Crusader

Chapter 61

Vara

Day 18 of the Siege of Sanctuary

The alarms sounded in the middle of the night, along with the customary calls of “Alarum! Alarum!” that set her teeth to rattling. Why call out the elongated version of the damned word? Why not just say “alarm” and be done with it?

She had slept once more in her armor and was down the stairs quickly enough to avoid the pileup that had seemed to occur with every alarm of late. Her only consolation was knowing that the members were taking every attack seriously. Except perhaps now, in the dead of the night, the slowness of things coming to awakeness. Of course they would attack us now, draw us out weary and exhausted after I’ve just spent another day preying on their convoys and shipments. She let slip a feral smile. I’d strike them that way, just the same. No mercy.

There were only two heralds in the foyer, two warriors shouting the alarm. Rather than correct them (or slap them, she thought uncharitably) she instead followed their outstretched hands, pointing to the front doors. She ran past the ranks of guards stationed around the portal in the foyer, swords, spears and axes pointed at the center of the room and she fled down the steps at a run, only a few others with her. She had heard the sounds up the stairwell and on the other floors as she passed them; They’ll all be awake and turned out soon enough.

The night air was cool as she crossed the distance of the yard to the wall. The slap of her boots on the steps was lost to her breathing this time, steady, determined. She burst out onto the parapet and found a surprisingly quiet scene-a crowd of people circled down the wall a space, no one watching the fields below. She stole a glance over the edge, and by the light of the crescent moon she could see no army close by, no immediate threat, the grounds below still wafting the stench of the dead from the last battle, their bones now picked clean by the carrion birds, rats, worms, and maggots.

“What the bloody hell was that?” she asked as she shoulder checked her way through the crowd standing on the wall. Most moved aside when her voice was heard. It is nice to know that some move aside not only because I am the shelas’akur but because I’m bound to knock them aside if they don’t. She burst through into the open space on the other side of the wall and there found Alaric, standing with his arms folded next to Thad, surveying the scene.

There were a dozen bodies lying splattered atop the wall, all dark elves she could see by the complexion of the ruined flesh, every one of them in armor of some sort. One of them was obviously a dark knight, fully covered from head to toe in plate mail, a stream of blood oozing out of the cracks and clefts. “What the hell is this?” Vara asked again, and this time Alaric turned to face her, registering no surprise.

“Hello, lass,” the Ghost said. “It would appear that our enemies intended to launch a surprise attack to open our gates.”

“I presume it failed,” she said, kicking one of the bodies with her toe and finding it mushier than she expected.

“Indeed,” Thad said, his amusement unhidden. “They tried to use Falcon’s Essence to sneak over the wall a few hundred feet over our head. It worked, we didn’t even see them coming until they hit the magical barrier at the perimeter and it stripped the enchantment right off of them, sending them plummeting to their deaths.” He nodded over the wall toward the army in the distance. “My guess is that they’re watching the gate, wondering why it hasn’t opened yet. Could be a long night for the poor bastard behind those spyglasses.”

“It could be a long night for those of us who were rousted for an alarm when there is plainly nothing to be alarmed about yet,” she said, grinding her teeth together. “And also those of us who have an early morning sortie planned at daybreak.”

“Sorry,” Thad said with a shrug, “but it’s the standard response to a surprise attack. We should be on our guard for the next few hours in case they try and storm the gates anyway.”

Vara steamed for a moment, staring at the castellan in sheerest irritation. “You were at the Society of Arms in Reikonos, were you not?”

He blinked at her in surprise. “I was.”

“Then I presume you were no Swift Sword.”

Thad seemed to wobble as if not sure how to answer. “No, I was. I was most assuredly not one of the cursed Able Axes.”

“I certainly believe that you might be swift but not able, based on what I’ve seen of your performance this night,” Vara said bitingly. “I will be returning to my bed, and I trust if there is another alarm raised, it will be done only when an actual dark elf threat, complete with a still-beating hearts, is imminent.”

Thad started to protest but was overcome by Alaric. “Do have a good night, Lady Vara.”

“Lady Vara?” she spun at the Ghost of Sanctuary. “And shall I begin addressing you as Lord Garaunt?”

Alaric’s gaze was steady and even, though there was a wearier bent to the man, she thought. “You may address me however you see fit, within the bounds of our mutual respect for each other.” He favored her with a smile that was shot through with fatigue but made no move to return to Sanctuary or his own bed, and after a moment of watching him, she turned and made her way back inside, threading through the steady flow of people that were coming to join in the defense of their home.