The Red Knight (51 page)

“So how did you get past the patrols on the other side of the river?” she asked, while they waited for Thea to finish reading.

“They were dealt with,” he said.

“I know you!” Olin piped up. “You’re the librarian.”

Garian bowed to the Prince. “Upon occasion, Highness. More often I’m a cartographer or herbalist.”

Thea folded the letter. “Captain Stenna, I would speak with you alone.”

The Queen waited until everyone else had left before handing her the letter. “You must read this.”

She read it quickly and then again, more slowly, in case she’d misread it. She hadn’t. The brief hope that had sparked to life when Tain arrived was cruelly extinguished with a few drops of ink. There would be no reinforcements. The King’s army was engaged with a larger force and he couldn’t spare anyone to raise the siege at Gallen Arth. She snapped to attention and handed the letter back to the Queen.

“Everything has been prepared, Majesty. With respect, I think it would be right to take Lady Vorsten and her son with you.”

“I agree, Captain. Please send her over.”

Thea paused, bit her lip. Surely there wasn’t anything else? Alyda waited, but the Queen didn’t add anything, so she made to leave.

“Captain—”

Here it comes.
“Majesty?”

“There’s something I must ask you, Captain Stenna. Something I have no right to do, but I know you’ll understand why I must.”

The small group gathered in the cellar of the tower. The Queen was with her youngest son, a reluctant Beria Vorsten and her baby. Garian hadn’t expected to be taking anyone other than the Queen and her sons; the extras were an added inconvenience, but with his travelling companions he doubted they’d encounter any trouble they couldn’t handle or avoid.

He’d made a point of telling Stenna he was taking them north towards Cathlan. It was a necessary deception in case she was taken alive; she’d understand. They were actually going south to meet Suli and her cousins before heading off to the Vodoni’s secret valley. That was a whole other pain in the arse he could have lived without. He loved Suli, trusted her with his life, but he’d feel a damn sight happier when he’d seen the place for himself. Right now, he’d settle for getting away from here. The place was a tomb.

When Lady Beria refused to leave, Alyda asked Talin to try and convince her to go. He failed and in the end had to order her to come with him. Even then, he had to just about drag the grief stricken widow to the cellar where his mother and Oli were waiting. Although that was hard, telling his mother that he wasn’t going with them proved to be much easier than he’d anticipated. She accepted it with surprisingly good grace and bid him farewell without any of the fuss he’d been expecting.

Alyda was waiting for him in his mother’s quarters while he said goodbye to his family. When he got back he found her sitting by the shuttered window, a single candle spluttered on the book strewn table. She looked tired, which was hardly surprising, but at least they’d be together for however long they had left. He went to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“What is it?” he asked, confused by her coldness. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to leave the Arth, Highness,” she said flatly.

“I told you, I’m not going. Please, let’s not argue about this. I said I’m not leaving you again no matter what, and I meant it.” He reached out to her, but she shrugged his hand away.

“Highness, Talin. You don’t have a choice. Your father has ordered it. Please don’t make this difficult; time is against us.”

He chuckled. “You’re wasting your breath, Captain Stenna, and if you think giving me the cold shoulder is going to make me go, you’re wrong I’m—”

“I don’t love you,” she blurted. “I’ve been trying to tell you for days, but…well; I never got the chance to speak with you about it.”

He laughed. “You are such a bad liar; promise me you’ll never gamble—you’ll lose your shirt. Not that it would be such a bad thing…you being shirtless.” He probably shouldn’t joke, but her clumsy attempt at lying only confirmed that she loved him, and that made him happier than he had a right to be given the trouble they were in.

“No, Highness, it’s true. We had fun, but it was a dalliance, nothing more.”

Talin folded his arms.

“It’s true, damn you.” She stood up. “I’m telling you now because I want to part with you honestly. I don’t have to convince you to leave—I can have you tied in a fucking sack and dragged out of here, and I damn-well will if I have to.”

What power to intimidate she had was lost on him. He’d take a knife in the heart from her hand.
She loves me.
It was wonderful, not least because he loved her too. He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it.

“Tell me again that you don’t love me.”

She locked eyes with him and held his gaze, willing him not to turn around. Willing herself not to glance at Bear, who was sneaking up behind him. When Talin went to say goodbye to his mother, she suggested that Bear hide behind the bed curtains, like Tain had done in Weyhithe. Unsurprisingly the shapeshifter moved quietly. Which was a blessing; Alyda didn’t want to have to fight Talin to get him out, not unless she had to.

“Well, Captain, I’m waiting. Tell me you don’t love me,” he said. He was still smiling.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Alyda whispered.

Before he had chance to answer, Bear hit him across the head with the cosh. He fell into Alyda’s arms; she kissed him, before Bear hoisted him over her shoulder.

“If I’d known you’d have me beating up my best friend I’d have stayed outside with the Guthani. He’s going to be very angry with me for doing this. I shall have to grovel for months.”

Alyda didn’t have the heart to laugh. “Tell the Queen I tried, but I’m just not a very good liar. She’ll know what you mean.”

The smile faded from Bear’s face. “Of course. Is there anything else I can tell anyone?”

Alyda shook her head. “No, he already knows.”

Bear headed to the door. She paused before leaving, her unconscious burden groaned. “It was an honour knowing you, Alyda Stenna. For what it’s worth, I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to Talin.”

“Goodbye, Iris. Take care of him for me.”

When Bear had gone Alyda slumped against the wall, numb to her core. The Queen had been right about one thing—she had no right to ask her to perjure her heart and tell Talin she didn’t love him. She’d never seen it before, but there was a line between duty to one’s sovereign and duty to oneself. The Queen had asked her to sacrifice one for the other. She’d tried; she was a Royal Guard; duty and honour always came first, except this time.

She’d been right to send him away with the truth instead of a lie. He’d be furious when he came round, but at least he’d know she loved him, and that was important; it was all they would ever have, and that hurt more that she’d thought possible.

She flexed her neck, cracked the small bones with a quick, right left twist and rolled her shoulders. It did little to untie the knots in her tired muscles, and nothing to ease the pain in her leg. She sighed a laugh. She was as broken and battered as the Arth, but like the old keep, she was still just about standing and would damn well stay that way until the job was done.

When dawn came, Alyda and Lorhine watched from the barbican as a Talespinner went and stood before the unlit pyre. He began to recite something that could have been a prayer or a long winded poem for all Alyda knew. The warrior laid out atop the pyre was dressed in gleaming scale armour, shield beneath his head, shining spear clutched in his hand. A slaughtered horse lay at his feet. It was depressing to see the hundreds of warriors lined up on the field, but also grimly satisfying to see the gaps in their ranks.

“Shame about the pony,” she said to Kieran.

He grunted in agreement. “Shame the Thane they’re fixing to burn isn’t that pig-fucker Thorgulsen.”

“Aye, but it’s given us more time to plan and…” She stopped herself saying,
“For Talin to get away.”
She’d have to be careful; she couldn’t afford to let tiredness trip her.

Alyda told Jamie to round up the survivors and bring them to the Great Hall. She waited impatiently as a hundred and twenty children, old people, and injured, crept or were carried from the cellars to join the sixty or so remaining able-bodied fighters.

It hurt that there were only a handful of the Hammer amongst them, but it wasn’t unexpected. They’d led the defence, standing front and centre on the wall, they’d borne the brunt of the attacks, and carried the fight to the enemy.
And gods, I miss every one of them.

She’d never felt like this before, her hands were trembling. She stamped her foot, sending shockwaves of pain through her knee. Anything was better than surrendering to the wave of sorrow that was threatening to engulf her. She couldn’t dwell on her loses, she had to stay focused on saving the living; the dead could wait a little longer.

Lurking at the back of the gathering, still grumbling, still with a sneer nailed to his face, was Smith. Alyda was glad the ornery bastard had survived, but it would be a cold day in the Void before she told him.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll keep this short: you must be sick of hearing my voice by now. I know I am.” A ripple of weary laughter passed through the crowd. “The Queen has commanded that I ask for terms of surrender. I have no doubt they will be accepted,” she said, knowing full well it was more of a hope than a certainty. “You have endured hardships that few Antians ever have, that few even could. Your strength and your courage will be long-held as shining examples of those virtues, and I am humbled and honoured to have fought beside you.”

When she finished, her knights snapped to attention and saluted. Alyda felt a lump rise in her throat as the rest of the garrison did likewise. She returned the gesture.

In contrast to the bleak mood of earlier, an excited murmur followed the weary survivors from the hall. Jamie stayed behind, his face set in an angry frown.

“What’s on your mind, Jamie?” she asked.

“When the Guthani find out that the Queen isn’t here they’ll kill everyone: the old, the children—and it will not be swift.”

That he of all people doubted her was another blow. Understandable perhaps, but it still felt like a kick in the gut. “You need to trust me, Jamie. I won’t let you or the others down.”

He nodded solemnly, but for the first time since she’d known him, she could see that he didn’t believe her.

The Guthani lit the pyre when the setting sun kissed the horizon. There had been no further attacks. Alyda found a bottle of wine and took it up onto the roof of the barbican. She drowned a few sorrows and watched the Pyre burn deep into the night.

She woke just before dawn, slumped between two merlons on the roof of the barbican. It was raining, smoke coiled from the blackened remains of the pyre and drifted across the battlefield. A flock of crows took to the air and began to scribe lazy spirals above the Arth. The birds called shrilly, summoning more of their kin to the banquet. But the battle wasn’t over just yet. She still had work to do.

She groaned, and tried to stretch the stiffness from her leg, but only made it hurt more. Cursing, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. Everything ached, including her head, thanks to the wine.

“You never could take your drink, Stenna.” She laughed and tilted her face to the leaden sky; let the rain wash her doubts away. She’d fixed a plan in her mind, burned the details into her brain as she’d watched the Guthlander go up in smoke. She was certain it would work, not least, because it had to.

By mid-morning her leg was too painful for her to walk and she was forced to direct those of her officers who were left from a chair in the Great Hall. Jamie had made a small fire in a cooking pot and was boiling a pan of chai over it. He sheltered the flames from the rain that was pissing through the roof with a Guthani shield that he’d found somewhere.

“I need something for this.” She gestured dismissively to her knee when Gedthis arrived.

He grunted, put down his bag and started unbuckling her leg harness. When he saw her stiffen and grip the chair arm, he got out a knife and cut the straps and then with uncustomary gentleness, eased the armour off. After carefully cutting open the leg of her breeches, he probed the mottled mass of swollen flesh where her knee should be. She swallowed a scream.
Hard as iron, Alyda, hard as…fuck! This hurts.

Gedthis sighed. “You’ve made a mess of this, Captain. It’s probably broken, but it’s impossible to tell until the swelling goes down. You must keep it up. I’ll get a—”

“Gedthis,” she interrupted. She wasn’t sharp; he meant well, but she didn’t have time to listen to the whole speech. “I need to walk on it, not for long, and not far. Can you splint it or something?”

“I don’t—” He was all set to argue until he saw the look in her eye.

“Yes, Captain…” he answered, resigned.

Muttering to himself he rummaged through his box until he found what he was looking for. He held up a small jar.