This man is a fool. “You think they will sit back and lay us to a long siege?” She laughed at him. “I have spent years in this city, my lord. Those towers you speak of are few and the walls might as well be wet paper for all the good they will do when the dragons get a sniff of us. Have you not been paying attention? Dragon’s Bane has fallen, and King’s Point has fallen, and Varinar has fallen. Against them we are nought but a daub and wattle dwelling cowering in the shadow of a castle. It is dark, I know, so perhaps you haven’t had a proper look. Come dawn you’ll see how vulnerable this city is. Even calling it a city is a stretch.”
Her speech did not endear her to Lord Darring the Not-So-Daring. “Are you done? Or can the men continue their discussion?”
Sir Gereth Daecar rounded on him. “You’ll not speak to her like that in my halls, Lord Darring. Amara’s voice has always been welcomed in council here.”
“A council of cripples and harlots,” Darring said, unwisely.
Several blades came ringing from sheaths and Amara’s Knights Assorted leaped to defend her honour. “Guard your tongue or lose it,” Sir Connor Crawfield growled.
Lord Darring thought little of the threat. He gave a sniff. “You at least have some honour about you, Sir Connor, but these…” His eyes passed over Sir Talmer, Sir Ryger, and Sir Montague. “Cravens and runaways, the lot of them. I ought not have to share my air with them.”
“Then bugger off outside,” spat Sir Talmer Hedgeside. “I’ve had enough of you and your slurs, Darring.”
Lord Styron raised a hand. “As have I,” he said, unexpectedly. “These men strayed from the path, but they have admitted to their follies and righted their course. You will extend them the proper courtesies, Abel.”
“My lord? They’re traitors and cowards, every one of them…”
“Enough. I have spoken.” Lord Strand’s power was absolute among his men, and Darring quickly submitted. “And if you lay such an insult upon either Lady Daecar or Sir Gereth again, I will happily let Sir Connor carry out his threat. I will even hand him my own blade for the task. Do you quite understand me, Abel?”
The foul little lord gave a bow. “I do, my lord.”
Strand stared down at him. Amara had never liked the man so much. He let a long moment of silence pass and then turned to Sir Gereth Daecar. “Tell me of the mountain stronghold, Sir Gereth. How many can it hold?”
“The entire city at a push.” Gereth’s voice was a little stiff. Crippled though he might now be, he’d once been a great warrior, and did not much care to have his disability highlighted so crudely. No more than I like being called a harlot, Amara thought. She would shed no tears to hear of Darring’s death during battle, to be sure.
“Then push,” Lord Styron said. “Ring the city bells and get them waking. If I’m to defend this city, I would sooner do it knowing the smallfolk are withdrawn.”
It was one of Blackfrost’s best defences. Her provision of towers was poor as northern cities went, her walls were not laced with godsteel like others, and she hardly boasted the sort of siege weaponry to make a dragon think twice, but of a good strong sanctuary for the commons to retreat to, she was well blessed. For long centuries the North Downs had been mined of tin and iron and deposits of precious metals, and its interior was as pocked as Sir Geralds cheeks with vast open caverns and deep mining shafts. There were tunnels that led there, smoothed out and reinforced over the years, through which the smallfolk would flee at times of need. If the city should fall, there were ways out that led away to the north. Amara wondered what they would find on the other end. Snow was a firm bet.
Sir Gereth Daecar gave a nod. “I shall see to it at once, Lord Strand. Ought I send the old and young to the armoury as well?”
“It cannot hurt to have a few more swords.”
Amara pondered the awakening that awaited these poor souls. As their mothers and wives and children were being ushered to the caves, they would be ushered to the armoury to take up sword and spear. Boys as young as Lillia, Amara knew. And men as old as Artibus. War was cruel, she’d always thought. No matter how romantic the bards tried to make it.
The command was quickly passed along to the city captains. A minute later the bells began ringing out through the snowy streets to herald the approaching doom. Amara took Lord Darring’s advice and left the men to their debate, moving over to the high windows to look out as the lights winked awake through the drifting snow. She could only imagine the panic that was permeating this city she loved so much. From here she could see the vague outline of the walls below her, see the tents pitched in whatever square and quad the men could find. Elsewise the city was white, every thatched roof heaped with snow, the pretty winding streets of Blackfrost lost beneath that thickening winter coat.
It would be warmer inside the mountains, she told herself. They would get great fires going to beat off the chill, and the little children would like that better. And if they went far enough and deep enough, they wouldn’t even hear the strains of battle outside, as their fathers and brothers and sons fought and died. She liked that thought as well.
Sir Connor stepped over from the table to join her. “My lady. You should think about going as well. To the caverns.”
She had not even considered herself as yet.
“And Lady Lillia,” the knight added.
Amara nodded. “She won’t like it.” The girl would probably want to put on her own armour and fight, but that would not happen. “Have a man sent to wake Artibus, Connor. He sleeps soundly and the bells may not wake him up here. Carly too.” The Flame Mane had also been given her own room in the castle. Most likely she’d have gone to visit Lillia by now.
“As you say, my lady. I will leave a pair of guards to protect you. Who would be your preference?”
“You,” she said. “But I know you’ll want to fight.”
He nodded, and she would not want to deprive the defence of the city of such a gallant knight. In Connor the descriptor was well-earned. Sir Connor the Courageous, she thought, smiling. “Perhaps Daryl will want to continue in the role?” she offered instead.
“Sir Daryl would be a good choice.”
His laughter will boom all through the caverns. No man in the world had a laugh like Sir Daryl Blunt.
“And Carly,” Connor said. “She is a gifted fighter, but too reckless for this sort of battle. I fear she would do something rash and get herself hurt or killed.
Hurt or killed. That could be said for any of them. All of them. Amara’s face twisted in sudden grief at the thought of losing him. “Connor…”
“My lady.” He put his hand on hers, squeezing. “It will be OK. I promise.”
She smiled weakly, and glanced over at the others. Sir Penrose was dear to her too, another of her longtime protectors. The others she had come to like during their short time together. And Jovyn. He will be called upon to fight as well. A part of him would want to stay with Lillia, but his sense of duty would compel him to battle. All of them could be dead by this time tomorrow. How had it come so quickly to this? They were meant to be marching to help defend the Twinfort, not defending Blackfrost from a monstrous horde.
“It will be all right, my lady,” Connor Crawfield repeated, to comfort her. “They may pass us by. We are not the banquet they’re here for.”
Varinar, she thought. No doubt they were making for Varinar, to occupy the ruin of the city. No enemy army had ever done that before. This war was a war of firsts. “You don’t really believe that, Con.”
“No,” he admitted. “We know from the east that their intent is to slaughter our people. I fear they will do the same here.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “My lady, if the battle goes ill, you must not delay. Take Lillia and head north through the mountains. Lead the people. Keep them safe.”
It was so much. Too much to take on. “I will,” she croaked. Though where, she could not say. She kissed him on the cheek, her sweet loyal knight. “Don’t die, Connor. That is a command. Don’t die.” The man always followed her commands. Always.
“I will do my best, my lady.”
The men at the table were devising their defence strategy. City maps had been brought out and Sir Gereth was delineating the strength of their siege weapons. Amara felt sick. She had hoped to find Lillia here, and she had, but the rest was not as she’d planned. Lord Strand was to march his host down to the Twinfort. There he would meet Amron and Lord Randall Borrington and together they would hold the western gate, repelling the Agarathi invaders while Amara and Lillia remained here, sharing stories as they sat by the fire, waiting for word of a great northern triumph. And now this. The gods are cruel. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.
“My lady. You have gone pale,” Conner observed.
