The Maid's War(27)
She leaned forward, planting one hand on the stone, and cupped the other hand by her mouth. “Lord Tenby! I am the Maid! Surrender the Turrels before I take them from you! This is your final warning before you drink from the Deep Fathoms!”
Could they even hear her words across the river? She had shouted them with all the emotion and rage in her heart.
They did hear her, for Alensson heard a building roar of riotous laughter from the other side of the river. Instead of launching arrows, the men began to mock Genette in the most vile language he’d ever heard soldiers utter.
Her face went dark with danger while her mouth turned down into a stern frown. She listened and did nothing for a while. Then she said darkly, almost to herself, but loud enough that they could hear it over the noise. “Beware of pride, sirs. It is always the stone that causes the stumble.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Siege of Lionn
Word finally reached them the following afternoon that the prince had ordered them to mount the attack. Alensson was relieved, for Genette had taken to pacing like a caged lioness, her temper short and easily provoked. At least the time they’d spent with the besieged half of Lionn had given them time to plan. Genette had impressed Aspen Hext, who’d expected she would cower from the enemy’s threats and insults. Together, the leaders of the group had discussed strategy, but Genette refused to trick or decoy their enemies or consider any strategy besides breaching the walls with scaling ladders. If the soldiers bore the abuse with determination, they would drive the defenders from the walls. The certain way she said it made Alensson wonder what she knew, what she had seen.
When the army decamped from Blais and arrived in Lionn after nightfall, they were greeted by the Ceredigic defenders. The enemy was outnumbered and quickly withdrew back into the city gates, barring the doors and lowering the portcullis. The battle for Lionn began almost at once, during the night, and soon Alensson was in the thick of it. He knew Genette was sleeping in the city across the river and she’d be angry no one had awakened her. But he also realized that the cover of darkness would help them mount the attack. The defenders were scrambling to cover the entire breadth of the wall, spreading their numbers thin in their effort to keep it protected. Alensson and Hext had agreed that it was too risky to send someone across the river in the dark to fetch Genette and that her presence would be more inspiring after sunrise when the troops could see her and her banner. She would get one more night of sleep before the images of war gave her nightmares.
As he moved amongst his men, trying to rally them, he heard shouts announcing the arrival of the Maid. Alensson was thunderstruck that she had crossed the river at night to join them. He pushed his way through the crowd until he found her. She sat there astride her horse, full armored and carrying her banner, her eyes filled with scolding anger.
“How did you cross the river?” he demanded, looking at the disheveled hair coming loose from the mail hood covering her head.
“I rode across,” she answered stiffly, and he stared at her in shock. The feat was impossible because of the depth of the river, and besides, the horse was not wet and neither was she.
“I don’t understand,” Alensson said gruffly.
“No, you don’t,” she answered. “But my words are true. Remember that the Fountain has power over all water. It awoke me in the night to tell me the battle had started. You should have sent for me.”
“It was too dangerous!” he said. “They attacked us when the rest of our men arrived, and we drove them off. Lord Hext thought it better to press our advantage under the cover of darkness.”
Genette nodded firmly. “It’s a good plan. You should have summoned me.”
He looked up at her on the horse. “It’s dangerous. We won’t breach the walls tonight. There will be chance to fight tomorrow, when everyone can see you. Come to the command pavilion. We can discuss it there.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I said I would drive them out. And I will fulfill my vow.” She jerked the reins of her horse and headed toward the walls of the embattled city.
“Fountain help me,” Alensson muttered, then yelled for his horse and joined her.
Alensson followed the Maid all the way to the walls, where it rained arrows instead of water. Feathered shafts poked out of the grass and dirt of a field covered in fallen soldiers, many writhing in pain, many more dead. The men were shouting at each other, calls of challenge and rage that were not quite words. There was hatred between these two sides, and one could feel it in the air like a choking smoke. Every attempt to put a scaling ladder against the wall had been repelled, and men fell from great heights to lie crumpled on the ground with broken limbs. Archers from the walls continued to rain death down on them, but the archers on the Occitanian side found their marks as well. The cries of injury came from both sides.