Wings of Wrath (60 page)

All the Alkali were drawing their weapons now, released from whatever spell had previously dulled their senses. But the loss of initiative had already cost them dearly. Treading in puddles of blood from their fallen comrades, the remaining pair attacked the other invaders fiercely, unwilling to cede a moment's advantage. Blood flowed from an arm on one side, a leg on the other, as gleaming steel blades played back and forth, snaking past shield and parry on both sides. One of the Alkali nearly lost his footing on a blood slick and an attacker was quick to take advantage of it, his own soft shoes gripping the floor with supernatural tenacity as he thrust his blade through the man's forward shoulder, severing vital muscles. But the Alkali just took up his sword in his other hand and kept fighting, a look of grim determination on his face.
Blood will not stop me,
it warned,
nor pain
.

Then one of the lancers managed to get through the guard of the third invader, driving his spear in under his raised arm and deep into his torso. He could feel the blade grating on bone as he forced it home, and was rewarded with a gush of fresh blood for his efforts. Pinned, the man could no longer maneuver away from his Alkali opponents, and another thrust forward and opened a gash in his neck as well. As the body slumped, twitching, the third man grabbed hold of it and dragged it into the room, so that no one below could use it to shield himself as he attempted to follow. For a fraction of a second the gauntlet of spears was compromised and a fourth attacker began to rush up the staircase. But the first guard jerked his weapon free and turned to guard the entranceway, and in concert with his companions they forced the invader back down into the depths of the tower.

And then one of the Alkali did something that should have been done earlier. Stepping back from the battle, he reached for a horn that hung between two windows. One of the invaders realized what he was doing and lunged to stop him, but he was too late. Another Alkali rammed into the invader from the side, forcing him out of the way. Out of reach.

The guard put the horn to his lips and blew.

The sound was piercing, a shrill note that reverberated from the stone walls and rang out across the courtyard far below. Men began to pour out of the Citadel, grabbing up arms as they headed for the base of the tower. Whoever or whatever was behind this assault, they would soon find themselves outflanked. With their entrance into the chamber cut off and the tower about to be stormed from below, the invaders would not last long. All the Alkali had to do now was delay these two long enough for reinforcements to arrive, and all the rest would follow.

Dropping the horn, the Alkali let out a roar of rage, raised his sword high, and rejoined the battle.

The sound of the alarm call reverberated through the monument. Rhys cursed under his breath and descended half a turn to where a narrow crevice offered him a limited view of the citadel's courtyard. Looking outside, he cursed again.

Their access to the upper chamber had effectively been cut off. Three men now had tried to force their way up through the narrow entrance; one was presumed dead and the other two, severely wounded, had been forced to withdraw. In time the men who had succeeded in invading the chamber might find a way provide their brothers with an opening but for now, they had run out of time.

How slowly the world seemed to move, in that one moment. Slowly enough that when Rhys looked up at his companions, the silent communication between them encompassed all their options, played out to every possible conclusion. In the time it took to draw a single breath every course was weighed, every outcome evaluated.

Short of a miracle, they were going to die here.

Beneath them now they could hear other noises within the tower. Voices. Footsteps. The sound of steel being drawn. All resonating in the staircase like echoes in a tomb.

It cannot end here,
Rhys thought.

Gwynofar's face was white. She, too, required no words to understand what had happened. Or what sort of fate it must inexorably lead to.

She might even be spared, he thought. Taken captive, a vulnerable vessel from which all the group's secrets could presumably be squeezed, by Magisters if not by common torture. Later a hostage in the great war to come, used against her own people to undermine their strength and their purpose.

He saw her hand move to the knife at her belt. Saw the resolve in her eyes.

My beloved sister, there is as much courage in you as in any of these warriors
.

Then he saw the window behind her. It was one of the larger ones, a deep crevice nearly as tall as a man, but far too narrow for any man to pass through. A slender woman, though, might just squeeze through. Barely.

She followed his gaze. The last color drained from her face. “Rhys—”

The sounds from below were closer now. Too close. The men began to take up a defensive posture. As if it would do anything but delay the inevitable.

“There is no other way,” he told her.

“But you—”

“My fate lies here,” he told her. “Yours has yet to be resolved.”

Do not let us die in vain
.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she nodded. He could see her trembling, but she did not hesitate as he cupped his hands to give her a lift up to the crevice. For a moment it looked like she would say something more to him, but there was simply no time for it. The noises from below were too close now.

With a brief kiss to his forehead, she stepped up to the opening.

He did not watch as she began to squeeze her way out through the narrow crack. There was no time for such luxuries. If she was to get safely away, Rhys would have to provide a distraction. He could not risk the enemy coming upon them here, where she was still visible.

Grimly, he gestured for the other Guardians to join him. No words were necessary. They all understood.

There was a time when he might have prayed first. A time when he had believed that someone or something listened to such prayers and cared about what happened to him. Now he had no prayers left in his heart, but in their place was something equally powerful. A willingness to die. Perhaps even a hunger for it.

Letting loose a battle cry that shook the very walls of the tower, he led his fellow Guardians in a charge down the staircase to earn Gwynofar as much time as he could with his death.

Squeezing out through the narrow crevice, Gwynofar saw the whole of Alkali spread out before her. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to hesitate. But survival—and the gods—had offered her no alternative.

Turning to one side, she grabbed hold of a pillarlike formation that flanked the window and, with a whispered prayer, pulled herself around it. Her toes wedged themselves into a crack too small to think about, while her hands struggled to grab hold of a small horizontal ridge overhead for balance. Behind her she could hear a terrible war cry—was that Rhys?—and then the sound of warriors passing by the window she had just exited. She pressed herself close to the rock, praying for their safety. And hoping that when the enemy got this far they would not think to look outside and find her here. But why should they? What kind of insane creature would come out here without the proper equipment, planning, or experience? Such a move would be downright suicidal, wouldn't it?

For a moment she just stayed where she was, gripping the stone with all her might, trying to gather her courage. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it pulse in her fingertips.
Don't look down,
she told herself, fighting the sudden wave of vertigo that threatened to overcome her at the very thought.
Just don't look down
.

Finally, when she felt she could move her head without being sick, she looked around for anything nearby that she might grab hold of to help her move farther away from the window. For a moment the sheer magnitude of the task was so overwhelming that all the strength seemed to leak out of her limbs; a sudden gust of wind broadsided her and she nearly lost her balance. How was she supposed to climb up from here? What route would get her to the top? Trembling, she tried to remember the detailed drawings she had seen of the monument back in the planning stages of this trip, but she didn't even know what window she had come out of, from that perspective. How was she to get her bearings?

A sudden flapping sound overhead startled her and for a moment she feared it was a Souleater approaching. But no, the sound was closer than that, and smaller. Her heart pounding, she turned her head carefully to look for the source.

Kamala.

The gray-and-black bird was perched on a narrow ledge some distance overhead, beating the rock with her wings to get the queen's attention. When she saw that Gwynofar was finally looking up at her, Kamala inched sideways along the ledge to a point midway between two narrow windows. And then she stopped there, and cocked her head to one side. For a moment Gwynofar just stared at her, unable to make sense of the strange dance. Then she nodded her understanding. Kamala could see the whole of the monument from her avian perspective and had picked the best route for her. She would have to trust in it.

Drawing in a deep breath, wiping her hands one after the other on the fabric of her shirt so as to keep them as dry as possible, Gwynofar began to climb. Inch by inch she struggled to find some purchase for her grip, slender fingers working their way into cracks and around protrusions wherever she could find them, trying to remember how the other climbers had moved and to get her own body to do the same. Her altered muscles ached from the unaccustomed effort, but they did not fail her. Thank Ramirus for that.

How she envied the climbers their ropes! How much she wished she had even one safeguard in place, even one hint of a safety net right now, that might grant her the illusion of safety!

The wind was beginning to intensify now, and gusted past her with increasing force; somewhere not too far away a storm must be gathering. She tried not to think about what would happen if it started raining while she was still out here.
One thing at a time,
she told herself fiercely.
Focus on the task at hand.
At least Anukyat's men were not following her yet. Gods willing, Rhys and his men would be able to deal with them. Rhys . . . she had to blink tears out of her eyes before she could move again.
Please keep him safe,
she prayed to her gods, more afraid for him than she had ever been for himself. She could not bear to lose him now. Not like this.

You can't afford to think about him now. You can't afford to think about anything but climbing
.

It seemed to take forever to climb up to the ledge that Kamala had indicated; by the time she got there she was thoroughly winded and had to stop to catch her breath. Mercifully, the top of the monument was more weathered than the lower reaches had been, offering more handholds for her to work with. But even that would not have saved her if Ramirus had not enhanced her capacity so that she was physically up to the task.

By the time she finally reached the place where Kamala waited, the muscles of her arms felt as if they were on fire and she knew that it was only his sorcery that was keeping her body from doubling over with cramps.

She paused for a minute to catch her breath, then edged out onto the narrow ledge that Kamala had indicated. Slowly she inched along on the inside edges of her feet, her body pressed close to the stone, hands grasping for anything they could find to hold onto. At one point the rock beneath her right foot broke away and her heart almost stopped, but she managed to hang on solidly enough to shift her weight back to her other foot and kept her balance. After a few shaky breaths she inched her right foot out again, trembling, and found solid purchase beyond the break. She tested it a few times with her toes before trusting her weight to it, painfully aware of her lack of experience. Would she even know what a rotten ledge felt like if she tested one? But when she finally committed her full weight to the move, the rock held beneath her and she slowly released the breath she'd been holding as she began to make progress once more.