Crown of Stars (Crown of Stars 7)

Folk walked abroad, calling and crying in the half light. Soldiers marched toward the walls, fastening on thick leather coats as they hurried. One dropped his spear and got kicked for his pains as he stumbled back to pick it up.

“Move! Move!”

Goats bawled from a courtyard. A horse neighed, and was answered by other nags. All over the town, dogs set up a wild clamor, howling and barking and yipping as though their ears hurt them.

Stairs set into the wall had to be climbed, and her feet ached and her back complained, but she mounted them step by step without uttering a word. Falco walked two steps behind. On the wall walk the queen leaned out, staring south. Her cloak billowed in the dawn breeze lifting out of the southeast. She was alone, but as Antonia reached the walk, she saw Lord Alexandros pacing back from the corner tower; he was too far away for her to see his face. The queen was drawn and anguished, and she clutched Antonia’s hand as soon as the skopos drew near.

“What are we to do? What are we to do?”

“Hush, Your Majesty. You are overwrought.”

“Look!”

Look!

In ancient days the Enemy whispered in the hearts of men, and men listened to these lies and found themselves so swollen with vile cravings that they bred with animals. This congress engendered monsters so grotesque in form and hideous in spirit that God flensed the Earth with a vast and terrible storm to drive the beasts forever out of the mortal world. So was it written in the Holy Verses.

How the world had fallen! What was once banished by God’s pure and righteous power walked abroad again at the behest of the Enemy. The gates of the Pit had opened and disgorged foul creatures. No doubt they had crawled north out of the stinking wasteland that had once been the lush and bountiful plain of Dar.

“There are so many,” said Adelheid.

The monsters waited in silence. They wore armor and carried spears and swords and shields. Like animals, they strayed side to side, unable to hold firm ranks, but they walked on two feet in a mockery of humankind.

Alexandros swept up beside them. “I have a count obtained from a circuit of the walls. Fifteen centuries, more or less. In the old days I would call that a small force, easily beaten. If we arm every man in Novomo, we will outnumber them. They have miscalculated. They are too few.”

“What are they?” Adelheid asked.

“Monsters,” said Antonia. “Creatures of the Enemy. Abominations.”

“They’re human, wearing animal masks,” said Alexandros, squinting his eye as he surveyed the besieging force. “They don’t have numbers enough to hold a siege, so we should be able to send for help.”

“Who will help us?” Adelheid asked.

“Folk must rally to support their skopos,” said Antonia.

The sight of so many warped faces—even if they were masks—nauseated her. Her throat burned.

In front of the walls sprawled the corpses of folk who had tried to flee the onslaught but had not reached the gates in time.

“If Novomo falls, they’ll go on to attack others,” said Alexandros, as if he had not heard her. “You must appeal to self-interest. Those who aid us, aid themselves. If they do not aid us, they are themselves fated to fall to this army.”

“It’s true.” Adelheid’s hunched shoulders straightened a little as she took heart from his considered words. “We must appoint messengers to ride as swiftly as they can.”

“Immediately,” said the general. He called Captain Falco, and the order was given and men sent running. “We’ll send a second batch at nightfall. Meanwhile, your stewards must take control of all grain stores within the walls, and every well or cistern. A strict ration will be applied. Any who violate the law will be killed.”

“Cast out,” said Adelheid. “To the mercy of our enemy.”

He nodded approvingly. “Yes, that is better.” He gestured toward the corpses tumbled here and there in the fields around Novomo. A man lay on his back on the road.

A woman had fallen on her side, trying to protect a child, who was also dead. “They seem not to be taking prisoners or slaves.”

Antonia watched this interplay, knowing herself ignored and dismissed. She fumed, but the general had captured Adelheid’s attention and, increasingly, the queen ignored her, who ought to be first in her thoughts. Even the child liked him!

“From what direction did they come?” she asked.

“What do the guards on the wall say?” Adelheid asked the general, not looking at Antonia.

“From the southern road, out of the twilight before dawn. The watch say they saw sparks rise on the hill, a weaving of light, for half the night.”