Glittering Shadows (38 page)

But casualties mounted on Sebastian’s side as well. Freddy was running back and forth now, hardly able to keep up with the fallen men. He counted in his mind as he touched each
hand—five, ten, fifteen men down today. Had he ever revived fifteen people in one day? Maybe once or twice. His strength was holding up much better than it ever had with the Valkenraths. It
must be because he wasn’t holding on to thousands of people, and because he was fully willing to use this magic.

His stomach still grumbled fiercely, but in the rush of adrenaline, he didn’t care about hunger.

“Guhh!” Aleksy staggered back from the wall, dropped to his knees and then the ground.

“Aleksy!” Sebastian had been looking through the binoculars again, but now he dropped—almost fell—to the ground. He pulled back Aleksy’s shirt, finding the
spreading red stain. “Damn it.”

“I’m going,” Aleksy said, closing his eyes.

Sebastian’s mouth twisted. Freddy already had Aleksy’s hand. His eyes fluttered open again and looked at Sebastian.

“Don’t lose morale,” Aleksy said. He clapped his hand over his jacket where Freddy knew he kept the picture of Ilse. “Please. You need to live through this.”

“I know,” Sebastian said.

Aleksy helped Sebastian to his feet again, but Sebastian kept a hand to the wall, looking like he was in pain. Freddy knew, whatever Aleksy might say, Sebastian was shaken by so many losses.

“Sebastian,” Freddy said.

“I don’t know why,” Sebastian spoke so softly Freddy read the words from his lips, “but it’s worse when they come back.”

“It is. But you’d lose more if they didn’t.”

Sebastian clapped his shoulder and looked grim, as if to comfort himself by comforting Freddy, then turned his attention back to the fighting.

But the battle was slowing down. The defenders had been successful in holding against the first wave. The few Irminauer soldiers remaining were trying to clear the bodies of their dead out of
the way while just a few men defended them. Freddy had a chance to devour the rations he carried in his pocket to fortify himself for more magic, though at this point twenty of the men on the
ramparts and in the guard towers were dead, and a few more had retreated from injuries.

“They made a determined effort to keep the road fairly clear,” Sebastian said, “as if they have something on wheels. But as far as I know, Otto’s behind on
technology.”

One of the guards in the towers interrupted him. “Commander Hirsch, sir, there’s something approaching the bend. It looks like crude self-propelled guns.”

“Hmm. Armored?”

“Yes, sir. Iron boxes on wheels, from the looks of it. Steam-powered.”

“I’ll be damned.” Sebastian almost looked intrigued. “But if they work, we might be in trouble.”

“B
oy, they must have cobbled those together recently,” Sebastian said, as the guns finally rolled into view on rows of what looked like
carriage wheels, dark-gray smoke puffing out the stacks on the back of their iron-riveted bodies. They looked as if they might have been outfitted from old steam-driven tractors.

Their crude bodies didn’t detract from the tension of watching their slow approach as they rolled forward. The steady clack of their engines seemed to build the closer they came. Another
wave of soldiers walked with them.

“We need a report,” Sebastian said, looking back toward the base. “How many more loads until we have to move out of here?”

One of the men ran to check and returned quickly. “Sir, there are nine trucks left, but four are the ones we came in, so they’ll only take a small load of ammunition. We can’t
take the remaining guns.”

Sebastian rubbed his palms together rapidly. “We’ll try and hold, but tell Opitz we don’t have much longer if we can’t take out those tanks. He should start making
preparations to blow up what’s left and move out.”

“Yes, sir.”

No sooner had the messenger departed than one of the armored vehicles stalled out. This was obviously not intentional; immediately a few of the men on the ground stopped to poke at it while the
other two vehicles kept moving.

“Ha!” Adalbert jeered. “What do Irminauers know about tanks, anyway?”

The men cheered from the wall as the crew of the vehicle climbed out. “What a piece of junk!”

“If they all broke down it would be our lucky day, but I wouldn’t bet on it,” Sebastian said. The other two tanks were almost within range, while a striking figure appeared at
the bend, his plumed hat and shaggy black horse visible from a distance.

“Let me guess—Baron Best?” Freddy asked.

“What? Oh—” Sebastian shifted his view. “Yes. That’s him, all right, and his horse, Brigand.” He turned his back to the army briefly. “I was hoping
he’d stay in the back.”

“Do you think he’ll recognize you after all this time?”

“If he thinks I’m dead, I don’t think he’ll recognize me—not from a distance like this. But if any rumors have leaked out, well, that’s another matter if
he’s actively looking for me.” Sebastian tugged his scarf away from his neck, like he felt choked at the thought of encountering anyone from home. “Could they load those trucks
any slower?”

“Well, every time one drives out, that’s one less man,” Aleksy said.

“I know.” Sebastian checked on the guns. “They’re almost in range. Men, ready your weapons! Try to hit those guns in a weak spot—we can’t let them reach the
walls!” He tapped his hand against his thigh restlessly, as if he now wanted the vehicles to move faster.
“Fire!”

Freddy realized his heart was pounding along with the guns, but his emotions felt like they had ceased functioning in the heat of battle. There was no room for fear or sorrow—that could
come later, when he was no longer needed. The infantry on the ground fired back, trying to protect their heavy equipment, and Freddy’s internal count resumed.
Twenty-two down, twenty-three
down…

A bullet smacked him in the head. His hat offered slight protection, besides the spell, but it still knocked him sideways, leaving him dizzy. Stars danced in his eyes.

“Freddy?” Samuel saw him struggling to pull himself up on his hands and knees as the world whirled. “What happened?”

“A bullet got me in the head…I’m protected, but…it grazed my temple.”

“Just sit a moment and recover. I’ll bring them to you.”

Freddy sat back, watching the dancing lights in his eyes recede as he heard another man grunting slightly, carrying a body toward him. Freddy always feared the next man down might be Sebastian,
even though he was keeping back, and that fear was heightened by his disorientation, but it was one of Opitz’s. He touched his face.

Around him, men were screaming, “Commander, their armor is resisting our bullets!”

“Try to get the wheels, shoot between cracks—anything you can—just keep at it!” Sebastian’s voice moved closer to Freddy. “You all right?”

“I’m getting there. Just give me another minute.”

They kept bringing him fresh deaths.

Twenty-six down…

Twenty-seven…

Almost half their initial number were now dead or injured. His vision had cleared, and although he still felt a little dizzy, he staggered to his feet, waiting a moment for the swirling to end.
The chugging engines were growing alarmingly close now, and when he glanced out he could see them rolling over fallen bodies, and how large their guns were.

“Best’s hanging back, but he keeps pointing up here,” Sebastian said. He frowned. “I think we need to evacuate.”

“Sir, they’re loading the last truck! Commander Opitz wants to know if you can hold them off for fifteen more minutes.”

“We can try. Give them everything you’ve got! We can’t let those guns breach the gates!” Sebastian looked uncertainly at Freddy. “Freddy, maybe you should retreat
now.”

“Not if you aren’t.” A man was down on the other end of the wall, and Freddy was already making his way. In this moment, the whole world existed inside of this battle and the
men he had revived to fight. He might walk out of this, but they fought knowing they would never see their loved ones again. He wouldn’t leave them. He owed them this much.

His ears were beyond ringing now, the guns deafening as everyone poured their ammo into the guns that were now almost close enough to knock on their doors, but even as bullets shot off the iron
bodies, the first gun fired point-blank, rocking the wall. Sebastian was shouting, waving his arm to keep up the attack.
Twenty-nine down…thirty…

Freddy couldn’t hear, but he saw Aleksy grab Sebastian’s arm and speak to him frantically. The gist was plain:
You need to take the survivors and go.

Sebastian grimaced, grief barely restrained in his eyes, as he quickly embraced Aleksy and thumped his back. He approached Freddy, his expression resolved.
They know you’re here,
he
mouthed.

“They do?” Freddy supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; everyone in Urobrun seemed to know.

“All right, men, if you can fight another day, retreat!” Sebastian motioned for the stairs, even as another assault from the guns knocked him off balance. Aleksy, still keeping an
eye on him, caught his arm and steadied him. “Move!” Sebastian shouted, as Freddy took one long look at the men he had revived. He would never have a chance to thank them.

He took Sebastian’s arm to help him hurry down the stairs as one of the guns breached the gate. Now all the men, living or dead, were rushing to the ground, some of them to escape and
others to hold off the army. Sebastian stumbled, jerking Freddy’s shoulder.

“Damn my stupid leg!” Sebastian snapped. “You go ahead of me.”

Freddy glanced around, but no one else was near to help Sebastian. In the chaos, some of them had run ahead; a few others had joined the defenders at the gate.

“Don’t worry about it, just keep moving,” Freddy said. “You’re steady. Just don’t outrun yourself. We both need to come back.”

Something fell from the sky, ripping through the roof of one of the smaller buildings at the base, blowing out the windows in shattering glass.

“Artillery?”
Sebastian cursed vehemently. “Move, move!”

Another explosion threw up dirt. A man’s body flew sideways. Freddy forced his eyes ahead to the bridge, breathing heavily with exertion, but he barely felt his own feet. He kept his arm
around Sebastian, trying to shield him—if anyone shot at them, the bullets wouldn’t hurt Freddy like they would Sebastian.

The last truck drove across the bridge. Freddy fixed his eyes on the bank ahead—true home soil, not this little stolen piece of Irminau. Across the way, men were setting up explosives,
waving the escaping men forward with wild gestures. Freddy could taste safety as they set foot on the bridge—the sounds of shooting and screaming were behind him.

Not halfway across the bridge, another explosion dropped from the sky, the force knocking Freddy sideways—Sebastian grabbing him, stumbling over the guardrail—both of them losing
their anchor to the world as death rang in Freddy’s ears. He threw his arms tightly around Sebastian and looked at the sky, trying to be the one to hit the cold rock-studded waters below, in
that longest second of his life as they both blew off the bridge together.

F
reddy’s body plunged into rushing, cold water, scraping rocks. He lost hold of Sebastian, or maybe Sebastian tore away from him. He
couldn’t tell.
I can’t swim.

“I’ve got you,” Sebastian panted, and Freddy realized that although the water was rushing around his head, his face was above the surface. Sebastian had a hold of him as the
current pushed them forward, but Freddy had never felt so helpless. His body was breathing fast in uncontrollable panic, while his mind was still trying to grasp what had happened.

“Play dead!” Sebastian’s shouts seemed thin against the rushing river. “Just do it, quickly! I’ve got you.”

Freddy forced his body to go as limp as he could, but his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, his body shivering. Sebastian had an arm around him and raked his other hand through the water
quickly to steer them away from other rocks.

“Now, let the dead go! Make them think
you’re
dead.”