The Starfall Knight (40 page)

“Marshal!  Ma’am!” Rika called out.

Alessa continued shooting on the Sirinese and dared not peer over the other side of the battlements.  A rumble of boots emanated from the boroughs.

Romaine joined Rika.  “Good.”  The Marshal gestured to the sky.  “I didn’t order a cease-fire!  Bring down the Imperator!”

As the rangers continued their volleys, the last of the Sirinese fled under the wall.  Alessa grabbed the quiver and followed her father to the outer battlements.

“If they escape into the boroughs, they’re as good as gone,” Alessa said.

“I’ll fucking see about that,” Romaine said.  She descended the stairs and trotted through the gates.

A column of heavily armoured soldiers strode in from a western road.  The military sigil of Centara, a white tree and waterline over a red background, snapped in the evening air.

“Captain Marzell.  Captain Erland.”

“Marshal!”  Two soldiers and a ranger split from the group.  Marzell doffed her steel helm and gestured to the other soldier.  “May I present Captain Odran of the Saruwan garrison.”

“A pleasure, Marshal Romaine.”  Odran also removed his helm, revealing greying hair and a lined face.

“The pleasure is mine,” Romaine replied.  “Your timing is perfect.”

“Escaping Sirinese?” Marzell said.  “We have dispatched squads to hunt them down.”

“Excellent.”

“And behind us are another two hundred loyal soldiers to scour the rest of the city.”

“Captain Ordran,” Romaine said, “take the two hundred and proceed into the city.  I want every Sirinese dead or in chains.”

“Yes, Marshal!”  Odran bellowed an order and the soldiers marched into the city.

Alessa scampered to the other side of the battlements as the Saruwans entered the light of the lanterns and burning buildings.  Unlike the Centaran soldiers, the Saruwans were clad in brigandine stained with earthy tones, steel-toed boots and wide helms with scale-armoured tails that protected their necks.  Most bore bladed polearms with shortswords and buckler shields strapped to one arm while the rest were archers with shortbows and long daggers.  Alessa wondered what might’ve happened if the Centarans had met the Saruwans in battle, instead of becoming allies.

“Archers!” Odran commanded.  The Saruwan bowmen nocked their arrows and pointed at the sky.  Tarius’ flames burst for a moment and he soared over the wall, towards the boroughs.  “Coward.”

“Alessa!  Vantanis!”  Romaine gestured for them from the ground.  “Rangers on the battlements!  Fall in!”

Alessa followed the complement of rangers to the road as Saruwans replaced them on the wall.  In formation next to Romaine and Marzell, they numbered only twenty.

“Marzell, Erlend, take a third of the rangers each,” Romaine said, drawing her sword.  “The rest of you, with me.”

A squad of soldiers in red tabards trooped along the Avenue of Tiers.  Devan halted, adjusting the straps of his rucksack full of weapons.

Benton frowned.  “Easy, now.”

“I thought the soldiers were scattered,” Sergeant Baryan said.  He had joined Devan and Benton after they returned to the University to collect more rifles, ammunition and the remaining blades.

“They’ve spotted us, in any case.”

Devan stepped next to his brother and Baryan, forming a firm line.  He resisted the urge to wipe the rain from his eyes.

The lead soldier of the squad raised a hand.  They were all armed with bladed polearms and their armour was not standard issue chainmail of the Centaran army.

“Who goes there?”

“I am Captain Benton.  This is Devan, officer of the Marshal of Rangers.  And Sergeant Baryan of the Centaran army, loyal to the city.  Who are you?”

“I am Sergeant Risha.”  The soldier saluted.  “A pleasure to meet you all.  Marshal Romaine has claimed the city and we are patrolling for remaining Sirinese.”

“Saruwans?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Where is the Marshal now?”

“The Sirinese have fled into the boroughs,” Risha said.  “Tarius as well.  I’d not believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes but he was flying.”

“I believe it,” Devan said.

Benton nodded.  “Thank you, sergeant.  We must get to the boroughs.”

“Yes, captain.”  Risha ordered the squad forward.

Devan resumed marching along the Avenue while Benton kept an eye on the soldiers.

“You’re too cautious,” Devan said.  “They were Saruwans.”

“Even so,” Benton replied, “I’d not want a blade in my back.”

They continued along the Avenue, passing more patrols as well as militia formed from Centaran citizens.  As they neared the gate plaza, the air became filled with smoke and the sweet stench of burning flesh.  Buildings around the plaza blazed while lines of townspeople fought the fires in bucket brigades.

“Tarius.”  Devan glanced at Benton, who nodded with a grim tightening of his lips.

“Baryan?”

“Yes, captain?”

Benton unshouldered his rucksack and gestured for Devan to do the same.  Devan’s shoulders pulsed with relief from the weight.

“Take the weapons to the officer in command,” Benton said.  “I believe it’s that soldier in Saruwan armour in the centre of the plaza.”

“Yes, captain,” Baryan said.  “What about you and Devan?”

“Tarius,” Devan said in unison with his brother.

“Good luck, rangers.”  Baryan bid them farewell and marched off with the weapons.

Devan strode through the city gates with Benton.  A fiery figure soared over the southern districts and Devan unshouldered his rifle, checking his ammunition.

“We’ll have to get closer,” Benton said.  “Come on.”

The narrow roads and alleys confused Alessa and if it weren’t for Tarius’ conflagrations, she would have long since lost all sense of direction.  Romaine led them on a hunt for a group of thrashers darting between the houses in the southern boroughs.  Vantanis, Terson, Rika followed, stomping and cursing in the rain and encroaching walls.  More rangers and soldiers had joined – some from Captain Sturgar, who had been a part of the Masteney assault, and rangers under the command of captains Marsa and Wynet, who had maintained resistance along with other survivors.

They reached a wide road that ran between rows of cottages.

“Charge!”

Thrashers bolted from cover, armed with little more than scraps of timber and wood-axes.  But they outnumbered the Centarans, two to one.  Alessa ripped her sword from its scabbard.

“Hold!” Romaine called out.

Alessa fell into line with the Centarans.  She kept her gaze on the incoming Sirinese, wondering where her father had ended up in the formation.

Unintelligible shouts roared from the thrashers and the Centarans met the charge with a clash of metal and wood and flesh.  Alessa blocked a club and elbowed her enemy in the jaw.  The thrasher, a young woman, stumbled back but Alessa did not step out from the formation to follow up.

“Hold!” a man shouted.

Alessa kept her eyes on the next thrasher and she parried the series of strikes before slicing the man’s chest open from stomach to shoulder.  From the edge of her vision, she saw Terson break from the line and charge into the flank of the Sirinese.  A couple soldiers followed the ranger.  Somewhere down the line, Romaine swore.  Alessa kicked her enemy away and, seeing a gap in the battle, joined the Marshal.

The rest of the line had fallen into disarray.  Judging from the sprawl of dead Sirinese, they had charged into the Centarans with no regard for survival, but it had broken the line and the rest of the attackers had sprung into the havoc.

Alessa smashed her blade into the back of a thrasher as he leaped onto Rika.  Blood poured out, mixing with the rain and soaking the young ranger.  Alessa shoved the howling Sirinese away and hauled Rika to her feet.  She finished off the thrasher with a swing to the neck that left the head dangling.

“Stay with me,” Alessa said.

Rika nodded and they moved forward as a tight pair.  The clash of battle filled the air, accentuated with sharp screams and the slap of wounded flesh.  Alessa sliced open another thrasher.  Rika intervened for a soldier driven to his knees.

A thrasher barged into Rika and the young ranger crashed to the ground, a grunt escaping her lips and her weapon skittering away in the rain.  Knives glinted in the thrasher’s hands and Alessa’s gut churned.  Leonus.

Alessa charged but another thrasher barrelled into her.  Alessa kept her grip on her sword, wrangling it between her body and her enemy even as punches rained on her head and shoulders.  Screams pierced the air.  Damn it, she had to get to Rika.

Alessa ripped her blade upwards, gutting the thrasher.  She rolled to her feet, panting for air.

The battle had devolved into pockets of violence.  Alessa searched the street and the flash of knives drew her gaze.  Leonus straddled Rika, the ranger fending off the strikes as best as she could but Alessa could see the dark patches staining her arms.

“Rika!”  Alessa sprinted past Centarans and dead Sirinese.

Before Alessa reached the struggle, Vantanis charged in and tackled Leonus.  The pair tumbled to the side and left Rika huddled on the cobblestones.

Alessa knelt beside Rika.  The ranger’s gauntlets were torn to shreds and her armour was lacerated.  Blood poured from Rika’s wounds.

“I’m all right, Alessa.  Help your father!”

Alessa nodded but as she rose, the remaining thrashers turned and fled.  A couple grabbed Leonus by the arms, hauling him off Vantanis.

“You’re next, Alessa!”  Leonus’ voice trailed off as the Sirinese retreated.  “You’re fucking dead!”

Alessa screamed unintelligibly and dashed past her father as the Sirinese fled into the dark alleyway.

“Alessa!  Halt!”  The voice was undeniable.

Alessa skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley.  The thud of Sirinese boots faded into the distance.  Alessa looked back and Romaine shook her head.

“Do not pursue them,” the Marshal commanded.

“They’re getting away!” Alessa said.  “They are only five or six.”

“And if they lead you to more of their compatriots, they will be ten, twenty.  And you will be dead.”

Romaine was right but Alessa didn’t feel any better.  She nodded once and returned to her father’s side as the rest of the Centarans picked through the aftermath of the battle.

Under the light of the moons, the rain glistened on Vantanis’ face.  He still breathed but his gauntlets were soaked with blood, forearms sliced down to the bone.  His leather jerkin had borne the brunt of the slashes but three deep cuts poured blood from her father’s neck and shoulders.

“Father?”

He gripped Alessa’s hands, covering them entirely as he was always able to.  “Hush, Aly.  It’s all right.”

“I’ll get a physicker for you.”

“No.  I’ll be gone before they arrive.”  Vantanis’ breathing grew laboured and his hands loosened.  “Stay with the Centarans.  Stay with your cousins.”

Alessa let out a bark of laughter.  “The moon-addled ranger and the humourless captain?”

“That’s them,” Vantanis said with a wan smile.  “That’s them.”  He closed his eyes.  Blood pooled beneath his body.  “They’re family.”

Vantanis breathed his last and Alessa sobbed.  She hugged her father, the rain and her tears washing all away.

Devan cleared his eyes from the rain and watched a curtain of fire rage across the street.  The Centaran soldiers scattered behind the buildings as the thrashers capitalised on the distraction and fled further south.

“Do you see him?” Benton asked.

“On the opposite side of the road,” Devan said.  “Above the virid den.”

“Wouldn’t that be an interesting place to start a fire.”  Benton crept up to the low fence and rested his rifle muzzle on the timber.

Ahead, Tarius hurled fireballs at the hidden Centarans.  The flames died against the stone and brick houses but the timber structures had ignited.  Stacked cords of firewood blazed next to empty stables.  Though most citizens had been wise to stay inside, the rain alone would not stop the spread of the fires.

A volley of arrows answered Tarius and his curse echoed down the road.  He soared into the air in search of easier prey.

“Damn it.”  Benton lowered his rifle.  “Let’s move.”

Devan nodded and led the way further down the road.  As they neared the destroyed houses, the soldiers emerged from cover.

“Greetings, rangers,” one of them ventured.

“Well met,” Devan replied.  “Sergeant Ressen?”

“Yes, ranger.”

“You’re Captain Rayce’s sergeant,” Benton said.

“Aye, Captain Benton.”

“Where is Rayce?  Where are the other companies?”

Ressen shook his head, the rain pelting against his helm.  “Disbanded or hidden.  A few soldiers from here and there stayed with Jarrell but most were cast out.  Who is in command?”

“Marshal Romaine,” Devan said.  “Captains Marzell and Odran have joined her.”

“Though she’s Marshal of Rangers, she has our blades too – which reminds me.”  Ressen whistled and a swordsman approached with a rucksack bearing the green strip of the rangers.  “We found this near a site.”

“That’s an aerock maintenance kit.”

“It’s yours now.”  Ressen handed it to Devan.

“And the squad?” Benton asked.

“All dead,” Ressen said.  “But judging from the number of Sirinese corpses, their deaths were not cheap.”

“There’s that, at least.”

Devan rummaged through the rucksack, finding a full complement of gear that was used to cross aerock gaps as well as maintain the aercarriage cables and andonite tubes.

“Of the Sirinese we’ve encountered, we’ve been able to drive them south.  But that Imperator has been a nuisance.”

“I think that’s the translation of the title from Sirinese,” Devan said.  “Nuisance in the arse.”

Ressen smiled.  “By your leave, we’ll join you.  He can’t burn down all of our arrows.”

“He may well try,” Benton said.  “But your help is welcome.”

“Our pleasure, captain!”  Ressen whistled and his soldiers formed up, a ragged band of swordsmen and archers.  “From the glow in the sky, I’d say the Imperator is over Starjen’s Road.”