The loading of the carriers had begun at once, and transport had been under way ever since. The vessels would convey as many passengers as possible to one of the nearby cities and then return for more. Warships would act as escorts, and keep careful watch for airborne attackers—especially the dragon.
But now sunset was approaching, and the transports had been active all day. No further attacks of any sort had been made. What remained of the army had been divided by commands and dispersed to positions that would allow for at least limited defense of all four walls and a chance for overlap where it became needed. The warships not acting as escorts to the transports continued to patrol the air overhead, keeping watch against surprise attacks.
Not that Keeton believed there would be any. The next attack would come at nightfall, when the light was gone and the new moon rendered the landscape black and impenetrable, and there would be nothing surprising about it. It would include all of the remaining creatures, and they would sweep across the walls and into the city, and that would be the end of Arishaig.
“Wint!” he called, catching sight of his second as he neared the stations designated for loading the transports. Wint turned at the sound of his voice, and Keeton hurried over. “How many more do we have?”
The other looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Two. Both are in the process of loading. That’s all we have left until the others come back. That won’t happen before nightfall.”
Keeton shook his head. “That’s not soon enough.”
Wint laughed. “You don’t think so?” His laughter trailed off. “Nothing is soon enough, Captain. We’ve evacuated maybe half of the population. What we need is another day or two.”
“Then we’ll start using the warships as transports, too.”
Wint stared. “If we do that, we can’t hold the city!”
Keeton gave him a look of disbelief. “We’ve already lost the city! Haven’t you noticed?” He made a dismissive gesture. “I hate this.”
He glanced around as if the answer to his problems might be found in the growing darkness. “Could you form a command of First Response and regular soldiers to act as a convoy, escorting those who still remain out through the north gates and into the hills?”
Wint shrugged. “Pretty dangerous, trying to do that. Women and children. Pitch black. Creatures everywhere.”
“At least they’ll have a chance out there. They can get out through the evacuation tunnels. If we wait for the next attack, there’s a chance they won’t be noticed.”
“I’ll get on it.” Wint paused. “You’ll be coming with us?”
Keeton shook his head. “Someone has to stay behind.”
“That would be you and me, I guess.”
“I’d rather you went. The convoy will need a capable leader.”
Wint shook his head no. “It will have to be someone else. Don’t ask me again.”
Keeton nodded. “Guess I knew you’d say that. Okay. Do what you have to and get back with me. Night is coming. They’ll attack when it does.”
He was turning away when Wint said, “Been a pleasure serving with you, Captain.”
Keeton turned. Gave his second a broad smile. “Let’s find a softer duty when this is over, you and me.”
“You and me, Cap.”
Keeton waved wordlessly over his shoulder and kept walking.
He spent a little time with Sefita Rayne, devising an exit strategy for when defending any part of the city was no longer possible, even though by now both knew that escape was reduced to a faint glimmer of hope. After that, he walked the walls, visiting with his Federation soldiers and their unit commanders, joking and laughing, teasing and cajoling, praising and reassuring, saying all the right things and speaking a few hard truths, trying to help them keep it together.
All the while, he watched the darkness deepen.
When the last of the sunset was a purple hue balanced on the edge of the western horizon and the darkness was just closing down, the last attack began.
It was a relief when it did.
Twenty-one
It was just approaching midday when Seersha and Crace Coram piloted their two-man out of the north and into the smoky ruins of Arishaig. They city was gone, the defenses breached, the gates forced, and the walls taken. The Druid and the Dwarf Chieftain could still hear the screams and cries of wounded and dying as the victors prowled the ruins in search of whatever caught their eye. Diapson-crystal-powered weapons still flashed here and there at regular intervals as the last of the survivors fought to keep their stalkers at bay. Black smoke coiled skyward in twisted columns and gave the cityscape the look of a volcano heating up for another explosion. Dark shapes darted through the rubble, and it was impossible to tell which army or persuasion they belonged to.
“We’re too late,” Crace Coram rumbled, the regret and dismay evident in the tremor of his deep voice.
Seersha nodded. “The Straken Lord’s army must be huge for it to have done this. Arishaig was heavily defended, and the best Federation soldiers in the Four Lands were stationed here.”
“Do you suppose anyone got out?”