Terry Brooks - Witch Wraith

What have I done?

He sat for a moment longer before rising and moving away, no longer able to stay in her presence. Of all the outcomes he had imagined, this one had never occurred to him. He had believed she would do what was needed to help the Four Lands because that was what she had done in life as the Ard Rhys of the Third Druid Order. He had been so sure she would set everything else aside so that she could save the world into which she had been born. She might not be happy about what he had done or eager to embrace his insistence on bringing her back from the life she had chosen for herself, but she would still do the right thing because that was what she had been trying to do ever since she had ceased to be the Ilse Witch.

He had never imagined she could come back as the very thing she had sought to escape. He had never imagined Mother Tanequil would return her as such.

Or that she would embrace this new identity and willingly become the very thing she hated. Or that she might have plans of her own that would be more terrible than the plans of Tael Riverine.

But she did, and they were.

He caught Mirai’s eye where she stood behind Austrum in the pilot box and signaled for her to join him. She came down quickly, moving through the steady rain across the windswept deck to where he waited at the port rail.

“What is it?” she said on seeing his face. “What did she say?”

He leaned close. “It wasn’t what she said, it was what she intimated. She is enraged at what has been done to her, but she is caught up in the persona she has been given and feels her former self being stolen away. She has become the Ilse Witch reborn, and she hasn’t the strength or the means or even the will to change.”

“But she will stand with us and fight the Straken Lord? Or does she refuse us completely?”

He closed his eyes, wiped the rain from his face, and looked at her anew. “She does not refuse us, but she does not ally with us, either. She cares nothing if we live or die. She will stand against Tael Riverine, and she says she will destroy him. But even that will not be enough for her.”

“Then what?”

He gripped her shoulders. “She intends to take his place.”

The second attack on Arishaig by the demon hordes was launched just before midnight on the same day as the first. It came against the south and west walls once again, but with fresh ferocity. The creatures swarmed out of the darkness bearing grappling hooks and scaling ladders and threw themselves against the stone and iron of the fortress with such determination that, for a few terrible moments, Keeton thought his soldiers would be overwhelmed. Setting fire to fresh oil in the ditches, forming tall walls of flame, failed to deter them. Even the presence of the warships attacking from overhead did little to slow their assault. They came at the walls in wave after wave, shrugging off arrows and spears and missiles fired from slings and launchers. They fell dying and their fellows simply climbed atop them, lifted a little closer to their goal atop the piles of bodies.

But Keeton had brought flash rips to the walls and mounted them at regular intervals. They were illegal everywhere, but there wasn’t an army that didn’t possess them. And since the Federation had pioneered their manufacture, they had them stockpiled in secret caches throughout the city. Conventional weapons, however powerful, had not proven strong enough during the previous attack, and Keeton was not about to let legalities and Druid prohibitions stand in the way of saving his city and its people.

His decision was quickly vindicated by the results. When the flash rips fired on the attackers, dozens of the creatures simply vanished in ash and smoke and flame, disintegrating under the concentrated power of multiple diapson crystals. Strikes into the thickest clusters broke the momentum of the attack and sent it reeling away in spite of its vast numbers. Keeton thought maybe this would be enough to put an end to the attack for the night.

But the demons had other plans. After the oil fires burned themselves out and enough time had passed to persuade the defenders that the attack had been broken, the creatures returned. And this time they came from the air, borne in baskets carried by winged creatures that resembled giant bats and dropped onto the walls close by the flash rips and their crews. Hurtling themselves on both, the demonkind tore the men to shreds and disabled the weapons by smashing both the barrels and the swivel stands that were used to support and direct them. In a matter of minutes, all the weapons and mounts were destroyed and the creatures still alive had gone back over the walls and disappeared into the night.

Then the dragon reappeared, as black as its rider, little more than a shadow against the night, sweeping above the battlements, breathing flames on the defenders, and leaving everything dead in its wake. It happened so swiftly there was no time to use the few rail slings and fire launchers that remained intact or to bring to bear the weapons mounted on the warships that warded the corners of the fortress.

This time after the demonkind retreated, howling and screaming as they went, they did not come again right away, leaving the defenders sitting in the darkness and carnage to wonder, through the remainder of the night, when they would reappear next.

Keeton was angry and frustrated when Wint found him. “Tell me how many we lost?”

His second shrugged. “Can’t be sure. At least several hundred. Likely more. All the flash rips are destroyed. We have more, but the mounts are another matter. We can fasten the rips to the walls in some makeshift fashion, but we can’t replace the mounts.”

“Because we didn’t think to make more than a handful of those—am I right? We manufactured all the weapons we could ever need, but forgot about the importance of the mounts. Shades!” Keeton looked away, glowering at nothing in particular. “Do the best you can to find a way to secure a fresh supply of the rips to the walls south and west. They know that’s where we’re weakest now. That’s where they’ll keep attacking.”

Wint disappeared without a word. Keeton stared out into the dark for a few minutes longer, then went to speak with Sefita Rayne. He found the Federation fleet commander standing above the gates talking with several of her warship captains. When she saw Keeton, she broke off the conversation and came over to him. “I saw,” she said.

He shook his head in disgust. “What can we do? What can you do to help us with this?”

“Good question. Not much seems to help. I’ll move the warships off the corners and place them just outside the walls where they can better support the soldiers on the battlements. I’ll take them straight out at the first sign of an attack and try to disrupt it before it reaches the city.”

“But you’ll have to watch for that dragon.”

She nodded. “Our weapons aren’t quick enough to track it; it’s too agile for us. Then again, we might get lucky. Do you think the attack will come against the south and west walls again?”

“After the damage that’s been done? I can’t imagine they would bother attacking anywhere else. A bigger problem is the oil for the trenches outside the walls. We’re running out.”

She was silent a moment, considering. “Have you spoken with the Prime Minister about any of this?”

He exhaled sharply. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Then maybe it’s time.”

He nodded. “Past time.”

He went down off the walls and into the city, making his way through the streets to the offices of the Coalition Council and the Prime Minister. He was admitted immediately and went straight to Edinja Orle’s quarters, only to be told she wasn’t there. No one had seen her since the previous night.