48. Irina

Chapter 48

Irina

“ H ow many days have we sat and done nothing? What do we have to show for all your useless stones? We have barely stripped the bark off the walls, and the Mages’ tower still stands. Now our men are freezing under feet of snow.” I stalked through my command tent where five of my Council, including General Marks and Minister Bril, were assembled.

Danai was notably absent.

“Your Majesty, sieges take time. We are wearing them down. We have already destroyed much of their buried surprise, which would have killed thousands in an assault. Please be patient.” Bril’s case sounded more like a plea from a child to his mother than a military leader’s request to his ruler.

My eyes snapped to Bril, fire swirling around my irises. “How long do we wait, Minister ? How many of our men will die from this cold? How many horses? When will the catapults be dug out and firing again? What do you plan to do with the wall of stone you have so graciously erected on our enemy’s behalf? You should have stopped those ridiculous bombardments the moment you saw them hit a shield.”

“We are working on the catapults, Your Majesty.”

“That was not what I asked,” I snapped.

Marks tried to rescue the Minister. “Your Majesty, the catapults should be ready by the afternoon. We’ve already cleared paths in the snow throughout the camp so horses and men may move freely. With the Mages’ help, our men bring more stones to the front every hour.”

One of the other generals whose name I had never learned ventured into the conversation. “Perhaps your Fire might clear out snow in the camp?”

I rolled my eyes at the man. “Do you want your men fried instead of frozen? The same would happen to their tents, equipment, and horses. I can direct and fuel the flame, even extinguish much of it, but once lit, it can choose its own course. Fire large enough to unbury the camp would be impossible to control. That is why I have not cleared the catapults. They would become useless cinders.”

Bril decided to play supplicant. “We could use Your Majesty’s wisdom, if she has any additional ideas to share.”

That earned him another sharp glare. “I understand your strategy; you are waiting and whittling. You might have noticed that I am not a very patient woman.”

“Well—”

I waved a hand, not wanting to hear his feckless prattle. “It is time I took a more active role, gentlemen. You have until nightfall to clear the catapults and the men from the front line. I will take care of the snow between the line and the wall. I want our men ready to attack by midnight. I will give you further instruction then.” I paused a moment. “The stones around the city can be used for men to climb the walls when the time is right. Have men assemble quietly and without torches lit. Hold all cavalry in reserve, well behind the front.”

The clamor of five men sounded like twenty as they erupted with every conceivable objection and complaint. Even Marks, normally reserved and cautious, couldn’t hold his tongue. I smiled and watched them argue and babble, my Empathic Gift flooding with bewilderment, anger, and frustration. When their voices finally settled and only Bril still spoke, I raised my palm, silencing even the Minister’s voice.

“Gentlemen, you asked for my guidance. I have given it.” I looked into the eyes of each man in turn, then spoke with a voice of iron laced with Charisma. “No more debate. We attack at midnight.”

The moon was a sliver of itself. Thick clouds blanketed the night sky, casting only a dim glow over the field. Wind whispered across the field.

Marks, Bril, and I stared at the new, unmarred snow between our front and the enemy’s walls. Tens of thousands of soldiers now stood in ranks with pikes, bows, and swords at the ready, their silver armor bitter with winter’s touch. Miraculously, the men had formed up with little noise and now stood quietly.

Torches flickered in the watch towers, but we saw and heard little from within the city. Our attack pattern had been consistent, artillery barrages in the morning for a few hours, just long enough for the generals to appreciate the strength of Saltstone’s magical shield. We had yet to send a single soldier toward their gates.

An assault at midnight, after the blizzard we just endured, would be unexpected. The soldiers of Saltstone were likely warm in their beds.

I turned to Marks. “Order the catapults to launch when they see my fire begin to clear the field. I want simultaneous attacks on the tower, the gate, and the southernmost section of wall. Once there is a clear path here, I will move to the southern wall and assist the bombardment there. It will take some moments for the fire to extinguish and cool, so hold your attack a moment longer than you think proper. Magical fire spreads on touch. You do not want your men anywhere near the field until it has died.”

“What of the Enchantment on their walls?” Bril asked.

I gave the Minister a chilly smile. “Enchantment is a Gift I picked up from a friend recently. I should be able to nullify their binding on the wall.”

Marks’s jaw dropped. “But won’t that—”

“Yes. Inverting magic would threaten a normal Mage’s lifeline. It is a good thing that I am anything but normal .”

Marks glanced up at the crown resting on my brow, its gems pulsing the color of midnight crimson. I caught his gaze and grinned before turning again toward the field.

Long moments of silence passed.

Snapping banners fell limp as the winter wind paused its near-constant howl.

“It is time,” I murmured.

I raised both hands, palms facing the field, and strode through parted shields and awed soldiers, muttering an ancient incantation. The bloody jewels of my crown flared to life, and sun-bright fire was born in my hands. Flames roared before me, their anger billowing for hundreds of paces to my right and left. Snow turned to steam, then drifted away as flames found fuel in the barricades below. I released my magic and watched as my creation scorched everything in its path, only to be repelled by the wall that showed barely a hint of char.

The unnerving whoosh of catapults filled the air as the fire waned. Boulders again slammed home, this time with no resistance from magical air or water. Volley after volley rained down, chipping and denting but not penetrating. The magical reinforcements of the wall and tower would not be breached by stone alone.

I felt my army’s anticipation, their urge to roar at their Regent’s display, but disciplined officers held their voices in check. The enemy knew they were being hit, but they still wouldn’t expect an assault—at least not as long as the men continued to play their part.

I raced back to the line and mounted a waiting horse. I looked down at Marks, my Telepathic Gift speaking in his startled mind for the first time. “Wait for my signal to order the attack. The wall will be vulnerable soon.”

He gaped as my horse bolted and flew before the shield wall toward the southern end of their line. My eyes shifted back to no-man’s-land where once-proud barricades lost their orange glow and faded to ash in the blackened earth. The acrid smell of scorched ground drifted toward the line as a gust of mountain air blew across the plain.

Eternal moments passed.

Neither wall nor tower showed any wear from the bombardment, yet the trebuchets’ assault continued at a steady pace. According to Danai, it could take weeks before the Enchantments on the walls failed. The ancient protections woven into the foundations of the tower would likely never fail without some miraculous magical strike.

The clatter of men and horses frantically assembling behind the city walls sailed across the field.

Our stones fell in their midst.

More torches flared to life as Saltstone woke from its slumber.

The Mages’ tower bloomed with a luminous glow, heralding the presence of the city’s powerful defender. A second later, the familiar swirl of a shield appeared.

The volley of stones ceased immediately.

My instructions were explicit: When the shield appeared, whether protecting tower or gate, cease fire. When it vanished, resume. The bombardments were a diversion, and I wanted the enemy, particularly their Mages, consumed with stopping those stones while I focused elsewhere.

When I arrived at the southwestern corner of the city where catapults battered the walls, a single tower peered down, its torch flickering in the wind.

“Damn tower’s Enchanted just like the wall, Your Majesty,” a gruff sergeant with an unkempt beard and mustache shouted.

“Focus all your catapults on the tower,” I ordered.

“But, Your Majesty . . .”

“Just do it, Sergeant. I know you will not damage it, but I need the men in the tower distracted. Do not stop until I return.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man removed his cap and scratched his wispy hair. “It’ll take us a minute to get the targets reset.”

“You have two minutes. When the assault resumes, I will head on foot toward the wall between those towers.” I pointed between the lonely tower in the corner and the one a couple of hundred paces to its north. The space between was pitch black in the starless night. “Do not be surprised when you see fog rise before the wall. Keep hitting that tower.”

The sergeant gripped the brim of his cap in salute. “Yes, Your Majesty. By your command.”