Brian Staveley - The Providence of Fire

“Holy Hull,” Valyn said.

Talal just stared.

The Urghul eyed the newly repaired bridge with trepidation, clearly as shocked and dismayed as the villagers on the west island. Then a horn began to sound, and another, and another, and the warriors began screaming, shaking spears and swords, swarming forward onto the resurrected decking.

“How long can he do that?” Valyn asked.

Talal hesitated. “I don’t know. With all those prisoners fueling his well?” He shook his head. “Balendin took down Manker’s tavern just drawing on one girl. Holding something up is harder than tearing it down, a lot harder, but he’s got nearly a hundred people there, all terrified of him. Plus the people of Andt-Kyl.” He shook his head. “He’s probably leaching off us, even. At this distance, he can feel our hate, our anger.”

“Annick…” Valyn began, but even as he watched, an arrow drove through the morning air toward the leach. Then, as though glancing off invisible steel, skittered away into the mud and rubble. Two more followed with no more effect. The corner of Balendin’s mouth turned up.

“He’s stronger than I realized,” Talal said. “A lot stronger.”

Valyn glanced down at the bridge. It was precarious, shifting and swaying with some unseen wind, and the Urghul couldn’t cross as quickly as they would have liked. With enough arrows and enough backbone, the loggers would be able to hold them for a while. A little while. He turned to the lake. No sign of il Tornja or Adare. No sign of either army. From atop the tower, he could see at least ten miles south along both banks, which meant there would be no relief that morning.

“We have to stop him,” Talal murmured.

“You can’t stop him,” Valyn said. “You can’t even get close to him.”

The leach frowned. “I don’t need to get close to him. I just need to get close to his well.”

Valyn hesitated. “The prisoners,” he said slowly.

“The prisoners.”

“You’re going to try to free them?”

“No,” Talal said, his face weary, defeated. “I’m going to try to kill them.”

* * *

“Gwenna.”

The pain woke her as much as the voice, pain like a blade buried low in her back.

“Gwenna.”

She shifted, cried out, then felt a strong hand clamp down on her mouth. When she tried to thrust it away, the pain lanced out into her wrist, shoulder, leg.

“It’s Talal. Don’t shout. The Urghul are right on top of us.”

Talal. So she wasn’t dead. That was a good thing. She tried to nod and the pain spiked up through her neck. She subsided against the mud and reconsidered. Maybe alive wasn’t such a good thing after all.

“Did we…” she began, then started coughing, the spasm wracking her so viciously that she passed out all over again.

When she came to once more, she could see more clearly. She was inside somewhere, planks overhead blotting the sun. She could hear water. When she turned her head a fraction she realized she was lying in the ’Kent-kissing water. Talal was cradling her head, eyes wide with concern.

“You blew the bridge,” he murmured. “It worked.”

“Well, thank Hull for that,” she said, her tongue fat and swollen in her mouth.

The leach grimaced. “There’s more. Balendin got across. And a lot of Urghul. They’re attacking the western island now.”

Gwenna forced herself up on one elbow. The pain gouged at her in a dozen places, but she ground her teeth and closed her eyes until it subsided.

“Where are we?”

“Under one of the docks,” he replied. “On the south shore of the eastern island.”

“Thanks for coming after me.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I didn’t. We thought you were dead.”

“We?”

“Valyn and I.”

She stared, trying to think past the pain and confusion. Talal was there, and Valyn, probably Laith, too, all of them in Andt-Kyl.

“What are you doing here?”

Talal opened his mouth to explain, then shook his head. “There’s no time. I swam over because Balendin’s using the captives, using their terror to hold up the center bridge.”

Gwenna took a moment to absorb that. “All right,” she said, levering herself into a seated position. “How do we stop him?”

The leach glanced down at her leg. “You’re pretty beat up, Gwenna. That ankle’s broken, and I pulled a jagged length of wood out of your back before you woke up. Another inch to the left, and you’d be dead.”

She tested the flesh of her lower back weakly, finding a hastily wrapped field dressing. When she pressed down on the cloth, she almost passed out all over again.

“Just tell me the plan,” she growled.

Talal shook his head helplessly. “Kill the captives. Balendin has himself shielded, but if I can get to them, if I can kill even half, I doubt he’ll have the power to hold up the bridge.”

“Kill half of them?” Gwenna asked, shaking her head weakly. “How are you planning to do that?”

“They’re backed up to some burned-out buildings. I’ll make my way through the rubble, slip in behind them, and start cutting throats. The Urghul aren’t very well organized on this side. They don’t expect an attack on their prisoners.”

Gwenna stared, aghast. “They don’t need to be fucking organized! You might kill five or six, Talal … ten at the outside, and then they’ll be all over you. There’s no cover in that ’Kent-kissing square, nowhere to hide.”

Talal took a deep breath. “I know. But it’s this, or we lose the town. Il Tornja’s army is nowhere in sight. I don’t understand Balendin’s well nearly as well as I’d like, but even ten prisoners might make a difference. I have to try.”

“Well, fuck,” Gwenna said, shifting onto her knees. “I guess that makes two of us.”

“No,” Talal said, glancing at her broken ankle again. “You’ll just slow me down.”

“I might slow you down,” she replied, gritting her teeth, “but I’ve got the explosives.”

* * *

The armies were close-maybe nine miles off and marching at the double-but they might as well have been lazing around on the Godsway back in Annur for all the good they were able to do the people of Andt-Kyl. For the better part of an hour, Valyn had watched the Urghul swarm over Balendin’s unnaturally supported bridge, pressing forward against the crumbling barricade at the far end. Three times they’d made it across, only to be driven back by il Tornja’s scouts, Annick, and Pyrre, who seemed to be holding themselves in reserve to deal just with such breaches. Each time the Urghul managed to thrust through, the small knot of soldiers hammered them back, holding the line while the reeling loggers regained their footing and their confidence. They were saving the town, and with it the northern atrepies of the empire, while Valyn watched, hidden on the roof of the tower, holding to a discipline that felt crucial and evil at the same time.

He watched the Annurians beat back another attack, then cursed under his breath, jerking the long lens around to the south, studying the two armies once more. Judging from the standards, the Sons of Flame were to the east, while the Army of the North was working up the western shore. Il Tornja’s group was making better time than the Intarran troops, but not enough better.

“Just get here,” he muttered. “Just get here, you fucking bastard. Get here.”

The words, of course, changed nothing. The army could only march as fast as it could march, and Valyn could only watch, first the battle below, then the distant troops, running the numbers over and over in his head, hating the answer every time he arrived at it.

Since slipping over the side of the roof nearly an hour earlier, Talal had disappeared. Valyn thought he’d seen the leach out in the lake, swimming toward the eastern island, but he’d lost track of him amongst the bobbing logs and hadn’t been able to find him again. He swung the long lens over to Balendin. The corpses were piled around him now, eight or nine. As Valyn watched, one of the Urghul riders was gesturing urgently to the south. Balendin grimaced, then nodded, holding one hand out toward the central bridge as though to fix it in place, then turning toward the eastern shore. To Valyn’s horror, the loose raft of logs bobbing between the pilings began to pack tighter, stacked by some invisible force.