David Drake - Mistress of the Catacombs

There was a general mutter of agreement. Some of it came from the Blood Eagles nearby.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Tenoctris. Sharina jumped. Tenoctris had hobbled up behind her, unnoticed in the noise of heavily armed troops pounding into the clear area around the city walls.

Tenoctris went on, “The spell’s been in place for hundreds of years, maybe for millennia. All that remains is to feed it with blood now that the planets are in conjunction. We must stop it.”

The Blood Eagles, Carus’ staff, and the first battalion of Count Lerdoc’s forces, came through the siege lines. As they did so, more mercenaries began to pour out of the city. The Blood Eagles were disarming those who hadn’t left their weapons behind, but nothing worse than a few harsh commands and complaints passed between the mingling armies.

“Aye, we must,” said Carus, drawing his sword. “Which I’d say about any wizards who think to work blood magic in reach of my blade—whatever their purpose for it!”

Raising his blade as a standard, he bellowed, “Lord Waldron, deploy the phalanx at all the gates. Nobody leaves the city till I’m sure we’ve dealt with all the wizards, the Children. Blood Eagles, skirmishers, and heavy infantry in that order—with me to the temple, where we’ll put a stop to whatever’s going on!”

Carus pointed to the mercenaries’ spokesman. “You’re our guide,” he went on. “Now!”

The soldier got to his feet. If he had qualms about returning to the city he’d just escaped, he didn’t show them.

“Right!” he said as he turned. He paused only to hand Attaper the dagger still in his belt sheath; he’d left his sword, the most expensive part of a soldier’s equipment, behind in the city.

“I need to be as close as possible!” Tenoctris cried. Carus and the black-armored bodyguards advancing to the gate ignored her.

Sharina bent, taking Tenoctris’ left arm over her shoulders and gripping the wizard around the waist with her right arm. It’d be easier if Cashel were here, but Sharina’s own strength had never failed her when she needed to accomplish something.

“I’ll help you, Tenoctris,” she said. “Just do what you can, and we’ll get there!”

Sharina trotted forward, her long legs easily matching the pace of men in armor. The old wizard was an awkward burden, but her weight wasn’t a problem yet. It might be later, especially since the temple was on the highest ground in Donelle, but they’d manage.

Cashel was where he was needed. Sharina had to believe that, and it had always been true in the past.

But she needed Cashel very badly herself just now, less for the strength of his arms than his strength of character. Cashel was solid as nothing else in Sharina’s world was solid. She supposed Cashel could be worn down, though she’d never seen anything she thought was capable of doing that.

But he wouldn’t break. Ever.

The streets of Donelle were eerily empty. The clashing hobnails and rattling equipment of running soldiers echoed because there was none of the usual city noise to blur and dampen it. Ahead of Sharina and Tenoctris were most of the Blood Eagles, with Carus and Attaper in their lead. Behind followed the rest of the army with the exception of the phalanx, whose long pikes were useless and dangerous in street fighting.

Not that there was any fighting yet, or any sign of a fight brewing.

The mercenary was taking them by a main street, but it twisted frequently and was never more than twenty feet wide. At an intersection, a well curb blocked half the pavement. The troops shouldered one another and snarled curses.

“Go around to the right!” Sharina ordered the armored men to either side of her and the wizard. “Don’t let anybody step on us!”

“Right,” said the brawny veteran beside Tenoctris. To the troops crowding him he bawled, “Room for the ladies, curse you!”

Sharina wasn’t sure he recognized them, but she’d spoken with authority. When men don’t know what’s going on—and only the section with Carus at the head of the guard regiment did have any idea of what was happening—there’s nothing they want more than somebody to tell them what to do.

Sharina opened her mouth to breathe more freely. Tenoctris was a weight on her arm, and though Sharina wore sandals with heavy soles, the shock of her feet against the cobblestones was sure to raise bruises by the morning.

Tenoctris gasped with each stride, her eyes open and her mouth staring. Sharina was taking her weight, but the effort of keeping her legs under her was a great one for the old woman. Occasionally she stumbled, but never did she fail to catch herself before Sharina had to pick her up.

A cat watched from a rooftop, then vanished silently as the troops hammered past. It was the only animal Sharina had seen since they entered the walls. Hunger would have bitten quickly in a city which had been packed with the whole population of the district even before the start of the siege.

The troops came out onto the avenue around the base of the steep hill at the heart of Donelle: the Citadel when the community was founded, but Our Lady’s Mount during the past centuries of relative peace throughout the Isles. Though this street was no wider than the one the army had been following, the buildings on the other side straggled up the slope instead of forming a solid wall.

For the first time, Sharina had a good view of the temple. She gasped. The grounds and the sparsely wooded hillside below were crawling with people: sitting on walls and roofs, packing the street that led up to the temple, and clinging to the trunks and branches of trees.

Sharina had never seen so many human beings gathered in one place. It reminded her of termites swarming in spring as a new colony prepared to take wing. The crowd chanted, but its very numbers turned the words into a threatening rumble like distant thunder.

King Carus had paused to assess the situation. The route to the temple was blocked by the vast number of civilians praying to their Mistress. Carus gave an order to the troops nearest to him. They locked shields, braced their spears in their right hands, and prepared to advance.

“Sharina!” Tenoctris cried, her voice clear despite the effort it must take the old woman even to breathe after their run through the city. “Stop the king! Don’t let them start killing now or it’ll be as bad as the sacrifice the Children intend! The spell feeds on blood, and it doesn’t matter whose blood it is!”

Sharina heard the urgency in her friend’s voice. She let go of her and sprinted forward. Tenoctris swayed but didn’t fall; that didn’t matter now.

An armored man couldn’t have moved against the press of other armored men. Sharina could and did, slipping through any gap and using her considerable slim strength to shove aside troops who didn’t expect to be pushed from behind that way.

King Carus raised his sword, preparing to give the signal for the butchery he considered an unfortunate necessity. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he must have been a hard one even before decades of campaigning inured him to slaughter.

Sharina grabbed his wrist from behind as she’d done before, swinging herself around the king’s torso to face him. Attaper raised his own blade in furious amazement before he recognized who she was.

“You mustn’t!” Sharina said. “No blood, or we’ll work the spell ourselves!”

Carus’ face cleared from the thunder of the moment before. He shouted, “Shields and spear butts, boys! Shove them out of the way—but no blood!”

Obedient though puzzled, a soldier’s usual state, the Blood Eagles reversed their spears and went on. The process was brutal, but it wasn’t massacre. The troops advanced, hammering through civilians who chanted and ignored the threat till they were struck down.