Lord of Ashes

THIRTEEN

The sights, the sounds, the smells were not what she had come to expect from battle. But then Kaira had never experienced battle on this scale before. She had never faced enemies in such overwhelming numbers, never seen them fight with such savagery. And neither had she felt so helpless as she sat astride a horse beside her queen. All she could do was watch as the city’s defenders laid down their lives. How she would have loved to charge forward, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. To smash the Khurtas back over the wall, to scream in the face of their hatred. Sitting back from the conflict in relative safety she felt powerless.

Janessa watched intently from her horse, and Kaira took no small amount of pride in the way the young queen faced her first battle. Kaira had seen seasoned warriors show more fear. Had seen grown men flee when facing more favourable odds, but Janessa merely looked on, seeming to take in every yell of pain or anger, watching silently as enemies were flung from the wall and her bannermen went down with arrows in their chests.

The more time that passed the more agitated Kaira became. This was pointless, and dangerous. They were of no use here, Janessa least of all. There was no way she could be allowed to make a stand on the battlements beside her army. She would never inspire any troops from here; she was merely putting herself in harm’s way.

Before Kaira could order them to retreat back to the safety of the palace, her worst fears became manifest. A boulder the size of a cowshed smashed into the parapet in front of them, flinging men-at-arms from the battlements along with shards of masonry.

As the massive rock crashed into a nearby building, Janessa’s horse reared. A Sentinel took half a merlon to the chest and was hammered to the ground. Men shouted in panic and Kaira desperately tried to steady her horse as she looked to the queen. But Janessa’s steed had calmed and now stood resolute, the girl staring up at the battlements defiantly.

Kaira followed her gaze, seeing that in the wake of the giant missile a host of Khurtas had come crawling over the wall. Some smiled, licking their blades in anticipation of the kill. Others whooped with joy, falling on the stunned defenders like wolves on their prey.

Looking back, Kaira saw that Janessa’s hand had strayed to the Helsbayn at her side. Her eyes stared intently. She wanted to join in with the battle. Wanted to defend her city and stand by her armies.

But she is not ready. She is but a child and will be killed if you allow her to fight.

‘Protect the queen!’ Kaira shouted, kicking her horse in front of the Sentinels. ‘Get her back to the palace. Let nothing stop you.’

Janessa protested as the Sentinels began to change their formation and one of them grabbed the bridle of her horse, but her words were lost in the commotion. Kaira watched as they guided her along the cobbled avenue and back towards the Crown District but she did not follow them. Could not follow them.

She knew she should have gone along, should have been at her queen’s side, but something kept her rooted. If Queen Janessa could not help the stricken defenders hold off the Khurtic horde at the wall, then it was Kaira’s duty to do it in her stead.

She kicked her steed, feeling its eagerness as she rode towards the battlements and the Khurtas who flooded over the wall. She reined the horse in some feet from the foot of the stairway, hearing it snort in frustration when she leapt from the saddle. As she took the stairs three at a time Kaira pulled her sword from its sheath, feeling the ache in a wrist that hadn’t quite healed from the wound Azai Dravos had inflicted.

It is nothing. A mere trifle. It will not stop you from carrying out Vorena’s will. You are an instrument of righteousness honed and tempered in the flames of battle, ready to strike down the enemies of your gods and your queen. Nothing can stop you.

The first Khurta barely had time to acknowledge her before her sword cleaved his head from his shoulders. Kaira’s blade rang as it cut the air and her muscles protested slightly as she overexerted in her impatience for the first kill.

Take control. This is not a game. This is not the practice yard. This is real.

She gritted her teeth as another Khurta came running. Stooping in a low defensive stance and clearing her lungs with a single breath. All emotion was gone in an instant, to be replaced by everything she had ever learned, from being a child in the Temple of Autumn to a woman grown.

You are Vorena’s will made manifest. A bright flame in the dark.

The Khurta’s attack was savage, unfettered. His limbs powerful, his expression fierce. He never stood a chance as Kaira ducked low, reading his first clumsy swing before it ever came and skewering him below the ribs. She braced her shoulder as his dead weight hit her, then let him drop, levering her blade free with a foot planted on his chest.

‘On your feet,’ she bellowed at a young soldier cowering in the crenellated shadow of the battlements. ‘All of you. Fight!’

Another Khurta ran at her. A swift hack of her sword and he fell screaming.

Seeing her cutting down the enemy so easily seemed to instil some courage in the wall’s defenders. Two men stumbled hesitantly to her side. The boy cowering beside her slowly rose to his feet, the sword in his hand held limply, but at least he still held it.

‘Form rank,’ she ordered, and the men obeyed, making a line across the parapet that guarded the stairway.

More Khurtas were already making their way over the wall. Kaira stooped to pick up a fallen shield, linking it with the three men that stood at her shoulders just as the first of the Khurtas came screaming at them. His attack was wild, flailing his axe against the shield wall. Kaira and the men beside her stood resolute as more Khurtas joined the fray. A break in the attack and Kaira struck out, the tip of her sword opening a throat. No sooner had one Khurta fallen than another took his place. Behind the attackers, yet more were making their way over the wall.

‘Stand fast,’ Kaira said through gritted teeth. The four of them were all that stood between these Khurtas and the city. They would not be allowed over the wall without a fight but, despite her courage, Kaira knew there was little she would be able to do to stop them. Eventually she and the rest of these men would fall under the Khurtas’ superior numbers.

A sword hit the top of her shield, denting it. The man to her right suddenly screamed and went down. Kaira shouted at him to get back on his feet but her words were lost in the melee. Another blow struck her shield, knocking her back a step, and she had to fight the anger, not let it take control.

All she could hear was screaming, rage spewed at her in the night, but it was not just rage — it was pain too, and fear.

The assault on her shield abated. Someone called out from behind the attacking Khurtas but not in their foul northern tongue. The sound of battle drifted across the battlements from beyond the mass of Khurtas and one by one the savages disengaged to face this new threat.

As Kaira took a moment to help the man to her right find his feet, she saw that more defenders had come across the battlements to repel the enemy. There was a flash of steel, a glint of bronze in the torchlight. Khurtas fell from the walkway and down into the city. Some leapt back over the parapet. Kaira could not help but allow herself a smile of relief as she recognised men of the Wyvern Guard, hacking and slaying with abandon. They were emotionless in their labours, every sword stroke measured, powerful, deadly. Among the relief she felt was also a pang of envy. These were peerless warriors, dedicated to their art, slaying the enemy with abandon. For a fleeting moment she thought back to the Temple of Autumn — to her sisters. How she yearned to be standing beside them now, Shieldmaidens all, fighting the enemy to the death.

But that can never be. Samina was right — you abandoned your sisters long ago.

As the last of the Khurtas was defeated, Kaira took a moment to look along the wall. As far as she could see the Khurtas had been slain to a man. Parts of the wall were smashed to ruins and bodies lay all along the battlements. But they had won.

Far below on the plain in front of the city, a horn blew loud and clear in the night. At the sound, the horde began to retreat back to the north, leaving their dead and dying behind on the field.

Kaira stared out at the retreating mass as it moved out of bow range of the wall and realised her sword was held tight in her grip, her breath coming in short, laboured gasps. Loosening her grasp on the weapon she felt her hand begin to shake.

‘You all right?’

Kaira looked up at the familiar voice, stifling a smile as she saw Merrick looking at her with concern.

‘I am,’ she replied. ‘Just …’

‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘It’s not what I was expecting either.’

He grinned, but Kaira could see beyond the smile. Behind his eyes were fear and pain. Despite the fact he looked every inch the warrior in his armour, he was just as scared as she was, and she took a step towards him.

‘How have you been?’ she asked. ‘Since you joined your father?’

Merrick shrugged. ‘I’ve been tattooed, shot at with arrows, chased by Khurtas, screamed at by sword-wielding maniacs and I think I just killed three men, maybe four. But there have been shit times as well.’

He smiled again, showing his teeth, showing some of the carefree Merrick of old, and for the briefest of moments Kaira smiled too.

Without another word he offered her a nod, and turned to join the rest of the Wyvern Guard.

After watching him go, Kaira glanced north one last time towards the enemy. They had been beaten back but not defeated. They would return soon enough. And she could only hope she would get another opportunity to face them with her sword in hand.