Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(4)

But they were soon drowned out by the roar of the approaching army. Soldiers jostled past as Rielle and Betzi hurried down the stairs. They each squeezed into a corner of the topmost room. A single archer remained on the same level, moving from narrow window to window, bow notched and ready.

Outside, the roar of the attackers joined with the shouts of the besieged, then fragmented into bellows and screams, the blare of horns and the clang and thump of weapons as the enemy reached the wall. The archer loosed arrow after arrow, then when his supply ran out he hurried away, leaving them alone. Betzi turned to Rielle, eyes wide. Looking back, Rielle realised she had been frozen with terror. Now, as her friend moved to peer out of the window facing the battle, her limbs unlocked. Heart hammering, she approached the window from the other side.

“Don’t get yourself shot,” she told Betzi, even as she snuck a look outside.

Rielle peered through. A familiar view lay beyond. Jagged rocky peaks emerged behind domed hills. The first time she had seen the landscape she’d thought it looked like black teeth set into green gums–and indeed the Schpetan name for the peaks meant “Angel’s teeth”.

The hills weren’t so green now that most of the fields had been trampled into mud or harvested to feed the Usurper’s fighters. The enemy encampment lay several hundred paces away. Between it and the city wall were several straight ridges that had not been there before.

Extending her senses, she was relieved to find no Stain. Though the civil war had been brutal and unforgiving, neither the king nor the Usurper had risked the Angels’ wrath by ordering the use of magic. Everyone had speculated on whether one or the other side would stoop that low at some point, but she doubted they would. Only priests had the freedom to grow proficient at magic, and she doubted the king or Usurper would find any willing to use it for warfare.

Another horn blast came from somewhere beyond the wall, but this was a different sound than before. The noise outside the tower lessened for a moment, then the tone of it changed. A call went up, which was repeated over and over, close to the tower and also in the distance. Soldiers rushed up and down the stairs, forcing Rielle and Betzi to return to the corners again.

“They’re retreating,” someone bellowed atop the tower. Rielle recognised Kolz’s voice. Betzi’s worried expression vanished.

“Is it a trick?” a fainter voice called from somewhere in the street below.

“Might be. Did any survive the breach?”

“I’ll check.”

Returning to the window, Betzi and Rielle watched the Usurper’s forces withdraw, the soldiers disappearing over the ridges before marching into sight again beyond them. One of the peaked structures of the enemy encampment abruptly collapsed, then another.

“Are they packing up?” Rielle wondered.

“Who is that, walking up the road?” Betzi asked.

Rielle squinted, searching for the people Betzi had seen. “Where?”

“Three men, one with a gold-coloured coat, two in strange clothing. Foreigners, maybe.”

“Your eyes are much better than mine,” Rielle said. “Perhaps if they come near…” Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the trio.

“The one wearing gold might be the Usurper,” she heard Betzi say. “The others…”

Rielle opened her mouth, but could not find the air to speak.

“… they look a little like priests,” Betzi continued. “Didn’t you say they wear dark blue in the north? Rel?”

Rielle’s lungs began to protest. As her throat unclenched, air rushed in.

“What’s wrong, Rel?”

Rielle shook her head, but she could not take her eyes from the trio approaching the city. Hope and fear tumbled over one another in her heart. If this is… if they are…

“… escort these two women from the battlements to their home,” a voice said at the entrance of the stairway above.

“But, Captain—” Betzi began.

“Go home, Bet,” Kolz said. “Lock the door. I will send news to you, when we know what the situation is.”

A hand grasped Rielle’s arm and pulled her away from the window. A memory she kept well bound to the past broke free and she felt an echo of terror and a vision of a desperate man, his hand brandishing a knife. She closed her eyes, gathered the memory up and locked it away again. When she opened them again it was Betzi’s face she saw.

“Come on, Rel.” Betzi linked her arm in Rielle’s and guided her down the stairs. The tower now reminded Rielle of another. A mountain prison. A young priest leering. A scarred priest. An Angel, more beautiful than any mortal could hope to be…

Bright sunlight made her wince and brought her back to the present. Betzi stopped. The young archer stood a step away, a scowl on his face as he saw Rielle properly for the first time. Taking a deep breath, Rielle pushed away the memories, and the urge to run back to the tower window and confirm that she was mistaken.

Because she had to be, surely.

“Are you all right, Rel?” Betzi asked.

“Yes.”

Betzi turned to the archer. “Lead on,” she said brightly, and they set forth into the subdued streets of Doum.





CHAPTER 2





Standing in front of the loom, Rielle stared at the partially completed tapestry and let her memories overlay the design.