“He could’ve made it out,” Barkus suggested, although his tone lacked conviction. “Got to a ship, maybe.”
Vaelin closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts, attempting to cast the blood-song forth as he had when he lost Dentos in the sandstorm. The note was even, unwavering, and found no answer. “He’s not there,” he whispered, hope surging in his breast. He had entertained a half-mad notion of waiting until darkness then finding a way over the walls to search for Frentis amidst the aftermath of the battle, although he was fully aware the most likely outcome would be a swift death. But if he’s not here, then where? He wouldn’t have deserted the prince.
“Outriders,” Caenis said, pointing to the plain before the city where a body of horsemen was raising a thick cloud of dust as they galloped towards their position.
“Can’t be more than a dozen.” Barkus unhitched his axe from his saddle and unfastened the leather cover on the blades. “A little recompense, for the prince and our brother.”
“Leave it.” Vaelin pulled on Spit’s reins, turning him away from the city. “Let’s go.”
Another month passed as they waited for the storm. He trained the men hard, drilling them until they sagged with exhaustion, ensuring each man knew his place on the walls and was fit and skilful enough to at least survive the first assault when it came. He sensed their fear and growing resentment but had no answer to it but more training and sterner discipline. To his surprise, their mingled fear and respect held true and there were no desertions, even after Barkus returned from a reconnaissance to Marbellis with news that it too had fallen.
“Place is near a ruin,” the big brother related, swinging down from his horse. “Walls breached in six places, half the houses wrecked by fire and I lost count of the Alpirans camped outside.”
“Prisoners?” Vaelin asked.
His brother’s usually cheerful visage was entirely grim. “There were spikes on the walls, lots of spikes, each one topped with a head. If they spared anyone, I didn’t see them.”
The Battle Lord… Alucius… Master Sollis…
“What fools we were to let the old bastard send us here,” Barkus was saying.
“Get some rest brother,” Vaelin told him.
At night Sherin would come to him and they would make love, finding blessed relief in intimacy, lying coiled together in the dark afterwards. Sometimes she would cry small, jerking sobs she tried to hide. “Don’t,” he would whisper. “All be over soon.”
After a while her sobs would subside and she would cling to him, lips covering his face with a desperate urgency. She, like every other soul in the city, knew what was coming. The Alpirans would break over the walls like a wave and he and every other Realm subject in arms would die here.
“We can go,” she said one night, imploring. “There are still ships in the harbour. We can just sail away.”
His hand traced over her smooth brow, the fine curve of her cheek and the elegant line of her chin. It was wonderful to touch her face, to feel her shiver at his touch before a warm flush crept over her skin. “Remember my promise, my love,” he said, thumbing a tear from her eye.
He was touring the walls the next morning when Caenis came with word of Realm vessels approaching the harbour. “How many?”
“Near forty.” His brother appeared unsurprised by the turn of events. The idea that the king would leave them to wither unsupported seemed not to have occurred to him at all. “We’re to be reinforced.”
“There has been talk,” Caenis said as they waited on the quayside watching the first ship steer its way past the mole and into the harbour. His tone was uncomfortable but determined. “About Sister Sherin.”
Vaelin shrugged. “Well there might. We’ve hardly been discrete.” He glanced at Caenis, regretting his levity in the face of his brother’s discomfort. “I love her, brother.”
Caenis avoided his gaze, his tone heavy. “According to the tenets of the Faith you aren’t my brother now.”
“Excellent. Feel free to depose me. I’ll happily hand this city over to you…”
“Your position as Lord Marshal of the Regiment and commander of this garrison was given you by the King, not the Order. I have no power to depose you. All I can do is report your… transgression to the Aspect for judgement.”
“If I live to be judged.”
Caenis gestured at the approaching ship. “We’re being reinforced. The King has not failed us. I think we’ll all live a while yet.”