Peter Brett - The Daylight War

Folk came to her the moment she left the pavilion, asking after Arlen. She told them he was all right, only sleeping to gather his strength, and moved on to see what she could do to throw in. More explosions echoed in the distance, but there was little she could do to assist there.

She went instead to the weakest points of Newhaven’s greatward, looking to strengthen them as she could. She spent the rest of the day ploughing, digging, and hauling giant stones. The demons were going to break through the net. She knew that from the beginning, but every moment they spent trying was one they could not spend killing the Hollowers.

Leesha watched as Thamos paced behind the map table. Like her, he had not rested throughout the day, and his eyes were dark and sunken in his handsome face. Arther stood near his lord, a contrast in his stillness.

They were back in the count’s pavilion in the Corelings’ Graveyard, having just overseen the transfer of wounded from Newhaven to the hospit in Cutter’s Hollow. Leesha had been so proud of the building when it was first raised, but now, with wounded overflowing, it seemed woefully inadequate. If the Hollow survived, she would need to expand.

With Captain Gamon wounded, Thamos had once again assumed direct control of the Wooden Soldiers. He had called this last meeting as sunlight faded to go over plans for the coming night. Gared, Wonda, and the Butchers were there, along with Renna, Rojer, Amanvah, Sikvah, and Enkido. Even Drillmaster Kaval had been allowed in, though Thamos’ guards had disarmed him and eyed him warily. Inquisitor Hayes and Child Franq clutched Canons, eyes closed as they mouthed silent prayers.

Leesha looked back to the count and, for an instant, wished he was Ahmann. She wondered, not for the first time, what was happening to the south in Everam’s Bounty. Were they under similar assault? Likely they were, but Leesha did not feel as worried for the Krasians as she did for the Hollow.

It wasn’t fair to Thamos, but she could not help but compare him with her Krasian lover. Whatever atrocities Jardir had committed in the name of his Holy War against demonkind, the man exuded confidence and inspired it in others. Thamos was a good man and strong, but he exuded doubt and it was palpable in the room.

It was Amanvah who asked the question on everyone’s mind. ‘Where is the Par’chin?’

‘Sleeping,’ Leesha said.

Amanvah gave her a coldly appraising look. ‘The sun is soon to set. Should we not wake him?’

Leesha shook her head. ‘He took a terrible blow to the head. Shaking and shouting isn’t going to rouse him before he’s ready, or do him any good even if it could.’

Thamos stopped pacing. ‘He bought us this day, and we’ve made the most of it. It’s up to us to hold the Hollow until he wakes, if he ever does.’

‘He will,’ Renna cut in. ‘When the sun sets he’ll get his strength back.’

‘Like a demon,’ Child Franq said.

Renna was across the room in an instant, her face a feral snarl. Franq stumbled backward, tripping over a stool and landing on his backside. ‘Say that again,’ she dared.

Franq quickly regained his feet. He was taller than Renna, but she seemed the larger of the two, moving forward as he shrank back. Leesha took a steadying breath, feeling her head begin to throb again. Fighting among themselves would serve no one but the corelings, but she, too, wanted to punch the Holy Man, and had no energy to break them apart.

Surprisingly, it was the Inquisitor who ended the confrontation, putting a firm hand on Franq’s shoulder. ‘The Child will be silent.’

Franq looked at his master in disbelief, but the Tender’s eyes were hard. ‘His Highness is correct. However he did it, Mr Bales saved us all last night. If he broke the Creator’s law to do so, let Him judge that in the afterlife. It is for us to be thankful and strive to see another dawn.’

Renna looked at him and nodded. ‘Ent my husband, but I’ll do what I can to see it so.’

Thamos looked at her. ‘Can you … ah …’ He made a sweeping gesture, drawing a clumsy ward in the air.

Renna shook her head. ‘Don’t think so, but I can tear a demon’s arm off and shove it down its throat.’

Gared chuckled. ‘Seen her do it.’

Leesha felt her head throb again, wondering if it would be enough.

Renna stood with the Haveners when night fell. She knew her presence lent them strength and was glad of it, but wished that there was someone to lend strength to her. Arlen was still unconscious, and Thamos had split his forces to guard the weakest points of the Hollow’s net, unable to focus on any one place. Leesha had insisted on keeping her hospit at the centre of the Hollow, where it would be safest. Teams of Gatherer’s apprentices and volunteers stood ready with carts to move wounded.

General Gared and the Cutters guarded New Rizon, where the eastern mind demon had built its ward, and Thamos and the bulk of his Wooden Soldiers waited by the border of Lakdale to the west. The other boroughs had their own militias standing ready with spear and bow, but there was no way of knowing precisely where the demons would strike.

Renna had been given command of Newhaven, with Rojer and the Krasians to bolster the Haveners, who had taken heavy losses the night before. The rest of the Jongleurs had been split between the boroughs to help as they could.

She shifted her feet, wondering if she was in the wrong place. She had felt the mind demon at the centre die, and the coreling ashes in the area confirmed that its death had taken all the local demons with it, but the minds had made the borough the centre of their assault for a reason. Newhaven still had the weakest wardnet of any borough, too much of it made from trees and structures that could be easily smashed by a rock demon with even moderate aim. Those not fit to fight had already been evacuated, but they had to hold the ground as long as possible. If Newhaven fell, it would bring the demons in striking range of Cutter’s Hollow.

‘It’s going to be all right,’ Rojer said, as if reading her mind.

Renna looked at him and his wives. They were clad in bright colours like a Jongleur’s troupe, the women’s veils cut short to reveal their full lips, that their voices might carry unimpeded. It was strange that revealing something every other woman Renna had ever known bared without a thought should seem so scandalous, but somehow it did. The Krasian men seemed to feel it even more strongly than her. Sharum kept glancing at the women, distracted. Kaval caught one warrior looking and struck him hard with the shaft of his spear, shouting something in Krasian.

‘How’s that?’ she asked. Rojer masked his feelings well, but she could smell his fear.

The red-haired Jongleur shrugged and gave her a smile. ‘Either we win and show the world that the demons can’t pull us down no matter how hard they try, or we die and someone writes a song about how we stood strong to the end so a hundred years from now, folk remember and take heart in our bravery.’

‘Rather live,’ Renna said, as the cries of demons began to sound in the night. The greatward was coming to life beneath her feet, a huge pool of strength she did not fully understand. Could she tap it as Arlen had? Would it be enough even if she could? She thought again of her husband, lying still as death in his hospit bed.

There was a rustling in the thin line of trees across the clearing, and she embraced her fear and worry, straightening. As she did, she felt power rush into her, making her strong. Her mouth watered. If they were going to die, let them die fighting.

‘Bows at the ready,’ she called, and the Haveners raised their weapons. The Krasians were not shooters, but each held three spears, two for throwing and a third for close fighting.