Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three) (7 page)

Rogan bowed, obediently.

‘There is one other point of business, Majesty,’ said Durket. His voice quavered as though he feared to speak. Janessa found it strange, the man had never been shy about voicing his opinions for as long as she’d known him, but after the day Azai Dravos had tried to control her mind and murder her bodyguard, the Chancellor had been far from himself.

‘And?’ she said when he did not continue.

‘The Rafts, Majesty. They will be a problem.’ He paused again, cringing as the sound of an explosion echoed from the south.

‘Do I need to guess its nature, Chancellor?’ Janessa asked, fast losing patience.

‘Er … no, Majesty. The Rafts was constructed years ago, a slum we have unfortunately allowed to grow across the mouth of the River Storway. Essentially it’s a bridge across the river into the city. If the Khurtas decide to attack there they could charge right across and into the Warehouse District … or at least what’s left of it.’

‘Very well,’ Janessa replied, glancing at the faces of her war council, assessing who might be best placed to deal with the problem. ‘Chancellor, you will see that the slums are evacuated as best as possible. Marshal Farren, you will position trebuchets on the battlements and at the edge of the river and see to it the Rafts is destroyed by nightfall.’

‘Majesty, what if we can’t evacuate in time?’ asked Durket. ‘And many might refuse to leave their homes. Nightfall might not be—’

‘The Rafts will be destroyed by nightfall,’ Janessa said, feeling her anger rising. ‘Make it clear that anyone remaining in their homes will die.’

Durket bowed low. ‘Yes, Majesty,’ he replied before making himself scarce.

‘The rest of the city’s defences are as strong as ever, Majesty,’ said Rogan. ‘Only there is one thing that has been planned in the city’s defence that we are not all in agreement over.’ He glanced at Lord Marshal Tannick, who for his part didn’t even bother to acknowledge the head of the Inquisition.

‘And what is the nature of this disagreement?’ Janessa said, aiming her question at the Lord Marshal.

‘I intend to make a gesture,’ replied Tannick. ‘I don’t mean to sit behind our walls and wait for the Khurtas to come screaming at us from the north without bloodying their noses first.’

‘You intend to take the fight to them?’ From what little Janessa knew of warfare, this sounded like suicide, even to her.

‘I do. My cavalry will charge them on the field, cut them down where they stand. The armies of the Free States have not scored one victory over this horde yet. Showing the defenders on the walls that these bastards bleed and die like any other man will only serve us well.’

‘It’s bloody madness,’ said Marshal Farren. General Hawke nodded his agreement. ‘And a waste of men, if you ask me. If you want to commit suicide, Ryder, feel free, but the men of the Wyvern Guard would be better placed on the wall.’

‘It’s fortunate no one’s asking you then, isn’t it?’ Tannick replied.

Farren rounded on him. ‘It’s not just me, you mad bastard.’ He pointed at Duke Bannon, and Janessa saw the doubt in the old man’s eyes. ‘Ask him. Go on, see if he thinks it’s a good idea.’

‘Enough,’ Janessa demanded, feeling some sense of pleasure when her generals stopped their squabbling and turned to her expectantly.

She looked at them, standing there ready to obey her every word. When first she had met them Janessa had been fearful, unsure of what to do or say. Now there was no doubt in her mind these men were hers to command.

And it was clear she had a decision to make. A choice that would result in one of her generals losing face. Then again, it was clear the time for tact was well and truly over.

‘I agree with Lord Marshal Tannick,’ she continued. ‘A gesture is indeed what’s needed. The Khurtas need to know what they are up against. That we have teeth, and will not merely cower behind our walls and wait for the end. I can think of none but the Wyvern Guard better suited to relay that message.’ She paused. No one argued. ‘Very well. I’m sure the rest of you have much to attend to. Set to it.’

Her war council bowed their assent, moving off as another fiery explosion cut the darkening sky.

Janessa turned to take it in, hearing a scream rise up from somewhere in the devastated streets, but she could not allow herself to be broken by it. Neither could she bring herself to feel sorrow for the Rafts and the people in it who would soon be made homeless or worse.

She had a city to save, and she could not allow herself to be distracted by compassion if she was to succeed. Janessa had allowed herself to be weak, had allowed her heart to rule her head and she had suffered for it. Now, all that remained deep inside her belly was a pit of dark where there should have been …

A child. There should be a child growing strong.

Janessa gripped the edge of the balustrade until her knuckles whitened, thinking of what she had lost and what would never be. Her child, River’s child, had been stillborn. Now she was empty, barren, and all she could think that might fill the space inside her would be the defeat of Amon Tugha. She thought of it, yearned for it, to the detriment of all else. It was the only thing that occupied her waking mind.

At first she had thought to save her city, her people, but now it was more than that. She wanted to defeat her enemy utterly. To stand against him and taste victory, even if it cost the lives of every soldier under her command. The thought was bitter to the taste, but no matter how she tried to persuade herself she was doing this for her people, she knew it was vengeance she really wanted.

A firm hand came to rest on top of hers as she gripped the parapet. Kaira stood by her, gazing at her, eyes calm, controlled, and Janessa felt the weight of her anger suddenly lift. The woman was Janessa’s sworn protector, but in recent days she had become so much more than that. A rock to which she clung in the storm that raged all around her.

‘Majesty, shall we?’ said Kaira, gesturing towards the stairwell.

Janessa nodded and they both made their way back inside. Without Kaira, Janessa had no idea how she would have coped. Her bodyguard had been a constant presence since the night Janessa had lost her child. Always by her side, day and night. Always strong, always steadfast. Janessa knew in the days to come she would need Kaira more than ever.

When she eventually entered her chamber, what awaited brought a rare smile to her lips.

‘The royal armourer has done well, Majesty,’ said Kaira, as Janessa stood and stared.

The armour she had commissioned days before had been left in her room atop a wooden stand. Even in the wan candlelight it glimmered, each plate seeming to melt into the next, the crown and crossed swords of Steelhaven emblazoned on the breastplate. There was no helm – Janessa had told the armoursmith she would have no need of one. She would wear her armour with her head high, her hair about her shoulders, her face visible to all. Janessa was to be a symbol, an icon, and the defenders of her city would see her, rally to her as she helped them defend the walls.

Absently she traced her finger across the emblem on the chest plate; her father’s seal. Thoughts of his past victories came to her, victories that ended when he rode off to face Amon Tugha. Somehow the immortal Elharim had managed to murder her father off the field of battle. That would not happen to his daughter. Janessa was determined the victory would be hers this time.

Beside the armour stand stood the Helsbayn. Janessa found her hand straying towards it. When her finger touched the cold steel of the pommel it tingled to the touch, as though the sword itself contained a daemon that only she could unleash. Ever since she had slain the sorcerer Azai Dravos with the blade it seemed to instil a vigour inside her. When she touched it for the briefest of moments the feelings of loss deep within her soul abated. She almost yearned to draw it from its scabbard, to march out alone and take the fight to Amon Tugha and all his minions.

‘You should rest, Majesty,’ Kaira said from behind her. ‘There will be little time for it in the coming days.’

Janessa did not turn around, but gripped the hilt of the Helsbayn, drawing strength from it.

‘The time for resting is over, Kaira,’ she replied, feeling a strange smile creep across her lips. ‘I think now it’s time for me to don my armour.’

W
eeks ago, when Janessa had suggested it, Kaira thought bedecking her in armour was a foolish idea. Now as she looked at her ward, at the Queen of the Free States, she realised her mistake. Despite her stature Queen Janessa still cut an impressive figure. It did nothing to put Kaira’s mind at ease, though. The enemy was at the gates. There were undoubtedly some within the city who were still plotting to kill her. No mere suit of armour, no matter how finely crafted, could keep her safe from every knife in the dark that threatened.

‘How do I look?’ asked Janessa, glancing at herself in the mirror as though she stared at a different person.

You look like a fish out of water. You look scared half to death and I will have to watch over you like a hawk.

‘You look ready to lead your armies and defend your city, Majesty,’ Kaira replied. There was no need to speak her mind on this. The queen needed confidence, not the truth.

Janessa rested her hand on the pommel of the Helsbayn, that sword she now wielded with such assurance. But it was more than that. The blade seemed to instil a power in the girl, seemed to make her that much stronger, that much more capable. When Kaira had tried to lift the blade it had felt little more than a hunk of poorly fashioned metal. In the hands of the queen it sang.

‘I feel ready,’ Janessa said, but the tight grip of her gauntleted hand on the pommel of the Helsbayn betrayed a doubt she didn’t speak.

Kaira knew then that this was still the young girl abandoned by everyone she had ever known. Her mother and siblings dead from the plague. Her father killed by the warlord who even now threatened to raze her city. Her child stillborn, its father long gone. Despite how impressive she looked in her armour, Kaira knew this girl was still so innocent. Still so untested and alone. This was a child playing at being a queen and part of that tore at Kaira’s heart.

‘You must still stay by my side, Majesty,’ she said. For the first time she spoke with authority over Janessa. She needed her to obey. All time for propriety was gone; it had to be if Kaira was to protect her ward. ‘At all times, whatever happens in the coming days, you must stay with me.’

Queen Janessa frowned. Kaira could see anger flare behind her eyes. Was it the Helsbayn giving her such strength, imbuing her with such defiance?

‘I am a child no longer, Kaira. I am a queen. I have a city to defend. I don’t need to be—’

‘You are not a warrior yet,’ said Kaira, raising her voice more than she should have but much less than she wanted.

Janessa grasped her sword, pulling it a foot from the scabbard. Her jaw set, her eyes staring intently. ‘I don’t need to be,’ she said in a measured tone, though Kaira could sense the girl was fighting for control. She had to admit, it frightened her a little – not for herself, but for the child she was sworn to protect. ‘I have this.’ Janessa shook the blade, then slammed it back in its sheath with an audible clack.

‘That weapon will cut down your enemies,’ Kaira said, trying her best to remain calm. ‘But it will not protect you from every sword and arrow. It is more important now than ever that you survive. That you live so this city has someone to focus its hope on. Your life cannot be risked.’

‘I will not die.’ And when she said those words Kaira almost believed them, was almost convinced that Janessa would not, could not be killed. Almost.

‘Confidence will serve you well, Majesty. But it will not turn a weapon aimed at your heart. It will not make you invincible, and neither will that sword.’

‘It doesn’t have to,’ Janessa replied, the fire in her eyes dimming to be replaced by grave determination. ‘It just has to keep me alive long enough to strike at Amon Tugha.’

Kaira shook her head. ‘You cannot seriously think you could face him and live. He is Elharim and has most likely fought and killed his enemies for centuries. Do you think it would be so easy to defeat him simply because you carry a blade blessed by Arlor himself?’

‘We will see,’ Janessa replied, and Kaira could hear that confidence waver. Despite her determination, despite whatever strength that blade gave her, Janessa knew it would never be so easy.

Kaira made to speak, to tell this girl that the fighting had to be left to real soldiers. That she was not yet a warrior queen, but before she could utter a word Janessa held up a hand.

‘No more. This is pointless. What will come will come. Just know that I am prepared. That I am not the helpless lamb you think I am.’

‘That is not what I think.’

But it
is
what you think. You would wrap this girl in armour and protect her from the world just when it needs her the most.

‘No matter,’ said Janessa. ‘I need to think, to prepare myself for what is to come.’ She turned to the window of her chamber that looked out onto a night lit by fire from the south. ‘I am sure we won’t have long to wait.’

She said no more, and Kaira knew she had been dismissed. That almost cut as deep as the blade Azai Dravos had used against her, but she obeyed the unspoken order nonetheless, leaving the chamber and making her way down the corridor.

For the briefest moment Kaira considered waiting outside the queen’s chamber, waiting there to protect her, despite the girl’s stubbornness, but there was still much to do. Much to prepare if she was to be protected, despite the girl’s determination to put herself in harm’s way.

Kaira made her way down through the palace. Garret would even now be preparing the Sentinels for the city’s defence and there was undoubtedly work for her to do. Raised voices made Kaira immediately forget any thought of preparations, though. The first voice she recognised was Rogan’s and she was in no hurry to hear what was pouring from his silken tongue. But it was the second voice that made Kaira halt in her tracks – a voice she recognised. A voice she had once feared … the Matron Mother, her former mistress and the figurehead of the Temple of Autumn.