at the soot that smudged one cheek. "We've lost there," he said. "The Schahi are already in the city and coming this way.  They'd be here already except they're stopping to burn everything."

Kreg leaned back against the parapet. "So it's over."

Shillond shook his head. "It may be.  I don't know."

He paused for a long moment then continued. "I heard that Kaila..."

Kreg swallowed a hard lump before answering. "She was pushed from the wall.  I saw her carried away by the Schahi.  She was still struggling, so she was alive then.  I don't know about now."

Kreg watched Shillond for his reaction.  Shillond's fists clenched.  His lower jaw trembled for a moment.  Then, with a visible effort, Shillond brought himself under control. "How did it happen?  I cannot believe she would have been so careless."

"She wasn't," Kreg said. "She was betrayed by someone she thought an ally.  He poked at Dahren’s body with his sword. "I found Dahren.  I guess he hated Kaila enough to risk the destruction of Norveth just to arrange her death.  I killed him, but too late.  He had already attacked Kaila and killed Bertan, although it took Bertan a while to die." His eyes met Shillond's "Bertan was faster than I was.  If I'd reacted just a little sooner, he would still be alive."

"I'm sorry, Kreg.  Truly I am," Shillond said. "But we need to know what to do now."

“Bertan the Valiant, to the very end.” Kreg shook his head. "We fight as best we can.  Take as many of them with us as we can before we go down.  That's all that's left."

Shillond stared into his eyes for a moment. "All right.  There's a spell I want to cast.  If you would be so kind..."

"What?  Oh, right." Kreg concentrated on allowing magic to work.

A moment later Shillond's right index finger darted up to tap Kreg on the forehead. "Sorthenkyl!"

Kreg only had time to stare at Shillond in shock before blackness overtook him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kaila woke to a throbbing pain in her right temple.  Stripped of armor, of weapons, of clothes, she lay on a rough wool blanket.  Freezing air blew across her naked body, sending uncontrollable shivers through her.

She sat up, feeling a heavy weight around her neck and hearing a rattling of metal.  While her hands and feet were unbound, a heavy slave collar circled her neck.  A chain ran through loops of metal on the collar to fasten to the back of a wagon.  The ends of the chain depended from a heavy metal ring welded to an iron plate.  Large rivets held the plate to the wall of the wagon.

Kaila surveyed her surroundings.  In addition to the blanket on which she sat, another lay next to her.  Doubtless it had covered her and she had dislodged it.  As she wrapped the blanket around her against the cold, she noticed a bowl of porridge sitting on the ground to her other side.

Kaila regarded the bowl for a long moment before picking it up.  Had her captors wanted to kill her they would have many easier methods than poison.

Since her captors had not provided her with a spoon, eating the lukewarm porridge proved a sloppy process.  When she finished, Kaila wiped her fingers and mouth on the corner of the blanket.

The food helped.  The pain in her temple faded to a dull ache.  Looking further, she saw that she sat in the middle of an encampment.  She had no shelter but the wagon sitting next to her.  No protection from the cold save the two blankets.  Now that she had eaten, she began to feel the dryness in the back of her throat, the beginnings of real thirst.  Even the moisture of the porridge had been insufficient to eliminate it.

"So you wake at last."

Kaila whipped around at the sound of that voice.  A man in black robes stood not far from her.  The way he stood spoke "wizard" to Kaila as surely as if he had announced his profession.  Something about him seemed familiar, but Kaila could not at first place the thought.  Eventually the image clicked into place--he was the wizard who had captured them in Schah.

"Come closer." Kaila smiled, her hands flexing.

The wizard grinned back at her. "I think not.  I could prevent your doing harm easily enough, but I see not reason to waste the power."

"Than I shall give you a reason," Kaila said. "Soon, my hands will find their way to your throat and I will squeeze until I hear the popping of your neck bones.  Think not that these chains shall stop me.  And if your demon-spawn slay me afterwards it is of no matter.  I shall await Pireth’s Chariot with joy, knowing that you have preceded me."

"I am sure your belief comforts you," the wizard said. "But you make empty threats." He gestured and muttered a short spell.  Kaila stared down at her hands.  They lifted, of their own volition and settled around her neck, just above the collar.  They squeezed, lightly at first, then harder, cutting off her wind.  Try as she might, Kaila could not stop them.

The wizard made a gesture and Kaila's hands fell to her sides again.

When Kaila had stopped coughing the wizard said, "Aerioch is no more.  By the setting of the sun last night, we had overthrown her last defenders.  You and your imprisoned rulers are all that are left of the high council."

Despite herself, Kaila caught her breath.

The wizard noticed her action. "Yes, your father is gone.  By policy we slew all who work magic.  We contented ourselves with imprisoning the knights and will put them to work rebuilding Norveth as our own city.  That did not save your council.  We found both Bryon and Dahren dead within the city."

Kaila half smiled at that.  So Dahren had died anyway, despite his desertion and hiding.

Her smile did not please the wizard. "We will be moving shortly," he said. "Boots will be brought to you since we want you to arrive in Chanakra in good health.  No clothes.  The blankets will have to suffice."

He started to leave then turned back to her. "Oh," he said. "When we stop for the night, you can expect visitors from among the soldiers.  They have instructions that no one is to harm you physically.  At least, they are not to kill, maim, or permanently disfigure you.  Beyond that..." He shrugged. "Your reputation is great enough that they will come in sufficient numbers that not even your renowned strength will prevail."

Kaila kept her face schooled into impassivity.  Whoever the wizard was, he obviously wanted her to feel anguish.  She would not let him know that he had succeeded.  There would be time for tears later.

Holding back the tears was a struggle.  Shillond--dead.  And Kreg--dead or imprisoned.

The threat of the soldiers did not worry her much.  Whatever came, she would bear it.  In time she would get her chance.  In time, the wizard would die.

#

The march started about two hours later.  Kaila had received the boots as promised.  As the troop crossed a stony field, Kaila stumbled and fell.  Soldiers on horseback laughed as the wagon dragged her across the stones for several yards before she could regain her feet.

One of the soldiers, with a mocking bow and an open leer, returned to her the blankets she had dropped.  She returned his leer with a glare.

As the soldier walked away and remounted his horse, Kaila had to fight to suppress a smile.  Her fall had been no accident.  Within her mouth she held a broken pebble of the same hard rock used to make whetstones.

She had a tool.

#

Kreg woke in an open field.  The air had a slight chill, more representative of autumn than winter.  Trees sporting vividly colored foliage framed the cloud-dotted sky above him.  To his left, he heard the crackle of a campfire.  He sat up.

Shillond sat near the fire, tending to the small animals and tubers spitted above it.  Kreg's armor lay near his feet.

"Would you explain to me what's going on?" Kreg asked.

Shillond jumped. "Kreg!  I did not expect you to wake so soon."

"You haven't answered my question," Kreg said.

Shillond took a deep breath before answering. "No, and you do deserve an explanation."

Kreg nodded. "You knocked me out, why I don't know.  Now we're in the middle of nowhere.  So tell me what happened."

"First, would you have come with me had I asked?"

"Probably not," Kreg admitted.

Shillond nodded. "That's why I had to trick you.  From the bottom of my heart, I apologize, but I saw no other way."

"No other way for what?" Kreg asked, his voice rising.

"Escape." Before Kreg could say anything, Shillond went on. "We could do no more for Norveth.  Free, we might do...something."

"Okay," Kreg said. "Maybe miracles happen in this world and we can do something.  Now, how did you get us away?  The last I saw we were surrounded by a large army."

"I dragged you to my workshop," Shillond said. "I had to work fast to get you there before you started suppressing magic again.  Once there, I used the spell of apportation to move us to another place of power."

Kreg mulled that over for a moment. "Okay, where?"

"I only knew of one place of power where I hadn't already used the route: the one we used to escape from Schah."

"You mean we're back in Schah?" Kreg shook his head. "Talk about frying pans and fires.  Wait a minute.  The one we used before?"

Shillond nodded. "So we can't jump back to Norveth.  I'd already used that route, but the reverse, coming here, was still open."

Kreg nodded. "Okay."

Shillond stared into the fire. "There was another reason for coming here."

Kreg got up and moved to a spot next to the fire. "I'm listening."

"I think we might be able to rescue Kaila."

Kreg's heart leaped at the thought. "Rescue Kaila?  How?"

"There are two routes that an army might follow into Schah," Shillond said. "One, Faron still has plugged.  The other passes not too far from here." He shrugged. "I had not thought beyond that."

"Do you think she's still alive?"

Kreg winced at the look of pure misery that crossed Shillond's face. "I don't know.  She was still alive when you last saw her, so since they didn't kill her outright maybe, just maybe, they took her prisoner instead." He removed the spit from the fire to examine the roasting meat. "Kreg, in over five centuries she's the only child I've ever had.  I--I can't bear to think of any option but her being alive."

"I know," Kreg said, his voice hoarse. "Me, too."

"You?" Shillond looked up from the roast meat to peer closely at Kreg. "You see her as more than a friend.  Don't you?"

"Yeah." Kreg picked up a stick and poked at the fire, sending sparks popping. "Yeah, I guess I do.  But she loves Keven, so--"

"She does not love Keven," Shillond said flatly.

Kreg froze. "But you said..."

"I said that they were expected to marry.  It is not a love match.  Only the needs of the kingdom led to the decision for them to marry.  Kaila's sense of duty would not let her shirk.  That alone kept her true to Keven."

#

As darkness settled over the Schahi camp, Kaila felt along the chain until she found a particular link.  With strong fingers she flecked off dried mud then retrieved the stone from where she had secreted it under the slave collar.  It dug painfully into her flesh on the march, wearing an angry red ulceration, but no one had found it despite visits by her captors.

Those visits had stopped after the third night.  Even demons in human form could learn to feel pain and to fear it.  Several of the Schahi rode wagons with bones broken by her hands.  One lay dead, his throat crushed.  That one had remained human with the rising of the sun so it had not been one of the changelings.

Kaila turned her attention to the link of chain.  For several weeks she had been scraping at it, always in the same spot, with the stone.  Slowly, she had worn away the material, digging a gouge into the link.  Each day, she covered the signs of her work with mud, formed with her own saliva if no other moisture offered.

The work had been difficult.  Her fingers first reddened, then blistered, then callused.  The tendons and joints ached each night from the effort of holding the small stone and pressing it against the link of chain, yet the effort had been worthwhile.  The link had worn almost thin enough to break.

Once more Kaila set down the small stone and wrapped the chain around her hands.  Straining with all her strength, she pulled.  The metal creaked slightly, then, with a soft chink, the thin neck of metal that remained parted.

With eager haste, Kaila worked and tugged at the chain until one of the neighboring links slid through the gap in the broken link.  A second of sliding the chain through the loops on her collar and she was free.

Kaila grinned a wolfish grin as she glided silently through the camp.  Since the Schahi had given her no clothes, she wrapped the blankets around herself.

She paused in the shadows of a wagon, which stood just inside the perimeter of the camp.  Only a few scattered sentries, standing by watch fires, guarded the camp.  Her grin widened as she thought how they would pay for that vigilance.

The frozen ground made silence difficult and Kaila had never had much skill at stealth.  She had never needed it.  Kaila did not know if the guard had not heard her or if he had just ignored any sounds she made.  Whatever the reason, she reached him without his reacting.

From five feet away, she leaped.  Her right arm circled his throat and her left grabbed his right wrist.  She pulled, cutting off his wind and any cry he might make.  As he struggled in her grip, she pulled harder.  And harder still.  Finally, she heard a crunching crack, like a handful of twigs breaking.  The guard twitched once and went limp.

Kaila took a moment to steal the guard's weapons: a sword, somewhat lighter than her own: and two daggers, one balanced for throwing.  She considered stripping him of his clothing but the tunic and trousers would be too small for her.

She slipped off into the night.

From hiding in the scrub she watched the Schahi camp and tried to decide what to do.  For the first time in her life she was truly alone.  Always before she had had someone to lean on, someone to give her direction or at least advice.  On embassies to other kingdoms, she had always traveled with Shillond.  In council she had always deferred to the King or to Keven.

Now Shillond was gone.  The King and Keven were gone.  Even Kreg was gone, dead or captured.

She pulled the blankets tighter and considered.  Returning to Norveth would serve no purpose.  If the wizard had spoken truly, then Shillond was dead and, though she could not allow herself grief, the thought clutched at her heart.  Kreg was most likely dead as well and that thought made her heart clutch even tighter.  Only the King and Keven were still alive.  Very well, that would be her goal.  Perhaps if she followed the Schahi, they would find some way to free them.  At worst, she could die in the attempt.

She crawled backwards, away from the army, suppressing a gasp at the cold of the ground against her naked knees.  She would watch, and she would follow.

#

Kreg looked down the hill at the army unit passing by.  Almost entirely cavalry, they had few wagons, relying instead on packhorses.