The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(79)

“Drop!” she shouted, grabbing the king’s arm and yanking him down. A spear glanced off her shoulder and spun her around, but she managed to drop low. So did Fallon. A roar filled the air, loud as the thunder of a thousand charging horses, and the hail of spears began to fly at Dundrennan’s walls. Knights who were slow to drop were impaled by spears and fell from the wall down into the bailey. She sensed the magic coming from Rucrius. He had invoked a massive whirlwind that had gripped the falling spears and hurled them against the fortress.

Spears sailed over Trynne’s head, some cracking stone with the violence of their impact. Knights cowered behind shields as the storm shook and raged. The frozen sleet stung Trynne’s cheeks, but her armor protected her.

Drew was flat against the stone wall, his eyes wide with terror as the colossal magic battered against Dundrennan’s walls. Bodies dressed in the armor of the Pierced Lion began to plummet into the bailey, and Trynne gaped in horror as she realized Rucrius’s spell was destroying Fallon’s soldiers up on the ridge. He’d invoked a storm cloud, a whirling vortex of death. Trynne cowered from it, wishing her mother were there to counter it. Wishing Myrddin was there.

“Keraunos!”

It was a woman’s voice. Morwenna’s voice. It came from the middle of the bailey, where the poisoner was standing with arms splayed wide, hair whipping in the wind. Suddenly lightning began to streak across the sky from the enormous black cyclone roiling over the palace. The glittering forks of light were heading toward Gahalatine’s army. No—they were striking repeatedly at Rucrius. They blasted into the ranks of the Chandigarli soldiers, leaving cries of panic in their wake.

The hail of spears subsided and the cloud began to dissolve and break apart.

“My lord, to the keep!” Trynne said, scuttling closer to the king. A chunk of rock whipped by her, barely missing her nose.

Trynne sensed Morwenna and Rucrius were locked in a duel of wills. Morwenna had an angry, defiant frown on her face, and her fingers were splayed as if she were digging them into something tangible. More lightning rained down on the enemy army, blast after blast of blinding fire. Trynne felt Morwenna’s reserves decreasing by the moment. She could not sustain the attack, not against the combined might of so many Wizrs.

“She’s right,” Fallon said, rising to his knees. “This is our chance to hasten to the inner wall. We cannot survive this storm long if we stay outside.”

Blood trickled from a laceration on the king’s cheek. He nodded in agreement and gave the order to fall back. The brilliance of the lightning rippling through the disintegrating storm revealed the scene around them in flashes. Everywhere Trynne looked, there were fallen knights on the battlement. Her heart grieved at the losses, but she saw even more dead scattered in the field below. Gahalatine was taking heavy casualties as well.

A surge of power slammed into Morwenna—Trynne could sense the Wizrs had pooled their powers together—and the magic gushed from her like a punctured bladder. Her command of the lightning began to fail and the blasts became erratic.

“Flee to the keep!” the king shouted. As they reached the bottom steps, he turned to where Severn had rallied his soldiers. “Hold that gap until we’ve made it through the doors, then fall back and join us.”

“I’ll hold them,” Severn promised. His voice full of fury, he yelled, “Men of Glosstyr! To me!”

Trynne hurried alongside the king as they crossed the rubble of spears and stone and dead men on the way to the hall. Morwenna’s shoulders were slumped, her elbows pressed into her sides as she tried to fight off the combined will of the Wizrs. She dropped to one knee, her power nearly spent. Trynne ached for her, amazed that she was fighting for their side, wondering how she had broken free from her cell.

An angry voice carried on the wind. Trynne couldn’t make out the words, only the sepulchral tones, and then Morwenna collapsed onto the cobblestones, unconscious.

“Here they come!” Severn shouted. “Stand fast! Stand fast!”

Trynne turned and saw the Chandigarli soldiers carrying the pine trunks toward the gap. Some of the logs were already in position. The men of Glosstyr rushed forward and shoved on the poles, successfully tipping some of them into the breach. The weight of the logs made them fall. But there were too many men behind each one, and soon Severn’s men were outmatched and the gaps began to close. Leaf-armored warriors came swooping down into the bailey and began falling on Severn’s men.

“For Kingfountain!” Severn roared in fury, leaping into the fray. Trynne felt tears prick her eyes as she watched him strike at the enemy. Warriors rushed over the makeshift bridge and began pouring into the bailey.

“We’ve lost it,” Drew whispered, aghast, as he recognized that Severn’s men were cut off.

Fallon scooped up Morwenna into his arms, grimacing from the burden.

Trynne watched as Gahalatine’s men cut down the men of the White Boar. Drew shouted, “Retreat, Severn! We’re almost through! Pull back!”

Most of the survivors of the outer wall hastened in through the door, shielding their eyes from the bright light of torches. Warriors of Gahalatine were already starting to charge toward the position where Trynne stood with the king.

Fallon arrived next, cradling Morwenna, whose head lolled. Her eyelids fluttered and she stared at the courtyard. “Father,” she groaned.