Chapter 8: 8. Across the Rhaddan

~Percy~

As night fell, Percy found himself fighting to get to the south wall, against a northbound throng of civilians. Some ashen-faced individuals were on horseback, their horses' legs covered in mud and their cloaks spangled with burn-holes. Refugees. Whoever this opposing host was, this coalition of Endael and others, it had driven these people into fleeing to Carhavel. He had a half-dozen of the City Guard around him, as well as all of the Magi. They'd not been long in following Percy out of the guardhouse undercroft, all of them clutching pendants of gold or silver with various animals carved into them. The more nervous they looked—Kana the most of all, though Edmys Mald had a distinct air of unease—the tighter they clung to their pendants. Aldora Lindomel was imperious. Despite the crowded streets, their path to the wall was kept relatively clear, mostly by the withering glares she shot at anyone who bumbled too near.

Eada was not with them. Percy had sent her to Huide's keep to spread word, and to rouse the Margrave's personal retinue. If it came to battle in the streets, every man would be valuable. And Eada would be further from the thick of it.

Bornir was waiting at the South Gate with a couple of the guards. There was still a slender flow of refugees entering the city through the gate, all being waved through without even a cursory check of their papers. "Find out who they are, at least," Percy barked, to the guards by the gate. "What if the marching banners sent assassins on ahead?"

"None of these people are assassins," said Kana. She was holding the bridge of her nose as she spoke. "They're afraid." Still, the guards seemed to take their jobs more seriously now that Percy was there to keep an eye on them. They stopped everyone passing through the gates, and gave at least a glance at their papers before waving them through.

Percy raised a hand at one of the refugees, a man with a pointed beard. "Ho, you. What's the word from Tarhanen?"

The man shook his head. "Tarhanen's fallen, milord. Queen Jelestal's dead, and the princelings too. Put their heads on spikes, he did."

"Who?" Dael and Méor had come to blows of late, centuries of peaceful cooperation ending in pitched warfare, but the Méorin King Harrel had a reputation as a mild-mannered man. He'd send his people to war, if he thought it needful, but Percy could hardly see him putting Jelestal Egéna to death. But if it wasn't Harrel...

"The fire-eyes, milord," said the man.

"Fire-eyes?" Aldora Lindomel had joined the conversation. "Are you sure?"

The man nodded. "Aye, I am. Came from the south, he did. Calls himself the Son of Prophecy."

Percy and Aldora exchanged looks. "What are the chances those unfamiliar banners are Outlander banners?"

"I'd say rather high," said Aldora, nodding. She turned back to the man. "You say this man slew Queen Jelestal?"

"Her and her family both," said the man. "Not a one survived."

They sent him on his way, and as he was leaving Aldora grabbed Percy's shoulder. "Eada mustn't know about this," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "This fire-eyes is dangerous. If Eada gets it in her head that he truly is the one Prophesied, she'll go on some fool mission to meet with him one on one."

"You don't believe he's as he says, then? This chimera?"

Aldora shrugged. "He could be. I won't know for sure until I've had a chance to see him personally."

But the Son of Prophecy or not, it was clear the fire-eyes was a capable general. Somehow he'd organised the savages from their squalor into a formidable Outlander army. Percy had never known an Outlander host nearly so strong—never known one to march under formal banners, for that matter—but things were starting to fall into uncomfortable place. Outlander or not, if Tarhanen was lost then Dael was lost. And if the Octal Tower was gone too... Percy had always assumed that the Magi would be there in great plenty, should the need ever arrive. Entire nations' strategies had been built upon that fact. If they could no longer be relied upon...

"What news is there of the Tower?" Percy wasn't sure how Aldora had learnt of the Tower's fall in the first place, but if she'd come by that information then more was sure to follow.

Aldora, for her part, merely furrowed her brow. "There were three hundred Magi at the Tower, more than half of our number. None of them would have willingly seen the Tower fall." She put a hand to her forehead. "It can't have been a large force that attacked. Possibly it was driven back with minimal losses on our part—equally possibly, the casualties are numerous. Gettie saw nothing after her own death. But the time is not right to dwell on that."

Percy still couldn't understand how or why the Magi seemed reliant on a dead woman to bring them news from the Tower—or indeed how they even came to learn of her death. Tonight was the time for battle, not questions. When the battle was won, though, he was going to ask.

The problem with being at street level was that there was no visibility. Even if the southern wall didn't exist, the river Rhaddan would be hidden from view here by the curvature of the ground, the gentle oscillating of the hills. Percy walked through a round-topped doorway set into the wall on the west side the South Gate, and began to ascend the staircase within. It led directly to the walkways at the top of the wall, and the fortifications there. You could see better from up high. Bornir fell in beside him as he emerged onto the parapet.

"I sent Trebact out under the twin banners of Carhavel and peace, as ordered," Bornir said. "The banners haven't crossed the Rhaddan yet, but the host has reached the river. Our spotters have seen men splitting off to scout the shoreline."

"Where's the nearest bridge?"

"That would be the crossing at Malphess Ford," said Bornir. "I've sent a rider to the village to sound the alarm, but I think it's more likely they simply ford the river just upstream of the city. The current's not particularly strong there, nor the water particularly deep. And the bank is steep enough to offer protection from our arrows."

"Might we be able to meet them on the shore? A sortie?"

Bornir shrugged, his face unconvinced. "It's possible, but I'd sooner not risk it. We have a defensible position here; why waste that?"

There was a twisting deep in Percy's gut. He hoped it wasn't his instincts telling him that the defences weren't as strong as they hoped.

It didn't seem possible, but the top of the wall was even busier than the city streets had been. Most of the City Guard appeared to be gathered there. Some stood on the parapets with spyglasses, while others fletched arrows or huddled around braziers. Nervous chatter abound. In normal circumstances the wall was wide enough for five men to march abreast. So crowded was it now that two would have struggled. It was a hundred metres to the nearest of the six bastions; the towers jutted out from the wall from ground level, but you could only get into them from atop the wall. "This one has the best view of the river," said Bornir, as they reached the bastion.

"Show me," Percy told him.

Half of the Magi split off here, proceeding towards the westernmost bastion. Percy was left with Aldora, Kana and Toral for company. Them, plus Bornir and a dozen more of the City Guard. By the time Percy had made it to the upper level of the bastion—much more sparsely populated, with only a solitary soldier there when he arrived—night had well and truly fallen. Looking out, he could see the very faint silhouette of Starforger's Lance on the horizon, outlined by moonlight; of the men with their strange banners, he could make out only the dull orange glow of a conglomeration of torches, occasionally shifting in the shadows. By the looks of it they'd made camp on the far side of the river. Even when he took the soldier's spyglass and held it to his eye, he could see nothing more. Tonight's moon was a quarter-moon, drifting in and out of wispy cloud cover. "We'll sleep in shifts tonight," he told the guards and Magi. "And pray by morning we aren't under siege."

"Pray we wake to see the morning," muttered Toral. Aldora glared at him.

As Captain of the Guard, Percy insisted on staying awake for the first half of the night. Even when a sallow-faced lieutenant called Largee relieved him, he didn't get to sleep for some time. His mind was full of half-baked plans, trying to guess at the opposition's strategy while devising one of his own. How had he come to be leading the defence of Carhavel? Tuiar had a standing army—though it was much reduced from the last war, a quarter of a century earlier, when the Margrave of Sephal had won his mark's independence. But Tuiar's army was at Pardasath with King Descard. On top of that, only at the king's command could the various lords raise their levies. Even if the miserly Huide could be convinced to care about more than his own hide, the oaths of fealty he'd sworn would prevent him from doing much. Unless the King said otherwise, the City Guard was all they had. Percy hoped Trebact's parley was a successful one. He shivered in the night's cold. Winter was well on its way, but that wasn't the only reason for his chill. The more he thought, the more he was certain: if it came to a siege, Carhavel would fall.

He hadn't even realised he'd drifted off to sleep, until a rough hand shook him awake. Bornir. Percy groaned, groggy. "What is it?"

"You should see for yourself, sir," said Bornir.

Percy forced himself to his feet, and noticed all three Magi stood at the edge of the bastion, looking southward. None so much as moved their head as he crossed the walkway towards them. That meant whatever was going on to the south, it wasn't good news. Could the attack have started already?

No. There'd be more noise. As he looked for himself, Percy was briefly relieved to see the unfamiliar banners still safely on the fields across the Rhaddan. Briefly. Because then he saw what had so alarmed the others. A single horse and rider tore up the gentle slope to the South Gate; the horse was chestnut brown, and the rider wore the blue gambeson of Tuiar. Trebact, returning from his parley.

Except Trebact no longer had a head. He'd been tied to the saddle of his horse with rope, and both saddle and rope were coated in blood. A trail of it dripped onto the grass to mark the horse's path.

"It seems this chimera did not like your terms, Captain Oddell," said Aldora.

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For a moment, Percy was dead to the world. His ears rang, and his eyes refused to focus. Until now he'd not realised just how much hope he'd pinned on Trebact. The parley had failed. Whether the Outlander chimera had been unimpressed by Trebact or unwilling to talk in the first place, there was only one outcome now: war.

"Sound the horns," he said, turning away from the parapet. "Rouse every man in this city. I want every inch of the wall manned, men and bows and plenty of arrows. Everything we can spare." He found himself striding away from the bastion. There was no need for him to stay. Bornir would see that it held, and the Magi too. Percy would not be the Captain who hid out of reach until the battle was done.

Kana and Aldora followed him down the staircase to the wall. His orders had beaten him down. The three stepped out of the bastion into a chaotic mass of men, dragging crates full of arrows to the edge of the wall, settling near parapets that offered good aim. His stomach at full churn, Percy chanced a glance over the wall. The banners hadn't moved yet. He didn't think they'd moved yet.

Turning to the two Magi, he tried a wry smile. "How well do Magi fight?"

"Some better than others," said Aldora. "Most better than your average man-at-arms. But six of us is not enough to fight off an army, not even close."

"You're leaving?"

Aldora shook her head. "We will not abandon Carhavel. If we combine our strength... we can make a defensive barrier, a magical barrier, which will hold for a time. It's tough magic to cast, but I know it well enough to lead. Their arrows will not pass through, and their men will be slowed as if wading through thick mud. It will buy you time to evacuate your people, but sooner or later it will give. Or we will."

"But if it comes to it, we can fight better than you can," Kana said, with her face a grimace. "I always dreamed I'd find my awakening in happier times."

"You should never put stock in dreams," said Aldora. The two Magi stopped walking, then, and Aldora pulled Kana into a tight embrace. "I shall see you after the storm, sister," she said.

Kana nodded, tugging on a forelock. "After the storm, sister." Released from Aldora's embrace, she turned and walked away from them, east along the wall.

"Our shield will stretch as wide as there are Magi in the connection," Aldora explained. "Kana will hold the easternmost bastion, and Edmys the westernmost. That way, all of Carhavel will be protected." Her eyes were bloodshot, Percy noticed, suddenly.

"You expect to die today, don't you?"

Aldora shook her head. "I am a warrior. In my mind, I died the moment the first horn of war sounded. When I fight, there's no room for worrying about my worldly body. Remember what I asked of you, Captain. Keep Eada safe."

"I can't compel her to leave," said Percy.

"You're her Captain," said Aldora. "So you can. And I've asked you to, so you will."

The horns sounded loud from somewhere along the wall. As if in a wave, more men took up the call, sounding their own horns in a cacophony that stretched the length of the city. Others began to shout. "Banners approaching!"

And they were. The chimera's army had crossed the Rhaddan, and now had only open ground between them and the city. Ten minutes, tops, and they'd be here.

Aldora met his eye, and bowed her head solemnly. "After the storm, Captain," she said, and strode off at as close to a run as she could manage while maintaining dignity—in her heeled boots and billowing skirts, more a prompt march.

Alone, Percy took a second to gather his breath. He'd read about great sieges: how Faradwel stood against the armies of the Magi, and when Bartis Telvannen held the pass at Semorel until his enemies crossed high mountains into Ardoress to take him from behind. He'd even found the tales thrilling. That didn't mean he'd ever wanted to face a besieging force himself. Far from it. The twisting feeling in his gut had grown into a painful writhe. He busied himself helping the men drag their crates of arrows into position, until the sweat beaded on his chin from streams all down his face.

"Captain! Captain Oddell!" Percy turned just as Eada emerged on the wall behind him. "Huide's taken his levies and fled the city."

"The cowardly bastard."

"There's riots on the streets to the north," she said. "People fighting to try and get out. Chaos."

Riots, at least by Carhavel standards, were usually just a handful of people getting lairy and aggressive. Half a dozen mounted Guards could quell such riots without breaking a sweat—and leave that part of the city uncharacteristically peaceful for the next week. But every man was on the wall, and Percy was loathe to change that. "They'll have to fend for themselves," he said. "I don't have time for riots."

Eada nodded.

A lieutenant began barking orders. "Nock! Draw! Hold!" The words were repeated up and down the wall. Percy turned to the parapet on hearing a boom rend the air, to see a circle of blue light coming from one of the bastions. More booms were followed by identical circles of light from the rest of the bastions. The light spread out unevenly, like paint dropped in water, fingers of light swirling and fumbling until they met and merged. Soon, there was a curtain of blue coating the horizon.

One nervous soldier loosed before the command. His arrow soared through the air, arcing towards the advancing banners. When it met the blue wall, though, its momentum ceased. The arrow fell listlessly to the ground. The lieutenant was not pleased by this. "Loose when I say loose, you bloody fool, not before."

"Hold until there's a target to aim for," said Percy. "Their arrows can't get through that any more than ours can."

Eada was shaking her head. "It'll only hold them back," she said. "And the longer they hold the shield, the more exhausted they'll be when it breaks. Eventually they'll have to—"

A sudden explosion shook the wall. Men who were stood near tumbled. One poor soul, leaning out of the parapet waiting for the order to loose, toppled over the side. His scream lasted barely a second before cutting off abruptly. More screams followed it, though, and men pointed east.

The easternmost bastion was gone. A few smouldering bits of stone jutting up from the wall were all that remained of it. There, the blue shield had dissipated, and was receding towards the next bastion. That had been Kana Fourn's shield; she, and no doubt a great many Carhavel men, had been in the missing bastion. There was nothing left now. If any of them had survived, it would be a miracle. Before the first had faded even half away, another explosion followed, centred on one of the western bastions, eviscerating the shield and drowning the structure in smoke and flame.

"What's doing that?" someone screamed.

"There," another yelled, pointing a finger towards the approaching banners. At their head stood a man in a long red coat, his hair golden blonde. He moved his hands as though rubbing on an invisible ball, then pulled them away from one another. A narrow pulse of yellowish light came from them, and arced towards the bastion that Percy had left Toral Aspen in. It passed through the dwindling shield as though it wasn't there. On impact, the bastion disappeared amidst the explosion.

At once, it hit Percy. Carhavel is lost. Three of the bastions had been destroyed in the span of thirty seconds, half of the Magi with them. How long could the other three possibly hold out? When they were gone, the Carhavel defenders would be crushed.

Aldora's words rang in his mind. Keep Eada safe.

He picked her up. "What are you doing? Let me down!" Eada kicked and hit at him, but he was half her height again, and much broader in the shoulders, and he had no trouble keeping hold of her.

"Hold the wall," he yelled, to the nearby lieutenant. "Hold it until the last man."

"Captain." The lieutenant saluted him solemnly, then called to his archers to loose. Percy didn't stay to see if the arrows hit true. Ignoring Eada's protests, he made for the stairs down. Another explosion came as he descended. A fourth bastion gone, no doubt. He didn't dwell on it. Carhavel was gone, now, as far as he was concerned, and that made him the Captain of a dead city's guard. But Eada still lived, and as long as she did he could get her away. Somewhere safe.

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