The soldiers loyal to Maia began to stomp their boots in unison. It started with a few men and then spread to others. Maia shut her eyes once more and gripped the reins of her horse, feeling the weight of controlling so many Leerings at once. But they continued to respond to her, obeying her summons to defend the city.
The tempo of the stomping increased. Then a chant began, voices low and rough but growing in volume and energy.
“Long live Queen Maia. Long live Queen Maia. Long live the queen!”
Soon everyone in the street with her was echoing the chant. She opened her eyes, feeling the edges of her vision blur under the force of the power she was channeling. Pressure built in her skull. It felt as if a mountain were perched on her shoulders, but somehow she had the strength to keep it there.
She glanced down at her defenders, at their beards and scars, their crisp dark uniforms and tattered rags. It was a motley force, but she felt their willingness and enthusiasm.
There was shouting at the gates. The opposing force continued to melt away before their eyes, but the men who were trying to flee were blocked by the men arriving. It was a jumbled mess of limbs. Through it all, the Leerings from the gatehouse continued to blast their chords of fear into their minds.
The shouted words began to register, and Maia realized the speaker was Kord Schuyler himself, mounted on horseback. “It is only a trick!” he shouted at his soldiers with obvious fury. “Back, I say! Back to the gate! There is nothing to fear!”
Maia could barely make him out, but she could see well enough to know his army was disintegrating before his eyes. A sudden burst of hope swelled in her breast. They were outnumbered fifteen to one. Yet Schuyler’s army was fleeing before the first blows had even been struck. Perhaps it would be possible to weather this storm without blood pouring into the streets.
“Back, you cowards!” Schuyler screamed. “It is your minds that are weak! Fight! You must fight! Kranmir! Kranmir! Where are you! Do something!”
Maia felt a gentle push against her will. Another mind was trying to silence the Leerings. She felt the weight of the opposition, but that opposition could neither sway her, nor force her to release her dominion.
I will not yield, Ely Kranmir, Maia thought angrily. You must bend me. If you can.
She could sense slivers of Kranmir’s thoughts in the bursts of effort he sent toward the Leerings. But it was like a child pushing against an adult’s hands. Kranmir, with all his years and experience, could do nothing to make the Leerings obey. The Medium would not heed him. It would give him no notice whatsoever. She felt his heart quail with dread as he realized she was not forcing the Medium through a kystrel. She had submitted to its will, and it opposed Schuyler and his army. It opposed Kranmir. She felt his mind buckle under the terrible realization.
The pressure stopped abruptly as Kranmir yielded to the impulse to flee. In her mind, she could see him whipping his horse, nearly trampling the soldiers around him as he tried to escape.
Maia fixed her gaze on Schuyler through the gates. “Lord Mayor!” she called out in a booming voice. “Order the watch to open the gates. After them! Do not let the leaders escape!”
Justin’s eyes blazed with triumph. He could feel the victory in the air, even though a single blow had not been struck. With a whoop of delight, he shouted to his captain to fulfill the order. A hurrah broke through the chanting, and the hinges and chains of the portcullis began to groan. The men strained with impatience, especially the newly released prisoners.
Maia watched Kord Schuyler wheel his horse around as the gates opened. As soon as the jagged teeth of the portcullis had lifted enough to provide them with an exit, a flood of prisoners and watchmen spilled into the street.
Schuyler slapped his stallion’s flanks and joined the ranks of his fleeing men.
Before the day was done, the people had named it the Battle of Ludgate. Stories spread through the city like wildfire, each telling more exaggerated than the first. Maia had to wonder what the wise Maderos would write in his tome about it—she herself had already heard a half dozen conflicting tales. She sat in the same main audience hall in the castle—the very same cavernous space where she had sat restlessly through her coronation dinner not long before. A constant influx of soldiers and guests arrived at the hall throughout the day to pay homage and respect to her as their queen.
By midafternoon, Dodd arrived with his army, having pressed them hard enough to cover ground faster than the wind. They reached Comoros just in time to see Schuyler’s army disperse and to capture the opposing force’s fleeing leaders. Dodd found himself surrounded by men once loyal to his father, who begged him to pardon their offenses and accept their undying loyalty. His army tripled in size amidst the chaos.