Chapter 408: The Ground We Chose

We gave Soven and Meriel a morning without military reports.

Mary arranged it. Thor enforced it. For one hour, the messengers waited beyond the garden unless someone was in immediate danger.

Dema stood beside Meriel’s covered bier with a small cloth bag in her hands. The shrine keeper who had served Soven carried a plain clay cup filled from a clean spring.

Neither had asked for a grand ceremony.

People came anyway.

The gods who could walk stood together beneath the trees. Those who could not were brought in chairs or remained at the open windows overlooking the garden. Nemeia sat with Hessa beside her. Odran had surrendered his argument about the walking stick after nearly falling on the first step.

Fenrir lay near the path.

When Dema began speaking, his ears turned toward her voice.

“She remembered what people planted,” Dema said. “Even when they forgot to tell her how it grew.”

She opened the bag.

Inside were seeds saved from the sanctuary.

“These were meant for next year.”

Aurelia spoke only after the people who had known them.

She did not promise that their stolen strength would find its way home. She did not make their deaths part of a design that somehow justified the rooms where we had found them.

She said their names.

She spoke of the work that remained theirs, even if another god had stolen the power used to do it.

The cleared wells. The hidden stores. The families who would plant because Meriel had refused to betray them.

I stood between Evelyn and Adriana, holding a hand in each of mine.

The children remained with Helena near the back. Carol watched Dema close the little bag and leaned against her grandmother’s skirt.

Afterward, Vessa offered a place near the growing grove for a memorial stone. Dema asked whether the names of the sanctuary dead could be added when she remembered everyone clearly enough to make the list.

“We can leave room,” Aldren told her.

It was such an ordinary answer that she began crying.

He stayed beside her until she could speak again.

The route sheet was waiting when the hour ended.

It did not offer a convenient road to Othellos’s door.

The first section followed known ground north of the White Measure. The second used an old royal post road. Beyond that, the instructions referred to receiving marks, escort exchanges, and a place named the Hall of Accord.

Caldris read that name without surprise.

Thesra did not.

“He is using it again.”

I looked at her.

“What is it?”

“A place where gods once met to settle disputes.”

“Under Othellos?”

“Before he decided that every dispute already had an answer.”

She traced one line with her finger.

“The outer road can be walked. The final approach depends on which passage the receiving officers open. This tells an escort how to be admitted. It doesn’t tell an attacker how to enter.”

Thor folded her arms.

“Then we find where the ordinary road ends.”

Eliza was already selecting the scouts.

Adeline helped them understand the escort changes.

Her arm remained bound, but she could point with the other hand and had opinions about how the clerks wrote numbers when they expected someone frightened to read them quickly.

“This isn’t the number of prisoners,” she said. “It’s the expected number of restraints. Sometimes they added more after a god grew stronger.”

I remembered the fresh cuts inside Fenrir’s bands.

“And here?” Mary asked.

“Food for the attendants. Separate account. They didn’t count them with the divine prisoners.”

Mary drew a fresh column.

People the first reading would have missed began appearing beside the names.

One attendant. Two. A healer retained for transport. A servant transferred from a sanctuary whose name had been crossed out.

Eliza took copies of everything relevant to the northern road.

The scouts would observe the escort exchange and return. They would not answer an invitation from the Hall of Accord, no matter whose seal it carried.

We knew what an invitation had cost Fenrir.

The message from the west arrived before they departed.

Surtr’s army had reached Rillcross.

The town stood between two stretches of fertile country, where a stone bridge carried the principal road across a steep-sided river. People had been retreating through it for days.

Now giants were assembling on the eastern ridge.

Behind them came infantry, corpse wagons, and at least one lich directing the dead.

The town’s ruler had refused Surtr’s demand to open the gates.

The demand had included instructions to surrender the shrine keepers first.

Thor read the final lines aloud.

“They believe the assault will begin within two days. Their outer villages are already empty. The western road remains open.”

Lexander put down the report he had been reading.

“How many people?”

“More than the garrison can move quickly.”

Nobody suggested waiting until the northern scouts returned.

There were two enemies, and neither had agreed to take turns.

We met in the larger hall with the allies who could reach Greykeep that morning.

Vaelith came for the dragons. Aelune attended with one of the herd’s healers. The phoenix messenger who had carried our forest reports stood on the perch Serevan had approved while the injured envoy listened from beside the window.

Lexander brought Concordia’s current deployments.

Baldr and Bruni brought the condition of their soldiers.

Eleanor brought a drawing of Rillcross’s bridge and immediately began asking questions nobody else had thought to include in the first message.

“Where do the carts turn after crossing? Can two pass? Are the parapets sound? What carries the water when the channel rises?”

“We are discussing an army,” one visiting officer said.

“So am I,” Eleanor replied.

Thor moved the western approach into the center of the table.

We could not defeat Surtr’s entire army with the people gathered in that room.

We could make sure the bridge did not become a trap.

We could also make the first attack expensive enough to buy time.

Aelune offered guides and healers, not a line of unicorns to be driven against the giants.

Vaelith offered two dragon scouts and a heavier escort for the exposed evacuation road.

The phoenixes would carry signals between the town, the bridge, and the receiving station. Serevan insisted they be taught what each signal meant before anyone expected them to improvise beneath arrows.

Bruni looked at the bridge drawing.

“I can carry the beams.”

“You can,” Eleanor agreed. “After I know where they belong.”

The answer pleased him.

Thor divided the combat force between the eastern approach and the crossing. Lexander would coordinate with the town’s defenders. Avarn and I would join the forward party after our own scouts confirmed the route.

Caldris remained at Greykeep, working on the recovered apparatus and ready to help the northern teams if their observations uncovered another holding site.

Nobody was left with three assignments merely because they were good at all three.

It still felt as though every chair emptied too quickly when the meeting ended.

Evelyn found me in the practice yard afterward.

Vaerun had made a narrow ring of moving rain around me. Avarn waited beyond it with a wooden sword.

The lesson concerned changing form without abandoning the position I needed to hold.

On the first attempt, I let a strike pass through my chest and stepped backward so far that I lost the doorway we were pretending to defend.

On the second, I held my ground and became solid too soon.

Avarn’s blade caught my shoulder.

On the third, I let the blow pass, turned within the wind, and answered while the last of the water still streamed from my sword arm.

Avarn parried.

This time, he had to move his feet.

“Again,” he said.

Evelyn waited until the exchange ended.

Then she looked at the wet ground, my bruised shoulder, and the smile I had not quite managed to hide.

“At least you’re enjoying some part of this.”

“That one worked.”

“I saw.”

She walked back with me while the others put away the practice weapons.

“You are getting better,” she said.

“That sounded difficult to admit.”

“Only because you may decide it means you should attempt something worse.”

I considered denying it.

Her expression discouraged the effort.

Instead, I told her what we intended at Rillcross.

She listened closely, asking where the wounded would go and how long the journey would take. When I finished, she stopped beneath the covered walk.

“Talven slept without waking in pain this afternoon.”

The change of subject caught me.

“For how long?”

“Nearly two hours.”

I let that settle.

“And Ruelle asked for another lamp. She wanted the first one beside the window and the second near her bed.”

“Did she say why?”

“She wanted to read.”

Evelyn took my hand.

“I wanted you to know what happens after you bring people home.”

Julian asked to speak with Mirelle after supper.

I was returning a book to the family room when he approached her. Elowen had gone with Halric and Vesara, leaving Tomas to collect the last of his wooden ships from beneath the couch.

Julian waited until the little boy left.

Then he stood beside his mother’s chair and appeared to forget the first sentence he had prepared.

Mirelle set down her sewing.

“Yes?”

He glanced at me.

I began to leave.

“You can stay,” he said quickly.

So I stayed near the bookshelf, trying not to look like someone waiting to hear every word.

“When you asked about speaking to King Halric,” Julian began.

Mirelle’s face softened.

“About Elowen?”

He nodded.

“I talked to her. Not about being married. About whether she’d mind if our parents knew we liked each other.”

His ears reddened.

“She said she thought they probably did.”

Mirelle managed not to smile too broadly.

“An observant girl.”

Julian looked down at his hands.

“Could you speak to them? Not promise anything. Just say that I would like to keep spending time with her.”

“Of course.”

“And perhaps later, when we’re older—”

He stopped.

Mirelle reached for his hand.

“Later can remain later. You are both fourteen. There is time to learn what you want.”

He let out a breath that seemed to have been trapped since he entered the room.

“I don’t want her to think it’s because of Talvorn.”

“Then keep treating her as Elowen.”

Mirelle brushed his hair back from his forehead, an affection he endured with only a small protest.

“And if you ever want us to discuss a betrothal, you can tell me plainly. You won’t have to negotiate it alone while trying not to blush.”

“Mother.”

This time, she laughed.

He hid his face against her shoulder for one brief moment before remembering he was much too old for that.

She held him anyway.

Mirelle spoke with Halric and Vesara the next morning.

I saw the three of them afterward in the garden, looking remarkably like parents and very little like rulers negotiating the future of kingdoms.

Vesara stopped me on the path.

“Apparently we must avoid making an occasion of everything.”

“Who said that?”

“Elowen.”

Halric smiled behind her.

“She was quite firm.”

The agreement required no treaty. Julian and Elowen would continue visiting, walking in the gardens, and joining the family outings they already enjoyed.

No betrothal would be announced.

No one would begin choosing wedding clothes.

Mirelle informed Cassia of that final condition with enough emphasis that Cassia objected before being accused.

“I hadn’t said anything.”

“You were thinking very visibly,” Adriana told her.

Lysandra lowered her face behind her cup.

I decided the family would survive my absence for another day.

Enna gave us something to take west before we left.

It was a page of words, copied in Seli’s careful hand.

“A walking song,” the goddess explained. “People know different verses. The chorus is usually the same.”

She touched the folded page.

“No working in it. Just something they might remember.”

I accepted it.

“Would you like us to tell them who sent it?”

Enna considered the question.

“Only if someone asks.”

Seli smiled beside her.

When I reached the courtyard, I opened the paper. The first verse complained about a long road, a short supper, and someone who had promised a hill was the last one.

I could imagine tired people arguing over the words and forgetting, for a little while, to listen only for pursuit.

I put it safely inside my coat.

We departed for Rillcross with the first engineers.

The road west carried people in both directions. Supply carts went toward the threatened town. Families came away from it with bedding tied over their possessions and tired animals pulling more than they should.

Several stopped when they saw the escort.

One man asked whether we had come to hold the bridge.

“We’re going to help keep the road open,” I told him.

He looked back toward his wagon, where two children slept beneath a patched blanket.

Then he moved aside to let us pass.

Farther on, a woman called a blessing after Thor.

Thor raised a hand without turning it into a ceremony.

When we reached the final ridge, smoke lay across the eastern horizon.

Rillcross stood below us, crowded inside its walls.

Its bridge was narrower than Eleanor’s drawing had made it look.

She saw my expression.

“That is why I ask questions.”

The defenders had prepared well with what they possessed.

They had cleared the western road, marked places for wagons to wait, and stationed people at the bridge to keep frightened families moving without crushing anyone against the parapets.

Their commander met Thor at the gate.

He had a bandage around his head and the exhausted courtesy of a man who had greeted too many disasters politely.

“The giants began testing the eastern slope at dawn,” he said. “They haven’t committed their main force.”

“Where are the dead?”

“Behind them. Waiting.”

That worried Thor more than if they had been advancing.

Lexander went with the commander to inspect the walls. Eleanor took Bruni down to the bridge piers. Our healers entered the old market hall, where the town had already gathered its wounded.

I climbed the eastern tower with Avarn.

Beyond the fields, the enemy banners moved above a dark line of soldiers.

The giants stood behind them like walking siege towers.

The first attack began with a boulder.

It struck short of the wall, tore through an abandoned shed, and burst into fragments across the ditch.

The second hit the parapet.

Stone flew inward.

I threw a shield across the nearest defenders, catching the largest pieces before they reached the stair.

Avarn pulled a stunned archer down behind the remaining wall.

“They’re measuring,” he said.

The giants were not charging.

They were finding the range.

Thor’s signal sounded from the lower yard. Archers shifted away from the most exposed sections. The engineers began reinforcing the stairs that would carry the defenders down if the tower became unsafe.

Another boulder rose above the field.

I followed it with my eyes, waited until it cleared the enemy line, and struck it sideways with a hard crosswind.

It landed in the empty ditch beyond the northern wall.

The soldiers beside me cheered.

Across the field, the giants stopped to watch.

Now they knew where I was.

The next three stones came together.

I could not throw them all away with the same gust.

I broke the nearest with lightning, drove the second wide, and watched the third fall toward the western part of the wall.

Golden fire crossed beneath it.

The phoenix messenger flashed past the tower, carrying the warning rather than trying to stop a rock larger than himself.

The defenders below scattered.

The stone struck an empty section of walkway and collapsed it into the yard.

No cheer followed that time.

I looked toward the enemy ridge.

Avarn stood beside me.

“You cannot be every wall.”

“I know.”

“Then remember the bridge.”

Beyond the town, the evacuation wagons were still moving west.

That was the work.

I turned toward Thor’s signal and left the broken tower with him.

At the bridge, Bruni stood waist-deep in the river with a timber braced across one shoulder.

Eleanor directed the workers above him. A damaged support beneath the western approach had begun to shift under the continuous weight of loaded carts.

“Can you hold it?” I called.

Bruni looked at the beam, then at the people crossing above.

“Yes.”

He sounded offended that the question had needed asking.

I went beneath the arch to help anchor the temporary supports. Water hammered against my legs while we worked.

The enemy’s next volley sounded beyond the town.

I did not turn.

We set one brace, then another. Ordinary wedges locked the timber against sound stone. The golems carried fresh beams down the bank while the workers checked what our strength could not tell them.

At last, Eleanor raised her hand.

“Let it take the weight.”

Bruni lowered his shoulder slowly.

The bridge held.

Above us, a child asked her mother why a giant was standing in the river.

“He’s helping,” the woman answered.

By dusk, the western road carried an unbroken line of evacuees.

The town had not fallen.

Its eastern towers were damaged, and two sections of the outer wall would not withstand many more volleys. Thor had moved the defense inward while Lexander organized the withdrawal of people who had insisted on staying until the last possible moment.

Our scouts reported movement behind the enemy ridge.

The undead were finally advancing.

Not toward the eastern gate.

Toward the river north of town.

I climbed the western wall and saw them enter the water in ordered ranks. The first disappeared beneath the current. The next followed. Behind them came more, carrying chains and lengths of timber.

They were making their own crossing.

Thor reached the wall beside me.

Beyond the river, the road to our receiving station curved through open fields.

“They’re trying to get behind us,” I said.

She nodded.

Below, another wagon rolled onto the bridge.

I called my hammer and looked toward the dark water filling with the dead.

“Then that is where we stand.”