“Hang on,” he whispered, pushing open the watchtower door. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you, but that cuts both ways, you know? Don’t go out on me now.”
His only answer was silence as he pulled himself up the watchtower stairs.
Meanwhile, halfway down the storm wall, Josef met the first of the Empress’s soldiers with a clash that echoed across the bay.
CHAPTER
23
Hold the line!” Josef screamed, swinging the Heart at the seething wall of soldiers.
The enemy covered the beach in a solid mass, but only a few could go up the stairs at a time. These Josef held off easily, but the enemy, realizing the obvious path was blocked, was now climbing the jagged stone of the storm wall itself.
“Spread out!” Josef shouted to the soldiers behind him. “Half left, half right! Knock them off as they climb. Don’t let them reach the top!”
The orders were swallowed as he gave them, overwhelmed by the war cries of the enemy as they surged forward and the dying screams of his soldiers as they shot the last of their bolts at the climbers only to find that the enemy had bows of their own.
Josef swung again, knocking three enemy soldiers down the stairs with a curse. For every man he knocked down, two more popped up. The crashed palace ships were still vomiting up troops, and the bloody bay was full of boats. The storm wall was alive with the enemy. They swarmed the stairs, swarmed the wall; some were even climbing the cliffs themselves, pulling themselves hand over hand up the vertical stone toward the abandoned archer lines. Meanwhile, the Oseran sailors had spread themselves thin in an attempt to hold the storm wall. They screamed as they fought, their eyes wide with the wildness of men pushed past their limits. The only place the enemy sailors weren’t attacking was the blackened stretch where Karon had stood, but the lava spirit himself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a great pile of black stone blocked the storm wall, the boulders still and quiet. Josef knew little of wizardry and nothing about the link between Eli and the giant, but even he knew those dark, cold rocks were not a good sign.
Unfortunately, Josef had bigger worries than the lava spirit. As more and more soldiers began to climb the storm wall, the Oserans were starting to fold. The fragile line he’d drawn as their last stand was cracking. Any second now it would break completely and he would fail his mother one last time.
The Heart jerked in his hands, bringing him back to the fight in front of him. He could feel the blade thrumming against his fingers, and Josef blinked as the Heart’s plan became clear in his mind. It was risky, but he trusted the Heart to know its own limits, and they had precious little else to call on. Decision made, Josef swung wide to scatter the enemy and then brought his sword back, holding the blade in front of him with both hands. Down the stairs, the Empress’s soldiers hesitated, watching for the strike. When it didn’t come, they surged into the opening, swords rising to cut him down. When they were a step away, Josef slammed the Heart into the stair. Iron hit stone with a resounding gong, and the weight of a mountain fell on the beach.
As far as he could see, the Empress’s soldiers collapsed, slammed to the ground by the pressure. The Heart’s force spread wider than Josef had ever seen. It filled the bay, sweeping the soldiers off the storm wall and crushing them into the hard sand below. Infantry boats sank into water pressed glassy by the enormous weight, and a sudden, deafening stillness descended. Even the Oserans were silent, staring down the storm wall at the prone bodies of the Empress’s troops in dumb amazement.
Finally, a guardsman behind Josef snapped out of the trance, reaching out to press his shaking hand against the invisible wall of the Heart’s weight. “Are they dead, sire?” he whispered, eyes wide.
Josef raised his head, careful to keep his hands on the Heart’s hilt. “No,” he said. “The ones forced underwater may drown, but no one will die from the pressure. I don’t understand it myself, but my wizard friend says it’s impossible to kill a human with spirit pressure alone.”
The sailor blinked. “Spirit pressure?”
“Don’t ask me,” Josef said. “I don’t do that wizard stuff.” He looked over his shoulder, raising his voice. “Everyone!” he shouted. “Stop gawking! We’re falling back to the watchtower.”
“But we have no more bolts!” a sailor cried. “What are we going to do in the tower?”
“You want to stay out here?” Josef bellowed back.
The man didn’t answer, and Josef took the chance to push the guards behind him up the stairs. “Get the wounded to the tower. The rest of you, prepare to hold the road. We’ll fight these bastards for every inch!”