Chapter 45
Alaric
Raban and I gather weapons and hurry through the corridors out into the courtyard.
“What happened?” he asks, following me to the alarm bell which I ring furiously.
When the noise dies down, the courtyard falls silent again and we wait. I pray there are guards and hunters left in Thornvale to answer the call.
“It was my fault. My curse.” I shake my head.
“I’m sorry we could not get to you sooner.” He touches my arm softly and some of the warmth from his skin seems to seep into me. Mine is already cold and healed after the fire.
“I’m grateful you were there to rescue us. Without you, I do not know what would have become of us.”
Men begin rushing in from the stables and the outhouses. Some are half dressed, some strapping on weapons.
Wilhelm, my most experienced hunter, folds his arms across his broad chest and scowls at me. “So you are back, are you? Are we to have no rest?”
I glare at him. “Say what you want about me after this night, but first come with me to defend the walls. There’s a report of monsters from the woods attacking the guards at the gate. Let us work together to keep the town safe.”
“To what end? To serve a queen who cares nothing for her people?”
Raban steps out of the shadows and the men gasp. “No. To serve your rightful queen.”
Wilhelm’s eyes widen. “What is this? You are bringing monsters into our city now?”
I step between him and Raban. “Raban is a friend of the rightful queen. Queen Guinevere. She has returned to Blackthorn, and Melantha the usurper has been deposed. If you would follow the true queen then gather your things and join me. If not, tell me now and we can leave you to the monsters.”
A murmur rises. Wilhelm frowns. “The princess is dead. Or is it the witch imposter you speak of?”
I shake my head. “She is no imposter. That I can attest to. Nor is she a witch. It was Melantha who cast the spell to draw the monsters out of the Gloamwald. Who drained our town of resources. Who refused even to let the people grieve for the old king.”
The muttering increases. Another man steps forward. “Melantha is not the rightful queen. It should be Guinevere.”
Another man spits in the dirt. “Melantha stole from the mouths of our children to stuff her table.”
“There is no more time to waste. Join me now or do not. The choice is yours. But know that if you fail me, more people will die.”
I turn away from the crowd without waiting to see who follows. All I know is Raban is behind me as I step my foot in Tharrok’s stirrup. I am more than a little surprised to look behind as we leave the inner gate and see every one of them. Not a man stayed behind.
Even Wilhelm gives me a grudging nod from the back of his gray gelding.
We ride hard, reaching the wall in good time. As we rein in our horses, Raban lands beside us. “I see three dire wolves and a wyrm, plus a tree giant outside the walls.”
I curse. This is not the report I was hoping for. I have only ten men, and it could take all ten to take down a giant alone. Even then we will not escape without injuries.
I had thought to take a party outside the walls, but now I see we’ll have to fight from within. To hold our ground and keep the advantage.
I order the men into the battlements, lingering a moment with Raban. “Fly over the walls. Look for places where they have failed, for weaknesses. I need to know if there are attacks in other places.”
He nods. He steps forward, casting a shy look at me under long lashes. “Be careful.”
He spreads his wings as if to take off, but I grab his arm, stopping him. Not caring who is watching, I pull him close, cupping his cheek for a moment, smiling at the blush that rises there. “And you. I want us all to be together again.”
His grin is infectious. “Then you have come around to sharing our princess?”
“As long as she will share you with me.”
There’s no time for more. I kiss him swiftly and release him. But I catch myself looking for him several times as I climb the steps to the guard post.
Once I reach the top, all my attention goes to what’s below us. Three huge, shaggy dire wolves sniff at the gate. Intelligence gleams in the deep black of their eyes. The largest lifts his head and howls, and the sound chills me.
How many more might be coming on through the woods? When they start digging, I know they are the threat we must deal with first. One dire wolf alone is dangerous, but the worst thing about them is that they hunt in packs. I’m beginning to feel grateful we have the walls between us.
“The hot oil!” I call to the men already on the battlements.
“Light the fires. Hunters, I want them harried with arrows until the oil is hot.” I look to the western side of the wall where the enormous tree giant lumbers from the woods.
“Wilhelm. Take two hunters and go out to the western tower. Hold that giant off until I can send reinforcements.”
Wilhelm’s face is grim, but he makes no protest. He, Tomas, and Viktor descend and hurry to their horses.
I turn back to the wolves. They snarl and snap at the arrows which fly down from above them, but it doesn’t stop them digging. Already the ground below the gate is torn up, the ditch is growing. I pray to all the gods we can heat the oil in time.
The fires are burning. We are doing all we can.
Frustrated with the slow speed of the heating oil, I climb down to the storeroom looking for ideas. All I find is three enormous slabs of stone destined to form repairs to sections of the wall where the stone is worn. They’ll have to do.
The stone is fucking heavy. It strains every muscle in my body to lift, but I can’t spare a man from the wall.
I stagger up the steps, and when the others spot me, they move aside from the battlements.
Two men rush to help, and together we heft the stone up and over the edge.
Aiming is difficult. I cannot see around the sides or over the top.
I close my eyes, push, and hope, relieved when I hear a whine from below a moment later.
Leaning over the wall, I see the stone hit one of the wolves, crushing its leg. It howls and bites at the crushed leg, but it can’t move.
I don’t wait to watch more. The second stone is even larger.
I almost drop it as I heave it up the steps.
At the top, four guards take the weight and fling it over.
There’s a satisfying thump, but when I look, we have missed the wolves.
They’re wary now. Looking up at us, snarling and growling. We may have lost that advantage.
I look up at a shout from above. “More coming this way!” Raban circles around the tower, clawed feet tucked up under him.
I curse. “What is it?”
“I cannot tell through the trees. I’ll get closer.”
“No!” Before he can fly off, I call him back. “Do not risk it.”
He laughs, placing a hand over his heart. “I think you’re flirting with me.”
I can’t stop the growl that erupts from me, conscious of the eyes of the others on me. “I think we are a bit beyond that, do you not? Just stay safe.”
He grins, gives me a dramatic salute, and twists in the air to fly back over the wall to the east. I watch him as long as I dare before I’m forced to turn my eyes back to the chaos in front of us.
The oil is finally hot enough, which is good because the wolves have dug quite a trench.
The huge metal vats can only be tipped without aiming.
The trick is to get the enemy in the right position.
In the end we toss meat down and hurry to tip the huge vats over.
We catch one wolf right in the face. He howls until the sound is choked off with a horrid bubbling sound.
The second wolf escapes before the oil hits him. I’m debating whether we can afford to send a party out to finish off the injured wolf, when the wyrm appears from the trees. It rears up, flaring its scaly hood and hissing fiercely. The remaining dire wolf turns with a snarl.
While they fight, I seize the opportunity.
The guards raise the gate as quickly as they can, and I duck underneath while the monsters are distracted. They both turn toward me soon enough, and I’m forced to dodge an attack from the wolf while keeping my eyes on the snake.
They’re wary of each other, which I use to my advantage. When the wolf gets too close, the wyrm darts in with a lunge that narrowly misses its thick neck. A shame. Wyrm venom would be strong enough to take down even a dire wolf.
A well placed blow to the shoulder of the wolf is enough to finish it off, but while my sword is still stuck in its flesh, I hear a hiss from behind.
I jump out of the way, but in so doing I relinquish my weapon.
With a curse, I dodge the lunges of the huge serpent, trying to find a way back to retrieve my sword. The creature sees my aim and heads me off, curling its long tail around the body of my monstrous victim.
I’m beginning to think I’ll have to strangle the thing with my bare hands when Raban swoops into view, making straight for the serpent. I want to shout to him not to get too near its face. I can picture those enormous teeth sinking into his pretty flesh. I don’t want to alert it to his presence.
He’s too fast anyway, diving in and slashing with his claws at the creature’s eyes. I don’t wait to watch the outcome. My stomach lurches in my belly as I make a grab for my sword. If he’s hurt, the princess will be devastated. I tell myself that’s the only reason I’m so scared.
I yank the sword from the wolf and turn the motion into a swipe—just in time.
My blade slashes right across the neck of the beast as it turns in an attempt to catch Raban. He darts out of the way and the creature gasps. Its jaws open wide. A spurt of acidic black blood makes me duck.
Then it falls to the ground with a thump.
Raban alights beside me.
“Did you have to get quite so close to those fangs?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer me, because at that moment, the bodies lying at our feet begin to stir. I know they’re dead. I’ve never seen a wyrm survive a blow to the neck like that, and the dire wolf’s heart is right below its shoulders.
Head distorted at an unnatural angle, the wyrm slithers and rears back, but its eyes are blank and staring straight ahead at the wall.
My arm shoots out automatically to block Raban, protecting him with my body. With my other I hold my sword ready as I drop into a crouch. “Stay back.”
“What is happening?”
I look around at him and see my own fear mirrored in his expression. “The princess!”
We race back to the gate with the dead things right behind us. Their movements are slow but their legs are longer than ours so we barely outpace them.
“Open the gates!” I call up to the guards.
To their credit, the gate begins to rise immediately. I duck and roll underneath, shouting up to the guards to close them again.
It doesn’t take very long before it becomes apparent we are fighting a losing battle, though.
The gates clank into place, but the monstrous wights pound on them over and over until the whole wall shakes. Tiny stone fragments start to chip from the walls. The guards in the tower above clutch the battlements.
“It is no use. Open them.”
“Are you mad?” Edmund calls, his face contorted into an expression of disbelief.
“Just do what I say! The walls cannot withstand this and it is not us they want.”
When he doesn’t respond, I run to the steps and take them two at a time. I come to the top of the tower just as Edmund starts turning the crank. “I hope you know what you are doing, Sir Alaric.”
“Me too.”
We watch as the gate slowly opens even as the monsters continue throwing themselves against it. Metal warps, but it holds long enough to come to a shuddering stop most of the way up.
It’s enough. The dead wolves and the wyrm drag themselves through the gap and pass on, not even turning to look at Raban who stands a few feet away staring. He has more trust in my instincts than I do.
“Close it again.” I tell Edmund. “But let the dead ones pass. I’m going to stop this.”
I race for my horse. By the time I’m in the saddle, Raban is already in the air. “Fly ahead. Warn Corvin and Guin.” If she’s in any state to be warned is what I think to myself but do not say.
Raban’s grim expression tells me he’s thinking the same thing.