“If we take away their ability to dive and fly, we can defeat them,” Tiras reassured. King Aren had greeted the Jeruvian king with surprise and hope, but when he discovered Tiras was alone, without a delivering army in tow, he grew morose once more.
As the nets were strung, Kjell’s men barred the castle windows so the Volgar could not break the glass and crawl inside. The children and a handful of women, along with Captain Lortimer and enough sailors to man a ship, would stay inside the hall. Provisions had been gathered, arrangements made, and food prepared. Once the Volgar arrived, the doors would remain bolted. Jedah, the Earth Mover, had created tunnels from the forest, beneath the walls, and up into the castle cellars and stores. If the King’s Guard and the fledgling army of Caarn were defeated, Queen Saoirse would have a way to get everyone out of the castle and into the forest without ever crossing the yard or raising the gates. A ship still waited in Dendar Bay. Some of Caarn’s children could be saved. It was the most Kjell could promise.
Everyone else who was willing to fight—women and men—would be armed with vertical spikes, swords, lances and spears, waiting beneath the canopy of vines, packed in tight formation, just as Kjell’s men had done on the Jandarian plain. He would have preferred to protect all the women, to tuck them away with the very old and the very young inside the Great Hall and the endless rooms of the castle. But many of the women of Caarn had rejected that idea with flat eyes and sharp sticks. Queen Saoirse was among them.
What could not be done below with weapons and vines could be accomplished above with a hundred archers on the wall and a handful of Gifted in the turrets. It was not hot oil and catapults, but Kjell was optimistic that the unique skills would provide a measure of support. The Gifted in Jeru had turned the tide against Zoltev and his army of birdmen.
“Isak can light anything on fire. It’s his gift, but it is also dangerous to those around him. We don’t want the castle to burn down in the midst of battle,” Kjell explained to the little maid who could draw water. Tess nodded, her eyes wide. “Keep your eyes on Isak. Don’t let the fire spread,” Kjell instructed.
“I cannot draw water from stone, Captain,” Tess whispered, her eyes on the rock walls of the turret where she would stand.
“There is water in the air. You will have to call it from the skies.” Tess bobbed her head reluctantly, but Kjell could see her fear. He could not calm it. There was every reason to fear. But if she was afraid for her life, she would be able to call her gift, he had no doubt. Dev, the boy who could spin like a storm, calling the wind and flinging gales, would be beside Tess in the tallest turret. Boom would be there as well, making the air quake and Volgar wings tremble with his voice.
The Sea Changer would battle with the rest of the men, armed with a spear and a stake. But Kjell had pulled him aside and quietly given him a mission of his own. If Caarn should fall, the Sea Changer was to leave through the tunnels and make the journey to Jeru City. Someone would have to tell Queen Lark what had occurred in Caarn.
When the vines were strung and the sun began to sink, they waited, ready and dreading, eating and sleeping in short shifts, eyes and ears to the east where the queen had seen the birdmen come. Sasha made constant rounds, soothing and speaking softly, making sure needs were met and every eventuality had been seen to. Aren moved among his people as well, reassuring and encouraging, claiming full confidence in Kjell’s plan and the strength of Caarn, and Padrig padded behind him, wearing the dazed demeanor of a man who’d borne too much.
Tiras took direction from Kjell, playing the role of brother instead of king, but he missed nothing, absorbed everything, and his hands were never idle. Sharpened sticks, lances and blades were stacked like tinder in every corner, so he took to the skies, climbing the watchtower and winging out above the valley, determined to warn of a Volgar approach.
After two days of cramped quarters and bated breath, the nerves of every person in Castle Caarn were at a breaking point. Hope that no conflict would ever come, that the queen had lost her sight, infused the vigil, making the wait harder to endure. Even the stench had seemed to abate, though Kjell knew it was the direction of the wind and not a reversal of fortunes.
When the shadows deepened on the third day, Tiras returned from his eagle patrol with sweat-slicked skin and hooded eyes. The Volgar swarm had been spotted, and the numbers were great. Tiras donned his clothes, retrieved his sword, and without grief or regret, he descended to the bailey to wait with the rest.
The archers on the ramparts, tucked beneath the overhang and bent beneath shields, would wait for the Volgar to begin clawing through the vines before they took aim. The Gifted in the tower would wait for the second wave to come. The Volgar liked to swarm and fly, swarm and fly. Kjell prayed they would swarm and die. Swarm and die. Confident that his orders would be followed and that he’d done all he could, Kjell climbed down from the watchtower.
Sasha waited for him at the base of the winding stairs.
For a moment, in the shadowy alcove, they were alone. She watched him take the last few steps, her hands clasped in front of her. He stepped close, so close that the warmth of her body and the thrum of life beneath her skin painted him in her colors. He did not touch her, but he allowed himself to relish the sweetness of her and the memory of them. Her mouth was not his to kiss, her hands were not his to hold, and though her eyes still pledged forever, her lips could not. His face hovered above hers, close enough to feel her breath, to taste the hope that stirred from her breast as she spoke.
“We will not die today,” she said fiercely. “Caarn will not die today.”
Her words were infused with so much faith that he breathed them in, believing.
“Promise me,” he whispered.
“I promise,” she breathed.
With that assurance, Kjell stepped away, praying the Creator would honor her vow.
The young were herded into the Great Hall, the doors barred, prayers uttered, and the citizens of Caarn took up their arms, found their positions, and lifted their faces to the vines they stood beneath.
The sound of the Volgar was one Kjell refused to recall and couldn’t forget. They screamed and cawed, their wings beating the air and their talons clicking. A collective shudder rippled through the villagers of Caarn as the distant cries became a roaring cacophony. The shudder became a shout when the first birds collided with the vines, and Kjell roared for every knee to bend and every weapon to brace. The people obeyed, gripping their weapons more firmly in their hands and willing the web of leaves and twine to hold.