Troy Denning - The Sentinel

“It wasn’t our fault,” Suther protested. “My pardon for saying so, but you’re a very headstrong wo-”

“Headstrong?” Arietta whirled on the man, bringing the flat of her scabbard up under his chin. “Is it ‘headstrong’ to think that my father’s place-that our place-is with the people? War is upon us, you idiot!”

Suther appeared too confused and flustered to answer.

Mannus came to Suther’s rescue, gently pulling him out of the way. “It’s not our place to decide such things,” he said. “But the grand duke-”

“You’re right, Mannus.” Arietta secured her scabbard on her hip, opposite her quiver, then added, “It is not your place to decide anything . And I order you to come with me.”

Still holding her bow, Arietta hurried from her chambers into the central tower, the Turret of Heavens, and began to descend the long flight of stairs that spiraled down the outer wall. The turret was open all the way to the Golden Hall on the ground floor, and looking over the balustrade, Arietta could see a steady stream of servants carrying armfuls of linens.

She began to call down, “Shadovar on the bridge! Sound the alarm!”

Mannus and Suther added their voices, shouting commands to prepare the house. By the time Arietta had reached the second level, heaps of abandoned linens lay strewn across the marble floor, and the bang of slamming shutters echoed from every corner of the house.

Arietta reached the bottom of the stairs to find a grizzled sergeant-the very sergeant who had told her father about her adventures as a tavern minstrel-waiting with half a dozen armored men.

“Lady Arietta, the Wave Wyvern will depart as soon as we’re aboard.” The sergeant extended an arm to his left, in the direction of the walled yard that protected the ship’s mooring. “Your father has sent me to escort you.”

“Thank you, Carlton,” Arietta stepped directly toward him-then bent backward at the last possible moment and ducked under his arm. “But we both have more important things to do.”

“My lady!”

Carlton spun and grabbed for her, but she was already slapping her bow tip into the helmets of two men, using it to startle them apart before she pushed between them.

“Lady Arietta!” Carlton roared. “Your father has ordered me to bring you to the ship!”

“Then you’ll have to catch me.” Arietta broke into a sprint, racing out of the Golden Hall and into the swirling gray seascapes of the Corridor of the Kraken. She called over her shoulder, “And be quick about it!”

“Be … quick ?”

A cacophony of clanking and yelling broke out as the twelve guards took up the chase, with Carlton threatening all manner of dire consequences if Arietta did not stop immediately. The more he threatened, the more determined she became. If the choice lay between obeying her feckless liege and serving the people, then Siamorphe’s will seemed clear. Arietta would not offend her goddess-not when a brave man was out there on the bridge alone, doing what her father should have been doing-leading the fight against the Shadovar.

Carlton’s threats faded into the general din of the house as Arietta rounded a corner and entered the Hall of the Sirens. Halfway down its length, she turned abruptly and ducked down an intersecting corridor, crossed a small foyer, then raced out into the carriage court used for domestic deliveries and casual access.

Thirty paces away, the gate that opened toward High Bridge Road hung closed and barred. A pair of square watchtowers rose to either side of it, and Arietta counted two guards on each one, looking away and peering toward the action on the bridge. Knowing Carlton would soon reappear, Arietta yelled up at one of the towers.

“You there!” she cried, still running. One the guards glanced back into the yard. “Open the gate!”

The double-chinned guard gaped at her in surprise. “Lady Arietta? Is that-”

“Now!” Arietta commanded, halfway to the gate. She slowed just long enough to make her point clear. “My mother will have your heads if something happens to that woman. She’s a dear friend of the family!”

The guard’s expression grew alarmed. He relayed her command to the others, then stooped and disappeared. An instant later, the remaining three guards were shouting warnings down into the street, and the double-chinned guard had entered the yard from the tower. To Arietta’s relief, he rushed straight toward the heavy wooden gate, putting his hand on the crossbar to lift it.

And that was when Carlton emerged from the house behind her, still shouting her name and demanding that she stop. The double-chinned guard-Fiske, she remembered he was called-looked up and scowled, one hand still resting on the bar.

“Carlton, come quickly!” Arietta yelled. Praying to the goddess to make her voice loud enough to drown out her pursuer’s, she swung her bow toward the gate, as if urging Carlton and his men to follow her. “They’re bound to be on her by now!”

Outside the gate, Arietta heard the clang of iron bolts ricocheting off cobblestones, followed by muffled cries of surprise. She looked up and saw that her father’s guards were not aiming their crossbows at the Shadovar on the bridge. Instead, they were shooting straight down, in front of the gate. It seemed they were attempting to clear the area so no commoners would be tempted to seek shelter inside the house.

Another of her father’s orders, no doubt.

Still ten steps from Fiske, Arietta nocked an arrow and raised her bow, ready to pin the man’s hand to the wood if need be. But the guard was merely being cautious, peering out a spyhole before he drew the bar back.

“ Now , Fiske!”

Arietta let fly. Her arrow thunked into the wood at the base of the gate, and Fiske looked up, his thick-lipped mouth hanging agape. Arietta nocked another arrow.

“Open it now!”

Fiske lifted the crossbar and pulled his side of the gate open, just far enough for Arietta to slip out. She had to pause in the alcove between the towers, for the scene in the street was madness. A panicked mob was fleeing the fight on the bridge, trying to squeeze through a maze of toppled handcarts and spilled possessions. Her father’s guards were shouting down from their towers, warning people to stay clear of the gate-and reinforcing their orders by pinging iron crossbow quarrels off the cobblestones below.

Arietta looked up the street toward the canal, where the watchman was at the center of the bridge-bloodied, but his greatsword slashing back and forth as he executed a very slow retreat. She counted three Shadovar against him, the nearest pair harrying him with wedges of flying shadow while the third tried to dart past along the bridge railing.

As she watched, the watchman’s sword lashed out, and the third Shadovar’s dark head went tumbling into the canal. The other two countered with an onslaught of sword-work, their blades whirling and slashing as they pressed the attack.

The watchman blocked and parried, then retreated a step.

One single step.

If the man wasn’t a knight, he soon would be. Arietta would see to that herself-assuming he survived, of course.

Knowing that Carlton and his men would soon come through the gate behind her, Arietta took a deep breath, then stepped out into the street and looked up at the tower guards.

“You up there! Stop that!” She used her bow to point toward the battle. “Come with me to the bridge!”

The rain of quarrels diminished, and the eldest guard, a long-faced brute with a drooping mustache, leaned over and frowned back at her.

“What, are you mad?” he called down. “Your father would have our ears!”