“Talwin Hawkins, isn’t it? I am surprised,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough to cut through the moans and weeping of the other men in the room. He glanced at Tal’s right arm and said, “I thought they were going to chop that off you.” He sighed. “That’s the problem with Kaspar’s people. You just can’t rely upon them to attend to details. First you were supposed to die in Salador and didn’t have the grace to do that, then you turn up here unexpectedly with an army…it’s all very annoying, Talwin!” He glanced around the room. “If Kaspar can’t keep this city of his, I’m going to have to move…again! That is really upsetting.” He leaned over so that his face was only inches from Tal’s as the young man fought to stay sitting upright, refusing to fall to the floor. “You’re quite a stubborn boy, aren’t you?” asked Varen. He gently pushed Tal to the right, and Tal promptly fell over.
“I don’t suppose this is all your fault; after all, you can’t just whistle up a Keshian army…not to mention that bunch down on the river from the Isles. I’d love to know how you contrived to get Ryan and Carol to agree on anything, but time is limited, so I just can’t spare a moment to chat.” Leso Varen walked away and looked out of the window. “Now, that doesn’t look good. Keshians on the wall and a troop of men I don’t recognize opening the gate to the bailey. This just won’t do.”
He opened the window and directed his wand out of it. Tal could feel him discharging his magic at those below. But Tal noticed that each time Varen did so, the pain he was experiencing lessened slightly. His vision no longer threatened to fail him, and he could move a little.
After a few moments of raining burning terror down on those below, Varen turned to Tal again. “Well, as much fun as this has been, it’s time for you to die,” he said. He put away his wand and took a dagger out of his robe. With purposeful steps he crossed the floor, heading directly for Tal.
Creed’s men were on the walls before the Olaskan defenders realized they had been taken from the rear. The Keshians had come through the city like a prairie fire in summer, and those Olasko soldiers who had been ordered to retreat in order had hit the gate in full flight.
Men on the walls with their eyes on Keshian Dog Soldiers carrying scaling ladders and siege turtles suddenly found enemies on the wall beside them, with others hurrying up the stone stairs to the battlements. Archers who should have been raining fletched death down on the Keshians were instead struggling in hand-to-hand combat with armed invaders.
Creed looked around and nodded in satisfaction as his flying company reached the gate, overpowering the squad there and began opening it to admit the Keshians.
Just then an explosion of fire struck to the right of the gate, sending men on both sides flying through the air. A second, then a third detonation of energy caused men to duck for cover or just turn and run. Creed spun to see a man in a robe look down for a moment, then turn away.
Whatever the magician thought he was doing, he created more confusion, which aided the invaders. Creed shouted orders for his company to finish opening the gate, and once he saw it thrown open, he knew this part of the fight would be over in less than another half hour. Seeing the state of the struggle up on the wall, Creed began directing soldiers still coming out of the tunnels toward a pair of doors at the base of the citadel. So fast had the attack been that they still stood open. He could send his soldiers inside to support Quint’s and Tal’s forces.
He glanced up at the citadel and wondered how the fighting there fared. With the Keshians inside the walls, the battle was decided; Kaspar’s army would be defeated—he saluted Tal’s ingenuity and hoped the lad lived long enough to see the end of it.
As Keshian soldiers hurried through the gate carrying scaling ladders, Creed waved over to the captain in command of the Keshian assault forces. “We’re inside already!” yelled Creed, pointing to the gates. “Set your scaling ladders there and there”—he pointed to two spots—“and we’ll shred their forces from both sides.”
The captain acknowledged the suggestion and sent his men to the indicated locations. Creed took one last look around to ensure that everything was going as planned and saw with satisfaction that Olaskan soldiers were throwing down their weapons and begging quarter up on the wall.
Creed motioned for a squad held in reserve to follow him inside the citadel. He hoped Captain Quint was having as easy a time as he had.
Captain Quint Havrevulen knelt behind a makeshift barricade—an overturned table in the soldiers’ mess. He and his men had entered the armory, only to discover that the Duke’s ready company of reserves had been billeted in the mess so they could be easily dispatched to any part of the citadel.
Unfortunately for Quint, he could not get enough men through the door to mount a sustained assault. Twice he had led a dozen or so men out from the large pantry from which they accessed the mess, only to be driven back. Now they had archers on the balcony above the mess, and any man of Quint’s who moved was likely to be sprouting arrows.