COLD, LIKE STEEL
Karigan whacked the guard’s sword out of his hand. It clanged against the wall and clattered to the floor. She pressed the tip of her sword against his throat before he could draw his dagger. He swallowed hard.
“Slowly,” she said, “toss your dagger aside.”
When he hesitated, she pricked him with the swordtip. He obeyed.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now we go to the door.”
She forced him to lead the way, her sword now pressed against his back. Her other self was cheering her all the way. Karigan blocked the other from her mind as best she could.
When they reached the end of the tunnel, they had to step over the still-unconscious man to reach the door.
“Open it,” she said.
“No.”
“Do you think I would not kill you?”
“No.”
“Then your choice. Death or the door. The door is opening whether you are alive or dead.” She gestured at his key ring.
He hesitated. At that moment, the other guard stirred and moaned, then started to rise up on his elbows. Karigan bashed him on the head again with the pommel of her sword. She felt cold, but it was a good cold. Cold, like steel. Her other self wildly approved.
Maybe it was the harm she inflicted on his companion, or maybe it was something he saw in her expression, but the guard with the keys stepped over to the door and removed five of them from the ring and inserted them into various locks and twisted. As he worked, she discerned the sound of many feet and voices from some distance behind, and they were getting closer.
Uh oh, she thought. The little boy she’d encountered on the stairwell must have finally gotten his story across about the lady in black who could disappear.
Should have killed him, her other self said.
The guard heard the approach of his people as well, and paused his work. He looked smugly at her.
“Open it,” she ordered.
When he did not comply, she jabbed the swordtip at his throat again.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Kill me. I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you failed and my people got you.”
He was not going to finish the job. The tunnel surely augmented the sound of footsteps and voices, and though she couldn’t yet see the people, they would inevitably close in on her.
She saw a glint of brass concealed in his fist. Another key!
“Give me the key,” she said.
He shook his head.
She stabbed his wrist.
“Ow!” he screamed, and dropped the key.
She grabbed it off the floor and swept by him while he tried to staunch the blood gouting from his wrist. She searched the mechanisms of the door for the sixth lock and found it near the bottom, inserted the key, and turned it. A glance over her shoulder revealed people, a whole lot of them, moving down the tunnel.
The keys had all been turned in their locks, so the door was ready to open. Now what? There was no latch or drawbar to manipulate, but there was a lever and the crank handle. She pulled on the lever and realized it was sort of like a brake on a wagon that helped secure the door in place. It was hard to shift. The people coming down the tunnel seemed to realize what was going on. They broke into a run, their footsteps turning into a thunderous charge.
At last she shifted the brake lever all the way. Then she went to work on the crank handle, turning it as fast as she could, making the gears in the door rotate in sequence. The people, a mob really, were yelling and waving weapons, and were nearly upon her like a wave about to break.
Painfully slow for all her turning, the door cracked open. Fingers and hands from the other side reached through the gap to help open the door faster, even as the hands of the enemy reached for her. The crank spun of its own volition as those outside pulled the door open. She was grabbed before she could reach for her longknife or sword. The mob pummeled and kicked and jerked her about. Someone raised a cudgel to smash her head. She struggled to break free, but there were so many hands on her, so many bodies pressed against her.
Then the door opened all the way, and the Sacoridian regulars from the Shore Unit poured inside. Suddenly she was released as the mob fled. The soldiers pounded right past her and pursued with swords drawn. A couple fell back to take custody of the door guards, binding the wrist of the one, and helping the other to his feet, before marching them outside.
Colonel Lord Pondmoor, attended by his aides, paused before her. “Good work, Rider,” he said. “Are you well?”
“Well enough, sir,” she replied. In truth, she was bruised and shaken, but it could have been much worse.
“You are instructed to proceed to the king’s position to report.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, then added, “Colonel, it is mostly civilians here—families with small children. I didn’t see many true soldiers.”
“All right, Rider, I hear you.”
He then nodded to his aides and they set off up the corridor. She watched after him, hoping her words penetrated, that the Shore Unit would not be up against a disciplined resistance, and that a light hand would serve and minimize the number of civilians who were hurt or killed. It wouldn’t be easy to stay the hand of eager soldiers who’d been waiting for this action for months. Colonel Lord Pondmoor, who was from her own province of L’Petrie, however, was a good officer, and his soldiers disciplined, and those two facts made her hopeful for a positive outcome.
She limped back down into the valley and toward the Sacoridian encampment. She discovered blood trickling from her nose and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to press against it. She maintained her fading all the way lest someone from either side choose to kill her first and ask questions later. The Sacoridian front line was marching its way up to the pass and she kept her distance. Zachary’s command would be at the front line’s previous location midway in the valley.
When she approached, she walked right past guards. She found an inconspicuous place behind command to drop the fading, then approached in a manner that would not startle anyone, as if she were merely walking up from the encampment.
When a guard finally challenged her, she said, “The king and his advisors are expecting me.”
“Rider G’ladheon,” the guard said. “Or is it Weapon G’ladheon?”
She gave the woman a thin smile. “Rider.”
“Go ahead.”
“Ah, Sir Karigan,” Donal said as she stepped into the torchlight where Zachary stood with his advisors and officers. All were dressed in armor, though they were not confronting Second Empire directly.
Zachary turned, and she saw intense relief on his face. Quickly she recounted all that had happened, and he frowned when she told him how few armed soldiers there were in the keep.
“Birch figured it wouldn’t take much to hold the keep,” one of the officers said. “He didn’t count on Rider G’ladheon. But where is his army? What is he up to?”
“There will be interrogations of the prisoners,” Les Tallman said.
“You’ve done well tonight, Rider,” Zachary said. “Go find something to eat and get some rest.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I certainly will.”
A rare smile flickered on his lips before he turned back to his advisors.
Loon was brought to her so she could ride the rest of the way to the encampment. She patted the gelding’s neck and urged him into a walk. She was content to leave whatever happened next to the others.
Tegan shook her awake the next morning. Coming to was like trying to climb out of her own grave.
“That is the soundest you’ve slept since you got here,” Tegan said, “and I’m sorry I had to wake you, but Connly wants to see you.”
Karigan groaned and rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know the details, but we’re to get Loon ready for you.”
Karigan dressed, and when she stepped outside, it was barely dawn. She found Connly outside Zachary’s tent.
“Sorry to have to wake you after all you did last night,” Connly said, “but you are being ordered by King Zachary, along with Trace and two Weapons, to make way for Sacor City.” He handed her a message satchel. “Inside are messages from the king for the queen, castellan, and the general of the guard. Trace will be carrying a satchel with duplicate messages.”
Two sets of messages, Karigan thought, in case one didn’t get through. She accepted the satchel. Being accompanied by another Rider and two Weapons was unprecedented. “What is the situation?”
“After the keep was taken last night, several prisoners were interrogated. They revealed that Birch used some spell left by Grandmother to move his troops in stealth with the intention of taking Sacor City while our troops laid siege here.”
Dear gods. It was exactly what she had feared, that Second Empire had somehow maneuvered past the king’s army to take the largely unprotected city.
“We’ve had no word of enemy troops,” Connly said. “Nothing to indicate an army on the move.”
“Very strange,” she replied.
“Yeah, it is.”
She had her own ideas about how Grandmother’s spell allowed Birch to achieve his disappearing act.
“It will be a race for you to reach the castle,” Connly said, “to give warning. If you find the way into the city impassible, the king says you are to remember the Heroes Portal.”
Ah, Karigan thought. The Weapons were going because the Heroes Portal opened only to the touch of a Weapon.
“It’s one of the reasons you’ve been chosen for this mission,” Connly continued, “along with the Weapons. It will be acceptable for you and the Weapons to pass through the tombs. You will have to do what you can to convince the caretakers to accept Trace’s presence. A message for the caretakers from the king has been included in your satchel, as well, to help sway them. The king wants to be able to know what’s happening in the city, and Trace is essential for that.”
It was taboo for the living, aside from the caretakers themselves, royalty, and the Weapons, to enter the tombs. Trespassers were not permitted to leave and were made caretakers for the rest of their lives. The Weapons who guarded the tombs worked to prevent trespassers, but a few still got in, though infrequently. As an honorary Weapon, Karigan was allowed free passage through the tombs.
“I understand,” she said. “What is the other reason?”
“What?”
“You said ‘one reason’ why I was being sent was because of the tombs. Was there another?”
“Oh. The other reason is that the king requested you specifically.”
She wouldn’t, she decided, pursue that line of questioning any further. “I assume the troops here will be preparing to move?”
“Yes. Some are already at work preparing. The rest will be ordered to do so at reveille. The Shore Unit will stay behind to mind the keep, and another, the Valley Unit, will deal with the prisoners. Harry has been sent to Lady Coutre’s forces to inform them to continue to Sacor City.”
Connly sent her to collect her few belongings and to have a quick bite to eat. By the time Trace and the two Weapons, Erin and Travis, were ready to go, dawn had broken and the camp was a flurry of activity, with tents collapsing in every direction, carts and wagons on the move, and irritated sergeants chivying their soldiers to step quick.
Zachary came to see them off. “You must ride hard,” he told them. The Weapons each had remounts so they could keep up with the messenger horses. “There is no telling when Second Empire will reach the city, or if they’re already there. Trace, you will keep me informed.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Very good. Off with you now.”
And so they left their king behind. Karigan glanced over her shoulder, but Zachary was lost in the confusion of the dismantling encampment. They would have a hard march to the city, and it sounded as if she would see Zachary again only when battle came.