Sovereign

CHAPTER 13

Charion woke, startled, staring into the dark. For a moment all she could think of were the shreds of a dream; fragments of a green forest, alluring and somehow threatening at the same time.

Then the sound of a trumpet, and she recognised the sound that had woken her. It had come from the west. She leaped out of her bed and rushed to the window. She could hear sounds of running soldiers, cries, the sound of fear, the low ringing of despair.

Someone banged on her door. Farben's voice. 'Your Majesty! They attack the west wall! They attack the west wall!'

She hurried to the door and flung it open. Her secretary was holding a torch, its flame exaggerating his frightened features. 'Get in!' she ordered, and used the light to slip on her hauberk and sword belt, then together they rushed out of the palace, Charion's helmet under her arm, Farben pattering behind.

Around her sergeants and captains were shouting orders, making sure soldiers kept to their posts and did not automatically rush to the point of attack only to leave other sections of the wall vulnerable. Other inhabitants hovered near the doorways of their homes, hugging their children to them. Workers were busy lighting lamps spaced along the streets.

Galen joined her. 'The knights are ready,' he told her. She nodded. As they drew closer to the west wall she could hear the cries of the enemy, the wild whoops of the Chetts. She repressed the shiver starting up her spine. She had faced them once before and beaten them off. This time, in her own city, she would do it again.

The three of them reached stairs and ran up, went through a guard tower and then they were there. She pulled a soldier away from the wall and looked over. She could see a scuttling tide of warriors gathering around the foot of the wall. Ladders were being raised. Ropes with hooks twirled in the air. Arrows flashed in the night, most clattering uselessly against the stonework, some found a mark.

'How many?' Galen asked.

Charion shrugged. 'Too dark to be sure. Several hundred. A thousand.'

'A diversion?'

Again she shrugged. How did he expect her to know so soon? Then she remembered he had never been through a siege, and although she had only gone through one, compared to Galen she was a veteran. The thought made her smile grimly. 'Too early to tell.'

An arrow whistled passed her ear.

'Put out that fucking torch!' a voice roared.

Farben whimpered and dropped the torch to the ground below, narrowly missing a worker stoking a fire under a cauldron of oil. More curses, and more whimpering from Farben.

'What are you doing here?' Charion asked the secretary.

'Waiting for orders,' he said.

She looked at him then, a man as small as she and not suited for anything really except life at court; and yet he had never deserted her, always been at her side if he could, in spite of any danger.

'Go back to the palace,' she said gently. 'I will ask for you if I need you.'

Farben hesitated, did a little nervous dance with his feet.

'Go,' she repeated.

He nodded, smiled thankfully and left.

The top of a roughly made wooden ladder appeared over the wall. A soldier with a long forked stick started pushing it away when Charion stopped him. She tested the ladder. 'Wait until there is more weight against it.' They waited a few seconds and Charion tested it again. 'Now!' she ordered, and the soldier pushed with all his strength. Galen got behind and helped. The ladder seemed to balance in midair for a moment, then finally eased back away from the wall. They heard no screams, but two very satisfying thumps. The soldier grinned at Charion, turned to thank Galen for his help. Something hit him in the head, flinging him off the walkway to land in a broken heap on the ground below.

Galen swore. 'What was that?'

Something smacked hard into the tower behind them and dropped to the walkway. 'They're throwing bloody rocks at us!' Galen said and scrunched down to present a smaller target.

Charion went over to the object and picked it up. 'No,' she said, surprised by its weight. 'It's metal, not stone.'

'Metal? That means…'

'Ballistae!' Charion finished for him. She looked at Galen in alarm. 'The Chetts don't have sappers!'

More guards were hit and everyone on the walkway hunkered down behind the parapets. A cluster of new ladders and rope hooks appeared; no one seemed to be in a hurry to expose themselves to the ballistae to push them away.

'Come on!' Charion shouted to Galen, and together they stood up, grabbed one of the forked sticks and forced a ladder far enough off balance for it to topple sideways. This time there were some screams. Everyone else on the walkway, shamed into action, stood then and pushed at the ladders and severed the climbing ropes. A few of the defenders were hit by metal missiles, but no enemy made it to the top. When the last ladder was gone everyone ducked back down again.

'Who taught the Chetts to build artillery?' Galen asked, not expecting an answer.

Charion slapped the wall. 'That's why Lynan didn't attack us right after the battle!'

Galen looked at her curiously. 'What are you talking about?'

'He attacked Salokan! Don't you see? He had to rebuild his army's confidence, and Salokan's army was already defeated and in retreat. The Haxans had sappers. Lots of them.'

'It wouldn't take him all this time to destroy an army and recruit its sappers,' Galen said.

'No, but it might take him that long to conquer Haxus.'

'God,' Galen said as the implications of what Charion was suggesting sank in. 'We're in trouble.'

Charion nodded. All the hurried repair work they had done to Daavis had been in expectation of an assault by a Chett army unversed in the art of siege warfare and, even more importantly, without the expertise necessary to build artillery and siege engines. She had never expected Lynan's army to attempt anything more complex than scale the city walls or try and undermine them.

'We're going to lose Daavis,' Galen said sombrely.

'I'm not going to lose my city!' Charion said fiercely. 'I beat off Salokan, I can beat off Lynan!'

Galen said nothing, but knew that Charion beat off Salokan because Sendarus and the force he commanded—which then had included Galen and the knights from the Twenty Houses—had arrived in time to break the siege. This time there would be no one marching to the rescue. It would take months for Grenda Lear to replace the army it lost when Lynan attacked Sendarus and effectively eliminated it as a fighting force.

'They're retreating!' someone called.

Charion and Galen risked glimpsing over the parapets. The Chetts were running back to their lines, taking their wounded with them.

'Do you have a sally port?' Galen asked suddenly.

'Yes. We call it the main gate.'

'Oh.'

'I'm not going to risk you and your knights yet, Galen,' Charion told him.

'We're not much use where we are.'

'I'll need you if the Chetts break through. A determined charge by your force should secure any breach long enough for us to reinforce from one of the other walls.'

'Well, they're gone for the moment.'

'They'll be back.'

'How long?'

'Before evening,' Charion said. 'And they'll try here again, I'll warrant.'

'How do you know that?'

'Because Lynan is trying to convince us this is where he'll be getting in.'

As Eynon's warriors reached the safety of their lines the first rays of a new day lit the eastern horizon. He had sent three hundred out, and most of them returned in good order and on their feet. When the count came back he had lost thirty dead and that many again wounded. The reports of the survivors told him what he needed to know about the defences, and he immediately started planning the next assault. Lynan, who had watched the attack with him, promised him more artillery.

'If any of our warriors can take that wall, yours can,' Lynan told him.

Eynon knew Lynan was clumsily attempting to build up his confidence, but there was an element of truth in his words. His warriors had carried out the attack without hesitation and had only pulled back because Eynon had given the command. Although the defences would have been too much for that first assault, he was more confident the second would do better.

Maybe, just maybe, he allowed himself to think, this exercise will end up being something more than a simple diversion.

Eynon made sure his warriors were rested and well fed, keeping them behind barricades, out of sight of the city. Chett archers were peppering the walls in the north and east as well as the south, and he had heard Lynan was arranging for barges to be made or brought up from outlying villages so they could put pressure on the river wall as well. Meanwhile, the Haxan sappers were digging closer and closer to the city walls. One way or another, Eynon was sure, Lynan would find a way to keep his word and make the city fall within two weeks. Once Hume was in Chett hands and the Algonka Pass secured, he could hunt down the Saranah who had attacked his clan and wipe them out.

And then I will resurrect my clan, and we will become as strong and respected as we once were.

As the afternoon waned, Eynon gathered nearly five hundred of his warriors together. They brought with them scaling ladders and ropes and a fierce determination to succeed where their fellow clan warriors had failed in the morning. As well, this time Eynon had more of the devilish Haxan ballistae, and Lynan had allotted them more ammunition so they could give cover from the very start of the assault. Lynan had also sent the first constructed mangonels, pieces of artillery that awed the Chetts. Where the ballistae were machines based on the principal of the bow, the mangonels were something else altogether, in concept and scale something the Chetts had never seen before.

When it was two hours from sunset Lynan joined Eynon again.

'Would you like to do something useful?' Eynon asked him.

Lynan looked at him with some amusement. 'What did you have in mind?'

'Order the artillery. I want to go up with my warriors.'

Lynan frowned. 'I don't want to lose you, Eynon.'

'Thank you for your concern,' he said dryly. 'But I want to know what it is like out there for myself. I don't want my warriors to think I'm the kind of leader who will not share their danger.'

Lynan seemed doubtful, and Eynon thought he was going to refuse him. 'When you fought against the army of Grenda Lear, I understand you led the final attack against the knights from the Twenty Houses.'

Lynan sighed. He had been outmanoeuvred. 'Very well.'

'How quickly do those mangonels reload?'

'I'm assured by the Haxan crews they can send off a missile every three minutes.'

'Too slow to be much use in the attack. Have them shoot as soon as we start the charge across the open ground. With any luck those huge stones will dislodge some of the enemy from behind the parapets. Then use the ballistae until you see my warriors are near the top.'

Lynan nodded. 'As you say. Good luck.'

Eynon nodded and left to join his warriors. He waited until he judged the sun was shining directly in the eyes of any defenders behind the walls, stood up and waved his sword in the air. As one, his Chetts broke cover and started running across the open ground towards the west wall. They had not gone twenty paces when Eynon heard wood slam against wood, followed by the whistle of stones hurled overhead by the Haxan mangonels. They hit the west wall with loud cracks; some of the stones disintegrated, others dropped to the ground. Pulverised dust swirled around the parapets, and Eynon could hear the screams of the wounded and dying even above the war cries of the Chetts.

Like a dark tide the attackers reached the wall and pooled under it to avoid the arrows of Hume archers. Eynon shouted orders and ladders were raised and climbing ropes with savage hooks whirled above heads. His warriors kept up their war cries and were answered by the defenders above. Missiles from the ballistae tattooed against the stonework, the sound softer if it hit a human target. The rope hooks whirled through the air, some finding purchase, others dropping. Warriors clambered up ladders, shinned up ropes. Eynon went to the nearest ladder and started climbing. From the corner of his eye he saw liquid, creamy and steaming, pour down over three Chetts on the ladder next to his. They ignited before his eyes and fell to the ground where they writhed in pain but without sound. Anger and hate welled up in him like a black tide. The warrior above him gave a victory cry as he reached the parapet then screamed, toppled backwards and over Eynon, an arrow in his eye. Then Eynon was there himself, facing a Hume archer desperately trying to nock another arrow. Eynon held on to the ladder with his sword hand and with the other unsheathed his dagger and flung it. The dagger clanged uselessly against the archer's helm, but he yelped in fright and took a step backward, disappearing over the walkway. Eynon scrabbled across the parapet and was over, his sword flashing in the golden sun as he sliced through archers and spearmen suddenly too crowded to fight back effectively.

Other Chetts made it to the walkway and soon they secured the central section of the wall, allowing even more warriors to clamber over.

'We've done it!' he cried. 'We've done it! Get to the gate! Get to the gate!'

Their sabres whirling and cutting, the Chetts forced back the defenders. They reached a guard tower and killed all inside it, giving them possession of stairs leading down to the city itself. With wild whoops Eynon and his warriors poured down the stairs, scattering the defenders before them.

In the courtyard of the palace what was left of the knights of the Twenty Houses, about three hundred heavy cavalry, waited impatiently for the call to action. Among them was Serefa, still haunted by images of his companions left behind at the outpost from which he himself had barely escaped with his life. He wanted revenge against the Chetts, but for the moment all he could do was listen to the sounds of the assault on the west wall. He gripped his reins and prayed to God that he would let the Chetts win over the wall so the knights could be called into action, and at the same time felt terribly guilty that his wish might be granted.

After what seemed hours of listening to someone else's fight, the tone and pitch of the battle changed noticeably. It seemed closer, more desperate, and Serefa could feel in the sound the unmistakable current of panic. His heartbeat and breathing picked up and he started sweating under his breastplate and helmet.

A messenger appeared at the courtyard entrance, looked around frantically until he found Galen and ran to him. The two exchanged terse words and the messenger left. Galen turned to his knights, raised his mailed fist and waved it in the air. Serefa could not help grinning—God had granted him his wish.

They stayed at a walk until they had left the courtyard, then moved to a trot on the broad avenue leading directly west. The whole area was deserted. Ahead they could see small, ant-like figures on the west wall and smoke starting to column into the air. Galen drew his sword, and the knights eased into a canter, the sound of their horses' hooves and their jangling armour echoing in the city, their formation easing into four lines to give the maximum frontage. Serefa found himself at the far right of the second line, and he could see the enemy on the ground, overwhelming desperate defenders trying to stop them getting to the main gate in the north wall. Galen lowered his sword and the knights went from canter to gallop. The sound they made turned into a pounding that could be heard above all other noise, and the Chetts looked up and saw with terror what was bearing down on them. Some tried to form some kind of defensive line but the knights were on them too quickly. Swords swung, smashing through skull and limb, horses bit at faces and their hooves beat down on fallen bodies. The Chetts panicked and routed back to the stairs, but some of the knights, first among them Serefa, beat them to it and held them back while their fellows pressed in from the front.

One Chett, larger and more ferocious than the rest, made his way to the front and ducked under a slashing attack from Serefa before darting under his horse. Serefa heard his mount scream in pain and then it collapsed in a heap and he found himself standing, his feet astride the dead animal. Before he could react the Chett was behind him. A huge arm locked around his throat and pulled him back, and he felt a blade slide against his neck. He tried to struggle free, shouting for help, but the blade bit deep. He felt no pain, just a warm flood and a dark curtain falling over his eyes, and as he fell atop his slain horse the last thing he saw was the Chetts scrambling past and up the stairs in a desperate bid to escape destruction.

Galen cursed loudly as the last few Chetts managed to get down the other side of the wall before his knights could reach them, but as he looked down at the fleeing enemy he realised how few there were: a hundred perhaps, but not many more. Then he looked down on the other side at the Chett dead heaped against the stairs and the inside wall. They had fought with amazing ferocity and bravery, but in the end there was nothing they could do against his armoured knights.

But it has not all gone our way, he reminded himself. After all, the Chetts had managed to get over the wall. There seemed to be as many slain defenders as there were Chetts, and a large number of them had been struck by those terrible Haxan missiles. He shouted for archers to shoot at the retreating Chetts, but even as he did so the now familiar sound of more metal thwacking against the wall made him duck below the parapets. He made his way to the tower and then down the stairs where he was met by a frantic Farben.

'Have you seen the queen?' the secretary demanded.

Galen looked blankly at him for a moment. 'No, I…' For a moment panic took him and he felt his muscles start to lock. 'She must be here somewhere…'

'I haven't seen her!' Farben cried frantically. People were starting to look at them.

'Calm down!' Galen ordered, and saying it helped him calm himself. He grabbed a passing captain. 'Have you seen the queen?'

The captain shook his head. 'Not since the attack began. She was on the walkway—'

Galen did not let him finish. Despite his armour he sprinted back up to the walkway, Farben close behind. Keeping low, they turned over every dead defender, their hearts in their mouths, but found no sign of her.

'She must have made it back down,' Galen said, breathing a sigh of relief.

'Unless she was knocked off the wall,' Farben countered.

They returned to the ground and started searching among the heaps of dead and wounded. They had almost given up when Farben shouted and ran to a collection of three bodies. Galen could not see what had grabbed the secretary's attention until he drew closer and saw the glint of armour. He ran over and helped Farben pull off one dead guard and a headless Chett, And there was Charion, blood all over her breastplate and helmet, her face as pale as a winter sky.

'Oh God…' Galen muttered and lifted her in his arms, Farben whimpering beside him. By now other defenders had gathered around, recognising who it was. Galen took off her helmet, but though there was a lot of dirt and blood matting her hair, there appeared to be no injury. He then took off her breastplate, and again there seemed to be no source for all the blood she was covered in.

It must all belong to the Chett, Galen told himself, hoping it was so.

Gingerly, Galen unlaced her jerkin and lifted her shirt. Half her chest was covered by a purple bruise that was rimmed with blood. He felt the skin tenderly. 'Two broken ribs, at least,' he said aloud. Charion moaned in pain, and Galen let out his breath. Farben looked ready to faint.

'She will be alright,' Galen told the secretary, 'as long as she is looked after. Get her to the palace. I will take over here.'

Farben did not even question the knight, but ordered some of the guards to make a stretcher with spears and cloaks and ordered another to find a doctor.

When they were gone Galen went about making sure there were enough guards put back on the west wall, using some of his own knights to make up the numbers. Then he visited all the wounded, determining whether or not they were fit for duty or needed to be withdrawn. Before he finished he was joined by Magmed.

'We lost seventeen knights,' the nobleman reported. 'Most of them were trying to hold the stairs against the Chetts.'

'I've put another fifty on the wall. That leaves us just over two hundred.'

'The odds are getting worse all the time,' Magmed said levelly.

Galen could only nod.

'As good a place as any to die, I suppose,' Magmed continued. 'I wish to God I could have a charge at Prince Lynan, though.'

'You may yet get your wish,' Galen returned. 'Because I have no intention of going down with the city should it fall.'

Magmed eyed him with surprise. 'You're not going to—'

'Run?' Galen finished for him. 'Of course not. But if the city is lost we have to break out. I will not let my knights be slaughtered in the streets and in the buildings. If worst comes to worst, we still have Kendra to defend.'

'Do you want us ready at the palace again?'

Galen nodded. As Magmed turned to leave, Galen held him back by the arm. 'And tell Farben to ready the queen. I don't know how fit she is to travel, but if we leave her here she will die at Lynan's hands.'

Magmed looked shocked. 'Even Lynan would not do that!'

Galen laughed. 'Did you see what he did to Sendarus? Why would he stop at killing something as petty as a provincial ruler if he would not hesitate to slaughter his own sister's husband?'

Magmed nodded. 'Alright. Where will you be?'

'Here. With Charion gone, someone has to take charge of the defence.'

'Do you think the Chetts will assault the west wall again?'

'Charion told me they would attack at this point at least twice, and the second time they almost made it to the main gate. They'll try again.'

Ager was visiting the trenches opposite the north wall when he heard the war cries of Eynon's warriors as they started their third assault on the west wall. He sent a silent prayer for them, but forced himself to concentrate on his task. Captain Waylong had asked him to come and was pointing out new work, mentioning the names of sappers who had performed exceptionally, detailing where they would go next.

'And the tunnels?' Ager asked. 'How's the mining operation going?'

Waylong looked particularly pleased. Keeping low behind barricades and mantlets he led the way to one of the tunnel entrances.

'We have four of these, three old ones and this new system.'

'New system? How long will it take you to get to tie wall from here? More time than we have, surely?'

Waylong shook his head. 'We're not digging completely new tunnel, only a new entrance. We've used this to intercept one of the old tunnels the enemy thought they had destroyed. They certainly caved in most of the early work, but they didn't finish the job. I takes us closer to the north wall than any other tunnel.' Waylong licked his lips. 'An hour ago we were no more than four paces from under the crooked section of the north wall.'

'Already?' Ager's voice rose with excitement. 'How long before you can set off the mine?'

'We're preparing the work as we go. By now they should be under the wall, but they're working as quietly as possible. The attacks your Chetts are carrying out against the west wall make it hard for any counter-miners to hear the work, so that's when we do most of the close digging.'

'How long before you can set off the mine?' Ager asked again, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

'Late this afternoon,' Waylong answered. 'You might want to wait until tomorrow morning—'

'This afternoon? God, why didn't you tell me this yesterday? We could have called off this morning's assault—'

'Because we didn't know yesterday!' Waylong interrupted. 'We only intercepted the old tunnel last night. And I told you we need the noise of the assault to finish the dig without being detected.'

Ager took a few deep breaths and nodded wearily. 'I'm sorry. But we won't wait until tomorrow morning. Prince Lynan will want to try this afternoon. I need to know exactly when you can fire the mine.'

'An hour before sunset. No earlier.'

'Can you promise that?'

Waylong swallowed. There were so many things that could go wrong in a dig—counter-mining, a tunnel collapse, a miscalculation about tunnel length or an angle—but he knew Ager was not interested in hearing excuses. 'We'll get it done,' he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. 'I'll be there myself to fire it one hour before sunset.'

Ager smiled grimly. 'If you do this, I can promise you Lynan will be very grateful.'

Waylong could not help swallowing again. He was not sure the pale prince's close attention would be a welcome thing. He felt more comfortable in his trenches and holes than being too close to someone that important. Or, he admitted to himself, someone so terrible.

'I'd better get back to it, then,' he mumbled, then half bowed, half saluted and scrambled off.

A good officer, Ager thought to himself. We'll need someone like that in the future. I'll have a word to Lynan about him.

He found it strange to be thinking so highly of a captain from Haxus. He had spent most of his military career fighting men just like Waylong—had even been a captain himself once. When it came down to it, there was no difference between them really, except opportunity. It was ironic that he and Waylong were working together against a Kingdom city.

He shook his head. Such thoughts did no one any good. There was a battle to be won, and enemies to kill Thinking too deeply on it would send a man crazy.

Queen Charion had regained consciousness once since being brought back to the palace. She made some comment on being without a shirt in front of so many men, then passed out again. Doctors had spent hours with her, making sure there were no serious internal injuries other than the three cracked ribs they had found. Unguents were placed on her bruising and her right arm put in a sling to stop it from moving. Galen had visited whenever he could. And all the time, never leaving her side, sat Farben. He amazed himself by not fretting. For the first time since the war had started, he found some kind of calm. His queen had been injured, and for Farben nothing else mattered. Charion was the centre of his world, and when he found her wounded he thought his world had collapsed. When he realised she was still alive he understood how unimportant was everything else in his own life.

Charion moved in her sleep, moaned with the pain it caused her. Farben dipped a cloth in warm scented water and used it to pat her forehead. Her features relaxed and she continued sleeping.

Outside he heard the jangling of armour. Galen's armoured squadron in the courtyard, ready for a last desperate battle. He knew Galen had effectively taken command of the city and was himself on the west wall where the greatest danger lay. Farben thought his queen had chosen well; that is, if she intended Galen to be more than simply her lover. He sighed heavily. She had had her fair share of lovers, none of them much good in Farben's eye: opportunists mostly, and one or two so stupid he thought Charion lucky to get anything at all from them. But Galen was noble born, and a natural commander, and Farben could tell he liked Charion.

Maybe, he thought, Galen even loves her.

He smiled. For many years he had thought he was the only person in the Kingdom who loved Charion. She was a short-tempered cow a lot of the time, but she was absolutely devoted to Hume and she always kept her word. It was easy being one of her secretaries, once you were used to the shouting and screaming.

The sound of fighting reached him. From the west again. How many more times would the Chetts throw themselves so bravely and bloodily against that wall? How long could Galen and the defenders resist?

Charion called out, crying in pain. Farben gently held her down, spoke soothing words to her.

Waylong lit the torch he had specially prepared with wood just turned from green and bound with dampened twine. He glanced one more time at the western horizon and entered the tunnel. For the first few paces he could almost stand, but as it made its way north and deeper into the ground he had to stoop lower and lower until he was crouching. Finally the tunnel widened enough for him to stand again, and on all sides his workers had stacked dry brush around the timber beams that kept the room from collapsing under the weight of the north wall directly above. As well, the workers had prepared two flimsy tables made from branches of dead trees, and on each table rested a la round bowl filled with fine flour. Two engineers were still there, slowly easing out the pegs that joined roof beams to wall stays. When they were finished he waved them out, knelt down and lit a special section of brush that led to the timber frame.

He had done this twice before in his life, and always the temptation was to stay to ensure the cavity collapsed, but discretion played a larger part in his makeup than curiosity and he moved as quickly as he could back through the tunnel. He had gone not more than forty paces when he heard the whooshing sound that meant the brush around the timber and makeshift tables had caught light. He tried to move even faster, knocking his head on the ceiling several times.

Waylong was nearly halfway through the tunnel when the tables collapsed, sending the flour into the air. The ensuing explosion sent a wall of air through the tunnel that whipped his hair and clothes around him, the heat burning against his exposed skin. He made sure not to breathe for a few seconds then took in great gulps of air. He could see golden daylight ahead. Smoke now curled around him. As the tunnel widened and he moved from a crouch to a stoop, he started running, imagining he looked something like Ager in full flight. The thought made him giggle and he almost dropped his torch.

He leaped the last few paces out of the tunnel, followed by a huge cloud of smoke that coughed into the air. Sappers gathered around him, patting the soot and dirt off his clothes, but he ignored them and peeked over the lip of the mantlet covering the trench to see the north wall.

He groaned inside. It was still there, its stone surface turning bronze in the late afternoon light.

Mally half dragged, half carried the water bucket up the stairs to the north wall. He stopped every twenty paces and lolled out three scoops of water for each guard until he finally came to the gatehouse and there let the bucket be so he could stand next to his grandfather. Brettin was sergeant in charge of the gatehouse, and Mally could not have been prouder.

'They're attacking the west wall again,' Mally told him.

Brettin nodded. 'But they'll not get through.'

'They did once,' Mally pointed out.

'And were massacred for their efforts.'

'Why do they keep on doing it?'

'Because they're barbarians, Mally, and know no better.'

Mally thought about that for a moment before saying, cautiously, 'I heard they had Haxans with them.'

Brettin looked down at him and frowned. To his mind, little ones like Mally should not be told things that might make them afraid. 'I've not seen any.'

'They digging the trenches and making the artillery.' Mally leaned closer and whispered to Brettin. 'And I heard they is mining, too.'

Brettin took Mally's hand, took him out to the walkway and pointed down to where their own trenches had been dug. Inside the trenches three men lay flat on their stomachs with their ears to the ground. 'See them?' Mally nodded. 'They can hear enemy miners at work. We've got listeners like them scattered all around the land walls. No one will get through.'

Mally said nothing, but even as he watched he saw two of the listeners look at each other and shrug. He may only have been nine years old, but he knew what that signal meant. They could not hear a thing above the din of the assault on the west wall, and the crashing of enemy missiles against stone.

A bright flashing light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and saw a fireball arc over the west wall and land in an avenue. It scattered embers and sparks, but there was nothing there to catch fire. Then another fireball swung over the wall. It landed as far in as the first, but further south. It disappeared through a warehouse roof. For a moment nothing happened, but even as Mally watched flames started licking up from the roof. Workers in the streets gave the alarm, and soon there was a chain of men and women passing water buckets. After a short while they seemed to be making progress.

'They're beating the fire, Brettin!' Mally called proudly.

'This time,' Brettin said quietly. He knew the enemy would shoot two or three fireballs at a time until they saw flames, telling them they had hit a good target. A moment later a cluster of fireballs followed the trajectory of the second, most of them hitting buildings of one kind or another. Even where he was, Mally could hear the screams of people caught in the sudden bombardment.

'They'll need more than buckets of water,' Brettin said lowly.

There heard a dull explosion and the wall seemed to shift.

'Was that from the warehouse?' Mally asked.

His grandfather's eyes widened. 'Mally, I want you to take a message to your mumma for me.' His voice was calm, but it sounded to Mally like Brettin was trying real hard to keep it that way. 'I want you to tell her that I'll be home later than I thought. I'm on extra duty tonight.'

Mally looked at Brettin curiously. 'But you've been on duty since last night.'

Brettin took Mally's hand and dragged him to the stairs. 'In case you hadn't noticed, we're under attack!' he said angrily. 'Now go home and tell your mumma what I said.' He pushed Mally in the back to set him on his way. 'Hurry!'

Mally, confused by the sudden change in his grandfather, hesitated for a second, but Brettin pushed him a second time and he ran down the stairs as fast as he could. On the last two steps he thought he was going to fall because he swayed as though he would faint. Then his feet were on the ground and he was steady again. He looked back up at the wall to wave goodbye to Brettin, but he was not there. His feelings a little hurt he started to run, but stopped when he heard a sound like the grinding of giant teeth. He turned around and saw something he did not think was possible. The wall was moving. It was as if the white stones had become as wobbly as fat. At first he thought it was amusing, not understanding what it meant, but when he saw some of the guards fall off the walkway and plummet to their death, his heart froze with fear.

'Brettin!' he shouted and started running back, but even as he did so the wall leaned away from him and disappeared in a billowing cloud of dust and smoke, taking the guard tower with it. The cloud enveloped him, turning day into night. A stone ricocheted off the road and struck him in the head. He feel, bleeding, and knew no more.

Ager had not heard the mine explosion but had seen Waylong running out of the tunnel. He looked anxiously at the north wall; his heart sank when he saw nothing happen.

'Well?' Lynan demanded.

Ager could only shrug helplessly, but even as he did so a shout started among the sappers and his gaze shot back to the wall. For a moment he thought nothing had changed and was wondering what the commotion was about, then he saw that the top of the wall seemed to be waving slightly as if he was looking at it through a heat haze. Then it fell. His jaw dropped in amazement.

'That's it!' Lynan shouted. 'Remove the barricade!'

Haxan sappers used ropes and pulleys to pull down a section of the stake fence about a hundred paces long. Lynan kicked his horse into action through the gap, and without being told the warriors of the Red Hands and the Ocean Clan streamed after him. The field between the Chett camp and Daavis was filled with charging cavalry, their riders screaming war cries, and in front was the terrible White Wolf.

Workers and civilians and soldiers who had rushed to the collapsed wall froze in place when they saw the tide rushing towards them, then with yelps of panic most of them scattered, trying to find some refuge. A small number of the soldiers tried to dress a line, but as the

Chett charge drew closer their courage failed them and they too ran for cover.

When the cavalry reached the collapsed wall the charge, for all its elan, faltered as horses picked their way through rubble and broken bodies. Hume archers on those sections of the wall still standing picked off a few of the riders. Lynan dismounted and ran for the nearest stairs, followed by those Red Hands who saw what he was doing, and started clearing the walkway of any enemy. One archer managed to shoot an arrow through Lynan's leg, but it did not slow him down. Terrified, the archer threw himself off the wall before Lynan could reach him. In a few short moments the entire section of the north wall east of the break to the next guard tower was clear of the enemy.

Meanwhile the warriors from the Ocean Clan had got through the rubble and were quickly organising into troops, each troop directed by Ager down a different avenue or street to clear away any soldiers rushing to plug the gap caused by the fallen wall. Another group of Red Hands stormed what was left of the main gate, easily beating back the guards who were still in shock.

By now Korigan had brought up the rest of the banners; as the Red Hands cleared guard towers they were ordered off their horses and up onto the walkways to hold the walls against any counterattack. Following Korigan came the Haxan sappers under the command of Captain Waylong, who immediately started clearing away rubble.

As his Red Hands cleared the last guard tower on the north wall Lynan led them around to the west wall and slammed into the defenders still trying to beat off Eynon's fourth assault, unaware that the city had been breached from the north. The enemy soldiers panicked, and in their haste to escape the mad white prince jammed the walkway so that their fellows could not even defend themselves against the Chetts climbing the wall on ladders and ropes. The next few moments saw the bloodiest fighting of the siege, and in the fore was Lynan, using a short sword he took from a fallen Red Hand, stabbing at anybody that was in front of him, using his strength to throw enemy over the side. There was so much blood the walkway was slippery with it and the smell of it fillet Lynan's head. He did not want the slaughter to stop Behind him came a wedge of his Red Hands, screaming and snarling, desperate to ensure Lynan was not isolated from them. The final blow for the defenders was the appearance of Eynon himself, filled with a rage that matched Lynan's. On the wall for the second time, the deaths of so many of his warriors fuelling his anger, he fell on the Daavis soldiers like an avalanche. Together, the two leaders cut a swathe to the first guard tower on the west wall, cleared it of enemies and swept on to the next section of walkway, carrying all before them. More and more of Eynon's warriors clambered over the wall and down the stairs, killing all who were in their way.

A moment came when Lynan was without an enemy to kill. He stood on the walkway, Chett warriors streaming around him, and looked out over the city. The sun was down and Daavis was dressed in a malevolent twilight filled with smoke and the cries of the dying. He could see his forces moving south from the north wall and east from the west wall, driving all before them, Houses, shops and warehouses were on fire. Bodies clogged drains and doorways. In the middle of the city he could see the palace and wondered what was going on in the mind of Queen Charion. Did she know yet that her city had fallen?

As she left the darkness behind, the tails of her dreams slid against her consciousness. For a moment she remembered her misshapen tormenters with the kind voices of those she loved: her father scolding her, her first lover accusing her of betraying him, Galen calling her a slut, Farben refusing to carry out her orders. And over all of them a voice she had not heard before, male and female, coming from a great distance and speaking of blood.

And then it was all gone, and in its place were new sounds no less terrifying but dramatically more immediate.

Her eyes blinked open and she saw Farben's face looking down at hers with great concern. 'Your Majesty? How are you feeling?'

'I'm feeling fine,' she wanted to say, but the words came out slurred. She tried to sit up, but pain rippled through her chest and her breath whooshed out of her.

'Don't move,' Farben's voice pleaded. 'You're hurt.'

'What happened?'

'You fell defending the west wall.'

'How long ago?'

'Yesterday.' He looked out the room's only window.

'I don't remember…'

'You were unconscious, your Majesty. You are lucky to be alive. Galen and I brought you back here—'

'Galen! Where is he?'

'He took your place on the wall. He is a good soldier.'

'Yes,' Charion agreed vaguely. Her eyelids fluttered.

'You should get more sleep,' Farben told her.

It was tempting. But something had woken her. Something was wrong. Then she heard the sounds again. 'What's happening?'

'The Chetts are attacking again. Galen will beat them back.'

'No. The sounds are closer than that—'

'Galen will beat them back,' Farben repeated.

She tried sitting up again, but once more the pain defeated her. 'What is wrong with me?'

'You have some broken ribs. You are bruised from shoulder to hip.'

Charion caught his gaze and said with sudden sternness, 'How would you know?'

Farben blushed. 'When we found you we did not know if you had been cut or stabbed. There was so much blood—'

'We?"

Farben sighed. He could not believe he was having this conversation. Why did Charion always find a way to make him feel so foolish?

'We?' she persisted.

'Galen and I,' he snapped impatiently. Then he said something that surprised him even more than Charion 'And don't you pretend that he hasn't seen it all before.'

She blinked in amazement. He went as white as her bed sheet.

'What did you say?' she asked, more shocked than angry.

'I… I…'

He was saved by more cries from outside.

'What is happening, Farben?' Charion demanded. 'And don't put me off this time.'

'All I know for sure is that there was a fourth attack on the west wall.'

'A fourth attack?'

'The third was this morning. Unsuccessful. The fourth started not long ago.'

'Help me up,' she ordered.

'You must rest, your Majesty. You are in no fit state—'

'Help me up!'

There was no denying that voice. He shook his head, but put a hand behind the small of her back and helped her into a sitting position. She tried to put her hands down to help take the weight off him, but discovered her right arm was in a sling. 'What use is this?' she cried.

'It's to protect you. The doctors were afraid if you moved that side too much you might send the end of one of the broken ribs into a lung.'

'Oh.'

With Farben's help she did sit up. With some effort and not a little pain she was able to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

'Right. Now I want you to help me stand.'

'No,' Farben said. 'You've been badly hurt—'

'A few cracked ribs do not make for a serious injury.'

'I have explicit directions from the doctors—'

'And now you have explicit instructions from me.'

Again, that tone of voice could not be disobeyed, least of all by Farben. He let her put an arm around his neck, and as he stood straight he brought her with him. For a moment they stayed like that, misshapen twins, until Charion eased her arm away and stood up by herself.

'That's better,' she said, but could not stop the pain from edging her voice.

A new voice, harried and exhausted, said: 'Thank God you're on your feet. We have no time to lose.'

'Galen?'

The Kendran stood before her and saw how pale she was. 'I am sorry, but we have to go.'

'Go? What are you talking about?' Charion looked at Farben, who could only shrug.

Galen licked his lips. 'Daavis is lost.'

'No.'

'The north wall is taken. They undermined it.'

'But it would take them weeks to reach the north wall—'

'Only if we found all the old tunnels,' Farben interrupted. 'Remember, your Majesty, they have Haxan sappers with them.'

Charion swayed on her feet, and both Farben and Galen reached out for her.

'And the west wall has gone now,' Galen continued. 'I barely escaped with my own life. Lynan is like a demon. No one can stand before him.'

Charion shook off their hands. 'Then I will stay and fight for my city!'

'You will die for your city,' Galen pointed out.

'So be it,' Charion said simply, and then to Farben: 'Get me my sword.'

'If you wish so much to die, then why not do it retaking Daavis at a later date?' Galen asked.

'Sophistry,' she said. And then to Farben again: 'Did you not hear me? I said get my sword!'

'No, your Majesty,' Farben said firmly. He turned to Galen. 'You will take her with you and your knights?'

Galen nodded. 'We will ride through what is left of the north gate then head east.'

'The Chetts will catch us,' Charion said, looking sternly at Farben.

'The Chetts are too busy looting Daavis,' Galen told her.

And then Farben saw something he never expected to witness. Tears came to Charion's eyes.

'They are looting my city?'

Galen nodded and dared to grip her arm again. 'You are coming with me now.'

Before she could respond, Farben took her other arm, disregarding the sling and her yelps of pain, and between them they helped her through the palace and to the courtyard. The knights were all mounted, their horses edgy from the smoke hanging in the air and the nervousness of their riders. Magmed appeared with two horses, and Galen and Farben carefully lifted Charion onto one of them.

'I am not dressed for riding,' she said weakly.

'You will do,' Galen told her. He looked at Farben. 'You can ride with me, if you wish.'

'No. You must ride swiftly. I will only hinder you.'

'Farben, you cannot stay here,' Charion said.

'Of course I can, your Majesty. Someone must make sure no one damages the palace.'

Galen mounted. 'We will return with an army.'

Farben nodded. 'I know. Look after my queen.'

'I promise.'

Charion leaned over to stroke Farben's cheek. 'I'm sorry.'

Farben quickly kissed the palm of her hand. 'I look forward to your return. I will greet you here at this spot and you can shout at me all you like.'

Charion laughed amid her tears.

'Now go,' Farben told Galen.

Galen and Magmed flanked Charion, and the troop set off. Farben watched them go, sighed heavily and returned to the palace.