CHAPTER 61 Torj
Torj
‘A Warsword’s sworn duty is first and foremost to the midrealms’
– The Midrealms Chronicles
‘WE’VE LOST THE support of House Blackthorn, House Merith, even the Rivertons,’ Kipp said as he sorted through his reports.
‘All of them are refusing to honour their pledges, given the insult to the Devereux name. And of course, House Briar and House Pendelton are gone. They left with Lucian and Darian.’
‘It’s to be expected,’ Wren replied slowly, though she looked pale.
Now he had the freedom to do so, Torj reached for her, covering her hand with his and eliciting a small smile from her before she continued.
‘But at least we have the masters of Drevenor with us. They’re assisting Zavier and Dessa with the cure as we speak.
In this war, having an alchemist is just as good as having a Warsword. ’
Torj nodded. ‘We’re still hopeful that Audra will remind Leiko of his oaths to the other rulers of the midrealms—’
‘But his forces are funded by the Devereuxs,’ Wren countered.
‘Therein lies the problem. And we received word on Aveum’s army,’ Wilder told them. ‘They were hit with a snowstorm at the base of the mountain ranges bordering Vios, and have been delayed.’
‘Is there any word on the rest of Silas’s forces? What of the other strongholds close to here?’ Thea asked. ‘Can we expect them to march on us as soon as they get word of our diminished numbers? Can we hold them off with so few in our ranks?’
‘They’re a few days’ ride from us,’ Kipp offered. ‘So it’s a matter of who gets here first – Aveum’s forces, or the Kingsbane’s . . .’
‘Cal, how’s the arrow wound?’ Wren asked. ‘Are you fit to lead our archers?’
‘I’m fine. Basically good as new. Ready to fight,’ Cal declared hurriedly.
‘You’ll live,’ Dessa corrected him. ‘But you won’t be playing the part of the Flaming Arrow in this next fight if you know what’s good for you.’
‘He doesn’t,’ Torj said.
Wren huffed a laugh. ‘All you Warswords have that in common.’
‘If we’re done here, there’s another important matter on the agenda,’ Thea called, leading them outside, where she pointed to the Kingsbane flag flapping in the wind.
Torj watched his soul-bonded climb the garrison wall, mud caking her armour, strands of wet hair stuck to her face in all her storm-worn glory. He’d never seen something so magnificent – not until she reached the enemy flag and tore it from its pole.
The sound of the fabric ripping echoed across the flooded encampment and was met with a near-deafening cheer from their forces. Tattered material danced in the breeze as the clouds retreated, revealing the golden light of dawn beyond.
Wilder clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘We did it. We won the capital.’
Torj nodded, bracing himself against a wave of dizziness.
Between his friend’s celebratory words was the truth: it wasn’t over.
They had the advantage, not a victory, and it had come at a steep price.
The sacrifice of the silvertide roses was at the forefront of Torj’s mind, the effects of the strengthening potion waning.
He had gone through his last two vials already, and as he and Wilder strode through the stronghold, he scanned the faces for Dessa and Zavier.
He’d need more before the day was done. He just needed to get through the final battle, he told himself, then he would stop, would accept his lot in life – or death.
But he had to see this final part to the end. He had to see Wren on her throne.
‘You alright, Bear Slayer?’ Wilder asked, brow furrowed.
Torj huffed. ‘I pummelled more traitors than you, didn’t I?’
‘Sure you did, old man,’ Wilder replied with a smirk.
‘Fuck off, Hawthorne,’ Torj muttered, opting for silence as they made their way to where Wren and Thea were inspecting the garrison.
Silas’s forces had made use of the remaining structures in the city – stringing makeshift canvas coverings between the standing walls to create shelter.
Fallen timber from collapsed buildings had been used to reinforce weak points in the existing walls, and to create basic barriers where the rubble allowed.
The highest points in the city – the bell tower, the remains of a temple – had been tended to.
They’d clearly housed some of the higher-ranking soldiers, where beds of straw had been made, and remains of rations were found nearby.
There was decent visibility over the stronghold and the perimeter of the city, and Torj could see where, before the storm, temporary forges had been set up in the courtyards.
One of the old market squares had been fenced off to hold their horses, who grazed on the wet grass that grew between the cobblestones.
When he reached Wren, she melted into his embrace without hesitation, brushing her lips against his. This was so new – the not hiding. It sparked something inside him as she claimed him for all to see. Her clothes were wet, her cheeks flushed with exertion and the rush of their brief reprieve.
‘I’ve sent Vernich and Graves out to scour the lands for Silas. We put a real dent in their numbers, and thankfully Thea and I were able to rid us of that vapour before we had too many casualties.’ Wren was breathless, energized by what had happened.
Torj spotted the tattered remains of the usurper’s flag cast aside on a table behind her. ‘That’s good,’ he said slowly.
‘But?’ she prompted.
‘But we’re not done. You know that, don’t you?’ He spoke the words carefully, not wanting to burst her bubble.
‘It’s not my first war, Bear Slayer,’ she replied, her arms looping around his waist. ‘But I know to celebrate the wins when we have them, and while our warriors are gathering the prisoners and setting up our headquarters, I choose to celebrate . . . with you.’
Over the top of Wren’s head, Torj saw Dessa and Zavier talking with Kipp at the back of the makeshift shelter. ‘Is that so, Embers?’ he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. ‘I think you’ll find that war camps offer little privacy.’
‘Who said anything about the camp?’ she replied, peering up at him through her lashes.
He squeezed her, trying to share his warmth with her. ‘There are things to do . . .’
‘I know. There always are.’ She sighed, her whole body sagging against him. ‘A girl can dream, can’t she?’
‘Who’s going to stop you?’ he murmured, giving her an extra squeeze as he echoed Thea’s words from earlier.
As the sun rose higher, the sky a crisp shade of blue after the storm, he and Wren joined the others gathered around the table in the command tent, all of them weary and soaked through.
The aches in his body were made worse by the cold, and he could feel the tender spots where bruises were blooming beneath his armour.
He’d taken a few hits to the kidneys that were the main culprits, but he hid his grimace as he took a seat beside Wren.
‘We need to decide what to do with the prisoners,’ Kipp said without preamble.
‘How many are there?’ Thea asked.
‘Five dozen, or more. Some of the Guardians are still doing final checks,’ Cal replied, testing out his injured shoulder with a wince.
‘There’s a cellar down by the bell tower,’ Wren told Kipp. ‘You can put them in there for now. But make sure they have plenty of water and food if we have it. I don’t want them being mistreated.’
The strategist nodded. ‘That can be arranged. I’ll set up a watch as well.’
‘Speaking of watches . . .’ Torj shifted in his seat, sending a bolt of pain down his side that he barely concealed.
He glanced at Zavier and Dessa to see if they’d noticed, but they were poring over the map of the capital.
He forged on. ‘We need to reinforce all the perimeters as best we can. They’ll know the weak points. We need patrols on constant rotation.’
‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Kipp replied. ‘I get the sense there’s something else you need, Bear Slayer?’
His gaze slid pointedly to the alchemists. But it wasn’t Torj’s need for a strengthening potion that saw him rise from his chair.
‘There is,’ he told them. ‘Wren needs to be crowned queen. Tonight.’