Cora ducked into a doorway as musket shots skittered across Ashton’s cobbles. She had to force herself back out there as soldiers rushed into the street, charging at her and the others in Ishjemme’s forces.
The two groups slammed together with sickening force, and a soldier thrust a pike at her. Cora managed to throw herself to one side just in time. Her cut in response missed the mark, but Aidan was there then, his sword bringing down the man attacking her. The violence came in a brief burst, threatening to catch them all out in the street for archers or cannon to bring down, but in moments they were clear, running to join up with Hans’s main force.
Emeline stood by his side as Sophia’s cousin directed the fighting in this section of the outskirts. Cora guessed that she would be giving him updates on Sophia’s situation, if there were any to be had. Judging from the worried look on Emeline’s face, there weren’t.
“More soldiers,” Cora said, as they got close.
“They’re fighting house to house,” Hans said in response. “They know that they have the advantage of knowing the city better than us.”
“Not better than all of us,” Cora pointed out.
Emeline nodded at that. “Cora used to work at the palace, and I know all the best ways through the backstreets.”
“We could cut down Sheerwater Street,” Cora suggested. “If we get up into the theaters there, they’ll have good views out over the nearby rooftops.”
“It would be good to have the high ground,” Hans said. “Very well. We’ll follow your lead.”
Cora swallowed. She hadn’t meant that she should suddenly take charge of a whole army.
“You can do this,” Emeline assured her. “You just have to show us the best way.”
Cora nodded and then set off, Ishjemme’s forces following in her wake. She led the way along narrow streets, cutting through a space where butchers had hung their wares after slaughter. The scent of it was far too close to the one that already filled the streets.
She pushed through it, shoving aside the sides of beef and pork that hung from hooks, setting them swinging. She was still doing it when a figure ran out of the chaos, a meat cleaver in his hand.
“Die, invaders!” he yelled. He wasn’t wearing the uniform of any of the groups of soldiers, and looked more like a butcher than a fighter. Even so, the cleaver swinging for Cora’s head was more than sharp enough to split it if it connected.
Aidan was there then, intercepting the stroke and shoving the man back. He raised his sword for a counterblow, but Cora caught his arm.
“Aidan, wait, he’s just someone protecting his home,” she said.
Aidan stood over him, and Cora knew without being told that he would be going through the butcher’s thoughts.
“You’re right,” he said. He turned to the fallen butcher. “We aren’t here to hurt you. We just need to go through your building.”
“To slaughter innocent people!” the butcher said. “I know what you outlanders are like, you’ll—”
Cora realized that there was no chance of persuading him. Instead, she kicked away his meat cleaver and ignored him. They had a city to take. She kept leading the way, coming out onto Sheerwater Street, where a couple of crumbling old theaters stood above the rest of the surrounding buildings, leaning out so far over the road they almost touched.
“There,” Cora said, pointing. “If we get up there, we’ll be able to see where the royal troops are hiding.”
She and the others moved forward along the now empty street. That was a strange feeling in Ashton, where normally any journey meant being hemmed in by dozens of strangers, having to watch your purse in case of pickpockets. The sheer quiet of it was disconcerting as Hans signaled men forward to the doors of the theaters, carrying axes that looked more suited to chopping down trees than fighting a battle.
The axe blades bit into the doors, and they splintered open. In an instant, the quiet gave way to shouts and the sounds of violence.
“There are soldiers in there!” Cora yelled, as more of Ishjemme’s troops poured into the space. A man fell back from the violence, his tunic coated in blood. Cora did her best to pull him away from the fight as he fell, trying to get him to some kind of safety.
But there was no safety to be had. As quiet as the street had been just moments earlier, now it was awash with fighting figures, some coming out of the nearby buildings, others marching in from side streets. Cora didn’t know if they’d been waiting in ambush, or if they’d just rallied around to the sounds of violence. In the twists and turns of Ashton’s streets, it was impossible to tell what was going on.
A cluster of soldiers ran at them, and Cora found herself face to face with one of them, who had a sword raised for a downward blow. Remembering her brief sword lessons, Cora thrust, and felt the blade she held sink home. That was a very different sensation from beating Emeline in a practice match. There was none of the same joy to it, only the sickening sensation of flesh giving way to a sharp edge, mingled with relief that it wasn’t her who was collapsing to the ground, dying.
She took a step back, giving ground as another soldier came at her, parrying a blow. Aidan stepped into the gap, shoving the man back, and they kept fighting. In a matter of seconds, it seemed as though things had grown so that there was fighting everywhere. Cora saw Aidan caught in a hand-to-hand struggle with one of the soldiers, the two locked together, neither able to release his grip on the other’s sword arm.
Cora snatched up a musket from a fallen man, working to load it. It seemed to take forever, her fingers shaking with the need to work quickly. She had to pour in powder and ram down wadding, add in a lead ball and prime the fuse, all while men struggled around her, blades clashing around her. Forcing herself to stay calm, she lifted the musket, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.
For a moment the smoke from it filled the world, but when it cleared, the man who had been struggling with Aidan was staggering away.
Hans and Emeline, meanwhile, were pushing their way closer, through the press of it all.
“We need another route!” Hans called out, over the noise of the battle. “Which way?”
Cora tried to think, then pointed. “This way. We might be able to get through to the market.”
“Good, we can regroup there,” Hans said.
Cora led the way, the others following her. It seemed to take an age before they came out in the market square, stalls and tents abandoned where they had been set up. She strode out into it, Hans’s people following, the sounds of battle still there in the background as the slowest of them fought a running battle with the enemy.
“When I came here, I wasn’t expecting this,” Hans said. “War is supposed to be neat, orderly. Armies are meant to face each other on the field, not scuffle in the streets.”
“Somehow, I doubt that war has ever been neat,” Cora said, thinking of what it must be like for the ordinary people of Ashton as two armies fought their way through the city. Even with Ishjemme’s soldiers trying to be careful, how many would die, caught between the two?
“This needs to happen,” Emeline said, obviously seeing some of her thoughts. “You’ve seen the country the Dowager created. Rupert will be worse.”
Cora nodded. She could agree with that. It was just that what it took to change it all was so chaotic. Still, they started to impose some of the order that Hans wanted in his army as they moved into the middle of the market, starting to form up their forces, ready for the next push. They formed into tight squares, men taking a moment to rest as they readied themselves to march on toward the palace.
Then the enemy soldiers started to march in down the side streets that led to the square.
There were more of them than Cora could have believed, dressed in the colors of a dozen or more of the city’s noble families. That made her frown, because she wouldn’t have thought that the nobles would care enough about the Dowager’s family to want to fight for it. That didn’t matter right then though. What mattered was that they were wheeling cannon into place.
Cora threw herself flat as they roared, then roared again. Soldiers fell around her, left and right, as the weapons sounded. She looked around for Aidan and Emeline and found them crouched behind the slender shelter of a market barrow. Hans was with them, clutching a wound in his leg that had already bled through the dark cloth.
“We’re easy targets like this,” Cora said.
“I can’t see a way out,” Hans said. “Emeline, can you ask Sophia for help?”
“I can try,” Emeline said. Cora saw her concentrate for a moment. “I’m not even sure if she heard me.”
Cora had to hope that she had. The alternative was that they had to sit there while the cannon killed them. Yet who could come to their aid? Kate and Lord Cranston’s men had gone off in a bid to help Sophia, and Cora had no idea if they’d succeeded. Ulf and Frig were supposed to be coming in with forces through the river gate, but there was no sign of them. Several ships had just sailed away in the build-up to the fight. They were alone.
Then, suddenly, they weren’t.
Figures crashed into one of the groups of soldiers, strangely dressed and moving oddly. Some of the soldiers seemed to freeze in place while they attacked, their minds caught, while others ran in fear they probably couldn’t explain. One young man flung a soldier who appeared to be twice his weight with barely any effort.
Cora recognized the warriors of Stonehome at once. Asha and Vincente were at their heart, Asha striking out with a pair of slender blades, Vincente with something more like a cleaver. They cut into the group of soldiers as easily as they’d cut into the villagers who’d tried to burn her and Emeline. There weren’t enough of them to win alone, though.
“We need to attack!” Cora said.
Hans nodded, forcing himself to his feet in spite of his wound. “Forward!”
They charged, and Cora had to fight to keep from ducking every time the boom of a cannon came. They slammed into the soldiers blocking the street, and now the fight turned into a press of bodies and hacking blades. Cora lashed out at anyone wearing the colors of one of the nobles, not having time to think, or block, or do anything other than hope the fighting would be done soon.
In all the chaos, Cora found herself cutting down a soldier, only to find herself face to face with Asha. The Stonehome leader briefly looked as though she was considering cutting Cora down, then stood back to back with her instead, striking at any soldiers who came close.
“You followed us,” Cora said. “You came to help.”
“We came to track down our secret,” Asha said.
“But you’re fighting anyway?”
“Perhaps this will be good for Stonehome,” Asha replied. “Perhaps having one of us on the throne will help.”
“It will,” Cora assured her, parrying a blow from a soldier. “When you meet Sophia, you’ll understand.”
“Don’t think that this means I like you,” Asha said. “This isn’t over. You left with our secret intact. I mean to take it. Just not yet.”