Part 34 (1/2)
Specifically, toward the gates where Pirellus and his Knights directed the Aleran defenses.
Amara did not take time to consider her plan. Instead, she gathered Cirrus beneath her and sent herself hurtling up toward the oncoming litters. A startled Knight turned to face her in the air, but with an almost casual gesture, she flashed past him, dealing him a blow that began a cut low on one of his legs and ran all the way up his back to his shoulder, sheering through the leather leggings he wore and even biting through some of the mail upon his back. He let out a cry and fell, his focus fluttering with his pain, dropping toward the earth like a leaf cut from a tree.
Amara hurled herself forward and used a terrific rush of air to catapult her up. Then, while her momentum still carried her toward the foe, she gathered Cirrus's presence up before her and sent the fury las.h.i.+ng out at those supporting one of the litters.
She wasn't strong enough to cut all four of the Knights bearing the litters from their furies, and she hadn't even tried. Instead, she had focused on the two forward Knights, intending only to cut off their wind for a few crucial seconds. She succeeded. The men let out startled cries and fell, straight down, taking the poles whose weight they supported with them.
And dumping a half-dozen screaming men inside the litter into the open air. Two of the men still wore their restraining straps and dangled precariously on the litter as the Knights bearing it struggled to right it again, but the others, evidently antic.i.p.ating a quick dismount upon the walls, had already unstrapped. Those six plummeted toward the ground, and though a few of the escorting Knights plunged after them, Amara knew that they would never be able to save the men from a fall so close to the earth.
She felt dozens of eyes focus on her at once, as her momentum carried her to the peak of its energy, then let her begin to fall again. She spun in the air, faced down, and kept her limbs in close to her body, to keep from being slowed as she reached out to gather Cirrus back to her, and to reestablish her own windstream before one of the other Knights of the air cut her off.
Half a dozen windstreams converged on her at once, and she clawed for air in frustrated terror, even as the fury-lights of the fortress below loomed closer. She got lucky: So many of the enemy had moved to cut her off that she was able to use their own efforts against one another, writhing the wind-streams into a tangle and then altering the direction of her fall with her arms and legs. Cirrus gathered beneath her in a rush, and she gained control of her fall, just as another Knight, less reticent than the others, swept toward her, light gleaming on his drawn sword.
Amara twisted to one side, but he matched her fall, and the sword swept at her. She caught it on her own blade and pressed in close, sword-to-sword, struggling to gain control of the wind around them and turn it to her advantage. Her foe gripped her wrist, and they began to spin wildly, still falling.
Amara shot a glance down at the courtyard welling up before her eyes and looked up to her foe's face just as he did the same. There was a mute moment of concord and then both pushed away from one another, furies gathering beneath them in a roar, attempting to slow their fall.
Amara got one frantic look at Garrison beneath her and guided her fall into a stack of hay bales beside the stables. The bales, solidly packed, would have done little to break her fall without Cirrus rus.h.i.+ng currents, both slowing the impact and scattering the bales into loose strands. Amara crashed through the topmost stack of bales and out onto the ground on the far side.
Her foe, more able than she, or less tired, landed neatly on the ground beside her and pivoted to drive his blade at her throat. She caught the thrust on her own sword, barely, parrying the blade into the bale of hay beside her, while her other hand dragged the short knife she'd stolen from Fidelias from her belt and drove it back into the wind-crafter's boot.
He fell back with a yelp, then gestured with his hand, expression murderous. The wind roared, and Amara felt pressure pin her hard to the ground. She struggled to move, or to lift her sword, but the man's fury kept her from doing it. She reached for Cirrus, but she knew she had been too slow, and she could only watch as he lifted his blade again.
There was a buzzing hiss, and an arrow drove through the Knight's mail s.h.i.+rt where it crossed just beneath his throat. The arrow drove him back a pair of jerking steps, before he fell dead to the stones.
The pressure on Amara abruptly eased, and she could breathe again, move again. She started struggling to her feet, but, still dizzy from the fall and her efforts to control it, had only got partway there when Bernard reached her, his bow still in hand, and said, ”Crows and furies, are you all right? Where are they coming in?”
”The gate,” Amara gasped. ”The firepots. Get them off the gate. Hurry Hurry.”
Bernard's face went pale, and he pelted off across the courtyard, back toward the walls. A Marat, dazed from a fall from the battlements above, lifted a stone-headed hatchet, but Bernard flicked a hand and the hatchet's wooden haft abruptly spun in its owner's grip, the back of the stone whipping into the Marat's temple, and sending him in a loose tumble to the ground.
Amara felt a dull pain in her shoulder and back, and it was too much effort to stand, but she watched as Bernard bounded up one of the ladders and onto the wall. He took his bow in a two-handed grip and clubbed his way past a Marat fighting a pair of legionares legionares and ducked past the flas.h.i.+ng claws of a wounded herd-bane that lay on its side, raking wildly with its remaining leg, to reach Pirellus's side. He gripped the Knight Commander's shoulder and shouted to him over the din. and ducked past the flas.h.i.+ng claws of a wounded herd-bane that lay on its side, raking wildly with its remaining leg, to reach Pirellus's side. He gripped the Knight Commander's shoulder and shouted to him over the din.
Pirellus's face blanked with incredulity, but Bernard pointed up, and Pirellus turned in time to see the first of the other pair of litters sweeping down, mailed Knights Aeris all around it. His eyes widened, and he shouted to his men on the walls, even as a roar of wind sent men flat to the battlements and drove leaping Marat back and away from the walls.
Bernard lost his bow but stayed on his feet, drawing on the strength of his fury, Amara knew. He grabbed Pirellus and another man beside him and dragged them forward and off the wall, to fall into the courtyard beyond.
Amara's eyes swept back up to the litters, to see Fidelias in one, pointing down and calling something to one of the men in the other, a tall, thin man with pinched features. The man stood up, eyes closed, and reached out his hand.
In answer, the firepots, waiting on the walls beside the fire-crafters now pinned down by the gale winds above them, exploded into blinding flame.
The firestorm swept over the walls above the gates, where Garrison's Knights were pinned down. Scattered and whipped to a dangerous fury by the wind, more of the flame nonetheless rushed out along the walls, playing havoc with legionares legionares, Marat, and predator birds alike. The fire went over the walls like a scythe, sending men screaming to the ground, running from the flames, rolling frantically to put out their own burning bodies. Some even leapt off the battlements and into the savage Marat horde waiting below.
Amara watched in stunned horror as the litters swept down to the courtyard, where a half a dozen disorganized legionares legionares attacked the invaders. Aldrick ex Gladius dismounted from the litter and, with the Knights Aeris with him, met them and drove them back. attacked the invaders. Aldrick ex Gladius dismounted from the litter and, with the Knights Aeris with him, met them and drove them back.
Fidelias stepped from the litter and walked to the gates. As Amara watched, he glanced around him, eyes quick and hard, and then laid his bare palms against the heavy wood. For perhaps half a minute, he stood there, eyes closed. Then he withdrew, barked an order to his men, and limped back to the litter. Aldrick and the others withdrew to the litter, and the whole of the group swept up into the air again and out of sight.
Amara regained her feet, finally, and recovered her sword. She lifted her head to see what Fidelias had done to the gates.
She saw them shudder. Then she saw dust fly from one of them. And then the cruel, rending talon of one of the herd-bane ripped through the heavy beams of wood as though they were paper, and tore its way back out again.
She could only watch in numbed horror as the Marat, howling like madmen, hauled the gates of Garrison to kindling before her eyes, and began to pour into the fortress.
She swallowed, her head still whirling, her hand trembling as she gripped her sword, and stepped forward to meet them.
Chapter 37
Amara looked left and right as she approached the gate, even as the Marat began to tear their way through it. To one side, several of the young legionares legionares stood, stunned and horrified, staring as the Marat poured in. To the other, scorched bodies and badly burned men lay, scattered as they had fallen from the walls above, along with a dazed-looking Bernard and Pirellus, gathering themselves together after the explosion on the walls and the fall after. stood, stunned and horrified, staring as the Marat poured in. To the other, scorched bodies and badly burned men lay, scattered as they had fallen from the walls above, along with a dazed-looking Bernard and Pirellus, gathering themselves together after the explosion on the walls and the fall after.
”Form up!” Amara shouted, toward the legionares legionares, but she wasn't sure the young men even heard her. She singled out one of the young men in a centurion's helmet and barked, ”Centurion! Hold the gate!”
The young man in his fine cape looked from her to the gate to the shattered walls above, eyes wide, mouth trembling. ”B-back!” he stammered, though it seemed that no one listened to him. ”Fall b-back!”
Amara looked to the other side in desperation. ”Pirellus!” she shouted. ”Get up! Command the Legion!”
Pirellus, his helmet blasted from his head, the hair on one side scorched nearly to his scalp, stared at her in blank incomprehension.
The Marat tore through the last fragments of the remaining gate, and the first, a burly young warrior wielding a stone-headed axe, shoved his way through.
There was no time for anything else. If the Marat gained control of the gates, they would be able to pour into Garrison, and nothing would stop the weight of simple numbers from smothering the Aleran defense. Though her head still spun and though the injury on her back still pained her, Amara threw herself toward the sundered gates.
She heard herself let out a shrill cry, even as the Marat warrior turned to face her and swept the axe in a great flat arc meant to shear her in half at the hips. Instead, she reached out for Cirrus and leapt, throwing herself neatly over the axe, and sweeping her blade out at eye level. The fine steel of the blade bit into the Marat's face, and he dropped to the ground with a scream, even as one of the huge warbirds tore its way through the gates.
Amara tried to dodge from its path, but the beast's beak shot out and gripped her left arm in a sudden, crus.h.i.+ng grip. Pain flashed through her, and she knew that only the mail had kept her arm from being snipped off at the elbow. The bird shook its head violently left and right, throwing Amara about like a puppet, until she slashed desperately at the base of the bird's thick neck, eliciting a bra.s.sy shriek and causing the bird to hurl her away from it.
Another Marat came through the gates, but the wounded herd-bane whipped around at the sudden motion, snapping and las.h.i.+ng with its bra.s.sy beak, driving the Marat back. Amara let out a cry and drove forward, thrusting with the guardsman's sword, sinking it into the bird's vitals and whipping it forth with a half-twist that sent the beast snapping and clawing its way to the ground in a welter of gore.
Amara gasped for breath as the Marat warrior came through, aiming another cut at this one. He dodged to one side, making way for a second, this one a lean young woman carrying an old Aleran saber. The Marat female thrust at Amara's face, and the young Cursor swept the blow aside-only to be hit hard in the flank and thrown to the ground by the first attacker.
She struggled and fought against him, letting out a furious, futile cry, but he had gotten inside her guard and pinned her sword arm to the ground. He lifted his fist, his face emotionless, and drove a blow into her mouth that stunned her for a moment, left her silent. Then he said something in a guttural tongue, satisfaction in the tone, as his hand gripped her hair, hard, and he turned her head slightly toward the woman, who lifted the old saber for a downward blow.
Scalping me, Amara thought. They're taking my hair They're taking my hair.
There was a sudden shriek, high-pitched and panicked. The Marat warrior leapt back and off Amara, even as his companion lifted her saber and engaged the furious, reckless a.s.sault of one of the young legionares legionares. The young man hacked and chopped with his Legion blade, more in elemental fury and brutality than in any coherent a.s.sault, and drove the pair away from Amara.
He turned back to the other young legionares legionares, and Amara recognized the young man who had been on guard at the gates the day before from the purpling bruise on his jaw. ”Come on!” he snarled, to his companions. ”Are you going to stand there while a woman fights?” He turned back to his opponents with a cry of, ”Riva for Alera!” and attacked again.
First one, then two, then several more legionares legionares surged forward with sharp cries of fury, joining together in a s.h.i.+eldwall that contained the tide of Marat struggling to pour in through the shattered gates. But the young surged forward with sharp cries of fury, joining together in a s.h.i.+eldwall that contained the tide of Marat struggling to pour in through the shattered gates. But the young legionares legionares, though they acted in concert, began to be driven back step by steady step.
Amara felt herself hauled back along the ground by one elbow and barely managed to keep hold of her sword. She looked up, dazedly, to find Healer Harger crouching over her, fingers touched lightly to her temples.
”The arm's broke,” he said a second later, voice rough. ”Maybe some of your teeth, too. There are broken rings in the mail over your back that are cutting into it, and something is sprained. But you'll live.” He shot a glance up at the embattled gate, then gave her a quick smile and said, ”Bravely done, girl. Shamed those city boys into the fight at last.”
”Pirellus,” Amara managed to gasp. ”Other side of the gate. Stunned.” ”Pirellus,” Amara managed to gasp. ”Other side of the gate. Stunned.” Harger's eyes widened. ”Great furies, he lived through that?” Harger's eyes widened. ”Great furies, he lived through that?” ”Bernard. Pulled him off the wall.” ”Bernard. Pulled him off the wall.” Harger nodded, tense, and hauled her to her feet. ”Show me. If anyone can do anything, it will be Pirellus.” Harger nodded, tense, and hauled her to her feet. ”Show me. If anyone can do anything, it will be Pirellus.”
Amara gasped with the pain and saw the Healer wince and draw in a quick breath of his own. He steadied her, and then she lead him forward, around the slow pressure of bodies and the desperate thrust and hack of weapons at the gate, to where she'd seen Bernard and Pirellus moments before.