Crusader

Chapter 117

Vara

Day 223 of the Siege of Sanctuary

She wanted to weep but she killed another dark elf instead, striking his head from his body with enough force that it flew through the air and hit one of his fellows. The door had been open for less than thirty seconds, but already the dead were beginning to pile up, slippery on the floor where the blood was spilled. There was sound in the distance, too, trumpets heralding some sort of advance. She could barely hear it, but it both infuriated her and demoralized her, and not in equal measure. The fury won out, and another dark elf failed to survive his day of victory.

Aisling slipped out from behind one of her enemies and punched twin holes through a dark elf’s back, then thrust one knife in the back of another’s neck. The goblins were spitting and screeching in the corner in some sort of frenzy, joined by Irontooth’s wolves, and blood was flying thick through the air and streaking the walls. Vara watched a gnome no more than three feet tall, charge forward, a cane in his knubby fists, slamming it down on a troll’s foot, dashing between its legs and away as Belkan drove a sword through its belly while it was distracted.

She saw red armor fly through the air and Thad hit the wall near the hearth. He fell to the ground and did not move, and she knew he was dead. A troll bellowed, then slung a sword again and sent Menlos Irontooth smashing to the ground, guts opened to the air and grunting in agony.

We’ll lose, she thought. This is it. Only a minute of battle in here, and we’re already decided. The horn sounded in the distance again, and she bowed her head slightly. It was faint, but something about it prickled at her mind. Why would it be far off? Their army is here now. She felt a tingle and raised her sword again, cutting through the dark elf who appeared in front of her. She listened harder over the sounds of the battle, and faintly, near the edge of the walls, she could hear the worried cries of the enemy, looking out over the battlements. The horn sounded again as a ripple of uncertainty ran through the army that was outside but within the walls; she could barely hear it over the chaos in the foyer, but it was there-a rumor of something approaching.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, loud enough for others to hear it faintly. The battle did not pause, but it slowed for a moment, even in the foyer, as everyone assessed. She looked out the door, straight down the path toward the open crater where the front gate used to be, and in the darkness she saw movement over the heads of the dark elves. Torches burned in procession, cutting a wide V through the middle of the dark elf army at the gate. The torches seemed to split, surging out into three prongs, riding through the heart of the dark elves, with the largest prong still coming forth.

It was just inside the walls now, and Vara slashed aside a dark elf who came at her, shoving his corpse out of the way to keep her eyes upon the disturbance. The horn blew again, louder this time, at the fore of the movement, somewhere at the front of the torches that were coming toward them now, coming for them …

All motion seemed to come to a halt outside. She saw the armored dark elves who had queued up toward the steps to Sanctuary, waiting their turn to plunge inside and attack, begin to shuffle back and turn toward the approaching disturbance. The torches kept coming, moving erratically up and down but inexorably forward. Her eyes strained to make out what was behind them, what could be moving so fast to carry them forth. They were just inside the curtain wall now and had only slowed slightly; screams and cries from their wake were just now audible to her ears, along with the sound of battle, the clash of steel on steel.

There was a faint blue glow at the front, in the shape of a blade. She pushed a dark elf out of the way, shoved him roughly down, stabbed him in the back of the neck and then placed a boot atop him as she levered herself up to look over the crowd. The blue glow moved up and down with alarming speed, and it grew closer, more distinct. She watched as dark elves lined up on the lawn fell before it in waves, the momentum of the thing bringing it forward with the others, with the torches, as though it were being carried-

On horseback. By cavalry. She blinked at the sight of the destruction outside, stretching back past the walls, at the cries of anguish and agony and the swath of destruction cut whole through the dark elven army. It would take … thousands of cavalry to do that … who could manage such a thing …? Her eyes alighted on the blue glow, the sword, and she felt a rush as she killed another dark elf, shoving her way forward through the knot of them, recognition flooding her heart with relief.

The sword shape came at the head of the cavalry, riding down the dark elves on the lawn even as his army fanned out behind him. When he reached the broken doors she saw him in profile, rugged as always, Praelior at his side, and watched as he dismounted, killing three enemies on his drop to the ground. Her gasp of recognition was drowned out by the calls of others shouting his name, screaming it as he cut down a troll from behind, then another, blocking the door to the outside all by himself as those in the foyer turned on the limited number of enemies within their midst and began to slaughter them.

There was other noise, too, the sounds of “RETREAT! RETREAT!” being shouted from outside, but in the dark elven tongue, not human standard. The fighting in the foyer had begun to die down already, and the dark elves who tried to retreat were cut down in the doorway while attempting to flee by the same blue blade that he had carried for years as he took up the defense himself. The courtyard behind him was already emptying, she could see, corpses strewn across it all the way to the broken wall. There were still torches moving outside it, visible, fast horsemen riding down footmen without any challenge at all. Now the momentum had shifted, the dark elves were afraid and broken, running out the holes in the wall and pouring out onto the plains in all different directions.

He stood in silhouette, the moonlight glaring down from behind him, putting his face in shadow as he watched out the front doors at the last vestiges of the fight concluding outside. There was little enough battle on the lawn now, and the cavalry, which had struck through and driven the dark elves out, was streaming back through the wall now as well, following the retreating army of the Sovereign. Cyrus Davidon watched them-and she watched him.

She started toward him but something stopped her, a notion that something was about to go wrong. His head was bowed as he looked out over the remains of the fight, and someone came up to him in that moment, before Vara could overcome her fear and move forward again; a dark elf, small, catlike-Aisling with her white hair and leather armor slunk up to him and curled herself around him in a tight embrace. Vara recoiled at the sight as though something had burned her, and it only worsened when the dark elven ranger leaned up and kissed him, full and with feeling, deeply, and he returned her kiss, his hand upon her back.

Vara turned away, her legs carrying her unintended up the steps of the staircase, toward the Council Chambers-and away, away from him.