Child of Flame (Crown of Stars 4)

Alain took hold of her arm roughly and tugged her down, while folk around them gasped to see him handle her so. “You must get back to safety.”

, puffing slightly, clambered up beside him. Her expression had altered completely from only a few moments before. She no longer had any comfort left to give him. She no longer had any thought except for the task she had to complete when evening came. “They’ll have to attack. Their only hope is to stop me from weaving my part of the working. They’ll be trying to strike at all seven of us, each in our own place.” She glanced up at the sky. “With the gods’ blessing you and the others released the Holy One from the Cursed Ones’ bondage so she could work her weather magic. The skies are clear. We have only to survive the day, and then we will be free of their curse forever.”

He stared, trying to measure the force gathering in the village, where Beor, Urtan, Kel, and the others sheltered. Here, along the ramparts, even children armed themselves with clubs and staves. Hooves sounded below him as Sos’ka and her companions came up underneath the walkway. They had no way to get up the ladder to see over the palisade.

“What is the Hallowed One’s wish?” Sos’ka cried. “We are here to protect her.”

They had prepared for many things, but not for an army of hundreds. He faltered. How easy it was to be reckless with other people’s lives! But centaurs and human fighters watched him intently. They would not falter, no matter the cost. They had walked a harder road than he had, and for many more years. Determination would carry them forward.

Yet he had seen the Cursed Ones close up as well, and surely the Cursed Ones held determination close to their hearts, too.

No wonder war was a curse.

One of the Cursed Ones rode within a bow’s shot of the village and loosed a burning arrow. It sailed over the palisade to land, sputtering, in the dirt. Another arrow flew, and a third and a fourth, then a shower. Children ran toward the safety of the houses, only to be driven back when the thatched roof of the men’s house caught and began to burn, twin to the fire that consumed Adica’s house, another funeral pyre.

Sorrow and Rage panted below, gazing loyally up at him. It was easy to think now that his heart had died of sorrow yet again. It was easy to act because he knew he, too, would die. It was simply not possible to go on living without her.

“Adica, you must go up to the stone loom. Their arrows can’t reach you there. I want ten adults to attend her. Make sure she’s covered and safe. You’ll have to lie low all day, beloved. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“What shall we do?” asked the woman called Ulfrega, war leader of the Four Houses warriors.

“We’ll need fighters all along the palisade. That’s our weakness.”

“Not the cleft and the ditch?”

“The planks are pulled back, so the Cursed Ones can’t charge through. Set a force with spears there, behind shields, and the best archers up along the palisade. That’s the first place they’ll try to break through. If somehow riders break through, you must brace the hafts of your spears in the dirt and hold them steady. Then they’ll drive their horses into the points.”

She nodded. An arrow sailed lazily overhead and skittered along the opposite embankment, rolling downslope to end up at one of the centaur’s hooves. “What of the villagers?” she asked.

“Beor can lead them well enough. He’ll let their archers use up their arrows as long as he can. It will help us that the Cursed Ones are caught between two pincers. They have to protect themselves from both sides. And we have a few tricks planned, things they can’t expect. Just pass the word along the palisade that none of you are to shoot arrows unless you come under direct attack. Have children pick up any arrow that falls in to us. We can shoot it back at them.”

In the village, a third house had caught on fire.

“Sos’ka, you and your comrades must keep a perimeter watch all around the hill. If any place on the embankment is weakened, send one to alert me, and we’ll send reinforcements. If they break in behind us, we are lost. Ulfrega, you must remain here to command if I’m called away. Adica!”

She still watched the movements of the Cursed Ones and, farther, the smoke pouring up from the burning houses. A fourth house in the village caught fire, but people hurried to soak the thatch of the adjoining council house roof with water.

A line of Cursed Ones rode closer to examine the tumulus. One rash soldier with a fox mask rode in and, whooping, twirled a sling around his head. Stones peppered the palisade. A dozen archers rode close enough to shoot.

Alain took hold of her arm roughly and tugged her down, while folk around them gasped to see him handle her so. “You must get back to safety.”

“Where will you be?” A single tear snaked down her cheek.

“I will always be with you. I’ll follow when I can.”

She climbed down the ladder. A dozen adults formed around her and hurried away up through the higher embankments, toward the stone circle.

“Shall we shoot at them?” cried one of the archers near Alain.

“Nay, they’re no threat to us yet. Let them waste their arrows.”

Beor’s archers had begun to return arrow fire, and the archers of the Cursed Ones retreated to their main force, content evidently with the mischief their arrows caused in the village: five houses burned merrily now. Smoke boiled up into the sky, and ash fell everywhere. Yet the Cursed Ones waited as an unseen drum counted the passing with a steady rhythm that seemed to reverberate up from the earth. Leaning against the palisade logs, Alain felt that throbbing rhythm, oddly soothing, drawing his mind away, causing memories to flower as his attention drifted.

Up among the ruins near Lavas Holding, he sees the shadows of what had been, not the shadows of the ruins lying there now. The lantern’s pale light and the gleam of stone illuminate the shadows of the buildings as if they stand whole and unfallen. This filigree of arches and columns and proud walls stretching out as impossible shadows along the ground is the shade of the old fort, come alive as memories twist forward.…

Liath stands in front of a heap of wood. Everything is damp. Even the air sweats moisture; in a moment it will start to rain. All at once, fire shoots up out of branches, licking and crackling. Falling to one knee, Liath stares at the fire as a gout of flame boils up toward the sky. Are those shadows dancing within the flame? She stares, intent, as distant then as Adica has become now, and draws from her tunic a brilliant gold feather.