Sovereign

CHAPTER 35

Lynan arrived on the outskirts of Kendra at midmorning. From his vantage point on the Ebrius Ridge it seemed absurdly at peace. The city lay like a complex quilt on the gentle slope from the foot of the ridge down to the sea. The sun sparkled on the harbour and above the waters wheeled kestrels and seagulls. Then he noticed how empty the place looked. Except for one or two fishing vessels and a trader in dry dock, there were no ships, and all the streets were virtually empty. Here and there figures scurried along streets, ducking from one doorway to another. It was as if the whole city had been depopulated by some terrible plague.

That would be me, he said to himself. Lynan the plague, never Lynan the conqueror. And never Lynan the king.

'They will learn,' he said aloud. He turned to Ager. 'When we left, my friend, did you ever think we would return with an army at our back?'

Ager shrugged. 'At the time I thought the exile was permanent. Truly, I did not think we would ever return, with or without an army.'

'This city is not built for a siege.'

'No. Only the foot of the ridge is fortified. Once past that, even the palace is open to us. Kendra always relied on the provinces to buffer it from any attack, that and the strength of its navy.'

'I will change that,' Lynan said. 'I will make this city impregnable.'

Ager glanced sideways at Lynan. 'Impregnable against what? Once you take Kendra you will have the whole Kingdom. Those provinces in the north most likely to oppose you—Hume and Chandra—you now control, and we learned from Eynon's messenger last night that Aman—the only province in the south that could oppose you—is held for you. Even the Kingdom's traditional enemy, Haxus, is in your hands.'

'If I can do all of this, someone else can,' Lynan said. He sat straighter in the saddle, and put a hand over his side. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged tightly, but it still throbbed with pain. The Chetts had draughts that could ease the pain, but they also dulled the senses and he could not afford that today. He nodded to the wall immediately below them; along its length were finely garbed soldiers, their armour flashing in the sun. 'Royal Guards. The best troops in Theare.'

Ager snorted. 'I once thought so. Before our exile I trained them for a while. But now I have fought with the Chetts, and seen what they can do with some close-order discipline and a short sword in their hands. The Royal Guards will not stop us.'

'I would not see the city too damaged,' Lynan said.

Ager did not answer.

'I do not want its citizens to hate me.'

'As soon as you attack their city they will hate you,' Ager said. 'Don't spoil it for the Chetts, your Majesty. They have come a long way for this. Give them a day. After that you can call them off. But give them a day.'

Lynan swallowed. 'I wonder if the people in Kendra have any idea what is about to happen to them?'

'They think they do, but except for veterans from the Slaver War, no one in this city has seen a battle up close.'

They were joined by Korigan. 'Your army is in place, your Majesty,' she said formally.

'Then start the descent.'

Areava stood on the south gallery. From here she could not see Ebrius Ridge and the fluttering pennants of her brother's army. She thought it obscene that his flag carried the Key of Union as its symbol. Before her spread her beautiful city, sacred Kendra, capital of a Kingdom that had turned out to be more dream than reality. She tried to imprint what she could see on her mind so that whatever happened in the next few hours she would never forget what it was she was fighting for.

It is not between me and Lynan. It is between order and chaos, between civilisation and barbarity, between the natural order and usurpation by ambition. With a terrible sadness she realised that whether or not Berayma had been murdered, Lynan inevitably would have become the enemy of Grenda Lear. She wondered if her mother had seen that, and perhaps had given him the Key of Union in the vain hope it would show him what would be lost in a civil war.

There was a polite cough behind her.

'Olio.'

'Sister. You look more than formidable in your armour.'

She turned to face him. He was dressed in armour too. 'You look strange kitted up for war.'

'I feel strange. I think I am too small for the breastplate—'

'No, I mean you are destined for other things. Usharna showed great prescience in giving you the Key of the Heart. Where is it, by the way?'

Olio tapped the breastplate. 'Underneath. It did not seem right, resting on armour.'

She left the south gallery, hooking one arm through his. As they walked they listened for a moment to the strange sound of their armour clanking in the empty hallways.

'I'm sorry about Orkid,' Olio said, and felt his sister's grip tighten. 'I know how close you two were. Imagine Dejanus killing him like that. I knew they were rivals, but I was sure they had been friends once. And then for you to have to save your own life by killing Dejanus! The whole world seems to be upside down.'

'Are the hospices ready?' she asked, changing the subject. 'I fear we'll be needing them soon.'

'We have two ready and fully equipped.'

They emerged into the courtyard. Waiting for them there were the knights of the Twenty Houses; some were mounted, but most were on foot: there would be little use for cavalry in a street-by-street fight for the city, the one fact that gave them hope against the Chetts, who traditionally fought on horseback. Among the knights was Duke Holo Amptra, his son Galen and Queen Charion. Areava felt a pang of jealousy that their armour was so obviously dull and battle scarred and hers as shiny as a new coin.

'Your Majesty,' Duke Amptra greeted her, bowing deeply.

'Dear Uncle, the Twenty Houses have outdone themselves.'

'We are always ready to serve the throne,' he said.

Aye, but not necessarily the monarch, she said to herself, understanding the distinction. But what of that now? she asked herself, and thought of the army about to attack them. Nothing, she answered herself. Nothing at all.

Edaytor Fanhow came through the main gate, carrying his weight well despite his puffing. He bowed to Areava, gave a nod and half a smile to Olio.

'How go the theurgia on the city's behalf, Prelate?' she asked him.

He looked despondent. 'Pitifully, your Majesty. Every spell they make is easily defeated by a counterspell from whatever magikers Lynan's army has employed.'

'They must be Chetts,' Charion said.

'How can they be?' Edaytor asked. The question was rhetorical and no one answered. 'They have no formal structure to control and employ magik. I can only think they are using magikers from Haxus, although none of us had any idea they were this far advanced.'

'Then we will rely on our strength and courage,' Duke Amptra said, but in a subdued voice that almost suggested strength and courage would not be enough.

'I will need your knights as a reserve,' Areava told the duke. 'Keep some mounted as a flying column.'

She made for the gate.

'Where are you going, sister?' Olio asked.

She looked at him in surprise. 'To the wall, of course. My place is by my people.'

'Your Majesty, you cannot do that!' Galen said, shocked.

'And why not?' Areava demanded frostily.

'You are our leader,'- he explained. 'You cannot afford the luxury of risking your life on the front line. You must stay here and command.'

'Command what? What order would you have me give? We hold the enemy at the wall or we lose the city.'

Against that there was no argument. Galen and Charion glanced at each other and nodded simultaneously, 'Then we will come with you,' Charion said. 'If the wall is good enough for one queen, it can bear the honour of supporting two.'

'And where Charion goes, so go I,' Galen said.

Areava smiled at them. 'Very well.'

'And me!' Olio cried. 'Don't leave me out of this!'

'You are the holder of the Healing Key, brother,' Areava said. 'And if I fall you must take over. Your place is here where you can do the most good.'

'But—!'

'No, Olio!' Areava said sharply. 'That is a command.' She went to him then and held him to her, and whispered in his ear: 'Please, sweet brother, obey me in this.'

Olio swallowed. When Areava let him go he stood straight and nodded. 'I will obey you in all things, your Majesty.'

'You have always been my strength,' she said. 'Knowing you are here will make what comes easier to bear.'

Constable Arad had almost finished inspecting the wall. Everything he had seen of the Royal Guards showed him they were determined to do their duty. They looked splendid in their blue uniforms, although the braid and cloaks and fancy helmets had all been discarded, replaced by good, strong pot helmets, round shields and breastplates. They were ready with spear and javelin and sword for anything the outlaw Prince Lynan could throw against them. For a while now they had watched the Chett cavalry slowly and cautiously wind its way down the escarpment. Arad had resisted the temptation to carry out a raid against them when they were so vulnerable because he knew there would be archers on top of the ridge ready for just such a sortie, and he had no archers of his own to counter their volleys. By midmorning there seemed to be the equivalent of six or seven regiments in the short space between the wall and the foot of the ridge. Arad could not help wishing Areava or one of her ancestors had fortified the top of the ridge instead of the city itself.

Still, he kept on telling himself, they were horse archers, not infantry, and they would not know the first thing about scaling walls. Then he remembered that the inhabitants of Daavis had probably thought exactly the same thing.

He had just under a thousand Royal Guards at his disposal for the wall, a structure half a league in length. Instead of putting them all on the walkway he kept three companies up in reserve in the centre, not far from the wall's only gate. He knew Queen Areava was arranging other reserves, but did not know what she intended to do with them.

With luck, he was telling himself, we will hold long enough for reinforcements to arrive from the southern provinces. It would take two or three days for the fleet to reach Storia and Lurisia, and then a day to load up with infantry and another two or three days to return. About six days all up. With a lot of luck, yes, he could hold. After all, he was in command of the Royal Guards, the best soldiers on the continent—

The air was suddenly filled with the sound of several thousand bowstrings being loosed at the same time. He jerked his head to the right and saw a dark cloud lifting from the enemy regiments, reach high into the blue sky, stay suspended there for an instant, and then plunge back to earth, straight towards him and his guards. He, like all the others on the wall, watched hypnotised, but something in Arad shook loose and he shouted: 'Down!', and brought his shield up over his head as he squatted against the parapets. He could not help squeezing shut his eyes. Arrows clattered against his shield, on the stonework. He peeped out from underneath his shield. He saw two guards down, one dead with an arrow in the neck, the other wriggling on the parapet with an arrow in his stomach.

'Hold that man!' he cried, but too late. The guard was squirming so violently he tipped over the edge. His scream was cut off by the ground below.

Cursing, Arad risked standing up and looking over the parapet, just in time to see another volley loosed. 'Down!' he cried again, and this time all on the wall hunkered down beneath their shields.

He wondered how long this would go on for. The Chetts would have to run out of arrows eventually, but the effect on the morale of his guards would be dreadful.

'They are all hiding like turtles,' Gudon said happily to Lynan, pointing to the wall.

'Good,' Lynan said. He put a hand on Ager's crooked back and Gudon's good one. 'Now, my friends.'

The two men grinned. They dismounted, an action copied by every Red Hand and every warrior in the Ocean Clan, waited for the third volley and then rushed forward twenty paces. They stopped, and when the fourth volley was loosed covered another twenty paces. In this way, the sound of their approach covered by the storm of arrows, they made it to the base of the wall undetected. Another volley and their ladders went up.

That was the signal for the archers to lower their bows, and for the assault proper to begin.

'It's stopped!' one of the guards called out, the relief clear in his voice.

Arad was not so sure. He waited a while longer before risking standing up again. He looked over the parapet and found himself face to face with a Chett. He screamed involuntarily and whacked down on the face with his spear shaft. The Chett countered it with a short sword and then was over and on the walkway. Arad had time to retreat a step and lower his spear before another Chett appeared. He lunged at the first, impaling him, then desperately tugged at his sword. The second Chett was now over the wall and advancing, but another guard had seen the danger and thrown a javelin. The Chett gasped and fell forward, the javelin wobbling in his spine.

'Up!' Arad yelled. 'Up! The enemy is on the wall! The enemy is on the wall!'

The guards still hiding under their shields stood as one just as a tide of Chetts washed over the parapets. Arad flung himself at the closest, knowing something desperate would have to be done or the guards would not be able to hold the wall for the next hour let alone six days. He slashed down with his sword, slicing through a Chett shoulder, tugged the blade free, cut to his right and felt his whole arm jar as the sword missed its soft target and bit into stone. A short sword scraped off his breastplate. He lashed out with his shield, felt it connect with something more yielding than the wall, then jabbed underneath the rim with the sword point. There was a squeal, and a dark figure disappeared off the edge.

Arad knew he was just reacting, and forced himself to think calmly even as part of his brain took over the function of defending himself. He quickly scanned the walkway. The Chetts outnumbered the guards, but the guards were better protected and better armed, and he told himself it was alright after all—his side could deal with this assault. Then he noticed that the greatest concentration of Chetts was near the wall's only gate, the same gate he remembered Sendarus and the Kingdom's first army marching through last spring on its way to save Hume from Haxus. If the enemy got control of that and let in the main force of Chetts, nothing would save Kendra. He descended to the ground by the nearest stairway and ran as fast as he could in his armour to the three companies kept in reserve. They were watching the battle on the wall, desperate to join in, but knowing that if they moved now and were needed somewhere else later on they could lose the city. The company captains received the constable's arrival with huge sighs of relief.

Arad ordered two companies to go directly to the gate and hold it at all costs. The other he led up the walkway he had come down and threw them against the enemy. The fighting was fierce, and the guards used every weapon at their disposal: spears, swords, the edges of their shield, their mailed fists and their booted feet. The Chetts resisted fiercely, but the Royal Guards were better protected and took greater risks than their foe. Step by step the Chetts were being sandwiched between Arad's force and the two companies that had now reinforced the gate.

We're going to do it, Arad told himself. We're going to hold the wall.

Ager realised the Chetts were going to be thrown off the wall soon. Unless the gate was opened and reinforcements let through, they would have to start all over again, and this time at a much greater cost. He managed to fight his way to the gate, arriving at the same time as a company of Royal Guards. The tide was definitely turning against the Chetts now, and Ager looked around desperately for some way to regain the initiative. He noticed the guards on the walkway above the gate were being led by a short, wide-shouldered man who never lost a fight. He caught a glimpse of the man's face.

Sergeant Arad, he recognised with a shock. A good man. A very good soldier.

Ager managed to retreat from the battle in front of the gate itself and climb back up the walkway. He used all his skill with a short sword to force his way over the gate to the other side. Guards kept on trying to slice and skewer and slash him, but he dealt with each attack coolly, dispassionately, not looking at their faces because he knew some of them had been his friends. There was a sudden break in the fighting, and Ager found himself directly facing Arad himself.

'Sergeant!' he called out.

Arad looked at the crookback with surprise, and then with something like disdain. 'Not Sergeant, Ager Parmer, but Constable!'

'Better you than Dejanus, who I'll bet won the office for murdering Berayma!'

'Don't twist history to justify your betrayal of Grenda Lear!' Arad shouted back. He raised his long sword and advanced on Ager.

Ager waited until Arad was close enough to take a swipe at him and leaped forward, putting himself well inside Arad's reach. He lunged with his short sword, but found it blocked with the guard's shield.

'I remember your tricks with the short sword,' Arad said, and drove down with the pommel of his own weapon. Ager dodged aside, but caught the blow on his right shoulder. He roared in pain. Arad quickly drew his sword arm back to stab Ager, but the crookback leaped forward again and at the same time threw his short sword from his right hand to his left and thrust at the guard's midriff. Arad retreated a step, slashed down with the shield. Ager sidestepped, slipped and fell onto his knees; Arad's sword whistled above his head. He slashed at the guard's legs, his blade biting deep into the right calf muscle.

Arad shouted, fell back again, but his right leg gave way and he fell forward. Ager lifted his short sword and drove it up with all his strength. It sank to the hilt into Arad's stomach. The guard gasped, toppled sideways. Ager pulled out his sword and placed it against Arad's throat. 'I'm sorry, Sergeant,' he said, and pulled the blade across. Blood sprayed across Ager's face as Arad's breath hissed out of the wound.

'The constable is dead!' Ager shouted. 'The constable is dead!'

The Royal Guards did not know who had shouted the words, but the effect was immediate. Each guard felt his heart grow heavy and his courage diminish. None retreated, none turned their back to the enemy, but it was enough. Ager charged into them, his sword seeming to take a life with every thrust, and behind him his Chetts redoubled their efforts. The guards started to fall back.

Areava, Galen and Charion were halfway to the wall when they heard fighting break out. They ran the rest of the way, reaching the battle out of breath and with pools of sweat settling in their boots and gloves. All three quickly assessed the situation and realised how desperate it was. Areava drew her sword, shouted 'To me! To me! Kendrans to me!' and charged towards the knot of warriors struggling around the bar to the bronze gate. Galen and Charion drew their weapons, shouted their war cries, and flanked the queen as she drove into a knot of Chetts trying to get their hand on the bar to slip it out of its bracket. She hewed right and left, not waiting to finish off those she wounded and maimed but pushing on to free the gate of every enemy. She could hear the muffled sounds of swearing and screaming warriors all around her and above her on the walkway. The guards, realising the queen herself was now among them, regained their courage and morale and started fighting back as if they were suddenly possessed by demons. The Chetts could not hold out against them, and started losing ground.

Areava finally reached the bar. She had to stop to regain her breath and loosen her muscles, especially in her sword arm which felt as heavy as lead. Galen and Charion, still flanking her, had no such trouble and the queen looked at them in envy. A guard saw she had stopped and hurried to her, bowing deeply. 'Your Majesty, are you alright? You are not wounded?'

Areava surprised herself by laughing. 'No. Just tired. I'm not used to personally smiting my enemies.'

The guard flashed a smile in return. 'It is joyous work!' he cried, and left to rejoin it.

'That's the spirit,' she said, more to herself than anyone else. She shook her right arm one more time, slightly changed the grip on her sword and stood away from the gate so she could see up to the walkway. Heavy fighting was still going on up there, and it seemed to her that the Royal Guards were getting the worst of it. Then she saw Ager.

'Captain Parmer,' she said, and watched in admiration as the crookback moved almost magically to dismay his enemies.

'I remember him from Daavis,' Charion said.

'I remember him from long before then,' Galen added with distaste. 'Let us finish this here and now.'

Lynan and Korigan watched the progress of the Red Hands and the Ocean Clan on the walls. Their hearts rose and fell with the sway of battle, and Lynan found it almost impossible to bear.

'They must open the gate soon,' he said.

'They will,' Korigan said, her voice unreasonably calm.

'Look! More guards! That little one leading them is a demon!'

'He fights very well.' She considered asking for her best archers to shoot at him, but the distance was just a little too far, and the chance of hitting one of their own just a little too great.

Lynan heard tramping behind him and turned to see that a regiment of Chandran infantry had arrived, tired from their long descent from the ridge.

'Infantry?' he thought aloud. He wheeled his horse around and approached one of their officers. 'It's a hard climb down,' he said.

The officer nodded, not really sure what to say to this formidable looking man.

'Good training, however,' Lynan continued.

'Training, your Majesty?'

'For climbing up,' Lynan said. 'Tell your men to get ready.' He pointed to the wall. 'They're going up there. Leave your spears behind. Just swords.'

The officer saluted. 'Yes, your Majesty.'

A short while later the regiment was ready, dressed in a long line. As Lynan dismounted Korigan said, 'What do you think you're doing?'

'I'm going to lead an assault on the walls of Kendra.'

'You're wounded.'

'I'm king,' he replied. 'My place is up there with my warriors.'

'Your place is here, with your army. Ager and Gudon know what they are doing.'

'No doubt. So do I.'

'Then I'm coming with you,' she said and dismounted to be by his side.

He frowned in thought. 'Good idea, but I think you should bring your own warriors.'

'There are no other infantry here.'

'No, but there are several thousand archers. If we get them on top of the wall, imagine what they could do to the enemy on the other side. We might not need to open the gate then.'

Korigan did not even reply, but hurried off to order two banners of horse archers to dismount and line up behind the Chandran infantry. When Korigan was by his side again, Lynan started walking forward, and three thousand warriors followed him. Halfway to the wall he started to trot, ignoring the pain in his side, and by the time he reached one of the ladders he had enough momentum to leap past the first five rungs. He did not wait to see how close behind the others were, but quickly climbed to the wall, leaped over, drew his sword and ran along the walkway to the gate.

Gudon finally reached Ager, something he had been trying to do ever since he and his Red Hands had climbed the wall. The resistance from the guards had been fierce, and it seemed to Gudon that he was losing two warriors for every guard that went down, but when the cry went up that their constable had fallen the odds had shifted in favour of the Chetts. At last Gudon and the Red Hands broke through the last knot of resistance on the eastern part of the walkway; he ordered half of them down the nearest stairway to secure the gate itself and then led the other half to reinforce Ager. When he finally managed to find a place in the line next to his friend he said, 'You're a hard man to find.'

'It's my size,' Ager said, and grunted as he used the flat of his sword to knock out a guard, then used his feet to kick him over the side. 'It makes me hard to find in a crowd.'

'Truth,' Gudon said. 'Duck.'

Ager ducked and Gudon stabbed a guard in the face; as the man fell back, Ager stood erect and stabbed him in the stomach.

The fighting seemed to become more intense then and neither had any breath to talk. When their sword arms were too sore and tired to move any more they fell back and let others take their place. They found a spot against the parapet to rest for a moment. They flexed their fingers to rid them of cramp. There was a commotion below and they leaned over to see what was happening, but the walkway stopped them seeing anything.

Then Ager heard a too-familiar voice, one from his not-too-distant past. 'To me! To me! Kendrans to me!'

'Fuck,' he swore under his breath.

Gudon looked at him with concern. 'What is wrong, my friend?'

'Areava! She's here!'

He tried to lean over further and Gudon had to pull him back.

'We've run out of time,' Ager told him. 'We have to win up here—now!'

He drew his sword, pushed his way back to the front of the battle on the walkway, Gudon by his side, and redoubled his efforts. The Royal Guards fell back or were killed where they stood. For a moment Ager thought they just might do it, just might clear the walkway completely before she could make a difference. Then he heard the victory cries of the guards below and knew they had just lost their chance of capturing the gate. A short while later he watched her coming up the stairway, flanked by two other fighters, both of whom he recognised. She did not rush but moved with the calm determination he remembered she always used. Just like her mother, he said to himself, and the thought made him uncomfortable. The surviving guards rallied around Areava, and more guards were coming up the walkway from down below now that the gate had been secured. Ager readied himself for the onslaught, exchanged a quick glance with Gudon and could see he was thinking the same thing: neither of them was going to get out of this alive.

Then something happened that changed his mind.

Lynan came.

Areava could not believe her eyes. Instead of retreating before obviously superior numbers, Ager and his determined friend charged them, the remaining Chetts crowding close behind. Royal Guards rushed to stand in front of her, but the enemy assault was so desperate that most of them were cut down. More guards pushed their way forward, and in the end their numbers started to tell. The fighting became such a close affair that swords no longer had room to swing, and soldiers had to stab to strike their opponents. Then some of the Royal Guards behind the front line used the spears to jab at the faces of the Chetts. The enemy took a step back, then another, and Areava' knew she had them.

Suddenly the air was rent by the most horrific war cry, more animal than human in its ferocity. Areava could not help twisting around to see what had caused it but there were ten or more guards in her way. She pushed her way through them and saw, running towards her, her brother. The face was different, terribly scarred, but it was Lynan. She snarled like a great bear and charged forward herself before anyone could stop her.

Their swords struck and the sound rang across the battlefield. The expert training they had received all their lives from childhood automatically took over their actions. For those who watched it was like a dance, formalised, ornate, but also a dazzling display of violence. The swords moved in a blur, thrust and parry, slash and counterslash, slid along each other in a metallic hiss, whirred and clanged. White sparks flew off their swords, and blue sparks flew off the Keys of Power around their necks.

For a long while no one dared intervene. Galen and Charion were the first to come to their senses and rushed to help Areava; but Korigan reached Lynan's side and with her a handful of Chandran infantry, fresh and eager to prove their mettle. Over the gate, Ager and Gudon renewed their attack on the Royal Guards. Now the battle swung back in the invaders' favour. Wherever there was a clear space on the walkway, a Chett archer would take position and start shooting arrows into the guards below who were still trying to reach the battle on the walkway. This close the archers did not miss, and the guards fell by the dozen, pierced two or three times by short black arrows.

Then Lynan, more experienced in combat, saw a chance against Areava. In parrying one of his blows she raised her sword arm a fraction too high, and before she could lower her arm he had moved his blade underneath hers and then lunged. She saw the danger and twisted aside, but his short sword slid under her breastplate and stabbed her near the pelvis. She yelled in pain and fell back. Lynan pulled his arm back to deliver a killing blow, but Galen and Charion hauled her back out of the way as guards took their place in the line.

'Let me go!' Areava cried. 'I'll kill him! I'll kill him!'

'No, your Majesty,' Galen said. 'He will slay you.' He lifted her breastplate to inspect the wound. The cut was deep, but the blood was bright red and seeped out. He looked up at Charion. 'She will live. Get her back to the palace.'

'What are you going to do?' Charion asked.

'Give you time to get away.'

'No!' Areava cried. 'Don't take me away! Let it end here one way or the other!' She tried to fight them but, between her exhaustion and the wound, could not push them away.

Charion looked at the queen and then at Galen. 'I don't want to lose you,' she said.

'I know,' Galen replied.

'If you die I will be queen of nothing.'

Galen shook his head. 'You will always be queen of Hume; nothing can ever change that.'

He leaned forward quickly to kiss her then stood up. 'Get Areava out,' he said and rejoined the fight.

Charion put Areava's arm around her shoulder and started moving her back to the closest stairway. A guard with a bloody head wound saw what was happening and took Areava's other arm. Between them they managed to get Areava off the wall. They rested a moment and then started moving away from the battle and back towards the palace.

Lynan was furious. Areava was escaping him and this bloody nobleman was stopping him from getting to her. No matter what he did, Galen Amptra seemed able to read his mind and block him. Feeding the fury was the pain his wound was causing him, but there was simply nothing Lynan could do about it. In the end it was a common foot soldier who did the deed; a Chandran swordsman, finding his opposite dropping from sheer exhaustion, saw an opening to his right. He was not aware the enemy thus exposed was Galen Amptra, one of the great nobles and soldiers of Grenda Lear, he only knew that there was a raised arm, a loose breastplate and an instant to make a decision. The Chandran thrust sideways with all his strength, and his sword pierced skin and muscle, slipping between two ribs to rip open blood vessels and Galen's left lung. Galen dropped to his knees and Lynan saw his chance. He slashed at his enemy's neck and sheared right through. The head leaped back and was lost, the body slumped to the ground, slid in its own blood off the walkway and fell to the ground below.

Galen's loss completed the demoralisation of the guards started by Areava's wounding. They threw down their weapons and fled, and the Chetts and Chandrans fell on them like grass wolves until there were none left alive on the wall. Before reinforcements could arrive from elsewhere in the city, Lynan ordered the gate open, and the rest of his banners rode through. They turned left and right until all the ground behind the wall was filled with them.

They waited.

'My lord?' Korigan asked Lynan.

Lynan nodded.

Korigan grinned mirthlessly, and gave the order to take the city.

The priests were trying to save the library. They had formed two chains, the first passing buckets of water from a well to the inferno started by fire arrows raging inside the church wing of the palace, the second passing books and parchments the other direction to an ancient wine cellar.

Powl and Father Rown were in the library choosing the most precious volumes to be saved first. There was so much to move and so little time that they knew many would be lost. They could hear the fire not far away, crackling and whooshing as it moved closer and closer to the library like a live thing.

Powl had almost reached the Books of Days and had made the decision to pass them by. What use the daily thoughts of primates past when all the knowledge of the continent was at risk? The thought made him stop. He paused in the action of passing on the atlas and almanac of Agostin, a book he knew was one of Queen Areava's favourites.

Not just the daily thoughts, he told himself. In a way they represented the distilled knowledge of all the learning represented by the library, especially as it applied to their lives as priests and not simply men. He skipped the intervening books and went straight to the

Books of Days, and quickly, urgently, started passing them out.

A new sound was added to the fire, a strange whistling. Arrows broke through the library windows, sending glass in every direction. Some of the priests left the line and Powl had to order them back.

'Not long, Fathers, not long! Hold on to your courage and pray to God!'

More arrows, appearing from nowhere as if they were cast by God himself. One priest fell with an arrow in his leg, and two of his fellows had to carry him out. There was an explosion from the hallway and smoke belched into the library. Now even Powl realised it was time to go. They had saved what they could.

'Flee!' he shouted. 'All leave the library!'

There was an ordered rush for the exit. Powl was joined by Father Rown and together they made sure all the priests got out safely.

'Now you, Father,' Powl said to Rown. He spied the last Book of Days, the one that should have held his contributions. He went to collect it.

'Your Grace?' Rown called out.

'I'll be with you in a moment.' He picked up the book and put it under his arm, then suddenly lurched forward, a moan escaping from between his lips. He fell against Rown.

'Your Grace?' Rown asked, catching the primate in his arms. 'What is wrong?' Then he felt the arrow in the primate's back. He looked at it and almost fainted.

'I need help!' he cried out, but there was no one left in the library. There was a terrible sigh and fire took hold of the furthest shelves.

Rown lifted Powl in his arms and staggered out of the library. Powl was unconscious, limp in his arms like a sack of grain, but somehow Rown found the strength to reach the courtyard. There other priests realised what must have happened and rushed to Rown's aid. They carried him out of the church wing to the great hall where other wounded and many of the dying had been brought, and laid Powl down on his side. The primate was still breathing when a healing priest and a magiker came to inspect the wound. They looked grim, and shook their heads at Father Rown.

'Oh God, no.' He held the primate's hand in his own and prayed for a miracle. Other priests gathered around and bowed their heads in prayer.

Powl's eyes flittered open. Rown could see them trying to focus on his face. 'Father Rown?' His voice was barely more than a whisper.

'I'm here, your Grace.'

'Have to tell you. Have to tell you about Colanus.'

'Colanus? I don't understand…'

Suddenly the primate's eyes focused clearly on Rown's face. 'No,' he said, his voice stronger in the last flush of life. 'I want to tell you about Primate Northam.'

'Northam?'

Powl grabbed the sleeves of Rown's cloak and tried to lift himself off the ground. 'Father, I killed him.'

'No,' Rown said, smiling sadly. 'You've been hurt, your Grace; you don't know what you're saying.'

'I suffocated him because he wanted you to succeed him instead of me.'

Rown felt his heart skip a beat. 'Me?'

Powl let go of Rown's cloak and slumped back against the floor. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

'You have to know that Northam never told…' Powl stopped and frowned.

'Told you what?' Even as he asked the question he knew what Powl meant. If Northam did not want Powl to succeed him then he never passed on the name of God. He looked at Powl in horror. 'You don't know, do you?'

Powl laughed, which made him cough. More blood seeped from his mouth. 'I'm a fool. It was there all the time. Old Giros did write it down.'

'Wrote what down?' Rown urged.

'Listen, Father,' Powl said, his voice fading again. 'God has a name, and the name is everything that God can be.' He coughed again. His eyes closed and the skin around his cheeks seemed to pull back. 'A single word reveals all there is to know about God.'

'What is it?' Rown asked. 'Your Grace, do you know the name of God?'

Powl whispered a word but Rown did not hear it.

'Please, your Grace, tell me!' He leaned over so his ear was right next to Powl's mouth when the primate whispered the word a second time.

Rown sat back heavily. 'Of course,' he said, astounded. How could it have been anything else?

Powl's chest stopped moving. Rown reached out and closed the primate's eyes. He said a prayer for Powl's soul, but knew with certainty he would not need it. In the end God had given him what he had obviously wanted more than anything else. Forgiveness.

The healing priest returned, and when he saw that Powl had passed away said a quick prayer as well. When he finished he looked up in horror. 'Father! Father! The name of God! Did he pass on the name of God?'

Rown smiled and gently placed a hand on the priest's shoulder. 'Indeed,' he said, and then to himself: Salvation.

The most bitter fighting took place in the palace courtyard. Duke Holo Amptra and the knights repelled every assault at great cost to the enemy.

Areava refused to be taken inside the palace. She would go no further than the steps that led to the great hall where she could watch the fighting in the courtyard. Olio was called for to heal her, but Areava would not let him.

'The wound is not fatal,' she told him. 'And I would be ashamed for this wound to be healed when so many of my people must suffer without any hope at all.'

'Sister, I cannot heal every wound; you know what happened to me last time I did that. But you are the queen. The people need you to be whole—'

'No, brother. They need Grenda Lear to be whole.'

She would not discuss it any further, even when Edaytor Fanhow pleaded Olio's case, promising to make sure Olio did not harm himself.

Areava kept Charion by her side at all times. Charion shed no tears for the death of Galen, and did not pretend that he could somehow have survived the battle for the wall, but Areava could see she was grieving deeply. During a lull in the fighting they told old Duke Amptra what had happened. He nodded grimly and returned to his knights, but he seemed to age another ten years.

'What will happen now?' Olio asked Areava.

'Now we wait for Lynan,' Areava said. 'I do not know what his plans are, but I do know we cannot resist him.' She looked at her brother and said sadly, 'I have lost the Kingdom.'

Lynan stayed near the wall until it was almost sunset. His wound had been so aggravated by the fighting that he found it almost impossible to walk. Korigan reported to him that except for the palace, the city was now entirely under his control.

'Do we know who is in the palace?' he asked.

'We know that Areava was taken there,' Korigan replied, 'and that some knights still defend it. Parts of the palace have burned down. We do not know who is alive and who is not. Perhaps Areava was slain in the fighting.'

'Let us finish this,' Lynan said. 'Get me a horse.'

A mare was brought to him and he was helped into the saddle. With Korigan, Ager and Gudon by his side he rode down from the wall to the palace. On the way he saw what his Chetts had done to many of the houses, and what they had done to those who resisted them, and it filled him with a great sadness. He saw Kendrans looking out at him as he passed, fear on their faces, and that made him feel sad as well. Yet when he finally reached the palace he had fled from the night Berayma was murdered, he found he felt nothing at all. It was almost as if everything that had happened since then had happened to someone else. There was no sense of victory, just exhaustion. Chett archers blocked the way to the courtyard, letting no one in or out. When they saw Lynan approach, one of them came to report.

'There are a few knights left, your Majesty, and Areava directs them. We can finish them off with one more attack, I am sure of it.'

Lynan carefully dismounted and approached the entrance, his Red Hands bustling around him. He could see the top of the palace over the wall that surrounded it. Black smoke billowed into the sky from the west wing. That would be the church library, he thought sadly. The bodies of guards and knights littered the streets outside the wall. Any dead Chetts had been carried away by their comrades. He could hear the buzzing of flies, and seagulls fought over carrion. Above them all hovered kestrels, sometimes diving down to take the tastiest morsels.

'That is what we have become,' he said aloud.

Korigan rode next to him and dismounted to stand by his side. 'Lynan, your army is ready to finish it,' she said. 'Just as you wish.'

'I do not think I need to finish it with my army,' he said slowly. 'The enemy… my sister… must know it is over.'

'But she is queen on your throne!' Korigan said, surprised by Lynan's change of heart. 'You cannot be king while she lives!'

And that is what I want, isn't it? he asked himself. Had not Kumul and Jenrosa and hundreds of Chetts died for his cause? And had he not decided when he crossed back to the east from the Oceans of Grass that his cause was winning the throne of Grenda Lear? Or had all those people, all those he cared for, died for nothing?

But still he hesitated. Korigan stood in front of him and held his head between her hands. 'As I love you, and as I know you love me, I tell you with all my heart that I wish there was some other way for this to end. But I do not believe the future can bear the weight of both Areava and yourself. It will tear the continent apart.'

He nodded, and the breath shuddered out of his lungs. 'It is time.' He walked back to his horse and mounted. He unsheathed his sabre and held it in his right hand, tightened the reins in his left. Korigan, Ager and Gudon took their places on either side of him.

Ager cleared his throat. 'Lynan, before the first battle we fought in the east, I asked you if you were prepared for what comes after. I am asking you again.'

This time Lynan answered truthfully. 'I don't know,' he said.

Ager shrugged. 'That's what I thought.' He looked at his friends and was filled with a sudden grief he could not at first understand, but then realised it was because Kumul and Jenrosa were not here as well, here at the very end as they should have been. 'Oh, fuck it,' he said. 'Give the order, Lynan.'

Lynan raised his sabre. The Red Hands drew their weapons, the archers before the entrance to the courtyard drew their bows.

'Now!' he shouted, and kicked his horse into a gallop.

For Olio it started with a rain of arrows, black darts that rose over the wall and landed, clattering, on stone and armour.

'Help me up,' Areava ordered, and Olio and Charion put her arms around their necks and lifted her to her feet. She grunted in pain then brought her arms by her side. 'I am fine now,' she said. 'Look out for yourselves.'

All three drew their swords. Before them the knights readied their own weapons, the sound of their clanking armour echoing around the courtyard.

Another volley of arrows, and then came the cavalry led by the youngest of the Rosethemes, pale and slight and filled with a terrible fury.

Olio, seeing him, remembered him, and the shock of it was paralysing.

Lynan was crying before his horse entered the courtyard. Tears blurred his eyes, and rage filled his heart. He smashed into the first line of knights, sending several tumbling to the ground, and brought down his sabre so hard onto a helmet that the metal buckled underneath and the head within was crushed. Almost immediately his horse was struck and it fell to its knees, already dead. Lynan struggled to loose his feet from the stirrups. A poor knight, dressed in nothing but a coat of chain mail and a pot helmet, came at him with an axe. Lynan deflected the first swing, got his right foot loose, ducked under the second swing, got his left foot loose, blocked the third swing and kicked the knight between the legs, and as he went down Lynan's sabre sliced open the back of his unprotected thighs. The knight squealed and rolled in pain. Lynan ignored him and threw himself at a better-armed opponent wielding a long sword with practised strokes; three dead Red Hands already lay before him. But Gudon was there before Lynan, ducking under the longer reach of the enemy and thrusting the point of his short sword straight into the man's face. The knight swallowed the point of Gudon's sword and collapsed in a fountain of blood.

Another axe-wielding knight attacked Lynan, but before he could deliver a stroke two Red Hands were on top of him, cutting, slicing, slaying. Lynan moved on as if he was part of an irresistible tide, his Red Hands overwhelming the few defenders left. The courtyard became slippery with blood as the knights retreated to the steps in front of the great hall to protect their queen. Areava and her two companions did not wait for the onslaught but charged down the steps and into the fray. Lynan tried to reach her, but knights threw themselves in the way, lashing out with swords and mailed fists. Lynan started to wonder if the battle would ever end. He could not breathe without sucking in air misted with blood, and his nostrils were filled with the scent of hot metal as blades and armour sparked. His foot slipped and he instinctively put out his hands to arrest his fall, his fingers landing in the face of a dead knight. He struggled back to his feet, feeling nauseous, and realised the fighting had stopped.

It's all over, he thought, and then realised that was not the case, but both sides had just pulled back from each other to rest. Chett warriors stood resting on their weapons, panting like dogs, trying to get one clean lungful of air. The surviving knights, panting even more heavily, pulled back to the steps, Areava behind them.

Afterwards, Lynan was never sure what made him do it, but he lifted his head back and shouted at his sister: 'Surrender!'

The courtyard fell silent; even the panting stopped.

Lynan stepped forward, heedless of his own safety. 'Areava, surrender to me!'

All eyes rested on the queen, all ears waited for her answer.

Olio had fought without knowing how he did it. He recognised the moves he had been taught in training, but he had no real control over them. While he blocked attacks and parried, while he sidestepped as he needed to and struck where he could, he could not rid his mind of the memories that flooded in, of Lynan when he was a child and then as a young man. After waking from his insanity, he had not remembered anything about Lynan, had felt nothing for him except a kind of abstract repulsion because of his assault on Grenda Lear; but on seeing Lynan in the flesh his real feelings had returned, and he realised he loved this man, this pale demon who was trying to kill their sister.

Then he found himself on the steps to the great hall, his sister behind him, and there was an unexpected lull in the fighting. Knights crowded before him. Charion jostled to his right.

'Surrender!'

His brother stepped forward from among the red-handed Chetts.

'Areava, surrender to me!'

He looked over his shoulder, saw the indecision in his sister's face. Then she shouted back: 'I am queen of Grenda Lear! I am sworn to defend the throne!'

'You have defended it, sister, but you can do nothing more. Surrender to me, acknowledge me as king and all of you will be spared. I swear it.'

Olio found himself hoping she would accept. He did not want her to die. He did not want to have to try and kill Lynan. He wanted it all to end. He glanced between Lynan and Areava, and he saw the expression change on his sister's face, saw the determination change to exhaustion, and saw the hope in Lynan's eyes. And then he saw the Chett female, tall and regal. She moved to the back of the crowd and the Chetts parted for her, bowing. Her walk was determined, stiff. He felt the Key of the Heart warm against his skin and saw it surrounded by a blue halo of light. He noticed his sister and brother's Keys were also glowing, as if in anticipation of being finally joined together once more. The Chett female said something to one of the archers, and the archer raised his bow, an arrow already nocked.

'No,' Olio said, and then louder: 'No!'

All eyes turned to him and he pointed to the archer, but too late.

Ager could not believe his ears. Why now, Lynan? he wondered. Too much has happened. There are too many ghosts between you and your sister for peace between you to mean anything.

Yet he found himself hoping she would surrender, that the slaughter could stop. Then he heard a figure in front of her cry out 'No!', and he recognised Olio. The prince was pointing towards the back of the Chetts and Ager looked over his shoulder, but he was too short to see over the crowd. He heard a shocked cry from those in front of him and he turned back. At first he did not know what had happened. Areava took a step forward and stopped. That was when he saw the arrow in her chest. It had pierced the Key of the Sceptre and her heart. Her eyes were wide open in shock. Her sword dropped from her hand, clattering on the steps.

Olio and a short woman in armour grabbed for her, but she fell backwards, landing heavily.

For a moment nothing happened, and then as one the knights roared in fury and hatred and charged.

Ager barely had time to react. He jumped forward to help protect Lynan, but Gudon and several Red Hands beat him to it.

The Chetts were pushed back by the ferocity of the attack, but they were as skilled as the knights and far more numerous, and slowly, inevitably, they were cut down where they stood. A gap appeared between Ager and the steps. He saw Olio and the short woman he now recognised as Queen Charion bent over Areava. He ran forward. Charion heard him coming and raised her sword, but he knocked it aside and then slammed his fist into her jaw. She fell back, unconscious. Olio turned to him and his eyes widened with recognition. 'Captain Parmer, I can heal her!' He held up the Key of the Heart and showed it to Ager. 'I can heal my sister just as my mother healed you! Please, let me save her!'

Ager hesitated, his eyes drawn to the glowing Key, and in that moment could see a future where Areava was alive, where the three surviving children of Usharna found a way to overcome their past; then the illusion evaporated and he saw only the blood on the steps.

'Please, Ager!' Olio begged.

Ager shook his head. 'Forgive me,' he said, and brought the hilt of his sword down on Olio's skull.

The prince crumpled; Ager knelt down and felt for a pulse in his neck. He found one and sighed in relief. Then, reluctantly, he looked down at Areava.

Her eyes moved, focused on Ager's face. He put his hand on the arrow still protruding from her chest. Her lips parted and she said in a sigh, 'End it.'

He nodded, put his other hand over her eyes and pushed the arrow through.