Hashat looked back at Tavi, expression dark. Then flashed him a brilliant smile. "I will help him. Now, Aleran. Stand up. Hold on to my shoulders."
Hashat rode close to the crumbled section of the wall and looked up into the sun to see figures moving up there. One of them dropped a rope down. Tavi stood up, his arm throbbing where he had been cut, his feet on the Marat saddle, his hand on Hashat's slender, strong shoulders. He shoved the gold-handled dagger through his belt and grabbed on to the rope. Hashat glanced up at him, then kicked her horse into motion, leaving him swinging in the air, as whoever was up above began pulling the rope up.
"Fade!" Tavi exclaimed.
Fade let out a happy hoot and hauled Tavi up onto the broken section of the wall. The slave's scarred face twisted into a grotesque smile, as he grasped Tavi's shoulders and then hurried him up onto the battlements, away from the edge of the broken walls.
At the top, several legionares crouched upon the battlements, panting and exhausted. None were unwounded. They crouched with their backs against the crenellation, their shields held between them and the courtyard below. Bernard crouched there, too, but rose to come to Tavi and clutched at his arm fiercely. "Tavi!"
"Uncle! Where's Aunt Isana?"
Bernard shook his head, his face pale. "We got separated." He took the boy's shoulders and guided him up against the crenellation, pressing him to crouch against the stone, and kneeling with his own body between Tavi and the courtyard. Tavi looked out at the battlefield outside the fortress, awed. He had never seen so many people, much less so many people struggling to kill one another. The battlefield outside was as confusing a jumble as the one in the courtyard, but on a far grander scale. Gargants screamed and bellowed in the distance, plowing a slow but steady path toward the walls, while wheeling groups of mounted Horse Clan dashed and feinted everywhere, engaging packs of Wolf warriors or disorganized bands of Herdbane with their uncontrollable warbirds.
"Great furies," Tavi breathed.
"Get your head down," Bernard rumbled. He picked up a heavy Legion shield and held it across his body, facing the courtyard. "Someone still stops to shoot an arrow once in a while."
"What about Aunt Isana?"
Bernard grunted, as something struck the metal shield with a hollow, heavy thump. "We're doing all we can, boy. Stay down!"
Fade let out an alarmed cry from behind his shield, and Tavi looked back in time to see someone make a running leap from the other side of the gap in the wall. Amara landed on the battlements beside Fade with a rush of wind and a grunt of effort and wormed her way behind Fade's shield at once, panting.
"Tavi?" she said, her eyes widening. "I never thought you'd make it out of that."
"I had help."
"Do you have it?"
"Yes," Tavi said. He turned the knife's handle toward her and passed it over. Amara took the dagger, paling, and shook her head. "I have to get this to the First Lord."
Bernard grimaced. "What's Giraldi have to say?"
"We're cut off," Amara said. She wiped sweat from her brow, and Tavi saw that her hand was shaking. "Horse and Gargant are pushing the other Marat into Garrison. They hold the west courtyard except for the wall. East courtyard has pulled all its people back into buildings for defense. Giraldi thinks that Doroga's people will drive a wedge between Herdbane and Wolf within the hour and they'll have to quit the field."
Bernard blew out a breath. "An hour." Something else slammed against his shield, shoving his shoulder into Tavi's. "We aren't going to last that long. My sister?"
"She's in one of the barracks in the east courtyard, with Gram. Giraldi said that he saw her go in with him."
"Good," Bernard rumbled. "Good."
Down the wall, one of the legionares cried out. Tavi looked up and saw an arrow protruding from the man's upper shoulder. It didn't look like a life-threatening wound, but within a few seconds, the man's head rolled on his neck and he fell quietly to his side.
Bernard grabbed Tavi's arm and crab walked down the battlements behind his shield, keeping it over both of them. He checked the man's throat
and grimaced. "Must have hit the artery. He's gone." Then he frowned and leaned closer. "This isn't a Marat arrow."
The next legionare on the wall abruptly jerked. His head snapped back, where a few scant inches of his