Chapter 329: Those Who Stand Beside Us

Garrick Valewood had acquired an assistant.

The assistant carried a schoolbook, a wooden practice sword, and considerably more responsibility than anyone had asked him to accept.

“You are early,” Garrick said.

Julian stopped in the courtyard doorway.

“Should I come back?”

“You should help me cheat.”

I paused halfway down the steps.

Julian looked equally uncertain.

Garrick held up a small wooden horse. One wheel had come loose.

“I promised my grandson I would mend this before breakfast. Unfortunately, his grandmother has decided breakfast begins when the food is ready.”

“That seems reasonable,” I said.

“You were not invited into this conversation.”

Julian smiled.

It was a small smile. Garrick noticed without making the mistake of celebrating it.

He moved a stool beside the workbench.

“Hold the axle steady.”

Julian set down the sword.

The schoolbook followed.

For the next several minutes, nobody asked him about Lyradon.

Nobody asked whether his father’s helmet had shown another burning road.

He held a wooden horse while an older man complained about the quality of miniature wheels.

I left them to it.

When they reached breakfast, the horse rolled properly, Julian had a smear of oil on his thumb, and Garrick Valewood had discovered that his assistant preferred honey to jam.

He passed him the honey without asking.

Julian sat beside him.

The twins immediately abandoned their own places.

“Horse,” my son announced.

“Mended,” Julian told him.

Carol examined the wheel.

Then examined Julian.

“Juli did.”

“We both did.”

She accepted the correction and pushed the horse toward Garrick Valewood.

“Again.”

He looked at it.

“It is already repaired.”

Carol pointed at the opposite wheel.

It came off in her hand.

Garrick sighed.

Julian laughed before he remembered to be careful.

Nobody at the table gave him a reason to regret it.

Over the next three mornings, the workbench became a habit.

Sometimes there was something to mend.

Sometimes Garrick Valewood inspected Julian’s practice stance in the sheltered courtyard. He corrected the boy’s feet before his sword and ended the lesson while Julian still wanted more.

“You are lowering your left shoulder,” he told him.

“I’m trying to strike harder.”

“I noticed. So would anyone standing opposite you.”

Julian adjusted.

“Better.”

“Would it work in a battle?”

Garrick lowered his own practice blade.

“Today, it needs to work in a lesson.”

Julian looked away.

“Cassia goes out.”

“Cassia is presently arguing with your mother about whether bruised ribs can be persuaded to heal through indignation.”

“Can they?”

“The evidence is against her.”

That earned another smile.

Garrick rested his wooden sword against the wall.

“You do not have to catch up with everyone you love.”

I had come to ask him about the southern supply road. I remained beneath the arch instead.

Julian turned the practice sword in his hands.

“What if they need me?”

“Then we will tell you what we need. We will not expect you to guess.”

The boy considered that for a long time.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“After breakfast.”

“You said before breakfast yesterday.”

“Your grandmother objected.”

Garrick stopped.

So did Julian.

Neither Helena nor Garrick was his grandparent.

The mistake hung between them.

Then Garrick said, more quietly, “Helena objected.”

Julian looked down at the sword.

“I didn’t mind.”

Garrick’s expression changed.

Only a little.

“Good,” he said. “Because she will probably object again.”

That afternoon, I found Julian on the nursery carpet with our children.

His father’s helmet rested on a high shelf, where he could see it without either twin reaching it.

Between them lay wooden animals and a line of blocks.

“One at a time,” Julian explained.

Carol pushed three sheep toward the little bridge.

“All.”

“Then the bridge falls.”

Garrick touched the nearest block.

A thin skin of frost joined it to the next.

Julian stared.

I stepped forward.

Before I spoke, he gently moved the sheep aside.

“We’re learning to build it without that.”

My son frowned.

“Strong.”

“Yes. But the sheep don’t know how to make ice.”

Carol looked closely at one of them, apparently checking.

Evelyn laughed from the doorway.

Julian looked up.

“Was that right?”

“Very,” she said.

He relaxed.

We remained nearby while he helped them count the animals across. When Garrick lost patience, Julian began again. When Carol insisted a wooden chicken should go beneath the bridge, he asked whether chickens could swim.

She put it on his head.

The lesson changed direction.

Later, when the twins grew tired, Carol leaned against his arm and Garrick climbed into his lap with the repaired horse.

Julian reached for his book, then stopped.

Garrick Valewood, sitting beside the window, held out a hand.

“I can take one.”

“They’re comfortable.”

“So are many burdens until your legs go numb.”

Julian hesitated, then let him lift Carol.

The four of them settled together while Evelyn read aloud.

For once, Julian listened to a story without having to be the oldest person in it.

Helena’s friendship with Lisbeth began, in its more dangerous form, over a disagreement about me.

“He believes looking calm means nobody can tell he is worried,” Helena said.

Lisbeth stirred her tea.

“Lexander does that too.”

“Uriah also says he is only going to look at something.”

“Ah.”

“You recognize the phrase?”

“It has preceded several expensive afternoons.”

Mirelle put down her cup.

“Adriana says she is only checking the guards.”

“And?” Helena asked.

“She returns having missed lunch and volunteered for something.”

The three women looked toward the window.

I had been walking past it.

I continued walking.

Behind me, Lisbeth laughed.

Her visits through the Concordian gate became longer after that.

Helena showed her the private garden. Mirelle joined them between infirmary rounds. On the second afternoon, Queen Celestine arrived with a question about the receiving hall and remained after the question had been answered.

Queen Alisande came the next day.

Princess Renna brought a stack of missing-person notices and apologized for bringing work.

Helena moved the teapot before Renna could spill anything on them.

“We can read and drink.”

They did.

Then, when the notices had been sorted, they spoke about other things.

Celestine described the terrible singing of a beloved court musician whom nobody had possessed the courage to dismiss.

Alisande remembered a spring festival beside the water in Calverin.

Mirelle told them about Cassia hiding a pony inside a covered passage because she had been told it could not enter the palace.

“The passage was technically outside,” Mirelle said.

Helena closed her eyes.

“Do not tell the twins.”

Lisbeth smiled into her cup.

Once, Alisande began describing a garden and stopped halfway through the name of a flower.

Nobody hurried to fill the silence.

Helena moved her chair closer.

After a while, Alisande finished the story.

When I asked Helena whether she was organizing another council, she looked offended.

“I am having tea with my friends.”

“Mary might want a list.”

“Mary may have a biscuit.”

The friendships proved useful anyway.

A frightened princess who would not speak to an official told Renna that her younger brother had become separated from their escort.

A queen too proud to request warmer clothing accepted Helena’s invitation to help choose shawls, then went away wearing one.

Lisbeth brought news from Concordia without making the women feel they had been summoned to receive it.

Mirelle knew when someone needed a healer.

Together, they began making room for people before Mary had finished finding their rooms.

The next royal carriage arrived without horses.

Two construction golems carried it through the outer gate after a patrol found it stranded on the northern road.

The passengers walked behind it.

That instruction had become very clear.

Queen Ysabet of Derenne entered Greykeep with one daughter, a wounded chamberlain, and a dispatch case she would not release.

Her husband remained with the defenders of their capital.

She did not know whether the capital still stood.

Helena met her in the receiving hall.

Lisbeth took the dispatch case only after Ysabet’s fingers began trembling too badly to hold it.

Mirelle examined the chamberlain.

Nobody asked the queen to describe the attack until she had sat down.

By evening, another royal household had reached Havenreach among a column of millers and shepherds. A prince carried his sleeping sister. Their surviving guards carried children who belonged to other people.

The following morning brought three gods.

They arrived on foot with the refugees they had escorted.

The first called herself Veyra.

Her spearhead was broken. The haft had been shortened and bound with cloth to support a man’s injured leg.

Her domain concerned shield walls: the strength of people standing together against a blow.

The second, Tovan, was a god of the charge. He walked beside the rear wagon with his sword drawn, turning whenever a cart wheel snapped against a stone.

The third was called Ordel.

Siegecraft.

He had spent the last two days taking apart bridges after the refugees crossed them.

“You destroyed your own roads?” I asked.

“I helped build them,” he replied. “I knew which stones to remove.”

All three accepted food.

Only one sat down.

Tovan remained standing until Veyra caught his sleeve.

“They are through the gate.”

“There were riders behind us.”

“There were. There are guards behind us now.”

He looked toward the doors.

Then lowered himself onto the bench.

Thor found them there.

By the time Lexander and Baldr crossed from Concordia, we had four separate reports of Surtr’s forces striking roads ahead of the fleeing population.

He was no longer merely driving people from their homes.

He was trying to reach the places they were running toward before they could.

Veyra listened while Mary read the reports.

Then she placed her broken spear on the table.

“I will help defend this city,” she said. “But I did not come here only to wait behind another wall.”

“Neither did I,” Tovan said.

Ordel studied the map.

“Those columns need supplies. Their siege engines need roads. Their commanders need places where they believe they can stop safely.”

Thor folded her arms.

“They have had enough of those.”

I looked at Lexander.

He was already looking at me.

“We need a force that can reach an attack while there is still something to save,” he said.

“And hit their mustering grounds before the next one,” I answered.

Baldr leaned forward.

“Then we organize both.”

Bruni did not fit comfortably inside the council chamber.

We moved to the lower yard.

Eleanor objected because she needed him to move roof beams.

“How many?” he asked.

“Seven.”

He moved them first.

Then he joined us, carrying his hammer.

“Now talk.”

Lexander spread the maps across a long table. Thor stood beside him. Baldr took the opposite end, leaving space for the newly arrived gods.

Evelyn, Adriana, and Io joined the discussion. Eliza brought patrol reports. Mary brought the figures none of us wanted to hear.

The cities could withstand our absence for a limited operation.

They could not withstand every strong defender leaving whenever a frightened messenger appeared.

“Aurethar remains available to the home defense,” Lexander said. “We confirm Concordia’s command arrangements before departure.”

The Castellan’s eyes brightened.

“Greykeep’s wards will remain stable. The protected districts will retain their assigned guards.”

“Including the hospice,” Evelyn said.

“Including the hospice.”

The seventeen sleepers had not become less important because more people were in danger.

Sivren continued constructing their separate supports. Maelin remained with the work. The healing teams would keep their rotations.

I still had no business putting winter near that door.

Othellos had prepared for that.

I intended to remember it elsewhere too.

“We should assume some of his knowledge is already reaching Surtr,” I said. “If a position looks as though it was built for me to freeze it, I want someone else examining it first.”

Ordel nodded.

“And nobody charges a retreating enemy out of sight.”

Tovan looked at him.

“I know how to stop.”

“Then this will be an agreeable rule.”

Thor hid a smile badly.

We gave the force two duties.

Strike Surtr’s confirmed military positions within our reach.

Respond when another kingdom requested help against an attack.

That second duty required more than willing gods.

Mary began drafting messages to the surviving courts. We needed current roads, named contacts, signal arrangements, and permission to enter before an emergency turned every unfamiliar banner into a threat.

The existing transit gates could shorten some journeys.

They could not deliver us into every distant city.

Eliza marked staging points along roads we actually controlled. Ordel identified places where a relief force might become trapped. Baldr insisted each operation include a way to bring wounded people home.

“Who commands?” Veyra asked.

Everyone became quiet.

Two kings.

Several gods accustomed to having the final word.

Bruni scratched his head.

“One talks. Others listen.”

“That is the intended result,” Mary said.

Lexander tapped the first marked road.

“Uriah and I approve the objectives together. In the field, Thor directs the engagement. Baldr takes over if she cannot. Either city can recall us if its defenses are threatened.”

Thor looked at me.

“Including you.”

“Including me.”

“If I tell you to leave?”

“I leave.”

Adriana rested her hand over mine.

“We heard that.”

“I expected you would.”

Bruni nodded toward Thor.

“I listen.”

There was no doubt in his voice.

Veyra agreed next.

Then Ordel.

Tovan studied the map before answering.

“I want to strike them.”

“So do I,” Thor said. “I also want you beside us for the second battle.”

He looked at her.

Then nodded.

The first request came from a border town in Derenne.

Ysabet recognized the seal.

She did not recognize the handwriting until the messenger explained that the governor had lost two fingers.

The town still held.

Surtr’s soldiers had seized a quarry above its western road. From there, they were preparing fire engines to burn the gate and cut off the last route used by the surrounding villages.

Eliza’s scouts confirmed the position.

Ordel knew the quarry.

Veyra had passed the town while escorting its wounded north.

For once, the map, the witnesses, and the enemy’s movements agreed.

We prepared to leave before dawn.

Cassia attempted to attend the final briefing wearing slippers.

Eliza looked at her feet.

“No.”

“I haven’t asked anything.”

“You were going to.”

Cassia sat down with the messenger’s road notes and helped mark the damaged bridge instead.

Later, I found Julian beside Garrick Valewood in the family room.

His father’s helmet rested between them.

It had offered no vision.

Nobody had asked it to.

“Are you going to Derenne?” Julian asked me.

“Yes.”

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“That is the plan. If it changes, we will send word.”

He looked down.

Garrick waited with him.

After a while, Julian whispered, “Father said he would come back.”

I sat opposite him.

There was nothing useful to say quickly.

“I cannot promise nothing will happen,” I told him. “I can promise we have planned how to help each other. And when it is time to return, I will come.”

Julian rubbed his thumb along the helmet’s rim.

“Even if you haven’t beaten everyone?”

“Even then.”

Garrick put a hand on his shoulder.

Julian leaned against him.

Not far.

Enough.

“I can look after the twins,” he said.

“You can spend time with them,” Garrick replied. “Looking after all three of you remains our work.”

The boy’s shoulders slowly lowered.

When I left, Garrick was asking whether Julian wanted the nursery story or a game before bed.

He chose the story.

We reached the quarry under a low grey sky.

The journey had taken the remaining darkness and part of the morning. Behind us, a small support company waited with healers, wagons, and orders to hold the return road.

Beyond the ridge, Derenne’s border town rang its alarm bell.

Thor crouched beside Ordel at the lip of the quarry.

“There,” he murmured.

Three fire engines stood below us. Iron channels joined their bases to a furnace sunk into the stone.

Men hauled ammunition toward the road.

A group of prisoners worked beside the nearest engine.

My first thought was to freeze the channels.

I waited.

Ordel pointed beneath them.

“Pressure chambers. Break the housings or seal the vents and the furnace throws everything outward.”

Toward the prisoners.

Toward the road.

Thor looked at me.

I nodded once.

She adjusted the plan.

Veyra and Baldr moved first.

A horn sounded below.

Too late.

Veyra’s shield struck the ground between the prisoners and their guards. Light spread from its edges, gathering around the people behind her as they closed together.

Baldr reached the first chain with his sword already raised.

Lexander moved onto the quarry road, cutting off the soldiers running toward them.

Then Thor stood.

Lightning struck the far engine’s exposed firing arm.

The mechanism burst apart.

Bruni came over the ridge with a roar that stopped men halfway through drawing their weapons.

His hammer struck the second engine from the side, exactly where Ordel had marked it.

Wood and iron folded.

“No more fire cart!”

Tovan swept down the slope with him, driving the enemy away from the prisoners’ route.

I reached for the storm.

Wind struck the quarry in a hard, descending rush. Smoke flattened away from Veyra’s shield. Burning fragments spun toward bare stone instead of the huddled captives.

A soldier beside the furnace pulled a lever.

The iron channels glowed.

“Uriah!” Ordel called.

He pointed to a stone counterweight above the vent.

I threw my hammer.

The weight shattered.

A heavy shutter dropped. Fire roared into an empty cutting in the quarry wall while Ordel tore the operating chain free.

The ground shook beneath my boots.

For a moment, heat swallowed the whole lower yard.

Then the vent held.

Veyra staggered behind her shield.

Baldr caught the last freed prisoner and carried him uphill.

Thor’s voice cut through the noise.

“Right slope! Archers!”

I turned.

Lightning left my hand before the next volley could fall.

The archers scattered from their shattered platform.

Below, the remaining soldiers began to retreat into the eastern cut.

Tovan followed three strides.

“Hold!” Thor shouted.

He stopped.

An arrow struck the rock where his fourth step would have taken him.

More movement stirred beyond the cut.

A second position.

Waiting.

Tovan backed away, breathing hard.

“Ordel,” Thor called. “Finish it.”

The siege god drove an iron wedge beneath the final support and struck it twice.

The furnace tilted into its own exhaust trench.

Stone thundered down after it.

We withdrew behind Veyra’s shield while Bruni carried two men whose legs could not bear them.

Nobody pursued us onto the open road.

By midday, the wagons from the surrounding villages were moving toward the town again.

Its western gate remained standing.

We had wounded.

Veyra’s left arm shook uncontrollably. Tovan had taken a cut along his thigh. One of the freed prisoners died before the healers could stabilize him.

We brought him home with the others.

Surtr had lost three engines, a furnace, and a road he had expected to close.

He still had armies.

We had our first measure of what standing together could accomplish.

Garrick Valewood met us inside Greykeep that evening.

Julian stood beside him.

The twins waited with Helena, Mirelle, and Lisbeth farther back, where returning weapons and injured people would not crowd them.

Carol saw me first.

“Papa.”

I handed my hammer to the waiting rack and knelt.

Both children reached me at once.

Julian remained beside Garrick until I looked up.

“The town?” he asked.

“Still there.”

“The people?”

“More of them have a road home.”

He nodded.

Then came closer.

I put one arm around him too.

At supper, Queen Ysabet read the town’s message three times.

Helena sat beside her. Lisbeth filled her cup. Mirelle arrived late from the infirmary and found they had saved her food.

Across the room, Veyra allowed someone else to cut her bread.

Tovan listened while Baldr discussed the concealed position in the eastern cut.

Ordel drew a better plan on the back of a ruined supply list.

Thor stole something from Lexander’s plate.

Bruni asked whether the rescued men had beds large enough for their bandages.

Mary wrote down the question because, once considered, it was a good one.

Work beneath the preserved district continued.

The frost door remained sealed.

Lethan and the other sleepers still waited for the careful help we had promised them.

Beyond Havenreach, more roads burned.

There would be further messages before morning.

But when Julian’s hand began trembling around his spoon, Garrick Valewood quietly covered it with his own.

“Tomorrow?” Julian asked.

“After breakfast.”

“The horse is fixed.”

“Then we shall find something else.”

Julian looked at him for a moment.

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

Garrick did not look toward anyone else.

He did not turn the word into an announcement.

He squeezed Julian’s hand.

“You’re welcome, lad.”

Beside them, Carol pushed a wooden chicken across the table.

One wing had broken.

Garrick looked at Julian.

Julian looked at the chicken.

Then both reached for it.