Then a blazing shadow shot through the breach, moving so fast it was like trying to focus on a ray of light. The legionnaire standing over the High Animator exploded in a wave of blood and gore; the second followed straight after. Tiesto caught a flash of green as the newcomer leapt down from a block of stone to launch himself into the place where the enemy were thickest.
It must be a bladesinger. Tiesto had never seen one in combat, but watching this one fight, he knew the stories were true: they were the world's finest swordsmen, each worth a thousand men in battle. The bladesinger pirouetted and thrust at a legionnaire, taking out the warrior's throat, before ducking a swing and cutting another swordsman in two. A blow was deflected by the bladesinger's armoursilk, and now Tiesto and his men were close enough that the prince could hear the deep baritone of the man's singing, an eerie sound that sent a chill up his spine.
Tiesto's men cheered. "Blademaster!"
Prince Tiesto blinked. His men were telling the truth — it was Rogan!
More men in brown joined the bladesinger, coming in from the other side of the gate, and soon the black-clad soldiers were under heavy attack. When Prince Tiesto's men joined the fray, it was too much for the enemy, and they were swiftly overwhelmed, most choosing to die by the sword.
More people were pouring through the gate all the time: soldiers in brown, thin but determined former prisoners holding swords, and even a few women with clubs. They kept coming, and Tiesto gasped when he saw how many prisoners had been freed.
"Well met, Your Highness," a hoarse voice said, panting and wheezing.
Tiesto turned to Rogan as the symbols on the man's armoursilk dimmed with the halting of his song. He saw the hollowed pits under Rogan's eyes, the drawn skin and heaving chest.
"You came at an opportune time," Rogan said.
"As did you." Tiesto gripped Rogan's shoulder.
"You must be Prince Tiesto," a woman's voice said.
A young woman, battered and bruised, with auburn hair that curled at the ends, stood looking at Rogan with concern before turning back to Tiesto.
"I am," Tiesto nodded.
"There is an army outside that needs us," she said.
Tiesto glanced up at the sky. Morning was well underway.
"Marcus?" Tiesto looked around. "Marcus?"
A Halrana soldier came forward. "I'm sorry, Your Grace," the soldier said, shaking his head. "A sword took him in the thigh. Unlucky hit; he bled out. He didn't say a word, just kept fighting until he fell."
Tiesto looked into the distance, and the grief came to him all at once. Surely the soldier must be wrong. He looked at his men, expecting to see Marcus's face among theirs.
Tiesto hadn't even known the young palace guard when Marcus had spirited the Halrana heir out of Ralanast's Rialan Palace. For a long time it was just the two of them, and then a small network of defiant townsfolk, before Rogan came. Marcus had been the rock by Tiesto's side. The prince realised he hadn't even given the man a title. What did you call the soldier who was simply there when you needed him to be? Captain? Marshal? Lord? Friend?
Tiesto felt a hand grip his shoulder. "We need to move on," Rogan said. "He was a good man, and we will mourn him later. Your men in the city need you. Until a plume of green smoke rises from Terra Cathedral, Miro won't attack."
Tiesto nodded.
Rogan called out to the men. "I need fifty men to escort the prisoners who can't fight to safety. They've had a long journey. Spread the word, the prisoners have been freed. I want every Halrana to know it. You hear me?"
"Yes, Marshal." Men leapt in response to Rogan's orders.
"I want these two groups combined, and formed up into order. We're the only sizeable force inside the city, and the army outside is relying on us to open the main gate. When we encounter the Black Army — which we will — and when you take on imperial avengers, hold fast. Do you hear me, men? Hold fast."
"Yes, Blademaster."
Tiesto felt a hand clap his shoulder as Rogan met his eyes. Tiesto knew they were red. He expected Rogan to say something about how he must fight on, or Marcus's sacrifice would have been in vain.
Instead, Rogan squeezed his arm. "You did well, High Lord. You did well."
41
MIRO paced back and forth, doing his best to ignore Marshal Beorn. From below their vantage, the city of Ralanast appeared tranquil and calm in the morning light. The allied army waited on the broad hillside in rigid formation, any protest or wavering met with instant discipline, as Miro waited for the signal that would herald the start of the battle to liberate Ralanast.
"We should attack now," Marshal Beorn said again.
"No," Miro said shortly. He had rarely had such a contest of wills with the veteran commander before.
"Something has gone wrong. Look at the city — does it look like a city in revolt to you?"
"We can't see the whole city from here," Miro said.
"You know they'll be sending reinforcements from the east. We can't afford to wait here like this, so close to the city, with our flanks and rear vulnerable to attack."
"I've told you my reasons," Miro said. "How many lives do you think will be lost if we attack with the gate closed, compared to with it open?"