The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

Word finally reached them the following afternoon that the prince had ordered them to mount the attack. Alensson was relieved, for Genette had taken to pacing like a caged lioness, her temper short and easily provoked. At least the time they’d spent with the besieged half of Lionn had given them time to plan. Genette had impressed Aspen Hext, who’d expected she would cower from the enemy’s threats and insults. Together, the leaders of the group had discussed strategy, but Genette refused to trick or decoy their enemies or consider any strategy besides breaching the walls with scaling ladders. If the soldiers bore the abuse with determination, they would drive the defenders from the walls. The certain way she said it made Alensson wonder what she knew, what she had seen.

When the army decamped from Blais and arrived in Lionn after nightfall, they were greeted by the Ceredigic defenders. The enemy was outnumbered and quickly withdrew back into the city gates, barring the doors and lowering the portcullis. The battle for Lionn began almost at once, during the night, and soon Alensson was in the thick of it. He knew Genette was sleeping in the city across the river and she’d be angry no one had awakened her. But he also realized that the cover of darkness would help them mount the attack. The defenders were scrambling to cover the entire breadth of the wall, spreading their numbers thin in their effort to keep it protected. Alensson and Hext had agreed that it was too risky to send someone across the river in the dark to fetch Genette and that her presence would be more inspiring after sunrise when the troops could see her and her banner. She would get one more night of sleep before the images of war gave her nightmares.

As he moved amongst his men, trying to rally them, he heard shouts announcing the arrival of the Maid. Alensson was thunderstruck that she had crossed the river at night to join them. He pushed his way through the crowd until he found her. She sat there astride her horse, full armored and carrying her banner, her eyes filled with scolding anger.

“How did you cross the river?” he demanded, looking at the disheveled hair coming loose from the mail hood covering her head.

“I rode across,” she answered stiffly, and he stared at her in shock. The feat was impossible because of the depth of the river, and besides, the horse was not wet and neither was she.

“I don’t understand,” Alensson said gruffly.

“No, you don’t,” she answered. “But my words are true. Remember that the Fountain has power over all water. It awoke me in the night to tell me the battle had started. You should have sent for me.”

“It was too dangerous!” he said. “They attacked us when the rest of our men arrived, and we drove them off. Lord Hext thought it better to press our advantage under the cover of darkness.”

Genette nodded firmly. “It’s a good plan. You should have summoned me.”

He looked up at her on the horse. “It’s dangerous. We won’t breach the walls tonight. There will be chance to fight tomorrow, when everyone can see you. Come to the command pavilion. We can discuss it there.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I said I would drive them out. And I will fulfill my vow.” She jerked the reins of her horse and headed toward the walls of the embattled city.

“Fountain help me,” Alensson muttered, then yelled for his horse and joined her.



Alensson followed the Maid all the way to the walls, where it rained arrows instead of water. Feathered shafts poked out of the grass and dirt of a field covered in fallen soldiers, many writhing in pain, many more dead. The men were shouting at each other, calls of challenge and rage that were not quite words. There was hatred between these two sides, and one could feel it in the air like a choking smoke. Every attempt to put a scaling ladder against the wall had been repelled, and men fell from great heights to lie crumpled on the ground with broken limbs. Archers from the walls continued to rain death down on them, but the archers on the Occitanian side found their marks as well. The cries of injury came from both sides.

The memories of Vernay were assaultive. Alensson’s heart was in his throat; his pulse was pounding in his skull. The longer they stayed, the more men would die. A crew of soldiers equipped with shields and a battering ram hammered at the main door. Each grunt and charge rocked the doors, but every few moments one of their numbers dropped, felled by archers. Alensson kept Genette in sight at all times, watching her cry courage to her men as she waved her banner before them. If a stripling girl had the courage to make herself a target for her enemies, none of the men would dare break and run.

Another attempt was made to put a scaling ladder against the wall. Several men held it down while others began to climb. Genette planted her banner in the destroyed ground and rushed forward to help the attempt.

Alensson remembered her warning the instant before it happened.

An arrow pierced Genette’s chest, right near the neck, a blow that would have killed any man. Genette toppled backward from the force of the impact and the men around her watched, momentarily stunned. A cheer went up from the wall of defenders as Alensson raced over to her. She had warned him of this, but it was one thing to hear her tell it and another to see it happen. His heart breaking with sadness, he grabbed her beneath her arms and began pulling her away. Another man joined him, hoisting her legs so that they didn’t have to drag her. She groaned with pain from the movement, and cries of anguish rose in the air as the men watched the Maid be carried off the field, her banner rustling listlessly near where she had fallen.

“Fetch a surgeon!” Alensson shouted to a soldier with a panic-stricken face.

“Set me down!” Genette said through a grimace.

They had put some distance between themselves and the combat, and although arrows continued to fall nearby, they were stray ones. Alensson nodded to his fellow, and they carefully set her down. The arrow was embedded deep inside her. The wound would cripple her arm, he could see that at once—and that was only if she managed to survive the bleeding. The armor was stanching the wound somewhat, though, and he was surprised there was not as much blood as he’d feared. Of course, there was only moonlight and starlight to see by, no torches.

“Pull it out,” Genette said with a gasp, looking at his face.

“It may do more damage that way,” Alensson said, shaking his head. “Sometimes it’s better to push it all the way through. I sent for a surgeon.” His hands were shaking. The bitter taste of defeat was in his mouth—familiar and acrid. Could he survive another Vernay? He wasn’t sure he could bear it.

“Pull it out!” she insisted, grabbing his hand and trying to lift it.

He jerked away from her, recoiling. “I dare not! It could kill you!”

Genette’s face was pale. Several other soldiers had gathered around them. Suddenly, Aspen Hext pushed his way into the circle, shoving aside a bystander so hard the man went down.

“She fell?” Hext growled. The look of respect in his eyes was immense as he stared down at her writhing body. She had proved she was no figurehead of the army. She had struggled on the front lines alongside the bravest of them. “The men started to flee when they heard!”

Alensson looked back and saw the soldiers slinking away from the battle.

“Pull—it—out!” the Maid growled, her eyes finding Alensson’s. “It’s a bee sting. I need to get back there. They cannot flee. We must take the outer wall tonight!”